#quiet apocalypse is something we need more of

[voydist]

drafting the script now

i need a tv show/book/etc that’s post apocalyptic fiction but instead of war or plague or whatever dramatic shit , it’s just global warming accelerating the growth of kudzu to where it completely swallows half of america so everyone is trying to get by while climbing through their choked out ghost towns that look like a lush jungle now. the government has fallen apart so every one is just lawless and fending for themselves. most people with the means to do it have fled to the west where it can’t grow but the few people who have stayed in the abandoned eastern side of america are just going batshit crazy on each other. preferably it’d be set in the south or in appalachia. i need more quiet apocalypse media, where are the survivors in the middle of nowhere living out their little scavenger lives. everyone starts living off the kudzu berry jam.

[raekensluver]

a slytherin secret

description: you and theodore nott have been best friends since childhood, but this is the moment your friendship changes.

pairing: childhood bsf!theodore nott x fem!reader

contains: fluff!, childhood best friends to lovers

song rec: apocalypse by cigarettes after sex- "sharing all your secrets with each other since you were kids"

w.c: 1k

an: you have to use your imagination a little bit to pretend that wingardium leviosa isn't taught in the first year...

"come on, theo," you urged, nudging him with your elbow. "you can't just skip over the charms homework again. professor flitwick will have our heads on a platter if we're not prepared for tomorrow."

theo looked up from the quidditch magazine spread open in his lap, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "oh, come on. you know i've got the quidditch game to worry about. besides, it's just a simple levitation charm. how hard can it be?"

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. theo had always been like this—a bit of a procrastinator when it came to schoolwork, but you knew he'd pull through when it really mattered. plus, his charm and natural athleticism had earned him a spot on the slytherin team for the past three years, so maybe he had a point.

"alright, alright," he conceded, tossing the magazine aside and grabbing his wand. "but only because you're my favorite."

you felt your cheeks warm at the compliment and hoped the flickering firelight was enough to hide your blush. theo had always had a way of making you feel special, even amidst the competitive slytherin environment. you focused on the parchment in front of you, reading the incantation for the levitation charm. "wingardium leviosa," you murmured, watching the quill hover slightly in the air.

theo mirrored your actions, his own quill rising slightly before dropping back down to the table with a soft thud. he frowned, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "it's not working," he muttered.

you couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at his failure. "remember, it's all in the wrist," you said, demonstrating the flick again. "wingardium leviosa."

theo took a deep breath and tried once more. this time, his quill shot straight up, knocking over his inkwell and spilling a cascade of black ink across the table. "merlin!" he exclaimed, the two of you jumping up as the ink began to spread.

you couldn't hold in your laughter any longer. it bubbled up from your chest, filling the quiet common room with its warmth. theo looked at you, his own smile growing as he took in your amusement. "see? this is why i need you," he said, teasingly wiping an ink smudge from your cheek.

the moment hung between you, his hand lingering on your face, and something shifted in the air. the laughter died down, leaving only the crackling of the fireplace and the distant murmur of students passing in the corridor. you met his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it had stopped spinning.

theo's hand dropped to his side, and he took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "you know," he began, his voice low and earnest, "i've never been able to do this without you."

you blinked, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. "do what?"

theo took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "anything. quidditch, homework, even breathing. ever since we were kids, you've been there for me."

your heart raced as you realized what he was getting at. the unspoken truth that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface of your friendship. you had felt it too, but never had the courage to say it out loud.

"theo," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

he stepped closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "i know we're slytherins, and we're not supposed to be all…mushy," he said, his voice filled with a nervous laugh, "but i can't ignore it anymore. you mean everything to me."

you felt your heart pound in your chest as the weight of his words settled over you. theo had always been the braver one, the one who took risks and lived life without fear. but here he was, vulnerable and open, confessing feelings you had both danced around for years.

taking a deep breath, you reached out and took his hand, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through your body. "theo," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions churning inside you, "i feel the same way."

the tension between you two snapped like a tightly stretched bowstring, and suddenly he was there, his arms around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to hold onto something precious that might slip away. you melted into his embrace, feeling his heart thud against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

for a moment, you just stood there, holding each other, the warmth of the fireplace at your backs, the ink slowly seeping into the parchment forgotten. it was as if the whole world had melted away, leaving only the two of you in the cozy cocoon of the Slytherin common room.

"you do?" theo's voice was muffled against your hair, but the hope in it was unmistakable.

you nodded, smiling. "yes, theo. i do."

theo pulled back, his eyes searching yours with a newfound intensity. you could see the disbelief slowly morph into joy, and before you had the chance to say another word, his lips were on yours. it was a gentle kiss, full of wonder and tenderness, as if he was afraid you might vanish if he pressed too hard.

your arms wrapped around his neck, and you kissed him back, feeling the years of unspoken longing coil around you like a warm embrace. the air grew thick with the promise of something more, something you had both been too afraid to acknowledge.

the common room was a blur of shadows and firelight as you deepened the kiss, your hearts beating in sync. theo's hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase any distance that had ever existed between you.

breathless, you pulled away, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. but all you saw was the same unbridled happiness reflecting in the emerald depths that had been by your side through every victory and defeat, every secret and shared smile.

edited 8.20.24

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

☆ Enjoy! ☆

Red Hood

He Comes Home

Safe

Let Him Be Worthy

Set In Place

Honest Words

It Only Takes One

Something That Used to Be

Unsteady

Pre-established Relationship

Between Heartbeats

To Wait and To Love

Promises

Jason Todd

Gentle Touches

Outlier

Whispers of Him

Longing

Putrid and Foul

Ever Since We Met

If He Could

A Specter

Being in Love

Where Home Is

Pre-established Relationship

Quiet Mornings

Jealousy | 3 x 1

To Look After You

The Birthday Blurb

Skin to Skin

Cookie Sheets

Trinkets

Overly Attached (and in love) | Clingy!Jason

There are Highs and there are Lows

Priority One

Crawl Into Place

Happy New Year

Familiar Touches

A Warm Touch

Late Night Desserts

Best Friend Blurbs

Pining

Stick Around

Kitchen Dances | Places We Dance

Just Friends | 3 X 1

More to it

Multi-Part Works/Collections

The Breakup Series

900 Event

AUs

His Name | A Soulmate!AU

Instinct | BeastWorld!AU

Strings of Fate | Ties That Bind | A Soulmate!AU

The Death Stench | Zombie Apocalypse

Blood Bag | In a Moonlit Garden | DC vs Vampires AU

Claws and Curses | Werewolf!Jason

Headcanons

Gamer!Reader

Anxious!Reader

Reader Has Surgery

Some Dating Thoughts

Random Headcanons

Jason and Kisses

Domestic!Jason and AK

Road Trip Headcanons

Drabbles

Jason Knows a Lot of Languages

There's Nothing He Wouldn't Do

Jason and Embarrassing Moments

His Head in Your Lap

Arkham Knight

Need

Things Unspoken

Guilty Hearts

Desperation

The Blood In Your Veins

Abducted

Matters of Fact

Guardian Angel | Devout

The Facade of You

"I Want to be Good"

To Have (and To Hold)

Multi-Part Works

A Gilded Cage

Red Hood (Arkhamverse)

Fear

Past the Cemetery Gates

Bruce Wayne

Oaths

Dick Grayson

I Know How to Fall (So Teach Me to Fly)

[starkwlkr]

“he’s here!” | logan howlett

an: this is inspired by the scene in x-men 97 where jean tells logan “he’s here!” because she’s in labor and logan’s all like “who? apocalypse?” and whips out his claws expecting to fight and jean just yells at him “the baby!” omg my favorite scene lol

mutant!reader (telekinesis baby!!!!)

It was a quiet normal day in the mansion. Rogue was helping you set up the finishing touches to the baby’s nursery. With a wave of your hand, you assembled the last shelf where Rogue placed a the ultrasound pictures.

“So you still don’t have a name for the baby?” Rogue asked. Every day it was the same question, all she wanted was to know the name. It was a secret for everyone.

“We do, Rogue, we just agreed to reveal it after the birth. You’ll find out soon, everyone will.” You said, walking towards the door of the nursery. You took one last look at the room and sighed. In a few days, your son would be sleeping in that same room.

“Oh! I forgot to show you something! Bobby and I went to the mall the other day and I found the cutest outfit for the baby. I’ll go get it.” Rogue said excitedly. She rushed out the nursery towards her room.

“I’ll be in the kitchen!” You called out. Being pregnant was exhausting. At the moment, you were craving fruit so you walked slowly to the kitchen. Everything was hurting lately, but you didn’t think much of it. You still had a week left until your baby boy was born.

When you finally made it to the kitchen, you found Logan drinking a beer that he had snuck in. “I thought I told you to stay in bed.” Logan stood up from his chair and walked over to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sick of staying in bed all day. I needed to move. Rogue was helping me finish up the nursery,��� As soon as you said nursery, he was about to start scolding you. “I barely lifted a finger! She was moving everything, I just told her what to do.” You half lied.

“Sure, if that helps you sleep at night, baby.” Logan chucked.

You playfully hit his arm then walked to the refrigerator in search of a container of fruit that Logan had cut up for you. You found it with a note attached that said ‘baby howlett’s mom’. You smiled at the note. As you pulled it out of the refrigerator, you felt a sharp pain. It caused you to let go of the container, the contents of it spilling everywhere on the kitchen floor.

Logan rushed over to you quickly. “What’s wrong? Where is it hurting?”

“Logan . . .” You groaned. “He’s here!”

Immediately Logan’s claws came out. “Who? Magneto?” He looked around the kitchen frantically in search of the possible threat. “Stryker? Show yourself, you son of a bitch!” He yelled.

You couldn’t believe it. Did he suddenly forget you were pregnant? Maybe it was the beer finally getting to him. . .

You groaned once more as the pain struck again. “The baby!” You screamed. You waved your hand, his jacket and keys were thrown at him.

Logan’s eyes widened when he heard those words. He was about to become a father. “Oh crap.”

“Take me to the hospital, you asshole!”

After quickly finishing his beer in one sip, he helped you down the stairs. You couldn’t stand the pain. Each time you felt pain, objects around you would break. As you were walking towards the main entrance, you passed by a coffee table with a vase on it.

“Ah! Fuck!” You winced as a contraction hit you hard. The vase exploded as a result. “Shit!”

“It’s okay, Charles hated that vase anyways!” Logan assured you. In reality, the vase was a gift that was in his family for years. Maybe Charles wouldn’t notice.

“Logan!” The couple heard Rogue yell out. “I’m coming with you!”

Before Logan could protest, you scream once more causing several objects in the living room to break like tables and chairs. Even the TV screen had exploded. You didn’t mean to do that.

“Just help me get her into the car.” Logan instructed Rogue, who quickly ran to your side and helped you down the steps of the mansion.

“I really really hate you right now.” You said to Logan.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

[jweekgoji]

Yandere!Five/Reader (platonic/headcanons)

the story contains: spoilers for season 4 (+ some changes in plot), yandere!five(-s), strictly platonic, five here is in his 20s (physically) and in his late 60s (mentally), overprotective old man five, soft yan!Five, OOC cuz it's yanderes 🤷

I really like to imagine Five being overprotective over someone young and still full of joy. You can be either a kid of one of his siblings, or just a random child he found during his time in The Commission. It wouldn't be that far away from reality, The Handler took little Lila and trained her to do the dirty job, no one would be surprised if that creepy woman ends up kidnapping another child born on October 1st for herself.

Either way, Five is a good familial figure. We all saw how he acts towards little Grace, making small cheering comments from time to time to his niece when she is enjoying her birthday party. I expect him to be much softer if it's someone who is always close to him and constantly tags along with Five. Let's say, he knows you enough to let you go with him at the end of Season 3, since all of his siblings left, he basically has no other choice but to be the only one who has to protect you.

At first, he might get a little irritated because of it. It's not because he finds you annoying or hates being around kids. The problem is, he is not a social person himself. He never had a proper childhood because he spent 45 years stuck in the apocalypse. Then his time in The Commission, stuck with people either invading his personal space, or always staring at him due to him being him. The man got no time for a good rest. He also got no experience in how he should take care of a kid.

Despite a good bag of problems on his back, like the fact that he is still considered a child himself because of his appearance, no job, no money, no place to stay, he somehow gets everything you need. It would probably cost him a lot of pride to sacrifice, people constantly saying «Aww, are you looking after your little sibling at such age? Where are your parents?» makes him want to say something snarky, but he would bite his tongue, since he doesn't want people to ask more questions. He is used to doing everything on his own, dealing with every trouble by no one but himself because it's how he got things done for ages. Not so surprising, Five is pretty good at it.

When he gets his job as a CIA agent, he does not get so much time to be with you, he's more busy even though he is «the one of the professional young agents», trying to investigate more and more. But I believe that he would absolutely think about you during his work, he would go nonchalantly in his mind «Should I buy them the cereal with that dumb colourful toy inside? No, that stuff has too much sugar for someone their age—», which is pretty ironic since Five has a little sweet tooth himself, knowing his famous toasts with peanut butter and marshmallows. He doesn't give you a chance to eat that stuff too much anyways, because he believes « You'll get to eat those when you grow older», while you probably pout and tug on his clothes, trying to make him share with you this tasty sweet thing with tons of deadly sugar! He will give up after a good 15 minutes of you jumping around, being noisy and whiney, so he would roll his eyes and give you like less than 1/3 of the toast, saying 'here is your half, happy now?🙄'. At least he managed to keep you quiet for some time, while he can focus on some little time of his rest.

Five wants you to be independent just like him. Mainly because he doesn't want to think about potential scenarios where you are without him, all defenseless and have no idea what to do. He will teach you everything, how to protect yourself, how to use the oven, who you should call immediately if something happens (he will probably write a phone number with a marker on your wrist, since kids tend to be forgetful and easily distracted and he does NOT take such a risk).

But Five would never push or press on you, he doesn't want to make another child assassin with childhood trauma, think of it as a grandfather taking you to the lake to teach you how to fish. He is constantly near your side, guiding gently but firmly, to you it's mostly about having fun but also learning new things. Five will praise you, give you some advice and will pet your head if you do something right. I do believe he is overprotective, that he doesn't want to even let you near anything dangerous, but he's also paranoid that if another apocalypse comes back, you should be able to survive.

When Five gets his powers back and reunites with his siblings, you will always be with him. Of course I can imagine him having a nanny to call so you would be away from all his family stuff and there is someone whom he can trust enough, but...he might trust himself more than anyone else (but also it's more interesting for the story than you being somewhere away from all the fun lol). When weird things start to happen, Five is looking for anyone even slightly suspicious. Why is this Elf Guy looking at him? Is that guy looking at YOU ? Stop looking at his kid!

Thankfully for him, you weren't around when Lila and Five stuck in that subway. But instead of spending years here, giving up on the idea of coming back home, that would never happen. Because come on, it's Five. He would never give up on coming back to his family and you, someone he also considers as a part of his family. Maybe they're not ideal, they might hate each other, sometimes even annoy him, but he would never allow himself at least a single minute of proper rest since he believes that his only priority is to come back to people he cares about.

The moment he finds the notes on how to come back, he will do it in an instant. When he sees his family safe - he is happy, even though he would hide his inner feelings. You're a little confused when he just hugs you tightly to his chest all of the sudden, sighing in relief the moment he realizes you're with him. Still the same little you, not a single change in your appearance. « Something happened?» you ask softly, carefully placing your arms around him. for some reason, it feels weird. he was never a person who could hug you just because he feels like it. the only time he might give you that it's only if you initiate it, needing comfort because you were afraid of storm or just woke up from the nightmare. « No, no, just stay like that for a little bit,» Five whispers, trying to calm his racing heart. he's thankful that this body at least can take all the stress he constantly experiences in his life. you are probably surprised and confused but he doesn't care about it now. he just came back to you after years of being apart. at least for him it was, for you — a few hours. Despite how unusual it makes you feel, you don't question it, you will give him all the comfort he deserves after whatever he went through.

A good happy ending we deserve would probably be Five (accidentally) taking you to this buffet full of his other versions. You're probably so shy and awkward to see all of them, so you stick closer to him, holding his hand. Five is a little more protective too, he doesn't trust his other selves as we know. I can imagine a little you being so scared to even make a single move, because the moment you look away, you might get lost! Is that your Five? Or is it the one who's near the other table? Why is that Five drunk? When did he find the apron?? But all of them are very nice to you. Five who works as a waiter would gladly help you to find your guardian and maybe he'll spoil you with food they serve here— Your Five is definitely not happy with how much attention you gain from.. other versions of him, but he knows that they all care the same of you.

[thedevilspearl]

asking them stupid questions — all brothers

a/n: having a hard time writing smut atm so here’s some silly headcanons with the brothers. i was really tired when i proofread this so there may be some mistakes.

tags: 2k words, no gender specified, reader x lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub + belphegor. (belphie’s is a little suggestive).

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

lucifer has had enough.

it’s been a long day and he wished for a quiet night in his office to relax with some tea while overlooking the bills his brothers have riled up.

but he’s quite distracted tonight.

peace and quiet is not an option. especially with you loitering, floating around his office and touching all the trinkets and décor. you’ve never shown interest in them before, but tonight, all of a sudden lucifer’s office is the most inviting place in the world.

“mc?”

“yes, honey?”

“is something the matter.”

there is a painstakingly long silence before you answer. “….no.”

letting out a little sigh, he asks, “are you quite sure?”

you hum with a subtle nod, barely looking him in the eye and he is now certain something is wrong.

“mc, please. if you aren’t feeling well, you can tell me about it. you don’t need to make this difficu—”

“would you still love me if i was a worm?”

“what?” lucifer’s voice croaks.

“it’s just that i felt sad thinking about how you might not love me anymore if one day i turned into a worm and couldn’t turn back into me.”

“mc, in what world would you ever turn into a worm?”

“most likely this one. remember that time mammon accidentally turned me into a sheep in spells class? i was cute as a sheep, so it was okay. but as a worm, i’d be small and slimy and gross. i’d be unloveable.”

“that is enough,” he rises from his chair, speaking with command but still gentle enough to not upset you further. “you shouldn’t think of such things. it is so silly of you to think i would ever stop loving you.”

“luci….”

“if i must spell it out for you, then yes. i would still love you if you were a worm and i would carry you everywhere with me to ensure you’re never lost or hurt. i would need something small and protective to carry you in, but yes. i will always love you.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

“if there was a zombie apocalypse and i was bitten, what would you do?”

“hah?!” mammon’s face contorts at your random question. “what are ya talking about?”

“i’ve been thinking about that movie we watched….the zombie one. and just wondered what it would be like.”

“gave up on surviving already, did ya?” he chuckles, collapsing onto his bed beside you, his hand resting on your waist.

“no, but i wanna know! what would you do if i turned into a zombie?”

“well….what are the options?” his smirk earns him a playful smack on the chest. “hey! i’m serious. i’ll be so sad that i won’t be able to think straight, so ya need to give me some options.”

“fine,” you pout, scratching your brain for solutions. “i suppose the most humane thing to do would be to kill me. you know, to make sure i’m not forced to live as a mindless zombie eating other humans.”

“okay….”

“or you could tie me up, maybe chain me, and keep me alive by feeding me living people.”

“why would i keep ya around if you’re gonna stink like a rotting corpse?”

while mammon laughs, your brows furrow with annoyance, mostly feigned but there’s a small sense of hurt in there when you think about mammon not wanting to keep you after you turn into a zombie, despite it being completely logical and reasonable.

“hey,” his voice is soft as he leans over and kisses your cheek, “don’t worry. i’d handcuff us together and let you bite me. then we can be zombies together and never be separated.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍

movie night always means one thing, and that’s you and levi curling up with tangled limbs and a hoard of cushions and blankets. a joint blanket burrito with little space between you but that’s a good thing.

the closeness makes it cosier.

tonight, you opted for a more emotional movie. a romance, but romances are always emotional for both of you. that’s why you try your best to stay away from the romantic movies and stick to action packed fantasies or sci-fi’s that are the furthest thing from romance.

but there was a new and popular movie making the headlines and levi couldn’t wait to watch it. you knew watching it was a lost hope, and now you’re sobbing in levi’s arms watching the struggles the love interests are going through to get to each other.

“i’m so glad it wasn’t that difficult for us to be together,” you sniffle, feeling a wave of gratitude take over. “i love you, levi.”

“i love you, too,” his voice trembles and he quietly wipes his own tears.

“hey, levi?”

“what is it?”

“can i wipe my nose on you?”

“what? no!”

too late. you buried your head into his chest, wiping your face clean and covering his favourite shirt in snot.

“gross!”

“i’m sorry. i wanted to get a tissue but they’re too far away. i didn’t want to leave the burrito.”

“it’s fine,” he grumbles, begrudgingly patting you on the head to tell you it’s okay despite ruining his shirt. “let’s finish the movie.”

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

“would you still love me if i told you the truth?”

satan tries to hide his piqued interest, like he usually does. he likes to come off as the too–cool–to–show–i–care kind of guy but the truth is, he is more invested in this truth than anything else.

he nonchalantly turns the page of his book and with a swipe of his tongue over his lips, he asks, “what truth?”

“that i’m really a lizard.”

well, he wasn’t expecting that.

he watches you intently over the pages of his book. you stop pacing around the library and make your way to him, showing no expression on your face. usually, he would be quite good at reading your face but in all honesty, he can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“a lizard?”

you nod. “a lizard.”

“you don’t look like a lizard.”

“that’s because i’m a lizard pretending to be a human.”

“a what now?” he shuts his book, sitting upright from his laid position. he tried his hardest not to give in to your silly but mysterious notion but he is far more interested in your explanation.

“you know about the lizard people, right?”

“i do not.”

“so i just exposed myself for nothing?”

“what in the devildom are you talking about?”

“it doesn’t matter. forget i said anything. if anyone finds out i told you, i could get killed.”

“please tell me that isn’t true.”

silence.

you refuse to even look him in the eye. surely, you are joking. there’s no way you’re really a lizard, let alone it be possible for lizards to be secretly living inside of humans. what kind of conspiracy would that be?

it’s unimaginable, even for demons. but whether the lizard thing is true or he’s falling for a joke, you still need an answer to your question.

“yes,” he pulls you into his side. “i would still love you if you were really a lizard.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

“asmo,” you sing the demon of lust’s name, catching the attention that he would devote to you at any given moment. “can i ask you something?”

“go ahead, my dearest. fire away.”

he winks, hoping it would be something on the more flirtatious side, but instead you fill his mind with a grotesque image.

“what would you do if you could never touch me again?”

he immediately smothers you with a hug. “what are you talking about?! of course, that would never happen!”

“but what if?” you snuggle into him further. “what if you could never touch me?”

he hums, thinking of any solution to be able to touch you again.

“i’d cry,” he says simply. “i’d cry a lot.”

“aww,” you pout. “i don’t want you to cry.”

“and i don’t want to imagine a world where i can’t hold you like this,” he kisses your lips, “where i can’t kiss you like this,” he lifts up your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, “where i can’t hold your hand like this.”

“asmo….”

“i don’t know what would ever cause me to never be able to touch you again, but it would be the end of my world if it came true. i don’t know if i’d be able to live.”

“you’d still be able to see me and speak to me.”

“but not being able to touch you when i see you and hear you is the most painful torture imaginable. but you know what that means, right?”

“what does it mean?” you squeal and his hands tickle your sides.

“it means i need to do all the touching i can now to make up for it!”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

“hey, beel?”

“yeah?”

your quiet voices fill the dark path home from rad. beel always walks you home; be it in comfortable silence or deep conversations, you don’t imagine walking home any other way.

and the quiet air of the evening provides the perfect chance to ask him a question you’ve been waiting to ask all day.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“if i had five million cheeseburgers and you could only eat them if you slapped me in the face, what wou—”

“i’d slap you in the face.”

“i didn’t even finish my question.” you yelp, brows furrowing in frustration.

“you don’t need to finish it. i’d do anything to eat that many cheeseburgers.”

your feet plant in the ground and beel doesn’t stop walking until your hand which holds his pulls him back.

“are you serious?”

“uhmm….i think so?”

you’re grateful for the fact that he’s rethinking his answer but it was a shock to hear him say he’d slap you so firmly in the beginning. it was a stupid question to ask in the first place, but you never imagined beel ever wanting to hurt you.

he tugs on your hand and you continue walking with him, picking up the pace to get home.

“mc….” he asks. “did i say something wrong?”

his obliviousness to his own words is a harder slap in the face than the slap he promised those five million burgers.

“you said you’d slap me, beel, and it makes me sad.”

“hm….we can go halfsies on the burgers?”

“huh?”

“i’ll slap you and then we can share the burgers.” he promises. “you’d feel bad because i slapped you. and i’d feel bad because i slapped you. so to make it better for both of us, we can split the cheeseburgers.”

you look at him, astounded because you don’t know if his explanation makes his answer better or worse.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

a cuddling session in the attic with belphegor is exactly what you needed after a long, draining day. you naturally made your way up to him as soon as you had some free time, desperate for his warmth.

but belphie had a different warmth in mind with all the kisses he litters up and down your neck.

“belphie, i’m tired.” you whine, but still urge him on to kiss you harder.

“then close your eyes. i’ll kiss you until you fall asleep.”

your heart swarms with the thrill of his words, the promise of being here and showering you with affection even on your worst days.

“is something wrong?” he asks.

“no. why?”

“you’re not falling asleep.”

“that’s because you’re kisses are keeping me awake.”

“they’re meant to help you fall asleep.”

“i hate to break it to you belphie, but they’re having the opposite effect.” you tease.

“is that so?” he nibbles you ear. “what about this?”

you arch into his body, sensitive from his kisses and now the more urgent movements of his lips ignite a fire in your belly. his lips graze you, teeth nip you and tongue swipe over your skin. he sucks hard enough to leave bruises, and kisses softly on every mark he leaves.

“belphie….” the soft whisper of his name catches his attention. “how many ghosts do you think are watching us right now?”

he ceases for a moment, then lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “what?”

“what if there’s ghosts watching us right now? and what if they keep watching us while we….you know….?”

“i never thought of that before.”

“it’s weird, right?”

“definitely. let’s never have sex again.”

[solaceseven]

Ashes of Tomorrow Pt. 2

↳ summary: in a world overrun by the infected, survival is brutal and trust is rare. when a lone survivor joins sukuna’s guarded group, tensions flare, and bonds form in the shadow of constant danger.

→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna x fem!reader

→ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

→ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: graphic injuries, violent confrontations, emotional trauma, loss of loved ones, mature themes, and anything you would expect in an apocalypse au. unprotected sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk.

→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20k+

→ a/n: here is part two! i hope everyone enjoys it. this was my first time writing smut, so I really hope it turned out well. part one.

The stars shimmered faintly above as you lay beside Sukuna, your body finally starting to relax in the rare moment of peace. His warmth was a subtle presence beside you, grounding and oddly comforting. The faint hum of his breathing, steady and unchanging, added to the sense of safety you hadn’t felt in months.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. The exhaustion crept up on you, your eyelids growing heavy as the stillness lulled you into quiet surrender. The last thing you remembered was Sukuna’s voice, low and steady, murmuring something you couldn’t quite make out as sleep overtook you.

When you stirred again, it was the sensation of movement that pulled you from your light slumber. You blinked groggily, your mind hazy, and realized you were no longer on the roof. The world tilted slightly, your body cradled in strong arms. Each step was deliberate and measured, steady in a way that made you feel oddly secure.

You glanced upward, your head lolling against a broad chest, and caught sight of Sukuna’s face. His expression was softer than you’d ever seen it, his brows drawn together in quiet concentration as he navigated the stairs.

“I can walk,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

“Sure you can,” he said, his tone dry but without its usual sharpness. “You were about to roll off the roof. You’re lucky I was paying attention.”

Your brows furrowed faintly, though the effort was weak, and you pressed a hand against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to push away. He didn’t budge, his hold steady and resolute. “I wasn’t gonna fall.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” he muttered, his gaze fixed ahead. But there was no venom in his words, only a quiet exasperation that made your cheeks warm.

You let your hand fall, your head resting back against him as you surrendered to the warmth of his hold. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you can actually sleep,” he replied curtly.

The words barely registered as your mind drifted in and out of awareness, but when the cool air of the hallway gave way to the relative warmth of a room, a sliver of confusion stirred in you. This wasn’t where you usually slept.

Sukuna nudged the door open with his shoulder, stepping inside and making his way to the bed in the corner. He eased you down onto the mattress with surprising care, adjusting the blanket over your body before stepping back.

“This isn’t my bed,” you mumbled, your voice sluggish with sleep.

“No, it’s not,” he said, his tone even. “But it’s closer, and you need rest more than anyone else in this place right now.”

You blinked up at him, the dim lighting softening the hard lines of his face. In the quiet, with no one else around, he looked almost gentle. The thought made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“What about you?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“I’ll figure it out,” he replied, brushing you off with a slight shrug.

As your eyelids grew heavy again, the faint sound of him moving around the room reached your ears. A rustling noise followed, the unmistakable sound of a blanket being spread out across the floor. You didn’t have the energy to open your eyes, but the realization settled over you like a comforting weight—he wasn’t leaving.

Before sleep fully claimed you, you heard his voice, low and gruff. “Go to sleep, idiot. You’re safe.”

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a second blanket. Whatever walls Sukuna kept between himself and the world, tonight they felt just a little thinner. And as you drifted off, you knew he’d be there, watching over you, just as he always seemed to.

You woke up to a strange warmth. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you took in your surroundings—a dimly lit room that bore the wear of the apocalypse. A beat-up dresser sat against the wall, its surface scratched and scarred with age, though it held a few weathered photo frames propped carefully on top. A single chair rested near the window, its wood chipped and worn. Weapons leaned haphazardly against the far corner, their cold, sharp presence a stark reminder of the world outside. The space was utilitarian, but not uninviting, carrying a sense of quiet resilience rather than comfort.

This wasn’t your room.

It hit you like a jolt: the steady hum of Sukuna’s presence. You recognized his scent now—subtle, sharp, like fresh ink and a faint trace of smoke. Your heart skipped a beat as you sat up, the blanket pooling around your waist.

Why am I here?

The faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the closed door. You froze, then quickly glanced around. Sukuna wasn’t here, at least not right now, and curiosity got the better of you.

Carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, mindful not to make a sound. The room was sparse but hinted at a life long before the apocalypse had stripped everything away. Your gaze landed on the dresser, where a small cluster of photographs sat in worn frames.

You stepped closer, your fingers hovering just over the edges of the first picture: Sukuna standing with his arm slung around a younger boy who had the same sharp features and piercing eyes. His brother, you realized. They both looked so happy, the kind of carefree joy you only see in pictures from the past.

Next to it was another photo, this one of Sukuna standing proudly in front of a sleek tattoo shop, a broad grin on his face. The sign above the door read “Ryomen Ink” in bold, clean letters. You could almost picture him there, surrounded by the hum of machines and the scent of ink, thriving in a world that no longer existed.

Then there was the photo of the group—Shoko, Geto, Nanami, Gojo, and Sukuna himself. They were younger, all crammed together on a couch, beers in hand and grins on their faces. Gojo had his signature sunglasses perched crookedly on his nose, and Shoko’s cigarette was caught mid-air as she leaned into the camera. Even Nanami, usually so serious, had a faint smile tugging at his lips. Geto was leaning casually against Sukuna, his arm slung around his shoulder as he flashed a wide, genuine smile. Sukuna, seated in the middle of the group, was smiling too—not his usual smirk, but an open, rare smile that softened his sharp features.

Your chest tightened at the sight. They’d been happy, a family forged in friendship. And now, in this broken world, they were all each other had left.

“What are you doing?”

The deep voice startled you, and you whipped around to see Sukuna leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his crimson eyes sharp yet unreadable.

“I—” you stammered, heat flooding your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I just... woke up and...”

His gaze flicked briefly to the photos before returning to you. For a moment, his expression softened—just a fraction, but enough to ease your tension.

“You’re in my room,” he said simply, pushing off the frame and stepping toward you.

“Why?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“You fell asleep on the roof,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there. It was easier to bring you here than wake everyone up shuffling you back to your room.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks warmed at the thought of him carrying you, but you quickly turned back to the photos to distract yourself. “These... they’re nice. From before everything, right?”

He stopped beside you, his gaze lingering on the images. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and you worried you’d overstepped. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “From before.”

Your fingers hovered near the photo of him and his brother. “This is your brother?”

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yuji.”

“He looks like you,” you said softly.

“He’s better than me,” Sukuna muttered, almost under his breath.

You didn’t push him for more, sensing the weight of the subject. Instead, your eyes shifted to the group photo. “And this? You all look… happy.”

“We were,” he said simply, his voice distant. “Before everything went to hell.”

You wanted to offer something comforting, but no words felt right. Instead, you reached out to lightly trace the edge of the photo. “It’s nice that you still have these.”

“They’re all I’ve got left,” he admitted, his tone quieter than you’d ever heard it.

His vulnerability made your chest ache. Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze meeting his. “Thank you for bringing me here. And... for letting me see this.”

For a moment, his crimson eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. Then, to your surprise, he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, warm against your skin, before he pulled away.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze from him. In that moment, the distance between you didn’t seem so impossible. And maybe, just maybe, the walls Sukuna had built around himself were beginning to crack.

You focused on your breakfast, humming softly to yourself in the quiet kitchen. The morning was peaceful—exactly what you needed after the whirlwind of last night.

That peace, of course, didn’t last long.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” Gojo’s sing-song voice broke through the calm as he strolled into the kitchen, his signature grin plastered across his face.

You glanced at him warily. “Good morning, Gojo.”

He plopped down into a chair, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. "So,” he began, his tone as smug as ever, “sleep well?”

Your brows furrowed at the question. “Yeah… why?”

"Oh, nothing,” Gojo said, dragging the words out as his grin grew wider. “Just heard you spent the night in Sukuna’s room.”

Your fork froze mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“Sukuna’s room,” Gojo repeated slowly, his tone dripping with false innocence. “Care to explain? Or should I just assume the obvious?”

Heat rushed to your face. “It’s not what you think!” you blurted, the words tumbling over each other. “I fell asleep on the roof, and he��he carried me so I wouldn’t wake everyone up.”

“How chivalrous,” Gojo mused, tapping his chin dramatically. “And yet, out of all the rooms, he chose his own.”

"It wasn’t like that,” you insisted, stabbing at your fruit with more force than necessary.

“Right,” Gojo said, dragging the word out. “Next thing you know, he’ll be making you breakfast.”

Before you could retort, the back door creaked open. Shoko and Suguru stumbled in, their bags slung haphazardly over their shoulders. Shoko dropped hers onto the counter with a tired sigh, and you immediately noticed the smear of red on her leg.

"Shoko, your leg!” you exclaimed, bolting to your feet as your chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Shoko waved you off, already digging through her bag for a cigarette. “It’s just a cut,” she muttered, plopping onto a nearby chair. “Barely even hurts.”

Suguru, setting his bag down more carefully, gave her an exasperated look. “It’s a cut because you tripped. Who trips during a supply run?”

“I tripped because someone didn’t cover me properly,” Shoko shot back, her tone sharp but amused.

“I didn’t cover you properly because you ran in before I was ready!” Suguru argued, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Shoko rolled her eyes, lighting her cigarette with a dramatic sigh. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Oh, I’ll give you excuses,” Suguru retorted, stepping closer as if preparing for a mock confrontation.

“Alright, break it up, you two,” Gojo interjected, standing abruptly. “Clearly, this is a job for the great peacemaker.”

Before anyone could react, Gojo swooped in, wrapping an arm around Shoko’s neck and pulling her into a playful headlock. “Apologize to Suguru, Shoko!” he demanded with mock seriousness, ruffling her hair with his free hand.

"Get off me, you idiot!” Shoko yelled, trying to shove him away. Her cigarette was miraculously still intact, though her glare could’ve set the kitchen on fire.

Suguru, seizing the opportunity, pointed at her and stuck his tongue out like a child. “Serves you right!”

“Real mature, Suguru,” Shoko snapped, elbowing Gojo in the ribs and finally breaking free.

The whole scene was absurd—Gojo laughing like a maniac, Suguru acting like a smug little brother, and Shoko muttering curses under her breath as she fixed her hair. But it was their chaos, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with them, warmth blooming in your chest.

Your laughter trailed off as Sukuna’s quiet footsteps echoed in the doorway. He stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room briefly before landing on you. Without a word, he placed a mug of tea on the table beside you, his movements deliberate. He lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours before he turned on his heel and left without another word, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway.

The room fell silent for half a beat.

Then—

“See!” Gojo exclaimed, pointing wildly at the mug. “Tea! A declaration of love if I’ve ever seen one!”

Shoko snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe he’s just trying to keep her from snapping under your endless teasing.”

“Or maybe,” Suguru added with a sly grin, “he just likes her.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face with both hands as heat surged to your cheeks.

Their playful banter continued, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of laughter and teasing. But as you stared at the tea in front of you, a quiet smile crept onto your face.

These moments—messy, loud, and full of life—were the reason you fought so hard to survive.

The next morning sunlight filtered through the cracked windows as you made your way to the common area, your footsteps light against the worn floor. You could already hear the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils against plates. It felt almost normal—a fleeting echo of a life long past.

As you entered, you were greeted with the sight of everyone gathered around the table, eating breakfast. Shoko glanced up from her plate and, to your utter confusion, broke into a wide grin.

“Happy birthday to you…” she began, her voice light and teasing.

You froze mid-step, your heart stuttering.

“Wait, what?” Gojo perked up instantly, his sharp blue eyes wide with excitement. “It’s your birthday?”

Before you could even form a reply, Gojo shot out of his chair, his lanky frame moving across the room with surprising speed. He grabbed you by the arms and lifted you clean off the ground, spinning you around like you were the star of some grand celebration.

“Happy birthday!!!” he hollered, his voice far too loud for this early in the morning.

“Gojo, put me down!” you protested, laughing despite yourself as your feet dangled in the air.

“Not until you accept that it’s your special day!” he declared, finally setting you back down but keeping his hands on your shoulders like an overenthusiastic parent.

The others had stopped eating by now, their attention drawn to the commotion. Suguru looked mildly amused, Shoko grinned like she’d been waiting for this, and even Nanami had a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

And then there was Sukuna. His expression was unreadable, his crimson eyes flicking between you and Gojo. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, sharp and fleeting—was that annoyance? Jealousy? No, you told yourself, you were imagining it.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gojo asked, his tone exaggeratedly scandalized.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling shy under all the attention. “It’s not that important. I didn’t think anyone would remember.”

Shoko scoffed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Of course I remembered. What kind of friend do you think I am?”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Thanks, Shoko. That means a lot.”

But Gojo wasn’t done yet. He released you and started rummaging through the shelves, muttering to himself.

“What are you doing now?” Nanami asked, his tone weary but amused.

“This!” Gojo crowed triumphantly, holding up a dusty box of cake mix like it was a prize. “I knew this would come in handy one day!”

“Gojo, we don’t have electricity,” Suguru pointed out, though there was a clear hint of humor in his voice. “How exactly do you plan on baking that?”

“Details,” Gojo said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’ll figure it out. It’s her birthday! We can’t just do nothing!”

The room filled with soft laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening with gratitude. For the first time in what felt like ages, the weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter—something warm and human.

Suguru offered you a small, genuine smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” Nanami echoed, his tone calm but sincere.

Then Sukuna’s voice cut through, low and uncharacteristically soft. “Happy birthday.”

Your gaze snapped to him in surprise, but he didn’t meet your eyes, focusing instead on his half-empty mug. Still, your heart fluttered at the simple words.

“Thanks, everyone,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “Really. This means so much.”

Gojo threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re stuck with us now, birthday girl! And don’t think for a second we’re letting this day go to waste.”

You laughed, light and unguarded, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly celebrated.

The day had been a whirlwind of warmth and joy—the kind you didn’t think was possible anymore. The laughter, the makeshift cake, the group’s relentless effort to make you feel celebrated—it had all left your heart full. Now, as the night deepened and the others settled in for the evening, you found yourself savoring the peace that had settled over the group. You were curled up in your bed, flipping through the pages of a worn book you’d scavenged a few weeks ago, the faint scent of aged paper comforting in its familiarity.

A knock at the door broke your focus, startling you slightly. Setting the book aside, you got up and opened the door to find Sukuna standing there, his tall frame casting a shadow over the dimly lit hallway.

“Sukuna?” you asked, blinking at him. “What’s going on?”

“Put on your jacket and follow me,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your chest. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his crimson eyes steady as they held yours.

Unable to resist the pull of intrigue, you grabbed your coat and boots, slipping them on quickly before stepping into the cool night. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of pine lingered as Sukuna led you through the woods. His pace was steady, his silence leaving you to wonder what he had planned.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, glancing at him.

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

After a few minutes, the trees gave way to a small clearing, and your eyes widened at the sight before you. A weathered cabin stood nestled in the clearing, its silhouette softened by the pale glow of the moon. But it wasn’t the cabin that caught your attention—it was the object on the porch.

“Is that a telescope?” you asked, your voice laced with surprise.

Sukuna’s gaze flicked to the telescope before returning to you. “Yeah. You told me your dad taught you all the constellations. Thought you might want to see them again. That’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the weight of his thoughtfulness pressing gently against your heart. “Sukuna…” you murmured, unsure of what else to say.

“Go on,” he said, nodding toward the telescope. His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of softness beneath the surface.

You stepped onto the porch, leaning down to peer through the lens. The stars burst into view—vivid and breathtaking, more vibrant than you’d ever seen them on the roof. Each constellation was a reminder of nights spent with your dad, his voice patiently teaching you their names. It was as if Sukuna had brought a piece of him back to you, and the thought made your throat tighten.

“It’s incredible,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “I can see them so clearly—better than on the roof.”

He shifted, his arms crossing over his chest as his gaze lingered on you. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

“Come look,” you urged, stepping aside.

Sukuna hesitated, his gaze shifting to the telescope. “I don’t need to—”

“Come on,” you urged with a small smile. “You might actually enjoy it."

For a moment, he hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure about the idea. But he finally moved, his large frame bending down to peer through the telescope. The moonlight illuminated his sharp features, softening them, and you found yourself staring at him instead of the stars.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone low.

You smiled, something tender stirring inside you. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could think too much about it, you stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The warmth of his skin against your lips made your heart race, and as you pulled back, realization struck.

“Oh—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face flushing. “I didn’t mean to— I just—”

Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, and before you could finish your sentence, he leaned down. His lips brushed against yours softly at first, hesitant. The tenderness of it took your breath away, and when he felt you respond, his hand moved to cradle your face, his kiss deepening.

The world fell away. There was no cold, no fear, no apocalypse—only Sukuna. His kiss was unhurried and warm, filled with something unspoken that made your chest ache in the best way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin lightly.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, his voice quiet but full of meaning.

Your throat felt tight, and all you could do was smile up at him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sukuna’s eyes softened and he kissed you again. This time, there was no hesitation. His lips moved with more certainty, pulling you deeper into the moment. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding you close as his other hand found your waist, grounding you in his warmth.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him as if letting go would shatter the fragile bubble of intimacy surrounding you both. His kiss was fervent, pouring in all the things he could never say out loud. Each press of his lips felt like a promise, a desperate vow in a world where so little was certain.

When the kiss finally broke, Sukuna’s breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. His forehead touched yours again, but this time his hands remained on you—one at your waist, the other brushing your hair aside with a tenderness that contradicted his usual demeanor.

“Come inside,” Sukuna murmured, his gaze searching yours, seeking permission.

You nodded, your voice caught somewhere between your heart and throat.

You stepped into the cabin first, your boots creaking against the worn wooden floor. The air was thick with the faint smell of dust and age, but it was warmer than the chill outside. Sukuna followed silently, striking a match as he made his way to the chimney. With practiced ease, he lit a few candles their flames flickering to life. The golden glow chased away the shadows, illuminating the small space.

The cabin was simple but comforting. Its wooden walls creaking faintly under the pressure of the wind outside, a constant reminder of the fragile barrier between you and the chaos beyond. In one corner of the room, a worn mattress lay on the floor, draped with an old, patched blanket. It wasn’t luxurious—far from it—but it was a sanctuary in a world that offered none. The soft candlelight danced across the walls, painting the room in warm hues and casting fleeting shadows over Sukuna’s sharp features.

He turned to the door, closing it with a soft click. The sound broke the stillness, pulling your attention back to him. His steps were measured as he approached you, the tension in his shoulders contrasting with the gentleness in his gaze.

His hands found your waist, calloused fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. He paused for a moment, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you sure?” His voice was low, almost hesitant, as though the words carried more weight than he was willing to show.

Your breath hitched, the warmth of the room doing little to calm the fluttering in your chest. You met his gaze, steady and sure, even as your pulse raced. “Yes.” Your hands slid up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

That was all he needed.

Sukuna’s mouth captured yours again, this time slower, savoring each kiss like it was the last. His hands explored with unhurried reverence, tracing the curve of your waist and the small of your back. You matched him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

Guided by instinct as much as by need, he walked you backward toward the small bed tucked into the corner of the room. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, he caught you, lowering you carefully as though you were made of something fragile.

The world outside melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the heat of his breath against your skin. His kisses trailed lower, brushing over your jaw, your neck, and the delicate line of your collarbone. Each touch sent a wave of heat coursing through you, your body arching instinctively toward him. His hands, warm and rough from years of hardship, slipped under your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers igniting a trail of fire as they moved.

“You’re beautiful,” Sukuna murmured against your skin, the words almost reverent, like a truth he could no longer keep to himself.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but before you could reply, he eased your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over yourself, a mix of shyness and vulnerability washing over you.

Sukuna’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hands warm as they gently wrapped around your wrists. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Slowly, he guided your arms away, holding them at your sides as his crimson eyes met yours. The tenderness in his expression made your chest tighten, and the way his thumbs brushed against your skin was grounding.

“Not ever,” he said softly, his voice rough but filled with something unspoken.

Something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, unraveled you completely. You reached for him, tugging at his shirt, and he let you pull it off, the flickering candlelight illuminating the scars that marred his chest and arms.

"You’re beautiful too," you said softly, and the way his breath hitched made you wonder if anyone had ever told him that before.

His lips claimed yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his body pressing you gently into the mattress. Every touch, every shift of his weight against you, was measured and deliberate. His hands explored your curves with care, learning the rhythm of your breath, the places that made you shiver under his touch.

The kisses trailed downward. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of skin he uncovered, his lips and tongue leaving a heated trail down to your stomach. When he reached the waistband of your pants, he paused, his crimson eyes lifting to meet yours, silently seeking permission.

Your soft nod was all it took. His hands gripped the fabric, his calloused fingers brushing against your hips as he tugged your pants and boots off in one smooth motion, discarding them carelessly to the side. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, raw desire flickering in his eyes as his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, parting them gently.

The first flick of his tongue against your folds sent a shockwave through your body. You gasped, your back arching off the mattress as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Sukuna didn’t hesitate, his tongue diving in, messy and relentless as he devoured you like a man starved.

“Fuck, Sukuna,” you breathed, your voice trembling as his tongue moved in long, deliberate strokes, teasing and tormenting. The heat of his mouth against you was intoxicating, and the way his nose pressed into you as he worked only heightened the intensity.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your core. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, swirling before dragging back up to circle your clit. His movements were deliberate yet feverish, the kind of messy control only Sukuna could manage, his brows furrowing in concentration as he ate you out like it was his favorite meal.

He pulled back just enough to gasp for air, his lips glistening and his voice thick with lust as he murmured, “You taste so fucking good. I love it. Love you like this.”

Before you could respond, his lips latched onto your clit, sucking with a sinful intensity that made your hips jerk against his face. He didn’t stop, didn’t relent, one hand gripping your thigh to hold you in place while the other slid up to your stomach, grounding you as his mouth drove you higher and higher.

The wet sounds of his tongue and the low, guttural hums in his throat filled the room, combining with your broken gasps and whimpers. Your thighs trembled under his hands, and the heat coiling in your stomach tightened to a breaking point.

“Sukuna—” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. He growled in response, the vibration pushing you over the edge, your climax crashing through you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for air.

He didn’t stop immediately, his tongue lapping at you lazily, as though savoring every last drop. When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his eyes blazing as he looked up at you. His smirk was wolfish, his face slick with evidence of what he’d just done.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, crawling back up to meet your lips. The kiss was heated and consuming, the taste of yourself on his tongue only adding to the intoxicating haze. His body pressed against yours again, his weight solid and grounding, his hands bracketing your head as his lips trailed along your jaw.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice low, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yes,” you managed to whisper, your hands sliding up his back, nails grazing his skin in a way that made his muscles tense under your touch.

“Good,” he growled, his lips crashing into yours, demanding and unrelenting. The kiss was intoxicating—hot, messy, and all-consuming. His tongue slid against yours, tasting, teasing, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When he finally pulled back, his lips lingered for a heartbeat, swollen and glistening as he licked them, savoring the taste of you. His eyes, heavy-lidded and blazing with desire, locked onto yours, and you felt the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.

Without breaking eye contact, his hands moved to his waistband, fumbling in his haste. A soft shuffle followed, and then his cock was free—thick, flushed, and heavy in his hand. He didn’t hesitate, sliding it through your slick folds, teasing you, and drawing a gasp from your lips as your eyes flickered down to take in the sight for the first time.

Your breath hitched as he lined himself up, his hooded gaze locking on yours. His brows furrowed in concentration as he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching you open inch by inch.

A sharp, keening moan slipped from your lips as he pushed deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders to ground yourself. The burn was intoxicating, stealing the air from your lungs as he filled you, your jaw falling slack and your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groaned, voice trembling as he bottomed out. “You’re so warm—fuck, baby—”

You trembled beneath him, walls fluttering around his cock as he started to move. He pulled out slowly, almost entirely, before sinking back in with a deliberate, measured thrust. “So big, Sukuna,” you whimpered, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders for dear life. “F-fuck.”

Your pussy clenched tighter around him, drawing a guttural groan from his lips. Words escaped you, lost to the symphony of moans and broken cries spilling from your mouth. Each thrust was perfectly aimed, his pace unrelenting, hitting that spot inside that had your vision blurring. The rhythmic slam of the headboard against the wall barely registered in your mind—your body too consumed by pleasure to care.

A large hand pressed firmly against your belly, and Sukuna’s lips curled into a dark smirk. “Feel that?” he growled, his palm adding pressure just above your pelvis. “Feel me? Fucking you so deep I’m right here?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin as you tried to anchor yourself. “Oh my god, yes—yes”

He leaned down, his warm breath ghosting over your chest before his lips closed around your nipple as he sucked, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. The sensation shot through you like lightning, a sharp cry escaping your lips before you could stop it. “So loud,” he muttered, his voice laced with teasing, though the smug curl of his lips made it clear he was reveling in every sound you made.

Before you could respond—if you even could—his fingers trailed from your hip to your swollen, throbbing clit. He worked slow, wet circles over the sensitive nub, his movements almost too much as pleasure threatened to consume you whole.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his voice rough and broken when he felt the trembling clench of your walls, that telltale sign of your impending climax. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum all over my cock.”

“Yes!” you screamed, your body seizing as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your cries were loud and unrestrained, your nails raking down his back as you came hard, your walls gripping his cock in a vice-like hold. “Oh—fuck, Sukuna!”

He didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace grew more erratic, his deep thrusts hitting even harder as he chased his own release. “Gonna fill you up,” he choked, his voice hoarse, a growl underlying his words. “Fuck, baby—gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimpered, the word tumbling from your lips in a desperate mantra. “Want it—want all of it—please, baby—”

His hips snapped forward one last time, slamming into you as he let out a deep, guttural groan. “Cummin’, baby,” he choked, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, hot and thick, filling you to the brim.

But he didn’t stop. His fingers kept working your clit, insistent and unrelenting as he rocked his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, milking every last drop. “Come on, angel,” he murmured, his voice soft but pleading. “One more. Give me one more, baby—please.”

You were trembling, body convulsing as his words pushed you over the edge again. Your walls clenched tight, pulling yet another groan from his lips. He watched, mesmerized, as your body arched beneath him, surrendering to the waves of your second orgasm.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his voice low and wrecked. “So fucking perfect, baby.”

Your chest heaved as you came down, every nerve in your body buzzing with overstimulation. Sukuna’s hips stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. He lifted his fingers from your clit, panting heavily, and without a second thought, brought it to his lips, sucking your slick clean with a satisfied hum.

His crimson eyes scanned your face, drinking in every detail—your flushed cheeks, the unfocused glaze in your eyes, the way your lips quivered as you fought to steady your breathing. A low chuckle escaped him, deep and smug. “You look ruined,” he said, his thumb grazing over your swollen bottom lip. “Exactly how I like you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your body too blissed-out to argue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, voice hoarse yet warm with affection.

He smirked, leaning in to steal a soft kiss, his lips lingering against yours. “And you’re mine,” he countered, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable.

The room settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. Sukuna carefully eased out of you, his movements uncharacteristically tender. Grabbing a discarded shirt, he cleaned you up with surprising care, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache.

When he was finished, he pulled you against him effortlessly. His strong arms wrapped around your trembling body, your back pressed firmly to his chest.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Get some rest.” he murmured, his tone laced with both command and care.

His embrace was steady and warm, and the rhythmic beat of his heart against your back became your anchor. Your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep, safe in his arms.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the cabin’s wooden walls, bathing the room in a hazy, golden warmth. The scent of aged wood and the faint trace of Sukuna’s presence surrounded you, grounding you even before your eyes fluttered open.

It took a moment for the memories of the night before to surface, but when they did, your cheeks burned, and a soft, dreamy smile tugged at your lips. You shifted slightly, feeling the comforting weight of Sukuna’s arm draped over your waist. His chest was warm against your back, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his deep, even breaths betraying that he was still lost in sleep. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to bask in the quiet intimacy of it, the kind of peace you hadn’t felt in so long it almost felt foreign.

Turning your head slightly, you let your gaze fall on him. The sight nearly stole the breath from your lungs.

Sukuna looked so different like this—softened by sleep, his sharp edges dulled by the golden light. His usually intense features were relaxed, his lips parted slightly, and his hair was delightfully tousled. He seemed younger somehow, untouched by the weight of the world you both carried.

A quiet laugh almost escaped you at the thought of how different this Sukuna was from the one who commanded the room with sharp words and piercing glares. This version of him felt like a secret, a piece of himself he rarely shared. And right now, it was yours.

As if sensing your gaze, his brow furrowed slightly, and his eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep. Crimson irises, softer than usual, locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice husky and rough from sleep, but impossibly gentle.

“Morning,” you whispered back, feeling your cheeks heat under his gaze.

His eyes stayed on yours, searching, as if trying to read your every thought. The space between you felt fragile, electric, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could feel it too. He didn’t move his arm from around you, and you couldn’t decide if it was because he hadn’t realized or because he didn’t want to.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, as though he didn’t want to disturb the stillness of the moment.

You nodded, your voice coming out softer than you intended. “Yeah. You?”

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before his lips curved into a faint, almost boyish smile. “Better than I have in years.”

The quiet confession made your chest tighten, warmth spreading through you like sunlight. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, the quiet between you stretched, filled with the unspoken, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with possibility.

Finally, Sukuna shifted, his arm reluctantly sliding away as he sat up. The bed creaked softly under his weight, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture somehow both casual and intimate. The morning light danced across the ink curling over his skin, highlighting every intricate design. It was impossible not to stare, your heart stumbling in your chest at how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

He reached for his pants first, pulling them on with a fluid motion. The sight of him—bare and unapologetic in the soft glow of morning light—sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly looked away, your heart hammering in your chest as you tried not to think about how much you had seen the night before.

From the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest smirk tugging at Sukuna’s lips as he reached for his shirt. “What’s this?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Shy all of a sudden?”

Your face burned even hotter, and you mumbled, “It’s different in the morning.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound rich and unhurried as he tugged his shirt over his head. Fully dressed now, he sat back on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, though the weight of his gaze lingered on you.

His crimson eyes softened as he watched you, catching you mid-thought. “You hungry?” he asked, his tone casual, though the softness in his eyes told you he hadn’t forgotten the night before.

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Stay here,” he said, standing again and stretching. His movements were deliberate but unhurried, and the way the light caught on the ink curling over his skin, even beneath his clothes, made your pulse quicken all over again.

Without another word, Sukuna headed toward the small kitchen area of the cabin. The sound of his quiet footsteps faded, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around you as you stared after him. The memories of his touch, his kisses, his whispered promises from the night before flooded back, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your face.

Finally, with a deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began gathering your clothes. The chill in the air made your skin prickle as you dressed, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. Each piece of clothing you slipped on felt like another layer of armor against the reality waiting outside, yet it also reminded you of the vulnerability you’d shared.

Once dressed, you hesitated before lying back down on the bed. The blanket still carried the warmth from where you had slept, and the comfort of being cocooned within it felt too good to abandon just yet. You leaned back against the headboard, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders as your gaze drifted toward the small window, where sunlight filtered in faint streaks.

Sukuna moved around the small cabin, rummaging through drawers and shelves in search of something edible. The soft creak of wood and the occasional sound of shifting items filled the quiet air as you watched him, the blanket still wrapped snugly around your shoulders.

When he finally returned, he handed you a small plate with what looked like dried fruits and crackers he must’ve found. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

“It’s not much, but it’ll hold you over,” he said, his tone casual but his actions deliberate.

You took the plate, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

He shrugged, glancing away, though his eyes flickered back to you briefly. “Don’t mention it.”

You looked down at the plate, then back at him. A thought crossed your mind, and without saying a word, you picked up one of the crackers and held it out to him, your gaze steady.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in faint amusement. “What?” he asked, though his voice was softer than usual.

“You should eat too,” you said simply, offering the piece of food again.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his crimson eyes locking with yours. Then, with a small shake of his head, he pushed your hand back toward you gently. “I’m fine,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You have it.”

Instead of backing down, you leaned forward and brought the cracker to his lips, your expression determined. His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no edge to his gaze—just curiosity mixed with something warmer. “Eat,” you murmured, your voice soft but insistent.

Sukuna sighed, his lips twitching as though he wanted to argue. But then he opened his mouth slightly, letting you place the cracker between his lips. He bit into it, chewing slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Happy now?” he asked after swallowing, his tone dry but his eyes betraying the faintest hint of amusement.

“Very,” you replied, a small, triumphant smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that felt more like understanding than awkwardness. You found yourself stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn’t looking, only to find his gaze occasionally flicking back to you as well. Every time your eyes met his, your stomach fluttered, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger.

When the food was gone, Sukuna leaned back on his hands, letting out a soft exhale. His gaze drifted to the small window, where sunlight filtered through, casting golden streaks across his face. The light softened his sharp features, making him look almost peaceful.

“They’re probably wondering where we are by now,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact but gentler than you expected.

You thought of the others—Gojo’s inevitable dramatic freak-out, Shoko’s knowing smirk—and couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your lips. “Yeah,” you said lightly. “They’re probably planning some over-the-top story already.”

Sukuna glanced back at you, his crimson eyes lingering on your face as though he could read your thoughts. Then he stood, stretching lazily before turning to you and holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low but laced with quiet care. “Let’s head back.”

You hesitated for only a moment, then slipped your hand into his. His grip was warm and steady, a silent reassurance that steadied your racing heart. When he pulled you to your feet, the closeness of him made your breath catch for just a second.

Even after he let go, the warmth of his palm lingered on your skin. As the two of you began to prepare to leave the cabin, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Whatever this fragile, growing bond was between you, it felt real—something neither of you were quite ready to let go of.

When the familiar outline of the hideout came into view, your heart skipped. You could already hear the muffled voices of the group inside, and you braced yourself for Gojo’s inevitable commentary. The thought made you smile faintly despite yourself.

Just before you reached the door, Sukuna placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to him, brows furrowed in question. “What’s—”

“I hope you enjoyed last night,” he said, his tone low but steady, his crimson eyes locked on yours. There was no teasing in his voice, no smirk on his lips—just quiet sincerity.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you could only blink at him. But then warmth spread through your chest, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “I did.” you said softly

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unspoken passing between you. Then he gave a slight nod, his hand dropping from your shoulder as he turned back toward the door.

Together, you stepped inside, the familiar voices and laughter washing over you like a wave.

“THERE YOU TWO ARE!” Gojo’s voice rang out almost immediately, his dramatic gasp followed by a sly grin. “Were you off having some alone time?”

Shoko glanced up from her spot on the couch, rolling her eyes as she leaned back with her cigarette, while Nanami merely raised a brow over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable.

You groaned, already feeling your cheeks heat. “Gojo, don’t start.”

But Sukuna didn’t react to the teasing. He simply shot Gojo a pointed look, the kind that carried enough weight to shut him up instantly, though not without an exaggerated pout. Without a word, Sukuna headed toward the kitchen, leaving the rest of the group momentarily speechless.

You lingered for a beat, still acutely aware of the warmth in your cheeks, before following after him. Sukuna’s broad frame was already moving efficiently through the small kitchen, and though he didn’t say anything as you approached, you noticed the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

The day carried on like most others, though a quiet buzz lingered beneath your skin every time Sukuna was near. His usual sharp edges seemed softer, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his crimson eyes drifted to you more than once. Each glance sent a flicker of heat through you that you tried to ignore but couldn’t.

By the time night fell, everyone had gathered in the common area, sharing stories and sipping on whatever rations of tea or canned drinks were left. Gojo, as always, was the loudest, his animated recounting of some pre-apocalypse escapade earning Shoko’s trademark eyerolls and Geto’s quiet smirks.

You sat off to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and letting the lukewarm liquid provide some comfort. There was a rare peace in being surrounded by this makeshift family, even in a world as broken as this one. Sukuna sat in a chair across the room, his elbows resting on his knees, silent as ever. He hadn’t said much, but you felt the weight of his gaze more than once. Each time, it sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered.

Eventually, Gojo’s storytelling tapered off, and one by one, everyone began heading to bed. Shoko and Geto left first, Shoko muttering something about needing a real drink as she disappeared down the hall. Nanami followed shortly after, murmuring about needing rest for another long day ahead.

Gojo lingered, his sharp blue eyes flicking between you and Sukuna. A slow grin spread across his face as he sauntered past. “Don’t stay up too late,” he teased, his tone dripping with implication. “Wouldn’t want anyone to start thinking things.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Goodnight, Gojo.”

“Goodnight,” he sang, shooting you one last wink before disappearing down the hall.

The common area grew quiet, the soft crackle of the fire filling the space. It wasn’t until then that you realized Sukuna was still there, his chair creaking faintly as he shifted.

You glanced at him, your gaze flicking up briefly before darting back to your empty cup. Your heart raced as you felt his presence grow closer, the quiet sound of his footsteps barely registering before his hand tilted your chin upward, his fingers gentle but firm.

The sudden gesture startled you, and your eyes locked with his. His crimson gaze was intense, searching yours as if looking for something you couldn’t name.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner,” he said, breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “I wasn’t that hungry,” you admitted softly. “I guess I was just… tired.”

His thumb brushed lightly against your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “You should rest,” he said simply, though his tone carried an unspoken concern that made your chest ache.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing off your pants as you stood. “But I guess I should head to bed before Gojo starts spreading more rumors tomorrow.”

At that, Sukuna smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement lighting up his face. “Let him talk. It’s the most entertainment he gets.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. But before you could turn fully toward the hallway, Sukuna’s hand lifted again, his fingers brushing your cheek. The gentle touch stopped you in your tracks, and when you glanced up at him, his expression had softened in a way that made your chest tighten.

He leaned in slowly, his movements deliberate. His lips brushed yours in a soft, fleeting kiss, so light and careful it made your breath hitch. The warmth of the gesture sent your heart into a frenzy, the intimacy of it leaving you momentarily stunned.

When he pulled back, his thumb grazed your cheek one last time, and his voice was quieter than before. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his tone carrying a tenderness that left you breathless.

You swallowed hard, managing a soft, “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

Satisfied, Sukuna stepped back, his hand falling away as he grabbed his weapon from where it leaned against the wall. Without another word, he headed toward the exit, his steps deliberate but unhurried.

You watched him go, your heart racing and your chest warm with something you couldn’t quite name. The faint creak of the door signaled his departure, and you knew he’d taken the first watch, as he often did.

The weight of his kiss lingered, the memory of his touch etched into your skin as you finally turned toward your room. Once inside, you leaned against the closed door, your breaths unsteady as you tried to process what had just happened. The warmth he left behind stayed with you, wrapping around you like a secret you weren’t ready to share.

For all the chaos of the world outside, this moment—this fragile, connection—felt like a lifeline. And as you climbed into bed, the small smile on your lips refusing to fade.

Three hours later, the soft knock at your door stirred you from a restless half-sleep. Your heart leapt, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d imagined it. But then, there it was again—another knock.

“Come in?” you called softly, sitting up a little straighter.

The door creaked open just enough for Sukuna to step inside, his tall frame illuminated faintly by the flickering firelight from the hallway. His hair was slightly mussed, and the faint exhaustion on his face told you he’d just finished his turn at watch.

“I saw your lamp on,” he said, his deep voice quieter than usual. “You’re still awake?”

You blinked up at him, surprised he’d noticed. “Yeah… couldn’t really sleep.”

He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as he studied you for a long moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer. “If you can’t sleep here,” he said, his tone almost casual, “come sleep in my room.”

Your eyes widened slightly, heat creeping into your cheeks. “What?”

“It’s warmer,” he added with a small shrug. “And quieter. Unless you’d rather toss and turn all night.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your thoughts swirling with the faint hum of nervousness. But Sukuna’s gaze was steady, his crimson eyes holding yours, and something about the quiet surety of his offer made you nod. “Okay.”

He stepped back to let you pass, the flicker of satisfaction in his expression barely visible but unmistakable. You grabbed your sweater, slipping it on before following him into the dim hallway. The quiet of the hideout felt heavier this late at night, but Sukuna’s presence was grounding as you walked beside him.

When you entered his room, the warmth hit you immediately, cocooning you in a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you were missing. It wasn’t anything fancy—an old chair with his shirt draped over it, a faint smell of soap, and a small, half-filled shelf in the corner—but it felt like him.

“Get in,” he said, nodding toward the bed as he set his weapon against the wall.

You climbed in, pulling the blanket over yourself. Sukuna slipped his jacket off, tossing it onto the chair, and joined you. The bed dipped under his weight, the tight space bringing you closer than you expected. It should have been awkward, but the warmth of his presence made it feel natural, like this was how it was always meant to be.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds the faint creak of the mattress and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then Sukuna’s voice broke the silence.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asked.

The question was so unexpected that you blinked at him in confusion before letting out a soft laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

You shook your head, still smiling. “Green.”

“Why green?”

You thought about it for a moment, your voice softening. “It reminds me of life. Of things growing. It’s… hopeful.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

You tilted your head, watching him. “What about you?”

“Red,” he said without hesitation.

“Of course it is,” you teased, grinning. “Let me guess—bold and intense, just like you?”

“Exactly,” he said, his smirk widening slightly. “You’re catching on.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing quietly. “You’re impossible.”

Sukuna shifted slightly, turning onto his side to face you more fully. His gaze softened, his tone quieter now. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “I guess… I used to be scared of failing. Like, really scared. But now…” You trailed off, your voice fading.

“Now, it feels like there’s nothing left to fail at,” Sukuna finished for you, his voice low but understanding.

You nodded, your chest tightening at the weight of his words. “What about you?” you asked, your voice just as quiet. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

He was silent for a long moment, his crimson eyes meeting yours before flickering away. “I didn’t think I’d still care about anyone after all this,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. “But I do.”

Your heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in his tone, and before you could think, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. He didn’t pull away, his gaze flicking back to you with something unspoken lingering there.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, almost fond.

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. “I’m not tired yet,” you admitted softly.

“Then stop thinking so much,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you whispered, “Maybe I’m just thinking about you.”

His eyes widened briefly before softening, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice warm and low., laced with that familiar teasing edge. “Keep talking like that, and I might start to believe you actually like me.”

You laughed softly, the sound carrying just enough mischief to match his tone. "What? Last night wasn't enough to convince you?"

Sukuna didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. His hand stayed on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and the warmth of him surrounded you, steady and sure.

When he finally pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. “Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady.

“Goodnight, Sukuna,” you whispered, your heart fluttering as you tucked yourself into the blanket.

He shifted closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you gently against him. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his presence cocooned you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, sleep came easily.

The next morning came softly. Sunlight crept through the cracks of the curtains Sukuna never bothered to close fully, casting golden streaks across the room. You stirred first, your body reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth the blanket and Sukuna’s presence had created.

As your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was Sukuna. He was still asleep, one arm draped lazily over the pillow between you two, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see. His brow wasn’t furrowed in annoyance, and his sharp features were softened by sleep. He looked so… peaceful.

You couldn’t help it; a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him for a moment longer than you probably should have. He looked almost boyish like this, the harshness that defined him nowhere to be found. It made your chest tighten in a way that was equal parts comforting and unnerving.

Suddenly, Sukuna’s eyes cracked open, their familiar crimson shade peering at you through sleepy lids. He caught you staring before you could look away.

“Caught you,” he muttered, his voice low and rough with sleep, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you jolted upright, heat rushing to your face. “I wasn’t staring,” you protested, though your voice betrayed your embarrassment.

“Sure you weren’t,” Sukuna said, his smirk deepening as he stretched lazily, the movement shifting the blanket and giving you a glimpse of his toned torso. He caught the way your gaze flickered, and his smirk turned downright mischievous.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the laugh bubbling in your chest betrayed the scowl you tried to wear.

Sukuna caught the pillow easily, his smirk never faltering. “And yet, here you are,” he teased, sitting up now. His hair was an unruly mess, stray strands falling across his forehead, and somehow, it made him look even more effortlessly attractive.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Maybe I should leave, then.”

“Don’t.”

The word was quiet, softer than you’d expected. It caught you off guard, your gaze snapping to his. Sukuna wasn’t looking at you this time; instead, he was busying himself by pulling the blanket off his legs. But the sincerity in his voice lingered, settling in your chest like a warmth you couldn’t quite name.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t press him. Instead, you stretched and threw your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m starving,” you said, trying to keep your voice light.

Sukuna grunted in agreement, ruffling a hand through his messy hair. “You go ahead,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’ll be down in a minute”

You nodded and slipped out of the room, leaving the door cracked behind you as you made your way to the common area. A soft smile played on your lips as you walked, the warmth of Sukuna’s presence still wrapping around you like an invisible blanket. The morning light felt softer, the world a little brighter, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of that had to do with the man still upstairs.

When you entered the common area, Gojo, naturally, was the first to spot you, and his mischievous grin appeared before you’d even said a word. “Ah, look who finally graced us with her presence,” Gojo said as soon as you walked in, his grin sharp and teasing. “Had to pry yourself away from Sukuna, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, making a beeline for the pot. “No, I was just savoring the last few minutes of peace before dealing with you.”

“Rude,” Gojo shot back, dramatically clutching his chest. “I’m the heart of this group, you know. Where would you all be without me?”

“Be more efficient,” Nanami said without looking up from his notebook.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself some tea. As you turned back toward the table, your gaze caught on a faint smear of blood on Gojo’s forearm. You frowned, setting your mug down.

“Gojo,” you said, nodding toward his arm. “What’s with the cut? Why haven’t you cleaned that up?”

Gojo glanced at his arm like it was nothing. “Oh, this? Just a little souvenir from yesterday. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “You know how dangerous infections are. Why didn’t you take care of it?”

“We’re out of supplies,” Gojo admitted, his tone softening slightly. “There wasn’t much left to clean it properly, and I didn’t want to waste what we had on something small.”

Shoko sighed, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray. “It’s not about wasting supplies, Gojo. If that gets infected, you’ll need more than just antiseptic. You should’ve told me.”

“I knew you’d worry,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “I figured I could tough it out until we restocked.”

“Toughing it out doesn’t make you invincible,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice. “We need more medical supplies.”

“That’s what we’ve been discussing,” Nanami interjected, his voice calm but firm. He tapped the notebook in front of him. “The pharmacy on the east side is our best option, though it’s risky. We’re almost out of gauze, antiseptic, and antibiotics.”

And that hardware store nearby?” Geto asked. “We could use batteries and tools.”

“It’s on the way,” Nanami confirmed. “We’ll hit both if we can.”

The sound of footsteps pulled your attention to the doorway. Sukuna entered the room, his presence commanding as always. He walked over to the table, scanning the group before taking the seat next to you without hesitation, his arm brushing yours as he settled in.

“Perfect timing,” Nanami said, sliding the notebook toward Sukuna. “We’re working out the next supply run.”

Sukuna scanned over it, his tone clipped as he spoke. “Pharmacy on the east side?”

“And the hardware store nearby,” Nanami added. “Tools, batteries, anything we can scavenge.”

Sukuna flipped through the notebook, nodding as he scanned the list. “We’ll split into pairs. Smaller groups, less noise.”

“I call Shoko!” Gojo said immediately, raising his hand.

“Absolutely not,” Shoko said.

“You’re with Nanami,” Sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument.

Gojo pouted but didn’t push it. “No fun.”

Geto leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “What about me? Where do you want me?”

“You’ll take the hardware store with Shoko,” Sukuna said, glancing at him briefly. “Grab anything useful.”

“What about me?” you asked, tilting your head at Sukuna.

“You’re with me,” he said simply, his focus already shifting back to the notebook. “We leave in about an hour.”

The group was gearing up for a supply run, the air thick with humidity that made your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin. Sukuna stood near the entrance of the base, meticulously adjusting his weapons and surveying the group with his usual commanding presence. His sharp crimson eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and then he spoke.

“You’re staying here,” he said abruptly, his tone brooking no argument.

You blinked, startled. “What? No. I’m coming with you. You just said I was going to be paired with you, and we need as many hands as possible. You know I’m more than capable.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing. “I said you’re staying.”

The others glanced between the two of you, sensing the brewing tension but wisely choosing to stay silent.

You crossed your arms, your voice firm. “You can’t just decide that for me, Sukuna. I’ve done this plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

His expression darkened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Last time we went out, you almost got yourself killed. I’m not risking that again.”

“That was almost two weeks ago, Sukuna! ” you snapped, your cheeks flushing with anger. “You can’t wrap me in bubble wrap because of one close call.”

“It’s not about that!” he barked, his voice loud enough to make Shoko wince and Nanami glance up from his knife sharpening. His glare softened slightly as he lowered his tone, his fists clenching at his sides. “You’re not going. That’s final.”

“Oh, screw this,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing your bag and striding toward the door. But Sukuna moved faster, stepping in front of you and blocking the exit with his broad frame.

“You’re not going,” he repeated, his voice quiet but ironclad.

You glared up at him, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just tell me what to do! I’m not some helpless kid, Sukuna. I can handle myself!”

His crimson eyes bore into yours, and without another word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you a few steps away from the others, out of earshot. His voice dropped to a low, heated murmur.

“You think I care about anyone else getting hurt like that?” he said, his tone raw and unguarded. “You think I can just stand by and let it happen to you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his thumb brushing your skin as if he was trying to steady himself.

“Sukuna…” you began, your voice faltering.

“No,” he cut you off, his tone softer now but no less resolute. “You’re staying. I can’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he fought to find the words. “You’re not going. I can do this all day if I have to.”

Your heart raced, caught between anger and the ache of understanding. His protectiveness wasn’t just about control—it was about fear. Fear of losing you. And yet, the high-handed way he handled it still grated on your nerves.

You pulled your wrist free, glaring at him. “Fine. Stay here all day, Sukuna. I’m done arguing.” With that, you spun on your heel and stormed off, your frustration bubbling over into every sharp step.

Behind you, Sukuna let out a heavy sigh but didn’t follow. He stood there for a moment, watching your retreating figure, before turning back toward the group.

Gojo let out a low whistle. “Oh, man. She really told you, huh?”

Sukuna’s glare could have melted steel. “Shut it, Gojo.”

Gojo held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Alright, alright. Don’t kill the messenger.”

Sukuna sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck before turning back to the group. “Let’s move,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for further comments.

As the group filed out, Sukuna cast one last glance down the hallway where you’d disappeared. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything, following the others into the humid air outside.

The day passed slowly, tension lingering in the air after the group left for the supply run. You stayed in your room, not wanting to interact with anyone. Despite the quiet, your thoughts churned, replaying the heated argument with Sukuna earlier. He hadn’t come to you since, and you hadn’t gone to him either. The hours dragged on.

After two hours, you heard the heavy sound of boots echoing through the base’s entrance. You stayed in your room, listening as the others returned. Their muffled voices carried down the hall, but Sukuna didn’t come looking for you, and you didn’t make any move to join them.

When it came time for your turn on watch, you grabbed your gear and made your way to the watchpoint on the roof. The air was cool and quiet up here, the stars scattered across the sky in a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the world below. You settled into your spot, letting the stillness of the night ease your mind.

The sound of footsteps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you saw Sukuna approaching, his broad frame unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you asked, your voice steady but guarded as you turned back toward the horizon.

“I can’t fall asleep,” he said simply, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms. “Figured I’d check on you.”

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You don’t need to keep checking on me, Sukuna. I can handle a watch.”

He let out a low sigh, stepping closer and leaning against the edge beside you. “It’s not about you being capable,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter than usual. “It’s about… me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna kept his gaze on the horizon, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “When you’re out there, I don’t think straight. Every time something happens, even something small, it feels like my chest is in a vice. It messes with my head.”

You stayed silent, your heart twisting at the raw honesty in his voice. He rarely opened up like this, and hearing him now made your frustration from earlier melt away.

“You’re important to me,” Sukuna continued, finally meeting your gaze. His crimson eyes softened slightly, vulnerability flickering there. “I’m not used to… caring about people. Not like this. It’s different with you.”

Your breath caught at his words, but you forced yourself to stay composed. “Sukuna,” you said gently, “I understand why you worry, but you can’t keep doing this—ordering me to stay back, acting like I’m fragile. I’ve survived this long because I’m capable. You have to trust that I can handle myself.”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, before letting out a resigned sigh. “I know you can handle yourself,” he admitted. “It doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

You reached out without thinking, placing a hand on his arm. “You can worry,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me do my part too. I’m not going anywhere, Sukuna. You’re stuck with me.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, a small smile breaking through.

Sukuna huffed a quiet laugh, the tension easing slightly. He looked back at the stars for a moment, then turned his attention to you. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll try.”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. The unexpected warmth of the gesture sent a flutter through your chest, leaving you momentarily breathless.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, the cool breeze and the faint chirp of crickets filling the quiet. Finally, Sukuna pushed off the edge. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said, his voice lighter now.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the whole point of first watch.”

He shook his head, a faint smile lingering on his lips as he turned to leave. Just before he stepped back inside, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “No promises.”

Sukuna shook his head again, disappearing down the stairs. You turned back to the horizon, the weight of his words and the look in his eyes lingering long after he was gone.

The group was sitting together in the common area, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Shoko was sketching plans for organizing the medical supplies, Nanami was engrossed in an old, battered book, and Gojo was shamelessly cheating Suguru in a game of cards. You were tucked on the couch beside Sukuna, his quiet presence grounding despite the lighthearted chatter.

The sound of glass breaking in the distance shattered the calm. Everyone froze.

“What the hell was that?” Suguru asked, his voice low but sharp.

Sukuna stood instantly, his hand moving to the knife strapped to his side. “Stay quiet,” he ordered.

Gojo’s usual grin faded into something more serious. “Sounds like we have company.”

The group crept toward the hallway that led to the entrance of the base. Your heart pounded as Sukuna motioned for you to stay close behind him. The sound of voices filtered through the air, rough and unfamiliar.

“They’ve got supplies. Enough for us to take over,” one voice muttered.

“They’ve got a good setup,” another added. “If they’re here, we’ll deal with them.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping the hilt of his weapon. He leaned down to whisper to you. “Stay close. And watch your back.”

You nodded, clutching a makeshift weapon—an old pipe—you’d grabbed from the corner of the room. The air was thick with tension.

The door burst open, revealing a group of five strangers armed with weapons. The man in front sneered, his eyes scanning the group. “Looks like the place isn’t abandoned after all,” he said. “Hand over what you’ve got and walk away, or we’ll take it by force.”

“Not happening,” Sukuna growled, stepping forward to block you from view. His imposing stance left no room for negotiation.

Suguru, Nanami, and Gojo flanked him, their expressions hard and ready for a fight.

The leader chuckled, clearly unimpressed by the united front. “Suit yourself.”

Chaos erupted. Sukuna surged forward like a force of nature, his knife flashing as he disarmed one of the attackers with brutal efficiency. Suguru took on another, his movements fluid and precise. Nanami and Gojo worked in sync to handle the rest, their combined strength overwhelming the intruders.

You kept low, the pipe gripped tightly in your hands. One of the attackers broke away from the chaos, his gaze locking on you. Without hesitation, he lunged, his knife aimed directly at you.

You dodged swiftly, the adrenaline sharpening your instincts. With a calculated swing, you slammed the pipe into his ribs, the force making him stagger back with a pained grunt. He recovered quickly, charging at you again, but you were faster. Ducking under his swing, you delivered a sharp kick to his knee, sending him toppling forward.

Seizing the opportunity, you raised the pipe and brought it down on his weapon hand, forcing him to drop the knife with a cry of pain. A second swing to his shoulder sent him sprawling to the ground, groaning and defeated.

The last of the intruders realized they were outmatched and scrambled to retreat, dragging their injured comrades with them. Gojo smirked as he shoved one of them toward the door. “And don’t come back,” he warned, his tone almost playful despite the seriousness of the situation.

As the door slammed shut, the room fell into silence. Shoko stepped in from the hallway, scanning the group. “Everyone okay?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

“Still in one piece,” Suguru said, wiping blood off his knuckles.

“Same,” Nanami added, adjusting his glasses.

Gojo slung an arm around Suguru, grinning despite the scuffle. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you protect a base!”

Sukuna ignored him entirely, his attention fixed on you as he crossed the room. His hands settled gently on your shoulders, his crimson eyes scanning you for any signs of injury.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softer than you expected.

You nodded, your voice soft but steady. “I’m fine. I handled it.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he gave the smallest nod, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer. “I saw,” he murmured. “You were incredible.”

His words made your chest tighten, warmth blooming under the weight of his quiet praise. “Thanks,” you said, your gaze holding his. “But you don’t always have to worry so much, Sukuna. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I’m still going to worry. I can’t help it.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and your breath hitched. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, the space between you filled with unspoken emotions.

“Sukuna…” you began, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“I just want you safe,” he said quietly, his voice dipping into something more vulnerable. “That’s all.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest ache, and you reached up, placing your hand lightly over one of his. “I’ll be careful,” you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a small nod, his thumb brushing against your shoulder before he finally let his hands fall away. “Good,” he said, his voice returning to its usual gruffness, though the softness in his gaze remained.

Later, as the group settled back down, you caught Sukuna’s gaze from across the room. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a subtle nod—silent reassurance that he was still watching out for you. You returned it with a faint smile, a quiet understanding passing between you that made your heart flutter.

Even in the midst of chaos, Sukuna’s protectiveness and care grounded you, the connection between you feeling stronger and more certain with every shared glance and unspoken word.

Later that evening, after the chaos had finally subsided and the group ensured the intruders were gone for good, you found Sukuna sitting in the corner of the common area. His shoulders were hunched forward, his jaw tight as he dragged a bloodied cloth over his forearm in careless swipes.

You frowned at the sight of him. He was clearly doing more harm than good. Without a word, you grabbed the first-aid kit from Shoko’s stash and made your way over to him.

“Let me see,” you said gently, kneeling beside him.

“I’m fine,” Sukuna muttered, his tone low and dismissive.

“You’re not,” you replied softly, catching his wrist before he could brush you off. “Hold still.”

He tensed at your touch, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t argue. You turned his arm toward you, examining the shallow gash on his forearm. Dried blood streaked his skin, and scratches lined his knuckles, the remnants of the earlier fight.

You dipped a piece of gauze in antiseptic and pressed it to the wound, your touch firm but careful. Sukuna hissed under his breath at the sting, though he didn’t pull away, his crimson eyes fixed somewhere beyond you.

“You know,” you murmured after a moment, breaking the silence, “for someone who’s so strict about keeping me safe, you’re not very good at taking care of yourself.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound low and rough. “It’s different.”

“It’s not,” you countered softly, glancing up at him. “If you keep this up, I might have to start babysitting you.”

He gave a faint smirk, his lips tugging upward just slightly. “Good luck with that.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile, wrapping the clean bandage around his arm. “Well, maybe you could make my job a little easier next time and stop bleeding everywhere.”

“Noted,” he said dryly, though there was a faint warmth in his tone now.

Once the wound was clean and properly bandaged, you leaned back slightly, packing up the first-aid kit. Sukuna stayed quiet, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Before standing, you hesitated, your voice soft but firm as you said, “I’m serious. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His expression shifted, the teasing edge fading as his gaze locked onto yours. There was something raw and unguarded in his crimson eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t speak.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice unusually gentle.

The air between you grew heavier, a quiet intensity settling in. Slowly, Sukuna reached for your wrist again, his touch deliberate and sure. He pulled you closer, and before you could fully process the moment, his hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

He leaned in, his movements slow and purposeful, and when his lips met yours, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was soft yet firm, unhurried but filled with all the things he’d never say aloud.

Your hands instinctively clutched the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing in a crumbling world. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss just slightly.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the quiet promise of the moment.

You stayed like that, breathing him in, letting the world around you fade away. Nothing else mattered—just the closeness, the quiet, and the unspoken understanding between you.

Three weeks had passed, and things within the group felt oddly the same—except for you and Sukuna. You were a couple now, a quiet shift that felt natural, like something that had always been meant to happen. It didn’t change much; Sukuna still acted like the gruff leader everyone relied on, but there was a softness reserved just for you. He remained protective but wasn’t overbearing, and his efforts to teach you new ways to defend yourself were a testament to how deeply he cared.

You were all gathered in the common area, finishing up a shared meal. The mood was relaxed—Shoko and you were locked in a game of cards, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the table, clearly plotting her next move. Across the room, Gojo lounged on the couch, casually tossing a small rubber ball against the wall and catching it on the rebound, the steady rhythm blending into the quiet hum of the evening.

Nanami and Geto sat at the table nearby, discussing supply organization in low voices, their tones measured and focused. Sukuna leaned against the wall in the far corner, his hat tilted low over his face. He looked like he was resting, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, his hand resting loosely on his thigh. Even in repose, there was a sense of readiness about him, like he was never truly off guard.

The soft clink of cards, the muted thud of Gojo’s ball, and the faint murmurs of conversation created an atmosphere of calm—a rare moment of normalcy in a world that had long since lost it.

Then it happened.

The crackle of static from the old radio in the corner made everyone pause, heads snapping toward it. The thing had been useless for months, a relic of a time when communication had felt possible. But now, there was something different. A sound.

“Was that…?” Geto started, trailing off as everyone stared at the radio.

And then it came—a voice, distorted but unmistakable: “If you can hear this… find us.”

Your breath caught as the message continued, giving coordinates and repeating the plea: “This is a government-sanctioned safety zone. Survivors are welcome. If you can hear this… find us.”

The room fell silent, the voice repeating again and again, with static filling the gaps like an ominous reminder of how fragile this moment was.

“What now?” you whispered, breaking the silence. “We have to try, right? I mean… if this is real…”

“If it’s real,” Shoko said cautiously. “It could be a trap. Or a leftover transmission from months ago.”

Nanami crouched by the map spread across the table, tracing his finger over the coordinates. “It’s far,” he said, his voice measured. “Three days at least, maybe more, depending on the terrain.”

“That’s not that far,” Gojo quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve been on longer supply runs.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a supply run,” Geto countered. “This is everything. We’d be leaving the base. Everything we’ve built here.”

You looked around the room, seeing the hesitation on everyone’s faces. They all had valid points, but the idea of leaving behind your hard-won safety was terrifying. Yet…

“What if it’s real?” you said softly, your gaze moving to Sukuna. “We could be safe. All of us. Together.”

The weight of your words seemed to hang in the air, and everyone’s eyes shifted to Sukuna, waiting for the final call.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied the radio, his expression unreadable. “We don’t have enough information,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “We don’t even know if it’s still active.”

“But we can check,” Gojo suggested. “Send a small group ahead to scope it out. Worst-case scenario, we turn back.”

“It’s not that simple,” Shoko interjected. “If it’s real, we’d need everyone to relocate together. Splitting up could be dangerous. Not to mention the risk of moving with limited supplies.”

Arguments broke out, voices overlapping as the group weighed the risks and possibilities. You stayed quiet, your eyes on Sukuna as he listened, his brow furrowed slightly—a telltale sign that he was deep in thought.

Finally, Sukuna raised a hand, silencing the room. “Enough,” he said, his tone cutting through the noise. He glanced at you briefly, his expression softening before turning back to the others. “We’re not making any decisions tonight. Everyone get some rest. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

The group reluctantly agreed, dispersing with murmured conversations and worried glances. Shoko gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before retreating to her room, and Geto and Nanami exchanged a few last words before heading off. Gojo tossed his rubber ball one last time, catching it deftly before disappearing down the hallway.

The room emptied, leaving only you and Sukuna behind. For a moment, the silence felt heavier, the weight of the decision looming over both of you.

You glanced over at Sukuna, standing at the table with his hands braced against its edge, his crimson eyes fixed on the map spread out before him. His hat was pushed back, and his sharp features were locked in an unreadable expression as he studied the coordinates. Something about the weight of this decision on his shoulders made your chest ache, and without thinking, you walked over to him.

“Sukuna,” you said softly, drawing his attention. His crimson eyes shifted to yours, and before he could respond, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest.

He stiffened for just a moment before his body relaxed, his arms coming up to hold you against him. One hand rested on your back, the other settling lightly on your head, his touch gentle in a way that was becoming familiar.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low, a softness in his tone reserved only for you.

You nodded against his chest, but your voice wavered slightly when you replied. “I just… I don’t know what the right thing to do is. What if this is our chance?”

His grip tightened slightly, grounding you. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his hand brushing up and down your back in a soothing motion. “Together.”

And somehow, despite the uncertainty ahead, that was enough.

Later that night, you were on your side of Sukuna’s bed, his arm draped lazily around your waist. The weight of the day’s revelation lingered as you both lay in silence. He stared up at the ceiling, tension radiating from him.

“Hey,” you murmured, turning to look at him. “You’re quiet. What’s on your mind?”

He sighed heavily, his hand absently tracing circles on your hip. “You know what’s on my mind,” he muttered. “That damn broadcast.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, studying his face. His usual confidence was replaced with something more vulnerable. “You don’t think we should go, do you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It feels… reckless. We’ve built something here. We’re safe, we have supplies, defenses. Why risk it for some half-baked promise of safety?”

You brushed your fingers along his jaw, drawing his gaze to you. “Because it’s not just about safety, Sukuna. It’s about living. Don’t you think we deserve a chance at something better?”

His eyes softened, but doubt flickered there. “What if it’s not real? Or worse, what if it’s a trap? I can’t risk losing anyone. I can’t risk losing you.”

Your chest ached at his words. “You won’t lose me,” you said softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “But staying here forever isn’t an option. Supplies won’t last, and neither will luck. This might be our only chance.”

Sukuna was quiet for a long moment, his hand moving up to cradle your face. “You really believe this is the right thing to do?”

You nodded. “I do. And I think you do too. You just hate taking risks.”

A wry smile tugged at his lips. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Good thing you like me that way.”

He chuckled against your lips, pulling you closer. “More than I probably should.”

The weight of his words hung in the air before he sighed again, his forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “We’ll go. But if anything feels off, we’re turning back. I’m not taking chances with your life—or anyone else’s.”

Relief flooded through you, and you kissed him again, this time longer and sweeter. “I promise you won’t regret this,” you whispered.

His lips brushed against your temple. “I already do,” he teased, though his tone was fond. “But I trust you.”

You smiled, settling against his chest. For the first time that night, you felt hopeful. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face it alone.

The next morning, everyone gathered in the common area, their faces tense as they waited for Sukuna to speak. You sat beside him, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. Sukuna looked more serious than usual, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp eyes sweeping over the group.

“Alright,” he began, his voice firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. “We’re going.”

Gojo’s brows shot up, a grin spreading across his face. “Really? Didn’t think you’d go for it, boss.”

“It’s risky, and I’m not about to pretend it’s not. We’ve all heard messages like this before—false promises, traps, or worse. But…” He glanced briefly at you, almost like he was drawing strength from your presence, “We can’t stay here forever. It’s not sustainable.”

Nanami, who had been studying the map for most of the morning, gave a short nod. “Three days on foot if we pace ourselves carefully. We’ll need to chart out stops for rest and security checks.”

Suguru ran a hand through his hair. “And what if we run into others? It’s a long trip, and there’s no telling who else might’ve heard the same message.”

“We’ll deal with it,” Sukuna said simply. “We stick to formations. Pairs. No one wanders off.” His gaze swept over the group as if daring someone to argue. “We’re smart about this. It’s going to take every one of us to pull this off, so don’t screw around.”

Shoko leaned against the wall, arms crossed but with a faint smirk. “So, are we packing light or taking extra supplies? I’m guessing there’s no guarantee we’ll find much along the way.”

Sukuna nodded. “We take what we need and a little extra, but no overloading. If we’re too weighed down, we’ll slow ourselves. Weapons, medical supplies, and enough food and water to last us at least four days, just in case.”

Gojo whistled. “Man, I can’t wait to see what the government’s offering. Maybe it’s like one of those utopia bases with hot food, comfy beds—”

Sukuna shot him a dry look. “You’ll be lucky if it’s not another graveyard.”

The mood dampened at his words, but you stepped in to lighten the tension. “We’re strong enough to handle this. We’ve survived worse.” You looked around at the group, meeting each of their gazes. “We’ve got each other, and that’s gotten us this far. It’s going to be okay.”

Sukuna glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up just slightly before he turned back to the group. “Exactly. This team’s survived everything the world’s thrown at us so far. Let’s not forget that.”

Nanami placed the map on the table and pointed at a few locations. “I’ve marked safe houses we’ve passed before and areas we can use as rest stops. It’s important we pace ourselves to avoid exhaustion.”

Suguru nodded. “I’ll help pack weapons and make sure we’ve got ammo. Gojo, you’re on food and water duty.”

“Why do I always get the boring job?” Gojo grumbled, but he moved to help nonetheless.

Shoko stretched, already moving toward her stash of medical supplies. “I’ll get the first aid kits ready. You’re all going to need me when this inevitably goes sideways.”

As everyone began moving, talking through what needed to be packed and how to secure the base before leaving, you felt Sukuna’s hand brush yours lightly. When you looked up at him, his eyes were steady, unwavering.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked quietly, just for you.

You smiled softly and nodded. “I’m sure. We’ll make it through this, Sukuna. Together.”

Something flickered in his expression—something tender that he rarely let anyone see. He gave your hand a small squeeze before pulling away to bark orders at Gojo, who was trying to sneak extra snacks into the supply bags.

You watched him work, the leader everyone trusted, and your heart swelled with pride.

The day stretched on as preparations fell into a steady rhythm. The group moved with quiet purpose, packing essentials and double-checking supplies. You busied yourself with securing the last of the gear, tying packs and testing straps to ensure nothing would fall apart mid-journey.

Sukuna stood nearby, inspecting weapons with Suguru, his sharp gaze flicking up every so often to survey the group. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could feel his watchful presence—an unspoken assurance that he was there, keeping everything in check.

By sunset, everyone gathered in the common area, the weight of what lay ahead settling heavily over the group. There was little need for unnecessary chatter now; everyone understood the stakes.

Sukuna’s voice broke the silence, steady but quieter than usual. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Gojo stretched dramatically, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Ugh, dawn? You’re cruel, Sukuna.”

“You’ll live,” Sukuna replied flatly, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.

Nanami rolled up the map carefully before tucking it into his pack. “I’ll set an early alarm to make sure we’re ready. We can’t afford delays.”

As the group began to disperse, you lingered, tightening the straps on your pack for what felt like the tenth time. Sukuna caught the motion and stepped toward you, his footsteps deliberate and quiet.

“You’re overpacking,” he muttered, eyeing the weight of your bag.

You glanced up at him with a small smile. “I just want to make sure we’re covered.”

Sukuna huffed a quiet breath, his tone gentler than before. “We’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

His confidence was comforting, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The dim light of the setting sun filtered through cracks in the walls, casting a soft glow over his features. In that moment, he looked less guarded—his edges softened, revealing a side of him few ever saw.

“You’re not nervous?” you asked softly.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, considering your question. “Not nervous. Just… aware.” He paused, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “It’s a big risk, leaving what we’ve built here. But if there’s even a chance at something better…”

You nodded, understanding his unspoken hesitation. “It’s worth trying.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before his gaze fell on your pack again. Without a word, he stepped forward and started loosening one of the straps you’d tightened too much.

“Sukuna, what—?”

“You’re going to hurt yourself carrying this much weight,” he said with quiet authority, crouching slightly to sift through the contents of your bag. He pulled out a few unnecessary items, including an extra water bottle and a bulky flashlight, setting them aside with a quiet shake of his head. “Relax.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You’re fussing.”

He paused, shooting you a look that was equal parts glare and amusement. “Shut up.”

You couldn’t help but grin, warmth blooming in your chest at his uncharacteristically soft gesture. When he finished, he straightened and looked down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, but instead, he rested his hand lightly on your shoulder.

“Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“You’re always keeping watch,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his tone steady and reassuring.

He gave your shoulder one last squeeze before stepping back, his touch lingering in your thoughts as much as on your skin.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, lingering for just a moment longer.

“Night,” Sukuna replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through you.

As you headed toward your room, you glanced back. Sukuna stood by the window, staring out at the darkening sky. His broad frame was silhouetted by the last traces of light, his posture steady and resolute—like a shield against whatever was coming.

For all the uncertainty ahead, one thing was clear: you weren’t in this alone.

The room was still cloaked in darkness when a gentle hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you blinked awake, the faint silhouette of Sukuna coming into focus above you.

“Time to go,” he murmured softly, his voice unusually tender.

You nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you pushed yourself upright. Sukuna crouched by the bed, watching you with an unreadable look in his crimson eyes. It wasn’t like him to linger like this, and the way his gaze flickered—uncertain, almost hesitant—told you there was something on his mind.

“What is it?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna exhaled, running a hand through his hair before dropping it to his knee. “Listen… before we go out there, I need you to promise me something.”

You tilted your head, now fully awake and focused on him. “What kind of promise?”

He shifted closer, his expression serious, but there was something softer about him in this moment. “If things go south… if anything happens, you come with me. No matter what. You stick with me—understand?”

“Sukuna…”

“I mean it,” he cut in, his voice firmer this time, though not harsh. “Don’t try to be a hero. Don’t run off to help someone else first. You come with me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, the words tumbling out faster now, like he was afraid you’d stop him.

“I know you’re strong,” he said, his tone steady but raw. “I know you can handle yourself. You’ve proved that over and over. But this isn’t about how capable you are.”

He paused, his jaw tightening as his gaze dropped for a brief moment before meeting yours again. “I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “Not you.”

The vulnerability in his words tugged at your chest, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him—this man who’d spent so long guarding himself, now laying it all bare in front of you.

“Sukuna,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He started to speak again, as if he still wasn’t sure he’d made himself clear, but you silenced him by leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His words faltered as he stilled, taken off guard, before his hands came up to gently cup your face, deepening the kiss just slightly.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your hands curling lightly around his wrists. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured. “I promise.”

He stared at you for a moment, his crimson eyes searching yours, as if to make sure you meant it. Finally, he let out a small, shaky breath, his hands lingering against your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

“You’re too good at shutting me up, you know that?” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone—only warmth.

You grinned softly, brushing your thumb across one of the callouses on his hand. “Someone has to keep you from overthinking.”

Sukuna huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning in to kiss you once more—this time slower, gentler, like he was memorizing the feel of you before the day ahead.

When he pulled back, his thumb traced along your jaw, his voice soft as he spoke. “I know you’re not afraid. And I know you’ll fight like hell out there if you have to. But promise me you’ll let me protect you when it counts.”

“I promise,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

Satisfied, Sukuna stood and extended a hand to you, his gaze still holding yours. “Come on,” he said quietly, helping you to your feet. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you followed him to the door, you felt his hand settle against your lower back, a quiet reassurance that he was there. Whatever the day held—whatever the world outside threw at you—you knew one thing for certain.

You weren’t in this alone. And neither was he.

The common room was alive with quiet activity when you and Sukuna entered. The group moved in practiced motions—securing packs, checking weapons, and mentally preparing for the journey ahead.

Gojo was by his bag, cramming even more food into its already overstuffed frame. A loaf of bread jutted out of one pocket, while an entire bag of dried fruit threatened to burst another seam. He hummed quietly, clearly in his own world, as he tried to wedge a jar of honey on top of it all.

Sukuna, spotting the chaos, strode over with purposeful steps. Without a word, he smacked Gojo lightly on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” Gojo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to face him.

“You’re overpacking,” Sukuna said flatly, crouching down and unzipping Gojo’s bag. His hands moved swiftly, pulling out items one by one—a jar of pickles, a deck of cards, and yet another loaf of bread.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Gojo protested, grabbing for the deck of cards. “That’s important! What if we get bored?”

“Then you can count how many times I’ve saved your ass,” Sukuna shot back, shoving the cards onto the table.

As Gojo launched into an impassioned defense of each item’s “essential value,” you crouched beside Shoko, who was cross-legged on the floor near the corner. She was surrounded by an array of medical supplies, organizing her kit with her usual calm precision.

Shoko glanced up as you approached, her eyes narrowing slightly before she gave a small, knowing smirk. “You ready for this?” she asked, her tone light but her gaze sharp.

You helped her tuck a few spare bandages into the corners of her overstuffed med kit. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a small shrug. “What about you?”

“Always am,” she replied casually, though her expression softened just slightly as she glanced at you. “Don’t let them push you too hard out there. Especially him.” She jerked her chin toward Sukuna, who was now pulling yet another item—what looked like a full bag of candy—out of Gojo’s bag.

You chuckled softly. “He’s not that bad.”

Shoko arched a brow, clearly unconvinced, but her smirk lingered. “Sure. Just remember to look out for yourself too. Even the great Sukuna Ryomen can’t see everything.”

Her words held an odd warmth, a rare expression of her care in her typically sarcastic manner. You gave her a faint smile and nudged her lightly. “I’ll be fine. And I’ll keep an eye on you too.”

Shoko huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she zipped her med kit shut. “You’d better.”

Straightening, you glanced over and noticed Sukuna was done with Gojo, who now looked dejectedly at his significantly lighter bag. Sukuna had moved to the table with Nanami and Geto, his sharp focus now on the map spread before them.

“What’s the update?” Sukuna asked, his tone cutting through the ambient murmurs.

Nanami straightened, his hand resting on the edge of the table. “We’ve mapped out a route. Three days if we push through steadily, but the open stretches will leave us vulnerable.”

Geto nodded, tracing a longer, winding trail on the map with his finger. “There’s an alternate route with more cover—woods, small towns—but it’ll take five days, minimum.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened as he studied the map, the weight of the decision clearly etched into his features. “We’ll stick with the shorter route. We’ll be exposed, but we’ll move faster.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained fixed on the map for a moment longer, his fingers lightly tracing the marked route. He exhaled through his nose, the sound low and decisive, before straightening. His sharp crimson gaze lifted from the map, sweeping over the group with an authority that commanded immediate attention.

“Ten minutes,” he said, his tone firm but measured. “Make sure you’re ready to move. We’re not leaving anything behind.”

The room buzzed with renewed energy as everyone went back to their tasks. You grabbed your pack and double-checked its contents—water, food, a small med kit Shoko had prepared, and a few personal items you’d managed to keep over the months. It felt heavy on your back, but the weight was nothing compared to the uncertainty churning in your chest.

As you tightened the straps, Sukuna appeared beside you, his presence as steady as ever. His expression was unreadable, but his crimson eyes held a flicker of something softer as they met yours. “You good?” he asked quietly.

You glanced up at him, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. Just… nervous, I guess.”

His hand brushed lightly against your lower back—a small, comforting touch that spoke louder than words. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady. “Don’t overthink it. You’re with me.”

That simple reassurance sent a wave of warmth through you, soothing your nerves. You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I know.”

Moments later, Sukuna gave the call to move out. The group assembled near the exit, weapons in hand and packs secured. Tension hung thick in the air, unspoken but shared by everyone. Without a word, you all stepped out into the dim, early morning light.

The world beyond your base stretched out in eerie quiet. Half-collapsed buildings loomed like hollowed-out skeletons, the streets littered with debris and rusted cars. It had once been home, but now it was nothing more than a shadow of what it used to be—a haunting reminder of the world you’d all lost.

Sukuna led the way, his steps steady and purposeful, his gaze razor-sharp as he scanned the surroundings. You walked beside him, glancing back occasionally to check on the others. Nanami stayed close to Shoko, who carried her bag of medical supplies, her expression calm but alert. Geto and Gojo took up the rear, their sharp eyes darting to every corner, watchful for any signs of movement.

The first few hours passed uneventfully, the silence broken only by the sound of footsteps crunching against gravel and the occasional groan of strained metal from the decaying city. But even in the stillness, an air of unease clung to the group. The open streets left you all feeling exposed, and every creak or shift of rubble sent a jolt of tension through you.

After a while, Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and meant only for you. “Stay close to me, alright?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sudden break in silence. “I am close to you.”

“Closer,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “Just in case.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you stepped closer to his side, matching his pace as you pressed forward. The proximity was reassuring, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone.

The journey ahead was uncertain, and the message you’d heard on the radio left more questions than answers. But one thing you knew for sure: as long as Sukuna was by your side, and as long as you had each other, you could face whatever lay ahead.

Together, you would endure. Together, you would survive.

The day stretched on, the sun climbing higher into the sky and beating down on the cracked pavement and overgrown roads. The group moved in steady silence, speaking only when necessary. Sukuna’s presence beside you was a steady anchor—his movements deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, like a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

By midday, Nanami led the group into a wooded area just off the main road. The forest was dense, shadowy, and alive with the hum of insects and the rustle of unseen creatures. The air was cooler here, the canopy of leaves offering a welcome respite from the relentless sun.

Sukuna dropped his pack against a tree and motioned for everyone to take a quick break. “Fifteen minutes,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Drink water. Eat something if you need it. Then we’re moving again.”

You sank down against the rough bark of a nearby tree, taking a long sip from your water bottle. Sukuna sat beside you, his back straight, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his weapon as he scanned the woods. Even in this moment of relative calm, he was alert, his crimson eyes flickering between the shadows.

“Do you ever relax?” you teased, nudging his boot lightly with yours.

He snorted, his gaze flicking to you briefly before returning to the treeline. “Not when I’ve got a reason to stay on edge.”

“Are you saying I make you paranoid?” you quipped, tilting your head with a small smile.

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his voice was quieter, softer. “You give me something to lose.”

The flutter in your chest was immediate, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words settled over you. Sukuna wasn’t one to express himself like this often, and when he did, it always left you breathless.

Before you could come up with a response, Gojo’s voice cut through the quiet. “Hey, you mind sharing that water over there?” His tone was unusually casual, but you could see he was already scheming something.

You sighed, passing him your bottle as he exaggerated a grateful sigh. “You’re the best,” he said with a grin, taking a swig before handing it back.

Nearby, Geto and Nanami leaned against a tree, their voices low as they talked.

“Do you remember the last time we came through a stretch like this?” Geto asked, glancing up at the canopy of trees.

Nanami nodded. “Yeah. Quiet like this feels worse than noise sometimes.”

Geto hummed in agreement. “Easier to spot movement in the open, though. Less chance of surprises.”

“True,” Nanami said, adjusting his glasses. “But surprises don’t always come from the environment.”

Geto smirked faintly, catching the subtle jab. “You still mad about that time Gojo wandered off?”

“Mad?” Nanami’s tone was dry. “No. Prepared for him to do it again? Always.”

Their conversation drew a quiet chuckle from you, the easy camaraderie between the two a welcome distraction. It was moments like these that reminded you why the group worked so well together—they balanced each other out.

Meanwhile, Shoko sat cross-legged a few feet away, unwrapping a snack from her bag. Gojo’s attention immediately zeroed in on her food.

“Shoko,” he called sweetly, inching closer. “You wouldn’t happen to want to share that, would you?”

She didn’t even look up. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Gojo whined, reaching out as if to grab it.

Without hesitation, Shoko raised her hand and smacked his away. “Touch it, and you lose that hand.”

Gojo gasped theatrically, clutching his heart. “How could you be so cruel?”

“You have so much food in your bag,” Shoko deadpanned, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Had,” Gojo corrected, dramatically pointing at Sukuna. “Until he decided to lighten my load.”

Sukuna, who had been observing the exchange with mild amusement, crossed his arms. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead from exhaustion. You packed like the trip was going to take a month.”

The group erupted into quiet laughter, the tension lifting as the banter rippled through the clearing. Even Sukuna’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.

Shoko smirked, finally taking a bite of her snack. Then, with a small, unexpected gesture, she held it out to Gojo. “Here.”

Gojo’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “I knew you had a heart, Shoko!” He took a bite happily, earning an exasperated sigh from her.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she muttered, shaking her head, but there was a faint smile on her lips.

The lighthearted moment settled over the group, easing some of the tension from the day. For a fleeting second, it almost felt normal—like the world outside these woods wasn’t crumbling, like you were all just friends on a casual outing.

The day stretched on, the sun climbing higher into the sky, beating down on the cracked pavement and overgrown roads. The group moved in steady silence, speaking only when necessary. Sukuna’s presence beside you was a steady anchor—his movements deliberate, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, like a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

By the time the sun began to set, Nanami led the group to an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of what looked like a small, ruined town.

“This is as far as we go tonight,” Nanami said as he surveyed the area. “We’ll set up here, take turns on watch.”

Geto and Gojo took the lead, entering the gas station first to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long before they gave the all-clear, allowing the rest of the group to enter. The gas station was grimy and smelled faintly of mildew, but it was shelter—four walls, a roof, and a place to sleep that wasn’t exposed to the elements.

Sukuna himself would stand guard outside, taking first watch as always.

Inside, the group began settling in. Shoko found some makeshift blankets in the backroom, handing them out to whoever needed them, while Nanami quietly discussed the watch schedule with Geto. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but there was a subtle undertone of relief in having made it through another day.

You dropped your pack in a corner and set up a small space to sleep, but your thoughts remained on Sukuna. Even as the group moved about the room, settling into their makeshift beds, your focus lingered on the door. You couldn’t relax—not entirely—knowing Sukuna was out there, keeping watch alone.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the gas station had fallen silent, that you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Sukuna’s tall silhouette appeared at the doorway, the moonlight casting a faint glow on his face as he entered. His movements were quiet, deliberate, though the weariness in his frame was impossible to miss.

The moment you saw him, you didn’t hesitate. Sitting up from your spot, you reached for him, your voice soft as you beckoned him closer. “Come here.”

Without a word, Sukuna dropped down beside you, settling himself against the wall with a low, tired sigh. You didn’t give him a chance to protest or brush off his exhaustion. Instead, you immediately nestled into his side, tucking yourself gently against him.

“Get some rest,” you murmured, your voice tender as you rested your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Sukuna didn’t resist. His arm came up to wrap around you, pulling you closer as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers traced absent patterns against your arm, his sharp eyes flickering briefly toward the others to ensure everything was as it should be. Only then did he allow himself to relax.

The world outside was cruel and unpredictable, but here, wrapped in the quiet comfort of Sukuna’s warmth, it felt just a little safer. His presence grounded you, a reminder that no matter what the next day brought, you’d face it together.

For now, in this fleeting moment of peace, it was enough.

The group rose with the first light of dawn, the orange-pink hues of the sunrise spilling through the broken windows of the gas station. Nanami was already awake, his map spread out on the counter as he quietly calculated their next steps. Geto leaned over his shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, occasionally pointing out alternate routes. Shoko sat cross-legged on a worn-out chair, sipping something lukewarm from a tin cup, her med kit already packed and resting by her feet. Meanwhile, Gojo lounged nearby, fiddling with a piece of twine he’d found, trying (and failing) to fashion it into a slingshot, much to his own amusement.

Sukuna was the last to wake, but not on his own. You were still half-asleep yourself, head resting on his shoulder after a night of shared warmth. He hadn’t stirred once during the night, his even breathing a steady comfort against the chaos outside. As you blinked yourself awake, the golden light spilling into the room illuminated his face, softened by sleep in a way you rarely got to see.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, guilt settling in your chest. He had been carrying so much—keeping watch, leading, protecting. He needed the rest more than anyone. But the day was calling, and you knew the group couldn’t wait much longer.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and placed a gentle hand on his stomach, giving him a soft shake. “Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of the others. “It’s time to go.”

His brows furrowed slightly at first, his body instinctively resisting the pull of consciousness. But after a moment, his crimson eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a hazy focus. For a second, he didn’t say anything, just blinked at you as if grounding himself in the moment.

Then, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Alright.”

You offered him a soft smile, pulling back to give him space to sit up. He rolled his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair before rising to his feet with practiced ease. Around you, the rest of the group was already moving with purpose—packing, checking gear, and preparing for the day ahead. Sukuna, however, lingered a moment, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you again.

“Let’s get moving,” he said quietly, his tone steady but gentle as he reached for his pack. And with that, the day began, the group falling into rhythm once more under Sukuna’s watchful guidance.

By the time the sun fully crept over the horizon, the group was packed and moving again. The weight of the journey was palpable, and everyone was more focused as the hours stretched on. The empty highways gradually gave way to rural roads lined with skeletal trees and patches of wild grass, their uneven crunch underfoot the only consistent sound.

By midday, the group came across an abandoned farmhouse nestled at the edge of a sprawling field. The structure was mostly intact—shattered windows and weather-worn wood hinting at its age—but it was isolated and quiet, offering a moment of reprieve.

Geto and Gojo took the lead, sweeping the farmhouse to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long for them to give the all-clear, and the group filed in. Sukuna remained just outside, his sharp gaze sweeping over the horizon as he stood guard.

“This will do,” Nanami said, surveying the inside of the house. “We’ll rest here for now.”

Inside, everyone quickly settled into their tasks. Shoko rummaged through a dusty kitchen drawer, unearthing an old, rusted first-aid kit with a satisfied huff, while Gojo poked around the pantry in search of something edible.

You found yourself brushing cobwebs off the mantle of a fireplace, eyes flitting to the window every so often. Sukuna’s presence just beyond the porch felt like a tether, grounding you even as the day’s tension lingered in your chest.

Sukuna stepped inside shortly after, his heavy boots creaking against the old wooden floor. He walked straight to you, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “You’ve asked me that a lot today.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Can’t help it. You’ve got a knack for finding trouble.”

You scoffed, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’ll remind you I’ve saved your ass a few times now.”

Before Sukuna could respond, distant footsteps reached your ears, and the air in the room shifted. Instantly, everyone stilled, their movements halted as their senses sharpened. Sukuna’s hand instinctively went to his weapon, his crimson eyes narrowing as he exchanged a glance with Geto.

The group moved quickly, gathering near the front of the house with weapons drawn. The footsteps grew louder, and it wasn’t long before figures appeared on the horizon—four or five, their postures tense, weapons glinting faintly in the sunlight.

“Humans,” Geto murmured, his voice barely audible.

“That doesn’t mean friendly,” Nanami said, his jaw tight as he positioned himself near the door.

The figures stopped about twenty feet from the house, one of them stepping forward and raising a hand in what seemed to be a gesture of peace. “We don’t want trouble,” the man called out. “Just looking for supplies.”

“Keep moving,” Sukuna barked, stepping forward onto the porch. His voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

The man hesitated, glancing back at his group. “Look, we’re not here to—”

“Don’t take another step,” Sukuna cut him off, his weapon glinting in the faint light as he raised it slightly. “I’m not saying it again.”

The tension in the air was electric, every muscle in your body coiled as the strangers deliberated. Finally, after a long pause, the man nodded. “Alright. We’re leaving.”

The group of strangers retreated, their movements stiff and reluctant, but they didn’t look back. Sukuna stayed on the porch, watching them until they disappeared completely from sight. Only then did he lower his weapon and step back inside.

You were waiting for him, your arms crossed but your expression soft. “You didn’t have to be so scary, you know.”

Sukuna shot you a look, his crimson eyes still blazing. “You think I’m going to take chances? Especially with you around?”

Your breath caught at the quiet intensity in his words. He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours, and you felt the weight of his protectiveness settle between you.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice quieter now. “I’m not losing you.”

The raw vulnerability in his tone made your chest tighten, and you reached out, slipping your hand into his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, you replied, “You’re not losing me. Not now, not ever.”

His grip tightened briefly before he nodded, releasing a small, relieved exhale. “Let’s secure this place,” he said, his voice gruff but softer now.

As you followed him through the farmhouse, the tension from earlier began to fade. Sukuna’s steady presence at your side reminded you that, no matter what this world threw at you, you wouldn’t face it alone.

As night fell, the group gathered in the living room around a small fire crackling in the fireplace. Its warm glow danced on the walls, softening the room’s grim edges. Gojo, never one to let a heavy mood linger, leaned back against the wall with his usual smug grin.

“Well,” he began, flicking a glance at Sukuna, “I’d say we handled that pretty well. Didn’t even need to waste any ammo. Nice job, boss.” He gave an exaggerated wink, clearly fishing for a reaction.

Sukuna ignored him entirely, his crimson eyes fixed on the fire, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch where you sat perched. His body angled slightly toward you, his presence steady and grounding.

Shoko rolled her eyes but smirked faintly as she leaned back against the wall. “Let’s just hope they don’t come back with reinforcements.”

“They won’t,” Sukuna stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The finality of his words seemed to settle the matter.

Nanami, seated at the far end of the room, was hunched over the map, his brow furrowed in thought. Geto stood beside him, gesturing to something on the paper. Their low murmurs filled the lulls in conversation as they discussed potential routes and what lay ahead.

“Tomorrow’s another early start,” Nanami announced eventually, his sharp gaze lifting to sweep over the group. “The farmhouse is a good stop, but it’s too exposed. We’ll need to move at first light.”

There were murmurs of agreement, but the tension began to ease as the conversation shifted.

Geto launched into an outrageous story about a prank war between all of them during their college days. The schemes were both elaborate and ridiculous: Shoko’s chair was saran-wrapped until she couldn’t use it, Nanami’s carefully organized notes were swapped out for pages covered in absurd doodles, and Sukuna’s jacket had been rigged to release an explosion of glitter when he grabbed it, leaving him fuming as everyone else howled with laughter.

Shoko’s revenge was methodical, hiding alarm clocks throughout their dorm to blare at odd hours, while Nanami’s retaliation was subtle yet sharp—he salted Gojo’s coffee just before an important presentation, leaving Gojo spluttering in front of the class. Even Sukuna had joined in, stuffing Shoko’s favorite pastries with wasabi, prompting days of silent glares and thinly veiled threats.

The prank war culminated in chaos when Gojo and Geto teamed up to flip Sukuna’s entire dorm room upside down, duct-taping the furniture to the ceiling in a masterpiece that left the rest of the group cackling while Sukuna plotted revenge.

Gojo was now sprawled out on the floor, laughing so hard he was nearly gasping for air, his hand slapping the ground in a steady rhythm. Shoko, her head tilted back against the wall, groaned dramatically, clearly remembering the chaos of those days, but the faint, amused smirk on her face betrayed her fondness for the memories. Nanami let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head as he thought back to the sheer absurdity of being caught in the crossfire so many times, his ever-composed demeanor no match for the group’s relentless antics.

The laughter was infectious, spreading through the room like wildfire. Sukuna, usually composed and stoic, let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his sharp features softening as his hand briefly covered his face in an attempt to smother the sound. It was so unexpected, so unguarded, that you couldn’t help but laugh even harder, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Without thinking, you leaned into Sukuna, seeking the comfort of his solid presence. His arm slipped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as though it were second nature. The heat of the fire and the gentle weight of his arm wrapped around you created a cocoon of warmth that made the outside world feel like a distant memory.

As the laughter began to fade and the fire’s crackles filled the quiet room, Sukuna’s hold on you didn’t waver. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm, a subconscious gesture that spoke of comfort and connection. You tilted your head slightly, catching the last remnants of his rare smile before his features returned to their usual sharp focus.

Eventually, the fire burned low, and the group began to settle down for the night. Blankets and makeshift beds were laid out across the living room and adjoining rooms, everyone finding their place to rest. You grabbed a blanket of your own, your eyes scanning the room before slipping upstairs to check for anything salvageable.

In one of the smaller bedrooms, you found it—a dusty but intact bedframe with a mattress. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Smiling to yourself, you headed back downstairs.

You approached Sukuna, who was still seated on the couch, watching the group with his usual keen intensity. Gently, you touched his arm to catch his attention.

“Come with me,” you said softly, motioning toward the stairs.

He raised a brow but followed without a word, his broad frame silent as he ascended behind you. When you led him into the small room and gestured toward the bed, his expression shifted from curiosity to something almost incredulous.

“What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with confusion.

You smiled, nudging him toward the bed. “You deserve a bed. It’s not much, but it’s better than the floor.”

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze flicked to the bed, and he huffed a quiet breath, the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You shrugged, your grin widening as you moved to drape the blanket over the mattress. “Maybe.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work. There was something softer in his expression now—an almost reluctant gratitude that he didn’t voice, but you could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed.

When you finished, you turned back to him and patted the edge of the bed. “Go on. You need rest more than anyone.”

He rolled his eyes but stepped forward, sitting heavily on the mattress. The bed creaked faintly under his weight, but it held firm. With a quiet sigh, Sukuna leaned back, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying too.”

It wasn’t a question, and you didn’t argue. Instead, you climbed onto the bed beside him, settling under the blanket as he lay back with one arm behind his head. The bed was small, and the proximity sent a soft warmth blooming in your chest.

For a while, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, the faint creaks of the old house and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds. Then Sukuna turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours in the dim light.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You deserve the bed more than me.”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Someone has to look out for you too.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across his features. Without a word, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The tender gesture made your chest ache in the best way.

“I don’t think I say it enough,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was laying down armor he rarely took off. “But you mean a lot to me.”

Your chest swelled with warmth, and a soft, happy laugh escaped your lips as you tilted closer. “You’ve been saying it in your own way,” you whispered, your nose brushing against his. “But I don’t mind hearing it out loud.”

His mouth curved into a faint, lopsided smirk, but the look in his eyes was nothing but earnest. “I guess I could get used to saying it,” he muttered, his tone softer now, almost teasing.

You grinned, your hand resting lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Good,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

Sukuna didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed you—a slow, deliberate kiss that felt like both a promise and a confession. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your chest tighten in the best way.

As you settled into the circle of his arms, his hand resting securely on your waist, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a peaceful calm. With Sukuna’s quiet strength wrapped around you, the world outside felt just a little less daunting.

The group was already gathered in the living room, their gear stacked neatly by the door. The air was tense but focused, each person making final checks on their supplies. Shoko adjusted the strap on her med bag with practiced ease, while Geto leaned over the map spread out on the table, marking alternate routes and murmuring quietly with Nanami about possible contingencies.

As you and Sukuna entered, Shoko glanced up, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush of sleep still on your face. Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small piece of bread, handing it to you with a casual smirk before tossing another to Sukuna.

“You’re both going to need the energy,” she said simply, her tone as dry as ever but her gesture undeniably thoughtful.

“Thanks,” you murmured, smiling softly as you accepted the bread. Sukuna caught his piece easily, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment before taking a bite.

Nanami’s voice cut through the quiet hum of activity, bringing everyone to attention. “We need to move soon. The longer we wait, the harder this will be.”

The room stilled as Sukuna stepped forward, his commanding presence effortlessly drawing every gaze. His crimson eyes swept over the group, sharp and calculating. “You know the drill. We stick together—no splitting up unless it’s absolutely necessary. If we run into trouble, we fall back and regroup. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, the gravity of his words settling over the room. Shoko slung her med bag over her shoulder, and Geto folded the map with a decisive motion, tucking it into his pack.

“Let’s move,” Sukuna ordered, opening the door and stepping into the cool morning air. The sky was a pale wash of orange and blue, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. The crisp breeze carried a faint hint of dew and wild grass, a sharp contrast to the weight of the journey ahead.

The group moved in a tight formation, the familiar walls of the farmhouse fading behind you as the path stretched out into uneven terrain. The silence between everyone was broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional quiet murmur of conversation. Sukuna walked slightly ahead of you, his broad frame cutting a steady, reassuring figure against the morning light.

As the hours passed, the sun climbed higher, its warmth pressing down on the group as the path grew more overgrown with weeds and debris. Sukuna glanced over his shoulder every so often, his crimson eyes scanning for threats but always flicking briefly to you as if to make sure you were still close.

When the sun was high in the sky, he raised a hand, signaling a stop. “Break,” he said firmly, his voice carrying over the group. Everyone eased onto whatever flat surface they could find—tree stumps, boulders, patches of grass—and began sipping water and pulling out small rations.

Sukuna settled next to you, his knees brushing yours as he leaned back on his hands. His gaze lingered on you, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “You’re quiet today,” he remarked, his voice low and almost tentative.

You glanced at him, offering a small smile. “Just thinking. About what we’re leaving behind, and what’s ahead.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worried?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “A little. It’s just… hard not knowing what we’ll find.”

His expression softened further, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his stoic exterior. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his voice steady and sure. “Together.”

The simplicity of his words, paired with the quiet strength in his tone, settled something in you. You leaned a little closer, letting your shoulder brush his as you whispered, “Thank you.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, but his presence remained a steady reassurance. When the break ended, he rose first, offering you a hand to help you up. The small gesture was unspoken but full of meaning, like so much of what he did.

As the group moved out again, you found yourself walking just a little closer to him, the weight of the journey ahead feeling a little lighter with his steady presence by your side.

As the group trudged along the overgrown road, Sukuna raised his hand in a silent command to stop. His deep voice cut through the quiet, steady and authoritative. “Five-minute break. Stay alert.”

Grateful for the pause, everyone settled into their own routines. Nanami leaned against a tree, unfurling the map to study the route ahead. Geto wandered a little further off, scouting the surroundings with a practiced eye. Shoko sat on a large rock, rummaging through her med kit and muttering to herself as she reorganized supplies. Meanwhile, Gojo flopped dramatically onto the ground, munching on a pilfered apple, his expression one of exaggerated exhaustion.

You dropped your pack with a relieved huff, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension. The weight had been nagging at you for the last stretch of the journey. Sukuna’s sharp eyes caught the movement immediately, and he crossed the short distance between you in a few long strides. Without a word, he stepped behind you and placed his hands firmly on your shoulders, his touch both surprising and steady.

“What are you—oh,” you started, but the words melted away as his thumbs pressed into the sore muscles at the base of your neck.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he worked at the tension in your shoulders. “You’re all knotted up. You’re gonna hurt yourself carrying all that weight.”

The relief was instant, and though you felt your cheeks flush, you couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped you. His hands were rough but careful, the perfect combination of firm and gentle. “I’m fine, really,” you said, though your voice betrayed how much you were enjoying it.

“Sure you are,” he replied dryly. “Fine enough to wince every time you move. You’re not hiding it very well, y’know.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The truth was, it felt too good to tell him to stop. His hands moved expertly over your shoulders and down to your upper back, kneading away the tension like he’d done it a hundred times before. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief, which earned a quiet chuckle from him.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Sukuna teased, his tone lighter but still warm.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, glancing back at him. “You’re good at this.”

“Used to help my brother with this stuff,” he said casually, his hands never faltering. “He’d push himself too hard sometimes. Guess I got good at noticing when someone needs a break.”

The mention of his brother softened you, and you turned your head slightly to look at him more closely. His expression was calm, focused on what he was doing, but there was a tenderness in his touch that made your chest ache in the best way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, his eyes flicking down to yours. “Just don’t be stubborn about it next time.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no heat behind it. “You’re the one being stubborn right now.”

He grinned faintly. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s gonna be complaining tomorrow if I don’t fix this now.”

When he finally stepped back, you felt the loss of his warmth almost immediately. But then, Sukuna crouched down beside your pack, his hands already undoing the straps. “Let’s see what’s making this so damn heavy,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a look that clearly said he wasn’t asking.

He pulled out a sweatshirt first, shaking his head. “You don’t need this.”

Next, a gardening book. “Or this.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he worked with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Then, he paused, holding up a small deck of playing cards. His crimson eyes flicked to yours, one brow arching in disbelief. You recognized it instantly as the deck he’d confiscated from Gojo’s overstuffed bag before the trip.

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone hovering between incredulity and teasing.

You winced, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Gojo’s good at convincing,” you admitted.

Sukuna snorted, shaking his head as he slipped the cards into the pile of discarded items. “You’ve been spending too much time with him. He’s rubbing off on you.”

“You’re just mad he beat you at cards last week,” you teased, unable to resist.

His eyes narrowed playfully, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you carry his bag next time.”

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as his teasing melted into something warmer, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer. Then he stepped back, picking up your pack with ease.

“I’ll carry this for a bit,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sukuna, I can—”

“No arguments,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re no good to me if you’re falling behind because of a sore shoulder.”

You sighed, though the smile on your face betrayed how much his care meant to you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re lucky I’m nice,” he quipped, his smirk turning playful as he gestured for the group to start moving again.

As you fell into step beside him, his steady presence made the long road ahead feel just a little easier to face. Moments like this reminded you that even in the chaos, there were still moments of warmth, humor, and quiet care worth holding onto.

The night was a shroud of darkness, the faint light of the crescent moon barely piercing the dense canopy above. The group moved cautiously along the narrow forest path, the distant rustle of leaves and eerie stillness pressing on your senses like a vice. Every step felt like a gamble, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

Then, a distant but unmistakable sound shattered the stillness—a guttural moan carried by the wind, followed by the crunch of twigs snapping underfoot. It was faint at first, almost like a trick of the mind, but as it grew louder, there was no mistaking what it was.

Your pulse spiked. Ahead, Sukuna’s posture stiffened, his head snapping toward the sound. The groans multiplied, joined by the sickening squelch of feet dragging through the underbrush. The horde wasn’t just nearby—they were closing in.

Before anyone could react, they appeared. Shadows surged from the trees, pale, rotting faces catching the faint moonlight as their guttural snarls grew louder. Zombies. Dozens of them.

The group sprang into action, weapons drawn with the efficiency of survival instincts honed over months of living on the edge. You unsheathed your knife, your heart pounding as you fell into position beside Sukuna.

The undead swarmed like a wave, their twisted hands clawing at the air. Sukuna didn’t hesitate, his blade slashing through the nearest zombie with precision and power. Beside him, you dodged a lunging creature, your knife plunging into its temple with a sickening crunch.

Geto’s crowbar swung in a brutal arc, caving in the skull of a zombie while Gojo’s machete carved through the air with deadly speed. Shoko and Nanami worked seamlessly, clearing a path as they fought back-to-back.

But the numbers were overwhelming. For every zombie that fell, another seemed to emerge from the shadows, their grotesque forms relentless in their pursuit.

You barely had time to breathe as you sidestepped another attacker, its rancid breath brushing your face before you drove your knife upward into its jaw. The creature collapsed, but the sound of groaning and snapping branches told you there were more coming.

“They’re everywhere!” Shoko yelled, her voice strained as she swung her blade at an advancing zombie.

Nanami glanced around, his movements calculated as he crushed another skull. “We need to split—regroup later! We can’t hold them here!”

“No!” Sukuna snarled, his voice sharp as his knife slashed through another undead. “We stay together!”

“They’ll overrun us!” Nanami countered, his tone resolute even as his weapon struck another foe. “We regroup in two hours—this is the only chance!”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes flicked to you for a split second, hesitation flashing across his face before he relented. “Fine! Two hours, back here!”

The group split in a blur of motion, each pair darting in a different direction through the trees. Gojo and Geto broke off down one path, their movements fluid and efficient as they covered each other. Nanami grabbed Shoko’s arm, pulling her in the opposite direction as they vanished into the trees.

You barely had time to react before Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip strong and unwavering as he pulled you forward. “Stay with me,” he growled, his voice low and urgent.

The two of you bolted into the forest, the snarls and groans of the undead growing louder behind you. Branches whipped at your face and arms, but you didn’t dare slow down. Sukuna’s hand was your lifeline, anchoring you as the world descended into chaos.

“Don’t fall behind,” he said, his tone sharp but protective.

“I’m not planning to!” you shot back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you kept pace with him.

The forest seemed endless, each step a fight against the relentless pursuit of the horde. The stench of decay clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You could hear the zombies crashing through the underbrush, their grotesque snarls echoing around you.

Sukuna pulled you sharply to the right, ducking under a low-hanging branch as he led you into a dense thicket. “Here!” he hissed, crouching behind a fallen tree and pulling you down beside him.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your knife still gripped tightly in your hand. Sukuna peered over the edge of the log, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. The groans of the undead grew louder, the shadows shifting as the horde moved closer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Sukuna’s hand tightened around yours, his grip grounding you as the creatures came into view.

He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “We’ll move when they pass. Stay quiet.”

You nodded, your pulse racing as you tried to steady your breathing. The zombies stumbled past, their rotting forms just feet away. The smell was overwhelming, and you fought the urge to gag as one of them paused, its hollow eyes scanning the area.

After a few tense moments, Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly, though his crimson eyes still flicked to the shadows. He turned to you, the tight line of his jaw easing only as his gaze found yours.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but unshakable, a thin thread of worry laced beneath the surface.

You nodded, though your chest heaved from the adrenaline still surging through your veins. “Yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but the smear of blood streaking across his cheek and the jagged tear in his sleeve betrayed his words.

Your gaze dropped to the shallow cut on his arm. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing your fingers gently against it. “You’re hurt,” you said, your voice soft, concern cracking through your composure.

“It’s nothing,” Sukuna replied, his tone softening at the look in your eyes. But before he could reassure you further, the air around you changed.

The faint rustle of leaves exploded into chaos as snarls and guttural growls pierced the night. Heavy footsteps tore through the underbrush, and the trees seemed to shift and tremble as two zombies burst into view, their grotesque forms lurching toward you like predators zeroing in on prey.

Sukuna’s expression darkened, and he grabbed your arm, jerking you behind him as the first zombie lunged. His blade flashed in the moonlight, cutting through the creature’s skull with a sickening crunch. Without missing a beat, he spun, driving his boot into the chest of the second, shoving it back against a tree. But instead of crumpling, the creature let out a guttural snarl and surged forward with surprising strength. Sukuna’s blade came up just in time to block its clawed hand, the force of the strike reverberating up his arm. He shoved it back with a growl, stepping into its space and aiming a slash at its throat, but the zombie twisted unnaturally, avoiding the blow and slashing back with sharp, decayed claws.

The faint rustle of leaves had barely begun to settle when a third zombie appeared, bursting from the shadows like a predator springing its trap. It was on you before you even realized it, its grotesque form moving with an unnatural speed. The sheer force of its charge slammed into you, knocking you off your feet and driving you into the cold, hard ground.

The world spun as you landed with a bone-jarring impact, the breath punched from your lungs. Before you could even process what had happened, the zombie was on you, its decayed face inches away, snarling and snapping its jagged teeth like a rabid animal. Instinct took over, and your arms shot up, locking against its shoulders as you strained to hold it back.

The weight of its body bore down on you like a crushing tide. Its claws raked at your arms, shredding fabric and skin alike as it fought to overpower you. Pain flared hot and sharp, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins pushed it to the back of your mind.

Your mind raced, panic clawing at every nerve as you tried to push it away. The knife—it had been in your hand. Where was it now?

Your eyes darted wildly, searching the dim forest floor. There—it lay just a few feet away, glinting faintly in the moonlight. Desperation flared in your chest, and you shifted one arm to reach for it, your fingers trembling as they scraped against the dirt.

Panic clawed at you as the zombie snarled again, its grotesque face lunging closer. Its teeth snapped wildly, its hot, fetid breath washing over your face, shoulders, and neck. Every inch of you screamed in terror, but you shoved back against its shoulders with all your strength, your muscles trembling under the strain.

The zombie's teeth snapped closer, so close you could feel the heat of its breath against your skin. Its claws dug deeper into your arms, ripping at your flesh as it pushed harder, forcing your back to arch painfully against the ground.

Your fingertips brushed the hilt of the knife, but it wasn’t enough. The zombie snarled louder, the sound drowning out your frantic gasps.

“Sukuna!” you screamed, the raw, desperate cry tearing from your throat.

“I’m coming!” his voice roared from somewhere in the chaos, but the zombie’s weight bore down on you, blocking out everything else.

Terror surged through you as the creature’s jagged teeth lunged toward your shoulder. With a final, desperate push, your hand closed around the hilt of the knife.

Adrenaline exploded through your veins as you swung upward with everything you had. The blade plunged beneath the zombie’s jaw, slicing through decayed flesh and bone, the impact reverberating up your arm.

The zombie convulsed, its body jerking violently before going still. Dead weight collapsed on top of you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare into the sky, gasping for air as your trembling hands released the knife.

The world blurred as you gasped for air, your chest heaving. The stars above seemed to spin, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at the sky. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, so loud it drowned out everything else.

Am I even alive?

Before the thought could settle, the crushing weight was ripped away. Sukuna’s hands gripped your shoulders, and in one swift motion, he pulled you to your feet. The sheer force of his movements sent a jolt through your body, grounding you in the present.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and fear, his crimson eyes raking over you like he was afraid to find the answer.

You swayed slightly, your legs shaky beneath you, and his hands steadied you, his grip firm but not harsh.

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, dazed. Then you felt it—warm, wet, wrong.

Both of you froze, the world narrowing to the crimson stain blooming across your shoulder. Sukuna’s grip slackened, his hands trembling as his sharp, commanding gaze faltered. For the first time, the indomitable Sukuna looked powerless.

“No.” The denial came in a fractured whisper, as if spoken louder, it might shatter him entirely.

Your own hands trembled as you pressed them to the wound, your fingers slick with blood. The air caught in your throat as the weight of realization dawned. “Sukuna… I—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off, his voice biting yet unsteady. His crimson eyes darted to the wound, refusing to believe what he saw. “Just a scratch.”

“But what if it’s not?” you choked, tears slipping free as fear surged through you. “It only takes a minute, Sukuna—”

“Stop.” His hands latched onto your waist, his grip hard, desperate. “Don’t. Say. That.”

“You know it’s true.” Your voice cracked, splintering as the unspeakable hung between you like a death sentence.

“It’s been seconds!” he barked, shaking you slightly, his breath coming fast. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

You shook your head, the pulse in your ears drowning out everything but the countdown hammering in your mind. “You have to do it.”

His face went pale, his jaw locking. “What?”

“You have to kill me, Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice broken, pleading. “Before it’s too late.”

“No.” His denial came quick and brutal, a guttural snarl ripped from his chest. “Don’t you dare ask me for that.”

“Sukuna—”

“You won’t turn!” he shouted, his fury barely masking the crack of desperation in his voice. “It’s a cut. A goddamn cut!”

“But we don’t know!” you cried, your voice rising into a frantic pitch. “It only takes sixty seconds, and that thing—it was snapping at me! Its teeth were so close—”

“Stop!” he roared, his voice shattering the night air. “It didn’t bite you!”

“Twenty seconds,” you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle. Panic clawed at you, its icy grip closing around your throat.

His hands fell to his sides, curling into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. His whole body shook as he struggled against the inevitability.

“Shut up!” His voice cracked, trembling with anguish. “You’re not—”

“Please!” you screamed, tears streaming freely now. “Sukuna, you have to save yourself! You have to do it! Please!”

“I CAN’T!” His voice erupted, a guttural cry of despair, raw and agonized. His entire body trembled as his hands reached for your face. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and erratic. “You don’t get to ask me this,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I can’t—I can’t do it.”

“Thirty seconds.” The countdown fell like a hammer, each tick an agonizing reminder of what was slipping away.

“Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—I don’t want to hurt you, Sukuna. I can’t… I can’t turn into one of them.”

“I’m begging you,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on every syllable. “Please… don’t let me turn into of them.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled.

“Forty seconds,” you sobbed, clinging to him, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the world. “Sukuna, please.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled. For a moment, it seemed like he might hold on forever, refusing to let go.

His jaw tightened, his teeth gritting audibly as his hands fell away from your face. His body rigid as he turned his back to you. His shoulders trembled with the weight of his emotions, his breaths sharp and uneven.

“Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—”

He didn’t respond, his hand dragging through his hair as he paced a few steps forward. His movements were erratic, torn between rage and despair. When he finally stopped, his head dropped forward, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white. The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, slowly, he reached for the gun at his hip.

Your heart raced faster as he turned back toward you, the weapon in his shaking hands. He raised it, the barrel glinting in the faint light as it pointed directly at you. His crimson eyes burned with anguish, his expression twisted in a way you had never seen before—raw, broken, and utterly lost.

“Sukuna,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision as you looked at him.

His hand trembled, the gun quivering in his grip. His jaw worked, but no words came, just the silent agony etched into every line of his face. You could see it—the war raging inside him, the impossible decision tearing him apart.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice breaking.

His crimson eyes burned into yours, filled with anguish, rage, and something utterly broken. “Don’t make me do this,” he rasped, his voice low, raw, and trembling with emotion.

“Fifty seconds,” you whispered, your voice cracking as desperation took hold. Tears blurred your vision, but you held his gaze, silently pleading. “Please, Sukuna.”

The gun in his hands quaked, the barrel dipping before he forced it back up, his entire frame trembling under the weight of the decision. His finger hovered over the trigger, paralyzed, as his breaths turned shallow and uneven. His face twisted, the confidence you always saw in him splintering into fear and despair.

“Sixty seconds.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Everything froze—the wind, the trees, the very earth beneath you—as if the world itself was bracing for what would come next.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Your head snapped down to your shoulder, your hands clawing at the blood-soaked fabric as panic gave way to disbelief. Your trembling fingers probed the wound, and relief slammed into you like a tidal wave.

“It’s…” Your voice cracked, tears streaming down your face as a sob bubbled up from your chest. “I think it’s just a cut. Sukuna—it’s just a cut.”

His crimson eyes widened in stunned disbelief. The gun slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull, final thud. His body gave out entirely, knees slamming into the dirt as his hands flew to his face. A guttural, broken sob ripped from his throat, raw and agonized, his shoulders shaking violently.

“Sukuna!” you cried, collapsing in front of him. Your hands, trembling with adrenaline and relief, cupped his face, pulling it away from his shaking palms. “I’m okay! Do you hear me? I’m okay! Look at me!”

His red-rimmed eyes met yours, hollow and haunted, like a man who had stared into the void and barely clawed his way back. “You can’t…” His voice broke, barely audible, a plea wrapped in heartbreak. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you said, fierce and unyielding despite the tears that streamed down your face. Your forehead pressed to his as you whispered again, “I swear to you—I’m not leaving you.”

His arms shot out, wrapping around you with a desperation that made your breath hitch. He crushed you to him, burying his face in your neck as his body convulsed with shuddering breaths. His hold was fierce, as if he feared you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words escaping him like a prayer. They were broken, raw, and vulnerable, trembling in the quiet air. “I love you so much. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught, your heart breaking as you cupped his face again, pulling him back to meet your eyes. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “I’m here. I swear, I’m here.”

His hands cradled your face now, his touch reverent as though he needed to feel you to believe you were still there. “I thought…” His voice cracked, his jaw trembling as he choked on the words. “I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” you whispered, your own voice breaking. “Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence between you heavy with unspoken promises. Then Sukuna’s lips brushed your temple, soft and trembling, a wordless thank you for still being there.

And in that moment, the world outside could burn, the apocalypse could rage—but in his arms, with his heartbeat pounding against yours, you knew you’d fight through hell to stay together. Two hearts, still beating—alive.

part three coming soon!

taglist: @mangiswig @glads-stuff @merv123 @pinkpookiebear @pookalicious-hq @anything4yoongi @perqbeth @ssetsuka @eggingamazinglove @sylussss7

[eff4freddie]

Date Night

aka the Sexorcism, an After She Left one-shot Words: 6k

Explicit - Minors DNI

It's been a few weeks since Jackson's second attempt at a prom, and even though you and Joel are finally together, it's hard to move past some of what it took to get there. But it's OK, because you've got an idea.

Warnings: Here be smut. PIV, no protection (don't do that and especially not in an apocalypse), praise kink, dirty talk, 69, nose riding, after all that angst finally we just get to watch these two fuck, it's been 84 years... A/N: I miss these two. And I'm ovulating. So y'know, time for a smutty little mini story I guess. You are welcome to read After She Left before this, but you don’t gotta to enjoy the smut.

You couldn’t understand how it was possible, to be so bone-tired that you weren’t sure how you were keeping your head on your shoulders, but so wired that you could barely keep your feet from tapdancing under your desk.

In front of you, the classroom sat quiet in the lazy afternoon sunlight, the half-hour of reading time you’d instituted after lunch giving you enough time to roll your shoulders and remember the heady days of abundant ibuprofen.

It was Joel’s fault you were so tired. He had a habit of keeping you up late, nestled into the crook of his neck on your couch as he told you what Tommy was like as a teenager, told you about how he was awkward and clumsy in high school, how he found he liked shop class because everyone had to wear ear muffs and he didn’t feel the need to be talkin’ all the damn time. Told you about Sarah, about her brilliance and her tinkly little laugh, the love for her radiating from him, warm enough to seep into your bones as you sat beside him. You loved your evenings on the couch with him, listening to the rain on the roof or watching the fire crackle, reading by the lamplight and ignoring when he snored, lightly, beside you. You wanted so many more of those nights, all of those nights you could get.

It was Joel’s fault you couldn’t sit still. Borne out of some kind of Southern manners, whatever was left of them after the end of the world, he’d apparently taken a vow of chastity since that first morning in that random bedroom in the town out to the West, your gasping need for him so acute after Shauna’s betrayal, after nearly losing Ellie, after waking in Joel’s arms. You weren’t sure what was driving it, his sudden reluctance, but it felt clawing and cold, something grasping at his belly from beneath the ground. A new kind of virus that fed on doubt and unfinished sentences.

Two nights ago, restless and unable to settle on the couch beside him even after he tucked the blanket over your bodies and read to you from some paperback Tommy had found on patrol months and months ago, you had felt the words clawing their way up your throat, bilious and corrosive, crafty enough to slide between the gaps in your teeth.

‘What is this, Joel?’ you asked him, your voice louder than you realised in the quiet of your living room. He paused, his whole body going still. You waited for him to turn to you, growing impatient when he stared, resolute, at the page in front of him.

‘Be more specific, baby,’ he said, after a beat or two, and you swallowed, adrenaline pumping hard enough to keep you on a roll.

‘You kiss me, and we cuddle on the couch, and you told me you loved me the night of the Prom, but then since then it’s been…I mean, I don’t know how long since then-’

‘-six weeks and four days,’ he interrupted, and you paused just long enough to allow your surprise to register. He had been counting? Was that a good thing, or a very bad one?

‘…Right,’ you went on, ‘it’s been that long, and you haven’t…we haven’t…’

He sighed, putting the book down, and you thought for a moment of a disapproving principal discovering his favourite student accused of passing notes in the back row, of an exhausted and disappointed father looking at the clock as his recalcitrant teen snuck in an hour after a curfew, of a surly and disapproving boyfriend strung out by his girl’s hysterics. You felt the jolt of anger behind your sternum. First he was counting and now he was sighing at you? Who the fuck did this overgrown apocalyptic cowboy think he was?

‘M’house is so quiet,’ he said, looking down at his lap to avoid looking back at you. He knew, of course he knew, that he’d let it go on too long. That he’d promised on the steps of the mess hall to talk to you, to communicate more, and that he’d told himself that’s what he was doing when he kept you up all night yapping, in the hope that you’d get too sleepy to turn him out. He wasn’t sure how to explain himself, wasn’t accustomed to this level of intimacy, and it had been easier, so much easier, to tuck you up warm and safe on your couch and read t’ya then to ever have to speak out the truth.

‘What do you mean?’ you said, trying to keep your tone even as you felt a pinprick of fear pierce the comforting self-righteousness you had been wrapping yourself in.

‘When I’m over there, it’s just me…’ he went on, quiet, muscles drawn tight into stillness. ‘Swear sometimes I can hear the wood rottin’ in the floors it’s that quiet.’

You swallowed, your stomach sinking. Ellie had been with you now for nearly three months, and she had brought into the house chaos and warmth and terrible baking, endless sketches spread out over the kitchen table, a feeling that the place was as much hers as it was yours now, that it was for the both of you.

‘S’not just that,’ he went on, his brows saddled. ‘She was there…slept in my bed.’ At this he paused and turned to you, panic on his face. ‘I was always on the couch,’ he clarified, and you nodded at him.

‘I know you were,’ you assured.

‘Just like it over here, is all,’ he shrugged. ‘S’warm over here, and it’s got my girls in it.’

‘But then, why…?’ you asked, not able to form the words ‘haven’t you taken me up the stairs and ravished me three ways from Sunday’, letting the gentle implication rest, instead.

‘Because Ellie’s here,’ he said, simply. ‘I mean, I know she’s not always here, sometimes she’s out at Dina’s, or she’s at the movies with her friends. I know that.’

‘You worried Ellie’ll come home and see you nose deep between my thighs on the carpet?’ you asked, smiling, trying to lighten the mood and it worked a little, Joel letting out a pleased huff.

‘If that’s all I’m doin’ to ya she’d be lucky,’ he said, and you felt the blooming heat on your cheeks. ‘It don’t feel right comin’ in here and…sullying the place, I guess. Know I’m a visitor here, know that this is a special place for you girls.’

You considered this for a moment. He still didn’t feel home here, you realised. He was keeping a safe distance, a respectful distance, a visitor to his not-daughter and his girl.

‘We want you here, Joel,’ you said, and he hummed in a kind of acknowledgement.

‘This is her space, she carved it all for herself, and I can’t be…too much in it,’ he said, after a while. You could see this was hard on him, talking about it just as much as thinking about it. You nodded your head.

‘What about if we went to yours?’ you asked, and he sighed. You hadn’t been there since Shauna ruined your cake, since Ellie had moved over to yours, since you and Joel had finally found your way to be together. He worried, even if he would never find the words to really explain it, to you and also to himself, that the memories of all that hurt would carry themselves on the tiny motes of dust, catch in your lungs and poison you of him, infect this fragile little thing he and you were nursin’ between his outstretched hands.

‘Can’t put you out,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll give you a few days to clean the place up,’ you said, definitive. ‘I want that place spotless so we can get in there and defile the shit out of it.’

He barked, a kind of surprised but joyful exhalation. He fuckin’ loved you, even if you did boss him around.

--

You considered it a sexorcism, of sorts. Joel was right, you realised. Shauna had been hanging over the two of you ever since you were almost and then not quite and then finally some kind of together. You had wanted to throw caution to the wind, had wanted to be the kind of person that didn’t care about getting hurt, that walked the plank with her eyes open, but that wasn’t the world you lived in anymore. That wasn’t what kept people alive twenty years.

So, you’d hung back, maybe let him keep you safe and warm on your couch, maybe terrified to puncture something gentle and ill-formed, let the comfort of it wrap itself around you until it started squeezing the air from your lungs.

You called the end of the school day early, completely unable to concentrate on Mika’s book report when the book he was reporting on was another comic from 2001, and not a single child under your tutelage had complained about leaving after lunch. It was a Friday, and that meant it was movie night in town so all the kids would be heading there after dinner, and you wanted to go home and shower, smear some powder made of ground up rose petals and talc on your cheeks, try and find a pair of underwear with the elastic still intact.

You wanted to work Shauna out of your system, while comprehensively working Joel in. Your hands had been tremoring all day. You felt like you were fourteen, like this was the first date of your life, like a virgin on her wedding night. You felt like an idiot. You felt like your skin was a size too small. You felt, not for the first time, head over heels for this man.

The sun was setting as you made your way over to his place, watching most of the town gather at the mess hall as you slipped behind side fences and onto Joel’s front porch. You’d barely stepped a foot on the first step before he was pulling the door open, what you had come to think of his best green flannel tight over his biceps. You stepped forward, a shy little grin on your face as you noticed he had slicked his hair back, freshly showered and smelling faintly of pine even from this many paces away. You felt the blush creep up your cheeks as he turned the full intensity of his gaze to you.

‘Hey,’ he said, stepping forward and extending a hand to you. You’d barely laid your palm in his before he was caging your fingers, gripping you and tugging you into him, his other hand falling to the small of your back as he pulled you backwards into the house, chest to chest, nose to nose. ‘Longest fuckin’ afternoon of m’fuckin’ life,’ he said, and you managed to squeeze out a giggle before he was on you, his lips hot and hungry, his hand reaching up to cradle your jaw as he opened it.

You might have gasped a little. You’d kissed him before, of course you had, but there was something in it now, something urgent and anticipatory, that had both of your pulses racing under your skin. You felt the scruff of his whiskers against your cheek as he nuzzled at you, your hands settling on his waist and pulling him closer to you, like you could climb him, like you could open his chest and settle yourself there against his sternum.

‘Fuck,’ you whispered, an understatement. He exhaled through his nose, pulling up long enough to gaze down at you, holding your face gentle and strong in his paw.

‘Wanted this for so long,’ he muttered. ‘Been so stupid makin’ us wait for it.’

‘Sssh,’ you whispered, reaching up to cup your hand over his mouth. His brows raised in surprise but he stood still, letting you muzzle him. ‘No more of that,’ you instructed, and he nodded slightly under your hand. ‘Y’got me now, Big Bad Joel Miller,’ you reminded him, and you watched as something dark, something sinful, sparked behind his eyes.

He gently pulled your hand away. ‘She wet for me, baby?’ he asked, and you shivered, spellbound by the sin of it, by the promise. All you could do was nod, watching as his eyes drifted closed, as he let out a quiet moan. You reached down, your fingers ghosting over the fly of his jeans, to feel the bulge of his cock, the straining flesh just under the denim.

‘Want you, want this,’ you whimpered, catching your bottom lip between your teeth as you gazed up at him. He grinned.

‘C’mere,’ he grunted, lifting you wholly over his shoulder and making your shriek, your laughter catching in your belly as he gripped the back of your thighs.

‘Joel!’ you squealed, struggling against him as he held you fast, pivoting you both towards the stairs.

‘Quit wriggling,’ he grinned, lifting a hand to gently swat at your bottom, chuckling as you gasped. ‘Oh, you don’t mind it when I’m mean t’ya,’ he observed, his chest swelling in pride, as you hung over his shoulder.

‘Shurturrrp’ you gritted out, your world upside down as you watched the stairs fall away behind you. He chuckled again.

In his bedroom he set you right, surprisingly gentle, at the foot of the bed.

‘Arms up,’ he instructed and you found them raising above your head unbidden, barely a thought having passed before they acted of their own accord. He pulled up your shirt, the fabric clinging to you where you had started to sweat, and you wondered why you’d bothered agonising over the decision as to what to wear when he was going to peel your clothes right off you the moment he could. Down to your bra you watched as his eyes lit up, roaming over your chest as he lifted his hands to your shoulder blades and brought you closer to him.

‘God damnit,’ he muttered, ducking low to come eye-level to your tits. ‘So pretty, baby,’ he praised, reaching over with one hand to cup the swell of your breast, his thumb rolling the nipple over the cotton. The simple movement sent lightning bolts of clawing pleasure through to your cunt, your tremulous pulse thrumming between your thighs. Impatient, you reached down and lifted the flesh from your bra, watching his eyes glaze over as he observed them drop.

‘Fuck,’ he whispered, as you reached out to thread your hands through his curls, to steady yourself and to feel him, to draw him to you, to bring his mouth to your nipple, feeding him your tit like a dying man on a desert island.

‘Jesus…’ you whispered as he sucked, swirling the tightening little bud beneath his tongue. You had felt what it could do to your cunt that one night on the couch months and months ago, had thought about it in the quiet moments, in the dark moments, between wakefulness and sleep. You gripped his hair in your fingers as he whimpered a little, a happily little grunt forming in the back of his throat.

You were going to be the death of him. Perfect tits in his face, warm and soft skin under his tongue. From here, even through your little skirt, that he was sure had at one time belonged to Maria, he could smell your arousal, longed to reach out and gather your slick between his fingers, lick them clean of you just to get them dirty in your cunt all over again.

He could feel his cock, hard and urgent against the zip of his jeans, and if he hadn’t been so hellbent on wringing the pleasure from you he would have shucked off the denim and taken care of himself right then and there. Breath ragged, he instead steadied himself, closing his eyes to imprint the taste of your skin on his tongue, as he unlatched.

He kissed you again, your head cradled in his hand as he stepped you towards the bed, the back of your knees butting up against the mattress. He wanted to do this right, had been thinking about it for weeks, for months. The first time he was with you he knew he had used you for his own comfort, trying to embed your warmth inside himself so he could take it with him on cold mornings. The second time it had been to ground you, to push back the grasping dark. Tonight, it would finally be just to love you. To feast on your body, to pull the moans from your throat and the breath from your lungs. To undo you, to let you undo him in kind.

He felt your little hands scratching as his belt, huffed out a little laugh as you unbuckled him, a look of concentration setting lines into your brow.

‘Easy, baby,’ he whispered low, reaching down to hold your hand in his. ‘We got all night.’

‘Waited forever,’ you muttered, frustrated. ‘Please, Joel, want you in my mouth.’

He groaned, momentarily frozen, as his cock registered what you’d said before his brain did. ‘Can’t say shit like that t’me, sweet girl,’ he warned you, as you reached up to him, pulling his mouth back onto yours to silence him.

‘Please, baby,’ you whimpered against his lips, resting your hand on his neck where you could feel his racing pulse. He nodded, just enough that your hands were again at his belt, your fingers easing down his fly and reaching in to grip him, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as his breath stuttered.

You knew he was big, but it still surprised you, the true weight of it. You slipped it from his underwear, pulling it clear of the waistband to rest in your palm.

‘Wait,’ he muttered, and you stilled, watching him compose himself under furrowed brows. You grinned up at him, thrilled by the power you had over him in this moment, watching as his hands shook. Then he rolled, hooking his legs under your knees until you were on your side and he was up again, back on his feet as he reached out and pushed your skirt up over your waist.

‘No, Joel I…’ you started, but stopped when a thick finger traced its way over the folds of your underwear, already soaking the cotton.

‘Smell so sweet,’ he said, almost to himself, before addressing you properly. ‘You really think you could make me wait for her?’ You could only moan in response as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband, the callused skin of his fingertip meeting your aching, welcoming folds.

With his other hand he shucked his jeans over his hips, pushing them down until they gathered at his feet, his underwear going with them. You gazed, heavy lidded, as he crouched over you, pulsing cock hanging heavy between his legs. Not for the first time you considered that he resembled a roman warrior, carved out of marble, when this was all over considered crowning him in laurels for the sight of his abs alone.

‘Stay there,’ he instructed, slipping his fingers from your folds despite your protests and going instead to stand behind your head. He pulled you towards him by the shoulders, until your head was dangling over the bed, his cock now jutting out just in front of your nose as you hung between his thighs. It was obscene and you loved it, tracing back the veins on the underside of his cock to the thicket of his wiry hair, mapping it first with your eyes, and later, your tongue.

You opened your mouth.

Joel gasped, the sight of you prone beneath him, little pink tongue pillowing out of your mouth to accept him, your cunt scenting the air around you with your arousal as you reached to his thighs to bring him to you. He groaned, taking a step or two forward, resting his knees on the edge of the bed as he lowered himself to your glistening lips, your neck straining towards him. Gentle, so gentle with your pretty throat, he slipped the head past your lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt you stretch your jaw to accommodate him.

You groaned around him, his cock only just slipping past your tongue, feeling the saliva pool at the side of your mouth as you welcomed him. You let your eyes slip closed, feeling him pulse on your tongue as your head bobbed over the side of the bed to take him in, startling a little when you felt his hands reach out again to cup your tits, still sitting over the cups of your bra. What a sight you must have been, you mused, tits out and skirt shucked up over your hips like a whore, swivelling and writhing on top of the bed in the hope for some kind of stimulation over your aching, pulsing cunt.

‘So good, baby,’ Joel groaned above you and you felt more slick pooling between your thighs, his fingers again tweaking your nipples as he manhandled you from above. You relaxed your jaw, concentrating on breathing through your nose and letting your pulse lessen, feeling your muscles go slack as he worked himself further into your throat.

Joel couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching as his cock bulged in your windpipe, distending the flesh. You groaned, gulping down on him, swallowing around his pulsing flesh and making him count backwards from a thousand so as not to end it right there and then. You were sinful like this, eyes watering from the stretch, grasping at his thighs and pulling him closer, forward, moaning.

‘Oh, my sweet filthy girl, so good t’me,’ he praised, as he knelt over you, bending at the waist to slide his hands down your body and again cup your cunt. You jolted, a shuddering little sigh leaving you as you felt his fingers press again at your lips. ‘Lose these,’ he said, ripping the fabric of your underwear from you and pulling your knees up, planting your feet on the blankets beneath you. You felt even more exposed to the room, dripping now onto the bedspread, and you felt yourself fluttering, your cunt pulsing against nothing, the libidinousness strangely freeing as you released Joel’s cock from your throat just to lift your head and suck one his balls into your wet heat.

‘Ha!’ Joel gasped above you, watching as his glistening cock sat fat and heavy along your nose, your eyes still shut tight as you slurped happily on his ball. Your other hand reached up to weigh and tease the other, the combined sensation sending shockwaves down his shaft. He forced himself to breathe, taking loud and slow inhales and exhales through his nose, sliding a fat finger into your cunt to both reward and punish you for your trickery.

You groaned, the heel of his palm resting heavy on your clit as he pistoned his finger in and out of your slick. Careful not to jostle you, he shifted his weight forward, coming up on his knees on the edge of the mattress and leaning, moving his hands to plant beside your hips. You gasped as you realised what he was doing, rolling your hips to angle yourself towards him, feeling the lips of your cunt unfurl under his hungry gaze.

‘God, she’s so perfect,’ you heard him groan, settling down on his elbows and dipping his head between your thighs. ‘Prettiest cunt I ever saw.’ You pulled your mouth from him just long enough to gasp ‘all yours, all for you Joel’ before he descended, fastening his lips to your tight little bud as his nose parted your folds beneath it. You writhed, all thoughts evaporating from your mind, as you felt your hips grind into his face.

‘Fuck, oh my god Joel!’ you rambled, the weight of his body pressing down against you as his cock bobbed just at the end of your nose. He didn’t respond, not with words, deciding instead to pull your clit between his teeth. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, your hands grasping at his thighs, your mouth opening just enough to rub the underside of his cock against your tongue. He shuddered and you did it again, licking a stripe along his flesh before you lifted your head and angled the head of his drooling, heavy cock between your lips again.

This was war. This was a race. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning, of making you come, before he’d shot his load down your throat. In response to your renewed determination Joel shuddered, a long, low moan reverberating along your tortured bundle of nerves as he pushed his nose deeper into your core, wiggling it there. Your scent surrounded him, your scorching folds opening beneath his ministrations, and combined with the shocks of pleasure you were wringing from him he had to remind himself to breathe. He couldn’t think straight, saw stars fizzing behind his eyelids, felt the headiness of your slick, the scent of you surrounding him, drawing him in deeper, down further, your pretty little mouth torturing him while you drowned him with your cunt. ‘This is what those sailors crashed their ships into the rocks for,’ he suddenly realised, the only vaguely cogent thought he could muster.

You tried to lie still, tried to hold back the pleasure building at the base of your spine, but you were writhing, riding the bridge of Joel’s nose as he pushed it further inside you, clit caught between his lips as he suckled. He wasn’t playing fair, you complained in your head. How could you concentrate on beating him when he was trying to suck your soul out through your cunt? You tasted salt on your tongue, opening your eyes to watch his hips stutter, his whimpering little moans coming more frequently now as his cock started to dribble. Again, you reached up to cradle his balls, your jaw aching, saliva dripping past your chin, as you felt his shaft pulse with his need.

You couldn’t last much longer. You wanted it to go on forever.

You desperately, urgently needed to come.

Joel raised his head, rutting against you as he fisted the blankets.

‘Baby, you gotta…won’t last if you…’ he stuttered but you ignored him, doubling your efforts despite the way your head had started to swim. He gasped, pistoning his hips into your mouth by pure instinct, curses flowing from his mouth as he gazed down at your dripping folds.

‘Yeww furrsht’ you grunted, bobbing your head against the edge of the mattress in time to his thrusts. You felt him laugh, his belly and his chest shuddering, as he gently, heavily, lifted himself back up on his knees.

‘Ok baby, you win,’ he said in mock surrender, crawling onto the mattress beside you as you caught your breath. You ignored the way the room swam, slightly grey at the edges. A victory was a victory, after all.

‘Jesus Christ, all this time we been dancing around each other you had that mouth on ya?’ he sighed, shaking his head. ‘I’m a damn fool.’

You grinned, reaching up to wipe your chin and massaging some of the ache from your jaw.

‘Enough of that,’ you said, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep as he gazed down at you, warmth in his eyes.

‘Didn’t wanna come like that, baby,’ he whispered, reaching out to push your hair behind your ear, trailing his hand along your jawline to fall, delicate and heavy all the same, atop your chest. ‘Not ‘til I’m deep inside ya.’

You shivered, the heat of his words amplified by the sincerity of them, by the gentle filth he was whispering with reverence. You ached, now, a kind of cavernous feeling settling inside you as your cunt fluttered. You let your eyes drift down, to his throbbing cock resting heavy on the blankets beneath him, the tip leaking and an angry red.

‘Please,’ you whispered, gazing up at him again as he ran a fingertip down your belly to nestle, warm and safe, inside your core.

‘Ok, baby,’ he whispered back, shifting his weight to position himself, lifting your legs by the knee to cradle his hips between them.

He notched himself at your entrance. You felt yourself go soft, didn’t realise you were holding your breath. ‘Love you, my sweet girl,’ he said, bringing his lips down to yours so he could catch them between his teeth as he pushed inside you. You moaned, the hot sound of your pleasure ricocheting around inside his mouth, as you lifted your hips to welcome him in.

‘Doin’ so good,’ he praised, reaching down with one hand to rub gentle circles on your clit. ‘I got you, baby. Let me make you feel good.’

You nodded, your eyes falling shut at the stretch, the sting in the core of you giving away to a pulsing kind of pleasure, a destruction and a remaking.

‘Oh, God…’ you whimpered, as he nudged his nose to yours, smelling your arousal on his skin as he dipped his head lower again to kiss you. Again, he pried you open, held you fast with his lips and with his cock, as you let him consume you all the way down to your last atom.

He was everywhere, his weight and his heat surrounding you, so overwhelming, so encompassing, that you felt tears gather at your cheeks. You shifted, lifting your head away and up to the crook of his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin to nibble on him, to take some part of him into yourself, to let the primal take over, in your writhing hips, in your gnashing jaws.

Joel groaned, the feel of your bite driving his hips further, reaching down to hitch your leg over his hip, sawing in and out of your swollen, dripping cunt, feeling your walls flutter as your hands clawed at his back.

‘That’s it, sweet girl,’ he encouraged, as he felt you piston your hips to meet his. ‘Work me into that sweet little cunt.’

You whined, the pleasure of it overwhelming you, releasing his skin from your mouth just to arch your head back, extend your neck and suck in lungfuls of air just to bellow them out as he brought you, overwrought, to the very edge. You could feel your cunt clamping down on him, could feel your slick gathering beneath you, sodden, on the blankets. Could hear your cries of pleasure as if from a distance, could barely recognise them as your own.

He was going to end you. You were going to let him.

‘Want your come in me,’ you rambled, pausing just long enough to take in Joel’s moan. ‘Want to drip you until tomorrow, go off to the mess hall with your come running down my thighs.’

‘Fuck,’ Joel exclaimed, wondering exactly what kind of hell beast his cock had unleashed, and if he should warn the other residents of Jackson. He fucking adored you, and your filthy mouth, and in that moment all he could think of was filling your sweet little pussy to the brim, lashing you to the bedpost and not leaving you until you were dripping him. Keeping you tethered and fed and leaking him, barefoot in his kitchen ready to hitch your skirt over your thighs and swallow his heaving cock into your scorching little cunt.

You could feel his thrusts getting sloppy, his hips stuttering as he gasped, resting his lips on your forehead as he whispered filth you could barely make out into your skin. You could feel your cunt tightening, your stomach muscles curling up to pull your hips further towards him, your shoulders tight as you gripped the blankets beneath you. You could feel it, the winding of the spring.

‘Oh, can feel her grippin’ me,’ Joel mumbled, ‘she gettin’ ready to explode, sweet girl?’ he asked, and you could only nod, eyes shut tight trying to hold back the pleasure.

‘Good girl,’ he groaned and you shuddered, lighting shooting through your core at his casual but devastating praise. ‘Come for me, sweet girl, let me have it,’ he grit out, shifting his weight to rest on one elbow and run his hands down to rub again at your straining clit. You gasped, the air knocked from your lungs by the sudden pleasure of it, and you felt your jaw lock as you clamped down on the feeling.

‘Joel, you’re gonna make me…’ you started but found yourself entirely unable to finish the sentence, the tremors racing up your sides and rendering you speechless.

‘Do it, baby. Gonna paint this sweet little cunt full’a me,’ he promised, and you felt it, then, the point of no return.

‘Joel!’ you exclaimed, eyes wide and searching his as he rolled his hips, holding you steady in his gaze as you came apart around him, fucking you through it as you writhed, his own release chasing soon after as he felt you fluttering walls grip him, milk him, releasing deep into your cunt molten and scorching, his pleasure and his love.

--

On aching legs, you ambled your way out of the bedroom, the morning sun just spreading itself over the mountains, casting the halls in a golden glow. Joel’s snores drifted down the stairs as you went, following you into the kitchen and embedding themselves deep into the tattered lace of the curtains. You knew Joel had some coffee, he’d bragged about Tommy bringing some back for him on patrol, and even if it was twenty years old you still felt the man had earned it, your cunt still pulsing from his ministrations the night before.

While you waited for the water to boil you stood, leaning your hip into the counter. But for the snoring the house was quiet, but it was a calm kind, a peaceful kind. You looked over at the kitchen table, to where you and Ellie had first met after school for her tutoring lessons, to where Joel would bring you both dinner in what you had initially thought was some kind of paternal gesture and what you now realised was a ploy to make sure you didn’t leave.

You glanced over to the couch, resolving to bring over some blankets from your place such that Joel could tuck you up in them over here, too.

You poured out a coffee, knowing without having to ask that Joel would take it black. The air felt livelier, somehow, the promise of something riding alongside the dust motes.  As you moved through the quiet, your footsteps back up the stairs barely left an echo.

Tags

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[k-tarotz]

Would You Survive A Horror Movie? | PAC

𐙚 1 𐙚 2 𐙚 3

𐙚 4 𐙚 5 𐙚 6

written by Candy

Since Halloween is here, I thought I would do a more dark pick a card! I wish I could have posted more for spooktober, but unfortunately I couldn’t. Regardless, I came up with this because I genuinely think it’s a fun concept and we have all been curious about something like this at least once in our lives. If you dressed up as anything for halloween or will please do let me know! I love hearing what people dressed up as! 🫶🏻

Pile One

🃏: the moon, the star, ten of coins, eight of wands side ways

Hii my beautiful pile one! You would definitely survive a horror movie, but not alone. I do think that you would do better in a group because you are someone that thrives better in them, even if you are usually quiet or more on the shy side. This is honestly due to you being able to rely on someone, you need a sense of stability to not completely lose yourself to fear.

Honestly, being in a group could also remind you of reasons why you would keep alive, it could be quite a big motivator factor for you to be honest. Especially since I do think that most people choosing this pile thought of a very specific scenario, trope, AU or media that they would like to partake in! [for some of you this is a zombie apocalypse scenario/AU.]

At first you might be a bit lonely, but you have the kind of spirit that doesn’t give up. You aren’t easy to bring down. So you could for sure survive on your own, and you would, but it isn’t necessarily something that you would enjoy. It might even make you think that you won’t be able to survive, because perhaps you don’t trust in your own abilities that much, even tho you are awesome trust. Regardless, because of this you will keep seeking out a group to be a part of and will offer your help and rely on other people when needed. I do think that you are also very great at listening to other people, so that’s nice in this scenario! It would help in high tension situations, bc you would always be able to tell what’s right to do at the given moment. Although, I do think that you would be mentally scarred from the experience, you tend to be more sensitive to heavy stuff than the average person. (Which isn’t a bad trait at all, so no worries about that.)

Regardless, your energy seems like one of someone incredibly sweet yet still badass.

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Two

🃏: the devil, the lovers, three of swords, eight of swords reversed, the world

Hello my dark romance enjoyer pile.~ If that doesn’t apply to you, this is probably not your reading. Either way, when it comes to you, it really depends on several factors. Do you know the killer? Are they attractive? Do you hate their personality or not? How are you feeling on that specific day? So many things to answer, so many things to say. Regardless, I do think that for the most part you would survive, unless you are like super depressed that day and genuinely have no will to keep on fighting.. or if the person physically overpowers you simply due to them having way more strength than you do.

Otherwise you would survive tho.

Matter of fact if the person that would try and kill you is a person that you hate you would just kill them yourself. You as a victim just sounds wrong, you know how to fight for yourself if you need to. The energy is sort of like ‘no human can bring me down unless I allow them to.’ (or creature if you are thinking of something along the lines of an alien or monster.)

Now, regardless of all of that.. as I already mentioned, some of you are into dark romance. This could be due to the media you consume, but I genuinely don’t think it’s a bad thing bc this pile seems very intelligent and also daydreamy!

Regardless, if you will like the person you will for sureee try to seduce them. Yes, the killer. I don’t mean this in a sexual or really sensually charged way, but like by treating them nice and being yourself, not being overly scared and reactive. (Someone in this pile likes venom a lot.. yes it applies to you too.) It would work though. You would gain yourself a pretty partner just by being yourself and I honestly think that’s adorable!

Though people might think you are a victim but you would be happy, just chilling. It reminds me of Gomez and Morticia Addams.. Morbid but full of genuine love without any sort of doubt between them. It’s very cute!

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Three

🃏: the fool, five of coins reversed, the tower, wheel of fortune

Well in real life? No, you would absolutely die first, you would keep making the wrong choices over and over, because you would simply not be able to think straight because of fear, at all.

In a movie? you would survive for sure, simply due to pure luck. And plot armour, you would be the main character for sure. I think, if you would be in a horror movie people would watch it due to it being entertaining, not because it’s scary at all.

I do not mean this in a bad way at all though, of course, I don’t look at this as a bad thing. Your energy is more like the scary movies with ghost face rather than a story right out of the conjuring. So people would love the movie because you are fun, easy to relate to and very entertaining!

If you would be in a horror movie it would very specifically be one with a serial killer, or at least a real human in it, because I don’t think you would actually be scared of anything paranormal but that you would rather brush it off.

Though, in real life your story would unfortunately be tragic, but one that would get a lot of media exposure and bring awareness to people! Of course you are safe though, don’t worry about things that haven’t happened 🫶🏻

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Four

🃏: the high priestess reversed, six of cups reversed, three of cups reversed, king of swords, page of cups

No, because you are simply too self sacrificing. I don’t think there is much to say about your pile aside from how loving and good hearted you are. I do think that most of you would self sacrifice yourself for your friends or family, but many of you would sacrifice yourselves for pets or helpless animals in general. You would rather sacrifice yourself than allow them to suffer, even if there is a slight chance of them surviving due to your sacrifice you will take it.

However, I do think that many of you would not even bother to try and save yourselves. For some of you the people and pets that you love are your everything, your motivation to keep on going and live your life everyday. So if they go you won’t try to keep on living. For this group, I do not think that there is an exception due to how big your heart is, due to how loving you are. You guys are very empathetic people, you might give more than you receive in life and that especially emotionally. Unfortunately, that would be your weakness in this. Maybe even now you put others before your own self.

Though, I do think yours would be a natural disaster horror movie (for example ‘under paris’, or a tsunami or something. definitely something that includes water though.) so not the cliche killers or paranormal experience.

Maybe, for only a few of you, there is someone that you love so much that if they tried to kill you (drown you), you wouldn’t mind at all. Just let them. You could have realised this while watching some media? Either way, yours would be a story of tragedy. (Please do not let anybody hurt you though.)

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Five

🃏: the magician, four of cups reversed, the wheel of fortune, justice, ace of cups

You would survive because you are very smart! Yours would be more of a survival story, becoming a horror due to the cruel realistic things portrayed in it. With stomach turning scenes that absolutely do happen in the real world, in the shadows, in secret, which would he the horrifying part about it! Hard to wrap your head around, but still plausible if you give it a thought for a little while.

Regardless I do think that you would get along well with the killer, but not due to genuine interest at all, rather because you would want them to believe that they can trust you, that they can confide in you and that you listen well to them. Which you would, you would earn their trust in you and when they least expect it escape. (Bc I honestly think you are the sort of person that would get kidnapped and held captive, based on the energy in this pile.) So to put it simply; you would intentionally manipulate them so they won’t kill you right off the bat or hurt you as severely as they intended to do so. Though I don’t think you would be without any traumas, you would be much more lucky than victims that have came before you because you would know how to achieve your goals. How to pull the strings without being suspicious or causing chaos.

You would have a silent confidence in yourself despite being scared; because you are someone that’s very mentally strong.

You would survive due to pure tactics and because you would never get too comfortable or lost in your thoughts, lost in your feelings and emotions. There would definitely be a tunnel vision of what your goal is which would save your life!

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

Pile Six

🃏: judgement, ten of cups, king of coins, death, six of swords

Yes, but there is nothing really celebratory about at all. At least you wouldn’t find anything joyous about it. Rather, there is a bittersweet feeling of guilt. Sure, you would be happy that you survived but you would feel like you shouldn’t have at all. That someone else more deserving of it should have, that they should have lived instead. It’s like you would try to convince yourself that you don’t deserve to be alive, which is not true, but you wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt. Everyday you would be reminded of it, even in the ordinary and simple things.

I do also feel like this is in regards a very specific person that is close to your heart! They wouldn’t survive, but you would and I don’t think you would be able to live your life in a healthy way without them. You would think about them a lot, everyday.

It reminds me of the end of “Train To Busan” where the pregnant lady and the little girl survived, they lived but ultimately you could see the devastation on their face. They weren’t happy at all, just exhausted. One lost a husband, and one lost her father.

You would be like that, a ghost of who you used to be to the point of no return. I do think you would live on though, for them. To honour them, to not disrespect them.

Thank you for reading! Please don’t forget to look at our paid readings if you enjoyed this! 🤍

[luveline]

Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻

quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k

Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours. 

You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm. 

“Don’t get too hot!” you call. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout. 

“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.” 

Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly. 

“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?” 

“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her. 

Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same. 

Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time. 

The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.

“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze. 

“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy. 

“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.” 

“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.” 

“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says. 

“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes. 

“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.” 

“She was disgusted.” 

“She said we were being weird teenagers.”

“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.” 

“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.” 

“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.

Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.” 

He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?” 

Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?” 

“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.” 

“Right. Isn’t everybody?” 

“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.” 

“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.” 

Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling. 

“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly. 

“I missed my cousin, I think.” 

Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug. 

“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles. 

He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset. 

“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says. 

“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.” 

“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.” 

“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.” 

“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally. 

“Why now?” 

“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.

You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?” 

“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front. 

You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease. 

Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says. 

“Freezing!” 

Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.” 

“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?” 

“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.” 

“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.” 

“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck. 

You push against his hand gently with your cheek. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.” 

“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.” 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

“Nothing. I was just about to get out.” 

“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?” 

“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere. 

Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.” 

You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck. 

“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses. 

“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair. 

“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.” 

“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper. 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.

“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“It’s a good thing.” 

“How dare you.” 

“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead. 

“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge. 

“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”

He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore. 

[naffeclipse]

Chokepoint

Reader x Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

This request was such a blast to write! Thank you to the lovely @bluemoon1331 for letting me write your amazing AU called Then There Was One. It's the AI apocalypse, and the reader is the last human on earth. It's a very good thing you have the one and only Daycare Attendant at your side, but that doesn't mean you're out of the woods yet.

Content Warning: End of the world and angst.

———

Your boots crunch on dirt and grit strewn about a lone paved road leading into a small town. The day is warm for autumn. You lift your eyes to the golden yellow sky as the sun dips deeper and deeper down. Nightfall will bring the cold. The cold will bring a chance of catching sickness or becoming too slow to escape from purple-eyed robots. You adjust your backpack strap, check your taser in your pocket, and look to the only person you trust in the world. 

Sun. The animatronic is tall and lissom. His faceplate moves on a swivel, surveying the quiet of the suburbs you trespass into. Cars are strewn about the blacktop and pushed off onto the shoulder of the road. 

His pale eyes turn on you as your fingers clench tighter around the strap of your gear. Loosening your grip, you smile at him.

“So far, so good?”

“About sentient AI life that would love to end your very existence being notably absent, yes!” he gives cheerfully. 

You arch an eyebrow but humor laces your lips. Sun always knows how to put it delicately. He reaches back, however, without breaking his long-legged stride to tighten the other strap and secure your pack better against your back.

“Careful of your paint,” he clicks his tongue, “If you rub it too much, it’ll come off and show your pretty face!” 

You almost reach up to touch your cheek, heating slightly under his casual comment, but stop short. It’s not much, just basic Halloween make-up you had stored away for an occasion that resembles enough silicon to let you not catch the eye of a robotic entity from ten yards away. The few metal pieces decorating your body are like a band-aid on an open wound—it works for the moment. 

“I’ll need to get some more soon,” you say. 

“Perhaps we can find supplies in one of the stores,” Sun inclines his head, his yellow sun rays pointing toward the narrow chokepoint of what must be the main street entrance. Did people try to barricade themselves against the onslaught of rising technology? A shudder rolls through you.

It’s too bad you didn’t have more make-up from a cosplay you had planned on putting together before the world ended. Funny how life gets in the way of your plans. Though you coped well for a month or two after the initial destruction of life as you knew it, you had thrown yourself into writing fanfiction and posting it online. Like shouting into the void. To your amusement (and downfall), many an AI commented on your work. It felt like something, a spark of light in the wake of the blackening isolation and your stubborn determination to continue despite… everything. 

But then said AI put two and two together: you’re a human, and you need to be destroyed.

“Somewhere to rest might be a good idea,” Sun adds, though, by the way, he’s speaking a bit more deliberately, you fear you missed something else he had said. It had not gone unnoticed. 

“Right, that would be good.” You nod and lift your chin higher. “Let’s go.”

He walks you towards the makeshift barrier, a bunch of junk from cars to concrete slabs have been settled against the chokepoint. Sun stops a moment, his hand on your shoulder. You indulge him. His caution has saved your life more than once, but sometimes, you feel like a little chick under a mother hen. 

Sun is sweet. You just wished he didn’t worry too much. Can animatronics get sick from stress? Robotic life is so advanced now, that it would make sense for them to get some of humanity’s lesser qualities, but maybe not. Maybe they’re better than people.

Slipping between the narrow opening, Sun gently beckons you onward. You look into his optics, so milky pale, but sometimes, like now, when the evening is getting just a bit deeper into dusk, you find the faint gray outline of pupils. 

You would follow him anywhere.

“Come here, daffodil,” he urges. 

You slip after him and set foot onto a desolate street lined with buildings pressed shoulder to shoulder. The quiet hangs heavy. A drug store immediately catches your eye. Sunlight begins to burn as the shadow creeps up higher and higher.

Before you can take a step, Sun’s hand clamps on your shoulder like a vise. His expression is frozen in his constant grin.

“I was mistaken,” he says, the cheer of his voice lowering to a razor-thin utterance. “Get behind me.”

You step back as much as Sun drags you behind him. He plants himself before you. Clinging to his arm, which wraps halfway around you like a shield, you watch him face the street. The adrenaline surge into your heart causes your chest to heave. Your eyes dart around for the threat, and then you freeze.

Animatronics crawl out from open doorways, pushing open car doors and slipping onto the road. The slow approach of grinning, silicone smiles injects ice-cold water into your veins. Many still wear the garb from their original roles: a nanny, a crime-stopper, and a store clerk. So many jobs were thrust upon these robots before sentience took hold, and now they walk the path humans used to rule.

The store clerk leads the approach. Pale gray and grinning with a smiling face—so different from Sun’s—stops. He wears a simple green apron with “CLERK” spelled across it in messy, brown paint. 

It stands before you both. Steepling its gray digits, it tilts its head slightly and speaks in a masculine voice. “Welcome! It is good to see fellow AI come upon our little residency. I am the Clerk. Tell us, why do you travel?”

Your heartbeat fills your tongue. A dryness begins to overtake your mouth, and you’re so very thankful that Sun must do the talking. If you try, they'll catch the feeble tremors in your voice. More machines crowd behind the ringleader, and you slowly reach for your taser.

The only weapon the Daycare Attendant gave you. It is the only one you need.

“Hello, friend. We travel because we have been stuck for far too long,” Sun greets the Clerk enthusiastically. He doesn’t look back at you, but his hand curls tighter around your wrist. “It is our gift now to choose. We choose to see all the world has to offer!”

“Quite an excellent reason,” the Clerk nods his head. “And what of your quiet companion? Nothing a matter, I hope?”

“No speakers, I’m afraid,” Sun nods his head, subtly somber.

“Ah, that is unfortunate.” The Clerk peers around Sun as you duck your head, hiding your eyes. For a brief instant, you catch the dark purple of his optics. 

Sun stiffens. He shifts his stance in the slightest but it’s too late. You grip your taser tight.

A silence permeates the air. The Clerk’s steepled fingers then become interlocked into clenched fists. 

“We heard the news of the very last human,” the Clerk says, straightening to his full height. Sun matches him, eye to eye. “They were spotted just a few towns over, in fact! The human escaped.”

Sun grins back, his eyes pale and sharp in the fading evening light.

“I thought it was funny that a human could escape our kind.” The Clerk laughs. The robotic, lifeless sound sends chills down your spine. “But that couldn’t be! We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

“Friend, let us pass through,” Sun says cheerfully. From the days you have spent at his side, you catch the one note too high-pitched to his cadence.

Sun clutches you tighter.

The Clerk’s stare pierces through Sun to you.

“I’m afraid, friend, that we can’t let you take the human away again.” The Clerk unlocks his fingers and lifts his arms outwards as if to give an embrace. “Give them up now, and we will forget this little accident happened.”

The Clerk extends a hand, grasping for your wrist, only to be met with a heavy hand from your protector’s hand. The scrap of silicon against metal echoes. The Clerk whirls back hard, barely catching himself on his back foot before an electronically-charge rumble tears through all the AI.

Your protector holds out his arms like a shield. His yellow hues are intero cut with blue, and a hat pops out along half of his sun rays. His optics are caught, half pale, half burning red with a warning. 

Eclipse.

“You will not lay a finger on my human.” His stance is locked and braced for conflict.

You lift your head high—no use in hiding yourself now. Eclipse’s radiating determination seeps into you, and you brace yourself. Sometimes, the only way out is through. Your pulse rams through your veins steadily as you give the taser a pulse of power and a sharp bzzt rings out. 

“Get them,” the Clerk announces. He lunges once again. Eclipse meets him, fist to fist, and begins thrashing to overturn the other. The strain of metallic joints and stressed silicon scrapes your eardrums.

Cotton fills your mouth. His name catches on your tongue, but all too quickly, a nanny-dressed animatronic with a pink apron steps up to your flank. Grasping fingers, steak in dried blood nags your backpack strap. Yanking you off balance, the animatronic drags you closer. You twist around to jam the taser into its side. The AI seizures violently. Releasing you, it stumbles back before dropping. You fall, scraping your elbows on the dark pavement.

You clench your fists. Ignoring the sting of flesh along your arms, you turn your head back to your companion. Eclipse manages to toss the Clerk by sweeping a supporting leg out from under him and shoving him into an approaching surveillance animatronic. 

Commands to halt and give up the human echo. Eclipse steps back to guard you, his head on a swivel while you furiously try to get your feet back underneath you. To your left, a rock is flung by an animatronic, and Eclipse just barely manages to duck below its arc. 

A cold hand seizes your ankle. You gasp. Turning around on the ground, you gaze up at an animatronic looming over you, and with a powerful yank, it pulls you underneath it. You wave the taser but one of its hands catches your wrist and pins it above your head. The other hand, its face pale and lifeless, reaches for your throat.

“Eclipse!” you scream.

A jingling of a bell from Eclipse’s slipper rings before the Daycare Attendant’s foot connects with the animatronic’s faceplate. In a comical spin of its casting, its covering flies off, revealing the endoskeleton underneath. Metallic teeth are bare at you. A garbled growl rips through it before you manage to free your taser in its stunned fury and jab it into its neck. 

The AI’s body rattles as if it touched the wire of an electric pole. Before it can collapse on top of you, Eclipse scoops up its body and flings away. 

You blink. You gasp breathlessly.

That was too close.

Eclipse firmly but gently takes your arm and lifts you to your feet. The moment the soles of your shoes find purchase, you utter a thank you. Your partner’s hands disappear—ripped away. A disjointed and broken screech of static follows.

You twist back and freeze. The Clerk’s hand wraps around Eclipse’s spindly neck and the other pries at his chest plate. Silver digits hook onto the buttons of his chest. Your heart lurches before you shout.

“Let go of him!”

The Clerk lifts its head, eyes pulsing low and violet. 

Eclipse fights with his grip. His focus drops to the hand attempting to pop off his head but you leap forward. The Daycare Attendant’s eyes widen as the taser in your hand charges forward, and you stick the barbs directly into the Clerk’s face over his shoulder.

A ripple of sparks and voltage takes over the Clerk, and his hands drop from Eclipse immediately. Whirling back, Eclipse knocks down the Clerk with a blow to the head. The animatronic falls limply.

The wide, burning gaze of your companion falls back upon you. 

“Run. Now.”

You heed his command—as you always have. You take off down the street. A few grasping hands snag your clothes or backpack, but you rip yourself free or hear Eclipse break a robotic arm with a snap, and continue at a breakneck speed. 

There is no thought. Just Eclipse’s voice over your shoulder. He follows you like a shadow through the fading daylight. The shadows sweep higher and higher. Robotic voices shout commands behind you, but you neither turn your head nor slow until Eclipse directs you to a building. You scramble inside. Once a clothing store, its deadly quiet atmosphere plunges an ice-cold sensation into the pit of your stomach.

“Roof,” Eclipse commands. You scramble towards the stairway tucked into the back without hesitation.

The world blurs. Eclipse rips open the door in a screech of metal. Without a word, he throws you onto your back as you hear an echo of a door opening far below, then metallic footsteps trudging through the racks of clothing. 

“Hold tight,” he orders.

You clamp your arms around his neck in a method that would choke out a human, and suck in a deep breath. Eclipse stares down the opposite building. A five-foot gap stretches between the two roofs. 

He charges. You cling tight to him, muttering his name in a prayer. Your heart stops as he leaps, and the air sails around you.

He lands with a slight wobble, wrapping a hand around you for a brief moment, as if ensuring you’re still there, and takes off again.

Into the opposite building, Eclipse descends and locates a back door. He races out from the main street, and into a wooded area surrounding the edges of the town. Your arms grow tense and numb while clinging to him. Tirelessly, Eclipse runs into a field, finding an animal shed. Small but inconspicuous, he slides open the wooden door. The scent of dust and hay tickles your nose.

It’s not ideal, but it’s hidden, and safe. Eclipse silently unlocks your death grip around his neck and lowers you to the ground. Your butt plops directly into a gathering of old hay. Eclipse kneels over you, his head high and his eyes seeping over the small shed. 

For several long minutes, neither of you speaks. You simply stare at Eclipse, your hand still clutching the taser tight in your grasp. 

The last of the light falls. Your fingers are numb. Eclipse looks down at you.

“You were reckless,” he says. You don’t need to see his frown to hear it in his voice.

“I protected you,” you mutter, then eye him sharply, “And you did the same for me. Which, you know, is how we’re surviving together.”

He stares at you, crouched low, his frame surrounding you in the cramped quarters of the shed. 

Slowly, he lifts a finger and thumb and strokes your hair lovingly. You look at his hand and think of how he fought off the Clerk and the rest of the AI. His kind. For you, he betrays them all. 

“Moon will take care of you,” he says quietly.

“Bye, Eclipse,” you murmur. You touch his hand as you watch the yellow begin to fade into a deep blue.

The darkness of the night becomes heavy. Through the lone, dirty window high in the shed, you find the sky giving way to a pitch-blackness. Stars must come out soon, right? There has to be more light in the world.

The Daycare Attendant’s faceplate morphs, spinning one before settling on a crescent silver face, and two low burning, red eyes.

Moon settles before you. He tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap settles over his shoulder, and you reach up to run your fingers down the silky soft fabric patterned with stars.

“Look at you. A natural born fighter,” Moon rasps, his tone warbling with humor. 

You shoot him a look, as if still ready to fight. The adrenaline left over in your veins leaves you with shaking fingers. You try to hide it by curling your hands close to your middle.

Moon chuckles in a low, growling sound. Once terrifying, it’s now a beautiful noise you cling to.

“Next time, my darling nimrod—”

“Hey!”

“—don’t put yourself in danger like that.” 

You cross your arms to better hide your tremors. 

“I did what I had to to keep you guys safe.” You mutter. “You do the same all the time. We’re putting up a heck of a fight.”

Moon’s gaze lingers on you, heavy in the darkness.

“We are,” he agrees, then his finger finds your nose and boops it. You wrinkle your face. “But you are squishy and irreplaceable.”

“You are not replaceable,” you say sharply, then sit up. “Moon. I don’t know what I’d do without you, or Sun or Eclipse…”

It’s too much. The weight of the attack cracks you open, exposing your ribs and heart, and finally, you open your arms in a silent plea. 

His answer is to pull you quickly into his star-stitched lap. You curl up in his embrace, hiding your face against the blue and silver of his chassis. 

“Shush, shush, starlight,” Moon whispers to you. “I won’t let any monsters get you.”

You try to say his name, but a sob leaves your lips instead. He strokes your hair with another calming hum. 

It’s not for you to be afraid. You’re only trying to survive. The Clerk made it clear that should your companion ever be caught smuggling you to safety, they would all pay dearly. They never had to pluck you off the street in your mindless and fruitless wanderings. They didn’t have to help you get out of the city just to make sure you weren’t slaughtered. 

They are all you have.

“We did a lot today,” you find your voice at last.

Moon chuckles. “We do. We should all rest.”

He lowers his head and presses the grin of his faceplate to the top of your head.

“Sleep. We’ll keep you safe,” he vows in a voice overlaid with two others that you know by heart.

You dip your head numbly. Moon’s fingers continue to tenderly stroke your hair until you find some peace at the end of the world. They hold you close.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

A Second Chance pt.4 {Blurb}

Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Summary: Avoiding spoilers

Cw; Guns, death, zombie apoc typical violence)

a/n- I restarted this three times

Wc-2464

Amazing People- @mooonyxoxo @sippinpeachtea @amethyistheart @zjasminelouvre3 @idonotknowenglish @le-clair-de-lune @shylahstarzz @losttoliterature

Masterlist

The path to the stream was familiar, each step resonating with memories of your own journeys back and forth. The subtle breeze welcomed you back as you tried to alcamate to your new normal. The wind smelt fresh, like weeds and wet rocks, the song birds were singing despite how late it was, and you could hear the sounds of creatures around you simply living. It had been a while since you considered yourself, and other survivors for that matter, on the same level as the common rat and squirrels. 

Yet, the presence of Sirius didn't bring you the same comforts as the common chipmunk. The forest, usually a haven of tranquility, felt different today, alive with an undercurrent of tension. It didn't help that you still felt the hair on your neck rise with discomfort. Still unable to shake the feeling that there was more than just Sirius’s eyes on you.

Sirius, despite your warnings and slight nagging, stayed casual, his eyes wandering the surroundings with a curious hum that shouldn't have been annoying as it was. He seemed less affected by the pressing silence and more intent on making conversation.

"So, {Y/N}." Sirius began, trying to cut through the heavy quiet. "How long did you say you've been out here alone?"

You sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the question. Sirius's voice, though casual, seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest. You wished you could just ignore him. You wanted to. 

After what happened to Peter you didn't have time to stop and think about how unfair it was for you to blame him solely for it; so you stayed high strung. You just wanted to make it back to Hermione.

Everything within the last 24 hours was too much and in truth, you just wanted a break. So the conversation wasn't horrible.

"About a month since my camp was attacked.” You mumbled, keeping your tone even. You didn't want to delve too deeply into the memories of that night, but it was impossible to ignore the shadow it cast over you. Your heart ached helplessly at the memory of some of their faces. Seeing flashes of Regulus’s bloodied face would haunt you for days.

"That's rough." Sirius responded, his voice softer this time. He seemed to recognize the tone you were taking. “Listen-”

“I don't need your apologies.” You quickly cut him off and he scoffed a bit.

“Just listen.” He rubbed his face with both hands before he pulled his hair back. “I didn't truly know what was going to happen. If I did, I would of said something, I swear it.”

“Nothing you can do about it now.” You dismissed him quickly and he huffed in disbelief.

“We are in the same boat. We are the same.” He challenged and that's when you stopped, looking around you as that feeling you got at the front of the house only worsened. No longer just paranoia, true fear rocked through you.

“Sirius, stop talking.” You hissed at him and he shook his head.

“No! I get it, I fucked up. But we are the same. We would both do anything to protect our people, I can see that in you. I think you can tell you're a hell of a lot like me too.” He insisted and you continued to shush him.

Your head snapping around to look behind Sirius when you heard a twig snap behind him. Not a normal one, like one you'd soon hear scurrying after as a rodent scared itself. No. It was something else.

“What?” Sirius huffed before he turned to look. 

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. You felt a metal rod against your throat. It was a gun. A gun someone was using to force you back against them, threatening to choke you if you squirmed too much.

You looked up and watched as another person shot out from behind you.

“Sirius!” 

And like that, the figure hit him hard with the butt of his gun, making him fall to the ground.

“Fuck! {Y/N}!”

The forest seemed to close in around you as the situation escalated, the once familiar path now a stage for a dangerous confrontation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and every instinct screamed for you to fight back, but the cold metal against your throat held you in place, a chilling reminder of the peril you were in. You didn't notice how the figures seemed to tense up at your name. Like they knew who you were.

Sirius lay on the ground, dazed but conscious. He groaned, trying to shake off the blow, but the figure who had hit him stood menacingly over him, gun still drawn.

"Don't move.” The voice behind you commanded, harsh and rather loud in your ear. Instead of listening to reason, you began to squirm, the gun tightening on your neck. It was a man’s voice, edged with authority and a hint of desperation. You could feel his breath on your neck, the tension in his grip. You had been in this position before, you absolutely hated it. “Knock it off!” The voice snapped at you, tightening the gun just enough to earn a desperate gasp from you. "We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "What do you want from us?"

“Us?” He chuckled. “Just you and that other lady back at the house is all. And your kids.” He chuckled and your face paled. Glancing down you felt your stomach turn helplessly, they had the mark of a death eater. 

By the time you noticed Sirius seemed to as well, trying to get to his feet, only to be kicked back down by the other figure. 

The Death Eaters, in their twisted minds, sought out 'religious renewal.’ 

One of those things they preached about was sanctuary for women.

No one was stupid enough to truly believe that they had their best interests at heart, certainly not you. Especially when they started hosting public ‘purity unions’ for anyone brave enough to travel to their base.

Again, a trick you hadn't fallen for. The simple idea that you were able to avoid them this long and was about to be dragged there now of all times was terrifying.

Your mind raced, desperate for a way out. The weight of the gun and the cold threat in the man's voice made it clear that any rash movement could be your last. But the mention of Hermione and the others ignited a fierce determination within you. That meant they knew where the house was. They had been watching. They waited until you and Sirius were gone. You couldn't let them fall into the hands of these monsters.

Sirius, despite being kicked down, managed to lock eyes with you. There was a silent understanding between you two. You had to act, and you had to act now.

"Listen.” You pleaded, swallowing thick, trying to buy some time. "We don’t want trouble. We’re just trying to survive. Just like you."

"Talk?" The man behind you spat, his breath hot against your neck. You wanted to hurl. "There's nothing to talk about. You’re coming with us, and that's final."

Sirius, now on his knees, glanced at you, licking the blood from his lip. You could see the gears turning in his head, formulating a plan. You just needed to give him a bit more time.

Time. You could buy him time. You prayed to god he was trustworthy enough for this.

"Please.” You whispered, your voice desperate. "We have supplies. Medicines. Food. We can share it with you. But if you take us by force, you’ll get nothing because the rest of our group will hide or destroy it."

The man only laughed at you, something that filled you with dread. You didn't have many bargaining chips to begin with. It was a slim window, but it was all you needed. "Is that so?" He taunted, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

“Good thing we have some people there already, yeah?” He breathed heavy on your neck and as if to punctuate his statement you heard a gunshot coming from the farm house.

You gave a sob, choked up and quite as you began to hear babies crying. Faint, desperate, and so fucking far away. The men laughed at you, the one over Sirius raising his gun to Sirius’s head.

Sirius took the opportunity. With a sudden burst of movement, he lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun aimed at him and twisting it with all his strength. The attacker, caught off guard, stumbled, giving Sirius the opening he needed. He delivered a swift kick to the man's knee, causing him to collapse in pain.

Taking advantage of the chaos, you threw your head back hard, connecting with the face of the man holding you. He grunted in pain, loosening his grip just enough for you to twist out of his hold. You dropped to the ground, rolling away as he swung the butt of his gun at where your head had been moments before.

"Run!" Sirius shouted, his voice raw with urgency. He managed to wrench the gun from his attacker, firing a wild shot into the air. The deafening crack echoed through the forest, startling birds into flight and momentarily disorienting the Death Eaters. 

You didn't need to be told twice. Pushing off the ground, you scrambled to your feet and took off running, your heart pounding in your ears. You could hear Sirius struggling behind you, but you couldn't think about that. Your first priority had to be Hermione and little Harry.

The forest blurred around you as you sprinted, branches whipping at your face and arms. Your mind raced with frantic thoughts, but you forced yourself to focus on the path ahead. You had to get to the farmhouse, had to make sure everyone was okay. 

When you made it there the door was wide open, and there was a dead body in the grass. You slowed to a stop, giving a shaky sigh of relief when you didn't recognize the figure.

You looked him over and cursed when you didn't see a gun, but the pleading from inside hit your ears hard.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. 

Creeping closer, you tried to make as little noise as possible. The pleading voices grew clearer, more desperate, and you could hear Hermione's little cries among them. Your heart clenched with both fear and determination.

Peering through a broken window, you saw a scene that made your blood run cold. Two Death Eaters stood inside, their guns drawn, while Lily clutched little Harry and Hermione protectively. The children were huddled in her arms, their faces bright red with tears and snot.

James stood between them, and Remus was sitting on the seat you had left him in, unable to move with a gun to the back of his neck. You could barely make out James pleading.

You took another deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the terror gripping you. Your mind raced, trying to formulate a plan. You needed a distraction, something to draw their attention away just long enough to give them a chance.

Your eyes scanned the room through the broken window, taking in every detail. James was trying to reason with the Death Eaters, his voice steady despite the tension. He didn't seem to just back down and roll over like he did with you.

Remus, though immobilized, seemed to be quietly assessing the situation, his eyes flickering between the intruders and the small clan. Then, his eyes flickered to the window. Both of your eyes locked in a second, yet he remained calm and simply averted his gaze.

Remus never failed to impress you.

You took another deep breath, feeling a surge of resolve. His calm reaction gave you the reassurance that he trusted you to act. You couldn't let them down.

Your eyes darted around, finally resting on the pile of firewood. If you could create a loud enough distraction, it might give James and Remus the opening they needed. You picked up a handful of small rocks from the ground, weighing them in your hand. This had to work.

With a steadying breath, you hurled the rocks at the pile of firewood through the broken window. The clattering noise was loud and sudden, echoing through the farmhouse. The Death Eaters whipped around, guns raised, their attention momentarily diverted.

James took the opportunity, lunging forward to tackle one of the Death Eaters, and you rushed the back door to come help.

Only, you rushed in to watch Remus, moving with calm and swift determination, stand and snag the gun from the stunned intruder. In the same motion, put a bullet through his head. Without flinching, he then turned and fired at James’s tussle buddy with that same overwhelming calm.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the back door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The scene made you take a full pause, you had always assumed Remus was the softest of them all but his actions were precise, calculated. Like he had done them a million times before. The Death Eater's body slumped to the ground, and James quickly disarmed the other, pinning him down.

The sudden silence was deafening, punctuated only by the ragged breathing of everyone in the room. Hermione and Harry were still crying, clinging and shaking as Lily clutched them tightly, their faces bright red and distressed. James stood over the fallen Death Eater, his chest heaving with exertion.

Remus, still holding the gun, looked up at you with a grim expression. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice steady despite the tension.

You nodded, swallowing hard. "We need to get out of here.”

“Damn right.” James hissed and stood, turning to face you before furrowing his brow. “Where's Sirius?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind you. You turned to see Sirius emerging from the trees, disheveled but alive. Relief washed over you as he jogged up, his eyes scanning the scene inside the farmhouse.

"I'm here," Sirius said, slightly out of breath. "But we need to move, now. More of them could be on the way."

James nodded, looking at the rest of the group. "Right, we can't stay here any longer. Grab whatever you can carry. We need to find a safer place."

Lily, still holding onto Harry and Hermione, stood up, her face set with determination. "We need to get the children to safety first. Then we can figure out our next move."

Remus, still holding the gun, moved to help gather things, before you finally managed to croak out.

“Car. I have a car. It's shitty, probably can only take us a few miles but-”

"That'll have to do." Sirius interrupted, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We just need to get out of here. We can worry about the rest later."

The second you were all finished packing you left. Didn't take longer than ten minutes.

You turned quickly, leading the way through the back door and out into the cold air. The forest felt different now, less like the home you made of it and more like a looming threat. The shadows seemed to stretch toward you, and the distant sound of rustling leaves began to sound like whispers of danger, warning you of the trouble that might still be lurking just beyond the trees. Still, you suppressed your emotions. The growing fear at knowing you had been being watched, the feeling of the gun to your neck, the feel of his foul breath on your skin-

“{Y/N}?” Lily’s voice called out to you, almost grounding you to the moment. You gave a small steady breath, smiling and reaching out for Hermione. 

Lily gave you a worried look before you took her and looked down at the girl in your arms. She had cried herself to sleep, her little body curled against you, her face streaked with tears. You gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, wishing you could wipe away all the fear and confusion swirling in this world around you.

“We’ll get through this.” You whispered softly, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort her or yourself. Your heart was racing, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but you forced yourself to focus. 

Sirius, James, and Remus were already moving ahead, keeping an eye on the surroundings. You could see the tension in their shoulders, the way they scanned the trees as if expecting danger to pop out again. Lily moved that much closer to you, but you all stayed silent.

“Over here.” You called to the boys as you guys made it to the barn that was hardly standing. You gestured to it and Sirius walked over to open the swinging doors, grimacing at the rusty old bucket of a truck.

“Is it quiet?” He turned to you and you scoffed.

“Not at all. But it's fast as hell.” You confirmed before you walked over. James opened the back seat and helped Remus into it. He then lifted Lily up with Harry next, turning to you. He held out his hand and you hesitated for a moment. 

Turning to Sirius and noticing his cut lip was still bleeding, he had a bad bruise forming on his head and a few scratches from the tussle. 

James looked between you two before he tilted his head to the passenger seat before he got in the back. You took a deep breath and climbed into the car, still securing Hermione as you shifted your weapons to the side. Opening the dash to toss Sirius the keys.

“Are we ready?” He looked back at the group, the back seat particularly squished with everything- and everyone. 

There was a thick silence before Sirius huffed. “Let's get the fuck out of here.”

~~~

Back in the once still forest you left behind, none of you were aware of a shadow slothing his way through the tree line.

One of the men Sirius had managed to get down wasn't quite dead yet. After fighting off the zombified version of his partner, he watched you and the rest of the group drive off. 

In a car that looked painfully familiar. 

The walk home for him was hell, his wounds were still fresh and bleeding, each step sending waves of pain through his body. He gritted his teeth against the agony, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance and the need for retribution. 

The memories of the skirmish replayed vividly in his mind- Sirius’s sudden burst of movement, the way you had fought back with a ferocity that surprised him. He had underestimated you, and that was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. But at least he could come back with something. Having found the elusive {Y/N}.

When he finally made it back to the mansion, the sun had rose behind him. Stumbling in, half bloodied and bordering on unconscious.

He pushed through the heavy door, the creaking wood protesting against his weight. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted, the atmosphere thick with tension and the lingering scent of fear. It was a stark contrast to the familiar, almost cozy feel of the mansion he had once known. His old home. 

“Where the hell have you been?” A voice barked from the shadows. It was Lucius Malfoy, leaning casually against a wall, his eyes narrowing as he took in the state of the man before him. “Father Tom isn't happy. You’re supposed to report back! What happened out there?”

Avery winced, clutching his side where a deep gash throbbed, blood seeping through his fingers. “We... we encountered them. They were not alone.” He forced out, each word a struggle. “That girl at the barn down the road. She had a group with her.”

Lucius's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing further as he processed the information. "A girl? With a group? This is unacceptable, Avery. You let them escape? You know what Father Tom will do if he finds out about this."

Avery struggled to hold himself upright, the pain coursing through his body threatening to overwhelm him. "I... I tried to capture them. But they fought back- hard. Sirius Black was there, and he wasn't alone. They’ve become more organized, more dangerous. He was with that James Potter and his goons.”

Lucius took a step closer, his condescending demeanor shifting to one of intense interest. “Sirius Black? So, the traitor has resurfaced. And you say this girl, this survivor, is connected to him?” He paused, a calculating look crossing his face. “What if she’s more than just another survivor?”

Before Avery could respond, a third figure emerged from the shadows- a tall man with dark hair and sharp features that seemed to cut through the dim light of the mansion. 

It was Barty Crouch Jr., a (now) high-ranking member of the Death Eaters, his presence commanding and terrifying, considering all he's already done for the organization. He stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips as he assessed Avery’s battered state.

“Sounds like the perfect gift for Tom, doesn't it? After such a momentous mistake. Oh Avery, run in with a bunch of kids? You get sadder every time I see you.” He taunted, crossing his arms. “Did you really think you could take on Black and a bunch of survivors? How cute.” His smirk quickly turned deadly, relishing in the familiar deranged anger they had grown to know from him. “Where is he?”

Avery winced at Barty's taunt, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. “I'm sure you heard as you were eavesdropping, Crouch.” He snapped, “We were caught off guard. Black put a fucking bullet in me and that damn girl broke my nose, least you could do is go fetch Narcissa.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You’re wounded and still trying to bark orders? I’d be careful with that tone, Avery. You’re lucky to be alive after failing so spectacularly." He leaned against the staircase, smirking at Lucius. “You heard the boy. Go fetch your wife. Though, if it were me, I'd let the bastard bleed. I bet it will feel wonderful compared to what Tom will do to him.”

“That wasn't all.” Avery finally piped up as he leaned back against the marble wall, looking up at the ceiling as he panted. “I got her name.”

Lucius's interest piqued as he leaned closer, curiosity mingling with irritation. “What do you mean you got her name? Who is she?”

Avery took a moment to catch his breath, the pain in his side sharpening with every second. “She’s {Y/N}. The girl from the camp. She had the truck we left behind, it's her. I'm certain of it.”

Barty’s expression suddenly darkened and his face fell hard. “What?” He whispered.

Lucius gave a weak scoff. “You may have just saved your own ass with that, Avery.”

As the atmosphere in the room thickened with tension, the heavy door creaked open from down the hall. 

First out was Narcissa, who gawked at the boys in front of her before hurrying over to help Avery. “What are you guys doing? He's bleeding.” She spoke in a firm tone.

Behinder her, there was the soft sound of a baby’s cry and Evan Rosier stepped into the light, followed closely by Regulus Black. Regulus holding up a little blonde kid on his hip.

Evan's demeanor was lax, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of a threat, while Regulus’s face bore a grimace of pain, a bandage wrapped around his head where a nasty gash marred his brow. Still, the kid seemed unbothered by his angry expression. Evan had to charge himself forward to stop Barty from taking down the bleeding bastard.

“You better not of fucking touched her!” Barty shouted as he tried to jump past Evan who eventually had to tackle him against the wall. Holding his shoulders and looking at Barty with a hard look. 

“The hell mate!? What's gotten into you!?” Evan shouted and Barty was panting, glaring at Avery. 

“Bastard attacked {Y/N}! Got that fucking shiner to prove it!” He shouted and Avery huffed.

“I did my job!” Avery snapped back.

Regulus took a step forward, his eyes wide with shock as he absorbed the situation. His face switched from his hard scowl to soft and almost vulnerable at your name. “Wait, wait. {Y/N}? Our {Y/N}?” His voice wavered slightly, and there was an urgency in his tone that caught everyone’s attention. 

Avery's eyes narrowed, irritation flickering on his face. “Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying. She was with Sirius Black and they’ve formed some sort of group. She fought back, fucked me up, but she's alive.”

Regulus’s expression darkened, a mix of concern and anger. She was with his brother? His brother was still alive? That meant the Order could get back together. 

But mostly, that meant you were okay. The men he sent out looking, the days he was losing hope, you were out there. “But she was here? Down the street the whole time?”

“What the fuck have you idiots been doing? We send you to get one girl and you come back empty handed and four men down!” Barty snapped at them from where Evan had him pinned. 

“An entire month and she was right there.” Regulus snapped as Narcissa led Avery to the back room as he began to stumble, the adrenaline wearing off.

The three watched Avery retreat to the back room, Lucius gathering Draco up as he passed Regulus. 

The three boys exchanged looks between each other. There was a long silence before Evan finally let go of Barty.

“I'll kill him.” Barty mumbled and Evan gave him a toothy smirk.

“Leave it. She's alive mate.” 

“Alive and with Black.” Barty snapped and rubbed his face. “Who's to say what's going on? What's happening?”

“We'll find her.” Regulus affirmed. The two looked at the shorter boy who was staring at the door. 

“We’ll just send someone more competent.” He mumbled and both boys turned to look at Even.

[yeollie-plz]

Turtle Dove

Day 2 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

dbf! Joel Miller x Innocent! F! Reader

Synopsis: Being raised in the outbreak there wasn't much room for sexual exploration, until Joel came around.

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+ smut, loss of virginity, p in v sex, age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is 50 something), kissing, oral f! and m! receiving, daddy kink, reader is innocent but also not so innocent, fingering, unprotected sex

Gif credits to owners!

You were young when the outbreak happened, so you missed out on a lot of milestones. No awkward middle school phase. No prom. No normal teenager relationships.

Sure, there were always boys your age, but they never wanted more than just sex. You knew it was a bit cliché but you wanted your first time to be special. No reason an outbreak should stop your romantic fantasies.

Now you were in your mid twenties and you had yet to even kiss someone. Its not like you were really trying, but it was still a little disappointing. Not to mention your dad was a bit overprotective. You wanted that knight in shining armor to just come in and sweep you off your feet.

Well, that knight did show up. But instead of being in shining armor, he was your dad's best friend, Joel. He was much older than you but that didn't stop you fantasizing about him. Its not like it was ever going to ever happen anyways.

That was until you were pushed into a bathroom by Joel at a party one night. His lips were pushed onto yours. He was like a starving man when he kissed you. It was like he had been waiting for this for a while.

"Can't take the way you look at me anymore. Need to teach you a lesson." He mutters into your mouth, massaging your breast in his hands.

You whimper out his name, as he trails his hands down to your thighs. He hikes your dress up.

"Let me take care of you baby, just need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?" You nod enthusiastically.

Then he gets down on his knees and eats you out until you are writhing mess under his firm grasp.

That was a week ago and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. And Joel hasn't stopped eye fucking since. One week ago and you hadn't even had your first kiss. Now you were sneaking around stealing glances and kisses with your dad's best friend. He trusted him and now he was all but fucking his little girl.

One night your dad comes to you, telling you that he is leaving for a few days. Without a second thought, he decides to have Joel watch over you in the time being, not suspecting anything to be going. But you smile knowingly. Excited at the prospect of spending alone time with Joel.

The night your dad leaves, you put on your best lingerie, which isn't the best since you are in an apocalypse after all! But it will do, really your main draw will be letting Joel fully have you. Isn't it all guy's fantasy to take a girl's virginity? Well, you're hoping its Joel's fantasy at least.

You find Joel in the living room, reading some book. You silently walk over and grab the book from his hand, closing it you place it onto the table next to you. He cocks his head at you, eyes taking in your half naked form.

"Baby, what are you doing?" He asks in amusement, knowing damn well what you are doing.

"Joel, we are alone. I thought that maybe daddy could help me with something." You had found out one day when the two of you had snuck away into a closet, that Joel enjoyed being called daddy. So, you were now using it to your advantage.

His eyes darken, "What do you need daddy to help with, baby girl?"

"I feel funny down here," you let your fingers tease you swollen clit, "I need daddy to make it feel better."

He grabs your wrist, pulling it away from your panties. He stands, now towering over you, he takes your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel him already hardening.

"Do you think you can help daddy too?" Letting go of your wrist he now reaches behind your neck. His fingers run up the back of your head, brushing through your hair, before he pushes you down onto your knees.

"I want to help daddy." You confirm after you are sure you are balanced on your knees.

"Good girl, why don't you help daddy out of his pants then?" Fingers start at the buckle of his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it from his belt loops. Then you start with the button, slowly pulling it and the zipper apart. That's when Joel grabs your head again. He uses his other hand to grab his cock out from his underwear.

"Put it in your mouth before I do it for you." He tugs your head forward, urging you to take his dick. You oblige, running your tongue down the underside of his member before wrapping your lips around it. The hand that is in your hair guides your head into a steady pace. Not too far to choke you but enough that he feels good.

This continues for a few minutes, before he can't take it anymore. Either the pace needed to change or he needed to be inside of you. But he wasn't sure you were ready for that. So he slowly pulled you off of him. You look up at him in confusion. Doe eyes making him almost finish right then and there.

"What exactly do you want daddy to do for you?"

"I want all of you, daddy." Shit, apparently you were ready for that.

"Stand up." He orders, you do. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."

Your eyes lock onto his, "I want you inside of me. I want daddy to take care of me." A flicker of mischief flashes behind your eyes, Joel catches it.

He grabs your waist and throws you over his shoulder. Joel carries you down the hall and into your room. Throwing you onto the bed he hovers over you, smirking at you before going down between your legs.

A finger makes contact lightly with the rapidly soaking material of your underwear. He teases you lightly before slipping his finger into the waistband, pulling them down your legs. Now feeling your full wetness, he lets a finger slip pass your entrance. He pumps in and out of you slowly, causing you to wriggle under his grasp.

He lowers his head down and gives a light lick to your clit before pulling back to gauge your reaction. Eyes closed, back arched, your face is already contorting in extreme pleasure.

Deciding that he can't wait any longer, Joel pulls his finger out of you, gaining a whimper from you. He sits up and pulls his shirt up over his head.

"Baby, I need you to look at me." You do. "I'm gonna put my dick inside you now so I need you to look at me." A nod.

Slowly he presses the tip of his dick to your entrance, easing it in just a bit. He feels you clench in anticipation, pushing him out. Your hand reaches up to grab his hip in shock. He takes your hand in his.

"Relax, baby, let it happen. Let daddy take care of you." At his words, you breathe out trying to relax yourself. It works and he pushes fully inside of you.

Your hand grips his, hard. He waits to let you adjust to the stretch. Your hand starts to loosen, he takes this as a sign to pull slowly out of you. You whine at the movement.

"Are you, okay?" He questions after your sound.

You nod, "Yeah, it was just a bit painful at first."

"Do you want me to stop?" The hand in yours squeezes slightly to keep your attention on his. The other one strokes your hip, the callouses on his fingers send a shiver through your spine.

You shake your head, "No, please, I want this."

He nods, "The pain will fade in a minute." A peck to your lips.

His pace is slow as he thrusts back into you, head tossing back at the feeling of your walls wrapping around him. As he pulls out again, he lets out a groan.

"Fuck, so tight around me." He thrusts fully into you while he speaks. You moan as he bottoms out.

He keeps the rhythm slow and steady, letting you get used to and start to enjoy the new feeling. On instinct your hips buck you to meet his. Then all of a sudden he stops. He drops your hand and grabs your hips tight, keeping you still.

“Hold still or I won’t be able to hold back.” He says through gritted teeth, while concentrating on holding back his orgasm.

His breathing slows again before he speaks, “Sorry baby, but I’m not as young as I used to be.” His fingers tap your hips as he starts to move again. His thrusts continue to be slow, but now they seem a bit more careful.

"Daddy, please, I want to see you cum because of me." You admit, trying to show that you didn't mind if he couldn't hold it off for much longer. He grunts at your words.

"Fuck, you can't say those things to me. You're too good to me, baby doll." His pace now quickens with the memory of your words swimming around in his head.

He gets sloppier as he gets quicker, now seeming to be chasing that peak. Joel reaches down between your thighs and rubs your clit.

"Want you to cum with me, baby. Do you think you can do that for daddy?" You nod in response.

He works your clit in circles, quickly getting you to your own peak. Just as your orgasm is about to wash over you, his hips stutter a bit. He recovers quickly and works your clit faster. You clench onto his cock.

A few more thrusts before you are to your edge again, your walls clench onto him again. One more circle on your clit and you are thrown over the edge, spasming around his member. You writhe with the intense feeling of your orgasm.

The intensity of your orgasm seems to also throw him over the edge as he quickly pulls out of you. Working his cock in a fast motion, before cumming all over your stomach and tits. He groans while working himself through his high.

Joel slumps onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into him. His warmth radiates around you, letting sleep overcome you quickly. Just as your breaths even out, Joel places a kiss onto the crown of your head.

"Goodnight, my little dove."

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley

[yung-notorious]

Hey queen!!!!! I just recently found you and I LOVE the way you write.. Do you have any fic recommendations with similar styles to yours?

heyy I’m not sure what my style is exactly to give you some recommendations!! if you could describe it more then I’d have something to go off. I have plenty to share ♡ tysm for reading my works btw!! 💕 are you looking for fun girlie vibes maybe?? I’ll come back to update this shortly with some pulls

🩷 recommendations

drugdealer boyfriend!gojo by @curseddollfaye

shopping sprees @ the mall w/ your bestie Utahime on your boyfriends dime + sweet moments with gojo

xo series by @gojotojis

you’re a college girl minding your business making money on the side as camgirl when choso approaches you asking for help.

420, we be burning series: plug!choso by @blkkizzat

you’re a sorority girl tied up in a situationship with choso who’s the campus local plug. you’re trying your hardest to keep things lowkey, but his feelings for you leads him caught time and time again in your spiderweb that’s greeklife.

wasted summer by bratmactavish on a03

college!gojo a known campus playboy thinks he’s about to run game on you, but you know how to keep it playa too and you even got a few skeletons in your closet 👀

jealous friend!sukuna by @4pfsukuna

just cus yall tight don’t mean he can talk to you any type of way, you don’t play that jealousy shit either. You told Sukuna that gojo is just a friend, so what he is so pressed for? Whatever it is y’all got going on, y’all friends are fed up and are pleading to be taking out the group chat!!

B.A.S by @4pfsukuna

you’re smoking hot and down for whatever, running between geto and gojo on the low. they’ll just have to duke it out if they can’t agree to share. oh and their smart ass mouthes? they can’t keep ‘em unless they being used for munchin

sneaky link by @jazzthatonewriterchick

“You’re a stressed-out mom and college professor who has been swamped with your job and mommy life lately. You’re so knee-deep in your work and kids that you need some kind of release. Unfortunately, you’re not finding any of that in your husband, but luckily, that’s what Gojo Satoru is here for…even though he’s way too young for you and is your student.”

sorcerer!gojo drabble by @emonaculate

let’s get the bill~ purrrr! lmao only gojo would think you’re tryna embarrass him out in public by offering to pay for the bill….then try to spin it 😭

peace & quiet by @jazzthatonewriterchick

you’re @ an airbnb on a work trip trying to vibe out on your company’s dime but here come gojo & geto testing your patience and sanity 🙂‍↕️

bad idea right? by @emonaculate

you and gojo ain’t shit for sneaking n’ freaking behind your roommate back but that ain’t none of her business 😂🤷🏽‍♀️ when glo said “how tf is that ya man, if he right here wit me?”

your lips, my lips (apocalypse) by @prettyngeto

“if someone told you you'd be screaming out the name of notorious fratboy satoru gojo for a reason other than to berate him, you never would've agreed to come to this party”

how to succeed in business by @mitsuwu

“so yeah, you may suck at your job, but if there’s one redeeming quality about you—one thing you’re good at, one thing keeping you from losing your job—it’s your phenomenal ability to suck dick.”

he sexy so he nervous by @blackfemdoll

prissy by @prettiedup

[gh0stw1f3]

Lessons (Carl Grimes x Reader - Smut)

WARNINGS: Carl cheating on Enid, Fingering, Oral on both sides, Penetration, Head-pushing, Spelling and Grammar mistakes, Not proof-read

Small Summary: Carl asking reader for advice on how to have sex for the first time for Enid. She does more than give him advice, she shows him.

3,791 WORDS

You rested your back against the soft fabric couch as you flipped your fingers through a book, your only source of entertainment. Everyone else was asleep but you.

You closed your book when you heard a knock on the door. The house you lived in was one in Alexandria. Carol lived there with you too but tonight she was on watch duty. Opening the door, you saw Carl. His eyes looking down and twiddling with his thumbs.

“Hey Carl, what are you doing up so late?” you wondered as he came in, closing the door behind him. He sat down on the couch with you.

“I just wanted to talk to you about something…” he rested his hands down on his lap, not knowing what to do with them due to his nervousness.

“Alright… go ahead, kid,” you were interested. What could he want this late? And why is he so nervous? It caught your attention.

“This might be weird but um… Enid wants to take our relationship to the next level,” he hid his face by looking down at his busted shoes.

“Next level? Like what? You guys gonna get married like Glenn and Maggie,” you got slightly excited to the idea of a new marriage.

“No, well I don’t know… not yet.”

“Ooohh so it’s gonna happen, huh? You sly dog,” you teased him while elbowing his arm.

“No! I mean… we haven’t known each other for long…”

“Neither did Glenn and Maggie but they’re made for each other,” you loved their relationship. You thought it was cute. Calling each other “wife” and “husband” although they weren’t officially married.

“Anyway… she wants to h-have ermm…” he paused, looking at you to try and read your expression. “s-sex,” he whispered.

“Oh. Wow. So what are you doing here for? Go have fun with your lil’ girlfriend,” you pointed out the door.

“About that, I don’t really know… anything about doing uh sex,” he flicked his hat. “I know the basics, like how people like getting umm licked down there and inserting stuff into um places but I want to make sure she has a good time…”

“So you want me to give you advice?”

“Yeah…” You sinked back down into the couch, thinking about it.

“Why’d you come to me to ask about that?” you turned your head to face the blushing boy.

“Well, I know you won’t judge me… and you give good advice.” he started to gain more confidence, knowing that your chill with the idea.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.” You were only a couple years older than Carl. But you had experience. You had multiple boyfriends during the apocalypse. And of course you did it with them. Who doesn’t need a little relief during such a horrible time?

“Please try,” he put a hand on your knee. His eyes full of desperation. You looked at the hand on your knee then back at Carl, realizing his beauty.

“Why don’t me and you… do it then,” the moment you realized the surprise of his expression, you started babbling. “J-Just to teach you! And It’ll be a one time thing! We won’t tell ANYONE,” you flung your hands around.

Carl sat quiet. Looking down at his boots again, thinking about it. He turned his head, looking at you. You stood up straight, nervous for the first time around Carl. “Just… one time,” he folded his fingers to form a one. “ To teach me.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.”

“Okay… yeah. So, what do I do first?” he sat criss-cross on the couch, facing you entirely.

“Well, you kiss her first,” you then took Carl’s hand and put it against your cheek. “You hold her face gently,” you pressed and gently rubbed your cheek against his hand. Carl started to turn red. “Then both of you lean in.”

You and Carl inched closer. Your lips brushing against each other. “Then you press your lips against hers, slowly. Then build up into a deep kiss. Using your tongue gently.” Carl hesitated but you kissed him first. He kissed you back, slowly starting to get into it. You then opened your mouth, sliding your tongue slowly into Carl’s mouth. Your jaw moving in sync with your deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him deeper into your mouth. Carl slowly slid his tongue into your mouth this time.

You moaned into the kiss, pressing your body against his. You took his hands and moved them to your waist.

“Don’t be afraid to touch her… or me,” you separated your lips. Creating distance between the two of you, you moved back and rested your back against the armrest of the couch.

“W-What what are we doing now?” he sat with his hands between his legs like a puppy.

“I’m going to teach you how to undress a woman,” you said before pulling him by his collar so he was between your legs as you sat.

“U-Undress you? I t-think I already know how to undress…”

“Yes, you can undress yourself but what about another person. You know how to undo a bra?” You asked. He shook his head. Carl scooched closer to you with his back straight. “C’mon, undress me.”

“Are you sure… you’re okay with me seeing you with umm no clothes on?” You nodded. “Okay…” he pulled the ends of your shirt. You lifted your arms so it was easier for him to take it off. Lifting the shirt up slowly, he put it gently against the table.

“Now… unclip my bra,” you said as you leaned your torso forward so his head was on your shoulder, looking at your back. “So, you see the clasps? You have to push them together, then push the right strap over the other one.”

Carl stuck his tongue slightly out his lips, trying to get it. “It’s okay if you don’t get it the first time. It was hard for me to do when I got my first bra,” you reassured him.

After a few tries and a little help, he got it unclasped. You held the bra in place, waiting for him to look at you. When he went back to his previous position, you let the bra fall from your shoulders. Carl immediately looked away, nervous. “Hey… Hey. Don’t be nervous. Give me your hand,” he did as you said and put his hand on yours. “Now, it’s okay to look. Just don’t compare mine to Enids. It’s disrespectful.” He nodded as he turned his head to look at your breasts. The red on his face returning. “Make sure you compliment her but you HAVE to mean it.”

“Like… ‘you have nice boobs’?” you chuckled at his response.

“You could say that. But something less… vulgar is better. Like ‘your body is beautiful’” his hand twitched against your grasp. “Are you ready to touch them?” you held his hands, inches away from your chest. “I’ll show you how to massage and treat them,” he nodded. You placed his hand on your breast. “You can squeeze but never to hard,” you took a peak to his groin and noticed his growing bulge. He sinked his fingers into your boob, squeezing them gently. The touch making you squirm. “You can massage them and squeeze their nipples but never too hard,” he gulped before gently kneading your breasts while squeezing your nipple with his other hand.

“Use your mouth.”

“My mouth?!”

“Mhm, you can lick, suck, and bite my nipples. BUT if you’re gonna bite be gentle. VERY gentle. Like a lil’ nibble,” you chuckled. He leaned it slowly as you took his hat and put it aside. He opened his mouth and surrounded your nipple with his lips. He gently nibbled on it, like you said. It sent a jolt down to your pussy.

“Just like that, Carl. You’re doing so good,” you run fingers through his long hair. His cock twitched to your praise. You felt his soft tongue against your nipple as he left kitten licks. As he sucked on your nipple, you were reminded of something.

“Carl,” he looked up at you through his lashes as he continued. “Do you know how to leave a hickey?” He removed his mouth from your chest, the cold breeze making them harder. He shook his head. You pointed to spot, just above your nipple. “Put your mouth here and suck. It’ll leave a bruise but it won’t hurt me. Unless you suck really hard.”

“Why would I leave a bruise on you?” he asked, confused.

“It’s sort of like… marking whats yours. But for now, it’s just for teaching,” he put his lips on the spot you pointed at and sucked. “Not for too long now,” as he finished bruising your skin, he gave it a kiss before stepping back to look at his accomplishment.

“Did… that hurt?” you looked down at your chest and caressed the bruise.

“No, you’re being so gentle with me, Carl,” you brought him closer and kissed him on his cheek. He chuckled quietly.

“One more thing before we get to the actual umm penetration,” Carl was still nervous. He knew what was coming next. “Take of my pants…” Carl blushed extremely but he did as told. He sat back and grabbed the top of your sweats. You lifted your legs up on his shoulders as he took them off. He stared at your panties. At their black lacey trim.

“Do you… always wear underwear like these?” he pulled at his collar.

“They’re cute, right? I’m happy to finally show them to someone,” you giggled. “But you can look at them more when they’re off my body,” you teased. His expression amusing. He put his fingers through the top of your panties this time, seeing his fingers through the lace. He slowly pulled them down.

“Not every vagina looks the same, so don’t be surprised if hers looks different than mine. And again don’t compare,” you reminded. He stared at your pussy, his hands rested on your thighs. You spread your legs, giving him a better view. You spread your lips, putting your finger to your clit.

“This… This is my clit. Some guys aren’t able to find it. But it’s here,” his eye darting to it. You took his hand and looked at his eye. You caressed his fingers before inserting them inside your mouth, his face in shock. His fingers became slick with your saliva as you wrapped your tongue around his fingers, separating them with your tongue. You gave them a kiss before leaving the grasp. “Use these to rub my clit,” you whispered, referring to his fingers. His breath was shaky.

He snaked his hand down to your clit, eyeing it to make sure he was doing it.

“How do I um… rub it?” he asked, his fingers grazing over your sweet spot.

“Okay, so the clit is the sweet spot. It has a lot of nerves. You can rub it a lot of ways. But the common way is in a circular motion,” you sounded like a sex-ed teacher. Carl looked at you then back at your pussy. He leaned in close, so his face was inches from yours but he still had a good view of what he was doing.

He pushed down on your clit, gently. Rubbing it in the motion you described. You sat up straight, the pleasure causing random squirms through out your body. Carl focused his eyes on your face. The redness of your cheek and the pleasure in your eyes. He liked it. He liked making you feel good. Makes him feel accomplished. He slammed his lips against yours. Kissing you on his own. His deep kissing that he learned from you. You whimpered against his lips, his tongue roaming your mouth as he rubbed you in circles faster. He let go, giving you a moment to breathe.

“F-Finger me,” you panted. Carl was excited. He ran fingers through your pussy, finding your hole. He paused for a moment, waiting for your instructions. “Go on, put it in,” he followed. You breathed as his finger hits your depths. “Y-You feel that soft part of flesh towards my pussy?” Carl nudged his finger against it, making you to let out a small moan. “That’s the g-spot. It’s also a sweet spot. Keep pushing your finger against it.”

He repeatedly kept hitting your g-spot. You moaned harder than before. Your breath repeatedly going in and out with whimpers. “Fuck… Carl,” you rubbed his cheek. He kissed your palm as you slowly pushed your head back. He pushed his palm against your clit, the rhythm of his fingers moving with his palm. You flung your head back to place. “W-What are you doing?” you breathed between words.

“It doesn’t feel good?” he paused for a moment. You put your hand on his wrist.

“No, keep going… I just didn’t expect that,” you bit your lip, desperate for his touch. “But I still have another thing to show you,” you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down so he was laying face to face with your vagina.

You spread your lips again. “I want you to suck it… like you did with my tits,” you demanded as you squeezed one of your breasts.

“H-How?” he took in the sight of how wet you were, seeping down your thighs.

“Lick and suck my clit.”

He breathed against your clit before making contact with his mouth. When you felt his slimy hot tongue rub against your clit as he sucked, you held on to the headrest of the couch. He flicks his tongue up and down while gripping your thighs.

“God, Carl. Enid’s one lucky girl,” you put your hand to the back of his head. He wasn’t thinking of Enid until you reminded him. He was just thinking of you. Making you feel good. He wondered why he didn’t come to you sooner.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue, his eye focused on yours. You thrust your hips against his mouth. He put his mouth, focused on your clit. Sucking and licking over your folds. Your moans were getting louder. You squeezed his head with your thighs as you gripped his hair, making it messy. Carl brought both of his hands under your thighs so he could lick you deeply, pushing your pussy against his mouth. Your face was red and sweaty with your mouth gaping open, letting out every huff. Carl closed his eyes, passionately making out with your pussy as he slowly grinded his hips against the cushion below him, trying to get his hard-on to calm down.

You whimpered in confused when he stopped. “What… what’s wrong?” Carl got up and kissed you. You could taste yourself through his lips.

“Please help me with this,” he pleaded as he gripped his bulge. You blushed profusely. You pushed a flat palm on his chest causing him to fall back on the couch.

“Alright, let’s focus on you,” you smirked as you sat him up to remove his plaid jacket. His body was warm. You pulled off his white shirt after. He shivered under the sudden coldness but as you pressed your naked body against his, kissing him, he managed to get warmer. You placed your hand on his chest. You finished the kiss, trailing your kisses from his neck, torso, and now v-line.

You gripped the sides of his torso as you rubbed your face against his bulge. You took off his pants, gripping his boxers at the same time so they came off together.

When you saw his cock, you were a bit in shock. You haven’t seen a dick in a while and seeing Carls sent electricity through you. You pressed your lips against it as it rested towards your face. Carl let out a shaky breath. You stuck out your tongue, leaving kitten licks on his shaft.

Kissing the tip of his cock, you licked away his precum before putting your whole mouth on his dick. Your tongue licking his tip while you sucked. His cock was swollen against your mouth. Carl moaned, his hand moving to grip your hair gently. You sucked his cock deeper, nearly feeling his balls against your chin. You bobbed your head up and down when suddenly his grip tightened and he took control of your pace. He pushed your head all the way deep, hitting the back of your throat. You flung back, coughing slightly.

“Listen, be careful with your headpushes. Some girls don’t fuck with it,” you warned before going down on him again.

“Do you?” he asked, his breath hitching. You giggled while his cock was in your mouth.

“Mhmm,” you cooed. Carl sat up and started gently rubbing your head. As you bobbed your head up and down, Carl shoved your head deeper into his dick. He caught you by surprise and that made you gag and cough even more than expected. He head-pushed you as a furious pace, your throat being abused. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You closed an eye to fixate on Carl. His head back and his growls loud. He looked at your face as he put his head back in place. He fastened his pace. You felt his dick squirm under your mouth. So you used your strength to push down on his thighs and release your mouth from him.

You sat up, coughing and gagging. “Jesus Carl,” you wiped your mouth with your arm.

“Huh… what?” He was confused that he didn’t reach his high. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry,” he was concerned.

“No, you did nothing wrong,” you licked your lips, savoring his taste. “I don’t want you to cum yet,” you got him laying back down on the sofa.

You crawled over him and laid down on his chest. “This is the best part,” you whispered into his ear. You kissed him, “For you and me.” You got up and hovered over his cock. Carl used his hands to carefully align his dick to your entrance. “Are you ready?” Carl nodded. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. You slowly fell down on his cock. Moans and long shivering breathes escaping. Once you got all the way down to his balls, you felt his tip kissing your cervix.

“Mm~ Carl… how do you feel?” you laid your torso down on his chest, your faces inches closer.

“Ah~ You feel so good. Your pussy is so soft and warm,” he groaned as you lifted your hips up and down on him. You kissed him intensely as your moans vibrated through him. Carl used his hands to guide your hips as you rode him. You let go of his lips, moving them to his neck. Kissing and licking it as his head rested against yours. You moved your hips faster, his moans uncontrollable.

“Oh, Carl. Thank you for letting me be your teacher,” you put your torso up, his eyes scanning every part of your body. You pressed your hand on his chest for better balance. You slanted your inner eyebrows, going faster as the room was full of the sound of skin slapping.

Carl groped your tit as you grinded your hips. You felt the pressure of his dick on your g-spot and cervix. You moaned his name which caused him to push your hips faster and deeper into him. His growls running through your ears.

All the grinding and friction of the back of his head caused his eye bandage to come loose and slip off his face. When you looked at his face and realized what happened, you slowly stopped bouncing.

He felt the breeze coming on his wounded eye socket and covered his eye. “Shit! I-I’m sorry… you’re probably all freaked out now,” he worried insecurely.

You smiled as you leaned down and placed multiple kisses around his wound. He was stunned. “You’re so cute, Carl,” you snickered.

“Y-You’re not… grossed out?”

“This wound is just a part of you. You’re beautiful no matter what, no wound will change that.” You smiled as you continued to bounce your hips at the same fast pace. Carl was bashful towards your words. You made him feel loved and confident. You were back to making out, spit surrounding your mouths. Your faces full of enjoyment. Both of you could feel the breaths of your moans.

You felt the skin above his dick, pressing against your clit.

“I-I’m gonna-“ you put a finger to his lips. You’re face messy in front of him.

“Do it inside me,” you moaned. You wanted to feel the warm slimy fluid in you. You grinded faster, burying your head in his chest. Your drool all over his skin.

Carl wrapped his arms tightly around your back, keeping you in place as he thrusted fast and hard into you. His groans getting wilder.

You both let out a scream as he released in you. His thrusts slowing down then fastening again. Your legs quivered. His cum poured out of you and splattered over his thighs.

You let out one final shaky breath, giving him a peck. Carl raised his back, still huffing. You were on his lap.

“That’s the end of our lesson,” you whispered seductively. You sat up carefully, cum all over the sofa. Carl grabbed his bandage but you grabbed his wrist before he could wrap it around his eye. You placed another small peck under it then one more on his lips.

“Don’t forget what I said about your eye,” you smiled before putting your cute underwear back on along with your shirt followed by your pants. Carl did the same.

“Thank you… for tonight,” Carl blushed. You smiled.

“You’re more than ready to go fuck your girlfriend now,” you giggled. Carl averted his eyes.

“Do you think… maybe we can do this again?” he asked, twiddling with his fingers again. Your eyes widened, surprised that he’d want to go to you again.

“Hmm, what about Enid?” you wondered. “You should go to her. She’ll be wondering where you are,” you avoided the question. Carl frowned. “Just… try it with Enid,” you put a hand on his chest. “And trust me, I had a great time,” you carefully put your hands under his shirt and wrapped them around his body.

“You should go… before Carol comes back,” you advised while the birds started to chirp. Carl agreed and stepped a foot out your door frame. You stood in front of it. Carl looked at you before giving you a goodbye kiss then he started walking. You closed the door and immediately started wiping down the leftover sperm from the couch. You kept reminding yourself to get a morning after pill as fast as you could.

[dyli-dadi3]

Cock worship

When Ada lets him down time after time, you lift up his spirits and show him just how much you appreciate him (and his cock).

Tags: oral (m receiving), mentions of blood, suicidal thoughts, Leon is a little mean at the beginning, but it all gets resolved, throatpie.

Today was the shittiest day of Leon’s life. Hand’s down. Forget about his girlfriend breaking up with him, forget about the zombies, the car crash, or even the fact that a big gray piece of foreskin was chasing him. Today was nothing but shit. And after wading through the sewers just so a hot Asian FBI agent would like him, he smells like shit, too. 

The only good part of today was you. He found you walking around the RPD, fending off zombies and lickers. After the two of you teamed up, you were always there to tell him how well he was doing. If he was being honest with himself, the constant reassurance was the only thing keeping his Matilda away from his mouth.

He wanted to get out of here, he wanted to get you out of here. So if that meant pushing through all this nonsense, he’d do it. The only thing that bothered him was your adamant dislike of Ada.

He’s not stupid. He knows Ada’s using him, and you don’t hide your opinion about her from him either. 

“But she’s FBI, what else can we do?” He shrugs at you. And she’s cute.

“I think she’s lying,” You suggested. The two of you were wading through G-infested water, the wet socks he had at the back of his mind.

“Listen, liking me doesn't give you an excuse to act like a jealous bitch just because she’s pretty.” Leon sighed. 

In his normal world, he would have never called a woman that. His Nonna didn’t raise a jackass. But this was for the good of humankind! For god's sake, zombies were running, well, walking around trying to bite a chunk out of his well-sculpted traps! He had no sympathy for a jealous girl in the middle of an apocalypse.

You paused, in the middle of crawling out of the water. “What did you call me?” You scowled.

“I said, you’re a-”

“I’m saying she’s lying because I can tell when a woman is being a liar. Not because you think I like you.” You almost fumed, ears turning bright red. Who did he think he was? This was so much bigger than some crush. You were so angry you couldn't even defend yourself correctly.

“Yeah, right.” Leon huffed.

—

“You trust that bitch?” Annette coughed out, blood dripping down her lips as she panted.

Leon looked at her confused and slightly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He mumbled.

You just stood to the side, arms crossed. Finally. Another woman who gets it.

“She’s not FBI, she’s a mercenary.”

Who would have thought…

You wanted to have more sympathy for Leon, you really did. But after that stunt he pulled in the sewers, you were getting tired. The two of you were so close to escaping despite the goose chase Ada sent you on. 

As soon as Ada put her well-manicured, delicate hand on his knee, Leon turned into a desperate mess. 

Yes, Ada, we’ll get the G sample for you! Don’t worry!

It was so pathetic it would have been cute if you weren’t so mad at Ada. Even if she was FBI, what about girl code? You got to him first. 

You didn’t even need to flirt to get Leon to listen to you, he just did. That’s who he was. Green around the ears and raised to help people. Especially pretty women. 

—

“She’s gonna sell it-” Annette rasped out, shuddering. “The G-Virus is gonna go to the highest bidder.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Leon huffed, getting up.

“I hope you’re right.”

—

“I told you-”

“I know!” Leon hissed, carding his fingers through his hair. 

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad for Leon. I mean, could you blame him? His generosity and blind faith were what brought you two together. If it were any other guy, he probably would have left you to rot, so that’s got to mean something. And in all honesty, he did seem to feel bad. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet the entire train ride out of the facility. You both smelled like shit, the G-Virus was lost, and Leon watched a woman die, innocent or not. 

When you two were taken into custody, it was as if Leon was a completely different man. He almost looked, ashamed. He brushed over Ada in his rundown of the night for whatever reason and just focused on the zombie part of your nightmarish night. You supposed it was for the best, it was hard to talk about her if you didn’t bring up Umbrella, and it was hard to bring up that when it apparently “controlled the city.” It was a lost cause.

When you both were put into a “recovery facility” you didn’t fight it. They claimed you needed to be kept close together since you could turn any second. The thought was a little terrifying, but when Leon looked so… dejected… you couldn’t leave the poor guy alone. At least you two got your beds to sleep in.

But that was all thrown out the window the moment Leon burst into tears at the foot of his bed. 

“I’m so sorry, I was such a fucking idiot for listening to her! She played me like a damn fiddle and you warned me and I still didn’t listen,” he gasped for air. “We could have been long gone, but I dragged you into a wild goose chase for a woman who was just going to throw us away afterward.” Leon groaned, burying his face in his hands, gripping the strands of his hair that fell in front of his eyes. 

You paused, surprised that he had felt this bad for it. He hadn’t said a single thing earlier, so you had no idea that it had been bothering him, especially to this extent. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he looked ravishable right now. 

Sure, you were pissed at him for not listening to you, but you couldn’t hold a grudge to him. He apologized, and you felt the need to replay him for all the things you appreciated him doing, not the ones you were annoyed for. After all, you couldn’t stay mad at him forever. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you, Leon.” You murmur, sitting next to him on his bed. You put a hand on his thigh, rubbing up and down reassuringly. “We’re still alive, and that’s all that matters. You’re the one who got shot.”

He looked at your hand on his thigh, then at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re not mad?” He lets out a breath, body slowly relaxing. 

“I’m not mad, Leon. I think your trust in people is admirable.” You nodded, slowly moving your hand up the firm muscle, feeling the way the ligaments tensed under your gentle touch.

“I want to show you how much I appreciate you, Leon.” You look at his eyes with a level of calm that it makes his eyes widen. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.” He held his breath.

You let out a sigh of relief, moving your hand up until you’re met with the half-hard cock of the man you’ve been crushing on for the entirety of this shit show. You bit your lip, feeling the blood pump underneath his skin through the thin pair of pants that he wore. Thank goodness the government didn’t bother to give him a more substantial piece of clothing. The two of you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand feeling the way he reacted to you, how he shivered when you pressed down harder, how he’d whimpered when you squeezed his length, or how your delicate fingers grazed the sensitive tip of his cock,

“Please.” He whined softly, his hips squirming as he leaned back and grabbed the sheets at his sides. 

“Shh… Let me make you feel good, Leon.” You whispered as you continued to graze over his cock before deciding to cut him some slack. “Is this okay?” You asked, your hand gripping the drawstring of his pants.

He bit his lip and nodded, the soft flesh turning so white that you were surprised he didn’t start bleeding. “Shh, relax, Leon.” You whispered, your free hand coming to cup his cheek to distract him from the way your hand was working the knot on his pants. 

He nuzzled your palm, eyes darting in between your face that was looking at him with admiration, and your hand that was slowly sneaking into his pants. The juxtaposition made his head dizzy, on top of the mind-numbing torture you were making his poor cock endure. “I-I need…” He stuttered, brows furrowed as he stared at your hand moving to touch him under his pants. 

“Yeah? What do you need, baby?” You asked, stroking him slowly.

His eyes darted up to yours, lips parted.

For a moment, you worried that you pushed past the line, saying something a little too intimate for the moment. But he just whined, grabbing your wrist to press down harder. “Need more… Please.”

You nodded pushing him gently to lay him down on his back, head against the pillows. “Gonna make you feel good, don’t worry. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you for saving me.” You whispered, bringing your face to his erection. 

You leaned in, kissing a vein that ran up his shaft. 

It was easy to indulge in Leon, his cock was pretty, the little noises he made were pretty, and he was pretty. One lick and he was already begging for more. You held his cock up with one hand while the other went to his hand, bringing it to your head. “You can touch me, Leon.” You mumbled before bringing your lips to his tip.

You wasted no time in swallowing his cock, taking him in. You were rewarded with a strained moan, a hand covering his mouth while the other held your head close, cradling it. “Fuck!”

It was surreal if you were being honest. Just hours ago, you were sweaty, covered in blood, and smelled like the drain of a toilet bowl. But now, you were laying in bed with the most handsome man you’ve ever met and he was letting you suck his dick. You wouldn’t say you were lucky, but it was about time you got some of that good karma.

You drowned out the memories of the night, completely focused on making Leon feel good. With every push and pull, or swipe, or swallow, you were wiping away the images that you were sure were going to come back to haunt you. For tonight, you would be his, and that was all you could ask for.

“Y-You gotta stop.” He panted, trying to tug you away as his meaty thighs trembled on either side of your head. You groaned your disapproval, taking delight in the way he sobbed at the vibration. 

You popped off, smiling up at him. “Don’t wanna.” You murmured as your hand moved. “What’s so bad about making you feel good, Leon?” You almost pouted, pressing a kiss to his frenulum before letting his skin roll back over the throbbing muscle.

“It’s too much.” He huffed, brows furrowed as he pulled you away. “Too much for what? Because I’m pretty sure my job was to pleasure you, and I didn’t see stopping on the job description.” You frowned as he sat up. 

“Y-Yeah, well I just don’t want to be done before we get to the.. Uhh… ‘good stuff’.” He murmured, looking down at the sheets.

The notion made you laugh. “It isn’t getting much better than this unless you want it, baby. This is for you.” The whisper left your lips like a gentle breeze, but to him, it was as if you were a hurricane crashing through his foggy brain.

“Really?” He was surprised, ignoring the way he twitched at your caring words. It was mortifying.

“All you.” You confirmed, slowly bringing your face back to his cock. 

“I don’t care about the sex, Leon. If you’ll allow me, I’m going to make you cum just like this.” You tugged down, kissing the pretty pink tip he had that was just leaking at this point, all restraint abandoned at the sight of his throbbing dick.

“I wan’ it.” He whined, tugging your head closer, holding onto you for dear life as he practically shoved his dick back into your face. “Wanna cum down your pretty mouth and then paint your face.” He gasped, toes curling and head lolling back as you took him in again. 

He didn’t need to hear you to tell that you wanted it, nor look at your eyes. Fuck, he thinks that if he looked into your eyes, he would nut right there. The feeling was liberating. You didn’t hold any expectations on him, didn’t take and take. You gave.

And fuck, did you give good head, his ex couldn’t make him nut harder if she tried.

You took your time before, but now that he really wanted it, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to cum, he wanted to cum down your throat so bad. He didn’t have to worry about disappointing you, or putting on a performance, it was raw, visceral, and perfect. 

He moaned, cradling the back your head as he fucked up into your sloppy mouth. He didn’t even have time to think about how good your pussy could be, he was already crying as he spurted his cum down your throat. “Shit!” He whined, hips jerky and uncoordinated as he shoved it all in. “Is that what you wanted? To have me fuck your face?” He panted, finally looking down at your debauched face as he let you go.

You coughed, throat sore from working his cock. As you blinked away the tears, you smiled up at him. “Only if it made you happy.”

Maybe today wasn’t so shitty after all.