#really having an enemies-to-lovers moment
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀ryomen⠀sukuna.
ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and sukuna have a relationship but it can be pre-relationship too ! sukuna attempts to understand his silly human.
sukuna can feel your body quake. he looks around but cannot identify the threat. your home is at peace. and it is surely not in danger with him around. so what is it that is terrifying you?
he looked at your face intently. all four eyes focused on your tense features. he raises his eyebrow as he slowly turns his attention to what seems to be the cause of your anxiety. he stares at the tv with a level of disappointment unprecedented.
sukuna did not like watching much television. he found it "foolish" and "a waste of time". but you had finally convinced him to actually sit down and watch a horror movie with you. something he seemed more on board with. and he was contempt, at first. but it was hard to focus knowing his lover's soul right besides him was trembling.
"what on earth is scaring you, woman?"
you scrunched your eyebrows at him. "it's scary! they're called horror movies for a reason.." you paused the show and got up to refill your bowl of snacks. he'd hogged them down within the first half an hour, much to your displeasure.
"then why don't you turn it off?" sukuna had found the modern world incomprehensibly strange. including all of its inhabitants, including you. but this was beyond foreign to him. putting yourself through fear? through anxiousness? why?
"because it's fun! it's a feeling like no other.. y'know?" no. he did not know. sukuna did not have enemies, none of which could make him feel the anxiousness you were feeling at the moment. and from television no less. you come back from your kitchen with a grin, and a bowl full of chips. you plop yourself down next to him, and he stops you from unpausing the tv.
"you know they cannot harm you? that you are safe?" it was a strangely sweet sentiment to hear from sukuna. it made you feel all giddy inside. hehe. he really loves me. "yes, i know that i am safe. i'm not scared for me.. i'm scared for the characters!"
sukuna failed to understand your point. you wanted to be scared on purpose. and you were achieving this by watching someone else get chased through the woods. but he liked the feeling of happiness he gave you from seemingly caring about your unusual hobbies.
"would you like me to also chase you through the woods then??"
err.. he'll understand eventually.
⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.
#══╪⠀ㅤ⠀アモール#══╪⠀ㅤ⠀r. sukuna#i am so ill for him#i loav him..#ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x poc!reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
civil. (j.m.)
masterlist
desc: you can’t stand joel miller, and he can’t stand you.
pairing: enemies to lovers! joel miller x gn! reader
a/n: this is my gift for the pedrostories secret santa 2024 event!!! i had so much fun writing this for my giftee, @adora-but-ginger. thanks so much for introducing me to the absolute bop which is never let me down by depeche mode which inspired this lil fic. i really hope you enjoy it babes <3 happy holidays!
“You’re an idiot. A big, hulking idiot.”
“You think I’m big and hulking?”
You could hear the smirk in Joel’s voice, which made equal parts of anger and embarrassment flare up inside of you. You could admit he was… well-built. Sickeningly, disgustingly so. And right now, you wanted to snap his well-built body in two.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“I’d like to see you try, but we’re a little tied up at the moment,” his tone was sardonic, his meaning literal - the two of you were in the bed of some raiders’ truck, tied up and blindfolded, being driven to who-knows-where. It was probably for the best, as the restraints around your wrists were the only things stopping you two from choking each other out.
“And whose fault is that?” you hissed.
“I’m glad you asked. Yours.”
“Mine?!” you exclaimed, the anger pulsing through you growing stronger by the minute. “I told you we should avoid the cabin and you still dragged us right into this mess.”
Joel had insisted the abandoned cabin would be a safe place to rest. The raiders had the same idea, and were quick to pounce on the both of you after coming across your horses outside. They had ambushed the two of you, deciding to bring you back to their camp to figure out what to do with you later - probably nothing too pleasant. They had left your horses behind, and you had overheard them saying they’d come back for them later.
“Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep when you were supposed to be on lookout, we wouldn’t be here right now,” Joel muttered.
You sighed, a dull knot of ache forming behind your eyes. It was true. You had fucked up. But he had fucked up too. If it were anybody else with you, the two of you may have been able to admit that, kiss and make up. But you and Joel never got along. You bickered and fought on every patrol you were forced on together, and this was your last straw. You were livid, and he was too.
“We wouldn’t have been there in the first place if you didn’t-“
“Enough with the goddamn lover’s quarrel!” one of the raiders yelled out from the cab.
That shut you and Joel up sufficiently, but that word tinged the silence with a shy awkwardness.
“Lover’s quarrel,” Joel scoffed.
“Yeah. ‘Lovers’,” you mimic his veneer of nonchalance, poorly veiling the flustered tone in both your voices, “in your dreams.”
“In yours,” he shot back, immediately rolling his eyes at himself.
He was too old for this shit. Everytime he was around you, he acted like a petty teenager. You just ignited a flame within him, one that he mistook for the bitter burn of loathing, not knowing it was something else entirely.
“So, how are we getting out of this one?” you whispered.
“Why are you asking me? I thought I was an idiot?”
“I wish you could see the look I’m giving you right now, Miller.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, unheard by the raiders up front over the rumble of the engine.
“Admit I’m not an idiot, and I’ll get us out of here.”
“Oh, come on-“ you started, gritting your teeth with exasperation.
“Or, you can always spend the rest of the day with our new friends here.”
“...You’re not an idiot.”
“And, who’s in charge?”
“Oh, fuck y-”
“I can always let you hitch a ride with these guys and see how you fare on your own,” his voice took on an annoyingly laissez-faire quality. You hated him.
“You’re in charge,” you assented.
“Correct. I hid my knife in my pocket. They missed it when they took away our weapons.”
Maybe you didn’t hate him.
“Maybe you’re not as big of an idiot as I thought,” you smiled.
“Flattery will get you nowhere. Get it out of my pocket, then cut my ropes. Then I’ll cut yours.”
You shimmied close to him, trying to ignore how the proximity made the heat rise in your collar. You tried to convince yourself it’s a physical reaction to your hatred for him. Like an allergy.
You managed to slide the knife out, only almost stabbing him in the ass once on a bumpy stretch of road.
“Hands!” He had grit through his teeth.
“Please, there’s nothing back there to cut. You’re as flat as a board,” you had whispered, immediately blushing and following your words up with a quick: “Not that I’ve been looking or anything.” (You had looked. A couple times. But you’d die before telling him that.)
Unable to see, you fumbled around a little, careful not to cut him as you sliced through the ropes binding his wrists together. Once free, he lifted his blindfold with careful, quick movements, sure to not let the men in the cab see him, before cutting off the remaining ropes keeping his legs tied together then doing the same for you.
With the ropes loosened in heaps around your wrists and ankles, you whispered: “What now?”
His voice was determined, but grim. “We pray.”
“I gotta take a leak.” One of the raiders mumbled a mere 5 minutes later, after you both had replaced your blindfolds and were acting like two good kidnapees in the back of the truck, in hopes that the men wouldn’t look too closely at the both of you and discover you had freed yourselves.
“Let’s hope our prayers have been answered. Do you trust me?” Joel asked.
“No.”
“You’re gonna have to. 3…2…1.”
The two of you ripped off your blindfolds.
The scuffle was over in a few minutes. Joel’s chest heaved from the exertion of the fight as he cleaned the bloody knife off on his shirt. He had subdued one of the men pretty quickly, which gave you enough time to grab your gun from the cab and deal with the other.
He had done a pretty good job, you had to admit, with hiding his knife and handling the raiders. Without him, you would have been royally fucked. You felt a twinge of gratefulness, and a pang of something else as you watched him, the slope of his nose and hardness of his jaw as he wicked the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He had saved you.
Then, you looked down at the two dead raiders, and what glimmer of heroism that you saw in Joel’s figure distorted into frustration.
You aimed your gun at Joel.
“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?!” he yelled, the bullet whizzing past his head.
“Cool it, Texas,” you huffed, “Now, hold still this time.” You aimed again.
“I just saved your ass, and you try to shoot me because of it?!”
“I told you we shouldn’t have gone to the cabin-”
“Look who’s talking, sleepyhead!”
You started to walk.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” he called after you, his voice already receding into the distance.
“Jackson. Back to the village of which you are the idiot of!” you screamed over your shoulder.
“A bit of a convoluted way to put it, darlin’.”
You refused to dignify that with an answer.
You had only made it a few metres down the road when you heard the roar of the raiders’ truck, and the heat of the thrumming engine as it pulled up beside you.
You stared straight ahead, feeling Joel’s gaze rove over you from the driver’s window as he cruised alongside you.
“Get in,” Joel called out to you.
“No.”
“D’you know where you’re going? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t.”
“I do. I think. I tried to memorise the turns they took while we were tied up.”
“Well, you aren’t getting back to Jackson anytime soon on foot.”
You ignored him, marching forward. The next few moments were clouded in silence as you stormed down the road, Joel driving slowly beside you all this while.
“C’mon, get in. Please?” Joel’s voice was startlingly soft, a flash of vulnerability that you hadn’t expected that stopped you in your tracks. He said his words slowly, like it was difficult for him to articulate. It definitely wasn’t easy for someone as stubborn as him to seek help from you. “I can’t leave you out here alone, and I need your help to navigate.”
You turned to look at him, not expecting to find the sincerity scrawled over his face. It softened you. But you liked to make him suffer.
“Who’s in charge?” you said.
“Oh, c’mon…”
“Miller. Answer me. Who is in charge?”
“You are. Now get in.”
You smiled in satisfaction, clambering into the passenger seat.
“You’re in charge of navigation, I’m in charge of driving,” he mumbled beneath his breath.
You chuckled at his comment. Suddenly his snarkiness, though annoying, seemed like a harmless dig after the events of the day. That laugh was utter release, a reprieve from the loathing for him that had been boiling your blood all day.
Peeking over at you, you watched his confused face turn into one that mirrored yours. One of cathartic happiness. He let out a laugh, unable to help it. You had never noticed his laugh, his smile. Like a silver lining. You liked it.
The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, save for your directions, though the air between you was different. Still electric in its energy, but not because of anger, or frustration. It was strangely warm.
The sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon, and with a satisfying click, he flicked on the headlights, making a turn. The lights illuminated the cabin and your horses. Your heart soared.
“Well, shit. You did it,” he whispered.
You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and more laughter bubbled from his lips. Laughing with Joel seemed so foreign after spending every patrol together arguing or in heated silence. It was pleasant.
From here, the two of you would be able to find your way back to Jackson, no question. The two of you mounted your horses and started your way back. He turned to watch you, the delicate turn of your head as you gazed up at the vast sky, drinking it all in. He felt that same pang he always felt around you, what he always thought was annoyance. It hit him with that same ferocity, but it was charged with a different energy. It felt kind of nice.
You turned to lock eyes with him.
“I’m sorry,” the both of you said in unison.
You both dissolved into laughter.
“Well, I’ll go first,” Joel chuckled, “I’m sorry. I really am. I should have listened to you-”
“No, I’m sorry!” you said. “If it wasn’t for me falling asleep… and I guess trying to shoot you wasn’t very nice.”
“Wasn’t polite, was it?” he snorted, his smile reflecting your sheepish one. “Still, I fucked up. And the way you helped us find our way back… you saved our asses.”
“I fucked up too. And if anyone saved us it was you. There was no way we would have gotten out of there without you thinking ahead and hiding the knife.”
“I guess we make a pretty alright team, huh?” he said, the smile he shot you so hopeful and sweet you felt that hot, molten feeling in your gut again, though it definitely was not hate.
“Yeah, we do,” you sighed. “I guess if your brother’s gonna keep insisting on putting us on patrol together, we could at least be civil to each other. I think we work together better that way. Deal?”
“Deal,” he said. “You still drive me a little crazy though.”
“Ditto,” you smiled at him, and the smile he flashed back made you feel strange and floaty, a similar sort of light-headedness from when you used to get so mad at him on patrols you wanted to scream. You were starting to realise that feeling may have been motivated by a different emotion entirely. He was definitely driving you a little crazy.
“Where the hell were you guys? You missed the bonfire,” Tommy called out to Joel as the both of you arrived at the centre of Jackson, a dying bonfire crackling behind him.
“That’s the least of our problems,” Joel huffed, dismounting from his horse as you followed suit, thrusting the reins into his brother’s hands. “You deal with that.”
Tommy shrugged, leading the horses back to the stable.
The two of you stood side by side, staring into what little was left of the bonfire, now a flame that licked up to around Joel’s knee-height. The crowd that was surrounding it earlier that night had fully dispersed, leaving just you and Joel alone before the fire. He turned to look at you, the fire glazing your eyes with orange and red hues, setting your gaze alight.
“I have an idea,” you said. Your smile meant trouble. “Let’s jump over it.”
“What?” Joel asked, eyebrows shooting up incredulously.
“I read it somewhere. It’s an old tradition, supposed to bring about good luck and new beginnings,” you smile at him, a smile that instantly wins him over. “We need all the luck we can get. C’mon Miller, indulge me. Be civil.”
His laugh was hesitant, but when you reached for his hand he knew he could do it.
“Do you trust me?” you grinned.
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to. 3…2…1!”
There was a moment there, with his hand in yours, at the very top of where the flames swirled, where it felt like the two of you were flying, suspended against the dark sky.
Then, you hit the ground.
You were lying beside each other in the dirt, panting in between gasps of laughter, the cuffs of your pants and the soles of your shoes singed. That electric warmth fired through the air, boiling your blood - definitely not anger. Something else. Passion and anger possess that same fiery quality.
It burned so brightly within the both of you that he couldn’t help it. He leaned over to kiss you. The fire was warm by your side, the sky dark and electric above you as a storm gathered. The two of you were definitely going to be more than civil.
#pedrostoriesgift24#pedrostories#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal x you#pedro x reader#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us fluff#the last of us
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#💿 — solace seven works
161 notes
·
View notes
Text
november recs <3
— bucky barnes.
cold libraries create warmer hearts by @elvenrin
↳ fic a bit on the longer side (which i love <3) writing this is reminding me that part two is already up and i haven’t read it yet. librarian!reader x history major!bucky. cute, cute fic and steve’s and natasha’s appearances are the best ofc
— james potter.
unrequited, terrifying series by @aurynsia
↳ only read the first two chapters but i really wanna continue the series since it was a really sweet secret admirer!james fic <3
sunlight by @sun-kissy
↳ love a good friend to lovers confession moment and who better to execute that than san?? perfection <33
overheard that she was nineteen by @g1rld1ary
↳ this is for the people that somehow end up crying on every birthday. comfort fic <3
our names in the paper by @g1rld1ary
↳ do yourself a favour and read this, and then go on gia’s blog and read everything she writes cause she’s just that amazing, yk. 10k words of early 2000s romcom vibes and the best dialogues ever. witty and will have you giggling and kicking your feet.
i hate you series by @dreamingofmarauders
↳ haven’t read all of it but cute enemies to lovers james x reader <3
epiphanies over hotpot by @foodiegoogie
↳ loveliest fic written by none other than my twin rese! :D (established relationship <3)
— joel miller.
clay pigeons by @siriuslylantsov
↳ lovely fic, written by a lovely person. hadn’t read any joel fics in a while and him in this one is just 🤌
— matt murdock.
staring right through me by @elixirfromthestars
↳ went through a matt phase and this fic was perfect. go give mel’s blog a look especially if you like reading bucky fics!! <3
— remus lupin.
untitled by @iamgonnagetyouback
↳ honestly this was a very sweet fic and it stole more than a couple smiles from me <33
untitled by @siriuslylantsov
↳ will leave you wanting to take care of remus after a full moon. lovely <33
— sirius black.
bags series by @777heavengirl
↳ so silly of you if you like sirius black and you haven’t read this series yet!! friends to lovers, what more can you ask for? writing is top notch too <3
haircare routine by @siriuslylantsov
↳ pretty sure this was the first fic i read from ace and it had me GIGGLING. cutest thing <3
— spencer reid.
olive theory by @siriuslylantsov
↳ cute little short blurb <3
september rain by @parfaitblogs
↳ has there ever been or is there ever gonna be a jo’s recs without lia on it? well, probably not. cute comfort fic about spencer comforting reader when there’s a storm.
making the bed by @parfaitblogs
↳ another comfort fic with lia’s gorgeous writing <3
kissing in the rain by @catssluvr
↳ cutest fic about well... what the title says. it will leave you with the unquenchable need to dance with spencer under the rain.
slow it down by @reidmania
↳ this fic was the comfort i needed back in november at the stage i was 😭. 100% recomend, the writing is beautiful.
untitled by @parfaitblogs
↳ for some reason it took me the longest while to finally read this fic. forensic scientist!reader and a great fic, but again, read all of lia’s works. or else.
north star by @parfaitblogs
↳ comforting spencer after a nightmare fic <3
state of grace by @parfaitblogs
↳ genuinely loved this one so much. friends with benefits and a bit of avoidant!reader. lia, i love your dialogues. i think i’ve said that a thousand times <3
back to fic recs list
#[🍓] ; jo’s monthly recs ── ◡̈#bucky barnes x reader#james potter x reader#joel miller x reader#matt murdock x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#spencer reid x reader#fic recs
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
love triangle with 2B & A2
pairing: 2B x gn!reader x A2
tags: friends to enemies to lovers (A2 & reader), co-workers/friends to lovers (2B & reader), rivalry (2B & A2)
2B and A2 are already enemies, due to A2 deserting from yorha, but when the two androids notice that they're both in love with you, things become even more complicated!
A2 had once started out as your co-worker, before deserting. you're one of the few who still remembers how things used to be when you and her were partners, wanting to save the world together!
but when A2 deserted, you got a new partner; 2B. and while you were reluctant to replace A2, you eventually formed a real connection with 2B
A2 already disliked all yorha units, excluding you, but when she saw you with your new partner for the first time, her loathing turned even stronger!
meanwhile, 2B knew all about your history with A2. she was tasked to keep you away from her while you were on earth, but as time passed, that desire became more personal, as she fell in love with you and wanted to keep you away from her biggest rival!
under different circumstances, A2 and 2B maybe could've been friends or find a mutual understanding. but their love for you was what drove a wrench between them and both of them knew this could only end one way; you'd have to choose one of them and abandone the other!
while A2 was the one you missed the most, it was hard to see her. even if you could've had the chance, 2B was always around you, so you couldn't just sneak off and look for A2
the few times you actually got to reunite with your old partner were when she found a moment to steal you away from 2B, during turbulent times. while 2B was busy with the mission, having to take on your work as well, you managed to find a few minutes or hours with A2
A2 makes it very clear how she feels about 2B! she doesn't like her and she tells you to be careful around her. afterall, you don't even know the true nature of 2B…
but 2B often tries to sway you to her side with the same arguments! you might've known A2, but she's a deserter now. can you really claim she's the same girl who was your partner and who you loved? or is that person gone forever…?
#2B x reader#A2 x reader#A2#yorha a2#yorha no.2 type b#yorha 2b#2B#2B nier#A2 nier#nier automata x reader#nier automata#nier x reader#nier#nier reincarnation#nier reincarnation x reader#x reader#x you#x y/n#x gn reader#dating#headcanons#romantic#rivalry#love triangle
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
The bitter enemies to lovers dynamic works much better with Hermione, Ron, Neville or Ginny than with Harry, as they all have much more limited perspective and interactions with Draco. Basically any Gryffindor but Harry, lol. I have zero interest in any of those pairing for this reason (and many others, but not relevant here). Thoughts?
Yup. To each their own. I do enjoy the "bitter enemies to lovers" trope - some of my early ships include kylux, baneblake, and lawlight, which all fit that description nicely. The thing is, it's all about hwat is most interesting and works best with the characters. So, while I think that type of dynamic can be interesting and realistic for some pairings, it just doesn't work with drarry from my point of view because that's not who the characters are. And it's also not what's most interesting or striking about their relationship.
The really special and unique thing about drarry is yes there's enmity and rivalry and conflict and later there's a literal war that they find themselves on opposite sides of. But for all that, they never truly hate each other. Even when they should, they can't bring themselves to. For all that they may distrust each other and fight and even hurt each other, whenever one is truly in danger the other always helps him.
And for all that there should be no trust between them, Draco sends his friends away and turns his back on Harry when they are in the train compartment in book 6, because he knows Harry won't attack him from behind while he is alone and vulnerable (and he's right). And moments later when Harry finds himself incapacitated and completely at Draco's mercy, he is angry, but he isn't afraid that Draco will torture or kill him or turn him over to Voldemort, even though he (correctly!) believes that Draco is a Death Eater (and he's right!!!). That's so complex and unique and interesting! That's what draws me to the ship.
That's not to say that post-war they would immediately fall into each other's arms or that Harry would suddenly completely trust Draco wasn't up to anything or tolerate Draco mistreating his friends, or that Draco would instantly unlearn all his prejudices overnight. There would be a process. And that creates great fodder for fic. But in my opinion it wouldn't look like a story of enemies who truly hate and want to harm each other being inexorably drawn together, because neither Harry nor Draco ever really wanted that.
Remember that not only did Draco say "I can't be sure," but also after book 6 Harry downplayed or downright concealed many of Draco's crimes on the astronomy tower. And in the Room of Requirement not only did Harry save Draco, but Draco also tried to intervene to stop Crabbe & Goyle harming Harry, even tho by that time he was wandless - and indeed the next time we see him a Death Eater has drawn his wand on him, and seems to think Draco is no longer on his side....
#asks#Harry Potter#Draco Malfoy#drarry#hpdm#dmhp#harco#harry x draco#harry/draco#harry potter/draco malfoy
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
*:・゚✧ LIE TO ME
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬): enemies to lovers, best friends brother, fake relationship, seemingly unrequited feelings, petnames (princess for reader), afab!reader, ovulation, fingering, kissing, implied m!masturbation, dryhumping, emotional smut, no editing we die like neji.
『•• miya atsumu | words: 7,4k | hq masterlist ••』
excerpt: “is it?” you asked, and stepped closer, facing him head on, chin lifted. “convince me then. lie to me. do you love me?”
i can’t sleep.
you sent the message before giving yourself time to consider whether it was a good idea or not. you were friends. sort of. but were you that kind of friends? that kind of couple, you corrected yourself, cringing at the idea of being in any kind of couple with him. for the record, let it be known that this whole relationship wasn’t your idea. honestly there shouldn’t even have been a relationship to begin with, but friends in mutual need helped each other out, right? right. that’s all that this was, really. a mere helping hand. for the both of you. that’s– your phone buzzed in your hand.
Caller ID: Atsumu Miya
“hello?” you said, after staring blankly at the caller id for a moment. why was he calling? and why did he call so fast? why this late? he didn’t offer you any time to mull it over any further, before he stole your breath right out of your lungs.
“want me to come over?” he asked, voice sounding a little rough through the phone.
“why are you even awake?” you countered, head flopping down onto the pillow. come over? you glanced over at the clock on your bedside table. 3am. he wanted to come over. at 3am.
“just answer the question,” he said instead, and for a moment you contemplated whether you should just hang up. if nothing else then simply to shut him up.
“you didn’t answer mine either,” you gumbled, obviously trying to deflect. to no avail, it seemed.
“i asked first.” smug bastard. you could just hang up. but you didn’t. so why didn’t you? because you could. any time you wanted. “i couldn’t sleep either. now d’you want me to come over?” he asked again. you sighed, eyes squinting into the darkness of your apartment, as if he’d be able to see.
“absolutely not.”
“sure.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, feeling your skin heat. he was really something, that atsumu. full of himself, that’s what he was. utterly full of himself.
“just, what kind of boyfriend would i even be, if i wasn’t there for my girl in her time of need?”
“miya,” you warned, but you were too tired for it to really, truly come across. your voice too soft. his girl? his girl?
“relax,” he said, sighing. “there’s no hidden motifs. i mor gonna do anything you don’t want me to. promise,” he added after a little pause. at that moment you felt a dull jab in your abdomen. something you pushed firmly aside, instead opting for another halfhearted attempt at protest.
“atsumu–” you’d meant it to be another warning, but instead it turned into something else entirely. something soft. something you tried to deny, just as hard as you tried to deny the fact, that maybe, just maybe, you actually wanted to accept. that you definitely weren’t ready to admit just yet. and somehow, atsumu saw right through you.
“i’ll be there in 20,” he said, letting his words hang in the air for only a moment and a half before he added “see you in a bit,” and hung up.
dumbfounded, you lowered the phone from your ear. he hung up on you. he literally hung up on you. that little shit. here you were, doing him a favor with this whole relationship thing, and he just hung up on you? okay, so he might be doing you a favor in return but— it wasn’t even like this whole thing was real in the first place. so why was he coming over in the middle of the night? why did it matter? why did he even care if you slept or not? and why did that dull ache in you abdomen refuse to ease? why?
--
“bet there’s a reason for that, huh?” you’d said to him. it wasn’t often that the two of you hung out alone, but as you both waited on osamu, you might as well do it together. what wasn’t a rarity however, was the way the two of you jabbed at each other. bickering more often than not. you were friends, sure, but he was still an ass.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he’d asked.
“i just mean that there might be a reason why your mom is bugging you about getting a girlfriend,” you said, matter of factly. “i mean you’re fairly good looking, but then you open your mouth and well– you’re not exactly prince charming, are you?”
“you think i’m good looking?”
“see, this is exactly what i mean,” you said, throwing your hands up in mock frustration. “there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to keep a girl satisfied like that.”
“oh really?” he’d stepped closer to you then. into your personal space, eyes locked on yours. “Wanna bet on that?”
“you’re asking– if i wanna bet?” you’d heard your fair share of dumb things coming from his mouth through the years, but this was straight up laughable.
“yeah. wanna bet?” he cocked one of those stupidly nice eyebrows of his as he studied you for your reaction.
“how would you even prove that?” you asked, still standing your ground. refusing to step down. that was, until he opened his mouth again.
“we date,” he said, and you staggered, taking a step back. what? you didn’t think this could turn any stupider but he really did just surpass your expectations for how absurd this could possibly get. “just for a while,” he clarified, looking as satisfied as a fat cat after a feast. “think about it. i could get my mom off my back about dying alone, and you need that shitty ex off your back too, right?”
“how do you even know about–” trailing off, you’d looked at him for a moment, mouth agape as it dawned on you. “osamu.”
“i can neither confirm nor deny that,” he said with a wink that clearly meant that you’d been right. “so. what about it?”
“what about it?” you mocked. “miya, i highly doubt you’d be able to convince anyone that we’re dating. be serious.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he’d almost sounded hurt then. no not hurt, but at least a little surprised. taken aback by your words. but then he smiled. because you hadn’t outright denied his proposal just yet. and you realized that yourself too. you fought him, yes. but you hadn’t exactly said no.
“everyone knows we don’t get along that well,” you told him. and it was true. you did consider him a friend. somewhat. but truly you mostly hang out because of your friendship with osamu. you and him had been best friends since forever, and of course, atsumu had always there too. you’d been closer as kids, but somehow he’d grown incredibly annoying throughout the years.
“opposites attract,” he said, and you scoffed. loudly.
“there’s limits.”
“are you saying you don’t think you can do it?” oh this fucker. of course,he knew exactly how to taunt you into getting his way. which strings to pull and buttons to push to light a fire under your ass. to ignite that competitive side that somehow always yearned to best him.
“oh i can do it,” you told him, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him defiantly. “can you?”
“i’m an excellent actor,” he said, and the way the words left him so simply. so easily. it annoyed you to no end but you’d already pushed too hard. you couldn’t back down now.
“fine,” you said. “prove it. but you gotta make it convincing enough to fool even me.”
“easy.”
“is it?” you asked, and stepped closer, facing him head on, chin lifted. “convince me then. lie to me. do you love me?”
“i do.”
“bet.”
--
20 minutes came and went as you paced around your apartment, and like clockwork knuckles rapped against your door. you startled and glanced down the hall. it wasn’t that you’d thought he wouldn’t show. oh no. it was that the ache in your abdomen had only intensified, and by now you’d finally acknowledged it for what it was. and quite frankly, you weren’t sure having atsumu in your home when you were ovulating, in the middle of the night no less, was such a great idea. not that you were keen to delve deeper into that thought, but even you, who found him to be most irritating, had to admit that he was pretty. okay no, pretty didn’t even cut it and you knew that. as much as he was a menace, he was hot. really hot. and while you wouldn’t admit it out loud, often not even to yourself, you’d have to be blind not to be a little bit attracted to him. or well– not be attracted to men. there was another knock, abruptly pulling you from your thoughts. you yanked your hand from your mouth, where you’d been absentmindedly biting your nails. you made for the door, and–
“hey,” he said as soon as you opened the door, and you took him in. why did he have to be so effortlessly pretty? especially at a time like this. with his hair unruly, cheeks flushed from the night cold, and those damned gray sweats he'd undoubtedly tossed on in his rush to get to you. why the hell did he have to be wearing gray sweats? out of everything that he could have worn, why that? and oh dear was he not w– “for a moment there, i thought you weren’t going to open the door. are you gonna let me in, or should i stay out here in the cold?” he asked, and that’s when you realized you’d been staring. at his gray sweatpants. at the shadow of what hid underneath. fuck. yep. you really were ovulating. you shook it off, trying to get a hold of yourself as you stepped aside to let him in. or maybe it was to put some semblance of distance between the two of you.
“sorry.” he eyed you up, as if weighing your apology. or maybe he just took you in, calculating, reading you to find the source of your sleeplessness. as if looking behind your eyes for what you didn’t show. did he see the vicious knots in your stomach? or maybe he just took in your bare legs, trying to hide a smile that fought to pull his lips upward.
“what for?” he asked, now losing the battle as a smile really did stretch across his face. a smile that had you flustered in ways you hadn’t expected when you first texted him earlier. in ways that you didn’t want to be around him. atsumu really did sport a pretty face. he did have a smile that, for some unfathomable reason, made girls swoon. that was even if he never seemed to be able to hold onto them. he also kinda really sucked. which again made you question why you’d even texted him in the first place. since when had you become accustomed enough with him to do so? when had you become comfortable enough with him for that?
“if you keep looking at me like that, i’m going to throw you out on your ass,” you threatened, much to his amusement it seemed as he laughed softly.
“i’d like to see you try,” he challenged with a glimmer in his eyes. but then he held his hands up in surrender. “i’m not here to bicker though. if you want me to leave, i’ll leave. i’m only here because you couldn’t sleep and i want to help.” now it was your turn to study him. he seemed genuine enough, but what was he even planning to do anyway? you couldn’t seem to decipher just that, so you crossed your arms and asked.
“and how’re you going to do that?”
“you tell me,” he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “whatever you need, really. i can make you tea. a glass of warm milk? i even learned how to make a really good soup from samu.”
“soup is for when you’re sick,” you deadpanned. “i don’t think eating is going to make me–” you started but he countered before you even finished talking.
“i’ve also been told that i give phenomenal backrubs, actually. lie down. i’ll show you,” he offered, shoes discarded by the door as he stepped further into the apartment, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder as he crossed your floor.
“i–”
“i’m also an excellent cuddler.”
“tsumu.” this time he stopped. whether it was your tone or something else, but he stopped and looked back at you. you were wringing your hands in front of you as you looked at him, and he looked at you.
“what is it?”
“it’s just–” you turn your head, avoiding his gaze, suddenly not wanting to see his expression he didn’t look away though. you can feel his eyes on you. “don’t you think this is taking it a little too far? this whole being in love charade? no one else is here to see.” if you’d looked at him though, maybe you’d have deciphered the look in his face just then.
“who says it’s a charade?” you looked at him then. of anything he could have said, you hadn’t expected that. you had told him to be convincing, hadn’t you? and he did it well. when you watched him then, you almost fell for it. then he looked away, heaved a sigh and dragged a hand through his hair. “come on. let’s watch something until you get sleepy.”
you couldn’t quite figure out at that point, what to think or what to make of this whole ordeal. this was all very strange. new. it hardly seemed like atsumu at all, walking through your apartment and scratching the back of his head as he went. dragging your feet, you reluctantly followed behind. for years you’d found him to be a menace, and he definitely didn’t make a point of proving you wrong. at least it hadn’t seemed like he did until now. why was he suddenly so set on acting all nice and caring? why was he suddenly going out of his way like this? it was honestly kind of creepy. no– not creepy. odd. very odd. was this all because you’d told him to be convincing with this whole masquerade of a relationship? because he didn’t want you to have the last word about his acting skills? as much as you hated to admit it, he’d turned out to be quite the actor. that was a bitter thought, really. more bitter than you’d expected it to be. did you really hate losing to him that much? was that it?
“come on,” atsumu reached out and took hold of your wrist. you looked down at him on your couch, one leg popped up as he pulled, offsetting your balance and leaving you no other options but to fall on top of him or plop down between his legs. you opted for the latter. you didn’t recognize the show that he’d turned on, on the tv.
“what’re we watching?” you asked, skin warm under his hand still clasped around your wrist. you had to resist the urge to pull at it, and wring your hands together. why were you suddenly feeling so nervy? and why were you feeling so warm? you could feel him watching you. scrutinizing you. at least that’s what it felt like, but when you finally faced him, his expression was soft. soft? no. yes. soft. but also– he smiled then. that stupid smile you’d longed to wipe off his face on multiple occasions. your stomach twisted.
“i don’t know. hopefully something boring enough that you’ll fall asleep,” he said. that made you laugh. just a little bit. his smile widened. “now come. properly this time.” you looked at him. and then you looked at him some more. eyes narrowing ever so slightly. come? come where? with a shake of his head he sighed. “you really are a handful, aren’t you? if you sit like that, you’re going to fall on the floor when you fall asleep. now come here. stop looking like that. it doesn’t have to mean anything, just come. rest.”
and that was how you found yourself nestled against his chest on your couch, some shitty movie playing on the tv. at first you’d laid there, tense and rigid against him. as time passed, your body gradually relaxed, your hand settled against his chest as every breath he drew lulled you into a sense of security. you secure, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out how you managed to feel like that, in the arms of none other than miya atsumu. especially not with the persistent ache in your abdomen. the pain had risen and you knew that by now, trying to rise would make you double over before you’d manage to straighten out entirely. so you stayed curled up between atsumus thighs, trying your best to ignore the pain, the sensation of his arms around you, the rise and fall of his chest. just focussing on the movie. just the movie. that’s all you needed to focus on. you pulled up your legs further and tried to do just that. you hadn’t paid attention so far really, but when you did, you saw the male lead of the movie, backing the love interest up against a door, her wrists in his hands. oh. now they were kissing. okay. his thigh moved between her legs. okay. okay, since when did it become this kind of movie? atsumus breath tickled into your hair, and you looked up at him. he didn’t look back. his eyes were trained on the screen, but his hands around your waist twitched against your skin. your skin? you looked down, noticing your shirt had ridden up just a little bit. you adjusted in his embrace, thighs pressed together as heat engulfed you whole. okay. that’s awkward. you looked at the screen again. that’s really awkward. the male leads hands were roaming and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t know where to look–
“are you nervous?” atsumu asked, and when you looked up again, this time he looked back at you. there was a soft smile on his lips and concern in his eyes. “you’re very fidgety.”
“what? no. it’s just—“ you didn’t know why you told him. maybe you were just that tired. maybe it was the concern written across his face. or maybe it was just the way he’d made you feel safe and relaxed while you’d been snuggled against him. well, whatever it was, you swallowed, looked away and confessed “i’m ovulating. it’s driving me insane.”
“you—“ atsumu started. then he stopped. there was a brief silence in which you refused to meet his gaze. embarrassment might just swallow you whole when you heard him swallow thickly. at least you kind of wished it would. but that’s when he surprised you, more than you had thought possible. he placed a hand against your cheek and turned your face, meeting his case in earnest. “maybe i could—” he swallowed again, eyes more intense than you’ve ever seen before. “i could help you with that. if you want.”
“what’re you suggesting?” you asked, surprising yourself just as much by not outright turning him down. this was exactly why you didn’t think it’d be a good idea to have atsumu in your house when you were ovulating. because you might agree to something you normally wouldn’t. because you feared you wouldn’t be able to squash the pull you felt towards him. not that you’d actually admit to feeling it in the first place.
“do you trust me?” he asked, hands around you sitting still. he held you softly, as if he was refusing to let himself do anything before you agreed. as if he was ready to let go at any moment if you refused. arms looped gingerly around you, but not quite holding you. not quite. but you wanted him to. for some reason, you actually really wanted him to. so, what, maybe you just let ignore the consequences for tonight. maybe you just say to hell with it and give in. so what if it was all a lie. at least it was a sweet one of the kind, and at least– at least you got something out of it too.
“i— think so,” you said, surprising even yourself with your words when you really did just let yourself go.
“then let me help,” he said, and lifted one hand to let his fingertips graze lightly over the side of your neck. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.” his fingers traveled down. slow. tentative. almost hesitant. as if he expected you to push him away. and not long ago, you would’ve. not long ago, you wouldn’t have let him get this close to you in the first place. let him put his arms around you. not long ago, you probably wouldn’t even have let him into your apartment, if you were being honest. goose flesh rose across your skin as his fingers neared your abdomen. then stilled. he was offering you the chance to back out. expecting you to. but you didn’t.
“keep going. you said you’d help, didn’t you?” you asked him, encouraging him to go on. to hurry up and give you what your body so clearly craved. “let me stay in the fantasy for a little while,” you added, before you were able to stop yourself. right then, you really did want to believe that this was all real. just for a little while, even if it really didn’t mean anything to him.
“fantasy? what do you mean?” atsumu asked, fingers giving pause once more on their venture beneath the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
“stop talking. just– help me,” you said, hating how pathetic you sounded to yourself. for another moment, he didn’t move. for one retched moment, you feared he was going to pull back and you hated that thought even more. but then he moved. his other hand forced you to look back up at him, the other kept in place.
“you want to pretend. is that it?” he asked. his eyes flared but you saw no anger. no lies. “okay. you can pretend all you want. what do you want me to do? want me to kiss you like i’m madly in love with you?” there was something wicked in his face then. something– lost. no. that couldn’t be it. whatever it was, you didn’t want to see it ever again. what you did want was his lips on yours. his words having sparked something you didn’t expect.
“yes,” you told him. and so he did. he pressed his lips against yours and he kissed you so intently that you almost thought he really was in love with you. his lips ever so tender. soft. lingering between every swipe against yours as you moved him perfect symphony. when he broke the kiss, his eyes stayed close just that one moment longer, like in pure bliss.
“let me help you,” he said, as if you hadn’t already granted him permission. his lips graced yours once more. feather light, there and then gone. with your eyes closed, you felt his breath fanning against your lips still. the mere whisper of distance the only thing separating you.
“how’re we supposed so go back to what we were after this?” you asked against his lips, feeling the pull between you until even that last breath of distance was but a memory. “we were hardly even friends–”
“don’t you dare say that to me,” atsumu drew back. almost startled. when you looked at him, the look in his eyes was hard. somehow also vulnerable. you didn’t quite understand. “not after everything i’ve gone through.” you didn’t quite understand what that was supposed to mean. what he’d been through? the two of you had been through the exact same thing getting here after all. although you had to admit, something inside of you also pained. and it wasn’t just the dull ache of your ovaries or the lower back pain caused by your body ovulating. it wasn’t that, yet you couldn’t quite place it either.
“atsumu,” you said, studying his features. your body wanted nothing more than for you to close the gap once more. for him to bury his fingers inside you as you did. he always did have nice fingers. you shook your head. you should probably withdraw before you pushed past the point of no return. before it would truly be too late for you to go back to what you were. that’s what you should be doing. what you should be wanting. but for some reason, it wasn’t. “there is no way–”
“are you actually serious right now?” the wild look in atsumu’s eyes caught you off guard, when he pushed up to a sitting position, effectively putting more distance between you as you had to sit back in order not the fall. he sighed. rubbed a hand over his face before fixing you with another stare. he took a breath. then another. then he seemed to make up his mind. “i have literally had a crush on you for as long as i can even remember. you cannot seriously be telling me that you didn’t know.”
“me? a crush on me?” your brows furrowed as you stared back at him. now you were just starting to feel pathetic. you couldn’t believe you actually wanted to believe him. that you actually almost did. that you wanted it to be true. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“i am not lying!” he ground the words out, and for one moment you entirely forgot how to breathe. you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. before you could. “jesus. okay. you want truth? then listen to me!”
“‘tsumu–”
“no. stop talking,” he said, once more cutting you off. at any other situation, you would have been severely annoyed with him at the amount of times he’d cut you off by now. but this wasn’t any other situation. right now, his hair was a mess, his face looked like it was burning, he cupped your cheeks between his palms, and his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed “the truth is, that i am so damn in love with you that i don’t know what to do with myself. do you really think i’d go around doing something like this for someone i didn’t feel anything for? do i really seem like that kind of asshole to you?” while he spoke, the hardness in his eyes shifted. turned to hurt in the silence that followed. his words were ringing in your ears, your mouth going dry.
“what?”
“nevermind.” atsumu’s hands fell away as he turned his head, suddenly unable to look at you. he cleared his throat and rose from the couch. “i understand if you changed your mind. i can leave–” your hand clasped around his wrist. you didn’t think. didn’t even realize that you’d moved. you only knew that you didn’t want him to leave. especially not like this. he didn’t look at you, but he stopped. you wanted him to look at you. just you.
“show me?” you asked. he moved. as if he was going to turn, but he didn’t. you saw the muscle in his jaw tick.
“excuse me?” his words didn’t sound right. he sounded hurt. really hurt. had you really made him feel this hurt, that he couldn’t even face you? the pain inside you gnawed. shit.
“i– your feelings,” you said. you didn’t know what you could say to make him hurt any less. but whatever you could do, you wanted to do it. maybe this attempt had been the wrong choice. you couldn’t tell what we going on in his head, but you wanted to make that pain vanish from his voice. you wanted him to sound like your atsumu again. “i’m sorry, i– atsumu, look at me.”
“what about my feelings? doesn’t matter it’s all a lie, does it?”
“atsumu, please.” he sighed, silent for a moment. then he obliged. tears rimmed his eyes when he met yours and there was a furrow between his brows.
“what?”
“i– don’t think you’re lying,” you said, surprised to find that you meant it. he looked at you, dazed as he held back those unshed tears.
“i’m not,” he said. his voice was still thick. it was still not quite his. but when his jaw worked and he cleared his throat once more, you knew. you knew that he meant it and you knew. knew why you’d wanted it to be true. why you wanted him to stop hurting. why you didn’t actually want to go back to what you were before all this. you liked him. you liked that dickhead. well shit.
“i know.” you looked up at him in earnest, hoping he’d read the realization you weren’t yet ready to speak out loud. “i believe you. i’m sorry. stay?” the last word were spoken softly, more a question than anything, asking him not to go.
“okay,” he agreed. then he looked away again, only throwing a half hidden glace your way as he spoke. “i can– if you need to uh– take care of uh– that– i can stay here while– you know–” you almost laughed out loud as you watched him struggle to find the words. was he seriously suggesting you go masturbate, right after he’d basically confessed to you?
“maybe you could help me?” you asked, once again fighting the laughter bubbling it way up your throat at the speed of which he whipped around to look at you. the way his eyes grew wide as he took you in. then you mustered up all the courage you had in you, maybe even emboldened by all of your body’s signals that now what the time of times for getting absolutely ravished. maybe. just a smidge. whatever it was, you cocked your head to the side and smiled. “show me. your feelings i mean. and maybe i could show you mine?”
“do you– are you sure?” atsumu asked, taking you in as he stood there before you.
“absolutely.”
“i’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” he said and closed his eyes for a moment. “i already said i wouldn’t.” the sigh that left you was heavy with frustration. how on earth did you even like this guy?
“atsumu, sometimes you can really be so thick. now help me. please.”
“really?”
“yes! take me to bed,” you said, pulling at his hand to rise from the couch.
“oh. okay. careful!” when the pain in the abdomen made you double over, he caught you in the process. you weren’t quite sure how it happened, but one moment you were about to flop back down onto the couch, the next you were in atsumu’s arms as he carried you bridal style through the living room.
up close, the scent lingering on his skin was stronger. you’d already smelled it when you’d rested against his chest on the couch, but somehow this was just more. maybe it was the knowledge that this wasn’t all just one big charade after all. either way, you liked it. you liked it a lot. and when you reached your bedroom, still floating in his embrace, you weren’t quite ready to be without it, almost making you beg him to just keep you in his arms like this. almost. instead you let him set you down gingerly, on top of your bed, before laying down beside you.
“were you in pain?” he asked, gaze grazing your features as he hovered, propped up on one elbow. “before, i mean. you almost fell over.” atsumu brushed a stray hair from where it fell across your face. you’d never seen him like this, and it made your cheeks heat up under his touch, more than the ovulation already did. you couldn’t help but wonder what had him acting so softly. of course, those feelings he’d just admitted to having, might have some say. but he’d had those for a while, so why now of all times? you couldn’t help but wonder if he was nervous. if he was as nervous as you felt as well.
“i was. i am. it hurts.”
“where?” he asked. “maybe it’d be best if we didn’t–”
“my ovaries,” you said, cutting him off before he could spew any more nonsense. at least it was nonsense in your ears, because while ovulating did hurt for you, it also made you crave touch so incredibly much. it made your skin feel warmer. tingly. it made you wet simply by existing. and he had the audacity to even suggest stopping before either of you really started? “you said you’d help me, didn’t you? so help me. touch me,” you said, looking up at him and catching his eye.
“can i kiss you again?” it was kind of cute seeing him this meek. you hadn’t realized it was something you’d be interested in, but here you were, thighs pressed together as you looked at him. it was as if he’d been transformed. where’d that cocky confidence gone? well. maybe it was your turn to take the lead. and so you did. instead of answering him, you grabbed him by the neck and pulled him to you, almost toppling him over in the progress.
lips pressed together. the heat of your bodies crowding the space on top of your bed. your tongue gently prying his lips apart. the heavy breath he released as he let you in. with his free hand, his fingers set out on that same trailed they’d been on their way to follow earlier. your skin tingled under his touch as he mapped out every inch of your skin as his fingers traveled south. it tingled as he reached the hem of your shirt. of your pyjama pants. you leaned up to kiss him harder. he was parting and you couldn’t stop the smile that found its way into your kiss. but then he drew back, breath labored as he opened his eyes and looked into yours. his fingers lingering there, in an effort to hold back and respect your wishes.
“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to that,” he said, resting his forehead against yours, keening as your fingers threaded into the hairs at the nape of his neck. cute. you smiled. a smile that promised no sweet nothings whispered in his ears. it promised something different, indeed.
“and i never thought i’d see the day where i’d get to wipe that smug expression off your face.” you couldn’t help the little chuckle that left you at your own words. you really didn’t think you’d see the day. and yet here you were. and what more, his cheeks were clearly heating up and you could tell he was about to bite back. that’s how he was. how the two of you were with each other. and it would seem that you actually liked it.
“well i–”
“atsumu.” his name fell over your lips in a honeyed tone. it was kind of magical how his pupils widened at the sound of your name, so sweet in the intimate embrace of your silent bedroom. it stopped his objections and retaliations before most of them made it even halfway to his lips. you’d have to remember that, you told yourself. maybe you could use it to your advantage in the future. the way his very name affected him so. in the future. because right now, what you really wanted was for him to hurry the fuck up and do what he said he would. and so you told him. “yes. touch me. please.”
and so his fingers dipped further below the waistline of your pajama shorts, underneath your panties. the sharp inhale of breath filling the air when his lips met yours once more. when the pads of his fingers met the slick leaking between your thighs. the intake of breath that mixed with your own little sigh. you’d waited for this for way too long now. you’d wanted it. you angled yourself on the mattress to give him better access. the heavy ghost of his breath fanned across your skin as he kissed you harder. and you kissed him back just as hard. you needed him. a thought you’d never thought you’d have. yet here you were and you wanted him, desired him, needed him. desperately. instinctively.
atsumu’s fingers slipped easily through your folds. the wetness that’d accumulated while he’d been there only making it easier for him to give you what you wanted. deft fingers swiping at your clit, making your eyes screw shut. you leaned up into him, a hand fisting in his shirt to pull him even closer. close enough that he pressed against your side, and the hot swirl in your stomach was all but burning when you felt his hard cock pressed against your side. you wanted to touch it. wrap your hand around it. wrap yourself–
a moan escaped you when atsumu’s fingers pressed against your hole, pushing inside your soft warm cunt. was it warm in your room? it definitely felt warm. almost scalding as you involuntarily bucked into his touch. your skin felt like it might actually catch fire. the way his fingers reached deep within you. the way he paid attention to every little keen and mewl that left your lips. how he adjusted. your hand fisted in the sheets when atsumu’s breath ghosted across the shell of your ear when he leaned in. teeth grazing the delicate skin.
“can i take these off?” atsumu’s fingers slipped from your warmth, instead toying with the hem of your shorts. you’d almost whined at the loss of contact, but his words made you shutter against him. you nodded.
“mhm,” you hummed, not trusting your own voice entirely to speak the word. thankfully, atsumu understood. thankfully, he didn’t ask for further approval before shifted to pull down your shorts. the stunned sound that reveborated at the back of his throat when he laid his eyes on your bare skin. on your exposed, wet cunt. glancing down, you noticed just in time, how his cock twitched under his sweats. he didn’t seem to pay it any mind though. instead he was fully focussed on you. it was intoxicating really, the way he watched you. the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. lips you couldn’t help but want to kiss. so you did. you reached up to grab him by the neck and pulled him to you. his arms caged you in as you pressed your lips to his. as you moved together with fervor. with such an eagerness and hunger that sent your heart racing.
once more, atsumu’s fingers found your core. you spread your legs for him further, when he pushed back in. letting your head fall back at the sensation, atsumu kissed your jaw. once. twice. then the side of your neck, tongue darting out to play across your skin as you adjusted to give him better access to your skin as well. it felt good. so good. when his fingers moved inside you, curling to find that one spot inside that made you moan a little louder.
once again settling on his side, atsumu pulled you tight to his body. your back now pressed against his front. his breath fanning across your neck as he let his mouth explore your skin. his firm chest against your shoulder blades. the hard planes of his stomach as your lower back slotted against him. oh god, and his cock pressed up against your ass, twitching where it was trapped between your bodies.
“how does it feel?” atsumu murmured against your skin. the sound of his voice making you buck, drawing a harsh hiss through his teeth. but he didn’t acknowledge it. instead he let his thumb swipe over your clit, while reaching deep inside. it felt good. it felt so good. but you didn’t know how to say the words. you didn’t think your voice would actually obey you if you tried. “feel good?” he asked, this time providing you with an easy way out.
“yeah,” you said, your voice coming out more like a breath than an actual word as you nodded.
“good,” he said, taking the lobe of your ear into his mouth, teeth nibbling softly as he gave it a little suck.
good, indeed. it was good. really good. you couldn’t imagine it even feeling this good, with your own fingers pushed inside your pussy. it wasn’t that you didn’t know what you were doing, or what you liked. but this. this was entirely different. the amount of attention he paid to you. the care with with he handled you, even as he picked up his pace, led along by the way your breathing hitched at his touch. his entire presence at your back. even more so, the soothing of that ache you’d felt all night. it was overwhelming, but it was so good. so good, it had your skin tingling and your legs tensing. his hips bucking when you pushed against him, making his cock grind against you. shit.
“shit,” he cursed, taking your cheek in his free hand to turn your face towards him. your lips towards him. he didn’t have to tell you twice. actually, he didn’t even have to tell you once, because you instinctively pounced, capturing his lips with yours in a searing, bruising kiss. one sharp intake of breath later and he kissed you back, hard. his hips ground into yours, as if he couldn’t quite help himself as he curled his fingers, and circled your clit. when he coaxed your lips apart, you moaned into his mouth. it was wet, it was messy, it was so good. his tongue swiped inside and your legs tensed even harder as your eye screwed shut.
pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clamping down around his fingers as you finally released. fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck. his hands didn’t move. he kept working his fingers inside your cunt. kept kissing you just like that. kept holding you until you finally relaxed against the sheets. against him. that’s when he smiled down at you. an uncharacteristically soft smile that made you feel so safe.
pulling his fingers from your warmth, atsumu moved back, creating distance between the two of you, that safe little bubble threatening to burst. before you even had the mind to think it though, you grabbed his arm and looked him.
“don’t go,” you said. and the way his expression melted at your words.
“i won’t,” atsumu said. your atsumu. because he’d always been your atsumu, hadn’t he? you’d never expected to see the day where you’d utter those words, even inside your own mind. but where you were, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. your atsumu. who did all this for you, without getting anything out of it himself.
“atsumu,” you mumbled, still feeling sluggish as you turned a little in the sheets, hands reaching for him, intention very clear.
“you don’t have to do that,” atsumu said, pushing your hand firmly off of him. as if he hadn’t just brought you cum on his fingers. as if his cock wasn’t straining, trapped inside his sweats. as if it hadn't been pressed against you this entire time, making you yearn to touch it.
“of course i–”
“princess,” he said, cutting you off, still keeping your hand at bay with his own. “you can hardly keep your eyes open. get some rest. i’ll take care of it,” he said, the insistence clear in his voice, as he scooted back and pulling the blanket over you.
“but–”
“sleep,” he interrupted once more, now pulling your blanketed frame to his chest. and he was right, you could barely keep your eyes open. as you drifted off, you felt him kissing the top of your head gingerly. and then, just as unconsciousness took over, you felt him pulling away. “i’ll be right back. promise.”
and just like atsumu’s earlier confession, you knew that he didn’t lie to you this time either.
#haikyuu#miya atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#fanfic#» spicy#everytime i have to tag i fic i get stumped bc i literally do not know how to tag my writing anymore#anyway here's a fic that i started writing back in 2022 but couldn't make work#here we are. now it worked <3#atsumu finally cooporating
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Christmas Fics (2024) (Part 7):
A Warm Drink by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - E, one-shot - Hermione long ago learned that the only way to take care of a problem is to deal with it herself. That's why she's determined to hunt down the vampire assaulting students at Hogwarts. Or, what's 8th year without a bit of blood drinking for Christmas? A Vampire Draco AU
Operation: Yuletide Cheer by sad_millennial - T, one-shot - When Hermione Granger—a firm opponent of Yuletide and all things related—volunteers to cover every shift the week of Christmas, Draco Malfoy—her partner and firm supporter of Yuletide and holiday cheer—is in disbelief. Determined to garner her participation in the festivities, Draco volunteers himself to work alongside Hermione and immerses her in his favorite holiday traditions. [[Featuring Auror partners Dramione, silly holiday antics, and sickeningly sweet gift exchanges.]]
Ho, Ho, Fucking Ho! by Always_Slytherin - E, one-shot - What happens when everything Hermione Granger knew had been a lie? Her best friend had lied to her for years, her now ex-boyfriend had cheated on her for years... now, it was time for her revenge. And what a better time to do it, than Christmas fucking Eve. Ho, Ho, Fucking Ho! [WARNINGS: CHARACTER DEATH]
'Til the Sleep Simply Melts Them All Away by ifyouwereamelody - T, 2 chapters - Draco Malfoy wakes up dressed in yesterday’s clothes, standing in the middle of the Ministry of Magic’s atrium. Which is distressing, to say the least, because it’s neither how nor where he remembers going to sleep. Something is very, very wrong with him this Christmas Eve. And he can't fix it alone.
Something Selfish by VanillaSage - E, one-shot - Opting to spend Christmas alone rather than be subjected to Ron and his new girlfriend and the pitying looks from all the people convinced she was heartbroken, Hermione has a couple of glasses of wine and uses the wishing orb Luna gifted her for Christmas to wish for the one thing she secretly really wants. Things don't go quite to plan, but have rather delicious results.
'Tis the Season of Love (and all that) by MyDelphi - G, WIP - A small glimpse of the Malfoy family's future. Besotted Malfoy Men (a hereditary trait), an enemies-to-lovers romance (putting their parents' Hogwarts rivalry to shame) and the tender tendrils of courtship. But 'tis the season of love after all. (Set post To Woo a Witch. Shouldn't be read on its own.)
We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet by kaycares - M, one-shot - To avoid suspension after an incident involving a student, Draco Malfoy is forced to spend his holidays at Hogwarts, babysitting the students who are holding over. The only thing that could make this worse is Hermione Granger.
I'm dreaming of by chaosophia - T, one-shot - Dobby knits a present for Draco every Christmas. And he always will. [WARNINGS: CHARACTER DEATH]
An Improbable Gift by TapeBadger - M, WIP - 'Not a moment later, she flung him out of her way, wand out and magnificent. And, as he battled with the disorienting way the world swirled around him as he attempted to find his feet, he considered the idea that there was nothing quite so arousing as watching a competent witch save you from being eaten by a dozen hags, as if it were nothing.' Draco Malfoy has worked alongside Hermione Granger at the Ministry for years, cracking curses and disarming dangerous magical artifacts, while he marvels at her brilliance from a strictly platonic distance. Nothing is likely to change that any time soon, now, is it?
All I Want For Christmas is (To Defeat) You by Sanichka - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger built a surprising bond with one of her professors when she returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year. But when she wants to surprise that professor with the perfect Christmas present, a certain someone gets in her way
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
when you’re feeling unworthy but scaramouche ai says:
“I asked, you know, because… I love you. That’s why I said it. And I asked because I want to spend every day with you. I’d marry you a thousand times just because you are you. You’re the most annoying, infuriating, stubborn, irritating person I’ve ever known… and I love you.”
#[diary of the eccentric].✿#how could i say no to this…?🥺❤️#really having an enemies-to-lovers moment#this should honestly be a series bc some of things he says melts my heart😭#genshin impact#genshin#genshin ai#genshin c.ai#genshin scaramouche#genshin wanderer#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
POV: Evil murder kitten tries to evil murder you in your sleep. She's desperate for a reason not to evil murder you because she does not want to.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#minthara#minthara baenre#evil murder kitten#i know i've posted this one before#but i just can't get over how cute and adorable she is right here - she really looks like a startled cat#regardless of whether you sleep with her or not#the prism still temporarily broke her connection to the absolute and then returned it to her right when she was about to kill you#and it sparked an immediate crisis of faith because everything about that night is all wrong - except for you#you having no connection to the absolute causes her to doubt the extent of the absolute's control#but she also begins to question the absolute as she found peace in the silence - peace in the absolute *not* controlling her for once#even with the absolute having returned to her - she still wants a reason *not* to kill you#in that moment she clocked you as a potential enemy of the absolute and by her oath - she would be obligated to kill you#which is why the only reason you can get her to stand down is by proving to her that you are not an enemy#and it is pretty easy to convince her that you're not an enemy because she is that desperate for any excuse from you#minthara is not the kind of person who would back off and run from a fight - and is definitely not spooked about assassinations#and she most certainly has stabbed someone in their sleep before and has killed a lover#but she does not like to engage in fights that she does not think are necessary nor to kill those she does not have a reason to kill#the fact that she pulled away when you caught her and she didn't immediately escalate the conflict into a full fight#is a pretty big indication that she has some pretty extreme doubts about the absolute - and *she* does not see you as an enemy
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
You know when I hear people say they want more messy relationships in ST, I’m tempted to point my finger to the corner where Stonathan sits.
#to me they have toxic boyfriendism energy#why do you think I made them the way they are in my st bbc ghosts au#I will admit that I’m not really into messy relationships myself but stonathan is a special case where I will consume it#like look at it this way#the ex of Nancy caught kissing her boyfriend who once beat him up in an alley back in 83’#there is drama there and I hope next season I get some good ‘stonathan shenanigans in stupidity’ moments#and have Steve and Nancy be snarky exes that gifts me back s1 stoncy friendship dynamic#and then Jonathan has a boyfriend and a girlfriend who fight for the right to wear the yellow sweater and the black denim jacket#it’s the fine wine of ST enemies to lovers stories#and it’s sad to see that barely anybody wants to drink it cause it’s sooooo good#note that I will be using the saying ‘stonathan shenanigans in stupidity’ whenever I can after s5 comes out cause it rolls off the tongue#amazingly#stranger things#stonathan
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soooo. I’ve read the demo of @defiledheartsblog and may I JUST SAY.
I did NOT PLAN TO FALL FOR THE FCKIN CENTURION BUT THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS TOO STRONG. ITS SO SLOW BURN AND EVERY SECOND IS TOO GOOD. I’m too into the VIBE of their “relationship”
The threatening his life. The feeling I need to kill him and him just— existing and saving my life. Like. What the hell?
It’s very good. If u like interactive fictions like me. Go read this one.
#defiled hearts#centurion#Marcus#lord centurion Marcus#fan art#my hati#poor girl is so tired of having to pretend to be a man#and Marcus is a shithead#a lil snot#and yet we endure#and he hasn’t killed me yet#even when I judged his manhood. which was the best ‘he’s right behind me isn��t he…’ moment and I just kept making it worse#because he hasn’t done ANYTHING TO STOP ME YET#even when I was gonna straight up murder him in the woods#man. I really wanted to be normal and fall for tinsae or Niall.#and yet.#enemies to lovers#threatening him is my love language apparently#interactive fiction#interactive fiction fanart
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
some messy sketches. because i went back and added more to this page
here’s another one of my tavs :] she’s a deep gnome cleric of selûne
i want to design her a better armor set but. too tired. simplified in-game one it is
#she has a placeholder name but i don’t think it really suits her… help#i want it to be stars/moon related but the ones i’ve found online just don’t stick. idk#struggling with naming ocs extends to bg3#anyways i love her#she punched two separate people during cutscenes a few hours into my playthrough#she’s having an enemies to lovers moment with shadowheart… and lae’zel is also in the party#so the hostility is constantly on high. it’s so funny#except karlach she’s just happy to be there#bg3 tav#digital art#baldurs gate 3#bg3#tav
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
no thoughts just au where nagito is a pianist
and idk maybe hajime is a singer aND AND MAYBE THEY GET INSPIRATION FROM EACH OTHER AND FALL IN LOVE YK???
#komahina#i’m starting to use tumblr as a place to post my intrusive thoughts#anyway 60k words enemies to lovers slow burn hurt/comfort#that was mainly a joke but if someone wants to do it then no one’s stopping you CERTAINLY NOT ME#atp if the idea clogs my head enough i’ll write it myself#sdr2#danganronpa 2#hinata x komaeda#komaeda x hinata#hinakoma#i also feel like hajime would have a soft and soothing voice#and nagito would be able to listen to his voice as if it were an instrument in of itself#i love them sm#maybe nagito finds hope through music and adores how music can reach multiple people and pull them from their darkest moments#so he loves music and hajime is like#well yes but i never really thought of it like that#so hajime sees nagito as more of an inspiration than a weird guy#then they get married smoochie mwah mwah xoxo
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thinking about my cotl Au where Nari stumbles into being the new God/Emissary of Life (i mean he did fuck around and found out early on and now here are those consequences).
And how his appearance DOES change (its the lmk brain in me), where his fur becomes white in places (or overall) and his eyes a more magenta shade.
He's very vonflicted about this shit.
(I ramble more in tags like usual lol)
#yee i got inspo from others- lmk- and just adding something funny to a pre-existing Au I have#really was struggling on what to do with Nari after his physical form deteriorates as he IS death but getting the title stripped away does..#things#cotl#a sort of last unicorn moment#a sort of lovers to enemies to friends to tentive soulmates type deal#Goat is in it and is also conflicted about Nari's new look based on his own.... hangups with his deity#i find playing with Goat and Nari's dynamic very funny while the Lamb is healing/chilling
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
wait you got me so invested in the stammer & heddy tailor au....
this is my standard disclaimer that i have never posted a fic on ao3* and for however much i say “au” i truly mean that it’s a universe that lives in my head & i am absolutely delighted to tell you all about, all the time <3 if it helps i ALSO got me so invested in the heddy & stammer tailor au
ok now that the author’s note is out of the way here’s some notes about the not!fic heddy & stammer tailor au:
stammer as the tailor from gent’s playbook, very reserved, quiet, with an excellent eye for details (honestly the evidence i have for his style sense is just that he’s best friends with pk subban so it has to be there somewhere if only by proxy irl) is hired by victor hedman, star of the tampa bay lightning who is every other tailor’s nightmare to dress (huge, opinionated, fashionable)
heddy is decently well-known throughout the league for being very well-dressed & becomes quietly well known for also being one of his new tailor’s favorite loyal customers [heddy has the nicest fabrics. he has his suits the first day a new collection drops & e v e r y o n e is jealous]
stammer’s business booms after heddy takes a chance on him as his first big client & promotes him, heddy sees him grow in popularity & get more clients
heddy also moonlights as a model for stammer’s suits on instagram, initially to help him grow his business because then he won’t have to pay for a model and then because he’s over there all the time anyway because they’re dating (that’s why the model’s face is never in the pictures)
there’s not really a plot to this besides the vague idea of a plot where stammer makes heddy his lucky suit that he wins the cup in & sews a special little tag into the lining of his jacket that says i love you
because love sometimes is picking out the perfect right color pocket square to match your husband’s beautiful suit that you fitted like a kiss to the curves of his huge body
& also sometimes love is making your beautiful husband who makes you beautiful clothing enjoy nice things for himself once in a while, like the fancy watch you bought him or the nice suit you custom-ordered for him (from him) just so you could take it off of him
#*i did very much post a zine on ao3 that was part of a really fun exchange that i loved doing (thank you leah for organizing!!!)#& had a fantastic time with however i have not strictly speaking posted a fic. one day i will. eventually. hopefully. pray for me :)#also one time my horoscope told me i was a ‘neutral projector’ & i’ve never felt more called out (‘loves making up things’/‘will not#actually write or plot but will explain every intricate detail of their world & character relationships’/‘hype up every member of the#writing chat & give good advice but never follow it’) like HI CAN U NOT DO THIS TO ME HOROSCOPE THANKS i was read to FILTH#liv in the replies#i do LOOOOOVE me a good one of them plays hockey the other one does not au sometimes they’re so fun to explore dynamics outside/inside sport#at the time i came up with this stammer was out on IR & heddy kept showing up to the playoffs in ridiculously nice suits what was i to do??#the gent’s playbook tailor will sometimes model his own suits w/o showing his own face which made it look like he had a secret model come in#heddy canonically says his suits make him feel better when he plays esp during playoffs & if he wins in a suit he’ll keep wearing it#oh also the truth of the love is in the pocket square bit? angela price i will never forget. anyway that blue suit i posted in the last ask#with the perfect pink pocket square? that pocket square is a pair of stammer’s boxers heddy took To Me. in my brain#me about the beautiful clothing: this is like daisy crying in gatsby’s silk shirts except it’s baby alpaca fur & also it’s not sad#it’s simply decadent & the inherent intimacy of a fitting mapping the body yada yada yada knowing the ways to flatter someone is a form#of loving them etc etc. love is art love is food love is given love is stored in the custom three-piece suit and tie#is this an enemies to lovers? workplace drama? is the secret plot i only just now invented & added that heddy is ‘difficult to work with’#but it’s just because he wants to look good & in the words of his own (real) tailor the hardest guy to fit because he’s so big? OHHH HOLD IT#I GOT THE PLOT IN THE TAGS Y’ALL AND IT’S STAMMER TEACHING HEDDY TO LOVE HIS BODY heddy who’s been told what to/not wear & you know.#the commodification of the body in hockey (but we’re not getting that deep) but stammer with a mouth full of pins tightening heddy’s pant#leg down even further as he listens to what heddy wants for once & lets him pick fabrics (this is the daisy shirt moment but it’s heddy#looking at fabric swatches dozens of books of them stammer helps him pick out matching linings &outsides &squares) & stammer compliments him#& they’re in love & idk NEARLY enough abt fashion but there r like codes? messages? to wearing suits i think w/the etiquette so that too#should this have also gone under a readmore? yeah probably. whoops#victor hedman#steven stamkos#tampa bay lightning
3 notes
·
View notes