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daflangstlairde-art · 1 day ago

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"she ain't worth a goddamn in anyone else's hands" 5,334 words

Part 2 of ocean depths

Work Summary:

Nightmare was all, all Killer had. He defined Killer’s entire world. He was the most important thing to Killer. But, just as well, at the end of the day — even if in a very different way — Killer was all Nightmare had. — Being left in the Antivoid is just as much of a torture as you’d imagine. Real torture.

Credits, warnings and additional info on ao3.

—

Killer wasn't sad when first Horror and then Dust ditched their operation.

It didn't happen fast, nor at the same time, but it happened. It wasn't a shock. And he wasn't sad. He wasn't. He wasn't. He couldn't be.

As he stalked the halls of the dark castle, he felt nothing.

It was emptier than ever.

There was no longer Horror to cook warm soup and to splinter wood with a cleaver. He was introduced to some universe of farmboys. He left. He cared for his own universe, which remained alive.

There was no longer Dust to shadow him because company was better than the emptiness. He was harder for those Stars to convince, but apparently, Underfell admired violence and strength. Apparently, he was being “rehabilitated”.

And, well! We all know how Nightmare was. He had always been above them. Killer could linger in his company only if allowed.

There was... nobody.

Nobody.

Just massive, spanning walls of dark, cold stone. The rare slits of light only enough to illuminate the particles of dust in the air, really. It was all abandoned. Silent and dead. Empty.

Desolate.

Familiar.

...Haha. Hahahah.

How funny.

Killer kept ending up in dead ends.

—

He sat at the kitchen table.

He laid down on his bed.

He wandered the halls.

Emptiness of emptiness of emptiness.

Bored.

Killer wasn't sad. Killer couldn't be sad. Sadness was... it was a sincere emotion.

Killer was drowning in the dark, dark depths.

Killer felt emptier than ever.

It's like he wasn't even real.

—

“If you don't get your act straight, you’ll keep messing everything up.” Nightmare growled, tentacles holding Killer aloft and pinned to the wall by his throat.

Missions were boring. It was the same, all the same. Hurting and ruining and sometimes killing. All alone. All repetitive.

But Killer was Nightmare’s one loyal tool left. The only one.

Of course the Stars tried to break him too. Of course they offered many things that... probably sounded appealing to others. Like forgiveness, or help, or freedom.

Killer didn't care about those. Killer didn't care about the Stars. He didn't even know what their deal was! He had never particularly cared, and only really knew the most vague of details. Because none of it mattered to him.

Nightmare was the only thing that mattered. He was all Killer had. All.

...And Killer was all Nightmare had left.

Killer chuckled low, even as the restriction around his throat tightened painfully.

“Anything for you baby,” he teased, because it drove Nightmare up the wall with annoyance. It earned Killer the prize of pain, just like he wanted it to. He was discovering being provocative and crude made people react hilariously.

Missions were a fog. He lacked drive, he lacked interest, he lacked attention. On missions, heck, in everyday life, Killer was in a fugue state.

But he didn't need a brain! He just had to do as told.

Nightmare says kill, you kill.

—

“Why are you still fighting for him?!” Blue yelled, trying to keep up in parrying each of Killer’s violent slashes. “He doesn't care about you! He– he’s awful to you! I don't understand you!”

Killer just started laughing in his face.

Slash, stab, attack and attack and attack. Again, and again, and again and again, repeat upon repeat.

All the same. All meaningless. All horrible.

—

“I heard them talking about some ‘Cross’ guy,” Killer mentioned, twirling a knife, its point against his fingertip.

Nightmare paused in his irritated pacing, and for a moment Killer was sure he would get another “Shut the hell up while I’m thinking” for his generous efforts to help his boss.

Instead,

“...Cross, huh?” Nightmare hummed, considering.

—

They beat the Stars to it and now, once again, after weeks and weeks of emptiness, there was finally someone else in the castle.

And Cross was even fun to poke fun at!

“What’s got you so angsty?” Killer teased, tailing the guy into the kitchen.

“Leave me alone,” Cross dismissed him all huffy. He had this stoic attitude going on. Not very fun, except when Killer got it to crack. He was still exploring which buttons gave him the best reactions — honestly, he didn't know much about this Cross guy, and didn't care particularly to learn about his tragic backstory or whatever.

“I don't think I will,” Killer hummed, as Cross started searching through the cabinets.

“Is this place just empty?” Cross muttered to himself.

“Like my soul,” Killer joked. Ah, a classic.

Cross gave him a flat look and continued searching. “Where is all the food?”

“Oh the guy who did that left,” Killer replied.

“Did... food?” Cross turned around to look at him.

“Yeah, that was his thing,”

“And you... what, don't?”

Killer shrugged. “Nope, I'm not into it,” he chuckled, and Cross groaned.

“Why are you like this?” he demanded, exasperated. “Aren't you, I don't know, uh, in a–” and then he seemed to reconsider his words. Frowning. “...What is the deal with you and Nightmare?”

Killer started laughing so hard he teared up.

Cross disregarded him.

—

Knock-knock-knock at the door. Cheerful as ever. Waiting for the multiple locks on the inside to be unlocked, even when Killer could've just used a shortcut right in. That's to signify he’s coming with no violent intent, or whatever. Well. Minor violent intent maybe, haha.

The door opened, and immediately Red grimaced.

“H–!”

“DUST!” Red yelled to the inside of the house. “NIGHTMARE’S BITCH IS AT THE DOOR!”

“What?” called muffled from inside.

“ONE OF Y’ FUCKIN’ MANIAC FRIENDS!”

Killer laughed. Maybe someone else would've been hurt. He wasn't. Both of those statements were delightfully true.

—

There was one little problem. A little thorn in Killer’s side. Not enough to change his modus operandi — again, emotionless and uncaring — but enough to be noticeable. Enough to be annoying.

“Cross, you're in charge of this mission,” Nightmare stated.

“Yes sir.”

That thorn was called Cross and Killer might just hate him.

Before Killer could stop gaping and reply, Nightmare was already gone, leaving them in some random forest (not unusual, not important).

“Let's go.” Cross turned to walk in some direction for some reason.

“What– do you know where we are??” Killer sputtered, waving his knife.

“No.” Cross didn't even look at him, like he was better or something.

That wouldn't do.

Killer grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.

“Then why are you ‘in charge’?” he asked, so very friendly.

“Because I don't fuck off to do whatever I want every time?” Cross raised a brow ridge. Ohohoo, some spunk in him today! “Because I'm an actually good henchman and don't talk back constantly?”

Oh the nerve of this guy. Heh. Heheheh! Hilarious!

In fact, Killer was chuckling. He was laughing. He was hysterical.

“You?” he gasped. “Whatever gets you off, puppet boy!”

Because there were a few easy answers to Cross’ question from awhile ago.

What was their relationship? Easy.

Killer was Nightmare’s. His yes-man, his victim, his tool, his loyal toy, his lackey, the only one who stayed. His bitch, to put it oh-so-elegantly. Everybody knew that.

—

“What have you done with Cross?!” Dream demanded, parrying Killer’s attacks beat for beat. That guy was not to be underestimated, which Killer was admittedly guilty of! What could he say? These positive, soft types never went for the kill — how can you be truly afraid of them?

It's not like he felt much fear, anyway. That was reserved for a special someone.

“Horrible things!” Killer exclaimed, laughing. “He's suffering as we speak!”

“What?!” Dream exclaimed, horrified.

(Cross was probably just sleeping. There wasn't much else to do when you're stuck at the castle and need to pass the time.)

“Terrible!” Killer nodded, dodging to the side and using the movement to try shanking Dream. It was evaded.

“Where is he?!”

“Where do you think?” Killer teased. “Same as always! He's not some treasure to be hidden,”

“Oh,” Dream was caught off guard by that. Probably wasn't expecting it. That meant he also wasn't expecting the knife Killer stabbed into his shoulder, haha.

—

Killer’s gotta give it to the Stars. Having experience with Horror and Dust, they retrieved Cross pretty efficiently this time.

—

Killer’s skull slammed into the wall behind him so hard the pain reverberated through it and echoed throughout his body. He groaned, a gutteral drawn out sound. The tentacle that’d grabbed him by the throat now also lifted him off his feet by it, in that uncomfortable way where Killer’s body dangled and felt like it’s about to drop away from his head.

“HOW DID THEY KNOW HE WAS HERE?” Nightmare demanded, shoving rage and disgust and fear into Killer’s soul like it's nothing, like it doesn't drown him.

“How am– I supposed– to know?” Killer choked out, grinning, hands clutching onto the tentacle in a poor attempt to hold himself up a little, to loosen the pressure. He was barely able to think through the onslaught of horror and misery. It was like a diseased, starving, feral animal clawing at his body. Unrelenting with you're horrible disgusting scum you're going to die die die you are going to SUFFER there is no escape you–

“You useless tool!” Nightmare pulled him away from the hard stone wall, only to slam him against it, and again and again and again until Killer was crying out with the pain. Everything was ringing with the building concussion. It was a little difficult to hear whatever Nightmare was saying through it, pardon Killer’s manners, but it sounded something like “This is your fault, isn't it?!”

In case it wasn't clear, Nightmare was really pissed. This whole weakening of his forces seemed to be really getting to him. How sad.

Killer blinked against the shapes swimming in his vision. He could feel that hateful substance trickling, leaking even, from his eyes down his face. Warm. No, it was cold. He could never quite decide. The probably-blood oozing down the back of his skull was certifiably warm, however.

“That’s very– presumptuous of you–” he struggled out, breathing heavily, breathing through the pain and the merciless barrage of rancid emotions. Grin widening. “I can see you’re– angry, baby– are you hhngh on your period?”

Nightmare was livid. Killer started laughing, even as there were great efforts being put to choking him out.

“Shut. Up.” Nightmare said, cold and reverberating off the walls until it surrounds you. He lowered Killer down slowly, but didn't let go of him — it was just so Killer wasn't held aloft anymore, but rather, Nightmare, with all his engulfing darkness, loomed over him. “Need I remind you betrayal. Isn't. Tolerated?”

Killer couldn't help but snort and cackle at that, past the rancid, cloying smell of death from Nightmare’s general aura.

“Betrayal?” he exclaimed. “Me? Please. You and I both know I'm all you really have.”

There was the kicker.

Nightmare was all, all Killer had. He defined Killer’s entire world. He was the most important thing to Killer.

But, just as well, at the end of the day — even if in a very different way — Killer was all Nightmare had.

He was the only one truly allied with Nightmare. Not through force or violence or threats, none of that — because he wanted to be. Because Killer was an empty husk of a being and adored the force and the violence and the threats and the fear. A living wound that only exists when it's bleeding.

Nightmare knew that Killer knew that. But Killer knew that Nightmare knew it too. They both knew where they stood. They both knew Nightmare could leverage whatever suffering he wanted against Killer and that Killer would only enjoy it the worse it is. Killer only did as told when he enjoyed it, because he wanted to. He misbehaved for the very same reason.

Killer was so ruined through his own fault. There was nowhere further Nightmare could ruin him. Nightmare couldn't hurt him because Killer hurt himself, and Nightmare was just the most intense, most effective, most convenient way to do it.

That's why Nightmare’s glare narrowed. That's why the tentacle holding Killer’s neck loosened, letting him exhale and inhale deeply.

“You're not as clever as you think you are, loudmouth.” Nightmare spoke slowly. Promising danger. He always carried out his promises. He was cute like that.

...Except.

Except it wasn't what Killer expected. It wasn't sickening, merciless violence. It wasn't choking suffering. It wasn't burning agony. It wasn't animalistic fear.

It was... white.

Just white.

Endless, shapeless white.

All it took was a moment for Killer to be brought there, and a second one for Nightmare to be gone, and then it was just Killer and the endless white abyss.

He exhaled, standing amidst it all. It was so much larger than anything that could be conceived, and yet. And yet it was empty.

Hah. Hahahah.

Like his soul.

...It was always... a strange experience. The way the emotion would rise, like a tidal wave. A split second explosion of anger-hate-fear-despair at the devouring vastness, at the fact that he was just ditched there. When Nightmare knew he despised the emptiness. Or, rather, precisely because he knew how much Killer hated it.

And just as quickly it would be gone. Like a sudden electrical surge that blew out the fuse. And he was numb as ever. All the feelings he may have felt about this just the lingering buzz in the non-air. Only serving to make him even more aware of the nothing that remained, that lingered.

Killer couldn’t parse whether being stranded in the Antivoid was a worse or better hell than the Void. He supposed it didn’t particularly matter.

He sat down on the concept of a “ground”.

He didn’t even have a shadow. It was all empty. It was all nothing.

He didn’t have the energy to laugh. He laid down, staring up at the whiteness (as opposed to the whiteness to the side, or even: the whiteness down below).

—

Being left in the Antivoid is just as much of a torture as you’d imagine. Real torture.

It’s... familiar. In the worst of ways, You hate “familiar”. You hate the staleness, the sameness, the stillness. It’s all the same, for hours upon hours upon hours.

Haha. Funny how you keep ending up in dead ends.

It’s more barren than your own universe. It’s more repetitive and deprived than hundreds of repetitions of the same goddamn day remembered with crystal clarity. It’s not warm and it’s not cold. It’s not nice, and it’s not even painful.

If the Antivoid was painful, that would’ve been a mercy to you.

The emptiness devours you whole. It rips you up piece by piece. Slow and deliberate, unbothered by the passage of time, which makes sense, because it’s not like time changes anything at all around here.

You don’t know how long you’ve been here. It couldn't have been that long, but it already feels like weeks. The void spaces have that effect on people. It’s by definition. Here, eternity is stored in every second.

You sleep, mostly, to pass the time.

When you’re awake, you self-destruct. Your mind is starved and desperate, looking for something something something to grasp but there is nothing. It’s just you. You engrave your own bones with sharp points. You claw at your being. You seek and seek and seek and you find nothing but yourself, until your self is indistinguishable from the nothing as well.

You feel like screaming just to hear something, but nothingness has no voice.

—

You wake up. Again. All the same every time. Repetitions for eternity. You despise abstract concepts, except you don’t, because emptiness doesn’t contain emotions.

...Except.

“Good thing it’s not Error who found you first!” Ink jokes, standing over you all cheery. He’s... he’s colorful.

It takes you several moments to remember that, conceptually, you have a body, and you leap to your feet.

“Woah there buddy!” exclamation mark in his eye, Ink stumbles back so you don’t ram your head into his accidentally, but that triggers some desperation in you and you grab him by the scarf and yank him back.

The feeling of something material in your hand, something that isn’t you, is like a shock. Except you still feel nothing. You just stare at the bunched up fabric.

Ink remains in place, a little awkward. In a position showing he’s unsure what you’re up to, whether to be prepared for an attack. You consider attacking. You feel nothing about the concept.

“Heeeeyyyy,” Ink draws out, regaining his nonchalant cheer with a blink. “Yyyoou okay there...?”

How are you supposed to answer that? The question strikes you as absurd. Nonsensical. You laugh even though you feel no amusement. That’s normal for you.

“...Right,” Ink clears his throat. “Sssooo whatcha up to? Where’s Nightmare?” he asks, mostly curious. Ink has always struck you as a weirdo freak, something off about his reactions, but you’ve never thought about it too deeply.

You shrug. You’re still holding his scarf. You’re unsure why. You don’t particularly care and he doesn’t seem to mind it either, so. No reason to stop.

(He’s real he’s tangible he’s something different he’s something something something–)

“Well I’m just passing by, I’ll be out in a–”

“If you so much as think about leaving I’ll stab you through the spine.” you immediately counter, calmly threatening.

“Awww if you wanted company you could’ve just said so!” Ink takes it in stride, and again, off reactions. It’s the most interesting thing that has happened in what feels like eternity so you latch onto it.

“You’re weird.” you point out.

Ink laughs. “Yeah, I get that a lot! Part of having a creative nature,” he strikes a pose all cheeky, eye light in the shape of a sparkle. You’re still holding him by the scarf. “Soooo what have you been up to??” he asks, rocking back and forth on his feet all silly.

You gesture around with a flat expression. “Nothing,”

Ink snorts. “How long have you been here?” he prods you (literally, with a finger, which you allow because he’s physical and here and real).

You shrugs. “Not like I can keep track,” you huff.

“Yeesh. You gotta be careful with that one, spend too long and the glitching disease will get to you,” Ink says like he’s joking, except that is literally a fact. People go insane and corrupted in the void spaces.

You consider demanding from Ink to get you out of here.

...You remember you have nowhere to go.

You remember how livid Nightmare was. And how much more powerful he is than you. And how he owns your soul. And how if he wants you to be here, here you will be, so there’s not really a point to it. Everything always ends up like this for you, huh? Everything always the same, and always horrible, until none of it matters. That’s how your existence has always been, and how it always will be.

“Need me to get you somewhere?” Ink offers, lifting his brush, like he was on a similar train of thought but departed a few stations earlier.

“...I’ve stabbed you several times,” you point out like an echo of amusement, because Ink is best described as quirky. And again, considering circumstances, it’s currently the most interesting thing in your life. What a tragedy.

“Yeah...?” Ink prompts with a question mark in his eye, like he isn't seeing how that relates to his question at all.

You tilt your head.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask, because the closest thing to emotion you have right now is curiosity-fascination. Though that doesn't say much, considering it just as distant as everything else. “We're enemies, or something,”

“Oh!” Ink exclaims. “Oh I don't really care,” he shrugs. “I mean, I guess that's the narrative, yeah! But it's not like I hate you personally or something,” he chuckles.

Weirdo freak.

You've never cared to learn anything about the Stars. You realize you barely even know their tragic backstories. You still don't particularly care, but Ink is a natural yapper, so maybe you can use him to fill the silence.

(Until he leaves, of course. Until you are left alone. You are always left alone.)

“You don't find my actions abhorrent? Not how I've killed hundreds? Not how I enjoy torturing others?” you seek for the buttons to press, grinning. You recall that yeah, Ink is a lot more difficult to get a rise out of compared to the other two, who are so openly emotional.

“I mean,” Ink scratches his skill. “On one hand, a good story needs villains. On the other hand, the best narratives are about how good triumphs in the end, and so you need someone to be that component as well. In that sense, I am against it!” he concludes. “Although works that explore dark endings are also fascinating and have their own merit,” he considers. “Like tragedies, or darkgrim stories. They–” he starts rambling, distracted by the topic.

It's interesting for maybe a second. It quickly stops being so. You can't bring yourself to care about whatever he's talking about, or to want to.

You consider attacking him, again. But then he might leave, depending on whether he has something else to do instead or not.

“Are the other two coming around?” you interrupt, though Ink doesn't seem offended that you completely ignored his spiel.

“Hm? Uh, I don't think so, why?” he asks in turn. Damn, that means they have no business around here. Though, after a brief pause, Ink’s eyes widen and he exclaims a “Wait!”

He tries to pull away but you hold onto the fabric of his scarf tighter, summoning a knife in a kind reminder of your threat. Ink lifts his palms placatingly, chuckling.

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere!” he assures. “I’ll just call them over too and then we can all... talk!”

Oh.

That meant he was going to seize the opportunity to try and “reason” with you like they did with Horror and Dust. Again. Like you didn't laugh in their faces every previous time. Respect for the persistence?

“You do realize that won't work, right?” you generously point it out to Ink.

He blinks.

“I’m not betraying Nightmare,” you snort.

Ink tilts his head. “Why?”

He asks it so simply. No “You know he doesn't love you, right?”, no “But he's awful to you!”, none of that. Maybe that's why you answer him.

“Because,” you say, almost amused, shrugging. You're unsure how to finish that. You're unsure how to explain, so you just say the truth — “I don't care about anything else,”

Ink is looking at you curiously now, his previous idea of calling for backup seemingly forgotten, which is typical for him.

He sits on the ground. He pats the ground in an invite. You sit down too, mostly because you're still holding his scarf.

“Nothing? Really?” Ink asks, pulling his leg closer to rest his chin on his knee.

“Nope!”

“You don't have a family?”

You burst out laughing. You pretend to wipe a tear, even.

“What? Do you know nothing?” you exclaim, cackling.

Ink is just staring at you with question marks.

“Know what?” he asks. What an idiot. You'd roll your eyes if you had any. At best, you manage to mimick the action.

“I killed them all,” you say easily. “Many, many times,”

“...Oh. Right.” Ink seems to remember. “But why??”

Huh. Apparently Killer wasn't the only one who couldn't give a flying fuck to learn anything about his supposed enemies.

Killer sighs dreamily, “To listen to their sweet sweet cries of pain,”

Ink grimaces. “Oh. Really??? You come from a twist on the original timeline though, right?” he asks, frowning in confusion. “The classic version of Sans is not like that,”

“Clearly I'm not the classic version of Sans,” Killer pointed out flatly, and to emphasize the point, he gestured to his soul. You know. The one that is nothing like a monster’s or a human’s.

“Oooohhhhh,” Ink nodded along, hand reaching forward– Killer flinched. Body immediately strung tight, ready for the barrage of suffering that always followed when his soul was grasped and squeezed and–

But he was so baffled by the action, he let it happen.

Ink pulled his hand back, however, staring at his face.

Killer snorted, and moved his hand to offer his soul, that wretched thing. It's not like he cared if anyone did anything to it. Or hurt it.

(His soul. His being. His self. The essence and shape of his existence condensed into one. The most vulnerable part of you. The most you part of you.)

“Go on,” you shrug. “Not like I care,”

Ink hesitantly reaches out a hand to prod the cursed thing. It feels just as uncomfortable and bad as you'd imagine, to have your soul poked. He pulls his hand back.

“...Well,” Ink starts, “at least you have one?” he offers, chuckling. “Better than nothing!”

You tilt your head. That's a strange way to say that.

“What, you don't?”

“Nope!” Ink says as easily as you would.

It's your turn to blink and stare. At his neutrally cheerful grin.

And suddenly... it does make sense. The sense of emptiness behind half his expressions. The lack of care where others would have at least some. The odd view of the world. His flat affect, even if it was a positive one.

...Huh.

Ink was telling the truth. He was soulless.

You raise a hand to where yours returned to the middle of your chest. Always sitting in front of it. Always bare. Detached from the rest of you.

“...How?”

“Just never had one,” Ink shrugs.

You can only think of one other soulless creature — that yellow flower.

But... it doesn't make sense. The wretched flower reached the point of destroying everything, over and over again, to curb the nothingness and boredom. You reached the point of destroying everything, over and over again, to curb the nothingness and boredom.

Yet here Ink was. Playing as one of the so-called “good guys”.

“Then how do you feel?” you press the issue.

“Oh? I’m good!” Ink says cheerfully.

“No– how do you feel feelings if you're soulless?” you huff.

“Huh? Oh!” Ink exclaims, and then takes out one of those colorful vials he carries on a sash everywhere he goes. “I don’t! Not naturally, anyway. I have these to help me!” he shakes the little vial — yellow, barely anything remaining inside. They're all in different quantities.

You frown. “What? How? Are they magic?” you reach to take the vial but Ink pulls it back. Now that's interesting.

“Sort of?” Ink squints at the vial. “They correspond to different emotions, but I think they only work on me,”

...Of course.

You let go of his scarf.

You consider fighting him to snatch one of the vials and try it anyway. You know it's pointless, however.

The disappointment is crushing. You feel like a drug addict who was just handed a bag overflowing with white powder only to discover it's flour.

“You should leave before I dice you into dust.”

The disappointment is crushing.

Hah. Hahahah. As if. As if it could be as easy as drinking some paint. Of course not. When has your life ever been easy? No, you are doomed to be like this forever. You knew this. It's downright hilarious you thought (hoped), even for less than a moment, that there could be anything else.

It's so funny you're chuckling.

It's so funny you're laughing.

When Ink leaves, you're still howling with laughter, black liquid streaming down your face.

—

The quiet around here was deafening. It was starting to make Killer hyperaware of every quiet rustle of clothing from every little movement. Several times he caught himself starting to talk to himself, trying to fill the quiet with jokes or something. But that was a slippery slope, so he shut the hell up. If he didn't talk, hopefully nothing would start replying. He refused to get corrupted by the glitches.

Luckily — and that is a weird descriptor — Ink returned. For some known-only-to-him reason.

“Why the hell are you back?” Killer asked, not bothering to get up this time. Just laying on his back. He's here on a vacay.

“Well!” Ink said, and judging by the changing direction of his voice, he was moving around. “The empty white is literal torture, isn't it?” he chuckled.

“What would you know,” Killer mimed rolling his eyes. Wasn't Ink some almighty creator? He could just hurl some ink around and it wouldn't be white anymore.

Ink laughed. “Oh trust me, I know,”

Killer felt like he was missing something.

“Can't you just, I don't know, paint it?”

“Yep! That's what I'm doing right now!” Ink explained cheerfully. Killer pushed himself up to look, now.

Huh. Yeah. Ink was going around with his brush, using the white space as a big canvas. Killer squinted, unable to decipher what exactly he was drawing, besides some colors and shapes. Red and pink, blue in different shades, yada yada.

“...What is it,” Killer observed Ink’s movements, walking around him, deliberate but free flowing.

“Just whatever feels right,” Ink shrugged. “The different hues have different, you know, vibes, depending on how you mix them, how you use them against one another– oh can you step to the side there?”

He did, getting to his feet and stepping aside.

“Thanks!” Ink said, filling in the spot.

Killer squinted, still trying to figure out what it all was. The warm colors looked like a flame maybe...?

He kept watching Ink work for a few more moments. It was weird, to be alone with someone, without a constant background thrum of negativity. Killer couldn't call it pleasant, but... it was better than the emptiness.

Suddenly he was hauled up and his reflexes immediately fired off, magic materializing in an immediate attack and just as soon he was dropped.

“Wow you are jumpy!” Ink exclaimed, holding the wound that Killer cut into him. It didn't seem too deep, mostly due to Ink’s durability. He was standing on top of a short pillar of ink.

“Don't forget who you're talking to,” Killer threatened with a low tone, grin stretching as he gripped a sharp, sharp knife in hand.

“Whoops!” Ink didn't seem all too affected. “Don't you wanna see what it is though?” he leaned on a hand, all silly.

...

Killer accepted being lifted up by a glob of ink, mildly curious.

He stared at the splatter on the white ground.

It was a moth. In shades of icy, hopeless blue. Surrounded by scorching red flames. Huh. Okay them. Pretty cool, or something. At least it was colorful.

Ink put him back down on the ground. With his hands on his hips, he admired his own work, chuckling.

“It’s nice to fill the emptiness, don't you think?”

Killer had never bothered caring about the Stars. He didn't care about them as people, what they felt or what they thought.

He... never would've expected to find understanding with one of them.

“...Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, it is.”

—

“ARGH we’re too late?!” Dream blurted out.

“Huh, I could've sworn he seemed to be staying here for longer,” Ink commented, much less affected.

“The one time he and Nightmare aren’t attached at the hip–” Dream continued groaning.

“Maybe Nightmare sensed we were planning to talk to him–?” Blue suggested, trying to investigate the nearly empty white space. All that remained were splotches from Ink’s activities. No Killer in sight.

Dream sighed loudly, rubbing his face, greatly dejected. “That's... possible,” he breathed.

“We should've come here sooner,” Blue put his hands on his hips.

“He wasn't very happy with the idea,” Ink shrugged.

“It’s... we’ll have another opportunity,” Dream concluded. He had to stay positive and hopeful. “No matter how long we need to wait, we’ll figure out how to help them,” he remained determined.

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 days ago

Text

Reckoning | Sebastian Sallow x OC #54

Quite a satisfying chapter if I do say so myself…

Summary: Sebastian's simmering resentment toward Alaric Thornton boils over during a heated confrontation, leading to a violent outburst. Evangeline intervenes just in time, cleaning up the mess and confronting Sebastian about his reckless behavior while grappling with the emotional distance she’s created between them.

Words: ~10,500

Tags: Mild Violence/Blood, Protective Sebastian, Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Not-Quite-Dating, Will They Won't They, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid August

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The Ministry of Magic’s Auror Division was a whirlwind of activity, a symphony of rushing footsteps, shuffling papers, and urgent conversations. Trainees and seasoned Aurors moved purposefully through the corridors, their robes billowing behind them. Sebastian stood at his assigned station, the steady rhythm of his foot tapping against the stone floor doing little to mask the simmering frustration building inside him. His hands tightened around the parchment his supervisor had handed him, the words blurring as his irritation mounted.

The mission brief should have been a moment of excitement. He’d been waiting days for this assignment, eager for a chance to prove himself in the field. It was a straightforward mission: investigate a smuggling ring suspected of trafficking cursed artifacts through Knockturn Alley. Capture any suspects, secure the evidence, and report back. Simple, efficient—exactly the kind of task he wanted. But then he saw the name listed next to his: Alaric Thornton.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling around the parchment as if sheer force could erase the name. Thornton. The very thought of him sent a sharp, bitter surge of anger coursing through him.

Sebastian hadn’t forgotten Alaric’s past—or, more specifically, Alaric’s involvement with Evangeline. The memory of their brief courtship was a wound that never fully healed, a source of simmering resentment that flared to life the moment he saw the man’s name. It wasn’t just that Alaric had been with her—it was that he’d had everything Sebastian had ever wanted and thrown it away. Worse, he’d nearly ruined Evangeline in the process.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, scanning the briefing again as though a second read would offer some reprieve. But it wasn’t just Alaric that had him on edge. The last week had been hell in more ways than one.

The brief levity between him and Evangeline during the Quidditch game had been a welcome relief. For a few moments, it had felt like old times—like she hadn't spent weeks avoiding him, like they were still Evie and Sebastian, teasing and bickering as naturally as breathing. He’d saved her when that Bludger hit, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered. Not the Prophet, not the whispers, not the weight of everything left unsaid.

But, of course, the Prophet had punished them for it. The next morning, a headline screamed from every street corner: Auror Saves Sterling, But Was the Danger His Fault to Begin With? The article had twisted every detail, painting him as reckless, impulsive, and somehow complicit in the chaos. Worse, it had dragged Evangeline into the spotlight again, insinuating that she was foolish for trusting him.

He hated it. He hated that no matter what he did, the Prophet always managed to make him the villain. But more than that, he hated how it pushed Evangeline further away, retreating into the same polite distance that had plagued them for weeks. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her. It didn’t matter that she’d looked at him afterward like he was the only person in the world who could make her feel safe. The whispers, the scrutiny—it had won again.

The silence in her absence was deafening. At night, Sebastian lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his hand instinctively drifting to the empty side of the bed. He missed her warmth, the subtle weight of her presence beside him. He missed the way she’d murmur nonsense as she drifted off to sleep, her voice soft and half-lost to dreams.

He worried that in their time apart, she wasn’t sleeping at all. That the nightmares were back. And with their work on the repository enchantments stalled, he couldn’t help but think that her dreams might be haunted by that darkness again. The thought made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain.

And if that wasn’t enough, Ominis had casually relayed details of another party Evangeline had attended. Another room filled with men like Theodore Fawley and Elias Carrow, men who spoke of her as if she were a prize to be won. Men who knew nothing of her quirks, her strength, her vulnerability. Men who had no right to be in the same room as her, let alone vying for her attention.

The thought of it made his blood boil, but the worst part was knowing she’d endured it all with the same graceful smile she always wore when society demanded it. She didn’t let on how much it weighed on her, but Sebastian knew.

And now, as if fate had decided to test his limits further, he was assigned to work with the one man he hated more than anyone else: Alaric Thornton. Alaric, who’d had Evangeline’s heart and thrown it away. Alaric, who’d dragged her name through the mud to save his own skin, all for the sake of a handful of galleons. A man who had threatened her—who had nearly destroyed her—and yet still managed to weasel his way into Sebastian’s present.

Across the room, the man in question stood by a bulletin board, casually scanning the notes pinned beneath a softly glowing charm. Alaric looked exactly as Sebastian remembered: tall, composed, and exuding an infuriating air of effortless confidence. His robes were impeccably tailored, his dark hair neatly combed, and his posture radiated a self-assuredness that made Sebastian’s wand hand twitch. It wasn’t just the polish and poise—there was something about the way Alaric carried himself, as though the world bent just slightly to accommodate him, that set Sebastian’s teeth on edge.

Alaric turned, and their eyes met. His brows furrowed ever so slightly, a brief crack in his otherwise composed demeanor. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian saw a glimmer of apprehension in his expression, as if Alaric was weighing the implications of this unwanted reunion. But then, with a precision that spoke of practiced professionalism, he smoothed over the reaction, his features settling into a neutral, almost indifferent mask as he approached with measured, deliberate steps.

“Sebastian Sallow,” Alaric said, his tone cool but polite. "It seems we’re working together on this one.”

Sebastian gave a terse nod. “Looks that way.”

Alaric studied him for a moment longer before glancing at the parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “A smuggling ring in Knockturn Alley—cursed artifacts, mostly. It’s a delicate operation, so we’ll need to tread carefully. I’ll lead the planning since this is your first field assignment.”

Sebastian forced himself to breathe, to maintain the professionalism expected of him, but his voice came out colder than intended. “I’m aware of how these operations work.”

Alaric’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Of course. Then I trust you’ll follow my lead.” He turned on his heel without waiting for a response, his posture impeccably straight as he moved toward the equipment lockers.

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself together. The assignment was already a disaster, and they hadn’t even left the Auror office. Every interaction with Alaric felt like a fresh provocation, and Sebastian was beginning to wonder how he’d manage to get through the day without saying—or doing—something that would land him in hot water with their supervisors.

By the time they arrived in Knockturn Alley, the tension between them was palpable, thicker than the heavy, damp shadows that clung to the crooked buildings and twisted alleyways. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint stench of mildew and something unidentifiable but unpleasant. Their footsteps echoed unevenly against the cobblestones, the sound amplified in the narrow confines of the alley.

The strained silence between them was broken only by the occasional murmur of a passerby or the distant clink of glass from a nearby shop. Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he caught Alaric scanning their surroundings, his gaze sharp and calculating. The man was every bit the professional, and that only fueled Sebastian’s frustration.

He wanted to throttle him. Right here, right now, in the middle of the street. Sebastian wanted to grab him by the collar, shove him against the nearest wall, and demand to know how he could do it. How he could look at Evangeline—kind, fierce, brilliant Evangeline—and decide she was worth so little. How he could throw away what Sebastian had dreamed of, what he still longed for, like it was nothing.

But Sebastian couldn’t. Not with their superiors waiting for a successful mission report and his career as an Auror depending on his performance.

Alaric stopped at the corner of a derelict warehouse, gesturing for Sebastian to follow. “This should be the place,” he said quietly, his voice level and professional. “The reports indicate they’ve been using the upper floors for storage. We’ll sweep the perimeter first, make sure there aren’t any lookouts, then move in.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly, unwilling to give more than the bare minimum of acknowledgment.

Alaric glanced at him, his expression carefully neutral, but there was no mistaking the sharpness in his eyes. “Keep your head in the game,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of warning. “We can’t afford mistakes.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as he forced himself not to snap back. The comment seemed innocuous enough on the surface—standard Auror advice, even—but Sebastian wasn’t stupid.

He was referring to Evangeline.

Sebastian’s grip on his wand tightened, the polished wood digging into his palm as he fought to keep his composure. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Good,” he said simply, turning back to scan the alleyway ahead. “Then let’s move.”

Sebastian followed. The darkness of the alley seemed to press in around them, the flickering light from a broken lamppost casting jagged shadows on the crumbling walls.

Alaric paused at a corner, motioning for Sebastian to stop. His hand moved with precise efficiency, pointing toward a narrow side entrance partially obscured by a stack of rotting crates. “That’s likely our best entry point,” he murmured.

Sebastian gave a curt nod then stepped forward, his movements sharp and deliberate, as they approached the side entrance. Alaric waved his wand, murmuring a quiet detection spell. The faint shimmer of a protective charm glimmered for a moment before fading.

“Low-level enchantment,” Alaric said. “Amateurs.”

Sebastian’s snorted. “Guess you’ll feel right at home.”

Alaric shot him a brief glance, his expression hardening, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he flicked his wand again, carefully dismantling the charm. The door creaked open, and they slipped inside, the musty air of the warehouse thick with dust and neglect.

Inside, the darkness was punctuated by faint shafts of light filtering through broken windows. The hum of magic grew stronger as they moved deeper, its source hidden somewhere within. Crates lined the walls, their lids pried open to reveal objects wrapped in frayed burlap—glimpses of cursed jewelry, cracked potion vials, and jagged shards of enchanted mirrors.

Sebastian’s wand hand twitched as his anger flared anew, though for an entirely new reason. This wasn’t just a smuggling operation—it was a collection of destruction, the kind of artifacts that could ruin lives.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, faint but distinct. Alaric gestured silently, motioning for Sebastian to move left while he circled right. For a brief moment, Sebastian considered ignoring him, storming ahead and taking matters into his own hands. But he relented, slipping into the shadows and moving toward the sound.

The confrontation came fast and brutal. Two smugglers appeared, wands raised, their spells slicing through the air. Sebastian reacted instantly, his fury spilling into his magic. He didn’t hold back, his spells crackling with raw power as he disarmed and subdued one smuggler with ruthless efficiency.

Behind him, he heard the clash of Alaric’s duel. Glancing back, he saw Alaric moving with precision, each spell calculated and deliberate, his expression calm even under fire.

When the last smuggler fell, immobilized by a binding spell, Alaric turned toward Sebastian, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable. “That was effective,” he said, his tone neutral. “A bit… impetuous, but effective.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his wand still gripped tightly in his hand. Without seeking permission, he moved toward the crates lining the walls. “Let’s just secure the evidence and get out of here.”

Alaric followed suit, his movements calm and methodical as he began inspecting the cursed artifacts. “We should alert the containment team,” he said, gesturing toward a particularly volatile-looking shard of enchanted glass. “Some of these are too unstable for transport without reinforcement.”

Sebastian barely heard him, his attention already elsewhere. His wand moved with precise motions as he began securing the perimeter, muttering counter-charms under his breath to dispel lingering traces of dark magic.

The tension between them hung heavy in the air as they worked in strained silence, broken only by the occasional creak of shifting crates or muffled murmurs from the subdued smugglers. Alaric sent word to the containment specialists with calm efficiency, methodically cataloging the cursed artifacts with an infuriating composure that grated on Sebastian’s nerves. Meanwhile, Sebastian directed his frustration into his task, reinforcing the protective wards around the captured contraband with a precision that bordered on aggression. Each flick of his wand was sharp, his focus unrelenting.

The minutes dragged into what felt like an eternity, the oppressive atmosphere of the warehouse pressing down on them. Finally, the sound of boots echoing against the stone floor heralded the arrival of reinforcements. A squad of Ministry specialists swept into the room, their brisk movements and clipped orders cutting through the tension like a blade.

Sebastian stepped back, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of the last hour. His grip tightened around his wand, its familiar weight grounding him as he watched the specialists expertly handle the cursed artifacts. Their practiced efficiency was a welcome reprieve from the strained dynamic he’d endured with Alaric. For the first time since they had entered the musty, dimly lit space, he felt a flicker of relief.

The return to the Ministry was uneventful, the bustling halls of the Auror Division a stark contrast to the shadowy tension of Knockturn Alley. Sebastian and Alaric handed in their report to their supervising Auror, detailing the mission with a detached professionalism that belied the simmering animosity between them.

Their superior scanned the parchment, his stern expression softening slightly. “Efficient work,” he said gruffly, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “The artifacts are secured, the smugglers are in custody, and there’s no collateral damage. You’ll both receive commendations for this. Dismissed.”

Sebastian nodded stiffly, exchanging a brief, tense glance with Alaric before they turned and left the office. The moment the door closed behind them, the thin veneer of civility Sebastian had maintained cracked, shattering entirely as they stepped into the quiet corridor.

His footsteps slowed, and he stopped abruptly, his voice cutting through the quiet hallway. “We’re not done, Thornton.”

Alaric paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He turned slowly, his expression weary but guarded. “The mission’s over. We did our job.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his wand hand twitching at his side. “The mission might be over,” he said, his voice low and sharp, “but you and I have unfinished business.”

Alaric let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is about Evangeline—”

Before Alaric could finish his sentence, Sebastian grabbed him by the arm and shoved him toward the nearest meeting room. The door slammed shut behind them, and with a flick of Sebastian’s wand, the lock clicked into place, and the blinds snapped closed. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a lamp in the corner.

Alaric turned to face Sebastian, his jaw tightening. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. His wand moved in a blur, disarming Alaric with sharp precision. The wand flew into Sebastian’s outstretched hand, and he tucked it into his pocket with a deliberate motion, his eyes blazing with fury.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Sebastian said, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer.

Alaric squared his shoulders, his expression hardening. “You’re out of line,” he said coldly, his tone clipped but controlled. “I suggest you think carefully before making any rash decisions. You’re still only in training, Sallow. You sure you want to end your career before it even starts?"

Sebastian let out a cold, humorless laugh, the sound sharp in the small room. “Rash? Believe me, I’ve thought about this plenty. Months, in fact. Months to stew over how you could betray her like that. How you could take everything she trusted you with and twist it into something vile because the Clearwaters waved a few Galleons in your face.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “That’s in the past,” he said firmly. “I made a mistake—a terrible one. Do you think I haven’t paid for it?”

Sebastian’s lip curled into a sneer. “Paid for it?” he spat, his tone venomous. “You think a tarnished reputation and a few snide whispers make up for what you almost did to her? Do you even realize the damage you could’ve caused?” Sebastian let out a bitter laugh, "You were lucky. Lucky that we stopped you before the damage could stick. But you want to talk about paying for your mistakes? You haven’t even scratched the surface.”

Alaric’s fists tightened at his sides, his voice trembling with anger. “I know what I did, alright?! I don’t need you to remind me! I regret it every day.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his voice rising. “Regret doesn’t cut it, Thornton. Regret doesn’t undo the fact that you tried to destroy someone who trusted you. So tell me, why pretend to care if you were planning to betray her from the start?”

“Because I did care,” Alaric shot back, his voice strained. “I didn’t start courting her with the intention of doing what I did! If you had your facts straight, you'd know the Clearwaters didn’t just bribe me—they blackmailed me.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Blackmail?” he scoffed. “And you call yourself an Auror? Some protector of justice you are if you can’t even handle a little pressure from a bunch of vindictive aristocrats."

Alaric stiffened, his fists curling tighter. “You think it’s that simple?” he said, his voice rising. “You think I didn’t try to fight back? The Clearwaters had leverage! It wasn’t just me they were threatening!"

Sebastian’s lip curled further, his sneer practically dripping with contempt. “So you folded,” he spat. “You chose to throw her to the wolves. You chose to humiliate her, to ruin her future. You don’t belong in this department if that’s all it takes to break you.”

Alaric took another step forward, his frustration spilling over. “I already told you, I regret what I did! What else do you want from me? Blood?”

Sebastian’s rage bubbled over. “Maybe I do,” he snarled, grabbing Alaric by the front of his robes and slamming him against the wall. “Because it sure as hell seems like you haven’t suffered nearly enough.”

Alaric’s head snapped back, his jaw tightening as he glared at Sebastian. “This isn’t going to solve anything,” he growled, shoving at Sebastian’s chest. “You think roughing me up is going to change the past?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “No, it won’t,” he admitted, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “But it’ll sure as hell make me feel better.”

The taller man scoffed, his composure cracking. “You’re pathetic, Sallow,” he spat, his voice venomous. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for? To play the white knight for Evangeline? Because you’re in love with her? Even when I was courting her, I could see it—the way you looked at her, the way you hovered like a dog waiting for scraps.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, the words landing like physical blows. He twisted Alaric's robes in his grip, his knuckles white. “Shut your damn mouth,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

But Alaric wasn’t done. If anything, his smirk widened, his taunts sharpening. “Oh. Hit a nerve, did I? What’s the matter, Sallow? Afraid I’ll say what everyone else already knows? That you’ll never be good enough for her? The Prophet spelled it out for you, didn’t it?”

Sebastian’s vision blurred with fury. Without thinking, he reached for his wand, a silencing charm snapping into place over the room like a heavy curtain. The ambient hum of the Ministry hallway outside vanished, leaving them in a tense, oppressive silence.

“You should’ve stopped while you were ahead,” Sebastian snarled, his voice a whisper but no less lethal.

Alaric’s smirk faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. “What are you going to do, Sallow? Fight me like a common thug?” His smirk twisted into something cruel. “She deserves someone steady, someone who won’t bring her down with their baggage. Someone like Carling, perhaps. Have you seen the way he looks at her?"

The last thread of Sebastian’s restraint snapped. His wand forgotten, he shoved Alaric harder against the wall, his fist slamming into the older man’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of impact reverberated through the room, followed by Alaric’s sharp intake of breath. He staggered for a split second before recovering, his smirk replaced with a sharp, predatory glare. Without hesitation, he shoved Sebastian hard, the force sending the slightly shorter man stumbling back a few steps.

Alaric sneered, rubbing his jaw where Sebastian’s punch had landed. “You’re a bloody idiot, Sallow,” he snarled, his tone dripping with contempt. “But if this is what you want…”

Alaric lunged forward and his hand caught Sebastian’s collar, yanking him forward, but Sebastian braced himself, planting his feet firmly on the ground. With a surge of strength, he grabbed Alaric’s arm and twisted, forcing the taller man off balance.

The two crashed against the nearest wall, the sound reverberating in the silenced room. Alaric grunted as his shoulder hit the stone, but he retaliated quickly, his free hand coming up to shove Sebastian’s chest. “You’re dangerous” he growled, his voice low and furious. “This is exactly why she’ll never pick you.”

Sebastian saw red. His weight worked to his advantage as he barreled into Alaric, using his momentum to drive the man backward. They collided with the corner of a table, the sharp edge digging into Alaric’s side. The taller man let out a pained grunt but didn’t falter. Instead, he brought his knee up, catching Sebastian in the ribs and forcing him to stumble back.

“You’ve got a lot of bark,” Alaric hissed, circling Sebastian with predatory precision. “But that’s all you are, isn’t it? Bark. No bite. Just a desperate fool chasing after something he can’t have.”

Sebastian’s lip curled into a snarl, his fury giving him focus. “You think I’m desperate?” he shot back, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not the one grovelling after selling out someone I supposedly cared about."

The words struck a nerve. Alaric’s composure cracked as he swung, aiming a sharp punch at Sebastian’s jaw. The hit connected, sending a jolt of pain through Sebastian’s skull, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down. He staggered, then lunged forward, tackling Alaric to the ground with a force that rattled the floor beneath them.

Alaric’s agility gave him an edge, allowing him to land sharp, calculated blows, and after some grappling, he managed to twist free, using his longer reach to shove Sebastian off him. They both scrambled to their feet, their chests heaving as they squared off once again. Blood trickled from the corner of Alaric's his mouth, and his jaw was already beginning to swell.

"You think you’re some noble protector, but you’re no different from your uncle." Alaric let out a bitter laugh, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. "Reckless, impulsive, and completely incapable of seeing the bigger picture. No wonder she doesn’t want you."

Sebastian’s vision blurred at the edges, his fists tightening. “You don’t know a damn thing about my family.”

“Don’t I?” Alaric shot back, his tone mocking. “Everyone in the department knows the story. Solomon Sallow—the hotheaded Auror who couldn’t follow orders. It’s no secret how he ended up. And now here you are, following in his footsteps."

Sebastian’s mind went blank.

The world around him narrowed to a singular, suffocating point—Alaric Thornton, standing there with blood trickling from his split lip, spitting venom with a smugness that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

It wasn’t just the insult. It wasn’t just Alaric’s face or his voice, dripping with superiority. It was everything.

His past, looming over him like a dark cloud—every mistake, every misstep, every failure. The constant whisper of self-loathing, telling him he’d never be enough for her. The painful distance she’d put between them because of the Muldoons’ ever-growing shadow, her careful steps to protect them both only serving to carve a deeper wound in his chest. His endless regrets about Evangeline—about waiting too long, saying too little, doing too little. The thought of Alaric, standing here now, after everything he had done to her, still breathing and pretending he had any right to say her name. And the thought of all the others—Carling, Fawley, every polished, perfect bastard vying for her attention because of that stupid list, their smug smiles haunting him like specters.

It all erupted at once, like a dam breaking under the weight of years of pressure.

Sebastian lunged. He barely registered the shocked flicker in Alaric’s eyes before his fist connected with the man’s face. The impact sent a sharp jolt up his arm, but he didn’t care. The crack of bone meeting flesh was drowned out by the roaring in his ears, the visceral satisfaction of releasing the storm he’d kept bottled inside.

Alaric staggered back, hitting the edge of a table, but Sebastian didn’t stop. He followed, grabbing the front of Alaric’s robes and slamming him against the wall. His fist came down again, this time catching Alaric across the cheekbone, splitting the skin with a sharp, sickening crack. Blood erupted from flesh, dotting the floor like crimson raindrops. Alaric tried to shove him off, his hands scrambling to regain control, but Sebastian’s grip was ironclad. He swung again, this time landing a brutal blow to Alaric’s ribs, and the taller man let out a sharp gasp, his knees buckling slightly under the force.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” Sebastian growled, his voice raw with fury. He didn’t wait for a response. His fist collided with Alaric’s face again, the crack reverberating through the room. “You don’t get to talk about me, and you sure as hell don’t get to talk about what she deserves.”

Alaric crumpled against the wall, his hands weakly attempting to shield his face as Sebastian grabbed him again, hauling him upright. The older man’s breath came in ragged gasps, his sharp tongue momentarily silenced under the onslaught.

Sebastian scarcely noticed the blood staining his knuckles, warm and sticky. He didn’t see the way Alaric’s face was already swelling, or the cuts splitting open under his fists. All he could feel was the overwhelming need to end this, to make Alaric pay for every ounce of pain he’d caused Evangeline—for every failure and regret that haunted Sebastian himself.

“You don’t know fuck all about me,” Sebastian hissed, his voice cracking as he threw Alaric against the corner of the table. The sharp edge jabbed into Alaric’s side, drawing another pained grunt. “And you sure as hell don’t know what it’s like to want something—someone—so badly it hurts, and to have it ripped away because of bastards like you.”

His fist flew again, a brutal, instinctive motion that left Alaric sagging in his grip. Sebastian’s chest heaved, his breath ragged and shallow, as he raised his fist for another blow, only to pause as a faint, horrible sound reached his ears.

Drip.

The blood on his knuckles fell onto the floor, mingling with the splattered mess already pooling at Alaric’s feet. It gleamed in the dim light, stark against the stone. The sight snapped something loose in Sebastian’s chest, the fog of rage dissipating just enough for reality to creep in.

He let go, and Alaric collapsed to the floor, coughing weakly. Sebastian staggered back, his gaze fixed on his bloodied hands. His chest tightened as the full weight of what he’d done sank in.

The silence in the room was suffocating. It was just him, Alaric’s broken form, and the undeniable evidence of his loss of control.

“Fuck,” Sebastian muttered, his voice trembling.

The sound of the door unlocking should have terrified him. It should have sent him scrambling for his wand, grasping at any excuse, any plan to salvage the disaster in front of him. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He stood frozen, his bloodied hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his wand on the floor, his chest heaving as his mind replayed the events in an endless loop of anger and regret.

The door creaked open, and Sebastian braced himself for the worst. His supervisor, the Head Auror, even the Minister—it didn’t matter who walked through that door. Whoever it was, they’d see the evidence plain as day. He’d destroyed everything.

“Sebastian?” Her voice cut through the silence.

His head snapped toward the door, and his heart nearly stopped. Evangeline stood in the doorway, her hazel eyes wide as they took in the scene: Alaric crumpled on the floor, blood staining his robes and pooling beneath him; Sebastian standing over him, his knuckles raw and dripping red.

“Evie…” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t gasp or demand an explanation. Instead, her expression shifted—shock giving way to something colder, sharper, a glint of determination in her eyes that Sebastian knew all too well. Without another word, she stepped inside, her wand slipping into her hand with practiced ease. With a quick flick of her wrist, the door locked behind her followed by the sound of another silencing charm snapping into place.

Sebastian stared at her, his heart pounding as she crossed the room in brisk, purposeful strides. “Evie, I—”

“Not now,” she said sharply, cutting him off as she crouched beside Alaric. Her hands moved deftly, her wand tracing over his injuries with precision. Healing charms poured from her lips in rapid succession, her voice steady despite the tension radiating off her in waves. The swelling on Alaric’s face began to subside, and the blood slowed its relentless flow, but she didn’t stop there.

Once Alaric’s injuries had disappeared, she cast a Stupefy charm, ensuring he wouldn’t wake too soon. Then she moved to the bloodstains, her wand sweeping over the floor in careful, deliberate motions. The crimson streaks faded, leaving the stone pristine once more.

Sebastian staggered back a step, his knees threatening to give out as he watched her. “You’re—what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she muttered, not glancing up from her work.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said hoarsely, his voice trembling with guilt. “You shouldn’t—”

“Sit,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument as she pointed to a nearby chair.

Sebastian didn’t move, his legs locked in place as shame clawed at his chest. “Wait, let me—”

“Sit. Down.” Her voice cracked like a whip, sharp and commanding. She didn’t wait for him to respond, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the chair. He sank into it heavily, his muscles feeling like lead.

When the room was finally free of visible evidence, Sebastian watched in stunned silence as Evangeline levitated Alaric’s unconscious body with precision, her wand steady despite the exhaustion that now clearly clung to her like a shadow. She guided his body to a chair near the desk, propping him up in a position that could pass for someone who had simply overexerted themselves. The entire scene looked disturbingly normal, as though nothing violent had taken place in this room mere moments ago.

Satisfied with his positioning, she took a deep breath, steadying herself, before aiming her wand at his temple. “Obliviate.”

The spell cast a faint shimmer over Alaric’s face as his memories shifted, rewritten under Evangeline’s careful direction. When she was done, she sat back on her heels, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “He won’t remember this,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Sebastian. “Not like this, at least. He’ll wake up thinking he passed out from exhaustion."

With that, Evangeline turned back to Sebastian, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. Her hazel eyes were a mix of frustration, concern, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name but that made his chest tighten. “Give me his wand. You have it don't you?”

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“His wand,” she repeated, her tone softer now but no less firm. “Give it to me.”

Sebastian moved as if in a trance, his hands acting of their own accord. He reached into his robes and retrieved Alaric's wand, feeling its weight settle heavily in his palm. For a moment, he hesitated, his grip tightening. This whole situation felt surreal, but the look in Evangeline’s eyes, steady and unwavering despite her exhaustion, cut through his doubt. She needed him to do this. So, he handed it over.

Evangeline took the wand, her movements calm and deliberate, though her pallor betrayed the toll this had taken on her. She positioned the wand beneath Alaric's limp hand so it appeared as though he had simply let it slip from his grasp while working.

“There,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “When he wakes, the memory will align."

Sebastian stared at her, his thoughts racing. The speed at which she had handled everything—clearing the room, casting the Memory Charm, fabricating a plausible story—was nothing short of remarkable. But it was also unnerving. He had always known Evangeline was clever, but this level of composure in the face of... this? It left him speechless.

“Come on,” she said quietly, moving toward Sebastian and grabbing his wrist.

“Where—?” he began, but she cut him off.

“Home,” she said simply.

Before he could protest, she turned on the spot, Apparating them both with a sharp crack. The world blurred and spun, and when it righted itself, they were standing in the familiar warmth of her apartment. The soft light from the enchanted fireplace cast a golden glow over the small sitting room, and for the first time that day, Sebastian felt like he could breathe again.

Evangeline released his wrist and Sebastian stood frozen in the middle of the sitting room, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He watched as she moved across the room, her back to him, hanging her cloak with deliberate, methodical movements. Her silence was deafening. It unsettled him more than if she’d shouted at him. He felt like he was waiting for an ax to fall, for the inevitable wave of anger or recrimination to come crashing down on him.

Before he could find the words to speak, Evangeline turned and she reached for his hand. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, firm but not harsh, and she gently tugged him forward.

“Evie…” he began, his voice hoarse.

She shook her head, cutting him off without so much as a glance. “Come with me,” she said quietly.

She led him down the narrow hallway to her bathroom. The small space was warmly lit, the glow of the sconces bouncing off the porcelain sink and neatly arranged shelves. She released his hand and turned on the tap, dampening a soft washcloth under the stream of warm water. Sebastian hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or retreat.

Evangeline turned back to him, holding the cloth, and for the first time since they’d left the Ministry, she fully met his gaze. Her expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t entirely soft either—it was focused, laced with a quiet determination that made his chest ache.

“Come here,” she said, her voice low.

He stepped forward reluctantly, unsure of what to expect. She reached up, the damp cloth brushing against his cheek as she began to wipe away the remnants of blood and grime from his face. Her movements were slow and careful, her touch impossibly gentle.

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. “Wait, why are—”

“Quiet,” she murmured, not pausing in her task.

The cloth moved across his skin, warm and soothing, and he let his eyes drift shut, too overwhelmed to argue. Each stroke felt like a balm, not just for the physical evidence of his outburst but for the storm raging inside him. He didn’t deserve this—her care, her softness—but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

When she lowered the cloth to wipe his hands, the silence between them felt heavier than before. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her hazel gaze steady and searching.

“I don’t understand you,” she murmured. “I don’t understand how someone so strong, so smart, can be so reckless.” She reached up, her hand brushing against his temple where a bruise was beginning to form. Her touch lingered for a moment before she pulled away. "What happened?"

Sebastian’s stomach twisted at her question, her voice so quiet yet heavy with meaning. His fists tightened at his sides, the memory of Alaric crumpled on the floor still vivid behind his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. The weight of his own actions pressed against his chest like a physical force. “I just�� lost control. He pushed me too far, said things—”

Evangeline hummed, a low, unimpressed sound as she brought the cloth back to his knuckles, gently, wiping away the blood and grime still clinging to his skin. “That’s not an excuse,” she said softly, though her tone lacked its earlier edge. “You can’t let your temper get the better of you. Certainly not at work, not in the bloody Auror Division."

Her words stung, but her touch didn’t falter. Sebastian winced slightly as the cloth brushed over a tender spot, but he stayed still, letting her work.

“You need to be better than this, Sebastian,” she murmured, her tone softened but still laced with disappointment. “You’re not some first-year picking fights in the corridor anymore.”

Sebastian sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her quiet scolding. “I just… he said things, and I—I couldn’t let him go. Especially not after what he did to you last year.”

Evangeline’s lips parted, her brows furrowing for a moment before she shook her head, her expression softening. “You don’t need to fight my battles, Sebastian,” she said gently.

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The memory of Alaric’s smug face, his thinly veiled jabs, flashed in his mind, and Sebastian clenched his fists at the thought of it. “I know you can handle yourself,” he muttered. “But it's... it’s hard not to step in.”

Evangeline sighed, her lips quirking despite herself. “You’re infuriating,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Absolutely reckless and infuriating.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “I'm—”

“Don’t apologize," she interrupted, her smile softening.

Sebastian frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

Evangeline stepped back, folding the cloth neatly in her hands. “I mean,” she said slowly, “that while I don’t condone your idiocy, I’m not going to pretend I don’t find a certain… satisfaction in knowing Alaric finally got what was coming to him.”

Her words hung in the air, and Sebastian stared at her, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re not mad?” he asked cautiously.

“Oh, I’m furious,” she said, her smile turning wry. “You could’ve jeopardized everything—your reputation, your job, your future. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t... like seeing you defend me. Even if it was stupid.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her admission, the weight of his earlier shame lifting just slightly. “I’d do it again,” he said, his voice steady.

Evangeline shook her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “That’s precisely the problem,” she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. “You’d fight the entire Ministry if you thought it would make me happy.”

“Would it?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint grin.

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “It might. But you’d still be an idiot.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, the tension in his chest easing. “I’ll take it."

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but her fingers brushed against his hand, her touch light and unassuming. Without a word, she laced her fingers with his and tugged gently, leading him out of the bathroom and down the hallway.

“You look like you’re probably sore,” she said over her shoulder, her tone casual but tinged with a familiar concern.

Sebastian followed her, his steps hesitant. “You could’ve just said I look like hell,” he quipped, though his voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Evangeline glanced back at him, her lips quirking in a faint smirk. “I was trying to be polite.”

When they reached her bedroom, she pushed the door open, revealing the cozy space bathed in the glow of a single lamp. She guided him to her bed, her grip on his hand lingering for just a moment before she stepped away. “Sit.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, sinking onto the edge of the bed with a wince as his bruised ribs protested the movement. “I’m surprised you’re not pulling out all your fancy charms to patch me up,” he teased, his tone light despite the ache in his muscles. “Thought you’d jump at the chance to show off."

Evangeline snorted, moving around the bed. “Oh, I could. But then how would you learn anything?” She shot him a wry smile before pulling a small jar of salve from her bedside the drawer. "Remember this?"

Sebastian blinked at the familiar tin in her hands, his brows furrowing slightly. “Is that—?”

Evangeline held up the small jar, the faintly worn label bearing the apothecary’s emblem catching the warm light of the lamp. “Your handiwork,” she said with a hint of amusement. “From the apothecary in Upper Hogsfield."

A faint flush crept up Sebastian’s neck as he leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued despite the ache in his ribs. “I can’t believe you kept that.”

Evangeline arched a brow, unscrewing the lid to reveal the faintly green salve inside. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s good stuff, and Merlin knows I’ve needed it more than once thanks to your brilliant ideas.” She chuckled. “You should take pride in your work, Sebastian.”

He gave a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I am decent at brewing, but I just followed the recipe.”

Evangeline smirked, stepping closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed. “Stop downplaying yourself,” she said, her tone softer now. “You might be trouble but you're still talented. Now, shut up and hold still.”

Sebastian stiffened as Evangeline stepped closer, her movements careful yet unhesitant. She sat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight, and reached toward the edge of his robes. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, pausing just before pulling it aside.

Their gazes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt heavier than the bruises weighing on his ribs. Evangeline hesitated briefly, her fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt as she prepared to lift it over his head. He gave a small nod, signaling it was fine, though his throat was dry, and his heart thundered in his chest. Of course, she’d seen him shirtless before, but things had been particularly tense between them lately, and they hadn’t been close like this in what felt like forever.

When she finally pulled his shirt over his head, the cool air of the room hit his skin, but it did little to calm the heat simmering beneath the surface. Her hazel eyes flicked over him and her focus was clinical as she assessed the bruises that marred his ribs and the faint scratches along his arms. Yet, for all her detached professionalism, he felt her lingering gaze like a physical touch.

The past couple of months of grueling Auror training had transformed him more than he realized. His frame had filled out—broader shoulders, a stronger chest, and muscles more defined from relentless sparring sessions and endless drills. He thought back to the last time she’d seen him shirtless—Hogwarts, the Prefects’ Bath. He’d been strong then, sure, but there’d still been the softness that came from sneaking Honeydukes chocolates into his dorm between late-night study sessions and Quidditch practices.

Now, he wondered if she’d noticed the difference. If she liked it.

The thought sent heat crawling up his neck. Evangeline had complimented him in the past, but those compliments were usually accompanied by a teasing eye roll, as if pointing out he was handsome was just an obvious truth. She’d never been direct about whether she personally found him attractive—never let on if she’d looked at him the way he always found himself looking at her.

Evangeline's fingers dipped into the jar of salve, smoothing the cool paste over the bruises with a touch so light it made his chest ache. “You’ve... been keeping busy,” she remarked lightly, her tone betraying nothing.

Sebastian let out a faint laugh, though it felt forced. “Auror training isn’t exactly a desk job.”

She smirked faintly, dabbing more salve onto a particularly nasty bruise. “Apparently not. You’ve... filled out a bit since Hogwarts.”

His stomach flipped at her words, and he struggled to keep his voice steady. “Noticed, have you?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a glint in them that made his heart stutter. “Hard not to,” she said simply. Then, just as quickly, she dropped her gaze back to her work, leaving him to wrestle with the warmth her comment stirred.

“You’re holding still for once,” she changed the subject, her voice soft but laced with amusement. “I’m impressed.”

Sebastian forced a chuckle, though his mind was far from calm. “I’ve learned not to argue with you."

She smirked, dipping her fingers into the paste and dabbing it gently along his ribs. He watched her closely, his eyes following the subtle movements of her hands as she worked. Her touch was precise, confident—yet there was a tenderness to it that made his chest tighten. For all her sharp wit there was a softness to Evangeline that she seemed to reserve just for him.

"You’re better at this than most Healers.” He said, his voice low.

Evangeline chuckled softly, though the sound was a little strained. “You’re just saying that to make sure I don’t leave you halfway patched up.”

Sebastian gave her a faint smirk, but there was a warmth behind it that softened the edge of his usual teasing. “I’m serious. You're probably better than half the professionals at St. Mungo’s. Maybe you missed your calling.”

She snorted, shaking her head as she smoothed the salve over a particularly deep bruise.

The teasing banter faded into a quieter moment, the air between them heavy with unspoken things. Her fingers worked steadily, but Sebastian couldn’t ignore the way his chest tightened with every careful movement she made, every touch that lingered just a second longer than it needed to.

Finally, he broke the silence. “When you walked in on… that mess with Alaric,” he began, his voice quieter now. “How did you even find me?”

Evangeline’s hand stilled on his shoulder, her fingers freezing mid-motion. For a moment, she didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the faint discoloration of his skin under her touch.

“For anyone else, you would’ve been tough to track down,” she said finally, her voice measured. “But when I checked your office and you weren’t there, and then the receptionist mentioned your assignment with Thornton… well, it didn’t take long for me to piece things together.”

Sebastian frowned, his chest tightening at the mention of Alaric. “Still, it could’ve been anything,” he said. “An interrogation, an official investigation, even a meeting. It’s not like you knew for sure what was happening in that room.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, the motion subtle but unmistakable. “Oh, please,” she muttered, smoothing the salve over his skin with a little more pressure than necessary, though her touch remained careful. “A locked door, a silencing charm strong enough to block out even a whisper, and the fact that you and Thornton had just worked together? It wasn’t exactly a mystery, Sebastian.”

“You still could’ve been wrong,” he argued, his voice quieter now. “What if it really was something official?”

She snorted softly, shaking her head as she moved to tend to another bruise. "I know you too well. You’ve got a tell."

“A tell?” His brow furrowed. “What tell?”

Evangeline’s smirk widened slightly. “Your magic,” she said simply, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. “It’s… distinct.”

“How?” Sebastian pressed.

She hesitated, her touch stilling for a moment before continuing. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like… like static in the air—sharp, crackling. Especially when you're agitated.”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by her observation. “You can feel that?”

Evangeline shrugged, keeping her focus on the task at hand. “Not always. Just when I’m close enough. Or when you’re particularly worked up.” Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “Which, let’s be honest, is a lot of the time.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

“You’re not,” she replied, her tone softening. “But I’ve been around you long enough to notice.” Her voice dropped slightly, almost hesitant. "So when I came to the door... I knew you were in there.”

Sebastian stared at her as a flood of thoughts clamored for attention, each demanding to be untangled.

She’d known he was in that room. Not just because of logic or deduction, but because she could feel him. His magic. He’d never known she could do that—never even considered it. But it explained so much. How she always seemed to find him back at Hogwarts, or the way she’d appear out of nowhere, knowing he was just around the corner, even when he hadn’t made a sound.

The idea that she could sense him like that, that she knew him so well—it made his chest tighten, his pulse quicken. And then there was the relief. Relief that she had been the one to walk through that door, to find him before things had spiraled even further out of control. If it had been anyone else, his career, his future—it all would’ve been over. He hadn’t been in any state to clean up his own mess, to think clearly enough to salvage what he could. But she’d been there. She’d stepped in, taken control, and pieced everything back together when he couldn’t.

And now she was here, tending to him with calm precision, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn't been avoiding him for weeks, like she didn’t even have to think twice about helping him.

But of everything, one question pushed itself to the forefront, demanding an answer. “Why were you looking for me?” Sebastian asked, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. “Back at the Ministry, I mean.”

Evangeline’s hand stilled. For a long moment, she didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the faint patterns of mottled skin beneath her touch. Sebastian could see the conflict flickering in her eyes, the way her lips pressed into a tight line as if she were weighing her words. Then, she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping just slightly before she set the jar of salve aside.

“I… can’t stand it,” she admitted quietly. “The way things have been between us. The distance. I know I’m the one who created it, but it’s…” She trailed off, her hands retreating to her lap as she stared at them like they might hold the rest of her explanation.

Sebastian’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as her words settled between them. It was happening—the moment Ominis had predicted with maddening certainty. She’d missed him. She’d come back to him, not because he’d chased her or cornered her into admitting it, but because she’d felt it too. The pull. The ache. The impossibility of keeping their lives separate.

Of course, Ominis had been right. He always was. It had taken every ounce of restraint Sebastian had not to storm after her over the past weeks, to respect the distance she’d put between them even though it had been driving him insane. Ominis’s words echoed in his mind now, clear as day: “Give her the space to figure things out. And trust me, Sebastian, she'll come back. Evangeline can’t stay away from you any more than you can stay away from her."

Sebastian’s chest tightened as he fought to steady his voice. “I get it,” he said softly, his words thick with emotion he could barely contain. “I know why you’ve pulled away. I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers, willing her to understand. “You don’t have to shut me out, Evie. You never had to.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her shoulders hunching slightly as though she were bracing for an argument she wasn’t sure she could win. “I didn’t shut you out,” she said quietly, her voice faltering as she looked away. “Not entirely.”

Sebastian huffed a humorless laugh, leaning back slightly to look at her. “Not entirely?” he echoed. “You haven’t stayed over since the list came out. You hide when I visit your flat. And the last real conversation we had…” He trailed off, his throat tightening as the memory of their exchange in the café resurfaced.

He could still see the way she’d looked at him—tired, frustrated, hurt. The way she’d walked away, leaving him at the table with nothing but his own doubts and regrets for company.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “At the café, I mean. I was frustrated—angry about the list, about the Muldoons, about everything—but I should’ve handled it better. I made it worse.”

Evangeline’s head lifted slightly, her eyes meeting his for the first time since the conversation had started. “It wasn’t just you,” she said softly. “I… wasn’t exactly fair either. I let my frustration with the situation spill over onto you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Her admission eased some of the weight pressing on his chest, but it didn’t erase the guilt gnawing at him. “Still,” he said, his gaze steady on hers, “I should’ve listened. Really listened, instead of trying to fix everything. You were already dealing with enough without me adding to it. I'm sorry.”

Evangeline’s lips twitched in a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’ve always been like that," she murmured, her voice tinged with warmth. “Always trying to fix things, even when you can’t.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened at her words, the warmth in her tone a bittersweet contrast to the guilt he still carried. “It’s not exactly a strength,” he admitted, his voice low. “Sometimes I think I do more harm than good.”

Evangeline shook her head slightly, her expression softening as she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his wrist. “That’s not true,” she said gently.

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, the words hanging between them like a truce. Evangeline’s touch was featherlight, but it burned into his skin like a brand, anchoring him in place.

He moved slowly, curling his fingers around hers, their hands tangling together as if they’d always been meant to fit this way. She looked up at him, startled, her hazel eyes wide and searching.

“Evie,” he began, his voice low but firm, the words bubbling up before he could second-guess them. “Please… stop trying to protect me.”

Her hazel eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he tightened his hold on her hand, shaking his head. “Just—listen. I know why you’re doing it. I get it. I do. But I can’t stand this. The way things have been between us—it’s killing me.”

Her lips parted, a protest hovering on the tip of her tongue, but the look in his eyes seemed to quiet her. She lowered her gaze, and he could feel the tension in her hand, the way her fingers stiffened under his. He didn’t let go.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice raw and unsteady, stripped of all pretense. “I miss you being sprawled on the sofa with one of Ominis’s books in the evening—the ones you swore you’d return ages ago. I miss catching you sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night to make tea, trying to shush me like I’m the one causing a racket when you’re the one clinking cups. I miss hearing you talk in your sleep, the way you mumble about things that don’t make any sense and act like it never happened in the morning. And I just—”

His voice broke, his hand curling into fists against his thigh as he looked at her, every unspoken feeling spilling out in those fractured words. “I just miss you, Evie. You think you’re protecting me, but you’re tearing me apart.”

Her free hand lifted instinctively to wipe at her cheek then, and he realized, with a pang, that tears had begun to form in her eyes. She looked away, her shoulders curling inward slightly, as if trying to shield herself from his words.

“Sebastian,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand. If I don’t—”

“I do understand,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You think it’s the only way to keep me safe. But I don’t want to be safe if it means losing you.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on his with a mix of disbelief and vulnerability.

“I don’t care what the Muldoons think of me,” Sebastian pressed, his voice steady. “Or what the gossip columns say. Let them talk. Let them sneer. None of it matters to me. You matter to me.”

The silence stretched between them and her lips trembled, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as she tried to process his words.

“I miss you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like a release, a confession she hadn’t allowed herself to say out loud until now.

Sebastian’s heart thudded painfully in his chest as he reached out, his fingers brushing against her chin. Gently, he tilted her face upward, his own expression raw and open, his eyes searching hers.

“Then come back,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, each word laced with unfiltered emotion. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. “Stay over again. Let me come by for tea, or for no reason at all. Just… let things be how they were before. Please.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her free hand coming up to clutch his wrist. For a long moment, she said nothing, her grip on him the only response he needed.

Finally, she nodded, the motion small but resolute.

Sebastian exhaled a shaky breath, relief crashing over him as he pulled her into his arms. There was no hesitation, no guardedness in the way he held her—just a raw, unreserved need to keep her close, as though letting go might mean losing her all over again.

She melted against him, her frame trembling as her face buried into his shoulder. He felt the faint hitch of her breath, the warm dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt. His hand slid upward with deliberate care, fingers threading gently through her hair as he cradled the back of her head, his touch steady, grounding.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, as the moments blurred together—seconds, minutes, maybe lifetimes. The trembling in her frame gradually eased, her breaths slowing as the storm within her began to calm. Her grip on his shirt loosened, her fingers uncurling slightly, but she didn’t let go.

Neither did he.

“And I promise,” he began softly, a faint, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips now, “I won’t beat the shit out of any more of your ex-boyfriends.”

A breath of laughter escaped her, quiet and shaky, but real. Her lips curved into a small, wry smile as her hands moved to rest lightly against his chest. “Good,” she murmured, her voice still thick with emotion. “Because cleaning up after you is exhausting.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and warm, and he let his thumb brush a stray tear from her cheek. “To be fair,” he said, his tone laced with mock seriousness, “Thornton deserved it.”

Her smile widened just a fraction, and she shook her head, the motion gentle against his. “That doesn’t mean you get to make a habit of it.”

“No promises,” he quipped, his grin softening as his gaze lingered on her. “But I’ll try to behave. For you.”

Her eyes softened, the tension in her features melting away into something gentler, quieter. Then, without a word, she lifted her hand, offering him just her pinky finger.

A faint, almost boyish smile tugged at his lips as he lifted his hand, mirroring her motion. He hooked his pinky around hers, the small connection sealing something infinitely larger between them.

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mageofpanic · 4 months ago

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go go little star

#tw blood #tw: blood #tw violence #tw violent imagery #cw blood #cw violence #digital art #my art #fanart #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #cazador szarr #bg3 spoilers #i've tried

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1spooky2me · 4 months ago

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(TW: violence and blood)

Not good enough….

*Pork Soda by Glass Animals playin in the distance*

Part 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

TRAGEDY

DREAM OR NIGHTMARE

PART 8

#artwork #bill cipher gravity falls #bill ci the triangle guy #the book of bill #human bill cipher #bill cipher #gravity falls bill #billford #gravity falls stanford #stanford pines #gravity falls #tw violence #tw blood #mmm I love angst #gravity falls au #Fixer-UpperAU

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latepivi · 6 days ago

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happy au i don't know her

#zaundads #vanco #arcane #my art #digital #tw violence #tw injury #i'm half kidding i love that they reconcile in the au #but can't imagine it having been easy #with just that shitty letter lmao

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leifyboii · 3 days ago

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This is peak sleep deprivation, I feel it in my bones

great minds collide (concussion)

(UPDATE: I have been informed that glass being a liquid is a myth, never trust your ceramic teacher)

#viktor arcane #arcane #jayce talis #jayvik #tw long post #tw long #they eventually passed out and solved the equation in the afternoon #tw violence #sucredemar Jayvik content is always peak

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mellowsharkpolice · 2 months ago

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#mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing swansea #tw violence

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ehlihr · 5 months ago

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IF I WERE A WEAPON - A Dungeon Meshi Animatic about Kabru

Finally deciding to just post the semi-rough animatic! Enjoy :-)

#its sort of about laios but only insofar as kabru is obsessed with him ykwim #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi #my art #video #my animation #kabru dungeon meshi #dm #dunmeshi #laios touden #tw violence #flashing #labru #for the labru ppl out there its not not there #dungeon meshi spoilers #my video

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19-1-20-25-18 · 5 months ago

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#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls fanart #bill cipher #gravity falls art #billford #the book of bill #tw blood #tw body horror #tw violence #tw gore #art gallery

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sora-fish · 2 days ago

Note

Bell ran a bit before finally noticing that it was gone- and he couldn’t help but just start laughing. Whether it was out of the knowledge that it wasn’t his problem but someone else’s- or just out of pure relief, he laid down on the floor and just fucking laughed. He was fine. It wasn’t his problem anymore. Sucks for the next guy though!! Whatever. He got some new details about hacker and that’s all he could ask for.

Holds up hacker

Hits hacker like a baseball. This is gonna be fun :33

Alright I’m just gonna assume, and drop Hacker in Bells personal office oooo ahhh pretty cool. Same ole same ole, a messy office that looks practically lived in. Except this time- there is a full on shelf with little tags of names on them, there are a couple- Smokescreen, Wight, Seer, 15, ED, W2, Crisis, mechanic- and everyone else that I have most definitely forgotten to mention that he knows about. Well. The main one that would stick out to hacker is obviously his own file- labeled as such. It’s color coded and everything. Wights is red! For bell himself, he was literally asleep at his desk— hearing Hacker being dropped in and blinking awake, looking up to see who it was this time.

#fish rps #tw violence #complete rp #ff!pd

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

Text

Trigger Finger Ready and Got Nowhere To Run To

Did you ever imagine your boyfriend would offer up your body to solve a yakuza dispute? No, but you aren't surprised.

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭yakuza!ryomen sukuna x f!reader x yakuza!toji fushiguro

Genre: filthy filthy porn with a plot Notes: biggest happy bday to the dilf of dilfs (and my husband of husbands), toji!! (++ sukuna bc they r both beefy n hot :3) Warnings: 18+, dub/noncon, mentions of violence/murder, toxic!relationship, free use ♡, manipulation, jealousy, fem!Uraume, degradation ♡, praise, no prep, oral fixation ♡, size!kink, daddy!kink, choking (hands + belt), slight breathplay, exhibitionism, spanking, dacryphilia ♡, dumbification, creampie(s), calls your pussy “she/her”, slight cucking, oral (m+f receiving), restraints, fingering ♡, pussy spanks, squirting ♡, multiple orgasms, double penetration!(one hole), brief anal mentioning, breeding ♡, belly bulge ♡, pet names (princess, brat, good girl, sweetheart). Words: 15.2k

You’re numb.

Only mentally, numb, to the word which you willingly leapt into. A world with bloodied rivers and bodies piled to the height of the highest mountains. None of it bothers you, not anymore.

Talks of murder and dismemberment barely reach your ears as you flip through the pages of your magazine. You aren’t sure why Sukuna insisted that you be here. He likes to show you off, you suppose. He likes to flaunt what he possesses, and his men never will.

“How much longer?” you whisper, eyes scanning the pages on the gossip mag in your hands. You’d rather be reading a copy of Vogue, but one of Sukuna’s idiotic subordinates picked up the wrong magazine in a hurry.

Actually… You haven’t seen him since.

“What have I told you?” your lover whispers back, he leans over to you. His head turns away from looking at the men in the room as the meeting goes on. But their boss sharing his attention with you rather than the subject at hand earns a few nosy onlookers watching you converse. “Be a brat in private, not here.”

You sigh, crossing one leg over the other as you carry on reading. Sukuna’s hand rests on your thigh before he scowls at the men who’d dare to look at him with an emotion other than fear in their eyes.

He stands up, staring down silently at everyone in the room. It even manages to get your attention. The dread he’s able to instill into his subordinates is more than just impressive to you. It’s exhilirating. Sukuna is a king, and not just to you. To his little brother sitting nearby as the meeting continues. To the subordinates he trusts and who hang on his every solitary breath. And to the public.

People know who you are, now.

You’re Sukuna’s girl.

You were nothing, until him.

He was quite fond of your big mouth and downright horrible attitude when you met. He liked that you didn’t know who he was, and you didn’t hold back when he accidentally bumped into you while shopping. You were wearing a white sundress that hugged every inch of your body, and the coffee in your hand turned the material murky and hideous.

The men surrounding him and ready to silence you for good weren’t even registered in your mind. You didn’t even notice they were there until the friend you were shopping with told you to shut up.

You insulted him, sure. But Sukuna was barely listening. He was too drawn to the way the liquid made your already tight dress cling and stick in all of the right places. Your decision to go braless became painfully obvious to anyone who’d dare let their eyeline drop to your chest.

He dismissed his men, earning a sigh of relief from you and your friend. You watched him carefully as he pulled out his wallet.

“I ruined your dress, huh? Let me buy you a new one, and a new coffee.” he told you. Your eyes bulged as you saw the fat wad of cash in his hand. He smirked, watching your hand hesitate back and forth as you were unsure whether to accept it.

Before him, you weren’t wealthy.

The opposite, really.

You were barely making ends meet and every penny you had was spent on living essentials and rent. The money he offered you was enough for more than that. He was handing you the option to live a little. But before you could take it, before you could fully grasp the bank notes in his hand, he flicked his wrist away.

“I want your number for the pleasure of this expensive meeting.” he grinned.

In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid to accept money from a yakuza man. It seemed like too good of an offer to turn down, though.

For the pleasure of knowing Sukuna and that chance meeting, there have been ups and downs. Everything you knew before Sukuna is your old life. You can’t remember the last time you saw those friends you had. You haven’t been back to your old apartment in over a year, though you know Sukuna still pays the rent on it.

It’s used for some kind of illegal activities, you’re sure. You don’t know why else he’d still pay for it otherwise.

Your old clothes weren’t good enough for you anymore. That’s how Sukuna felt. And with each extortionate purchase he made, you began to agree. You can no longer bear the thought of wearing some cheap, discounted item like you used to. Your entire wardrobe is designer, and you’re like a new woman.

If anyone from your past could see you now, they wouldn’t recognise you.

You don’t care, though. You’ve been poor and you’ve been miserable. What Sukuna gave you that day wasn’t just money, it was an opportunity to cast the old you aside. You’re glamorous, you’re taken care of.

But most importantly, you’re loved.

You’re an object, a doll for him to play with.

But he loves you.

It’s apparent in the way you are in private together. He can be so many things in so many ways. But you know that you are more loved by him than you’ve ever been in any other relationship. He loves you more than friends and family combined.

To Sukuna, you’re everything.

“Listen. Up.” he starts. You know he doesn’t mean you. He wouldn’t mind if you kept your nose buried in your tacky magazine for the entire day. And yet, you find yourself closing it and putting it down on the desk in front of you. Your sole focus is on him. “My wife and I have better things to be doing than sitting here listening to this shit. Figure out this territorial dispute, today, or I’m going to lose my patience.”

His wife.

Everyone’s eyes fall on you when he refers to you as such, and it takes every ounce of concentration and sheer will power to stop yourself from smiling. Your face remains straight and composed, but there are two men who know you enough to see through the façade.

Sukuna, and his brother.

The elder of the two looks down at you, only because he loves to see you squirm because of him. And he’s proud of you, oh so proud that you are well behaved and know that you should appear as strict as he is.

Yuuji, however, has to turn away so no one can see how much he wants to laugh. He’s always liked you; he likes that his brother likes you and he likes how nice you are when you warm up to people. People like him. He’s gotten to know you through being his brother’s second in command. If Sukuna can’t be by your side, Yuuji will be.

And he thinks it’s cute, really, how much you love his big brother. The big brother that most would see as nought more than a terrifying monster. A murderer and a fiend who can so easily ruin lives just because he feels like it.

Yuuji thinks it’s downright adorable.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when his big brother whistles. He watches as you hurriedly stuff your magazine back into your handbag and follow him to the exit. Yuuji follows, too, after his brother gives him a commanding look.

“You shouldn’t lie.” you mutter, leaving the room and walking by Sukuna’s side as Yuuji trails behind you both. Sukuna turns his head sideways so he can look down at you. His tattooed hands remain in his pants pockets as you approach the exit of the building. You keep looking forwards, though. And he smirks.

It’s a cute little pout he recognises.

“You are my wife.” he tells you. “Don’t be a brat because I haven’t proposed, how droll.”

You scoff, finally looking at him, your full glossy lips seem to pout even harder when you actually face him.

“You know what happens when you get married for real, princess?” he asks. And you scoff, again, because you know what he’s going to say. He says the same thing every time you have this truly trite conversation. “Boring sex. And then, none at all. And I know you can’t live without this cock in you for too long.”

“You’re disgus—”

“Speaking of which,” he stops walking and turns to face you. It makes you laugh every time he talks about how boring your sex life would be if you got married. You aren’t sure how true it is, but it amuses you, nonetheless. He gets his wallet from his inner breast pocket and withdraws his credit card, handing it to you with a wide smile on his face. “That’s what you get when you’re a good girl. Thank you.” he grabs the crown of your head with a large palm and plants a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I thought we were talking about sex, not money.” you speak, and he smiles. “Which do you think I prefer?”

“With me, sex. In general, money.” he tells you, and you suppose he’s right. “But with money, you can buy things for sex. Unless you want to be a brat, I can take back the card. Otherwise, buy a pretty set for daddy to fuck you in.”

He loves how your demeanour changes at the use of your favourite name for him when you’re alone. Yuuji is here, yes, but he knows the intricacies of your relationship so there’s no need to be concerned.

“Theeeere she is, daddy’s good girl.” he approaches you; his hand settles on your waist. A simple cue for Yuuji to know he doesn’t want to be here. He walks on ahead; and you both watch him walk by before focusing on each other again. He backs you up until your shoulder blades rest against the wall. You tilt your head to kiss him, but he pulls his head back to tease you. “Why aren’t you always a good girl for me?” he wonders.

You allow your head to loll back against the wall with a gentle thud. He watches you, intently, wondering what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. His eyes drop as your right hand gently traces over his crisp black dress shirt until you find his tie.

And you tug.

His body cages you in and you will never get over what a behemoth of a man he is. He’s so intimidatingly large. You’re like a little mouse about to be devoured by a viper. And yet, somehow, you’re in control. He gasps, albeit quietly, but there is pleasure behind it as you pull him closer.

“You’d be so bored if I was always good, daddy. And you fuck me better when I’m a brat for you.” you tell him, voice filled with lust as your sultry tones reach his ears. His cock twitches at your words, although he’s tired of you having the upper hand. One hand grabs your jaw, and you know if he wanted to, he could break it with ease. But you smile, willingly.

If you are to die, it would be an honour by his hand.

He kills you with a kiss, instead. Your thoughts dissipate as you allow your lips to lock and teeth to clash as you needily make out. His body presses into yours, uncaring for the place or potential audience that could find you at any moment. A soft, needy moan slips by your lips as you feel his hardening bulge grind between your legs. It makes him smile, smugly and proud as he steals continuous little noises from you.

“You only keep your fucking mouth shut when you’re getting this dick.” he comments, his tongue licks against yours before he suffocates your desperately mewling with heated kisses once again. He pulls away, whispering in your ear. “You’re nice ‘n wet for daddy, yeah? Want my cock, baby?”

“Mhmm…” you nod, raising your leg to rest on his hip. His fingers squeeze into the flesh of your thigh as he helps it settle in place. His kisses are barely there anymore. Soft pecks as he gradually pulls away until you’re whimpering and begging for more. “Please, daddy… please.”

“Awe,” he gives you one final kiss before looking over his shoulder to see some of the higher ranked members of his organisation approach. He pulls away, leaving you completely breathless. “Brats don’t decide when their holes get used. Their daddy’s do.” he reminds you.

You’re left panting with your hand on your chest as he walks away. He looks over his shoulder at you before giving you a self-satisfied smirk as he waves at you.

“Keep your cunt wet for daddy.” he tells you.

You scoff, fleeing the scene quickly as the humiliation of his words surges through you. The lack of respect and discretion should make you furious. And honestly, it does. But that feeling of anger and fury is overridden with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Yuuji asks as you walk through the double doors and out into the blaring summer sun. The heat is unbearable, you’re sure the sidewalk would steam if you poured water onto it. “Are you okay? Thirsty? Can I carry your jacket?” Yuuji wonders. And you nod.

“Thanks, Yuu.” you smile, taking off your coat for him to hold for you. “You’re taking care of me again, I guess.” you sigh, but try to remain optimistic. You both know you’d rather Sukuna be the one taking you shopping, but you don’t hate spending time with his brother.

“What are we shopping for today?” he asks, opening the door to his car for you to climb into. He puts your coat in the back and rushes around to driver’s seat. “You can go crazy since he won’t be there to stop you.” he winks. You giggle a little as he buckles himself in and starts the car. “Oh, he wanted you to get some lingerie, right?”

You go quiet, looking down at your hands as you nod quickly. It’s almost unnoticeable, but Yuuji knows. He starts driving to a boutique he knows you like, smiling to himself. You’re so brazen and loud most of the time. You can be so confident and fearless.

But he thinks it’s sweet that you get so shy about things like this.

“I’m not judging you, y’know.” he tells you, looking to the side to see if you’re listening. You raise your head to look at him, the slight anxiety you feel slowly leaves your body the longer you look at him. “You’re a good friend to me. I’m happy Sukuna met you, otherwise I wouldn’t know you.”

“Yuuji…” you respond, you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you hear his sweet words. It makes him laugh, though. He’s happy he managed to break you out of your nervous sulk. “I wonder sometimes… if I’m crazy.”

“You are.” he tells you. You lightly slap his arm, “Hey, I’m driving!” he laughs. “You have some kind of arrangement with my brother, right? That doesn’t matter. You love him, don’t you? I know he loves you too. He’s told me enough, and I can see it in his eyes. You’re crazy, but he is too.”

An arrangement.

You’re happy it’s a secret, even to Yuuji. If anyone from your past life knew what you agreed to with Sukuna, they’d be ashamed. You figure anyone would be, really. But you don’t care. Yuuji is right.

Sukuna is crazy.

But so are you.

“Thanks, Yuuji.” you smile, weakly. “You’re a good friend to me, too.”

Sukuna is possessive, he’s greedy.

But what Sukuna doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You model a few lingerie sets to his little brother. And Yuuji, of course, is a perfect gentleman about it. His eyes rake over your body, though you can detect a lack of lust in him. There’s another woman on his mind that you know to be the reason. He’s a lovesick puppy, and you are off limits. He isn’t stupid, but he’s happy to help you shop.

Sukuna should be the one here with you now, anyway. He should be the one watching you try on panties and bras and pretty baby dolls. And yet, he’s sent you away to give himself some peace while he works on whatever the hell it is he does all day. Threatening and being a general bastard to the city at large.

If he were here, you know you’d be getting fucked within an inch of your life in every pretty ensemble you try on.

“Yuuji, what is your brother doing today?” you ask him, pouting a little. It feels humiliating to have to ask. You should know where your boyfriend is and who he’s with. Even Yuuji looks taken aback. Does Sukuna often keep you in the dark? It’s not like what he does for a living is some big secret.

“… There’s a huge territorial dispute right now…” he starts, looking at the store clerks and urging them to walk away if they know what’s good for them. They do, giving you two the space to talk. “He and the other higher ups are having a follow up meeting to decide what to do.”

You huff and start to undress as you head back into the changing room.

“Uraume?” you wonder, already knowing the answer. “Is she there?”

“Well, she’s Sukuna’s right hand. After me, obviously.” he tells you, and it only earns another huff of annoyance from you.

You know what Sukuna will want is for you to pick a pretty lingerie set to wear under your clothes all day until he gets home. You’re not doing that, though, not now. Not when you know he’s with her. He’s lucky you’re even still buying any in the first place. Yuuji watches you as you tell the staff to ring you up, a look almost akin to sorrow lingering in his soft brown eyes.

“Nothing is going on between them, y’know.” he tries to assure you. All you can do is scoff. The notion of remaining silent dies as you begin to think about how many positions he’s probably fucking her in while you run around and play the role of the oblivious wife.

A wife without a ring, at that.

“No offence Yuuji, I’m not exactly going to take your word for it. He’s your brother.” you sigh. He grabs the shopping bags for you once you pay the extortionate price. Sukuna had told you to get a set, not several. But you think it’s the least you deserve after finding out he’s with Uraume instead of you. “I want some new jewellery, let’s go.”

You hold the door open for Yuuji before you walk side by side towards the nearest jewellery store. Sukuna’s feelings are the least of your concern, whether he’s frustrated with your purchases or not doesn’t matter to you. Not right now. You’re hellbent on giving his credit card a workout before you go home.

The air conditioning hits you as you enter. Yuuji finds a seat as you begin to browse, dumping your shopping bags by his feet. He keeps a watchful eye on you as you’re shown around at some pieces you might like. A necklace is calling your name, but new earrings would be nice, too. But with the way you’re feeling, you might just leave with everything that you take even the vaguest of interest in.

You hear Yuuji’s phone ring behind you, and it forces you to look at him expectantly. It’s embarrassing, really, how badly you’re hoping it’s Sukuna to ask for your location so he can be here with you. But his younger sibling shakes his head despondently, feeling sad that he’s letting you down.

“Shit, I have to go.” Yuuji tells you, and your brows furrow. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been left alone. What could be so important? He looks at you, eyes serious and almost desperate as he wills you to listen to him. “I won’t be long, please don’t leave. Sukuna will kill me if anything happens to you.”

“It’s fine, Yuu.” you nod, barely looking at him anymore as you admire the glimmering jewels in their glass display cases once more. “I’ll be here.”

He smiles, gratefully, and squeezes your shoulder. His speed is impressive, you’re surprised you haven’t been left with a dust cloud as he leaves your side and departs the store. You have no idea what’s happening, but it must be serious if Yuuji had to rush off like that.

The clerk assisting you can’t help but fawn over how gorgeous you look as he allows you to try on a diamond necklace that caught your eye. It’s simple, something you’d wear every day. It’s glamorous but not overstated.

“There are matching earrings, if you’re interested.” the clerk tells you, and you nod. “And there’s—”

“If it matches, I’ll take it all.” you smile. The clerk nods and takes the necklace from you. You watch for a few minutes as he wanders around and collects everything you’ve asked for, but you soon get bored and begin browsing again.

You raise your head as you see two men with black hair enter. You unintentionally stare, but soon avert your gaze when another necklace catches your eyes. You hear the men discuss something about a sister, and you deduce they are likely here to purchase gifts. You feel your blood run cold as they become silent, and you feel them glaring at you.

You’ve gotten a sense of when people are sizing you up, now. Even if it’s something as tedious as being leered at. Being with Sukuna has taught you to sense danger, however small.

“I’d like this necklace as well, please.” you speak, hoping your confidence and signalling of the staff will get them to stop staring at you. The clerk nods and sends another member of staff to your side to aid you.

You look in the direction of the men. Truthfully, you aren’t sure if you had tried to warn them that you were onto them with a look their way. It seems like you’re more interested in scoping out a potential threat.

“It’ll suit you.” the younger one says. “Maybe we should get something like that for Tsumiki?”

The older man is silent.

Your skin tightens together, breaking out in goosebumps as his looming presence gets closer and closer to you. You clear your throat, hoping that it will be enough to tell him that you know he’s there and you don’t want him to be. It does little to dissuade him, though.

He stares at you, urging you to return it. There’s an uncomfortable yet palpable silence between the two of you as you look into each other’s eyes. His face is sculpted, yet damaged. And still, you find him beautiful. A scar stabs betwixt his lips, though it’s aged and healed.

It’s a warning, in itself, that you shouldn’t trust him.

But his gaze is serious and endearing all in one. His eyes are beautiful, just like the man he’s with. There’s no doubt, now, that they’re related. They’re like a copy of one another. Father and son, you suspect. Though they remind you of Sukuna and Yuuji. The man in front of your appears to be the same age as your lover, maybe a little older. Yuuji is around the same age at the young man accompanying him.

You find yourself lost in his eyes, an odd compulsion to figure out this man and his life story. Who is he and what could he want with you? Your guard has been lowered, despite it being unwise. You should be more alert, if anything.

But those eyes are—

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” he tells you, breaking his eyes away from you to look at the clerk behind you. He curls his finger, a simple instruction that you seem to miss until you see him holding the necklace in his hand. “May I?” he asks, acting before you even answer.

You turn around and make sure your hair isn’t in the way so he can put it on you. This isn’t right, you know it isn’t. You aren’t sure why you’re allowing him to do this. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck, the hairs stand on end when you realise.

He fastens the clasp behind your neck, and casually allows his hand to fall into the small of your back as he guides you to a nearby mirror.

“Suits you.” he tells you, tucking hair behind your ear so he can examine it further. You don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your cleavage, though, and you clear your throat again. It prompts him to slip back into his cool demeanour. “My daughter is around your age. Think she’d like it?”

“I don’t know your daughter. And I don’t know you.” you remind him, earning a soft chuckle from him. You watch him summon the man he brought with him, and now you’re sure he’s his son. After hearing him mention his sister, you manage to put the pieces together.

“I want two of these.” he announces, making sure everyone can hear. You aren’t sure if he’s instructing his son or the clerk beside you. Either way, he hands his credit card to the man he’s with in a similar way Sukuna does to you.

It’s almost… dismissive.

“Two?” you say, curiously.

“I’m buying yours.” he tells you. He shushes you when you go to protest. “You’re brave, hah? Big mouth, attitude, ‘n your pretty too. I like it.”

“I’m spoken for. And expensive things won’t—”

“I know.” he interrupts you, putting his hands in his pockets. He looks over to his son as he pays for the jewellery. You’re nervous, though it’s not entirely because of him. The thought of explaining this to Sukuna sends chills down your spine. “Girls like you are always spoken for. And he looks after you, yeah? Buys you nice things ‘n all that. Figures.”

“… Y-You didn’t tell me your name…” you say, meekly. It’s pathetic and wimpy, though that’s how you feel beneath his divine gaze. He smirks at the sound of your voice, maybe it’s the submission.

“Toji.” he replies, simply. His son approaches him with a single shopping bag, it’s black and sleek with the store logo on the side. It makes you excited and impatient to receive your own purchases. And after this, you have no desire to shop anymore. You want to get home where you know you’re safe. “We ought’a get goin’, Megs.” Toji tells his son, who nods in agreement.

Just as they’re about to leave, Yuuji returns.

He can’t say anything, not right away. If you were looking at him, though, you’d be able to see how much he wants to burst. There’s a vein bulging in his forehead as he looks between the men.

But your eyes are solely on Toji.

His hands remain firmly in his pockets as he walks away and towards the exit. And then he turns around again, fully, facing you head in to gift you with his parting words.

“Give Sukuna my regards, won’t you, sweetheart?” he smirks, leaving the store with his son in tow.

“Fushiguro!” Yuuji yells, though they pay him no mind. He faces you, now, intent on finding out what the hell is going on. “What was that all about? Are you stupid? Seriously stupid? I told you not to talk to anyone!”

“You didn’t, you told me not to leave.” you remind him, and he grunts. “Who were they, Yuuji? I’ve never seen either of them before.” you tell him. He just shakes his head and decides to ignore you. He’s furious, though you can’t figure out why.

Have you really done something so bad?

The fact that Toji seems to know who Sukuna is certainly doesn’t bode well. They’re from rival gangs, clearly. His and his son’s tattoos aren’t like Sukuna’s. His are brazen, confident. He was cocky enough to get them on his face, too. But the Fushiguro’s, as Yuuji had named them, must hide their markings beneath their shirts like most yakuza men tend to.

“Let’s go.” Yuuji speaks, anger lingering in his quiet words as he leads you out of the store and back to his car. “I’ll have to tell Sukuna about this…” he explains, making sure all of your shopping is secure safely in the trunk of his car. You get into the passenger seat and shrug, it makes no difference to you if he tells his brother about this.

You don’t even know what he’s telling him.

It gets later and later into the evening, with no signs of Sukuna returning any time soon.

And you’re ready for him.

You’re fully dressed, wearing the very same clothes you’d worn to go shopping hours earlier. But you had stripped briefly when you got to your room. The lingerie options were almost infinite as you peaked in each and every shopping bag you brought home from the boutique.

He’ll like the pink one most, you suspected.

So, you put it on.

“Where’s Sukuna?” your one and only true friend in this cutthroat world asks through the speaker of your phone. It snaps you from your daze as you recall how the pink lingerie fit your body like a God damn glove while you checked yourself out in the mirror. “You’re doing housewife shit while he’s out having fun?” Nobara continues, and it makes you scoff. There’s laughter in it, but your annoyance towards your lover is evident.

“He’s with Uraume.” you say, calmly, as you continue washing the mountains of dishes in the sink. You aren’t normally one to do chores, but you thought it would distract you from your worries. Even if only for a moment.

“Oh I hate her.”

“Me too.” you agree. Something tells you Nobara doesn’t feel as strongly as she’s making out, she’s just showing support. You appreciate it all the same, though. “There’s something going on… I know there is.”

“No way. You don’t know, you just think you do. But even I can see how much he worships you. He’d never cheat!” she says confidently, and you wish you could believe her. It’s not like you’d leave him, even if he was.

He’s conditioned you to need him, after all. How can you go back to your old apartment when it’s his, now? Your old, pathetically paying job won’t cut it, either. Sukuna has gotten you used to the finer things in life, things you don’t want to lose. Your friends, your family, it’s all gone and forgotten. All you have is him.

There’s no leaving him, now.

“… I don’t trust him, sometimes.” you confess, quietly. You aren’t even sure if she heard you over the sound of the gushing tap. “I don’t trust—”

The sound of a lock turning in the door stops you from speaking anymore. You look over your shoulder, and you finally see him. He doesn’t say a word as he comes in. He gives you a curt nod as he hangs up his jacket.

“Uh, Nobara, how’s your day been?” you ask, loudly, hoping she’ll get the hint and change the subject.

You tense up a little as you feel Sukuna’s presence looming closer and closer. You put down a plate as you feel him behind you. His body traps yours between his and the sink. You hold your eyes closed lightly as you feel him. Really feel him. You aren’t sure you’ll ever get over his domineering size.

Nobara begins to prattle on about nothing in particular, and relief flows through you. You manage to stifle a heavy breath as Sukuna begins to kiss your neck; though you almost falter as he takes your earlobe softly between his teeth.

“Sukuna, ‘m on the phone.” you angle your head to whisper, but he just silences you with a kiss instead. And instinctively, you’re smiling again. You’re so simple, maybe even stupid. It’s always so easy for him to placate you, even without knowing you’re upset with him.

“Don’t care,” he growls into your mouth, kissing you again. “You agreed, did you not?” he asks, feeling you up over your clothes. Your head droops back onto his shoulder as you feel him caress your tits through the fabric of your dress. His free hand roams between your legs, pushing the black material covering your thighs between them and dampening it with your slick.

“Mmpf,” you hum, lightly, biting your lip. You can’t help but wriggle and squirm beneath his touch. As much as you’d prefer to stop so you can wrap up what you’re doing first, you did agree to this when you started dating him.

“Anyway, I still don’t think Sukuna would fuck Uraume.” Nobara speaks, and you both freeze for a moment.

As she lists her reasons, in gratuitous detail, Sukuna’s hands move across your body. They’re slow, but with purpose. Your dress settles back into place once he moves his left hand away from your core. He wraps his arm around your midsection, tightly, giving you no chance to flee. His right hand moves a little quicker, fingers brush along your collarbone until he finds your neck. He somehow manages to choke you, slightly, while holding your jaw with his thumb and index finger.

And he makes you look at him.

He doesn’t speak, the sound of Nobara discussing everything you’ve told her about him and Uraume is the only sound either of you hear. His red eyes terrify you the longer it goes on. The longer he goes without speaking a word.

“’Kuna—”

“You’re jealous of Uraume?” he says, loud enough for Nobara to hear. She’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so. And then your heart plummets when you hear the beep that signifies the call has ended. “Still?”

“What do you— Sukuna!” you yell, feeling him pull your dress down your body. You try to scold him. You try to focus on finishing the dishes so you don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how desperately you crave him. But it’s all in vain as he spanks you upon seeing the pretty pink set hugging your body.

“Good girl.” he tells you, spanking you again.

The chore of washing cups and plates is soon abandoned as he yanks your hair by the roots. Your back arches gloriously, and he can’t help but slap your ass repeatedly until it stings. He wants to hurt you, just because he loves you.

He’s insulted that you think so little of him.

“What happened to you, princess?” he asks, spanking you again. “You never used to be so insecure. That’s what I liked about you.”

Liked?

“Don’t— c-care—”

“Oh?” he interrupts, “You really want to be a brat for me right now? I’m not in the mood, but you can test me if you’re feeling brave.” he warns you, and you manage to shake your head in defiance.

“Sukuna, I just— I don’t like her.” you tell him, you see an eyebrow raise out of the corner of your eye. It’s a curious look you can’t quite place. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to say something so honest, or maybe he just can’t put his finger on why you feel this way about her. “She has feelings for you… it’s so obvious.”

“And?” he speaks, his hand that had been around your throat moves to the bend of your knee. He effortlessly raises your leg so that it rests on the marble countertop. His breathing is heavy and stained with alcohol as it fans across your shoulder.

Your breath hitches as he hooks his finger into the seat of your panties, moving the pink material into the crease of your thigh. You shiver just slightly as the cool air of the air-conditioned room hits your folds, and he growls as he holds you tighter.

With one hand, he unbuckles his belt and manages to free his length from his trousers. You gasp as you feel him press his heavy tip between your folds, the tacky wet sound reverberates through the room. He isn’t targeting anywhere specific, but he snarls each time you mewl when he catches against your entrance.

“Unff— fu-uck!” you keen as he finally pushes into you.

“This,” he starts, slowly sinking inside of your welcoming slot. Your eyes roll over white with each agonising delve into your walls and towards your sweet spot. He spanks you once more, demanding your concentration as he tries to drill his words into your before he starts drilling his cock into you. “It’s all yours, y’hear me, princess?” he explains as he carefully rocks his hips, his chest swells with pride as he repeatedly nudges against your g-spot.

“S-Sukuna,” you pant. “Daddy, I love you.” you tell him, tears spill down your cheeks as you pathetically confess. He knows, of course he knows. But his ego will never tire of hearing those four precious words from the lips of his favourite girl.

“Yeah? Y’love daddy?” he asks, faux sympathy in his voice as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Hurts my feelings when you don’t trust me.” he lies.

“’m sorry,” you sob, “I trust you, daddy, ‘m sorry!” you continue, and you melt into his touch when you feel him softly kiss your cheek again and again as his thrusts get faster and faster and faster.

He’s so deep you can feel him in your throat. Your mind is churning, thoughts become liquid the harder and deeper he pounds into you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he continues, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth to silence your cries.

You suck and lick and lave over them as if your life depended on it.

He forces your mouth open wide, strings of drool dribble from your lips and tongue as he repeatedly fingers dangerously close to your throat. He laughs maniacally when he flies to close to the sun, triggering your gag reflex.

“Oh, baby, got real tight for daddy like that.” he tells you. Your hands search for something, anything to grasp as he ruins you from the inside. “So fuckin’ tight for me, princess. Wanna cum?”

“Yes, yes please.” is what you’re hoping to say despite his fingers still invading your orifice. “Please daddy, n-need it.”

“Mmm, good fucking girl.” he praises you. “So needy, hah? I’ll be good to you this once. So cum.”

You brace yourself, twisting your torso so that you’re facing him. His fingers remain in your mouth, but your fixation on them has dies a slow, painful death the longer this encounter carries on. His fingering slows, but the spit leaking from your mouth still pools out and covers whatever it squelches on top of.

“Go on, cum for daddy.” he orders.

And you do.

You cream his length as you lose control of your entire body and give it to him. You’re crying so hard but you don’t know why. He licks your cheeks, though, getting off on the taste of the salt and sorrow you’re gifting him with. You convulse as you reach the peak of your orgasm, and he makes sure to keep a careful hold of you.

“Hate you being fucking jealous.” he explains as he chases his own high, the deafening sounds of your genitals meeting again is so sloppy and lewd. If you weren’t so tired, you’re sure your face would flush with heat from the embarrassment of it all. “You’re mine. I only fuck you. I only cum in this perfect cunt. Are you listening? Or did daddy fuck you too fucking stupid?”

“D-Daddy,” you mumble, “love you…” you trail off, exhaustion consuming you as you bargain with yourself to rest your eyes for just a minute.

“Daddy’s slutty girl, yeah?” he grunts, and he’s surprised that you manage to nod in response. “Only shut that big fucking mouth of yours when you’re getting this cock.” he speaks, he hopes you’re listening but he’s not so sure.

With only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming buckets into you. You hum at the sensation, the warmth of being gifted with your daddy’s load is a soothing feeling that makes you feel completely claimed. You’re safe, secure, like this. He plugs his cum inside of you for a while as he refuses to move.

You don’t want to think about the fact that you aren’t ever really going to know the truth. You won’t know if he’s just telling you what you want to hear while he’s out doing exactly what you’re worried about. You won’t truly feel safe unless Uraume goes.

But you know that will never happen.

He pulls out of you, watching as your pussy pulses while he splits open your lips on his fingers. His softening cock jumps at the sight of his sperm gushing out of you and splattering against the cold kitchen tiles below. He angles your body, again, so that he can plant a searing, messy kiss on your lips from behind.

He wipes his dick against your ass, doing a poor job of it before he tucks himself back into his grey trousers. He moves the gusset of your panties back where it belongs to stop anymore cum from dripping out of you.

“I should… clean up…” you say, wistfully as you look at the remaining dishes in the sink and the dollop of sperm on the ground beneath you.

“Don’t worry about it.” he tells you, walking towards your bedroom to find your shopping bags. “Show daddy what else you got today.”

You take a deep breath and stumble a little on unstable legs. He looks behind himself, reaching out to take your hand to support you. He leads you to your room, a little surprised by the amount of new shopping bags spread out.

He lifts you up and places you down carefully on the bed. You bite your lip as he helps you out of your high heels while he’s down on one knee. He watches, attentively, as you throw your head back as he kisses each of your legs.

“I don’t recall telling you to buy jewellery.” he speaks, knowing he didn’t say it at all. You only giggle, which makes his smile grow wider. He rests his body on his knuckles on either side of your thighs, his nose almost touching yours as he examines you. “That one is new, isn’t it?” he asks, reaching up to hold the pendant against his palm. You nod, and he hums.

He takes his time admiring everything as he looks through each and every bag. You’re silent as he searches, not sure what he’s actually looking to find. Sukuna seems pleased with the multitudes of lingerie you’ve returned home with, often looking between the material and yourself as he envisions it on your body.

Though soon enough, he’s looking through the jewellery. He’s full of flattery, for some reason. You can’t help wondering if it’s because of your very obvious insecurity.

Your heart sinks, however, when he picks up the receipt.

“W— uh, what are you doing?” you ask, cursing yourself for not playing it cool in the least.

He’s silent as he looks over each item and price. His eyes drift briefly to look at you before he’s fixated on the receipt again. “I’m checking how much having a bratty princess for a wife has cost me today.” he tells you, his voice almost monotone as he speaks. He picks up each piece of jewellery as he mentally checks it off of the list in his hand. And then his eyes zero in on you once more. Or specifically, the necklace you’re wearing. “Did you steal that?” he asks.

You shake your head.

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from being with Sukuna, it will never serve you to lie. He knows more than you can possibly imagine. And what he doesn’t know, he figures out quickly.

“… I’m going to fucking kill him.” he speaks through gritted teeth, crumpling up the receipt in his hand. You have no idea who he’s talking about. He stands up, holding the necklace around your neck in a clenched fist. “Tell me, princess. Do you love this necklace? Or did you pick it impulsively?”

“Both,” you nod. “I was only looking at it because— b-but I love it, now.”

He lets go of the pendant, now warm against your skin after being in the palm of your lover despite it being brief. He smooths his hand over your hair and then strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“A lovely gift from a man trying to muscle in on my territory.”

You knew Toji must be yakuza, too. But you had no idea he was such a direct rival of Sukuna’s. It’s unsurprising, though. Maybe they’d been tailing you and Yuuji today. You’d assumed it was a coincidence that they wound up in the same store as you, but you’re no stranger to being naïve.

Sukuna’s territory…

Could he also be referring to you?

“Territorial disputes are standard practice in our line of work, Sukuna.” Uraume starts, trying her best to calm your boyfriend down as he seethes in yet another meeting. “Although she has certainly complicated things.” she speaks, looking at you as her tone becomes more calculated and vicious.

Of course to anyone else, it sounds like she’s just making a point.

But you know better.

“I didn’t complicate anything, thank you, Uraume. I went shopping as I was instructed to do and he just showed up.” you try to defend yourself maturely despite wanting to rip her hair from her scalp.

“No, this isn’t your fault.” Sukuna reassures you. “You shouldn’t have fucking left her you idiot!” he bellows, his voice booming through the room until it reaches his brothers ears. His words seem to echo the longer Yuuji remains silent. He doesn’t even get the chance to talk as Sukuna demands he be quiet. “More and more of them are doing shady shit in areas that I own. Making profit that should be mine. How do we—”

“Yuuji, you’re friendly with his son, right?” you ask. And he shrugs, passively. You’re sure there’s a story there. Perhaps they went to school together given that they’re the same age, but you don’t want to press it and risk him getting in deeper trouble with his sibling. “Do you have a phone number or anything for him?”

“Uh…” Yuuji pats down his body as he looks through his phone. Sukuna watches, everyone watches as he scrolls through his contacts. And finally, he nods.

“Call it.” Uraume orders, Sukuna looks at her and then nods at his brother in agreement.

The tension in the air can be cut with a knife as each ring passes. You feel sick to your stomach the longer it goes on.

Until finally—

“I was wondering when you’d call.” the younger Fushiguro answers, Yuuji places the phone down on the table and puts it on speaker. “My old man has an offer for your brother.”

“Megumi, Sukuna isn’t exactly the negotiating type.” Yuuji explains. “He wants you and your dad dead, to be honest. That shit you pulled at the jewellery store—”

“Is he listening?” Megumi asks. Yuuji looks up to his brother for permission to confirm or deny his presence. The silence lasts a beat too long, and Megumi figures it out for himself. “I’m with Toji, now.” there is a shuffling sound on the other end as he hands his phone over to his father. A large sigh rattles through the speaker, and then he finally speaks.

“Sukuna.” he starts.

“My brother is right, Zen’in, I don’t negotiate.” Sukuna speaks, announcing his presence to them finally. “There is no benefit to me letting you stake your claim on my territory. We’ve killed a few of your men already for your insolence and disrespect. You’ve no idea the lengths I will go to so that you will understand this threat isn’t empty. We won’t just be killing the small fry next time.”

He looks at Uraume, listening carefully as she warns him not to resort to threats of violence so soon. You look between them both, trying to gauge how he’ll respond. He only sighs, agreeing with her, before asking what the negotiation would entail.

“I want to fuck that little girlfriend of yours.” Toji says.

The room falls silent. Sukuna stares daggers at you for a few minutes as if it’s your fault he said something so outrageous. You look around uncomfortably, seeing everyone’s eyes have fallen on you.

You feel dirty.

You feel like a mere bargaining chip, an object for them to make a decision over.

“Everybody out.” Sukuna says, noticing your distress as you feel compelled to hang your head in shame. “NOW.”

Everyone scurries from the room, the only people that remain are yourself, Sukuna, his brother and Uraume. Your lover slams his palm, hard against the table before yelling down the phone at Toji.

“Are you FUCKING joking?” Sukuna shouts, Uraume tries to calm him down but it does little good. “In what world do you think I’d agree to something so stupid?”

You hear Toji chuckle, like he’s considering how to use his words and what he should say. He knows exactly what he wants to tell him in response, but he’s deciding if he wants to rile Sukuna up further or get straight to the point.

“I’ve heard rumours that you use her like a toy.” he starts, a smirk curls on his lip and his scar pulls along with it. You and Sukuna look at each other, wondering who could have found out about your lewd secret. “I’m not… unreasonable. If you comply, I’m willing to come to a binding agreement that we will keep clear of your turf.”

“… Hang up the phone.” Sukuna orders, and Yuuji immediately presses the big red button. Sukuna looks at you, eager to speak. And by his expression, whatever he wants to say seems fuelled by rage. But by a stroke of luck, Uraume intervenes.

“I think you should do it.” she starts. Sukuna directs his angry glare towards her, while you look at her in surprise. “We’ve all heard the rumours, it’s not a secret, Sir. I believe it’s called ‘free use’ yes?”

“Why is that relevant?” you ask.

“Well, you’re used to being used, no? Why is this any different. It would be for Sukuna, for all of us. I’m sure you’d be able to open your legs for a few minutes for the sake of peace.” she speaks, calmly, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her seat. You scoff, standing up to argue, but Sukuna splays out his hand and warns you to keep in line. “Sukuna, it’s just sex. You won’t have to pay them off, you won’t have to share your territory that we— that you have worked so hard for. A simple trade.”

He sighs as he looks between you both.

“It’s not that straightforward, at all.” Sukuna tells her. You hope he’ll elaborate but feel a little deflated when he opts to keep quiet instead. You feel comfortable with your so-called arrangement because you’re in love.

At least, that’s what you thought.

“A shame. You continue to be a useless disappointment in this organization.” she tells you. “If it were me, I’d do it.”

“Well, Uraume. It isn’t you. You know why?” you spit back, shoving by Sukuna with the intention of leaving when you’ve said your piece. “Because you are his subordinate. I am his wife.” and with that, you leave.

Uraume is unfazed, however, which would infuriate you more if you were around to see it. Instead you’re leaving with your handbag in tow. You’re stopped, however, when you reach the exit. Sukuna’s men are holding you hostage on his orders. He hasn’t followed you to see if you’re okay. He’s still talking to Yuuji and Uraume as you pace around an empty meeting room.

You’ve always hated this building. Every time you come for a meeting here you’re nauseated by an overwhelming mechanical smell. It’s the office supplies, you assume. The copy machines and printers whir all day and night, the perfect operation taking place to disguise Sukuna’s general misdeeds.

Around twenty minutes later, you’re no longer alone.

Sukuna enters the room and shuts the door behind himself. Your eyes water as you instantly read his expression. You know there’s another way, but he’s obviously made his decision. Uraume’s influence played a part, you don’t doubt.

“I don’t want to. I love you…” you cry. “She’s trying to—”

“Enough.” he silences you, curling his finger. A simple instruction for you to follow him. “I haven’t decided yet, come along.”

He brings you back to the meeting room where you were sitting earlier. He commands Uraume and Yuuji to leave, and they do, Yuuji leaves his phone behind so Sukuna can call Megumi’s phone again.

“I don’t want to share you.” he confesses, pulling you into his lap as he spins the phone in his hand. Each thud against the desk makes your anxiety spike. “Uraume is right, though. It’s a tempting offer for the sake of a few measly minutes.”

“I don’t want to fuck him, Sukuna.” you pout. “I can’t believe you’re even considering it! What if he’s lying and will keep asking to fuck me? I don’t want everyone to find out about it and think I’m some whore. Do you—” you stop, a large knot gets stuck in your throat as you try to remain composed. You feel sick to your stomach, and you hate that you even have to ask. “Do you even love me anymore… Sukuna…” you ask, lower lip trembling as you speak.

“I do, of course I still love you.” he tries to assure you, but it feels half-hearted at best. “I’d prefer you to make a decision; but I want it to be the right one. And remember, you agreed to let me use you. And I will use you for whatever purpose I desire, if that means letting other men use your cunt for the sake of peace… then…”

“’Kuna…”

“I’m talking now.” he stops you, grabbing your cheeks in his hand and squeezing until your lips pucker. “You better spread those pretty legs nice ‘n wide for daddy, I want you to make me proud.”

He lets go, slowly, and uses a single finger to call Megumi back.

It rings.

And it rings.

And it rings—

“You mull it over?” Toji answers, his cockiness radiating through the phone. “Who am I speaking to? Sukuna?”

“I’m here.” he answers, he bounces his thigh, a silent instruction for you to announce yourself. And, for him, you do. “We’ve thought about it.”

“And?” Toji speaks.

Sukuna looks up at you, expecting you to do the honours of answering. His face is stoic and it makes your heart sink. He really wants you to agree to this. This is the first time since you’ve been with him that’s he’s made you feel like the object you agreed to be, for him. You thought it was out of love. Maybe even respect.

You were a fool to think that, you see that now.

You take a deep breath, and your whole body shakes. Even the little breaths you take to steel yourself warble and you try and gain the confidence to tell Toji that you agree.

Sukuna agrees, you don’t.

“We’re not interested.” you tell him. Sukuna glares at you, and you swear you see flames licking through his pupils. You try to stand up, but you’re trapped. He holds you, tight, and you worry about what you’ve let yourself in for. “Sukuna, get off.” you try to warn him off quietly, but it only increases his grip.

He mutes the call, and fingers sink harshly into the fat of your hips as he lifts you up. You land on the large meeting table with a thud as he towers above you with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“You dare disobey me?” he starts. You flinch as he raises his hand, the rings on his fingers twinkle under the fluorescent lights in the room. He doesn’t hit you, and you can’t tell if that’s what he was considering. He’s never struck you before. But, thinking about it, you’ve never defied him before. He balls his hand into a fist, a singular finger breaking free as he points in your face. “I don’t think you understood me before. Did you get confused?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension as his eyes alternate between your shimmering eyes and tremoring lip.

You ignore him, you just stare at him as you wait for him to finish.

“Understand me now. You are mine. Your life, your clothes, the bed you sleep in? Mine. Your body is mine. Your cunt is barely yours, I own her.”

“You said the decision was mine to—”

“I said I want you to make the decision I’m telling you to make. I’m not giving you a choice, I was giving you the power to make the decision yourself. But I see now, you’re too dumb to make the right call without daddy’s help.”

You sniff, picking up the phone to your side and unmuting the call. You’re surprised Toji is still on the other end, perhaps he knew that you’d gone against orders and was waiting to hear your reconsideration. He doesn’t say a word, nor does Sukuna, as you continue to sniffle and gather your bearings.

“T-Toji?” you whimper, and you hear an amused breath on the other end.

“Yes, darlin’, I’m here.” he speaks. His voice is somewhat soothing given the circumstances. Your lovers fiery stare remains on you. He and your very own body are imploring you to make the decision he’s expecting of you. But your heart, your mind, tell you otherwise. If Sukuna kills you, so be it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to sleep with you, I love Sukuna too m-much.” you whimper, tears cascade down your face as you look at him. Even after this, after how he’s spoken to you and what he’s trying to make you do, you can’t help but love him. Even his face softens as he hears your plea. Your utter devotion to him makes his heart skip a beat.

There may even be a slither of remorse behind his eyes.

“You’re a real good girl, aren’tcha? So loyal… It’s hard to find girls like you.” Toji responds, and it snaps Sukuna out of his daze. The looming anger returns as he realises you’ve ignored direct orders twice now. “Tell ya what… Sukuna, you still there?”

“… I’m here.” he responds, slouching down in the seat he’d been sitting in previously. It’s odd, looking down at him like this. He looks deflated, like he doesn’t know how to handle you. Maybe he does still love you, after all. He doesn’t want to hurt you or kill you, he’s wrestling with it. If you were like his subordinates you’d be dead already.

He doesn’t know what to do with you.

“Princess, would you feel better if Sukuna was there?” he asks. You both look at each other, unsure of what he’s getting at. The idea infuriates Sukuna. Why on earth would he want to sit like some cuck while one of his enemies rails his girlfriend? “I don’t need you to myself, I just want to fuck you.”

“Um… oh.” you speak, the penny finally dropping. “I like that better.” you confess.

“Mm, I’ll bet.” Toji smirks. “Alright, I’ll make arrangements.”

“Go find Yuuji and go home.” Sukuna whispers as Toji continues to speak. He barely looks at you as you slide off the desk. So you don’t even bother saying goodbye. You’re still so fucking angry at him for all of this. But, really, you can’t help but feel like he isn’t pulling the strings here.

Not really.

You find Yuuji outside vaping, and he chokes when he sees you. He desperately attempts to swat the plume of smoke away, but it’s too late. You take the device from his hand and drop it on the ground.

“Enough.” you tell him, crushing it beneath the chunky platform and heel of your boot while looking him dead in the eye. “Stop buying them.”

“Sorry.” he chuckles. “Want me to take you home?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “The long way… if you don’t mind.”

He nods, understandingly.

Maybe you chose the wrong Itadori to fall in love with.

You hadn’t realised how close Toji’s apartment is to yours and Sukuna’s. You never even knew he existed until a few days ago. And yet, now, you’re in the elevator on your way up to the penthouse suite.

The preparation into this night, which you’re sure will amount to a few grunts and thrusts from each of them before they’re panting and bored, has been substantial.

Sukuna agreed to let Toji cover the cost of everything, which surprised you. Sukuna is a proud man, he’s proud of himself and the money he makes. And he’s especially proud of his possessions.

Most of all, you.

You’ve been accompanied by Yuuji and Megumi for the last week everywhere you go. And they’ve bickered about everything.

As you were sitting in the hair salon earlier, Yuuji insisted upon how Sukuna would like your hair to look, whilst Megumi argued about what Toji would prefer.

They argued when they took you clothes shopping about what kind of outfit you should wear. They argued about what colour lingerie you should wear. Hell, they even argued about what perfume would be best.

You didn’t have the energy to intervene, however, not when it feels like your world is crumbling around you. You’ve lost Sukuna, you think. You aren’t sure how or when it happened, but you don’t see love in his eyes anymore. And it’s a fool’s gambit to try and force that love back.

Now, you’re just a toy he’s grown tired of.

The elevator stops with a ding as you reach the top. Your stomach is doing somersaults, and you’re a little taken aback as Sukuna takes your hand in his. The reassuring squeeze he offers calms you immensely as he leads you out directly into the apartment.

“Welcome.” Megumi greets you both. He gestures to a bottle champagne and three pre-poured flutes filled with the gorgeous, bubbly liquid. You don’t notice until you get closer that there’s even strawberries drowning in the glasses. “Make yourselves at home, he won’t be long.” Megumi speaks, gesturing to the modern staircase that leads upstairs.

And with that, he leaves. He enters the elevator and waves as the doors shut, taking him all of the way to the ground floor. You can’t help but wonder where he’s going. Maybe, despite all of the bickering, he and Yuuji are planning to go out and have fun together while their bosses are occupied.

You feel sick.

Everyone’s going to find out about this. Everyone is going to have you down as a slut who trades her body for the sake of gang disputes. The naïve nature within you is telling you that this is a one time thing. That you made the choice and you only made it because there is something so alluring about Toji.

But, really, after this… you fear that you may be better off dead.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Toji speaks as he announces himself, slowly descending the stairs as he drinks you in. His shirt is open, revealing his glorious body beneath. Each move he makes is teasing, only subtly showing off his musculature that glistens beneath. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” he tells you.

His hand settles on your hip as he kisses your cheek. It’s gentle, yet forceful, and it lasts a beat longer than you had expected. The feeling of his lips is cemented against your face, and it takes every ounce of willpower that you have to not hold your cheek longingly.

“Glad you could make it, both of you.” Toji expresses, looking at Sukuna briefly before focusing on you again. He can’t get enough of you. He can’t stop ogling your perfect body in the skintight, chocolate coloured dress you’re wearing. The way your breasts slightly spill over the bust, the way the plunge shows the perfect amount of cleavage, the way a huge slit down the side perfectly showcases one of your legs and teases the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

He picks up two glasses, handing them to you and Sukuna, before grabbing his own.

“To peace.” he smirks. Sukuna chuckles and repeats his sentiment, though you’re silent. You aren’t exactly proud of yourself for doing this for the sake of peace.

But at the very least, you might have a little fun. You take a small sip, while Sukuna and Toji’s glasses are bare. Toji tops them up, and they chat as if they’re old friends.

“I’m sure you didn’t invite us over just to make nice, Zen’in.” Sukuna comments, and Toji laughs but nods. Sukuna sets down his champagne flute, tilting your head up by your chin with two dominant fingers. “She won’t object to anything. Isn’t that right, princess?” he asks, and you nod.

Toji finishes his drink again, circling around you both to stand behind you. Sukuna sits down, already pouring his third drink of the evening as he watches how you choose to behave. You’re not going to defy again, though. Not when you agreed of your own accord.

Your gaze narrows as your eyelids become heavy from Toji’s presence behind you. He softly gropes and manhandles every inch of your body. And even the areas you wouldn’t normally consider sensitive have you shuddering under his touch.

He attacks your exposed thigh, dragging the back of his nails upwards towards your pussy as his teeth lightly graze your pulse point. You emit a vociferous moan as his fingers splay outward, his digits barely breaching the material of your dress and yet somehow stimulating your immediately drenched cunt.

“I think she likes me.” he sighs against your skin, maintaining complete eye contact with Sukuna as he feels you up. “This dress was made for you, baby.” he tells you, kissing softly behind your ear.

“Look,” Sukuna starts, standing up as he looms above you. He pulls down the bust, revealing the black mesh bra underneath. Your nipples are barely covered, perfectly visible to all eyes in the room. He cups your breasts, and his thumbs repeatedly swipe over the raised buds. “They’re so hard, princess. Is this exciting you?” he asks.

You nod, dumbly. He captures your lips in a deep kiss and you moan into it. Toji reaches forwards over your shoulder, grabbing a handful of your tit as he squeezes the flesh and lightly flicks the nipple. His other hand settles in the curve of your hip, and you yelp slightly into Sukuna’s mouth as he pulls you backwards against his body.

“Feel how hard you’re makin’ me already, darlin’?” he asks, sharp canines nipping lightly against your bare neck as he pants shallowly against your skin. “Haven’t even touched your pussy yet and I’m aching. Haven’t even seen your fuckin’ panties.”

“Strip her, go on.” Sukuna orders. He backs away as he allows Toji to move you wherever he desires.

You gasp as you feel him move you with ease until your bent over the countertop, your face turns to the side to face Sukuna and the bucket of champagne. You’re distracted by the water droplets slowly traversing down until you hear Toji gnarl against the nape of your neck.

You can’t help but whimper when you feel him repeatedly kiss your bare skin until he reaches the zip of your dress. Sukuna stares into your eyes. Watery, eager eyes that are still focused on him without him even touching you. The red irises that own you and your every move, Toji was right, you are a good loyal girl.

Toji takes the zip between his teeth and pulls downward until the dress shucks from your body, it starts to pool at your feet, but still clings to your waist. Sukuna helps yank it downwards, while Toji lands a harsh strike against your supple rear. He whistles at the sight of your flesh jiggling, repeating the action on the opposite cheek just to see it again.

“Do you know how to use that mouth, princess?” Toji asks, and you nod.

“She knows how to talk shit with it.” Sukuna informs him, and Toji smirks. “But she gives good head, too. Get on your knees.” Sukuna tells you.

And you drop like a stone in front of Toji, you’re sure your knees will be red raw from the uncomfortable landing. You watch Toji with complete focus as he unbuckles his belt. Your eyes stay on his, getting the perfect view of his defined abs and large pecs as you stare up at him. The metal of his belt echoes through the room as he throws it in Sukuna’s direction.

You’re awestruck when Toji’s length is revealed. He’s beautiful. You don’t even realise you’re drooling until the bubbly liquid drips down and splats against your hand. He’s huge. Sukuna is too, but Toji might have him slightly bested. His cock curves upwards, and you can’t help squirm as you think about it hitting all of the right spots inside of you.

His pubic hair is trimmed perfectly. You wonder if he usually keeps himself groomed or if he only did it for this occasion. His tip is gorgeous. A slightly more blush pink in comparison to the rest of his cock. And it’s oozing. It’s shimmering with pre, the tip is completely covered and some of his length below is coated too.

“I’m gonna kill you if you keep staring at his cock like that, princess.” Sukuna warns you. You look at him, worry stabbing through your eyes before Toji grabs your jaw and forces you to focus on him again. He bends down, his face dangerously close to yours.

“He might kill you later, but I’m gonna kill you now if you don’t hurry and put that pretty mouth to work.” he snarls. You nod, widening your mouth to accommodate his girth. He groans, passionately, as his tip hits against your restrictive throat. “Fuuuuuck, good girl.”

You hold his hips as you attempt to take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. Your jaw already hurts, you feel like you might need the ability to unhinge it like a snake just to take him. It’s a similar experience with Sukuna, though he doesn’t make you suck him off often. He prefers your cunt, he doesn’t like to waste time on foreplay normally.

Only if he’s particularly stressed.

“You’re right, she’s a good little cocksucker.” he tells Sukuna as he praises you. He lightly combs his fingers through your hair with one hand before he forcefully shoves you to take his full length. And you cry out, you sob, and he slightly pulls out before shoving back in. “Are you gonna sit and watch me face fuck your toy?” Toji asks, earning a scoff from Sukuna.

He bends down, picking up the belt Toji discarded as he approaches. “Watch.” he orders. You gasp as Toji sets you free so that you’re true lover can take over. He wraps Toji’s belt around your neck but doesn’t completely fasten it, giving them both the freedom to tug and choke you into submission if needs be.

Sukuna removes his own belt, handing it to Toji to do with whatever he pleases. You whimper as he pulls your wrists behind your back, tying them together with the uncomfortable leather binding.

He pulls out his cock, slapping you lightly across the face with it as you wait patiently with your tongue hanging out. You mewl at he taps his tip against your tastebuds, the taste of his pre instantly permeates your senses.

Two hands settle on either side of your skull as he sinks his cock into your drooling mouth. He throws his head back, groaning as he slots in comfortably. He wastes no time, thrusting into your mouth again and again until you’re sputtering and sobbing.

“She cries easily, huh?” Toji drawls as he strokes himself.

Sukuna nods, forcing you down all of the way to the base until you’re choking. You can’t even steady yourself anymore with your wrists being bound. You can’t breathe and you can’t push away. He pinches your nose when you remember you can breathe through it, suffocating you completely.

“Aw, what’s wrong darlin’? Not gonna break so soon, are ya?” Toji asks, grabbing the makeshift collar and leash around your neck as he softly pulls. But he lets go as Sukuna frees you from his malicious clutches.

They both laugh as you cough and sputter, collapsing into a heap on the ground as you try and get your breath back.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” Sukuna asks. He picks you up with ease, and you’re soon bent over the counter again. But, this time, your feet don’t touch the ground. You’re left there, powerless to their touch with your ass perfectly raised while your feet and legs dangle helplessly over the edge.

Toji spreads your ass apart, and the stickiness sounding through the room is deafening. He sneers when it hits his ears. “She’s lying.” he spanks you, hard. And then his fingers toy between your pussy lips, making a complete and utter mess of your panties. “Do you like old men picking on you, hm? You must do. Can you feel how sloppy this cunt is, princess?” he asks.

You whimper out apologies, though they don’t seem to be interested. Toji picks you back up, throwing you over his shoulder as he carries you towards the stairs. Sukuna follows, a wicked grin on his face as he observes your tear-stricken face.

“Does she like anal?” Toji wonders.

“She likes whatever I tell her to like.” Sukuna laughs. “Would you like that, baby? Should we use both of your pretty holes?”

“Can’t wait to tear these fuckin’ panties off ya.” Toji explains. “Dunno why you bothered coming here with clothes on. Should have come bare, with a bow on your head.”

You enter Toji’s bedroom. And it’s gorgeous. It’s so sleek and stunning and there’s even a fireplace crackling away. The atmosphere is romantic, but this situation is hardly that.

Sukuna strokes your cheek, a subtle check to make sure you’re okay as he looks into your eyes. You nod, discreetly, before he slips his thumb between your teeth. You bite down, softly, and he can’t help but smile.

“Think this is the quietest she’s ever been,” Sukuna starts. He massages his thumb into your tongue, and you can’t help but instinctively suck. “Bein’ so good for daddy tonight.” he praises you.

“Daddy, huh?” Toji smirks, taking two fistfuls of your panties between his hands and tears them apart carelessly. “Hope you’ll call me that, sweetheart.”

You look to Sukuna for permission, and he nods. “Just this once.”

“Real pretty girl when you’re suckin’ on somethin’.” Toji comments. He sits on the bed beside you, lifting you up abruptly to sit on his lap. He unhooks your bra and Sukuna seamlessly breaks the straps between heavy fists, ripping it quickly from your body without undoing your bindings. “Suck ‘em while I play with this sweet little cunt.” Toji groans against you as he pulls your back flush against his chest.

Sukuna lightly slaps your tits before walking away. You watch him as he takes a seat in the corner of the room, and he’s become exactly what he hadn’t wanted to. He looks unfazed, though. He seems to be enjoying it if anything. He pulls a cigar from his inner breast pocket along with a lighter, he rests his ankle on his knee as he watches Toji toy with you.

“Watch him, want him to see how good I make you feel.” Toji whispers. He presses two fingers into your mouth slowly. The metal of his rings clang against your teeth, but you don’t care. You wish you could hold his hands as you suckle and lap at his digits. Though you’re broken from your efforts as he starts to circle your clit. “Mmm, such a messy pussy.” he comments.

You wriggle and squirm even with such little pressure applied to your clit. He runs his fingers through your folds, teasing your hole only slightly before he massages your swollen clit again and again.

“—addy!” you whine, unable to sit still as he torments you.

“Hear that? She called me daddy.” Toji chortles, looking at Sukuna. He smirks, but again seems more unfazed than anything. You almost screech around his fingers as he finally inserts his other digits inside of you. As if they weren’t already thick, more metallic rings seem determined to push your pussy to the limit. “You’re gonna make a mess f’me. Alright? Don’t fight me.”

He inserts a third finger between your lips, your mouth contorts and stretches uncomfortably, and still, you suck.

He digs around inside of you like he’s searching for something in particular. And when your legs begin to jolt and quiver, he deduces he’s found it quick enough. His ministrations are almost evil as he alternates between hard and slow fingering. It’s so intense, so excruciating that you can barely concentrate on his fingers in your mouth.

“Can’t see your face, baby. You still with us?” he asks, and you can only offer a barely intelligible response. Sukuna leans forward in his chair as he smokes, uncaring for where he flicks the ash. It’s the last thing on Toji’s mind, too. Especially when you’re already losing consciousness like this. “They’re just fingers, darlin’. Gonna go stupid for my cock if you can’t even handle this.” he laughs.

“Slap her cunt.” Sukuna tells him. And soon enough Toji is landing a hard enough spank to your puffy clit. You mewl, so he repeats it. Again and again. Harder and harder. “Finger her, I’ll do it.”

Toji puts his fingers back inside of your tight walls and finds that spot again. Sukuna lords above you, cigar resting between the gentle bite of his teeth as he spanks your cunt hard. It makes you dizzy, almost delirious. The conflicting feelings of pain and pleasure make your eyes water.

“Crying again.” he says as he spanks your pussy again. “Who knew two cocks would make you so obedient and submissive?”

“And we haven’t even fucked her yet.” Toji reminds him, and he smirks. “I should have invaded your turf a long time ago if I knew it would get us here.”

“Hm,” Sukuna hums. Your breath hitches, and he raises an eyebrow in suspicion. “She’s going to cum. Is she getting tight?”

“Like she’s gonna break my fingers.” Toji smirks. And with a few more spanks against your clit as Toji continuously batters his fingers into your g-spot, you’re cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Sukuna doesn’t move away as he feels you douse him with the thick stream shooting from your cunt. “Oh fuck. You’re a little squirter, huh. Or a big squirter, look at the fuckin’ mess you made of us, dirty girl. Told ya you would.” he teases you, not letting up on your insides as he tries to draw every last drop of your arousal from you.

It's not like it’s the first time you’ve squirted.

But you’ve never squirted that much before.

Your mouth is free as Toji pulls out his fingers, and you feel a chill as he wipes your saliva against the column of your spine. You’re surprised when you feel him undo the belt keeping your wrists together. And you’re even more surprised as he helps you straddle him properly.

He squeezes your ass as you begin to rut your hips against his cock, the tip catches against your hole as he holds cups your cheek and offers you a showstopping, tongue tangling kiss. You yelp as Sukuna yanks your hair until your vision is his face at an almost upside down angle. He spits in your mouth, crudely, before releasing your hair.

You don’t bother swallowing it as Toji brings you back to him and locks his lips with yours. He couldn’t care less that Sukuna had spat in your mouth. You’d already sucked his cock, what did it matter to him?

“You’re so well trained, princess.” he smirks. He stands up, and you instantly wrap your legs around his waist. He places you flat against the bed, nibbling on your collarbone before he nips and kisses downward. Further and further and further. “Let daddy taste you.” he demands, and you nod.

Sukuna holds your underarms and pulls you until your head droops backward, lolling over the edge of the mattress.

You wince as he slots his cock between your lips again, and he loosens the tightness of the belt still around your neck. The slight choking feeling is replaced with his hand, intent on feeling your throat bulge from the broadness of his cock.

Your legs cramp around Toji’s head as he gets to work feasting on your folds. If not for Sukuna’s length stuffing your throat, you’d be screaming at the way he suctions his lips around your clit. He licks and sucks again and again until your mind goes blank.

“That’s a good toy,” Sukuna chuckles darkly. “Stop thinking, now, we’ll do that for you.”

Toji can’t get enough of your taste. He can’t help but stroke himself as he pleasures you, and he grunts again and again against your heat. The fingers on his free hand sink into your doughy thighs. He’s doing all he can do to make sure you stay put. And he wants his face to be suffocated by your cunt.

Sukuna pulls out, determined not to cum this way. He’ll only cum if he’s doing so directly into your womb. He drops to his knees, helping you up a little so you can look down at the man about to give you your second orgasm of the evening. Your head sags against Sukuna’s broad shoulder, but you manage to look through barely open eyelids to see raven locks shaking and swaying as he lashes his tongue against your clit.

“’m gonna c-cum, daddy… fuck.” you mutter, unsure if you’re referring to Sukuna or Toji. Neither of them seem to care, though, they’re more focused on your wobbly thighs and spasming cunt. “Ngghh—!” you wail.

Toji slurps up your mess as you squirt all over his face. He laughs, scar pulling deliciously as he tries to catch your essence in his wide, smiling mouth. He sticks his tongue out before attaching his lips directly against the source again.

And even he’s panting when you’re finished. Completely satisfied from this alone.

Though his eyes and mind are full of desire as he fantasises about how close he is to feeling you wrapped around him.

“I want her pussy.” Toji insists, and Sukuna shrugs his shoulders.

Sukuna scoops you into his arms, and the two of them help position your near lifeless body between them. Though your pseudo-husband is the first to shove his cock into your drooling slot. Toji scowls, prepared to pull you away from him if needs be.

“I said—”

“And?” Sukuna responds. “Fuck her pussy, then.”

Toji is frozen, unsure of what he means. But they keep eye contact as Sukuna fully sheathes himself to the hilt. Toji’s gaze only falters when he hears you moan from the stretch. You look up at him, your sweet doe eyes absolutely sodden with tears. And still, you bite your lip as you lose yourself to the bliss of being an object.

“Oh, princess,” Toji smirks, kissing the tip of your nose before he lines his cock up with your hole. “Gonna have to break this little pussy, ‘cause your daddy’s so selfish.” he tells you.

He hisses as he breaches inside of you, and your head falls forward to rest on his chest. They both hush you and coo sweetly as their cocks tear you apart. You aren’t sure which of them he was calling selfish, but really, it’s both.

They could have taken turns if they both wanted you this way.

But they were hellbent on double stuffing you.

Their hips move in tandem, neither of them giving you a single moment to catch your breath as they bully their cocks into you again and again. You’re screaming out moans as they pummel your insides. You’re bound to be aching and bruised tomorrow. You don’t care, though, not right now. And they certainly don’t. Not when your tight little hole feels so Goddamn perfect.

“Fuck— fuck,” Toji grunts. “Don’t wanna pull out.”

“D—on’t.” you squeak out, and they both let out a little laugh each at your weak request.

“She’s a little cum slut, can’t get enough. Fill her up, fuck if I care. Want this little pussy bred, baby? Hm? Want your daddy’s to fuck you full’a kids?” Sukuna teases. And you nod, it’s weak, pathetic, but determined. “Goooood girl, ‘m close.”

“I’m close as well, I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Toji announces, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more staggered.

The change in pace has you clenching, the third and final nail in your coffin as your pussy begins to gush for them both. They’re both a little embarrassed, flushing red in the face as your tightening hole leads to both of their mutual demise.

“That’s it, take it, little slut.” Sukuna commands as he empties his balls inside of you. Toji is no better, the obscene names seem like second nature to them both.

“Fuck, look at her stomach.” Toji snickers. Sukuna looks down to see your tummy swollen with their cocks and cum.

They both pull out, wholly beguiled as your body collapses onto the bed in a heap. You’re practically asleep as they position you onto your stomach and split your legs apart to see how their sperm leaks out of your twitching cunt.

“I want another go.” Toji smirks, unable to pull his eyes away from your glittering slit.

“Let her rest a little.” Sukuna tells him. “I’m not done with her, either.”

You’re tired.

You’re so tired of coming to these fucking meetings.

Sukuna walks through the building with you close by. His arm around you, protectively. Somehow, you think the encounter with his rival has made him love you more. He’s been clingier, lately, which isn’t like him. He never wants to let you out of his sight, or his grasp.

He’s been using you more too.

It’s like how things were in the beginning again.

You’re sure everyone knows what happened. Eyes are on you, and their full of judgement. It hurts, of course, but there’s nothing to be done. Sukuna was right: you agreed. You did it for him and yet out of the two men who were supposed to deal with this amongst themselves, you’re the only one paying the price.

Nobody cares if their boss had a threesome.

Everyone cares if his girlfriend got used like a slut though.

Mostly, you can’t bring yourself to care. As you sit down beside Sukuna, his hand rests on your thigh while you scan everyone’s shame-filled faces. You’d challenge any of them to care what others think of them after the night you had.

It was mind blowing.

To be dominated thoroughly by the two biggest men you’ve ever met like that is a feeling you can’t begin to describe. To feel so small and worthless in comparison to them. For your body to be used in whatever manner they see fit and for them to still allow you to cum despite your purpose being for their enjoyment…

You haven’t stopped thinking about it.

About them.

About him.

Sukuna’s hand leaves your thigh as he addresses the room. Explaining how Toji miraculously decided to back off after a firm warning. No one believes it, but everyone is happy enough. But there’s always going to be issues and problems when you’re involved in illegal activity. So despite your nose being buried in your phone, you can’t say you’re surprised when you hear Sukuna move onto the next issue.

Uraume sees you smirking as your fingers tap away at your keyboard. And it makes her smirk, too.

Toji insisted that you put your number in his phone when you spent the night. Sukuna was using the bathroom, and he forced his phone into your shaky fingers. You were panicking, but you typed fast.

You’ve been texting non-stop ever since.

Uraume thinks you’re a naïve fool.

She knows exactly what you’re doing because this is what she had envisioned from the very start. She orchestrated everything. She invited Toji’s foot soldiers to start operating their business on Sukuna’s turf; just like she is the one who informed Sukuna of the invasion with such haste and loyalty.

She is the one who hinted at where they might find you that day you were shopping with Yuuji. And she is the one who let slip to Toji what your arrangement with Sukuna is.

Sukuna respects Uraume, but he doesn’t give her nearly enough credit.

She has managed perfectly to drive a wedge between you that neither of you even know is there yet. His lack of respect for your body has driven you into the willing arms of another man. Only through texting, for now, but before long that won’t be enough for you. Sukuna’s jealousy and possessiveness have made him love you more, the scales have tipped the other way and it is all to benefit Uraume.

Sukuna will find out, she’ll make sure of that.

And whether he kills you or casts you aside, it matters not to her. Because his heart will be broken either way; and she will be there to pick up the pieces. Sukuna hates how jealous you are of Uraume. But neither of you have a single solitary clue that she’s thinking all of this through right now.

Uraume feels a little bad for you, your intuition is keen. But Sukuna will never suspect a thing. You’re just insecure, he thinks. But Uraume applauds you for having your guard up about her.

You were right to worry.

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