#another thing i really love is character conflict

[frau-kali]

Black Sails Anniversary Week

Day 2: Favourite Dynamic - Jack Rackham vs Woodes Rogers

"If no Anne, if no rescue, if this is defeat for me, know this - You and I were neck and neck in this race until the very end, but Jesus, did I make up a lot of ground to catch you."

[shannonsketches]

[finncakes]

:/

[whattheskyknows]

After 10 trillions years I have finally sat down and played the first Danganronpa. Gotta say I actually enjoyed it a lot more than I anticipated!

[bragganhyl]

ngl these "which eoran god is/isn't problematic" polls make me wanna rant about Magran but I don't have the braincells rn

edit: i did end up ranting in the tags whoopsie lmao

[moonsidesong]

tpot 7 was so so fun i liked it so much. it was like???? really violent though AHAHA????

[unproduciblesmackdown]

take 4: the tension (gulf spanned with incomplete, continuously crumbling bridges) between the perspective of oneself as the Deservingly Epic Winner Protagonist Person who dares to be Out Of Line versus the need to actually completely stay in line within this b/c it hinges on being in harmony with the preexisting hierarchies which will supposedly reward the "merit" of this Actor. while everyone whose existence is Inferior, according to the hierarchies, is defined by being Out Of Line, which these same people resent & respond to, also Staying In Line with the hierarchy, by trying to reinforce the dynamics of these inferior / superior groupings. "everything pathologized about the inferior groups / rejected as what's Wrong with their existence so as to "cause" these dynamics is "take 4" b/c this is from me trying to write about winston quant kid 2 billions like holy shit a series operating on this logic huh, giving this unvarnished expression of this perspective b/c it's assuming (& requiring...) we all have it. winston is constantly responded to as Guy Who's Out Of Line. the "superior" parties who hate him & get to have him as their punching bag / hit with the butt of the joke / at least ignored & excluded, but taken advantage of, but who all have to Stay In Line, how's that going for them even when it comes to the writing, where characters can't do anything if it's too disruptive of the In Universe hierarchy, unless it's a finale zone for a permissable shakeup, where ppl insulating/supporting each other being a bit Out Of Line is not a problem b/c they individually recognize each other's transcendently True worthiness in thee objective hierarchy we all assume exists, but definitely can never disrupt the out of universe hierarchy, e.g. the show decides wendy is the true hero, b/c she deserves to be. taylor has to hire back dollar bill & stand back while wags & wendy take the lead & the spotlight & hate the autistic guy they hired & show up so the Winner, who was written into the show with nothing to do but tell taylor they're not quite as good as wendy & then provide a vagina amidst otherwise being an Everyemployee who fails to even differentiate from an Axe Cap style everyemployee, can announce their winningness detached from anything that actually happened ever.

counterpart to winston's departure needing an audience of people to stand there & stay in line, which on that side of the same coin meant punishing his Out Of Lineness that doesn't even act like anyone bothered to think of [this is one particular preexisting guy. you thought he liked scifi once before you lost interest in even suggesting he has interests, though, will roland likes scifi, will roland wore his own open buttonup as quant kid 2 that'd define the Look, will roland happened to have the facial hair just kept for production b/c who would care, will roland brought the entire je ne sais quoi acting interpretation that made quant kid 2 go from "out of line guy we kill once" to "out of line guy we keep around to kill all thee time until finale 'haha but seriously though' material means pushing him out of the way in s6 & then s7 alike" like hmm] like everyone just spitballed "annoying things! cringe loser things! things that would never happen to me, a deserving winner!!" & put it in as easter eggs as though that would even make sense, much less [you have no other priority?] but like. rian's sendoff didn't do any better for acting like she's a specific character who's said & done things we're meant to remember & have thought about then & now. taylor didn't get to have resolution with philip. they Had to have resolution with wendy that, again, has nothing to do with any/everything prior, except perhaps to contradict it. this is what anyone got for Staying In Line like superior winners. the autistic [annoying arrogant inferior undeserving etc] Out Of Lineness that would be so supposedly admired instead seen as pure Other shit that's projected upon ppl so as to Reject it thusly. couldn't be me!! i'm a winner who will always have Superior ranking in the hierarchy & treated accordingly!!! i Must be!!!! like i must Kill people who seem to be disrupting this, even by acting like a person who assumes they're equal to me despite being Different. there all along like wow winston existing Out Of Line is so powerful. he can harmonize with & support taylor so well b/c they're introduced as being so Out Of Line, up to the inevitable point of breaking out & starting their own thing entirely!!! but while it's like, okay yeah, you Have to reel them back in by thwarting them b/c otherwise they break so far from central men's orbit they exit the series or you have to put Them at the center (imagine...) (plus! the role winston plays in them getting as close to this as they ever can be!) but then in the end taylor's just shortchanged b/c when it comes time to take down a central man as thee main thing all season, series finale style, they should be knocking it out in a few episodes with sacker & philip. instead we focus on wendy given the helm & fucking around all season. after disposing of winston b/c who even needs him for anything, this is Stay In Line times, and to do that we can do nothing w/autistic people but hate them & punish them for being undeserving. but don't worry b/c he doesn't get to be so Out Of Line as to easily cause problems for them & thwart them, b/c he just doesn't. taylor waits around on wendy & tells her she's the best b/c they just do. we are all in line on all of this ourselves so whew, there's no Disruption to notice if that key Alignment is maintained. rian was never holding herself Above winston if we just really tentatively suggest she doesn't think that she was, while letting every double standard at play be acted out. rian being "out of line" was that she wasn't being aggressive enough about any of her Superiority, b/c if you didn't leave bruising then nothing was That Bad; cue the assaults and boundary violations Reserved for the inferior losers as fun times & nothing anyone is beholden to with Consequences, we don't even make the viewer stick with the consequences of how it affects the target a second too long, lest you start to think it's Drama & not Jokes.

anyways it's all about the [categorization as inferior Other based on an assumed Hierarchy = inherently defined as Out Of Line] all "why get a formal diagnosis from a professional who doesn't know what to look for when at age 5 my peers went 'something's wrong with this one' & acted 'accordingly'" like even when people "know" what's Wrong with someone to make them the odd one out / "incompatible" w/what makes others exist Right, it's time to interpret everything else about them as "backing that up" no matter what, certainly no matter if it involves theoretically Valued concepts, b/c it's all first & foremost Staying In Line with the hierarchy, where the correct way to do things is: if you Can push someone else into greater vulnerability while you're established as Insulated, you Do. tl;dr winston inherently continuously Out Of Line; being "superior" requires an ultimate (&/or also quite Immediate. especially when it comes to "simple" matters already "correctly" arranged in the supposed Objective Hierarchy, like: winston's "objectively" inferiority (autistic swag)) Staying In Line. and what comes of it. all the most engaging & complex shit when people get to not actually stay in line. the power of it if taylor & tmc & allies didn't have to ultimately be shoved into Staying In Line even when it means wendy is the best & oh who cares about taylor & philip when wags is around etc etc. if winston being someone Out Of Line was seen as relevant & not an easy nonstop joke. while a quant who is so In Line as to correctly personally abuse him even more than others are doing is so ""out of line"" as to decide she's already gotten everything she wants & may as well live the dream now, b/c she's not an aggressive man, one has to suppose, same diff as wendy getting to believe she's Better than everyone & is nobly in charge of orchestrating their fates when she Means & Knows so well, & is somehow pitted against prince being this same figure but without having to confront that fact. he's mean! or whatever. he's talking about killing people & wendy isn't so that sorts it out forever. "abuse your local autists; it's funny & their fault & consequenceless b/c they're not real people" is also harmonious with all our ideas. edgy rulebreaking bold independent Out of Line heroes completely in accord w/the established hierarchies. & those whose existence threatening peership disrupts it who are written off losers who could never upend those heroes' goings on. everyone Actually being peers is unimagineable, not as a figure of speech. we do not imagine it, what are you even talking about. now for the Merited Hierarchy to be acted out as arranged, which is fun, god i wish that were me. Independent Agents ascending it only!! & people who Cheat to get in like loser nerds w/their math, b/c they can't Deserve it. now to keep insisting that everyone else could just be On My Level if they tried, while also responding violently if it seems like weirdos / ppl who aren't Supposed to be here are infringing on my level (the only violence is physical strikes that made contact, & perhaps killed you)

anyways just another installment of [fake fans haunted by billions, & other things which are in real life, such as the fictional series billions] musings i have to excise at all b/c [this was take 4]. winston Out Of Line. superior correct winners who have to Stay In Line at related great costs despite the supposed associated wins of that. his autistic swag. knowing ppl Are different autism style b/c they're "out of line." encountering irl autistic people without realizing it & repeatedly writing "this nerd guy is just So annoying ugh!! he's just like weird & doing everything wrong for no reason & won't just Be Normal or Shut Up & Go Away!! but at least his intractible arrogant cluelessness also means we have fun punishing & taking advantage of him" Type butt of jokes into things. those cringe loser Insistently Annoying Weirdo nerds who we all find insufferable & punish, we all know them, inherent Inferior Other Out Of Line that they are. now it's a Guy we all hate & enjoy seeing suffer & Understand as a less deserving less [person] just dropped into the periphery of this fiction. he will easily be thwarted from an alliance with the [person designed to be Out of Line in a way that Is considered Legitimate] that would let them shatter the limits of the series in 5 sec which we're also holding them back by the scruff of the neck to prevent anyways while pushing forward ppl supposed to be even More correct b/c uh um they're a little more Normal, & perhaps even Women, who are innately more caring & gentle. there they go hurting those around them as much as they can, with nothing stopping them at all, but they're using their inside voices & not issuing physical threats so that's what i'm talking about. that is heroic, vs the villainous efforts to navigate life as though everyone will respect them as a fellow person which Autists egregiously pull, to which you can do anything you want to Reject this. maybe even decide you wanna personally use them. isn't that nice of you. no, we don't know what to do with the "this guy won't stop acting like he gets to think he's a person" but eventually send him away after the dozen trampled boundaries to punish him for fun b/c what else was the point of him? anyways don't worry i saw the autistic swag. the nonbinary swag it didn't even know was there. the nonbinary swag it knew was there but held back by the scruff of the neck b/c all billions' most engaging, potential filled characters are the ones Held Back b/c they're threatening too much [out of line] / their out of Lineness must be contained; vs everyone perfectly in line who keeps being pushed in front of them no matter what b/c uhhh.

let's go Out of Line gang. continual inevitable Disruption of the norm(tm). like even just standing there vs "oh immediately i fucking Hate this guy." billions where anyone considers winston for 5 sec would also shatter apart. taylor would be too powerful even more than they already are if they didn't have to stay wendy's sidekick no matter what. rian who didn't have to come back from the hiatus even more "right" than they presumably intended her to always be (bound to thee hierachy / actually always Staying In Line. if she's out of it, psych, actually that was just a correction of the "objective" hierarchal order waiting to reconfigure itself around the situation). standing around waiting like okay but the payoff that Could happen....okay still time though lol....well here we are

the fundamentalness of the Out Of Lineness. quantessential....send post

[pankomako]

in my mind post-gang war shipwreck seems to have a few different phases

1: he feels so guilty and traumatized over having killed a dude that he becomes a clingy, whiny bitch who fears for sharky's safety and flinches every time he hears a siren. like he's so annoying when i imagine him i myself cant handle it

2: once he gets over his guilt with sharky's help he becomes a lot more defensive. now that the gang's acting a little more like a gang he becomes uber-wary of sharky possibly starting to act like thresher (yknow, the guy he killed) and the two may have a falling out over this. he's also still afraid to come anywhere near a gun

3. a decent amount of time has passed since the gang war, and shipwreck's pretty much back to his old self. his hair's grown back out to where his scar is hidden, maybe a bit gray from aging - he'd likely be more in his late 30s at this point in the timeline. except now he's grown maybe a little too comfortable with joking about killing people, where before the reaction would've been "haha lol murder joke" it's now more like an awkward "haha... yeah... funny...". oh and also at this point sharky and shipwreck have made amends

from there honestly i dont even know. i dont even have a proper conclusion to the overall story LOL

[raeathnos]

.

[alexiroflife]

Hello! May I request an angsty toji fic where reader finds out she's pregnant (post megumi) and she knows toji doesn't want anymore children so she just kinda leaves with little to no explanation? Maybe just a small note saying things aren't working out. It's up to you if it will be a hurt/comfort. Idk you don't have to do this request I don't want to overload you! I seriously love your writing. The way you right the character just warms my heart. I especially love ur hiding an Injury fic it was SO SO SO GOOD. 🩶🤍🖤

“promise”

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: see above

to sum it up: you think it’s better to run away than to be the one to get hurt

WC: 5,668

Warning(s): angst, suggestive themes, yelling, pregnancy, mentions of abortion

You stare down at the plastic tube clutched in your trembling hands in awe, eyes blown with shocked grief as you peer closer to get a better look, as though those two bright pink lines could have been a trick of your vision.

Unfortunately, however, your vision remains just as crystal clear as it always has been. As you stand in your cramped apartment bathroom, illuminated by a flickering fluorescent gaze shining down from above, horror befalls you.

You’re pregnant.

You should have known sooner when you began feeling queasy every morning, taking trips to either your or Toji’s toilet to hurl out the contents of whatever swam inside your stomach. You always tried to be silent if Toji was around, for he slept like a dog that could not be woken even if a meteor struck earth, and you had been remarkably exhausted. You aren’t even sure if there is a word to describe how sluggish your entire mind and body had been feeling, but you wanted to rule out the very obvious answer to your problems before exploring it.

You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your ears and throat and every inch of your body you could feel the pulse, eyes blurry over the positive test. You’re conflicted. You don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, you would have been jumping for joy to learn that you are starting a new life with your boyfriend, to step into a new chapter of your lives and to provide his children with another sibling.

But hell, the celebration is far too naive and implausible to be had. The sage eyed man has told you time and time again that he does not wish to have anymore kids, that the ones he has are enough and he is not equipped financially or mentally to care for another brat. In honor of those wishes, you’re on the pill, and consequently, Toji has taken the opportunity to plow his load inside of you time after time after time.

And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.

You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?

You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.

His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.

“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”

“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”

“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”

You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.

Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?

It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?

You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.

Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.

Not the way you have.

Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.

…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.

Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.

You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.

Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.

You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.

You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.

It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.

The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.

And therefore, you know what you have to do.

After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.

But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.

You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.

It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.

The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?

He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.

His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.

He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.

Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”

His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.

Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.

He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:

This isn’t working out.

Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.

“What the hell did you do?” he growls.

The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.

Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?

Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.

Dear Toji,

This is not working out.

But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.

But in this case, that love is not enough.

I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.

By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.

Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.

Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.

And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.

You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.

With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.

Love,

Your doll

You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.

You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.

Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.

Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.

But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.

You shift. “What are you doing here-“

“What the fuck is this?”

Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.

“Toji, I told you not to come…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.

“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.

“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”

Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.

“…I am,” you mumble.

Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”

“I said… I am.”

“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.

“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.

“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.

“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”

“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”

“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”

Your face falls. “…what?”

“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”

You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”

Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.

You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.

“Toji!” you exclaim.

“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”

“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.

“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”

“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.

“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”

“No, Toji.”

“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”

“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”

“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.

You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.

“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”

You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”

“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”

“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”

You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.

“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”

Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.

“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”

“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I know, but-“

“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”

You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.

“Out with it, now.”

You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.

“(Y/n)!”

“I’m pregnant!”

The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.

You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.

His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.

He’s going to leave you.

You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”

“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.

“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”

He twitches. “Hold on-“

“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”

“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”

“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”

“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”

“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.

Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”

“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“

“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”

“No, but I want you to have what you want.”

“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”

“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”

“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”

“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”

You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.

He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.

“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”

A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “We’ll figure it out.”

[etheries1015]

We share the love language of biting. Now imagine TWST beatsfolk has that as an actual sign of courting. Like you're chilling with Leona, not dating or wooing him, and then you bite his cheek in affection. And all of Savanaclaw is shocked because among them, it's the same as i.e. proposing marriage. The utter chaos XD

OHH MY GOSSSHHH YOUR BRAIN >>> I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH??? HAHAHA SODEFHSELKJD i'm gonna expand on that for a few characters...

Accidentally courting them

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, not really proof read lol. Obvious Malleus and Lilia favoritism <3 I also decided that they ARE dating in this scenario, I think its cuter that way in my head heuheu

Featuring: Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Malleus, Lilia, ... and Rook HAHA.

TW: none! Just a bunch o' fluff of biting your non-human lover without realizing it was a sign of courtship <3

Leona

It was a typical day for Leona. You two were sitting in the lounge where most of the other students lingered, Leona becoming rather... possessive as of late. Instead of resting in his bedroom away from prying eyes as you had requested from your lover, he ignored all your feeble cries requesting privacy. Instead, he holds you in his lap without worrying what others are thinking. A form of showing others you were his, and his alone. You were conflicted in your feelings, staring at him. His eyes were closed, but he could feel your gaze burning into his head.

"How long are you-" Then it happened. You gave in. You gave his cheek a bit of a nibble. All of the sudden the chattering stopped, all eyes were on you, before they start patting Leonas back and giving him congrats while a few seemed to pull presents right out of their asses.

"Wha- what's going on?" Leona grumbled with a light blush before growling and pushing the face of someone who tried to hand him another gift.

"You all look like idiots! You know biting means something different to us. Don't be dumb." Okay, now you were extra confused. Seeing your utter ignorance, Leona sighed.

"Biting in our land is a sign of courtship, herbivore." ...Oh. You blush deeply and hide your face in his chest, Leona looking away flustered and ruffling your hair.

"Try again in a few years, and I just might bite you back."

Ruggie

You were walking down the halls with your boyfriend when suddenly you had the urge to just...bite him. an overwhelming sense of love and affection for the fact he had given you some of the bread he (probably legally) got ahold of. You smiled fondly at the bread and back at Ruggie before placing your mouth on the bulb of his shoulder, causing him to yelp in suprise and dropping his half of the bread.

"wha- huh?! What was that for?" He became flustered, bending over to pick up his bread and slowly move away from you with bright red cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows and hugged yourself, almost embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I just...I dunno," Your cryptic and non specific response left him with his jaw open and eyes wide, spluttering out things like "We're still in school! I don't have the funds yet-" before a familiar fist came and knocked the back of Ruggies head. Leona stood there smiling in amusement and chuckling at you.

"I don't think they know what that means to us beastman, Ruggie." Even more confused then before, you asked for clarification.

"You just asked him to marry you with that bite of yours, herbivore." Now YOUR mouth was wide open, and Ruggie managed to get flee from the scene without much notice from you nor his senior.

Oh brother. You have a lot of communicating to do with that one.

Jack

You were sitting at the lunch table eating away at your food when you noticed...Jack's biceps. You marveled at the sight of his bulky arms- it's a wonder to you how he managed to become so strong and have the motivation to train all day. With a burst of admiration, instead of biting into your sandwich - you took a bite into his muscle. He yelped in suprise and just stared at you, face slowly turning red. Ace and Deuce laughed at his reaction, ready to ask you what was up before Jack took it upon himself to... well, flustered and rapidly spit-firing plans.

"W-we are still so young! Are you sure about this? I-i never knew our relationship was at this level!" He grabbed both of your hands and looked you in your (bewildered) eyes.

"If you're serious about this, I promise I will protect and love you for the rest of my life. But before we go ahead with the ceremony, I want you to meet my parents and get their blessings. Oh, and I need to get a stable job after we finish school first, too, so I can support you and our future. know we haven't talked about marriage before but-" You quickly cut him off in astonishment before crying out,

"MARRIAGE?! Jack, WHAT are you talking about?! I am absolutely not ready for marriage! What got into you?!"

...Queue Ruggie and Leona hysterically laughing at your utter confusion, reveling in the ignorance of it all for a few moments longer before explaining properly what you had just committed yourself unknowingly to.

Malleus

You were laying in the bed of Malleus Draconias's dorm, scrolling on your phone whilst his tail wrapped around your waist as he sat next to you reading a book. You sighed lightly and leaned your head back against the board of the mattress, turning slightly to look at your handsome fae lover. Your eyes then went down to his pale and perfect skin of his neck, the way it was free from all blemishes, smooth, and bright. Something about it made you want to taint it a light shade of red... He felt you shuffle slightly to adjust your body to be in just the right position where his neck was in full view. He glanced over to you feeling you wriggle free from his tails grasp, tilting his head seeing the look in your eyes crazed as you leaned over and just...chomped down on his collarbone.

You felt his tail twitch and his hands quickly throw the book he was reading aside to grasp your wrists, turning your body around and pinning you to the bed and carrassing your cheek with his tail.

"Biting..." He murmured, "Does this mean the same to humans as it does to Fae? You wish to be wed?" Your jaw dropped and cheeks took on a rosey hue, stuttering over yourself.

"W-wed?! I mean, I like to bite when I feel affectionate b-but marriage...I mean maybe one day b-but-"

"Biting in Fae culture is a sign of courtship and ownership. How brazen of you to mark me," he chuckled, "I shall take it you wish to own the next king of Briar Valley?" You could tell at this point Malleus was teasing you, something he picked up from the time you two have been dating.

Malleus could not help but return the favor by riddling your body with his own bite marks. Although he understood you perhaps did not have the intention of marrying him with your silly little form of affection, he knew in his mind with every bite that he was very serious about your future with him.

Lilia

Lilia already knew that biting in the human world did not mean marriage, yet was akin to something more of "cute aggression." So when you have the habit of biting him in the privacy of yours or his room, he knows you simply meant it as a form of affection, letting him know that you had an overwhelming sense of love for the old fae. He bit you back consistently on many occasions, it just seemed to be the perfect form of showing love for one another.

You didn't actually know it meant something much deeper, until you were in the diasomnia lounge and unable to control yourself as you grabbed Lilias hand and bit down gently on his wrist. You couldn't help it, he was being so entirely silly and loving towards you, that you couldn't help but show this public display of affection. Much to everyone else's dismay, however. Sebek stares at you with his mouth agape, sounds of disbelief escaping past his lips yet a sentence unable to form. Malleus as well seemed surprised at this.

"(y/n)," Malleus said, "You wish to marry Lilia?" You coughed at the sudden question and let out a feeble and awkward chuckle.

"I mean...I wouldn't mind one day, of course. We haven't really talked about it. Why the sudden question?"

"HOW DARE YOU," Sebek cried out after finally finding his words, "How dare you bite Lilia and be so insolent as to not move forward with your actions in dignity! YOU MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR PROPOSAL-" Lilia started snickering, cutting Sebek off with a wave of his hand.

"It's quite alright, Sebek. Biting means something much different to humans than Fae, I suppose this is the first you had seen us put on a show of affection, hence your confusion." He turned to you, who had furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips at Sebeks sudden outburst.

"Biting, my dear, is a form of courtship to us fae. It is a sign of ownership," He chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me that?!" You exasperated, "I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything I have done, but I would have been more careful about it... especially if it means something more to you," Lilia gracefully explained he understood it meant something slightly different to humans, before gently grabbing your hand and raising it to his mouth.

"Well, now that you understand what it means," He put your ring finger into his mouth and took a bite at the base,

"Would you like to bite me once more, my dear?"

Bonus:

Rook

You bit his arm and he immediately was on one knee.

"Was that a proposal? You know mon cheri, biting one affectionately is often a declaration of courtship-" You hit the top of his head and walked away from your interesting boyfriend.

"You're not a beastman or a fae! I'm never biting you again!" Your face red and folding your arms, turning away (ah, his cute tsundere lover.)

Oh woe is Rook! He begs and begs you to bite him more, he wants to be covered in your marks. It means you were claiming him as your own, right? RIGHT??

~~~

This was so fun to write DFSEFDSFIHSLDKJF thank you for the brain rot heuheuheueheueh

Masterlist

[redr0sewrites]

NNN Hcs with the Dc Batboys

🥀A/n: exactly what is sounds like‼️ i love writing no nut november hcs sm-

🥀Character(s): Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader,

🥀Cw: smut, teasing, switch!reader, use of the term(s) prince/ss in Bruce's pt, dirty talk

🥀divider: @chachachannah <3

🥀minors dni

Dick Grayson:

bringing up NNN to Dick definitely raises a brow- at first he's a little confused, you don't want to have sex for an entire month? who would ever want that?

once you explain it though, i think he'd be really into it. he's definitely a little pouty that he can't even masturbate, and would probably complain if you were abstaining from sex without telling him why. once you convince him to join you though, he starts taking it very seriously

Dick has a bit of a competitive streak, so i definitely think he's in it to "beat you". he's teasing you endlessly, trying to get you to give in before the month ends (and theres definitely a high chance of him outlasting you)

actually suuuuuch an unfair tease, like genuinely he's soo annoying throughout the month. you walk by him wearing shorts? he's kneading your ass and giving it an appreciative slap. you don't have a shirt on for any reason whatsoever? he's coming up behind you and groping your chest, whether you have boobs or not, and whispering filthy things in your ear.

he's also big on teasing you in your sleep- you can't tell me Dick wouldn't have the biggest somnophilia kink ever so he's absolutely trying to get you worked up while your asleep, in hopes of you waking up and giving in

i honestly see two outcomes: he either makes it to the end of the month, or he gives up about 3/4 through. i feel like Dick has a pretty high libido, but i also think he has really good self control and can resist temptation so there's definitely some internal conflict on his end.

it gets to a point where, at the end of the month, because his libido is so high and he's been untouched for so long, he's like tweaking out over every touch and is becoming veeerrryyy needy and sensitive. this is probably the time period where he's most likely to give in as he's just soooo sensitive and can't even touch himself to get off! you have a much higher chance of getting Dick to give in once he reaches this threshold, and if you play your cards right he'll be squirming.

if he does make it through the month, expect to be woken up at 12:01 on the first of december with Dick humping your thigh and whining in your ear. he's NOT in control right now, he's way too needy and sensitive, and he's definitely okay with letting you use him to get off- he needs to cum just as bad as you do

gives you the most AMAZING orgasms after waiting a month, he's mounting you like an incubus and rutting into you like his life depends on it until your both whimpering and overstimulated ♥️

he's probably gonna be a little mean too, considering you made him wait soooo long <\\3

"hnhah- ffuck." Dick's soft breath tickles your ear as he nips at the lobe, his hips rocking heavily against yours. "c'mon, baby, you can give me another, please.." his cock twitches against your tummy, tip sticky and wet from previous orgasms.

"Dickie, i just came-" you whine, yet your body betrays you as your hips roll up to meet his. he chuckles breathlessly against the soft column of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your sweat-soaked skin. "please, baby? jus' one more, f'me?" his tone is teasing, but you can tell he's desperate as you feel his cockhead twitch again. with a soft giggle, you nod, and Dick wastes no time in aligning himself with your hole. "you ready, hun?"

"mhm," you hum, and he slides in. your hole is already wet from previous orgasms, it had felt too good for Dick to not cum inside, and that only aided his sloppy thrusts as he rutted against you. your eyes flutter closed as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and Dick ducks back down to whisper in your ear as your orgasm draws closer. "so pretty, s'good for me, made me wait so long for this... ffucck- y'gonna cum for me, honey? gonna take it all?"

Jason Todd:

Jason is honestly a wild card, i think it could go a multitude of ways honestly depending on how you feel

when you suggest the idea to him, i either see him being a tiny bit petty and lowkey deciding to fuck you every day of november OR take it as a challenge and being determined to make it through the month with no screw ups.

if it ends up being the latter, than i feel as though Jason has a higher chance of succeeding then losing. i don't think his sex drive is super high, and he's also pretty stubborn, HOWEVER, you are his weak point, and if you end up teasing him or begging him, i can picture him snapping and fucking you

either way, he's at least making it through half the month if not longer.

the only way you'll get him to give in is if your REALLY desperate, because he could never see you needy- so teasing him or pleading with him to fuck you is probably how you can get him to break

i also see him teasing you, but only subtly. he'll wear those low rise sweatpants he knows you like around the house, he's shirtless more often than not, and somehow his hands always seem to find place on your thighs... what lovely coincidences!

Jason struggles more with not fucking you than not being able to masturbate. i honestly don't think he does so very often, so it wouldn't be much of an issue, but not being able to fuck you? not even being able to give you head? drives him insane.

all in all, Jason cares more about your satisfaction than his own. could probably go the whole month without your interference, but is probably pent up by the end of the month

speaking of pent up, he's going to be insane at the end of the month because you made him wait. probably going to be more dominant than usual, BUT he's still really gentle and sweet because he knows your sensitive,,, so its a win!

the first time he cums after no nut november he swears he sees stars, probably praises you to the moon and back over how perfect you are

i think he'd wait until the next day to ravish you, he'd let you both get your sleep, but encourages you both to take the day off and spend the day in bed catching up on lost time. december first is going to be a LOVELY day for you,,,,

"s'that feel good, baby?"

"ffuck- yes Jay, fucking me so good-" you whine into the pillows, drool soaking the fabric as Jason pounds into you from behind. strong arms frame your form as he fucks you, his dick just perfectly touching your g spot/prostate with each thrust.

"aren't you- hnghh- glad you took the day off? relaxed a bit?" Jason huffed, his breath tickling your ear as he tightened his one handed grip on your ass. "y'should let me take care of you more often, especially after waiting so long..." he coos, and you let out a strangled moan as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten faster and faster.

"y'gonna cum for me, pretty?"

"y-es, please, Jay-"

"shh, s'ok, me too, we'll cum together, okay honey?" he soothes, rocking against you as the bed frame quakes.

"gonna fill you up so nice," he murmurs under his breath, white curls plastered to his sweat-slick forehead. "gonna make you cum for every day i couldnt..."

Bruce Wayne:

Bruce is making it through the month, no questions asked. it does not matter how deeply and truly he loves you, this man is IN IT TO WIN IT. he is absolutely making it through the month and will not budge i fear

theres a few nights where he's pent up and irritated after batman-ing and considers giving in, but he never does

when you first suggested NNN to him, he's probably a bit lukewarm to the idea, but whatever makes you happy 🤷 ngl he probably thought you were mad at him and this was a punishment or something at first😭

he honestly didn't think you'd end up actually going through with it, and if you end up giving in at some point in the month he'll definitely feign disappointment

"such a shame, i thought you were challenging me to this...game."

he's absolutely evil when it comes to teasing. he'll come up behind you and press gentle kisses on your neck, his large hands holding a firm grip on your waist, only to pull away with a practiced, professional smile as you begin to curl into his touch <\\3 he also plays up the Brucie Wayne persona, and is a lot more subtly seductive in an attempt to get you to break

keeping a firm hand on your lower back in public, giving you gifts (specifically lingerie, with a note attached that states, "for the end of the month"), and overall being a bit more possessive

when the month is over??? PREPARE. it's late, almost 2AM on december first, and the second he returns from patrolling he's finding you. doesn't even take the batsuit off, hell, he probably fucks you right there in the batcave, bent over the batcomputer. he's a little harsher than usual, and definitely more needy. he also tells you to take the day off, so he can.. spoil you for the entire day <3

let me just say, after so long of abstaining, he FUCKS, and he fucks you hard. you swear your seeing stars with each thrust, and he's genuinely insatiable. probably wants to breed you too... doesn't matter if you can get pregnant or not, he's fucking you full of his cum

the desk beneath you rattles with each thrust, and your thighs tremble as large, gloved hands find purchase on your soft skin. the rough, cold temperature of the leather provides delicious contrast to your lust-warmed skin, and you let out a wanton moan as Bruce thrusts heavy and deep inside.

"you like that, doll? like making me wait?" he practically growls in your ear, and you let out a stuttering moan.

"n-no, please, s'too much-"

"aw, poor thing. can't even take my cock... guess it has been a month after all, you'll need some time to get used to it i suppose." you roll your eyes at his cockiness, but just as you go to spit back a retort, he rolls his hips against your again. you shudder, clenching around him as his pace speeds up.

"so good f'me," he coos, almost cruel in his ministrations as he rubs harsh circles into the soft flesh of your thighs. Bruce's thrusts increase in pace, his tip rearranging your guts as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten.

"o-oh! 'm gonna-"

"fuuck, i know, prince/ss. cum for me," he whispers, moving one hand to the small of your back, pushing you down more firmly against the desk. "you can take it."

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

[allthegothihopgirls]

alfred, who writes in a journal every day unbeknownst to the bats.

alfred, who's journals aren't marked by a period of time, or his own age, instead by the names of those he looks after. when dick is first adopted, and he knows this change is permanent, he puchases a new journal, despite his existing one being only 2/3 full. this one has a simple 'richard' written with a gold accent on the cover, a change from the last 8, titled 'bruce'.

alfred, who somehow makes journaling more of a logbook, albeit still personal. he's writing about himself, sure. memories of old friends, his travels, stories he's heard, things he has experienced.

but he mainly writes of them, the things they do, how they act. their character quirks that they haven't even picked up on yet themselves. the things he wishes he could tell them as a parent, instead of butler. the things they should know about those who've come before them. the regrets he has, and changes he's making. how they've molded him into a new person.

alfred, who will take all this information to the grave. until then, they stay packed in their respective boxes, some dustier than others, in the back of his wardrobe in the manor.

the contents of those journals aren't specific to each kid. everyone's within those pages. in tim's there's a lot about jason, and damian's has a lot about bruce. nothing's overly invasive in them, and the furthest it strays from the truth is when sometimes alfred admits to believing a different set of events to whatever he's been told, and even then he's probably right.

jason, who receives his journals prematurely. there's only 2, there should have been more. it's painfully obvious the cutoff, how it wasn't supposed to end there, but still it did. he receives them post-resurrection, convinced he doesn't belong in the world. his memories of robin growing fogged and becoming twisted.

he reads them and he cries, maybe it's because he forgot how much good there was in those times, or maybe it's because that's the determining moment in his new life where he decides that he really deserves and wants to live, because his existence runs deeper than being the robin who died.

frankly it's quite jarring for jason, to read about himself from another's perspective. as much as i love the idea of him and alfred getting along the best out of all the kids, he definitely distances himself for a while to process everything. he slowly creeps back though.

no one else gets to read their share until alfred's gone, and when they do it goes unspoken, no one pries to know anything outside of their dedicated journals.

jason, after hesitance and much internal conflict, drops off his own on dick's nightstand one night. receiving them back, two weeks later, is a silent affair face-to-face.

tim, similarly, on no one's accord but his own, gives jason his, to keep. he says something about how he doesn't think they were ever about him, and they seemed much more like a sequel. he also apologises, and mentions how he almost felt like he was intruding on something. but he understands now, he doesn't clarify about what.

[sol-iscus]

❗️Mild arcane spoilers ❗️

Miiight ruffle some feathers.

Not EVEN going to lie, unnecessary ship wars aside, the fan base has developed such a deep love and understanding for these characters (because let’s be honest, there are some pretty intelligent people giving eye opening analyses) that after the finale, it appears that we have a better understanding of them than the actual writers.

We deserved better as the audience after all the hype over the years, all the waiting, even after some episodes got leaked a while ago, most of us remained respectful and waited to see what this season would bring us. The core characters ABSOLUTELY deserved better as well.

It felt as if I was watching all of the characters’ development be erased in real time, or become sidelined and nearly mute after being propped up to appear as if they were going to have a significant arc.

With the amount of episodes we had, it felt like they were trying to cram a bunch of different storylines into one 9 episode season and that left us with annoying plot holes and rushed sequences.

And I’m just gonna say it.

If a certain relationship needed to be sacrificed if it meant that other characters had the proper development they needed and DESERVED, then I would have preferred that much, MUCH more than that undercooked finale.

Don’t. Even. Get me started on that caitvi scene. In the cell? Right after that conversation she had with her sister? Don’t give me that nonsense about how it’s vi reclaiming her power or something. (An actual weird ass statement from Amanda Overton in a Q&A video about how that was Vi reclaiming and working through her trauma in that cell).

No apology? No groveling for forgiveness? That little argument they had lasted like five seconds and didn’t even address the earlier conflict that happened in the show after cait left vi. And before any of you say “cait apologized with her actions”

I don’t care. Two things can be true at once, she can and should have apologized directly as well as displayed that with her actions.

Moving on to Mel??? We did not nearly have enough time to explore her new abilities as a mage, her armor, and her connection to the black rose. As I said, the storylines this season should have been more refined so we could focus on a central group of characters. They did nothing but hint at her armor from the end of season 1 all the way up until now.

Also maybe I’m hallucinating, but did we ever find out what happened to the firelight’s tree?? That’s one of the main reasons Ekko and Heimerdinger went to the lab isn’t it? HELLO?

Next on my list, Jinx. This girl has suffered to no end.

- Lost her whole family except for Vi.

- Almost died once and was brought back to life.

- Tried to end her life several more times

And you slap us all in the face by writing her off?

“Oh but she may not be GONE gone, look at the glitching at the end!"

I. Don’t. Care. It’s the principle.

I’m sick and tired of seeing characters that struggle with mental health and keep having one bad event after another happen to them, never receiving a proper ending. What messages are the writers sending with this? That death is basically the answer because there’s no hope for them? Cool. That was not an honorable act of self sacrifice, that was plain insulting.

Instead, if they still really wanted to have a Jinx redemption arc and a chance to rekindle her relationship with Vi, having her tap into engineering for the betterment of Zaun would have been the better route.

We should have gotten an extra extended episode since this is last season for the Piltover/Zaun region, and for Jinx and Vi's story. I really want to blame Riot for being greedy and possibly becoming too cocky with the popularity of Arcane that they think anything would suffice because It's Arcane.

[mononijikayu]

i wanna be yours — ryomen sukuna.

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

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

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

WORD COUNT: 19k words

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

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

main masterlist

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if you want to, tip! <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, your eyes blinked at his words.

Soon enough, laughter permeates through your lips.

He was fond of the sound, truthfully enough.

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

He would not say anything else more, he thinks.

Ryomen Sukuna watched as you downed a cup of sake.

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what if I…..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it infuriated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserved better. And now, so do you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why had he stopped?

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

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

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

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

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

“Nee-sama, take that back!

“No, I won’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lord husband was watching you, with such focus.

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ryomen Sukuna stood up, and looks at the potion.

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

His hands takes it brashly towards his lips and drank.

Ryomen Sukuna wants to forget how he hurt you.

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The potion worked too well.

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

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

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

And it stung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears poured from your eyes.

You tried to quickly wipe them away.

But as you wiped them, more came by.

Even your body knows you were miserable.

Even your body knows something’s missing.

Something is wrong.

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What could be the meaning of the truth? 

Was it all truly worth it, finding out everything?

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He would never stop finding himself drawn to you.

And maybe that was the cruelest punishment of all.

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ryomen Sukuna was staying, whether you liked it or not. That was what he had to do, that’s what his heart was telling him to do. And for reasons neither of you could explain, that was enough—for now.

“Eat with me, my lord.” You whispered to him, pointing at your dish. “I cannot finish it all.”

He smiled at you, almost so fondly. “Very well, little one.”