#hi i won’t shut up about this for a while

[starmapz]

what you know - ch3: grade a(sshole) || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

The sounds of metal clanging and engines revving are somehow more grating than usual as Sukuna hangs the phone back on the wall. His head rests against the smooth surface beside the phone and he lets out a deep sigh, thankful you can’t see the frustration strewn across his face. Of fucking course Uraume’s in class right now and really, why had he ever expected his uncle to pick up? If he were good for anything, Sukuna wouldn’t be a parent to his siblings while in college.

“Ryomen! I need a hand!”

He rolls his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension in his body from having no other choice but to call you, the source of all of his problems as of late, before pushing off the wall. He doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to his colleague, ignoring the man’s questioning. Just like everyone else in his life, his colleague doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The day drags on for Sukuna. He’s sluggish and worn out, covered in a sheen of sweat and grease and he can feel the oil he accidentally combed through his hair without thinking while speaking on the phone with you.

And then there’s you. Why the fuck won’t you leave his head? Why the fuck did he have to loosen and re-tighten the bolts on a set of tires because the thought of you had distracted him so much he’d tightened them a few too many times? Why had he done it on multiple tires?

As the day wraps up and he leaves the shop, the cool night air is welcome on his skin. He lets out a sigh as he begins to walk home, running a hand through his tousled hair once again. The feeling of oil coating his bare hand leaves him with a scowl and he wipes it on his coveralls, but they have enough grease on them that it hardly helps. His lip curls in disgust as he shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at the sidewalk as he makes his way back to his apartment.

The walk is too short to deliberate what the hell he’s even gonna say to you when he knows for a fact he owes you. Again. Yet that’s hardly the issue, when he knows he hurt you when he saw you last and now here he is asking for a favor. Fuck, how it pisses him off.

His hand pauses over his front door before he knows it, letting out a sigh as he unlocks the door and pushes through. He’s met immediately with the sight of you, dressed in a skirt and a beige knit sweater sitting on the couch. He goes to drop his keys on the table beside the door but pauses before they can clatter on the wood as he realizes Choso is sound asleep on top of you.

He sucks in a sharp breath, meeting your gaze. The world seems to hold its breath as you both stare at one another, completely silent.

“Hey,” your voice is smaller than you intended as you decide to break the tense silence. Sukuna’s piercing gaze flickers between you and Choso before he finally shuts the door behind him, his expression unreadable.

“They fell asleep?” He grunts.

Grimacing as he blatantly ignores your greeting, you nod. “Yeah. Choso wanted one more movie, but-” you pause, casting a glance at the young boy. “He didn’t make it long.”

Sukuna takes a step forward to look at the TV, quietly playing The Iron Giant. “That’s his favorite.”

You nod slowly, but your eyes never once leave Sukuna. He looks tired as ever again, like he hasn’t had a break in a long time, but you know better than to offer help now. That, and the way he hurt you still hangs over your head even if you aren’t upset with him.

“He really likes sad movies,” you comment in an effort to cut through the tension in the air, but it hardly helps, enveloping you in its grasp once more.

A puff of air leaves Sukuna’s nose in an acknowledging laugh. “You watched The Land Before Time didn’t ya?” There’s a hint of a smile on his face that you mirror back at him despite the lingering unease.

“And Pokemon.”

Sukuna’s brow raises as he nods. “Yeah. Dunno why, he’s always liked those three.”

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you offer a teasing smirk. “Maybe he takes after you. These are all your movies, aren’t they?”

Sukuna looks between the TV and you again, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Staring down at his hand that he forgot was covered in oil, he huffs at the realization that it’s now on his face. “They were,” he mindlessly answers, turning back towards you. He gently sets his keys on the table, noting the fact that you have a little smirk and are very obviously staring where he just wiped his hand. Yeah, he has oil on his forehead. “D’ya mind staying while I shower? I’ll be ten minutes. I’ll carry Cho to his room after.”

“That’s fine, you could use a showe-”

“Shut- your mouth, Prom Queen,” he quietly hisses, his tone lacking the aggravation of someone truly frustrated.

You shoot him a small smile, laughing quietly as a semblance of normalcy finally returns. When he kicks off his shoes and pads quietly further into the apartment, disappearing into the washroom, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting this to be uncomfortable, but you’d expected Sukuna to be as brash and vexing as usual, not whatever this is. The palpable tension, the somber silence and the complete and utter lack of frustration from Sukuna- it’s like you’re treading through a potential minefield, yet now you have no clue what could set him off this time. Do you even owe him that given how he snapped at you when you last saw him?

Throwing your head against the back of the couch, you sigh, deciding to give your attention back to the movie to force yourself not to get overwhelmed by your own overthinking. Choso shuffles in your arms, snoring softly as his hair falls over his face.

The sounds of doors opening and closing only a few minutes later makes your heart speed up when Sukuna emerges after a moment, dressed in a tight black tank top that hardly leaves anything to the imagination and gray sweatpants. You blink a few times as you make a conscious effort not to stare at his abs but god is it hard.

It’s almost like your mind forgets that you’re upset with him because he’s just that attractive, and that only makes your cheeks heat up because, come on. You’re better than this. Swallowing, you force yourself not to look at his bulging biceps or the veins in his forearms or the obvious six pack that the tank top doesn’t hide one bit. Why is it so tight anyway? Is he showing off?

But Sukuna hardly seems to notice your turmoil, his usual frown plastered on his face as he runs a hand through his hair, now oil-free. He closes the distance between you as he crosses the living room in two easy strides, standing tall in front of you.

“How’s Yuji?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“He’s been asleep most of the day but he didn’t throw up after I got here. He had a couple of spoonfuls of soup but he’s not hungry.”

He nods. “Good. I think.” Tense silence settles between you and you have to avert your gaze as you grow uncomfortable. “I’ll take Cho to his bed,” Sukuna mumbles, effortlessly lifting the young boy into his arms. Choso doesn’t so much as shuffle as Sukuna carries him to his and Yuji’s room. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you stare in the direction Sukuna left. He’s back in only a few moments, looking relieved as ever that the day is over.

“Um, are you o-” you begin, realizing too late that both you and Sukuna have begun talking at the same time.

“You can go home.”

You stare at one another with wide eyes as you both speak over one another. Laughing uncomfortably, you chew on your lip. “You don’t want to talk about…?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows. There’s his irritation. Of course he would think the best thing to do is avoid the subject entirely.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks in an impatient tone as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Your lips part as you search for words, treading carefully now that you have Sukuna’s attention. “You were a dick,” you offer as a starter, knowing that of all of the things you could say, this wouldn’t actually bother him that much.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sukuna mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re still being a dick.”

He pauses this time, narrowed eyes observing the way you’re fiddling with your nails and chewing on your lip. He sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m an asshole,” he agrees. “I-” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his eyes in exasperation. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, somewhat muffled as he rubs his hand over his face.

Your eyes widen, blinking once, twice, three times at him. In your experience with him, he usually avoided apologies and thanks, as though they taste bitter on his tongue. Even now, he seems to be avoiding the subject as best as he can, muttering it behind his hand like the weight of the word is too much to bear.

“I didn’t get everything handed to me on a silver platter, you know.”

Sukuna stares out the window across the apartment. “Didn’t think ya did.”

“Then why did you say it?” You ask, tilting your head.

“‘Cause I was pissed, okay? I apologized already,” he grumbles, wanting to be done with this conversation. Everything about it makes his skin crawl between the way your brows are knit together and the hurt that glimmers in your eyes to the way you look so small and uncertain in front of him. God, the way his throat tightened when he saw his little brother asleep on top of you too, his hair stood on end in discomfort at the feeling.

He doesn’t know what to make of you and he hates that he pushed you away only to need you. To need your help. To embarrassingly need to call you three times and grovel for you to look after his brothers that only you know about because you just keep slithering your way into his life. He wants to blame it so badly on you being a pain in the ass, but you’re not. You’re kind. You’re kind and thoughtful and you’re only here because you’re a good person.

You’re still here even after he treated you as though you were replaceable, because you’re a better person than he could ever be.

Sukuna sighs loudly in exasperation, rubbing his temples. “Just… fuckin’ ignore me, okay? I was just taking shit out on you.”

“Like a dick.”

Sukuna lowers his hand from his face, staring at you with narrowed eyes. “Do you just really want me to say I was a dick?”

You tilt your head with a saccharine sweet smile. “Mhmm.”

“Does it really make that much of a fuckin’ difference?”

“I want to hear you say it.” Your tone has a teasing sort of charm to it that has him huffing and puffing in front of you.

“You gonna forgive me if I do?”

“I’ll think about it,” you grin back at him.

“Fuck, fine. Fine. I was a dick.”

You giggle as the burly man scowls at you, crossing his arms over his broad chest again. Once your laughter subsides, you offer a more sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry too, Sukuna. I shouldn’t have pushed you to begin with.”

His brow twitches as you apologize. He can’t in his right mind figure out why you think you would need to apologize for his outburst when really you weren’t all that pushy. The last thing he needs right now is to get stuck in this conversation that feels as though it’s physically bringing him pain for any longer than necessary, so he lets it go with a hum.

“Did the brats give you a hard time?”

You shake your head, relieved as the tension fades and Sukuna takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, legs spread as he slumps into the cushions. “Yuji was crying when I got here, but he quieted down pretty quickly. Choso seemed a bit worried but he helped me cook and just wanted to watch movies,” you twist your body to face him as you speak.

He sighs, an elongated curse falling from his lips as he stares at the ceiling. “I owe ya. I already paid the sitter, but I’ll-”

“Don’t worry about it!”

He stares at you like you’ve grown another limb. “What? This shit took up your whole day.”

“I like spending time with them,” you insist with a shrug. “They remind me of simpler times.”

“What if you get sick?” At this point, Sukuna is reaching for something, anything, so that you’ll give in to him. But that’s just not who you are, is it? You’re selfless and kind, and you won’t accept anything he throws at you and that thought absolutely wrenches his gut. It twists in a type of discomfort that’s becoming entirely too familiar and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Then I get sick. Oh well,” you shrug again, shooting him that same sweet smile from earlier.

A muscle in his jaw tightens as he stares at you. “Are you always this much of a pain?”

You scoff humorously. “I don’t take your money and I’m a pain?” Your tone is teasing as you lean towards him.

“A pain,” Sukuna emphasizes the word as he stretches an arm along the sofa, his fingers draped along the back near your face. “That’s how shit like this is supposed to work. I pay you, you look after the brats.” He looks expectantly at you.

Your eyes soften as you realize just how different your views of the world are. Of course Sukuna wouldn’t expect someone to help them out of the goodness of their heart if it was just something he’d never experienced before. In his eyes, everything is transactional. You know he hates the idea of asking for help as well, so you can only assume that he would want to return the favor if it means it isn’t a plea for help. It’s an exchange of services. It makes it easier on his ego.

“Consider it a thank you for turning in the visual portion of our project on time,” you insist, trying to worm your way carefully between the thin line that separates this being help and this being an exchange.

“What?” He lifts a brow in disbelief, crimson irises narrowed as he observes you. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. That’s my project, too.”

“Well-” you pause, staring down at your manicured nails. “I honestly just thought you hadn’t made it on time.”

His finger taps the back of the couch by your head. “What gave you the idea I just wouldn’t turn my own project in?”

“Well you didn’t show up to our second meeti-”

“Y’know what?” He flicks your forehead with a mischievous smirk, all thoughts of repaying you gone from his mind. “Forget I asked. Don’t answer that.”

You pout at him, bringing a hand up to rub your forehead although it didn’t hurt. “Dick.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whine about it,” he grumbles, but he’s smirking as he eyes you. You can’t help but giggle at his behavior, something about it comforting as Sukuna relaxes into the cushions. He mindlessly rolls his neck, leaning back as silence falls over you.

The sound of cars outside and the quiet dialogue from The Iron Giant is nothing but background noise as you bask in the comfortable air of the still apartment. Being around Sukuna feels almost nostalgic in a sense- sure you had only been apart for a week and a half, but after ‘getting over him,’ as Shoko put it, it almost feels like a warm hug.

It’s a shame it can never last as long as you’d like, as you catch a glimpse of the window and realize it’s dark. Afraid of intruding, you get to your feet and make your way to the door. “I should head out,” you tell him. His eyes follow you, though he gives no other indication of hearing your words. “Will I see you in class on Friday? We get our grade for the project.”

“Nah, not if the brat’s sick. Just email me our grade.”

Your lip twitches downward, and you can only pray Sukuna doesn’t notice. He gives no indication that he does, so you do your best to plaster a look of understanding on your face. “See you around?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything more, still spread across the couch. He’s so tall and bulky that somehow the three-person couch looks too small for him, it may as well be a feat.

“Later, Kuna!” You trill in a sing-song voice as you make your way to the door.

“Night, Prom Queen,” he huffs, a humorous sneer to his tone.

–

Although he’s stuck at home with Yuji, Sukuna sends you a couple of emails updating you on him. The first one caught you off-guard but it warms your heart that he seems to want to talk to you beyond the project. Each email causes your chest to flutter a little more but you don’t entertain the thought that it’s anything more than physical attraction. There’s no point, really, when you can’t seem to go a single day without upsetting him in some manner.

Not that Shoko seems to agree with that sentiment.

“Hey!” She calls as you wait at your usual spot to make your way to the lunch hall.

“Hey, Sho!” You reply cheerily.

“So are we not best friends anymore, or…?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.

Incredulously, you blink at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t text me to tell me how last night went.”

“Oh, with Sukuna?”

With a deadpan stare, she sighs. “Girl, don’t act stupid.”

Harsh. “Sorry, it was pretty late when I got back, I would have otherwise!” You apologize with a wry smile. “It’s not all that interesting anyway. I just looked after the kids until he got back and then I went home.”

“You’re impossible. That’s obviously not what I’m asking about,” she groans, pushing you further as you beat around the bush of the situation. “You literally haven’t seen him in like a week and a half because he was such a prick, puh-lease tell me he apologized. You better not let him step on you.”

You sigh, giving in to her nosiness. “Yes, he apologized. I think it caused him physical pain,” you giggle to yourself.

“Good,” she snorts, “he deserves it for hurting you and he’s lucky I haven’t smacked him yet for breaking your heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart,” you roll your eyes as the two of you find your way to your usual table at the lunch hall.

Shoko takes her usual seat across from you. “No of course not, you were just sulking for fun.”

“I thought you were supposed to be my best friend?” You ask in an effort to derail the conversation as Haibara and Nanami take their seats beside you.

“That’s why I’m grilling you over that asshole in the first place,” she grins.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be giving me a hard time,” you counter but she just shoots you a sweet smile as Gojo and Geto arrive. Even she won’t subject you to their form of torture when it comes to teasing.

Nanami clearly catches on to what’s going on from where he sits beside you. Leaning over, he keeps his voice down as his observant mahogany eyes take in that you seem fairly bright today in comparison to the last few days.

“He apologized, yes?”

You nod.

“Good. Don’t be afraid to ask for my help, okay?”

“I’m fine, Ken, I promise,” you insist. Satisfied, he smiles and pulls out his lunch. You do the same, pulling out a container of fruit and a panini sandwich. For the first time in just under two weeks, you don’t feel a miserable wrench in your chest as you stare at the sandwich.

–

It’s no surprise when Friday rolls around and Sukuna doesn’t show up to class. Yuji is sick, and that’s his priority, as it should be. You feel a pang of disappointment but it’s heartwarming just how much he cares for his little brothers when he comes across as cold and indifferent a majority of the time. Even if he’s a bit rough around the edges, there’s a certain charm to the quiet and docile moments you’ve shared since working with him.

You can hardly sit still through the class as you await your grade, easily the most stressful part of projects worth this much. Your entire scholarship hinges on each of these massive projects and tests and you can’t risk the consequences of failing.

Ten minutes before the end of the lecture, just as the professor is about to go over the project, the door slowly inches open, and a tall and broad-shouldered student slips in with his hood up. The professor is used to it by now and doesn’t say a word. Rather than heading to his usual seat, the student quietly slips into the seat beside you, nudging you softly. He pulls down his hood and your eyes light up at the sight of your project partner.

“You made it!” You whisper, grinning up at him. Your stomach flutters as he smirks, setting his forearm on the back of your chair as he leans closer to you. Heat radiates from his body as his breath fans your neck, warming your skin despite the shiver that runs up your spine.

“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told ya I needed to stay home, so I pulled some strings.”

You tilt your head to look at him, feeling your breath hitch when you realize just how close he is to your ear. Your cheeks undeniably heat up as you force yourself to stare at the front of the class. “I didn’t look like a kicked puppy. I was just… hoping you could make it.”

“Yeah, well, can’t have the Prom Queen thinkin’ I don’t show up now, can I?”

Your cheeks are burning so hot you think your head might be spinning and it’s only when he finally leans back into his own chair that you realize you were holding your breath. Rubbing a hand over your face in an effort to cool your cheeks down, you cast a glance at Sukuna.

He’s manspreading right into your personal space, leaning back into his chair as he listens to the professor with a look of indifference. In a rare circumstance, he looks more well-rested than usual and seems fairly at ease. His leg isn’t subtly shaking and his eyes aren’t darting down to his watch as he debates when to leave for his next shift. For once, he isn’t Sukuna with two jobs, two dependants, and the world on his shoulders, he’s just a student.

Your heart aches at the realization that he’s so drained from the weight of the world that it’s only in rare moments like this one that you see more of the real Sukuna. A man who smirks and teases, who relaxes into his seat and simply lets life go on. He’s not always cold and tense, there’s a side to him that only those lucky enough to get close to him get to see and the worst part about this realization…

… is that you want to see more of it. Not out of the goodness of your heart and a want to do something nice for someone deserving, although that is a part of it, but for selfish reasons.

Fuck. Shoko is right. Shoko is right and you’re hopelessly crushing over the notoriously hot campus asshole.

You swallow hard, pulling your gaze forward as you realize you’ve been staring. Chewing on your lip, you hardly put together that the professor is passing out project grades until he stops in front of your seats. You blink a few times to reorient yourself.

“You two surprised me immensely as a pairing,” he begins. Although you weren’t paying attention, Sukuna is well aware of the fact that the professor had been dismissing other students as he passes out grades, opting to bring yours up last. He can only assume that means one thing and he’s already smirking. “Although I would prefer you keep the in-class chatter to a minimum-” he pauses to shoot a glance at Sukuna, who’s now huffing with a glance to the side as the smirk falls from his face, “-this is by far the best iteration of this project I’ve seen in all my years of teaching.”

Your jaw hangs ajar, eyes wide as you process his words. Sukuna’s smirking again, hardly seeming shocked.

“Your thesis is worded eloquently and explores the depths of the meanings of each painting, while your visual portion is stunning and displays an understanding of the importance behind each piece to the artist,” he explains. The cocky grin on Sukuna’s face doesn’t leave as he outstretches his arm onto your chair. “This is the first time I’ve ever given out a perfect score, and for that reason I’d like to have you both present your work in front of the class.”

You pale, shooting a fearful glance at Sukuna. He seems mildly irritated by the thought, but shrugs, returning your glance. “Whattaya say?” He asks, his calm facade faltering as he takes in your expression. Crimson irises flit between your eyes as you slowly shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate meekly, not loving the idea of standing before a lecture hall of students, under far too many pairs of watchful and judgmental eyes.

His gaze drops to the way you’re fidgeting with your fingers, just as you had when you were nervous a couple of nights ago as he puts together that this isn’t something you’re comfortable with. It’s not like that isn’t written across your face right now, but it’s abundantly clear to him through your actions that this isn’t just discomfort, you’re genuinely nervous.

“We’ll do it,” Sukuna says. Your head flips towards him, eyes wide in disbelief as he makes the decision for you.

Before you have a chance to protest, the professor claps his hands together. “Great. I’ll have you present at the end of class next Friday. You don’t have to prepare anything fancy but I will make sure you get extra credit for this.”

You have half a mind to wish he started by mentioning the extra credit portion, you certainly would have hesitated less, but it doesn’t change just how badly you don’t want to do this.

As the professor walks away, you whirl around to face Sukuna. “What the hell, Sukuna?” You whisper-yell, though there isn’t anyone in your vicinity.

He chuckles. “Pick your jaw up off the ground, you’ll be fine. I’ll be there the whole time with you, yeah? I can do as much of the talkin’ as you want.” He leans towards you, setting a hand on the table in front of you both. “‘Sides, you weren’t gonna say no to extra credit. We both know that.”

You chew on your lip, brows knit together as you stare down at your hands, mindlessly fiddling with your nails again. “I guess you’re right.”

The tattooed man lets the silence hang for a moment as he contemplates how shy you’ve suddenly become. You’re meek at times, but this is almost perplexing to him given how bold and saccharine you are towards him when he isn’t purposely pushing your buttons. “So let me get this straight, you were Prom Queen but you don’t like talkin’ in front of people?” Sukuna tilts his head in thought as he shifts to lean on his forearm, edging closer to you.

“That- That felt different,” you insist, leaning forward on your palm as if mirroring his actions. Your eyes trail away from him and Sukuna narrows his eyes.

“I don’t get how that shit’s any different. Aren’t there less people in this class?” He asks, bringing a hand up to scratch his chest. Your eyes flicker over to watch the movement, as though anything is more interesting than actually looking up at him.

“Well, yeah- but-” you pause, your leg now beginning to bounce. Clearly you’re bothered now, but Sukuna can’t wrap his head around what’s made you so shy suddenly- you who so boldly walked your way into his life. He knows people perceive him as scary at a glance, yet that never stopped you. Hell, you hang around Satoru Gojo of all people and Sukuna doesn’t get that either, finding his boisterous presence loud and irritating, but he’s fairly sure that makes you part of a group that would normally be considered popular.

So what in the hell are you so scared of? He doesn’t understand.

“But what?” He pushes, leaning closer to you.

You can feel his breath fanning your face again now that he’s leaning closer to you. It only serves as another distraction and you already can’t seem to find your words. “I- I don’t know, Sukuna!” You huff, pulling back a bit to cross your arms over your chest and put some distance between you.

Sukuna's face twists in confusion, frustration etching itself into his features. “C’mon, it’s easy extra credit. What’s got you so worked up?” He asks with a hint of a sneer as he grows impatient with your avoidance of the subject.

“You wouldn’t get it.” Your voice is firm and there’s a hint of ice forming at the edges of your words that surprises your project partner.

“Try me,” he grunts, leaning as far forward as he can without his chair tipping over.

Your hands move gradually from their position crossed over your chest to hug your frame as your expression turns from one of frustration to a more solemn one. “It’s because I was Prom Queen that I don’t like talking in front of people.”

“Hm?”

“It was a pretty big thing at my school, so some people were jealous, and others were pushy, it’s not like in the movies,” you shrug, as if that’s any sort of explanation in Sukuna’s eyes. Confusion dances across his narrowed red irises and you sigh, letting your guard down. “I don’t know, some girls got pretty jealous, and some people were a bit pushy trying to get my attention and it just ended up being an embarrassment. It was just a lot and I don’t love being in front of groups anymore,” you shrug.

Sukuna sits up straight, staring down at you with a scowl. “Aren’t they supposed to wanna be you or somethin’?” He asks with a frown.

“I mean, they did.”

He supposes you have a point, his observant stare taking in the way you shrink into yourself. “Well this ain’t high school and those assholes aren’t here. Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs in an attempt to reassure you. You finally meet his gaze again, a look of uncertainty painting your wide eyes. “No one is stupid enough to talk about ya like that with me beside you.”

A small smile pulls at your lips and Sukuna’s heart stumbles. He blinks a few times at the feeling in an effort to push it away, focusing instead on the way your eyes brighten. Fuck, that’s not helping him either. He coughs lightly into his elbow, rubbing a hand over his face as you smile shyly at him.

“Thanks, Sukuna. You’re kinda sweet sometimes, in your own way.”

He scowls. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from deep within your chest at his scrunched nose and frown, but you don’t give him an answer, beginning to pack up your bags. Sukuna huffs when you begin to pack up, facing forward with his chin leaning on his palm.

“Hey, thanks for coming in to get our grade.”

He raises a brow. “I didn’t do it for you.”

You pause, gripping your textbook in your bag as you cast a glance at Sukuna. His usual aloof expression has returned, no indication of your prior teasing found on his face.

“What happened to emailing you our grade then?”

Sukuna’s eye twitches as he watches you, returning your stare. “It was a joke.”

Your lips quirk upwards. “Right, how could I forget? It was so funny,” you mock him, reveling in the way he’s on his feet the next moment, the chair scraping across the floor as he glares at you with all the irritation he can muster, that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He sneers, taking a step towards you. He towers over you, shoving his hands into his pockets as your cocky demeanor shifts, your eyes widening when he leans down until his face is mere inches from yours. Your breath hitches as he chuckles darkly when he gets the exact reaction he wants from you. “You were all talk two seconds ago, what happened?”

“I- um-” Getting your bearings, you shove his chest playfully. “You’re a dick,” you mumble.

Sukuna doesn’t move an inch when you shove him, a grin plastered across his face. “Thought we were done with callin’ me a dick,” he teases.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “Yeah, until you decided to be one again.”

Sukuna’s sharp pupils flicker between your eyes for a moment before he stands up straight. Your heart beats in your ears as you’re freed from the close proximity. “Yeah, whatever you say,” he chuckles, calmly smirking at you. He glances down at the watch on his wrist, letting out a breath of air. “I gotta get back home. Uraume only had an hour to watch the brats.”

Tilting your head, you blink up at him, a hand over your chest to slow your thundering heart. “How’s Yuji?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Better than Wednesday. He’s still got a fever, though.”

“I hope he feels better soon,” you say, hesitating as you take a chance. “Let me know if you need me to watch them.”

Sukuna’s expression is unreadable as he examines you, gears visibly turning in his mind. Without another word, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and throws his hood back up, pausing to look at you before he leaves.

Sighing, he pushes his hair from his forehead beneath his hood. “I swear this’ll be the last time. I got offered a shift Sunday.”

He doesn’t voice his question to watch the kids, it’s an unspoken question because he doesn’t want to ask. The question puts him in a position where he’s asking for help and he so badly wants that not to be what this is.

You smile softly. “I’m free on Sunday.”

Pulling his airpods from a case in his pocket and putting them in his ears, he grunts. “Come by mine Sunday at 8:30.”

You purse your lips. “At night, right?” You ask, your gaze following after the man as he casually descends the lecture hall to the door. “At night, right?” You ask, this time louder to get his attention over his music.

Sukuna heard you the first time, shooting you a sly smirk just before he leaves.

Well, fuck that.

–

With a backpack slung over your shoulder filled with textbooks and study materials, as well as your GameCube, you sigh as you click the buzzer button for Sukuna’s apartment. As you wait for one of the three siblings to let you in, you shiver at the chill air. It’s far too early for you to be awake on a Sunday and your body agrees as you find yourself yawning every few seconds.

Between the cool fall air and the early morning, you couldn’t be bothered to dress in your usual preppy style, opting for a cute deep red hoodie with hello kitty on it and a pair of leggings. It’s still cute, but it’s a contrast to your blouses, skirts and heels.

When the door loudly buzzes, you make your way inside with your hood up over your hair, yawning as you rub your tired eyes. Before you can even knock on the door, Sukuna opens it, leaving your fist stagnant in the air. You drop it by your side, staring up at him through your lashes.

Sukuna’s in his polo shirt that seems so out of place on him you would almost assume he was someone else. “Blue’s not your color,” you comment with a yawn. His amused smile at your tired expression twists in offense at your comment.

“Morning to you too, dick.”

You giggle at his teasing. “You got me up early, I’m allowed to be one.”

“Oh, my bad, you fuckin’ princess,” Sukuna scoffs, an air of playfulness surrounding his words that makes you giggle more. He opens the door to let you into the apartment, his gaze trailing your outfit. It’s not your usual attire but something about how different it is on you while still suiting you stirs something within him. The bigger hoodie draping over your body makes him wonder what his own clothes would-

What the fuck is he thinking? He shakes his head, shutting the door and glancing over to the hall where the pitter patter of small feet sounds. Yuji goes running up to Sukuna, a bundle of blankets wrapped around his tiny form. “Don’t go, big brother.” His voice is lower than usual, clearly still sick as he clings onto his brother’s leg.

Crimson eyes flicker down to the little bundle of blankets. “I’ll be back soon, Yu. Play some MarioKart or whatever.”

Yuji’s curious eyes search the room at the sound of MarioKart. You pull down your hood and wave as he spots you. His eyes widen and he gasps, running up and hugging your legs now. You grin down at him, ruffling his unkempt hair.

Sukuna scoffs. “See? You won’t even know I’m gone.”

“Come play with us!” Yuji insists at the sound of his brother’s comment, still clutching your knee as he turns to plead with his brother.

Sukuna’s hardened indifference cracks, something akin to guilt or sadness flickering in his eyes for a split-second. It’s such a short moment that you wonder if you imagined it. He sighs, crouching down in front of Yuji. Even crouching, he’s still monstrously tall and dwarfs his little brother. You suppose that’s what happens when you’re almost seven feet tall and made of solid muscle.

“Maybe later, kid.” He ruffles his hair just as you did moments ago and gets back to his feet. “I owe ya one,” he sighs, brow furrowed as he stares off to the side with a tight jaw.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask-” you pause, a mix of emotions flooding you as you contemplate dropping the question, but ultimately decide it’s worth it. “I could use a hand studying for history.” You chew on your lip. “You know, just if you have time, no big deal if you don’t!” You smile sheepishly.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker between yours, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, sure.” He turns away, trudging to the door. “Be back at 5:30,” he mumbles before he’s gone. You sigh at the sight of the shut and locked door, turning your groggy attention to Yuji, who coughs into his bundle of blankets at your feet.

It’s a miracle you aren’t sick already, and you hope that miracle stays with you again today.

You’re able to study while the boys play games throughout most of the day once Choso wakes up. They’re easy to look after and they add a certain brightness to your day that only they can, reminding you of just how simple life is when you don’t have three projects due and finals on the horizon.

There’s a weight in your chest at the thought of managing that workload alongside two jobs and two kids, something you find yourself pondering often, but if Sukuna won’t accept your help, then what more can you do? Sure, you’re helping him now, but you know he won’t let this go without repayment, which you would happily take in the form of a study buddy. While that’s likely less stressful for him than cash, it’s still another sliver of his already limited time taken up.

“I’m hungry,” Choso mumbles, looking at you as if he didn’t scarf down the lunch you made only a couple of hours ago.

A lopsided smile dons your face as you contemplate making dinner or letting him know to wait for Sukuna, but if he’s hungry, who are you to say no?

“What would you like?”

“Cereal!” Yuji excitedly calls from where he sits on the floor, stifling a cough when his voice cracks.

“That’s not dinner…” Choso mumbles, brow furrowing in thought as he looks at his younger brother, who’s been so picky while he’s been sick that most of their meals have been the same few things that he can stomach. “What about mac and cheese?”

Yuji takes a moment to think, before he decides this is acceptable and nods excitedly.

“I’m sure I can make that happen,” you agree, getting to your feet to peruse the kitchen that you’re growing more accustomed to. Yuji stays in the living room, the sounds of a terrified Luigi echoing throughout the apartment as Choso follows closely behind you. You’ve noticed over your time with Sukuna and his brothers that Choso seems to have a penchant for cooking and loves to help. It’s too cute and your heart swells each time he finds a way to lend a hand while you cook.

Plus, you get a helper, which means less work. It’s a win-win situation, really.

As you work your way through the kitchen, boiling water and letting Choso salt and stir the noodles before pouring them into a casserole dish, you sprinkle cheese between and over the noodles as you wait for the oven to eat up, explaining each step along the way for Sukuna’s brother. Stirring the cheese into the noodles along with some herbs and spices, you tilt your head at the dish.

It’s almost ready for the oven, but not quite.

“Do you have breadcrumbs?”

Choso stares up at the pantry shelves. “Uhh…” He pushes around a few boxes before shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you have bread?”

“Yeah, but it’s old.”

“Old like mouldy or old like stale?” You ask with a thoughtful expression.

“Stale.”

“Perfect!”

Choso wrinkles his nose as he hands the loaf of bread to you. It’s in moments like these that his resemblance to his older brother really becomes apparent.

“I’ll show you how to make breadcrumbs,” you grin. Choso doesn’t seem to have a grasp on what you need breadcrumbs for when mac and cheese’s ingredients are literally listed in the name, but he still watches with intrigue anyway. You cut up the slices of bread into tiny pieces, throwing them in the oven until they’ve dried out, and then tossing them over the mac and cheese and placing the extra crumbs aside.

“Trust the process, Cho.”

He tilts his head curiously as you place the mac and cheese on a rack in the oven. “Trust the process?”

“It means… it may not make sense to you in the moment, maybe it’s messy or confusing, but the end result will be more than worth it.”

“Oh. Okay. Trust the process,” he parrots, before making his way back to the living room just as his brother is sucking up a ghost with a vacuum in Luigi’s Mansion.

While the meal bakes, you grab your history textbook again and get some more studying in. It doesn’t take long for the timer to go off and Choso comes running up with wide eyes to stare at the prepared meal. Yuji follows slowly in his bundle of blankets, happily taking a bowl as you warn them both it’s hot.

“So?”

With a mouth full of macaroni, Choso smiles. “Trust the process,” comes his muffled happiness. The boys chow down on what you assume will be their dinner given that Sukuna should be home soon, and Choso returns to help you clean up.

He grabs a ziploc bag to place the extra breadcrumbs in, holding it open for you. Just as you’re pouring the food into the bag, the front door swings open and you jolt in surprise, causing bread crumbs to go flying.

Sukuna drops his keys on the table by the door, his eyes scanning the room as he spots Yuji before his aloof expression crumbles when he arches a brow at the absolute mess that his kitchen is. Your cheeks heat up as you and Choso stare at him with guilty expressions.

Really, you should be blaming Sukuna for scaring you.

“I’m not fuckin’ cleaning that,” he grumbles, walking slowly over the mess of cables in the living room as he pulls his shirt up over his head in the most ungodly slutty way you could possibly imagine and you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes from the sight of his toned back.

Of course, you always knew Sukuna was muscular, but seeing it first hand makes it hard to shake the image from your mind. He could be hung on the wall of a museum, his muscles are so sculpted, rippling with every movement and decorated in tattoos that suit him so well he could be an actual god and you wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Choso pulls you from your thoughts as they border on inappropriate, by tugging at your sleeve.

“We should clean.”

“Right!” You squeak, shaking the image of shirtless Sukuna as best as you can from your mind as you stare at the scattered mess.

“Okay let’s… start with the counter.”

It doesn’t take too long to clean up the mess and there’s still enough bread crumbs left over for Sukuna to make something if he wanted, so it could have gone over worse.

Speak of the devil, he rounds the corner wearing a black muscle shirt with a metal band logo you don’t recognize scrawled across the front and sleeves cut so deep it hardly counts as a shirt, like he’s showing off or something. You don’t even want to begin to think about the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants as well like some sort of tease who probably just threw on the first thing he saw and it didn’t even cross his mind how stupidly hot he is.

You avert your eyes, attempting to keep your cheeks from heating up any more than they already have. Sukuna crosses the living room to the kitchen in a few long strides, peering at the floor in search of crumbs.

“The fuck even happened over here?”

“You scared me when you opened the door,” you mumble, leaning back against the kitchen counter where your textbook is resting.

“So you threw shit everywhere?”

Your brow furrows at his accusation. “I just fumbled a bit and spilled what was on the pan.”

“Mm.” Sukuna’s gaze scans the kitchen until he finds the macaroni and cheese casserole sitting just behind your textbook. With a hint of a smirk, he takes a step forward, so close to you that his body heat warms your skin, his abs and chest just barely brushing against the plush of your breasts as he dips his finger into the dish.

Pulling his arm back, he slyly locks eyes with you, not bothering to take a step back even as you press your spine into the counter. He slips his finger between his lips, sucking the cheese from it with a pop!

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, caught between him and the hard countertop behind you like a deer in the headlights, frozen. If you move even an inch, he’ll be pressed up against you, and- don’t let your thoughts spiral again.

Sukuna smirks, lidded eyes smug as though he’s got you just where he wants you, amused to pull such a reaction from you. He’s become increasingly aware of the effect he has on you and everything he’s been doing has absolutely been on purpose, even if you don’t know it. He’s making a show out of his muscles, getting close to you, sucking on his finger, all to get a rise out of you.

He’s not sure he understands it himself, but he loves your little reactions. He loves the way your eyes widen, your breath hitches, and your muscles tense as though you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. He’s sure it all boils down to lust, but he’ll make the most of it while he has you here.

He clicks his tongue after a thoughtful moment. “Not bad. The breadcrumbs are a nice touch.”

“T-Thanks,” you stammer quietly. Sukuna chuckles lowly as he finally gives you space, turning to open the fridge and grab a protein drink. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bringing a hand up to slow your pounding heart.

“You stickin’ around to study?”

“I- um-” you pause, clearing your throat in an effort to calm your flustered state. “If you have time, that would be great. I mean, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure. The brats are quiet while you’re around.” He brings the protein drink up to his lips, downing it in one go and tossing the bottle into a bucket in the corner of the room as though he’s done it a thousand times.

With the boys distracted by the GameCube, Sukuna sits down at the table in the back of his apartment with you and a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Scooting his chair closer to you, his eyes scan the page you’re on.

“Is this for History 209?” He asks, briefly flipping to the textbook cover.

You nod.

“Mm.”

Sukuna briefly scans the upcoming pages before diving into explanations of the textbook, from memory. He clearly has a fondness for history that seems to come naturally to him as he explains anything you ask questions on without needing to even glance at the textbook. It’s like second nature to him.

“What years did the cold war take place?” He quizzes without so much as glancing up at you as he flips through the textbook pages without reading at all as though it’s a picture book.

“Uh-” You stare up at the ceiling. “1952 to 89?”

“47 to 89. Tell me about the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

“Um- Cuba felt like the US was about to invade, so they asked the Soviet Union to install missiles in-”

“Who asked?”

“Cuba?”

Sukuna glances up at you, his expression unimpressed. “No shit. What leader?”

“Oh. Castro.”

Hours pass by and you hardly even notice until your eyes begin to grow heavy and your yawning sets in. Sukuna gradually begins leaning further on his knuckles over the table, launching question after question at you without even a lick of help from the textbook. It would almost be impressive, if you didn’t already know how smart Sukuna is.

“How did the modern revolution affect the environment?”

You chew on your lip, the last bit of energy you were working with fizzling out suddenly as you’re left staring blankly at the table, completely burnt out.

Sukuna’s been only half paying attention for the past few minutes, growing equally as worn out and unable to focus as you are, though he hasn’t noticed just how spent you are given his inattention. It’s not until you don’t respond that his attention snaps to you, staring off into space.

He glances over your features, eyes dropping to your oversized hoodie. His thoughts stray to places they shouldn’t be again, so he wills himself to look back at your eyes, but the way you’re chewing on your lip-

It’s then that he realizes how close you are. Over the course of the past couple of hours, Sukuna has leaned further forward in his chair and you’ve scooted closer in an effort to look at the pages of your textbook while he explains. It’s weird, the way the close proximity seems to draw him in, as though he belongs in your space, but he knows better. He knows you exist in different worlds.

Still, as you space out further, a piece of your hair falls out of place, blocking the blank and tired expression on your face, and Sukuna doesn’t even have a moment to process his actions before he moves. It’s almost delicate, the way he slowly moves the hand he isn’t leaning on to tenderly brush the strand of hair behind your ear.

His action draws your attention, and along with it a steady heat that rises to your cheeks, reaching your ears and down to your neck. Sukuna doesn’t even seem phased by what he’s done, as if it’s completely natural and something the two of you just do. As though he isn’t pushing the balance of your strange friendship, if it could even be called that.

You lick your lip as you will your thoughts to stop bouncing all over the place, trying not to read too much into his actions, but it’s hard not to when his pupils dart down to follow your tongue as it swipes your lower lip. His pupils grow suddenly, and you don’t know how not to read into that, and now your thoughts are spiraling, and you’re wondering if all of Sukuna’s actions today are premeditated or-

As if Sukuna’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, he clears his throat and sits back. His pupils shrink and he crosses his arms over his chest, placing distance between you.

“You should head home before it’s too dark.”

In the endless sea of your thoughts, all you can do is nod. Snapping yourself back to reality, you begin packing your bag and make your way out to the living room where the two boys are excitedly playing an old copy of the board game Operation after Sukuna had told them no more video games, much to their dismay.

You smile at the sight of poor bundled up little Yuji and his older brother, who clearly cares a great deal for the little salmon-haired boy. The three of them are a sweet little family. Sukuna has a funny way of showing it sometimes but he clearly adores the two boys, or he wouldn’t be doing everything that he is.

At the end of the day, he could have left them to their own devices, thrown them into the fostering system. He could have used legal means to shove them into a relative’s care. He could have done a lot of things, but you can see the way he adores them. The way he loves them so deeply and genuinely that he can’t bear the thought of seeing them thrown to the wolves like that. He’s put a great deal of his life on hold and put his health, both mental and physical, on the line to see the two boys thrive, and it fills your heart with joy.

“You know, I could just leave the GameCu-”

“No.” Sukuna gets to his feet, standing a few feet away.

Yuji and Choso’s heads simultaneously whip around as though they’ve heard the biggest betrayal of their entire lives.

At five and twelve, they very well may have.

“Awwww!”

“Pleaaase, Kuna!”

“No, that’s final.”

You shoot Sukuna an easy smile, giggling to yourself at the sight of his scowl and frustrated huff.

“Don’t get ideas into their heads,” he grumbles at you, brushing past you as you clean up the GameCube and stuff the games into your bag. He grabs some more medication for Yuji, who doesn’t complain as he swallows it with a miserable frown at the bitter taste.

You wait at the door with your bag packed as Sukuna moves around the apartment, putting the medication away before he joins you at the door.

“Thank you so much for your help with studying, Kuna,” you say as you twist the handle and make your way out the door, turning to face him just outside his apartment. He leans on the doorframe, shutting the door slightly behind him and blocking the boys’ vision of you to give you both some privacy. He’s grimacing at the nickname, but he doesn’t complain.

“It’s whatever. Just paying you back for lookin’ after the brats.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. Of course that’s all it is. “Email me if you need me to look after them while Yuji’s still sick.”

A puff of air escapes Sukuna’s nose in a makeshift laugh. “This your excuse to have more time to study?”

You have to resist the urge  to roll your eyes at the way he so obviously is denying that he’s getting help from you. “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” you agree.

He smirks, nodding. “Tuesday at three.”

“Better be in the afternoon this time,” you tease.

“God forbid I take a night shift,” he scoffs, turning to shut the door. He pauses for a split second, turning back to you. You almost think he’s about to thank you, but either you read the situation wrong or he second-guesses himself because- “You better remember who Allen Dulles is on Tuesday.”

Your face contorts as he references the cold war and chuckles at your expression before closing the door.

Dick.

–

Friday comes sooner than you can possibly imagine as you find yourself spending late nights studying with Sukuna after looking after Yuji and Choso. Yuji returned to school on Thursday and Choso on Monday, so you’d gotten into the habit of picking up Choso from school and going back to watch them play games while you studied or worked on projects.

You couldn’t know whether Sukuna would still need help now that Yuji was feeling better, but that was the least of your concerns, because it’s Friday.

And you’ve been dreading this Friday in particular. Worse still, it felt like the world was against you all day too.

You woke up to the first snow of the season, opting to dress in a cute, white knit sweater that was fairly warm, as well as some beige leggings- not to mention all your winter gear.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg, you had to redo your eyeliner after somehow messing it up not once but twice, and then you managed to step in a puddle of mud and get your usual winter boots completely covered in dirt.

With your clean high heeled boots adorning your feet, you make your way to the school and quickly fall into step with Nanami who shares your first class of the day. He’s bundled up warmly in a long coat, a grey scarf accenting his coat. His sharp eyes turn to you as you join him, softening at the sight of you.

“Good morning,” he greets you, a kind smile pulling at his features.

You return his smile half-heartedly, giving him a brief wave. “Hey, Kento. How’re you feeling about finals?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Prepared,” he decides after a moment. “Though I don’t believe there’s such a thing as too much studying.”

“Yeah… I get that,” you agree, watching the snow condense beneath your feet with each step. Comfortable silence falls over you as the crunching of snow and the sounds of passing students fills the air. The warmth of your breath surrounds you as you mindlessly stare at the sparkling coat of flakes across the ground.

After a few moments, Nanami hums again, interrupting the silence and pulling your attention back to him. His gaze flickers between your face and your hands.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

Again, his watchful eyes flicker down to your hands. “You’ve been zipping up and unzipping your jacket since we began walking.”

You purse your lips, finally following his gaze down to your jacket which must have been making a grating zipping noise the whole time that you hadn’t even noticed with how caught up in your thoughts you were.

“Sorry Kento,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Just a bit nervous.”

His head tilts. “What are you nervous about?”

“I have to make a presentation in Art History at the end of the day. No one else in class is presenting.” With a sheepish smile, you proceed to subconsciously begin playing with your zipper again, too caught up in your thoughts to realize you’re doing it.

“I see. Is that what Sukuna was working on this morning?”

“You have a class with him?”

“Yes. He’s in my Accounting class early on Tuesdays and Fridays,” Nanami explains, subtly watching the way you’re messing with your zipper again, though he keeps his mouth shut.

“Oh. He was working on things this morning?”

“I believe so. It didn’t seem like he was paying attention,” Nanami shrugs. “I assumed he was working on something else.”

You let out a breath. “That’s kind of a relief, honestly.”

Arching a brow, Nanami hums questioningly.

“I still don’t like public speaking,” you quietly mumble, zipping your jacket up fully and burying your face into the fabric as your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Hm. I see,” the blonde hums, having been there during your Prom alongside Haibara. He’s well aware of the fallout that came with being named Prom Queen. “Well, you’ll have Sukuna with you, and I highly doubt anyone would comment with Sukuna at your side.”

“Scary dog privilege,” you agree.

“Sorry?” Kento’s brow furrows in confusion, leaving you giggling.

“Don’t worry about it.”

With a shake of his head, Kento opens the door to your next lecture and puts his focus into his notes as usual. You do your best to follow suit, but if your bouncing leg is any indicator, your focus isn’t long for this world and Nanami knows he’s in for a long study session in the coming week.

–

You did debate just not showing up, but if Sukuna was working on the presentation at an early morning class, you don’t have the heart to not show up at least for him. Still, your nerves are frayed at the seams in downright unease at the thought of being the only group to present your project.

The concept of being one of the only two people at the center of everyone’s attention all for being named the ‘best’ at something brings back too many memories for you to care to admit. Taking a deep breath, you do your best to keep your eyes on the prize: the extra credit.

Sukuna was right when he said you wouldn’t turn down extra credit. You would definitely think about turning it down when it came at the cost of your dignity and sanity, but with Sukuna at your side, you think you just might be alright.

At the end of the day, you know you need to keep your grades up if you want to keep your scholarship, and more importantly your parents happy, so with a deep breath, you focus on the class to the best of your ability, pushing aside your mess of anxiety and worries.

That is, until you glance back at Sukuna’s usual seat, only to find it empty and your heart damn near stops. Your eyes widen and in the least subtle way possible, you whip your head around the class in search of him. He has to be here. He promised to handle all the talking, you aren’t prepared, you… You can’t do this alone. Surely the professor will understand that too, right?

“Before I dismiss you all, I’d like to have a couple of exemplary students come up to present the Meaning in Art project I had you all submit a couple of weeks back.”

Your heart is thundering, your breathing growing shallow as panic sets in.

“These students displayed an impeccable understanding of the art and artists they chose to study, demonstrating this understanding through both their written and visual pieces.”

Your mouth is dry, your throat tight. Where the fuck is he? He wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like this, would he? You didn’t prepare anything, you were relying on him.

“With that being said, I’d like to invite these students up to the front of the class to give a short breakdown of their project.” Your name follows this statement, along with Sukuna’s, and the class goes silent.

Your hands are trembling as you stare in dismay at the desk sitting at the front of the room where Sukuna’s art is sitting, alongside your written thesis. You swallow hard, forcing down your nerves as all eyes fall to you.

On shaky legs, you slowly make your way down to the front of the class, quietly making your way up to the professor. “I- um-” you take a breath in an effort to calm your nerves. “Can we present next week instead? Sukuna- um- isn’t here,” you quietly whisper.

“Finals are in two weeks. This is the last class for this semester.”

Fuck.

“Right. Sorry, yeah. That’s fine,” you whisper, chewing on your lip as you turn to face the class. Dozens of pairs of judgmental eyes stare back at you and if the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, never to be seen again, it would be a better fate than what you were about to do. Alone. 

“Um-” You mumble, clearing your throat as you pick up the printed thesis you wrote together with Sukuna. Surely he would walk through the door in just a few seconds, right? He would show up for you just like you did for him when Yuji was sick, right? This has to be a cruel prank.

“Speak up, please.” Your professor’s voice pulls you from the delusion that Sukuna was ever going to show up. The delusion that Sukuna ever cared.

Fuck, you just admitted to yourself that you like Sukuna.

You just came to terms with the fact that your attraction to him is more than just physical.

You’ve spent weeks defending him, even when he was a dick, but this really takes the cake.

Your chest tightens as you realize just how much he’s let you down. You want to cry, it’s a fight against your own body not to show just how nervous you are.

“For our-” You pause, staring down at the page with your name scrawled alongside Sukuna’s and a perfect score circled in red. “For my project,” you begin, taking a deep breath in an effort to push down the swirling anger, disappointment, and anxiety all threatening to suffocate you.

You launch into an explanation on the three pieces you and Sukuna had chosen, summarizing your thesis while fighting the tremble in your voice, putting every last ounce of effort you can into masking how nervous you are and avoiding the stares of your classmates.

Picking up the art Sukuna drew is when the last shreds of your dignity fall apart and tears prick in your eyes. Your voice wavers and you know everyone can tell. You can hear the whispers, the quiet giggles. You don’t know whether it’s directed at you or if they’re even paying attention to you at all, but each and every noise seems to drag you one inch closer to your own personal hell and you shrink into yourself as you attempt to explain Sukuna’s art.

Alone.

You can’t even say for sure if your words made sense towards the end of your presentation, the whole thing a blur behind tear-filled eyes and the ringing of anxiety in your ears. The only thing you do hear is your professor dismissing you. You don’t even grab your bag and you leave your project on the table, you just need out. You need air.

Your feet carry you out the door, your eyes trained on the ground as you do your best not to collide with anyone as you run for the doors. You don’t hear someone call your name in confusion and you don’t see them chase after you. So focused on fresh air, you forget how cold it is as the freezing air shocks your skin and chills your lungs.

Finding a spot beside the door outside, away from prying eyes and out of the way, you wrap your arms around yourself and wipe your tears, taking deep breaths to slow your racing heart.

“There you are. What happened?”

You blink a couple of times, trying to wipe any evidence of your tears as you lock eyes with familiar mahogany ones.

“Ken?” You barely manage to whisper his name, your breath stolen from your lungs by the anxiety rocking your body.

“What happened?” He pushes again, eyes traveling down to your trembling hands. He can’t tell whether that’s from the cold or your nerves, but like the gentleman he is, he pulls his coat off and throws it over your shoulders, zipping it up over your arms in an effort to keep you from freezing.

“He didn’t show up.”

Nanami’s lips press into a thin line, taking in your expression. You’re barely keeping it together, though the freezing air flooding your lungs is keeping your mind distracted.

With a sigh, Kento sets a hand on your shoulder. “Come back inside. Let’s get your coat.”

Slowly coming back down from your panicked state as his hand on your shoulder grounds you, you pause for a moment to take in the blonde in front of you. He’s in just a knit sweater and slacks, visibly shaking from the cold air now that you’re wrapped in his jacket.

“Shit, sorry Kento,” you mumble, letting him guide you back inside and to your lecture hall, where he takes his coat back and grabs your bags for you to avoid any prying eyes. Handing you your coat, followed by the bag he’s packed up for you, he sighs and leads the way to a secluded area of the History and Science building of the college. You don’t say a word as he sits you down on a bench.

“Are you alright?”

You nod.

“Are you lying?”

Your mouth opens to say no, but one glance at his sharp gaze tells you he sees right through you. “Were you outside my class?”

“Mhm. I wanted to make sure things went well.”

“That’s… Really kind, Nanamin. Thank you.”

He hums quietly, leaning back against the wall behind the bench. Someone walks past mumbling something to themself about failing a test, but it’s otherwise silent in the halls.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better. People were laughing.” You chew on your lip, rubbing your hands over your face.

“I’m certain they weren’t. Students laugh throughout class constantly, they likely weren’t paying attention,” he points out.

You know he has a point, but it doesn’t make the situation any less frustrating and disappointing.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Kento, “that he promised he’d be there with me and wasn’t, or having to relive that stupid moment in high school all over again.”

Your friend grimaces. “Yes, I can imagine that wasn’t pleasant. I’m sorry.” It’s about all he can offer in the moment, but mentally he’s thinking of mentioning what happened to Gojo and Geto and watching the drama that unfolds. The white haired frat boy would relish in the idea of having an actual reason to have beef with Sukuna.

“Why don’t we go grab something to eat?” Nanami suggests in an effort to get your mind off of your horrifying presentation and, more importantly, the man that’s managed to break your heart twice now.

“I’m okay. I think I just want to go home.”

“I would prefer if you weren’t alone,” Nanami protests.

“We just ate, though.”

“We can grab dessert, then. My treat,” he insists.

Silence follows as you look up at Nanami, finding comfort in the concern swirling in those deep mahogany irises. “Fine,” you sigh, relenting finally.

With a sympathetic smile, he gets to his feet and offers you his hand, helping you get to your feet as he leads the way back out into the cold with one goal in mind.

Keep your mind off of Sukuna.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; sorry for the delay on this one!! i had a work conference all last week but had a ton of fun writing this when i got back, so i hope you all enjoyed it <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

You would hit BELIEVE how happy I am that you’re writing fics for Declan O’Hara he’s my new DILF obsession!!! Also it was so well-written and in-character, oh my goodness!

I was wondering if I could request a fic where Declan and female!reader are having an affair, and she’s super nervous because she’s Taggie’s best friend. She meets Declan one night in his car, and he calms her down and, obviously, they have car sex.

Ending this with a huge I LOVE YOUR WORK

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. cheating. declan and his dirty mouth. one use of the c word. overuse of the nickname sweetheart.

word count - 3k

authors note - the minute he put that baby blue t shirt on… I was suddenly on my knees. funny how that happens. can’t and won’t stop with the fics for this man. I am riding the rivals train to the ends of the earth, baby. thanks for being so sweet, anon <3

masterlist. inbox.

The phone is shaking in your trembling hand, cord all tangled where you keep twisting it around your finger nervously.

“Hello?”

You almost drop the receiver at the sound of that familiar Irish accent, despite the fact that you were the one that rang him. It has your stomach churning, in a different way than usual.

“H-hi,” you barely whisper, before clearing your throat and trying again. “Hi. It’s me.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he breathes, as if it’s the first time he’s taken a lungful of air all day.

“I, um… I’m sorry to call you on the house phone. I know it’s not how we do things usually.”

“It’s alright. What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I just, uh… I called to say that I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I would have told you in person, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you next, so.”

“Can we-” he begins, before lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, “-can we talk about this properly? Please?”

“We can’t. I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m beggin’ ya. One conversation. You’re not ending this in a quick phone call on a Wednesday night, you hear me?”

You inhale deeply, biting at your lips. There’s pure anxiety radiating through your body, prickly and unrelenting.

“I hear you,” you murmur down the receiver. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “I’m gonna come and get ya - we’ll go for a drive, alright?”

“Sorry you have to lie,” you whisper, guilt colouring your tone.

“I’d lie for you a thousand times over.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as they do, but alas. Here you are.

“I’ll put some shoes on.”

“And a coat. It’s cold as fuck tonight.”

You half laugh, half snort at him down the phone, dreamily imagining the grin he most likely has painted on his face listening to you.

“Yes sir,” you tease, giggling. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll drive up without my headlights on. Look out for me, yeah?”

“I will.”

I always do, you think to yourself. I always do.

The line goes dead abruptly, the buzzing vibrating straight into your temples. You slip your shoes on, quickly fixing your hair and touching up your makeup in the mirror in the hallway while you’re there. You shrug your arms into your coat at Declan’s orders, knowing he’d tell you off if you turned up without it on.

You’ve almost forgotten the entire reason you called in the first place was to break things off with him.

Almost.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

True to his word, Declan drives up your road without his headlights on, slowly and with practised precision.

You’re waiting at the window for him, patiently anticipating the sight of that stupid yellow car. You’re out of the door in seconds as soon as you see him, bounding towards the passenger side and slipping in before anyone notices. He drives off quickly, not taking any time to say hello before he’s taking off out of the town and towards the rolling countryside.

You drive for a good fifteen minutes, to a spot the two of you frequent on your drives. It’s a dirt track, leading to nothing but fields for miles on end. Declan pulls the car around the bend and out of sight from the busier road, knowing that it has more than enough privacy. You’ve never been caught here before, and you don’t plan to start.

Finally turning off the engine, he turns to face you, taking in how the moonlight illuminates your features in the lowlight of the car.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

You’re refusing to look at him, knowing that if you do, you’ll surge over and kiss him until you’re both dizzy. You can feel his gaze on you, though, intense and unwavering. As it always is.

His thumb and pointer finger hook under your chin, forcing you to stare straight into his determined brown eyes. You’re willing yourself not to crumble, but you can feel your resolve starting to slip already.

“I missed you,” he whispers, careful not to spook you.

“I missed you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Shit.”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of it settles right in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s all this about then, hmm? The phone call?”

“What did you tell Taggie? Where did you say you were going?”

It’s your least favourite part about all of this, the lying. Lying to Taggie, to Patrick, to Caitlin, to Rupert, to your friends, to your family. Coming up with excuses has become second nature - something you hate about yourself now. You hate how it comes so naturally to both of you these days.

“Told her I was going to meet someone about some potential research for a show. She had evening plans anyway, she’s off out to Lizzie’s.”

You’re fiddling with your fingers, picking at your nails in a nervous habit as you chew your bottom lip. If anxiety was personified, it’d be you.

“You avoided my question. We need to talk about what you said on the phone, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn in your seat to face him properly, going over the speech you’ve practised in your head dozens of times.

“Okay. I’m… I’m not sure we should do this anymore. I- I just… I feel guilty. For lying to Taggie, mainly. And because you’re technically still married, but mainly for lying to Tag. She’s the closest friend I have, and I’m sleeping with her father. It makes me a terrible person, Declan. I have to put a stop to it.”

He processes your words for a moment, looking at you intently.

“Do ya want to?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to? Put a stop to things? Or do you just feel like you should? For other people.”

You want to lie, tell him exactly what you had planned out, feed him what you know will work. But you can’t. You can lie to everyone… except Declan.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “But I should. We should.”

“Why now? Did something happen? Did someone say something?”

“No, no. I just… Taggie said something really sweet the other day about how she was glad that she had me, because making friends here hasn’t been easy for her. And it should have made me happy, and instead, it broke my heart.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Declan cradles your face in his rough hands, resting his forehead against yours. It’s like the whole world melts away for a moment, leaving just the two of you in the tiny yellow car.

“I’m a horrible person,” you mumble. “And a horrible friend.”

“You’re speaking as if it’s just you. And it’s not, you know. There’s two of us in this affair - I’m just as guilty as you are.”

“Fine then. We’re both horrible people.”

He chuckles, breath tickling your face, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. His lips are brushing yours every time he speaks, meaning you can practically taste the cigarette smoke and spearmint on his tongue.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he retorts, still smiling.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit as his thumbs sweep back and forth across your cheekbones. “It’s weighing down my conscience, and I don’t want to hurt Tag. But… I can’t give you up, Declan. I need you. I need you more than anything.”

“You make me crazy. God, I think about you night and day, sweetheart. My thoughts revolve around if I’ve seen you and when I’m going to see you next.”

“So what do we do? I can’t quit this. I can’t quit you, I can’t quit us. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know. I wish I had the answers… I wish I could make all your worries go away. But I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just… I thought that I could do it in one clean sweep. Get it out the way, you know? Call you, end things, be done. And then the minute I heard your voice over the phone… I knew I couldn’t do it. Because deep down, I didn’t want to.”

He leans in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, desperate to be close to you.

“Declan.”

“If I could fix it all for you, I would,” he murmurs against your skin. “You know I would.”

You pull back to put some distance in between you, watching him carefully for his reaction to what you say next.

“You should break things off.”

He flinches as if you’ve punched him in the stomach.

“What?”

“You should. I clearly can’t, so you have to be the one to do it. Do it, Declan. End things with me right here, right now. Please.”

Your tone is weak and unconvincing, as if you can’t even bring yourself to say the words with any conviction.

“I can’t,” he confesses, voice breaking on the last word. “I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, exhaling it slowly as if he’s buying himself some time. You wait patiently for him to continue, nerves frayed at the edges.

“Because I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to flinch, his admission smacking you across the face violently.

“You-”

“Yes. I love you, sweetheart. It’s taken me a while to figure all of this out, but I know it now. That’s why I’ve never been able to end this. Because it’s not just incredible sex… it’s something more. Something real.”

There are tears welling in your eyes as you look at him, watching the way he lays his heart on his sleeve in the moonlight just for you.

“I’m scared,” you confess. “I love you too and it scares me.”

You don’t miss the way his face lights up as you say it, but he’s trying to keep a careful lid on his emotions for now.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to ya. You know that.”

All you can do is nod in response, digesting everything that has happened in the last five minutes. You do know that. He’s proven time and time again that you’re not just some fleeting fling to him.

“Declan?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Now he grins like an idiot, eyes alive with adrenaline and hope.

“That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

You tuck some hair behind his ear before leaning in to gently press your lips to his, wanting to seal the moment. He kisses you back sweetly at first, before taking control with more force, slipping his tongue into your mouth cheekily. You happily let him take the lead, sighing in contentment as you melt into him.

“C’mere.”

Climbing over onto his lap, you hinge your legs on either side of his in the drivers seat, straddling his hips. You try to straighten up but end up hitting your head on the roof of the car, which makes you both wheeze with laughter.

“This car is too fucking small,” you grumble, rubbing the spot that you smacked.

“Y’alright? Want me to kiss it better?”

You hate the way the teasing tone in his voice shoots right to your core, shaking your head in defiance.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Patronising bastard.”

“I like it when you get your claws out,” he chuckles, tracing patterns on your thighs over your jeans. “S’hot.”

You kiss him again to shut him up, biting at his bottom lip in punishment. He groans all low and slow, which makes you grind your hips into his, despite the multiple layers of clothing separating you.

“Backseat,” he whispers, pushing you off of him gently. “More room.”

You splay yourself across the wide back seat, opening your legs so Declan can slot in between them.

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” he prompts as he shrugs off his own jacket and undoes his belt.

You can’t help but chuckle at his impatience, happily taking off your coat and jumper and unbuttoning your jeans. Your breath catches in your throat when you look back up at him - he’s wearing the Venturer t shirt that hugs his biceps just right, accentuating every delicious muscle he has to offer you.

“Wore it for you,” he mutters against your lips. “Know you like me in a t shirt.”

You roll your eyes but kiss him with determination anyway, all teeth and tongue and clashing bodies. You’re clawing at his clothed shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist to buck your hips into his.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he mumbles into the skin of your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “Lying awake at night thinking about your thighs, your tits, your cunt.”

All you can do is sigh, fingers digging into his biceps in desperation.

“Wish I could take my time with you like you deserve. These quick fucks just aren’t the same.”

He sounds almost upset about it, voice staying deep and low.

“Remember that time I stayed the night? And you couldn’t walk in the morning?”

You laugh breathily, thinking back fondly to that night a few months ago. You’d both orchestrated it so carefully, crafting cautious lies and fabricated stories to snatch a good sixteen hours of time together.

“Need that again soon. Might have to start sneaking ya into my house in the dark, make you climb the gutters like we’re in a film. Although, it is a bit hard to keep you quiet.”

You try valiantly to ignore the heat that flushes across your chest as he teases you, knowing that he’s right.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

You grab his hand and shove it down your underwear, jeans trapped around your thighs. There’s very minimal room in this tiny car, but you’re both determined to make it work. He groans when he feels how wet you are, swiping through your core.

“Fuck me. Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Since this afternoon,” you whimper, trying to grind down onto his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about when you ate me out on my kitchen worktop last week. My legs were shaking for two days afterwards.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, slipping a finger into you as he drops his head onto your shoulder. “I got myself off thinking about that yesterday. I swear if I concentrate, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

All you can do is whimper, desperate to have him in any way you can. The fact that you have the same effect on him that he does on you makes your head spin, dizzy with want.

“Don’t make me wait,” you beg, cradling his face so he has to look you in the eye. “Fuck me, please. Please, Declan.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll give ya anything you want. Anything.”

He shuffles around so he’s sat back on his knees, pushing his jeans and underwear down just enough to free himself. You spread your legs as wide as you can, trying to give him as much room as possible. It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself in this position in this car with him - and it won’t be the last.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss you, licking across your teeth with his tongue. “Most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.”

He slides into you with ease, both of you gasping at the familiar sensation. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, pads of his fingertips biting into your flesh.

Declan doesn’t waste any time, setting a relentless pace that has you bouncing across the seat. The car is shaking like crazy, all the windows fogged up - anyone who passes will know exactly what’s happening inside.

The man above you can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle. He knows the exact angles of his hips that’ll have you keening, the certain spots to focus on that’ll have you seeing stars. He knows you better than anyone, in more ways than one.

“That’s it,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Atta girl. Taking it like you were made for me.”

“Maybe I was,” you breathe, tipping your head back to give him access to your neck. “Just for you.”

He groans all melted and golden like molten honey, the vibrato of it rumbling through your bones. You’re holding onto him for dear life, as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this reality. When his thumb finds your clit to rub firm, slow circles, you’re convinced you’re floating on another plane of existence.

The only word you can seem to formulate is Declan, which only pushes him closer to the finish line. He’s determined to get you there first, angling his hips upward to hit that one spot that has you gasping. When he moves one hand to your throat and gently squeezes, you fall apart instantly, taking him with you.

“I love you,” he breathes as he comes, forehead resting on yours. “My girl.”

You’re shuddering and shaking as you lie underneath him, panting like you’ve just ran ten miles. Declan collapses on top of you, laying his head on your chest comfortably. Your fingers rake through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp like you’ve done so many times before.

You both allow yourselves to close your eyes for a minute, recovering and attempting to catch your breath. You’re convinced, for a moment, that you’ll never feel more peaceful than you do right now. You breathe each other in, satiated and content.

You finally open your eyes, expecting to see nothing but fogged windows and starlit darkness. Instead, you see a man bending down, looking straight at you. Arguably the worst possible person that could see the two of you in the position you’re in.

Rupert Campbell Black.

He’s grinning like an idiot, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re about to warn the man in your arms when Rupert opens the car door, slipping himself into the drivers seat and spinning so he’s facing you. Declan has jumped out of his skin, jolting upwards to cover you as best he can.

Rupert smirks all dirty and knowing, eyes dancing over your half naked forms.

“Well, well, well. Secrets out, lovers.”

@graceflorence @dionysus-drabbles

as aaaaaaaalways… reblogs are golden!! they’re the currency of tumblr, my loves. you reblog, and your favourite writers will write you more fics. simple as that. mwah. <3

[gh0stsp1d3r]

dad!cowboy!rafe coming home to his wife and daughter after days of being away

MASTERLIST

You and your daughter laid on the old couch, soft snores leaving her mouth as you ran your hands through her hair. You slowly felt yourself drifting off as well, your eyes beginning to shut, and your limbs getting tired.

The slumber was short-lived, because a few minutes after, you heard the sound of the creaky door opening, your head shooting up, eyes opening wide. You stood up, getting ready to get the gun not too far away, but that was before you saw the familiar flashlight shining. You sighed in relief, your guard falling down.

You watched him shine the flashlight at you, you holding your hands over your face, before he turned it off. You practically ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him, him being taken aback with a quiet, raspy laugh.

“Hey, baby. I missed you.” He mumbled into the croom of your neck, taking his hat off with his free hand.

“I missed you too.” You sighed out. “You were gone for long.”

“I was only gone for a week.”

“Too long.”

He chuckled, moving his face so that he could kiss you, your hands now going to his face.

You both pulled away after a little, panting, your breath mixing together when you leaned in close to each other, foreheads touching.

“She asleep?” He asked you, pulling away, and beginning taking off the boots he had on.

“Yeah. She been refusing to sleep in her room since you left. Won’t listen to me when I say there no monster in her room.” You said with a small smile. “And then I tried to take her in our room but… according to her, there’s a monster there too.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright. I should check for those ‘monsters.” He joked, walking over to where she slept near the couch.

He picked her up with ease, throwing her over his shoulder and beginning to walk to her room as quietly and as softly as possible. He squinted his eyes as he walked through the dim lighting of the gas light, you following behind.

“Daddy?” He heard a little murmur come from her mouth when he put her onto the bed, him smiling and kneeling down next to her.

“Hi, princess.” He whispered quietly, her now having a small smile on her face.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you guys more.” He replied.

“Are you… gonna leave again?” She asked, her voice filled with sleep as she pulled the covers up to her body.

“I have to, sometimes. You know that.”

“But-“

“Let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah?” He leaned over, kissing her forehead. She sighed, nodding.

“I love you.” He told her.

“Love you too, daddy. Love you, momma.”

“Alright, goodnight.” He stood up with a sigh, and you following him into the shared bedroom.

“I feel bad.” He admitted while taking off his clothes to change, you laying in bed. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Why?”

“Because… I keep having to leave y’all.”

“Rafe, it’s okay. If you didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to live. Hell, we’d probably be living with your father right now. And we all don’t want that.”

He snickered, you smiling while he got into bed next to you, laying his head on you.

“We’re happy because of you.” You murmured while running a hand through his buzzed, softly scratching at his scalp.

That’s all he ever needed to hear. A content smile made its way onto his face, looking up at you for a moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now can we go to sleep? I’m tired.”

[star2fishmeg]

Can I request a FLUFF #35 with Quinn please?

Thank you for requesting <3

FLUFF #35 "Going somewhere?"

📞 dialling…

He never seemed to grasp the concept of ‘day off’, he was so adamant that if he rested for more than half an hour, he’d lose everything he’d ever worked for. Of course, that wasn’t really true and many people in his life had told him that but all he wanted was to lead the Canucks to success.

The second his alarm rang at six in the morning, Quinn was shutting it off and staring up at the ceiling, head empty but admiring the early sun that seeped through the blinds. Deep down he didn’t want to get up, the weight on his chest enticing him to stay cuddled in the sheets, her hand splayed over his chest with his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. His heart screamed stay but mind objecting, he couldn’t afford to rest, he had to get to the rink, but it was his day off that perfectly lined up with y/n’s. But hockey, but y/n. He slid his arm slowly from underneath her, carefully and holding his breath before swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, perching his elbows on his knees and running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. 

She stirred when the heat vanished, the emptiness jolting her brain awake and she knew that sinking feeling too well. While she barely moved, her eyes watched him, every muscle of his back flex. If only he’d let himself rest, he wouldn’t wake up drenched in pressure. Inhaling deeply, she hooked her finger around the waistband of his boxers, tugging it back enough for him to turn in surprise.

“Shit, didn’t mean to wake you, pretty girl.” He mumbled, morning voice deep and rumbly. Quinn leaned over, pushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead sweetly, his lips trying to smile. 

“Going somewhere?” she pulled at his waistband more, as if it would coax him back into bed with her, “It’s your day off, Q, the world won’t end if you rest.”

Quinn exhaled, sitting up straight, guilt swirling in his stomach at the way her eyes searched his for any remnants of love he had for himself, “Darlin’...the team needs me and-”

“-No. They need to manage without you. I need you. Here.” Y/n’s croaky voice clipped, all her fingers curling into his boxers tight, a fire glazing over her eyes as her gaze bored at him. 

His eyebrows knitted and lips pulled into a little frown. He thought hard about those words, glancing at his Canucks hoodie abandoned on the floor and then back at her drowsy face. His breathing deepened, his legs did ache a little, and maybe he was more tired than usual.

“C’mere, pretty girl. I’m here for you, need you too.” For the first time in the morning, he chuckled, feeling the back of his underwear snap against his skin. 

Face relaxing, he swung his legs back onto his mattress, sliding under the duvet again and his arms fell into where they should be, around her waist and holding y/n to his chest. She smiled at his apology whispered into her ear, body tingling with every kiss left to her head. Ten more minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

[sheerfreesia007]

Little Book of Love

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Word count: 2,555

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Seungmin enjoys his journaling time and loves the fact that he’s found a close friend that enjoys it just as much as he does. But what happens when he realizes that you’ve got two different types of journals and won’t show him what you write about? 

The quiet chirping of some birds in the nearby tree to his balcony soothes Seungmin as he sits at the table lazily writing about his day and the things he found important for him to remember in his journal. The sun was still high enough in the sky to give him enough light to be able to write and he found himself gently closing his eyes as he listened to the quiet busy noises of everything around him. He smiled softly as he heard the scritching of your own pen against paper before he turned his head to look at you. You were sitting curled up in a chair not far from his, your knee drawn up to your chest with your own journal resting on your knee while you quickly wrote about your own day. He sat there soaking in the peace between the two of you as he watched your pen move swiftly across the page. He loved that he was able to share this hobby with you and you enjoyed it almost as much as him, it was something he had come to cherish about your friendship. The way the two of you were able to just exist in the quiet as you wrote your thoughts on how life was going, it was something that he wasn’t able to find with anyone else and he knew it was special with you.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask you what you were writing so swiftly about, he watched in surprise as you shut the journal and slipped it into your backpack before pulling out a separate journal and begin writing slower in it almost as if you didn’t feel rushed to write in this journal as opposed to your other one. He watched as your eyes darted around the page and a soft smile slipped onto your lips pulling the corners up into something so pretty. Flinching at his thoughts he quickly shook his head before nonchalantly speaking.

“I didn’t know you had two journals.” he said softly and your head whipped up to stare at him wide eyed before you ducked your head in embarrassment. He tilted his head to the side curiously at your reaction and he wondered what the other journal was for and why would you need two journals.

“Oh yeah, one is my regular journal for my day to day stuff and the other one is special.” you tell him cryptically and he frowned softly as his eyes focused shrewdly on you. “And no, I won’t be telling you what it’s for. So don’t ask.” you tell him primly already knowing that he’ll ask you about it. He huffs softly at you before pouting as he widens his eyes and you laugh loudly at his antics. “Stop with the puppy eyes. You know it doesn't work on me.” you told him dismissively before turning back to your journal and continuing to write in it.

“Then can I see what you write in your regular journal?” he asked curiously, hoping that you’d let him but ultimately knowing that you wouldn’t. Your journal was private and sacred to you just like his was to him, you never asked to see his journal and until now he never asked to see yours. But the fact that you had two separate journals made him desperate to know what you wrote about that required two.

“No.” you scoffed offendedly and he quickly raised his hands trying to placate you. He knew he overstepped as your eyebrows furrowed darkly over your eyes.

“Sorry, just a shot in the dark.” he said quickly and you huffed at him. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have asked. But I want to know why you have two journals.” he said imploringly as he stared at you.

“Get it out of your head. Just forget you saw it.” you told him with a shake of your head before you returned back to writing in your journal Seungmin leaned back in his chair and continued to watch you before he heard your alarm start to ring and he frowned softly knowing that you would have to leave now. You finished up your last thought before gently shutting your journal and slipping it into your backpack. Standing from your chair you stretch your arms out to either side of your body and arc your back groaning softly when you hear it pop. Seungmin stands also knowing that he won’t be able to keep you here tonight, you’ve got too much going on tomorrow and you have an early morning tomorrow.

You smile warmly up at him causing him to roll his eyes at you before opening his arms to you. You chuckle softly and quickly step up to him wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your face against his chest. Seungmin wraps his arms around your shoulder before squeezing you tightly making you cry out in surprise and delight. You try to struggle against him but he chuckles darkly into your ear as his arms keep you held close to him.

”Nope, you wanted this so accept your fate.” He said amused as you tried again to struggle out of his hold. When you find that he won’t let you go you melt against him smiling and Seungmin smiles as well as he loosens his hold slightly before resting his head on top of yours. He wonders if you feel as light and happy as he does in this very moment as he gently closes his eyes listening to the chirping birds as he hugs you close before he has to say goodbye.

*-*-*-*

Over the next couple of months whenever you and Seungmin hang out no matter what the two of you wind up doing the hang outs always end the same. You both sit together in peaceful silence while you both journal about your days. And he always notices the different journals, you try to hide them from him but he notices one has a deep navy blue cover that’s dotted with gold flecks almost like stars in the night sky and the other one is a simple brown leather bound journal that seems to have been used so often the leather is buttery soft and flexible. He thinks the brown one is your regular journal and the navy blue is the special one used for a different purpose but he doesn’t know for sure. He wants to ask again why you would need two journals but he’s learned after the first time not to ask again.

It’s the week in between his birthday and Jisung and Felix’s birthdays, he knows the guys are planning a special birthday dinner for him, Jisung and Felix to celebrate all together this year since all of their schedules are all over the place and they don’t have many overlapping days. He’s already asked Chan if it would be alright to invite you as well as his guest and the boys all teased him heartily for wanting to invite you, but Felix had come to his rescue and said he’d also like to invite you, shutting the boys up as they all agreed.

As he checked his outfit once more in the mirror he sighed softly, feeling as if the black button up shirt didn’t sit well on his shoulders. Felix walked past his open bedroom door and halted in his steps when he spotted Seungmin standing in front of his mirror frowning. Seungmin watched him through the mirror as he came to lean against his doorway and cross his arms over his chest as he eyed Seungmin critically.

“You know she’ll love whatever you wear. She doesn’t care about the clothes, she cares about you.” Felix said knowingly as he smirked softly as Seungmin as the man blushed softly.

“It doesn’t feel right.” Seungmin admitted and Felix shook his head before he stepped into Seungmin’s bedroom and over to stand in front of the worried man. He reached up and popped the top two buttons and laid the fabric out on his chest so that it hung looser at the top showing off some skin.

“Try that, it won’t feel as strangling.” Felix suggested as he patted Seungmin on the chest a few times. “But you have nothing to worry about. I promise.” Felix said confidently and Seungmin sighed softly before nodding his head. He knew he was being silly but something felt different about tonight and he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something in the air, some sort of tension or excitement.

The car ride to the restaurant was fun, all of them had piled into the car and they were all being their normal loud crazy selves as Seungmin checked his cell phone for any text messages from you. You had let him know when you had gotten out of work and had told you’d get ready quickly before meeting them all there but ever since that text he hadn’t received anything else from you. Suddenly feeling a weight against his side Seungmin looked up into the warm sparkling eyes of Chan who had a wide knowing grin on his face.

“Is she on her way?” he asked softly and Seungmin frowned softly before shrugging his shoulders.

“How do you know I’m checking for her messages?” Seungmin asked petulantly and Chan scoffed softly while his grin widened on his face.

“C’mon Seungminnie, we all know you’ll be checking for her messages until she gets there.” Chan teased softly and Seungmin rolled his eyes at him before huffing quietly. Just then his phone dinged and he quickly looked down at his phone to see your text come through making the tight feeling in his chest relax slowly. On my way birthday boy! I can’t wait to see you!

“She’s on her way.” Seungmin said softly and Chan grinned widely before nodding his head at him.

“Good, I’m glad.” Chan responded before patting Seungmin’s knee.

*-*-*-*

The restaurant has a warm cozy feeling to it as they are led to the back into a large room where a long table is set up for all of them to sit and eat at. Seungmin walks in and gets settled in a chair halfway down the table on one side, Jeongin takes the seat next to him and then Seungmin sets his jacket on the other chair next to him just as Changbin is walking over towards him.

“Yah! What is this saving seats?” he asks loudly and Seungmin blushes lightly as everyone turns to him at Changbin’s loud words.

“Don’t be jealous Changbin, it’s not a good look for you.” your voice rings out loud enough for everyone to hear and Seungmin perks up with happiness when he whips his head to watch you walk in. You quickly greet Jisung and Felix, giving them each a quick hug wishing them a happy birthday before handing them small gift bags. You then turn and walk proudly over to Seungmin and envelope him in a tight warm hug that he melts into happily. When you pull away you present him with a slightly larger gift bag and an eager smile. “Happy birthday Seung” you tell him happily as he takes the bag from you.

“Thank you.” he gushes softly as a blush dusts his cheeks.

The dinner is lively and such a warm celebration of the birthday boys that Seungmin finds himself losing himself in the camaraderie and the happy feeling of having everyone around to celebrate him, Jisung and Felix. Once dinner is finished and everyone is relaxed, full and happy he turns to you and finds you laughing at something Hyunjin is telling you from across the table. He sits there silently just watching you before her jerks in his seat when he feels your hand grab his under the table, another blush dusting his cheeks lightly.

“Alright, so I think it’s time for the birthday boys to blow out their candles and open their gifts!” Chan calls out happily as everyone cheers in agreement. Three small cakes are brought out and everyone sings a cheerful Happy Birthday to them all while Seungmin hears you sing his name last as you lean into his side happily. Once the cake is divided and handed out he then reaches down to the floor to grab your gift bag, he peers into it and when he spots the journal inside he whips his head up to stare at you wide eyed as you smirk softly at him.

He gently pulls out the navy blue journal with the gold flecks and looks at you surprised and shocked. The boys all glance at him curiously due to his reaction to your gift. Changbin even leans over to ask you quietly what’s with the notebook. It’s your special journal. Frowning softly, Seungmin wonders why you were gifting it to him before he’s suddenly opening it with eagerness, dying to know what it was you have been writing inside of it. On the inside page are the words Things I wish I had the courage to say to your face. He tilts his head to the side before slowly turning the page and his breath is instantly stolen from him as his eyes dart around the page avidly. Filling the page are free formed loving, funny and sweet thoughts that you’ve had about him in the last year of your friendship. As his eyes travel over the words and his hands turn the pages he can feel his heart start to skip beats as he realizes that he’s reading exactly how your feelings developed for him.

Nobody is perfect, but you’re pretty darn close, sticks out to him and he grins wildly at the words written there. I can’t believe how not sick of you I am, makes his chuckle softly to himself before his eyes land on another thought you’ve had about him. I absolutely adore you and can’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you could see yourself as I see you and I wish I could tell you this to your stupidly handsome face. 

When he looks up at you, your face is a pretty blushing mess as your eyes are downcast towards the table, he’s shocked to his absolute core that you could have these types of feelings for him. Not to mention finding the courage to give him a notebook full of these thoughts and feelings. His heart races in his chest as his hand reaches over towards you and cups your face gently guiding you to look at him. He sucks in a sharp breath when your eyes stare at him with wariness shining through.

“I love you too.” he whispers to you as he stares into your eyes, finding joy blossoming in his chest when he sees your eyes fill with love and adoration for him before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours sweetly. Cheers rise around the table as Jeongin makes a comment of bewilderment about what Seungmin thinks he’s doing. “I will cherish this gift for years. May even tell our future kids about how their Mom made the first move.” he says cheekily and you grin widely at him before kissing him once more.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 21. Show Me

Summary: After rushing from the training hall, Dahlia is left alone to her thoughts. Or so she thinks.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

I had no idea how I ended up here. Just letting my feet carry me to wherever they lead me. Which apparently was the top of one of the towers of the Quadrant. It clearly wasn’t used much, but it must have been a place someone came to as there were some footsteps in the dust in the stairwell.

I’m sure the view was beautiful, but all I could do was stare down at my hands, the memory replaying in my head over and over again. The scream echoing loudly in my head over, and over again. I’d barely had my signet a day and it was already a shit show just like the rest of my life. Just when life was starting to be good for once. I was making friends, didn’t have to deal with the constant disappointed looks of my father and brother. I was actually living my life. Now I doubted anyone would want anything to do with me after that.

They must have developed a signet like I had recently. Emetterio knew of my signet after last night, knew it wasn’t entirely safe for me to touch anyone except Bodhi really. His signet was the only one I could trust in my hands. But clearly the other cadet had manifested one without realising. And I’d thrown it back at them without even realising and caused everyone in the Quadrant to look on in horror as they screamed and screamed. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to block the memory from my mind, but it does nothing. The scream still echoing loudly in my ears.

I startle as the door next to me opens. I half expect to see Xaden who I knew had tried to follow me out. And at first I think it is him with how tall the person is, but as they fully step through the door, it’s the last person I expect to see. They shut the door behind them before walking over and lowering themselves to the ground as they lean up against the ledge with me, legs sprawled out in front of them. I look up at them to see them staring down at my hands. I’d only ever seen him glare or tease me, so the worried way he looks at my hands is new to me. A softer look to their features I’ve not seen before, as if they were relaxed despite the worry. And I hated to say how much I liked it.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, an almost pained tone to their voice.

I look at him confused, unsure why he’s apologising to me. “Sorry? Why are you sorry Garrick?”

His shifts his gaze to look at me, and I can see the pain in his hazel eyes. I can see how sorry he is, as if he feels like this is his fault. But there’s something more there. I know the look in his eyes isn’t just to do with what happened to me.

“I’m sorry, because the signet you replicated was mine.” He confesses, averting his gaze as he leans his head back against the stone ledge, looking up at the roof.

I stare at him in disbelief. One because I’d been so adamant I’d replicated the cadet I’d been up against. And two…. Because this was a side of him I had never seen. Not once in my months here had I seen him be anything but the arrogant lumbering oaf I’d assumed him to be. Didn’t think he cared about anyone but himself and the few he kept close. But I can see how worried he is. How bad he feels. There’s no way this is an act. Especially when I lower my gaze and note a slight shake to his hands. I almost want to reach out and grasp them in mine, but after what’s happened I doubt he’d let me. And I internally kick myself for wanting to do so. Just because he feels sorry for me and what’s happened, doesn’t mean he won’t go back to treating me any different once tomorrow comes. Just like my brother and father.

“The same thing happened to me.” He starts, his gaze still set on the roof. “We were doing training while challenges were on hold. Only a few squads were with us. And I had no idea my signet had manifested.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before looking down at his own hands. “We were doing hand to hand combat and at first it was fine. Both of us landing hits on each other without any issue. But as it went on and got more and more intense, I felt something shift in me. Something had changed. And as I pinned them beneath me, their screams echoed around the room as they writhed in pain beneath me.”

Garrick squeezes his fists shut, the tremble now more emphasised due to it. As I look at him I realise what had happened today was almost a copy and paste of what had happened to him last year. No doubt reliving the memory as the screams had echoed around the training room, watching as I pinned them to the ground in a similar manner. Not only was I shaken, but Garrick was to.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

He turns his head and lightly laughs. “The last thing you need to be is sorry. You did nothing wrong.”

I shake my head. “But I did. I didn’t think. I should have thought about what could happen when I touched your arm. But I didn’t. I didn’t think and now I’ve probably traumatised some poor cadet, and you.” I ramble, finally breaking free of the slump I was in. “Everyone probably thinks I’m a freak.”

He chuckles lightly, my eyes narrowing at him as I glare at him slightly. “Aww you care about me. How sweet.”

I huff and push off the ground, “And there it is. Sorry for trying to be nice.” I snap as I go to storm off.

I barely take a step before his hand grasps my arm halting me in my tracks. I try to pull my arm free, not wanting to accidentally hurt him but he just grips my arm tighter.

“I’m not trying to be an ass. Just thought a joke might make you feel better.” He states bluntly as he stares down at me.

The last time I’d been this close was in the hallway the day after threshing, and I’d forgotten just how tall Garrick truly was as I crane my neck to look up at him. And just like last time, being this close to him affects me more than it should.

“It doesn’t matter, as soon as we walk out of here you’ll go back to hating me and treating me like you normally do.” I say as I try to loosen my arm from his grip.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t hate you Dahlia.”

I freeze at his words. In all the months I’d been here, not once had he used my name. Always calling me little Aetos, or some other colourful word. Never by my actual name. And I hated how it caught me off guard. Hated how much I liked it coming from him.

He releases my arm, clearly satisfied I won’t storm off anymore. “At the start, yeah I did. But I’ve realised I never hated you. I hated your name. Your last name. Who I thought you were. Who your father is. And dare I say, I was wrong about you.”

“Is this you trying to apologise?” I ask, staring at him like he’s gone crazy.

Cause clearly he had. Or maybe I had. Maybe I’d been knocked out on that mat and this was just a dream. There was no way these words were coming from Garrick. Garrick who despised me from the moment I stepped off the parapet and he knew my…. My name. I’d barely looked at him but there was no hate in his eyes the first time I’d looked at him. He looked curious and amused as I’d tried to avoid giving my name to him and Xaden. But the moment Dain had uttered my last name, it had changed. Every time he’d looked at me since then there had been hate in his eyes. Until now. And I hated to admit that now as I looked up at him, there was none of that there. For once Garrick Tavis was looking at me like he didn’t hate me.

“I can retract it if you want? But yes, this is me saying that maybe I was wrong about jumping to conclusions about you based off a name.” He admits with a shrug, clearly trying to play it casual.

“You aren’t doing this because you feel bad about the whole signet thing?” I ask, still not sure what he’s saying is true.

“I won’t deny I feel extremely bad about what happened. But it’s not why I’m doing this. And I get if you don’t believe a single word I’m saying to you right now. Just felt like right now was the only time you would listen to me.”

He wasn’t wrong though. As he’d joined me up here I’d let him. I hadn’t scoffed and moved on time I usually would, hadn’t made a smart ass comment to him. I’d watched and let him sit next to me and talk to me properly. Too caught up in what had happened to care. And honestly, I’d wanted to company despite running off.

I walk over to the ledge, looking out over the Quadrant as I think over his words. Despite everything something deep down told me to accept his apology and put all this behind us. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I want to suddenly forgive him and move on? Maybe Bodhi’s insistence I give him a chance had finally worn me down.

“Ok. “ I utter, turning to look at him. “I’m not fully forgiving you. But I’m giving you a chance Tavis. As they say, actions speak louder than words.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 39 - Natalie Portman

Y'all need to get the fuck outta here.

On AO3.

Everything goes to shit. You don’t got more than a second to process Astarion with his knives before the short shit slaver swings at him. With a goddamn battle ax. How the fuck does somebody fight that?

You got no weapons. Lost your stick to a Hook Bitch and your knife to a fucking drow. So you do what you been doing, and try to stay outta the fucking way.

That lasts about three seconds.

Something slams you low. Folds your knees and you crater down. Then another little bastard is on you. His own knife glints in the low glow. Like every other short shit fucker you’ve been pinned by in the last month, the fucker is strong.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice is tight. Slaver takes another swing, which he dodges.

“Sun-scum bitch!” the fucking ankle biter on you spits. Literally. Speckles your face in the process and some of it lands in your mouth.

“Uergh!” You make some garbled kind of outrage noise.

You don’t know how to actually use a knife that ain’t slashing wildly at a butthole, don’t know how to shoot a bow or even a .22. But you wrestled with other kids at the farmstead (before you was considered a girl and forced to do chores while the boys got to play). Part of you remembers how to shimmy and grab.

Ankle Biter leans in close with that knife. Oily hair falls in your mouth.

You also know how to bite.

You twist up and crunch into his ear. He screams. Tries to pull away, but you hold fast, teeth straining in your gums, and you get your hand around his knife wrist.

“Fuck!” he says. Finally tears free.

Flesh also tears. Hot metal washes over your tongue and you spit as he rips his own ear off getting away from you.

“You fucking bitch!” he says.

You got enough room now to get a leg up between y’all. Wedge a foot against his chest. The edge of the wall is right there, and you don’t even gotta think.

You kick. Ankle Biter flails back. Trips over the edge. Scrambles for a hand hold, but you kick at his hands. Miss them and crack him in the face.

He falls.

Astarion grunts. You look up. He can’t get close enough to Slaver with that mcfucking ax. Fucker’s too fast with it. He needs an opening. A distraction—

You look to your chest. To the severed ear oozing over your drow armor.

No time. You pluck it up, scramble to your knees to aim better, and throw.

It ain’t enough to do damage. You get nothing but an instinctive flinch from Slaver. But Astarion is a two-hundred-year-old vampire elf, and he don’t need any more than that. In a blur, he’s in Slaver’s range. Short fucker tries to back away, get his ax lifted up between them.

Too late.

Astarion grabs his arm with one hand, his face with the other, and darts in to rip out a chunk of throat. Follows Slaver down as he gulps down what he can.

He pops off with a gasp. Swipes his messy chin with a forearm, and gives you a bloody grin.

“I couldn’t let you be the only one having fun,” he says.

You want to grimace. Or scream. And some fucked up little goblin in your skull still kinda wants to kiss him. On, like, the cheek maybe (it’s on the mouth).

What actually comes out is a weird, wheezing snort.

Shouts down below. You catch some of the trilled Drowic. Bastards have caught up.

“Ladder,” Astarion says and points behind you.

“Hold on.”

“Darling—” he starts. Realizes you’re snatching up the saddle bags because you are motherfucking sick and motherfucking tired of losing all your shit.

“Ah, of course,” he says. “Retrieve your phallus. It’s not as if we’re begging to be shot up here.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder. “I was thinking potions. You’re the one who won’t shut up about the goddamn dildo.”

Then an arrow whistles past your ear, and you’re following him down that ladder as fast as you can.

Where fucking zombies shamble over to meet you.

“What the fuck!” you say.

Astarion just shoves you back and goes hog wild. Man’s moving faster than you ever seen him. You aren’t actually seeing him; he’s just a blur of silver hair and pale skin and the dark drow armor.

He cuts through them fuckers like a goddamn weed whacker.

Movement above. A drow drops from the walkway. Sort of spiderman skitters down on a net and drops the last ten feet. She don’t so much as glance at you.

She’s focused on that big, rickety gate.

“Shit. Astarion!”

You done spotted the dock. There’s a big boat, kinda like a catamaran. You can’t help the fight without emotional support grenades or a fucking stick. But you can’t just leave him, either. So you stand there and hover like a dumbass.

Until he takes the head off the last one. Turns to you as the gate groans like a set of old man lungs on the last stretch of pneumonia. He gives you a weird look you can’t parse, before his whole face furrows into a scowl.

“What are you waiting for?” he says and makes a sweeping gesture with his hands. “Go!”

The ground turns soft. Not sand, but finer than gravel. The two of you sprint across the beach, towards the dock. One hundred feet. Seventy. Fifty.

And something pops outta the ground. Long and skinny and dark. You veer to go around, but Astarion clamps a hand on your wrist and jerks you back so hard your feet damn near fly out.

More sticks sprout right where you was about to step. And then you notice the fletching. They ain’t weird mushrooms or sea grass. They’re arrows.

You look back. One drow on the wall. Three trotting out to flank y’all—two on the left and one on the right. And the gate wide open, so Bitch Queen and Shithouse can stride on through like rich people at some fancy-fuck costume party.

Shithouse spots Astarion first. Half his face is a fucked up smear of burned tissue. The other twists in an uglier sneer. “Traitor.”

…huh?

Astarion must sense the confusion across y’all’s brainworms. He murmurs over his shoulder, “It’s what they call surface elves. It’s quite derogatory.”

He sounds near giggle at that last part. Solidifies that impression by making a kissing noise at Shithouse.

“Hold,” Bitch Queen says without even turning her head. “You. Surrender, and we’ll kill you swiftly.”

Goddamnit. Goddamnit. You’re only a dozen feet from that dock. So fucking close.

You reach for the brainworm group chat. Tap into it like you hit a road closure on a long trip and you’re fumbling with your phone trying to find the right detour. You ain’t being subtle about the shitfuckshit in your brain, neither. Alarm zaps through the others and crashes back into you.

They’re closer than they’ve been. But still too far to help.

You look to Astarion again. Your scalp burns under phantom claws.

“Don’t let them take me again,” you say, low enough you hope the others don’t catch it. “Please.”

He’s still got hold of your wrist. Glances your way outta the corner of his eye, and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Easy, darling,” he says. Out loud. And then drags you up as he takes a step back. His other arm snakes around your chest. A cold line presses into your throat.

“Ast…what?” you say.

“How about a renegotiation of those terms?” he says to the fucking drow. His voice coils through you.

“Astarion?”

“Do it, traitor,” Shithouse says. Takes two steps forward. “Our matron mother will simply peel the knowledge from the slave’s skull. After we’ve peeled off every inch of your skin.”

“Ooh, promises. Unfortunately, I’ve tasted that dish before, darling. You’ll have to be more creative. And if you were capable of doing all that, you’d have killed her at the beginning and saved yourselves all this trouble.”

Shithouse starts towards y’all again.

“I said hold.” Bitch Queen don’t raise her voice. Don’t change her tone. Sounds like she’s ordering coffee at a diner.

And Shithouse stops like he hit an invisible wall.

“What are your terms?” she says.

Astarion came back for you. He kissed you. He wouldn’t…would he?

“Safe passage for myself,” he says.

“And your companion?”

You can’t see his face. He’s an iron presence at your back. Your wrist twisted behind you, his grip tight. The other holding his fucking knife to your neck. But his cool breath puffs against your ear as he nuzzles in.

“Trust me,” he breathes.

Then a hot sting on your neck. He cut you. He cut you.

“An ally, once,” he says. And then licks your fucking temple. “But she’s served her purpose less than adequately. I’d rather continue on my own way, if it’s all the same to you.”

He came back. He lured a fucking birdshark after him to get you back. You ain’t sure what, exactly, he’s trying to accomplish here. But he asked you to trust him.

“No!” you say. “You motherfucker! I helped you!”

You thrash. Just a little. Enough the knife slices you again. It’s shallow, but you feel his chest hitch behind you.

You seen him use those knives enough to know man’s got control of them like they’re his own fingers. If he wanted to cut you, he would. And if he were any less dexterous, you’d have slit your own throat just then with that stunt.

But he modified it. Just enough. He’s putting on a show.

“And that was your mistake, my sweet,” he says. Louder,” Shall we? I leave her to you, you leave me to my business, and we all get what we want?”

“Fucking bitch,” you say and scrape a heal down his shin. He is wearing boots. That don’t rise that far.

“Ah! You little—” He lets go of your wrist to shake you. The world blurs, but your brain ain’t sloshing around in your skull. He’s way stronger than this.

Then he blasts into your mind with his brainworm and his outrage tastes like eggs with way too much pepper. That hurt.

But you needed to make it convincing.

Oh, he’d glare at you if he could. Drag you over to that lake and dump you in and let all your things sink to the bottom.

But the drow flanking y’all edge in.

“Ah, ah, ah!” he says. “None of that. This is a straightforward arrangement; let’s not ruin it for the both of us, hmm?”

Y’all haven’t moved any closer to the dock, even with your antics. So what’s he trying to accomplish?

His sheer, buttery smugness fills your mind and your ears pop. Except they don’t. He just tugs you into him, skating around the edges of his thoughts, so that his ears become yours. The cavern fills with the panting inhale of all the drow, their pounding pulses—one in particular fills his thoughts, and you try to edge closer to see what—

No, darling, not that. That.

A roiling shiver. A distant thrumming. Something big, something moving.

Something underground.

Oh. Oh-ho-ho.

His giddiness mingles with yours into a schadenfreude milkshake across y’all’s brainworms.

(Somewhere in the distance, Gale frowns at a wall and says, “A what?”)

“Make the deal,” Shithouse says. He leans close to Bitch Queen, and at first, you think he’s actually stupid enough to say that so loud. Until…nope, he ain’t being loud. His lips barely move. You should not be able to hear that man. You’re still riding shotgun in Astarion’s hearing and holy shit, that man hears everything.

A flash of his memory: staring up at the red canvas of his tent as guts gurgle and people snore and Karlach thrashes and…is Wyll humming in his sleep?

“Jesus,” you whisper.

“Once we have the thief, we hunt down the traitor and tan his skin to make our new house banner.”

Bitch Queen nods to Shithouse. Then to y’all, “Very well. We will accept your terms. Let our target go, and you may depart unmolested. On my word as first daughter of House Darnruel.”

She said depart unmolested.

Astarion’s amusement fizzes against you. He caught that, too. Poor thing thinks she’s being clever. She does look quite young, for a drow (she looks like she’s in her forties, what is he even talking about).

Astarion takes a step back, dragging you along. Bitch Queen somehow straightens even more.

Right against you, so close his breath tickles your ear (fine, so you shiver, it’s a normal response to being tickled), Astarion says, “And right about…now.”

Shithouse looks down. Squints through the ruined flesh of half his face. Bitch Queen goes all hard and harsh in what you think is alarm.

“Bulette!” one of the drow shouts.

“Get up the ladders!” Bitch Queen says.

Too late. Apparently, that birdshark was real pissed. Pissed enough to track y’all the whole way here.

The big bitch rockets straight outta the ground, right between the legs of the drow on the right. She tries to leap up and away, and almost makes it.

The hook of birdshark’s beak snips, almost tenderly, right through her crotch.

“I knew it!” Astarion says.

Chaos erupts. Bitch Queen says a word and her hands light on purple fire. She flings it at the birdshark, who whips around with a screech. The archer still above gets off about three shots. Which the birdshark seems to take personally, because it darts to the side, gator-like, and smashes into the half-rotted timbers bracing up that section of the wall.

The archer falls. Lands in a roll and don’t snap her femur like a carrot stick. So birdshark decides to be a dear and skitters forwards to crunch off her foot.

“Fucking called it,” you say.

“Time to go, darling,” Astarion responds.

Together, y’all bolt for the ship. Hit the dock, boots pounding on the wobbly planks. The boat is tethered by one, big rope the same thickness as your wrist. Astarion stoops with his knife still drawn.

“Do you know how to work one of these?” he says.

You been on a pontoon boat out on Tenkiller Lake, like, once.

“Uh,” you say.

“Get aboard. Try that part up there? That looks like a handle or something.”

Stairs lead to a kind of balcony on the back. You scramble on board. A railing rises towards the back, but the bitch is completely open on the front.

You start for the stairs. Stumble over what you think is a pack or cargo or something. Until it says, “Fuck off! Watch it!”

A duergar lifts himself up. Even a couple feet away now, little fucker reeks of alcohol.

“Who the hell’re you?” he says. Stumbles to his feet and reaches for what you assume at this point—because that is just what everybody fucking does here—is a knife in his belt.

Fuck it.

You lunge. Shove him, as hard as you can.

He lets out a startled squawk, his ass first, and then keeps on rolling backwards right off the edge and into the water.

“Ha!” Astarion crows. And saws at the apparently un-cuttable rope. “Why is this thing so thick?”

It’s gotta be the adrenaline. Or maybe your brains just flipped the bird and skipped off. Cause you open your mouth, “That’s what she said.”

You ain’t usually that kind of joker. You been told you got dry wit. College boy humor? Not so much.

Astarion stops to gawp at you. Blinks once. A woman on shore screams as the birdshark chomps out the front of her gut.

“You’re utterly deranged,” says the man with blood drying all down his chin.

Which you tell him.

“It wasn’t a complaint.” His grin is as sharp as his knife as he finally slices through the last of the fucking rope. He holds that grin as he vaults on board himself, and as he swoops in, wraps one arm around you, and drags you close enough to plant his lips on your cheek.

Half of you goes wibbly.

The other half swats at him and says, “Ew! Blood breath!”

He only cackles and all but flows up the stairs.

There ain’t no engine or, like, old-timey steering wheel. There is a rudder.

A drow—half of one, anyway—goes flying through the air to splash in the shallows nearby.

Y’all look at each other. At the empty deck below. The sails on either side folded like a bird’s wings. Or maybe bat wings.

Astarion grabs the rudder.

The entire boat shimmers. He gasps. Flinches. But grabs the rudder more tightly and his face goes all sharp.

Wood groans and canvas hisses. The wings on either side slide up, unfurling like a church lady’s fan. And the whole thing shudders. Shifts. Creaks forwards away from shore.

“Whoa,” you say.

“It’s enchanted,” Astarion breathes. Looks to his hand. Up to the extended sails.

The boat moves slow at first. But you have to lean in, just a little, as it starts to pick up speed. The dock floats behind y’all.

Holy shit. Holy shit, y’all fucking made it.

You glance back to shore, just to see (hoping to spot Bitch Queen lying in a pool of her own blood). Spot the birdshark on its back, unmoving.

And the bitch herself stands at the end of the dock, wreathed in purple. She utters the last syllable of her spell and thunder claps across the water.

You start to make a sound. Then it hits you. Phantom claws. No gentle brush, this time. No fucked up caress. They slide through your hair, pierce your skull, and shred.

You think you scream. Then your knees give out and you hit the deck.

[jsbluu]

left on seen | chapter 20: plan a

➨ chapter 19: damage control | left on seen masterlist | next

➨ chapter 20 omg we’re reaching the 20’s i feel so emotional.. i can’t believe it oh my gosh i just want them to kiss already

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when you walk into the lecture hall, you almost immediately spot leehan. he’s sitting in your regular spot, scribbling something random in his notebook like how you usually find him. except this time, he doesn’t look up. no smile, no wave, nothing. it’s like you don’t even exist anymore.

your chest tightens as you hesitate by the door, the words he texted you the day before replaying in your mind, “i need some space for a while.” you had to keep repeating to yourself in your head - this is what he wants, he deserves that.

you shake your thoughts away and find a seat a few rows further down from where he is, it’s better this way and hopefully you won’t have to see him at all.

a few minutes later, jisung walks in. his eyes land on you almost instantly, and you couldn’t tell if he was purposely looking for your face or you just so happened to be the first thing he saw when he walked in. he weaves through the rows and stops when he reaches the seat next to you.

“hey” he says, tilting his head towards the empty seat next to you. “is it okay if i sit here?”

you almost freeze in your seat when he asks, and you bite back your tongue from saying yes. his presence would be comforting, but you know if leehan saw you two he would be so much more hurt than before, and you had to stop thinking about yourself for once.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea..” you mumble, looking away from him.

he blinks, his small smile faltering a bit. “oh, okay” he nods, understanding what you were silently trying to tell him. but that still didn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster.

he finds another empty seat in the row below you, about 2 seats across from you. you turn around to sneak a glance at leehan, but his face gives nothing away. he’s still focused on his notes, like he’s the only person in the room.

before you can emphasize on it, kazuha walks into the room, her presence immediately making you feel uneasy. she paused in the doorway, scanning around for somewhere to sit or somebody to sit with. it doesn’t take long for her to realize the awkward distance between you, jisung, and leehan, especially between you and jisung. her stare lingers for a bit before making a b-line towards him.

“hey” she says smiling, sliding into the seat next to him.

you force yourself to look away, gripping your pen tightly as you stare at your notes. kazuha isn’t doing anything wrong, she’s nice, warm, and easy to be around; everything you’re not right now.

as the lecture continues, you try your best to move your focus away from them, but you can’t help but stare at the two as she laughs and leans into him. he isn’t even that funny you thought. you tell yourself it’s fine, you have absolutely no reason to be upset. but the jealousy creeps in anyway, and for some reason you can’t seem to shake it.

the weight of everything feels unbearable against your chest, it feels like you could scream. the second your professor dismissed your class, you’re out of your seat, shoving your notebook and laptop into your bag and bolting out the door. someone calls your name, jisung maybe? or leehan? but that doesn’t stop you, nobody could.

back at your dorm, you drop everything on the floor, staring at the ceiling as everything crashes over you. you replay the entire morning in your head, the tension between you and leehan and the awkward, short lived conversation you had with jisung that ended with you basically shutting him down.

no matter how many things you tried to distract yourself with, you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were gonna apologize to leehan. he deserves something more than just a text or ignoring the situation in all until it was blown over.

you pulled out your notebook and tapped the pen on the page, trying to sort out your emotions. the words feel messy and inadequate, but it was a start. you think of all the ways leehan had been there for you, since the moment you met him that first day of class when he introduced himself. or when he had invited you to mark’s show and made sure you were happy and having fun, even if it was at the expense of his.

you had taken all that for granted, and now, sitting alone in your dorm, the weight of that realization presses down on you. you’ll have to figure this out. you have to. because you can’t let this silence stretch any longer, you can’t lose him.

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 2

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21

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Chapter 2: Beneath the Ashes

Arriving at Y/N’s place, I park and take a moment to steady my racing heart. I can already see her silhouette through the window, pacing back and forth. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car, determination mixed with dread coursing through me.

As I knock on the door, it swings open almost instantly, revealing Y/N’s fiery gaze. “You actually showed up,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d actually end shit,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out more defensive than I intended.

She steps aside, letting me in, and the tension in the room is palpable. “What did you expect? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks! You think I’d just wait around forever?”

I clench my fists, my patience wearing thin. “I’m dealing with a lot right now, Y/N. You can’t just act like I’m the bad guy for trying to handle my shit!”

“Handle it? Is that what you call shutting me out? Not even telling me your grandfather passed? What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her voice rising.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this!” I shout back, the frustration bubbling over. “I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand what? That you’re pushing me away while I’m trying to be here for you?” She steps closer, her anger radiating off her like heat waves.

“Y/N, stop,” I warn, trying to keep the situation from escalating further, but she doesn’t back down.

“I won’t! You think I’m just going to sit here and let you treat me like I’m nothing?” she yells, shoving me back, her hands pressing against my chest.

I pause, staring at her in disbelief. “I dare you to put your fucking hands on me again, Y/N,” I challenge, my voice low and dangerous.

She steps into my space, glaring up at me, unyielding. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

In a split second, the anger surges, and I grab her shirt, pulling her closer. “You think I’m fucking around, Y/N? I told you from the jump: I don’t play that ‘putting hands on each other’ shit.”

What the actual fuck am I doing

Every time she tries to pull away, my grip tightens, the fire between us flaring. “I hate you,” she spits, the venom in her words cutting through me.

My heart sinks, the words landing like a punch to my gut. “You don’t mean that,” I reply, my voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

She hates me..Well I hate me even more.

“Don’t I?” she counters, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Because right now, I can’t stand you!”

Join the fucking club yn. 

The thought cuts deeper than I care to admit, but I can’t back down now. “You think this is easy for me? Losing my grandfather? It’s tearing me apart, and all I’m asking for is a little understanding!”

Her expression falters for just a moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes, but then it hardens again. “Understanding? You think I can just overlook you shutting me out? You think I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”

No, I just wanted you to be patient with me. Why Can’t I just say that

“You want to throw everything away because I’ve been dealing with my shit?” I can feel the desperation creeping into my voice. “You think that makes it any easier for me?”

She stares at me, breathing heavily, the anger shifting into something more complicated. But the moment hangs thick with unspoken words, and I can feel the walls between us closing in tighter.

“I don’t know, Sukuna. Maybe it’s too late for us,” she finally says, her voice quieter now but still firm.

I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. “No,” I whisper, desperate. “It can’t be too late. Not for us.”

She scoffed while walking away from me. I found myself suddenly following Y/N through her apartment, desperation propelling me forward. 

This can’t be happening. Not now. Please, Y/N, just hear me out.

"You don't fucking get it," I growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Explain it then," she snaps back, her voice watery, barely holding back tears.

Fuck... she’s crying... She’s crying again... I can’t... Oh god... I can’t fucking do this. 

My chest tightens, 

The sight of her in pain tearing at something deep inside me.

“Please just stay and explain it to me,” she pleads, her eyes searching mine for something—understanding, reassurance, anything.

You want me to explain it? To tell you how much it hurts? To tell you that you’re breaking me into a million pieces and don’t even know it? How will that help anything? It won’t make you want me back. It won’t take back the way I’ve been acting or our fights. All I’m doing is hurting you.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know that. It just... it’s a lot.” My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, emotions crashing over me like waves.

Y/N cuts me off before I can say more. “I’m not doing this anymore, Sukuna.” Her words slice through the air, final and resolute.

Not doing this anymore.

 The phrase echoes in my mind like a death knell. My stomach drops, a heavy weight settling on my chest.

“What do you mean?” I ask, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You can’t just—”

“I can and I will,” she interrupts, her voice rising. “You’ve shut me out for so long. I can’t keep waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and realize what you’re doing to us!”

But I don’t want to lose you!

“I’ve been trying to be there for you, but you keep pushing me away!” she continues, her frustration boiling over. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m not important enough to you, like you’re too busy drowning in your own problems to even see me!”

“I’m not drowning, Y/N!” I shout, the rawness of my voice shocking even me. “I’m trying to stay afloat! You think this is easy for me? I’m lost without you, but I thought I was protecting you by keeping my distance.”

Her gaze hardens, and for a moment, I see the glimmer of hope flicker in her eyes, then dim. “Protecting me? By shutting me out? By pretending like everything is fine when it’s not?”

I didn’t want to burden you…

“I thought you were stronger than this, Sukuna,” she says, her voice breaking. “But instead, you’re just hurting yourself and pushing me away.”

God, it hurts.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m scared of what losing you really means. I don’t know how to handle all this, and I thought… I thought maybe I could do it on my own.”

Her expression softens for a fleeting moment, but then it hardens again. “But you can’t. You can’t do it alone. You need to let me in.”

“I know,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest. “But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to explain any of this without breaking us completely.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Just be honest. Just... talk to me.”

I want to. I want to tell you everything, but what if it’s too late?

“Please, Y/N,” I plead, stepping closer, desperation coating my words. “I need you to stay. I can’t do this without you.”

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Sukuna. I need someone who will be there for me, not someone who keeps shutting me out.”

And I don’t want to be that person.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “But I’m so damn scared of losing you.”

“I’m scared too,” she replies, her voice small. “But I can’t keep doing this alone.”

In that moment, the distance between us feels insurmountable. I can see the pain in her eyes, the hope slipping away like sand through my fingers. “Y/N, please…”

But she’s already stepping back, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t, Sukuna. Not like this.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck…shit…this can’t be happening….why does my head fucking hurt

I know pushing further like this won't help, but I'm desperate. I know I’m being toxic, clinging onto her like this when she’s clearly done, but I don’t care. I could almost hear Jin laughing at me now.

 The great heartless Sukuna, broken up over a girl. Who would’ve thought?

I follow her to her room, watching her collapse onto her bed, her body language screaming exhaustion. She grabs her iPad and starts scrolling on Tumblr, shutting me out. Ignoring me completely.

I sit down beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her, trying to close the distance any way I can. "Y/N," I start, my voice coming out soft, barely a murmur, but she doesn’t respond. She keeps scrolling, her face set in an emotionless mask. I can feel her slipping further and further away.

"Get out, Sukuna," she says, her voice steady but hollow. No anger, no frustration. Just...tired.

But I don’t move. I can’t. My pride might be screaming at me to just walk out, to keep whatever scrap of dignity I have left, but my heart? My heart is keeping me glued here, next to her, silently begging her to look at me.

I reach over and try to take the iPad from her hands, but she quickly turns away, hugging it to her chest. I don’t care how it looks; I lay down beside her, scooting closer, feeling the tension in her shoulders, her back rigid with resentment or maybe…exhaustion.

 I fucking missed this...I love her so much. When was the last time I told her I loved her?

I swallow, nerves clawing at my throat. "I love you, Y/N," I whisper, the words tasting like desperation, slipping out before I can stop them.

The silence is deafening, thick and suffocating. Then, a sniffle.

"Don’t say things you don’t mean, Sukuna," she murmurs, her voice breaking, barely holding back tears.

I'm fucking this up. I’m losing her. God, someone, help me not fuck this up further.

She turns towards me, finally, her brown eyes—the ones I’ve grown to love, that used to sparkle every time I made her laugh—now red and puffy, burdened with the pain that I caused.

Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her, gentle at first, then desperate, pouring every unspoken apology, every ounce of regret and love into it. I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her tightly, as if I could keep her from slipping through my fingers any further.

Her body tenses, and for a second, I think she’ll push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she clings to me, her fingers tangling into my shirt, pulling me closer. The room is quiet, save for our shaky breaths, the sound of our hearts pounding against each other’s chests.

Please don’t leave me. Please, Y/N. Just stay. Just a little longer. I’ll be better; I swear I will.

Y/N’s lips pull away from mine, and she stares up at me, her eyes searching, conflicted. I feel my heart thundering in my chest, every beat a reminder of how badly I want her, need her right now.

"You taste like cigarette smoke, Kuna," she murmurs, her voice a little unsteady. I can’t help but chuckle, sliding my hands slowly up her sides until one rests gently on her cheek, brushing a thumb over her skin.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I say, my voice low, tinged with a hint of guilt, but I can’t seem to let her go. My need to be close to her, to feel her warmth, is overwhelming everything else right now.

She bites her lip, glancing away, the hesitation clear on her face. But my fingers trace the line of her jaw, gently guiding her face back toward mine. "I need you," I say softly, my voice raw with longing. My hand cups her face as I lean down, pressing my lips against the curve of her neck, then biting my way down, savoring the way her breath catches each time my teeth graze her skin.

"Please, baby," I whisper against her neck, my voice almost pleading, "I need you so fucking bad."

She lets out a shaky sigh, her fingers curling into my shirt. "Kuna, we shouldn’t," she whispers, her words barely audible, as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this; part of me is painfully aware of how wrong it is to mess with her mind like this, to sleep with her when we’re both standing on shaky ground, barely able to hold each other up. But the ache in my chest, the hollow feeling I’ve been trying to drown in anything but my own thoughts, is too much to bear alone tonight.

"Just... let me forget for a little while," I murmur, my hands sliding down her sides, tracing every curve.

I pull her shirt over her head and slowly kiss my way up her body until I'm staring into her eyes.

"You... you look......... like you want......." she pants. "Like you want to eat me."

Cause I fucking do. God…

"I have never... wanted anyone... more than I want you, right now," I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. It feels intimate as I press my body against hers and then roll my stomach in a slow grind that almost feels like I'm fucking her. I do it twice more, hissing as she shivers with pleasure.

The whimpers. Fuck me... The whimpers. Fuck I forgot how she sounds. It’s been a month.

I kissed my way down her body this time, taking one of my hands to firmly grip her jaw to keep her focused on me “Eyes on me princess.” 

I realize her jaw once I’m sure she focuses on me. I slipped her shorts off, revealing her soaked cunt. 

I spread her legs open, while I slid lower down the bed. I push her legs back “Hold these and you better not drop them, pretty girl.” I slide my tongue from her clit to her close, slowly then around her inner lips. I swirl my wet tongue around her clit 

ONCE! TWICE! THRICE!

"Fuck daddyyy-"! I hear her say. I smile a bit going a bit lower to her hole, I spit, almost drool onto her pussy and slurp up her juices. I feel her wetting my face more. I slip a finger in then another. 

“Kuna, please…please fuck me” she whined, begged.

Fuck she’s…I forgot how sweet her taste is. How sweet she sounds. 

“ FUCK... keep doing THAT... I love the way you beg. Love the way you say my name.”

I slowly suck my way back up to her clit once more, dropping a quick nibble on it causing her to pull away from me. I wrap my arms around her hips and pull her back down and keep my grip on her.

“Come on yn. Don’t run from it. I don’t play that.”

I continue sucking on her clit. I add in one finger then another. I listen to her moans echo through her bedroom. Her pleas in my ears for more…

Or is it to slow down? Fuck either way, the way she sounds is gonna make me bust.

I thrust my fingers in and out faster, the way her my pussy is wet and the squelching sounds it’s making. I stop for a moment staring at her pussy saying “talk to me some more.”

I feel yn’s body get tense under me. That doesn’t stop me. I suck on her clit harder. I arch my fingers upwards grazing her g spot. 

“Su….kuna please please please…ouu fuck..right there…please!”

I slow down causing yn to practically scream at me. “Sorry princess” i smirked

I picked up the speed again this time switching to tongue fuck her while i play with her clit. 

Yn’s moans grew louder, while she grew wetter. Her back arched off the bed, well she attempted to but he pulled her back in, almost stifling me completely. 

I feel her tightened around my tongue then I feel her all over my face. I smiled but I didn’t stop. I kept at it like a crack addict. Switching my mouth and fingers between her clit and her hole. She was fighting and twitching under me.

“Too much Kuna…please…you’re too much”

“Daddy please…Oh fuck! I can’t”

“Mmm gonna cum again..please…”

“Fuck mm coming…Kuna. Sukuna! Shiitt! Oh God.”

I release her legs to strip off my clothes. I watch her stretch her hand and stroke my dick. 

I'm hopeless for her. Fuck! I hope she doesn’t replace me in her life

 "God, I fucking love you," I groan, finally thrusting into her slick cunt, feeling it envelop me. Her cunt grip my dick and her legs are already shaking.

"Please," she gasps, biting her lip as she meets me thrust for thrust.

I swear to god, I could fuck you to death right now... Never been so fucking horny. 

I grab her hips to stop her from taking over.  “Just let me put in the work princess”

 I pushed myself inside her again, going all the way to the hilt—

My voice thick with desire, I confess my innermost desires, "I need you. I've always needed you, even when I pushed you away." 

I slid my hand up her body grabbing her throat, watching the lust and fucked out state all over her face. I watch her smile at me with that devious look in her eyes. The look I’ve missed in so long.

Her pussy is gonna be the death of me..Or is it her love. Maybe both

I release her throat, sliding my hands down her chest pulling on her nipples one by one, I slowly drag my hand lower, and lower until it’s on her stomach. I push down on it and angle my body slightly off to the side, picking up the pace more. 

Thwop Thwop Thwop! The sounds of her skin against mine, mine against hers became louder. “Kuna! Oh…fuck me please…harder!” Y’n is grinding up against her harder than before. 

This is fucking with my head.

"Please... don't... you're breaking me, Yn….fuck!” "I love you. Please..." my frenzied thrusts, driven by madness…maybe lust…or loss…

Fuck I need a smoke right now. 

My eyes were scanning her room trying to distract myself.

“Top draw on your left” yn moaned

“Huh..Fuck baby you’re killing me here..ss..wet and tight.” I groaned out. 

“You…fuck!...cigarettes top draw Kuna.” 

Am I that obvious..Jesus

I pulled out reach for the top draw and fished around, saw a pre rolled joint sitting in the ashtray and decided to take that instead. I quickly lit it up and took a deep drag exhaling then another. I leaned down to yn’s face talking slowly. “I need you yn…fuck. I really do.”

I flipped her over onto her stomach and arched her back nic for me. I took another hit feeling the thc slowly running through my veins. I eased inside her again

I’m slower this time around, “Throw it back on me baby. Take what’s yours. It’s your dick. You know that” I pull her hips back against her everytime she throws it back on me. 

“Oh my FUCKING god,” she cries out, her mouth hanging open as it hits her, rolling her under a wave of pleasure so pure and perfect, even I can feel it. Her body jerks, pussy spasming around my dick.

“Not done with your ass yet yn.” I wrap my hands around her hair and turn her face to the side, then press my body against her back pushing her into the prone bone/ collapsed doggy position. I take another pull of the joint before down and kiss her slowly exhaling all the smoke into her mouth.

 “Take me baby.” pulls out “I know I’ve been stupid these past weeks. Maybe even more” Thrusts in “I love you yn. Please baby. Anything but this.” pulls out “I love you, you matter to me” 

"I've been a fucking mess, Yn. Trying to protect you, trying to be the man you deserve. But I've been failing at both." 

I should shut up. Not say these things. I’ll make it worse

As I continue to move within her, my voice takes on a desperate tone. "I know I'm not good enough for you, but I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're mine, Yn. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side. but you deserve so much better than me."

"My feelings are so twisted up,"

Leaning down, I whisper into her ear, "Why do you want to leave me, Yn? Why end it like this?" I murmur, pulling out briefly before thrusting back in. My words, a mix of desperation and possessiveness. 

“Cause..Fuck- fuck fuck fuck s’too deep- hngh” 

“Nah, ss not deep enough…I know you can handle more.” I sit back on the bed in a kneeling position pulling her hips with me Smack! I grip her ass in my palm, spreading it apart to spit on her cunt from the back. 

I push her head down into the mattress and rut into her.

Mine... You're mine, princess... Every time you move, I want you to feel it. To ache with it. To be reminded that you fucking belong to me…

I flip her back over onto her back wanting to stare into her warm brown eyes. I push my fingers into her mouth. The ones I had inside her, coated with the evidence of her desire. I grab the headboard to give myself more leverage.

Bed squeaking

Sounds of skin slapping, unsticking and slapping against skin

Smell of weed and sex in the air

It’s enough to almost put me over the edge. ALMOST!

Fuck baby... I'm gonna cum...she groans

Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes.

"Oh god, oh god, oh GOD," she cries out.

"Yes,.. fuck yes...," I groan.

"Oh my gawwwwwd..." i feel her buck under me, trying to pull away from me, I pull her back down to me again

So close, baby... I'm so fucking close...

"So good... So fucking good...," I growl.

“Just take it..... Please, fucking take it.” I feel tighten around me, Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes to push me over the edge

“I know love, I know. I’m almost there.” I groan, pulling back and thrusting again each thruster harder and deeper than the last. 

There's nothing better than this... Nothing...

My eyes close and I pull back a little, thrusting one, final, time.

I watch Y/N slowly drift off beside me, her breaths steady, her face softened, and for a second, I reach out, wanting to pull her close again. But she shifts, pulling away from me.

Y/N… please. Don’t do this now.

“Y/N,” I say, my voice low, barely holding steady.

Her eyes flick open, tired and worn. "Sukuna," she says softly, like she's already miles away. "Your stuff is in the living room. Please take it... and leave."

I feel something shatter inside me, something small but crucial, and I can barely keep my voice from breaking. "Y/N, ple—"

“Just get out!” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet. I freeze, the final crack resounding through whatever was left of my heart.

They say bad things come in threes… or was it good things? Right now, I can’t remember anymore.

"Okay," I whisper, barely getting the word out. That's all I can manage.

I get up, get dressed, and head to the door where she left my stuff. I pick up the boxes and take one last look around her apartment. And then I walk out, closing the door softly behind me, knowing damn well there’s no coming back from this.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, step by step until I reach my car. I toss the boxes into the back seat, close the door, and finally slump into the driver’s seat. I don’t even reach for the keys—I just sit there, the weight of it all pressing down until I feel my lungs start to tighten, my hands starting to shake.

No, not now. Not here.

I close my eyes, hoping to calm myself down before the panic sets in, but it’s useless. My heart races, breaths coming short, shallow. I try to breathe slowly, but my chest feels tight, like it’s caving in on itself.

I sit there, arms wrapped around myself, as memories crash through my mind like a brutal tide—Jin’s smirk, my grandfather’s steady hands, Y/N’s quiet smile in the morning sunlight. I feel like I’m drowning in them, pulled under one after another, unable to surface.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. How did I fuck it up this badly?

But no answer comes, just the silence and the dark, swallowing me whole.

The quiet stretches around me, wrapping me in a thick fog of despair. I try to steady my breathing, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, but nothing seems to break the emptiness that has seeped into my bones. I sit there, feeling my pulse hammering in my ears, my head swimming with fragments of memories—Jin laughing at some joke he’d cracked, Grandpa teaching me how to tie a tie, Y/N looking up at me that first night we met, her eyes bright with mischief and something I’d been too damn scared to name.

How did I get here? How did I end up so alone?

The night stretches on, thick with silence, and I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of everything I’ve lost. I take a breath, forcing myself to stay grounded, to push back the panic clawing its way up my throat.

I reach for my phone, my fingers trembling as I open my contacts and scroll to her name. I stare at it, the screen glowing in the dark, my thumb hovering over the call button. Part of me wants to reach out, to hear her voice just one more time, but I know it’ll only make things worse. She doesn’t want to hear from me—not after tonight. Not after everything I’ve done.

Let her go, Sukuna. Just… let her go.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. The emptiness is overwhelming, the silence heavy, and I can feel the despair sinking its claws into me, dragging me under.

They’re all gone now. Jin, Grandpa… Y/N. What am I even fighting for anymore?

I take a shuddering breath, feeling the pain sear through me, raw and unfiltered. I sit there for what feels like hours, lost in the darkness, my mind spinning as I grapple with the realization that I’ve driven away everyone I’ve ever cared about. The regret is a bitter taste in my mouth, choking me.

Eventually, I manage to start the car, the engine rumbling to life, but the sound feels hollow, distant. I grip the wheel and pull out of the parking spot, driving aimlessly through the empty streets, my thoughts drifting as I try to numb the ache gnawing at me from the inside out.

Streetlights blur past, the city stretching out in a maze of empty roads and darkened windows, and for the first time, I realize how truly alone I am.

This is it,

I think bitterly.

This is what’s left. Just me… and a hollow, empty shell of everything I thought I had.

As I drive, the memories claw at me, and I let them, sinking into the pain, embracing it. Maybe, if I let myself feel it now, I’ll finally be able to let it all go.

[allpiesforourown]

I wrote all of this in one sitting. Slight disclaimer I’ve only ever had one migraine in my life and I did no research before or during writing except to look up spellings so take it with a grain of salt. I also haven’t written fiction in a while but eh.

Enjoy this hurt/comfort ish thing I made where you are a peak lord of some unnamed peak.

__________________________________________________

You take your time to the peak lord meeting. You decided to leave early and walk there, it gave you time to think. As you walk you think about your Shen-shixiong. He became so different after the qi-deviation. Almost as if he were a different person. There was always something about Shen shixiong that attracted you, both before and after the deviation. As you approach the doors to the meeting room you spare a fleeting thought as to which fan Shen shixiong would bring that day.

As the meeting progresses you keep glancing over to Shen shixiong. Theres just something about him today that worries you. Maybe it was that his hair looked a bit unkempt or that he kept scrunching his eyes as if he were in pain. You weren’t the only one that noticed, Zhangmen shixiong also kept looking at him with worry in his eyes. If Mu Qingfang weren’t busy with some medical emergencies on his peak he would have sniffed it out like a blood hound.

After the meeting ends Shen shixiong is the first to leave, and you follow right after. You are simply concerned about your Shen shixiong, nothing more. As you follow him to the bamboo hut you notice more things you didn’t during the meeting. The way he sways a bit as he flies, something he shouldn’t be doing with Without-A-Cure, the way his hand keeps making abrupt motions, as if to bring to his face, and that his crown was a different one he usually wears to the meetings.

As you near the entrance to the bamboo hut you hear a small crash from inside, as if something, or someone, fell. Rushing inside you are greeted by the sight of your Shen shixiong on his knees by the table, one hand holding onto the table for balance while the other pinches the bridge of his nose. As he hears you enter he whips his head around before curling in on him self as if having gotten dizzy.

“Shen shixiong?” you ask in a normal yet concerned tone, but that looks to have been the wrong move as he flinches. Lowering your tone you ask again “Shen shixiong, what’s wrong?”

After a bit he uncurls himself before looking to try and resume his more formal persona as a peak lord.

“Ah, apologies for having worried shimei, but this master is alright.” as he makes his way to stand up he sways and starts falling. You manage to catch him before he crashes onto the floor again but you can still feel the way your heart rapidly beats.

As you adjust him in your arms to properly hold he lets out a whimper as he’s moved. You gaze down at him and you can see how his eyes have scrunched shut and how he’s a touch paler than usual. You hold him so close you can faintly smell the scent of the hair oil he uses.

“Come on Shen shixiong, you can tell me, this one won’t judge.” as you coax him into telling you what’s wrong you bring him closer to your chest, holding him in a tight and steady grip. You move one hand to brush over his hair, letting down his guan as you do. Running your hand through his hair you can see his expression relax the slightest bit.

“… migrane.” is what he ends up saying after a couple of minutes. Finally knowing what’s wrong and knowing how to help immediately helps calm some of your nerves.

“Thank you for telling this one, Shen shixiong” keeping your voice low you lean down slightly and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. Looking around you notice how bright the main room is.

“This shimei is going to move you to your bedroom now, alright?”

Giving him some time to register what you told him, you carefully gather him in your arms before moving to the bedroom. You go lay him down on the bed but he seems to have gotten a grip on your outer layer and doesn’t seem to want to let go.

“Shen shixiong, this shimei has to close the window blinds, it’ll help.” Once again trying to get him to let go of the outer robe he lets out a whine of protest, as if he doesn’t want to separate from you.

Chuckling to your self you gingerly pick him up again, tucking him close. He turns his head to rest his head against your shoulder. Getting on the bed you use your qi to close the blinds instead. As you lean back in bed you adjust your Shen Qingqiu to lay down with his head in your lap. As it is now dark in the room you sadly can’t see the fine details of his face any more, even with your cultivator eyesight the moan of relief he makes as you massage his head all but makes up for it.

carrying him to bed and kissing his forehead... thank you for this ....

i used to get migraines all the time when I was young and oh my god the "closing the blinds" made me sigh in relief just imagining it... fantastic job

[milligramspoison]

[zeb-z]

Cellbit who places flowers by his sons empty bed and wonders why he works for the federation if he can’t use it to his advantage, if all he does is end up alone. Who could barely handle when him and Roier were fighting, who was so grateful when Foolish would stick around to build for him when he was making himself public enemy to gain favor with the feds. Who pleads with Forever, who is so very clearly out of his mind, begging him not to leave him alone, not like this, not now of all times.

Cellbit who is keeping himself as calm and as balanced as he can, because he knows what it’s like to lose yourself, and he knows how isolating it can be. Who’s there for every one of the islanders even if it’s spreading him far too thin, backpack bursting with notes and photos and evidence with all the problems he’s relied on to help solve. Who’s building the Order to make sure that no matter where their allegiances lay, no one on the island will have to deal with the federation on their own. So they’ll have a place they can come together and rely on each other.

Cellbit who just doesn’t want to end up alone. Not again. Not anymore.

[rosemary-is-in-pesterquest]

People who characterized Rosebot as an uncaring person about Kanaya while they painted Davebot as a soft sadboy for Karkat don’t like seeing a bad bitch yearn

[detective-piplup]

okay but like I joke about how much I like fireknight and how it consumes so many of my waking thoughts but it actually does . it does so much to me. a lot of it was built through fanon and clinging onto scraps from the games bc i doubt devsis will ever let them interact again but they are like insane to me.

fire spirit’s weird relationship with affection and love is also part of why I like them so much yes that was the source of the divine visions earlier .

nobody look at the tags of this post.

[callixton]

look i know i’m biased but genuinely no one does franklin shepard inc like raúl. there are other performances of this song that i adore but like. no one has done it like him. the suppression the way it builds the way his moment of realization just Cascades into his breakdown. and then GOD the way he carries the weight through the rest of the scene. it’s such a brilliant fucking performance it’s so nuanced and exciting to watch and heartbreaking HOW does he do his job this well

[favroitecrime]

twitter whacking that “i want it all” performance with kourtney and carlos & saying seb should’ve been ryan… maybe i don’t hate twitter