#like. if i could just die and know that everyone who knew me would feel nothing about it and wouldn't have to worry about shit like

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for not telling my friends about my special powers?

🌙 so I can find this later!

I (11F in human years - I'm gonna have to convert everyone's ages) have had the power to see the future and read minds ever since I was born. But the thing is, no one in my tribe has had these powers in centuries, maybe even millenniums (millennia? Idk), so yeah, that's a lot to deal with. A few days ago, I was sent to a school, and my mother told me not to let anyone find out about my powers, or everyone would hate me. (That's not actually what she said, but it sums it up pretty well.)

I originally hated being there, mostly because of the noise of everyone's mind, but I grew to like it. I even made friends with my roommates, K and C (9F and 14F) and other members in my class, W, Q, and T (all 13M, I'm pretty sure - that's weird class planning, teachers) Plus, listening to everyone's thoughts and learning about who they really were on the inside was weirdly... intriguing?

Anyways. Just a few minutes ago, I was on my way to history class, when I got a vision from the future of the room on fire and everyone in it (including me) burning. A fellow mind-reader/futureseer who I'd secretly befriended (???M, I think he's 2000???) told me to continue keeping my powers secret, but I didn't want everyone to DIE, so I yelled "you can't go in there!" at nearly everyone; they probably thought I was crazy, but most didn't go in. The room exploded in flames and C died because I couldn't get to her in time (still feel bad about that...)

After the fire was put out, my remaining friends asked me how I knew the fire would happen, and I had no choice but to tell the truth. They also asked if I could read minds since those powers are closely related, and I admitted to that, too. Then they all got mad at me for different reasons: K said my powers could've helped beforehand, Q got scared because I'd been through his mind, W didn't believe me and assumed I'd set the fire, and T... didn't say anything, but the look on his face told me that he was angry, too. Then they all abandoned me.

And now I feel terrible. School has gone all wrong, I broke the one rule my mother gave me, one of my classmates died, and the rest of them don't even want to look at me. I didn't know what to do next, so I logged onto Tumblr and wrote this ask. Hopefully things will get better soon, but for now, AITA?

[the-gay-prometheus]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m not sure if the seasonal depression is hitting especially hard this year or if I’m just grieving for Mabel or if I’m finally going irreparably insane or if life/people is being unfair towards me or all of the above

[intromortal]

OLDER!ENHYPEN OT6 HEADCANONS PART 2.

part 1

⚠︎ nsfw, mdni. daddy/sir/master kink, age gaps (every party in this is an ADULT, no minors involved) intoxicated sex for hee's, semi public sex for hee's and won's, pregnancy sex and stepcest for jay's, jake is a little shit, corruption kink for hoon's, public sex for sunoo's, jungwon as an entire warning for sunoo's, teacher/student dynamics for jungwon's.

i strongly advise you read part 1 before this as i'm not sure the dynamics are clear enough without previous context !

a!n i missed older enha sm i just had to give this a pt 2 <3 gen so sorry for not having posted anything in like. forever but life has been beating my ass and while brain is braining, fingertips are not writing ughhh. hopefully i get out of this slump :] as always feedback is much appreciated! enjoy <3

HEESEUNG | ‘s chest was caging you, pressing your front against the cold bathroom wall of the definitely too pricey bar your date for the night had insisted on bringing you to, and you’d be laughing at how fate works in such unexpected ways if it weren’t for how sloppily heeseung’s mouth was running down your neck. warm tongue tracing every little sensitive spot and teeth grazing your skin.

“that little boy out there? he will never make you cum as good as i do,” he whispered as he slightly pulled back, breath hot from the alcohol raising goosebumps all over your body. you were very, very annoyed with him though, after the months of radio silence on his part that followed that one night in your room. and you made it clear with how you pressed your ass against his crotch, the gasp leaving his lips making yours turn upwards in return. had you known all it took to break lee heeseung was showing up to the bar he and his coworkers frequented with another man’s arm secured around your waist, you would’ve done that ages ago.

“well, he definitely made me cum way more in the last m—” you don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence, one of his rough hands flying up to your neck to squeeze it just enough to make the words die in your throat. his other hand grabbed his cock and teased the tip of it against your folds, the fabric of your panties so drenched with your juices they stuck perfectly to your fluttering pussy, and he could feel it all.

“oh yeah? how many? so smug and for what? he must have not done a good job then because here you are, dripping for me and i haven’t even done anything.” he let his cock rest underneath your heat, slowly moving his hips to tease you as he bunched your skirt up to get a clear view. all the patience and control he thought he had was already wavering, but it flew out of the window right then. like all the months of self-restraint, the guilt he felt towards your dad, even when he was fucking his fist alone at night on facebook family pics his best friend would post every so often, bringing his deepest desires out on the surface all over again. it all meant nothing when he finally pushed your panties out of the way, unashamed of the amount of precum mixing with your juices, as he bit down on your ear before letting his tip slide into your heat. “but i have all the time i want to match whatever number it is, angel.”

JAY | who had to watch you walk around with your boyfriend, his stupid face always so bright ever since you gave him the news that you’re pregnant. stupid fucking idiot who thinks he’s the dad. but of course, jay knew better. there was no way that child growing in your belly wasn't his, not after making sure to cum inside you time and time again whenever he had the chance, until his body physically couldn’t cum anymore. he hated your boyfriend and he hated to know you let his dirty hands on your body. he hated that he couldn't claim you publicly, letting everyone know you’re his. so all he had, to keep whatever little shred of sanity left in him, was knowing that your child is a product of your love.

and when his head nuzzled in your hair as he breathed in the sweet scent of your shampoo while pumping his cock carefully in and out of your wet cunt, he asked time and time again if you knew it’s his offspring you're carrying, if you were doing all this on purpose to make him hurt.

“but of course you know—how could you not,” he said in open mouthed kisses against your neck, his hands sliding away from your thighs to swipe soothing figures with his thumb into the skin of your swollen belly. how could it be so wrong? even if he’s your step dad, even if he recently married your mother? his love for you couldn’t be wrong, because then why did it feel so right? something so beautiful and pure just has to be right, he thought to himself. his hands wandered to your tits full of milk, playing gently with your hypersensitive nipples, careful not to hurt you. “shhhh little girl, it’s okay, i’ve got you,” he murmured along the skin of your shoulder as he kept rubbing his fingers all over your tits, the little droplets of milk only helping his digits to move smoothly. you sounded so pretty mewling like that for him, looked so pretty squirming in his strong hold, your back arched as you started to fuck yourself back on jay’s cock. “what a good little girl… helping daddy out,” he moaned in your ear before bringing one of his fingers to his mouth and licking it clean, loudly groaning at the taste of your milk. “so fucking sweet baby, fuck… you always make daddy so proud.”

JAKE | truly didn't mean for this to happen, but it was happening anyway so you two should just make the best of it, at least that’s what you hoped he thought. you though? fuck, you felt so embarrassed. leaving your cheating boyfriend for his dad was one thing. but knowing he was listening in to you two fucking? that’s next level. jake didn’t seem particularly fazed by it, actually maybe a little… excited about it?

you’d swear he’s been pounding you into the matress even rougher than he was before, since he heard the front door slam, signifying his son was back home when he shouldn't have been. you were always so careful with making sure you only went over when your ex boyfriend wasn't there, or maybe jake had done that on purpose? lied to you… but he would never, would he? he’d always been so sweet and caring, truly the best man you’ve ever had. and honestly even if he did plan for this, you were not coherent enough to realize, at least not while he held your head down on the mattress with his huge veiny hand, the other roughly holding onto your hip as he unapologetically pounded into you, making the headboard of the bed slam repeatedly into the wall. the exact wall against where you knew your ex boyfriend’s desk is placed. jake was usually so soft, always putting your pleasure above his, what had gotten into him?

you could barely think as you moved your head to the side to be able to breathe, the relief short lived because soon after he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail and yanked you up against his chest, his hips never faltering as your face started to feel even hotter. you couldn't tell if it was the humiliation or the pleasure, or maybe both.

“stop fucking holding back,” his tone was almost mean, so uncharacteristically him, and it brought tears to your eyes, but also made your messy cunt leak even more. you didn't want to be heard, but jake was making it one hell of a challenge to keep quiet, especially when he let go of your hip and brought his hand to rub harsh circles on your clit.

“please sir… slower,” you bit down your moans, pleading through gritted teeth. and jake was not happy about it. the sting on your clit was sudden, your body jerking in his hold as you slowly realized he’d just slapped your clit.

“no,” his voice left no room for backtalk, as he hit your bundle of nerves one second time. “you will let him hear how much better i fuck you.”

SUNGHOON | was the first man you allowed to touch you. he was obsessed with you from the moment you shyly walked up to him to introduce yourself when you first met him, pretty large eyes looking up at him with a glint he couldn't quite decipher at first. he slowly learned it was submission. from day one, you’d been nothing but obedient, always looking for praise, always trying your best to make him a proud instructor. and you just always looked up to him with such innocence… it felt wrong, how hard it made his cock.

so when he finally had you for the first time, he had to try his best not to cum right then and there, when you told him you’d never been with anyone like this. you couldn't even look at him as you confessed it, poor little thing. no one had ever pushed past your folds inside your tight fluttering hole, you’d never had anything push between your lips, never had anyone taste you. he was obsessed with that thought. he’d get to be your first everything, and that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“it’s okay baby… i will make it feel so good…” he said as he captured your lips in a kiss once again, so soft and careful as if he might break you. the kiss was deliberately slow and sensual, he wanted to just bask in the moment, afraid it might end too soon, his hands roaming around your body and pulling you flush against him, his length rubbing against your body. you gasped at the contact, breaking away suddenly, surprised at how he chased your lips again right away.

“wan’... wanna make you feel good…”

he could tell you were holding something back, too shy to initiate it, so he helped you out. “who is it pretty girl mh? who do you want to satisfy?” he watched you carefully, cradling your head with his hand, and nearly groaning when your nuzzled into his palm right away, just like a little kitty.

“wanna make daddy feel good… don’t know how to,” you stuttered out, hiding your face in his hand, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. he doesn't know where he found the self control to not turn you against the lockers in the changing room and take you right then and there, but somehow, he did. instead dropping to his knees in front of you and sniffing your cunt right through your workout leggings, mouth salivating instantly. he mouthed at your core, basking in your cute whimpers, before he finally slid the thick fabric down along with your panties, enough to reveal your puffy little pussy. he grabbed your thighs, bringing you over his mouth completely, admiring her from so close. “another time sweet girl… let daddy take care of this needy little thing first.”

SUNOO | loved showing you off to everyone. to his employees, to his friends, to his collaborators and most of all, to his competition. especially when said competition has… history with you.

he always made you wear nothing under your skirt, granting him easier access during the night. at that point, you had started to get used to all the weird looks and whispers you got when, like clockwork, his hand slid between your thighs under the table to toy with your pussy. not like they ever said anything anyway, sunoo was just too powerful and important for them to. regardless of how fucking weird he is.

this time though, it’s different. the guest for the night was none other than yang jungwon, one of sunoo’s top competitors, and well… probably your most infamous old fling. and sunoo was fucking loving it. for the special occasion, he’d encouraged you time and time again during the night to sneak your hand in his pants. and so you do; what sunoo wanted, sunoo got. that was the rule.

the air was charged with tension despite the almost laid-back look of it all: sunoo laying back against his chair like absolutely nothing was going on, and jungwon seemingly uncaring for what was actually going on, if not a little humored by it. and they were just making casual conversation at that. “heeseung… haven’t heard that name in a long time,” jungwon pondered, reaching for his wine glass.

“yeah… last time i met him he— fuck yeah puppy, just like that.”

your hand froze on sunoo’s cock, noting the twitch in his length. he always loved putting you in embarrassing situations, got off on it. your eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights as you looked at jungwon, your foot nervously tapping on the floor when he stopped mid sip. he looked between the two of you, eyebrow quirking slightly before downing the rest of the wine in one swing. “puppy, huh?”

you wanted to hide somewhere, anywhere. let the ground engulf you and never let you escape. but sunoo pinched your thigh, and you knew it meant he wanted you to keep milking his cock with your fist, so you did.

“a very obedient one,” sunoo snickered, and you hated how it made you clamp your thighs together in search of some friction.

“she knows how to use her hands, but her head is even better,” jungwon commented, clearly amused by the situation.

“agree, had to train her to take it though.” they were talking about you, in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that you were there to hear it. and for some sick reason it turned you on. you glanced back at sunoo with a questioning look on your features, and he pet your head a few times, the usual glint in his eyes telling you to keep going, or he’d have to teach you a lesson when you two eventually left the restaurant. and one thing about sunoo, you never wanted to push him to do that.

JUNGWON | prided himself in being a calm and collected man, always level headed. that completely flies out of the window when it comes to you. but could you blame him? when he sees how all your coursemates tried to get paired up with you, found any excuse to talk to you? he knew they just wanted to get in your pants, he saw it in how they watched you, how their eyes roamed all over your body whrn you were not looking their way. he saw it in their eyes too, and he fucking hated it.

he knew it was not your fault, but he couldn't take it out on them. after all, what you two have was a secret. so instead, he took it out on you. called for you to stay back so you two could talk after class was over and everyone was already leaving, you happily walking towards him without a know in the world of the storm raging inside him. you caught up soon though, when you noticed how hard his jaw was clenched and how his knuckles were turning white from the strong grip he had on the crumpled papers.

he hastily took off his tie, securing it around your wrists so your arms were bound together behind your back. you were so confused as he made you get on his desk, looking back at him to ask what's happened but he didn't even let you get a word out before he pushed you on your knees. your upper body bent forward to rest on the desk because your arms were tied together, unable to support yourself up. your ass was facing him as he stood behind you, pushing your skirt up to reveal your bare cunt. no panties.

this would usually excite him, but in his jealous haze, it only enraged him further. “and you wanna act like you don’t know what the fuck you did?” he spit out, yanking you closer to the edge of his desk. “slutting yourself out like this? when you know how everyone is trying to get a look under your skirt?”

“won, what are you—”

“won?” he landed a harsh slap on your ass, your body jerking forward at the sting.

“sir! sorry sir—”

“yeah you’ll be sorry alright.” he took a seat on his chair, bringing your ass to hover close to his face before diving in and licking a stripe from your clit to your hole, groaning in satisfaction at the taste. “no cumming today, little brat.”

[vaguely-concerned]

the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

[satoruxx]

ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader (hinted) | 5k words

✧ SUMMARY: ghost!reader, major character death, jjk manga spoilers, so much angst bc you literally die lmao, longing, mutual pining, suppressed feelings, everyone sucks at love, some fluff, banter, might be slightly suggestive, lots of hinted feelings (read: suguru), arguments, overall this is painful so read if you enjoy angst !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: this idea randomly came to me before i went to bed a few days ago and in the spirit of halloween, i figured why not? i live off of angst and need to share the pain with everyone lmao oops. this is late for halloween tho my bad !!

i. 2007

satoru brings one more flower than he did the day before. morning glories again, of course, but an extra one. he had added one more to the the bunch every day since the day you died. the first day, he brought three, wrapped with a cheap blue ribbon that he found in his desk drawer. it was hardly a respectable bouquet, but those three flowers were the ones he'd grown for you, so it only seemed fitting.

he didn't care much for gardening. but one day you asked shoko what her favorite flowers were so you could give her some on valentine's day. she asked you what yours were so she could return the favor.

satoru never forgot morning glories after that day.

he's not even sure if morning glories are appropriate to bring to a grave, but he knows you'd like them.

you would tell him it didn't matter anyway.

ii. 2007

(suguru did not cry when you died. satoru watched, intently, because there was nothing in the universe that his six eyes couldn't catch. he waited for it, even a sliver of emotion that would betray suguru's bleeding heart, but he gave nothing. he just stood in front of the stone that marked the end of your life with a deep stare. something had settled there in his eyes, cold and resolute.

a few months before you died, you had told satoru that there was something wrong with suguru. you said that he'd been distant, somewhere far away, and you worried for him. you always did, so open with your affection for him.

"don't want him to get lost." you had hummed, your shoulder brushing against satoru's as you raise the mango ice pop he brought you to your mouth. satoru watches your lips out of the corner of his eyes, his stomach flipping eagerly even as he keeps his face impassive.

"he said it was just the summer heat," he answers, ignoring the sweet mango juice dripping down his knuckles. "should be nothing."

you don't look all that convinced, turning your head to look up at him with meaningful glance. "you sure?"

he stares at you for a lengthy second, cerulean eyes darting over your facial features, before he reaches up and knocks his knuckle against your forehead. "yeah. he'll be fine." he assures, and your shoulders relax as you continue to eat the ice pop.

you were right about it all. four days after you die, suguru massacres an entire village.)

iii. 2008

satoru shifts in his bed, grunting quietly he begins to stretch his stiff joints. his eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep as he waits for his dark ceiling to come into focus. except it doesn't, because all he can see are a pair of very familiar looking eyes. unsaturated, but still so obviously the color he once knew. his own eyes snap open, all traces of sleep gone as he finally makes out someone who looks exactly like you, perched on his stomach with a confused and slightly panicked expression.

he shoots up, and you pull back a little. it looks like you're on his lap, and yet he can't feel you on him at all. he gulps.

"hey toru." you say quietly, and his stomach drops. the same eyes, the same voice. gods above.

"you're dead," he says simply, trying not to betray the way his pulse is jumping at even the smallest glimpse of you again. "you're not real."

"i'm dead," you confirm, nodding your head as you look down at your translucent palms. "but i'm here somehow."

he sucks in a breath, reaching out a hand as if to touch you. the disappointment he feels when it passes through your form is sickening.

you smile shakily, shrugging your shoulders as you attempt to make light of the situation.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

he stares at you for minutes without saying a word and you stare back, equally silent.

iv. 2007

(nanami had carried your body back, his teeth gritted as his blonde hair fell over his eyes. satoru never brought it up, but he knew that nanami remained bothered by it for the rest of his life. your death was bad timing, especially after they had just lost haibara a few weeks prior.

nanami had no reason to blame himself though. if anything, it was satoru's fault you were gone.

shoko had called him from the infirmary, her voice hard and pinched as she spat out three words: "get down here."

when satoru saw your body, he didn't say a word. just took a few long strides until he was at the table where nanami had placed you down. your eyes were shut, face resting in a way that seemed so unnatural. he opened his mouth to ask shoko something, but felt like he was choking on air, so he stopped himself.

then he grabbed your limp fingers, squeezed them gently. they were still a little warm, but not as warm as you usually run. shoko didn't say anything, just stood there with her hands clenched, short brown hair falling over her dark eyes.

satoru remained there for the next thirty minutes, waiting for you to sit up and laugh at the prank you were no doubt pulling. as if your blood wasn't still dripping all over the table.

shoko was the one who finally pulled a sheet over your body with shaking hands. she didn't look satoru in the eye, and didn't spare a glance when suguru burst into the room ten minutes later.)

v. 2008

it takes satoru a while to get used to the fact that you're not physically there. he has to bite his tongue when he moves to bump your shoulder or flick your forehead only to find that his skin goes right through yours. you always give him that same little rueful smile, and he sighs to himself.

he doesn't make an effort to figure out why you're there. he figures it's similar to how jujutsu users can come back as curses due to strong feelings. when he thinks about it though, guilt lodges itself into his throat, because the first thought he had when he heard you were entering death's door was no, don't you dare die.

every day he wonders if he's the one who cursed you to stay.

you act like it doesn't matter, hovering around him as he busies himself in his empty room. at first you're quiet, as though you've forgotten how to speak to him in your incorporeal form. but then you start asking him questions, and it's one question that satoru dreads to answer that you finally bring up.

"where's suguru?"

he's not stupid. he knows there's more you think of suguru than you've ever revealed. of course you'd want to know. but that doesn't mean he wants to be the one to tell you. you had died with nothing but a good impression of geto suguru. you'd probably died with your feelings for him still intact too.

it'd be selfish of satoru to ruin that.

"nothing, don't worry about it," he dismisses, voice clipped as he busies himself with preparing dinner. he knows that won't deter you.

you huff, moving to hover in his line of sight. you cross your arms as you glare at him seriously, and satoru hates how nostalgic your expression makes him feel. he tongues his cheek before sighing.

"he's gone." satoru answers simply. he tries to keep his tone even but it comes out bitter and strained. he can hear your quiet gasp, and feels your form move closer to him. if you were alive, he'd be able to feel your breath on his skin now.

"what do you mean, gone?"

satoru sighs again, turning to look at you completely. he hated everything about this. "he left school. went crazy. killed a bunch of people, including his parents."

he would've laughed at the comical way your jaw dropped if you didn't look so hurt. you sputter over your words as he picks up his bowl and moves to the table, trailing after him and demanding more information.

he doesn't hesitate to share, because he's always hated keeping secrets from you. you had this uncanny ability to see straight through him, and it never failed to make him feel unsettled. so he tells you everything that happened in the few weeks after you died. suguru leaving, their confrontation in shinjuku, his plans for non-sorcerers. he leaves nothing unsaid.

when he's done, he finally looks at you, trying to gauge your reaction. but you're just staring at his food with a bitter expression, brows pinched and lips pursed. satoru says your name once.

you glance at him, and it's too quick for him to look for any accusation in it. doesn't matter though, because he's ready to own up to his mistakes.

"you were right back then. about suguru." satoru admits quietly, turning to his food. he doesn't want to look at you anymore, because he's scared you'll show him how disappointed you are with him.

you don't say anything in response. but you sit down at the small dining table and watch him eat with soft eyes, one bite at a time. satoru doesn't admit it, but the whole time he imagines that you're gently rubbing his shoulder, and he thinks he hasn't missed you more than in that moment.

vi. 2007

(it was satoru's fault you died. if he hadn't been so selfish, you'd still be next to him, shoulder brushing his as the two of you walked through the streets of tokyo.

you had knocked on his door that morning before you had left for your last mission, rocking on your heels. he opened it groggily, still half asleep.

"you going on a mission?" satoru had yawned, drowsy eyes trailing over your uniform. you nod with a grin.

"mhm, with nanami. there are two separate areas with curses though, so we'll split up when we get there. should be simple enough." you shrug, toying with the collar of your uniform jacket.

satoru decides to be annoying. "then why are you here disturbing my sleep? get out." he groans dramatically, peering at you with narrowed eyes. you smack his arm, scoffing. you've stopped questioning why he keeps his infinity down for you do those things to him.

"i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with," you hiss, crossing your arms defensively. "but i'm taking it back, asshole."

he grins. "what? can't stay away?"

you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a sarcastic laugh. "don't flatter yourself."

satoru pauses for a second. "i was gonna go back to sleep." he admits, feeling a little guilty. he had just come back from a mission the night before, and he doesn't feel like leaving again. he doesn't know how to say that to you though.

but you see right through him, like you always do.

"you've been going on missions a lot lately," you smile earnestly, patting his shoulder. "no wonder you're tired."

"'m the strongest, i don't get tired." he protests, crossing his arms with a scoff. you roll your eyes again, sticking your tongue out at him as you heft your weapon over your shoulder.

"keep it up and you're seriously gonna fry your brain or something," you say with a shake of your head, eyes betraying your concern for him. he notices it, and tries to smother down the way it makes his stomach flip. "i'll be fine. you can come on my next mission with me."

fair enough, he thinks. he hadn't gone on missions with you or suguru in a while. he should remember to ask yaga to let him go on your next one. just the two of you. you and him. maybe he'd buy you a mango ice pop on the way back.

"fine." he acquiesces easily, not even thinking to protest. he'll see you later anyway, so he'll talk to you more when you get back.

you smirk a little, motioning to his bedhead, before gently kicking his shin. "go back to sleep then, stupid."

he rolls his eyes, reaching up to knock his knuckle against your forehead like he always does. "whatever. bring me some sweets on your way back, yeah?"

the laugh you give him as he shuts the door is the last thing he ever hears from you.

he should've gone with you.)

vii. 2012

satoru hates the way you're looking at him right now.

it was a stupid little mistake. he had gone to see little megumi and tsumiki earlier that afternoon, and as usual, you had tagged along with him. you'd watched him raise up the two kids over the last few years, never failing to tease about his newly acquired fatherhood, or how much he seemed to care about them despite his efforts to hide it. he didn't ever think to say that you'd helped him raise them up too. even in your incorporeal form you'd always been around to tell him what meals he could prep or to remind him that megumi liked black forest cake for his birthdays.

he'd gotten so used to you being around and he slipped up once. that afternoon when he had walked megumi home from school, teasing and poking fun at the kid, he'd made a stupid joke. megumi had rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.

and then without thinking, satoru had turned to you as you hovered next to him and groaned your name out dramatically before whining, "this kid is so mean to me!"

your eyes widened immediately, and if you were alive he'd probably see the color drain from your face. his stomach had sank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even when megumi glanced at him with a raised brow.

"who are you talking to?" he asked, and satoru gulped, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you to look down at the kid.

"nobody." he had answered.

he tries to ignore the meaningful stare you pin him with for the rest of the afternoon, hoping that you'll just forget about it. but as soon as satoru has left the kids and he's back in his own room, you're on him. he busies himself with making a cup of hot chocolate, even though he feels sick to his stomach.

"satoru you have to figure out how to get rid of me!" you plead, eyes so sad it makes his stomach churn. "i'm gonna drive you insane!"

"i'm fine!" he snaps back, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his mug, the warmth distracting him from whatever it was you were trying to remind him of. he places it down on the table in front of him and crosses his arms defensively. "it was a stupid mistake. won't happen again."

you shimmer in and out of focus, manifesting in front of him with a glare, though your eyes are still the same. wounded and hurt. "it wasn't and you know it! you can't keep living like this. i've been haunting you for years, toru!"

"well who asked you to go ahead and die?!" he yells without thinking, and it's like he sees your hurt bubble forth in slow motion.

"i went and died because i made a stupid mistake on a mission! quit blaming yourself, you dumbass!" you shout, voice raised higher than he's ever heard it.

satoru's mug shatters against the wall.

the two of you immediately turn to look at the mess with wide eyes, before slowly turning to each other to ensure that it really did happen.

"how'd you do that?" satoru asks quietly, his voice strained as he takes a few long strides towards you. you look down at your hand, the same one that you had lifted to swipe at his mug during your fit of rage. you look back up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. satoru's head is pounding, some kind of sick hope stirring within him. "you had to have touched it."

"i don't…" you trail off, voice filled with awe and a bit of fear. satoru reaches up a hand, ignoring the tremble in it, and moves to touch your face. he will never admit to the amount of times he begs in his head, please please please.

his hand goes straight though your skin, and your eyes soften. satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, hiding his disappointment as he takes a step back and turns away.

viii. 2006

(satoru thinks gardening is ridiculous. plants are so fragile, needing to be constantly monitored and cared for like children. he can't understand why anyone would choose to garden as a hobby when there were less stressful things to do in spare time.

even the process was time consuming, he realizes as he scoops out piles of dirt into the small pots he had set out on his windowsill.

he thinks back to the silly little grin you had on your face as you answered shoko's question.

"morning glory," you had said, leaning against her shoulder. "i like the way they open in the morning and close at night."

shoko hummed, staring at the sky even as satoru quietly eavesdropped. "you got a favorite color?"

"the blue ones," you answered. "they're the prettiest."

your voice echoes in his head as he places the seeds into the soil, and he sighs heavily. why he was doing this for you was beyond him.

the thought makes him annoyed, and he huffs in frustration the entire time he plants them. gardening had to be the stupidest hobby ever.

and yet when three blue morning glories bloom against his windowsill, he can't hold back his grin.)

ix. 2017

satoru's grateful that you don't watch him kill suguru.

he tells you to go, and you give suguru a long stare, face pinched and sour even though your translucent eyes are shining. it's a shame suguru can't see you though, because satoru thinks you look so pretty. suguru would've been lucky to have you be the last thing he ever saw.

you turn away and disappear without a word, and after one last exchange, satoru finishes the job.

it's only after he watches rika's final goodbye to yuta does he realize the extent of what a goodbye even means. he'd said one to suguru, and yet he can't help but miss him as he walks back home. he wonders if suguru wouldn't have had to die if you were still around.

satoru had never gotten a goodbye with you though. you're somehow still with him, but he misses you so much. it puts an ugly feeling in his gut, twisted and dark. it weighs down on his shoulders as he finally opens the door to his room, heavy and overwhelming as he sees you sitting on his bed, face vacant.

he says your name, and you don't move. he takes a seat next to you, and something about your sad expression makes him so unbelievably angry.

"quit being sad about it," he finally spits out, the truthful extent of his feelings coming out. "it's not like you're even alive that you'd be able to see him."

you scoff as you give him a sidelong glare. "what's that supposed to mean? one of my closest friends just died and you expect me not to be upset about it?"

"at least he'll find a way to you!" satoru hisses, clenching his fists so hard that his nails leave crescents in his skin. "you two can have fun together for all of eternity."

there's a tense silence that follows as he grits his teeth, turning away from you. he's so disgusted right now. with suguru, with you, with himself.

"i'm all by myself." satoru mutters bitterly, the words so foreign on his tongue as the truth hits him.

god he misses you so much.

he suddenly feels a sharp thwack on the back of his head and he's turning around with wide eyes.

"don't you dare forget about shoko!" you hiss, tears in your eyes as you glare at him, hand raised. "i'll never forgive you!"

his throat goes dry, because the smack you just gave him was the first time you'd touched him since the day you died. there's a storm in his throat that threatens to break free, but he tries to keep it lodged in his throat. even with your teary eyes, he thinks you look just as pretty as you did with life flowing through you.

he misses suguru. he knows you do too, because there are translucent tears dripping down your cheeks and he has never ached to touch you more. but he can't because you're dead.

you remain in front of him all night, barely saying a word in between your sniffles. he doesn't say anything either, just watching you.

he doesn't know what there is to say. the only thing he ever wishes he got to say to you was goodbye. but you're here, in front of him, so a goodbye seems pointless.

when the sun comes up, you wish him a merry christmas, and he swears you never left him.

satoru says it back to you. you smile sadly.

he misses you so much.

x. 2007

(satoru had cleaned out your dorm room three days after you died.

he didn't really understand why he was doing it so early. shoko had frowned when he told her that he planned to pack away your things, frowned in a way that made her look like she disagreed.

well even if she did disagree, it didn't stop her from sitting in your desk chair, chewing on her nail quietly as she watched satoru fold your clothes. he didn't even understand why he was doing this.

maybe it was because every time he walked past your empty dorm room he felt sick to his stomach. there was a twisting feeling in his gut when he realized that you'd never curl up in that bed again. never sit by the window with a grin watching him and suguru bicker as they threw playing cards on the floor. he figured the faster he got rid of your remnants, the quicker the feeling would go away.

that's what he's hoping anyway. but when he picks up your jujutsu uniform he feels something claw at his throat, and he unconsciously digs his fingers into the fabric. he hears a sigh from behind him and then shoko is at his side, wordlessly easing the cloth from his hand. she lays it on the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding it carefully. when she places it into the box, satoru thinks her hands shake a bit.

there's a bitter expression on shoko's face that he's never seen before, and it makes his stomach twist.

they work on your room for the next few hours, until the sun has disappeared behind the horizon and the cool evening breeze bullies its way into your old space. neither of them say anything, save for the occasional nostalgic hum as they remember something that you did or they're reminded of the story behind one of the trinkets in your room. otherwise it's silent, and for a second satoru feels like he can hear your laugh.

it isn't until night has completely fallen that they are interrupted.

"what are you doing?"

satoru turns around just as shoko looks up, both of them finding suguru standing in the doorway. he hadn't taken a step in yet, eyes still trailing over the emptiness of your old room from behind an uncrossed line.

"cleaning." satoru answers, his voice oddly clipped.

"it wasn't messy…" suguru mutters back, his lips slanting in such an unusual way. there was an uncharacteristically determined look in his eyes, as though there was something in him that was struggling to burst forth. satoru didn't understand what it was.

"never said it was." satoru replies noncommittally. he hears shoko inhale deeply, shifting in your old chair as she watches the two of them stare at each other. there's a tense silence as he notices suguru frown.

satoru can't remember the last time he even had a full conversation with suguru. he remembers seeing you leave for your last mission, and he wants to kick himself for not asking earlier to be sent on group missions with the two of you.

even now, he doesn't really know what to say to suguru. all he can do is tighten his fingers around the edge of the box with your stuff neatly packed in, and watch his best friend sigh.

suguru wets his lips, eyes darting over your desk. there's an odd expression on his face, and his brows pinch as he notices something. then suguru reaches out to pick up an old polaroid, and satoru knows exactly which one it is. your arms slung around suguru's shoulders, smile so wide your cheeks probably hurt. suguru's expression was uncharacteristically gentle.

satoru remembers it so well, because he's the one who took the picture.

suguru looks at the polaroid without a word, rubbing the corner between his thumb and forefinger, and his expression suddenly mirrors the gentleness in the picture. his eyes remain stormy, deep and unsettling as he reaches conclusions that satoru will never understand.

the three of them stay quiet for a few minutes, even though satoru has so many questions that he can't figure out how to phrase. shoko toys with a cigarette between her lips, leaving it unlit because you've always hated the smell of smoke. suguru just stands there, silently eyeing your unfiltered smile through the lens of a camera.

satoru wonders if suguru's trying to say goodbye to you. he doesn't ask, and suguru doesn't say.

only after something had clicked in suguru's eyes, did satoru realize something was over. he couldn't help but feel like he had just buried you in that cardboard box with all your things, and he swallows hard.

then suguru clenches his fists, veins flexing as he looks around your room, almost like he was committing it to memory. satoru didn't understand why; it's not like suguru couldn't come see your room anytime he wanted.

then he turns away, hand lingering on the doorframe heavily, without another word.

just as suguru walks away, satoru thinks he hears your voice whispering in his ear.

"don't want him to get lost."

xi. 2018

something is wrong. something happened. something is wrong.

satoru knows he needs to wake up. but he's so tired, so exhausted from carrying on all by himself. he suddenly remembers the taste of frozen mango, sweet and chilled, and he wants to keep thinking about it for the rest of eternity.

but something is wong. he needs to wake up.

the minute satoru forces his eyes open, he can ignore the taste of blood in his mouth because you're there.

you're kneeling at his side, sunlight shining behind your head in a way that makes you look almost angelic. he'd believe it if you said you were an angel, because you've been dead for so long now.

you'd been a ghost for so many years, hovering around him and getting him through everything that had come his way. isn't that what guardian angels were supposed to do, guiding humans through their own trials? isn't that what you were doing to him since the day you died and came back to him?

you'd been a ghost. you'd been his angel. you'd been haunting him.

you'll always haunt him.

you seem to know it too, because the expression on your face is understanding, soft and yet so sad.

for what seems like the millionth time in his life, satoru aches to touch you.

he tries to move his hand but finds that he can't. synapses misfire. he can't feel his body anymore.

he wants to touch you. gods above, he wants to touch you so badly. please just this one last wish.

your translucent forms shimmers in the sunlight, and satoru can't tell if he's hallucinating or not because you suddenly seem to become fully physical. the particles of your form solidify, slowly filling with more color until you don't look quite so dilute. the saturation of your eye color comes back, and satoru can't look away because he's never seen a ghost so pretty before.

his breath hitches as you gently cup his cheek in your palm, warm and gentle. the melancholic look on your face makes his eyes sting.

"it's good to see you." he says with a weak smile, ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue. his breath is short, mind racing because your skin is on his again. finally, after so many years. you're so soft, just like he remembers.

"you weren't supposed to join me this quick." you sigh, eyes shining as you smile down at him ruefully. your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and satoru's cerulean eyes flutter.

no. no more waiting. he'd missed you too much. he doesn't have it in him to stay away from you anymore. he'd done it long enough. your fingers tremble against his skin and he almost laughs.

no more haunting.

there's a resolute part of him that knows you'll be the first thing he sees when he gets to wake up again. he decides that, when he does, he'll get you a mango ice pop and plant some morning glories with you.

his eyes fall shut with a sigh.

"guess i couldn't stay away."

[lxnarphase]

PRETTY BITCHES LOVE ME ᯓ★

━━ ❝ SHE A BADDIE, SHE SHOWIN' HER PANTY! ❞ wc. 3.7k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : suguru is just as big of a show off as gojo, he's just more subtle about it. and he wants everyone in this damn club to know that you're his.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x g. suguru, suggestive content, alcohol mention, exhibitionism, voyeurism (?), fingerfucking, public fingering, little bit of breeding kink and talks of knocking you up, lots of kissing, suguru really loves his girl, suguru can’t keep his hands to himself

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's note : suguru is just a slut for you i don't know what else to tell you. he's just as much as a mischievous little shit as gojo ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎ (also yes nonblack readers can read and reblog too, idk why some anons try to gatekeep)

suguru's so touchy with you, it's sweet.

he can't keep his hands off of you whenever you go out. the poor man feels like he might just die if he's not having some sort of physical contact with you the majority of the day.

it could be the grocery store on a late night snack run in matching pajama bottoms or like now, a long night at the club for some celebration.

neither one of you remembers what or who the part is for, the alcohol in your systems causing you to focus on one another. the rest of your group is busy on the dance floor or bar, leaving you and suguru to cuddle up to each other in the VIP area like the lovesick idiots the two of you are.

your sitting across his lap, one hand in his hair and the other holding his shoulder, rubbing random shapes and patterns into the fabric of his shirt. it's so unfair, he just smells so fucking good and looks so damn handsome. you genuinely can't look at anything but him. 

and he loves it so damn much.

"s'guruuu," you coo at him, nose smooshed against his cheek. if you could, you'd get even closer to him, but this would have to suffice for now. "you're so handsome tonight..." 

the corners of his mouth tilt up into a smug smirk as he chuckles, his hand sliding from your knee to your upper thigh, stroking the exposed skin. you're so soft, could you really blame him for wanting to touch you all the time? compared to you, suguru is way more sober and is just eating up all the attention you're giving him.

not just because he loves you, but that was a plus.

no, it's because people are watching.

his sharp purple eyes flicker up, meeting with the group of girls outside of the VIP area that keep looking his direction.

their eyes are filled with interest and want when they look at him, and he can't help but chuckle to himself.

suguru knows he's attractive. hell, he's reminded of it every morning by the way you shower him in kisses and praises as part of your morning routine, making sure he knows just how much you love him and his 'stupidly pretty face,' as you so elegantly put it.

but what makes him laugh is how they look at you with disdain and confusion, as if they can't understand why you're in his lap instead of them.

it's disgusting, really, for them to even have the slightest thought that they could replace you. they must be lying to themselves, he thinks as your lips start to press kisses against his cheek, the soft curls and coils of your hair tickling his cheek.

you're just so cute, so adorable, so gorgeous, so beautiful. you're his pretty little angel, and seeing women jealous of you just fills him with so much pride, knowing you have other women jealous of you.

if only they knew how badly you have him wrapped around your little finger. if you so much as asked, suguru wouldn't hesitate to beat the shit out of someone for you, wouldn't hesitate to kill for you...but thankfully, it never got to that point.

yet.

"hmm, you think i'm handsome?" he leans in, his breath warm against your neck as he nips your ear. "nah, you look so damn gorgeous, angel. you're stealing the spotlight from me t'night."

his fingers trace circles into your thigh, enjoying your little giggles and complaints of it tickling. it only makes him do it more, your laughs and giggles making his heart squeeze a little bit.

fuck, suguru really loves how your skin feels under his fingertips, soft and smooth. it's all he thinks about. he wants to touch you forever, wants to feel you every second of the day. you are just so warm and soft, nothing would ever compare to the feel of your skin.

pulling away from your ear, he sees that those girls are still there, looking at you and him. the smirk on his face falters a bit, and his gaze hardens.

man, he really doesn't like how they're looking at you.

it's so easy for him to tell they have no cursed energy, just mere humans that could never even hope to be on the same level as you. it would be so fucking easy to just...snap his fingers and have them gone in an instant.

you steal his attention away from them and the dark thoughts swirling in his head by tilting his head your way, and instantly, his gaze softens.

jesus, the things you do to this man.

"sugu? what's wrong, honey," you mumble, worry etched into your features. you cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks to get him to calm down. "you don't look happy..."

the feel of your hands on his face, paired with the sweet concern in your voice, it washes away all irritation in him instantly. suguru hums, his eyes sliding shut. and the soft look in your eyes...he's so whipped for you, it's sickening.

you're so warm...

"no, baby, nothing's wrong," he reassures you, his smooth voice a low rumble. if he could, he'd be purring incredibly loudly right now, nuzzling into your palms. just your touch is enough to make him melt.

"'m just thinkin' how lucky I am, havin' you all to myself like this. the prettiest girl in the world, and she's sitting in my lap...who knew i'd make it this far in life, hm?"

the low, purple lights of the club cast a soft glow on your face as your fluffy hair frames your face, and suguru sighs, looking at you like you were his everything. you are his everything.

a quick glance to the side and suguru takes note that those girls are still fucking there, looking at you both. instead of getting irritated again, suguru gets an idea.

with a smirk, his hand slides up further your thigh, his fingertips slipping under the hem of that pretty purple dress he bought you that contrasts against the dark color of your skin...so pretty.

"mm, babygirl, just looking at you is making me dizzy," suguru purrs, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "you know i love you right? an' that all i wanna do is show you off s' everyone knows how pretty you are, right?"

you know better.

you know better than to trust him when he starts making comments like this, when he starts cooing and praising you out of nowhere.

because you know that it means suguru is up to no damn good.

you still haven't forgiven him for making you squirt on his fingers while he was on the phone with nanami...even though it was kind of cute how nanami couldn't look you in the eye without blushing for about two weeks.

"mhm...i know, sugu, you're a little show off that likes to get us in trouble," you playfully scold, tugging his hair a little as you giggle, looking at him with a soft gaze.

suguru's head tilts back, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a soft grunt leaving him. he's always been a sucker for you pulling on his hair like that, likes when you tug him around to make a point...shit, he's getting hard just from thinking of all the times you'd use his hair to get his attention or make him focus on something.

and it doesn't take long for you to discover his thoughts are going south.

with an exasperated gasp, you feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against your ass, letting out a little scold of his name. his grip on you tightens when you shift to confirm your suspicions. his head leans to rest in the crook of your neck, a silent plea for more of your affection.

"but you like it when I show off," suguru teases back, pressing a kiss against your neck as your curls tickle his face again. even your hair was soft, it's like he's got his own little pillow pet in his lap. the thought makes him chuckle, knowing you'd probably swat at him playfully for comparing you to a plushy

"you get all worked up, it's so cute, angel...plus, i think y'like it when i cause trouble." his hand swaps thighs and creeps up higher under your dress, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. he's playing a risky game. at any moment, someone could catch him and get you both kicked and banned from the club.

but where's the fun in life without taking risks?

"c'mooon, admit it, baby, you like it."

one glance up back into the crowd and suguru hums, his eyes glinting dangerously. still there, it seems.

they aren't staring as hard now, but looks of disbelief cross their face when his hand shamelessly goes right to the apex of your thighs, fingers running over the lace of your panties. suguru doesn't care anymore, if they wanna look so bad, he'll give them something to stare at.

"s-suguru...you're, mnh, gettin' close there..."

he doesn't give you a response, his hand sliding from your back up to your hair to keep your head in the crook of his neck. he may be fine with showing out a little bit to these bitches who tired to glare daggers into you, but no one except him gets to see your face.

the way your lashes flutter, the way your teeth dig into the plushness of your bottom lip...it's driving him crazy.

the faint scent of your perfume hits his nose, and he's gone. his cock is pressing against your ass in full hardness, and he has to stop himself from grinding up into you.

nah, right now, this is about you.

he's going to take care of you, going to make you feel good, going to make sure you know that you are his in every way that counts.

without wasting another moment, suguru's fingers slip under your panties, pausing when they touch the faint wetness gathering at your slit.

"fuck...baby, don't tell me you've been like this the whole night," he rasps, his breathing slowly starting to pick up. your soft cunt is hot to the touch, sticky and wet as he drags his fingers through your slick.

"i can't help it, you just...look, really good t'night, baby," you huff into his ear, gasping a moan when he doesn't hesitate to slip a finger into your slick hole.

he really does look good tonight, dressed in those black dress pants, sleek dress shoes, and that stupidly hot black button-up shirt. and he has the sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone so that you can get a nice view of that necklace with your name on it resting on his collarbone.

how can you not get soaking wet?

"shit." he's groaning, the sensation of you nuzzling your face into his neck to press little open-mouthed kisses into all the sensitive spots of his neck sending a shiver down his spine. it's so sweet and precious how you try your hardest not to make too much noise and not move too much as he stirs up your cunt with just one of his fingers.

he wishes you both were back at home, wishes that he had you spread open on the bed so that he can see how wet he's got you just from his attire, so that he can hear your pussy squelch around his fingers. not even the strongest in the world would be able to pull him from your pussy whenever you get this wet.

the thought of gojo trying to pull him away from you makes him cringe a bit...because he knows damn well that idiot would be shoving his face deeper into your cunt, grinning as he practically makes suguru drown in you.

on second thought, that's not a bad way to go....

another tug to his hair as him unintentionally groaning, eyes snapping shut at the sharp pang of pleasured pain that shoots up his spine. his attention is back on you, his face close to yours as he breathes against your ear.

if you want his attention, then he'll give you all of it with no hesitation.

"suguruu, more...please," you finally whine, the slow movement not enough for you. it's almost torture; the slow in and out motions of his finger making you feel good but not good enough. no, you need more, craved it.

"yeah? you gonna be a good girl f' your suguru and let him take care of this needy lil' pussy? hm?" one finger turns into two, and that familiar heat pools in your lower abdomen. now it's feeling so fucking good that you already know his fingers are gonna be coated in your juices.

this should be embarrassing, it really should. you both are in a club for fucksake! but you can't find it in you to care about it, his thick digits working your cunt so good that your brain is just melting.

one of your hands grips his button-up, fisting in the fabric to ground yourself from the pleasure. "m-mhm! I'll be good, I'll be s' good for you, sugu, promise!" suguru is becoming relentless, determined to make you crack and stop hiding those pretty sounds from him when he takes note of how you go right back to biting your lip after giving him that sweet, needy response.

however, he loves seeing your lips all swollen, knowing they were like that because he made you feel so good you had to force yourself to be quiet.

"sweetheart, don' hide it, lemme hear you, 's just you and me," he whispers to you, his other hand burying itself in your curls and giving a little tug. he knows it's not just the both of you, but right now, in this moment, it's all that exists for him.

the harsh pull of your hair has your lips brushing against his ear and choking on a moan, unable to keep it in. "thaaaat's it, let me hear how good it feels t' have these fingers buried deep inside this tight cunt."

you hate this, hate when he talks because it only makes you wetter. and that means he's gonna talk even more, and you're always right because he's cooing at how much slick is pouring out of you now, asking if it's because of his voice or his fingers.

suguru's so fucking annoying, such an asshole, but you can't help but let him get away with it when it means he makes your eyes flutter closed in pleasure.

you let him get away with way too much, don't you?

the song playing now is so loud, the bass making the ground vibrate. but suguru doesn't care, he's just thankful it's loud enough to cover that fucking beautiful moan you give him when he curls his fingers juuuust right.

"oooh, there? did i find it? fuck, baby, y'got so tight jus' from that."

your desperate nod of confirmation is all he needs before he speeds up his fingers, groaning when he can finally hear the wet schlicks of his hand coaxing more slick out of you.

one more glance up and suguru can't help but grin. the girls are gone, now mixed up in the crowd likely red and hot in the face.

seems like his impromptu little show finally got the message across: he is yours and yours only.

knowing he no longer had to show off, he's focusing on you, on you and that tight, needy little slit between your legs that's dripping down his wrist. it should be a crime for someone to be this wet, in public no less.

"c'mon, angel, don' hold back on me anymore, lemme know how it feels. wanna know 'm treating this gorgeous pussy good."

you let out the prettiest moan, breath hot against his ear. suguru coos, his hand not between your legs holding your neck to keep your head in the crook of his neck. “mhg, suguru, love it s' much, g-god, your fingers feel s'good, 's not fair.”

you can't stop yourself from trying to spread your legs more, giving him a bit better access. you know you can't open them too much ot someone might see.

but...would that be so bad? for people to see how suguru could make you fall apart so seamlessly?

if only you knew that's exactly what was running through his head right now. he's positive at least one person has caught on to what's happening, the repeating motions of his hand between your legs such a dead giveaway.

it thrills him, his cock throbbing in his pants at the thought. shit, he's learning things about himself he didn't know before...he might have to do this to you more often.

he leans in closer, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, "y'gonna cum for me right here in this club, aren't you, babygirl? gonna show me how much you love my fingers playing with this slutty lil' pussy, right?"

he gets a sweet little 'yes, sugu' and he purrs your name, the mixture of your moans, the music, and the just barely audible sounds of your slickness being stirred by his thick fingers, making him feel drunk.

you're shaking in his lap, holding on for dear life as he makes it a point to curl his fingers with each thrust, not giving you a break anymore. you're spiraling, feeling the tremors of your impending orgasm building, your hot, gummy walls fluttering around his stupidly thick digits. you're praying silently between each pant and gasp, desperately hoping he doesn't make you squirt, not now, not when so many people are around—!

"c'mon, baby, c'mon," suguru encourages, his fingers picking up their pace. you're so close, he knows it, he knows because he can feel it coming. the way you fist his shirt, the way your hips are trying to hard to not rise up to meet his hand, knowing it would make it so obvious what's happening.

but suguru, oh, he stopped caring so fucking long ago. he just wants to feel you soak his fingers, wants to hear your muted little moan of his name when you finally cum. he just wants to make sure you know you're his.

"b-baby, suguru, shit, i'm gonna cum—!"

"yeah? that's it, baby, let got f'me, you can do it," he urges and coos, his voice bordering on needy and desperate, just like you. he's panting into your ear, whispering little praises as he listens to you pitifully try to keep your gasps and moans down. you're such a mess, it's so cute, you're so adorable, god, he loves you so bad.

your thick thighs are quivering and trembling as you teeter on the brink of release. you know it's going to be a mess, but you try, you try so hard to keep it in.

suguru notices—how could he not—and he's not having it, slipping a third finger inside your messy little cunt, curling deep inside right against that sweet spot, and that knot wound so tight inside you finally snaps.

"s-suguuuu, 'm cummin'—!"

he's reveling in how your hot, gummy walls squeeze and spasm all over his fingers, milking them for all they're worth as you cry and sob his name into his ear, tears caught on your eyelashes from how good it feels. he wishes he could look at you, wanting to drink up your expressions, but no, he'd be risking someone else seeing how pretty you are when you cum.

"yessss, good girl, good fuckin' girl, gimme everything, babygirl."

your cries of release are so damn sweet to his ears, and he continues to work you through it, ensuring your orgasm is as prolonged and intense as possible. if you were home, he wouldn't care about stopping or overstimulating, but he has to remind himself to stay calm and not go too hard.

if he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from fucking you on this couch in the middle of the VIP section in front of all these people.

once suguru feels you go slack in his arms and your hand weakly slap against his chest, he slows his hand, his own breaths heavy with the arousal and need you stirred in him...did you have any idea how sexy you were? if he wasn't as controlled as he was, he's positive he would've cum in his pants.

pulling his fingers out slowly, suguru's quick to pop them into his mouth, sucking off your juices like it would be the last time he'd ever get a last. fuck, you soaked his hand...he doesn't care how obvious he makes it when he licks at his palm and wrist to not miss a drop.

"hhmph, s-suguru, you—"

"i need you, right now. can i take you home?"

of course, he has to ask. he knows how long it took you to get ready, to look so fucking perfect. but right now, he doesn't want anyone to look at you. hell, he doesn't want anyone else but him to be near you, he'd fucking wipe out this entire club right now if you asked.

the soft touch of your hands on his face brings him back, making him melt as his eyes slide shut. you're so soft, he loves you so much, he needs to stick his cock into you while groaning those words into your ear, needs to feel his tip kiss that soft, spongy spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed, to fold you in half as he stuffs you so full, praying that his cum gets stuck deep inside you, praying that it takes and that he gets you knocked up, and that—

"take me home, sugu, please, i-i need you s' bad."

your words have him acting in an instant he presses a quick kiss to your lips, licking whatever is left of your lipgloss before helping you stand up with him, guiding you out of the club. if he stays in here for any longer, he's not sure he'll be able to control himself.

"i got you, baby, don't worry, 'm gonna give you what you need. let's go, princess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff @charming-chikara @actuallynarii @ninikrumbs @inette04 @paint-eater2 @haesify @shaguro

[ellievickstar]

Bloodied Bonds

A/N: This was...fun. I wanted to fit it all into one part but it was getting too long sooooo yeah.....have fun :)

Summary: When hanahaki disease festers in your lungs, how will your family help you while you hide it from your mate?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

There they were again.

Azriel smiled at Elain with those eyes…those eyes. And in your soul you felt the bond writhe with pain and clench in your chest. You remained still as you immediately brought your eyes to look at the ground beneath you. This hurt. This really hurt. A part of you wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that Azriel would remain faithful to you always, that he would stay true to the mating bond, something he desperately used to want before we got together.

Now, you were not so sure.

“Sweetheart…,” Cassian said from behind me, startling. He knew what you was seeing, saw it in his own brother’s eyes. Azriel may have always been a mystery to everyone else outside the inner circle, but his eyes — his beautiful hazel eyes — showed you everything you needed to know.

“I’m fine,” You waved Cassian off, bringing down shields on the bond, shutting out his emotions, the pain from it, and shutting yourself in as a stray tear slipped down your face, “I’m really fine,” You repeated.

Truth to be told, Cassian did not know what to say to you. After you had defended Azriel since you were kids, brought him to you and Rhysand’s mother, convinced her to take him in. Cassian did not know what could come over Azriel to internally betray you in this way. However as you began coughing Cassian was alarmed when you raced towards the kitchen sink and coughed out flower petals, one after another.

“What the hell-” He started, moving to pull back your hair as he observed what you had coughed out. Blood and petals coated the sink and as you choked them out one by one, slowly calming down, you waved your hand magicking it away. And it was then it hit him.

You were dying.

“Explain. Now.” He demanded. Looking away you mumbled.

“A few weeks ago after I first realised he loved her, I started coughing up flowers and my tears, my tears turned a gold colour. I asked Madja what was wrong. It’s a soul disease called hanahaki, caused by the betrayal of the heart and unrequited love. The tears were caused by the same thing, a unique symptom that is because of my magic due to being the High Lord’s sister. She said the flowers in my lungs will continue to grow until it suffocates me and I die. The star tears are just a symptom that causes physical pain, she doesn’t know if there will be any repercussions from it,” That’s all you managed to ramble out before you doubled over and heaved again, blood dripping out of your gaping mouth as you choked and coughed on the flower petals making their way up your throat.

Cassian was at a loss of words, on one hand he wanted to be angry, angry at you for keeping this from him, for not telling him sooner so he could beat the crap out of Azriel. On the other hand he was…devastated. You had always been like a sister to him, since he first met you as a kindred and fierce spirit when you were seven years old. The three of them had been twenty and Cassian had fell to his knees before the little girl with such a bright spirit, who dared to scream in Devlon’s face when he said females belonged in the kitchen.

Cassian had sworn to protect you.

And now, against a disease he felt helpless.

“Is there a cure?” He asked.

“Madja said there were two ways, either Azriel proves that he still loves me, which we both know won’t happen when he won’t stay away from Elain for more than a few hours, or I could have the flowers cut from their roots and removed, it’s a risky procedure and even successful all my feelings towards Azriel will be removed entirely, given the mating bond, she thinks it will be stripped from my soul. I….I wanted to wait.”

“So you either have your emotions robbed from you, make Azriel realise he’s an idiot, or die?”

You nod.

“Tell Azriel,” “I can’t!” You hissed, “We both know I can’t. He loves her, Cassian, I can feel it, I can see it, everytime he looks at her it’s like she’s the one who hung the stars and moon while when he looks at me that light dies!” You bang your fist on the table.

You point to where Azriel and Elain was far out in the gardens. His shadows no where to be seen, both blissfully unaware of what was going on inside with you and Cassian.

“He acts like she’s the one who went through countless of interrogation, of torture, when she got captured by enemies. He acts like she was the one who protected Velaris with Rhysand when she went under the mountain to be taken advantage of, when Amarantha held me down and tried to force answers out of me,” You let out another pained cry as you slid to the ground, “I have done everything for him, been through hell and back with him. And even after everything he still wants her, still wants to be with her, still doesn’t want me.”

Cassian brought you closer to him as he sat next to you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You cried and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. Cried until you couldn’t cry.

And when you finally fell asleep from exhaustion, Cassian glanced out the house to the gardens where his brother trailed Elain, and Cassian made a decision.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You told my brother!?” You shrieked. Rhysand and Cassian was now sitting around you in Rhys’s study.

“You told Cassian before me?” Rhysand shot back. You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, “Oh please I didn’t tell him anything I was throwing up flowers in front of him, not much I could do except explain.”

Shaking his head, Rhys sighed as he glanced at Cassian and they both shared a look. Narrowing your eyes, the tendrils in your mind crept towards your brother and the general, and surprise coated your face when you realised they had shut you out.

“Let me remind you what I do is my choice.”

“Not when your life is at stake,” Rhysand retorted.

So he had decided something against your will already. Of course, your brother who wanted to help everyone, your brother who thought you were his responsibility, his burden to bear. Your brother who claimed to value your opinion oh so much but then never, not once, ever considered how you feel in anything that had to do with you.

“He doesn’t care. I haven’t even been actively hiding it from him, it’s just that he’s never around to notice,” You said bitterly, “Did you know he missed my birthday? You all did. Because usually he’s the one going around reminding everyone the week before. Did you know our anniversary passed and I had waited for him all day just to realise he was with her?” Stray tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold them back.

Crying meant that you were weak.

And you hated being weak.

That was when Cassian spoke, “Have Madja remove the flowers.”

Rhysand shot a look at him.

“She won’t survive otherwise. Even as we discuss this now she is running out of time, Rhys. Azriel’s infatuation with Elain is unforgivable and at least this way we can save her. Their relationship might never be the same but if Azriel is truly in love with Elain as she feels, then it is possible this way everyone wins.”

“I don’t want the male who almost killed my sister in my court,” Rhys bit out.

“Convincing Azriel that what he is doing is wrong will take too long. Maybe we should have interfered when it first started but now it’s too late. We can still save her, really save her. Not their relationship but at least she’ll live,” “And live with a bond that will eventually diminish into nothing?” “Maybe it’s better that way.”

Glancing between Cassian and your brother, your own inner turmoil seemed to be playing out in front of you as they discussed everything that you had not been able to come to terms with yourself. A part of you could still hardly believe that Azriel would do something like this, hurt you in this way when he himself swore that he would be loyal for eternity.

Mates.

A sacred connection that determined your equal, your partner in everything.

But your parents were mates too…and that did not work out well. So maybe it was time for you to let your mate go.

However, as you opened your mouth to agree with Cassian, to agree that maybe the best option would be to remove the flowers directly, the consequences of your feelings being stolen be damned, a cough climbed up your throat.

And as you coughed out bloody petals onto Rhysand’s office floor….everything went dark.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It had all happened quickly, too quickly for Rhysand’s liking.

One moment he was debating with Cassian how they would save his sister’s life, the next moment as she was about to say something and he watched in horror as blood came out instead of words. Her eyes drooped and he raced to catch her from hitting her head on the hard wooden floors, and as his ears started ringing, holding his sister’s lifeless body in his arms, as he watched golden tears stream out of her eyes, he noticed there was someone screaming.

And it was not until his throat hurt, until his own throat burned, that he realised he was the one screaming, crying out loud for his sister who’s body seemed as lifeless as the one he had lost all those years ago.

“Get Madja!” He roared at Cassian, “Get her NOW!”

Less that a minute went by when Morrigan and Feyre came into the room, Feyre let out a horrified gasp as Mor took in the scene, freezing as she realised her cousin, her best friend, her only companion during the times after Eris and Keir, was in Rhysand’s arms, still and lifeless even as blood trickled out of her mouth and gold spilled form her closed eyelids.

Madja came shortly after, and Y/N’s body was moved to a different room for Madja to work, Cassian explaining what happened and the illness in Y/N’s body that was causing this. Morrigan took a few steps back, before she crashed into the wall of the hallway and let out her own sob.

And for the first time after Rhysand and Y/N had returned from the mountain, Morrigan wept.

Two days passed, and Y/N did not wake.

Madja estimated that they would have to make a decision within the week whether they would tell Azriel, or cut the flowers out.

And in those two days Azriel did not come.

It was only after Rhysand had asked him to meet, told him about Y/N did Azriel finally realised he had not seen his mate in days. That he had not even spent more than fifteen minutes with her in the past few months.

It was only after Rhysand said that Y/N was dying, did Azriel reach down the now cold and empty bond, and realise he had shut her out. And when he let his walls down, experienced the agony, the pain, the grief she felt even in her unconscious state, did Azriel regret.

“Why didn’t she tell me…” Azriel whispered.

“Because she heard you when I told you to stay away from Elain. I looked into her mind and I realised the day her disease started she went to find you, and you had been in my office, yelling at me that the cauldron had made a mistake, that you wanted Elain,” Rhysand laughed coldly. Even Rhys in all his beauty, his eyes were now red from sobbing, his voice hoarse from how he had cried, and cried.

“Good job, Azriel,” Cassian said from the doorway, “You got what you wanted. Your bond will no longer exist once she awakes…that’s if she survives even.”

“No….I don’t,” Azriel muttered, “Rhysand…what conversation?” Rhysand furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you really playing this game with me now? My sister is DYING! AND YOU WANT TO PRETEND LIKE YOU FORGOT WHAT YOU SAID!?”

Azriel’s eyes looked back and forth between his brother’s….when did he…when did he even get here?

Where was his mate?

Why did it feel like something just cleared from his head?

That was when Elain stepped in, holding a mug and what looked to be tea.

“Azriel, i heard your distress, drink this it will make you feel better,” She said softly, but as Rhysand’s eyes narrowed on the mug, it was Cassian who snatched it out of her hands, brought it to his eyes and shattered it on the already ruined hard wood floors.

“That was not just tea.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

And as Cassian lifted his head he declared, “As General of the Night court, I arrest you for illegal possession and use of aphrodisiacs. You are charged with attempted murder of the Princess of the Night Court. You are charged with manipulation and forced betrayal of the court’s spymaster,” And with a menacing grin Cassian said, “And you are charged because you bloody annoy me and you…what you have done today makes me want to rip you to shreds.”

A beat passed.

“That is….” Cassian continued as he glanced at Azriel, with each blink clarity seemed to return to the shadowsinger as he processed everything, as he remembered everything Elain made him do, as he remembered how he had hurt his mate, “That is if Azriel decides he doesn’t want to kill you first.”

Elain let out a scoff, looking down at the spilled tea and broken pieces of ceramic in disgust, “Azriel loves me. Azriel should love me not that disgusting slut of a female, she might be a princess but she is-,” “Mine.” Azriel interrupted.

“She was mine before you interfered. She was mine before you made me break her.” Azriel turned, no doubt to go find Y/N.

“Start counting your days, Elain, because now they are numbered.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Part 2 here!!

Love, Ellie.

[mononijikayu]

devotion; i'm a slave onto the mercy of your love — ryomen sukuna.

“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?” You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile. “We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go."

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

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

WORD COUNT: 30k words

NOTE: i told myself this would be short because its the last chapter before the epilogue, but here we are. i asked everyone if it would be fine, if it got longer. many of you said that it was fine. and i didn't wanna make more chapters, so here i am, posting this long fic like my life depends on it. i am floored the love concubine reader has received from readers. i bow to you and your kindness over concubine reader!!! i hope you continue to read and explore worlds with me!!! i love you all <3

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YOU COULD FEEL YOUR AGE THESE DAYS. But perhaps that's what time will do to you. You cannot fathom it, if you were being honest. You could only sit there as you looked back to time. Seventeen long years had come and gone.

Seventeen long years as a concubine. Seventeen long years as a woman who yearned and yearned for things that will never come. And yet, the things that have been yearned still remain. They still haunt you. For they continue to be hopeless deluded wishes of a fool of a woman like you.

You do not know how you lasted this long being Ryomen Sukuna's concubine. But perhaps you had just gotten too used to dealing with such a title, without little care from the man himself. Perhaps even more, you had gotten too numb to the feeling of not being as wanted as the ghost he loved.

And yet still, you had gotten closer to him. However, the term closeness requires a lot of thoughts talked through. The naked eyes of humanity would not notice what you have. Being the other woman, after all, made you privy to what closeness meant in the realm of the aggrieved wife.

You were already used to the fact that he was without affection. He had been someone that averted touch, and even more so, averted the warmth that comes with intimacy. He shunned such a thing easily. And you did not pry. It was not your place. No matter how much you wanted something from him, you knew you would not get it from him in the way you wanted.

And yet, there were moments that came fleeting like the clouds in the sky drifting by in the morning sunrise. Sometimes, those calloused hands would hold yours for a brief moment and leave tenderness.

At times he would keep you close and look at you with those tender gazes, as though you were the only thing left to wonder in the world. But you know that they were always made to the surface. They were tenderness formed out of fondness.

Still, you know that there was trust from him, if not love. Perhaps that would just be what is left for him to feel. Yet you thought that such trust was ever so sacred. You had known him a god and you lived knowing he is your god. And as his most ardent follower, his most ardent believer - you knew you would never ask of him much more than what he could give.

Because you knew it all too well. Trust is all that there would be between the two of you. Fondness is all that he could give you. He could not give you any more than that. Love is hard to say, even harder to provide. A god doesn't have love, you knew that much. Every part of him that had been human, that had been him at one point loving, had died with Ryomen Hiromi.

You knew that the moment he had married you. He could spoil you with all the fondness in him, he could touch you, he could give you all the loyalty he would never give any other woman in the harem. But he would never love you. A god like him never loved. He cannot. He's incapable of it.

"I trust you, little one. Out of all of them, you have my outmost trust." he had told you at one point. He had taken you to battle with him. In the most vulnerable essence, he was exhausted. And here you were, a witness of his weariness, the way others would never be.

Your husband's voice had been hoarse, perhaps that had been to the excitement he had shouted in battle. Jujutsu first and foremost was what kept him alive in this earth, you knew that most. Still, he made an effort to talk to you. As though he knew that he does not wish to bore you with silence.

He wasn't weakened, not your husband. But negative energy takes a lot on a body. And so, you were apprehensive if you should ever reply. Your husband's words had hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and though you should have felt contentment, it was always followed by that ache you could never quite shake. Such conversation was never going to be that for equals.

"You don’t trust anyone else, my lord." you had said back then, your hands gently tending to his body, washing away the grime and the dirt that had accumulated upon his body. This moment of intimacy of the moment fleeting but tangible. At times, you hold onto it. At times you don't. You could only wonder if you could ever be honest with yourself without contradiction.

There were bags in your eyes, heavy with weariness. You had been waiting for him to come home for days, sitting about his tent like some doll that had been sat still by her master. Perhaps that is how he viewed you at times. His little doll, who awaits for his command to be moved.

His dark scarlet eyes had flickered, a dangerous gleam that softened just enough for you to feel safe. “Perhaps outside of Uraume, my lord.”

"That is given, little one. But everyone else? I never will put my trust upon them. They are all witless. And they could betray me. I know that." he had replied, his tone matter-of-fact, like it was a final judgment. "Out of all of them, you will be the only one who will stand by me. I know that too well. Only you."

And yet, even with that, you knew. The professing of trust wasn’t ever going to be that of love. It never was going to be. Not even for him. You could only stand there was you catch his eyes bearing hard upon yours. There was nothing.

There was no longing, there was no tenderness. It was a hard stare that burns you like a house on fire. You understand too well, you understand that he will never look at you that warmly. You will be trusted so long as you were loyal to him.

And there perhaps is and only will be that for as long as you lived. Seventeen years had not changed him. You do not expect him to continue to change now. You have accepted it all, everything.

Everything about his feelings, about him, about the past. The past had been left behind. Hironobu, your grievances, your initial fears, your uncertainty. But with it went the fantasy that someday, he might love you.

"Do you ever regret it, my lord?" you asked him then, feeling the moonlight spilling into the room.

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even shift. "Regret what, little one."

"Sparing my life. Letting me live. This… relationship between us." you had whispered softly, feeling foolish even as the words left your lips. "Do you ever wonder if it’s enough, my lord?"

There followed a long silence. You didn't expect a response. If you were being honest, that was more honesty than any words he could say. And such silence wouldn't hurt your feelings more than his words would have. You know him too well by now. Ryomen Sukuna had never indulged idle qestions, especially ones rooted in emotion. Not even from his favorite concubine.

Emotions were trivial to him, it was easy to tell. He had lived too long for anyone to think that they were not. Feelings were were closed shades in his heart, pieces you will never come to know. Perhaps, you think, it is better that way. But then, his dark scarlet eyes slid open, gleaming crimson in the dim light as they looked at you. 

And yet, a part of you wonders if he was ever satisfied with your lives together. You were but a small insignificant part of him, you know that. But he had let you live so many years ago, he had taken you on as his concubine one way or another. He had let you live by his side, close to him, raised his precious child for him, served him.

And you could only wonder, if he was content. Satisfied. Even if he didn’t love you, you wished that he was satisfied with living by your side. That he does not regret you Perhaps that would be enough for you. To think that you had not wasted seventeen years of your life in misery for nothing.

"Enough for who, little one?" he asked. His tone was almost challenging, but you could hear the truth buried within it. He had never needed anything more than what you were. That you were someone he could trust, someone who would not betray him.

You swallowed, your eyes shaking. "Enough for you, my lord." you clarified. "Do you ever… want more in this life?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He does not feel like he should. Instead, Sukuna arose from his seat, his towering presence filling the space and made his way toward you. He stopped just inches away, close enough that you could feel the faintest heat radiating off him.

Your eyes lifted higher, trying to meet his eyes. You had to. You dared speak something to him. And you ought to face him. You ought to meet him in the eye and accept what ever he says.

"I don’t need more than what I have." he said simply, his voice low and unwavering. 

And you nodded, biting back the questions you didn’t dare ask. What about me? you wanted to say. What about what I need?

You shouldn't have asked. You didn't have to. You knew the answer. You had known it for years. It was trivial, unnecessary to ask again. You nodded to him. You bite your tongue and pursed your lips in a flat line. Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who grants wishes to the foolish, including you who dreams of love. 

You ought to be satisfied. You should be. Because, what more could you want from him? You had his trust, his loyalty, and that was more than most could dream of. If one was being honest, people could only dream of the life you live by his side. You ought to be content, someone would say. You live in riches, you live with his trust and his confidence. You were still alive. Shouldn’t that be enough?

As Sukuna walked past you, brushing your shoulder with the faintest touch, you exhaled a breath. Contentment was your fate, greediness was not. It wasn’t the passion you had once imagined for yourself. It wasn’t the deep, soul-shaking love you had thought marriage would bring. But it was enough to survive. You ought to live for it. You ought to let it be.

"I suppose then….." you whispered to yourself, once you were alone again. "Most women endure."

You smiled faintly, bitter and content all at once.

And you would endure too. You already had.

But part of you wondered if you were truly satisfied.

The night stretched on, silent except for the steady hum of the world outside. You stood there for a moment longer, watching the space where Sukuna had been. He had a way of filling the room, even when he wasn’t trying—an overwhelming presence that you could never escape, even when he wasn't physically near you.

You let out a breath and turned, going through the motions of preparing for bed. Just another day for the other woman. Ryomen Sukuna never needed to say much. You never expected more than what he gave.

When you were lying in bed, staring at the vast expanse of the tent's emptiness, you found yourself unable to sleep. It was in that moment that you heard the quiet echo of the tent's entrance. You sat up and noticed him once again. Ryomen Sukuna’s heavy footsteps made their way into the room. He didn’t say anything as he entered; he rarely did. His presence alone spoke volumes.

Your husband had his own tent. You knew tht much. But it seemed he cannot sleep too. He was too nocturnal for it. Ryomen Sukuna looked at you for a moment. Then, he approached the bed and sat down, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. You shifted but kept your gaze upward, listening to the way his breath came slow and even, like nothing in the world could touch him. Maybe it couldn’t.

"Is my lord sleeping in my tent tonight?"

"There is too much noise in mine." He tells you rather bluntly. "I cannot sleep."

"I see." You tell him, nodding at him.  

You moved slightly, trying to make room for him in your bed. Your husband was a big man, someone that would never fit in your bed. And yet you make the effort. You wanted him to feel like he had a place with you, even if there was none for you in his.

"Shouldn't you already be asleep, little one." He whispers the question. "You are not this sort to stay ever so late awake."

"I cannot help it, lord." You shifted slightly, as you retort back in a soft tone. "There was a lot on my mind."

His crimson gleam raised at you. "Oh? And what would that be, little one?"

"Nothing.....nothing of import, my lord. You mustn't think of my ridiculous thoughts."

"You are my concubine." He says sternly, shifting slightly to your side. You could feel yourself heating up at the closeness of him. "Your business is also mine. You might as well say something, little one."

You gulped at him. He is relentless, when he wants something. Knowledge most of all. In all the years together with your husband, the thing you had known the most about him is that he craves to know. He craves to know everything and anything. And it's hard to keep it away from him. Even from the grave. You were never going to win against him.

“Why did you marry me, my lord?” you whispered to him. “I may be a ghost but…there was no reason to do so. Break my will, you could have done that by other means.”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t answer right away. You didn’t expect him to. But after a moment, you felt the bed shift again as he leaned back, arms resting behind him. His gaze seemed far away, as though he were contemplating something beyond your reach.

“There could have been other means, you are right with that, little one.” he said eventually, his voice calm, devoid of hesitation.

Your husband did not feel pain often, so you know it was not that pain speaking through. It was honesty. “I wanted to break your spirit. That was true. But over time….you have proven yourself. Other than Uraume, you were the only one I could trust. The only one who understood.”

His words settled over you, heavy and cold, though they didn’t surprise you. You had always known this was his reason. You had been chosen, not out of love or affection, but out of necessity.

A match of convenience. A match of lessons. A match of misery. Never love. You already knew that. It was quite obvious. Yet, hearing it so plainly—it still stung, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

“And now, my lord?” you asked quietly, turning your head to look at him. "After all these years, am I still just… useful?"

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "You are still the only one I trust. Out of all of them at the harem. Out of them who seek to plot behind my back. The only one will stand by me no matter what I do. I know that for a fact."

I have no place other than by your side. You think to yourself. There is no more home to return to. You had made sure of that when you had burned it all way.

His gaze met yours, unyielding. “That is more valuable than anything else, little one. You ought to remember that. In many ways than this, you are the only one.”

You swallowed, the ache in your chest growing heavier. You could feel that the bed was eating you whole with the way you lay against it. You can tell quite clearly that he wasn’t lying. Sukuna never lied, he had no reason to. Lying requires guilt too. And he has none. But he also never said what you needed to hear, what you sometimes ,wished for.

Trust is more valuable than love, you tried to tell yourself. He has given you more than anyone else in his life. That should be enough.

But the silence between you felt thick, suffocating. You shifted on the bed, turning away from him, eyes once again on the ceiling. You nodded back at him. You knew too well that there was nothing else left to hear from him.

"I see." you said softly, though your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears.

Ryomen Sukuna made no move to touch you, to offer any comfort. He never did. You had long since learned that his world was one without tenderness. You cannot demand it, you cannot will it. He was the only one with will between the two of you.

But there were moment in between these many years when the weight of it all became too much for you to bear. There were times when you wished that even just for a second, even for just a moment, even in a dream that he could be different.

That he could reach for you, hold you, tell you that you mattered beyond just being useful. That there would be warmth at the end of the winters you've spent with him. But those were fantasies, and you had buried them long ago. You cannot suffer more of this. You have to keep them buried. You have to live, as you have in the past seventeen years. You ought to survive.

After a long silence, Sukuna spoke again, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "You’re still here, aren’t you, little one? After everything?"

There was something you could feel felt unspoken in his words. But you knew too well that would be a flower that will never bloom. You had to accept it now. You had to stop deluding yourself.

You could only do so much with that as you closed your eyes. You could feel your as though your heart was stuck in your throat. He could read you as easily as you could read him. How right he was about you, over and over again.

There have been too many opportunities for you to escape these seventeen years. Too many opportunities to go off and be something without him. To be nothing to him. And yet you didn’t.

You haven’t. You chose to stay. You chose him. One way or another, he knew. He just knew. You would never leave him, even if it burns you whole. Even if there was nohting left to live for. You would choose him. 

You were going to stay with him. You were going to choose him. One way or another, your love for him was devotion. And devotion, it was the proof. You were a slave to the mercy of his love. You loved him.

The monster he was. The man he was. Everything. You take him whole. You didn’t have to show him that. Staying already did. Loyalty already showed it. He did not need any more proof.

He didn’t need to say more. He was asking in his own way why you stayed, why you continued to endure.

"Yes, my lord." you whispered back. "I’m still here."

Because despite everything, despite knowing that you would never hear those three words, despite the emptiness that sometimes crept in during the quiet nights, you had chosen this. You had chosen him. You always will.

Even if there was pain, you knew it yourself. These seventeen years of solitude were always going to be triumphed by seventeen years of knowing nothing but serving and loving him. 

And in the strange, dark way that only Ryomen Sukuna could offer, he had chosen you too. In what little remained, he proved to you that he would choose you too. Seventeen years. You were his longest companion, his longest everything.

And even then, it wasn’t love, not in the way you wanted it. But maybe, just maybe, it was something close enough. Something that, in this world of violence and cruelty, you could find solace in.

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the years stretching between you, unspoken but understood. And as you drifted off into an uneasy sleep, you reminded yourself that most women endure.

You would endure too. You already had.

And you'll do it again.

══════════════════

THE SEASONS HAVE PASSED BY RELATIVELY WELL. But as usual, it was what what is felt only in the Vermillion Hall. A luxury that only you as Sukuna's favorite could ever have. The days spent in the isolation of the Vermillion Hall were quiet and peaceful, spent in the bliss of ignorance. The grandeur of the estate stood in stark contrast to the deep, unsettling turmoil that often simmered beneath its surface.

It was what Ryomen Sukuna's true intention was when he had given you this paradise on earth as a gift. Isolation in paradise, a prison in a cage of luxury for the obedience that came with breaking you whole.

The worldly affairs were no longer your concern the moment he trapped you inside of here. Duties and struggles and the sufferings of humanity no longer existed. It no longer mattered. It no longer subsisted.

Most days were spent here without the disturbance of any need from Ryomen Sukuna. Your husband had matters to deal with most of the time. Things he never tells you and things he does not show you. And perhaps it was better not to ask.

But with your husband's absence, there was no audiences with the small folk and there was no trips that required your attention. As such, you spent most of your time enjoying the peace with Ryomen Chiharu, carving a small peace of joy in tribulations.

Chiharu's existence within these halls had wiped away your mundane life. Everything about her had brought such color in your life, with each laughter and each tender touch of her palm gave you such life.

Each and every day, she found something new to bring you into. Everything had kept you entertained. She pulled you towards gardening, reading aloud to one another, singing songs she had picked up from wandering musicians, and even sewing, though she wasn’t particularly fond of it. You indulged her in everything. You could not hope to say no. For it was hard to see her face in a frown.

You might have become older, but you can't help but try and keep up with her. She was just too much fun to be with. Her zest for life had made itself ever so contagious that you dare not turn it down.

Even when you were tired, you found yourself chasing after her whims, always keeping upon the move as if her happiness alone fueled you. And how could you not? Ryomen Chiharu had become a light of your world in the short amount of time you had her.

One could wonder how she was truly her father's daughter. But it was unmistakable when you look at her eyes. She was the warmth Sukuna had removed from his heart. She was the humanity that died in him long ago.

The Vermillion Hall had become ever more exciting with her around. You felt less alone with her in your home, you had felt more like there was something of life worth living beyond the slavery you had to your devotion to her father.

On most days, you and Chiharu got off to to whatever you liked. But today, the young daughter of Ryomen Sukuna had to deal with training her cursed energy control. It was demanded of by her father, the moment she started showing signs of cursed energy. Chiharu did not want to be a sorcerer, she had told you as much.

But her father refuses to listen. And so, young Chiharu had to go off her lessons. Yet, she proves that she is much her father with her refusals. You had to bribe her by telling her you would take her around the estate in your walks, which excited her.

Off she went with that little promise. She after all wanted to be with you as much as possible, without the interferance of her father's summons.

With her gone, you found yourself relishing the silence in your gardens. The gardens had been completely redone over the past few years. There was no longer any trace of the things you had grown with Hironobu.

And that had made you sad every time you remembered it. But you tried to remember what you could about the things you did together. You didn't want to forget him. You didn't want him lost to time. And so you tried to enjoy the thought of being alive in the silence of your existence.

After that, you had ended up having little to eat to break your fast. But that did not get finished either, for you ended up picking through the scrolls that Sukuna had sent to you, before he had left on his business. He had thought that they would intrigue you, the poems and such the like. And he was right.

He had been attentive to what you liked in prose. And for hours on end, you had ended up enjoying more of it than your food. Perhaps it was the fact that Sukuna had noticed your liking, or perhaps it was the wisdom that were in these ancient texts. You did not care to find the truth between what it was. You had let the words distract you, let it pass the time around you.

Time passed easily like this. You hadn’t realized how much time had slipped by until the sound of hurried footsteps broke the quiet.

"Mother!" Chiharu’s voice echoed through the hall before she appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from excitement.

"Chiharu, do not run!" You say, in surprise.

She did not care as she rushed towards you, panicking her attendants as she was panting slightly, as if she had run all the way from her lessons back to you. "I’m back!"

You sighed, but smiled softly, setting the scroll aside as you rose from your seat. "I can see that, little flower." you teased gently. "Did your lessons go well?"

Chiharu wrinkled her nose. "They were fine. The teachers praised me, once again!" she said dismissively, waving a hand as though brushing off the importance of her studies. She did not care about that, whatsoever. "But I’ve been waiting for our walk all day. That matters more, let us go!"

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, walking over to her and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’ve been waiting all day, huh? I thought you’d be too absorbed in your lessons to even think about the walk, little flower."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know I’d never forget, mother. You're more important than what those old farts think of me." she said. "You promised we’d go, remember?"

"I remember, I remember." you said softly, taking her hand. "I wouldn’t forget either."

Her face lit up at your words, and she tugged on your hand, pulling you toward the door. "Come on then! Let’s go before it gets too late."

You followed her, allowing yourself to be swept up in her excitement. Before long, the two of you had ended up on the eastern courtyard of Vrmillion Hall. Chiharu was a faster walker than you were. At times, she would look at you and wait for you to keep up, with a smile. You could only smile at her, rubbing the edge of your cheek.

As you deeper into the courtyard's blissful peace, the fresh air filled your lungs, and the cool autumn breeze brushed against your skin. The garden was beautiful this time of year, the leaves turning shades of gold and red, the flowers still holding onto the last remnants of summer.

Chiharu ran ahead, spinning in circles as she moved, her laughter echoing in the open space. "Isn’t it beautiful?" she called out, her arms outstretched as if she could catch the wind.

"It is, little flower." you agreed, watching her with a fond smile. The world seemed brighter when you were with her, the shadows of the past not quite as heavy.

Chiharu slowed her pace, falling into step beside you. She started to him softly, a tune she had heard from the last feast. For a few moments, the two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound.

"Mother." she said after a while, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "Do you ever think about leaving here?"

The question caught you off guard. No one has asked that question of you, in all your years here. And yet, she does. Chiharu does. You looked at her, surprised, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon, as though she were imagining a world far beyond the walls of Vermillion Hall.

"Why do you ask?" you asked gently, curious where this was coming from.

She shrugged, her brow furrowing slightly. "I don’t know. Sometimes I just think… there’s more out here in father's home. Everything about this place, it's isolating. I learn only so little here. I have....fondness of this place. But I wonder what it would be like to live somewhere else. Somewhere less… heavy."

The weight of her words sank in, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You had thought the same thing many times, wondered what life might be like if you weren’t bound to this place, to the memories and the duties that held you here.

"I think about it sometimes too, little flower." you admitted softly. "But this is our home, Chiharu. For better or worse. And you are your father's heir. He will need you."

She nodded, though her gaze remained distant. "I know that, mother....I just wish it didn’t feel like a cage sometimes. Being a Ryomen is a cage."

You sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as you walked. "It’s not a cage." you said, though the words felt hollow even as you spoke them. You were too deluded, a liar. "It’s just… complicated."

Chiharu looked up at you, her eyes searching your face. "Do you think we could ever leave?"

The question lingered in the air between you, heavier than you would have liked. You didn’t have an answer, not one that would satisfy her. Because the truth was, you didn’t know. How could you, for this is all that you know now? What is beyond the wall when there was familiarity in the cage?

You both returned before the sun had set. The hot springs had provided well waters for your bath, as much as the scent of perfume that had been provided by some merchants as gifts. Chiharu had done the same, though she had stayed in longer. You had worried for that, knowing she could catch a cold. But she had waved you off. Still, she got out when you asked her to.

It was almost blue hour when you felt the unmistakable shift in the atmosphere. There was no warning, no footsteps echoing down the marble halls, no message sent ahead to announce his arrival. But you knew he was here. Your husband's presence was something you had learned to feel in your bones, a tension in the air, like the sky before a downpour.

Chiharu was sitting by the window, a book on her lap, her small frame bathed in the golden light of the candle light. Her face, peaceful and relaxed, was a reminder of the moments that felt simple, the ones you clung to. She had now been weary from using all her energy to walk through the temple. Soon enough, she would go eat her sup and sleep.

And then the door creaked open, revealing Ryomen Sukuna.

He stepped inside with that same effortless dominance he always carried, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. He didn’t need to say anything to make his presence known; he never did. His aura was enough—a palpable force that filled the space, making everything else feel smaller, more fragile.

Chiharu looked up from her book, startled at first, but quickly relaxed when she saw him. She didn’t fear him the way most people did. He had always been somehwat a distant figure in her life as she grew up, but there was a strange understanding between them. There had to be. He was still her father.

He was her protector, in a sense, even if he never wore that role with any softness. At least from what she remembers now that she was older. She saw him, and for a moment, you wondered what it must feel like to look at him without the baggage of the past, without the complexities of love, pain, and everything that had tangled the two of you together over the years.

"My lord father." Chiharu greeted politely with a small bow. You could feel her voice soft but steady as she looked at him. She had always been good at holding her own in his presence, a trait that surprised you even now.

"Daughter, you are well, it seems." Your husband had acknowledged, his tone flat, almost disinterested, but you knew better.

His lack of warmth was not cruelty. That you know much of. Your husband was simply who he was. There were no easy smiles or comforting words from Ryomen Sukuna, not even for her. Perhaps not anymore now that she was too perceptive.

You rose slowly from your position, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It had been some time since you had seen him last, and every time he appeared like this. It was all unexpected, unpredictable. He had always been like that, you supposed. That you should have expected at the very least.

But it sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. There was always something about his presence that unsettled you, that pulled at the threads of the fragile peace you had managed to weave for yourself here in Vermillion Hall. But your husband is a god. He was bound to make others feel unsettled no matter what.

“My lord.” you said, your voice measured, betraying nothing of the nerves that stirred beneath your calm exterior. You bow lowly. “We were not expecting your visit.”

He stepped further into the room, the silence between you stretching thin. His gaze swept across the hall with mild indifference, as though the luxury and comfort of the space meant little to him.

He had never cared much for the trappings of wealth or status. What held his interest was power. And how he could use that power for his own interest. But perhaps, you think that he was also interested in people. And right now, his interest seemed focused solely on you.

“I don’t announce myself.” he said, his voice smooth, yet holding that edge that always left you unsure whether his words were a challenge or simply fact. "You know that."

You nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He was right. Sukuna came and went as he pleased. You had always known that if your presence was the wind, then his presence was that of a terrifying storm, arriving with no warning and leaving just as quickly. You had learned to accept that, though it had never gotten any easier.

“Leave us.” Sukuna whispers towards her, his eyes narrowed. “I wish to talk to my concubine.”

Chiharu did not budge. She looked at you first, as though to see if you were alright. You nodded at her. You did not want her to be at the brunt of anything her father says.

“I’ll give you some time to talk.” she said softly, her politeness a sharp contrast to the tension filling the air. "Excuse my intrusion."

She left without another word, her footsteps light as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving you alone with him. Sukuna watched her go, his eyes narrowing slightly, though whether in approval or simple curiosity, you couldn’t tell. There were so many things about him you could never quite read.

Once the door closed behind her, the room felt even larger, the distance between you and Sukuna heavy with things unsaid. You crossed your arms, a subtle defense, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming weight of his presence.

“Why are you here, my lord?” you asked, your voice low, almost cautious. “Is something the matter?”

Sukuna’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried that same dangerous energy he always seemed to exude. He stepped toward you, closing the distance with slow, deliberate strides.

“Do I need a reason to visit you, little one?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “No, my lord.” you replied evenly. “But you don’t visit unless there’s something on your mind. Vermillion Hall does not welcome you without your worries.”

He stopped in front of you, towering over you with that intimidating presence that had never faded, no matter how long you had known him. His dark red orbs—those sharp, crimson eyes that could cut through you like a blade had studied you for a moment longer, and then he spoke, his voice quieter, but no less intense.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” he said, and though he didn’t need to specify who, you knew he was talking about Chiharu.

Your throat tightened, though you refused to show the discomfort his words brought. “She’s a child, my lord. She needs someone by her side to keep her company.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “And you think that someone is you?”

“I’ve been here for her, haven’t I? As you asked of me, my lord. I do as you ask.” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve raised her. Protected her. Loved her. I do it all in your name.”

At that last word, something flickered in Sukuna’s eyes—something dark, something complicated. He stepped even closer, his gaze never leaving yours, the distance between you now barely a breath.

“You think love is what she needs?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. There was no mockery in his tone, no sarcasm, but there was a coldness, a disbelief.

Ryomen Sukuna had never been a man to understand love, at least not in the way others did. You can only wonder why it was the reason he had focused Chiharu on furthering her Jujutsu. As his successor, he thinks he would know best. Power is more valuable than love, at least that's what he wants to believe.

You swallowed, your heart tightening. “She deserves to be loved, my lord.” you replied, your voice quieter now, but firm. “I will.”

His gaze darkened at your words, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, the air between you crackled with tension, with all the things left unsaid between the two of you. But then, as quickly as it had come, the tension ebbed, and Sukuna stepped back, the dangerous gleam in his eyes fading into something more contemplative.

“She’s not yours, little one.” he said, his tone quieter now, almost like a warning.

You flinched at the words, though you tried to hide it. “I know that, my lord.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But she’s all I have.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered again, his expression unreadable as he regarded you. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, without another word, he turned and began walking toward the door, his presence still looming, but somehow less suffocating than before. He had no intention to stay for very long.

Just before he reached the exit, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. “You may care for her, little one.” he said, his voice quiet, but sharp. “But don’t forget who she belongs to.”

“And who is that, my lord?”

He looks back with a pause. “To me. As you do. But you already know that, do you not?”

You say nothing in response. You merely bowed at him, dignified and graceful. And with that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving you alone in the vast, empty hall.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, the weight of his words settling over you like a storm that had yet to break. You stared at the door, heart aching, not just for yourself, but for Chiharu, for the girl who deserved more than to be caught in the middle of something far darker than she could ever understand.

And in that silence, you knew that, no matter what, you would endure. 

══════════════════

IT WAS AN ENJOYABLE DAY THUS FAR. Perhaps, it was because there was nothing holding you back from enjoying the morning glory as it shines on you. The morning air was crisp and invigorating as you embarked on your pilgrimage with your retinue, a rare opportunity to travel without the usual company of your husband Sukuna or Chiharu. Not even Uraume was sent to attend to you.

Just a handful of people and guards who were chosen specifically by your husband. It was a rare occasion, but there was much to be done in prayer and reflection. And most of all, put in offerings to the gods for the good year. Of course, one of those gods would be your husband’s own altar.

You were already quite far from the main temple. And you have to say, the feeling of liberation was almost intoxicating; the vast roads of Hida stretched out before you like a promise, leading to the sacred temples where you would pray.

It had been far too long since you’d wandered freely without those watching eyes, without the suffocating weight of expectations. You were not merely a wife or a mother in these moments; you were you, a woman on a journey seeking solace and meaning.

Chiharu had implored to join you on your travels, her bright eyes shimmering with excitement as she tugged on your sleeve, her small fingers gripping tightly. "Mother, please, let me come! I want to see the temples too!" 

Her enthusiasm was infectious, but Sukuna had commanded otherwise. she had much to learn from him in handling the people. Instead of you, she would sit by him, accepting people's praises and their worries.

And you dare not question it, even if Chiharu pouts and cries. Your husband’s word is law, and while you understood the reasons for his decision, a part of you had felt a surge of relief at the prospect of solitude. Here was a chance to escape the heavy shadows of your life, to explore a world beyond the gilded walls of Vermillion Hall.

With a heart full of conflicting emotions, you had set off alone, with a few companions that would help and serve you on the journey. The journey through the rolling hills and tranquil villages of Hida was filled with beauty and wonder.

The temples were scattered like jewels among the mountains and forests, places where the air was thick with incense and the whispers of prayers seemed to linger in the atmosphere. They were bright with echoes of color. They all looked different than the last, beaming with pride as Sukuna's own temples.

The mornings were peaceful, and you found joy in the rituals of your journey. It was a manner of living that let you adorn you life with reflection. And you had appreciate that more than you could admit. You would wake up early to take walks. You would converse with people about the harvests, about the weather, their families. You would be lighting incense at each temple, kneeling in prayer, and allowing the serenity of the sacred spaces to envelop you.

With each passing day, you felt the tensions in your body ease, the constant worry of what awaited you at home fading into the background. You marveled at the exquisite architecture of the temples, the artistry of the wood carvings, and the vibrant colors of the scrolls that hung upon the walls.

It was at a small rest stop in a sleepy village, half way through the journey, that you encountered an old woman whose presence felt almost otherworldly. She sat outside a modest tea house, her back hunched but her gaze piercing, as if she could see into the very depths of your soul.

The sight of her wrinkled hands, so full of life and stories, drew you in. You had always been curious about palm reading, having heard tales of its ability to unveil truths about one’s life. Sukuna did not believe in such things, he thought them folk tales.

"Come, child, let me read your palms." she beckoned, her voice a rough whisper that carried the weight of age. The guards kept her at bay for a while barking orders at her to stay away. Yet, you hesitated for a moment, the familiar wariness creeping in, but something about her presence felt oddly comforting, almost magnetic. 

You told the guards away as you settled across from her, placing your hand in hers. You flinched for a moment but that she did not notice. She took it gently, her cool fingers tracing the lines etched into your palm.

The world around you faded as she studied you intently, her expression shifting through various emotions as she analyzed the intricate patterns of your life. There was something so odd about this feeling, about this moment. Yet you had let her do as she pleased.

"You will live an eventful life, child." she proclaimed after what felt like an eternity, her tone solemn. "You have already endured much, and there is still more to come."

A part of you wanted to laugh. Yes, you were married to Ryomen Sukuna; your life was nothing if not eventful. You were the concubine of a man whose very name evoked fear and reverence, the other mother to a girl who seemed to carry the light of two worlds within her. But as you looked into the old woman’s eyes, the gravity of her words settled in, anchoring your thoughts.

Her expression shifted abruptly, her eyes darkening as if she could see something lurking just beyond the horizon, something you couldn’t yet fathom. "But child, I must give you a warning that you must heed. You must be careful. You must be cautious. You mustn't love too deeply." she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You must keep things close to your heart before you lose them."

Those words sent a shiver racing down your spine, the chill of her warning wrapping around you like a fog. You recoiled slightly, pulling your hand away as confusion flooded your mind. "What do you mean?" you asked, desperation creeping into your voice.

The old woman merely shook her head, a shadow of sadness crossing her features. "You’ll understand when the time comes, child." she murmured, her gaze drifting away from you as if she were watching some unseen future unfold before her. "Don’t let what matters slip through your fingers."

A deep unease settled in your chest, the weight of her words pressing down like a stone. You wanted to ask her for more. You wanted answers, you wanted more clarity, you wanted more insight but the words seemed stuck in your throat. You sensed that whatever she had glimpsed in your palm was already set in motion, a chain of events that you could not change.

As you left the rest stop in your carriage, her words echoed in your mind, mingling with the fresh scent of autumn leaves and the distant sound of a stream babbling nearby.

You continued on your pilgrimage, each step now heavy with the weight of the old woman’s prophecy. The freedom you had once felt on this journey was now tinged with apprehension, and the tranquility of the temples seemed to elude you.

You sought solace in your prayers at the next temple, but as you knelt before the altar, the shadows of doubt crept back in. You closed your eyes and pressed your hands together in earnest supplication, not for blessings or protection, but for clarity. For understanding. The weight of your responsibilities loomed large, and you silently prayed for the strength to hold on to what was dear to you.

What was slipping away? Was it Chiharu? The fleeting moments of joy you shared with her? Or was it Sukuna, the man you had chosen to love despite the storms he carried?

With each prayer, the old woman’s warning replayed in your mind like a haunting refrain: Keep things close to your heart before you lose them. You felt a sense of urgency—an instinct to protect what you held dear.

As you finished your prayers and rose from your knees, you found yourself looking around the temple grounds, taking in the beauty of the world around you with fresh eyes.

The colors of the leaves, the sunlight filtering through the trees, the distant laughter of children playing—it all felt so fragile. You resolved then and there to hold on tighter, to cherish the moments you shared with Chiharu, to seek out Sukuna’s softer side amidst the chaos of his existence.

But the question remained—how? How could you keep these precious things close when the world was so unpredictable?

The journey ahead was uncertain, but as you set forth once more, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would embrace every fleeting moment, every quiet laugh, every tender touch. You would not let fear dictate your actions or your heart.

For in this life, despite the chaos, there was still beauty to be found. You just had to be willing to seek it out, to protect it fiercely, even when the shadows threatened to consume it whole.

══════════════════

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED. But cannot say no when you are called upon. Just hours after you had returned from your pilgrimage, Ryomen Sukuna summoned you to dine with him. As soon as you could possibly come.

A rare occurrence, indeed. He usually allowed you time to collect yourself and rest after such long absences, yet tonight was different. There was something odd about that, you think. There was an urgency in his summons, a quiet pull you couldn’t ignore.

The evening air was thick with anticipation as you entered his chamber, the flickering abundance of candlelight casting long shadows across the room. He sat in the center, lounging with an air of indifference that belied the strangeness of the night.

An abundant tray of sake lay before him, and he held a cup in his hand, lazily swirling the liquid. You paused for a moment, absorbing the sight before you with care. Ryomen Sukuna, your husband, your king, rarely indulges in such human rituals. He had no need for food or drink, no craving for the mundane pleasures of mortals. And yet, here he was, drinking alone, the cup half empty.

You knelt before him, bowing low, your forehead nearly brushing the floor as you offered your silent reverence. His eyes, sharp and dangerous, traced your every movement with an intensity that made the air between you crackle. For a long, drawn-out moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the quiet clink of the cup as he set it down, the silence drawing tighter like a cord.

“Come closer, little one.” he murmured, the command laced with a softness that sent a shiver down your spine.

You obeyed without hesitation, rising to your feet and stepping toward him, each step deliberate, slow. The scent of the sake, something so sharp and sweet, filled the air, mingling with the heady incense that burned low beside him.

As you approached him closer, his gaze never wavered, heavy with something unspoken, something darkly possessive. When you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his skin, he reached out, a single finger trailing along the hem of your sleeve.

"Closer. To me." he whispered again, voice like velvet.

Your breath hitched, the proximity of his touch sending a ripple of heat through your body. You sank to your knees beside him, your heart pounding against your ribs, aware of the palpable shift in the air. His hand found its way to the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your cheek with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the feel of you.

“You’ve been gone too long, little one.” he muttered, his voice low, rich, the words brushing against your skin like a caress. "Far too long for me."

There was no trace of anger in his tone, only the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. You couldn't help but feel bare before him, feeling the warmth of your cheeks turn scarlet under the candle light. Though, you dared not move, letting the moment stretch between you, thick with tension.

Slowly, you could feel as his hand slid down to your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his eyes. It was obvious your husband was drunk. He must have drank more than what he could intake, or perhaps it had been tampered with.

But as you look deeper into him, you couldn't believe what you saw: hunger. Not for the drink, not for the food—something far more primal, something more sensual than anything human food can offer. He carresses your skin. You gulp. Oh, you think to yourself. It was that type of hunger. That type of hunger that only the wamrth of bodies could satisfy.

In that moment, you felt the enormity of his presence. You could feel the overwhelming crash of his existence upon your own insignificant one. He was beyond what man could be. Everything about him was extreme. His power, his desire. The air felt electric, charged with the dark promise of what was to come.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as you knelt before Sukuna, his hand still cradling your chin, holding your gaze captive. You were lowly compared to him. He was a god and you a mortal. And he can do as much as he wants to you.

“I only intended to ensure the gods were worshiped in your name, my lord.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the heat radiating from his touch. “The altars were blessed with thanks, offerings made in their honor.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. He laughs, almost as though the way a knife presses against silk.

“And what of me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, almost dangerous. “Do you consider me your god? Your only god?”

The question sent a shiver through you, though it was not the first time he had asked. You had answered this long ago, sealing your devotion with words, with vows that transcended the mortal and divine alike. Still, you could feel the intensity behind his gaze, a hunger for reaffirmation, for something more tangible tonight.

“I have already answered that question, my lord.” you said softly, your eyes locked with his. “Long ago. You know the answer.”

His thumb brushed slowly across your lips, the roughness of his skin drawing a faint tremble from you. The echoes of your lip stain merging against his thumb, imprinting on your cheek.

“I want to know, little one.” he murmured to you. “If the answer is still the same.”

The weight of his presence pressed against you, his power filling the room like a tangible force. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before you replied, your voice quiet but firm. “It is the same.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and primal, as if your words had sparked a flame deep within him. His hand fell from your chin, trailing down your neck in a slow, deliberate caress, the heat of his touch sending a rush of warmth through your body.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “Then come closer and worship me.”

Your heart raced at the command, the sultry undertone in his voice thickening the tension between you. Without hesitation, you moved, your body obeying him instinctively. You wanted to do as much as you can, to worship him. To give him what he desires most. You wanted nothing more than to please him.

You knelt between his legs, the space closing as you lowered yourself until your head was level with his, the soft, intoxicating scent of him enveloping you. The flickering light of the candles danced across his skin, casting shadows that accentuated the sharp planes of his face, the faint gleam in his eyes both dangerous and alluring.

He watched your every move with a quiet intensity, his gaze burning with the promise of what he wanted from you. Slowly, your hands rested against his thighs, your touch feather-light, reverent. His body was a temple, one you had long since learned to worship, and tonight, you would offer yourself to him again.

“Show me, little one.” he breathed, voice deep and commanding, a dark smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Show me your devotion.”

With slow, deliberate movements, you leaned forward, pressing your lips softly to his skin, feeling the faint shudder of power ripple beneath your touch. Your kisses were gentle, worshipful, a silent prayer offered to the god before you. Every caress, every brush of your lips, was an act of submission, of devotion to the being who ruled over you.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, and you felt his fingers weave through your hair, guiding you closer. His hand tightened, his grip firm yet not painful, his need evident. You could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his body responding to your touch with a hunger that had been kept at bay for too long.

“Good, little one.” he murmured, his voice a deep growl. “That’s it. Devote yourself to me, and only me.”

You obeyed, your kisses becoming bolder, more insistent, each one a vow to him alone. The world outside these walls ceased to exist; there were no other gods, no other powers. There was only him—your king, your god—and you were his to command.

The weight of Sukuna's hand on the back of your head tightened slightly, a silent demand for more as your lips trailed reverently along his skin. Each kiss was deliberate, each caress an offering that stoked the growing heat between you.

The air was thick with tension, the flickering candlelight casting erratic shadows across his features, sharp and dangerous, like a deity who knew his power and craved to see it worshiped.

"You've been gone too long, little one." he murmured, his voice low, laced with a dark undercurrent that sent another shiver through you. His fingers tangled deeper in your hair, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, the deep pulse of power beneath his skin.

"I am here now, my lord." you whispered, your breath warm against him as you pressed another kiss, lingering, feeling the tautness of his body beneath your touch. Every brush of your lips felt like you were sinking deeper into the moment, deeper into his pull, the force of his presence overwhelming. “Let me worship you.”

Sukuna's gaze was molten, his eyes half-lidded with a hunger that went beyond the physical. He leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Then show me. Show me that I am your god, that you belong to me—wholly."

Your heart pounded at his words, and you felt the familiar ache of submission, of devotion, welling up within you. Your hands slid up his thighs, slow, deliberate, as though you were climbing the steps of an altar. You could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, taut and waiting for release, the heat between you almost unbearable in its intensity.

Without hesitation, you lowered yourself again, this time bowing your head in complete surrender. "You are my god, my lord." you whispered, the words soft but charged with meaning, a truth that was undeniable. "You have always been my only god. No one else. Only you."

A dark smile played at the corner of Sukuna's lips, his satisfaction palpable as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Good." he purred, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, testing the boundary between gentleness and control. "Then worship me as I deserve."

His voice was laced with command, a command that stirred something deep within you, a need to please, to fulfill the role you had vowed to take. You leaned into his touch, your lips parting slightly as you kissed the pad of his thumb, a silent promise in the gesture.

Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly, though his gaze remained unyielding, his control absolute. "Do you think this pleases me?" he asked, his voice a dangerous rumble, even as his thumb pressed more firmly against your lips. "Is this how you show your devotion?"

You felt the heat rush through you, a mixture of desire and the heady thrill of his power over you. "No, my lord." you murmured, your voice low and reverent. "I can give more."

The flicker of approval in his eyes was fleeting, but unmistakable. "Then give it."

With that, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his skin again, but this time with more intensity, more need. Your hands moved with purpose, fingers tracing the hard lines of his body, feeling the divine power thrumming beneath his flesh. Every touch, every kiss was a silent prayer, an unspoken declaration of your loyalty, your submission.

Sukuna's hand remained firm in your hair, guiding your movements, though you could feel his restraint, the way his control teetered on the edge. He watched you with rapt attention, the hunger in his gaze growing darker with every passing second.

"More, more. Do it well, little one." he growled, his voice rough, the command making your heart race.

You obeyed, your worship becoming bolder, more fervent. You kissed along the line of his jaw, down his neck, each caress charged with a passion that you could no longer contain. His skin was warm under your lips, the scent of him intoxicating, drawing you deeper into the moment, deeper into him.

"Good." he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you back just enough so that you were forced to look up at him. "You are mine, little one." he said, the words like a dark promise, binding and absolute. "And you will worship me until I am satisfied."

His eyes bore into yours, and you nodded, breathless with the weight of his command. "Yes, my lord." you whispered, your voice trembling with both desire and reverence. "I am yours. Always."

A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, and he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Then give yourself to me, little one." he whispered, his voice like velvet over steel. "Every. Last. Piece."

And so you did, sinking deeper into the night, into his dominance, into the endless cycle of devotion and submission. You worshiped him, body and soul, offering yourself up to the god before you, knowing that only in his possession could you find the dark, twisted fulfillment you both craved.

══════════════════

THE TWO OF YOU NEVER SPOKE OF THAT NIGHT AGAIN. Sukuna refuses to. But you supposed that’s just what it was. It was a night that never existed. A night that never truly happened. You had always known what he was. Sukuna did not love. He consumes. And yet, in that brief, fragile moment, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were more than a pawn in his world.

But that was the lie, wasn’t it? The truth was so much simpler, so much crueler.

You were not his queen, not his equal. You were a momentary distraction, a replacemnt. A temporary body to be worshiped, only to be discarded once he had no further use for you. You were his to command, but not his to want or love. He had none of those, you knew that much.

The truth was that night wasn’t special. It wasn’t sacred, you think to yourself. It wasn’t a turning point in your marriage—it was the reminder of how far beneath him you truly were. It was a reminder that you were always going to be behind him. Behind Hirommi. You were just the other woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

And now, all that was left was the hollow silence that followed.

You stepped into the audience hall, the echo of your sandals faint against the polished stone. The grand chamber was already filled with worshippers, all gathered to offer their reverence to Ryomen Sukuna, their benevolent protector and god.

Incense swirled in the air, thick and cloying, making it harder to breathe as you moved further inside. Each step felt heavier than the last, your body protesting the very act of standing, but still, you pushed forward. You had to be here—had to attend to him, no matter how weak you felt.

The illness had crept up on you, slow at first, just a gnawing discomfort in your stomach, then the waves of nausea that had grown worse by the day. You hadn’t eaten in days, couldn’t even stomach water, and yet you still forced a smile that morning when Chiharu had looked at you with concern, her brow furrowed as you prepared to leave the Vermillion Hall.

“You look unwell, Mother.” she had said, her voice soft but full of worry. She had always been perceptive, too perceptive sometimes. "Perhaps you should not go today. I am certain father will understand it."

You had brushed it off, smiling weakly. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

But even as you spoke, you could feel the lie clinging to your lips. The truth was that you hadn’t been fine for days. Sleep was a distant memory, each night spent tossing and turning, your body aching, your mind weighed down by the constant fatigue.

And yet, here you were, standing in the presence of Sukuna, the god you had pledged yourself to, trying desperately to hold yourself together. You cannot falter here. Not now. Not ever. You made that promise to yourself.

He sat on his throne, a figure of overwhelming power and indifference, his gaze sweeping lazily over the room as his worshippers chanted and prayed. You felt his eyes on you as you entered, that sharp, penetrating gaze that always seemed to strip you bare.

He didn’t speak, but you knew he saw it. It was out of the ordinary. He had not seen it in you before. The paleness of your skin, the slight tremble in your hands, the way your breaths came too shallow, too fast.

For a moment, his gaze lingered, cold and calculating, and you thought you saw something flicker in those crimson eyes. Recognition, perhaps. But he said nothing. He did nothing. He simply watched, his silence cutting deeper than any words could have.

You bowed your head, feeling the weight of his attention settle over you like a mantle, pressing down on your already fragile body. Your vision blurred slightly, the room swaying as you fought to steady yourself. The scent of the incense was overwhelming, choking, but you couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when Sukuna was watching, not when so many eyes were on you.

You had to stay. You had to prove your worth, even as your body screamed for rest, for relief from the torment that was slowly consuming you. The thought of disappointing him, of failing to fulfill your duties; that to you was far worse than the physical pain. Your purpose was to serve him. If there was nothing of that, you had no use.

But you could feel it now, how truly weak you were. The exhaustion gnawed at your bones, hollowing you out from the inside, leaving you barely able to stand. The faint dizziness grew stronger with each passing moment, and you could feel the cold sweat gathering at your temples, the dampness of your palms betraying the truth of your condition.

Still, you stood tall, refusing to show weakness, refusing to let it consume you in front of him. Sukuna’s gaze felt like a weight you could not shake, as though he could see every crack, every falter. He knew. You were certain of it. He had always been able to read you too well, even in the silence that stretched between you.

But he said nothing. He didn’t ask. He didn’t acknowledge it.

It wasn’t his way to care for such things. And you reminded yourself that it wasn’t your place to expect it. Whatever you felt in you, this illness, this slow collapse; it was yours to bear.

It was not something he would ever trouble himself with. His indifference was a cold comfort, one you had come to accept. And yet, a part of you, the part that still clung to some shred of hope—wished that he would say something, anything.

But he didn’t. And so you shouldn't push it.

As the worshippers fell to their knees, chanting his name, offering their prayers and sacrifices, you felt the room blur again, the ground beneath you unsteady. Your limbs trembled, and a cold wave of nausea washed over you, tightening your chest, stealing your breath. But you couldn’t show it. You couldn’t collapse here, not in front of all these people, not in front of him.

So, you smiled. You smiled the same way you had that morning with Chiharu, forcing a calm expression over the chaos raging inside you. You straightened your back, your hands clenched tightly at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to remain upright. You will smile through everything, even in pain.

And through it all, Sukuna’s gaze never left you.

He knew. He could see the toll this was taking, the way your body was betraying you, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. His silence was louder than any word he could have uttered, a stark reminder that you were alone in this, that whatever kindness or care you might have once hoped for was an illusion.

As the prayers continued, you felt your strength slipping away, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. But still, you stood, trembling and weak, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to keep your composure. You would not fall. Not here. Not now.

And yet, as you felt his eyes still on you, unrelenting and cold, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting….waiting for you to break.

You tried to push through, to continue with your duties despite the sharp, pounding ache that had begun to pulse behind your eyes. As worshippers approached with their offerings, you smiled weakly, accepting their gifts, murmuring blessings in a voice that felt thin and distant.

Each gesture felt like an immense effort, each word a struggle to get out as the dizziness intensified, the room blurring and warping at the edges of your vision. You felt like you were going to lose yourself soon enough.

Your head was pounding now, a dull, relentless throb that refused to be ignored. It felt as though the very air was pressing in on you, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

Your hands shook as you reached out to accept another offering, and for a brief moment, the world tilted dangerously. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation only worsened, the pain in your skull stabbing deeper.

You couldn’t continue. Not like this.

You stepped back, your breath shallow, and turned toward Sukuna. His crimson eyes were already on you, cold and unwavering, as though he’d been expecting this. You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed to speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My lord… please, excuse me from the gathering.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze was unreadable, the weight of it pressing down on you like an invisible hand. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gave a single nod, granting you permission. No words of concern, no acknowledgment of the obvious strain you were under—just that small, dismissive gesture.

You bowed your head, murmuring a soft thanks, and turned to leave. But as you made your way toward the exit, the dizziness returned with a vengeance, the pounding in your skull growing unbearable. Each step felt like you were walking through water, your body sluggish and unresponsive. You could feel your strength slipping away, your legs trembling beneath you.

Just a few more steps. That’s all you needed.

But then, the ground gave way. Your vision darkened at the edges, and before you could stop yourself, the world spun violently, and you felt yourself falling. There was a rush of air, the sensation of weightlessness, and then everything went black.

The last thing you heard was the sound of commotion, distant voices rising in panic, feet rushing toward you but all of it seemed so far away, as if you were sinking into a deep, silent abyss.

When you finally came to awareness, the first thing you felt was the heavy, oppressive heat of the Vermillion Hall. Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the soft light of the room hazy and disorienting.

It took a moment for your senses to catch up, for your mind to register that you were no longer in the audience hall. You blinked, trying to focus, but everything felt slow and thick, like you were wading through fog.

And then you saw him.

Ryomen Sukuna was there, standing at the foot of your bed, his arms crossed, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He was staring at you, his eyes sharp and piercing, as though he had been watching you the entire time you were unconscious.

There was no warmth in his gaze, no concern—only that unrelenting intensity that had always made you feel so small under his scrutiny. And even that, it was all too hard to decipher. He was not easy to read when he closes the warmth in his eyes.

Your heart raced in your chest as you tried to sit up, but your body was too weak, the effort too much. The dizziness returned, a faint shadow of what it had been before, and you collapsed back against the pillows, your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt vulnerable, exposed under his gaze, and yet you couldn’t muster the strength to do anything about it.

For a long time, he said nothing, his eyes fixed on you, as though waiting for something—for what, you couldn’t say. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, and the weight of it made it hard to breathe. You wanted to speak, to say something, but no words came. You didn’t know what to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he moved, his voice low and calm, but edged with something dark, something you couldn’t quite place. “You fainted.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, cold and factual. As though he was reminding you of your own failure.

You nodded weakly, your throat dry. “I… I’m sorry, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Sorry?”

You swallowed, forcing the words out. “For being a burden. For… for not being strong enough.”

His lips curled into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only the sharp edge of amusement. “A burden?” he repeated, his tone mocking, as if the very idea of you being a burden to him was laughable.

But he didn’t deny it.

His gaze flickered over you, taking in your pale skin, your trembling hands, the way you still struggled to breathe evenly. You could feel his eyes on you like a weight, assessing, calculating, as though he was deciding what to do with you now that you had shown such weakness.

“You’re not feeling well.” he said, the words flat and unfeeling. “I can see that.”

There was no compassion in his voice, no softening of his features. Just the brutal truth, laid bare before you. He saw it. He had seen it all along.

And still, he had let you fall.

“You shouldn’t have come.” he added, his voice low, almost a growl. “You had no business being there, not in this condition.”

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He was angry, though he masked it behind that cold indifference. But you could feel it—the undercurrent of frustration, of disappointment. You had failed, and it had displeased him.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you possibly say? That you wanted to prove your worth? That you wanted to be strong for him, even when you felt yourself breaking? That you would have rather collapsed at his feet than show weakness in front of him?

But none of that mattered now.

Sukuna's gaze darkened, and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed. His presence, towering and oppressive, made the already suffocating air feel even heavier. He didn’t sit, didn’t offer you any comfort, only stared down at you with those cold, unyielding eyes.

“A physician checked you, little one.” he began, his voice low and deliberate, every word carefully measured. There was no kindness, no softness in his tone, just a hard edge that sent a chill down your spine. “You’re not sick.”

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. Not sick? The nausea, the fatigue, the way your body had felt like it was slowly unraveling—all of it had to mean something, didn’t it? You searched his face, but there was no answer there, only that same cold indifference.

“You’re with child.”

The words hit you like a blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the weight of what he had just said crashing over you in waves, pulling you under. You stared at him, your mouth dry, your mind struggling to catch up.

With a child? You? It felt impossible. Unreal. You were soon past your child bearing years. And yet, having only bedded your husband once, you were already with child. Your hand instinctively moved to your stomach, as if expecting to feel something, some confirmation of this life growing inside you. But there was nothing—just the same hollow ache, the same exhaustion that had plagued you for days.

You searched Sukuna’s face for some sign of what he was feeling, but there was nothing. No emotion, no reaction, just that cold, calculating gaze that had always kept you at a distance.

“I…....” The words faltered on your lips. You didn’t know what to say. How could you? The enormity of it was too much, too overwhelming. You hadn’t even considered the possibility.

Sukuna watched you, his expression unreadable. “Are you surprised?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he already knew the answer. He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you, waiting to see how you would react.

You nodded weakly, still too shocked to fully comprehend what he had said. “I didn’t know, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling. The exhaustion, the sickness—it all made sense now, but it was a truth you weren’t prepared for.

“You didn’t know.” he echoed, his voice sharp. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. “Of course you didn’t.” There was a bite to his words, a mocking undertone that stung, as if he found your ignorance pathetic, laughable.

The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you felt small, fragile, under his scrutiny. You could see the disdain there, the way he looked at you, as though you were some delicate, breakable thing. A vessel, nothing more.

“How long?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“The physician believes it’s early.” he replied, his tone dismissive, as though the details were unimportant. “But it doesn’t matter.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing, his next words cutting through you like a blade. “What matters is that you are carrying my child.”

There was no joy in his words, no pride. Only possession.

You felt your heart sink, the weight of the realization pressing down on you. This wasn’t a moment of celebration, of shared happiness. It wasn’t even about you. It was about him, his lineage, his power. You were nothing more than the vessel carrying his bloodline, an instrument of his will.

At least that's what you think. He will not love this child as much as he loved Chiharu. This was not Hiromi's child. No, this was to be your child. And there was little value to you, compared to Ryomen Hiromi. You were just the other woman. And this child to him, was just another child.

And he made that clear with every cold word, with every indifferent glance.

Your hand trembled as it rested against your stomach, and for a brief moment, you felt a strange mix of fear and wonder. There was life inside you, a piece of Sukuna, growing within. But that wonder quickly gave way to dread, because you knew—this child wasn’t yours. It was his. Always his.

And you had no idea what that meant for you.

══════════════════

IT TOOK A WHILE TO GET USED TO. As the weeks passed, the reality of carrying Sukuna's child began to settle in. Your body, once so light and familiar, now felt foreign. The changes were subtle at first. An unusual tenderness, a slight heaviness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

But as your stomach began to swell, there was no escaping the truth of it: you were no longer just yourself. You were something more, something strange, and the weight of it, both physical and emotional, was suffocating.

Ryomen Sukuna’s presence during this time was a constant, though it felt both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. He was more attentive than he had ever been before, his crimson eyes often flickering to your growing belly, his gaze sharp and calculating.

There were moments when you would catch him staring, his expression unreadable, as though he were measuring the life inside you with the same cold precision he used for everything else within his own little kingdom.

At times, he would ask about your health—his voice low and indifferent, but the questions were there. The inquiry was still said. You were content with that than not having any at all. He’d inquire about your strength, your appetite, the way the child moved within you.

And sometimes, on rare occasions, he would even place his hand against your stomach, his touch cool and possessive, as if he were checking on the progress of his heir, not out of care for you but for the child that shared his blood.

Yet, even with these moments of attentiveness, Sukuna remained distant, as though there was a wall between you that you could not break through. He never spoke of the future, of what the child meant for him, for you.

He never touched you with any warmth beyond those few, calculated moments when his hand rested against your abdomen. It was as though you were both closer than ever and more estranged at the same time.

His coldness hurt more than you wanted to admit. There were days when you found yourself wishing, hoping deep down that he would say something, anything that acknowledged the bond growing between you. You carried his child, after all. Surely, that meant something. But he never offered you those words, never shared in the quiet anticipation that came with waiting for new life.

And yet, there were moments when he showed a kind of concern, though it was wrapped in layers of his usual indifference. When you were too tired to rise from bed, Sukuna would stand at your side, his gaze sweeping over you with a strange mixture of irritation and something you couldn’t quite name.

He would summon attendants, ordering them to bring you food or drink, even if you couldn’t stomach it, insisting that you take care of yourself, though his words always felt like commands rather than concern.

Once, during one of your weaker moments, when you had collapsed after attempting to attend to your duties, he had carried you to your chambers without a word. His arms were strong and unyielding, but there had been no tenderness in his touch, no soft words to reassure you. It was simply the matter of ensuring that his vessel—you were safe.

Despite his coldness, despite the distance he kept between you, there was a part of you that longed for more. You wanted him to see you, not just as the mother of his child, but as someone who carried a piece of him within you.

But every time you reached out, every time you tried to breach the distance between you, Sukuna would pull away, retreating into his own world of power and control. Retreating to those walls he had built around him. And each and every time, you felt ever more far away from him.

The nights were the hardest. When the palace was quiet and the weight of your growing body pressed down on you, making sleep elusive, you would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the future held. You would think of the child growing inside you, your child, his child. And what it would mean to raise them in Sukuna’s cold, unfeeling world.

Would this child know love? Would you be able to give them the warmth that Sukuna so clearly lacked? Or would they, too, grow up under his gaze, feeling the same distance that you did now?

Sukuna never stayed with you in those moments. He never held you through the nights of discomfort or shared in the quiet loneliness that had settled over you like a shadow.

Instead, he would retreat to his own chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your fears, and the growing weight of the life inside you. He had other things more important than that, you knew that too well. You were the least of his concerns.

And yet, despite it all, you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to him, a bond that was as much about the child you carried as it was about the complex, twisted relationship that had always existed between the two of you.

He was distant, yes, but there was something else there, something unspoken. Whether it was his way of protecting himself, or perhaps a sign that he cared in his own cold, indifferent way, you couldn’t say.

But you held onto that hope, even as the distance between you grew.

As the months wore on, and your belly swelled with the child, you found yourself wondering more and more what kind of father Sukuna would be. Would he care for this child in the same distant, detached way he cared for you?

Or would the presence of his bloodline soften him in ways you could hardly imagine? The questions haunted you, but there were no answers, and Sukuna gave you no glimpse into his thoughts.

And so, you continued through the days, growing larger, growing more exhausted, with Sukuna always watching but never truly reaching for you. He was there, always there, a constant presence by your side, but the distance remained. You carried his child, and that alone seemed to be enough for him.

For now.

As your pregnancy progressed, you found solace in the small, unexpected joys that emerged amid the uncertainty and distance. Chiharu, ever the bright light in your life, was over the moon at the prospect of becoming a big sister. Her excitement was infectious, and it warmed your heart to see her eagerly preparing for the arrival of her new sibling.

“Look! I found these!” she exclaimed one afternoon, bursting into your chambers with an armful of tiny garments—soft fabrics in delicate colors, stitched with care. “They’re perfect for the baby! Can you imagine how cute they’ll look?”

You couldn’t help but smile, the brightness of her joy illuminating the shadows that had crept into your heart. “They’re beautiful, little flower.” you replied, reaching out to touch the fabric. It was soft against your fingers, and you could already picture your child wrapped in the warmth of her offerings.

“You’re going to be the best big sister.”

Her eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on her heels. “I can’t wait! I’ll help feed them and read them stories! And we can play together!”

Watching her enthusiasm, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, in time, Sukuna’s child would know love and warmth, despite the coldness that surrounded their father. You couldn’t help but wish for the best, for Chiharu’s sake as well as your own.

But as the days turned into weeks, the contrast between Chiharu's innocent excitement and Sukuna's distant demeanor weighed heavily on you. While Chiharu’s joy was a light in your life, Sukuna’s absence during these moments left an ache in your heart. You longed for his engagement, for him to share in these precious experiences, but the distance between you remained as vast as ever.

Later that evening, after Chiharu had dashed off to gather more supplies for her preparations, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The palace was quiet, the shadows lengthening in the dim light of your chambers. As you sat in the stillness, you could feel the baby moving inside you, gentle nudges reminding you of the life growing within.

Your heart was a tumultuous blend of hope and worry, and as if summoned by your thoughts, Sukuna entered your chambers without knocking. He was as imposing as ever, his presence filling the space, and you felt a familiar mix of comfort and apprehension.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” he asked, his voice cool and detached. But there was an underlying curiosity in his tone, something that hinted he was intrigued despite himself.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the words you wanted to say. “Chiharu is excited, my lord.” you finally replied, your voice soft. “She can’t wait to be a big sister.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression inscrutable as he stepped closer. “Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord.” you continued, unable to keep the warmth from your voice. “She’s been collecting clothes and toys, talking about all the things she wants to do with the baby.”

He remained silent for a moment, his crimson eyes piercing into yours as if trying to gauge your emotions, to measure the depth of your attachment to the child and to Chiharu. It was a heavy gaze, one that made you feel both seen and exposed.

“She’s a child.” he finally said, his tone flat. “She has no concept of what this entails.”

The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you swallowed your response, focusing instead on the warmth Chiharu had brought into your life. “But she’s happy, my lord. Isn’t that what matters? She’s looking forward to this.”

His gaze shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. “Happiness is fleeting, little one.” he said, his tone low, almost ominous. “Children are fickle creatures, easily distracted. What they want today can change by tomorrow.”

You felt a rush of frustration. “This isn’t just about you or me, my lord. It’s about her, about the family we’re bringing into this world.”

He stepped closer, the space between you closing, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, how it bore down on you like a weight. “Family?” he echoed, and there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think family means anything to me?”

You held his gaze, searching for any hint of the man you had once known, the man who had taken you into his world. “I would hope so, my lord.” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. “This is your kin too.”

He scoffed, the sound harsh and mirthless. “And what of it?” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I am what I am. A god. A king. I do not concern myself with matters of warmth and affection.”

His words cut deeper than you expected, and you felt the ache in your chest swell. “You’re wrong. You have the power to shape this child’s life. To give them a future that’s not bound by your darkness, my lord.”

Sukuna studied you, and the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. You could feel your heart racing, the urgency of your plea hanging in the air. You wanted him to understand, to see that being a parent didn’t mean sacrificing his identity but rather expanding it.

“Why do you care so much?” he finally asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “This child will be a tool for my power, nothing more. You know that.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “No! They’re not just a tool, my lord. They’re a life. They deserve more than being a means to an end. Do you see Chiharu as such?”

He remained silent, his expression unyielding, and for a moment, you thought he would turn away, dismiss you as he often did. But instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his gaze unflinching.

“And what do you plan to give them?” he asked, his voice low and cold. “A world of uncertainty? A life filled with the expectations of a father who will never change?”

You felt the weight of his words press down on you, the truth of them settling like a stone in your stomach. But even as despair threatened to swallow you, you pushed back, refusing to let the darkness consume you. “I’ll give them love, my lord.” you said, your voice firm, unwavering. “I will show them what it means to be loved, to be cherished, even if you won’t.”

The air between you crackled with tension, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation. Sukuna’s gaze was intense, unyielding, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts, the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

But then he stepped back, breaking the moment, and that familiar wall of distance reemerged between you. “You’re foolish, little one.” he said, his tone dismissive, yet there was a flicker in his eyes that hinted at something more. “Love is a weakness, a liability. You would do well to remember that.”

You nodded, your heart heavy. “Perhaps, but it’s the one thing I can give. You may not care, my lord, but I will love this child fiercely, regardless of your indifference.”

With that, you turned away, needing a moment to gather your thoughts, to quell the storm of emotions raging within you. But as you felt Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze lingering on your back, you couldn’t shake the sense that perhaps, deep down, he was listening, if only just a little.

And as much as he may try to deny it, there was a part of him that understood the importance of what you wanted. You could only hope that, in time, he might come to realize that too.

══════════════════

THIS WAS THE WORST PAIN OF YOUR LIFE. The air in the room was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of sweat and desperation. You could feel your voice hoarse from the screaming. You lay on the bed, body wracked with pain, each contraction tearing through you like a storm, relentless and unforgiving.

It had been two days of suffering, two days of pleading with your body to bring the child forth. But each time you thought the end was near, your body betrayed you, the child refusing to make its way into the world.

You could feel the midwife’s hands on you, her grip firm but trembling with fear. Her brow was slick with sweat, and her eyes darted to the door as if expecting rescue to arrive at any moment. “You need to push harder,” she urged, her voice laced with urgency, but you could hardly hear her over the overwhelming wave of pain that consumed you.

“Please… save the baby…” you gasped between gritted teeth, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer. It was all that mattered to you. You would endure anything if it meant bringing this child into the world.

“Focus on your breathing, my lady.” the midwife coaxed, her voice a lifeline amidst the chaos. “You need to stay strong. We can do this.”

But your strength was waning. Each wave of agony pulled you deeper into a chasm of despair. You could feel the blood pooling beneath you, the warmth slick against your skin, and the midwife’s panic seeped into your consciousness. “You need to hurry.” she whispered to herself, fear creeping into her voice. “If this continues, you’ll bleed to death.”

You felt the darkness nipping at the edges of your mind, and in your heart, a flicker of fear ignited. “No, no….” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not my baby. Please… save my baby.”

And just as your hope began to flicker, the heavy door swung open, and Ryomen Sukuna entered the room, his presence a commanding force. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted, the oppressive weight of his energy washing over you. His crimson eyes locked onto you, and for a fleeting moment, the world fell silent. But the moment passed, and you were swallowed once more by the relentless waves of pain.

“Get out.” Sukuna commanded the midwife, his voice low and dangerous. She opened her mouth to protest, but he fixed her with a look that sent chills down her spine. She turned away, leaving you alone with him, and you felt a rush of confusion.

“My lord….…” you gasped, feeling the tears prick at your eyes, the pain making it hard to think straight. “I need—”

“You need to focus on staying alive, little one.” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “Forget the child. If it must die, then it is a small sacrifice for your life.”

You blinked at him, disbelief flooding your senses. “What do you mean? You can’t just give up on them! Please, my lord…..I can’t—”

He took a step forward, looming over you with an intensity that both terrified and captivated you. “You are more important than some frail, pathetic thing that may never even breathe.” he said, his voice a sharp contrast to your desperation. “I will not lose you. Not now.”

You shook your head, pain and frustration mixing with despair. “I won’t let you do this… I won’t let you take my child away!”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that made your heart ache. “You are in danger, and I will not allow you to bleed out while you chase after a child that may never live. Focus on what matters. Fight for yourself.”

His words struck deep, and for a moment, the fury flared within you, mingling with your love for the child. You wanted to scream at him, to make him understand the depth of your devotion. But the pain clawed at your insides, and your body betrayed you once more.

“Push!” the midwife’s voice echoed faintly in the background as you gripped the sheets, a cry escaping your lips as you summoned what little strength remained. “Push, just a little more!”

With Sukuna standing there, his gaze piercing through your haze of agony, you felt a surge of determination. You could do this. You could fight for both of you. “Save my baby…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened just slightly, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, something that spoke of a bond that extended beyond mere duty. But he remained silent, watching as you braced yourself for the next wave of pain.

With each contraction, you pushed with everything you had left, your body screaming in protest. You felt the world around you blur, the pain reaching a crescendo that threatened to swallow you whole. The room spun, and the dark edges of your vision began to close in.

And then, just as despair threatened to consume you, you felt a shift—an overwhelming pressure that gave way to a moment of clarity. With a final, desperate push, you cried out, summoning every ounce of strength you had left, the air thick with the weight of your determination.

And then, you heard it—the faint, sweet sound of a cry filling the room.

The moment filled with disbelief, and your heart raced as the midwife’s voice broke through the haze. “It’s a boy, my lady! You did it! You brought him into the world!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as Sukuna moved closer, and you felt the rush of warmth flood through you, a wave of relief and joy intertwining. But then the world around you started to spin again, and as you fell back against the pillows, darkness crept in.

You could feel yourself slipping away, the pool of blood collecting at your thighs. You breathed ever so shallowly, feeling your body whisper goodbyes in every small minute movement. You were in indescribable pain. And it was taking over you. It was eating you whole. And you cannot do anything but let it hurt you.

“Stay with me! Open your eyes, I command it!” you heard Sukuna say, his voice now laced with urgency. “Stay with me, dammit!”

The world faded to black, a heavy blanket of darkness enveloping you as the sounds of the room grew distant. You could feel the weight of Sukuna’s hand around yours, a tether anchoring you to reality. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and you fought against the pull of unconsciousness, straining to stay with him, to see this through.

You drifted back to consciousness, the heaviness of sleep lifting slowly as awareness returned. The soft light filtering through the window painted the room in gentle hues, but it was the presence beside you that pulled you from the depths of slumber.

As your eyes fluttered open, you found Sukuna seated vigilantly at your side, his expression stormy, yet it held an intensity that spoke of concern. You had never seen those eyes reflect such emotions before.

Nearly eighteen years of marriage and there was so little of those eyes from him. Perhaps, it took your near death to earn those eyes. As the gods intended. As your husband intended.

“You’re finally awake.” he said, voice low and taut with a mixture of relief and anger. The stark contrast between his emotions made your heart quicken.

“I’m alive, my lord.” you murmured, your throat dry as you tried to push yourself up, the weight of your body still feeling foreign. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been asleep?” he snapped, his frustration evident. “Seven days, and you nearly bled to death! How reckless can you be, you foolish girl?”

You winced at his tone, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite the gravity of the situation. “But I’m here, my lord. I’m alive.”

Before he could respond, a soft, plaintive cry broke the tension in the air, and your heart leapt at the sound. You turned your head slowly, and your breath caught in your throat as you looked beside you.

There, nestled in a soft blanket, was your own beloved son—tiny, fragile, and perfect. The moment you laid eyes on him, a warmth spread through your chest, and all the pain, the fear, the anger melted away.

“Chizuru.” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face, radiating pure joy.

Sukuna’s gaze shifted to the child, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice softer now, the anger dissipating into something more vulnerable.

“His name is Chizuru, my lord.” you replied, your heart swelling as you looked back at the small figure. “Chizuru. It means a thousand cranes.”

You watched as Sukuna’s expression shifted, a mixture of intrigue and contemplation as he absorbed the significance of the name. “A thousand cranes…” he echoed, his brow furrowing slightly. “And what does that mean?”

“When you fold at least a thousand cranes, you get to make a wish.” you explained, glancing back at your son, his tiny fingers twitching as he settled back into a soft coo. “I wished for happiness and here he is, so real and so vibrant.”

Sukuna remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, and for a moment, the world outside the room faded into a distant hum. Nothing else mattered in that moment. There was that warmth that could be the rarest of creations known to man. And one of those rare creations blossomed in the small babe, cooing beside you.

“Chizuru…” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue as if testing its sound, and you could see a flicker of something in his eyes—a realization perhaps, or a flicker of acceptance. “Ryomen Chizuru.”

You turned your focus back to your baby, your heart swelling as you cradled him gently. “Look at him, my lord. He’s beautiful.”

As you gazed at Chizuru, you felt a profound sense of connection, as if your wish had been granted right before your eyes. In that moment, you realized something deeper, something that shimmered in the quiet between you and Sukuna.

He was beginning to see it too. The way your eyes sparkled with love and hope, the way you smiled at your child, the warmth that radiated from your heart—it all began to intertwine. Something so beautiful had blossomed a new spring right in front of him.

Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened as he took in the sight of you with Chizuru. There was a flicker of understanding, a silent knowledge that he had learned just by looking at mother and son.

In that moment, he realized that in your eyes, Ryomen Chizuru wasn’t just a child. He was your happiness. And perhaps, he could be his own too.

══════════════════

IN A BLINK OF AN EYE, THE WORLD CHANGES. If you had been asked years ago, you would have been still wondered what joy truly looks like. But if you had been asked now, you would have had an answer that would satisfy the ears of many. Five years had slipped by like a gentle breeze, carrying with it moments of joy and laughter that filled the once quiet halls of the temple with life.

You had poured your heart and soul into raising your son, Chizuru, and the beloved Chiharu, finding a rhythm in the chaos that came with the fondness of motherhood. A harsh road, a horrific terrrain and yet, everything about it had been so beautiful. Everything about it had filled you with nothing but joy.

The air in Vermillion Hall as of late was filled with their giggles and the soft pitter-patter of small feet, the sound of innocence and love echoing against the ancient stone walls. The other halls of the temple could only be envious that you who had been favored, was even more blessed with the sound of two children's joy. A gift none but you in the harem possess.

As you wandered through the temple, sunlight streamed through the open windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor. The vibrant colors of the flowers you’d arranged adorned the hall, adding a touch of brightness to the serene surroundings. You felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you were nurturing a sanctuary for your children, a place where they could flourish.

Young master Ryomen Chizuru was often the more adventurous of the two, his curiosity driving him to explore every nook and cranny of the temple. He had your bright eyes and quite often, they sparkled with mischief as he dashed around, discovering hidden corners and asking a thousand questions about the world around him.

Young mistress Ryomen Chiharu, on the other hand, was a gentle spirit, her laughter melodic as she chased after her brother, always ready to join in his games but equally happy to indulge in quiet moments with you when she wasn't right beside her father, learning the ropes of his leadership.

Between the two of them though, there was certainly no quiet in the Vermillion Hall. But in those rare moments when silence fell over the temple, you would often find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on how far you had come.

Ryomen Sukuna’s absence weighed heavily on you at times, as he would be in between his own pilgrimage to Kyoto or dealing with matters here all across Hida. But you had learned to navigate the complexities of your life as a mother and a partner. If you had done it before, you could do it again.

You had for all this time forged a sense of independence that filled you with pride. You were no longer just the woman who had once worshiped at his feet; you were a mother, a protector, and a nurturer. You were more than what you were all those years ago.

You found joy in the small things in your life today more than you did beforel sometimes, you would be teaching your children the art of folding origami cranes, sharing stories of the world outside, and guiding them through the rituals of your worship to the other gods.

As you sat in the garden, Ryomen Chizuru carefully folded paper into intricate shapes while Ryomen Chiharu hummed a soft tune beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. The sun warmed your skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, as if the world itself was celebrating this moment with you.

“Look, Mother! I made a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, holding up his creation with a proud grin that made your heart swell.

“It’s beautiful, my love.” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his fuschia hair. “Just like you.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, her bright eyes sparkling. “You did so well, little brother! Can we hang it in the hall, Mother? Please? We ought to show the world my little brother's wodners, don't you think?”

“Of course, little flower. We can make a whole family of cranes!” you replied, feeling the joy that radiated from your children wrap around you like a warm embrace.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden, you settled back against the soft grass, watching your children with a heart full of love. The laughter of Chizuru and Chiharu danced in the air, a sweet melody that resonated deep within you.

“Let’s see how many we can make!” Chizuru declared, diving back into his pile of paper, his little fingers moving with surprising dexterity. Chiharu grinned and joined him eagerly, her giggles punctuating their efforts as they competed to see who could fold the most cranes.

“Remember, my love,” you chimed in, “for every crane we fold, we should make a wish. What do you want to wish for, hm?”

Chiharu paused, her brows furrowed in concentration. “I wish for us to always be together!” she said, her voice sincere and unwavering. "Healthy and happy. That we'll always love one another!"

“And I wish for a big adventure, mother!” Chizuru added, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “One where we can find hidden treasures! Together with you and big sister!”

You chuckled softly, imagining the countless stories waiting to be told. The world outside the temple was vast and filled with mysteries, but within the safety of these walls, they had everything they needed. You like to think that all that would only be happy if you were all together. If you had Chiharu and Chizuru, you would live well.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, you joined them in their folding. Each crease of the paper felt like a connection—an unspoken promise to nurture their dreams and guide them in their adventures. Of wishes for happier days, wishes for many more sunshines and of course, blissful years to come.

You shared tales of the cranes you had folded as a child, of wishes that had been granted, and of moments that had changed your life. You told them about your mother's beautiful painting skills, your father's brillliance in weaving the cranes together, your little siblings and their eagerness for play.

Chizuru listened with rapt attention, and of course, he would ask questions about your family. You told him as much as you remembered. But at times, you could not find anymore words to say. Your family have not seen you in these many years. And perhaps, never again.

Chiharu leaned against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder. She would wonder about how you were as a little girl, when you would play these little paper cranes too. But she did not push as much as her brother.

“Mother, can we fold one for father?” Chizuru asked, his voice softening with a hint of longing. "So that he may know we are missing him and thinking of him!"

“Of course, little flower.” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let’s make one for him, so he knows we’re thinking of him.”

As you helped them fold the paper, you couldn’t shake the thought of Sukuna. He had matters to settle today. And in the past few days, have been without a visit to Vermillion Hall. He had been more frequent in the halls as of late, much more so because your son was wanting his father. And Sukuna indulged him. 

You wanted to share these moments with him, at least to look at the children with those fond eyes, the looks he rarely lets slip through the view of others. He had no love for you, true enough. But that does not matter. So long as he loved the children, so long as he cared for him, then perhaps you could be content with that.

After what felt like an eternity of folding, you finally stood, stretching your arms overhead as you surveyed your creations. The hall was beginning to fill with the soft, ambient light of the setting sun, illuminating the vibrant colors of the paper cranes scattered about.

“Let’s hang them up!” you suggested, and together, the three of you transformed the hall into a dazzling display of colorful cranes, each one a symbol of a wish, a memory, and an unbreakable bond.

As you stepped back to admire your handiwork, Chizuru tugged at your sleeve, his face alight with curiosity. “Mother, do you think father will like them?”

You knelt down to his level, cupping his small face in your hands. “I think he’ll be fond of them. They’re a part of us, a part of our family. They are our wishes, after all.”

Chiharu chimed in, looking at her little brother. She too does not wish to break the spell for him. “And when he sees them, he’ll know how much we miss him!”

Chizuru smiled brightly, "Really? Father will be touched then!"

You nodded, feeling a warmth envelop your heart. “Exactly, my love. And we’ll keep making more until he comes home.”

As twilight settled around you, a hush fell over the temple, wrapping you in its embrace. The world outside seemed to pause, and for a moment, all that existed were you and your children, surrounded by the hope and love that filled the air.

With each crane hung in the hall, you were satisfied. The children, bored of making more cranes now, had told you they would play in the garden and you told them not to go too far. That you would see them in a few minutes. You just had to clean out the mess.

Once you had done so, and felt satisfied with the cleaning, you followed them with a lamp. You could hear Chizuru and Chiharu playing in the garden, their laughter floating through the open window, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them. Then they stopped laughing. You came out and stopped at your tracks. 

“Father!” Chizuru’s voice rang out, his excitement unmistakable. You rushed to the window just in time to see Ryomen Sukuna entering the garden.

Sukuna’s eyes locked onto Chizuru, and for a fleeting moment, all the tension of his time away seemed to melt away. Chizuru ran to him, arms outstretched, and Sukuna knelt down, catching his son in a warm embrace. You could see it in Sukuna’s expression, a rare softness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor.

“Look, Father! I made you a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he presented his creation with pride.

Sukuna took the paper crane, inspecting it with a careful eye, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not bad, little flame.” he said, the praise simple yet meaningful, his tone unexpectedly tender.

Chizuru grinned at his father. Chiharu just behind him. “Father, can we show you the ones we hung in the hall? Mother helped us make them!”

Sukuna looked up from the crane, his gaze shifting between his children, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the man who had once held such power and authority. Here, among his family, he was just a father. The rarest of sights. 

“Lead the way, little flame.” he said, rising to his full height and offering his hand to Chizuru. Chiharu follows behind her brother, trying to keep her compsure.

You watched as they walked side by side, the small boy nearly bouncing with excitement as he chattered away, eager to share every detail about his creations. She looks behind you, as though to see you following them.

You followed at a distance, smiling fondly. As they entered the Vermillion Hall, the colors of the cranes fluttered like bright blossoms in the wind, each one a testament to the love and hope you had nurtured in their absence.

“Look, Father! There’s one for you!” Chizuru pointed, pride evident in his voice.

Sukuna stepped closer, his expression softening as he gazed at the multitude of cranes hanging from the rafters. You noticed how his posture relaxed, the tension of his dealings fading away.

He might have been a fearsome sorcerer to the outside world, but in this sacred space, he left that all behind. He was not to be the one to seem to be such a case, but he was a father. And he adored his children. Perhaps, Chizuru the most. Even if he does not say it outright. 

“You’ve made quite the display here.” he remarked, and you could see the admiration shining in his eyes.

Chizuru grinned. "We have, father! Mother says it has brighten the place! And that creates wishes!"

Chiharu chimed in. “Mother said every crane is a wish. Chizuru wished for you to come home, father.”

Sukuna knelt down to her level, his gaze steady. “And I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Chiharu nodded. Chizuru more vigorously, his enthusiasm contagious.

As they continued to admire the cranes, you couldn’t help but notice the way Chizuru moved closer to Sukuna, his small hand brushing against his father’s arm. It was a gesture filled with tenderness, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You felt a pang in your chest, knowing that Chizuru’s gentle nature was something Sukuna both needed and feared. In that moment, it reminded him of you—of the warmth and love that had filled the space between you before he left.

“Little flame.” Sukuna said, his voice lower, more serious. “You’ve become quite the artist. Do you know what it means to fold a thousand cranes?”

Chizuru shook his head, looking up at his father with wide eyes.

“It means you get to make a wish. A powerful wish.” Sukuna continued, his gaze softening further.

“What’s your wish, Father?” Chizuru asked, curiosity sparkling in his voice.

Sukuna hesitated, a fleeting expression crossing his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “My wish? To always be here with you and your sister.” he said finally, and the rare sincerity in his tone sent a thrill through you. “For us to be together.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, and Chizuru smiled brightly, the happiness between them radiating through the hall like the sun breaking through the clouds. For a moment, you looked at this and thought to yourself in a small little prayer, that this would never end.

You wanted for this to last forever.

Even if this was just that moment.

You wanted to stay in it forever.

══════════════════

NOTHING WOULD ERASE MEMORIES OF THAT DAY. Your husband had bid farewell a few hours ago, after the children had fallen asleep. He had already fixed his retinue; Uraume awaited him in the courtyard, standing with the quiet reverence they always kept. It was his yearly trip to Kyoto, to visit the remains of his beloved Hiromi.

You did not want him to go. The idea gnawed at you like a persistent ache, but what could you say? He had always made this journey, always carried this grief. A grief you could never touch. You could never be her, and he... he would never truly belong to you. Not in the way you longed for.

But still, you had kept your mouth shut. The children needed him here, but you bowed your head as he prepared to leave. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to smile, trying to mask the deep ache twisting your insides.

His footsteps were soft on the wooden floor as he approached, the flickering lamp light casting shadows across his face. He stopped before you, gazing down, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of his eyes on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name. His hand came to rest upon your hair, his fingers slipping through the strands, gently, almost tenderly, as though soothing you for the inevitable pain of his departure.

"Rest well, little one." he murmured, his voice low and quiet, a distant warmth in it that never quite reached you. "I’ll return soon enough."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There was nothing you could say that would change his heart, that would pull him back from the ghost he still loved. So, you let the silence fill the space between you.

His hand slipped away, leaving a chill in its wake. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his back a familiar sight, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, your heart heavy in your chest, telling yourself again what you’d told yourself a thousand times before.

He doesn't love me.

The thought was bitter but familiar, like an old wound that never fully healed. You clenched your hands together, willing yourself to let go of the dream. To stop hoping for something that could never be.

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. You were alone. Alone with your thoughts, and with the ghost of a woman you could never replace. And so you couldn’t sleep. You kept thinking about your husband, about the ghosts that he’s going to revisit. Yet you shook your head and tried to sleep. 

But you thought it would be fine. Even without your husband, nothing has ever happened of note. Nothing ever even mattered. Hida was at peace, even if you were not in your soul. The barriers your husband put were holding up, he had chosen good and able sorcerers to guard you all. It was well and good. 

The stillness of the night enveloped the temple, a deep tranquility that cradled you and your children in a cocoon of warmth. You had fallen asleep beside Chizuru and Chiharu, their soft breaths mingling with the rustle of the night. Everything felt perfect—until the acrid smell of smoke invaded your senses.

You jolted awake, your heart racing as a wave of panic washed over you. Coughing, you instinctively shielded your nose with your hands, trying to stave off the suffocating grip of the smoke. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you were met with a horrifying sight: flames licked hungrily at the wooden beams of your chamber, their orange glow illuminating the space in an eerie dance.

“Chiharu! Chizuru!” you cried, your voice hoarse with urgency. You leaned over, shaking your daughter awake, her eyelids fluttering as she fought against sleep.

“Mother?” she murmured, her voice thick with confusion.

“Wake up! We need to go, now!” You turned to Chizuru, who was still sound asleep, and shook him gently. “Chizuru! Please wake up!”

His eyes flew open, wide with fear, and for a moment, you saw the innocent boy you adored—the boy who had just wanted to make cranes and wishes. “What’s happening, mother?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice as he took in the scene around him.

“Fire! We have to get out!” You could hear the distant screams echoing through the temple now, chilling your blood. “We’re under attack! The Zenin clan are here!” a voice shouted from somewhere outside, the threat echoing ominously.

“Who are the Zenin?” Chizuru asked, his small hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“There’s no time for that!” You gathered your children in your arms, instinctively moving towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. “We need to get to safety!”

As you reached for the door, a gust of heat surged from the flames, forcing you to recoil. You could hear the chaos outside—the shouts of the Zenin, the crashing of furniture, and the crackle of flames consuming everything in their path. The smell of blood and chaos and madness were all up in the air.

“Mother!” Chiharu whimpered, clinging tightly to you. You could feel her trembling against your side, and your heart ached for her innocence lost in this moment of terror.

“Stay close to me, little flower.” you urged, squeezing their hands tightly. “We need to find a way out!”

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of fear within you. The window! You dashed towards it, the heat intensifying as you drew closer, and you could see the fire spreading rapidly across the walls.

“Help!” a voice cried from outside, mingling with the frantic screams and shouts. The chaos was closing in around you, and time was slipping away.

You reached the window, your heart racing as you pushed it open. The night air rushed in, carrying the faint sounds of battle. You peered outside, desperate to find a safe escape route. You needed to think fast, you needed to act fast. Your children’s lives depend on it.

“Chizuru, Chiharu, hold onto each other!” You instructed, glancing back at your children, their eyes wide with fear.

“Can we jump?” Chizuru asked, his voice trembling.

You hesitated, taking in the height of the drop below. “We have to try.” you said, forcing a brave smile to reassure them. “On the count of three. Ready? One… two… three!”

You leapt out of the window, pulling your children to you as you fell. You landed hard, the ground beneath you jarring, but you quickly rolled to absorb the impact, shielding them with your body. Pain shot through your limbs, but you pushed through it, gasping for breath as you scrambled to your feet, still holding onto them. The night was alive with chaos—figures darting in and out of the flickering flames, shadows blending with the smoke that hung thick in the air.

“Over there!” you pointed towards a small alleyway between two temple structures, a route that would lead away from the flames. “Run!”

Chizuru and Chiharu obeyed, their small legs carrying them as fast as they could. You followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to protect them at all costs.

As you raced through the chaos, you could hear the sounds of combat nearby—the clang of weapons, the shouts of warriors, the thudding of footsteps on the ground. The Zenin had come, their intent clear in the chaos that surrounded you.

You led your children away from the heart of the conflict, your mind racing with thoughts of Sukuna and where he might be. Would he know about the attack? Would he come for you? Where was he? The safety of your family was all that mattered right now.

“Keep going!” you shouted to your children, urging them forward as you glanced back at the temple. Flames illuminated the night sky, casting a sinister glow over everything, the beloved home you had built now a target of destruction.

But there was no time to dwell on what was lost. You had to find safety, to escape the grasp of the chaos. You pressed on, your heart filled with a fierce determination to protect Chizuru and Chiharu, no matter the cost.

In that moment, you were not just their mother; you were their shield, and you would not let anything happen to them.

It was clearer and clearer that the night was a nightmare unfolding in real time, chaos erupting around you as you pressed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Screams echoed through the air, mingling with the crackle of flames that consumed the temple, and the oppressive weight of smoke threatened to pull you under.

“Stay close!” you shouted, gripping Chiharu's hand tightly while Chizuru walked just a step ahead of you, his eyes wide with fear but determination. Each step felt heavier, the ground shaking with the panic of those fleeing the scene. You could hear the splashes of bodies tumbling into the river nearby, their cries for help haunting your every thought.

But as you moved closer to the water's edge, a surge of people rushed past you, frantically trying to escape the inferno. The panic of the crowd was palpable, and in an instant, you were swept away in the tide, a wave of bodies pushing against you.

“Chizuru!” you screamed, desperately searching for your son among the frantic faces. The chaos enveloped you like a storm, and the very ground felt unsteady beneath your feet. You reached for him, your heart pounding as you fought against the surge, but it was as if the world was swallowing him whole.

“Mother!” Chiharu cried, her small voice trembling with fear, and your heart twisted painfully at the sound. You turned to comfort her, wrapping your arms around her protectively.

“Hold on to me, Chiharu!” you urged, trying to keep her close, your voice strained. The water was rising, the current pulling at your legs, and you could feel the panic tightening around your chest.

Suddenly, a throng of people pushed toward the river, a wave of desperation crashing over you. Many had left in panic, knowing that the Zenin penetrated all the other gates too. And here they were dying. They fought against each other, shoving and clawing their way to safety. In the midst of it, you felt Chizuru’s hand slip from yours.

“No! Chizuru!” you shouted, your voice hoarse as you turned to look for him, your heart racing in your chest. The water began to surge around you, pulling you under as you reached for him desperately. Everything began to be swallowed by the darkness and the waves. 

The crowd continued to press against you, and in that moment of chaos, you lost sight of your son. You felt a surge of despair wash over you, as though the river itself was stealing him away. “Chizuru!” you cried out, but the water swallowed your voice.

The river, once a gentle stream, had transformed into a torrent, pulling you and Chiharu further into its depths. You struggled against the current, fighting to keep your head above water, but the chaos made it impossible to breathe.

Panic clawed at your throat as the realization hit you—your son was gone, lost in the tide of terror, swallowed by the chaos surrounding you. The thought was unbearable, a weight that pressed down on your chest and threatened to drag you under.

“Hold on to me!” you shouted to Chiharu, who was now clinging to your side, tears streaming down her face. You could feel her trembling, the cold water soaking through your clothes, and you fought against the current, trying to pull both of you to safety.

But the current was relentless, and just as you thought you could escape, a wave crashed over you, pulling you under. The water engulfed you, dark and suffocating, and you fought against the overwhelming force that dragged you deeper into its depths.

You could hear the muffled sounds of chaos above—the screams of your neighbors, the crackling of fire, the desperate cries for help. But all you could think about was your children, the warmth of Chizuru’s smile, the light in Chiharu’s eyes, now both in peril.

Desperation surged through you, and you kicked against the water, clawing your way to the surface. But the river fought back, dragging you further down, each movement becoming heavier, more labored.

“Chizuru!” you cried again, the name a plea that echoed in your heart. You could feel the air leaving your lungs, the weight of your despair pulling you under.

Just as the darkness began to close in around you, a sudden burst of strength propelled you upward. You broke through the surface, gasping for air, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat.

But the moment of relief was short-lived as the chaos swirled around you. You looked frantically for Chizuru, scanning the water for any sign of him. Your heart ached with fear, the thought of losing him suffocating you more than the water ever could.

“Chizuru!” you shouted again, but the only answer was the rush of the river and the cries of the crowd. “My son, my son!”

Then you felt a small hand clutching your arm, and you turned to find Chiharu’s terrified face. “Mother! I can’t swim!” she cried, her voice trembling with fear, and you realized she was struggling against the current as well.

“I won’t let go, I promise!” you assured her, fighting against the torrent as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. The river surged around you, but you held on with everything you had.

In that moment, all that mattered was your daughter. You would not let her be lost to this chaos, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. “We’re going to be okay, we’re going to be fine.” you promised her, forcing a calm you didn’t feel.

With renewed determination, you swam toward the shore, battling the current that threatened to pull you back into the depths. Each stroke was a struggle, the water heavy and cold, but you couldn’t give up. You had to find safety for Chiharu, to shield her from the horrors unfolding around you.

But in the distance, the cries of others still echoed, and every instinct in you screamed for Chizuru. You felt a fierce longing for him, an unyielding need to protect your son, to bring him back to safety. The thought of him alone in the chaos was a wound that tore at your heart.

The river finally began to recede, and you clawed your way to the bank, pulling Chiharu with you. With one final push, you scrambled onto the muddy shore, the water cascading off you like a broken dam.

But as you lay there, gasping for breath, a haunting realization sank in—the darkness still lingered. You had saved your daughter, but Chizuru was still out there, somewhere lost in the chaos.

“Chizuru!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation, but the only reply was the sound of rushing water and the distant cries of those who had suffered the same fate.

You couldn’t lose hope, couldn’t abandon your son. With trembling limbs, you forced yourself to stand, feeling the weight of dread pressing down on you.

“Chiharu, stay here!” you instructed, your voice shaky but firm. “I have to find your brother!”

“Mother, please!” Chiharu pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to you. “I don’t want to be alone!”

“Stay close to the shore, please. you urged, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

With a final glance at your daughter, you plunged back into the water, the cold enveloping you once more. Each stroke was a desperate prayer, a hope that you would find Chizuru safe and sound.

As you moved through the water, the world around you blurred, your heart pounding with every frantic search for his familiar face. The river roared like a beast, but you fought against it, determined to bring your son home, to save him from the grasp of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

In the depths of despair, you clung to the belief that love would lead you back to him. You would not rest until you found your son, until you pulled him back from the brink of loss, back into your arms.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T THINK YOU COULD EVER MOVE FORWARD. The world felt hollow without Chizuru, a chasm of grief that swallowed everything in its wake. Months had passed since the night of the attack, yet time had warped into an endless cycle of despair. You wandered through the temple, each corner a haunting reminder of his absence, every sound echoing the laughter that once filled those halls.

You hadn’t eaten in days, nor could you find the will to sleep. Each night, you lay beside Chiharu, listening to her soft breaths, feeling the warmth of her small body against yours. But your heart ached with the knowledge that your son was missing—lost to the river, to the chaos of that terrible night.

You clung to hope like a fragile thread, desperate to believe that somehow he would come home. You remembered his bright smile, the way his laughter danced in the air, a melody of innocence and joy. But now, silence reigned, a heavy shroud that suffocated you.

The days stretched into an agonizing blur, and you found yourself wandering the grounds of the temple, searching every inch of the riverbank, calling his name until your voice was hoarse. “Chizuru! Chizuru!” echoed through the empty space, a prayer to the gods, a plea for your boy to return.

But only silence answered, and each time you turned to the water, the memories washed over you. You could see him there, splashing happily, the sunlight glinting off his bright fuschia hair, his laughter ringing like bells. But that was just a memory now, a ghost that lingered in the corners of your mind.

The only trace left of him was his beloved toy, a small crane he had carried everywhere—a tattered reminder of his innocence, now found washed ashore, sodden and battered by the river’s embrace. You held it close, clutching it to your chest as if it could somehow bridge the gap between the world of the living and the void where your son had vanished.

The grief twisted inside you like a knife, sharp and unyielding, as you wept, your tears falling onto the toy. “Please, come back to me, my baby.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. But the river continued to flow, indifferent to your anguish.

When your husband had been informed, he had left immediately back for Hida. He found you first. Ryomen Sukuna had tried to protect you, and had stopped you from plunging into the water once more. His scarlet eyes frantically eyeing you. It was the first time they had been like that, but you could not care enough for it. You needed your son.

“You nearly drowned already, little one.” he had said, his voice strained with a mixture of anger and concern. “The river is too shallow, and you cannot risk your life searching for him.”

But the fire of desperation burned brightly within you. How could he expect you to sit idly by? “He’s my son!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I can’t just leave him out there, Sukuna! I can’t!”

His gaze had softened, but there was an impenetrable wall of sorrow between you, a chasm of understanding that seemed impossible to cross. “And you will lose yourself if you go, little one.” he replied quietly. “You must think of Chiharu. She needs you.”

Chiharu… the reminder of your daughter was a bittersweet ache. You had poured every ounce of love and care into her, but your heart remained fragmented, scattered like leaves in the wind. You wanted to be there for her, to be strong, but every moment without Chizuru felt like a betrayal.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had suffered, if he had called for you in his final moments. The thought was a poison that seeped into your soul, a darkness that wrapped around you like chains, constricting until you could barely breathe.

Nights stretched on endlessly, and when sleep finally claimed you, it was only to be haunted by dreams of your son. You would see him running toward you, his arms outstretched, laughter spilling from his lips like tender music. But just as you reached for him, he would fade away, leaving you grasping at empty air.

Each morning you awoke to find the world unchanged, the sun rising over the river that had taken so much. Chiharu would rise with her innocent smile, but you could see the shadows behind her eyes, the worry that mirrored your own. She suffered too. She can’t do it anymore either.  You wanted to shield her from the pain, to protect her from the grief that consumed you, but you were too lost in your own sorrow. 

“Mother, are we going to find Chizuru today?” she would ask, her small voice hopeful, and every word felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“I… I don’t know, sweetheart.” you would reply, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your lips. “We have to wait a little longer.”

But the truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of facing the river again, of the darkness that lurked within it, of the memories that flooded back each time you caught a glimpse of the water. It had taken your son, and the thought of it held you captive in your own mind.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the temple felt less like a home and more like a tomb, filled with echoes of laughter long gone. You moved through the halls like a ghost, a shell of the woman you used to be, desperately clinging to the love of your daughter while mourning the loss of your son.

In the stillness of night, when the world around you slept, you would often find yourself at the river’s edge, the water shimmering under the moonlight. You would sit there for hours, clutching Chizuru’s toy, your heart aching for the child who would never again run to you, whose laughter had been silenced by tragedy.

“Where are you, my little boy?” you would whisper, tears falling into the water. “Come back to me.” But the only answer was the soft lapping of the waves, a haunting reminder of the joy that had been stolen from you.

Days faded into weeks, each moment a reminder of the love that had been lost, and the pain only deepened with the passage of time. Your heart was a fractured thing, struggling to beat amid the agony of loss, and yet, somewhere deep within, a flicker of hope still remained—a hope that perhaps one day you would find the strength to carry on, to honor Chizuru’s memory and bring light back into your world.

Ryomen Sukuna's grief meanwhile manifested in a tempest of rage, a dark storm that swallowed all reason and empathy. The night the Zenin attacked, their faces were etched into his mind, and with each passing day, that image became an obsession;a call to vengeance that drowned out the cries of his own sorrow.

He descended into the shadows of vengeance, moving like a wraith through the remnants of the world he had once ruled. The Zenin clan had crossed a line that he would not allow to remain unpunished. They had dared to touch what was his, and for that, they would pay.

With a swift and merciless hand, he hunted them down, one by one. The elegance of his movements belied the brutality of his actions. Each confrontation was a dance of death, each opponent a testament to his unyielding wrath. He tore through their defenses, a whirlwind of violence and fury, leaving behind nothing but a trail of blood and devastation.

Sukuna did not need to think; his body moved instinctively, fueled by a primal need for retribution. He channeled his anguish into each kill, the cries of the Zenin blending into a symphony of vengeance that soothed the raw edges of his pain, even if only momentarily. The thrill of the hunt and the finality of the kill provided a distraction from the hollow ache that resided within him.

He was relentless, taking down many of the branches of the clan with precision and ferocity, reveling in the chaos he unleashed. Just as the Ryomen were wiped out by the Fujiwara, the Zenin were nearly gone too.

Their screams echoed in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he found solace in their despair. The walls of the temple, once a sanctuary, now stood witness to the brutality of his wrath.

But even in the depths of his fury, a flicker of doubt began to gnaw at the edges of his resolve. Each life he extinguished was a stark reminder of the fragility of existence, a reflection of the life he had once shared with you and the children. In the silence that followed each battle, the absence of Chizuru pierced him like a knife, sharper than any blade he wielded.

He thought of you, alone and shattered, and how your grief mirrored his own. The thought stirred something deep within him—a conflicting urge to return, to be the pillar you needed, to offer you the strength to carry on. But the weight of his actions held him captive, shackled by the blood he had spilled.

How could he face you after becoming a monster? He had sworn to protect you, to provide a sanctuary for your family, yet here he was, consumed by darkness, reveling in a cycle of violence.

As he stood amidst the ashes of the Zenin clan, Ryomen Sukuna felt a hollowness that no amount of vengeance could fill. The cries of his victims faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, each one a reminder of what he had lost, and what he was becoming.

His heart, though encased in ice, cracked just a little at the realization that revenge could not bring back Chizuru. He was gone. The water had taken him. And he will not come back. Not even if you want him too, not even if Sukuna wanted to. 

The very act of killing, of exacting justice, could never quell the longing in his soul for the warmth of his son’s laughter or the joy that once radiated from your family. He would forever be haunted by the laughter. By the bitterness of that laughter tainted in blood and loss.

Days turned into a blur of blood and shadow until the last of the Zenin fell at his feet. And there he stood, amidst the remains of his enemies, drenched in the very violence he had unleashed, yet feeling emptier than ever. The echoes of Chizuru’s laughter haunted him, the memory of his son’s smile contrasting starkly with the brutality he had wrought.

Returning to the temple felt like an insurmountable task. How could he face you after everything? After your grief tortures him enough. After Chiharu’s silence bitterly echoes in silence. He had become a monster in pursuit of vengeance, and the thought of your eyes so dead, so bitterly ruined. It ruined him too. 

He had started all this bloodshed for the Ryomen.

He had started this cycle of vengeance for love and loss.

And somehow it will never end, somehow it will continue.

The rain stills and tears and he watches, standing there among them.

Blood and water look almost the same to him.

══════════════════

YOU WERE A SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF. The chamber was a prison of shadows, thick and suffocating, as though they had seeped from the cracks of your broken heart. The once vibrant room was now a graveyard of neglect—crumpled papers strewn across the floor, each one a failed attempt to capture your grief in words. 

The air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of loss and decay, mirroring the unbearable weight that pressed against your chest. You sat amidst the chaos, the world outside reduced to an endless night, a void where you floated aimlessly, longing for an end that never came.

Chizuru’s absence had carved out a wound so deep that it felt like your soul had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness. You could still see him, hear his laughter echo through the temple halls, bright and alive in your memory. But the warmth of those moments only sharpened the cruel edge of your despair. He was gone, and no amount of clinging to the past could change that.

You had tried, time and time again, to escape this torment, to free yourself from the suffocating grip of your sorrow. Each attempt to end your life was another desperate grasp at peace, at release. But every time, Sukuna found you—like some dark, twisted guardian, yanking you back from the brink. His grip was always unrelenting, his voice cutting through the fog of your despair with harshness that bordered on cruelty.

“You can’t leave me like this, little one.” he would say, his voice laced with anger, with something almost desperate. But it was the pity in his eyes that hurt the most, the silent judgment that reflected your own shame, your own failure.

You wanted to die, to vanish into the void and be done with it. Yet, Sukuna would not allow it. And as the days blurred into weeks, the crushing weight of your existence dragged you deeper into isolation.

You pushed him away, locked yourself in the crumbling sanctuary of your grief, convinced that the best thing you could do was disappear—to not burden him, to not burden Chiharu, with the shell of the woman you had become.

The days passed in a haze of nothingness, and you became a ghost, drifting through the remnants of a life you no longer recognized. Chiharu’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, but you couldn’t bear to face her, couldn’t allow her to see the emptiness in your eyes. She deserved better—better than a mother who was crumbling beneath the weight of her sorrow, better than a life filled with the echoes of what once was.

When Sukuna finally returned to you, it was as though he had stepped into a tomb. The door creaked open, and he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a commanding force that felt suffocating. His eyes roamed over the wreckage, taking in the chaos you had allowed to fester.

“You can’t keep living like this, little one.” he said, his voice low and strained with both anger and concern.

Your response was sharp, bitter, laced with the pain that had become your constant companion. “I’m not living, my lord. I’m just existing. There’s a difference.”

His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time I look at you? You’re wasting away, and for what?”

He moved to clean the mess that had accumulated around you, his actions careful but determined. It made something inside you snap. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop, that nothing could be fixed, that you were beyond repair.

But the words stuck in your throat, drowned by the flood of tears that threatened to spill over as he touched a crumpled sheet of paper—a poem you had tried to write about loss, about Chizuru. It was unfinished, like everything else in your life.

“Let me help you,” he said, softer this time, but his words were like knives. His pity, his attempts at love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Chiharu should go with Hiromi’s family,” you said suddenly, the words falling from your lips like a confession, heavy with guilt. “I can’t… I can’t be the mother she needs. Not like this.”

He froze, his expression darkening with disbelief. “You want to send her away?”

“Yes,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “She deserves better than this—better than me.”

The air between you grew tense, thick with unspoken truths. His voice was hard when he finally spoke, laced with a quiet fury. “You think running away will fix anything? That abandoning her will make you whole again?”

“I don’t know,” you cried, the anguish spilling out of you uncontrollably. “But I can’t… I can’t watch her suffer because of me. I can’t let her see me like this.”

His gaze hardened, and you could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “She needs you. You’re her mother. You can’t just give up.”

“Give up?” you spat, your voice rising with a mix of rage and desperation. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t fought every single day just to breathe, just to wake up? You’re out there killing the Zenin, but I’m stuck here—drowning, suffocating in this nightmare! I let my own son die, my lord. I failed him. I failed Chizuru.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, raw and painful. Sukuna’s expression twisted with something dark, something that resembled both anger and grief.

“Stop it.” he snapped, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t let him die. This isn’t your fault. You’re not the only one who lost him.”

His words felt like a slap, but you couldn’t stop. The pain had consumed you, filled every corner of your soul until there was nothing left but the desire to disappear, to join Chizuru in whatever afterlife there might be.

“I want to be with him, please….” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I just want to be with him.”

Sukuna’s face contorted with rage, with desperation. “No. You don’t get to choose that. You don’t get to leave. Chizuru wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your guilt crushed you. “But I am a foolish mother. I let him die, and now… I deserve to suffer. It should have been me, not him.”

Sukuna’s frustration exploded. “Stop it!” His voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to give up. You’re not the only one hurting!”

His words hit you like a storm, and you recoiled, feeling the walls of your grief crack beneath the force of his anger. But the truth was still there, festering in your chest. “I can’t fight anymore, my lord.” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

He stepped closer, his presence a force you couldn’t ignore, but there was a tenderness in his eyes now, a desperation that mirrored your own. “Then let me fight for you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you too. Not like this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him pull you from the abyss. But all you could feel was the crushing weight of everything you had lost. “I’m already gone,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You’re too late.”

And in that moment, as Sukuna stood there, torn between his anger and his helplessness, you realized something—he could not save you. No one could. You were lost, drowning in the endless chasm of your grief, and all that was left was the echo of your son’s laughter, growing fainter with each passing day.

You stood frozen in the aftermath of Sukuna's departure, the stillness of the room amplifying the hollowness inside you. You could not help it. There felt nothing else but emptiness and grief.

The words you had thrown at him, fueled by anger, sorrow, and a desperate need to push him away now echoed in your mind, filling the void he had left behind. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest tightening under the weight of a decision that felt irreversible.

He was gone. Truly gone this time.

For a fleeting moment, you had wanted this—his absence, the silence, the space to collapse without anyone witnessing your downfall. But now, standing in the suffocating quiet of your chamber, you realized that his presence, oppressive as it was, had been the only thing tethering you to this world. And now… now you were truly untethered, free to fall into the abyss.

You glanced around the room, the wreckage of your grief still strewn across the floor; crumpled papers, forgotten attempts at healing, at making sense of your pain. They mocked you now, silent reminders of every failed effort to escape the unbearable weight pressing down on your soul.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs tore from your throat. It was as if the dam had broken, and all the emotions you had been holding back; the anguish, the guilt, the overwhelming despair rushed to the surface, drowning you in their flood.

You had pushed Sukuna away, believing that his love, his pity, would only deepen your shame. But now, without him here to absorb the brunt of your anger, you were left alone with the full force of your grief. And it was unbearable. Unforgiving.

The image of Chizuru, your sweet boy, your heart, he flashed in your mind. His laughter, his innocent smile, the way he had once filled your days with light. But now… now he was gone, and the light had died with him.

You could still see him in your mind’s eye, running through the temple grounds, carefree and full of life. But those memories only deepened the emptiness within you. They weren’t enough to sustain you. Nothing was.

You had failed him.

The thought repeated itself over and over, a relentless chant that echoed in your mind. You had failed him. You hadn’t been able to protect him. And now, you couldn’t even hold on to the family you had left. You had pushed them all away; Sukuna, Chiharu, believing that they would be better off without you. That they deserved better.

But now, as the suffocating silence wrapped around you, you realized that you had nothing left. No family. No purpose. Just the crushing weight of loss and the ever-present desire to escape it.

You crawled toward the remnants of your shattered life, your fingers brushing against the crumpled poem you had written about Chizuru, unfinished, like so much else in your life. Tears blurred your vision as you smoothed the paper, tracing the words you had once thought would bring you comfort, bring you closure.

But there was no closure to be found. Only an endless, gaping wound that refused to heal.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the knife hidden beneath your bed. It had been there for weeks, maybe months, always present, always waiting for the moment when you were ready. You had tried so many times before to end this;

You need to free yourself from the unbearable pain that clawed at your insides. But Sukuna had always stopped you, pulling you back from the edge with his iron grip, his desperate pleas.

But now he is gone. Now there was no one left to stop you.

You stared down at the blade, the cold steel glinting in the dim light of the room. It would be so easy, so simple—to just let go. To release yourself from the torment, the guilt, the constant agony that had become your existence. To be free.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet certainty that this was the only way out. You had lost everything, and there was no point in continuing this charade of life. Chizuru was gone, and you wanted to be with him. You needed to be with him.

Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife, and you brought it to your wrist, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Your breath hitched, but your resolve didn’t waver. This was what you wanted. This was the only way to escape the endless spiral of grief.

Just as you were about to press the blade deeper, a soft voice echoed in your mind, a voice so faint, so distant, that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Mother…..”

Chiharu.

Her name, her voice, pierced through the fog of your despair, cutting through the haze of your grief. Your hands trembled, and the knife slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor with a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room.

Chiharu.

The image of her face, so much like her brother’s; it was all that flashed before your eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt so deep it nearly shattered you. She was still here. She was still alive. And she needed you. She needed you to be alright. She needed you here with her, she needed her mother.

Don't take it all away from her, too.

You collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with sobs as the weight of your decision crashed over you. You had been so consumed by your grief, by your longing to be with Chizuru, that you had forgotten the life that still remained.

Ryomen Chiharu was still here, still waiting for you. And you had almost abandoned her. You had nearly left her alone in this world without a mother, without anyone to hold her, to protect her. You shouldn't have done this, you shouldn't have lived in your grief like this. What right do you have to live like this?

You buried your face in your hands, the realization crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t leave her behind. Not like this. Not when she needed you the most.

But how could you continue? How could you keep living in this world without Chizuru, without the light he had brought into your life? The thought of facing another day without him, of waking up to the same crushing pain, was unbearable.

But as the image of Chiharu’s face lingered in your mind, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You had to keep going. You had to keep fighting. For her.

For both of them.

The knife lay forgotten on the floor, and you curled into yourself, sobbing wracking your body as you let the grief wash over you. You didn’t know how you would survive this. You didn’t know if you even could.

But for Chiharu…..you would try.

You needed to live for her.

You needed to live for Chizuru.

You need to live for yourself.

══════════════════

THE SNOWS CAME JUST IN TIME FOR WINTER MOONLIGHT. It took time. A lot of time. And you had been eager to try, you wanted to do it. You wanted to take that time to learn how to be alive again. The days stretched into weeks, and each one was a grueling battle you weren't sure you'll make it out alive.

But you wanted to fight to heal, to come to terms with the raw grief that still lingered in your heart. Because there was much still waiting for you. There was much of life still waiting to be lived. That is what your precious son would have wanted for his beloved mother. You were certain of that.

And you would have to do it alone, with Ryomen Chiharu being sent off to live with her mother’s family. You had bitter tears about parting. But you had to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could live. That you could be fine. You wanted to live well, to see Chiharu again. She will come back. But you have to be well again.

It was the hardest thing you could have ever done. You were a mother after all. You had grown him from the seed he was to the boy he came to be. You had suffered to bring him into the world. And now, to know he had disappeared, without a trace. To accept it, it swallowed you whole. 

The weight of Chizuru’s absence would never fully leave you, but slowly, you began to confront the pain rather than run from it. It wasn’t easy; some days were unbearable; but through reflection, through quiet moments with yourself, you began to find pieces of your old strength. The strength you had lost the day Ryomen Chizuru left this world.

The solitude helped at first. There were moments when you needed to be alone, to think, to remember, to cry without holding anything back. But as the year drew closer to its end, a different kind of loneliness set in—the kind that whispered of missed connections, unresolved conversations, and a love that still lingered beneath the layers of grief and hurt.

Ryomen Sukuna.

You hadn’t seen him since that day, when the anger had driven you apart. He hadn’t come back, and in those quiet moments, you wondered if he ever would. He wanted to give you time, you supposed. Or perhaps he had started to hate you as much as you had hated yourself.

But something deep inside told you that he was still there, waiting—always waiting. Perhaps he finally understood what it was like to suffer so deeply. And as the year approached its final days, the weight of the distance between you two became too heavy to bear.

It was just after the first snowfall of the season when you found yourself walking along the temple grounds, the world quiet and blanketed in white. The cold air stung your skin, but it was a welcome sensation. It was something to remind you that you were still here, still alive, still fighting. And you were grateful for it.

But for a moment , you couldn't help it. You supposed it was out of habit. You didn’t know why your thoughts kept drifting back to Ryomen Sukuna. You hadn't seen him in a while. And for good reason.

Perhaps, it was because of that. You couldn't help but think of him with every step. And with each step, you cannot help but feel the pull to see him again. Each step made that desire stronger, undeniable.

You found him at the edge of the temple's forest, his broad figure outlined against the dark trees covered in blissful snow piling onto it. He stood with his back to you, staring out at the horizon as if lost in his own thoughts.

For a moment, you hesitated, the memory of your last argument flashing in your mind. But then you took a deep breath and called his name rather than your worship upon him. All those words of anger pressed on in your memories, all those grievous whispers and all those harmful touches. You cannot help but remember it all.

He turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours across the snow-covered ground. There was something different in his scarlet gaze now; something softer, more open than you remembered. Perhaps it was grief, or perhaps it was weariness. Mayhaps even the cold. You could not fathom it well.

You don't remember if you were able to be this lost when you read him years ago. But you were lost now, almost like a child relearning its steps. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the sight of him didn’t fill you with anger or sorrow. Instead, it brought a sense of relief, of longing.

Without speaking, you walked toward him, closing the distance between you. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with everything unsaid. When you finally stopped in front of him, the words that had been trapped inside you for so long began to tumble out.

“I miss him, my lord.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the still air. “I miss Chizuru every day. I thought… I thought pushing you away would make it easier. That if I didn’t have to face you, I wouldn’t have to face the pain.”

Sukuna didn’t respond at first, his expression unreadable. He did not think that he should. He doesn't show it, but he hesistates. He doesn't know how to speak to you anymore. It had been so long. But ought to try. He had to. The cold did not bother him and yet your gaze did. He exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cold air.

“I know, little one.” he murmured. “I’ve….thought of him too. After all this time.”

“Has….my lord thought of me too?”

“Everyday.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. Ryomen Sukuna had always been strong, unyielding, but in that moment, he wasn’t the invincible force you had once known. In what little remains of his heart, he had loved his son. And perhaps, he had cared about you enough. You had lived a life together too, afrer all. You were as much his life as his son was. Even for a time.

You liked to think that for a moment, he was still as human as the day he had been born into this earth. He was just a man grieving his son, just like you were. He was just a man longing for his concubine, his friend, his partner. Someone that lives with him this life full of tragedy.

For a moment, you couldn't help but think that even curses, even monsters like him — they could feel like this.

“I never wanted to lose you like I lost him, little one.” he continued, his eyes dark with emotion. “Perhaps, it was better we parted these many years."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought the same thing, my lord. But I was wrong. I was so wrong, my lord. I need you… I always have. I was just so afraid that if I let myself feel anything for you, it would hurt too much.”

He reached out then, his large hand cupping your face gently. “I need you too, little one.” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I always have. Perhaps, I always will."

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with both pain and relief. “I’m sorry, my lord.” you whispered. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt us both.”

Sukuna’s thumb brushed away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Hurt is hard to live through, little one." he said softly. “But perhaps, there is comfort in not living through it alone."

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. His embrace was immediate, strong and warm, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms, to feel the safety and comfort of his presence.

“You ought to stay by my side again, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice muffled against your hair. “We mustn't be alone in suffering."

You nodded against his chest, the weight of your grief still there but somehow lighter now that it wasn’t just yours to bear.

“I care for you, my lord.” you whispered, the words finally free from the prison of your pain. “I never stopped.”

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “I care for you too, little one. In all the ways that should matter. Even if I….I still care the most about you.”

The snow continued to fall around you, blanketing the world in quiet peace. And as you stood there, wrapped in Sukuna’s arms, you knew that healing would take time. More time than you could ever imagine. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you believed it was possible.

There will be more years together.

There will be more heartache.

There will be more misunderstanding.

There will be more words left unsaid.

But you would have each other.

══════════════════

HE HAD NEVER BEEN ABLE TO PROCESS GRIEF WELL.  But you would have known that about him all too well. And yet in a blink of an eye, everything had spiralled down. Everything had slipped through his fingers. Everything had been gone. You had been gone. And there was nothing he could ever do about it.

It had been a few days since you had passed, and Ryomen Sukuna’s world had shattered in a way he could never have prepared for. He had not been prepared for this. He had not been ready to face a day like this, where he would have to deal with your mortality. But it came as swiftly as you had come into his life. 

The once-mighty King of Curses, feared by all, now sat in a darkness deeper than any battle or curse he had ever faced. He had locked himself away from everything, even from Uraume, who had always been at his side. But this grief was something no one could witness. Not even them.

Alone, Ryomen Sukuna’s rage boiled beneath the surface, but it was hollow. His immense power, his endless strength, none of it mattered now. Not without you. Everything felt pointless, bitter. The world felt colder. Nothing mattered to him.

He could still feel it. The exact moment your heart stopped, the light draining from your eyes. Your weary smile, your lingering gaze; Your haggered breath into the world with finality.

Everything about it had scared him. It had haunted him since, playing on an endless loop in his mind. He had seen death countless times, taken lives without thought, but your death; it was different. The world itself seemed to stop the moment you did.

Perhaps it had hurt just as much as when he held Hiromi in his arms as she too passed. Perhaps it hurt even more. He did not know. He could not know. Not right now. Not when he was a mess. But it hardly mattered. Learning which hurt more will not lessen the pain of your loss.

Every minute since then, he had tried to hold it together, to bury the feelings that raged within him. But he couldn’t. Not when it came to you. No one could touch you. No one could see you, not like this. He would not degrade you to mortal eyes like this. Not ever. Not now. Only he could touch you. Only he could lay a finger on you. 

You had always been his. And now, in death, you still were.

He slipped into the room where your body lay, the room colder now, as if death itself lingered in the air. The sight of you—broken, unmoving—ripped something deep from within him. He, who was untouchable, who had always kept his distance from the frailty of human emotions, now felt as though he was drowning in them.

His breath hitched as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your skin. The coldness of your flesh pierced him in a way no blade ever could. His fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down to your lips, which had once smiled for him, spoken to him with warmth he could never understand.

And now, that warmth is gone.

There was nothing left.

There will be nothing of you here.

He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt. For someone who could destroy nations, who could command legions of cursed spirits, he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop you from slipping away. The reality of it gnawed at him, a suffocating weight pressing against his chest.

Gritting his teeth, he began the painful task of cleaning your body. You were suffering for a long time, suffering from the pain of this illness. He could see traces of it still, little by little. The grief he had caused you over and over again, the pain of loss, of humanity lost and lived. 

And yet, it was these hands, his own, that were allowed to touch you. His hands, which had only ever known violence, now moved with a delicacy he had never shown anyone. Each wipe of the cloth was slow, as though he feared hurting you more, though he knew it was impossible.

But still, he couldn’t help himself.

This was the last act he could perform for you.

This was all he could do now.

The silence in the room was oppressive. The only sound was his ragged breathing and the soft rustle of cloth against skin. As he cleaned the dirt away from your body, his vision blurred. He blinked, forcing it away, refusing to acknowledge the tears threatening to fall. He did not cry. Not Ryomen Sukuna. Not the King of Curses.

But for you, maybe he would have.

When he had finished, he reached for the clothes you had worn in life, the ones you had always favored. His hands trembled as he dressed you one last time. It was an intimate act, one that should have been comforting, but instead, it tore at him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to leave him like this.

His fingers lingered on the fabric as he tied the final knot of your sash. He stared down at you, his chest tight with an ache he couldn’t voice. It was too late now, too late to say the things he had left unspoken. The things he had buried beneath his pride, beneath the walls he had built around himself.

He had never told you he loved you.

Not in the way you needed to hear it.

Not in the way you deserved.

And now you are gone.

His hand hovered over your chest, fingers curling in the air as if reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t pull away. His heart was a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions he couldn’t name. Fury, anguish, bitterness, sorrow, guilt—none of it mattered now.

"I should have—" his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to continue. "Why did you leave?"

But what was the point now? The words were useless, empty. You wouldn’t hear them. You wouldn’t smile at him in that way that made him forget, just for a moment, what he was. You wouldn't be there to reassure him, to take care of his worries. You aren't here. So, what would be the point?

And yet....... he does not stop.

He could only continue on and on.

He didn't know he had so much words.

"I can’t….I can’t do this without you." he whispered once more, but the rest died on his lips. "I need you. I need you here, little one."

For all his strength, all his power, he had failed. Failed to protect you. Failed to keep you. Failed to let you live long and happy. Failed to tell you that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his cursed heart, you had mattered. More than anything.

Now, the King of Curses stood alone, staring down at the one person who had ever truly seen him. The only one who had remained by his side without question, with only but a smile. A smile kinder than what he had deserved. Beyond what he had done, beyond who he was — you had seen him more than Ryomen Hiromi had in these many years.

And as the silence of the room closed in around him, the weight of it all became unbearable. You weren’t supposed to die. You were supposed to live more years with him. You were…you were supposed to be as immortal as him.

He knelt by your side, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his voice nothing more than a breath. His words echoed ever so brokenly. He had nothing. He had nothing but emptiness. He had nothing but grief. He had nothing but regret. He had nothing, not even you.

"I'm sorry."

And Ryomen Sukuna, the most feared being in the world, was left with nothing but the emptiness of his grief—and the realization that, in the end, he had lost the one thing that truly mattered. The only one that mattered.

The room was unbearably still, the air thick with the weight of what had been lost. Sukuna remained kneeling beside you, his forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes closed tightly as though, by shutting out the world, he could deny the finality of it all.

But there was no escaping it. You were gone, and he was left with nothing but the void of his own silence. The silence of words he should have spoken, of a love he had never known how to show.

For what felt like hours, he stayed there, unmoving, as if the proximity of your body could somehow bring you back. He inhaled slowly, your scent still lingering faintly on your skin, but even that was fading. The fragility of it all clawed at him—how something so precious could be snatched away so cruelly.

Time passed in a blur. Minutes? Hours? He didn’t know. The world outside could have burned for all he cared.

Finally, when his body began to ache from kneeling so long, he pulled away, his expression hardened once again. The softness, the vulnerability he had shown, was fleeting. He had to bury it. You would never have wanted him to appear weak, not to the world outside. You always believed in his strength, even when he couldn’t see it in himself.

He stood slowly, his gaze still fixed on your face, as if committing every detail to memory. This would be the last time he would see you like this—unmoving, untouched by the world outside. His chest tightened with the thought of it, but he forced it down. He had to finish this.

With a final, lingering look, Ryomen Sukuna moved to prepare for the next step. He would be the one to take care of your final rites, and no one else. No hands but his own would touch you from now until the end. It was the only way he could honor you now, the only thing left that he could do.

He stepped outside the room for a moment, only long enough to speak with Uraume, who waited patiently beyond the door.

"Tell no one." Sukuna ordered, his voice low, commanding, but with an edge of something else; something raw and dangerous. Uraume, though unwavering in their loyalty, could sense the fracture in their master’s usually unshakable demeanor. They bowed their head in quiet understanding.

"Yes, my lord." Uraume replied, their voice soft. They made no further attempt to enter, to offer help. They knew better.

Sukuna closed the door behind him, sealing himself back inside the small room where you rested. He could feel the weight of Uraume's concern pressing at the edges of his consciousness, but he shut it out, retreating back into the solitude of his grief.

Returning to your side, he knelt once more, his hands moving with renewed purpose. He wrapped your body gently in fine silk clothes, his movements deliberate and precise. He had seen death many times before, but this—this was different.

This was personal. Every fold, every knot tied around you was an act of devotion, though he would never call it that. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't worthy of giving you devotion. A monster like him isn't allowed to love, to care. To give anything.

When it was done, he stood over you, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze locked on your peaceful, still form. For a long moment, he just stood there, the quiet pressing in around him.

"I should have told you." he murmured again, the words falling from his lips like a prayer to the dead. “I should have been….”

There was no response.

There never would be.

And for the first time in his long, cursed life, Ryomen Sukuna felt truly alone.

As the hours wore on, Sukuna knew it was time to take the final steps. He could not hold on to you forever. The world outside would demand answers, demand explanations, but none of it mattered. No one would understand what he had lost.

No one would understand what you meant to him, how in those fleeting moments between battle and bloodshed, you had given him a glimpse of something else—something more.

Something he could never have.

With a heavy breath, he bent down once more, gathering your wrapped body into his arms. His grip was firm but gentle, as though you were something fragile, more fragile than he had ever realized. He carried you as though you were a piece of his soul he couldn’t bear to lose, and perhaps, in a way, you were. You had been the one thing that made him feel like something more than a monster.

He carried you out, cradling you close, his expression a mask of cold fury that hid the pain roiling beneath. Outside, the sky was a dull gray, as though even the heavens mourned your loss.

He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the vast temple forest, the place where he had decided your final rest would be. It was a secluded area, far from prying eyes, far from the world that had taken you from him. The trees stood tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the breeze as if paying their respects.

He stood there for a moment, as he looked at the stone monument in front of you. He had found Chizuru. He had looked for him. A long long time ago. He did not want to tell you. He feared that your grief would grow worse.

He had wanted you to think that your son had survived. That he had grown up and become a man. That he had lived a life of adventure. That he had grown old and built a family. He could not let you see a corpse. He could not let you handle blaming yourself even more. Or even obssess over a corpse. He could not let you. Not even if it would give you peace.

But perhaps, you would forgive him. Perhaps you would give him your mercy. Perhaps when you haunt him again, you would come to him and tell him about your son. About your anguish that he had taken him from you. Perhaps you would find peace together. Pehraps both of you could come and visit him. Even once.

But he knew better than that.

You would be in heaven, resting.

And he would not want to hurt you even more.

He doesn't deserve your visit.

Still, he would like to think that you would find peace here. Right beside Chizuru for all of eternity. You would be happy here. This was the only wish he could grant you. This was the only thing he could gift you. This was the only way he could free you.

Carefully, he laid you down on the ground, the cool earth cradling you as he began to dig. His hands, which had known only destruction, now worked to create something. It was a resting place for the one person he had ever allowed close after all he had suffered.

He stood over the grave for a long time after it was done, his eyes hard, distant, as though he could still see you lying there beneath the soil.

The world outside would never know what you had been to him. But in this moment, standing alone beneath the weight of his grief, Ryomen Sukuna understood that, despite everything, you had been the one thing he had truly cherished after all he had suffered.

Even beyond his children, even beyond power. Even if you would never make it behind Hiromi, he had cared for you. He loved you, in ways he knew how. In ways he could never bring to earth, in ways he could never speak.

And now, you are gone.

As he turned to walk away, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest echo of a voice he would never hear again.

And Ryomen Sukuna, for the first time in centuries, felt the unbearable sting of regret.

══════════════════

IT WAS ODD TO BE IN THIS POSITION. Ryomen Sukuna had never sought help from anyone. But now, driven by a sense of purpose he couldn’t explain, he found himself standing before Kenjaku, the only person who might be able to grant him what he sought: rebirth. Not in the spiritual sense, but as a cursed object—a vessel for immortality, a means to return to the world he ruled once more.

Kenjaku's eyes glimmered with interest, a twisted smile forming as they gazed at Sukuna, sensing the weight behind his request. "You wish to be immortalized as a cursed object, Sukuna?" they asked, their voice smooth and intrigued. "To be reborn again in another age, another time."

Sukuna nodded, his expression hard and resolute. "I refuse to rot in the ground. I will return. That’s all that matters."

Kenjaku’s grin widened. "Very well. But tell me, Sukuna… What about her?" They tilted their head slightly, a glint of amusement in their eyes. "Would you want her soul found as well? Like Hiromi? Would you want her to be reborn… alongside you?"

The question pierced through him like a blade. For a moment, Sukuna’s impenetrable mask faltered, his mind snapping back to the past, to a moment when you had both spoken of rebirth.

The two of you had been lying beneath a vast, star-filled sky, the world still around you as the wind whispered through the trees. Vermillion Hall was beautiful in the spring, he liked to think. But you enjoyed it more than he does. Perhaps more than ever, now that you were counting your days to its last. 

Your head had been resting on his chest for a while, and though Sukuna had remained silent, you had spoken softly, your voice filled with a strange mix of melancholy and peace. He did not want to bother you. It was rare that you weren’t having any coughing spells. So, he lets the moment pass, lets you keep your strength.

"Rebirth." you had said, the word drifting into the night air. "It’s a nice idea, don’t you think? To start over, to be born again."

Sukuna had scoffed at the time, finding little use for such fantasies. "It’s pointless," he replied. "To be reborn, to go through it all again—life, death. It’s a cycle I’ve broken, and I have no desire to return to it."

But you had only smiled, so beautifully so. Your gaze soft as you looked up at the sky. "Maybe for you, my lord." you’d said gently. "But I think I’d want peace. After this life... no more suffering. No more pain. Just quiet. I wouldn’t want to return."

“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?”

You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile.

“We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go.”

“Little one—”

“Is immortality the life you want to live forever, my lord?” You asked him, tracing your fingers on his cheek. “Would you wish to live life waiting for life to be worth living for? Waiting for lady Hiromi, or for Chizuru or Chiharu….or for me to come along again?”

He does not speak for a moment.

You smiled at him, but this time, sadder than ever before. “I do not want that life for you, my lord. Nor for me. I want us both to be free.”

He had looked down at you, watching the way your eyes had reflected the stars, the softness in your expression as you spoke of peace. He hadn’t understood it then. He probably would not understand until he loses you.

But now, as he stood before Kenjaku, your words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain.

The silence stretched between them, Kenjaku waiting patiently for Sukuna’s answer, curiosity glinting in their eyes. Sukuna's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to form the words.

He could have said yes. He could have demanded that you be brought back with him, that your soul be dragged from wherever it had gone, forced to walk beside him in this new life. You had always belonged to him, hadn’t you? But as the memory of your soft voice returned to him, your wish for peace, for release from the suffering you had endured, something inside him shifted.

After everything, after all you had suffered because of him… he couldn’t do that to you.

"She’s suffered enough from me." Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost bitter. His eyes were hard, but beneath the surface was something else—something like regret. "Let her rest. She doesn't belong in this world anymore."

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the King of Curses. What a human answer, coming from such a demon of a man. But Kenjaku said nothing more, merely nodding in understanding.

Sukuna’s decision was final. He would be reborn, but you—you would have the peace you had always wanted. It was the least he could do. The only way he could honor you now, after everything that had passed between you.

And with that, the King of Curses sealed his fate, leaving you behind in the quiet you had sought, while he walked toward a future where he would live again, alone.

But he didn’t know that the gods had other plans.

He didn’t know that time was only waiting for its recourse.

He will see you again.

[tinylittlebab]

ill be skinny and dying and ill look beautiful and people will like me it has to happen or id rather die

whats the point of being lonely and in pain all the time and then having to get a job and hate doing that if i have no friends and hate myself. the one thing that keeps me wanting to live wont be good enough once u have to work and in that case id rather just die

:(

[gay-dorito-dust]

Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

[rafesangelita]

rafe + mean!reader orgasm control

warnings: friends with benefits, mean!reader, dark!reader, orgasm control, degradation (i promise rafe loves it <3), orgasm denial, fluff (just a lil)

a/n: this is so evil your req is perfect bb!!

“please, just let me touch you.” you smiled wickedly, shaking your head as rafe shuddered underneath your gaze. “let you touch me? no fucking way.” he swallowed thickly, your laugh echoing in his ears. “look at yourself.” you tugged on the roots of rafe’s hair, making him examine himself in the mirror. “this is the big bad rafe cameron that everyone is so scared of? how pathetic.” you whispered the last part in his ear.

your eyes traveled down his reflection, his cock rock hard. “what do you think people would say if they saw you like this? so needy and desperate while i still have all my clothes on?” he looked up at you as you stood between his thighs. “beg for it.” you giggled at the way his jaw clenched, running a nail underneath his chin. “please, ‘wanna make you feel good.” his hands rested on the back of your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

“yeah? it looked like you wanted to make that touron feel good, too.” at the mention of the girl he had on his lap all night long, rafe groaned, meeting your stare. “that was stupid of me, i-” you shushed him, rolling your eyes. “i don’t care who you do, ‘cameron, we have a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement, remember?” rafe blinked, watching as you slowly pushed him down on your bed. you were by far his favorite view, his heart skipping a beat when you started pulling down the straps of your dress.

“you look so good like this.” his chest rose and fell as you traced the ridges of his muscles. rafe thought he’d die if he couldn’t cup you through your bra, the swells of your breasts making him run his tongue across his bottom lip. without warning, you wrapped a hand around his length, a groan tumbling from his throat. “oh, fuck,” you gripped him at the base, leaning down to take his lips in your own. rafe kissed you like a man starved, physically restraining himself from flipping both of you over so he could have his way with you.

“you’re killing me, y/n.” his eyebrows knitted together, mouth falling open in a silent moan. you picked up your speed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “good.” he half laughed, the smile dropping from his face when you ran your thumb over the head of his cock. “i’m not going to last long.” rafe shook his head, groaning to himself. “already?” you teased, the man in front of you shooting daggers in your direction.

you felt his hips stutter, his jaw going slack as his head rolled to the side. knowing rafe was on the edge of finishing, you pulled away, his body writhing with need. “no, no, no, why did you stop?” he sat up, panting for air. the look on his face was priceless. dark eyes, swollen lips, you couldn’t deny the way he made butterflies flutter in your tummy. letting your dress fall to the ground, rafe didn’t care anymore, too sexually frustrated to allow you to keep up your cruel ministrations.

a yelp left your lips when he pulled you on top of him only to roll you over and pin you beneath him. “you’re cute just as you are stupid.” you cooed, hand finding his length once again. “you know what’s going to happen?” rafe hummed, his head falling on your shoulder. “i’m gonna get you right on the edge again, ‘wait until you’re about to blow your load before i kick you out.” he knew you meant every word, having not been the first time you do this.

“you’re cruel, you know that?” he huffed out, pecking your temple. you tried to keep the flutter of your heart at bay, ultimately betraying yourself when you met his gaze. “maybe. but that’s why you keep crawling back for more.. literally.” rafe shut his eyes momentarily, the strokes of your hand sending a shiver down his spine. “please, please, please.” you kept a steady pace, making him look you in the eyes as he neared pure euphoria.

“your pretty face isn’t making this any easier for me.” rafe said through gritted teeth, welcoming the kisses you trailed across his chest. he knew when he felt you smile against his skin, you were going to kill him with your next words. “go home, rafe.” you pushed him softly, moving out from underneath him and settling in the comfort of your sheets. he blinked, the tension in his abdomen melting away into nothing.

even though this was torture for him, he loved every second of it. you were the only girl that didn’t give him what he wanted, and for that reason he found himself absolutely hooked. rafe kept his eyes trained on you as he got dressed, admiring your features before he opened your bedroom door. “i’ll be by tomorrow..” you hummed, turning away from him. “of course you are.”

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not. 

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly. 

You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was. 

He was the best part about Las Almas. 

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A… 

What else? 

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost. 

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list. 

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing. 

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response. 

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all. 

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he? 

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!” 

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was. 

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease. 

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.” 

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?” 

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.  

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s. 

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look. 

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!” 

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?” 

 “Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.” 

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~” 

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

 “There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand. 

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it. 

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail. 

“She did get hit.” 

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.” 

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised. 

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.” 

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner. 

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man. 

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face. 

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw. 

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more. 

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine. 

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call. 

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!” 

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family. 

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?” 

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off. 

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–” 

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.”  “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade.  “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure.  What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear.  “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.”   Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!”  The lieutenant turned around.  “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.” 

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost? 

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did. 

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?” 

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon. 

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile. 

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back. 

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it. 

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life. 

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. 

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was. 

How fucking wrong he was. 

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’

Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him. 

Johnny : ‘Also’

Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’

His thumb paused right above the send key. 

Fuck. 

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind. 

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck. 

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that? 

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages. 

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon. 

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner. 

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet. 

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade. 

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now. 

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.” 

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start. 

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.

“I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer. 

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted. 

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below. 

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth. 

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath. 

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck. 

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap. 

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.” 

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?” 

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.” 

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!” 

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first. 

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade. 

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.” 

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.” 

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same. 

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too?  Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”. 

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

 "What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.  

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other. 

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him. 

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders. 

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one. 

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he. 

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more. 

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

 It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely. 

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly. 

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was. 

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes. 

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely. 

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her. 

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to. 

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed. 

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him. 

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard. 

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more. 

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands. 

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer. 

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?" 

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?" 

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?" 

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?" 

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost. 

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them. 

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own. 

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would  put on that mask again. 

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek. 

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted. 

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers. 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD. 

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder. 

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside. 

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot. 

It's too hot. 

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right? 

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again. 

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder. 

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy. 

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself, 

"Fuckin’ hell…" 

Jade didn't melt his cold heart. 

She set it on fire. 

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him. 

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it. 

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.

There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked. 

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

[thecordelialetters]

She's my Angel I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! Pt2 Pt3

WC: ~3,258 Warnings/Tags: Sexual Tension, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma, 18+

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

˚

The Apocalypse was over and Five Hargreaves did what he did best, drink and cope. The first few weeks of freedom he tried things he had missed early on in his childhood. It started when Viktor took him shopping for a new, more appropriate wardrobe, that someone who looked his age would wear. Then he would often visit the park just to admire the beauty of places that were once a baron landscape. And sometimes he just spent his time reading catching up on what he missed in the last few years.

But old habits die hard when you spend 54 years alone and the next 2 weeks desperate to save yourself and save your family. Maybe Klaus was right when he called the apocalypse his drug because, for a while, it was all he’d ever know.

Five hadn’t slept well in a long time and despite his newfound freedom without the looming feeling of impending doom. He would find himself waking up at 4 am to check his window and just to see if everything was real.

The Academy had been empty for a bit, the first week his family had stayed back to collect themselves, celebrate, and appreciate one another but slowly their lives fell back into place. Allison went back to Claire wanting to get back her career and her daughter back. Luther wanted to find his independence and took a small helping from his inheritance to live on his own. Diego and Lila had also moved out in hopes of continuing to grow their relationship and perhaps find happiness in normalcy. Viktor, now confident in himself wanting to explore the world more began traveling and meeting new people. To Five it felt like everyone had moved on, except him. He had been the one to jump through time, and now he felt like he was stuck in it.

However this morning, his silent coffee and breakfast time was interrupted but a surprisingly sober Klaus barging through the door with a girl no taller than 5’3 who looked as if she had been dragged through the mud and a forest in his arms.

“I didn’t know where to bring her she ran into me frantic and couldn’t speak much,”

“There wasn’t anyone chasing her so I have no idea where she came from and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Klaus looked panicked, he felt bad for the beat-up girl in his arms but what could he do besides bring her to the place he knew could help her best.

Grace and Pogo immediately took action, bringing the girl into the spare room to care for her wounds.

“What makes you think you can just bring random people in here? She could be dangerous?”

Five arched his eyebrow at Klaus’s behavior. He wasn’t a trusting man but he trusted his brother’s intuition and the girl genuinely looked like she needed help.

“I couldn’t just leave her on the road. I’m not a bad person Five. There’s something different about her I swear.”

Five looked distrustful at what his brother was saying.

“Well, we’ll just have to see when she wakes up.”

The two went back to doing their own things in the Academy waiting for you to wake up.

————————-3 days later————————

The sun shone brightly in the room you stayed at. Your eyes slowly opened, blinking harshly to adjust to the shining light. You had no idea where you were, this new place was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Warm wood furniture decorated the walls, and the mattress you slept on seemed more comfy, soft, and warmer than your old hay-filled cot. Unsurprisingly your wounds ached but were clean nevertheless. You jumped when the door swung open to reveal a monkey? no an ape? in a suit. "Ah you're finally awake, Ill let the others know"

"I am Pogo by the way, please rest, we don't want your stitches reopening." Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you listened to his words and laid back, staring at the large high ceilings waiting to see if whoever brought you here would be like your old doctors. Back downstairs Pogo noticed Five pacing around in the living room. "Any troubles worrying you?" "Yes that girl, I can't find any information about her, she had no ID, no name card, I even looked around the area trying to track back where she came from, and nothing." Five glanced around, more cautious of his surroundings

"What if the commission sent her?" "This is not good, not good at all"

And with a quick turn, he teleported to the room of which his unwelcome guest occupied. A flash of blue interrupted your daydreams when a boy about your age in a green flannel, cargo pants, with slightly long side parted hair entered your space. Besides appearing out of nowhere he looked almost normal, but that didn't stop you from being scared. Shivering you pushed yourself back on the bed as far as you could to try to get away from him. Sensing your fear Five held out his hands as a way to show you some form of peace. Lowering one hand he slowly approached you. But the closer he came the farther back you shuffled. Something wasn't right Five thought. You were terrified of him, what had happened to you to cause you to be in such a state.

Hey Im not going to hurt you, I don't know who you are but Im not going to hurt you." Five could see that you weren't budging so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hazelnut toffee-flavored candy. He wasn't a big fan of sweets but had kept some from his last visit to a local coffee shop. "Here you must be a little hungry, it's good to see." He popped it in his mouth to show her that it was safe, not a trick. Slowly you reached out and touched his hand, grabbing the little treat, unwrapping it before letting the gooey sweet melt on your tongue. Five smiled at your reaction. "See? It was good." He thought you looked adorable with big doe eyes waiting to see if he had any more. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out another handle full of candies. "Ill give you one each time you answer a question. Can you do that for me?" You nodded slowly. "Okay, can you tell me your name?" "Angel" you pointed to yourself "Five" you pointed to him. You had heard Klaus shouting his name when you entered the house. "Angel? Do you have a last time?" "Five. Five Hargreeves" He pointed to himself. "Angel" You repeated. Okay maybe you didn't have a last name that was fine, at least he had gotten a name. He gave you another candy and watched you excitedly open it. "Okay Angel, another question where did you come from? Who or what were you running from?" "Doctor" you responded looking down. "What Doctor? What did he do to you." You felt like you should have known better than to trust the boy in front of you, but he looked so earnest so sweet, that you decided to show him your secret. Opening your fist a ball of shadows appeared in your hand before you tossed it into the air letting whatever light was in the room dissipate. Five knew what this had suggested. Whoever took you, held you captive, and experimented on you. Perhaps they were trying to make you into one of the unlucky 43. Another candy was handed to you.

“Show me more” Five demanded. You blinked at him slowly before he put another candy in your hand. “Show me.”

You looked at him and brought both your hands up into the air. He watched shadows run from the ground into the room and swirl around you. It appeared you could summon shadows at your will and control them.

“Good girl” and another candy as placed in your hand. "Tell me, Angel, do you know where or who it was? Do you know the name of the commission?" You stared at him blankly not understanding what he said. Before Five could ask any more questions Klaus had burst through the door. "My Angel! You are okay !" As he rushed towards you to grab your face. Stunned you jolted back from his presence. "Angel, that's why she called herself that, it's not her name, it’s what you called her!" Five went to smack Klaus in the back of the head when his hand was stopped by a shadow. "No hurt, Klaus friend" With heart eyes, Klaus dove into Angel's arms "LOOK AT MY ANGEL PROTECTING ME!!" With the gentleness of a newborn deer, Angel reached out to Klaus with a small sweet in her hand. "Candy?" "For me? Of course, Angel thank you!" Rolling his eyes at the scene Five teleported to his room to think. Where had this girl come from she had no name could barely speak and had a dark power with unknown consequences. Angel clad in Umbrella Academy uniform, and Klaus were in the living room when a flash appeared in the doorway. "Cinco! Where are you off to?" "Library I need to do some research." But just before he would reach for the doorknob a body was flung into his back. "Here take Angel with you, she needs a new set of clothes, can't have her wearing this uniform, you know all about that wouldn't you?" Klaus said as he shoved Angel forward. "I don't have time, I'm not a babysitter." Five expressed as he grabbed your arms and pushed you back. "Five...mad?" You looked up at Five with tears in your eyes. Reaching out to his face with his hand you softly pet his cheek. "Five...happy. Happy"

The time travelers face softened at the kindness you showed while trying to console him.

“I’m sorry Angel, yes Five is happy. Come on let’s go.”

He grabbed your hand ignoring the feeling of his heart when your soft skin wrapped around his.

————————-In the Car—————————

“Alright Angel, as cute as you look in the uniform we have to get you some normal clothes.”

Five looked over at you, but you were looking out the window. His green eyes passed over the cuts on your legs and the faint but visible bruises on your neck. It wondered him how someone could do this to you, turn a girl who seemed like an Angel into a shadow user. He parked the car at Gimble's before flashing to your side of the door to open it, Five was still a gentleman after all. "Okay now Angel, we're here to buy you some new clothes." You nodded your head to show you understood him and hopped out of the car excited to see the world around you. Being locked up for so long you had forgotten what the outside world looked like. Today the sky was blue with warm gusts of winds filling the air. People and families were seen chattering about. You reached out to grab Five's arm and pulled him closer to the store. Five chucked at your childlike antics, letting himself be whisked away by you. You dragged him to the dress section; some of the kinder doctors had given you books to look at to pass the time, many of them being princess books. There were cute frilly dresses that caught your eye immediately. Rushing forward you grabbed 3 dresses that might have suited you. With a sigh Five grabbed your shoulders wanting to tell you to go find some more practical everyday clothes. But after seeing the glimmer in your eye as if you found the most priceless thing...he couldn't bear take that away from you. "Come on Princess, let's go try them on." He ushered you to the changing room and waited outside. As he turned his back you grabbed his hand, but Five had yanked it back at the unexpected contact. He wasn't completely used to physical touch yet.

Ignoring this you grabbed his hand once more and tried to take him into the dressing room with you. "No Angel I can't go with you, just put on the dresses inside and Ill wait out here."

You had refused to let go of his hand. With another sign he allowed himself to be pulled into the confined space of the changing room. You quickly shimmied out of the uniform skirt and tie throwing it into a random corner. Five's face turned a deep scarlet red, although he was an older man the sight of your small and barely clothes body was enough to make him shift in his pants. Before he could embarrass himself any further he blinked out into the waiting room fanning his face as if he ran a marathon. There were small warning signs in his brain, don't get too attached, she doesn't know better, please don't get a boner right now. Trying to collect himself he put his hands in his face wanting to be anywhere but here right now. You interrupted his train of thought when you came out bouncing with a big smile on your face. The dress you picked out was a cute white summer dress that was white had thick straps tied on your shoulders. The skirt part stopped right above your knees and flared out with a twirl. You looked absolutely adorable, an Angel who wielded the power of a devil. "You look...beautiful" Five muffled through his hand. "Beautiful?" You questioned. "Yes you, Angel, you are beautiful." And as if your smile couldn't get any bigger, you ran and jumped into Five, his arms slowly wrapping around your frame to prevent you from falling.

"Five! Beautiful!" You smiled and pointed at him. Your fingers had graced his cheeks into a smile. Pointing at his dimple "Five! Beautiful" you repeated. "Oh, you think I'm beautiful Angel?" Five couldn't help but also feel happy and continue smiling, something about you felt like a breath of fresh air. His last few weeks had been nonstop paranoia and feeling the effects of an identity crisis, but hearing your laughter and seeing you call him beautiful, it felt as if he was actually living again. However, that didn't stop the nagging fear in the back of his mind of where you came from and what had happened to you. Perhaps it was the assassin in him that just couldn't let him...enjoy a moment. "Come on Angel, let’s get the rest of the dresses and pay. We need to head to the library before it closes." You nodded your head and skipped off to grab the rest of your dresses and clothes. You and Five stood at the cashier waiting to pay. "That will be 45.78." Five pulled out a 50 and felt your head lean on his shoulder. "Five, thank you." You looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. As he was retrieving his change you leaned up and placed your soft lips on the corner of his mouth. "Five happy?" He looked down at you and blushed "Yes Five is very happy." ————————The Library—————————- You were sat in Five's lap flipping through a picture book while he was doing research. Unfortunately, there was almost no information about any kind of suspicious activities in the area where they had found you or even how you even got to the city. Five had to expand his research on places that might have to do with experimental tests but with so little access he was found himself at a dead end. "Nothing! Absolutely Nothing!" Five yelled before slamming his notebook on the table. You jumped in his lap and covered your ears, eyes filling with heavy teardrops waiting to fall. "Shit Angel Im sorry come here." He cooed wrapping his arms around you for the fourth time today. Five pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and inhaled slowly. You smelt like a blooming meadow and a hint of cinnamon. Closing his eyes he rested his head on yours. It wasn't been often when he felt a peace like this, heck he didn’t even remember the last time he felt calm, other than when he was drinking or passed out after a mission. Your eyelashes fluttered on his neck as you began to press small kisses on his jawline. "Come on Angel what are you doing?" "Make Five happy. Kiss you" You mumbled and continued leaving marks on his neck and jaw. Five clenched his fists around you "Angel if you keep this us I'm not going to be able to hold back." Five groaned as he pulled you closer into his lap. And with his last bit of resolve, he blinked you guys back into the car. "Come on Angel let's go home." He kissed your cheek slightly to assure you he wasn't mad and drove the two of you back. ————————the academy———————--- "Mi hermano and Angel ! You guys are back" Klaus shouted from the couch he was currently lying on. You ran into the living room jumping in front of Klaus to show off your dress.

"My cutie Angel! You look so pretty!"

Klaus then swept you off your feet and into a fit of giggles. Five, who had been observing the scene from the bar was actively trying to fight off the green monster that was creeping up his heart. "Leave her alone Klaus we had a long day. Come on Angel let's have your shower and get ready for bed." It was obvious you needed to be cared for and Five had already begun to assume the role. Pulling out some extra pajamas Five had in his wardrobe he handed them to you before showing you the bathroom. "Shower here and come back to my room when you are done okay?" You nodded back and went into the bathroom. With a sign Five flopped on his back in bed wondering more about you. How could someone he just met cause him to feel such a way? Maybe it was his messed up time-traveling brain that was causing these emotions but deep down he knew he had a hidden attraction to you. He began to think more about your powers. You couldn't be part of the 43 because you were too young but you also showed an understanding of your abilities and more control than Viktor did when he first found out about his. Five would have to talk to you after you shower about your abilities. Small footsteps padded outside his room before stopping. The door swung open and there you stood wrapped in only a small towel Grace had given you. Five green eyes turned wide as you skipped into his room.. You had turned to grab the pajamas he had left you on the bed and dropped your towel. Five sat up instantly, his eyes wandered over the curve of your breasts and the plumpness of your backside. Being in the apocalypse and focused on getting back home to his family never allowed him much time for romance or women, besides Delores. You stood up as bare as the day you were born, nipples perked up at the cold air and you put the silk top and bottom on. Now properly clothed you turned to Five who was staring at you with eyes that rivaled a burning sun. In a blink, he was in front of you grabbing your waist with such a force it felt like you would disappear if he let go. Bringing his lips to your neck he kissed gently and dragged his face to meet your eyes. Soft despreate lips met plump shy ones as you and Five melted into each other. The kiss grew hungry, more desperate, both parties missing the feel of one another. The two of you fell back onto the bed with Five on top of you. Two souls both isolated from the world finally finding solstice in one another. All the questions Five had for you were gone from his mind, the only thing replacing it was the thought of how your body felt against his. A small hand reached into the front of Five's pants. "I want to help Five" You had whispered into his ear. It was going to be a long night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Authors note : I kinda of wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night. I’d want to make this into a full series although and go really in depth about Angel who she is and how she got her powers and I defiantly want to bring back the rest of the Hargreaves but I'm not sure when Ill have another creative burst.

[girllblogging777]

𝑈𝑁𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (cousin’s best friend)

↳ word count : 0,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo riddle has never done feelings, but that was until draco’s french cousin transferred from beauxbatons

✩✩✩✩

you were “untouchable”. that’s what everyone thought. that’s what everyone said. the first word pronounced when someone mentioned you. the “mysterious french girl” the “exchange student from beauxbatons” and most of all “draco malfoy’s cousin”. you couldn’t go anywhere in this school without hearing those words. everyone knew better when it came to daring looking your way or crossing your path.

as mean and cold as he looked, your cousin draco had a habit of being quite overprotective when it came to you. since you had transferred to hogwarts a couple of months ago, you had never been seen without him and his friends. the slytherin boys all had quite the reputation in this school, and ever since draco had introduced you to them, you knew the other students would leave you alone.

however, the “untouchable” rule came to your cousin’s friends too. they knew better than that, and to be honest you didn’t care much. enzo was caring, blaise was loyal, theo was compassionate, but what you and them had was purely platonic. the only person to whom that rule didn’t apply was the one and only mattheo riddle. the captivating brunette had been draco’s ride or die since first year and unfortunately for you, that meant you had to spend a lot of time together. but for some reason, the boy always seemed to be avoiding you. it wasn’t obvious at first but you had started to notice it in the little things, like when he’d leave the great hall everytime you sat at their table or go for a cigarette break when you approached the boys at a party. “what did i do to make him hate me ?” you often thought. “he doesn’t even know me…”

you always ended up brushing it off by talking and joking with the other guys, who unlike mattheo, were always here for you. what you didn’t know was that the dark lord’s son didn’t hate you, he just hated what you made him feel. the way his heart fluttered when you were around was nothing but platonic, wich is why he always felt like bolting when you approached him.

but what could he do ? you were breathtakingly beautiful. hell, captivating even. the way your hair was always perfectly falling around your face like an angel. how you made the cutest sound when you laughed at his friends’ jokes. and that sweet accent of yours didn’t help. every word that rolled out of your tongue made him lose his mind. the minute you had walked inside the great hall back in september, he knew he was done for. “they weren’t lying when they said french people were attractive”. imagine what he felt when right after being sorted into slytherin, you ran into draco’s arms. did his best friend have a girlfriend ? how could he have missed that ? he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard “meet my cousin, y/n y/l/n”. and that’s when he realised the mess he was in.

mattheo riddle wasn’t known to be a romantic guy, he didn’t do feelings. the only times he was seen with girls were during drunk make out sessions at parties, or quickies in broom closets when he needed some relief. all his life, he had stayed away from love and its problems. the “untouchable” girl was the compete opposite. you were a hopeless romantic, saving yourself for the perfect romance you had read and dreamt about ever since you were little. and most of all, you were his best friend’s little cousin. he knew he should’ve stayed away from you, and he really tried.

but everything changed after that one time…

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a/n : this is my first time writing so please give me some feedback !!! also please like, comment and reblog, i’m taking requests (tell me if you wanna be tagged in my posts <3)

@pizzaapeteer @tateshifts @iris-qt @deadghosy @mattheosdior @sadnymi

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 2

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"why can't my parent just claim me? My human parent doesn't like me, and now you're telling me there's a chance my godly parent might not even care about me at all?" You huff kicking a rock while walking to the dining pavilion

Annabeth's eyes fill with sympathy "You never know, maybe they're just busy"

"busy my ass... I've heard that excuse so many times before" you sit down at the Hermes table, where all the unwanted children sit

"So (Name), are you going to be a year round student or just for the summer, because we're gonna need Mr.D to sign you in" Travis Stoll one of the head counselors says to you

You think about it for a while, you saw how other children treated each other like family, how there was a director who loves the children as his own, you could find your place here, it doesn't matter if you have parents, you could find your family, just as everyone else in this camp did

"I-" then you stop, you mind going back to the Manor, how you left the hallways burning, and now you're missing, are they worried? Do they want to find you? What if they think you set the house on fire? Would you even have a home to return to?

It's not like you were as loved as Jason who could just die and come back

This set your decision, you are never going back to that cold mansion, you are never going to sleep in a silent room, here, you could build a life for yourself

"I'd like to stay year round" you say

"well that settles it, I'll explain the rules to you later 'kay?" He says

The infamous Mr.D seemingly groaned, you're pretty sure you heard him mumbling "another fucking kid"

___________________

Two days have passed, you feel like the happiest kid on earth

Annabeth is doing this thing where she's trying to help you find your godly parent, you couldn't care less(or could you?), but listen-

Yesterday you just shot 25 consecutive bullseyes and you've never felt so amazing, everyone was clapping their hands and we're praising you, and everyone was saying you were a natural at farming, sword fighting was one you enjoyed, you know a thing or two about combat so you gained respect from the other campers

But even after all those achievements, no one came to claim you

Now you're trying blacksmithing, you loved all the things you did but... The weapons were kinda ugly, every sword in the weaponry looked the same, only special kids get customized swords, so you were kinda hoping to make your own custom weapons and stuff, I mean no parent is gonna give it to you

"Hello!" You smile at the busy forgers, they acknowledge and some nod and some smile back

____________________

Tim looks at CCTV cameras, his eyes wide and in disbelief

A random woman, who somehow broke into the Manor, with a flamethrower, burned a hallway down

He saw this kid, well his little sibling, but I don't think it's appropriate to call you that, you ran crying for help- well you weren't crying for help exactly but you were screaming, you were seen running for your life away from this madwoman

whom he'll safely assume is one of his father's ex lovers or some villain that decided to get back at him

The problem was you.

No sign of you at all

Batman had everyone patrolling, Bruce Wayne reported you missing, a prize reward given to the one who'll find you dead or alive (alive hopefully)

There was this image he couldn't get out of his mind

In the middle of trying to salvage what could be saved in that fire... He spotted a family picture, a picture where everyone was still visible- and only your face had been burned off

He tried to help with the search, thinking about where you could go, what you could do, but he couldn't

He didn't know how you acted or how you'd decide

He knew nothing about you, and so did the others, it was like you were already dead before it was even confirmed

Damian walked in the room "you're still here? Dad already got the JL to help with search, quit trying to show them up"

"I just don't get it, she ran to the garden, but she wasn't there- could there be other villains waiting in the garden and took her? I don't know-"

The demon spawn scoffed "Anyways dad wants you to send the CCTV footage to JL, they said they'll analyze it or something"

Tim was doubtful, it's not like anyone there could spot what he couldn't, he was very observant (of everyone but (name) apparently)

____________________

Sorry it took a long time for me to update 😞, it was pt week and I had a lot of projects

But I wonder who could possibly be (name)'s godly parent?and who could spot what Tim couldn't?

@bat1212 @jisnothere @erikasurfer @nathaly36