#chaos walking cursed image

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “kitten”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning, description of violence including murder.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: I am so not ready to go back to school..

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. | Part five.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

His tattooed hand felt heavy on your thigh.

It was a respectable distance from your upper thigh. Really, he was more so holding your knee than your thigh. Throughout the drive, he’d spontaneously grip your leg, reminding you that this was exactly where you belonged.

Your words were jumbled in your brain, unable to form a sentence or a coherent question. You were stuck between thanking him and asking him how he got into the staff parking lot…

You also wanted to chastise him for speeding. It was reckless and unnecessary…

The silence was deafening, but the car’s engine made up plenty for the lack of talking. You looked out the window as it seemed you two were heading to Ginza, one of the most prominent high-end shopping districts in Japan.

“You made me a spectacle in front of my professor…” You finally found the courage in you to speak up. However, your eyes could not meet his out of fear. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of your life? Walking on eggshells around Sukuna?

“Is that how you thank someone from getting you out of a clearly uncomfortable situation, doll?” His hand squeezes your thigh again, and his thumb brushes against the fabric of your pants.

You mentally curse yourself. This is the first time Sukuna has seen you outside of Malevolent Mass, and you’re wearing yoga pants and a school-spirit hoodie.

Your eyes finally look up to meet his as he’s focused on the road. “Who said it was uncomfortable? My professor was just…”

“He was only trying to take my future bride out on a date… unbeknownst to her, clearly.” He finished your sentence for you, shooting you a small amused look on his face. “And you didn’t have to say it was uncomfortable. You wear all of your emotions on that pretty little face. I can read you like a book.”

You huff, looking away from him once again. Lawyers are meant to be good a bluffing. You’re suppose to have a poker face of steel, and yet… he’s able to tell.

“How did you even get into the staff parking lot?” you ask, switching gears to a different line of interrogation.

“I know people, doll. Are you going to continue to make a fuss, or are you going to enjoy our date tonight?”

“Date?” you ask as you immediately look over at him. A crease forms between your eyebrows. You’re not in anyway ready for a date!

A deep throaty chuckle leaves Sukuna as he gives your leg one last squeeze. “You know, the outings that people in a relationship usually go on?”

“I know what a date is!” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Get all that attitude out now while you can, kitten. Once we sign this contract tonight, I have a good way to correct that behavior.”

Correct that behavior..?

Your face burns hot from the realization, and you feel your heartbeat speed up. The most confusing reaction was the small thrum between your thighs. You shift in your seat, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Sukuna puts his car in park in the middle of the street in front of an elegant looking building. Mannequins were posed in the windows, wearing stunning clothes and jewelry.

You feel yourself swallow thickly. You’re so out of place here that it hurts. You’re glued to your seat, not wanting anyone to see you like this… in fucking yoga pants.

Your future husband doesn’t seem to notice as he gets out of the car. He hands his key over to the valet driver, and from the window, it looks like they have a brief intense conversation.

Sinking back into your seat, you pull your hoodie up over your head and pull the strings taut so you’re swallowed whole by your hood.

You hear the door open up to your side, and another amused chuckle escapes from Sukuna’s mouth. “Do you really think hiding yourself means no one else can see you?”

“I’m not going in there. You didn’t warn me that you were taking me out.”

“I don’t have to tell my future bride when I crave her presence. I’m only going to embarrass you more if you don’t move.”

You stay still. You can’t walk in there. You’re not meant for this lifestyle. The people inside are going to look at you and immediately know you’re an outsider. American. Your choice of attire will only heighten their dislike for you.

Your body flinches as you feel two strong arms wrap around your figure. One of his arms cradles your back, and the other hooks underneath your legs, carrying you bridal style out of the car.

“Put me down!” You thrash in his arms.

Sukuna’s voice responds in a low growl against your ear. “Keep making a scene, and I’m not going to wait for a contract to take you over my knee, do you understand?”

Your body goes still, and you slowly pull your hood off of your head, looking at him with wide eyes as he carries you to the door. The valet driver has already gotten into Sukuna’s car, driving it off to be parked somewhere safe.

“Speak when spoken to, girl. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you murmur back to him, conceding in the argument.

“Good girl. I didn’t take you to be such a brat.”

It was going to be a long life for you in this marriage… if Sukuna didn’t kill you first.

*** *** ***

You stood almost completely bare on a small pedestal in a fitting room while three women worked to get your exact measurements. Measuring tape was wrapped around your arms, hips, and bust.

Turns out, this wasn’t the destination of your date. This was a mere pitstop. Sukuna wanted custom made clothes for you, and he of course was going to buy something for you to wear on the date.

You were still mortified from everyone seeing you in yoga pants and a hoodie, but no one made any sort of offhand comment.

You didn’t get any “foreigner” comments. You didn’t get side eyes or flat out ignored. Sukuna’s presence was already affecting the way people treated you, even while he wasn’t in the room.

“You have such pretty skin color, miss — very healthy. Mr. Sukuna wants to see you in something red tonight. It will complement your features well.”

It didn’t take long for the ladies to drape your body in a gorgeous rich burgundy satin slip dress. Unease settled into your stomach as you noted the amount of skin peeking out from the dress.

What kind of respectable lawyer dresses like this..?

It doesn’t stop with the dress. Soon, you’re standing in black glossy YSL heels that you’ll be lucky not to break your neck in too. The sheer thought of the price tag on this outfit sends shivers down your spine.

With the amount of disposable income Sukuna has frivolously shown you, you and your dad could’ve easily lived a peaceful life nearing his death. He wouldn’t have had to have sat awake, calling all kinds of law firms and insurance agencies.

You push the thought to the back of your mind, staring down at the floor as you try to find the courage to be grateful for what you have now… for what you will have.

“Red looks good on you, angel.” That deep gravely voice breaks you from your trance. “Breathtaking.”

“Hardly something a future lawyer would wear,” you murmur, unable to figure out if you like what you see in the mirror or if you hate it. Have you lost sight in what truly matters?

“Oh?” Sukuna prompts, stepping into the dressing area further. He takes a seat in one of the chairs. This was truly like a private viewing area, where no one could bother you two.

Wordlessly, Sukuna curls his finger, beckoning you to him. He then pats his knee. Memories of sitting on his lap in the club fill your mind. It was one of the first times you felt alive — like you were truly living and not just trying to survive.

“I’m scared to sit in this dress,” you awkwardly laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror with an unsure look in your eye.

“Better get use to it, doll. We’re going out to dinner after this,” he says, continuing to pat his lap.

Letting out a sigh, you decide it’s best not to argue right now. You don’t have the mental energy to. Slowly, you take a seat on his lap, looking over in the mirror to see how his body completely dwarfs yours.

His hand rests on your hip as he too is mesmerized by your reflection in the mirror. “Looks like a future lawyer to me.”

You feel the tips of your ears and back of your neck prickle with heat. He sounds so sure of himself. No one has showed you that amount of faith before.

“I— I just meant.. not a respectable lawyer.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Lawyers aren’t allowed to feel sexy in their free time? I hate to disappoint you, doll, but we’re not going to some stuffy courtroom to eat dinner.”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you look at him. His eyes are dancing across your body with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“I know that,” you huff. “I just don’t think this is me.”

“Oh? Was that not you who was a bottle girl in my club? Sitting on my lap? Choking on my fingers? You weren’t the angel masquerading as some lithe imp amongst devils?”

You make a move to get up from his lap. “I needed money—“

His hand snakes up your body before carefully wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, merely holding you in place.

“Pretty girls like you go work at ski resorts or country clubs to make money. They don’t end up in a club called Malevolent Mass, and they certainly don’t offer themselves to men like me. Face it, angel. You’re drawn to depravity, but you can’t admit yourself. You want some excuse to enjoy all of the sick little fucked up acts your brain conjures up. You want to be known as some noble robin hood lawyer who steals from greedy corporations and gives back to the poor, but you’re not the saint you want to be.”

The sniffle that shakes your body surprises you. You didn’t even realize you were crying until one of your tears dripped off of your cheek and onto Sukuna’s hand.

His eyes slowly trail from yours down to your wet cheeks. “Such a pitiful sight,” he mutters before leaning into you.

His tongue darts out, flicking upward against your cheek as he licks the tears off your face. You hold your breath as you can feel his hardened length press against your thigh.

His warm breath tickles your face with every small tentative lick. The act is much more intimate than you expected.

Once satisfied, he presses a gentle chaste kiss right beneath your eye. “Better stop crying, angel. It only makes me want to tear into that virgin cunt so much more.”

He chuckles at the way your body tenses. You hide your flushed expression in the crook of his neck while his hand sensually strokes the small of your back.

“Also, lawyers are hired based off how good they are in the courtroom and how thorough they are in their pursuit of justice. No one hires a lawyer based on what they’re wearing, so get that thought out of your head.”

You meekly nod, unable to use your words after he just gave you such whiplash. Sukuna was truly an enigma.

*** *** ***

Domain Devour was a modern style restaurant with dark and moody decor. The lighting was low, and the walls were painted a rich satin black. Priceless art pieces hung from the walls.

There was a mostly empty back room which contained half-circle booths that were clearly built to entertain.

You could imagine Sukuna bringing his men here and them enjoying some of the… entertainment.

The staff were overly accommodating if not weary of you and Sukuna. It dawned on you that this was another one of Sukuna’s establishments after one of the waiters called him boss.

How many businesses did he own exactly? You were starting to wonder if Sukuna had monopolized the entire Entertainment District.

“The usual. Cook whatever the lady desires,” Sukuna grunted nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened a little bit as an awkward laugh bubbled in your throat. “Oh— I uh, don’t have a menu. I’m sorry-“

Sukuna can’t help but grin from your polite nature. “You don’t need one. Just order whatever you fancy, and the kitchen will make it happen.”

Decision paralysis struck hard. You could have whatever you asked for? Your fingers fumbled together as you tried to even remember what your favorite food was.

“You know, I’ll just have whatever he’s having,” you finally reason, nodding back towards Sukuna. You didn’t want to cause the kitchen any sort of bother by putting in an order for something they didn’t have.

The waiter’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure about that, miss?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed at the staff member. “Did she fucking stutter?”

“No! No— Of course not. I’ll have that right out.” He scrambled his way back to the kitchen to get away from Sukuna’s scrutinizing glare.

You were planted rigidly in your seat, staring at the table not wanting to be the reason that some poor waiter lost his job.

“I don’t tolerate insolence. He wouldn’t have questioned me or any other patron about their choice in meal, so he shouldn’t question you either.”

You don’t even know what to say, so you sheepishly shrug your shoulders. “The customer isn’t always right.”

The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “Such a clever girl, but you’re not a mere customer to him.”

That sentiment makes you squirm a bit in your seat. You always wanted to be respected by people, but you didn’t want to be feared like Sukuna is.

“So.. the contract,” you mention, sipping on your water to cure your dry throat.

“Straight into it, huh? No room for typical date conversation?”

You immediately open your mouth to say that this isn’t a typical date, but you think better of it. Why are you in such a rush to sign your life away to him in some form of contract?

“I’ve never been on a date before, so I guess I wouldn’t know what to talk about on one.”

That makes Sukuna’s eyes light up with a twisted sense of amusement. He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table to get closer to you. “Is that so? This is my bride’s first date ever?”

You hate the way a simple nickname makes you face flush with embarrassment. You silently nod in affirmation.

“How adorable,” he taunts while his eyes roam your figure for a moment. “What do you think you and the professor would’ve talked about if he had taken you out?”

“That wasn’t a date,” you scoff in protest, turning your head away from him as you remembered just how he presented to your school.

“Oh, but it was in his mind.” He takes a drink of the champagne he ordered earlier. “You’re just unaware to how men think.”

“Enlighten me then.”

Your defiant gaze and sharp words only seem to make Sukuna more amused. “In his mind, he was going to take you out to lunch. He would probably answer all your questions about law and whatever else your nerdy heart desires. Then, he’d offer to keep the date going by heading back to his place. Perhaps he would say it’s to look over one of your recent papers or he could show you something like his dissertation. However, once you were in his space, he’d see it as a sign that it was safe enough to take things further. It starts with small touches and gradually becomes more bold. Judging by the way he had his hand so carelessly on your back, I would say that he would’ve quickly escalated.”

Your mouth is slightly agape. No way was your professor going to do any of that. It was a harmless invitation to lunch, right?

“You don’t know him. He’s not like that,” you mutter, a crease forming between your eyebrows.

“Oh angel, you’re so naive. I may not know him, but I know how men like him think and where their intentions lie.”

“If we weren’t here to sign a contract, what would your intentions lie?” you ask, frowning at your future husband.

Sukuna actually looks off kilter for a moment. You managed to catch him off guard, but his face quickly smooths out to his default amused look. “I do not shy away from my intentions, doll. If I wanted nothing more from you, I’d already have you in my bed. No. Perhaps I wouldn’t even bring you to my bed, I’d have you in the basement of Malevolent Mass. As soon as I was finished using that cute cunt, I’d leave, and you’d probably never see me again.”

A strange tight feeling settles in your chest. How many women has he had in that way? He said it like it was second nature to him. Was he at Malevolent Mass that day to do that exact thing with some other girl downstairs? Had he just finished up downstairs and decided to stop by your booth for a drink?

Then, it hits you. Sukuna originally proposed a free use deal to you — not marriage. He had not always intended for you to be his wife.

“Jealousy looks cute on you, angel.” He grins, soaking in ever small line of your clearly frustrated face.

“I’m not jealous,” you grumble, taking another sip of your water.

A rich chuckle leaves Sukuna’s lips. “I didn’t know my wife was such a liar. You’re sitting there thinking about just how I was able to rattle that answer off without much thought.”

You tighten your jaw, hating how he was taunting you right now and hating how right he was. “We’re here to talk about specifications of the contract, right? I don’t want you sharing a bed or whatever surface you use with some other woman while you’re sharing a bed with me.”

A meek voice sounds next to you. “I uh.. have two lamb dinners..?” the waiter says as his face is burning red. He definitely just heard you say that, and now you’re face is also burning up.

Sukuna barks out a laugh. He loves seeing people squirm from embarrassment. First, you get jealous over him which makes his cock ache with the need to reassure you. Then, you go on to angrily lay out a rule against sleeping with other women right in front of the waiter. It’s truly the cherry on top for this night.

You’re sulking as the plates are put down in front of you and Sukuna. Then, you’re unable to stifle your surprise. No wonder the waiter second guessed you for ordering this. The plate itself was bigger than your head.

The plate was piled with mashed potatoes slathered in gravy. On top, several lamb chops sit that have been delicately cooked just right. Fresh stalks of green beans also sit to the side, and as if that wasn’t enough, a basket of rolls were also brought to the table.

Your eyebrows slightly furrow as you realize this isn’t any sort of Japanese cuisine that you would’ve expected. You take note of the fork, knife, and spoon carefully rolled up in a napkin next to your plate.

While you’ve been raised around Japanese customs and food options, your dad also cooked dinners that were reminiscent of comfort foods from the west. Seeing silverware sent a dull ache in your chest.

“So? My angel doesn’t like the thought of me sleeping with other women?” Sukuna’s grating voice ruins your nostalgic trip. You glare up at him, remembering how you just made a fool of yourself.

“It’s disrespectful and unhygienic,” you reason with a bit more bite to your voice than you intended.

Sukuna can’t wipe the shit eating grin off his face. “Careful doll, your jealousy is showing again.”

“Shut up,” you snap, stabbing into your food and taking a bite. Your anger is quickly soothed from the myriad of savory flavors in your mouth. You’re barely able to dampen the moan that expels from your body.

Your future husband bites back the amused laugh from your blatantly pleased sounds. He knows that if he teases you, then you may stop eating, and he doesn’t want that.

“There is no other woman who I’ll want to accompany my bed, doll.” He cuts into his lamb chop, taking a bite for himself.

The sincerity in his voice makes you pause for a moment. Flickering an uneasy gaze up to him, you quickly shake away any feelings threatening to bubble up. This is merely an exchange.

“I assume you have stipulations you’d like to add?”

“Always so perceptive.” He puts down his utensils, and his gaze weighs heavy on you, demanding you to give him your full attention. He only continues once your gaze meets his. “I enjoy your defiant nature and independence, but there are things I get the final say on such as your safety and our future heir’s safety.”

You swallow thickly, wondering how far he’d take that rule. Would he start telling you what you can and can’t do? What you can eat? Who you can see and speak to?

“Beyond that, you’re blindly stepping into a world you know nothing about, angel. Thus, if I say the word ‘enchain’, you are to immediately obey me without question or thought. Do you understand?”

Sukuna expected your immediate refusal. He knew that was a big thing to expect of you, and it went against your very nature.

“No, I— I don’t understand. What situations would you need me to do that? I thought you said you’d keep me out of your livelihood..”

“I will keep you as far removed from my livelihood as possible, but my livelihood may find you whether I want that or not. Surely you understand the risk you’re agreeing to.”

You close your eyes, trying to sort through your thoughts. It was giving him so much power in the relationship — too much for your own peace of mind.

“You could misuse it…”

“I very well could, but where’s the fun in that? I already said I enjoy your mouthy attitude and the way you cry and squirm in my lap. Why would I take such joys away from myself?” He gives you a sharp grin.

“You won’t use it to make me hurt anyone or…?” you ask, still running possibilities through your mind of why he’d need to control you for an undisclosed amount of time.

“No angel. I won’t have you do anything that goes against your morals.”

You take a deep breath. You’re really committing to a trust fall here with this entire agreement. Though, he is also taking a gamble. You could cross him and turn him into the police if you wanted.

“Okay,” you breathe with a small nod. “We’re exclusive. I’ll remain a virgin until our wedding then I’ll… be of free use. You’ll support me and our future children after law school. I’ll get to use your last name to my benefit, and you’ll protect me at all costs from your livelihood.”

“And you’ll obey me about your safety and surrender yourself to me if I use our word,” Sukuna adds, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

You nod, signaling you understand.

“That’s not enough, doll. Say it. Say you’ll obey and surrender yourself to me.”

“I’ll… I’ll obey you when it comes to my safety, and I’ll surrender myself to you if you use that word with the clause that you can’t make me do anything against my morals.”

“Good girl,” your future husband purrs before he snaps his fingers once. The waiter from earlier comes barreling towards the table.

“Yes boss?” he pants, looking frightened out of his mind.

“Bring me the contract.”

You’re not even sure if you feel surprised when the waiter somehow brings you the contract that Sukuna intends for you to sign to set your agreement in stone. The devil works hard, but Sukuna’s a different beast entirely.

Your eyes carefully read each and every word. You know damn well not to sign your name to something you haven’t read.

You expected to find some sort of fine print or something that Sukuna had “failed” to mention, but everything in the contract was already verbally agreed upon by both of you.

“You’re going to take ownership over my debt as well?” you ask, looking up to meet Sukuna’s gaze.

“You’ll be my wife, will you not? Combining finances is typical of normal marriage,” he reasons with an unbothered shrug. “I promise you, angel. Your debt is the least of my concerns. It’ll be taken care of within the first week after our wedding.”

You sigh, continuing to read on. Everything seemed to be in order until you read the last clause.

“I’m to stay in the guest room until we’re officially wed?”

“That’s for your comfort. You’re more than welcome to share my bed before our wedding, angel. Just don’t cry when my body responds to you.”

You face flushes as you picture sleeping next to Sukuna. You can’t imagine someone as tough and hardened as Sukuna sleeping peacefully.

“I’ll stay in the guest room, thanks..”

He gives you an unbothered shrug. “You may change your mind. Who knows?”

You roll your eyes as you pick up the pen the waiter left behind. There was no way in hell you’d seek out Sukuna’s bed before you had to. You’d sooner start doing drugs.

Both of you are silent as you sign your name and date on the line. You pass the contract to Sukuna, and he signs right below your name.

With another snap of his fingers, the waiter was right beside your table once again. Sukuna gives him an expectant gaze.

The waiter nods nervously and fishes in his coat pocket for a moment. Your breath hitches as you wonder if Sukuna is going to make a scene out of some sort of proposal.

When you see the box that’s passed to Sukuna’s hand, you feel a bit of relief, noting that it’s too big to be a ring.

“Calm down, kitten. You and I are alike in our disdain for gaudy public gestures,” Sukuna chuckles as he stands up next to the table. “Allow me to put it on you?”

You nervously nod, wondering just what kind of gift he was giving you.

You turn your back towards him, pulling your hair to the side as he places the necklace around your neck. It was a short petite golden chain. Even while the chain wasn’t heavy, you could tell it wasn’t some fake metal from the grocery store. He was putting real gold around your neck.

You reach up, touching the chain as Sukuna is busy putting it on you. Your fingers find a small golden S charm, undoubtedly to mark you in his initial.

Noticing it’s taking him too long to work a simple clasp, you laugh softly. “Need any help back there?”

That’s when you feel the cool metal of pliers against the back of your neck. Your body goes rigid for a moment, wondering what the hell Sukuna was doing.

Your body is tugged backwards as Sukuna loops his fingers through your fully clasped necklace, pulling you towards him. He leans over your back, his breath ghosting against your neck.

“Let this necklace serve as a reminder that you are mine now, angel. Day in and day out. You can’t take this off like you can’t get away from me.” His lips gently brush against the delicate skin between your shoulder and neck, causing you to shiver before he steps away.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. Your hands automatically go up to where your airflow was slightly restricted by the necklace, and you tug on it forwards this time. The gold remains strong, biting into your skin instead of snapping. You then search for the clasp with your fingers, finding that there is no such thing.

This bastard just collared and marked you with a permanent piece of jewelry.

“Now, be a good little wife and close your eyes and cover your ears.”

“Why would I—“

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

Your eyes widen as your breath stutters in your chest. Everything was moving so quickly. What had you just signed?

You close your eyes tightly, already feeling tears of fear dampen your waterline. Your hands come up and cup your ears.

“Good. Slide over to your left, angel. Towards the wall.”

Doing as you’re told, you slide over in the booth towards the wall. Your arm presses against the cool wall before your entire body flinches.

BOOM!

A gunshot fires off right next to you. You try to silence a scream as you double over out of fear. Your eyes fly open just in time to see Sukuna aiming a handgun but not towards you.

You cringe as soon as you hear a thud. Your future husband just shot a man dining right behind you.

So much for not being brought into his world.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach @kunasthiast @jinxiewritings @mordacioust @rinofcike @therealjustpeachesback

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Ride

Summary: Javi's a ride you can't resist (aka, it's more PWP LMAO)

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: It's all porn again, sorry- Javi's POV, unprotected p in v (pls do not do, but who am I to say), oral (m receiving), Javi is down BAD for you bouncin' on that thang, idk y'all, make men yearn insatiably 2025 is the motto for the year, I don't make the rules

A/N: Hey, remember when I said I was gonna write this and then didn't? Guess who finally finished this thing 🤠 Shout out to @yxtkiwiyxt for gracing my brain with this idea, and to @gothcsz for being insane about it with me!!! @jolapeno I'm dragging you into this, too heheheh y'all, it seems like it's 24/7 horny hours over here, so apologies about being insufferable for This Man™️ enjoy, before someone eventually (and inevitably) calls animal control on me!! (we're also considering this piece a research project, fellow pillow princesses rise up LMAOOOOOOO)

He doesn’t notice the way the corner of his lip has been turned upward since he left your apartment. The strain in his cheek muscles are the last part of his body he’s concerned about. 

It takes everything in him to pretend like he’s did have to waddle to his desk through the office this morning. While there’s a part of him that curses the fact he can’t handle himself the way he used to as a younger man, he’d be lying out of his goddamn teeth if he said that he’d never been happier to be this sore. 

And he’s only got you to blame. 

It’s safe to say his work efficiency is absolutely fucked today. The only thing he has the mental capacity for is the image of you, straddled across his hips, riding him until he was half way convinced he’d never walk again. 

It had started off innocent enough, your body draped across his on the couch, re-runs of a sitcom he couldn’t be bothered to remember playing in the background. It wasn’t long until you had found a way to crawl into his lap, cute and giggly pecks of your lips shifting into a frantic dance of tongues and teeth, hungry and needy. 

“Let me take care of you, Javi.” 

You had whispered it in his ear like a siren song, the sultry promise of your words making him grow harder by the second beneath you. 

It was a luxury he had forgone for too many years to count, to let someone else take the lead- to work herself slowly into his lap, worship every inch of him, and fuck him in a way he was convinced he’d never be worthy of. 

In Colombia, sex was far from luxurious. Better yet, sex was a survival instinct- a way to gain intel from questionable informants or a chance to finally numb his mind from the pressure and terror of the things he’d endured, even if just for a little while. It simply existed as another need, like food or water, a way to keep him alive in the chaos of a cartel ridden country. 

But now, he’s home. He wakes up in the morning to the soft Laredo sunrise and closes his eyes to the cicadas chirping as the sky shifts to darkness, unburdened by the weight of the world that used to haunt him. Now, he slips into bed next to the warmth and softness of your figure, curled in the sheets next to him. 

Now, the world is different, because he has you.  

Sex is no longer a need. It’s an overwhelming want that stirs his stomach every time he sees you. It’s a desire that burns deep in his chest, an all consuming thought, an itch he just can’t scratch. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get enough of you. 

He still doesn’t understand how you can’t get enough of him, either. 

It’s not your words that solidify his belief that he’s worthy of you, even though every time you talk to him, he’s convinced he can’t breathe- He knows you love him from all the things your words can’t say. Your tender touch, gentle kisses on his lips whenever there’s a chance for them to meet, the way you can’t help but let your hands wander his body until they’ve explored every part of him with a fervent promise of desire. 

Perhaps there will always be a part of him convinced he’s not deserving of you, but with the way you have your hands wrapped around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, it’s all the convincing he needs for right now. 

It’s not long until your hands become your mouth, tongue dragging up and down the length of his shaft, swirling around his tip before sinking down so deep, he can feel the huffs of warm air from your nostrils tickling the hairs at his base. He’s lost in the warmth and wetness, hand tangled in your hair as he cradles the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down while you take him down your throat. 

As if he wasn’t wrecked already, it’s the devilish grin you shoot him with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, split dribbling down the corners of your curled lips, that has him all but whimpering, soft expletives and moans rapidly spilling out of him. 

He’s so drunk on you, eyes closed and head tipped back against the edge of the couch, he’s barely even registered when you’ve stopped, only looking up at you when he feels the way your weight has shifted, one hand bracing yourself against his chest while your hips hover over his cock. 

“You ready for me, cowboy?” 

He swears that one day that smirk will be damn near enough to kill him, but God knows he won’t let today be that day- not with what you’re about to do. 

All he can do is nod, the both of you breathless as you begin to sink down his length. It’s almost painfully slow, the way you’re taking him an inch at a time, teasing him the whole way down until you settle with him stuffing you to the brim, whining as your hips finally flush with his, taking everything he has to give. 

He’s not sure what higher power he needs to thank that you have the mercy to start slow- anything but the later, and he would have had no choice but to finish right then and there. His arms reach around your waist, fingers dipping in the dips of your hips as you roll them, like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Javi wishes his hands could be everywhere as you lean down to kiss him, that they could grope and grab at the plush of your breasts, cup your face, and smack your ass all at once. He needs you in a way that’s all consuming, a way that lets you know how lucky he is to have every part of you be his, and his alone. 

He’s handsy and fumbling like a goddamn teenager- you know it just as well as him. He should be embarrassed by the little giggle you give him in between the muffled moans of your mouths meeting, but he doesn’t care. Instead, for the first time in years, Javi laughs along with you. 

“Handsy, much?” You tease, nostrils crinkling and lips curling. 

“Can’t get enough of you, hermosa. Can never get enough of you.” 

You grant him one last kiss before you pull away, biting down on your lip as you watch his jaw drop at the way you shift your hips, leaning back to drag your cunt up and down his cock, sliding effortlessly with the way it’s drenched with your slick. 

The once forgiving ease of your pace has dissipated, your bottom half rocking as you ride him. He can’t decipher if the sultry smile spread across your face is from your own doing, or from the way he’s looking up at you, entranced and captivated by every movement you make. 

It’s enough of the second to seem to spur you on, bouncing faster on his length as your hands creep up your own chest, cupping your breasts in your hands to hold them as they jiggle. When your fingers slide across your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs, Javi all but short circuits. There’s an extra ache in the way his cock throbs, watching the show you’re putting on for him. 

There’s something harmonious about the way your moans melt with the slap of your hips meeting his. Sure, it’s lewd, but fuck, if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, watching you lose yourself in pleasure with the warmth and wet of your pussy wrapped around him. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock.” 

He’s not sure how he even has the capacity to form coherent thoughts anymore, desperate and needy babbles falling from his parted lips like an endless waterfall of praises, just for you.  

“Feels so good, Javi. So fucking good.” 

Your cocky facade is beginning to fade, eyes scrunched shut in focus with every thrust up and down his length. It hasn’t taken him long to recognize the expression now plastered across your face- Javi knows it’s the reflex that tells him you’re close, that it won’t be much longer until you’re clamping down around his cock, the sound of his name hitching in the back of your throat as you cum. 

Your once methodical rhythm has transformed into something fiercely frantic, arching your back so that you can reach behind and brace yourself on his thighs, fingertips digging deep half moons into his skin. 

He’s too all consumed to do anything but watch, to take in the beauty that radiates off of every part of you straddled across his lap. 

He relishes in the melodic symphony of your moans, muffled and mixed with expletives between heavy breaths, lost in the soft sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, shimmering from the way you’ve all but conquered him, hips grinding down on him, taking all of him over and over. 

There’s a selfish war raging in his head amidst his mesmerization- One side wishing he could stay like this forever, keep you perched over his lower half, cock stuffed inside you until your bodies give out. The other prays you cum sooner rather than later- He won’t until you do, and lord knows it’s taking every ounce of self restraint he has left to make sure that happens. 

Fuck, maybe you really are trying to kill him. 

“Oh f-fuck- Fuck, I’m close, Javi.” You whimper, your grip around his thighs growing impossibly tighter as you furrow your brow in focus, not daring to let your pace falter, not when you’ve found the spot where the head of his cock fits perfectly inside you. 

“Use me, baby. Fuck- use me, pretty girl.” 

It’s not much longer until you’ve reached your peak, feeling the way you tighten around him as you soak his length with your slick, the once steady rhythm of your hips faltering as you cum. 

Your head thrusts back, chest heaving as you cry out his name, over and over, a sound he swears he’ll never tire of as long as he’s alive to hear it. Because when it falls from your lips, it stirs something so deep inside him, knowing he’s the reason you feel this way. 

That you’re his. 

There’s only moments until Javi’s following suit, fingers buried in the soft dips of your hips as he takes one final thrust, moaning into the crook of your neck while he cums, letting your pussy milk him of everything he has to give. 

The two of you have become a hot, sweaty mess of limbs, melting into each other’s bodies, unsure of where one starts and the other ends. But even with your head rested against his shoulder, he can feel the way your cheeks tense to house the smile spread between your lips. It’s only then he recognizes the same strain in his face, the subtle smirk he can’t seem to shake whenever he’s with you. 

It’s also then he realizes, as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to. 

“What’s that grin for?” You tease, sitting up to plant gentle kisses on his cheeks, brushing away the dark curls dangling over his forehead. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Well, good thing I feel the same then, huh?” 

Both your smiles stretch wider as he cups your jaw in his palm, his hand just big enough to let the ends of his fingers wrap around the back of your head, pulling your mouth to his, letting your lips lock for a moment before you break away. 

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.” 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[sash4esk0]

thoughts on Caitlyn walking in on us changing

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·Caitlyn Walking in On You- ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Warnings: Cursing

The door creaked open with a yawn that echoed across the entire estate.

It was just past sunrise, and warm, orangey light spilled into your room like it had somewhere to be—catching on the mess of clothes littering the floor and spotlighting the fact that you were currently half-naked, arguing with a pair of shorts like they’d personally wronged you.

You were half-dressed and wholly indecisive, hovering over an outfit that might’ve passed for the solstice parade if you squinted and lowered your standards.

The air conditioning hit your skin, sharp and sudden, as you stared down your options—a button-up, a stiffly pressed vest that practically screamed Kiramman money, and a skirt that hadn’t fit right since last winter. You were two seconds from throwing on your pajamas and calling it a “look” when—

“Hey, I just—wait, are you—oh my gods—shit—”

You froze. She froze. The room hung in silence like someone had hit pause.

Caitlyn stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and clearly on the verge of a minor breakdown. Her usual perfect posture was nowhere to be found. That sleek, pin-straight dark blue hair had come loose from its tie, a few strands clinging to her cheek, and her uniform—normally crisp enough to cut glass—looked a little rumpled from whatever early-morning chaos she’d already survived.

She was holding a clipboard. You were holding your bra.

“I—what are you doing?” she blurted, her accent flaring as her gaze darted anywhere but at you.

“I live here?” you offered, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing barging into my room?”

“I knocked!”

“You didn’t.”

“I meant to knock!”

You snorted. “Well, maybe try meaning it louder next time.”

“I was in a rush!” she snapped, already half-turned toward the hallway, turquoise eyes glued to the ceiling like it might erase the image seared into her brain. “They rerouted the parade, the float permits are a mess, Vi’s drunk again, I haven’t had tea—and now I’ve walked in on your—your—”

“My what?”

“Your thighs, apparently!”

That got a laugh out of you. “Cait, are you okay?”

“No! No, I am not okay,” she said from the hallway now, her back pressed to the wall like you were radioactive. “I’ve seen your ass before I’ve even had caffeine. Do you know what that does to a person?!”

You smirked, lazily tugging on the button-up. “Relax. It’s just skin.”

“It’s weaponized,” she muttered, diction still annoyingly perfect even while panicking.

“Alright, drama queen.”

There was a pause.

Then, from the other side of the door: “I’m coming back in ten minutes. With tea. Please be wearing pants.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

[candy69gurl]

Sooo what is your thought in bully sukuna x shy reader? I think it's kinda hot tho. Like imagine sukuna picking on you every day bc he is obsessed with reader 🥴😩

ENSNARED

PAIRING bully Sukuna x shy reader

WARNING slight non/con, mean Sukuna (obv), m!masturbation, jealousy, slight mentions of Jin Itadori, mentions of violence, public harassment, little comfort?, slight dacryphilic Sukuna, fingering, clit rubbing, use of nicknames (brat, slut), slight exhibitionistic Sukuna, raw sex, m!cum on f!face

"G-give that back to me," you attempt to snatch your notebook from Sukuna's grasp, but he intentionally keeps it just out of reach, smirking wickedly.

"Oh, are you truly desperate for this piece of shit?" He asks teasingly, enjoying your frustration. "Perhaps if you beg prettily, I might consider letting you have it back."

Your desperation grows with each attempt, as you frantically lunge and twist to snatch the notebook from Sukuna's skilled hands. He shifts it from one hand to the other, juggling it playfully, prolonging your torment. His eyes gleam with mischief as he watches you struggle, enjoying the power struggle between the two of you. "Beg," he urges, leaning closer to whisper the word in your ear, making the situation even more agonizing.

In your frantic attempts, you lose your balance and accidentally land on top of him. Your body settles over his lap, unknowingly straddling what seems to be a rather significant bulge beneath his clothes. Sukuna's smirk falters for a moment, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as you finally tear the notebook from his grip and scurry away, completely oblivious to the chaos you've caused. "You... you have no idea, do you?" he stammers, trying to regain his composure, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring his voice.

You glare at Sukuna, your eyes narrowing in anger as you hold the now-precious notebook tightly. Your cheeks red from embarassment and anger. Without another word, you turn on your heels and storm away, leaving him behind, his laughter trailing behind you.

Little did you know, the incident had left a lasting impression on him, and the game of cat and mouse between you and the school bully would continue, fueling his obsession with you even further.

As the night falls, Sukuna tosses and turns, unable to shake off the vivid memory of your accidental encounter earlier that day. His erection strains against his pants, a painful reminder of the power you unwittingly hold over him. "Damn you, little brat," he curses under his breath, frustration mixing with desire. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts, but his mind keeps returning to the image of you, sitting on his lap, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

Unable to resist any longer, Sukuna's hand slips beneath the covers, wrapping around his throbbing member. He jerks himself roughly, visualizing your innocent face and the way your body had felt against him earlier. Each stroke brings him closer to release, and he moans softly, fantasizing about the day when he'll claim you as his own, asserting his dominance over you in every sense. The thought pushes him over the edge, and he sighs in relief as he spends himself, imagining your surprised expression when he finally makes you submit to his desires.

As he releases, a satisfied smirk graces his lips. "Soon, little brat," he murmurs, "I will.. fucking make you mine." He cleans himself up and drifts off to sleep, dreams filled with fantasies of dominating and possessing you, eager for the day when he could make you his in every way possible.

The next day, Sukuna finds himself walking down the hallway, his eyes desperately trying to locate you. He is determined to start the day by bullying you. He eventually finds you leaning against your locker, talking to none other than Jin Itadori, another nerd he picks on.

Jealousy surges within him, the sight of you with someone else igniting his possessive nature. He approaches the scene, casually inserting himself into the conversation, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Mind if I join you two? I heard there's some juicy gossip going around," he says, his eyes never leaving you.

Sukuna's arms wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close and shielding you from the boy's advances. "You want to date her? Just look at her, she's as ugly as fuck. You can do so much better than this pathetic excuse for a human." His words drip with contempt, and his tone is dismissive.

Embarrassment floods you as Sukuna's cruel words echo through the hallway, drawing stares and snickers from the surrounding students. Jin, unable to handle the situation any longer, offers you an awkward smile before retreating and leaving you alone with Sukuna. Tears start to form in your eyes, and you struggle to maintain your composure in front of your tormentor. "You should be thanking-"

With a sudden burst of anger, you slap Sukuna across the cheek, the sound reverberating through the now-silent hallway. "I hate you!" you cry out, your voice cracking with emotion. For once, the tables have turned, and the roles are reversed – now it's Sukuna who feels humiliated in front of his peers.

Sukuna's eyes flash with anger, and before you know it, he seizes your hair, his fist clenching to strike you. The room erupts in chaos as classmates rush forward to pull you and Sukuna apart. As they separate you, his eyes burn with fury, promising retribution later. "This isn't over, little brat," he growls, his voice low and menacing. In the midst of the confusion, you can't help but wonder how far he'll go to assert his dominance and exact his revenge.

After school, you are the last student in the classroom. You quickly gather your belongings and stuff them into your bag. The sooner you leave school, the sooner you can get away from the stress of the day's activities.

Just as you're about to exit the classroom, your gaze shifts left, revealing Sukuna's smirking face. He's been waiting for you to finish what you're doing so he can pounce on you; now that you're both alone, no one can stop him.

His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your wrist, yanking you back and pinning you to the ground under his weight. "Nowhere to run, little brat," he chuckles, holding you down with an iron grip. "Time for your punishment." Fear and adrenaline course through you as you struggle against him, knowing that you can't escape his grasp.

Afraid and overwhelmed, tears stream down your face as Sukuna looms over you. To your surprise, his demeanor shifts, and he hastily gets off you, cradling your trembling form in his arms. "I didn't mean to scare you," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You continue to sob, the mixture of fear and humiliation overwhelming you. Sukuna holds you tightly, his grip softening as he tries to offer comfort. "Please don't cry," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I won't hurt you, little brat. You just need to learn your place, that's all." Despite his words, you can't help but feel uneasy, knowing that his intentions might not be entirely genuine.

His hands cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your teary, puppy-like fearful eyes, your bruised lips from when he pinned you down, everything appears irresistible to him. He licks his lips as arousal surges through him, seeing you so vulnerable.

His fingers brush against your lips as he leans down to kiss your cheeks, tasting your tears. He moves further down letting his lips brush against yours. The kiss is slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding into your mouth with authority. Shock courses through you, your tears drying up as his dominance is once again asserted. But amidst the shock, a strange feeling of desire begins to stir within you, leaving you both confused and anxious.

As you recover from the shock, his kiss intensifies, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer. The unexpected intimacy leaves you both breathless and uncertain, your heart pounding in your chest. His lips are insistent, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. "You're mine, little brat," he whispers against your lips, his words laced with possession and dominance. You can't help but wonder what this new development means for your turbulent relationship.

As his lips continue their relentless assault, Sukuna's hands reach inside your skirt, his fingers tracing the outline of your thighs before finding their way to your most intimate place. Your breath hitches, the surprise and embarrassment from earlier replaced by an unwelcome arousal. "Does my little brat like that?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he feels your reaction. His fingers delve deeper, his touch both demanding and thrilling. The intensity of the moment leaves you gasping for breath, your body betraying your mind's resistance.

With a triumphant smirk, Sukuna slides his finger inside you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. "So wet for me, little brat," he praises, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You should be ashamed, wanting me even after I embarrassed you in front of everyone." His words are a mix of pleasure and reprimand, further fueling your confusion and desire. You can't help but squirm under his touch, your body responding to his touch despite your mind's protests.

He thrusts his finger deeper, your walls clenching around him in response. "Such a naughty little brat.." he growls, his thumb caressing your clit. Your breath hitches, your body arching involuntarily under his expert touch. "But don't think this means I've forgiven you," he warns, his finger thrusting in and out in a slow, rhythmic pace. "You still have much to learn, and I'll teach you every lesson you need." You close your eyes, a mixture of shame and pleasure washing over you.

He lifts you up on one of the benches, bringing his erection towards your core. Your core gushing around his shaft, his groan of desire echoing through the still classroom. With a smirk, he frees his cock from his pants, the sight of it causing your breath to catch in your throat. He proceeds to rub the engorged member against your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You try to resist, whispering a half-hearted "Wait..," but his eyes are filled with determination.

Despite your protests, he ignores your pleas and guides his member to your entrance. Forcing himself into you, he pushes past your resistance, his size causing a burning sensation. You whimper and whine, struggling against him, but his strength is overwhelming. "Quiet, little brat," he snarls, his cock stretching you wide. "Take it like the good little slut you are." You can't help but surrender to his force, your body adjusting to his intrusion as his thrusts become more forceful. "W-what if someone..?", your voice quivering, the thought of somebody seeing you like this is almost revolting to you..

What will everyone say? The shy innocent girl getting fucked by her bully and also that she is enjoying it? Yet, you cannot deny the pleasure he is giving you. You don't want him to stop.

"No one's coming", Sukuna interrups , "Even if someone sees us, let them know you just pretend to be shy... but you are in reality a masochist slut."

The combination of pain and pleasure washes over you, your body betraying your will once again. Your protests turn into moans, your hips moving in tandem with his. The intensity of the situation leaves you breathless, your mind conflicted between desire and fear. Despite yourself, you begin to enjoy the rough ride, your body responding to his dominance.

As his thrusts become more forceful, he cups your face, his eyes locked on yours. "You feel so good, little brat," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I've fantasized about this so many times, imagining you wrapped around my cock." You blush, both mortified and flattered by his admission. "You don't know how much I like you," he continues, his words contradicting his usual cold demeanor. "Maybe too much."

His confession catches you off guard, your mind reeling from the unexpected sentiment. Despite your confusion, his words ignite a spark of affection within you. "L-like me..? then why?," you whisper, your eyes tearing once more..

Sukuna pauses, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher your thoughts. "You're mine, and I want you to know it," he says, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. "I'll always push you, force you to submit because I can't bear the idea of losing you." His thrusts resume, his movements fierce yet tender. "I enjoy seeing you struggle, hearing you beg, because it proves you belong to me."

He leans in, his lips grazing your ear. "It's my way of showing you how much I care, little brat," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll never let anyone take you from me, even if it means breaking you first." His words are both reassuring and terrifying, leaving you unsure of how to feel about this new revelation.

Despite your confusion, the intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, your body responding to his every move. His declaration has opened a door to a whole new realm of emotions, leaving you both scared and entranced by his possessiveness. The love-hate dynamic between you grows more complex with each passionate thrust, your future now intertwined with the man who both torments and cherishes you.

With a smirk, Sukuna reaches inside your shirt, his fingers finding your breasts through your bra. He kneads your nipples roughly, your breath hitching at the sudden sensation. "Such a pretty sight, my little brat writhing under me," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck to find your lips. His kiss is both possessive and demanding, his tongue dueling with yours in a heated dance.

Your body responds to his touch, your nipples hardening in his grasp. The mix of pain and pleasure leaves you gasping, your mind clouded by the sensations. His kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming freely over your body. The dual assault leaves you breathless, your arousal reaching new heights.

As his kisses become more intense, so do his thrusts. You can't help but become more responsive, your body surrendering to his domination. The intimacy and brutality blend together, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified by the intensity of the experience. Your resistance melts away, your body craving the release that only he can provide.

He watches your face intently, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "That's it, little brat," he growls, "let go for me." You can feel the heat building within you, your body ready to explode.

As you reach your climax, your inner muscles contract around his cock, milking him in a rhythmic pulse. Sukuna groans, his own release nearing. With a growl, he pulls out, his seed shooting across your face in a hot spray. You gasp, your eyes widening at the sudden intrusion. "There," he says, a triumphant glint in his eye. "Now you're marked, my little slut."

Your breath hitches, the cooling semen on your face a testament to his claim. The shock of the action leaves you speechless, your mind struggling to process the intensity of the situation.

As Sukuna zips up, his eyes rake over your body, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Clean yourself up," he commands, raising a hand in dismissal before turning on his heel and striding away. You're left on the ground, still panting from your orgasm, your mind reeling from his abrupt departure.

You watch him leave, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. As he disappears from sight, you can't help but feel abandoned. With shaking hands, you wipe the semen from your face, a small part of you feeling humiliated yet another part aroused by the act. Your body still buzzes from the encounter, your heart racing. You rise slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you, and make your way back to your quarters.

Does he really like me?

The questions linger, unanswered, but you know one thing for certain - you belong to him, body and soul.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: cause I finished watching sinners the other day 😮‍💨 I'm overly going for smoke.

STRESS RELIEVER. | MBJ

MBJ! Smoke x Black! Female Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex, (f receiving) unprotected sex (u betta wrap it up!) extreme language (cursing, use of n-word,) choking, talking you through it. Not proof read.

Summary: you're a stressed single mom, but Smoke can help you with that.

when i'm taking sips,

from your tasty lips,

the honey fairly drips.

Circa 1947.

Clarksdale, MS.

"Lyle!" You called out for your ten year old son, hands vigorously tossing and scrubbing the fabric of one of his t shirts together in your wooden wash tub. You had sent that boy off thirty minutes ago with your spare wash tub, and he still hadn't made it back yet. The lord said be fruitful, but here you were struggling with your one, not to mention your niece. "Lyle Jr!" You called out again, eyes flickering into the wooded area behind your small home. No Lyle.

You huffed drying your hands on your dress, eyes darting over the vicinity. You spotted one of Lyle's friends, James, holding some goods walking down the road, Edith's son from down the road.

"James, you seen Lyle at that river?" You asked squinting, using your right hand as visor against the sun, looking at the younger boy slow to a stop in front of you. His lips parted and his eyes got shifty, he ain't wanna tell on his buddy. "Boy if you fixin' to lie for 'em don't even, he already in a world of trouble."

James sighed, "I seen him in town at Mr Al's sto' a few minutes ago."

You kissed your teeth, "I figured. Gone get home, boy." You mumbled eyes following the child until he was at the end of the road. You sighed, turning around and pulling the shirt out of the wash tub and wringing it out. Now here you had to go, stopping your washing to go and get that hardheaded child out of town. You planned on being done with this just in time for dinner, but like always Lyle found a way to turn a simple instruction, into complete chaos. But, he was your baby.

Lyle was just like his father—wild, active and barely attentive. Splitting image of him too. He had nearly every trait from him except his nose and that curly hair—both traits straight from you. Those gray eyes, flat lips, and freckles peppered across his nose was nothing other than Lyle Sr. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that your son was half white, and apparently it didn't take them Klansman long to see it either. They seen you and Lj playing in the yard earlier that day, and wanted to see the nigger lover that got you pregnant. Their words.

He had just come home from the war only an hour before, Lj never got the chance to see his daddy the next morning. They snatched him right out of your house, and two days later your uncle found him dangling from the limb of a tree. You told Lj he died in Japan, that he died a hero.

"Elaine!" You called out toward the cracked front door of your home, where inside Elaine should've been shelling peas. You shuffled over the lawn to your clothes line, grabbing a clip and clipping the wet shirt to the line.

"Yes, auntie?" Elaine peeked her head out of the door, brown eyes looking at you expectantly.

"Do me a favor and get started on dinner, baby. I gotta go get Lj from town," you sighed.

"Yes ma'am," she mumbled heading back inside. You started across the grass, hands shielding the sun from your squinted eyes as you seen the nice Lincoln Continental rounding the dirt road quickly. Ain't no cars that nice ever pass through your side of town, the Klansman ain't even got cars that nice.

You watched, and it was nice, real nice until you seen your boy in the passengers seat, with a complete damn stranger. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes and said a silent prayer to the lord. By the time that nice Lincoln stopped in front of your lawn, your eyes were open and narrowed. You could feel the hesitance from Lyle as he slowly opened the car door.

"Hey mama," he fidgeted nervously with that same boyish smile his father used to do, guilt all in his expression, "I filled yo' wash tub up!" He quickly gestured to the wooden tub sitting half full in the backseat.

The man driving exited the car. Tall, brown, handsome, in a fine Irish suit, and brown leather Johnston's & Murphy. But what the hell was your son doing in the passenger seat? You'd seen this man in your life, and you knew for a fact Lyle hadn't either. A short surge of panic coursed through you.

"Lj, where the hell were you?! I told you to go fill my washtub and I see yo ass roundin' the corner with a complete stranger?" You scolded. "Get my washtub out that backseat and get yo behind up in thar house, before you don't have a behind to sit on later." You gritted, eyes on him as he deflated, slowly pulling the back door open.

"I caught him at Al sto' in town," the man started, southern drawl slow and accent as thick as it could be, leaning on the hood of his car ever so casually, watching Lyle grab the half full washtub from the backseat, "Al caught him stealin' a few things and was fixin' to get rough wit'em—”

Your eyes widened at the mention, as they darted back to your son. "Stealing?! Lj—”

"But I took him, we had a talk about stealin' didn't we?" The man arched a brow at him.

"Yeah, ma," Lyle grunted sitting the wooden tub on the lawn, before reaching to the pocket of his pants and pulling out 80 cents and holding it out you, "Smoke gave me twenty cents a minute to watch his car! And all I had to do, was hold the horn if somebody got close—and then these two men got too close so Smoke came out and—”

"Boy, shut yo mouth and take yo ass in that house like yo mama told you," Smoke cut him off, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket, he took one, and held it between his lips before holding the pack out to you.

Any other time you would've cursed somebody out for talking to your child crazy, but that was the first time since your husband died that Lj just listened. No excuses, no kickback. And you were silently grateful for that. He slowly trudged toward the house.

"No thank you," you replied in response to the offer of the cigarette, your skeptical gaze on the man on your property, "thank you for bringin' my child home, but I can take it from here. My husband'll be home shortly."

Lyle paused at the step, confusion creasing his forehead. "But mama, daddy died in Japan—"

You closed your eyes tightly, clenching your teeth. "Lj, ain't I said get in that house?!" You raised your voice, tone stern and heavy. Your boy. You heard quick shuffling up the stairs and the side of your front door being gently closed.

You heard the flicker of a lighter as you lowered yourself onto a nearby stool, dragging your freshly filled wash tub toward you. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered.

"I fought in that same war," Smoke recalled as he took a long drag from his cigarette, "seen some of the worst shit you could ever imagine."

You sighed, stuffing one of your nieces dresses into the tub and started to vigorously clean it. "Yeah, you, my husband and plenty others...” you mumbled eyes glancing up at him quickly with little interest before you focused your attention back on your busied hands. "...thank you for service."

Smoke ain't reply for a moment just observed. The tension in your shoulders, the stoic expression of your face, to the irritation in your tone. You were beyond stressed. "What you doin' tonight?"

Your movements stilled almost immediately. Your eyes slowly trailed up from the brown leather shoes he wore, to the very expensive Irish suit that adorned his body, your nose scrunched in mix of disgust and heavy irritation. "Excuse me?"

A ghost of a smirk fell across his lips, the sun gleaming off the gold caps he had on his teeth. "You look like you need a break, shit. You out here in 90 degree weather scrubbin' shirts and shit like the stains pissed in yo coffee this mornin'."

"Me and my brother Stack got a juke bar openin' up tonight right down the road."

You let out a half hearted laugh and continued scrubbing. "Boy, do it look like I got time for a juke bar? I got two kids up in that house." You mumbled. You couldn't remember the last time you went to a party. Maybe 17? You got married at 19 and had Lyle at 20. As soon as you got married, had a kid, there were no more parties for you. And when your sister passed and you took in Elaine—it got even more serious. All your focus tuned in to giving those kids the very best life, and that's why you left Texas two years ago. They deserved a fresh start.

"I wish yall the best, but I ain't got nobody to watch my kids." You mumbled. "Good luck on yall openin'."

Smoke flicked his cigarette, "damn shame," he muttered, "cause I was show'll hopin' to see more of you."

You quietly kissed your teeth, your movements slightly slowing. You kept your eyes down and lips sealed until that Lincoln pulled off. Who the hell was Smoke?

You hummed softly taking a sip of water from your glass as you looked over at your niece across from you. Spooning over the side of black-eyed peas on her plate.

"Girl," you side-eyed her, taking a bite out of the dinner roll, "you better not be over there' wastin' food."

Elaine's eyes darted over to you immediately, "I'm not auntie, I'm just thinkin'... you never go out and have fun, and I heard that man out there invitin' you to the juke bar, and everybody goin! I heard Mary's mama and Mrs. Edith talkin' about it earlier too."

"I can take care of Lj and me, he won't be no problem." She affirmed.

You thought over it for a moment, your eyes flickering over to Lj who was already shaking head. "I'll be good mama, I swear."

You rolled your eyes sighing heavily over the rim over your glass. "Mm, I'll go. Only for a lil bit though, cause I don't want yall alone for too long." Why'd you raise your kids to be so damn sweet?

You looked around the jukebox bar, already apparently in full action before you and Edith had even arrived. You looked absolutely gorgeous, the many compliments you received from friends and neighbors in passing as soon as you walked in—even the sweet compliments from your kids. You looked almost rich, a red and white plaid halter swing dress, a white shawl over your shoulders, the fanciest red pumps you owned, a single baby's breath flower in your bouncy, brushed out roller set, and a bold red lip to pull it all together. You looked great. But you felt so out of place.

"Girl, this is a lot," you mumbled to your friend quietly as she edged you both closer to the bar, "I feel so out of place—I think I need to go home and check on my kids!" Anxiety started to creep in as you began to turn on your heels but felt the soft pull of Edith's hands in your wrist.

"Girl, relax," she frowned a little, dropping her hand from your wrist and dusted off the skirt of your dress, "the kids are fine and you know that. You need a break, and a drink! You tense all in the shoulders, honey." She waved a hand over your upper body with a look of disdain.

"I am not tense!" You defended. You were.

"You are," she retorted, "and you makin' me nervous! You don't hear Slim singin' up there?" Her light brown eyes followed yours to the stage. You side-eyed her as she proofed her hair and shot you a quick glance. "You reckon he'll notice me tonight?"

You contained your poker face, even though you wanted to display the shock you felt internally. You didn't know much about Slim, other than he was known in the area for playing at a local blues club, and the fact he had a better relationship with alcohol than people it seemed. He didn't seem to be a bad man though. "...I hope so." You mumbled eyes darting all over the floor of people.

"Well," she hummed with a smile, "ima increase my chances by standin' closer to the stage," she gently guided you to an open stool at the bar, "you, need to stay here and get a drink. It's on me!"

You shot her a glare before rolling your eyes and letting off a soft sigh as she squeezed your hand before heading off, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the floor. You looked around the wooden interior what had appeared to be an old ranch, or barn, but the decorations had made it look up to par.

"What can I get you?"

Your eyes averted over to the pretty Chinese woman behind the bar in front of you. Your eyes scanned the shelf for a brief moment. "Y'all got gin?" You asked scrunching your nose at the selection that was presented.

She nodded, turning around to grab a bottle from the counter and a clean glass, pouring a generous amount in before presenting it to you. "That'll be fifty cent."

You went to open the white clutch in your lap to fetch your change.

"Gon' and put that one on the house, Grace," Smoke's voice sounded off behind you, he was close. Grace simply nodded and headed off to tend to another customer.

"Thank you," you mumbled, slowly closing your clutch and keeping your eyes straight ahead, grabbing your glass and taking a sip of tb win

"Thank you," he reiterated to you, slipping into the limited space between you and the other seated patron, slightly leaning on the bar, "for comin. I ain't think you was gon show up."

You glanced at him briefly, his brown irises staring directly at you. You crossed your legs tighter, and averted your eyes elsewhere. You couldn't explain it, but he was staring at you like he was studying you. "Yeah, y'all got a lot of people here. That's good, right?" You responded dodging the last party of his statement, hell, after this drink you were still thinking about bolting. And maybe he knew that.

He finally took his eyes off of you, briefly looking over the over building. "Yeah. Stack handled business on that front." His eyes looked over your seated frame once more. "You look good."

You took another sip of gin. "Thank you," you mumbled softly eyes darting over the interior of the club once again. Looking for any change in conversation, any minor detail you could point out. Anything that could stop this gin from making you cave into whatever temptation this man was dangling over your head.

"This a big place." You chirped out, eyes loping everywhere but him.

"You want me to show you around?"

You blinked. The party was right here. Be damned it was probably nothing but empty storage rooms on that second level. But why not? Edith left you to go source out the opportunity that Slim would notice her, and right now you wasn't feeling much like mingling.

"Can I bring my drank?"

Upstairs was exactly how you pictured it; a mix of empty rooms. Smoke apparently bad vision for all of them. He showed you a spacious room, one that he sought out to be his office, a small one he wanted to make storage, and a moderate sized one for a break room of some sorts.

Inside the fourth and final room you were greeted with a desk of some sorts, a bunch of wooden boxes filled with alcohol, and a glowing jukebox in the corner. The door seemed to fall shut behind you as you followed smoke in, glass still half full with the gin as you took a seat atop the desk.

"Shouldn't that be downstairs?" You half chuckled gesturing to the jukebox he was now fiddling with.

"What you wanna hear?" He asked you, shooting you a half glance as he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a quarter, popping it into the machine.

"You don't hear that music downstairs?" You watched your eyebrow, looking at him over the rim of your glass.

"I ain't asked you none about the music downstairs. I asked what you wanna hear." He reaffirmed, eyes settled on you. Your gaze met his for a moment before you set the glass beside you on the desk, and carefully slid off. You met him at the jukebox, eyes skimming over your limited options, before you settled on Honeysuckle Rose by Fats Waller.

The soft and familiar jazz tune filled the air as you took your seat back at the desk, Smoke staying stationed where he was. Comfortably leaned up against the jukebox. For a second nothing was said, only the smooth low instrumental of the beginning of the song played.

Smoke's eyes lazily trailed over your figure and you could feel his heated glaze, even when you acted as if you were fixated on the wallpaper, or the gin in your glass.

"What you do for work?" He spoke up. And you were grateful for the break in silence, the air in the room felt thick with something you ain't felt in a real long time.

"I make clothes, I sell vegetables from my garden sometimes," you shrugged, "I make do."

"You need a man."

You blinked, before a scoff followed by a half-hearted laugh escaped your mouth. "I don't need no man to help me pay the bills."

"Nah, but you do need a man for all that stress you got." His voice was even, but his stare was heavy. You shifted on the desk, throat dry. But the seat of your panties wasn't.

You were a widowed, single mama, and a woman with respect and morals. How would you look having casual sex with a man you just met earlier in the day? Please.

You shuffled to your feet from the desk and headed toward the door, mumbling a fast and quiet 'I gotta go.' He was quick to meet you before your hand hit that doorknob. Hands placed firmly on your hips, your back pressed all up against that pristine Irish suit he wore. His lips found your neck in feather light, searing kisses. "There you go," he mumbled in between kisses to your heated flesh, "worryin' and stressin'. You ain't got nowhere to be right now, but right here lettin' me take care of you."

You sucked your bottom lip in, eyes fluttering closed followed by a heavy inhale. If you had any will at all it'd already escaped with that first kiss. "We don't even know each other," you tried to reason, voice coming out strained and breathy.

"I ain't gotta know you to help you wit' this," his hands gently squeezing your hips through your dress, dragging up until they reached your shoulders, that he gently massaged before running them down your arms, kissing your right shoulder gently, his lips leaving heat behind.

"Besides," he mumbled against the fabric of your shawl, until his lips found the exposed skin of your neck again, he left one soft peck, "we bout to be well acquainted after this."

He proved to at least know your body well. He made good use of that desk, to have you seated there, legs rested against his shoulders and the skirt of your dress hiked over your waist. His eyes made full contact with yours, as he sucked on your swollen clit. His soft hums on your sensitive bud, had your lips parted, breathing uneven and eyes lazy. "Ooh, fuck!" You hummed a soft moan, eyes boring into his as he pulled back before pulling your clit in between his lips in a series of sloppy sucks, a string of your wetness and his spit dripping from his goatee onto the hardwoods flooring beneath you, his knees planted firmly on the ground.

"Just like that, Smoke," you nodded vigorously, still maintaining the lazy eye contact with him until your thighs trembled and your eyes shut involuntarily. Your hands raised in an abrupt attempt to find something to grip onto, in the midst your hand knocking the glass half full with the gin to the hardwood flooring. Smoke seemed undeterred by the glass clobbering to the floor, his tongue tracing big lazy circles around your swollen bud, the soft hums and moans emanating from his throat sending small jolts of vibrations through you. Your breath hitched, eyes lazily opening to give him still watching you. Tongue slipping in and out of you, with a vengeance damn near. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the thrusts of his tongue like he was tryna collect whatever you'd give him.

"Shiiiiit," you slurred through a moan, eyes fluttering closed again voice raspy with need, "I'm finna cum!" You squeaked, thighs squeezing around his head.

"Mmh, mmh," he hummed against your pussy before pushing your thighs apart and pulling back, face messy, his hand slapped your exposed ass cheek, taking a needy moan from you, "wanna feel you cummin' on this dick soon as I slide it in." He mumbled hoarsely, his eyes trained on you lowly while his fingers busied themselves with undoing his belt. Your thighs squeezed close at his lewd words as your eyes connected with the bulge he was pulling from his pants. So pretty—and dicks usually weren't. Veiny, and two toned.

He pushed your thighs apart gently and leaned down, kissing you with you all over his lips. The way he kissed you was soft and hungry, like he wasn't rushing but enjoying. His teeth caught your bottom lip as you moaned, feeling him gently slap the tip of his dick against your throbbing clit, rubbing it all over your sloppy wetness, before carefully pushing into you.

A gasp left your lips as soon as you felt him stretch you open, his girth mixed with your long run of celibacy filled you with a slight sting and feeling slightly uncomfortable, but Smoke didn't give you a minute to react, his lips meeting yours, fingers softly grazing your clit as he eased into you. He pulled back to mumble a throaty, "Fuck," against your lips when he filled you to the hilt. A heavy breath slipped past your lips as your brows furrowed, eyes dropping down to where you two met.

He proved to know you even better then. Slipping in and out of you with slow precision at first. His fingers rubbing slow teasing circles against your clit. Bottom lip between your teeth, eyes fluttered closed as he peppered kisses along your jawline and chin. "You feel so fuckin' good," he mumbled voice raspy and muffled against your jaw. Your voice hadn't caught up to you yet, and your breaths were too quick and erratic, yet, you felt the most relaxed you felt in a long time.

Slow precision turned into deep hard strokes. You coated him in creamy white, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other gripping the front of your dress for leverage to keep working inside of you. His forehead dampened with sweat, pressed against yours as he stared into your lazy brown irises. "Look at that shit," he grunted, pulling back slightly, eyes falling to where you connected, slowing his strokes to show how well you had him covered, "you needed this shit so bad," he affirmed. You mustered enough breath to produce a broken squeal, your eyes shutting closed tight. The only sounds filling the essence of the room was the sound of your skin hastily making contact with his, and the sound of your wetness clashing with him.

"Yea," he mumbled pulling away, hand squeezing tighter around your neck, just enough to barely construct your breathing, "that pussy talkin' to me. Pussy thankin' me baby?" He quizzed, heavy breathing shadowing his question.

"Yessss," you whined out, thighs trembling as you opened your eyes, only for them to roll back a second later. He knew exactly where to hit. It was like he find your spot, and stroked with a vigor. The legs of the desk screeching against the hardwood flooring, made ugly sounds followed by the lewd sounds the both of you produced. "Oh my god," you huffed, a sense of pleasurable urgency in your voice, "I'm bout to cum, baby!" You rushed out, stars blurred your vision and it seemed like your breathing stopped for a moment. The only thing that filled your ears was your sticky wetness, the sound of the desk screeching across the floor, and the violent slams of your body crashing into each other.

It was like you couldn't produce sound even when you came. The way your body stiffened and your legs trembled, how your hands instantly reached to push at his torso and chest as he fucked you through it. Only a loud cry followed after, and even then it seemed as if the stars continued to swim behind your eyelids. You went into a period of overstimulation, where your body couldn't comprehend the pleasure he was giving you, if anything you were completely dazed. Your breathing only returned when he finally slipped out of you. He didn't give you time to catch your breath as he met your lips with his, before trailing them down to your neck. "Ain't you glad you came?"

hope you enjoyed xo 🩷

[mia-can-yap-too]

Synopsis:- A totally serious jjk/bllk x reader collection based on abused, overused tropes.

Warnings:- SFW, Fluff, Crack, Chaos. You've been warned.

1. Gojo Satoru :- "We're Married. Please Take it Seriously."

Accidental marriage in Vegas. He's already planning your honeymoon. You're Googling annulment in the hotel bathroom.

2. Geto Suguru :- "Cult Rivalry? More Like Foreplay."

You're rival cult leaders. The cursed community is sick of your enemies-to-lovers slowburn. Glitter bombs are your love language.

3. Nanami Kento :- "Only One Bathtub."

Power outage. Only one bed. You both end up in the tub because boundaries. HR says this is a bonding exercise.

4. Choso Kamo :- "Help! My Soulmate Tattoo Says 'Blood'!"

In a universe where your soulmates' favorite food is tattooed on your arm. You're terrified. He's honored. You try to explain it meant 'blood oranges'. He offers you a vial of his.

5. Sukuna Ryomen :- "For The Love Of God, Please Stop Posting Thirst Traps."

You both swap bodies. He instantly turns your life into a thirst trap showcase. Do not ask why Yuji is streaming.

6. Toji Fushiguro :- "Bounty, Not Bride."

You're the runaway royal. He's the grumpy mercenary. Now he's holding your hand and protecting your honor in public.

1. Rin Itoshi :- "I Saw Color Then He Ghosted Me."

You see color when you meet your soulmate. You bumped into each other. You saw it. He did, too. Then he walked away like an emotionally repressed cryptid.

2. Isagi Yoichi :- "The Strategic Battle Of Shitty Flirtation Methods."

Rival players. You call his metavision 'lowkey perverted'. He says your defense is 'giving Katy Perry'. Tension. Elbow jabs. Mutual delusion.

3. Micheal Kaiser :- "Clout And Chaos"

Fake dating AU. You were supposed to help his image. Instead, you unironically tweet 'Me and Babygirl (Derogatory)'. He buys you a diamond for it.

4. Reo Mikage :- "Gojo or Me?"

Body Swap. The minute you're in Reo's body, you blow millions on Gojo merch. He's locked out of his bank account and dignity.

5. Nagi Seishiro :- "The Sleeping Beauty? More Like The Sleeping Bitch."

You're stuck in a time loop. You must confess to break it. He keeps falling asleep halfway through. Day 47. You're crying.

a/n:- steal the pngs and ill kms

taglist:- @gojoethereal @beabamboo @byzantiumhollow

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

4.- Part four

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. angst. jealousy. mentions of bullying. mentions of fights/bruising. arguing. hate-kissing. suggestive. smutty. lemme know if i missed anything<3 wc. 5.8k an. i love y'all <3 i'm so sorry about last week's chapter TTvTT i swear we'll have a break from the angst soon. i loved your comments sm tho i appreciate you so much(♡)

When your alarm went off the day after the beach, you didn't even look at the screen. Just slammed your hand down on it, rolled over, and buried yourself deeper into the blankets.

The air felt too cold, or maybe it was just your skin, stretched too tight from keeping yourself together.

Your dad knocked once before cracking open the door.

"You goin' to school?" he asked, voice rough from sleep, like gravel under boots.

You didn't answer. Just curled in tighter on yourself, face hidden in the dark cocoon of your bedding.

He paused. Then just closed the door and walked away, heavy steps fading into the distance. 

He didn't ask again. It wasn't the first time you'd had a rough day and decided to sleep it off before going back to school. That tough girl image of yours took its mental stability to keep, so whenever you were feeling a little out of your game, you always chose to avoid school altogether. Too dangerous to show up to a hostile place without a hostile mask to hide behind.

But this time, that hostile, untouchable girl who smirked at chaos and could spit teeth like words was gone. You couldn't find her. Couldn't even imagine putting her mask back on.

You always kept in touch with Emi, though, even on your worst days. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little protective of her. And without you around for the scary dog privileges, she'd have to either stick to Kiba and the rest or expose herself to bullies and mean bitches who wanted to retaliate against you but didn't have the balls to pick a real fight.

The worst one of them was Hebinuma Mizuki from class 3. A sensitive topic for Emi you had to fix more than once in the past.

So you texted Emi with all the strength you had left.

: Not going to school today. Stay out of trouble for me babes.

Emi <3: eh??? wdym???

Emi <3: i need 2 kno about yesterday! ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ did u tell him u like him or what???

Reading that hurt. You put the phone away before it buzzed again.

Emi <3: did he fuck ur legs out and that's why u won't come 2 school? (≖⩊≖)

Emi <3: wait, r u actually sick? want me to go care for you babes? (ㅅ' ^ ') (ㅅ' ^ ')

You stared at the messages for too long before replying.

: I'm okay Emi. See you on Monday. Stick by the guys.

Emi <3: did Kuroo do smth 2 u? ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

Emi <3: if u don't answer i'll make the guys beat him up (ง •̀_•́)ง

: I'm fine, Jesus. Just fuck off.

Emi <3: fuck u </3

: Sorry babes. See ya Monday.

Emi <3: </3

You dropped the phone on the bed. The silence that followed was loud, thick. You wandered to the kitchen like a ghost and tried to avoid looking at the couch.

You failed.

That damn couch. A place of memories—too good, too vivid. A blur of messy hair, clever eyes, and long limbs draped in teenage carelessness.

Your stomach turned. You grabbed the ashtray and a fresh pack, and took it all to your room.

The smoke felt hollow that Friday.

And when Sunday came along, you hadn't said a word to anyone since that last text. You hadn't even put on real clothes.

And then, the doorbell rang.

Your dad answered it, and his gravel voice softened just a touch. 

"Shiromaru," he greeted.

You didn't need to see her face to know Emi blushed.

"Good morning, sir."

"You alright? That girl still bothering you at school?" he asked.

"No, sir. Not since Y/N beat the crap out of her."

He looked toward the hallway, where you were standing in the shadows.

"Good," he said. "Look after your friends, kiddo."

You nodded faintly, and then he was gone, headed off to a fight—or whatever it was he did in his spare time.

(Probably debt collecting, although you knew better than to ask.)

After saying goodbye with eyes that lingered just a little too long, Emi entered the house, her expression changing from cheerful to stern in two seconds flat.

She stepped into the hallway, all electricity and fight in her pink jacket and messy space buns.

"I brought you cheap beer and rented the first season of Death Note," she said, lifting a konbini bag. "Also, I need to yell at you for ghosting me. I get that you have these days but a text or a call wouldn't hurt, you bitch."

As soon as she saw your face, something in her switched. The light dimmed.

"Got any cigarettes?"

You just nodded and she breezed past you, right into your room like she belonged there.

(She kinda did.)

"Good. I'm staying over."

"What about school?" you asked, voice scratchy.

"My uniform's in my bag. I don't think your dad cares. Oh also," she glanced over her shoulder with a wicked little grin, "he gets hotter every time I see him, What's up with that?"

You wished you could snort, play along, curse her off—but you didn't have the strength in you. You simply walked up behind her and rested your forehead against her back.

Emi stilled.

"Hey..." she said softly. "Does this one have anything to do with the volleyball captain?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Your throat burned.

Then you shook your head. Once. Then again. 

And then the sob broke out of you like a dam cracking wide open.

Emi turned and caught you in her arms.

"Babes..." she whispered, pulling you tighter. You clawed at her jacket, hands shaking, knees buckling. She fell with you onto the floor, cradling your head against her collarbone like you were something fragile.

"I fucked it up," you gasped between sobs. "Of course I fucked everything up, I—"

"What happened? You're okay. Tell me what happened."

"I... I rejected him."

You couldn't see the way her eyes widened. She stopped for a second, then continued running her hand down your back as you cried.

"I—he was so—he looked so fucking sincere, Emi. I could've just—just kissed him, said yes, anything—but I got scared. I got so fucking scared and I spat on his feelings like a piece of shit."

You couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop. And Emi, for once, was quiet.

Then—softly, "You are a piece of shit sometimes."

You laughed through your tears, a horrible wet sound.

"But you're my piece of shit," she continued. "And you can still fix this."

You shook your head.

"I don't know if he'll want to see me again. I don't even know if I deserve it."

"You don't have to know right now," she said. "Right now you just get to cry. I'll carry your pride for a while, I bet it's too fucking heavy."

Your whole body heaved. You wept like a child, for the first time in maybe forever. For the part of yourself that thought love was too dangerous. For the part of yourself that wished it wasn't.

Emi held you for what felt like hours. She didn't complain when her legs went numb from the awkward position. She didn't care that her pretty clothes were soaked in tears and spit and snot. She held you tighter whenever a particularly violent sob tore through you, and caressed your back gently when the storm seemed to calm.

You didn't notice the door creak open.

Your dad stood frozen in the doorway, broad shoulders stiff, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it was holding him upright, and there was a crease between his brows like he couldn't quite process what he was seeing.

He blinked at the two of you, his gaze snagging on your trembling form. The fists he'd taught you to throw were balled against Emi's jacket now. You were crying so hard you couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, your whole body convulsing in helpless sobs.

You weren't yelling. You weren't fighting. You weren't lashing out like you always did when something hurt.

You were... breaking.

And he didn't know what the hell to do with that.

His mouth opened, then closed. He took one step forward, like instinct kicked in—fix it, patch it up, say something—but the moment his boot hit the floorboard, he froze again. Panic flickered across his face, subtle but raw. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to do something, anything—but nothing about this moment was in his wheelhouse.

He looked between you and Emi, and Emi—bless her—met his eyes with calm certainty and gave a single, firm shake of her head.

And something in him seemed to deflate. His jaw clenched. He gave a slight nod, like a huge wolf backing out of a place that suddenly wasn't his territory anymore.

Then, quietly, he shut the door and walked away.

And you? You couldn't stop thinking about Kuroo. His voice an echo in your head.

"You think this hasn't already fucked me up? You think I haven't already let you get under my skin?"

He'd opened himself wide for you—heart in hand—and you'd slammed the door in his face and pretended it didn't matter.

You hadn't even kissed him goodbye. Not even a half-assed hug or a brush of your fingers. You just left him standing there in the dark, sand clinging to his shoes and love still lingering on his tongue.

You wanted to tear the memory out of your head with your bare hands. Wanted to reach back in time, scream yes, scream wait, scream I didn't mean it like that.

Throw yourself into his arms. Bury your fingers in his hair. Press your mouth to his and say everything you didn't let yourself say.

That's how it should've gone.

If you weren't so fuckin—

"Stupid..." Your voice cracked. "I'm so stupid."

Your breath hitched again, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over your cheeks. You bit your lip so hard it might've drawn blood, but you couldn't stop the ugly, shaky sob that followed.

Emi sighed, long and soft. But not annoyed.

"No, you're not," she said gently. "And that somehow makes it worse."

You hated that she was right.

Because you weren't dumb. You knew what he meant when he looked at you like that. You'd realized when his feelings started to change. You knew how much it cost him to put himself out there. To ask for something real.

And you still shut him down, because you thought it would keep things simple. Because you were scared. Because it was easier to pretend it didn't mean as much as it did.

It meant everything. And you'd thrown it away.

"I messed it up," you croaked, rubbing at your face uselessly. "I fucked up everything."

"Yeah," Emi said, not unkindly. "But you're not done yet." She shifted, legs twisted awkwardly beneath her. "Just... Can we switch positions? My ass fell asleep."

Again, it made you laugh through the tears—a short, wet snort that turned into another sob halfway through.

You nodded and finally pulled away, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your sleeve.

Emi settled against the edge of your bed, stretching her legs out with a dramatic groan and patting the spot beside her.

"C'mon. We're both a mess. Let's be a mess together."

She cracked open a can of Asahi Super Dry—half-warm, with a 50% off sticker slapped on the side like a badge of shame—and took a long, bitter swig.

Then she looked at you.

Really looked at you. Like you were a wounded dog on the side of the road. Like it broke her heart just to see you breathe.

And for once, you didn't look away.

You felt like roadkill. You deserved to.

"Okay..." she started. "Now... Why did you reject him? I thought we'd established you liked him back so... Why?"

"I just... panicked. I thought it would be easier if I kept it simple, if I didn't let it get serious." Your voice cracked on that word. "He looked... crushed. And I knew I was hurting him. I knew it and I still did it."

"You didn't mean it..." Emi said quietly.

"That doesn't fucking matter..." you sighed. "He meant it. And I threw it back in his face because I'm too fucking scared to want something good."

You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest. Your voice dropped to a rasp. "I've been wanted before. Not like that. Not like him. God, Why does he even want me in the first place?"

"Because you are way more lovable than you give yourself credit for."

You rolled your eyes at her, and her jaw tightened. Used at you flinching at affection, but still frustrated you couldn't see yourself through her eyes.

She just sat beside you, her knee touching yours, grounding you.

"'I want us to mean something.' That's what he said. And the worst part?" you whispered. "I wanted to say yes. I wanted it. I wanted to kiss him so bad it hurt. I still do. But I looked at him and I thought... 'He's going to get sick of me. He's going to see the mess I am and he's going to leave. So I'll do it first.' "

You rubbed your palms against your face, smearing the tears across your skin like warpaint. "I didn't protect myself. I just proved I don't deserve him."

"You're allowed to be scared, babes," Emi said softly.

"No, not like that. I hurt him, Emi." Your throat tightened again. "And he didn't even fight me on it. He just... believed me. Like he didn't expect anything more from me. Like he knew I'd run."

It made you feel sick. Not from pity, but from the sheer, unbearable truth of it.

You had been everything he wasn't—cold, dismissive, cruel. And he had looked at you like you were still worth wanting. Even as you threw him away.

You heard the front door creak open again.

Boots. Heavy ones. Then came a knock—two short taps, and the door eased open an inch, enough to let in the hallway light.

Your dad stepped in halfway. Held something in his hand. The plastic crinkled.

He stood there in the doorway like a man about to walk into a minefield. His face was blank, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flicked from you to Emi, then to the floor, then back to you. He held out the plastic convenience store bag stiffly, like it weighed more than it did.

He cleared his throat. Opened his mouth.

You knew that look. That little twitch of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. He was about to try and say something.

Something sincere.

And it was going to be hard for him.

So you cut him off.

"Thanks," you said softly, standing up and walking his way. "Appreciate it."

He blinked. The words died in his throat. You met his eyes—just for a second—and gave him the faintest nod. Not dismissive. Just understanding. 

I know, Dad. It's okay.

He hesitated. For a second, it looked like he might say something anyway. But then his shoulders dropped, just a touch, and he handed over the bag.

Inside were two taiyaki ice creams. 

Chocolate. Your favorite.

Emi's too, probably just a lucky guess.

He didn't say a word as he turned around, boots thudding gently down the hallway.

The door clicked shut behind him.

You stared down at the bag for a moment, throat tightening again.

Emi shifted next to you. "You okay?"

You nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Your voice cracked anyway.

Kuroo didn't expect you to show up to class. Not really.

Still, when he walked in and saw your seat empty, something in his chest twisted. A part of him had hoped—stupidly—that you'd stroll in late, toss your bag down like nothing had happened, maybe shoot him a look, say something cocky and half-dangerous, like you were daring him to still love you.

And God, he would've. 

In a second.

But instead, there was just the empty desk—the same one you'd sprawled across last week, chewing gum and tapping his pen while he tried to write, just to dodge his eyes and pretend you weren't smiling when he finally looked up.

Now you were gone.

And he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn't: waiting for you to come back.

But you never did.

It was like you'd flipped a switch.

Back to your old self.

Bloody-knuckled. Skipping classes. Laughing too loudly with the other delinquents in the courtyard like nothing had ever happened.

But he saw it—every time your eyes met across the courtyard, or during passing period when you pretended not to flinch.

That mask.

The one you wore so damn well.

And the crack in it. 

He could always tell when it did. That half-second flicker in your gaze, like your heart stuttered. Like maybe you were sorry. Like maybe you wanted to say something. Like maybe you still felt it, too.

He hated it.

Because he still did.

Still loved you, like a fool with no survival instinct.

And just when it started to dull—when he could almost convince himself it didn't ache every time he heard your laugh or every time Yaku asked if you were coming to class, when he could almost push you out of his thoughts—

Hebinuma Mizuki showed up.

Perfect timing.

Too perfect.

Silky black hair. Sweet voice. Honeyed everything. Everyone loved her. Teachers beamed. Classmates melted.

Still, something about her scratched under his skin.

He'd heard the rumors—and remembered that one time he asked.

"Bitch had it coming."

And somehow, that stuck with him more than any answer would've.

Because if there was one thing he knew by now was that nobody got under your skin without earning it.

She'd been circling ever since you'd vanished. Suddenly, she was all about school spirit, popping up outside the gym during practice. Offering water bottles with a sugary smile and leaning too close when she talked to him, giggling like she couldn't help herself.

It was annoying. He knew what she was doing.

But he let her do it anyway.

Yaku noticed first.

"You sure Y/N's okay?" he asked, tossing him a towel during water break. "I haven't seen her in class since Thursday."

"I don't know," Kuroo muttered, drying his neck. "Why don't you ask her? You two get along."

Yaku raised a brow. "You get along even better."

Kuroo didn't respond.

"I think it's because of Hebinuma hanging around you so much," Yaku added, not looking at him as he stretched out his legs. "Maybe that's why she won't talk to you anymore. Y/N hates her guts. Always has."

Kuroo cracked a humorless smile. "Interesting theory."

But he knew better.

It wasn't Hebinuma.

It was the beach. It was the silence. It was him avoiding you out of pride and pain. It was you avoiding him right back because you were too much of a coward to face him head-on after he'd laid himself bare for you and got nothing but sand in his teeth for it.

He knew you hated Hebinuma. Of course he did.

Still didn't stop him from letting her hover. Didn't stop him from letting her touch his arm when she talked. Or fake laugh at his dryest jokes. Especially when he could feel you watching.

Especially when he wanted you to watch.

It happened right after practice, one lazy Friday.

Hebinuma had "accidentally" waited until practice was over, until the sun was casting long shadows across the front of the gym. She bounced toward him with that same cutesy walk, giggling about how she'd love to support the team, maybe become their new manager—

And then, Kuroo felt it.

Like static electricity on the back of his neck.

He turned.

You were standing a few meters away, bag slung over one shoulder, hair a mess like you'd just fought someone and won. A faint bruise blooming along your jaw, and your eyes—

Murderous.

It was the look of someone who'd come to apologize. Someone who'd worked up the nerve, finally. And walked right into a punch to the gut.

You looked at Hebinuma like she was trash on the sidewalk.

Then you looked at him.

Like he was worse.

He arched a brow. A challenge, maybe.

You just sighed. Disappointed. Furious. Tired.

Then turned without a word, slipping a cigarette from your blazer pocket, exhaling smoke into the sky like you needed somewhere to put the quiet fury.

Hebinuma kept talking, oblivious or pretending to be, tugging at his sleeve as she rattled on about her "manager application" and how Coach Nekomata was being soooo picky.

Yaku wandered over, towel draped around his neck. Watched the scene like a car crash. Then muttered behind him, just loud enough:

"Are you trying to piss her off?"

"Maybe," he answered.

And it kept happening.

Hebinuma showing up during lunch with bentos "for the team," but handing his first. Laughing too loud at things he didn't say, brushing imaginary lint off his uniform.

Always conveniently when you were close enough to see it.

Kuroo never stopped her.

Didn't really encourage it either.

But he let it happen.

Because he knew what it looked like. Because of the way your jaw would tense when you saw it, because of the way you'd flick your cigarette a little harder or shoulder past him in the hallway with an empty glare ahead.

Because it felt like punishment. For both of you.

Because he didn't know how else to make you feel it.

And maybe, deep down, he wanted to see how long it would take before you snapped.

Because that tension—him pretending he didn't care, you pretending you didn't hurt—it couldn't hold forever.

And Kuroo, for all his logic and control, knew one thing for sure:

The longer you stretch a spring, the harder it snaps.

"How dare he?!" You paced like a caged animal, fury coming off you in waves.

Emi leaned back against the wall, dragging deep on her cigarette, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, he lost points from me too, hanging around that bitch."

"How fucking dare he?!" you snapped again, spinning toward her, jabbing the air with your finger. "You know what? I'm glad it's her. If it was any other girl, maybe I'd be sad. But this?" You scoffed. "This just pisses me off. And I can deal with angry way better than I deal with sad."

"We know that." Emi took another drag, exhaling smoke through her nose. "Wait... So you're not scared they'll actually date? Everyone thinks they're already a thing. Maybe they are."

You shook your head, taking one last hit of your cigarette before grinding it out under your boot like it owed you something.

"Nah. Tetsurou is smart. Way too smart. He probably sees right through her..." You hesitated, then started pacing again. "But the fact that he does see through her and still lets her do her little act? Still lets her put her hands all over him? That pisses me off even more."

"So? What're you gonna do?"

You stopped. Crossed your arms. "...I don't know."

Emi rolled her eyes, tossed her cigarette to the ground, and grabbed your shoulders.

"You talk to him! March up and say, 'I was scared. I was a coward. Please forgive me. I love you.' Then you date him. Boom!" She spun away, arms wide like she was directing a play. "Jesus, I'm glad you're not all sad and mopey anymore, but these fights you've been picking lately? They're scrambling your brain."

"I hate being in love, dude. That shit's gross. Makes me all sappy and soft."

"It also makes you cuter~"

You grunted. She just laughed, slinging her arms around your neck and rubbing her cheek against yours like an annoying cat.

"I'm joking~ You've always been soft and cute." Then she shoved you away with a grin. "Now go. Do the one part of a relationship you've been avoiding like a complete dumbass: communication."

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face before heading toward the gym.

It was Monday now, and almost two weeks of this stupid dance was enough. Enough missing him. Enough pride swallowing. Enough pretending.

You waited for the final bell. Waited for that slow burn of guilt and longing in your chest to get hot enough to move you—but not so hot it turned into something reckless.

You were ready to talk. To say something. Anything. Mostly sorry.

You were.

Until you saw who he was talking to.

Hebinuma fucking Mizuki again.

Your skin crawled the second her voice floated toward you. Your blood turned to boiling tar.

You didn't hesitate.

"Tetsurou," you called out, voice sharp like a whipcrack—more warning than greeting.

Both of them turned. You walked straight up, eyes locked on her like a loaded gun. Hebinuma flinched.

"Don't pet every stray puppy you see," you snapped. "That one's got mange."

Kuroo blinked like he had to double-check what you just said. Hebinuma did too—twice—then plastered on a tight, fake smile.

"Oh, L/N-san. No need to be so hostile..." she cooed. But her jaw was tight. One eye twitched. Sweet as arsenic.

"Hebinuma," you said flatly, folding your arms. "That one's off-limits."

She blinked—slow and fake, like a dumb deer. Then you saw it—the flicker. That glint in her eye.

"I didn't know you two were..." she started.

"We're not." Kuroo cut in—too fast.

Your jaw locked tight.

Hebinuma smiled, sharp now. "Be careful, Kuroo-san. Her and her friend—"

"What's that about my friend?" you snapped, stepping forward.

She flinched, but kept going.

"I'm just saying..." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with mock innocence. "Being seen around girls like her could tarnish his reputation."

The fury in your chest flared red-hot.

"Worry about your own business," you growled, "and get the fuck out."

Her voice shook a little, but again, she continued. She seemed braver than usual—like she thought Kuroo might protect her. 

(She was wrong.)

"Ah, L/N-san... Why are you always so mean? We used to be good friends in junior high~"

Your voice sliced through her fake sweetness.

"I was never your friend, you nasty bitch. Don't tie my name to yours. And take a few steps back before I catch mange, too."

Her smile cracked. Red bloomed across her cheeks—anger or humiliation, maybe both.

She opened her mouth, but you were already moving in her space. Eyes narrow.

Nose inches from hers and heat rolling off you like a flame about to catch.

"Scram," you said, low and deadly. "Just seeing your face pisses me off. Or do you want a little reminder of first year?"

Her pupils shrank. 

There it was—fear. 

But instead of answering, she looked at Kuroo like he'd save her, like he might step in.

He wasn't even looking. One hand was pinching the bridge of his nose like you were giving him a headache.

(You were.)

She shook her head with a huff and stomped off, perfume lingering like rot under flowers.

You turned to Kuroo with a smirk tugging at your lips.

He didn't return it.

Still rubbing his temples, he looked at you like you'd just insulted his mother in front of a teacher.

"I was looking for you," you said casually, ignoring the thundercloud over his head.

You jabbed a thumb toward where Hebinuma had vanished. "Since when do you hang out with bishoujos? That's not like you."

"What are you doing here?"

Your smirk faded. And you nodded slowly toward him. "I get it, you're pissed."

"Yeah! I'm a little pissed," he snapped. "She could've been Nekoma's manager."

You frowned. That's not exactly what you were thinking he was pissed at. 

"You guys don't need a manager. You're cool. You've always handled it."

"What would you know?"

"Whoa. Attitude." You raised both your hands like you were surrendering. "Sorry I scared your little fan. You wouldn't want her around anyway if you—"

"My what? Wait. Are you jealous?" His eyes widened, faking surprise. "Is that why you barked at her and scared her off?"

"Not entirely," you shrugged, smug.

"You're not even denying it."

"I don't share, Tetsurou."

"You can't monopolize me."

"I can try~"

"I don't get it," he muttered. "We make out, we sleep together, we do everything couples do—but when I actually ask you out, you reject me. Then you show up and threaten a girl who breathes near me. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?"

He moved closer without thinking. You didn’t move back. Not even an inch.

You crossed your arms, glaring off to the side. "Honestly? She's just a bitch. That's ninety percent of it. But yeah, her batting those fake-ass lashes at you and putting her hands all over you? That did set me off a little." 

Your fingers twitched as you glanced toward where Hebinuma had left, jaw clenched. "I'm getting pissed again. I might go back and—"

Kuroo's hands gripped your shoulders, firm and sudden, shaking you just enough to snap your eyes back to his.

"Stop. Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to punch your way through every emotion."

"I don't do that."

"You do."

"I don't—"

"Fuck's sake!" He groaned, dropping his head like you were physically draining his soul. "Why do you even hate her so much? What did she do?"

"She's using you," you snapped, not really answering the question. "She knows I'm into you, and she's gonna use you to piss me off."

"Well, joke's on her, then. You're not that into me anyway. You rejected me, remember?"

"She's using you," you repeated.

"And you're not?"

You froze.

You could've apologized right there. That was the whole reason you came.

But the image of Hebinuma touching him—her claws on his arm, her voice in his ear—was still stuck behind your eyelids.

"Okay, well, she's using you in a gross Machiavellian way. I'm using you in a cute Ayn Rand way."

"You hate Ayn Rand," he snapped.

"Exactly," you muttered.

He stared. "You know what? It doesn't matter. You're giving me a migraine. Just... leave me alone."

He turned on his heel, the movement sharp.

Your jaw locked. You threw a silent apology to Emi and stepped forward, forcing the words out.

"She's a bully. Hebinuma."

He didn't turn. But he paused.

"She used to bully Emi in junior high. Still spreads rumors about her. Just 'cause she's a gyaru. Just 'cause she's jealous. I know she looks sweet, but she's poison."

Your voice had dropped—lower, honest. It hurt to say, to tell on Emi. But it was the only way to reach him.

You exhaled sharply. "Ask Kenma. She tried to make his life hell in his first year too—for a while. I bet he could smell her a mile away and that made her uneasy. Good luck he didn't give a fuck... Ask him if you don't believe me."

Another pause. He stopped. Shoulders tense. Then turned—just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, jaw ticking.

"I also thought there was something off about her. She's fake."

You scoffed. "Then why would you even consider letting her hang around you like that? Are you trying to piss me off?"

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.

"Not everything is about you, Y/N."

"If it's about you, I want it to be."

That stunned him. Just for a moment.

"Let's do it," you said. "The dating thing. The... feelings n' shit."

He turned the rest of the way. His brows drew together sharply. His mouth parted, then clamped shut again—like he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or scream. Like he couldn't believe your audacity.

"That's your confession?"

You stepped closer before your brain could stop your feet, pulse punching behind your ribs. "Take it or leave it."

His eyes flicked over your face like he couldn’t decide where to settle—your mouth, your eyes, your mouth again.

"Okay. I refuse then." His voice was low—dangerously low. “You show up, bark at some girl like I belong to you—and then what? Drop half a confession like it’s supposed to fix everything?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The air between you buzzed, charged and heavy. His chest rose and fell, uneven. The heat building between you turned suffocating.

His gaze dragged back to your lips. Just for a second.

But it was enough.

"If you think that’s how you make it up to me for breaking my heart, think again. I want an apology. A real one. Then a cute confession. Like in the movies. With a letter and chocolate and shit."

"Am I a clown to you?" you hissed, lip curling.

"Oh, shut up."

You grabbed his tie at the same time he surged forward, and the kiss landed like a spark in dry grass.

Instant. All-consuming.

You gasped into it, hands fisting his shirt like you'd been drowning and just found air again. He groaned, hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you there, mouth hungry against yours.

Tongues clashed. Teeth grazed. You didn’t even know what the hell you were doing—just that you had to. That his mouth was fire and yours was gasoline.

You kissed like enemies. Like neither of you wanted to give in first, breathing each other in like poison you couldn’t help drinking.

His breath hitched when you tugged at his tie and bit down on his bottom lip—not enough to hurt, just enough to piss him off. He shoved you back a step, crowding you against the brick wall behind the gym. His lips chased yours again, hungrier, messier. His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot, fingers splaying across your spine like he needed to hold something solid or he’d fall apart.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "I’m still mad at you."

"I know," you whispered. "I'm mad at me too."

Your hands tangled in his hair, dragging him back down. You were breathless. Shaking. But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

He kissed you like a grudge—like he didn’t know whether to devour you or destroy you. All frustration and bruised ego and unspoken need.

The kiss slowed—only slightly. Still desperate, still angry, but now there was something else slipping between the cracks. Something vulnerable.

He broke away again, panting. His forehead pressed against yours. His hands were still on your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, even if he knew he should.

"I want more than this," he said, voice raw and breaking.

You shut your eyes.

"I’m trying," you said, barely audible. "I came here to try."

Your lips were swollen. So were his. Your whole body thrummed, screaming at you to pull him back, to fix it the only way you knew how.

But he didn’t kiss you again.

He stepped back—like it hurt to do it—and dragged in a breath.

Then he looked at you. Long and hard. Like he was reminding himself of the reason he was so mad at you.

"I’m not your outlet," he said hoarsely. "You don’t get to use me every time you’re bored or jealous or scared to feel something real. Come to me when you're ready to actually talk feelings…"

His voice cracked. Just barely.

"Figure your shit out. I'm tired, Y/N."

And just like that, he turned.

You didn’t stop him.

Your breath left you in a slow, broken exhale. Your mask slipped. Shoulders sagged.

"Right."

Next chapter↪

tags. @themoreeviltwin @taylordenae @rhea-sylvea @iluvikeu @tgnvhp @adangerousbalance @orphicarchive @tammytaamm @iluvmusicxoxo @rvm1ne @kuzoq @espressocandies @ashley95943734 @jayathelostdragon @kyokoyya

[dazzlingjaeyun]

ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ – ᴋɪᴍ ꜱᴜɴᴏᴏ

music business major!sunoo x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: love at first sight – college au!, fluff |  words: 5.7k | cw: alcohol consumption, sunoo is just very in love and this is lowkey cliché ୨୧

hanna says: i originally wrote this one for euijoo on my &team blog, so in case this seems familiar to anyone; yes, i plagiarized myself. thank you to @brklynbabyjay for reading over this and reassuring me with it and thank you to @jayparked for putting me onto the idea of cross-posting my stuff in the first place (and the constant encouragement) <3

sunoo had never been the type to receive a lot of attention from others. he wasn't disliked, he just went unnoticed – overlooked, despite his bright and outgoing personality. but he didn't mind. he liked it that way; being in his own little bubble that consisted of more or less boring classes, late night studying, his favourite tv shows, and weekends spent on jam sessions with his best friend jay. it was peaceful like that and he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

until he met you.

sunoo was squeezing through the crowded college hallways, lost in thought about the upcoming exam period, and mentally organizing how to spread out all the study materials over the next two weeks, when a bright, unfamiliar laugh pierced through the haze of his thoughts.

almost instantly, his eyes found the source of the sound – and he swore he could feel his heart sink. for a moment, he stood frozen, completely taken aback as he took in the image a few feet away from him. the way he could see your eyes light up even from the distance and how you seemed to outshine everyone else without even trying. how the smile you wore made his heart pound heavily against his chest, its warmth embracing him and leaving him unable to look away.

it wasn’t until a dull ache in his shoulder brought him back to reality that he finally gathered his thoughts.

"how about not standing in the middle of the hallway," sunoo heard an irritated student mutter as they walked around his frozen figure. mumbling a half-hearted apology, the boy quickly stepped aside.

when he looked back at you, you were gone, the spot that where you were standing just moments ago now empty – yet somehow, the warmth of your laugh seemed to stay. sunoo quickly shook his head as if that could change the fact that it suddenly seemed to only have space for you. out of sight, out of mind? hell no.

as he continued his way to the cafeteria, he tried hard to not allow you to consume his thoughts, but it was no use. it was almost ridiculous, he thought, how just about twenty seconds of seeing you could completely take over his mind. he didn't even know your name, and until two minutes ago, he hadn’t known you existed at all.

determined to not let his mind’s chaos show on his face, sunoo tightened his grip around the straps of his backpack and took a deep breath before stepping into the cafeteria and scanning the room for his best friend.

"sunoo! everything good?" jay greeted him once the younger found him sitting at a table.

"yes," he replied, almost a little too quickly. "why wouldn't everything be good?"

jay furrowed his brows, leaning back in his chair a bit, and scanned his best friend's face carefully. "you know," he started, "i usually ask. but honestly, today you're being weird about it." jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. "so, what's up?"

sunoo quickly looked down, knowing damn well he couldn’t lie to his friend face-to-face, and silently cursed himself for trying too hard to hide how he really felt. he'd always been awkward when trying to play it cool, and jay was too much of an attentive friend to not notice.

"nothing," he mumbled after a while, "i'm just stressing over exams, i guess."

jay sighed slightly. "you know you'll ace it, you always do. why do you have to panic first?"

sunoo simply shrugged as he picked up his cutlery, attempting to focus on his lunch and jay’s familiar ramble about finding healthy ways to relieve stress that had heard so often he could recite it by now – attempting to not let his thoughts drift back to you.

yet, even days later, sunoo couldn’t erase the short moment from his mind, the sound of your laugh replaying in his head like a broken record. he found himself scanning the hallways more often, hoping to catch even a small glimpse of you. he told himself he’d approach you next time, but whenever he did spot you, his body felt frozen and his feet rooted in place.

jay was quick to catch on. the two were sitting on the lawn near campus after some hours of studying together in the library. sure, both were exhausted, but sunoo seemed a little quieter than usual.

"you’ve been acting weird lately," jay said after some moments of silence, a hint of concern coating his words, "what's going on? is it really just exams?"

sunoo tried to brush it off with a shrug. "it's nothing, just a lot on my mind."

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. just as he was about to respond, he noticed the younger’s eyes slightly widen at something. while sunoo wondered how you always somehow managed to be exactly where he was, watching you a moment longer than he intended, jay followed his friends gaze and understood immediately.

"a lot on your mind? or someone on your mind? so, who is she?"

feeling his cheeks heat up just from being caught red-handed, sunoo immediately averted his gaze and looked down. "just–”, after a longer pause, he sighed, “actually, i don't know." 

the corners of jay’s lips jumped up into a grin at sunoo’s blushed cheeks. "you don't know? so you’ve never talked to her? sunoo, come on, you’re the most sociable person i know!”

sunoo frowned, pursing his lower lip into a slight pout. "it’s not that easy. i don’t even know where to start. 'hi, i've been secretly watching you for a while now cause you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen?' will surely go well," he said sarcastically.

"it’s not rocket science," jay said with a laugh. "you don’t have to confess that you’re hopelessly in love with someone you barely know, sunoo. you just go up and say hi. you do know how to say hi, right?"

sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend’ remark. “i don’t know how to just... approach her like that. look, i never struggled to talk to anyone, but with her i just– i don’t know. i get nervous.”

“okay”, jay said, nodding understandingly, “then we’re gonna fix that.”

over the next few days, jay kept pushing him. whenever they passed you in the hallway, he would nudge sunoo’s shoulder and whisper, “now’s your chance,” but every time, sunoo’s nerves would get the best of him. his heart would race, his hands would get all sweaty, and the words he wanted to say would evaporate before he could open his mouth.

but jay, persistent as ever, wouldn’t give up. “look, sunoo,” he said one afternoon, pulling him aside after class, “if you don’t do something soon, someone else will. you don’t want to regret not shooting your shot, do you?” 

sunoo sighed, knowing jay was right – but no matter how much he wanted to approach you, the thought of saying something and making a fool of himself kept holding him back.

one afternoon, in the final week of lectures before exam season officially started, sunoo was sitting in the cafeteria, eating his lunch with jay while grumbling about the little time they had between lectures and exams. he was mid-sentence when jay interrupted him.

“sunoo,” jay said, tilting his head to a table not too far away. turning his head, sunoo spotted you right there. usually, you'd sit with your friends, but this time, you were all by yourself.  

“she's alone, that's your chance,” jay encouraged him yet another time to approach you. the younger opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out – you weren't surrounded by your friends, you weren't rushing to your next class; he didn't have any excuses this time.

"come on. what's the worst that can happen?"

sunoo let his friend’s words sink in. he could think of a few scenarios, each a little more terrifying than the other, yet despite all the doubts, he pushed his chair back, stood up on slightly wobbly knees, and walked over to your table. he didn't understand where his confidence came from, but just as quickly as it did, it disappeared again, when someone else approached you first.

he stopped dead in his tracks, watching as heeseung, whom he only knew as the captain of the college's basketball team, sat down next to you, greeted you with a gentle kiss on your cheek, and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

sunoo’s heart dropped, his body freezing yet again. none of his overthinking had included the fact that you might not even be single, and suddenly, he felt stupid. so, so stupid. of course you had a boyfriend. why would someone like you not have a boyfriend?

he turned around, hoping that the way he’d stood there had, as usual, just gone unnoticed by everyone. then, he slowly shuffled back to the table he shared with jay where he sank down in his chair, shoulders slumped and eyes stuck to his still half-full tray of food.

a hint of worry washed over jay’s face as he saw his friends’ expression. he intentionally hadn’t observed the approach, wanting to spare sunoo from feeling watched, but now he couldn’t help but feel a hint of guilt for not knowing if he could have jumped in to help. “what happened?” he asked softly, not sure if he'd even get a reply.

sunoo just shook his head, not lifting his gaze. “nothing. she's with heeseung,” he replied silently. “shit,” jay sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i'm sorry, i had no idea.” again, sunoo shook his head slightly. “whatever. it was stupid to think she’d be single anyway.”

for the first time since he'd started college, sunoo felt genuinely thankful for the stress that came with exam season. he'd get to spend his time studying, sometimes until late at night, and whenever he finally closed his books, he was too exhausted to think about how he felt.although jay tried his best to convince sunoo to take more breaks, the younger thrived on the distraction that studying brought about.

knowing that exams would be the perfect distraction and that he'd head back to his home town to spend the summer break with his family, sunoo felt a little more at ease. he was sure that by the time he'd return to college, he'd be fully unbothered by you. it was a little ridiculous anyway, he tried to convince himself. he couldn’t seriously be upset that his hallway crush had a boyfriend. after all, he still didn’t even know your name, and now he was sure it would stay that way.

during the summer break, sunoo found comfort in returning home, where life around his family and childhood friends felt a little easier and a lot calmer. each day, the thought of you fell further back in his mind and by the time summer break came to an end, sunoo felt lighter. the idea of going back to campus was no longer stressful.

he’d be fine, that's what he told himself – and if he saw you again, so be it.

his resolve lasted exactly one day.

he had almost made it throughout the first day of classes without seeing you even a single time. one last class and he'd finally head to meet up with jay to catch up about the summer.

after settling for a spot near the middle of the room, sunoo pulled out his notebook and glanced around casually as the other students trickled in. just as he was about to grab his phone, a familiar laugh echoed through the room, making sunoo's hand freeze halfway to his pocket.

he didn’t even have to look to know it was you, instead recognizing the sound of your laugh as quickly as his favorite songs. and against his better judgment, he glanced up. there you were, walking in with a friend, that pretty smile on your face that still took sunoo’s breath away so easily. you hadn’t noticed him, but he sure as hell noticed you – and all the progress he thought he’d made over the summer crumbled in an instant.

but before he had time to mentally scold himself for how easily he let himself fall for you all over again, the professor began speaking, announcing the outline for the semester and the project that would take up the majority of the time, continuing with a speech on the importance of teamwork, but sunoo barely listened. 

“i don't want any discussions on who’s working with who, so i'll be deciding the pairs. i expect you to work together respectfully and efficiently,” the professor continued. “alright, raise your hand when your name is called so your partner can find you.”

sunoo zoned out, still trying to push you from his mind, repeating a mantra to himself that he was just caught by surprise and that his heart would stop beating so damn fast once he got used to seeing you again.

"kim sunoo and–" the professor called out, snapping him back to attention, "– y/l/n y/n."

sunoo scanned the room while hesitantly raising his hand. for a second, you seemed to look around too, processing the pairing before your gaze settled on him.

slowly, as if in a daze, he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. then, his heart dropped. he could almost feel the air leave the room. it felt like time had slowed down, like every sound in the lecture hall faded except for the heavy drumming of his own heartbeat in his ears. he could feel heat rushing to his face, a lump forming in his throat and his head starting to spin, but he couldn’t look away.

and then, you smiled – just a soft, polite smile. it wasn't much, but sunoo swore the world stopped for a second.

when you turned back toward the front, he didn't even know if he'd returned the smile, if he'd nodded in acknowledgement, or if he'd done absolutely nothing.

throughout the entirety of the class, it became increasingly obvious for sunoo that the weeks of distance had done nothing to change the way he felt about you – that his heart would, in fact, not stop running a marathon each time he saw you. no matter how often, at that. he kept on zoning out, replaying the tiny interaction between you again and again, or looking back to your seat for just a second before he forced himself to look away again.

as the professor ended class, he started packing up his things, and took a deep breath, somehow bracing himself to talk to you. although he had prepared for that moment so long during the last semester – well, at least technically – he found himself hesitating yet again. his palms felt sweaty, and his heart raced faster with every step that brought him closer to where you were gathering your things. his mind raced with a thousand ways to approach the conversation, yet none of them really felt right.

just as he opened his mouth to greet you, you glanced up from your bag, your eyes meeting his for the second time that day. your soft smile appeared again – and sunoo completely forgot what he had planned to say.

"hi, sunoo, right?" you asked instead, not noticing the way you’d completely caught him off guard. your voice was gentle, and somehow it felt like a small bit of relief to hear his name spoken so softly.

sunoo swallowed hard, blinking as if snapping out of a daze. "uh, yeah. that’s me,” he said, managing an awkward laugh. "looks like we’re project partners."

you nodded, still smiling as you stood up. "should we maybe set up a time to meet and figure out a plan?" – such a simple question, and yet sunoo’s heart felt like it was running a marathon. he quickly nodded, "yeah, sure. uh... maybe at the library?"

"perfect," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "how about tomorrow afternoon?"

"tomorrow sounds good," sunoo replied, his mind desperately searching for something else to say. his fingers fidgeted with the straps of his backpack as he added, "we… should we exchange numbers too?"

you smiled again, and sunoo could almost feel the tension melting away, although his pulse was still buzzing in his ears. when you wordlessly handed him your phone, almost brushing his fingers in the process, he just prayed you didn't hear how his breath hitched, quickly typed his number in and handed it back to you. "there you go."

"great! i’ll text you so we can talk about the details. see you tomorrow, sunoo."

with one last smile, you turned and headed out the door, leaving sunoo standing there, still trying to process the fact that not only had you smiled at him – several times – but now you had his number, even if just for coursework purposes.

"what took you so long?" jay frowned at his best friend as he finally approached their usual spot at the lawn.

sunoo plopped himself down next to him, hoping that the blush on his cheeks had faded by now, but jay was already eyeing him suspiciously.

“nothing,” sunoo said as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck. but the smile that kept creeping onto his face made jay narrowed his eyes. “yeah, i’m not buying it. that’s not a ‘nothing’ face. so, what happened?”

sunoo let out a long sigh, leaning back on his hands. “you remember that girl… the one from last semester?” he started, feeling his face flush slightly as he spoke.

"yeah, the one you swore you were over?" jay asked, an amused tone lacing his voice as he raised an eyebrow.

sunoo sighed, “i never swore anything.”

“right. so, what happened? did you see her?”

sunoo took a deep breath, feeling almost embarrassed at how easily he’d been caught. “well, she’s in my class."

jay’s eyes lit up. “she’s in your class?”

the younger nodded, “actually... we’re partnered up for the semester project,” he added, his voice a little quieter now. 

jay’s jaw dropped in exaggerated surprise, “no way. the girl you were practically obsessed with is now your project partner? that’s so cliché!”

“obsessed is a strong word,” sunoo protested, even though he’d lie if he said that was too far from the truth.

"you do realize that this is the chance you've been waiting for, right?"

sunoo groaned, "it's not a chance, jay. she's taken, remember? i'm not going to try anything."

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "you cannot know. maybe they broke up," he said, to which sunoo just shot him a pointed look that told him this was the end of their conversation.

in the following weeks, you and sunoo met regularly to work on the project. though the workload was tiring, the way your minds seemed to complement each other perfectly made the process easier than expected. it seemed like you could finish all of his thoughts when he struggled, and he had all the answers to your questions.

it should have been a relief for sunoo to know that the project wasn’t going to be impossible and you might even finish everything without working overtime (read: without him needing to spend extra hours trying his best to not act way too awkward around you). instead, the fact that beyond the pretty face that still left him breathless you were also incredibly smart made things only harder for him.

during the time you spent together, he couldn't help but notice little things about you that he hadn't seen from afar – just like the way you furrowed your brows and parted your lips slightly when you were focusing, or how you tapped your pen on your chin or your lips when you were thinking. all of these things, no matter how seemingly meaningless, somehow only carved the place he had reserved for you in his heart a little deeper. as if every single one of them made him want to find another adorable detail about you.

he'd catch himself smiling whenever he'd watch you a little too long while you were busy typing on your laptop, and he got used to quickly looking away or pretending to search something in his backpack every time you almost caught him. it was a miracle, really, how you hadn’t realized yet. at least if jay’s words were anything to go by, according to whom everyone could clearly see the way sunoo was so obviously, helplessly in love.

"you’re so down bad," he had remarked one time he met sunoo after your scheduled study session at the library – all smiley, obviously. but the younger had just quickly shrugged it off with a shy "oh, shut up."

but of course, working with you didn't only bring warmth and nervousness that had by now grown to feel almost comfortable. it also brought hard, almost cruel, reminders of how one-sided his feelings were.

there was that pretty necklace you wore, one with a small gem, that he was certain heeseung had gifted to you. it hung around your neck as if it wanted him to remember that you already belonged to someone else. and then, needless to say, there was heeseung himself, who'd come to pick you up from the library when you finished whatever you had planned for that day. sure, sunoo was glad to know there was someone who made sure you got home safely, but, hell, he would be that someone too.

every time he saw you smiling at your boyfriend, the brightness in your eyes sent a flutter through sunoo’s chest, only to quickly be replaced by the unpleasant reminder of how happy you were with him. he felt almost foolish for still liking you when he knew damn well that you were taken – especially when the confidence heeseung radiated made sunoo feel almost small, for heeseung seemed to be everything he was not, and even the mere thought of ever standing a chance felt ridiculous.

one afternoon when sunoo arrived to the library, he found you at your usual spot, already absorbed in the book in front of you and taking notes here and there.

"hey," he greeted gently after approaching the table, careful to not startle you. you looked up from the book and your eyes met his for a second – and although you’d held eye-contact with him for an uncountable amount of times by now, it still made his knees wobble like it was the first.

"hey," you greeted back with a soft smile. god, he swore his heart skipped a beat or two.

"i'm not late, am i?" sunoo asked after sitting down across from you, taking out his supplies, but never leaving your gaze.

"you’re not, " you shook your head, "just had nothing to do, so i figured i could start already. here look," you said, turning around your laptop so he could see the screen with the notes you had already taken.  then, you continued working together until you reached the goal you had set for the day.

 when sunoo packed up his things, he mentally prepared himself to see heeseung, his stomach filling with nervous anticipation. but even after a few minutes, he didn't catch any sight of him.

watching as you finished packing your bag, he swore your eyes scanned the library too – just for a second, before you quickly glanced down to your phone and bit your bottom lip just subtly enough for him to notice.

"isn't uh... isn't heeseung coming?" sunoo asked, tone careful, as if he wasn’t sure if that question was too personal and better left unasked. but you responded by shaking your head, words quickly following, “i'm going alone today.” you offered a slight smile, like you always did whenever answering one of his questions, but this time, it just didn’t make sunoo feel as fuzzy as usual.

"i can walk you home," he blurted out before his brain could even finish processing the thought, so he rowed back on it almost immediately, “sorry, that was a bad idea.”

"it wasn't, but you don’t have to. i appreciate it... thanks, sunoo." the volume of your voice decreased until all that was left was another, almost shy, but this time more genuine smile from you.

sunoo waited for a moment as if expecting you to say something else – take his offer, maybe. but as you looked back down at your phone, he gave a small nod, mumbling a low goodbye and left the library.

the following week, you canceled the study session last minute. it was the first time you had done so, and sunoo, already waiting at your usual spot in the library, couldn’t help the hint of concern while reading your message. yet, he didn’t dig deeper, knowing he was in no position to ask more personal questions, even if for the sake of looking out for you.

when you rescheduled for the week after, a rather blank expression had replaced your usual smiles and the silence between you felt more awkward than ever before. during the session, your eyes occasionally drifted away from the book, your notes, and from him, even when he was talking.

it wasn’t until sunoo noticed the absence of your necklace that he felt like there was more to your unusual behavior. you had absentmindedly reached for it, your fingers grazing your collarbone, but when they found nothing, you quickly pulled your hand away.

“hey,” he asked softly, “is everything okay?”

your eyes met his, surprised by his question, but you gave a small nod. "yeah, it's fine."

the way you immediately looked away after replying was all it took for sunoo to know better than that. he hesitated for a moment before softly offering, “you know... if you ever want to talk, i’ll listen.”

you gave him a longer look this time, and then, after a brief pause, you exhaled. “i broke up with heeseung.”

sunoo’s breath caught in his throat. sure, all he wanted was to be a safe space for you to talk and feel comfortable, understood, not alone, perhaps – but he hadn't expected you to actually tell him. not so quickly, and not that. for a moment, he just stared at you as if waiting for you to laugh it all off as a joke.

"i... i'm sorry. that must be hard" was all he managed to say, not sure how to choose his words and mentally cursing himself for making them sound awkward on top of that.

you nodded slightly, looking down at your hands, your voice quiet. "it’s been coming for a while, i guess. he’s been distant, and i should’ve known, but... yeah." sunoo could feel his heart crack at the hint of sadness in your voice.

he felt the urge to reach across the table, maybe take your hand or offer some kind of physical comfort, but he stopped himself. instead, he gave you a warm smile, hoping that it would somehow be enough.

“thanks for telling me,” he said gently. he wanted to say more, to be a better source of comfort, but something told him that you didn't want to talk about it now. “if you need anything, i’m here.”

you didn’t say anything for a moment, but then you gave a small, genuine smile – one that felt more like you. "thank you, sunoo."

in the following weeks, the two of you returned to your project work routine.sunoo began bringing you your usual coffee, just setting it down next to your books with a small remark like, "i thought that might help to cheer you up a little."

and while you just casually thanked him each time – at least you tried to be casual – these gestures began to tug at your heart. at some point, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him, not because of the free coffee but because of him. the way he understood you wordlessly, somehow always sensed when you needed a break or when the time was right for a joke and when it wasn’t. just the way his mere presence had something oh so comforting to it.

one time when you looked up to thank him, your eyes met his, and you held his gaze just long enough to notice how his brown hair fell slightly over his eyes – how his smile was so evident in them that it made your stomach feel all warm and fuzzy. and although you tried to shove the warmth away each time you felt it, you started seeing things you'd never noticed before; how his eyes sparkled when he was talking about something he seemed passionate about, or the way his smile grew just a little wider when he seemed nervous or embarrassed.

maybe it was too early to fall for him, but before you could waste a thought on that, you realized you already had. and sunoo had made it so easy.

"please, sunoo," you begged, pouting your lips slightly as if that was the ultimate way to persuade him to join a party a fellow student hosted to celebrate the end of the semester.

he opened his mouth to object, but in reality, he felt like he'd combust if you didn't stop pouting anytime soon, so he gave in. "fine, but only for two hours." you smiled brightly, still catching sunoo off guard like the very first time, and oh how he wished he could tell you just how much that smile meant to him. sure, throughout the second half of the semester, things between you two had started to feel a little less awkward. but despite jay’s (unsuccessful) attempts to encourage sunoo to finally tell you about his feelings, the latter didn't want to ruin the comfort you had just found in each other. if being somewhat between a classmate and a friend was the closest he could get to you, then he'd settle for that.

when you arrived to the party hours later that day, people were already gathering in the small place, drinking, chatting, or – unfortunately, if you were to ask sunoo – singing along to the music. and honestly, the place was a little too packed for your liking, yet feeling embraced by sunoo’s warmth next to you, it felt comfortable, somewhat safe.

you grabbed some drinks from the kitchen before pushing through the growing crowd of people, sunoo’s hand softly staying on the small of your back to not lose you. your skin buzzed in the spot where his hand rested, but you tried to shrug the feeling off – unsuccessfully so, for you still felt his touch when it was no longer there and you were just standing across each other, reminiscing about the past semester.

the more people came in, the louder the noise around you grew, forcing you to lean in a bit more whenever the other person said something. when you couldn't hear each other anymore, not even after standing unnervingly close, you exchanged a knowing look, and, without a word, moved to the balcony. there, you both leaned against the railing, enjoying the sudden silence as the city lights softly illuminated the dark sky. although the night air felt cool around you, the warmth of sunoo standing close enough that his arm almost brushed yours seemed enough to keep both of you comfortable.

after a few more beats of silence, sunoo let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the railing before he turned to you. his eyes found yours, and he didn't know if that was what pushed him, or if it was the alcohol that made his head buzz softly.

“you know,” he started, “i’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

you blinked, the soft buzz in your own head letting his words sink in slower “yeah?” you asked, feeling your heart pick up pace, "me too."

now, it was sunoo’s time to blink a bit taken aback, and the confidence he had brought up from god knows where suddenly vanished. he swallowed, tightening his grip about the railing. "what is it?" he asked quietly, too scared to say what had been on his mind now that he didn't know what was on yours.

"no, you go first."

he hesitated, the previously comfortable silence slowly reaching a point where it began to feel almost unbearable. thinking he wouldn’t speak first, you opened your mouth to beat him to it. but just when you uttered those three words, he did the same.

"i like you," you both said in unison.

for a second, you both froze, wide-eyed.

"what?"

again, the word echoed in both of your voices. you could feel your cheeks warming, and before you could stop it, a small, nervous laugh escaped you.

sunoo blinked, as if too stunned to react, before the tension broke and he chuckled too. the sound of it sent a wave of warmth through you, only intensifying the fluttering in your chest.

"i–" he started, still smiling but a little more serious now. he took a breath before his eyes found yours again. "i've been wanting to say that for a while. longer than i probably should have." though his confession was soft, the sincerity behind it was heavy. his eyes searched yours for a reaction, and you felt your heart flutter yet again.

smiling, you took a step closer. “i just realized recently,” you admitted quietly, “but being with you, it’s just… it feels good.” like coming home after a long day, you wanted to add, but the words got stuck in your throat when sunoo took a small step forward, gently cupping your cheeks with his hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. his touch was light and careful, like he was waiting for permission. so, with a small nod, you allowed him to close the distance that had always been between you – to finally kiss the lips that, with that laugh long ago, had captured him completely. <3

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2025. please do not copy.

join my taglist here | masterlist

❥ perm. taglist: @brklynbabyjay @woniesun @leov3rse @simpjay @beebrightness @jayparked @simjaexy @insommni4 @drunk-haven @blackberryrains @hyukabean @enhalxvr @yunjiin

[boohorns1136439]

Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling his damn ears off, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

.

.

.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “kitten”, use of y/n, use of “good girl”, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: I love how I started out on Tumblr as a Gojo girlie, but I quickly became a Toji girlie. However, I write the most fics about Sukuna. He’s just so interesting. I want to eat him.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. | Part five.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing could ruin the rest of your night, nothing.

Not when you were counting up the money you made from tonight alone, and it was enough to keep you steady for over three months. You might not even have to work this job for long. Student loans be damned.

You were sat at the bar after closing. Your phone screen dimly illuminated that it was well past four in the morning, and your battery was running low.

The club was much less intimidating now. The music was dulled down to a low hum. The lights were on, exposing the club for what it actually looked like. Janitorial services were walking around while disinfecting every surface imaginable.

Honestly, the stranger’s words that he would be back had long left your mind. At first, you were nervous. You kept looking to the door, expecting for him to be there. You were jumpier too, and you started looking at your customers wearier.

Then, you realized it was probably a hollow threat. He had clearly had business with the Gojo clan, and he may not even make it out alive from that.

Yorozu was wiping down the bar and cleaning up. Since your customers were the last to leave, you were tasked with staying behind with her so you two could leave together. The club liked to use a buddy system for all of the girls. Of course, security personnel members were still posted at each and every corner.

“Sheeesh girl, you must have a natural talent for this,” Yorozu whistled as she watched you count through the massive pile or money before you. Most of it came from that stranger’s pocket.

“It must’ve been a hidden talent,” you meekly murmured with a small shrug, but you couldn’t bite back the small smile on your face. You felt elated, even if your feet were throbbing from the ridiculous heels you were wearing.

Yorozu grinned at you with a small laugh. She honestly found your calm and demure appearance to be charming, especially in this industry. “So humble,” she giggled. “Listen, some of the girls invest some of their money right back into the product to make sure they keep up with demand, but I don’t even think you need any of that.”

“The product? They invest in Malevolent Mass?”

“Girl no. They get work done. You know, a boob job here, tummy tuck there, a Brazilian butt lift if they’re brave enough. Remember, the product is your looks as well as the booze.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” you said sheepishly. The thought of walking around a courtroom with a BBL when you’re a lawyer didn’t necessarily strike you as professional, but to each their own.

“No, no, no, I get it. Like I said, I think you’re doing a good job with what you got. I’m trying to compliment you, silly.”

“Oh,” you exhale with a nervous laugh. You ease into the barstool, trying to remind your fight or flight instincts that Yorozu has been nothing but kind to you. You should relax around her. “Uh— I think you’re pretty too by the way.”

The bartender grins at you while she flips her high ponytail over her shoulder with a small wink. “Aww, thanks. I feel like I have the looks, but I don’t have the personality for a bottle girl. That’s why they stuck me back here.”

“Why is that?” you inquire, leaning your elbow on the bar as you prop your head up with your hand. Yorozu is working on cleaning off all the taps and nozzles.

“Because the first motherfucker to try and grab me is getting a bottle smashed across his head.”

You involuntarily laugh from the sudden bluntness of her words. Immediately, you imagine trying to defend her in court as her attorney, immediately taking a self-defense plea.

Before you can reply, tires screeching and motorcycles revving outside has you looking towards the door. Surely, it’s a couple of drunk people not realizing that the club is closed.

Then, the door swings open, and you can hear a few deep laughs echoing through the building. Security will deal with them, right?

You look up to Yorozu, wondering if she’ll end up telling them off instead, but you catch her fixing up her hair and pulling down her shirt a little bit further to expose her cleavage that was in fact — very pleasing to look at.

Feeling confused, you finally look over to who had entered the club, and your heart drops into your stomach. Instantly, your skin feels like TV static, and you have the instinct to run.

The handsome pink-haired stranger was walking towards the bar with a smirk planted on his face. His white button-up had been stained with a red splatter that you could only assume to be blood.

“Lord Sukuna,” Yorozu greets with a pretty smile.

Sukuna. You’ve heard that name before. Who was this man?

“Yorozu,” his gravely voice greets back. “Get my men a round, will ya? They deserve it.”

“Hell yeah! Drinks are on the boss tonight!”

“Boss! What about us, huh?” A security guard calls from his post on the second floor.

“The security men too, Yorozu.” He adds before he casually slides onto a barstool right next to you.

Surely, they’re just calling him boss out of terms of endearment.. You already met the manager, and this wasn’t him. Maybe he’s a friend of the owner..? Maybe…

“Good girl. You waited on me,” his voice lowly praises you as his eyes focus on your face. He finds your confusion and fear to be absolutely decadent. He’s going to savor this moment for as long as possible.

“I—“ your words get lodged in your throat as you don’t even know what to say right now. You have so many questions, but Sukuna’s men and security personnel are crowding around the bar. Everyone is too close, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself.

Yorozu planted a drink in front of every man including Sukuna, and she made one for herself. “What are we saying cheers to tonight?” she asked casually as she looked around the room.

“To the Gojo clan for being made up of a bunch of dimwits,” a man with short black hair called out, and he toasted his shot glass in the air. The rest of the men agreed, even Sukuna raised his shot glass before he tossed back his head, and the amber liquid slid down his throat.

Your eyes were zeroed in on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and you traveled your gaze over to his hand, remembering the way his fingers tested your throat out while you cried on his lap. You felt a dull heat settle between your thighs, so you clenched them together to soothe the ache.

“You said you didn’t drink,” you whispered sheepishly to Sukuna while the men hooped and hollered in the bar, bragging about the easy hits they got off on the Gojo men.

“Oh doll,” Sukuna cooed as he looked over to you. He gave you a mock pity glance. “I lied.”

“Just like you lied about being the owner?” you questioned as you went to stand from your barstool. You didn’t need this. You made enough money in one night for three months. You could find another job before then. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in a crowd like this.

A strong hand settled on your thigh, gripping it as he applied a little pressure to keep you sat. Sukuna cocked an eyebrow at your boldness. To think you could just walk away from him so easily…

“Did I ever specifically say that I wasn’t the owner?” he asked as he sat his shot glass down on the bar.

“Another round?” Yorozu spoke up. This was the most chipper you have seen her ever.

Sukuna merely waved his hand out her with an indifference that even made you want to flinch. However, she took it in stride and made everyone else another round, skipping you and Sukuna.

You still feel her eyes dig into your face as it’s obvious you and Sukuna are engaged in a pretty serious conversation.

“No, you didn’t, but I feel like that’s just lying by omission,” you say as your eyebrows furrow slightly. You can feel your stomach twisting in knots. A swirl of emotions settle in your body: shame, fear, and inexplicable arousal.

“Oh y/n, are you really the one to talk about liars hm?”

Your name on his lips fellt like a sucker punch to the gut… and the clit. You never gave him your name, only opting for your codename, but he knew who you were. It was only a matter of time before he knew what school you went to, what you were majoring in, everything…

You’re already in too deep.

Suddenly, everyone feels to close. Your clothes are itchy, and your hair is sitting on you in the wrong way. Everyone’s too loud, and the buzzing of the lights makes you want to rip off your skin.

Your breath picks up, shifting to small pants as you try to calm yourself down. You haven’t had a panic attack in so long... why now?

“Alright, hop up. Let’s go to my office,” Sukuna says as his hand lets go of your thigh, and he gently hovers it over your lower back as he stands up from his stool.

Nothing sounds worse than going to his office, except for staying here and breaking down in front of a bunch of Yakuza members and coworkers.

Your legs wobble beneath you, but Sukuna keeps a steady hand against you, grounding you to him as he carefully guides you up stairs.

“We’re almost there. You’re okay,” he sounds like he’s trying to comfort you, but allowing him to soothe you would be like cuddling up to a venomous snake when they wrap themselves around you. He’s sizing you up, looking at you like prey.

You’d pay more attention to your surroundings if you weren’t so focused on trying not to hyperventilate. You hear a small beep before a door opens. It’s locked by a fingerprint sensor, only Sukuna could enter.

He guides you to sit down before his desk, and you hear the door shut behind you.

“Let it out,” he lowly demands as he walks over to the corner of the office. He presses a button on a fan before it blows in your general direction. You’re grateful for the cool breeze as you let out a haggard sigh.

You silently bring yourself back down to earth. You were in a sticky situation now, but you’ve done nothing wrong. Sure, Sukuna is the owner of Malevolent Mass, and sure, he had his fingers down your throat earlier, but that’s not a crime.

His large figure stands before you as he rummages through his desk for a moment. Once he finds what he’s looking for, his gaze snaps back up to you.

“You’re not letting it out,” Sukuna grumbles as he steps behind you. His large hands comb through your hair. Your eyes involuntarily close, and you hone in on your five senses to ground yourself further.

You can feel the air from the fan blowing past you, and Sukuna’s fingers are gently combing through your hair. He gathers it up into his palms. His office smells like him, of leather and bourbon with a nice manly musk as well. The fan is quiet, but you can hear the small motor buzzing as its blades are propelling around. Opening up your eyes, you recognize that his office is quite bare. It doesn’t look like he’s here all that often.

By the time you’re finally feeling better, you realize that your hair is off your shoulders, and you look up to see Sukuna standing behind you, looking down at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, and you reach behind your head to see what he did, and you feel your hair tied up in a bun, using a pen to hold it in place.

He put your hair up in a bun for you.

“Did you think I chopped it all off?” he asks, not missing a beat with his smirk. Satisfied with your calmness, he walks around his desk before taking a seat.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you say slowly at your eyes look up to meet his. Being nervous wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you tried to remember the lessons in confidence that your law professor had given you. You straighten your back, pushing your shoulders back as you face Sukuna squarely. “So, should I call you boss too?”

He barks out a laugh from your little display. You really were nothing like anyone he’s ever met, and he’s met plenty of people from all walks of life. “Oh doll, I would much prefer if you said my name instead.”

His eyes rest upon you with an expectant gaze. He’s waiting for you to say it. He needs to hear you say his name.

“Okay… Sukuna,” you finally relent, choosing your battles wisely. “I— um,” Dammit, you’re already failing your confidence lessons. It’s something about Sukuna’s soft red eyes exploring over your face, like he’s hanging onto every word you say. “Thank you for getting me away from them and… helping me through that.”

“How precious,” Sukuna snickers as he leans back into his chair. “It’d do you well to know that everything I do is for the benefit of me, doll. Nevertheless, you’re welcome.”

“Putting my hair up in a bun benefitted you?” you press a bit, wondering just what his motives are now. Before, you assumed he was just some older rich man who was looking for a bit of play, but now… you weren’t so sure.

“I needed you calm before I sat down and spoke to you,” Sukuna answers as he watches your face carefully. He loves watching you try to piece everything together.

“Is this meeting some sort of performance review because if so, it’s rather late. I have other matters to tend to like trying to maintain some sort of proper sleeping schedule.”

“You’re rather mouthy to the man you work for, and for the man who forked up thousands of yen to you.”

A small sigh escapes you, knowing he has you under his thumb now. You should’ve never taken the money. You gave an inch, and now, he was going to take a mile.

“Oh darling, don’t look so down. I think it’s charming. It was just an observation on my part.”

You take a deep breath. You’re still at a loss for what was motivating him now. “Right… So, why am I in your office?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Sukuna says as he twirls a pen around his fingers. His digits effortlessly spin the pen in intricate circles, never losing grip or control.

“Listen— you’ve been exuberantly kind with your money, and I appreciate that, truly. But…”

“Aht, Let me finish,” he says in a lightly scolding tone. His eyes give you a disapproving look for interrupting him. “I don’t want you to work for me anymore. If anything was proven tonight, it was that you’re not cut out to be a bottle girl.”

Your jaw drops open, and your eyebrows furrow a little bit, forming a crease between them. He was firing you? How could he say that when Yorozu said you had a natural talent??

“Tch. Don’t take it as a bad thing, girl. Like I said, angels don’t last long in this industry. Consider it a favor that it’s ending with you being fired and not dead in a ditch.”

“Oh wow, thank you. How should I ever repay you?” you ask bitterly, barely holding back frustrated tears as they threatened to spill from your eyes. Your fists clenched at the hem of your dress. It’s just one setback after another.

“If you must, you can crawl under this desk and show me just how grateful you are,” Sukuna replies as he leans forward on the desk with a small smirk.

The audacity of this man makes you see red. He never misses a beat with his responses, and he’s fucking unshakable.

“So your proposal was for me to blow you for firing me-?” you ask incredulously.

“Oh doll, that would really be a treat, but no. I’m wanting something that can’t be obtained in just one night.”

“Please—“ you say before you pinch the bridge of your nose. You take a deep breath. Emotions don’t belong in negotiation, and that’s exactly what this is. “Can you be a little less cryptic? It’s been a long night, and to top it all off, I just got fired from the only job I’ve had.”

Sukuna’s quiet for a moment. His eyes roam over you before it looks like he finally takes pity on you. “Alright, I don’t want you working for me at Malevolent Mass. I think your set of skills would best be allocated elsewhere. Instead, I wanted to offer you a proposition.

“It’s clear that you’re money motivated, and before you throw some sort of tantrum, I’m not saying that as a bad thing. It’s just a fact. I want to support you through school, and in return, I just need you to be available to me.”

You stare for a long minute. Available to him. You could only guess what he meant by that. “You want a sugar baby,” you say slowly, narrowing your gaze at him.

The thought of letting him do more with his fingers than train your throat crosses your mind. You have to cross your legs to soothe the small thrumming feeling you feel deep in your core.

“Mmm, not quite. I’m not offering to buy you cute little outfits and fund your next beach trip. I’m offering to put you through school. Any expenses that relate to your schooling and/or living situation, I’ll handle. Actually, scratch that. I will buy you cute little outfits if they're for my eyes only,” Sukuna leans back in his chair, and his eyes stay glued onto your face.

“I can only assume that available to you means free use,” you scoff, rubbing your face in a stressed out gesture. You just made more money than you have ever seen, got fired, and propositioned to be a free use not-sugar baby all in one night.

“Smart girl,” he replies with a slight predatory grin.

You take a moment to wrack your brain for every little detail you’ve learned in your law classes so far. This deal seems like it benefits you, until he just gets tired or supporting you or until you don’t feel like doing a sexual favor for him.

He could also invoke his free use policy at any given time, demanding that you miss class or wake up in the dead of night.

There was also another problem.

“Free use of every inch of my body?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sukuna lets out another deep growly chuckle as he tips his head back. “This is what I get for trying to bargain with a future lawyer.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the man across from you. “You know what I’m in school for?” you ask as your heart starts to thump harshly in your chest. You haven't mentioned that small detail to anyone at Malevolent Mass with the hopes that you could keep your work life and university life separate.

“Oh y/n, I know a lot more about you than you think, kitten. I don’t just hire anyone at Malevolent Mass, and I don’t just extend offers to just anyone either.”

You glance back towards the door, wondering if you could just run from this, but horror strikes you as you realize there’s a fingerprint sensor on this side too. The only person who could leave freely was Sukuna.

“Don’t look so petrified, doll, It was really a simple background check. I have to make sure those nasty dogs from the Gojo clan don’t try and weasel their way into my space.”

You look back to face him, trying to convince yourself that he was telling the truth. It was just a protocol procedure…

“You never answered my question. Will my entire body be free use to you?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Sukuna rests his elbows on the desk, and he gives you an almost bored expression now. “Yes. I’m not putting you through school just to experience only half of the fun, girl.”

“No thank you. I’ll pass.”

He looks interested now, peaking up at you with a small smirk. “What bothers you about that, doll? Is it the ass play? I’d be willing to give that up. Never been much of an ass guy anyway.”

“I wasn’t—“ your eyes widen as you realize you’d be giving up your whole body to whatever kinks he had in store. You hadn’t even thought about anything past vanilla sex. “No, that’s not why. I just— no deal.”

“I hear you, but tell me what’s spooking you off from taking my deal.”

“I made a promise to someone really close to me,” you don’t dare to mention your dad, not wanting Sukuna to pry anymore into your personal life than he already did. “I’m not willing to give myself up before marriage, especially not to some sort of free use deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He shifts in his seat as his lips twitch upwards. Things just got much more interesting for him. “Ohhh, I see. You’re a cute little virgin, huh? I should’ve known based on how you cried from merely sitting in my lap.”

You swallow thickly, feeling your fight or flight instinct kick back in. He was acting as if you told him some sort of heirloom secret in your family. Your head slowly nods, not trusting your voice to speak.

“Hm. Alright, fine. Get out of my club, girl. And don’t let me see you here as a guest either unless you want me to bend you over my lap and discipline you myself.”

“I want to propose a counter offer.”

“Huh-?” Sukuna is rarely ever caught off guard. He prides himself on knowing everyone’s next moves, probably before they even know their next move. However, he did not foresee you, a meek little thing, giving him a counter offer.

“Are you not willing to hear me out? I’ll gladly leave with the money I made tonight,” you say, calling his bluff on kicking you out.

He quickly fixes his face from a look of surprise to another confident smirk. “Go on, doll. Show me what you got.”

“No free use. You support me through school financially including my livelihood and beyond that,” You purposely leave out the part where you don’t necessarily have a livelihood, but he’ll find that out sooner or later. “We get married, and then, you can have me as free use with the only stipulation that it can’t interfere with my school or work.”

Sukuna silently reaches over, and he clicks off the fan that was blowing on you earlier during your panic attack. A heavy silence fills the room, and his eyes bore into you.

“Are you looking to become the sole beneficiary of my life insurance policy, hm?” he finally breaks the silence, and a feline grin almost spreads across his face. He’s mocking you.

“No, you keep your life insurance policy to whoever it is. I’ll even sign a prenup stating that I’m not entitled to anything of yours in the event that we get divorced due to infidelity or any nefarious acts on my end,” you explain as your fingers subconsciously twiddle together.

Sukuna's silent for another moment as he weighs everything out in his head. You look down towards your hands, wondering if you just made some grave error in trying to negotiate. You should've just taken the money he gave you and ran.

“I take great pride in understanding human motives, doll. You’ve been one of the few to truly stump me. Tell me, why would you want to marry me? Because I know good and well it’s not to fulfill some promise to someone important to you. If it was about that, you’d understand that this… certain somebody would want you to marry for love, not for a contractual agreement.”

You licked your lips to wet them as you took what Sukuna said into consideration. You suppose he’s right. Your father didn’t want you to marry for some sort of mutually beneficial contract. Perhaps, your late father wanted you to marry so that you couldn’t be so easily abandoned again like your mother had abandoned you.

“Maybe you don’t understand because you’re on the inside,” you say slowly, keeping your eyes trained onto the floor. You felt your face warm with the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability. Tears bit into your eyes.

“On the inside of what?” his question was more like a demand.

“Despite being born in this country, I am still on the outside. I don’t have a last name that anyone takes seriously. If I want to make change, people have to look at me with reverence and respect. Even being an outsider who doesn’t understand all the great family names of this land, your last name made me take heed. Your name demanded respect, and I want that same respect in turn for myself.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen but a fraction as his pupils dilate while looking at you. From the moment he knew your name and saw your pretty face, he knew you’d be interesting, but this? This took the cake for him.

“I need an heir for my… empire. If you’re married to me, I’ll expect at least one, though you should expect that I’ll keep your hands and stomach full with wifely duties,” Sukuna said, testing to see how you’d react.

“I want my degree first,” you expertly counteroffer, looking back up at him in the eyes. You were really agreeing to marry this man and have his children, but you have no earthly idea what his ‘empire’ truly was.

“Done. What else would you like, doll?” Sukuna easily agrees. His body leans forward into the desk. You’re so fucking tantalizing to him, and you don’t even know it. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. This is the same high he chases right before a well deserved kill. The only other person who has made him feel this same way without dying was Satoru Gojo, head of the Gojo clan.

“If you’re really a…” The word ‘yakuza’ dies on your lips. People didn’t throw around that word so frivolously. “If you and your business partners outside this office subscribe to that sort of kinship, I want to be as clueless about it as El Chapo’s wife. Please, give me plausible deniability.”

You could feel your moral compass shattering just from the mere bargaining of this. Just because you didn’t see something, doesn’t make it any less real. You were just turning a blind eye to Sukuna’s crimes… just like how corporations turned a blind eye to your father.

You try to remind yourself that this was for the greater good. You wanted revenge and penance for all the workers who have suffered at the hands of greedy men. You had to play to win.

This was only temporary. Once you established yourself in the field of law, you wouldn’t need Sukuna’s last name. By that time, he would likely already grow tired of you and move onto the next young pretty thing that fell onto his lap. Both of you would move onto different things.

Sukuna let out a deep, rich laugh that only men of high status could give. “Darling, I wouldn’t dream of involving you in my work, as long as you don’t involve me in yours.”

You let out a deep breath. This was really happening. What would your father say about the life you had chosen to live?

Your future husband slowly held out his hand to you. His palm was rough and calloused. The small splatter of blood on his white button-up spoke volumes to you. This was a man you didn’t want to cross.

“A deal, then?” his voice coated you in a false sense of security. Sukuna was terrifying, but in a way, he also brought you comfort.

“Before I shake your hand, I want the right to end our engagement should I change my mind. I’ll forfeit the money, and I’ll never step foot in the entertainment district. I’ll also never utter a word about anything I may have seen during our engagement.”

Sukuna kept his hand extended towards you. “The door your eyes kept glancing to has been unlocked this entire time, darling. The fingerprint sensor isn’t even active right now. You’re free to walk away from me all the way until you say I do,”

You glanced down at his hand then up to his eyes. He’s wearing a subtle smirk that tells you that he’s comfortable right now. You take his hand, and you shake on it before you could think wiser.

“Good girl. We can go over more explicit details the next time we meet,” your future husband smiles — a real genuine smile, and he stands up from his desk. His hands go to unbuttoning his shirt.

“I—“ your words get caught in your throat as Sukuna shrugs off his button-up shirt. His muscles look as though they’ve been delicately sculpted by one of the greatest artists to ever live. His tattoo, lines and circles that seem to have no other purpose, only accentuate every hill and ditch on his body. No, Sukuna’s not some sort of man — he’s a god.

“What are you doing?” your voice is about an octave too high, betraying your nervousness. You quickly stop yourself from staring, opting to cover your eyes up with your hands.

“Oh doll, don’t be shy,” he teases with a throaty laugh. He’s enjoying watching you squirm over him. “I’m for your enjoyment now, seeing as though we’re engaged.”

You hear fabric rustling, and you take the chance to peek between your fingers to see what he’s doing. He had another shirt tucked away in his desk, and he was now buttoning it up across his chest.

His old shirt was no where to be seen. He must’ve already expertly discarded it for no one to find.

You slowly stand as well, taking the hint that this conversation was coming to an end. You look for your bag before you realize that you must’ve left it at the bar when Sukuna led you up to his office during your panic attack.

“Come, doll. I’ll take you home,” Sukuna says, beckoning to you like an owner would their dog. He opens the door, proving that it really wasn’t locked.

You slowly follow behind him. “It’s fine. I can walk or take a subway,” you say slowly. The thought of Sukuna seeing where you lived, even if you were on student housing, made your skin crawl with unease.

“Oh y/n, you have so much to learn about me,” he taunts as his hand grazes the small of your back. He carefully leads you down to the club level. The bar had mostly cleared out. You noted how Yorozu had seemingly left. So much for the buddy system. “I’m not the type of man to let my future wife navigate the entertainment district at this ungodly hour without so much of a cell phone to call for help.”

“I have a cell phone—“ you quickly protest before you pick it up off the bar. It was completely dead. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. How did he even know about that..?

“I watched the screen fade to black as you were accusing me of lying. Let this be your first lesson, your trip here was the last time you’ll be free to roam the streets of the entertainment district without some sort of protection with you.”

You swallow thickly as you slowly grab your purse. Not that the money mattered, but it was still left undisturbed on the bar. Sukuna’s eyes flickered between you and the stack of yen, as if silently telling you to take it… even if you didn’t need it now.

“Consider it a down payment,” Sukuna laughs as he grabs a helmet off the bar. Your eyes widen as you remember that he didn’t drive a car here.

Your future husband doesn’t take a moment for pause as he walked towards the doors. He holds it open for you, expecting you to follow him.

What other choice did you have? You also didn’t necessarily fancy walking home without a phone to call for help if you needed it.

He turns to face you before reaching around and pulling the pen he had meticulously placed in your hair to hold it up. Your hair fell down, and he stepped closer to you. “Have you ever ridden before?”

You slowly shake your head. You’ve never even been close to a motorcycle before, and Sukuna’s bike looks intimidating.

“Mm, I should’ve guessed by the fear in your eyes,” he laughs lowly before slowly slipping the helmet over your head. You’re rendered blind for a moment as it takes him a second to adjust the helmet to your head. His fingers delicately adjust the straps beneath your chin, making sure you’re properly secured in.

“If I would’ve known I’d have my future wife with me, I would’ve opted for the car instead of my bike. You’re lucky I’m a good driver, doll.”

Your hands go to raise your visor up so you can look him in the eyes instead of a tinted plastic meant to protect your eyes. However, Sukuna slaps the visor back down with a hearty chuckle. “Keep it down, kitten. Don’t you want to be able to see while you walk down the aisle?”

His strong hands then wrap around your waist, and he lifts you effortlessly as though you weigh nothing to him. You barely make it through a gasp before he safely settles you onto the back of his bike.

“Put your feet on the pegs,” he instructs as he carefully swings his own leg over the bike. “When we’re riding, you hold onto me, and lean with the bike not against it.”

“What does that even mean?” you shout, feeling like your heart is going to have palpitations after this ride.

“It means…” he reaches behind himself to grab your hands, and he makes you wrap your arms around his waist. He places your palms on his rock solid stomach. “Hold onto me and trust me, doll.”

You’re forced to lean into him, practically laying yourself against his muscular back. His warmth seeps into you as you hold onto him tightly. The bike roars to life.

“You ready for the ride of your life, doll?”

The beautiful neon lights of bright purples, lime greens, and cyan blues zip past you as Sukuna revs the bike. The engine purrs and whines as he drives the bike with a confidence that comes with riding for several years.

The entertainment district is at its prettiest during this hour. Not many people are out and about, but it’s still dark and the streetlights illuminate the space. It feels like it’s straight out of a dystopian science fiction movie.

The ride is mostly silent. You’re focused on the feeling of the wind in your hair and the sights that Japan has to offer. You stay wrapped around Sukuna, using his body as an anchor while it feels like you might blow away.

It gives you time to think and reflect. You’ve done more new things in the last 24 hours than you have all your life. It feels… freeing, a sort of freedom that you haven’t felt since your father was injured at his job.

A sudden thought occurs to you. You never told Sukuna which student housing you live in… Sure, he could infer that you live on student housing, but there’s still multiple housing facilities that you could live in.

Much to your dismay, he pulls up to the exact right building, and he slowly kills the engine. “How was that?” he asks as he turns over his shoulder to look at you.

Your fingers quickly fumble with the strap of your helmet, trying to peel the safety gear off of you.

Sukuna laughs quietly as he watches you struggle. He pushed himself up off the bike, so he could tend to you better. “Careful, doll. Don’t overwork yourself. I’m sure the ride wasn’t that bad.”

Once the helmet was off, you stare up at him with a heat of a thousand suns. “How do you know where I live?” you demand as your eyebrows furrow. Your lips curl into that adorable pout that makes Sukuna involuntarily grin at you.

“I already told you, doll. I don’t just let anyone work at Malevolent Mass, and I certainly don’t just offer marriage to someone I hardly know,” he says it as if it’s the most natural thing on this planet.

You’re completely speechless for a moment, reeling over just how much he knows about you. He made the deal with you knowing what he was getting himself into; however, you basically just signed yourself up for a blind sentence.

“As much as I crave the fear you’re wearing on your face, it’s late. You have class on Monday, which means you need to fix your sleeping schedule tonight. Go inside, get some rest, and make sure to charge your phone. I’ll be in touch.” You don’t even bother asking how he knows your phone number.

He reaches out to you, bracing a hand behind your head as his fingers intertwine strands of hair. He then bends over and presses his lips gently against your forehead.

A warmth blossoms over you. A simple forehead kiss was not what you were expecting from the man who fucked your mouth with his fingers and propositioned you for a free use bargain. It felt simple, sweet, innocent…

It’s almost enough to make all the anxiety lift from your shoulders, but you still yourself, reminding yourself not to fall for such frivolous tricks and pretty words… even if it was really thoughtful that he had already thought about your schooling.

“I’ll draft up a contract before our next meeting, doll.” He slides the helmet over his own head, and he pushes the visor upwards so you can gaze into his red eyes that appear soft at the moment.

Coming to your senses, you give him a weary gaze. “Written contracts only ever benefit the writer of the contract.”

You can’t see his lips, but you can tell from his eyes that he’s smirking at you like he’s proud of you for picking up on such a minor detail. “I have such a clever little wife.”

With that, his bike roars to life, and he points towards the door of your building. His intention is clear enough. You’re now to do as your future husband says.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord

[nowprettybbyimrunning]

He's a 10 But He is Making Out in Room 2

This is chapter 1 from the series "Carter's Favorite Season is Autumn"

W.C: 3,8k

Warnings: mention of blood, stitches, cursing, injury by patient.

Autumn Hawthorn’s first day at County General Hospital in Chicago did not only mark her first residency day at the ER, but also the day her own personal foundations got shaken by an external and unexpected force. Said force had a tall figure, a handsome face with the most inviting and kind brown puppy eyes she had ever seen, and a name: John Carter. She has always been a good girl who does not lie and hates anyone who does, so if you ask her about her colleague, she’ll say that meeting him is the best thing to happen to her in the last months. Well, more like the second best thing. The best one is starting her residency.

Interested in following pediatrics, her favorite doctor to work with was Doug Ross, who seemed to have taken a liking to her and let her follow him around like a lost puppy everywhere he went. 

Every day was just about the same. 

She’ll wake up before the sun has risen and get ready as quickly as possible, eager to get to the ER and start working. At the beginning, after meeting John, Autumn would get herself and Dr. Carter coffee to go and they’d drink it together at the break room in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. But that was until a few days ago Doug started getting it for her. Now she’ll drink the coffee Dr. Ross bought for her while John poured himself some from the coffee pot and eventually they were called down to tend to a patient. 

She and Carter would also have lunch together at the cafeteria and then around 3 p.m., when their eyelids began to shut, they’d meet again for another coffee to help them keep going, not a very healthy habit for doctors.

And finally, if they were lucky enough to get to go home that very same day and not have to work night shifts, John walked her to her bus stop and said goodnight with a quick hug.

She had checked her reflection on the hospital’s doors before going in, making sure her curly auburn hair looked good and her working outfit was still decent and nothing had happened to it throughout her walk from her apartment to the ER. But, what for? if as soon as she stood inside the chaos that was County General, she saw the only reason why she wanted to be presentable each day, talking to the patient that occupied most of his lately. Autumn noticed the way Carter’s lips pulled slightly up into a smirk and couldn’t miss Liz’s arm, possessively grasping his shoulder while batting her long eyelashes at him.

During the course of her first few weeks at the ER, Autumn had talked her therapist's ear off about an incredible amount of horrendous scenes she had seen and experienced, including the first patient she and Carter saw die; however, none of them stirs her feelings up as much as seeing Carter constantly and without a care in the world flirt with Liz (a patient nonetheless) at the front desk, and today was one of those days.

The brunette had made her appearance not too long ago, and ever since then kept coming back and asking for Dr. Carter specially to see her. Everyone knew what was going on, of course. Jerry even had seen them getting into John’s car once and driving away together. But no one said a thing even though it was clearly morally wrong. Autumn wondered if they had something serious going on, were they going on dates? Did Liz know the way Carter likes his coffee just like she did?

It was torture. Starting what she knew would be a long and arduous shift with the image of the man that she was slowly but surely falling for, trying to play the womanizer role out in the open was torture. It wasn’t right, Carter did not seem like that type of guy. 

Fuck doctors. Or well, student doctors for that matter. Autumn was not putting up with that shit, she made a beeline directly to the bathroom and almost ran into Carol.

“Hey kid, what’s with the face?” since the nurse’s comeback they had found a safe place in each other, and of course she immediately caught up on her cranky mood.

“The one I was born with?” Autumn joked in an attempt to get out of the confrontation, but she knew she had been cornered when Carol peeked her head around the bathroom door to spy on what had caused her to frown.

“Oh, I see… It’s a loverboy matter” the redhead couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her colleague’s (she hoped soon would be friend) comment as she washed her hands just for the sake of doing something with them.

“Don’t call him that.”

“But Pumpkin isn’t that what you want him to be?” Autumn knew she had used the lame nickname they had given to her just to try and soften her.

“Who wants who to be what?” Susan interrupted their conversation by rapidly walking into the bathroom, three were a crowd and it was starting to get suffocating.

“Autumn and Carter” claimed Carol at the same time the resident said “no one nothing”.

“Ohh I love this topic!” Dr. Lewis was also clearly in on the redhead’s little crush.

“It’s not a topic and it will never be ‘cause I’m going out there right now” Dr. Hawthorn almost sprinted out of the small room that seemed to be closing in on her with each second that passed around the topic of John Carter.

Luckily for her, neither he nor Liz were still at the front desk. Maybe she had gone home already, or he had been called to tend to a patient without her help. Either way, Autumn was glad to not have to continue to see the scene that almost made her crash out within her first three minutes at the hospital.

But that was until Dr. Benton asked her to get some files of his he had forgotten at room 2 and she immediately got down to the task. Who knocks before going into what is supposed to be an empty room at a hospital? Maybe after today she should start building on that habit, because when she abruptly opened the door what she found was far away from an empty, normal, usual, hospital room. Instead she found John and Liz mid makeout. At the interruption, Carter turned around white as a sheet, and the state he was in would’ve been a sight for sore eyes if it wasn’t for his company; disheveled hair sticking out everywhere from someone running their needy hands through it, crooked tie along with not one or two, but three unbuttoned shirt buttons; ragged breathing and lastly, plump pink lips shiny from lip gloss. Liz wasn’t far from that, she was sitting down in a bed and her skirt had rolled up slightly, the ponytail Autumn had seen her in when she got to the hospital was nowhere to be seen, now her brown hair was free and messy and her green shirt brought up the red on her cheeks from the heat in the room.

“Autumn hi” Carter greeted her “when did you get in?” The only man in the room tried to fix his hair and rubbed the palm of his right hand on his lips to get rid of the shine from Liz’s lip gloss.

“Uhm just a few minutes ago, I- sorry I just came for these” Autumn grabbed Benton’s files that were right next to Liz’s hand on the bed.

“Hi! I’m Liz” the brunette tried to introduce herself and extended her hand for the redhead to shake, Carter standing right in the middle.

“I know” Autumn ignored the girl’s gesture and turned around, leaving for the second time that day a room that made her feel like she was running out of air.

It’ll definitely be a long, very long day. 

“You have to stop doing this Liz” Carter reprimanded the girl while both of them tried to fix their clothes, no longer in the mood for whatever it was they would’ve ended up doing if Autumn had not walked in.

“What are you talking about?” and of course she was playing dumb.

“Showing up at my job and looking for me, you’ll get me into trouble” but she laughed, “I’m being serious” he knew that word had already gone around, and after what had just happened he was sure that either Dr. Benton or Dr. Greene were going to call him out. Not because he did not trust Autumn, she wouldn’t tell a soul what she had seen, but somehow everyone always knew.

“Yeah sure Carter, you’re a doctor, I had a rash, do the math”.

John finally got the tie’s knot down right, and started going for the door. He didn’t even answer her, and maybe it was for the better. They had been going at it for a few weeks, and even though everyone knew, no one really said something. But then again, no one had actually caught them. Until Autumn.

Man did he like her. Autumn, not Liz. He did like Liz, otherwise he would not have been hooking up with her. In fact, Carter even got to enjoy her company sometimes. Yet, it was the redhead, his coworker, his colleague, whatever you want to call it, who was infiltrating every waking and sleeping thought of his. And he didn’t complain. Dreaming of Autumn and looking forward to seeing her during their shifts had brought fun and excitement to his daily life, but it made it hard for him to really focus and concentrate. Plus, everyone had noticed the way Dr. Doug Ross flirted with her and tried to steal her help whenever he could. It pissed Carter off. A student doctor? He wanted to tell Doug to get a grip. After all, everyone also knew the only reason he was so invested in Autumn was to try and make Carol jealous. But who was he to do that? It would also be a bit hypocritical of him given the fact that he was sleeping with a patient.

Sadly, Carter did not see the redhead for the rest of the morning. He actually tried to hide from her, too embarrassed to confront her after what she had walked into  in room 2. It was weird, they usually chose cases together and helped each other out, so John knew his friend would be questioning him about it if they happened to cross paths.

However, his freedom from Autumn did not last long.

At around 1 p.m., Carter was filling out the chart of the last patient he had released when he heard some commotion and shouting from one of the exam rooms. Followed by a crash, and then a scream; from a voice he would pick out anywhere. He quickly ran toward it followed by Jerry and one of the security guards.

When they rushed in they found what was clearly a psych patient who had somehow been able to undo his arm’s restraints, and unfortunately got a hold of a scalpel and hit Autumn on the forehead.

Once Jerry and the officer were able to subdue the patient, Carter made his way to Autumn who was leaning against a wall in a corner of the room watching everything unfold while clutching her forehead, blood streaming down her face and into her forearm, staining her scrubs.

“Hey, hey are you okay?” Carter gently placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to direct her look at him.

Dr. Hawthorn seemed to be in shock and did not answer right away. She blinked at him, confused. But then she gazed at her hand and saw it covered in blood and her eyes opened like saucers. Autumn hadn’t noticed that the blow she took had been strong enough to draw blood. Her face contorted in pain.

“Come with me” John started and steadied her when she almost fell.

Once they were alone in one of the exam rooms, Carter sat her down at one of the beds and inspected her wound, “you’ll need stitches” he kept his voice soft and low, forgetting how embarrassed he was to see her just mere minutes ago. he gave Autumn some gauze to keep on the cut while he gathered what he needed to stitch her up and put on gloves.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad” the redhead spoke for the first time, trying to joke with him, yet John did not smile as he was already in his doctor mode. And he would not tell but this was his most important (and favorite) patient so far.

“You know someone should’ve been with you in that room, he is a psych patient it wasn’t right for you to be alone with him” he said in his most serious tone, not tending to her wound yet.

“I was just checking if he had fallen asleep or-” Carter interrupted her.

“Still, Autumn you have to be more careful with this type of patient, he could’ve gotten you good” he tried to concentrate as much as he was able to prepare the needle and thread.

“He already got me good, didn’t he? you’re about to do stitches on me” there went the jokes ignored, again.

“Whatever, just tilt your head back for me” Dr. Hawthorn obeyed him, and he carefully peeled the gauze full of blood away, their hands brushing just a tiny bit, “you’ll have a scar, at least a tiny one”.

“That’s fine, cool guys seem to dig them” she was getting tired of trying to lift up the mood with no positive results, and her eyes searched her friend’s face for some signal of what was wrong with him, but Carter was not looking at her. He was too focused on cleaning her cut first and the sudden silence in the room engulfed them.

It had been minutes when Autumn decided she couldn’t take it anymore and spoke, “Carter, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” of course he knew what she meant.

“You’re not laughing at my jokes, you’re not looking at me, you’ve basically been avoiding me since I walked in on you and Liz” she saw how his lips twitched at the mention of the brunette.

“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry it was just embarrassing” he threaded the first stitch through and Autumn flinched, “sorry, almost done though, just one more will be enough”. She shut up for a while and just watched his face while he worked, admiring the way his jaw tensed due to his concentration; and when he was finished smiled at him “aaaand we’re done”.

“Thank you, Carter” she thanked him while he took off his gloves, a few moments of silence passed while Autumn covered her fresh stitches with new, clean gauze. “What is going on between you and her?”.

The question knocked John off his feet and he answered automatically in what was not the best tone or way, “why are you asking? I don’t ask questions about you and Doug”.

“Me and Doug? Carter what are you- wow you must be really embarrassed then” Autumn practically jumped out the bed and walked to the door to get out of that room as soon as possible. She had just taken a scalpel to the forehead, she was not going to put up with whatever John was trying to argue about. She and Doug? What was he on? Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t be.

“Oh come on everyone noticed it” that stopped Autumn in her tracks and made her turn around to look at him.

“Noticed what exactly?”

“Him flirting with you” John stated without looking at her, pretending to be too occupied tidying up what he had just used to fix her up.

“You’re insane, Carter” he had to be kidding, she let her hands rest on her hips, showing him that she was starting to get mad.

“Oh, really? I’m insane?” Autumn nodded, “then explain to me why he brings you coffee every morning”.

She rolled her eyes, “that’s ridiculous, he is just being nice and you’re mad that I stopped bringing you coffee every morning when I no longer had to get my own”.

“Yeah right, he is being nice” now he was looking at her and suddenly felt scared of how close she had gotten to him, “then why is he always asking for your help with the most dumb shit ever?”

Autumn actually laughed at that, “he is supposed to teach us stuff, he is just doing his job, John” she pronounced his name tightly, almost through her teeth.

“So now you don’t know how to take someone’s temperature? he’s not even asking for your help in peds!” Carter was starting to raise his voice, not even he recognized himself at that moment.

“It’s all practice, just because I want to specialize in pediatrics doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch other cases, you do the same!”

John scoffed, “he is your superior Autumn, do you know the trouble you could get into?” he was being insufferable, he knew it. And he also knew Autumn was not going out with Doug, yet he was still jealous.

“Jesus Christ what has gotten into you today!? Did I walk in right when she was about to suck you off at work and pissed you off?” she had gone too far.

“Wouldn’t you like that” but he always seemed to be two steps ahead of her. There was a sudden quiet in the room, the air thickening as the minutes passed, the implications of Carter’s comment too sharp for one of them to keep talking.

“Go to hell”, Autumn said and left John alone, slamming right into a chest on her way out. Someone’s chest. Dr. Ross’ chest. It seemed as if the devil himself had been listening to her’s and Carter’s discussion and decided to stir things up even more than they were.

“Autumn, there you are!” Doug smiled down at her, “I heard about what happened, I’ve been looking for you, are you alright?”, and just as she was about to answer, the door of the room she had just gotten out of opened, and out came John, scoffing at them and walking away. “What’s with him?”.

“Ignore him, he has had a weird day”, Dr. Hawthorn crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover the blood that had dripped on it, “and I’m fine, just two stitches it’s not a big of a deal”, she reciprocated his smile with a tightlipped one, and for a moment she wondered if maybe Carter was right and Doug had been trying to make her fall into his charms.

“Well, it’s not nothing, I talked to Dr. Greene and Dr. Benton and you’re free to go for the day, get some rest” when Autumn heard the news, her shoulders slumped forward in relief as she could feel a headache brewing and would love nothing more than to lay in her bed and drink some very hot tea.

“Thank you, Dr. Ross I think I need it”

Doug placed a hand on her sidearm “you need it and you deserve it, you did good today”.

“Good?” the redhead raised her eyebrows, “I got assaulted by a psych patient because I was stupid enough to check on him alone”.

Both of them laughed, “yeah well, happens to the best of us”.

“Doug”, Susan called from the end of the hallway, “they need you in trauma 2”.

“Duty calls”, he buried his hands in his jacket’s pockets, “call if you need something, though”.

“I- I- yeah sure I will”, Autumn watched him walk away until he turned around before going down the corridor.

“And Dr. Hawthorn?” she just mhmed at him, “they look good on you, the stitches”, not only did he have the guts to say that to her, but he also winked at her and Autumn swore she could feel her throat dry up.

For Carter, the rest of the day could not get more boring even if he tried for it and wanted it to. He had stitched four patients and given ibuprofen to other three that just had headaches. He hadn’t seen Autumn again since he got out of the exam room and saw her talking to Dr. Ross, not even at the break room for her usual 3 p.m. coffee, the one they drank together ever since Doug started buying her morning one for her.

Even though he knew that to do it would probably get her to talk to the nurses, he decided to ask Lydia about Autumn’s whereabouts. He approached the entry desk where he had seen her last just a few minutes ago and found her right there.

“Lydia, hi” John rested his elbows on the desk.

“Hello, Dr. Carter” the woman side-eyed him, word probably got around about him and Liz that morning.

“Have you seen Dr. Hawthorn?” He gave her his best smile, trying to get on her good side.

“She went home hours ago” finally, Lydia looked straight at him. Carter knew he was not going to like what she’ll tell him next when he saw the lady’s lips curling up into a grin, “Dr. Ross talked to Dr. Greene and Dr. Benton and got them to agree to send her home after today’s incident”, there it was, Doug Ross once again in the conversation.

“Uhm- well, if she calls and needs anything, could you please let me know?” he was jealous, he really was.

“Oh don’t worry kid, Doug’s got it covered” there was almost a singing tone in the way Lydia said that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said, loverboy”, did she just call him loverboy?

“Lydia please erase my name from the board”, the man of the hour, Doug Ross was putting on a jacket while pointing to the whiteboard behind the desk, “I’ll be back in like an hour”.

“W- Where are you going?” Carter tried to stop himself from asking, but the need to confirm it (because he knew exactly where the man was going) was stronger than him.

“To check on Dr. Hawthorn”, Doug answered and Lydia flicked Carter’s elbow to mess with him, “do you want me to pass a message?”.

“No, no it’s fine”, John immediately left the desk, he couldn’t bear watching Dr. Ross leave the ER knowing all too well where he was going, did Autumn even know he was going to her’s? He needed a nap, a long one; and to not wake up until the redhead was back so he could make amends with her.

[missryomenn]

FEAST .ᐟ ryomen sukuna ( 1 )

You’re running for your life, fleeing a village ruined by the merciless Sukuna Ryomen. But even when you’re broken, bloodied and hanging by a thread he finds you. Toys with you like a predator with his prey. He mocks your strength, your survival, your very existence. But your fire refuses to die. Given just 48 hours to survive in a world filled with curses and death, you’re poised to fight back not just to live, but to become the nightmare that hunts the hunter.

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

eg manar deg inn i berget blå der korkje sol ell måne skin deg på eg maner til skogen der ingen bur og til den sjø som ingen ror djupt under jordfast stein til ingens mein gjønom elva renna havet venda

Run. Survive. Breathe. Don’t make a sound. They’ll hear you... All this time, all you could think while slipping away from the chaos behind you were those words. You twisted through towering trees and dead grass, ignoring the stabbing branches cutting your skin, ignoring the burning pain. You were gasping for air but there was no time to calm down. Your body kept moving, dragging itself forward, refusing to stop. You were scared. Just trying to survive. The king of curses, that terrifying monster. It had destroyed your village in seconds. You could still hear the screams and people left behind were still dying. The fear you felt couldn’t even be described. You were sure your family was dead. The image of your little brother’s bloodied body flashed before your eyes. A few hours ago, you were laughing and having fun with your friends around a table... Now, not a single one of them was breathing. Dead. Forever.

Your legs trembled but you forced them to carry you farther, away from the smoldering ruins and the screams that clawed at your mind. Every step felt like walking through a waking nightmare.

The stench of blood hung in the air. No matter how far you ran from the village, that filthy smell seemed to cling to your skin deep inside. Tears streamed down your face but you couldn’t make a sound. Even as the branches cracked beneath your feet, you feared he would find you. Because you knew he always did. No one ever escaped his grasp. His cruelty was whispered across every land. He left no survivors behind. He burned villages, tore people apart and bathed in their blood like a twisted god. Begging for mercy was pointless, you’d lose your head before you even opened your mouth. That’s why you ran. The only thing you knew—just run. No clue what’d be waiting for you but you had to get the hell out of his territory. To lose Sukuna Ryomen.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Whispers multiplied in the darkness. Every bird flew away above your head. You wished you had wings too so you could fly away from this nightmare. But all you had were your feet... and those betrayed you halfway. You tripped over a massive tree branch and fell face-first. The blow hit so hard your forehead slammed into the ground, ears ringing, your head spinning like crazy. Lying there, face pressed against the cold your breath hitched in your throat. The whispers swirled louder, circling you like vultures hungry for their prey. Your vision blurred, shadows stretching out, creeping closer with every heartbeat. Pain radiated from your skull, but it was nothing compared to the sinking terror that clawed at your chest. You were trapped between the suffocating silence and the growing storm of dread.

You knew no one could save you. The crows in the sky fled as if screaming, and you wanted to be one of them. Ignoring every ounce of pain burning through you, you forced yourself upright. Your head still spun, focus slipping through your fingers like smoke. But like you hadn’t missed a beat, you kept running. Eyes half-open, barely seeing the path ahead. Still, you ran. Because your whole life depended on it.

There was no sun. Black clouds swallowed the sky, wrapping everything in a suffocating shroud. The branches tangled overhead, making the forest even darker like the trees themselves were conspiring to swallow you whole. In a few hours, night would fall, and nothing would be more terrifying than the monster you left behind.

Your shoulder slammed into a tree, forcing you to stop. You grabbed the rough bark with your hands, clutching tight so you wouldn’t fall. Your legs trembled. Just making it this far was a miracle. A deer dashed past you. No, more like it bounded, disappearing into the shadows in seconds. Then you spotted a rabbit, darting and hiding between the trees. Even they had caught the scent of the hunter chasing you. Even they were fighting to survive. And you'd never felt so merciless, like the forest and the hunt had carved that cold, ruthless edge deep inside you.

The ground shook beneath your feet, like the aftermath of an earthquake ripping through the land. Fear ignited your fire again and you pushed forward, running harder than before. This time, your vision cut clearer through the dark; you leapt over tangled branches without hesitation. The wind slammed against your cheek like a furious slap—you didn’t even know how fast you were moving. But none of that mattered. He would find you. Always.

There wasn’t a proper path in the forest. You had no idea where you were headed and you didn’t even care about being lost. Sweat mixed with blood trickled down your forehead, and you wiped it away with the back of your hand. This nightmare wasn’t ending anytime soon.

You didn’t see it coming. A deer suddenly burst from the shadows, wild-eyed and desperate, right in front of you. No time to dodge. Your body slammed into it with a sickening crash, knocking both of you down. The deer’s startled eyes met yours for a split second before it scrambled away, limping, blood staining the underbrush. You got up again. Branches whipped past, tearing at your skin, but you barely noticed. All that mattered was putting distance between you and that nightmare.

You felt it as you ran. Trees were breaking, crashing down one by one. Massive giants, falling like dominos. You didn’t dare look back, not even once. You were scared. Scared of what that meant. Right then, the root of the tree snapped ahead of you. Branches crashed down one by one, like someone had sliced through it with a massive blade. The tree fell in sharp, clean lines toward the ground, and you had to stop otherwise, you'd be crushed beneath its weight. You halted abruptly, barely keeping your balance, stepping back a step. The tree hit the earth so hard that the air turned thick with dust. The ground trembled beneath you. Even nature itself couldn’t fight this fear.

You swallowed hard. You knew exactly what was coming next. You had to turn right. Your brain couldn’t think fast enough—your body was moving to survive before your mind even caught up. But you didn’t get the chance to react. Something heavy slammed down on your shoulder.

His hand. So heavy your shoulder was collapsing beneath it. You were about to scream but fear had frozen you solid. The legends were true. He always found you... No one ever escaped him. A wolf’s howl echoed from afar. The hunter had caught its prey. Now, it was feast time for the predator... Your sobs grew louder but you couldn’t even blink. His hand clenched your trembling shoulders tight, so hard you doubled over in pain. His massive body cast a shadow and you could trace the outline of him in the darkness on the ground. He was that tall...

“Thirteen kilometers. You broke the record.” His voice was deep, calm. Even though you were shaking with fear. He knew he’d won. He’d caught you and the victory was his. "No mortal has ever gotten this far from me."

His words dripped with pride. Like your struggle had been nothing but a game to him. And yet... there was something else in his tone. Amusement. Maybe even respect. You’d run farther, fought harder than anyone he’d ever hunted. But now you were his.

You pressed your trembling lips together. Said nothing. You lifted your chin and stared straight ahead—like you were staring death in the eye. His breath brushed your ear like he was savoring your stillness. The forest was dead silent now. Even the wind held its breath. You stared forward, chin high like a soldier before the blade. Your body was shaking, sure, but your will? He could crush your bones but not your defiance.

And that pissed him off.

"It was a delightful hunt." His voice oozed satisfaction as he shoved you hard by the shoulder. The force knocked you down fast, slamming you to your knees. Your palms hit the ground, dirt grinding into your skin, breath punched from your lungs.

But you lifted your head. And there he was. Right in front of you. A god in the flesh, carved from nightmare. He looked down at you like a king admiring a prize... He was smiling. All four of his eyes gleamed terrifying. His lower arms were crossed. The upper pair hung loose, like they didn’t even need to move to end you.

You were right where he wanted you. On the ground. Beneath him. Where he thought you belonged, at his feet. That’s what he thinks.

Your fingers clenched the dirt beneath you. Rage bubbling under your skin like wildfire. The humiliation burned.

"Name?" He asked it flatly, like it meant nothing to him. No curiosity in his tone—just a pause in the game. A game he thought he’d already won.

You’d heard the stories. Everyone had. Sukuna Ryomen—the king of curses, the butcher of flesh, the god of cruelty. He didn’t just kill. He played. And now, you were center stage in his little performance. And you had accepted death. The moment Sukuna caught you, your fate had already been sealed. No… not when he caught you. It was the second he decided to attack your village. That was when your story began to die. From the first scream, the first drop of blood… you were marked. He didn’t just destroy your home. He rewrote your existence. Bent it beneath his will.

It was over. Everything had led to this moment. Quietly, you whispered your name. But this time, you weren’t trembling. You had no strength left to fight. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, heavier than fear ever could. The exhaustion of running for miles, of carrying the grief, the blood, the silence. Your body screamed for rest. Your soul... had already begun to dim.

He said your name. Testing the weight of it on his tongue like it was some strange, delicate thing. Then one hand lifted to his chin. "How does a weak, fragile little girl like you manage to run this far? Are you a sorcerer?" You weren’t supposed to make it this far. You weren’t supposed to still be breathing.

You shook your head slowly. Didn’t move a muscle, still kneeling there, body worn out. Your lips were dry and you had no strength left to say a word.

"You’ve got not a damn ounce of energy left. You’re weak." He taunted you, voice dripping with mock. You stayed silent. No reaction.

Why wasn’t he killing you? Why was he dragging this out?

Sukuna laughed out loud as he looked at you. Then, with his left foot, he struck your face, sending your body sprawling to the other side. Your cheek throbbed with sharp pain, but you didn’t even try to get up again.

Seconds passed. You heard movement. Leaves rustling, something shifting nearby. But your eyes wouldn’t open. You were just lying there, waiting to die on that cold ground. With one swift motion, he yanked you up by your hair. Grabbing you by the waist, he tossed you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing—a feather to him. In just a few steps, you were at the base of a massive tree. With his free hands, he set you down and tightly bound your wrists with a rope. So tight, you could feel the blood slowing in your veins.

As all this happened, you got a closer look at his face. You studied the tattoos etched into his skin—each one a mark from the legends. Just like those terrifying stories told to you as a kid. Only difference, he was real. And you were trapped with him.

After tying your wrists tight, he looked at his work with a twisted kind of pride, then stepped back. The other end of the rope was thrown over the thickest branch of the tree—now dangling right next to Sukuna himself. He gripped the end of the rope and took a few steps back.

"Did you know where you were running?"

You were too lost, too drained to even answer. Sukuna could see it.

“Hah! Even if you’d somehow managed to escape me, you’d still be dead, stupid girl. This forest is crawling with curses.”

You were slowly pulling your grip on reality back, wobbling as you tried to stand. Your voice cracked as you spoke. "You..."

You’re worse than all the curses combined, you wanted to say. But the words caught in your throat, unfinished.

Sukuna waited for you to continue. But he was impatient.

"Last words?"

You only closed your eyes. Waiting for death like a lover’s embrace. And then it happened. Sukuna yanked the rope hard, and your body lifted all at once.

With every pull, you rose higher, your feet finally leaving the ground. You had no idea what his twisted plan was. Your arms hung above your head, suspended. Looking down, you caught the gleam of excitement in his eyes as he watched you.

He wrapped the rest of the rope tightly around the tree trunk, each knot pulled tighter than the last. "You’ve got 48 hours." he said. "When time’s up, I’ll be back. If you survive, you’re free to go. But if I find you dead..." He stepped back, licking his lips as he stared at you. "The feast will be mine."

You hung there, suspended between life and death, Sukuna’s eyes burning into your soul. Your muscles screamed from the strain, but somewhere deep inside, a spark flared. A fire that refused to die, no matter how tight the chains, no matter how cold the night. You were in deep shit—worse than any nightmare you’d ever dared to dream. But somehow, you got a second chance. That dying spark of will to survive inside you flared back to life. Sukuna saw it, and he laughed—a wild, roaring sound that shook the forest itself.

"That’s it! Show me what you’re capable of!" he shouted, loud enough to send every animal fleeing into the shadows.

48 hours.

Too short to decide your fate, yet painfully long to claw your way back from death.

So you’d fight.

Despite those ropes binding your hands, despite hanging meters above the ground...

You’d fight.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Your mind was playing twisted games on you. After hanging from that tree for what felt like hours, you were sure of it. The sky had gone pitch-black and the cold winds had begun to howl through the trees like the cries of something ancient. You could no longer feel the pain in your wrist—it had gone numb long ago, as if your body had given up before your mind did. You drifted in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep your eyes open against the lashing wind. The forest was too quiet. Wrongly quiet. It was as if every living thing had vanished, leaving you alone… or worse, leaving you for something else. Snow began to fall, slow at first, then heavier. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was oppressive. Something was out there. But you couldn't scream. Not anymore. You blinked, slow and sluggish, lashes crusted with ice. You were trembling. They were there. Curses. Every inch of this forest was soaked in them. They clung to trees like rot, slithered beneath the snow like serpents, whispered in the wind like forgotten prayers. You were just a cracked vessel dangling in their shrine. You should’ve felt something. The malevolence. The dread. But nothing touched you. That was worse. That meant something stronger was cloaking them. Hiding their presence. Keeping them still. For now. The rope around your wrist creaked. You opened your mouth to speak, to scream, to pray but no sound came. Your voice had frozen in your throat. The curses didn’t need to be seen to devour you. And you weren’t alone anymore.

Sukuna had been right. Even if you managed to escape him, you’d never make it out of this cursed forest alive. And yet you were still breathing. The King of Curses hadn’t killed you. That meant one thing: You had to find a reason to fight. Just like you once found a reason to run when your village burned to the ground. Survive. Live. Fight. You threw your head back, letting the snowflakes sting your face like tiny needles. The cold was good. The cold brought you back. Sharpened your senses. You looked down at your hands. Blood had already begun to drip through the ropes, weaving its way down your fingers. If you wanted to escape, you couldn’t waste a second. But every move had to be calculated. One mistake, and you’d be feeding the forest. You scanned your surroundings. A few branches hung within reach. One of them close enough, thick enough. Not perfect, but it might hold your weight. You needed to reach it. You needed to lift yourself just enough to escape gravity’s chokehold. Or die trying.

You started to move. Rocking your body back and forth like a pendulum, every shift dragging fire through your torn wrist, every swing a small rebellion against the rope biting into your flesh. The branch was close. So close. But your limbs were numb, your body half-dead. The cold had settled into your bones like a second skin. You grit your teeth, tasting iron. The tree creaked above you like it was laughing at your struggle. Snow kept falling, dusting your hair, your lashes, your shoulders like a burial shroud. But you didn’t stop. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. The branch swayed into reach. Just a few centimeters. You timed your swing.

Now.

You lunged. Arms trembling. Body screaming. Fingers barely brushing the bark… And got it. Your numb hand clenched around the icy branch like a lifeline. You pulled yourself toward it with a strength you didn’t know you had left. The rope around your wrist strained, twisted, tore into your skin like fangs but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. If you stopped now, it wouldn’t be the rope that killed you. It would be whatever was watching. Whatever was waiting. The branch groaned beneath your weight. You didn’t care. You dragged yourself up, slow and raw, until you could ease the pressure on your wrist. The pain hit you all at once and almost made you puke. But you were alive. And this cursed forest hadn’t claimed you yet.

After shifting all your weight onto the branch, you clung to it with your entire body, pressing yourself against it, laying flat. Finally. You had broken free from gravity’s chokehold. For the first time in hours, your body loosened, relaxed just a little. The freezing air biting your skin might’ve actually been a blessing. It cleared your thoughts, let you plan your next move with a sharper mind. You closed your eyes for only a few seconds, inhaling deeply. Sukuna was sure you’d die. He was only toying with you, laughing while you slowly wasted away in this cursed forest. But you were going to prove him wrong. You refused to entertain a monster who tied you to a tree and left you for dead. You refused to be anyone's amusement. Once you’d steadied yourself, you began working on the rope around your wrist. It was so tight it took longer than it should have. Your fingers were stiff, the rope soaked with blood and frozen, biting into your skin like barbed wire. A wolf howled in the distance. You ignored it. You used your teeth, tearing at the fibers like a savage, refusing to let that cursed knot win. After what felt like forever, it gave in. The knot snapped, and your wrist dropped, throbbing, ruined. Your skin was purple, swollen. The blood flow had stopped for so long you could barely move your fingers. If you don’t treat it soon… You might lose your hands.

You looked down carefully, minimizing your movement. The rope that had bound you was still looped around the tree trunk. With slow, deliberate fingers, you grabbed the free end and fed it back through the thick base of the tree. Then you wrapped it around your waist, tight. Now your body was tethered to the trunk itself. If you slipped, the rope would catch you. Hold you. Sukuna’s knot had actually worked. You hated that. But this time, you were using him. His rope. His knot. His underestimation. You adjusted your weight against the tree, testing the makeshift harness. It held. Good. Your wrist burned like hell, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when your blood was finally moving again. Not when you were above the ground, out of the noose. The forest below was hidden in snow and shadow, but you swore the wind carried whispers now. They slithered around your ears like breath. Like laughter. They knew you had escaped.

Using the rope around your waist, you slowly wrapped yourself tighter against the tree’s trunk. The branch beneath you couldn’t take your weight any longer, it snapped instantly with a loud crack. For a split second, you were falling—your hips no longer touching anything, nothing beneath you but open air. But the rope around your waist held. You were suspended, still connected to the tree. Alive. The broken branch crashed to the ground below with a heavy thud. You bit your lip hard but there was no room for fear now.

You inhaled deep, steadying breaths. Then, slowly, you began to push yourself downward, sliding inch by inch along the trunk.

The tree’s bark scraped at your legs, sharp and merciless, digging into your skin. Your hips were burning from the friction, every movement a fresh jolt of pain. But pain meant you were alive.

Each breath came out ragged and white, ghosting in the frozen air. Your muscles trembled with the effort, your palms scraped raw from clutching the rough trunk to keep your balance. But the ground was getting closer.

And when your feet finally brushed against snow-packed earth… You almost cried. Almost. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

You loosened the rope from your waist with shaking fingers, letting it fall into the snow. You scanned the forest. Silent in the most unnatural way. No curses in sight. But you knew they were there. Hidden in the dark between the trees. Maybe Sukuna left them behind as toys. Maybe they were always here. Either way… You weren’t safe. Your legs were sore, your wrist throbbed like hell and your skin was cold enough to crack. But you were on the ground. You were free. And now, it was your turn to hunt.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Gone was the cursed forest. Now, silence reigned beneath a lacquered ceiling, broken only by the soft clink of ceramic against polished wood. Sukuna sat cross-legged in the center. Tatami mats spread beneath him like skin flayed and stretched tight. Candles flickered low in iron holders, casting distorted shadows across the painted paper walls. Lacquered bowls lined the low dining table in front of him, filled with steaming, dark crimson stew. And the meat was no secret. Sukuna brought a sliver of flesh to his lips with deliberate grace. Fingers stained in hues no ink could replicate. He chewed slowly. His four eyes stared straight ahead.

He felt it. That rope hadn’t snapped by accident. You were still alive.

A grin slithered across his face, crimson teeth flashing. “Keep running, little thing." He whispered to the air, to the darkness, to the blood pooling at the base of the table. “I love it when they break slow.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The snowfall had grown heavier, relentless. You moved forward by clutching onto the trees, dragging yourself step by step. Your feet had gone numb from the cold and you'd been forced to tear a piece from your yukata, wrapping it around them in a desperate attempt to keep warm. But it didn’t help. It wasn’t enough. The cold was still going to kill you.

Your fingers scraped over frozen bark, barely able to hold your weight. You were drenched. Frozen. Half-dead. And still moving.

Every step felt like dragging a corpse—your own. Your knees buckled more often now, your vision blurred and the wind howled louder than before. You wanted to stop. Your body begged for it. Just one moment. Just to rest. To fall. But you didn’t. Because if you did, he’d win.

And even through the frostbite, even through the mind-numbing agony of the cold chewing its way into your bones—that was the fire that kept you going.

You raised your head toward the sky and that’s when you saw them. Above you. Around you. In the trees. On the branches. In the snow itself.

Curses.

Dozens. Maybe more.

Eyes that gleamed with sick light. Bodies stitched from shadow, rot and bone. Some crawled like insects, some loomed like gods. They just watched. Breathing the same cold air as you, but untouched by it. As if waiting for something. Or someone.

You knew they served Sukuna. Of course they did, every curse bent to his will. He was their king. And through their eyes, he was watching you. You weren’t just trying to survive. You were performing for him.

You lowered your head, eyes to the ground. You were still dragging the long rope Sukuna had tied you with. Anything you found in the forest could be useful. Anything could be a weapon, a shield, a chance. But if you stayed in the cold much longer, you wouldn’t have a body left to fight for.

You needed shelter. Anything to get you out of the open. You scanned the forest through blurred vision, snowflakes biting at your eyes.

You found it. It was a small, half-collapsed shrine tucked between towering pine trees, barely visible beneath layers of snow. The wood was blackened from age and fire. One of the doors hung crooked on rusted hinges, creaking softly with the wind. The other lay half-buried in the snow. Inside, it was dark and cold, but dry. The walls were cracked and scorched, covered in soot and dust, like no one had dared step inside for years. Bits of old offerings—ceramic bowls, scraps of cloth, melted wax—were scattered on the floor, long forgotten. Despite everything, the place felt… still. Not safe, but still. Like the forest didn’t dare touch it.

It would have to do.

You crawled inside, dragging Sukuna’s rope with you like an omen. You curled into a corner, wrapping what was left of your yukata tight around your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled for anything to pack around your feet, to trap a shred of heat.

Let him watch. Let him see what it takes to survive him.

Since ancient times, people used to build small shrines hidden deep within forests overtaken by curses. They were so narrow and unassuming that from the outside, they barely looked like shrines at all. Inside, travelers would pray, offer gifts to the gods, and believe that doing so would protect them from the wrath of evil spirits. Then, they would continue on their way. But you had nothing to offer. No gift. No charm. No prayer worth hearing. Still, the melted candle caught your eye.

You stared down at the melted candle, cold wax hardened in a pitiful puddle, the wick buried deep and useless. Alone, it was nothing. But fire was everything. You couldn’t afford to wait for luck.

Your fingers shook as you tore a thin strip from your yukata—dry enough, but barely. You fumbled through the fallen leaves and broken twigs scattered across the shrine floor, gathering the driest bits you could find, ignoring the biting cold that gnawed at your skin. You crumpled the strip of cloth tight, tucking it carefully under the candle’s wick, hoping the rag would catch flame before the cold smothered it.

Now came the hardest part: the spark. No matches. No lighter. You gripped the shard tight and began striking it against a rock, sending tiny sparks into the fragile nest you’d made. The sparks flew like tiny stars against the darkness, some landing on the cloth, others fading uselessly into the cold air. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your muscles trembling, but you kept striking. A weak, fragile flame curled around the rag, fighting the cold wind sneaking through cracks in the shrine’s walls. You blew gently, coaxing the flame higher, careful not to snuff it out.

The fire caught. The candle slowly lit, warm light spilling softly, chasing away the shadows, warming your frozen fingers. You exhaled, a breath heavy with relief and newfound hope. For the first time since you’d been tied to that godforsaken tree, the cold didn’t feel so suffocating.

You had fire. You had a chance.

You held your hands close to the flickering flame, warming them slowly. The bruises on your skin were now more visible, stark against the firelight. Then, you warmed your feet, your arms—your entire body. You slipped off your yukata, letting it fall beside you. Now you were left in just your underwear, the fire your only shield against the cold.

The flame flickered, threatening to die out more than once. You used anything you could find around you to keep it alive. Next came the offering. But you had nothing to give.

Your eyes drifted to the broken porcelain pieces on the shrine floor. You reached for them, fingers brushing over their jagged edges until you found the sharpest one. You turned it in your hands, inspecting the weight and bite of it.

Life in the village had been hard—you’d learned to hunt, to survive, from a young age. And of course, the sacred rituals too.

You brought the porcelain shard to your hair and, slowly, began cutting everything below your chin. The shard wasn’t sharp enough—it tore more than it sliced, dragging each strand free with resistance. It took minutes. Long, painful minutes. When you were done, you gathered the fallen hair into your hands. Then, you began to pray. Words passed down in whispered breaths, from mother to daughter, in a world where gods did not save but watched.

"Before the gods, I lower my head. In this unending night, on this frozen path, within this forest of ruin… If it is too soon to lay down my life, turn your gaze away from me. Hide me from the wrath of curses, from the eyes of their king. These strands of hair, a part of what makes me me, this body, the mark of one still living. Without shattering my spirit, without losing my way, Lead me out from this forest. I swear to remain true to the old roads, the ancient name, the ancient sanctity. Let there be at least one who hears me this night…"

You placed the hair before the altar, smoothing it down with reverence. Then you bowed, your forehead pressed to the cold stone, not expecting an answer.

And just like that, you fell asleep. Curled beside the dying flame, bruised and bare, your offering resting in silence before a forgotten altar, you slipped into the arms of exhaustion.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

And somewhere far, far away... Sukuna smiled. “Weak little humans." He took a slow sip from his victory cup, the liquid dark and thick like spilled sin. Uraume stepped forward to refill the emptied glass without a word.

“They only remember the gods when their fear finally drowns them.”

“The girl you’ve been watching… she was the village elder’s daughter." his loyal attendant said softly. They had already gathered information on you.

Standing a few steps behind his king, head bowed, the servant held a large sake bottle in both hands with practiced reverence.

“We left no one alive in the village so I obtained the details from others, my lord. The girl has four siblings. She’s twenty years old and was said to assist her father with village affairs.”

Sukuna didn’t answer at first. He swirled the sake in his cup slowly, eyes fixed on the dancing surface.

“That kind of girl… doesn’t break easily. But she will.”

Uraume said nothing, still as a statue, waiting for the next command. Sukuna leaned back, resting his arm on the bloodstained floor cushion.

“The rope didn’t kill her. The cold didn’t either. She even lit a fire in that rotting shrine. Did you see that?” He tilted his head, speaking now like he was amused by a child’s persistence. “She cut her own hair, Uraume. Prayed.” He laughed. “To me, most likely. They always do in the end.”

He set the cup down. The porcelain clicked softly against the lacquered wood. Sukuna didn’t care for simple, ordinary humans. He only played with the strong so he could break them properly in the end. And you… you were definitely not strong. But you acted like you were. This was a death game. And somehow, you were winning. That’s what caught Sukuna’s attention. Despite having no special abilities, no cursed energy, you were stronger than most sorcerers he’d devoured.

You weren’t born into power. Just frostbitten fingers, scraped knees and a will that refused to rot. You should’ve died in that forest. Tied like an offering. Abandoned like trash. But you didn’t. You crawled. And in doing so, you stepped into his world. Not as prey, but as something far more dangerous. A defiance he couldn’t explain.

Sukuna had crushed clans with a sigh. Ripped through generations of cursed techniques like paper. But you… You were surviving him. Without power. That wasn’t strength. That was something worse.

Faith. Faith that you’d make it out. Faith that he wasn’t a god, just a monster pretending to be one.

“Let her live a little longer.” he said, voice suddenly colder. “Let her think she’s strong. Brave. Worth saving. When I come for her…” A slow smirk stretched across his face. “She’ll kneel for something far worse than a god.”

I’ll make her strong. Then I’ll tear her apart. And maybe, just maybe… I’ll enjoy it.

『end of part one』

╰┈➤ a few songs i picked for this story :

ryomen sukuna's theme

wardruna - lyfjaberg

heilung - norupo

draconian - sleepwalkers

[cybsoo2]

a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats. 

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides. 

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep. 

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once. 

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushes back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face. 

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort. 

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.”  His line of vision lingers on your stomach. 

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them. 

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety. 

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face. 

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down. 

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of. 

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth. 

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion. 

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds everything you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past. 

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body. 

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth. 

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around. 

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight.  Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes. 

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head. 

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life. 

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip. 

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile. 

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch. 

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness. 

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before. 

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away. 

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving. 

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters. 

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead. 

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away. 

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing. 

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end. 

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else.  And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[yoshikoooo]

WIND BREAKER x Reader

When Furin’s “Angel” Isn’t So Innocent After All (not smut. okay?)

featuring: Sakura Haruka, Hajime Umemiya,suo Hayato, Tags: No established Relationship, Mentions of drinking, smoking, gambling, mild language ig, teasing, flirty, light blackmail, ooc. tell me if I missed smth. Note: This lightly touches on topics like addiction and personal vices, which may be sensitive or triggering to some readers. Just read with caution, yeah gew gurl.

In Makochi Town, you’ve unintentionally become somewhat of a beloved figure. Just by helping out here and there, people started calling you kind, graceful—even angelic. At one point, someone jokingly called you a god. Emphasis on jokingly… okay? You work at Pothos with Kotoha, which means run-ins with the Furin boys is normal. It’s not like you’re trying to keep up this perfect image. But it’s hard to show the parts of yourself that don’t fit the “pure and gentle” persona everyone’s projected onto you. You never asked for it. but hey, you were a people pleaser. Guess this is what you get for sowing all that sunshine.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･SAKURA HARUKA °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were deep in the red-light district—far enough from Makochi Town that no one would recognize you, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Neon signs buzzed, the air thick with smoke and cheap perfume.

And here you were, sitting at a worn-out table in some barely legal underground gambling den, your angelic persona long discarded like a coat that didn’t fit right.

“Full house,” you declared with a smirk, laying your cards down with a flourish.

A chorus of groans and muttered curses erupted from the uncles as they tossed their losing hands onto the table.

The dealer slid your winnings toward you with a nod, and you casually gathered the chips, ready to call it a night.

Just a trip to the cashier and you’d disappear back into that town.

But just as you neared the cashier’s, chaos broke out.

Your eyes flicked toward the source of the commotion, only a few tables over. Fists flying, chairs scraping, chips scattering across the floor.

'Ah. it's them, Roppo Ichiza.'

You recognized the signature mess they left behind during their so-called “cleaning operations.”

You were careful to keep walking, minding your own business. But on your way back, a sudden shoulder slammed into yours, nearly throwing you off balance. You staggered but caught yourself.

“S-Sorry,” came a stiff, awkward apology.

Your gaze shot up—and locked onto a pair of eyes far too familiar to mistake.

Eyes that widened in recognition the same moment your mouth betrayed you.

“…Sakura-san?”

You hadn’t meant to say it aloud. But the name slipped out like a reflex.

“Huh?! Y/n?” he blurted out, eyes wide in disbelief.

You chuckled awkwardly, shifting your weight and avoiding his gaze.

‘Ah… I’m dead.’

Your relationship with Sakura Haruka wasn’t exactly deep, but it wasn’t nonexistent either. Maybe you were just acquaintances… or friends. Mostly, you and Kotoha liked to mess with him whenever he came by Pothos, a little teasing here, a little poking fun there. It was easy. Haruka was… well, Haruka.

But the fact that he remembered your name?

That made your stomach twist a bit. Yeah just a bit... Meaning, He didn’t just see you. He knew you.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” he demanded, his voice louder than necessary.

His eyes scanned the smoke-filled room, then dropped to your hands—the neat stack of chips you were still holding.

You cleared your throat, holding the chips behind your back like a kid hiding candy. “Uhm. Would you believe me if I said I got lost?”

“Seriously?” he gawked, clearly not buying it.

You gave a helpless little smile. “Okay, no. I come here… occasionally.” yeah occasionally...

His jaw dropped, eyes narrowing. “To gamble?”

You shrugged. “Uh… yeah?”

You smiled as innocently as possible, like that would somehow soften the blow.

A pause stretched between you. Sakura stared at you like his brain was still lagging—trying and failing to process what he was seeing.

And honestly? Who could blame him? To anyone from Makochi, the idea of you—you—frequenting underground gambling dens was like watching a halo shatter in real time.

“Are you… alone?” he asked, eyes flicking away.

You hummed a little too cheerfully for his liking, which made him click his tongue in irritation.

“Hey—!” he frowned, voice dropping slightly. “You know how dangerous this place is, right? Especially for someone weak like you.”

ouch

You grinned, completely unbothered. “You might be right, but it’s not like I can ask just anyone to come gamble with me.”

You mimic fanning out bills in your hand, the playful motion only making him groan in frustration.

“You’re hopeless.”

Then, without really thinking, your hand reached for his.

He flinched so hard it was like you’d tased him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Sakura-san,” you said softly, and he flinched again at the sound of his name from your lips.

You looked up at him, sheepish. “Can I ask you to keep this a secret? Just between us…?”

Your voice was timid now, the usual confidence stripped away by the fact of what would happen if your little secret made it back to town.

He gulped—loudly—and let out a heavy sigh.

Then, after a moment, he gestured stiffly for you to let go of his hands. You did. He blushed so hard you thought his face might combust, eyes darting away like he couldn’t handle looking at you any longer.

“Sure,” he muttered.

Then, hesitating, he added "But… this place isn’t safe, so... y-y'know—at least... c-call me"

The last part came out in a barely audible mumble, but you heard him. And you couldn’t help it—laughter bubbled out of you.

“Haha! Thanks, Sakura-san.”

He muttered something under his breath, still avoiding your gaze, and you couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed, annoyed, or just overwhelmed. Probably all three.

---

・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・HAJIME UMEMIYA・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦・

You had just finished your shift at Pothos, and to say it was chaotic would be putting it lightly.

Sakura brought the whole class, and suddenly it turned into a full-on feeding frenzy. Making omelettes for a bunch of hungry fighters built like tanks? Yeah, not exactly light work bud.

You found yourself right where you always ended up after a long day—sitting at the counter of a low-lit pub deep in Shishitoren territory. The usual place.

You took a long sip of your beer, as if your body had aged fifty years and carried the weight of five jobs.

The bartender chuckled as he set another bottle in front of you. “Looks like the young miss had it rough today, huh?”

You sighed, leaning your elbow on the bar and rubbing your forehead. “If only you knew how many eggs I went through just to keep those bottomless stomachs quiet…”

The man let out a low whistle. “oh my, an omelette war?”

You nodded. “More like an omelette massacre. I think I cracked an entire chicken coop’s worth of eggs.”

He laughed, sliding over a little bowl of peanuts like it was a peace offering. “Don’t worry, kid. The regulars here have seen worse. But hey—at least they liked your cooking.”

You gave him a tired smile. “Yeah. I’ll just need a week of sleep and gimme maybe three more beers to recover.”

“Noted. Coming right up,” the bartender chuckled, heading off to prepare your beer.

The night was still young, the pub just beginning to buzz with new customers. You were half-lost in your thoughts when the door swung open—followed by a chime and a burst of energy.

A familiar voice rang out.

“Ume-chan! Their barbecue here is really good! Like, really good!” chirped a bright boy.

‘Ume…?’

"Eh really?"

You stiffened. Slowly—painfully slowly—you turned your head.

And there he was.

Hajime Umemiya.

Towering, and unfortunately standing just a few feet away from you. You shrank into your seat, silently screaming at the gods.

'Dang, what luck is this.'

Out of all the bars in Shishitoren’s turf, he had to walk into this one?

Your first instinct was to get up and bolt. Second thought was to just curl into a ball and pretend you were someone else. But third?

Third was denial—pretend he didn’t see you and pray the universe kept your cover intact.

Then, as if on cue, the bartender came back, unaware of your mental bullshit.

“Here you go, miss, the usual!” he said cheerfully, sliding all three frosty mugs in front of you.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Loud. Clear. Very obvious.

Your soul left your body.

“T-Thanks…” you managed to muttered.

You could feel the weight of a certain someone's gaze settling on you curious.

But just as panic fully settled in your chest, one of the Shishitoren guys tugged him away—distracting him with some chatter and dragging him deeper into the crowd.

You exhaled like you hadn’t breathed in minutes, grabbing one of the beers like it was a lifeline.

‘I’m gonna chug all of this down, pay, then leave. Right away. Like, right the hell away!’

The first beer went down quick. The second? Gone before you even realized it. You wiped your mouth—one more drink and poof, vanish.

But just as your hand reached for the third glass, a larger hand gently but firmly stopped yours.

You flinched, eyes snapping up in alarm.

And there he was.

“U-Umemiya…?” you stammered, caught red-handed with your fingertips still brushing the third glass.

You sounded like a kid caught sneaking snacks before dinner.

He gave you that signature wide smile.

“Slow down, will you?” he said, sliding onto the barstool beside you with ease.

“Seems like you’re a regular here.”

“I—uh… maybe,” you mumbled, voice trailing off.

The alcohol was definitely settling in now. Not enough to make you drunk, but enough to turn your thoughts into slow, spinning circles.

“You okay?” he asked, not teasing—just a genuine check-in. “You look like someone who needed that first drink real bad.”

You gave a small huff. “Guess I did.”

He nodded once, not pushing it.

Then “Are you… perhaps alone?” Hajime asked, glancing around the pub as if expecting someone to jump out from behind the bar.

You nod.

“Eh…” he muttered, like the idea of you drinking alone didn’t quite sit right with him.

“Why not drink in Makochi?” Hajime asked, his tone genuinely curious—and with just the faintest hint of mock hurt, like you’d personally betrayed your hometown.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

‘How do I explain this…?’ you thought, searching for the right words without sounding like you were making excuses—or worse, exposing too much.

“Well,” you started, picking at the edge of your sleeve,

“the pubs in Makochi… they’re a bit too familiar. Everyone knows everyone, and uh.. I like a place where no one asks questions.”

Hajime nodded thoughtfully, sipping his own drink. “Makes sense. Sometimes it’s good to disappear for a bit.”

You met his gaze and gave a small smile, surprised at how understanding he was being.

“But seriously,” he said, his grin widening just a bit, “Didn’t think you were the type to drink.”

You chuckled, unsure how to feel. “Disappointed?” you asked with a light smirk, meeting his eyes.

He gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah, Just surprised, I guess. You’ve got more sides to you than I thought.”

You looked a bit taken aback at first, then let out a soft breath as you finally allowed yourself to relax around him.

Then he leaned in a little, elbow on the counter. “You should ask me out sometime—oh, but I won’t drink though,” he added quickly, still grinning.

You snorted into your glass, holding back a laugh.

“Come on,” you said with a lazy wave of your hand. “You’re busy enough. No need to babysit me.”

But instead of joking back, his expression softened. He tilted his head slightly, eyes still on you—not teasing, not flirting, just… warm?

“Well, at least you’ve got someone to accompany you back home,” he said simply. “ and I feel assured that way.”

And those words—those casual, genuine words—tickled something deep inside you.

You looked down at your drink, trying to hide the way your lips were curling into a shy smile.

“Quite a gentleman, I see,” you said, leaning your cheek on your hand.

---

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟSUO HAYATO୭ ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ

You swear—you absolutely swear—you didn’t mean to have such a down-bad craving. You just wanted a smoke.

One puff. That’s it. Just one and boom, you'd be good.

But you were still in the middle of your shift, and your break was crawling toward you like it was stuck in molasses. God damn it

So you waited. And prayed.

“Oh, looks like Sakura forgot his handkerchief,” Kotoha said, picking up the small cloth from one of the tables.

“Huh. Didn’t think he was the type to carry one,” you commented, eyeing it with a raised brow.

Kotoha laughed.

“Right? I’ll just message him real quick.”

You gave a distracted nod, eyes drifting back to the clock like it held your salvation. Just a few more minutes.

“Jeez, finally,” Kotoha muttered, glancing at her phone.

“Took him long enough to reply.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“He says Hayato will come pick it up,” she added.

And as if the universe had decided to grant you one small mercy today, the clock finally clicked into its rightful place. Break time.

“Oh—Y/n, you can go on your break now,” Kotoha said, flashing you a smile. You beamed instantly, relief washing over you.

“Bless you, Kotoha-chan.” Peeling off your apron, you practically floated to the back door.

“I’ll be back~”

'Finally. Just one puff.'

You slipped out to the back alley behind Pothos. You were desperate. With a quick glance around, you lit one of the cigarettes.

The first drag burned like sin, but it hit all the right nerves. You sighed, eyes closing for a brief moment of bliss.

This wasn’t the usual you. Not at all.

You knew how reckless it was—smoking in public, in broad daylight, with your face and reputation practically stamped on half of Makochi. One wrong turn, one nosy passerby, and boom—there goes your halo.

You tugged your hoodie up slightly, as if that would magically make you invisible. Still, you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder every few seconds

And that’s when you heard footsteps.

Steady. Casual.

But getting closer.

You froze, cigarette halfway to your lips, every cell in your body screaming please let it be a stray cat. Or a ghost. Anything but—

“...Y/n?”

Your soul jumped five feet out of your body.

You turned your head slowly, already knowing that voice—and dreading it.

Suo Hayato.

Of course it was Suo.

You lowered your cigarette—not enough to put it out, just enough to make it look like you were reconsidering your entire life.

“Oh, hello there, Suo,” you greeted, trying to play it cool.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes flickering to your hand… then back to your face.

"How unusual for you to take an alleyway," you commented.

He chuckled softly, stepping closer until he was standing beside you, hands at his back.

“Well, I thought someone suspicious might be lurking behind Pothos.”

You flinched. 'That’s definitely me, right…?'

“Hm, sounds creepy,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “So, did you catch this mysterious someone?”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “Must’ve been a false alarm.”

He kept looking at you. Not judging. Not surprised. Just… observing.

You cleared your throat and flicked some ash to the side. “You’re here for Sakura’s handkerchief?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Kotoha said you were on break, so I figured I’d swing by too.”

'He definitely knew it was me.' You clicked your tongue, more at yourself than him—but he just chuckled, soft and unbothered.

A quiet moment settled between you.

You took another drag—just enough to soothe your nerves, though the weight of his gaze didn’t help.

He didn’t look thrilled about the cigarette, but he wasn’t saying anything either.

“…Didn’t expect to find this though,” he added lightly, eyes flicking to your cigarette again. just curiosity.

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, well… I didn’t expect you either.”

Another short laugh from him.

And then, after a moment, he asked—not cold, not confrontational, just quietly—

“Is it… helping?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard.

“…A little,” you admitted, voice lower now. “Kinda pathetic, huh?”

“Well, if you ask me… maybe it is,” Suo said with a wide smile.

You stared at him, lips parting in mock offense, before laughing. “Ouch.”

he chuckled.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I didn’t see anything.”

You nodded, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Sure.”

Then he leaned in—slow, careful—and you instinctively flinched, caught off guard.

But instead of doing anything dramatic, he simply reached for your hand and gently placed something in your palm.

A lollipop.

“Huh—?” you blinked, looking down at it in confusion.

He was already stepping back, that usual soft grin tugging at his lips.

“If you really need a vice,” he said, “that one’s sweeter. And less likely to get you caught.”

“You’re quite funny,” you muttered, half amused, half annoyed—but mostly just thrown off.

Out of habit, your fingers twitched, lifting the cigarette toward your lips—only to realize…

It was gone.

You stared at your empty hand, blinked, then slowly turned your head.

There he was, standing a few steps away with the same calm, unreadable smile. Your cigarette now casually tucked between his fingers.

He held it up like it was evidence. “Oops,” he said lightly. “Must’ve slipped.”

You let out a short laugh in disbelief, “You little thief.”

He only shrugged, unfazed, and carefully snuffed out the cigarette between his fingers.

Then, without another word, he started walking off—only to stop a few steps ahead.

Turning halfway, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes catching yours again.

“Oh, right. I’m up for a tea party if you want me to keep my mouth properly shut, Y/n.”

You blinked, then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you blackmailing me with snacks?”

He grinned. “What can I say? I’m easily bribed.”

“Fine,” you smirked. “But you’re getting the cheap tea.”

---

[mya-valentine]

February 10th - Let The World Burn by Chris Grey - Ex Husband!Sosuke Aizen x Reader

The world was quiet in the way only the aftermath of destruction could bring—an eerie silence, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of devastation. You stood amidst the ruins of Karakura Town, your eyes fixed on the horizon. A blood-orange sky bled into the endless fog of despair, casting its ominous glow on the broken world below. You should have been frightened, but fear had long since been replaced by something more numbing: a hollow resignation.

"Sōsuke," you whispered, the name leaving your lips like a prayer and a curse.

"Still saying my name like that," his voice called out from behind you, smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "As if it belongs to you."

You turned to face him, and there he stood, an image of unshakable poise amidst chaos. Sōsuke Aizen, your ex-husband, the man you had once loved more than life itself. His captain's haori fluttered faintly in the wind, though its pristine white was marred by soot and blood. He was no longer the man you had fallen for—the gentle soul with an enigmatic smile and a warm laugh that only you seemed to elicit. No, this Aizen was something entirely different, entirely otherworldly, yet still hauntingly familiar.

"You did this," you said, your voice trembling, anger and sorrow intertwining in equal measure. "You burned everything."

"And I’d do it again," he replied without hesitation, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they roamed your face. "For you."

The weight of his words fell upon you like the collapsing structures of the town. You shook your head, disbelief mingling with the gnawing ache in your chest. "Don't put this on me, Sōsuke. You made your choices."

His gaze softened momentarily, a fleeting flicker of something human behind those cold, calculating eyes. "You think I had a choice?" he asked, stepping closer. "The moment you left, my world began to crumble. Do you truly believe I’d let it fall apart without taking everyone else down with me?"

The wind carried his words, slicing through the air and straight into your heart. Memories flooded back—how it all began, how you had loved him, how he had charmed you with his intellect and quiet strength. You had believed in him, trusted him, stood by his side even as whispers of his ambitions began to surface. And when his true nature was revealed, you had walked away, leaving him and everything you had built together behind.

"You were never satisfied," you said, your voice breaking. "You always wanted more—more power, more control. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"And yet here you are," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Drawn back to me, as if by fate."

You hated how he could still read you so well. Despite everything, a part of you had hoped he could be saved—that somewhere beneath the layers of manipulation and arrogance, the man you once loved still existed. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise. This was not a man who sought redemption. This was a man who would let the world burn for his own desires.

"I came to stop you," you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Stop me? My dear, you should know better. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The world is my chessboard, and I am its master. And you…" He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, like the embers of the destruction he had wrought. "You are my queen."

You recoiled as if struck. "I was never a piece in your game, Sōsuke. And I won’t be now."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "You misunderstand," he said softly. "You were never just a piece. You were the reason I played at all."

Tears pricked at your eyes despite yourself. "Then why? Why do this? Why destroy everything?"

His expression darkened, the softness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Because if I cannot have you, no one can." His voice was calm, but there was a chilling edge to it, an undercurrent of unyielding obsession. "I let you go once, and it nearly destroyed me. I won’t make the same mistake again."

"You can't control me," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "I’m not yours to keep."

His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something unrelenting. "Aren’t you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you carry the mark of my love, whether you acknowledge it or not."

He was right, and you hated him for it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far you had run, the ghost of him lingered—his touch, his words, his very presence etched into your soul like a scar. But you couldn’t let him win. Not this time.

"You’re a fool, Sōsuke," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "You think love is about possession, about control. But love is sacrifice. It’s letting go."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Love is power," he countered. "And I will wield it as I see fit."

With that, the ground beneath you began to tremble. The sky darkened further, the air thickening with reiatsu so oppressive it felt as though the world itself was suffocating. He was showing you the extent of his power, the lengths he would go to keep you bound to him.

"Sōsuke, stop!" you cried, but your voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the collapsing world around you.

"Do you see now?" he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is what I am willing to do for you. For us."

But there was no "us" anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. And as much as it tore at your heart, you knew what you had to do. You summoned every ounce of strength within you, focusing your reiatsu into a single, desperate attack. If you couldn’t reach the man you once loved, then you would stop the monster he had become.

"I’m sorry, Sōsuke," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

The blast of your energy collided with his, a brilliant explosion of light and power that illuminated the ruins of Karakura Town. When the dust settled, you were on your knees, gasping for breath. Aizen stood before you, seemingly unscathed, though his expression was unreadable.

"You’re strong," he said, almost admiringly. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."

"It doesn’t matter," you said, forcing yourself to your feet. "I’ll keep fighting you, Sōsuke. Until my last breath, I’ll fight."

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Perhaps that’s why I loved you," he said finally. "Your fire, your defiance. It’s intoxicating."

"Then let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "If you ever truly loved me, let me go."

For a moment, you thought he might. His hand twitched at his side, his expression softening just enough to give you hope. But then, he stepped back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No," he said simply. "I’d rather let the world burn."

And with that, he vanished, leaving you alone amidst the ashes of what once was. You sank to the ground, your strength finally giving out. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, all you could do was mourn—mourn the man you had loved, the life you had lost, and the world that had been consumed by his ambition.

As the blood-orange sky darkened into night, you whispered his name one last time, the echo of it swallowed by the silence of a world on the brink of oblivion.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[chem1cali]

THE GHOST OF YOU

masterlist

ghost!theodore nott x slytherin!reader

synopsis: returning to hogwarts after the war without your lover was the greatest pain you'd ever felt, but maybe he wasn't as gone as you thought...

warnings: HEAVY angst, some fluff but it's very sad fluff, definitely mostly angst, mentions of death and murder, references to suicidal thoughts

word count: 1.9k

a/n: this one broke my heart to write, yall. like ACTUALLY broke my heart. i'm considering making it a series, maybe with a slightly happier part two, so let me know if you'd be interested or if you have any ghost!theo ideas for me!

It was strange how subdued the halls of Hogwarts were. Just a year ago, the castle was swarming with chattering and giggling students, and now the few people you walked past had their mouths shut and their heads bowed. The war had that effect on everyone.

It had been a few days since the start of your eighth year, and each day seemed more heartbreaking than the one prior. Out of your slytherin friends, only Blaise had chosen to join you for the optional eighth year to make up for the chaos that was your seventh. You were thankful for his presence and support, but with each passing day, your heart grew heavier, and the desire to leave grew stronger.

Every room, every courtyard, every classroom, sent you spiralling through memories of him.

Theodore Nott. Your best friend since you were children, your confidante, and more recently, your boyfriend.

And also the boy who had stepped in front of a killing curse to save your life. Guilt swarmed through your gut as flashbacks of that day assaulted your mind.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called behind you. Standing a few feet away from you, Bellatrix Lestrange cackled, her mouth twisted in a terrifying grin.

“Itty bitty Notty boy.” She crooned. “Come to save his little damsel in distress.”

“Stay out of this, Theo.” you warned, your hand shaking as it gripped tightly onto your wand. “I’ve got this.”

Bellatrix kept her own wand trained on you, just as yours was on her. It was a standoff, each of you waiting for that momentary lapse in concentration to strike. From the corner of your eye, you could see Theo moving closer, and you glanced away from Bellatrix to look at him, just for a moment.

That moment cost you, and Bellatrix took full advantage of your brief distraction.

“Avada Kedavra!” She called, and a green light erupted from the tip of her wand. You stood in shock for what felt like years, before a sudden force knocked you to the ground so hard that your vision blurred.

This was it. You thought blearily. This was death.

But death didn't come. Your vision cleared, and you became vaguely aware of Bellatrix’s laughing growing further and further away. You looked up from your prone position to see her shadow disappearing down the hall. How were you still alive?

You glanced around, before noticing a still figure on the floor. Your heart dropped.

“No.” You whispered, horror flooding you as you scrambled to the body on the floor. “No no no!”

You pulled on his shoulder to tip him onto his back, and a choked sob left your mouth. “Theo!” You gasped, shaking him with both hands. “Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

But his body was still… unmoving.

A sob wracked through you, and you fell against a nearby column as the image seared itself into your mind. It was the stuff of nightmares, and it was your living hell. Every night, you woke screaming, with the sight of Theo’s lifeless body engrained in your mind.

“Y/N?” Blaine's deep baritone came from behind you. “Hey, it's okay. You’re okay.”

His hands brushed over your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you. After a few minutes, you choked back your tears and straightened your shoulders.

“I’m fine.” You said, your voice still shaking.

Blaise peered at you, his eyes betraying his concern. “Are you sure? You know the Ministry has set up counselling for those affected by the war, maybe you should-”

“I said I’m fine.” You protested, shrugging off his hold. “I just need to get some supper and go to bed.”

Blaise sighed, obviously disapproving of your claim, but smart enough not to push you further.

“Okay.” He conceded, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Let's get you some food.”

You leaned into his warmth and let him lead you to the great hall. The once packed tables were now silent and sparse, the few remaining students choosing to sit in silence while they picked at their food.

You took a seat at your usual spot, spooning pumpkin soup into your bowl and swirling it around distractedly. A flash of brown curls to your left sent your spoon clattering into the bowl, and your head whipped so fast you swore you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

Only an empty seat greeted you, and tears filled your eyes. You could have sworn, just for a second, that he had been beside you.

You ate as quickly as you could, the food tasting like ash in your mouth, ignoring Blaise's concerned looks as you shovelled mouthful after mouthful into your mouth.

“I’m going to bed.” You mumbled, once your bowl was emptied.

“Do you want me to walk you down?” Blaise questioned, his own meal half-finished.

You shook your head. “No. I… I need to be alone.”

He stared at you for a moment, seeming to deliberate.

“Okay.” He said finally. “Be safe, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

You nodded, lifting your hand in a half-hearted wave as you stood up from your seat.

The walk down to the dungeons was quiet, the only sound being your echoing footsteps through the halls. The common room was empty when you finally stepped through the threshold, the flickering fire the only semblance of life in the area.

You didn't pause, walking to the hall that held your dorm room. You shrugged off your robes the second you walked through the door, distracting yourself with putting away various pieces of clutter that littered your floor.

On your bedside table, a picture frame caught your eye. It was an image of you and Theo that he had gotten you for your birthday last year, enchanted to portray a moving scene of you leaping into his arms. You picked up the frame, smiling sadly at the photo. You would give anything to be in his arms again.

“We looked so happy there, didn't we?”

The frame fell to the floor, the glass covering shattering as you froze, your heart thundering wildly in your chest.

“Shit, tesoro. I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

You spun around, and there he was. Your throat dried up, and all you could do was stare.

“Theo?” You breathed, barely able to comprehend what was happening. His soft, brown curls fell over his forehead as he tilted his head, a tentative smile on his face. He was wearing the same outfit as the day that he…

You leapt forward, your eyes squeezing shut as you reached to pull him into your arms.

Only for your fingers to close around air. You stumbled, opening your eyes as you spun around in confusion.

He was still there, but the faint smile had turned to a frown. You reached for his hand, unsure of what was happening, only for your fingers to drift straight through his skin.

You blinked, really focusing on him, and it was then you noticed that he didn't seem to be all there. His outline was slightly blurred against the backdrop of your room, and he seemed to be somewhat transparent.

“What…” you breathed. “What is happening? Am I going insane?”

Theo smiled sadly, shaking his head. “Not insane, baby. I’ve been trying to reach you since you came back.”

“You're here?” You sniffle. “You’re really here? I could've sworn I watched you…” You couldn't finish the sentence.

“You did.” He confirmed, and your heart broke all over again. You really were going insane, conjuring up images of your lost love just to cope with the pain.

“But I’m still here, really here, I swear.” He continued, fidgeting with his fingers. “Just… not alive.”

You shook your head. “I don't… I don't understand.”

He pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal a black burn mark on his upper chest. “This is where the curse hit me, it seems that my ghost has preserved the exact way my body was when I died.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Ghost?” You breathe. “You’re… you're a ghost?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It's been difficult trying to push through the veil to get to you, I’ve tried so many times. I got close earlier tonight at dinner, but it slipped away from me so quickly.” he frowned. “Even now, I can feel it starting to slip.”

Disappointment and joy battled ferociously in your mind. “You’re really dead, then?” Your voice cracked.

He nodded. “I am.”

Without knowing exactly how, or why, anger took over you, and words spewed out before you could stop them. “Why the fuck did you jump in front of me, Theo?” You exclaimed.

He held his hands up. “You were going to die, cara mia. I couldn't stand there and do nothing!”

You wished you could touch him. You wished you could punch him, hit him, hug him… kiss him.

You just wished you could feel his skin against yours again.

“I can’t do this.” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I can't do this without you.”

“You can.” Theo said firmly. “And you will. And I’ll be here as much as I can to help you get through it, I swear.”

You stared at him through your tear-blurred vision. The urge to be in his arms was overwhelming, and it was a bittersweet kind of torture being able to see him and speak to him, but never touch him. You walked around him, shaking, and fell onto your bed, drawing your knees up to your chest. He moved after you, taking a seat beside you. You glanced at him, confused.

“How are you sitting on my bed?” You asked softly. “If you're a ghost?”

“I’m not, really.” He replied. “I’m kind of… hovering myself just above your bed to make it look like I’m sitting. I can’t feel your bed, or you, or anything really.”

The desperate sadness in his voice made your eyes fill with tears again. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “It's my fault you're dead. God, I’m so beyond sorry.”

He shook his head vehemently. “It’s not your fault, never your fault, tesoro. I made my choice, and I chose to sacrifice myself so that the person I love most would be able to live their life.”

“I don't want to live without you.” You admit quietly, looking down at your hands.

“Don’t say that.” The harshness in his voice made you blink and look up at him. His face was twisted into an anguished, almost terrified expression. “Promise me you won't ever say that again. I need you to live, Y/N. For me, please.”

You nodded, even if you didn't truly believe it, anything to get that tortured expression off his face. He relaxed a little, and flickered in and out of view.

“Shit.” He cursed. “I’m fading out. The veil is pushing me back, I can’t stay for much longer.”

You jolted, panic filling you. “No, wait! You can't leave me, not again, Theo!”

He flickered again, this time his form was barely visible as he faded more and more with each passing second.

“I’m sorry.” Even his voice had faded, becoming muffled. “But I will be back. I swear to you. I’ll keep coming back for you, as long as you need me.”

“I'll always need you!” You sobbed, your fingers desperately clenching around the air where his hand should be.

His smile was barely visible. “I love you, Y/N, never forget that.”

“I love you too.” You weeped. “Please stay.”

But with a final flicker, he was finally gone from view.

And you were alone again.