#so much that he’d want to cut himself at how disgustingly he acts towards innocent

[luvvly-imouto-sherry]

[minshookie]

Pillow Fight.

Pairing |Bully!Jungkook x reader

Genre | smut, angst.

Summary | “Another day spent babysitting your bully’s little sister...you should really quit but the pay is just too good.”

!warnings! | 18+ mature language, bullying, mentioned sexual acts, mentions of past bullying, NON-CON,financial struggle, Jungkook is a really shitty big brother.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 1k.

A/N: I rewrote this so many times! Lmfaoo! Buuut get ready because some of requests yall sent in are 🥵🥵.

“Orange is your best color.” Aera chirped dragging the paint drowned brush along your pinky nail. “I think you’re just saying that because it’s your favorite.” The young girl giggles continuing to color your fingertips. “Uhm are you staying all night miss y/n?” Nodding you brushed back her wild strands of hair softly with your free hand. “Soooo like a sleep over?!” She squeals closing the bottle of nail polish, her eyes glittering as she gazes into yours intent for answers. “Yeah!” You matching her energy only made her more excited, “yay! And-and can Jungkookie Oppa come?!” She bounced on her knees smiling ear to ear, fumbling over her words.

“Oh...Jungkook huh... Hmm what about no boys aloud?” You planted the idea praying she’d take the bait as you started cleaning her toy makeup, giving her a chance to think it over.

“What? Jungkook isn’t a boy, he’s my brother!” Giggling she pounced from the couch striding towards his room. At this point all you could do is laugh at her innocent lack of logic. She looks so happy who are you to burst her little bubble, for all you know Jungkook might want nothing to do with the both of you and your little mock slumber party.

Closing the toy purse you hid it back away in the large toy chest she pulled from her room, leaving it open you cleared the floor of the multicolored blocks and dolls. A whisper of a laugh escapes your lips as you overhear Aera’s begs and pleas mixed with Jungkook’s refusals....but finally the door creaks.

Please no. “Y/n, guess what?!” She drags your name out as her small foot steps pitter the floor, Jungkook’s thudding. She comes down the hall pulling Jungkook by his middle finger. “As if you weren’t undesirable enough, neon nails really helped it out.” Grumbling he throws himself on the couch you just tidied up. “Nice to see you again too Kook.”Aera bounced on her toes watching us have confrontation, unaware of the negative connotations.

Truth is you hadn’t seen Jungkook since you left for college and you hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again...that is until relationships fell apart, your roommate left and things got hard to pay for, and you were two bills away from being homeless. the job up at university paid $9.50 an hour while the busy Jeons still offered $12.00 the choice was clear. Take a little break, live with family, get back on your feet, and try again. But little did you know Jungkook decided to stay local with his schooling.All this aside the work was easy since Aera had grown a bit, but the thought of dealing with the person that made your life hell for four years made you want to quit daily.

“Can I do your nails Too?!” “No Aera, now be cute and get me something to drink.” He orders putting his feet on the coffee table eyeing you up and down,disgustingly. “No Aera I’ll get it.” You grabbed her shoulder. “No y/n! I’ll do it, I’ll do it quickly!” Setting free she bolted for the kitchen.

“So, you went to college got broke and came back sniveling to my rich parents?” You rolled your eyes, looking in the direction of the kitchen for any sign of Aera. “I thought you would’ve out grown your asshole phase, that’s very high school of you Kook.” He scoffed defensively, “and you using babysitting as your main income is high school of you, what happened your little rapper boyfriend leave you high and dry?” “You shut the fuck up.” You snapped back my reflex. He held his hands up in defense, “Suga blew up and left you in the shit show not my fault.” We argued in hushed tones as Aera ran back into sight.

“Here you go kookie!” She handed Jungkook the can of Coke, heaving for air. “Aera this is warm, cold...I want something cold, go try again.” He handed her the can, “oh okay Oppa sorry!” And off she was back down the hall. He turned back to me, “why’d he leave you...couldn’t make him bust?” you tried to hide it but his words stung, you’d been avoiding anything to do with Yoongi since he’d ghosted you weeks before you left for college. Bigger things waited for him in the world of fame, and you weren’t in the blueprint.

“Fuck you Jungkook.” “Come try it bitch.” Smirking he was satisfied with himself as you stood almost defeated. “Oh I forgot you’re scared of sex.” “Leave the high school rumors behind...ran out a material? Maybe you should get out more.” He rolled his eyes scoffing, “shut up before I make you.” “You like to pretend I’m still afraid you...make me, little boy...since you insist on being one.”

Jungkook’s come back was cut short by the thumping of Aera’s feet. “Kookie!Kookie! Ice! I got it all by myself!” She gave the cup of ice to Jungkook and then the Coke. “Good job, now pour it.” He handed them back and you took it from her small clutches much to Jungkook’s disliking. You poured him the drink, pushing his feet off the small table and placing the glass. “She’s not your little slave Jungkook.” He kept eye contact picking up the glass, “you’re right she’s not, you...go get me a coaster now or you’re fired.” His eyebrow arched cockily, his free hand waving you away. “As if! You can’t fire me Jungkook.” He got Aera sitting her on the couch beside him as she caught her breath. “Is that so? Try me, my parents might have hired you but you work for us...now work.” His gaze alone told you he wasn’t playing with you anymore.

Angered you stormed to kitchen pulling a coaster from the table before swiftly Turing on your heels, almost jumping out of you skin as you met face to face with Jungkook. “What the fuck do you want now?” “You said some shit I didn’t like.” You threw the coaster back on the marbled table, “I wish you’d grow up already.” You atempt to go past him but his muscular arm halts your plans. “I have to go do my job-” “I put on her show she’ll be good for the next hour.”

You don’t remember Jungkook being so brooding he looked down at you, his new tall posture slightly off putting yet attractive. “What now, you wanna talk it out?” You walked away siting at the island, “I’ll leave you be if you leave me to do my job Kook.” He came behind you, trapping you in his arms. Tattoos, he’d change a lot but not enough to leave you alone.

“I see you came and got the coaster, scared of me now?” What an ass, “no I need this job.” He hummed from behind you, no sign of him letting you go. “You know y/n, you’ve grown quite a bit.” You became more and more uncomfortable by the second, his breathing became deeper. “I’m aware, so have you.” Rudely he became handsy, groping your breast earning a shocked reaction. “Jungkook please-” “scared of me?” He squeezed you with a little too much force making you give a Yelp, he had you trapped, you were nothing but a game to him. “Shhh shh don’t want to startle my baby sister while she rests...that wouldn’t be very babysitter like of you now would it?”

Silent what could you even say? He had you trapped, your position less than hopeless he’d made you feel small and that’s exactly what he wanted. He’s always wanted that ever since you’d met him, and he always succeeds. He intruded under your top, skating his chilled hand over your skin leaving cold bumps in his wake he held your bra covered breast.

You griped his unexposed wrist trying at escape, knowing fully how downhill this could get. “Oh is the brave girl afraid?” “N-no your hands are cold as Ice Jungkook...please stop.” You lied continuing to push his muscular arm. “Oh? Let me warm them for you.” He removed his hand from the island almost causing you to topple over. Reaching down he found himself with his hand now between your legs fiddling with the pant button. “Jungkook! Please no!” His hand along your chest he pulled you back into his sculpted figure.

“You must not value your job as much as you say, scream again and you’ll be broke and fucked over and to think I actually liked you a bit.” He came to your ear, sniffing your hair eerily. “Little did I know how much of a bitch you were, I loved you when you were shy.” He finally got through your button, getting to your panties he gave you a two fingered massage along your core, you strained not to react to the unwanted pleasure. “Look at you pathetic and wet I bet you’re so needy I could make you cum right here.” He began to focus his nimble fingers on your aching clit. “Fucking stop it.” You could only whimper. “Why should I, we’re old enough now and you’re sopping through your panties I know you want it.”

He invaded under your bra, fondling your hardening bud. “I loved you when you were weak and innocent...I know she’s hiding deep inside of you, the little girl that would cry over me-”

“Miss y/n! I’m tired!” Her voice softly called from the living room. Saved by an angel, finally Jungkook stoped his assault backing off of you with a groan. “You’ll meet me in my room when she’s in bed, or else.” He grumbled leaving you behind to collect yourself, how could bad get so much worse?

[deltas-writing-corner]

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Warnings: Implications of noncon | abusive behavior | unhealthy obsession | death | slight gore | Please ask to tag additional content warnings that I have failed to disclose

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand. 

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are. 

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day. 

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation. 

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human. 

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation. 

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable. 

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?” 

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place… 

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night. 

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness- 

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then. 

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet. 

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ��Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely. 

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts. 

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down. 

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated. 

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior. 

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated. 

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

[jotarosbelt]

A Dangerous Game. [Leone Abbacchio]

with fluff, comes filth.

here’s some self indulgent abbacchio TRASH i wrote for y’all. enjoy

cw: rough & angry sex, dirty talk, bondage, squirting, creampie (lol i know trash)

18+ content under the cut!

“I’m gonna go outside for a bit.”

You turned to look at your boyfriend beginning to stand up with a bottle of liquor and a cup. His hair was already pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few stray strands here and there, his signature purple lipstick long ago removed from his pale pink lips. His work uniform was shed and exchanged for a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, and his shoes switched out for a pair of black socks.

His tall figure walked towards the glass sliding door, opening it and taking a step onto the balcony before closing it behind him.

You groaned aloud at the thought of him drinking again. It had grown to be a normal thing, him at least drinking three times a week. Not out of necessity, but out of want. You hoped to get him to channel his frustrations in a different way that didn’t involve him pouring his heart out in the means of vomit and alcohol.

You got up and knocked on the balcony door, causing Abbacchio to turn around to face you. With as innocent of a look you could muster, you locked the door right in front of his face.

He rolled his eyes and set down his glass of whiskey on the table outside, stepping up to the door and glaring down at you.

“Open the door.”

“No,” you replied simply. You placed your hands on your hips and raised a brow smugly.

His face remained blank, more like unreadable, as he stared down at you. He placed his now-empty hands in his pockets. “Quit playing with me and open the damn door, please.”

You looked him up and down, a glint of mischief most definitely present in your eyes. Your hands maneuvered themselves from the sides of your hips up your shirt. Your bra dropped to the floor and Leone’s eyes did not fail to follow it on the way down.

“Make me.”

His eyes came back up to meet yours. Although his face remained unchanged, the sparkle his eyes gave off told you all you needed to know. He was intrigued.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, make me.”

You moved to pull down your shorts, throwing them to a forgotten corner of your bedroom before turning around and bending over in front of the ex-cop. His eyes drank in the sight of your panty clad pussy, though his hands never left his pockets. He bit his lip as he felt himself hardening in his pants, his dick most definitely visible through the fabric.

You spun back around, lifting your shirt up and pressing your bare breasts against the door. Your eyelashes fluttered and a smile dawned your features.

That was the final straw. He almost growled at your newly found boldness. “You’re in trouble now.”

With that, he leaped over the guardrail of the balcony down underneath. You immediately knew what he was doing. Your apartment was super close to the many lobby since you weren’t high up, and due to his incredible stamina, he’d be fine leaping from it as he did. By the time you made it to the door to lock him out that way too, he already put in the pin and swung open the door, knocking you on your ass.

He slammed the door behind him before walking towards you, pulling you up by the arm and throwing you into the bed. You landed on your stomach and quickly straddled you, pulling the ribbon that kept his hair up out and tying your hands behind your back.

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

He chuckled darkly, and leaned down to your ear, the smell of alcohol present on his breath.

“Is that a promise?”

You turned your head back to glare at him. His hair was down and disheveled, and his dick was terribly visible against his sweats. He met your eyes and smirked.

“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt you pulled. You can’t tease me and expect not to be punished.”

You whimpered quietly at his dominant demeanor. Another chuckle sounded from his throat. He moved you so your ass was up for display and you could almost hear his grin.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet.”

You turned your face to press it into the pillow in front of you, the cool contrast against your hot face feeling heavenly. He whistled lowly as he dragged two of his fingers up your slit through your ruined panties.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Try to stay quiet. Understand?”

You nodded best you could while processing the feeling of him tearing a hole in your soiled underwear and thrusting his fingers in quickly at a brutal pace. His chest was pressed up against your back as he moved his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt; the wet sounds filling the room making you feel more dirty and violated than you already did.

Your moans that would have been screams of pleasure if not muffled by the pillow you were biting down on filled the room. You body shook, begging for release as it instinctively thrust back onto Leone’s fingers. He pulled away completely.

You turn back to look at him, that smug expression he’s had since the beginning still on his face. “Why’d you stop?”

“I’m not going to let you finish until you beg.”

“No way in hell am I begging.”

He acted as though he was going to get up. “Guess you’re not coming tonight or for the next—“

“No, please— ah!”

A firm hand came down on your ass.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” He got off the bed and bent down to your eye level, his fingers still lingering around your thighs. “Tell me what you want.”

You spit at him. “Stop teasing me so much, shit!”

Another slap to your ass.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why were you moaning?”

You avert your eyes from his, the heat of your face becoming more apparent and more unbearable as time went on. He spoke again.

“Tell me what you want, _____.”

You bit your lip, scraping it between your teeth before answering. “I don’t care what you do, just fuck me.”

He practically snickered at your tough act and how determined you were to see through with it although though it was crumbling right where you lay. He stood in front of you and shed his shirt, as well and pulled his pants and underwear down just enough where his cock was able to spring out just mere inches from your face.

He managed to make his way behind you, adjusting you slightly so your chest was pressed flush against the bed sheets and your ass was in the air. He roughly grabbed your jaw and turned you towards him. “Make a sound and it’s game over.”

He thrusted himself inside you with no warning, not stopping or letting up from the brutally fast pace he set.

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, all in an effort to stifle and hold back all the moans that threatened to come up and out of your throat.

He looked up at your face buried in your pillows and tightened his grip on your hips tenfold.

“What? Does that feel good?” He mocked. “You don’t have anything smart to say now that my dick is inside you, huh?”

He punctuated himself with a very sharp snap of his hips, making you both emit tears and cry out.

Shit.

He stopped in his tracks for a moment before pulling out, untying your hands and flipping you over on your back.

He roughly grabbed your hands and tied them above your head, pressing your legs against your torso and sliding in without stopping. “Since you can’t follow orders and want to make all that noise, I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

He changed the angle of his hips, thrusting up instead of straight into you, eliciting a scream you were sure your entire apartment complex heard. He let out a cackle. “Much better.”

His thrusts only got quicker from there. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you were sure you came with a shaking orgasm at least twice around his cock and around your third was when his rhythm began to falter and get sloppy.

He looks down at you with a look of pride in his eyes— his face beaded with sweat and his lower half covered in your juices and his own precum. The cocktail that you both made filled the room with disgustingly erotic slushing noises, garnished with your moans and the occasionally grunt from Abbacchio. Itching to tear his pride away from him, you opening your mouth to speak shakily.

“Don’t ruin the sheets.”

He didn’t even look up at you, instead moving faster inside of you; your walls pulsating around him. “I’ll just have to cum inside then. You know, to avoid... mess!”

The last word was emphasized with a snap of his hips that drove you over the edge. You didn’t even notice, but a spray of your juices coated his entire lower body.

He looked down at your flushed and panting figure. “So much for not ruining the sheets.”

The view of your intense, squirting finish made him cum with strangled groan; his orgasm hitting him like never before. He bit down harshly on your shoulder as his member throbbed and pulsed inside of you, shooting 6 ropes of his thick semen into you before pulling out, completely spent.

“I didn’t know you were so fucking hot when you were mad,” you breathed out.

His lips curled into a soft smile. “I didn’t know your body was so damn sensitive.”

He mustered up enough energy to get up and walk to your bathroom, getting a damp rag and a towel. “We’re gonna have to do laundry tomorrow.”

You grin at him. “You mean, you’re gonna have to do laundry tomorrow. I’m not going to be able to walk after how you treated me tonight.”

He wiped both you and himself down, before collapsing in the bed alongside you.

“Goodnight, Abbacchio.”

“Tch, Goodnight.

[jaeminhours]

Wild Things | Chapter Three

SUMMARY | For you and your friends, street racing is just a hobby, a game. But newfound feelings and realizations suddenly make things seem much more real. In which you and Na Jaemin thrive off danger, but everything comes with a price.

PAIRING | Jaemin x Reader ft. Renjun

CATEGORY | street racing au, angst

WORD COUNT | 4.5k

WARNINGS | implied/referenced depression

SONG REC | Somebody Else - The 1975

Preview | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

You hadn’t talked to Jaemin for weeks. He’d disappeared after that night, his clothes vanishing from the wardrobe and his toothbrush missing from the counter in his and Jeno’s bathroom. You’d heard from Donghyuck that he was staying with Mark, that he’d holed himself up in Mark’s spare room and had barely come out since he’d arrived. It made your heart ache, but it also made you angry, angry that after all this time, Jaemin was still running away.

Everything around the idea of Jaemin felt almost fuzzy, blurred around the edges of everything he’d touched. You didn’t how to feel about Jaemin, whether you wanted to kiss him or curse his name, whether you hated or loved him. You couldn’t tell whether he was selfish or just broken, but maybe it was both. Most of all, you felt guilty. You hadn’t known how to act around him in ages, whether to push him or to let him go at his own pace, but you’d figured out that Jaemin’s pace, unless it was on the street, was really much too slow.

The past few weeks had almost mirrored Jaemin’s mood, you’d thought. It was much too rainy, too dim and gloomy, pale, rain-soaked clouds strewn across the storm-painted sky. You’d seen very little of him, even during the races. He’d stand off to the side, and you’d noticed with increasing worry that Jaemin had been declining several races, instead opting to watch, or not show up at all. Jeno had also become angry with his friend, furious that he’d just stormed out of your lives without so much as a second glance, or a quick word. He was just gone, only an empty bed and scattered clothing as evidence that he’d ever been there, and the faint smell of lavender coating his pillow.

But you missed your friend, you missed his soothing touches and warm laugh, his kind eyes and quick banter. You missed the way his brown hair swept his brow, how it stuck up in odd places when he just woke up, and the dazed look in his eyes that accompanied it. And you found yourself missing something else, that you almost definitely shouldn’t, that you’d only had one taste of and were already craving. You missed the warmth of Jaemin’s lips against yours, the shock of fireworks pummeling your heart, beating furiously against the cage of your body. You missed being that close to him, in a way you’d never been before and  in a way you shouldn’t want to be again, but you couldn’t help it, and you knew that if you were back in high school you would have wasted no time in throwing away your inhibitions and taking what you deemed as yours.

But you weren’t in high school, not anymore, and you weren’t the same girl who never thought twice about anything. Jaemin was the only one who’d never grown up, who’d never learned where and when to stop. It was his fatal flaw as well as a fatal attraction, and it was one of the reasons Jaemin was so addictive.

Once you’d tasted him, it was difficult to let him go.

In Jaemin’s absence, you’d been spending your free time with Renjun, no longer with Donghyuck or Jeno, but just the two of you. There was something about Renjun’s voice that soothed the scars left by Jaemin’s kisses, smoothed the edges roughened from years of being with your best friend. For the first time, you didn’t crave adrenaline, or a racing heart, or the thrill racing through your veins. The calm was new, and comfortable. It was an entirely different feeling than how you felt around Jaemin.  And yet, the ache was still there.

The mornings where you lived were often misty, the warmth of the summer sun shrouded by the heavy fog clouding the air. You thought it was beautiful, seeing the looming buildings of your city cut in and out through the haze, and thanks to Jeno’s ridiculously early morning habits, you almost never missed it.

It was a Tuesday morning when you woke up in the same room as Jeno, as you’d been doing often since Jaemin had disappeared, Jeno standing over you with a wide grin on his face, turning his dark eyes into the same crescent moons that had wooed so many parents Halloween night when you were young.

“Rise and shine!” he announced, then yelped as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

“Shut up!” you groaned, waving him away. “I’m so tired!”

Jeno laughed, then dropped his body across your stomach, effectively silencing you with a breathy oof.

“You wouldn’t be tired if you hadn’t been out so late with Renjun last night.” he teased, and you smacked the top of his head, pushing him off you with an accompanying thud as he fell to the floor.

“We’re just friends.” you snapped, pulling the covers off and pulling yourself out of bed.

Jeno cocked his head, a smirk plastering itself on his face, eyes glinting dangerously. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

You groaned, and fell back against the pillows. “You implied it!”

Jeno laughed, pulling himself to his feet and shuffling to the counter, where the smell of Jeno’s signature omelet wafted through the apartment air. Jeno had never been as good a cook as Jaemin, but you could never turn down one of his meals.

“What are your plans today?” he asked as you plopped into the seat across the counter.

“I’m… hanging out with Renjun today.” you answered sheepishly, focusing your attention on the tiny cracks in the cheap material of the table.

Jeno raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

“We’re really just friends, I promise.” you said, and sighed. “It’s just… I like being with him. Not the way you’re thinking. Just… I like the way he acts towards me.”

“You know he likes you, right?”

You did know that Renjun liked you. It was difficult to ignore, and Renjun hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle. You weren’t kids anymore, and it was obvious Renjun wasn’t one to beat around the bush. The worst part was that you enjoyed his attention, his small remarks, his straying fingers and gentle gazes.

But you didn’t feel the same. No matter how much you wanted it, he didn’t make you feel the same way you did around Jaemin. Nevertheless, you’d decided to try, to force yourself to move on from the boy with danger racing through his veins, the boy who tasted of blood and metal, to the boy with splashes of paint on his jeans, dark hair that curled around his ears at the end, the boy who laughed at all the jokes that Jaemin had never laughed at. Maybe it was working. Maybe it wasn’t. You didn’t think it mattered.

“Yes.” you answered.

Jeno stopped what he was doing, putting down the spatula he was holding and leaning both arms on the table. “Do you like him too?”

You turned away from him. “I will.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

You left with Renjun at noon, and three hours later you found yourself at the bookstore, thrifting through the aisles of books, and coming face-to-face with the one boy you both wanted to see the most and desperately hated. He had turned the corner of the shelves, followed by a giggling girl with long, dark hair clutching his arm. Renjun had left to look in the mystery section, and you were left to face the boy who’d kissed you and walked out of your life in the same night. His eyes were dark, ringed with purple as he stared at you blankly, not a single emotion flashing across his deep brown eyes.

“Jaemin.” you said, and took a step forward, causing the girl at his side to draw closer to him, her eyes wide and almost disgustingly innocent, pink lips jutting out in an exaggerated pout. You scowled at her, bothered by the way she clung to his bicep, running her hands down the muscle of his arms to grip briefly at his waist, pulling his collar down to reveal a red smear on his collarbone.

Oh.

Jaemin looked almost annoyed, edging his body away from her while trying to take a step back from you.

“Jaemin, please. Let’s talk.” you pleaded.

Jaemin looked like he wanted to run away, but he obliged, whispering something to the girl latched onto his arm and wincing at the whine that escaped her painted mouth before she disappeared into another aisle.

As soon as she was gone, you led him to the isolated corner of the store, sinking into the armchair across from him.

“Why did you leave?” you asked, leaning forward expectantly. “Jaemin, you didn’t have to leave. It’s just me. We could’ve talked about it.”

Jaemin shifted in his chair, avoiding your eyes. “I was embarrassed, Y/N. I’m still embarrassed.” he said, looking back at you. “But I’m glad I did it. So now I know.”

You frowned. “Know what?”

Jaemin’s eyes darted away from you, suddenly studying the carpeted floor with barely concealed resentment. “How you really feel about me. What you think of me.”

Your thoughts flashed back to that night, at what you’d said. You winced and reached out to him. “Jaemin, please. Just come back. We can talk through things once we’re home. We were both emotional that night.”

Jaemin looked at your outstretched hand for a few tortuous seconds, before reaching his own out and letting you grasp his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. You smiled softly at him, and he allowed a small smile in return to slip onto his face before the moment was shattered by the arrival of Renjun.

“Y/N?” he said, and both you and Jaemin looked up to see Renjun standing in the aisle in front of you, his eyes darting to your intertwined hands between you. You turned back to Jaemin to see his eyes had hardened, and he yanked his hand away from you, seething.

“You came with him?” he growled, and you shrunk back in your seat.

“Jaemin, we’re just friends—”

“That’s not what Jeno’s been telling me.” he snarled, his eyes dark and storming.

What?

“You’ve been talking to Jeno? But he’s angry with you too!” you exclaimed, your voice rising.

“Jeno didn’t kiss me and rip out my heart in the same night.” Jaemin hissed, and you gaped at him.

You were both standing, having stood up somewhere in the midst of your increasingly angry voices.

“You kissed me first!” you responded angrily.

“You kissed me back!”

Renjun took a step forward, holding a confused expression on his face. “Should I… come back later?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

You and Jaemin glared at each other, fire burning between your bodies as you heaved rage throughout your veins.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, Jaemin.” you spat. “We’re not dating. You can’t stop me from seeing anyone.”

Jaemin stepped back, softly shaking his head as his eyes bored into your own. “You could be a little gentler, Y/N. I’m not angry with you. Just myself.”

And then he disappeared, walking out the glass doors of the bookstore without even a second glance towards the girl scurrying after him.

You collapsed back into the cushioned chair and buried your head in your hands, willing the tears welling behind your eyes to disappear the same way Jaemin just did. You barely registered Renjun kneeling in front of you, his fingers curling delicately around your wrist.

“Why?” you choked out. “I was so close to fixing it. Why did you have to come and ruin it?”

“I’m sorry.” he murmured. “I know, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head violently, not daring to look at him as he pulled you into his arms, burying your head into his shoulder and inhaling the sweet scent of marigolds.

It wasn’t Renjun’s fault. It was yours, and it was Jaemin’s. It was the unresolved storm brewing between your souls, the scars of Jaemin’s kisses littering the delicate membrane of your being, burning holes into the fabric of what used to be your friendship. You cursed Jaemin for kissing you that night, you cursed yourself for kissing him back, you cursed him for getting angry at you for being with Renjun and you cursed yourself for lying, to him, to Renjun, to yourself.

Renjun held you in the bookstore on a Tuesday afternoon, his sweatshirt muffling the sounds of your stifled, choked sobs, with no idea that his touch only made it harder for you to hold everything from crashing down.

 ~

 Returning home wasn’t pleasant. You slammed the door behind you as you entered Jeno and Jaemin’s apartment, startling Jeno, who’d been hunched over his computer. Your mouth was set in a straight, grim line, tears still brimming at your reddened eyes.

“You’ve been talking to Jaemin?” you asked. Your voice was quiet, serious.

Jeno frowned, swiveling around so that his whole body was facing you. “What?” he said, incredulous.

“I saw Jaemin today. He said you told him that Renjun and I are more than friends.” you hissed, your eyes filled with buried rages.

Jeno took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. “Y/N, that was one phone call. And it wasn’t a pleasant one, believe me. I’m still angry at Jaemin for leaving us, and I might of tried to get back at him a little… by telling him that there’s something between you and Renjun.”

“Really, Jeno?” you hissed, but you could already feel your anger evaporating, the rage sinking from the cloud In your mind to the empty pit of your belly.

Jeno held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it was a mistake. I’m sorry. But he was being an asshole, and… I wanted to hit him where I knew it’d hurt.”

You sighed, plopping down on the edge of Jaemin’s bed, the toe of your shoes knocking against a pair of old sneakers hidden under the frame. Jeno glanced to your feet, a flash of recognition tinging his dark eyes.

“I know you like him.” he said, his eyes meeting yours.

You laughed humorlessly. “I thought it was obvious.” you responded, your voice dry, and tired.

Jeno ignored you, tapping his fingers on his kneecap thoughtfully. “I think I really figured it out freshman year.” he said, his voice soft. You could feel your expression soften along with the mood between the two of you, gazing at Jeno as he spoke in that same comforting, gentle tone you’d always loved.

“It was when you bought him those shoes, actually. He’d looked so happy, but then I looked at you and I just… I just knew. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

It was his turn to let out a dry laugh, running his fingers through the dark strands of his hair. “And I could tell he felt the same way. When you weren’t looking, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he… I can’t explain it. It’s not something you can describe with words—the way he looked at you. The way he looks at you. And I was jealous, because Jaemin always won, and I was tired of losing. I didn’t want to lose you to him, too.”

Jeno… liked you?

“Jeno…”

He cut you off before you could say anything, surging forward to meet your eyes in a deep, melancholy stare. “But when I thought more about it, I kept thinking that Jaemin loved you more, that he needed you more. I have parents that love me, a sister, a big house that’s never felt dark, or empty. Jaemin doesn’t. You don’t. So I didn’t say anything. I stepped back, but he didn’t step forward.”

You gulped, shoving away the thoughts and feelings pushing their way through your already crowded head. “He did, though. But I pushed him away.”

Jeno shook his head. “He ran away, Y/N. That’s why I’m mad. I’m angry because he’s not trying hard enough. It’s like every race he competes in, Y/N. He wins, but it’s too easy. But you’re not easy, so he just doesn’t get it. It’s scary, and if there’s one thing that Jaemin’s learned, it’s that running away is the best way to escape his demons.”

You’d never quite thought of it the same way Jeno had just said. You’d thought that Jaemin had been a coward, too expectant, too rushed. Yes you’d thought he was scared, but you hadn’t realized what until it suddenly struck you right in the muscle of your beating heart, making those treacherous scars burn against your skin once again.

It made sense, now that you thought about it. Meeting Renjun, hanging out with him, the ingratiation of you and Jeno into the inner circle of Jaemin’s street friends, the easy glances and sweet smiles and careless touched shared between so many people. And then Renjun, Renjun with his soft sweaters and thin-framed glasses, his sharp tongue but still soft words. The warmth and kindness in his chocolate brown eyes and how you felt yourself sinking into them. The way Jaemin’s eyes hardened into sharp edges, how you felt yourself shattering against the shards of glass surrounding his guarded heart.

Jaemin was more than just scared. Jaemin was scared of losing you. Jaemin was running away first, so you wouldn’t.

“Oh…” you breathed, and Jeno smiled softly, taking your hand.

“Yeah. I want the best for both of you, because I love you. Not like that.” he added quickly. “I’m over it, I promise.”

You sighed, returning a small, sympathetic smile. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jen? I would’ve understood.”

Jeno shrugged. “I didn’t want to risk our friendship for something I knew I’d never have. And it’s fine, really… I grew out of it quickly.”

Suddenly he sat back, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” he said, and smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. Hyuck keeps nagging me to get you to go out with us sometime, so why not tonight? A little mood booster.”

You laughed, and reached over to ruffle Jeno’s hair, a couple strands falling into his eyes. “That sounds nice. Text him that we’ll meet up later.”

Jeno nodded, and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his dark jeans. “Just relax for now. I gotta go pick up some prescriptions. I’ll be back in twenty or so and then we’ll get ready.”

You gave him a thumbs-up, and he flashed you a quick wink, grinning, before disappearing out the door.

You couldn’t relax, though. Your talk with Jeno about Jaemin had just directed your thoughts to Renjun. You felt terrible for what had happened earlier, how Renjun had held you while you wet his sweatshirt with salted tears. You remembered the way his face had fallen when he’d walked in on your talk with Jaemin, how you’d abandoned him in the winding aisles of the bookstore without a second thought at the sight of the boy you didn’t know how to not love.

Without thinking, you found yourself pressing Renjun’s contact in your phone, letting it ring for a few seconds before you heard Renjun’s groggy voice come through the receiver.

“Y/N?” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Renjun. I just… wanted to apologize for today. I kind of ruined our plans.”

There was a pause, and you could hear Renjun’s soft breaths from the other line.

“It’s alright.” he said finally. “I was just worried.”

Another pause.

“He kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“And you kissed him back.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

Renjun’s voice was tentative, expectant and weighted. You gulped, exhaling shakily, and gripping your phone even tighter.

“No. No, I don’t think so.” you answered. “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

You heard Renjun breathe out, long and steady. “I understand.”

“Renjun—” you began, but he cut you off.

“I think you already know how I feel about you, Y/N. It’s okay, I’ll wait.”

“Renjun—”

“Just give me a chance. Please.”

A pause, heavy, too long and too short, not enough time at all, not enough to think about it, to really think about what you’d be promising.

A chance. A dream, hope. Competition, a winner.

“Okay.”

Just one.

Maybe it was for the best.

~

Donghyuck seemed too happy. You’d never thought that before, having taken refuge under the warmth of his bright, sun-like smile, his friendly touch and quick banter. But things were different now, and you were far too aware of the empty space beside you.

Donghyuck was digging into his food enthusiastically, a speck of sauce marking the side of the bright cheeks, which you wiped off with a napkin and a small laugh.

“So,” he began, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth. “still no Jaemin?”

You frowned at your lap, your eyes trained on the weathered threads of your old jeans.

“No Mark?” Jeno retorted, and Donghyuck stuck his tongue out at him, rolling his eyes, then turned to you, a playful gleam lighting his expression.

“Your little boy toy keeps him distracted.” he teased, and you glowered at him.

“Don’t call him that.” you seethed, and Donghyuck grinned.

“I mean, seeing as you play with—”

“Hyuck.”

Jeno’s voice was hard, his eyes dark and stormy as he frowned at Donghyuck, giving a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Donghyuck raised his hands, giving him a helpless look. “Hey, look. I’m not picking any sides here, okay? I just want things back to normal, and that includes my best friend.”

He frowned, looking down at his plate. “Jaemin’s… like this magnet for Mark. I don’t know why.”

You looked away, studying the hardwood floors of the restaurant. “He has that effect.”

Donghyuck cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, startling you from your daze. “Anyway! I’m sure you guys got the notification about the race at midnight, yeah? You’ll be there?”

“We haven’t… really been going lately. Because of Jaemin.” Jeno answered

Donghyuck hummed, digging back into his dinner. “He stopped showing up for a while, you know. Got me kinda worried. He’s back now, though. Ruthless as ever, winning every race.”

But suddenly he dropped his fork, his head whipping up with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, one that chilled you to the bone.

“Hyuck—”

“Say, Jeno.” he interrupted, a sly smile plastering itself on his face. “There’s this new ride I got. Her turns are great—completely suited to your kind of driving. Fast, too. One could say you might even beat Jaemin in her.”

Jeno stared him, his lips pulled down in a frown. “What are you getting at, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck grinned, his eyes bright and terrifyingly wild. “What I’m saying is that you have the chance to give Jaemin a taste of his own medicine. Win, Jeno.”

Jeno’s eyes widened slightly, an air of consideration floating in the dark pools. Your eyes flashed between him and Donghyuck, your palms slipping off the edge of the table.

“Jeno, no.” you urged. “We’ve finally stopped.”

It was too late. You saw the same wild temptations corroding the warm browns of Jeno’s eyes, the incorrigible thirst lurking, seeping into his blood.

Jeno gave you an apologetic look. “Just this once, Y/N. Just this once, I could win. I’m so sick of losing to him.”

You cursed that stupid smile, his warm, exuberant eyes brimming with excitement. “I’m not coming.” you warned, and Donghyuck pumped his fist from across the table.

At the sight of Jeno’s eyes brightening, and the selfish promise of the satisfaction of Jaemin losing, you couldn’t help the small smile fighting its way onto your face. “I’ll be rooting for you.” you said, and Jeno grinned at you.

He reached his hand across the table, intertwining his pinky finger with yours.

“Promise?” he said, his eyes glimmering.

You leaned forward, and laughed.

“Promise.”

~

You left without Jeno an hour later, the two boys leaving playful kisses on each cheek before running to Donghyuck’s car, a new air of confidence encapsulating Jeno’s smile.

It rained on the way back to your apartment, the roads slick and pale drops of water trailing down the windows of your car. It was still raining when you arrived back home, and when you pulled on your night clothes and tucked yourself into Jaemin’s bed.

It was still raining when you noticed that his pillow still smelled like lavender.

The muffled sound of the rain thrumming against the windows moved like a lullaby through the air, and you suddenly found yourself noticing things that you hadn’t before.

Like the hoodie Jaemin had bought in the tenth grade strewn across the floor, a framed photo of the three of you on the shelf Jeno had nailed into the wall during your second week of university.

The book with weathered, water-stained pages, and the edge of a photograph emerging from its crevices.

Mostly, you thought about Jaemin, and how you’d managed to get here. How three kids in dance class happened to go to the same elementary school, middle school, high school, and then even the same university—how twisted and how deliberate fate had to be to make that happen, to intertwine your paths so completely.

You wondered why fate had decided to make the boy with the brightest smile, the loudest voice and sweetest eyes the saddest of all three of you, why it had to turn that smile and those sweet eyes into reflections of shattered glass and the sharp taste of iron on bloodied tongues. You wondered why Jaemin was scared of trying, of chasing instead of being chased. You wondered why these past few months had been so difficult for him, how he’d changed so much in the span of a few seasons.

You didn’t know how the three of you ended up in the middle of a city known for its streets and gangs and smoke-filled alleys, or how you ended up with your best friend’s lips burning against your neck, his hands smoothing against the bare skin of your hip, rushed breaths mixing between your melded mouths.

You didn’t know where it went wrong.

Maybe there was nothing you could have done, and it really was fate that had been pulling the strings twelve years ago, staining your futures into the pale pink walls of the scene of your childhood. Maybe it was fate that pulled those shadows over Jaemin’s face, and maybe it was fate that ripped the boy with the brightest future from his family and his home that smelled of warm cookies and pressed flowers. Maybe it was fate that tied you to the two boys, fate that dragged you out to the city, away from home, from the rooftop on top of your apartment complex with the boy with his mother’s vodka in his left hand and a cigarette in his right.

Maybe it wasn’t.

A magnet, Donghyuck had called him. A magnet pulling things together and tearing things apart, an irresistible force nature.

The phone rang.

Donghyuck’s caller ID flashed across the cracked screen of your phone, blurring Jeno’s face with the bright letters.

You let it buzz for a few seconds, before picking it up and holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Y/N.”

Heavy breaths, choked.

“Y/N, there’s been an accident.”

Hoarse, hard, dropped.

 “I’m so sorry.”

Preview | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

a/n: things get heavy in chapter four! this is where the real fun begins! thanks for reading!

[thoms-sins-blog]

Dark!Peter x Tony

the fic you didn’t know you needed

“i cant do it, mr. stark. i can’t let her have you. i can’t let anyone…anyone have you. do you understand that? if i can’t have you, no one can.”

“kid…pete, please think this through–”

“oh, i have. you’re gonna come away with me for a very long time, mr. stark…’cause i want to keep thinking about what im going to do with you, and what you’re gonna do to me…i’ve been wanting it so long…”

From @snowydisco ‘s moodboard here, I loved it soo much, wanted to try this out :^P

I don’t really write but I did my best, treat me kindly!! i just wrote this out on a whim, no real smut yet but please let me know if anyone wants more!

[Just a bit of Pepper and Tony for backstory (I knoww it bores me too but it makes it so much more painful >:) ) I SWEAR TONY DOES LIKE PETER he just feels bad and its gonna take a lot for him to admit it, if smut comes he will def be into it, a manipulative and very jealous peter, also a little bit of venom mentioned for the hell of it?]

Dark!Peter x Tony! (Right may be a tad more dark than expected....)

________________________________________________________________

Peter’ masked hands were ruffling the golden locks of an unconscious Pepper, slowly stroking it and admiring his work. He slipped off his mask, detaching from the seam around his neck and over his head, letting out a sigh. His dark eyes were glittering in fascination and he had a smirk on his face, knowing he was fully in control now that he’s got them secure. He did enough to shake up Tony. Spider-man was not a killer. She was only drugged...a lot, but not enough to kill her. No, why would he do such a thing? 

Not little Peter Parker. Not the weird math club kid that was easy to pick at school, the one who couldn’t keep his crushes around, his celebrity genius mentor, even looked down on him, as if he had no power at all.

Didn’t anyone know the power he possessed? The strength? Being humble started to get old for Peter, it started driving him into a rage, thinking about how he could tear this whole city down to shreds. Little Peter Parker.

The expression of Tony Stark’s disappointed face when all he did was what was right for the safety of innocent people, that moment on the top of the building after the boat incident, where his self-esteem was utterly crumbled. Mr. Tony Stark just couldn’t hold back, did everything he could to tear down Peter for his own amusement. Tony just knew he was so much better than Peter. Not anymore. Peter’s the one in control now.

Peter always looked up to Tony. He was this genius inventor, the brains of Stark Industries, the things he created that fast forwarded tech across the globe. He was so attractive, strong, smart, smooth, he could get anyone he wanted. Everything Peter wanted to be. 

Over time, he had quite the collection of snippets of Tony Stark from the papers, magazines, screenshots from paparazzi online. He kept them in books under his bed, saved folders, hundreds of pictures of him arranged by time taken. He would scroll and stare at them for hours, brushing his thumb against the jaw of an ultra HD picture of Tony. He imagined the roughness of stubble, then the hairs of the longer pieces of beard he kept trimmed so nicely, the aged and no less beautiful skin around his dark chocolate eyes. It made him dizzy just by looking.

For a while, his obsession with Tony Stark kept him from the thin line between lashing out, and keeping up Peter Parker’s weak image, as well as the release of stress he got when kicking the shit out of goons on bad streets in the Bronx as Spider-Man. Being Spider-Man always made him feel confident. 

On his way back home, he’d always stop on a tall bank building across from Stark tower, watching Tony, with his blonde and freckled girlfriend Pepper, dancing around with disgustingly sweet hands held. They swayed to the slow stream of music that even Peter could hear so far away. They sipped wine and talked on end, lounging. Every time she even got a peck of a kiss from Tony, Peter winced, tugging his bottom lip with a jealousy that even he denied early on. 

When he was taken into the Avengers slash ‘Stark internship’, it was like his dreams came true.

It was like Peter Parker from high school didn’t exist anymore. Suddenly he was surrounded by important people, surrounded by people who needed him by their side, as allies. He was spoiled to the brim by the venture, especially the new decked out Spidey suit that he adored.

He got to see such cool things, was brought in by Mr. Stark, to check out the amazing lab he had, and understand secrets of how he brought his insane ideas to life that blew Peter’s mind. He even let him use his labs whenever he liked, having a blast at tinkering with his web shooters.

Every now and then Tony gave Peter a look when he did something right, or praising him for an idea while they worked. Peter naturally took that as a possible attraction to him. The wonder quickly spiraled Peter into violent masturbating sprees. Having sensitive spidey senses and unstable hormones tended to make everything that much more intense and hard to deal with. 

It didn’t help that the expensive bathrooms at Stark tower had huge mirrors that were unavoidable, so he was stuck looking at himself when he did so. Moaning “Mr. Stark,” quietly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he rode out into orgasm to the end of his toes. 

As those times came more often and his adoration escalated, his only attraction from that point on was Tony. His vision was only him, all the time.

All the attention made him drunk with adoration for Mr. Stark. His favorite looks from him were in his garage, covered in oil and dirt, his arms and face glistening with sweat, collarbone peeking from his wife beater. It was like porn to him.

He was shaken from his staring contest with Tony when the pencil skirted and playfully formal Pepper came in, giving Tony a rundown of CEO type things that Peter didn’t really know about. She offered a soft smile and wave at Peter when she came in. He knew how much Tony loved her, and he knew what she was doing. Peter waved back, shooting a humble smile and nod at her.You fucking slut.

Over time, they started to drift apart, and that made Peter very, very happy. Peter purposefully ended her phone calls to Tony sometimes, even made it so Tony’s messages to her didn’t send.

Still, Peter kept up the persona that he supported Mr. Stark, half mentioning he hasn’t seen her around much, a wave of disappointment washing over Tony’s face. When Peter reminded him that he was here to simply keep him company, he knew that he was reeling Tony in.

Still, though, she somehow always made her way back in. Once at a company party, they were seen casually talking, then getting closer as they sipped more of their martinis, Tony whispering sweet nothings against her neck. Peter closed his fists so hard his palms bled. Karen reminded him that he was hurting himself.

Pepper just kept coming back and luring Tony in, making Peter shake with intense envy, he seemed to be knocking out bad guys faster than usual those nights. He ignored conversation with the citizens he saved, because he was just ready for the next gig.

One night, he finally snapped. This was that night.

He couldn’t even remember what happened towards this moment, he only saw red and flashes of white, and now he had Pepper webbed up to the floor of the living room in Tony Stark’s home. The same room he’d been looking in from outside all this time. She would stay unconscious for a long while.

“Peter. Peter,” Tony breathed out, his heart was feeling a bit wrong, he had difficulty breathing after witnessing what Peter just did.

Peter licked his bottom lip, giving a kiss to Pepper’s cheek as Tony would, he knew it would mess with him. He stood up, moving his hand up the stalk of a curved metal pillar with his back still turned to Tony, looking out the large window down at the city.

“Peter, kid...”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me. I’m so tired of that shit.” Peter snapped.

Tony gulped, worry racking his eyes and beads of sweat collecting at his temples. He was hard bound by webs around a chair, Peter was just too strong for him, especially now that his emotions aren’t easily swayed. He was real smart about it too, he had all the electricity cut off in the tower, the AI’s weren't able to cooperate, most likely because of Peter’s adept hands with tech. He knew he wouldn't be able to call on them. God, he was such a bright kid. He just didn’t understand how it ended up like this.

At some point, Peter changed. he wasn't always this moody, he used to be kind, humble, looked up to Tony and he knew it. He couldn't put his finger on what it was. He also didn’t understand why Pepper was brought into this.

“I just don’t get it,” Peter starts, he turns his head, down at Peppers sleeping face, dragging a padded foot down her side, arms crossed. 

“I’m so much better than her,” he whispers. He whips up at Tony with dark and focused eyes, low browed and jaw set.

Tony blinks a couple of times, trying to keep up, he’s still a bit lightheaded from all the action, but locks eyes with Peter when he looks at him.

“Kid, I really don’t understand what you’re trying to get at here, but you seriously need to get your act together. What’s gotten into you?” Tony shakes his head, speaking direct but in a hurt tone. He rotates his arms a bit, trying to ignore the oncoming burns from the tightness of the bounds.

Peter shivers at his tone, sending prickles of electricity all over him. This was just a taste of how having Tony all to himself would be. 

He felt full of vim and vigor, feeling a smirk coming on but he pushes it down, making his way slowly over to Tony, his hands finding each other behind his back.

“Mr. Stark...I’m sorry...” Peter says weakly, his deeper voice cracks at the top in a small whine, he pulls his eyes from the floor up in a doe-like shy attitude that completely opposed the dark one from earlier, planting one foot in front of another.

Tony’s eyes scrunch in disbelief, noticing a string of black veins lining the side of Peter’s neck, pulsating like a virus. What is that?

“Mr. Stark,” he says again.

Tony inhales at the sound of it, his mouth twitches knowing its just a mask hiding something awful.

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile. He knows it’s getting to him.

“Mr. Stark, I just...” Peter lets out a sigh, planting himself on one of Tony’s thighs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, knowing he can’t do anything about it. 

He can’t resist rubbing his splayed hands around the bulk of him, his neck and chest, not able to hold back the heat that rattles his body straight down to his cock. All from simply touching him. He’s waited to be able to do this for so long.

“I just, I can’t do it, Mr. Stark.” That again. Tony turns away, looking down at Pepper with a pained expression. 

Tony’s starting to get it now, he knows he’s not going anywhere. Really, he’s in such shock it’s hard to find words. Peter leans closer into his neck, inhaling the sharp scent of his cologne and sweat, drawing a webbed finger around his other ear. 

“I can’t let her have you, I cant let anyone...anyone, have you. You understand that, don’t you? Yeah?” He can feel Tony shivering, silent. He can’t take this.

Peter brushes his lips against his ear, slapping a strong hold around the back of his neck.

 If I can’t have you...no one can.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, please let me know if you want more! i could make this into a chapter like thing! I just wanted to try it out >:P

-Thom

[attractive-asshole]

perfect's for the urgent (baby I want forever)

pairing: sebaek, side!chansoo length: chaptered(ongoing) rating: pg13 genre: fluff, romance, humor, fakedating!au,college!au a/n: trying to write another chaptered fic so not sure how many more chapters there’ll be & haven’t written in a while so my writing’s a little rusty. also, unbetaed. 

baekhyun's a self-proclaimed expert matchmaker on his way to change his best friend's life and he just so happens to need sehun's help along the way (even if it kills him).

AFF / AO3 / LJ  or read under the cut below

Chapter 1

Baekhyun took pride in being the world’s best matchmaker, though his friends would call it meddling in people’s business.

He didn’t know, some of his classmates wouldn’t have relationships right now if it weren’t him.

He was just a natural born cupid, he thought.

Junmyeon and Kris had been crushing on each other since high school, both too afraid to say anything and now they were in a happy relationship and they owed it all to Baekhyun- he made sure they never forgot it.

Hyejeong didn’t even know Jongdae existed before Baekhyun arranged for them to ‘accidentally run into each other’ and now they were close to celebrating their two year anniversary.

If that isn’t good, he doesn’t know what is.

Not everyone was open to his services though, one of them being Kyungsoo.

The thing about Kyungsoo was that he was not one to fall for people often, so when he did, he fell hard.

Kyungsoo had only been in one serious relationship in the eleven years Baekhyun knew him and it didn’t end so well to say the least. Kyungsoo has refused to crush (or admit to having one) on anyone ever since.

He and Baekhyun had been best friends since elementary school and Baekhyun knew him like the back of his hand. That being said, he could tell when Kyungsoo was lying about 90 percent of the time.

“I do not like Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun didn’t know Kyungsoo even bothered, he could obviously tell the other was very much so in denial about his feelings.

He had seen the way they look each other in class and around campus whenever they would run into each other.

“Are you sure, Soo?”

The other didn’t take his eyes off the page of his book as he listened to his friend.

“You’ve been asking me this for past week and my answer hasn’t changed,” he deadpanned, “so yes, Baekhyun, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. “You know I can tell when you’re lying right?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Kyungsoo muttered under his breath.

The other sighed, “You know it’ll all be easier if you’d just stop denying it and let me help you.”

Kyungsoo immediately shut his book close, shooting his best friend a glare. “If you even try to pull that crap you did to Junmyeon and Jongdae, I’ll stab you in you sleep.”

Baekhyun groaned and fell back onto his bed after Kyungsoo left their dorm, probably to go vent to Jongdae about him.

♡

Baekhyun hated his english class. Three hours of reading and writing and his boring professor? No thanks. But the absolute worst part of that class was definitely Oh Sehun.

They had known each other since high school, Baekhyun had hated Sehun since high school. He didn’t have a specific reason; Sehun wasn’t an asshole ex that cheated on him or broke his heart.

He was just an asshole.

Sehun was one of the best players on the basketball team and he sure as hell was not afraid to let anyone know. He was disgustingly flirty and full of himself; Baekhyun had never someone so arrogant and obnoxious before in his life.

He met him during practice one day when he was stopping by to give Kris his phone after he left it behind in class.

“Hey uh- do you know where Kris is?”

Sehun looked up at the cute boy in front of him before smirking and shifting his attention back to putting on his sneakers.

“Maybe.”

Baekhyun waited for the taller to continue and impatiently tapped his foot against the wooden floors when he didn’t.

“So can you tell me where he is?”

“That depends.”

Baekhyun scoffed, “On what?”

The other abruptly stood up, a little too close to Baekhyun’s liking. He had to take a step back, Sehun’s height surprising him a bit.

“On whether or not you’ll give me your number.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, fighting back the urge to kick the other in the balls. “Wow...I can’t believe you actually go around saying things like that,” he sneered, “And aren’t you that guy Joohyun’s dating?”

Sehun shrugged, “We aren’t exclusive.”

Just before Baekhyun was about to tell Sehun he’d rather get punched in the face before dating someone like him, he heard someone call out his name.

“Hey Baek, Kyungsoo said you have my phone?

“Yeah, here,” the shorter angrily mumbled.

“Thanks and oh this is Sehun, coach says he got a lot of talent. Sehun this is Baek, we go way back.”

“We’ve met.” A small smirk pulled at the corner of Sehun’s lips as he winked at the shorter.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, muttering a ‘whatever’ under his breath before leaving the gym.  

♡

“Sehun, we need to talk.”

The taller let himself get pulled away from his friends by the other. He leaned onto the wall, a smirk forming on his face as he looked Baekhyun.

“I knew you’d eventually come running to me.”

The shorter scoffed, slapping Sehun upside the head with his notebook and checked their surroundings to make sure his best friend wasn’t anywhere around. “As if. Look, I know Chanyeol likes Kyungsoo.”

Sehun’s brows furrowed, leaning in closer to hear the other’s whispering better. “So? Everyone knows.”

“Yeah everyone except Kyungsoo and I know that Kyungsoo likes Chanyeol too.”

“Wait he told you that?”

Baekhyun bit his lip, scratching the back of his head as he looked up at the taller.  “I mean, not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly.” Sehun raised a brow at him. “Did he hint at it somehow?” Sehun didn’t know why he asked, he knew that Kyungsoo probably did no such thing and that Baekhyun was probably exaggerating, as per usual.

The shorter brushed him off with a swift wave of his hand, shaking his head. “That’s besides the point, the point is that I wanna set them up and as much as I would hate to say it,” he sighed, “I need your help.”

“Oh god, you’re doing that match-making thing you always do.” Sehun crossed his arms and scoffed. “I thought Junmyeon-hyung told you to stop doing that?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, wondered why everyone doubted his skills when he was clearly an experiment in the relationship/love department (even if he was single and hadn’t dated anyone since middle school, but that’s besides the point).

“Oh please, he never would’ve talked to Kris if it weren’t for me getting them together.”

The taller still looked reluctant and as much as Baekhyun wanted to tell him to shove it and leave, he already had concocted the perfect plan and that plan involved Sehun.

“Look are you gonna help me or not? Don’t you want your best friend to be happy?”

A frustrated sigh left Sehun’s lips as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Why do want them together so bad? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing!” he hissed, “Unlike you, I’m just a good person and I want to see my best friend happy. He may have everyone else fooled, but I know he likes Chanyeol.”

“Ugh fine, but if we get caught the blame’s all on you. Now what’s your plan?”

♡

December had always been Baekhyun’s favorite time of year.

He loved the cold weather and the snow, though the downside is that the coffee shop he frequented was always packed this time of year which meant less room for him.

It was a Friday night when he found himself struggling to find a table because his usual seat had been taken by some couple practically eating each other’s faces.

He looked around, searching for an empty table when the owner waved at him and pointed out that there was an empty one in the corner.

Baekhyun gave her a wide smile and mouthed ‘thank you’ before dragging his heavy backpack to the seat.

Why did he waited ‘til the last minute to do his psychology reading, he didn’t know, but he hated himself for it.  

He reached inside his bag to pull out his heavy psych textbook and reluctantly opened it up to begin reading.

It was all going fine until he suddenly heard a familiar- and subtly angry- voice speak to him.

“What are you up to, you idiot?”

Baekhyun slowly lowered his book, giving his best puppy dog eyes and batting his lashes.

“What are you talking about, Soo?”

His best friend narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t give me that ‘I’m innocent’ crap, you’ve been acting suspicious lately. Always trying to hide your phone from me whenever you get a text, since when did we ever hide anything from each other?”

Baekhyun cursed Kyungsoo for knowing him so well; this is what knowing someone for eleven years will get you, he thought.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He quickly got up from the table to avoid further investigation and casually strolled over to the barista to order his usual. He saw Kyungsoo walking toward him from his peripheral and tried to think of lie to tell him so that his master plan wouldn’t be over before it even started.

“Junmyeon told me he saw you with Sehun the other day.” The other’s voice trailed off, eyes focused on Baekhyun as if waiting for him to crack. “Since when are you ever willing to talk to Sehun, you can’t stand him.”

The tapping of Kyungsoo’s fingers on the counter almost drove Baekhyun insane as he wracked his brain for a believable story.

“Says who?” he retorted, trying to buy himself time.

“Says you!” Kyungsoo exclaimed. “You literally complain about him all time about how he’s an obnoxious and cocky playboy, don’t you even try to deny it. Baek I swear if you’re trying to hook me up with Chanyeol I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Well things change and pft not everything’s about you, Soo,” Baekhyun scoffed and quickly grabbed his drink from the barista so that he could get back to their table.

Kyungsoo followed after him, raising his eyebrows in suspicion at the other’s claim. “What do you mean things change? So what, you like Sehun now?”

“Yes, yes I do.” He practically had to force himself to say that. The thought of him ever liking Sehun made him him to puke. “We’ve been going out for a couple weeks now, thank you very much!”

“You’re such a fucking liar. You’ve told me yourself that you would rather die than go out with him. We both know he’s a dick and that he flirts with anything that breathes and even if it were true, why would you be hiding it from me for so long?”

“I told you, things change! And I didn’t want to tell you until things got serious because I knew you’d never approve.”

Kyungsoo stared at him, obviously trying to catch any signs that he was lying. Baekhyun tried his best to stay calm and keep a straight face.

“So you’re being serious, you and Sehun are actually dating.”

It sounded more like statement than a question.

“Yes, he’s changed. I think he really likes me and I really like him!”

Kyungsoo didn’t look too convinced yet, but he chose to let it go, at least for the time being.

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“Just go away, it’s not like I ever needed you.”

“Tsuna, you’ve changed so much. I hope we never cross paths again…”

Apparently fate had other plans. He stumbled upon some folders as he was looking through subordinates files’, and your name was mentioned. He rose from his seat in shock as soon as he looked through the file. It had been sent in months ago! You had been kidnapped and held for ransom and power and yet, here he was. He had no idea how some scum lowlife like them had gotten their hands on you. He made sure to erase all traces of connections between both of you, even if it meant to erase what would have been.

He thought back to the weak and disgustingly innocent childhood, where he first met you. His small self was running away from a mutt who seemed to have a liking towards him, but being a scaredy cat, the poor boy had no idea. He had crashed into your younger self at the park, who shooed the dog away from him. From there on, the spark of friendship appeared. He wasn’t the type to have a lot of friends, so having you and Yamamoto were such a gift. All of you enjoyed having time together, which is before the mafia business took over. The future head of Vongola thought that having you beside his side, you would suffer with pressure. With the threats and all around you, he thought he’d see your smile slowly falter.

He decided to sacrifice his selfishness, for you.

           You confronted him, face to face. Somehow you had found out that he had been doing dangerous acts you couldn’t have imagined. You didn’t exactly find out that he was part of the mafia, but he knew you had known too much information. He could do nothing but decide to cut you off from his life. He spouted venomous lies, that he had just tricked you, only wanted to be your hero because you were so weak and helpless. He said that everything was a deceitful lie, sending you into anger and finally hitting him hard. He could only give a fake smile and tell you to leave. You did, with those last words etched in his mind.

           The rescue was a success but it was the Vongola Decimo who handled this, so it was no surprise. It was what after their rescue that Tsuna was certainly not prepared for. Stained eyes, thin look, messy hair, croaked voice. At first he had thought they had tortured them and that Tsuna had to give a more personal punishment later. It turns out that they haven’t laid a single hand on them at all. They fed the poor-looking victim and kept them healthy enough to be alive, took care of them. The only problem was that you refused. He found out that you refused most meals and care-taking, telling them you didn’t have much to live for anyway. Not after the loss of a certain someone.

           He was shaking, banging the walls outside of the hospital. He thought he had gotten rid of his selfishness but no. If anything, he had already been selfish by the time he cut himself from you. He didn’t consider your feelings at all, and at this point, if you said cruel things to him, he’d endure it all. This time he wasn’t going to run away. This time, he’ll endure all of your hate.

This time he’ll protect you.

{ Prompt; Childhood best friend they were in love with went missing a few months ago without a trace, turns out they were kidnapped by a rival family }

{ Character; Sawada Tsunayoshi from Katekyo Hitman Reborn }