#it will only grow and he was so so brave

[eiswolfzero]

Mind the TW

I had to say goodbye to my orange boy today, Raphael.

It has been amazing 15 years (almost 16) and I will miss you forever. Today is one of the hardest I ever faced and I wish I could pepper you with kisses while you ask for more, more, more.

Love you. Always

[sirena-de-lunas]

i know the second half will focus on whistledown and colin’s writing but i expected more soft moments. moments where he battles with himself bc that’s penelope - that’s pen - his childhood friend, the girl who lived across the street, his sister’s once best friend, his good friend. moments where he tries to test out if he actually does like her or if he’s simply afraid to lose her companionship. where he has her examine his healing hand to see if her touch still affects him. where he dances with her and for a moment he holds her a little closer and wonders if he imagines her eyes darting to look at his mouth. where he writes and writes and writes bc he’s good with words but she has made a mess of him. moments where he reads Emma and throws it across the room bc what utter nonsense “if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more” - if you love someone one must declare it assuredly, reverently, and loudly. moments where he recognizes he’s always looked at her with this gentle fondness, always needed her reassurance and kind words, and the idea she will give them to another hurts. i wanted moments where he finds himself stopping to rationalize his actions until one moment in the middle of an argument it all just spills out of him like a dropped ink well. i wanted her hesitancy and fear and anger and disdain. i wanted her to cut him at his knees as he had done to her knowingly and unknowingly throughout the years. the denial of loving him, the fear that he is brash and impulsive like he was with marina, the self-preservation of running away. i wanted the push and pull of colin not knowing if he should risk losing their friendship if she does not feel the same yet feeling he will lose her either way - either to lord debling or to his own obliviousness. i wanted the moment he realizes he needs her in his life and he does not want to regret letting his final opportunity slip away. the quiet yearning of having no guarantees but so many hopes. the sadness of thinking you realized you found your person just as they rip you out of their heart. the pain of losing someone you didn’t know you had until they left and took your heart with them.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

now that ur a marvel fan manifesting u become a dc fan too 🙏

ohhhh you gon have to manifest real hard brother

[bretwalda-lamnguin]

I think Imrahil and Denethor's relationship is fascinatingly terrible. Genuine hatred from Imrahil met with just utter contempt from Denethor. Denethor mistrusts Faramir, but allocates him significant military forces and does not feel the need to tell him how to do his job. Faramir is given his objectives, and expected to figure out for himself how to achieve them. Denethor does not micromanage him.

Imrahil on the other hand gets no rope at all. A blast of the horn to charge, another blast to retreat, no room for interpretation. It's almost insulting, Imrahil is a great lord in his own right and a well-respected commander, yet Denethor treats him like a foolish subordinate. Previously at council Imrahil's concerns over holding Cair Andros are just swept aside by Denethor. Faramir also ignores him and makes his own entirely separate complaint. The utter disrespect!

Imrahil immediately jumps on Aragorn's bandwagon, and is only more firm with this once he finds Denethor is dead. I don't think he likes Faramir either. Pushing Aragorn to proclaim himself king without consulting Faramir first doesn’t suggest much love between them to me.

Obviously the ghost of Finduilas is haunting all of this, even if it wasn't Denethor's fault, she left Dol Amroth for his sake and that killed her, but I don't think Denethor and Imrahil were ever friends even before that.

[schmweed]

[theokusgallery]

I freaking love your au and your latest comic because MAN

I FELT THOSE LAST WORDS AND I WAS LIKE "OH FUCK"

First panel was already a bit unsettling itself - like you get it's just intimate manners as you do as a couple but he felt so possessive already and

Sunny's inner thoughts

I'm sure 100% his abandonment anxiety will increase drastically the more he stays with nick and honestly slay

I mean it's kinda obvious

But like I felt that

Yeah

Nick is unhinged

Nick is crazy

Y'all are gay for him

Good 😵💥

Sunny has soooo many issues. So many of them. He's so vulnerable and he makes himself vulnerable to Nick while still being intimidated by him, it's... Dude's got some problems.

[tovaicas]

kind of always disliked that the mouthpiece audience stand-in used to indicate the pure breadth of the world-shattering betrayal the halonic faith has inflicted on ishgard, the pain and grief of having your entire paradigm of how you see with and interact with the world and how you view the war that you've been forced to fight in, lost friends and family to and suffered abuses at the hands of the church that were 'justified' in the name of halone and the grind of the DSW, that everything you fought for and suffered through was not only a lie but a war crime bc in actuality you were fighting and killing children and the extreme sense of world-rending disgust with yourself and pure raw rage at the vault which has willingly, without your consent or knowledge, made you into a murderer of the worst kind, all riding on the back of a literally world-altering disaster that forced you out of your home and made you run for your very life and the pure cultural grief considering that the holy see lost literally all of fucking coerthas in the calamity only five years ago is not the guy in this conversation who is actually ishgardian and has lived through all of the above but rather a sharlayan national with no connection to this conflict who's been living in ishgard for like two weeks

[sudokuplayer]

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

god i need to hug henry SO BAD

[muirneach]

god the early 00s tennis drip was insane. guys were showing up looking like they had a match at 3 and a backyard barbecue at 5. lets see jannik in cargo capris and the baggiest polo shirt known to man

[hanasnx]

“ SHE JUST WENT TO HEAVEN AND BACK ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content: riding dick ノ playing dumb for a boy ノ some light humping ノ reader has kinda long hair ノ size difference.

you’re so desperate for clueless CLARK KENT’s attention that you play dumb and get him to mansplain his video game to you while you sit in his lap. he’s been busy lately and to get him to take the hint you wear one of your shortest skirts, invite yourself into the best seat in the house, and ask, “what’s this?” gesturing to his lit tv screen.

he explains it all, some boring lore he’s really into and the controls and the tricky part he’s stuck on right now.. and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. his pretty girl is sitting in his lap and he’s not even paying it any mind. but clark is paying it mind. he’s rambling bcos he’s nervous, and if you’d turn your head you’d see the pink dusting his cheeks. he can feel your bare thighs through his denim, and your floral shampoo fills his nose… he trails off mid sentence when he focuses too hard on the growing interest in his pants.

“i wanna play.” you say when you’ve had enough of his aimless babble, and without thinking it through, clark places the controller snugly in your palms, while his larger hands overlay yours.

“alright, so this button…” his thumb atop yours presses down in a click, and you see the avatar swipe air with his sword because of it. “is your attack move… and this—“ you’re not paying any attention to what he’s teaching you. instead, your brain conjures up evil memories of everything you’ve been missing. your eyes wander to the corner of his bed he’s sitting on, and you wish he’d fold you over on it like before. wrestle you down and pin you so he could flip your little skirt up and get to work. you’re tuning out his words while he’s playing the game over your hands which dampen with sweat, suddenly hot and bothered at the thought of him fucking you in this position… if only he were brave enough to unbuckle his pants.

your lips press together, your heart rate quickens, and clark’s ears perk up. thump thump… thump thump… thump thump…

he inhales sharply, right as the sting of what it feels like to be filled by him shoots up your core like lightning. you jump in place a little at the cruel trick your mind is playing on you, and the friction of your ass bumping against his halfie makes it twitch as it chubs up. the avatar’s HP lowers little by little as its enemies overwhelm it, but neither of you move.

“why didn’t you say anything?” clark’s breathless words come out husky and sultry as he chuffs them out of his teeth, lifting you up and down by your hips like you’re nothing more than a weight at the gym. your hands lay atop his, twisting your face as that cock buries itself right where you needed it, bullying that spongy spot in you sore from neglect. “i’ve been thinking about you, too…” he fills the silence, paired with the wet sounds of an eager pussy swallowing him up. he yanks you back, and you land on his chest still clothed, your hair bunches up on his shoulder while his lips find your ear. your hips now married with his, he rolls yours, screwing his dick into you like he’s rediscovering all your nooks n crannies.

one arm rounds you to secure you against him in a warm embrace, seeking out your clit between your spread legs, toying with it like taffy and it makes you whine.

“you didn’t have to act like you cared about my game,” he’s taunting you, right in your ear, ending it with a gentle nip of his teeth to your shell. the point of his canine sends a shock through you, and your legs straighten involuntarily. he keeps you where he wants you with overpowering strength, you can’t raise yourself when he’s got you in a vice. his thumb and index feel cruel against your bud, as if chastising you for trying to trick him.

“well, it worked, didn’t it?” you exhale, leisurely squirming against him desperate for some movement. there’s pride in your voice.

“this skirt worked.” he corrects. the skirt now bunched up around your waist about the same time he’d pushed his denim out of the way so he could free his cock and give you a new seat. “could hear your heartbeat, you were so obvious… c’mere.” he grants your wish for more, pushing you forward so he could gather your arms behind you. bent, your feet barely toe the ground while he uses your wrists to leverage you, tugging you back while he bounces you up with the force of his hips.

[sky-is-the-limit]

How Task Force 141 would react to you placing your hand on their upper thigh in public:

Captain Price:

This 40 year old man wouldn’t let you get away with a stunt like that in public. The moment your hand is on his upper thigh, he’d firmly place his own over yours, squeezing it just enough to warn you. "Behave." He’d say quietly, eyes locking with yours to make sure the message lands. If you were cheeky enough to push your luck and keep going, he wouldn’t bother with more words.

Instead, he’d order you up, his voice firm as he tells you to get to the car while he takes care of the bill. The drive wouldn’t last long before he’d pull over somewhere secluded, roughly bending you over the bonnet. "Thought you’d act up, did ya?" He’d mutter, hands already on your hips, ready to teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget.

✰✰✰✰

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Kyle would notice your hand sliding onto his thigh but he’d stay still, just to see how far you’d take it in the dark of the movie theatre. He’d pretend he didn’t feel it, keeping his eyes on the screen but he’d be holding back a grin. As your hand moves higher, closer to his growing bulge, his patience then would snap. He’d grab your wrist suddenly, leaning in close to whisper, "Fine, then. If you're so brave, let’s finish it here."

Without waiting for your answer, he’d drag you to the dirty bathroom, pushing you into a stall. "You wanna act like a dirty girl? Then you get treated like one." He’d say, motioning you to kneel on the filthy floor just to make sure you understood the consequences of teasing him like that.

✰✰✰✰

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Johnny would light up like a Christmas tree. The moment your hand rests on his thigh, he’d lean back with a grin, his legs spreading just a bit wider to invite you in. "Aye, don’t stop now.." He’d whisper, clearly enjoying the game. He’d egg you on, guiding your hand even higher, fully aware of the risk of being caught in the middle of the cafe.

If you hesitated, he wouldn’t let you off easy and his own hand would find its way between your legs under the table, not caring who might see. "Guess we’re giving ‘em a show today, bonnie."

✰✰✰✰

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

There's no beating around the bush with this man. He would catch on immediately and wouldn’t let you get away with it. He’d grab your wrist before you could move further and give you a knowing look. ''You’re not doing that here.'' He’d say, his expression serious.

He’d tease you a bit, asking if the three times he had you earlier weren’t enough and calling you greedy. ''Be good until I finish my whiskey, then we'll sort you out.'' He’d promise. You’d know to behave, or else he’d make sure you’d regret it but only when he decided it was time.

[encyclopediacr]

Tusk Love is becoming a very real novel! Written by Thea Guanzon, with a cover illustrated by Erion Makuo, the favorite novel of Jester Lavorre herself will be published July 1, 2025.

The publisher's summary from Random House Worlds reads:

As the daughter of an ambitious merchant, Guinevere’s path has been predetermined: marry into a noble house of the Dwendalian Empire, raise her family’s station, and live quietly as a lordling’s obedient wife. But Guinevere longs for a life unbounded by expectations, for freedom and passion and adventure. Those distant dreams become a sudden reality when her caravan is beset by bandits, leaving her guards slain and Guinevere stranded alone on the dangerous Amber Road. Her only chance of survival is to travel alongside Oskar, the aloof half-orc who saved her during the attack. Unlike Guinevere, Oskar’s path is not so set in stone. With his mother dead and his apprenticeship abandoned, all that’s left is a long, lonely walk to a land he’s never seen to find family he’s never met. The last thing he needs is a spoiled waif like Guinevere slowing him down—even if the spark between them sizzles with promise. Despite his cold exterior, Oskar is brave and thoughtful and unlike anyone Guinevere has ever met. And while Guinevere may be sheltered, she brings out a softness in him that he has never dared to feel before. As the flames of their passion grow, they realize that soon they’ll need to choose between their expected destinations or their blossoming romance.

You can find more information about this and other Critical Role books at CriticalRoleBooks.com.

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gif is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

[seungcheorry]

"fuck, i can't do it", you curse, stopping the way you're moving on top of dino.

he has his hands on your hips, helping you by grinding himself up on you too, but it's so clear that it's working so much more for him than it is for you.

"it's okay", he caresses your thigh as you sigh deeply. "do you want me to be on top?"

"i- i don't think i have the energy tonight, i'm sorry."

dino helps you get off him, ignoring the way he's growing hard inside his pants and the little wet spot forming on his boxers and focusing on you, laying you down beside him as he notices all the foreplay didn't even get you as aroused as you wanted to.

"you don't have to be sorry", a kiss to your shoulder. "just talk to me. can i help with something?"

you shake your head, staring at the ceiling. "i'm just tired, i guess. i'm stressed but i can't seem to focus on anything that could potentially help me relax."

dino hums beside you, understanding. he's been there before.

you look at him, reaching for his face as he leans into your touch. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to ruin the mood."

he chuckles, kissing your palm before slowly moving on top of you. "can i try something else though?"

when dino gets between your legs, hands grabbing the waistband of your pants, he looks at you. it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"yeah, go ahead", you nod.

and dino takes off your pants, and he makes himself comfortable between your thighs - and it's really beautiful the way his face has this relaxed look the whole time, but as soon as his mouth is on you it switches to a concentrated look, eyebrows furrowed in determination to make you feel good.

he holds one of your hands as he works you up, tongue doing wonderfuls as he moans back on you, proving the way you taste is his favorite taste ever.

"shit...", you moan, letting go of his hand to grab his hair, tugging at it and making him groan. "fuck, we should have started with this."

dino laughs - he fucking laughs -, and pulls away from you to look up at your face. it only makes him look cuter, the way his lips and chin are getting wet too.

"baby, i could do this all day if you'd let me", his hands run up and down your thighs again. "this is my favorite place to be."

"face burried between my legs?", you chuckle. dino eagerly nods. "then don't stop."

his breath catches on his throat at your words, and for a split of second he thinks he's about to lose it, finishing untouched.

but dino is a brave boy, the best boy, so he goes back to his task while still holding eye contact with you, promising himself that he'll make you feel good and relaxed first before he gets to take care of himself - even though it means enduring the pain he's feeling between his own legs right now.

[tender-rosiey]

I can’t get thisss out of my head and I wish I didn’t have adhd and could sit and write it correctly but oldest daughter y/n having to marry the brute lord Sukuna (arranged marriage type beat) and the only reason why she agrees is Becuase if she doesn’t marry him one of her sisters will have to and she just cannot bring herself to put her sisters threw that 😣😣😣

a garden among thorns — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: this is longer than most of my works, but i needed to do this idea as much justice as I can

your father’s face is pale as he kneels before the messenger, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders.

his hands tremble in his lap, and his posture slumps, as if the air has been sucked from the room. the messenger stands tall and unyielding.

“lord sukuna requires one of your daughters to marry him,” the messenger states, his tone sharp and businesslike. “to refuse is…inadvisable.”

your mother gasps, clutching the edge of her robe, and your sisters exchange wide-eyed, horrified looks. aya’s grip tightens on hina’s sleeve, and hina’s mouth trembles, unable to form words.

you remain silent.

sukuna’s name hangs in the air like a curse—the king of curses feared across the land. to be sent to him is to step willingly into the jaws of a predator.

your father stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. “p-please…surely, there must be another way…”

the messenger’s gaze hardens, his words sharp and final. “lord sukuna does not make requests twice. you have until the week’s end to decide. one of your daughters will be sent to his estate.”

the messenger leaves, and the room plunges into a suffocating silence. your father collapses forward, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling with despair.

your mother’s sobs start quietly but grow louder, echoing through the room. aya clings to hina, her face pale with fear.

“I won’t let you choose,” you say, your voice cutting through the heavy silence.

all eyes turn to you in shock. your father lifts his head slowly, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. aya’s small hands clutch your arm. “no, you can’t mean—”

“I do,” you interrupt firmly, despite the turmoil gnawing at your chest. you meet each of their gazes, the weight of the choice pressing down on you.

your mother rises, hands trembling as she reaches for you, her face etched with anguish. “no, y/n. you’re the eldest, yes, but that doesn’t mean this burden should fall on you.”

you step back gently, removing her hands from your face. “do you want it to fall on aya? or hina?” you gesture toward your sisters, who stiffen at your words. “do you think they’ll survive with a man like him?”

aya shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “you’re just as important as we are! why does it have to be you? please, don’t do this.”

you stand in front of her, brushing the tears from her face. “aya, I don’t want to go either. but if we don’t do this, sukuna will come for us.

he’ll take what he wants, and we won’t be able to stop him. you don’t deserve this life. hina doesn’t deserve it. at least I can try to protect you this way.”

aya sobs harder, her small frame shaking. “I can’t lose you,” she cries, burying her face in your shoulder.

you hold her tight, feeling the pain of this decision settle heavily on your chest. hina steps forward, her face unreadable. “be safe,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“I will,” you promise, though the words feel hollow.

your mother sobs uncontrollably into your father’s chest, and he remains silent, broken. he doesn’t stop you—he can’t. you know he wouldn’t, not in the face of sukuna’s power.

you pull away slowly, aya’s small hands slipping from your arm. “I’ll write,” you murmur, turning toward the door. “I’ll write as often as I can. you’ll be okay. just…take care of each other.”

they nod silently, but the fear in their eyes won’t fade.

your mother’s voice breaks through the quiet. “you’re so brave,” she whispers. “but I wish you didn’t have to be.”

you take a last look at your family, standing together in the doorway. their figures grow smaller as the cart takes you away, the weight of their sorrow heavy in your heart.

the world outside seems darker, colder as you leave them behind. the home you’re leaving is more than just a place; it is everything you know.

and with every step, you feel a piece of yourself slipping away.

the journey to sukuna’s estate feels endless, each passing mile colder than the last. the wind bites at your skin, and the clouds above seem to mirror the heaviness in your heart.

the long ride in the cart gives you ample time to think, but there is no solace to be found.

your family, the warmth of your home, and the lives you knew are fading into the distance, replaced by the looming unknown of sukuna’s estate.

your stomach churns with unease as you approach the gates. they are massive, imposing iron structures that seem to swallow the light, and as the carriage slows to a stop before them, the oppressive silence only amplifies the dread in your chest.

the heavy gates groan open with a reluctance that seems to mirror your own, revealing the vast grounds of sukuna’s estate.

everything about this place screams power—an estate built to intimidate, to assert dominance over all who enter.

the stone paths are harsh and cold beneath your feet as you step out of the carriage. the servants who meet you are stiff, their eyes avoiding yours as they take your belongings.

you are no more than a stranger in their world, a burden that they carry, and you feel the sting of that isolation.

as you make your way inside the grand hall, your footsteps echo in the silence. it’s all so stark, so cold. the air feels thick with tension, and as you round the corner into the heart of the estate, you are met with the full weight of his presence.

sukuna sits at the head of a long table in a massive hall, his eyes fixed on you as you enter. the sight of him is enough to take your breath away—his posture relaxed, yet every inch of him exudes power.

his dark crimson robes shift slightly as he stands, towering over you with an unsettling ease. his gaze is sharp.

“so,” he says, “you’re the one they sent.”

you stand tall, refusing to let the weight of his gaze break you. beneath the surface, your heart races, but you force yourself to keep it steady.

“I came of my own choice,” you reply, your voice firm but betraying a hint of the turmoil churning inside.

his lips curl into a smirk, an expression laced with amusement and something darker. “did you, now? brave. or foolish.”

the words sting, but you bite back the retort that rises to your lips. there’s no point in showing him weakness. “I’m not foolish,” you say, your voice colder than you intended, but it’s enough to get his attention.

he chuckles, a sound rich with disdain and amusement. “well, little wife, you’ll learn soon enough what your choice means.”

his eyes glint with a dangerous promise, and despite your resolve, something tightens in your chest.

after that meeting, his presence lingers, an almost tangible force, but he keeps his distance. it’s not until later that night, when you’re left alone in your new room, that the weight of your decision truly hits.

the walls feel too close, and the silence is suffocating.

life at sukuna’s estate is harsh, far colder than you anticipated. the mansion itself is sprawling and filled with echoing corridors, but it never feels warm.

the servants, though polite, are distant, as if afraid to make eye contact. your days are spent in isolation, wandering the gardens or sitting alone in your chambers, trying to make yourself useful without getting in the way.

you are nothing more than a visitor in this grand, empty place—a prize claimed by a man who has no use for you beyond the title you now bear.

at times, sukuna’s presence seems to vanish entirely, leaving you to grapple with the silence. but on other days, his sharp words cut through the air like blades, his moods as unpredictable as the wind.

he is a storm, sweeping through the halls when he deigns to speak, his eyes always sharp, always calculating.

one afternoon, you are working in the garden, your hands busy with the familiar task of pulling weeds, trying to occupy your mind.

the scent of earth and flowers is the only thing that feels real in this place. a soft breeze stirs the air, and for a fleeting moment, you almost feel like you’re back home.

but then, you hear his voice. it’s low and mocking, a drawl that sends a shiver down your spine.

“do you plan to sulk forever?” sukuna asks, his tone cutting through the air.

you glance up from your task, narrowing your eyes at him. he stands in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his robe flowing around him like an aura of danger.

“I’m not sulking,” you reply, your voice clipped, though you know it’s a lie. you are, in fact, sulking—trying to retreat into yourself because it’s the only way to survive this.

“could’ve fooled me,” he retorts, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “you’ve been quieter than a graveyard since you got here.”

you get ticked off by his words but force yourself to stay composed. “what would you have me do? laugh at your jokes?” you don’t know why you say it, but the challenge is there, raw and unfiltered.

he chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that grates on your nerves. “I don’t tell jokes.”

you mutter under your breath, “clearly.”

to your surprise, he doesn’t take offense. instead, he raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly as he steps into the garden.

his presence fills the space, as if he owns it. he leans against the stone wall, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and something more.

you feel his hand hold the top of your head for a moment, and he hums, “at least you’ve got a spine. I’d hate to have a wife who folds like paper.”

you don’t know what to make of the compliment—or if it’s even meant as one. but his words, though gruff, are the first acknowledgment he’s given you that isn’t full of disdain or indifference.

“I don’t fold,” you reply, try to shake his hand off. you find yourself meeting his gaze, a silent challenge passing between the two of you.

for a long moment, sukuna doesn’t say anything. the tension hangs in the air, thick and unspoken. then, finally, his lips curl into something that might be the start of a smile, though it’s fleeting.

“good,” he says, his voice almost too soft for you to catch. “you’ll need that fire, wife.”

you don’t respond, but as the days pass, his words linger in your mind. slowly, something starts to shift. his unpredictable moods, his sharp words, his occasional moments of unexpected gentleness—they all begin to add up.

it’s not love, not yet, but something else.

you’re not sure if you want to like him, but the more time you spend in his presence, the more you begin to understand him. in return, he seems to start observing you more closely, his interest piqued.

whether you like it or not, you are now bound together in this cold, sprawling estate, and the strange, slow pull between you grows with each passing day.

the first real instance happens during dinner. the grand dining hall is silent, save for the soft clinking of silver against porcelain.

sukuna sits at the head of the table, a looming figure of power, draped in his usual white and black.

his gaze flicks to you once, but he doesn’t speak. it’s a familiar pattern by now—he speaks only when he has something to say, and even then, his words are sparse, deliberate.

but tonight, as you reach for the pitcher of wine, your hand knocks over the glass beside it. the sound of the glass tipping and shattering against the floor startles everyone in the room.

a sharp, echoing crack. the servants freeze, eyes flicking nervously from the broken shards to sukuna.

you stand frozen, the glass at your feet, heart racing. the tension in the room thickens, but no one moves. you glance up at sukuna, half-expecting the usual cold indifference or a sharp rebuke.

but tonight, his dark eyes flicker to the broken glass before meeting yours. there’s something in his gaze—a spark of amusement—before he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his posture lazy but commanding.

“careful, little wife,” he drawls, his voice low and slightly mocking, but there’s no malice in it. “I wouldn’t want to see you spill any more of my wine.”

you nod, instinctively bending down to pick up the shards, but before your fingers even touch the glass, sukuna’s voice cuts through the air.

“stop,” he commands, his tone sharp and unwavering.

you freeze mid-motion, looking up to find his gaze already fixed on you.

“clean this up,” sukuna commands, glancing at the servants, his voice a deep rumble that makes the servants rush to obey without a word.

as they quickly gather the shards, sukuna’s attention returns to you, though his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary.

“you seem eager to be useful,” he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of something almost approving. “but I’d rather not have my wife make herself filthy for something as trivial as this.”

you open your mouth but stop, unsure if you want to argue with him or remain silent.

a week later, you find yourself in the garden again, absentmindedly tending to the flowers that line the stone walls.

the peace of the garden is a brief escape from the heaviness inside the mansion, and you’ve come to cherish the quiet moments there.

this time, however, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. you don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. the weight of his presence is unmistakable.

“I see you’ve found your little sanctuary,” sukuna’s voice comes.

you don’t answer at first, focused on trimming the overgrown vines. his footsteps stop, and for a moment, there’s just the sound of the wind rustling the leaves and the faint scent of flowers in the air.

“are you going to ignore me every time I approach?” he asks, a hint of curiosity and a bit of annoyance lacing his words. “you don’t seem like the type to hide from confrontation.”

you glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. his eyes are narrowed, but there’s no hostility in them. it’s a rare look for him—almost like he’s testing you, waiting for your response.

“I’m not hiding,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s an edge to it. “I just prefer peace.”

sukuna steps closer, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you work. “peace? in my estate?” his laugh is low and dark, more of a scoff than an actual laugh. “you won’t find that here, little wife.”

you focus on the flowers in front of you, resisting the urge to let his words unsettle you. but for some reason, you can’t quite brush off the way he’s watching you.

“I didn’t expect to,” you reply, your voice quieter now, softer.

there’s a beat of silence, and then, to your surprise, sukuna crouches beside you. his presence looms close, his eyes scanning the flowers you’re tending to. “they’re not bad,” he says.

you glance up at him, meeting his gaze. for a moment, the weight of the estate, the pressure of being in his presence, fades away.

it’s just the two of you, sitting in this strange, delicate quiet.

“well, they’re not as high-maintenance as you are,” you mutter under your breath, a playful jab that you can’t quite hold back.

he chuckles—a low sound that vibrates through the space between you. it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh like that—without mockery, without an edge. it’s almost human.

“high-maintenance, huh?” he muses, his tone teasing, but there’s a shift in the air now. “maybe you’ll find that out the hard way.”

the words are playful. you’re not sure what to make of it, but it stirs something in you, something that’s both unsettling and... intriguing.

over the next few weeks, these small moments become more frequent, threading together a fragile tapestry of connection. sukuna’s presence is still overwhelming, but it feels less suffocating now.

he no longer seems entirely distant, nor does he hover with the same oppressive force. instead, he’s there, always watching, always waiting for something unspoken to unfold.

one evening, as you sit alone in the garden again, this time reading a book your family had gifted you, you hear his footsteps before you see him. sukuna doesn’t announce his presence this time.

he simply stands there, watching you with his usual, inscrutable gaze. you feel his eyes on you, and for once, you don’t feel the need to pretend you don’t notice.

“I’m surprised you can read,” he says, his voice a low murmur. there’s no mockery in it, only a genuine comment. “thought you’d be too busy sulking.”

you glance up from your book, meeting his gaze. “I’m not sulking,” you reply, the words more matter-of-fact than before. there’s no need to explain yourself to him anymore.

he steps closer, his presence heavy as always, but this time it doesn’t make you want to shrink away. “what are you reading about?”

“it’s just a story,” you say, closing the book slowly. “something to pass the time.”

“hmm,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to the book. “must be a boring story if it’s keeping you this entertained.”

you chuckle lightly. “maybe I just need a distraction from you.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a tension in the air, as if the words have just cracked open something between you.

the turning point comes one evening when you receive a letter from home. you’ve been sitting by the window, when you notice the familiar parchment.

aya’s neat handwriting graces the top, and as soon as you read her name, your heart stutters.

you eagerly unfold it, fingers trembling slightly as you begin to read.

her words spill across the page with such love and longing that they cut deep, each line filled with updates about their daily lives, the little things that no longer seem so insignificant to you.

she tells you about hina’s recent antics and how their mother insists on planting a garden in the courtyard, even though the soil remains stubbornly unyielding.

she writes about how your father has been more quiet than usual, always looking out toward the horizon, waiting for the day when his daughters are reunited.

but more than anything, the letter is a reminder of how deeply you are missed, how the absence of your presence has created a space no one can fill.

you can feel the tears welling in your eyes before you realize it. they sting hotly as you read on. the weight of being apart from them—your sisters, your parents—becomes almost unbearable.

you can’t suppress the sobs that rise in your chest, so you quickly wipe them away, desperate to regain some composure.

but you’re too late. the door opens with a soft creak, and you don’t need to turn to know who’s standing there. sukuna’s presence fills the room as it always does.

he pauses, his sharp eyes narrowing in on you. his gaze flicks over your tear-streaked face then down at your hands.

“what’s that?” he asks, his tone surprisingly less abrasive than usual. it’s subtle, but there’s a shift in the way he speaks.

“a letter,” you reply quietly, your voice thick, the emotion still lingering. “from my sisters.”

his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, studying you with an intensity that seems to reach beyond your tears, deeper into the vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep hidden.

he steps forward, closing the distance between you, and before you can react, he takes the parchment from your hands, his fingers brushing yours just slightly as he does so.

you watch him scan the letter, his expression unreadable, as though the words don’t mean anything to him.

but you notice the slight twitch in his brow when he reads aya’s mention of hina’s mischievous behavior and the mention of your father’s quiet gaze.

he hands the letter back after a moment, his face still impassive, but something lingers in his gaze as he meets your eyes.

“they miss you,” he says simply, though his voice is quieter than usual, less detached.

you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. you nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I miss them too.”

for a long moment, neither of you speaks. the room is thick with the weight of unspoken words, the quiet intimacy of the exchange hanging in the air between you.

you wonder if he understands what it means to miss family—what it means to be torn from them, to feel so distant from the people who raised you, loved you.

you wonder if there’s a part of him that understands loneliness, even though he wears it like a badge of honor.

his expression remains unreadable, and for a moment, you think he’s about to leave, to retreat back into the distance that has characterized most of your interactions.

but then, to your surprise, he speaks again, his words low and deliberate.

“you may go visit them,” he says.

your breath catches in your throat, and you stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief. the words don't seem to register at first, not fully, and you find yourself unable to respond immediately. “what?”

his gaze remains steady, unwavering. “you heard me,” he repeats, a touch of impatience creeping into his tone. “you may visit them. if it’s that important to you.”

the shock slowly fades, replaced by confusion and a strange warmth that spreads in your chest.

you’ve always thought of him as a cold, imposing figure—a man who ruled through fear, who demanded respect through power.

but now, in this moment, you realize that he’s offering you something more than you ever expected. something human.

“I... thank you,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

“don’t make me regret it,” he warns, his voice returning to its usual gravelly tone. “I’m not doing this out of kindness. I simply don’t want you moping around here for the next week.”

you nod, the weight of the gesture sinking in, even as his words remain curt.

you don’t know if sukuna truly cares for you, or if this is just another act of power—his way of testing your limits or asserting control over your emotions.

but for now, you can’t help but feel a flicker of something more, a warmth that feels entirely out of place.

“thank you,” you repeat, your voice firmer now, despite the uncertainty that still lingers in your chest.

he grunts in response, turning to leave, but there’s a moment where his eyes meet yours again. and for the first time since you’ve arrived, you don’t see just the ruthless lord in those dark depths.

the journey back to your family’s home is a blur of emotion. the reunion with aya and hina is everything you imagined and more—warmth, laughter, and the comfort of familiar faces.

for the first time in months, you feel like yourself again, surrounded by the people who’ve always known you.

but even as you relish the joy of your visit, something lingers in the back of your mind. sukuna’s words, his unexpected offer to let you go, echo in your thoughts.

the days with your family fly by too quickly, and you can’t help but feel the ache of leaving them again.

aya hugs you tightly before you leave, her words of encouragement like a balm for the unease building in your chest. “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, her arms tightening around you.

when you return to the estate, everything feels oddly unchanged, yet different. the servants carry on as if your absence was nothing more than a passing breeze, and the cold, vast halls are just as you left them.

but sukuna is nowhere to be found—until you’re alone in the courtyard, unloading your things from the carriage.

the familiar sound of footsteps reaches your ears. the air shifts, heavy with his presence before you even see him. then, his shadow falls over you. you don’t need to look up to know it’s him, but you do anyway.

his gaze fixes on you, unreadable, but his lips are curled in that signature smirk. “back already?” he asks, his voice low.

you stand still, setting down the basket you were holding.

his eyes are sharp, studying you, but there’s an underlying softness you weren’t expecting. you nod, keeping your expression neutral. “I couldn’t stay away forever.”

sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, instead stepping closer. his feet crunch against the gravel.

you can’t help but notice how his gaze lingers on you, assessing, like he’s trying to understand something about you that he hadn’t before.

“do you miss them now?” he asks, his tone surprisingly casual.

you hesitate for a moment, feeling the vulnerability of the question. “of course,” you admit, your voice softer than you intended. “but I missed you, too.”

there’s a brief silence, the words hanging in the air between you. you can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, something momentarily caught off guard by your honesty.

it’s rare that sukuna is disarmed, but somehow, your admission does just that. his lips quirk, but it’s not the mocking smile you’re used to. this one is different, almost amused in a way that doesn’t feel as patronizing.

“did you now?” he murmurs, taking another step toward you. his hand reaches up, and he places a finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

the touch is intimate, but there’s an unspoken weight to it, like it’s a silent acknowledgment of something neither of you are quite ready to voice. his thumb brushes lightly against your skin, the gesture soft but somehow grounding.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble, softer than usual.

you’re suddenly acutely aware of the space between you, of the way your heart seems to beat a little faster in your chest, of how his presence pulls you in like gravity.

the tension, always so thick and unyielding before, now feels different—softer, but just as real.  

your breath catches. “you’re not as bad as they said you are,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly, and he takes another small step forward, the tension rising again, only this time it feels like a slow burn.

his fingers curl gently under your chin, his thumb stroking your skin as he leans closer, his breath mingling with yours.

“and you,” he murmurs, voice hushed, “are much more than I gave you credit for.”

before you can respond, something shifts between you. the air crackles with an intensity that neither of you can ignore. his lips are so close now, and you don’t think.

you lean in, your mouth brushing against his, tentative at first, like testing the waters of something new, something dangerous.

but then, without warning, sukuna’s hand grips your waist, pulling you into him. the kiss deepens, slow and steady, as though he’s savoring it, taking his time.

his touch is commanding, yet there’s a tenderness to it that surprises you, a carefulness you didn’t expect from someone like him.

when you finally break apart, your breath mingling in the space between you, there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes.

he doesn’t speak immediately. instead, he holds you close, his hand still resting on your back, steady and sure.

“you’re fully mine now, wife.”

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