#couldn't get to this chapter earlier and it was torture omg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago

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I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

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gutouhua · 2 years ago

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𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

title. tamed (shrine master’s bride part v) [on ao3]

rating. explicit

pairing. sukuna x f. reader

wc. 8.6k+

tags. low self-worth & self-esteem, mentions of ownership, sukuna has monster-like features (like elongated canines), eating fish, sukuna thinks about eating out reader, physical abuse to reader (not by sukuna), no beta we die like rex lapis

a/n. um idk how to feel about this ch but here it is ;-; can you tell i hate writing action scenes since i literally skipped over the action lmao. but omg thank y'all for hanging on & sorry i couldn't update earlier sldkfjskdf i had writer's block but hope this longer chapter makes up for it! no smut but next ch will feature face-sitting :D

“Do you think she knows?” A servant whispered to another. He trimmed the bushes lining the pathway to the main entrance of the Shirogane family’s residence with his back slightly turned so that his voice wouldn’t reach too far. There were eyes and ears everywhere so it never hurt to be too careful.

“Probably not.” The other replied, stopping momentarily to lean closer, his tone conspiratorial. “It’d be quite obvious if she knew…she’d be throwing a fit and whatnot, making her unhappiness known to everyone. It’s a good thing she doesn’t know otherwise we’d all be suffering and–”

“What are you whispering about?”

The two servants suddenly jumped at the sound of the Shirogane family’s prized daughter and immediately bowed their heads low in practiced prostration in hopes of appeasing her. But she would not be so easily tempered – she was used to bows like that, courtesy and respect weren’t given to her, it was owed to her. She didn’t give them permission to get up, so they stayed as they were, not daring to move or so much as utter a sound until she said something.

Hikaru had gloved hands crossed over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently against an arm. Trailing behind her was her poor maid, heaving and lagging behind her master with arms full of large, fancy boxes and decorated bags. Hikaru had probably just returned from a shopping trip in the city.

“Well?” she said, expectantly.

Neither of the servants bothered pointing out that they didn’t dare say anything since she hadn’t explicitly asked them because answering her prematurely could very well be a death sentence. Servants were reliant on the whims of their masters, and Hikaru was not a kind one.

“Are you going to tell me? Or shall I have the two of you strung up and inject mercury into your veins until you say something?”

They shuddered and fought the urge to cry out. Tales of the infamous torture technique of the Shirogane family were well known throughout the lands. It was a cruel method, one that slowly replaced every drop of blood in your veins with the silver mercury of the Shirogane family until nothing but mercury flowed through your body and your flesh bled pure silver.

One servant spoke hesitantly while the two kept themselves in prostrated positions. “We were…just wondering if my lady had heard that with my lady’s upcoming pre-nuptial celebration with Kamo Masaru that–”

“Well of course I know that,” she snapped, tapping her heels impatiently on the immaculately laid out stone path. “Tell me something I don’t know, or is that too much thinking for lowlifes like you? Too dumb and stupid to do anything except listen to your masters.” she sneered.

“Ah yes!” The servant squeaked, thin frame trembling like a leaf in the wind. “We were simply unsure if you heard that your cousin–”

“What about my cousin?” she interrupted again, staring hard at the cowering servant.

“That your cousin was going to come…” he finished lamely.

Hikaru was silent for a moment, long enough for the servants to sneak a peek at her before averting their gaze yet again when she screeched out a reply. “She’s coming? But that’s impossible! She can’t come because she should’ve–” Been killed or eaten or whatever by that monster! How was it possible that you were still alive, and not just alive, but well enough to return to the family home? It was impossible. Unbelievable. Hikaru wouldn’t believe anything about you until she heard from her grandmother.

Without even looking to see if her servant was following, she stormed through the main entrance in a hurry, disappearing in a flurry of voluminous skirts and ribbons and laces. The two servants who were trimming the bushes earlier cast Hikaru’s servant a sympathetic glance, but it was ultimately lost on her since she could hardly see atop her towering tower of boxes.

When they’d both left, the two servants turned towards each other and said the same thing to each other.

Fuck.

Hikaru stormed through the hallways, anger in every thunderous step she took. Any servant or Shirogane family member who saw her knew to flee as soon as they heard and saw the fury on her face.

Hikaru needed answers. And she needed them now.

“Grandmother! Grandmother! Where are you?”

Shirogane Hatsuko sat behind her desk with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, the other on a book, and had her eyes closed, breath even, as she readied herself for whatever demands Hikaru was about to launch forth.

“Grandmother!” Hikaru slammed the door open with such force that the walls shook.

Hatsuko turned to the source of her disturbance, face wrinkled in great displeasure. “Hikaru. What have I said about slamming open doors? It’s unbecoming of the future head of the Shirogane family.” Not that Hikaru had to abide by any rules as the future head. She was the golden child, spoiled, and whatever rebukes Hatsuko had for her ultimately flew right over her head as she believed none of them applied to her.

“I’m sorry grandmother,” Hikaru said impatiently, not at all sorry. She plopped herself down in a cushion across from her grandmother, her layered skirts spread haphazardly in her haste. “But, grandmother! Do you even know what I heard from a servant just now? Something terrible!”

The Shirogane head took one look at her angry granddaughter, closed her eyes, and counted to three with practiced precision before she opened them slowly. She exhaled. “And pray tell me, Hikaru, what exactly did you hear?”

“That she's coming to my nuptial celebration! Is it true?”

Hatsuko set her tea cup on the table and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out of her kimono before placing her hands on her lap. “Yes it is, Hikaru. Your cousin is coming to the celebration, which should not be surprising to you. She is family, after all. Why are you so concerned?”

Hatsuko knew why, but politeness and niceties were sewn into every fiber of her being, in every word and every action, and this extended even to those she found unpleasant. And especially to family.

“Because I don’t want her to come,” she whined, squirming in her seat. “Can you find some way for her not to come? Make up an excuse or something? She’s such an eyesore and an absolute disgrace to our family! Imagine what the others would say if they saw her at the celebration! They’d make fun of me, I just know it!” Flinging herself across her grandmother’s tears, Hikaru wept, fat, theatrical tears, wetting her grandmother’s expensive kimono in the process. “You have to do something about it or I fear I will never recover from the shame, please grandmother!”

Hatsuko looked down at Hikaru and wondered how two people so close in age could be so different from each other. While you were humble and quiet, and lacked confidence and the inherited skills of the Shirogane family, Hikaru was arrogant and ostentatious, and confident, audacious even, in her cursed technique.

“She’s already been invited.” Hatsuko’s tone was final with no room for argument, but nevertheless, she tried to placate Hikaru, smoothing her black tresses which were curled and pinned up in a western fashion that she didn’t entirely approve of, but Hikaru liked it so she let her do as she pleased.

“Well just uninvite her or something,” Hikaru said petulantly against Hatsuko’s lap.

“I cannot, for it would be improper and reflect badly upon our family if we did not invite her.” Hatsuko worded her words carefully, knowing that if nothing else, Hikaru valued her reputation, and as such might see reason with her response.

Hikaru thought about it for a moment, brows knitted in deep thought, before she raised her head, frowning at her grandmother. “Fine.” She jutted her lower lips out. “But she has to be placed at the back, far away from the front of the table. Put her near all the lower-class families and branches. She’s already lucky enough to be invited so it shouldn’t be an issue for her.”

“If that is what you wish,” Hatsuko accepted. “Then I will arrange it as such.” It pained her to have to treat you like that, to add another heaping dose of prejudice into your overflowing cup, but there was little she could truly do.

Hikaru brightened immediately, already getting up and bounding towards the door upon completion of her task. “Thank you so much, grandmother! I knew you loved me more than her!”

Something deep inside Hatsuko twisted, like barbed wire embedding itself into flesh, and she fought the rise of bile that threatened to spill forth with her lies. She cleared her throat and straightened herself. “Of course, dear. You are the pride and joy of the Shirogane family. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” she said sweetly, bouncing up and towards the door since she got what she wanted. Now she just had to devise a plan to humiliate you. Your husband probably wouldn’t deign to come with you because there was no way he’d love you enough to do so, so it would be easy to torment you.

A devious smile stretched across her beautiful face. “I’ll be going now! I can’t wait for the celebration!”

Hatsuko smiled thinly and watched her Hikaru leave, the giddy hum of the young woman an ominous sign of chaos to come.

In the days leading up to Hikaru’s nuptial celebrations and your informal visit back to the family, you’d felt listless and nervous, busying yourself with every task under the sun, almost robbing Momoka of all her tasks. Worried that you’d exhaust yourself, Sukuna had pulled you aside the day before, locked you in your shared room, and had so thoroughly fucked you multiple times that you felt too boneless to do anything.

Sukuna had accomplished his mission. And you had felt relaxed…until the next day.

“Do I look okay?” You fretted, mirror in hand as you meticulously smoothed your hair and every wrinkle you thought might be in your clothes.

Sukuna kissed the crown of your head, breathing in a mixture of jasmine from your shampoo and his favorite musky scent unique to you. “Of course, wife, you look stunning as per usual.”

“N-Not now,” you said nervously, stomach a coiled mess of knots and strings.“Or you’ll mess up my hair.” And much more than that.

“Then later?” he asked, heavily. His eyes dripped with liquid crimson, a syrupy promise of sweet desire and fulfillment.

You knew that look, found yourself craving it sometimes throughout the day (much to your distress), and pressed your thighs together at the sudden dull ache between your legs. “Yes, later,” you murmured.

The carriage hit a rock, almost jolting you from your seat, but Sukuna steadied you by trapping your legs inside his. The confined space made you overly aware of just how close he was, so close that you could feel the heat from his thighs seep into your kimono. He stayed like that, pressed against your legs, until he was satisfied and released his hold, leaving you bereft of his warmth.

Before you could dwell on the loss, he shifted over to make room for you on his side of the carriage, patting the space next time him in a silent command for you to come over. You started to get up, bending gingerly before he suddenly moved and tucked himself on your side of the carriage, almost squishing you with his massive frame. It would appear that one side of the carriage was just barely enough room for you and him.

“I was going to come over.” You gaped at him.

“But how could I let you do that? Especially with you wobbling all over the place? See.” He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh lightly. “Even now, you’re shaking.”

You spluttered an excuse. “T-That’s because the carriage is moving! It’s not because of anything else!”

“Of course, wife.” He flashed white teeth, canines glinting sharply, dangerously close yet you weren’t afraid. There was something alluring about it, you thought, unconsciously leaning closer before you were mere inches from his lips.

A throaty chuckle broke you from your trance and you lurched backward, hoping he wouldn’t think too much about it.

“Sorry–I…didn’t mean–” Embarrassment colored your tone.

“Fascinated by them, are you, love?”

“They’re pretty,” you admitted, voice low like it was a secret. “I don’t know why I never noticed them until now.”

“They’re not so prominent unless I get excited.”

“Excited?” You cocked your head a bit to the side, confused. But why would he be excited right now?

“Aroused,” he amended with a sly smile. Sukuna kept his eyes trained on you, relishing the growing blush he could clearly see under the moonlight because of his enhanced senses.

Oh.

Now that you thought about it, between bouts of lovemaking you hazily remembered seeing flashes of sharp canines, and could faintly remember accidentally touching something sharp momentarily when kissing him sometimes.

“If you keep looking at me like that, wife, I’ll want to devour you myself,” Sukuna drawled.

He would’ve had time for a short romp before the party if you’d agreed to let him teleport the two of you, but you had insisted on a “proper carriage” for appearance's sake since you’d claimed that your family would look down on him if he showed up on foot without a carriage. Sukuna could care less of what they thought of him, that’s how he’d lived for the past hundreds of years, after all, but if you wanted something, he would be remiss to not oblige.

“We’re almost there.” He opened the carriage’s window and inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose at what he smelled. Indeed, the two of you were almost at the Shirogane residence. The stench of humans was growing stronger.

When he looked back at you to find you fussing with your hair again, he said, “You look perfect, love. Don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done,” you mumbled, but you ceased your motions, instead placing your hands in your lap and interlacing your fingers to tightly squeeze them to take off some of the stress you were feeling.

When the carriage finally stopped before the entrance to your former home, a servant announced aloud that Ryomen-sama and his wife had arrived, a cue that it was time to leave. You moved on instinct, having to open doors for yourself for as long as you could remember, you thought that it’d be no different now that you were married. But Sukuna leaned over, his massive frame almost engulfing the moonlight from your vision, and held a hand over yours, stopping you from pushing open the door.

“Allow me.”

In an effortless motion, he pushed it open then opened the door from his side and held a hand out for you when he reached your side to help you out. You took his hand gingerly, familiar callused warmth keeping you warm despite the slight chill, and slowly stepped out. Your kimono had more layers than you were used to, hair ornaments were a bit heavy, and your sandals were slightly higher than usual, so you didn’t want to trip and make a fool of yourself.

You appreciated the gesture. Loved him even more for it.

Even though you shouldn’t.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you held his hand.

He nodded, a handsome smile gracing his face, and placed his free hand at the small of your back to help steady you as the two of you made your way into the main residence and waited in the main hall with the other guests. You waited for him to let go of you, to put some distance in between the two of you, but he didn’t even as more attendees filed into the room.

Trying to get his attention, you tip-toed, accidentally pulling his sleeve when you lost your balance for a moment.

“Oh–sorry,” you whispered nervously.

“Nothing to be sorry about, love. I’d even kneel for you if you wanted me to.” He laughed, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. “That’s how much you’ve tamed me.”

Tame. The word felt foreign on your tongue, sticky seductive honey that held the implication of sweet domesticity and something more that lodged uncomfortably in your throat. A quiet knot of ownership.

You swallowed hard, giving him an aggrieved look while hotness crept up your neck.

Sukuna could tease you all day long, loved to see those cute expressions of yours, thought it was endearing how you squirmed and grew red under his gaze, but he knew there was only so much you could take before you combusted. “You are much too cute for your own good, little wife, but tell me. What is it that you wanted to say?”

“I–” You frowned, thinking of what you were going to say before the hand he had rested around your waist tightened infinitesimally, reminding you of your request. “I was going to ask when you were going to let go of me.”

“Never.” His response was immediate and razor-sharp as if to slice through any doubts.

“I see,” you murmured. But perhaps in the future. No one ever held on to you for very long, whether by choice or not.

Noticing your slight change in mood, Sukuna asked, “Would you like something to eat? Or something to drink?” His voice was gentle, red eyes trained carefully on you while he scanned his peripheral for a servant, ready to flag one down to get something for you. If you were hungry or thirsty, he’d make sure you had something to eat and drink no matter when the actual banquet started. He didn’t run on other’s time, they ran on his.

“N-No…I’m fine…Just stay here.” Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d even be able to keep anything down anyway and who knew when you’d see Hikaru. It’d be better to have someone you were comfortable with just in case.

“Very well,” Sukuna acquiesced, but he was still careful and led you to an empty seat at the end of the table, eyes narrowing when he saw table cards with his and your name there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d make a fuss over having to sit in such a demeaning position for his rank, but he knew you wanted to be as far away as possible from your cousin so he stayed silent, fury boiling and covered just barely by your presence.

As guests slowly filtered into the room, taking their respective seats at the large table, you watched the door with a wary gaze, trying to prepare yourself for your cousin. After what seemed like a millennia of holding your breath and remembering to exhale when you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you saw her.

Hikaru wore a heavy-looking sakura pink kimono with chrysanthemums embroidered throughout and a matching floral ornament in her hair. Her glossy black hair was styled high on her head and her pale skin contrasted with the shiny red lacquer on her lips and nails. She was a vision of perfection, especially on the arms of Kamo Masaru, a talented cursed blood technique user and the heir to the Kamo family.

Instinctually, you shifted away and averted your eyes, trying to hide behind Sukuna’s large frame in the hopes that she wouldn’t see you, but there was no mistaking her cold gaze, like icy daggers that were softened only by the warm, sturdy presence next to you.

If you were more confident in yourself, perhaps you would’ve stared back and made her think that you had nothing to be afraid of, but even as you were now, technically married up into a higher position than her, you knew that you stood no chance against her.

Noticing the way you uneasily tensed, Sukuna leaned forward, imperceptibly, as if he was casually rearranging heavy limbs, and purposefully gave your cousin an aloof, cursory glance before passing over her as if he was viewing a speck of lint on his kimono.

Hikaru, who was so used to fawning and words of flattery, could not help but scrunch her pretty face up at Sukuna’s dismissal before she realized the number of eyes that were on her and carefully schooled her features back to place with a serene smile. Anyone looking at her wouldn’t have noticed the minute change in her expression, but you were attuned to them. Had learned to read Hikaru’s emotions because your life depended on it.

When Hikaru finally seated herself near the head of the table, primly folding herself into a perfect seiza position, she turned towards your direction and raised her voice to address your husband. Unbidden panic threatened to spill forth, and you fought to stifle it, smothering it best you could. You would not allow it to bring shame to Sukuna or ruin Hikaru’s celebration.

Calm down, calm down, you repeatedly told yourself, ignoring the anxiety that seeped into every word you chanted while trying to keep your attention on the conversation at the same time.

“I’m glad you could join us from so far away, Ryomen-sama,” Hikaru said pleasantly. “I trust that your journey here was not too arduous?”

Sukuna nodded. “Fine,” he said curtly.

Then she turned her attention to you, voice so saccharine that it made your bones ache, but not sweetly, as it should’ve felt when a family member welcomed you back home, but sickly, like when you eat too many sweets in one sitting. It made you feel nauseous.

“And you, cousin, how are you doing? How is your married life?”

Sukuna drew himself back a few inches so he wasn’t blocking your view. Now that Hikaru had so blatantly addressed you in front of everyone, Sukuna could no longer shield you anymore and you could not just ignore her. There was no way out except to respond.

You took a steady breath in, steeling your emotions and willing your voice to not waver when you spoke or give anyone else more reason to think that Sukuna had gotten the short end of the stick in marrying you. Nothing could mask your plainness when compared to Hikaru and her stunning features.

“I-I’m doing fine, thank you,” you replied, hating the way your voice pitched higher from your nerves.

Hikaru frowned. “Just fine? Why cousin, it seems to me that Ryomen-sama treats you more than just fine.”

You scrambled to respond when you realized that in your bubble of anxiety that you missed her second question. “Oh I meant—”

“In fact,” she continued, completely ignoring you, “I feel that he treats you more than just fine.”

She lowered her gaze to peruse your appearance, lips curling at the sight of your expensive garments and hairpins. You fought the urge to hide from her scrutiny.

“Look at that stunning kimono you have on right now. It is nishijin-ori, is it not? I’ve heard that that fabric is extremely rare, usually reserved for royalty and the most expensive fabric in Japan, costing more than a year’s worth of wages for most commoners. And the fact that it was created by the Aoki family, the most famed tailors throughout the land yet you’re still unsatisfied…”

Hikaru huffed, disapproval etched into her face. “That isn’t very becoming of someone from the Shirogane family. What would others say if they knew such a greedy, materialistic person came from our esteemed family? It would tarnish our good name! Why must you act like this, cousin?”

You looked around frantically as people began to murmur and nod in agreement, accepting her words like they were the law despite the fact that she was very, very wrong. Panic settled coldly in your bones, freezing any confidence you thought you had.

You were more than grateful that Sukuna had even bothered to buy you new clothes — especially tailored pieces that weren’t premade — and you knew that the Aokis were famous for their clothes, but that was it. Unaware of the fact that he had Aoki-kun make your kimono out of nishijin-ori, you’d simply viewed the kimono as a pretty, treasured gift — certainly not one that was predominantly reserved for royalty. Had you known, you would’ve never let him do that or wear the kimono to the banquet.

“I…I didn’t–it’s not like that–” You were losing already, and you’d hardly even said anything. The whispers and stares continued to grow the longer the silence dragged on, until the weight of it all began to push against your chest and squeeze the air out of your lungs, forcing you to draw in short, shallow breaths.

You heard a quiet crack next to you, drawing your attention to your husband. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands gripped the edge of the table with such fury that you swore he would’ve broken the wood in half had you not tugged on his sleeve. Twisting sharply, you were met with blazing, infernal eyes that cooled instantly upon seeing your distress.

“Love,” he murmured, ignoring the stares of your family. “Do you want to leave?”

It hurt, the familiar pressure clawing at your throat, the burdensome stares of your family, the helplessness you felt. You weren’t sure what would be worse: suffering the shame of leaving with your tail tucked between your legs or staying and being unable to respond to Hikaru’s humiliating jabs. No matter what you chose, you’d lose. You always lost against her. It was inevitable.

When you didn’t answer, Sukuna whipped to face Hikaru with fiery eyes and sharp teeth bared at her, barely able to contain the growl in his voice. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hikaru. It was my decision to buy the clothes despite the fact that she didn’t want them. And I wanted her to wear them because as my wife, she should have garments befitting her station, should she not?”

“Or did you expect her to wear something cheap like the kimono she wore when she arrived at my shrine? Or servant’s garbs like the ones she wore before I had Aoki-kun tailor new garments for her? Or wait, don’t tell me–” His tone turned savage, pretty lips curled up in disgust. “The Shirogane family is so poor that they cannot outfit my wife in proper garments. No wonder.”

A collective gasp of horror sucked the air from the room, leaving you feeling light, almost heady from the twist of pleasure you got. There was finally someone to put your family back in place and even if it wasn’t yourself, you welcomed it nonetheless. Your turn would come, but for now it was more than enough that Sukuna would help you despite having no obligation to do so. You were forever grateful to him.

“Ryomen-sama you dare—”

“Hikaru.” A sharp command sliced through your cousin’s words, demanding acquiescence, and you looked towards the source of that voice, knowing that there was only one person who Hikaru had to obey.

Your grandmother.

She’d aged since you’d last seen her, new lines in her forehead and grooves that burdened her silver eyes, and you wondered if there was some issue that she had to deal with while you were gone or if she was truly beginning to grow old.

Growing up, you always thought of her as some sort of invincible, never-aging, powerful being — she certainly seemed that way especially when your parents were alive — but now you weren’t so sure. With Hikaru getting married to the Kamo heir, it became increasingly clear that she was getting old, tired even, and was ready to step down from her place and let Hikaru lead.

Your grandmother retiring was a good thing, but you couldn’t help the aching pang of knowing your cousin would inherit the title that was supposed to be yours. But perhaps it would be better anyway, you thought, you had nothing to offer to your family, and Hikaru could be a nasty person to you, but she never did anything to truly endanger your father’s family.

You continued to stare intently at your grandmother as she gave Hikaru a firm glance before turning to address your husband.

“Ryomen-sama.” Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “On behalf of my unruly granddaughter, I apologize for her insolence and rude behavior towards you. I hope you will be willing to overlook her mistakes on behalf of the Shirogane family.” Your grandmother bowed low, the lowest you’d ever seen her bow, before sitting at the head of the table.

Sukuna did not want to forgive her at all, but you’d want him to so he flicked his eyes briefly at your grandmother before turning his attention back to you. “Only because my wife wants to forgive.” I do not.

Decades of diplomacy and leading a family as prominent as the Shirogane had honed Hatsuoko’s skills, and she took that as a sign to move on to a different conversation. Her tone grew gentle. “My dear granddaughter. I am very happy to have you back home and see you doing so well. I trust that the journey here was not too difficult? I know that Ryomen-sama’s shrine is a bit far from here.”

You fought to keep the smile out of your voice since propriety was necessary in public. “Thank you grandmother, I’m happy to see you as well. Everything went smoothly, nothing to worry about.

Thin lips turned up slightly at the edges, a ghost of a smile.

“That is good,” she said warmly before her voice grew again, a mask of diplomacy sliding over her with practiced precision. “I humbly welcome everyone to the Shirogane family residence. Today we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my granddaughter and Shirogane heir, Shirogane Hikaru, and the Kamo family’s heir, Kamo Masaru. It is a joyous occasion, and I thank you all for coming.”

While she spoke, servants appeared behind each guest like soundless ghosts, setting fresh, steaming trays of food accompanied by shots of sake before each guest before disappearing just as fast as they’d appeared.

“Let us toast. Then we will enjoy a bountiful meal.” She raised her glass and waited for everyone else to do the same.

You eyed the sake cup with weary desperation. You’d tasted it once when your father died (you were too young to drink it when your mother died, otherwise you’d have tasted it twice), and had swallowed the liquid bitterness despite the fact that you hated how it pooled in your stomach, warm and unyielding and a harsh reminder of what you lost. Now every time you thought of sake or alcohol in general, you thought of your parents’ death.

Sensing your hesitation from the way your hands shook when holding the cup, Sukuna took the drink from you before you could protest. A small smirk graced his features, as if he’d meant to do it all along. When your grandmother raised her glass up for a toast, he did the same for your glass and his, before finishing the alcohol in a single breath.

“Sukuna! You didn’t have to drink it for me!” you whispered furtively. “I don’t want you getting drunk in my stead.”

Two shots of sake were akin to a drop in the ocean to a creature like him who’d downed entire cellars of sake in one sitting before, but you didn’t know that, which made your concern all the more endearing to him. “Hmm,” he hummed, as the two of you clapped your hands together along with the others, muttering a quick itadakimasu, before eating. “Can’t have a drunk little wife on my hands, can I? I have to protect you.”

You hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol the entire night, but the way your face warmed made it feel as if you’d drunk a whole bottle by yourself. “That much alcohol isn’t enough to make me drunk…”

“Not enough to make you drunk,” he agreed, picking at the meat in front of him while wishing he could eat your cooking instead. Or even better, you.

He didn’t even need to eat, did it mostly to indulge you and because he liked your cooking, but he’d always take you over any mortal food. The thought of you squirming above him, slick cunt dripping juice into his mouth almost made him want to drag you from your seat, toss you over his shoulder, and find a closet to feast on you.

But he didn’t.

Sukuna was learning to be tamer around you.

“But look,” he murmured, bringing his thumb to your face to wipe a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your lip. “It would probably be enough alcohol to make your pretty face pink like it is right now. And I don’t want anyone else to see you like this.”

You nearly dropped your chopsticks but held on to them for fear of ridicule from your family. “O-Oh…um, Sukuna. That–that’s—” He’d said flirtier, dirtier, things to you before, but they were all in private. Now you were in public, in front of your family, and you didn’t know how to act.

“Eat, my love.” Sukuna fished his chirimenjako from his tray, the action reminding you of how your father used to do that for you, and set it in your rice bowl. “I know you like these fish things. Eat mine.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, grateful to have something else to focus on. Concentrating intently on your tray, you ate your dinner, keeping yourself as composed as possible despite Hikaru’s cold glare that shot through Sukuna’s imposing body. The fact that this was your first time eating with your family in years was not lost on you. And especially not lost on Hikaru.

Time passed quickly, and soon everyone had begun to wander out of the dining room and into other spaces. Needing to use the restroom, you excused yourself after telling Sukuna where you were going. He grabbed your arm, asking if you needed him to come with you, but you told him with a smile that he couldn’t regardless of what you wanted because you were using the ladies' room. Sukuna pouted, but you promised that you’d be back as soon as you could, and it was only after a reluctant kiss that he finally let you go.

You finished your business quickly, wanting to get back to Sukuna as soon as you could and go home before you realized that you still hadn’t given your grandmother the gift that you’d brought her. Hoping that she’d be in her room, you hurried through the corridors, slipping past drunken guests, and made your way to the front of her room.

“Grandmother?” you whispered. “Are you there?”

You waited a few seconds for a response before you asked again. “Grandmother? Are you—”

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, nearly dropping the gift in your hand, before shoving it hastily into your sleeve and turning on your toes, dread coursing through your veins.

“Hikaru…I’m sorry–Nothing, I wasn’t doing anything. I’ll just leave. Thank you for your invite.” You quickly bowed once before leaving, and walked as fast as you could in your kimono, cursing the damn contraption for slowing you down — it was pretty, yes, but incredibly difficult to move, and move quickly in it.

A sigh of relief broke out from you when you made it to one of the gardens in the residence, but your celebration was cut short when you felt liquid metal, a stinging cold against your wrist, squeeze hard, forcing you to turn and face your attacker.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hikaru sneered, letting the silver liquid slither up your arms so that it coiled around your neck like a pretty, poisonous snake, ready to strike at any time.

“You think that just because you’re married to Ryomen-sama,” she sneered his name, “that means you’re suddenly better than you are. That you’re not trash. But don’t lie to yourself. You won’t be married to him forever. He could easily find someone much better than you, replace you, and leave you with nothing and no one would think otherwise.”

You were acutely aware of the fact that if Sukuna wanted to, he could abandon you at any moment, but at the same time, you held a wild, desperate hope that perhaps he liked you just enough — even if just the bare minimum — to let you stay with him. Even tolerance would be enough for you. All you could hope for.

“So don’t forget your place. Don’t forget who you are. Someone useless, someone unlovable. A member of the Shirogane family, even if you’re a failure. So remember that I control you!” she spat, wringing the mercury tighter against your skin as if to emphasize her claims. You were sure that there’d be bruising now, bruising that’d be hard to explain to Sukuna.

You wanted to scream at her. To take her by the shoulders and shake her until the cold hard truth – that no one had ever treated you like a member of the Shirogane family – was beaten into her. But you knew you couldn’t because saying those things would be akin to social suicide for Sukuna, so you tried for softer words while clawing feebly at the liquid death that encircled your neck.

“H-Hikaru…listen–I…people might hear us and the latter half of the celebration will start soon, so let’s talk about this later.”

But Hikaru would not be so easily coaxed into agreement. “Later? You want to talk about this later?!”

Her shrill voice rang so loudly that you winced and looked worriedly at your surroundings, hoping that no one heard, especially not Sukuna. “Later?! You want to talk about this later?”

You winced at her shrill voice and looked worriedly around you, hoping that no one had heard when a sudden sting of pain jolted your attention back to Hikaru. She’d used her mercury to whip you, hard, the impact of it was so strong and caught you so off guard that it knocked you back a few steps, making you lose your balance and trip into a stone bench. The rock dug into the back of your thighs, bruising hard, and you reached up to soothe the sting on your face only to draw back in half-panic and half-surprise at the wet warmth you felt on your fingertips.

You had grown comfortable with Sukuna’s gentle ways. Too comfortable.

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, fat drops that threatened to spill forth and betray what little strength you had, but you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to focus on the pain and the blood. You wouldn’t let your tears betray how you really felt.

And then there was the matter of Sukuna. You didn’t want your husband to see you like this — for him to see you in such a pitiful state, somehow who couldn’t even protect yourself. Someone at the mercy of another, having to pitifully beg for even a scrap of Hikaru’s leniency. If he saw you now, he’d think you were disgusting and worthless, and he’d realize that you simply weren’t worth it.

You knew it, had expected it to happen since he was bound to find out about your past, but you were hoping you’d have a little more time to prepare him. A little more time to prepare yourself. Some nice memories to tide over the ache you’d feel when you would eventually be discarded.

But there was never enough time. If you learned anything in life, it was that time was servant to none and master to all. It didn’t care that your mother was young, in her primes, or that you were too young to lose your father. Time took them anyway. So what else were you to do besides submit?

Crumpled and defeated, not even caring that your pretty new kimono was dirtied and ripped in multiple places, you kneeled. You kneeled before this angry goddess, taking in every insult hurled at you while your body slowly caved in from the pain your liquid metal jailer wrought on you.

“Know your place, whore,” Hikaru seethed. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, hair that was just starting to grow healthily, and yanked it sharply to force you to look at her. You bit your tongue hard to stop the cry of pain that’d come out, tasting bitter, metallic blood. “You’re just a slave—”

“My wife.”

A two-worded revelation from your savage god. Pure relief flooded through you, barely enough to smother the intense shame and disgust you felt from yourself.

Sukuna was here, but you couldn’t be sure if it was a good thing or not.

Hikaru spun on her heels to face the intruder, anger etched into every fiber of her being, but when she saw who it was, her demeanor changed instantaneously, molding her expression and posture into picturesque gentility.

“Ryomen—”

But Sukuna ignored her and made a beeline for you, kneeling on the hard floor before reaching his hand out for you to take. You slipped your shaking hands into his while keeping your gaze lowered, not daring to see what expression he had on his face right now. Surely he would be irate and berate you for ruining an expensive kimono or criticize your lack of decorum and sneer at your weakness.

Sukuna, however, addressed your cousin first. “What were you doing to my wife?” His voice sounded unaffected, but his calmness belied an undercurrent of violence just barely contained. He didn’t want to scare you off.

“What do you mean?” Hikaru asked dumbly, batting her eyelashes at him. “As the future head of the Shirogane family, it is my duty to discipline members of the family when they’re misbehaving.”

You could feel his grip tighten imperceptibly on your waist.

“Your family?” he scoffed. “She is my wife and thus bears the surname Ryomen, making her no longer a part of the Shirogane family. Instead, she is now under my protection and care and if anyone is to discipline her, to teach her the error of her ways, it will be me, and not some outsider.”

Hikaru’s expression darkened, as if she couldn’t believe that there would be someone so bold as to question her authority not once, but twice. Her original plan of getting on Sukuna’s good side changed because he’d insulted her pride and status. She would not let his comment go. “You have no idea what you’re talking about and who you’re talking to.”

Sukuna arched a fine eyebrow. “Oh do I?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Last time we met, you only knew me as her cousin,” she spat the word out as if it was poison. "But what you don’t know is that I am the heir of the prized mercury cursed technique of the Shirogane family and the future head of the family.”

Sukuna was beginning to see everything very clearly now — what and how you suffered in the past. It didn’t matter that your grandmother was the head of the family and kind to you if she turned a blind eye to Hikaru’s cruel behavior towards you merely because she had inherited the Shirogane family’s dying cursed technique. And if the family head showed such ignorance, then clearly the rest of the clan, whether they scorned you because they saw your grandmother as a role model, or because they themselves didn’t want to get shunned for siding with you, would not have helped the situation.

You must’ve been so lonely.

And if your loneliness was anything like his, it was not just simply loneliness, but a demon that consumed you.

The first few hundred years after he became a cursed spirit, he suffered daily from this loneliness, seeking a feeling, something exhilarating, overwhelming, powerful enough to get rid of the loneliness that ate at him from the inside out. It threatened to consume him whole, leave nothing behind, and every day he fought against it. He murdered, tortured, and plundered his way through his new life before he finally decided that he was tired of it all. That he wanted to settle down in one place.

Life was peaceful at the shrine, a calm respite from the noise of the world, and he enjoyed his few servants. His days passed without any trouble except for when he received a sacrificial bride (they were often distraught and it’d take them many weeks or months to calm down). But loneliness chipped away at him, like water against stone, and each passing year further solidified his belief that he’d never find an end to his loneliness.

Until you came along.

Sukuna didn’t care that the Shiroganes were powerful cursed technique users – there had been no one in centuries who even came close to rivaling his power, so he was not going to simply sit by and watch as some impudent spoiled human brat hurt you.

“And what of it?” Sukuna replied coolly. “What of the Shirogane family?”

Hikaru’s face contorted in anger, beautiful features turning ugly. “Why you—”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” he thundered, eyes glowing red. “To go against her is to go against me. And to go against me is to go against god.”

Not a single sound could be heard from Hikaru despite the fact that Sukuna had interrupted her.

“It would appear to me, weak human, that your family has not educated you about your history nor the identity of their superior. For I am their god, whether they acknowledge it or not, which means that not only am I owed respect from your family but that my wife is also owed the same respect. I do not care if you are more powerful,” he said the words mockingly, “than my wife, because I can assure you, you are most certainly not better than her, and are in fact worth nothing compared to her. In my eyes, she is worth much, much more, than your paltry cursed technique.”

Stunned silent, Hikaru looked at Sukuna, silver eyes glinting with pain. Yet indignation reigned and she couldn’t help challenging him. “If you think the Shirogane family’s cursed technique is so weak, then you won’t turn me down in a friendly match, will you?”

“Very well.”

A friendly match?

No, you couldn’t let the two of them do that. You’d seen the destruction that Hikaru had wreaked before and had watched with silent horror servants writhing in agony through half-opened windows and doors left ajar. Cruel handiwork on shattered masterpieces you had to patch up every time she was finished with them. And sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of her sparring with her instructor (the same one you had many years ago), and be half-terrified, half-awed by the sheer power she had. Power you should’ve had but didn’t.

Sukuna was formidable, no doubt, but you couldn’t risk him getting hurt on your behalf.

“No!” The two of them spun to look at you, and you fought the urge to shirk at icy silver eyes that had traumatized you and molten red ones that you’d grown to love so much.

“I-Please don’t fight. I don’t want you…two to get hurt…” At first, you thought only of your husband, until you realized that Hikaru getting hurt would surely spell doom for Sukuna. The Shirogane family would want someone to answer for her injuries and heavens forbid her death, if it happened, and you would be the perfect scapegoat for it. They’d spin a tale of how you, the eldest cousin, was jealous of Hikaru and had devised a plan for Sukuna to get rid of her for you so you could seize her position.

Never mind that you wanted and cared nothing for that, but your family would use you as a scapegoat and Sukuna would get caught in the crossfire simply by association with you. But Sukuna only looked at you with a devastating smirk, one that made you hope and despair at the same time. He was going to fight her, regardless of what you said. It made sense, you thought wanely. Why would he ever listen to someone as weak and useless as yourself?

“I will be but a moment, love,” he said nonchalantly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before setting you gently on the bench.

Hikaru manipulated several streams of mercury into the air, ready to attack Sukuna as soon as he turned around, and when you saw it, your legs were moving before you realized it, running to do something, anything, to shield him from the mercury – you had a firsthand experience of how acutely they hurt – but then you were in his warm embrace, face pressed against his chest and breathing in his scent when you heard someone howl in pain.

When you finally dared to open your eyes, you found Hikaru crumpled on the ground in pain, hurt in the same places you were while Sukuna hadn’t taken a single step from where he was.

“R-Ryomen-sama! How dare you do this to me!” Hikaru stood shakily, trying to come to terms that someone had just hurt her and summoned more mercury, ready to shoot those streams at Sukuna when—

“Enough.” Your grandmother’s voice held no room for argument, and Hikaru obeyed, immediately getting rid of her mercury.

Sukuna looked at Hikaru with such heavy distaste that you could almost feel the sting yourself.

“I didn’t realize that the Shirogane family had fallen so low,” he remarked with disdain, “become so uneducated, and so uncouth so as to not recognize their god, the King of Curses. Do something about it. I don’t want my wife’s family to be known as weak, ignorant people, nor do I want to be disappointed again by them.” Sukuna effortlessly lifted you from where you sat before you could mutter a protest. “We’ll be leaving now, Shirogane-sama.”

You craned your neck up to look at your husband before turning to your grandmother who was helping Hikaru up. “We’re leaving?” you murmured nervously. “Just like that?”

“Of course.” He arched an eyebrow at you, confused, as if you were the crazy one. “There’s no need for us to be here anymore, and I want to tend to your wounds as soon as possible, so I’ll teleport us back,” he said simply.

“O-Okay…”

You held on to him tightly, perhaps tighter than needed, and a few moments later you were back at the shrine. The calm, familiar environment enveloped you, and you sighed deeply, glad you had some place to return and find solace because the Shirogane residence was certainly anything but peaceful.

As Sukuna carried you to your rooms, asking Momoka for a first aid kit on the way there, you wondered how you were going to approach him tomorrow morning. It was a given that he’d surely have questions for you — remarks, at the very least — about what happened, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to open up to him yet.

But perhaps he wouldn’t even care to listen to you. He could just be acting courteous to you, bidding his time before he divorced you and ran you out of the shrine. It sickened you, bile rising unbidden, at the thought of him abandoning you, and you vehemently fought to keep it down while clinging harder to Sukuna and burying your nose into the crook of your neck, focusing on his calming scent.

If only this moment would last forever. If only you could live in this illusion for the rest of your life. If only he would love you unconditionally; want nothing in return.

Wonderful yet impossible.

Nishijin-ori (西陣織, lit. 'Nishijin fabric'): is a traditional textile produced in the Nishijin (西陣) district of Kamigyō-ku in Kyoto, Japan. Originating in Heian-kyōto over 1,200 years ago, the weaving is known for its highly-decorative and finely-woven designs, created through the use of tedious and specialized production processes. It is well-regarded for the high quality and craftsmanship of the resulting fabrics, commonly used for high-quality obi and kimono. Taken from Wikipedia.

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