#the fact so many of you who followed me back then are still here though is really funny. was it truly my winning personality

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 5

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4)

Airenyah is back, bringing you even more rambles about Style Sattawat Chayakorn than ever before. This meta series might just end up becoming my magnum opus.

Alright, here we go. So, in episode 3 we saw Style starting to develop positive feelings for Fadel. He tries to bond with Fadel, tries to engage him in amiable conversations, and also starts to get suspicious of as well as curious about Fadel and his life and develops an interest in learning more about this man and all he's made up of, an interest that is entirely separately from Kant's mission and the deal with the car.

In episode 4 this trend continues and we follow Style as these positive feelings slowly develop into actual, genuine romantic feelings. Style goes from simply just liking Fadel to like liking Fadel.

Now in episode 5 we get to watch Style slowly, yet rapidly fall in love with Fadel as he grapples with the fact that the man he's falling in love with regularly kills people.

And ohhhh boy, what a ride it is. I've written over 12k words for this meta and yet I still feel like there are so many aspects that I still didn't manage to get into or that I only barely scratched the surface of. Not to mention that there are some scenes (especially the first sauna scene) where I feel like every time I watch it, every time I replay the scene I'm getting something else out of it. I swear, the amount of times I've written and rewritten whole sections... No, truly, at this point I feel like I hate more or less everything that I wrote. I apologize in advance for the mess you are about to read. And let me tell you, no matter how detailed you think this meta is? It in no way reflects all my thoughts and feelings that I have about this episode and about my boy Style Sattawat.

Either way, enjoy!

Pronoun Situation: Just assume Fadel and Style use the rude guu/mueng pronouns with each other unless I explicitly state otherwise.

To recap: Style has started to develop genuine feelings for Fadel and is over the moon that Fadel actually agreed to be his boyfriend. His joy is soon punched out of him as he learns of Fadel's real profession. Style unexpectedly meets Fadel at the gym and runs off in a panic, unable to deal with the situation and absolutely terrified.

No. 1: Sauna The Sequel

Let me just say straight away that I'm gonna be looking at this scene running on the assumption that this is happening on the same day as when Style ran away from Fadel at the work-out bench last episode, because Fadel says: "You seem strange today." If the scene from last episode had happened on a different day, I think he would have said "recently" or "these days" or something along those lines instead. Anyway, let's start.

They're at the gym and apparently they both like going to the sauna after a good work-out, because just like in episode 2 they have their next run-in in the sauna after parting at the weightlifting bench. This time it's Style, though, who arrives at the sauna first and he sits there, still in distress, but already a lot calmer than he was at the work-out bench.

When I first watched this scene I was thinking to myself how fun it was to watch Style be very scared of Fadel after we got multiple explicit references of Style decidedly not being scared of Fadel. Now on second look, though, I don't think he's actually as scared as I had first thought. In their last scene together, the scene by the work-out bench, yeah, Style was absolutely terrified and fighting for his life. But instead of a ruthless killer, Style experienced kindness and care, experienced Fadel being a sweet boyfriend. Unable to reconcile these two conflicting perspectives on Fadel, Style made an escape. Now he's sitting in the sauna contemplating everything, trying to figure out how to deal with and/or get out of this mess. Fadel enters the sauna and while Style still looks a little surprised and startled, it doesn't put him into a panic again. As has been pointed out by @secriden and I have also already discussed in my ep4 meta, in episode 4 Style went to the gym during day time, likely in order to avoid Fadel who explicitly mentioned in episode 2 that he prefers to go to the gym at night. But then Fadel shows up anyway and Style, who hadn't been expecting that and as a result hadn't been mentally prepared for a run-in with Fadel, panics completely. Now, however, sitting in the sauna he is well aware that Fadel is around. This might also be a reason as to why Style's heart isn't stopping the way it did back at the work-out bench.

Fadel sits down next to Style and Style moves away, putting more distance between them. What's funny, though, is that despite Style's apparent discomfort at touching Fadel or being anywhere close to him, he still keeps his hand near Fadel, touching him anyway.

[pls scroll back up to the title pic if you wanna see it, i've reached image limit 😭😭😭]

Now we could call that unclean acting, because if Style really is that uncomfortable with the thought of being close to or touching Fadel aka a Known Killer, then he should be making sure to keep each and every single body part away from Fadel, including his hands. Meaning, he should really be yanking that hand away from Fadel. Or what we could do instead, what's even more fun actually, is that we could interpret this as Style not actually being that uncomfortable with the thought of touching Fadel despite his rational mind telling him he should be. His rational mind might be telling him that he should keep his distance from Fadel if he wants to stay alive, but his hand betrays him, exposes his true desire of wanting Fadel anyway. Style is conflicted, but he is not disgusted by Fadel and now after Fadel has been nothing but a sweet boyfriend to him and Style has calmed down a bit from his earlier panic, he also no longer feels as threatened by Fadel's presence and his touch.

Style is still extremely nervous, though, because the knowledge of Fadel killing people is still at the forefront of his mind, but Fadel's presence and Fadel himself don't terrify him as much anymore. This emotional change also shows in his voice: Earlier at the work-out bench he was hesitating to answer every time Fadel said something to him only to hurriedly blurt out his replies a moment later. Now in the sauna, while Style still hesitates and blurts out his answers, they're not as rushed anymore and he's also more talkative again, engages in the conversation more than he did earlier. What's more, at the work-out bench Style barely dared to look at Fadel and when he did look at him, he only threw quick glances at him before turning his eyes away again. In the sauna Style starts out avoiding eye contact with Fadel at first, but as soon as Fadel opens the conversation, Style can (mostly) look him in the eye again.

Fadel calls out Style's uncharacteristic behavior and Style quickly comes up with excuses. Unlike back at the work-out bench, where his voice was full of panic and terror, he now sounds more appeasing, in an attempt to calm Fadel's worries and suspicions. There is a lot of awkwardness when Style claims "I’m fine. I’m just not used to this", there's even a sort of urgency to it like please believe me, please believe me, please stop asking. Fadel stares at him skeptically, so Style elaborates: "It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me."

By the way, since I know so many people are liking the Thai language tidbits, this line here:

It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me.

More literally is:

Usually I'm after you, but now you're after me. ปกติกูก็ตามมึงแล้วมึงตามกูบ้างแล้วอ่ะ [bpòk-gà-dtì - guu - gôr - dtaam - mueng - láew - mueng - dtaam - guu - bâang - láew - àh] usually - I - follow - you - and - you - follow - I/me - some - already - [particle]

Style actually manages to find his sincerity for this specific lie, but Fadel is already onto him and asks if Style has suddenly changed his mind after all. Style looks away awkwardly, but also lost in thought a little as he thinks about how this is exactly what happened after he found out the truth. It's not like he can just say this, though. Imagine that. Sorry, I don't want you as my boyfriend after all because I don't feel comfortable dating someone who could potentially murder me. And as I mentioned in my ep4 meta, I do think Style is lowkey terrified that Fadel will kill him if Style breaks up with him right after Fadel finally started opening up to him which he knows was a big step for Fadel. But then Fadel says "I don’t mind [breaking up], you know? I don’t like you that much. I’ll get over it." Style looks away, sighs and gets lost in thought. It's a messy situation to be in, even if Fadel won't immediately be killing him over a break-up after all.

When Style fails to answer Fadel stands up in order to leave. This brings life back to Style and he hurriedly holds Fadel back, asking him to wait with the most puppy eyes:

Yeah, I just had to spend one of the only 30 images per post on the puppy eyes, I mean just look at him!!

Anyway, Style looks at Fadel with puppy eyes, and there is so much uncertainty and hesitation and doubt in them. There is also fear, but to me it doesn't look like he's afraid of Fadel specifically, it looks more like he's anxious and worried about the whole situation in general. It looks like Style wants something, but hasn't quite figured out what exactly it is that he wants. He is feeling many emotions at once, has many conflicting feelings at once. When Fadel asks Style if he's sure, I'm struggling so hard to pinpoint/name the many different emotions that Style is feeling in that moment. All I can think of looking at Style's face is: help.

The boy is overwhelmed. He wants to be far away from Fadel, but he also doesn't want him to leave, wants to dump him, but he can't and also kind of maybe deep down perhaps doesn't even really want to, has something on his mind that desperately wants out, but that he must keep inside under any circumstance.

Fadel asks Style if he's intimidated by him and I just wish the English subs had kept the word "scared" just like the Thai lines kept the word กลัว [gluua], because it's such a nice callback to episode 4 where Style enters the greenhouse, yelling "You think I'm scared of you?" (or "But I ain't scared of you!", as the English subs put it). Now Style is getting thrown that question right back at himself. Style has proven time and time again that he isn't scared of Fadel, but this time when he says "I'm not scared of you" it's a lie. Fadel skeptically raises an eyebrow at him. Style comes up with another excuse. "I just can’t believe my persistence actually worked." It definitely is an excuse, but I think that Style is telling the truth here, that he really is surprised that he managed to actually get Fadel to open up to him. I think he truly wasn't expecting it. Now there is also little bit of amusement as he finishes the sentence. As much as he does not want to be around a killer, it doesn't change the fact that he really did enjoy getting on Fadel's nerves. But that little smile fades very quickly as he looks at Fadel in anxious anticipation. And Fadel? Fadel goes with it and throws him a challenge. Style's persistence didn't work. They're on trial. Style still has to put more effort in. Style raises his eyebrows at Fadel like Bitch what did you just say to me????

Fadel did it. He's awakened Style's competitive side. Style completely forgets any qualms he initially had about getting close to Fadel and starts getting handsy with him. But Fadel interrupts Style's seduction and asks to go to Style's garage. However, Style hasn't forgotten about Fadel's secret job enough to happily welcome him home, so he declines. He's definitely horny now, though, and suggests staying in the sauna instead to do the deed and get it over with. As I said in my ep4 meta, Style only gets handsy with Fadel when he's genuinely trying to get into Fadel's pants or under his towel. This is why I think that despite Style's initial apprehensions surrounding Fadel and his secret job, Style absolutely would have hooked-up with Fadel right there and then if Fadel had let him. But Fadel doesn't, he insists on going to the garage instead. Fadel's secret job is fully back on Style's mind again. Style sits back again, sighing as he tenses up again a little. He's clearly not as uncomfortable and nervous around Fadel anymore as he was at the beginning of the scene, but he certainly doesn't feel great about letting a killer into his home. He throws Fadel a look, and I do think Style is a little scared again, but I feel like Style is less scared of Fadel himself and more scared about what might happen if he lets a hitman in, scared not just of what might happen to himself but scared of potentially also putting his dad in danger or giving away any information that could be useful to Fadel in the future in case Fadel does decide to murder him if Style gets too annoying or if Fadel finds out all the secrets Style's been keeping.

Now, guys, let me tell you I spent a whole day writing and thinking about this scene and honestly, I struggled sooo so much. Even as I've finished writing this part I'm still not happy at all with what I put down. There is just so much going on inside of Style and it turned out to be extremely difficult to name and to pinpoint every single emotion because I felt like any time I replayed a shot I was seeing a new aspect and there were so many times where I was feeling an emotion but I just couldn't find the right word to describe it no matter how much I clicked my way through different words and synonyms on Google. But maybe that's kind of the point. Style is feeling many different things, a lot of the emotions that are also contradicting each other, his rational mind is fighting against his heart and it's all so overwhelming in a way you can't really put into words.

No. 2: Date Night

They're on their little go-kart date and Style is having so much fun that he's completely forgotten to be uncomfortable around Fadel, laughing the brightest laughter as he zooms around the track with Fadel. Ever since Style found out that Fadel kills people professionally, Fadel has never once made him feel threatened and unsafe in his actions apart from what was in Style's head at the time. Fadel isn't a ruthless murderer, not to him, not towards Style, and it has Style relax again, has him laugh without any apprehensions. Style is finally able to let go of his worries again and to simply just enjoy the time with his new boyfriend.

A little language note here, this:

It’s just a fluke.

More literally is:

You beat me just this one time. ชนะกูแค่ครั้งเดียวเนี่ย [chá-ná - guu - kaê - kráng - diiao - nîia] beat, defeat - I/me - just, only - time - only, sole - [particle]

Style has let down his defenses so much that he immediately engages in a personal conversation when Fadel starts asking questions and shares without any hesitations. Both we, the audience, as well as Fadel learn that Style lost his mother. This makes me especially happy, because I wrote this in my ep3 meta about the conversation when Fadel drags Style into the storage room:

I do think there's some truth to it when Style says "I have my own problems. You’re not the only one" but whatever problems in life Style currently has (especially if there's anything connected to loss and grief), these problem's really aren't at the forefront of his mind right now.

I had a feeling these lines would come back and that they might be connected to loss, since that's the theme of the support group and at the time of writing I even contemplated the fact there might even be something in Style's past. I almost added a little sentence or two about how if Style also lost someone it has probably been long enough since then that now he's able to be unserious at a group meeting for grief without thinking about it even for a second.

Style brags about winning a competition and Fadel says he knows. The pleased smile is wiped off of Style's face as he suddenly remembers Fadel's real job. Style is starting to feel a little threatened again, a little scared. When he asks "How'd you know that?" it's almost an attack. Fadel shouldn't know this. Why does he know this? Did he do some snooping around? Why would Fadel need to snoop around? Is Style the next target? Does Fadel have a reason to kill him? But Fadel explains he saw it online. Yeah, okay. That makes sense in this day and age. Style lets it go but is still on guard. He doesn't quite trust Fadel.

Fadel continues asking questions. "You said you liked me from the moment you saw me. What did you like about me?" But the thing is, that was a lie. Style did not, in fact, like Fadel from the first time they met. He needs to come up with a believable reason. "I liked the feeling of chasing after you." I do think he genuinely did have fun chasing Fadel, bugging him, which is why he manages to say it with enough sincerity for Fadel to believe it. Style can't fool me, though, because while his words aren't exactly performative like other times when he's being insincere (as discussed in my ep4 meta), his demeanor is still a bit too "loud" for me to fully believe it. Just that one sentence, though, because I absolutely do believe him when he says he likes to win. We literally just saw his behavior when he won their race. Or back in the sauna when he immediately tried to seduce Fadel after Fadel reminded him that they were on trial. Besides, Style likes attention and I'm sure coming out first place in a competition gives him plenty of attention. And as he says, it gives him adrenaline so he's also just having plain fun with it. Fadel is amused and asks "So you only hit on me for the thrill of it?" Style feels called out, because he did hit on Fadel for ulterior motives. Style can't exactly admit that, though, so he quickly deflects: "It's not like that. I like how you look, too." Style then lists more reasons why he's interested in Fadel and I think that what he says next is 100% true: "I like that you’re so different from me. It’s an opportunity to learn, and it’s an experience, you know?" I think this is something he started appreciating about Fadel at the latest over the course of episode 3 where he started to get more interested about Fadel and his lore.

One thing I want to point out: There is less space between them by the end of the scene than there was by the end of the scene. They got closer throughout the scene, not just in the literal sense as in closer with their bodies but also figuratively they got closer in their relationship. It's as Style said: they can get to know each other when they are boyfriends. And getting to know each other is exactly what they're doing here, and they will get to know each other even more as the episode progresses.

Style might be a competitive guy, but the thing is, so is Fadel. Which we, of course, are already well aware of. After all, we did just watch these two have stand-offs with neither of them willing to back down for 4 episodes straight gay. But Fadel lets him know anyway: "The game isn’t over. A guy like me doesn’t know how to accept defeat." It's a threat, but not a dangerous one, no, it's more of a flirty challenge. At the same time, Fadel is being 100% serious when he warns that he won't accept defeat. It's like he's saying No matter how hard you try to fully win me over, I'll never open up to you completely. They'll come back to this topic again later in the episode, when Fadel tells Style he's at 80%.

Fadel drives off and Style watches him pensively. I think by now he's really lost his (immediate) fear about Fadel working as a hitman. I find his expression in this shot here especially interesting:

He look sad more than anything. He was already starting to like Fadel in the previous episode (here are the receipts), but now that he's starting to spend more time with Fadel where Fadel is not just constantly pushing him away and putting him down but is actively engaging with him and they're having serious conversations, now Style is really starting to like him. But unfortunately the situation had to get super messed up and there doesn't seem a way to get out of it that doesn't end in hurt or pain. And unfortunately, he can't exactly talk about his problems with his new boyfriend either. But the show must go on. Life must go on. Because life never stops. So Style gets on his feet, hypes himself up a little, and gets into his go-kart to follow Fadel.

No. 3: Choices Were Made

Where earlier in the sauna Style tensed up at the thought of taking Fadel to his place, after their happy little go-kart date all those fears and worries that Style had had initially went right out of the window. Fadel has been nothing but nice and sweet to him and Style has by now realized he's got nothing to be afraid of. Fadel is not a danger to him specifically (yet?).

Fadel starts asking more questions and we, together with Fadel learn more about Style's relationship with his dad. We also learn that Style likes to choose his own partners himself. This is in line with what I said in my ep3 meta:

For Style, sex isn't just sex and I think as impulsive as he can be he still makes very deliberate decisions about who he actually sleeps with.

Now I'm thinking this extends to who he actually dates, too. Style wants to make the choice of who he is with himself. Which is kinda ironic, considering he himself didn't actually choose Fadel. Unless you count Style's choice to agree to Kant's deal. But Fadel has no idea about any of this. So he walks up to Style, hugs him and asks "And you chose me?" Ah, well, no. Not exactly. Style doesn't answer Fadel's question but instead goes "You wanna do it here?"

Honestly, even though Style's question was probably a convenient way of getting out of having to answer Fadel's question, I think Style's had this question on his mind from the second he felt Fadel's arms around him. After all Fadel did suggest going to the garage instead when Style tried to seduce him in the sauna and I'm sure Style had a flashback to that when Fadel went and hugged him.

Pronoun side note: Fadel changes from the rude guu pronoun to the polite phom pronoun in their little role play when he says "My car broke down." They don't use any pronouns for the rest of their exchange.

Now this is the first time they're having sex as official boyfriends and while in a way the scene is similar to the scene in the storage room, it's also very different. Just like in the storage room, Fadel is the one to initiate the kissing and Fadel is the one taking off Style's shirt (or at least one layer of it, that we see). While the tempo in the storage room was fast and rushed, Fadel now takes his time and everything he does is much more deliberate. Fadel is now actively enjoying what he is doing, lets himself enjoy it. And just like in the storage room, Style lets Fadel control the situation while he waits to see where this is going (it leads to role play, apparently). And yet, Style isn't passive the way he was in the storage room, no, this time they are on a much more equal level. This time it's much more of a mutual conversation. We see this in their little role play where Style actively engages (a dialogue requires two people or else it'd be a monologue) and the way Style also initiates a kiss instead of letting Fadel do all the work himself. Style is no longer a passive part in this. He actively teases Fadel from the start by not properly kissing him back right away and also actively seeks out Fadel's vicinity and physical touch. We see it in the way he actively nuzzle's into Fadel's shoulder:

They are both enjoying this, and they are also actively letting themselves enjoy it. Together.

The lighting is also starting to change: in the storage room, everything was blue and cold. In the greenhouse, there is less light in the scene in general, and while the light that is there is still blue, the darkness gives off a feeling of protection. They can confess to their mutual budding feelings in the safety of the shadows, hidden away where no one can see them. Now in the garage, there is still so much blue going on in addition to bright white lights from inside the shelves. They are still surrounded by the cold, but they themselves are bathed in yellow and red light.

They are slowly making progress, slowly coming out of the cold, distant lighting, slowly stepping into the warmth. However, they still have a way to go.

No. 4: Sharing Is Caring

Side note, since I was just talking about the lighting: I can't help but notice how the cold white light that was inside the shelves earlier is now much less prominent right next to Fadel. Instead we get yellow and red car parts. Fadel is sitting right by the warmth (the warmth that Style was giving him in this scene, perhaps?).

Where in the go-kart date scene Fadel was the one asking all the personal questions, here in the garage it's now Style's turn. And Style finally asks about the scar and I'm glad we're starting to talk about it because I've been dying to know. Fadel says it was an accident and Style wants to know the details. Fadel says it's an occupational hazard, which, gee thanks I could have guessed as much. And I'm sure so could Style. Fadel in addition also asks why Style would want to know that and Style says "I want to know more about you." Style was already starting to care last episode, but back then what he cared about was mostly Fadel's actions and how they affected him himself and his feelings. We could even go as far back as episode 3 and say that Style was starting to get curious about Fadel and his story all the way back then, even. This time it's different, though. This time it's not that he wants to know just to satisfy his curiosity about this strange, closed-off man or because he doesn't like "being kept in the dark". This time it's not that he cares because of how Fadel and his words/actions directly affect Style himself. No, this time he genuinely wants to get to know Fadel better. He cares because he is starting to worry about him. This time it's not all about Style himself, but this time it's all about Fadel instead.

Style is starting to care, is starting to care so much about Fadel himself now. But unlike Style, Fadel doesn't voluntarily give up information about himself, which Style notes and then asks more questions: "Why do you go [to the Rise Up group]?" Fadel doesn't say a word and Style doesn't pressure him any further. He stays quiet, watches Fadel, and patiently waits for him to come to a decision. A full 10 seconds later Fadel does share: "I lost my parents." Style stares at him in shock. He hadn't been expecting that. But this is something he can relate to, even if he lost just one parent and not both of them. Style offers Fadel a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, creates a safe space for Fadel in which he invites him to share more details. Once again Style doesn't pressure Fadel, he just looks at Fadel encouragingly but leaves the choice to share entirely up to him. This time it takes Fadel 13 seconds to respond, but respond he does: "My parents were murdered."

Fun fact, Style is actually fully aware that Fadel's parents were murdered by gunshot specifically because Fadel explicitly tells him:

พ่อแม่กูโดนยิงตายเนี่ย [pôr-mâe - guu - dohn ying dtaai - niîa] parents - I/my - be shot to death - [particle]

When Style hears this he realizes two things:

Fadel has fucked up trauma.

This is a conversation he probably shouldn't have started, a topic he probably shouldn't have brought up.

The conversation took an unexpected dark turn and Style doesn't want to pressure Fadel any further, so he is quick to change the topic to something more bright. "You had any lovers before?" Love can't be too heavy of a topic, right? Right?? But we saw the flashbacks of Fadel dancing with someone in episode 3. And we heard Keen make a reference to someone important in Fadel's life who suddenly disappeared. Speaking of...

Remember how in my ep3 meta I was wondering if Style had heard that specific comment since we weren't shown the exact point of Style walking in on them? I guess now have confirmation that Style did not in fact hear that comment. Unless of course Style asked that specific question to subtly try and find out more backstory on that too (Oh god, Style, how I am begging you keep asking! I too need to know!!). Although, the way he was rushing to change the topic to something happier didn't seem like he was thinking too hard about his question. But then again, he did also tilt his head a little when Fadel said no, he doesn't have an ex, and I can't tell if Style tilts his head because he really has no idea and simply just doesn't believe that a guy like Fadel has never dated anyone or if he tilts his head because he knows Fadel is lying. Aghhh, gdi, I'm still none the wiser.

Anyway, so Fadel says no (bro. my dude. who was that man in the flashback, then 🤨) and explains "My life isn’t exactly easy. I don’t want to drag anyone along with me."

Actually, for the second sentence he really says:

And besides, I also don't want to cause trouble to anyone. แล้วอีกอย่างกูไม่อยากทำให้ใครเดือดร้อนด้วย [láew - ìig yàang - guu - mâi - yâak - tam hâi - krai - dèuuat rón - dûuay] and - one more thing - i - not - want - to cause - anyone - be in trouble - also

Style blinks. He cracks just the tiniest and briefest smile.

(In case you don't see it, here have a slowed down version of just the grin. Check the corner of his mouth: )

Hah. Got him. "Is owning a burger joint so difficult that you can’t date?"

I wasn't sure before if Style knew what he was doing when he asked the ex-lover question, but with this question now he definitely knows exactly what he's doing. Fadel comes up with a reply, but his word choice is still sus, so Style asks a follow-up question. Personally, I think that Style started asking question in the hopes of Fadel accidentally spilling the truth himself. Because if that happened, then that would be at least one secret off Style's back. He wouldn't have to pretend to Not Know and it would probably also lessen his anxieties about Fadel's occupation because at least he would also be able to openly talk about it and his fears with him. I think at this point Style has fully realized that Fadel isn't killing him any time soon, that his own life isn't in immediate danger just because he hangs out with Fadel and does things that boyfriends do with him. He is back to being as fearless as he was before The Reveal.

So Style asks a follow-up question, hoping that maybe Fadel will slip-up even more. But Fadel comes up with a bullshit story and Style just listens to it, nodding like yeah sure whatever you say baby. It quickly becomes clear to him that he won't be getting the truth out of Fadel's mouth for now. I feel like I haven't seen enough of the story yet to really confirm this for myself, but I wonder if during this conversation Style also realizes (or at least starts to suspect) that deep down Fadel isn't actually too fond of his killer job. Because when Style says "Maybe you just need to find something else to do. Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones." it just sounds too much like what he's ACTUALLY saying is:

Well, if you don't like being a "burger joint owner" (assassin), if being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) is making your life THAT difficult and depressing, then why don't you just quit being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) and find a new job that makes you happier and your life easier? Perhaps even a job where you don't have to worry about me your loved ones being safe?

After this deep talk where Fadel finally opens up to him about personal things, Style's panic has vanished completely. Instead, it has all been replaced with worry, worry about Fadel and his well-being specifically. And Style is also well aware of this development as we'll see later in the episode when Style tells Kant "I'm beginning to worry about him now." Style is still scared for his own life, but now it's not because he's terrified about Fadel killing him but more so because he doesn't want to become collateral damage if (when) he stays in a relationship with Fadel. I think this is another subtext of when Style says "Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones". He's not just making it about Fadel and his loved ones but he's also specifically referring to his own safety, too. Do something that allows you to be with me specifically where I don't have to worry about my own safety and potential death.

Style smiles innocently and cutely at Fadel (and I cry bc that exact smile is Dunk's inner Daonuea coming out) but before the conversation can go any further or they can get any cuter, Kant interrupts. Fadel is irritated and Kant's unexpected visit is an inconvenience to Style too, but Kant has some pressing matters to discuss, so they walk off to discuss them in private.

No. 5: Conflicted

Kant is in panic because Bison seems to be going ballistic on Kant's old hook-up with murder being a potential outcome. This has Style very concerned. He doesn't really care about Kant's old hook-up but he is very worried about his best friend. As much as Style likes helping people and as loyal of a friend he is, he really doesn't wanna help if helping Kant means Kant's potential death. Kant tries to talk Style into helping anyway, but Style is done: "I had nothing to do with this. You dragged me along." Style is very much not cool with having been involved in this without his consent. And now he's got another problem that makes the whole situation even more tricky for him:

By the way, I have a bad feeling about Fadel. He scares me. But I like his rough romantic side.

And at this point I really need to share Style's actual words:

And another thing, I don't know how I feel about Fadel. แล้วอีกอย่างนะกูรู้สึกยังไงกับไอ้ฟาเดลก็ไม่รู้ว่ะ [láew - ìig yàang - ná - guu - rúu-sèuk - yang-ngai - gàp - âi - Fadel - gôr - mâi - rúu - wâ] and - one more thing - [particle] - I - feel - how - with - [rude prefix] - Fadel - not - know - [particle]

He makes me feel scared. มันทำให้กูรู้สึกกลัว [man - tam hâi - guu - rúu-sèuk - gluua] he - to cause - I - feel - scared, fear

But I like his rough romantic side. แต่กูชอบมุมโรแมนติกเถื่อนๆของมันเว้ย [dtàe - guu - chôp - mum - roh-maen-dtìk - tèuuan tèuuan - kŏng man - wóiie] but - I - like - angle - romantic - rough - (of) his - [particle]

I put all of Style's lines mostly for completion, but really the language note is mostly about the very first line. Style doesn't say he has a bad feeling about Fadel, no, he says he feels conflicted about Fadel. Because on the one hand he's scared and on the other hand he really also likes him. When Style says Fadel makes him feel scared, I don't quite believe him, because apart from the sauna and that one short moment at the go-kart track absolutely nothing in his behavior has screamed I am scared, on the contrary. I think this is his rational mind telling him that logically he should be scared because Fadel fucking kills people fighting against his heart that is slowly getting to know the Fadel that's behind those thick high walls and that realizes that Fadel isn't that bad of a person after all. What's more, ever since they started dating, none of Fadel's actions or behaviors have put Style into immediate danger. In fact, Fadel has been nothing but a sweet, hot boyfriend to him. Style doesn't know how to feel about Fadel, because he's getting conflicting messages and can't figure out whether he should best follow his mind or his heart.

But Kant currently doesn't have time for Style's love life. Someone else's life is potentially at stake. So Kant responds: "This ain’t no time to confess your weird feelings." Or what he actually says is:

This is not the time to confess your love. ไม่ใช่เวลามาสารภาพรักไงล่ะ [mâi châi - weh-la - ma - săa-rá-pâap - rák - ngai - lâ] not - time - come - confess - love - [particle] - [particle]

I just wanted to note that Kant says nothing about "weird": Kant is not being judgy about Style's feelings specifically, he's only judgy about Style's sense of timing. Okay, carry on.

Anyway, Kant suggests asking Fadel for help.

No. 6: Boyfriend Card

Fadel, predictably, is not happy about this turn of events. But Style is now helping his friend after all, and so he pulls the boyfriend card: "You’re my boyfriend, you know? If you like me at all, you have to help my friend." It works. Fadel agrees to help. Kant calls him "Brother-in-Law". Style is very hyped at Kant's sass and praises him. Fadel chats with Bison on the phone and learns enough info for Kant to know exactly where Bison is at. Kant runs off. Style watches him leave wide-eyed, then turns to Fadel and excitedly goes "Wow. I hope you’re not the jealous type like your brother is." Fadel tells him "If you mean well, then you have nothing to worry about." But then he also speaks out a warning:

But if you’re just leading me on, or trying to get something out of me, you’re in for some serious bruises.

Dare I say this is foreshadowing for when Fadel finds out about the real reason why Style was hitting on him? And I have a feeling Style gets that memo too. Uncharacteristically, he stays quiet.

Pronoun side note: Kant uses the polite phom/khun pronouns for Fadel while Fadel uses the rude guu/mueng pronouns for Kant and I think that's hilarious, actually.

No. 7: Falling

Kant updates Style on the James situation but Style stays optimistic. Kant really doesn't share this view and reminds him that Bison is a hitman. Style gets stressed and also a bit irritated at Kant and shoots a reminder back: "I was sleeping with his brother last night all because you asked me to, didn’t I?" (he says, as if Kant ordered him to hook up with Fadel in the garage 🤭) Style hates that he is in this mess when he never even asked to be in this mess in the first place.

Kant says he doesn't want anyone else risking their lives (bro. maybe you should have thought of that before you got your bestie involved or at least asked him for his consent, don't you think 🤨) and that he has to get this job done. Style looks downwards, troubled and in thought. He sits down and it's time for another confession:

Come to think of it. How would I even get through this? I compromised my whole body, and if we’re being honest, I’ve already compromised half of my heart, too. I’m beginning to worry about him now.

This has Kant alarmed. "Don’t fall in love with him at all costs." But it's already too late. Style is already falling, and he's falling fast. And deep down he knows it, too.

Style points out that Kant isn't exactly doing any better either. Kant sighs and says he wants to end things quickly and then foretells what their happy ending is going to be: "Once those two get arrested, we walk free."

But Style stares gloomily into the air and gives a near invisible head shake, almost as if he disagrees with Kant's words, as if to say But that's not what MY happy ending looks like.

Then he stands up swearing and says: "Hope it ends before either one of us kicks the bucket. I shouldn’t have put my heart on the line for this." He wants to get out of that mess asap and preferably alive (and with his heart fully intact). Kant has another mission for him.

No. 8: Can I Have This Dance

Yeah no I don't have anything to say about this scene except: this is a boy in love.

And also, not to brag but @titkos--sideblog and I called the butt grab(s) before the show had even started airing, including the exact episode number (episode 4 counts too because we did get the one wide shot in the greenhouse with Fadel's hands on Style's ass!!):

Okay, no, I lied. Now that I'm done awww-ing about how fucking cute this whole scene is, I do have something to say after all:

Once again, there is not a single ounce of fear anywhere to be found in Style, no matter how stressed he gets whenever Kant brings up that Fadel and Bison are hitmen. On the contrary, Style is completely at ease. He's shamelessly teasing Fadel, shamelessly flirting with him, and also being silly without a second thought. I was actually talking to @secriden in our DMs and I just wanted to share something she said to me because she really hit the nail on the head:

[Style] makes it clear that he wants Fadel to participate and frames his case as being about his need for an "F" for his "S" so the 'embarrassing cheesiness' is all on Style's behest. When he makes Fadel dance with him, he reminds Fadel that he's already seen a far more embarrassing dance and found it incredibly hot and then starts being overthetop and ridiculous so that even if Fadel starts dancing with him its not going to be more embarrassing and silly than what Style is doing.

I absolutely agree. This whole scene is Style trying his best to get Fadel out of his shell, to get Fadel to loosen up a little. We've already seen Style attempting to do this in episode 2 when he shows up in Fadel's kitchen with an order and pretends to be a commentator on a cooking competition or in episode 3 at the heavy metal bar when he invites Fadel to dance with him, to scream and to basically let loose with him. Except back then Fadel stubbornly refused to engage. Where Style failed in episode 3, he now as Fadel's official boyfriend succeeds. This time around Fadel does dance with Style, albeit tentatively, and even ends up having a little bit of fun.

No. 9: Percentages

They're sitting at the table watching Kant and Bison be cute and Style makes a comment about how they look good together. Fadel informs him that even if he tolerates Kant now, he still doesn't trust him and Style squints his eyes a little at him in a way that I can't find the proper words to describe.

It's almost inquisitive. Style knows full well that Kant absolutely has ulterior motives, more ulterior motives even than Style himself has. Style knows full well that Fadel absolutely has legitimate reasons to distrust Kant, knows exactly that Fadel's bad feeling about Kant is entirely on point. The way Style squints at him looks as though he's curious about why Fadel doesn't trust Kant. What is Kant doing, what in Kant's behavior is giving it away that Kant's not exactly trustworthy?

Fadel elaborates that a guy like him doesn’t go trusting someone 100%. Style looks almost a little guilty when he looks down at table for a moment as he goes "Oh?" Then he asks "Not even me?" and it's just a little bit too "loud" again to be entirely genuine. Style knows exactly that he doesn't really deserve Fadel's full trust because he, too, is hiding secrets from Fadel. And I think he tries to play it off and deflect from it in an Whaaat, you don't even fully trust ME, your very own BOYFRIEND? When CLEARLY as your boyfriend I am entitled to 100% of your trust? sort of way. But Fadel didn't come to play around. He retaliates with "You’re at 80% at best." Which, by the way, in Thai goes something like:

Someone like you? Only gets 80. อย่างมึงนะได้แค่80 [yàang - mueng - ná - dâai - kâe - bpàet sìp] like - you - [particle] - receive - only - 80

Style throws him a look that again I find really hard to describe:

He looks a bit judgmental that Fadel really dared to be this harsh to his very own boyfriend, but at the same time he knows that Fadel is absolutely spot on with that judgment. And I think he is also kind of disappointed, because he does very much want those full 100%.

More serious now, Fadel continues: "I feel like you’re hiding something from me in the rest 20%". From the tone of Style's voice when he says "What are you talking about?" I feel like this isn't at all about him deflecting Fadel's completely spot on statement but more about Style complaining that Fadel won't play along properly. Style is frustrated, but almost in a pouty way. When he asks "What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?" I think it's still part of the little game that he's started, but now there is a sort of urgency to his voice that exposes him. Style needs an answer to this question, because it's important for him to get those 100%. Style really wants Fadel to be able to fully trust him. Style might still be keeping secrets from Fadel but nevertheless he wants to do everything he can to "be worthy of Fadel's trust" (words stolen from @secriden's meta), despite the lies he has to keep up for now. What's more, Style went all in the moment he and Fadel became official and the "all in" includes trust as well. It's either all or nothing for Style.

Fadel doesn't answer immediately. Similarly to their deep talk in the garage, Style patiently waits for Fadel to speak rather than to press him for an answer. And 7 seconds later Fadel drops: "It'll never happen."

So far this conversation has been mostly lighthearted but at this point the mood suddenly changes. Fadel announces there will never be a day where he'll fully trust Style and Style sighs, a little dejected.

No matter how hard Style tries, there will never be a day where he'll be able to make up for all the secrets he's been keeping and for all the lies he has to tell, all the lies he's already told, and all the lies he'll be forced to tell in the future. Because let's be real, at this point? Style is keeping up the charades mostly for the sake of Kant (and maybe a little bit for the sake of his own safety). As many people have already pointed out, Style is the type of person where what you see is what you get. And I think Style struggles with the fact that he can't be fully honest with Fadel. And he knows it's going to hurt both of them when Fadel finds out that he was right in not fully trusting Style. And there is nothing he can do about it, no matter how much he tries to be as open and transparent with Fadel as possible to soften the blow.

Fadel elaborates and as Style listens to Fadel's explanation, the good mood that was there on Style's face earlier is replaced by a very serious expression.

I think he's probably wondering where Fadel got this outlook on life from. By now Style has learned that Fadel has gone through quite some shit in his time. I think he realizes that there's a chance that Fadel's distrust in people is connected to another "My parents were shot" story or that it could also be connected to Fadel's scar. This interpretation gets pretty much confirmed at the end of the episode, when Style tells Fadel that he'll be his 100% one day and goes to kiss Fadel's scar immediately after, as if to say I know whatever scarred you took away your ability to trust people but I'll be the one to do you right.

The conversation is taking a heavy turn, but the bar is no place to discuss such topics, so Style dismisses Fadel's words and changes the topic like he did back at the garage. He invites Fadel to come on stage and sing. Fadel refuses. Style reminds him that there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about since there's only drunk people here, but Fadel still doesn't want to. Style pulls him on stage anyway and whipped boyfriend that he is, Fadel follows him after all and engages in the social interaction.

But then Kant gets a phone call and suddenly has to run. I absolutely cannot tell if Style is fully aware of what Kant is planning to do or not. In their last one on one scene, Kant announced that he had a plan, but didn't exactly elaborate on it, just told Style to make sure Fadel stayed by his side the entire time. Of course Kant might have told him off-screen, but there is also a chance that Style only knows as much as the audience knows. Either way, Style doesn't feel great about it. When Style asks if he should come too, his voice might just be the most serious and worried we've ever heard it throughout the series so far. But Kant refuses and runs off by himself. Fadel walks over to Bison to make a comment to him while Style stands behind them, looking worried. When he sits at the table with Fadel and Bison later waiting for Kant he is uncharacteristically quiet and still, except for that one time where he tries to get Bison to stay a little longer. But when that doesn't work he just sits there and stares at Bison wordlessly. Even Style's aura is suddenly very quiet.

Pronoun side note: When they met in episode 2, Style and Bison where using the polite khun/phom with each other. In this scene all three of them were using only the rude guu/mueng pronouns when talking to each other.

No. 10: Look They've Made It Onto A Bed

Okay, so this is gonna mess with my usual formatting of going chronologically, but please bear with me as I take a look at the actual sex before I get into the dialogue.

Everything about this is warm, so warm and soft with the red/yellow/orange tones and they've finally made it onto a bed. I've seen posts joking about getting them a bed for the sake of their backs, but I think it was a very deliberate choice that up until now they were never anywhere near a bed. Your bed is one of the most intimate places you have, it's where you sleep and are at your most vulnerable to outside danger. Up until now, Fadel and Style couldn't be on a bed yet, their relationship wasn't ready for that yet. And I think it's so significant that the first time they are sleeping with each other on an actual bed happens after Style knows the truth about Fadel. It's such a stark contrast to the beginning of the episode where Style asked to hook up in a public sauna and get it over with because he was just so very uncomfortable about bringing Fadel home. But now at the end of the episode Fadel is right here in Style's bed. Style knows the truth, knows Fadel kills people and he still brought him into his home, his own room, his very own bed. Style knows the truth and yet Style has fully let Fadel into his life. (Like, 100% you could say...)

This scene also parallels the storage room hook-up, but now the places are switched. In fact, this scene is the complete opposite of everything that happened in the storage room. Let's take a look.

As many people pointed out after episode 3, Fadel was more or less worshiping Style's body back then. Now it's Style's turn to worship Fadel's body. Back in the storage room, everything was rushed because Fadel was running on anger and sexual frustration. Style now in turn moves very slowly and everything he does, he does very deliberately and with intention. There is so much tenderness and care in every single one of Style's touches. Where the storage room sex was first and foremost led by anger, mutual annoyance, and physical attraction, instead it is now led by love and the emotional bond that they've started to build up over the episode. Actually, @secriden has written a beautiful post comparing these two scenes with each other.

If you remember, @clemelntine noted what we can learn about Style's and Fadel's desires in their respective fantasies. In my ep3 and my ep4 meta I added on to this thought and discussed at length how in Style's fantasy he barely stopped searching for eye contact and how the emotional component was very important to Style and how he was getting next to no eye contact in the storage room scene (where emotionally they weren't on the same page at all) and how he was slowly getting more of it in the greenhouse (where they were finally starting to come together emotionally). Now in Style's bed? Style finally gets what he desires. Fadel barely stops looking at him, hardly ever takes his eyes off of him. He even lifts his head to watch Style as he moves to kiss Fadel's scar or to kiss his upper body a little later on.

Of course, for Fadel specifically part of that is also because he is still on guard around Style, can't fully let go yet, can't fully trust Style yet (more on the topic of trust in a bit). Which is why it's so beautiful that when Fadel does take his eyes off of Style it's when he finally lets himself fall into it a little. Fadel may break eye contact, but it's not because he's avoiding Style's eyes and closing himself off again, no, it's because Fadel is finally starting to let go a little, is giving up just a little bit of control to Style, letting him do as he pleases the way Style has let Fadel do as he pleased back in the storage room.

I also find it interesting that there is no background music at all throughout the entire scene (that is from the moment Style takes his shirt off right at the beginning before the dialogue even starts) because it makes the scene feel even more intimate and raw, almost as if we, the audience, shouldn't even be here. In the storage room, in the woods, and in the garage, every single time there was music playing while they were going at it. This here in the bedroom is the most intimate sex they've had so far, and it is stripped bare of any background music (remember the word "bare", it will come back later). There are no distractions, that is no music to hide behind, it's just them and their feelings on full display. Here in Style's own room, Style is laying himself bare for Fadel completely and this is underlined by the lack of music. The music won't come back until the end to lead us into the end credits, and when the music does come back, it's none other than Style's, I mean Dunk's OST song for the show.

No. 11: Bare Bodies and Open Hearts

Now that we've looked at the sex itself, let's take examine the dialogue and the context in which the sex scene is happening in.

The double date night is over and I'm assuming Kant probably texted Style telling him he was all good, because considering how concerned we left Style last time we saw him, I think he would have had his mind somewhere else most of the time during this scene rather than focusing entirely on Fadel if he didn't know his best friend was safe. Anyway. I'm just gonna run with that this is what happened and that's why Style is all relaxed and without worries again.

Actually, before I get into anything else I wanna talk about these specific lines because both the English translation as well as the original Thai lines have me insane for different reasons:

F: Like I said, no one can truly lay themselves bare for someone. [...] S: Will you lay yourself bare for me?

Let's start with what has me insane about the Thai lines first. But first a little recap: In my ep3 meta and my ep4 meta I mentioned the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai]. If you're new here or simply just forgot, this is a word that means something like "open up to something/someone" or "giving something a chance". This word consists of the words "(to) open" (เปิด [bpèrt]) and "heart, mind" (ใจ [jai]), so literally translated it makes "to open one's heart".

Now, Style was using this word in episode 3 after Fadel presented him with a burger when he asked "Are you finally folding?" (literally: "You've opened your heart to me now, right?"). If we remember, the burger was the first time Fadel reached out to Style first and did something nice for him (unless we count Fadel dropping off the car at Style's garage in ep1, although that only came about as a consequence of the crash, or there was also that time Fadel ambushed Style in the locker room, but he didn't exactly have nice intentions about it). Anyway, that was the first time Fadel was properly connecting with Style in a friendly way and of his own accord, a significant moment.

In episode 4 we get this word again during the "be my boyfriend" conversation when Style says "I’m 100% in. It’s your turn to let me in a little bit" (literally: "I've opened my heart to you 100% already. Only you remain. How much will you open your heart to me?") Again, this is a significant moment, because right after those lines is when Fadel finally agrees to be Style's boyfriend.

And in both scenes I just really really liked the image of Fadel, who has closed off his heart so deeply and securely behind thick high walls, being asked to open up the way to his heart.

Right now you're probably assuming that in Thai they're using the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again. No. Actually, they are not. But!! They are using the word เปิด [bpèrt] and I think it works enough for a callback to that imagery and specifically to those lines from the "be my boyfriend" scene:

F: Like I said, we aren't 100% open with others. อย่างที่กูบอกอ่ะ คนเราไม่เปิดกับคนอื่น 100% หรอก [yàang - tîi - guu - bòk - àh • kon rao - mâi - bpèrt - gàp - kon èun - rói bper-sen -ròk] way - that - I - say - [particle] • people, we - not - open - with - others - 100% - [particle] [...] S: Can you open up for me? มึงเปิดให้กู้ได้มั้ยล่ะ [mueng - bpèrt - hâi - guu - dâai - mái - lâ] you - open - for - I/me - be able to - ? - [particle]

And it just makes me a little bit insane for multiple reasons: first of all, we continue with that imagery, that theme of Fadel opening up to Style. And second of all, there's also been a running theme about percentages. The theme of opening up and the theme of percentages are tightly connected:

It starts in the "be my boyfriend" scene where Style tells Fadel "I've opened my heart to you 100% already." All the doors to Style's heart are wide open for Fadel to enter as he pleases. But at the time Fadel's heart is still closed to Style. So Style tells him that it's Fadel's turn now and asks him: "How much will you open your heart to me?" How many doors to his heart will Fadel open for Style? What is the percentage of his heart that Fadel is willing to grant Style access to?

And then earlier in the scene at the bar Fadel says "Someone like you only gets 80%". Somehow this feels kind of like an answer to Style's question of "How much will you open your heart to me?" And yes, the conversation at the bar is about trust and not their hearts, but Style made it about their relationship when he asked "Not even me? (Not even your boyfriend?)" and Fadel also brings up love later when he says "No matter how much you love someone". The heart is also involved in a relationship. And what kind of relationship is it when your heart isn't fully in it or you don't fully trust your partner? And I think this is also part of the reason why it's so important for Style to reach those 100%. He wants both of them to put 100% of their hearts and 100% of their trust in this relationship. He wants this to be an equal relationship.

And here and now in the bedroom Style asks again: "Can you open up to me?" But Fadel can't just yet. Because Fadel doesn't believe he can. So Style declares: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." One day he will show Fadel that it is possible for him to trust someone completely. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's trust. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's heart. And he will get there. Because he is persistent. And because Fadel already has 100% of Style's heart and Style's trust. It's only fair for Style to get 100% in return.

So. This is the reason why the Thai lines make me feel insane. Now on to the English translation which adds additional imagery, which as a whole makes me feel even more insane.

Let me just start out with a reminder that at the bowling alley Fadel vehemently refused to wear the stupid shirt and then announced that he was taking it off as soon as they were done when he did agree to wear it after all. And now let me just point out that Fadel is still wearing that very same stupid shirt in during this scene in Style's bedroom. In fact, it's Style who loses the shirt first. Anyway.

In English Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone." But Style already has. For Fadel's whole entire line we linger on a shot of Style's bare body:

Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone" to Style who is literally bare before him. Style is living proof of the contrary of Fadel's beliefs. They continue their conversation and then Style asks "Will you lay yourself bare for me?" to Fadel, who is still fully clothed and very much not bare. And again, their conversation continues until Style declares "One day, I’ll be your 100%." And right after that Style pulls up Fadel's shirt. And how much does he pull it up?

That's right. He lays bare roughly 80% of Fadel's upper body (if we don't count the back of the shirt that didn't go up bc Joong is lying on it). He lays bare those 80% that Fadel told Style that he had. A little later Style pulls up the shirt even more for better access to the nipples but Fadel never fully loses his shirt the way Style has (who literally starts out the scene by immediately taking his shirt off, baring himself to Fadel first thing with no inhibitions). Until the end of the episode Fadel never loses the shirt 100% because he is not yet ready for that, not yet ready to lay himself bare for Style. Not yet ready for Style to uncover 100% of him. And Style respects that, no matter how much he might have complained at the bar. He never tries to remove more of the shirt than those 80% that he was granted.

Sorry. I need a moment.

Okay, now that we have this imagery and those themes out of the way, let's go through the scene the way I usually do. So this episode we started their story with Style feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of bringing Fadel, a Known Killer, to his home and we end the episode with Fadel right there in Style's room, in Style's bed. Style and Fadel have spent the entire episode sharing personal things and getting to know each other better and also on a bit of a deeper level and now that they're in private away from the others, Style opens up about something that has been on his mind all episode: "It feels so weird every time I’m with you. Sometimes you make me feel so scared, and sometimes you make me feel so safe."

Style is very much not scared of Fadel in this moment. In fact, most of his behavior and his actions surrounding Fadel this episode weren't the behavior and the actions of a scared man, especially when he was interacting with Fadel directly (apart from the very first scene in the sauna when the initial shock hadn't worn off yet). I think Style is still thinking of his mind vs. heart conflict when he says "sometimes you make me feel scared and sometimes you make me feel safe", but deep down he has already decided.

But Fadel doesn't know any of this. Fadel has no idea of the internal battle that Style has been fighting all episode, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless killer with the man he's falling in love with. So Fadel tells him that it would be good for Style to be a little scared of him and repeats his point from back at the bar about (in)complete trust. And then he speaks out a warning: "The real me might be scarier than you think." But Style isn't scared. Because Style already knows that. Style already knows the truth.

However, Style mostly knows it in theory. He did get to see some of Fadel's real him in action when he took on 3 men by himself and also got to experience some of Fadel's violence on his own body. But the thing is, no matter how much he isn't scared of Fadel despite Knowing the Truth in theory, now matter how lowkey (highkey) hot he found Fadel take out three whole men, actually witnessing Fadel actively kill someone in practice might still be traumatizing no matter how much he thinks he is mentally prepared for it, so I do think Fadel kinda has a point with his warning. But I'm not sure Style has thought this far ahead already. I think in this episode he was mostly preoccupied with worrying about his own life, his own safety and with coming to terms that he was falling in love with a murderer in the first place.

Throughout the entire episode Fadel has never really given Style a reason to be scared of him. Instead, Fadel has spent quality time with Style, has engaged in conversation more than ever before, has asked him personal questions about his life and has even shared a little bit about his own life, which wasn't much but it was a start. They've had serious talks, sexy talks, fun talks, they were silly together and laughed together and they sat on the floor and shared pain together. Fadel didn't even get murderous over a potential break-up in the very beginning when Style was still nervous around him. Style spent the entire episode falling in love with Fadel, despite knowing about his occupation. "Can you open up for me? / Will you lay yourself bare for me?" Style responds to Fadel's warning. It's encouragement in several ways. It's encouragement for Fadel to try to learn that he can in fact trust someone (Style) 100%, that he can in fact be fully open with someone (Style). And it's encouragement for Fadel to tell Style his secret. Style needs Fadel to open up, to admit the truth himself first. Style needs it, so that they can openly talk about it without having to dance around the subject and talk in metaphors. He needs it so that there will be one less thing that he is lying about, so that he'll be one step closer to being able to be 100% honest with Fadel. And it has to be Fadel specifically who says it first so that Style can just run with it, because if Fadel finds out that Style was already in the know then both Kant and his mission as well as the 80% trust that Fadel has granted Style are on the line.

"I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you." And there it is. Style's decision. His mind and his heart were fighting a battle and his heart won. Rationally he knows Fadel is dangerous and that he should stay away from him if he values his own life, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And even though it's not exactly like he can just say I know what you are and I fell in love anyway, I want to be with you despite it all, he still tries to get the message across.

Fadel doesn't believe his promise, though. "Words are cheap. I’ll do that when you’re ready. You can judge, then." Again, I think Fadel has a point. Fadel's response works whether Fadel is aware that Style knows or not. Because yes, Style may say he'll like Fadel no matter his occupation, but Style still hasn't seen the killer in action. Fadel's words mean Decide whether you still like me or not only when you find out my real occupation before you promise anything as much as they mean Decide whether you still like me or not once you've actually seen me murder someone in front of you before you promise anything. Style has already made a decision about the former, but he is yet to make a decision about the latter.

But in reality he has already made a choice and he is set on it: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." He wants Fadel's full trust and he wants Fadel's full heart. He will show Fadel that he will stay by his side and that Fadel's trust in him will be worth it. He will show Fadel that the mortifying ordeal of Being Known™ is not as scary as it seems. He means it when he says he'll like Fadel no matter what. Because now he already cares and worries about him much more deeply than he could ever have anticipated. Assassin be damned. He can get over it. And also, Fadel being dangerous is really fucking hot. "I just hope you don’t get any new scars."

I've already made a post about it, but I just want to point out: Fadel's scar is positioned right above his heart. I do very much wonder if the scar is related to the guy Fadel danced with in the flashback. Is he the reason why Fadel doesn't trust anyone 100%? Did whatever happened with that guy not just metaphorically leave a scar on Fadel's heart but also physically? Either way, we know how it's going to end:

Style's love is going to heal Fadel's scarred heart.

[rotisseries]

are you ever gonna post about stranger things and byler again

idk? probably, if it grabs my interest again? stranger things is a family tv show in my house and has been a long term sleeper agent interest for me so I know I'll most likely be watching the 5th season and ill care again. I just fell out of it last year, most fixations only last a year for me anyway before I lose enthusiasm (until there's new content) and also 2022 was my first active participation fandom experience, and it shows, and it was overall an at times extremely questionable experience 😭😭😭😭 so I got great friends out of it but now I feel Weird about it. so

[ellecdc]

James and Sirius and Remus and Lily and *takes a dramatic breath* you?

this one's for you @enamoredwithbella, thanks for sorting this idea out with me @unstablereader

poly!Marauders + Lily x shy!reader who is so smitten with them

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

CW: fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with, reader is in Hufflepuff, swearing, consent because it's sexy AF

This was obviously a bad idea.

You’re not even sure how your friends managed to convince you to attend the Gryffindor party, but you swore to every deity it would never happen again.

There were too many people (most of whom you’d never spoken to before), it was too loud (songs you didn’t particularly care for), and the fifteenth time someone bumped into you nearly sent you over the edge.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” A low voice commented as an arm quickly righted you from your nearly horizontal position. “Y’alright?”

You looked up to see the face of none other than Gryffindor quidditch captain James Potter beaming down at you.

You were ashamed of yourself for the way that smile made you feel.

“Erm, yup! Thanks.” You squeaked, quickly freeing yourself from James’ grasp so fast that you nearly knocked someone else over in your attempt at creating distance between you and the Headboy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like James. On the contrary; you were rather smitten with him.

Him and his partners - which was nothing short of dense in simple terms.

But you couldn’t help the way you blushed when he held the doors open for you as you walked into classes, or the friendly smile and wave he’d shoot at you when he saw you on Prefect rounds. 

You sort of wished he’d stop being so bloody nice to you; maybe then you’d be able to get over this crush that was never going to amount to anything.

But James was taken; three times over. 

And what a sodding group they were.

Heart Throb of Hogwarts™ Sirius Black in his effortless style, his devil may care attitude, and his insatiable flirting. Being noticed by Sirius felt like your favourite rockstar singing a song written just for you. 

And don’t even get you started on the enigma that is Remus Lupin; the Cassanova of Gryffindor tower. Everyone in your year (and likely the years below you) had at some point or another crushed hard on the quiet Marauder; but it really couldn’t be helped. He was tall, he was handsome, he was kind, and though he was far more quiet than his counterparts, the quips he shared with you never ceased to reduce you to a fit of laughter.

And gods, was Lily Evans ever beautiful. She was the total package; she was funny, outgoing, smart, and stunning. Looking at her even now with her long auburn hair as she threw her head back in laughter; so open and care free in her actions. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be her or being underneath-

No.

No. That was not a nice thing to think about someone who was in a committed relationship.

You let out a sigh as you zoned back into the fact that James still had one of his hands on your elbow and was smiling curiously at you. 

“Thanks for the save! I really owe you one.” You chuckled awkwardly and nearly took out one of the Prewett twins in your haste to leave Potter’s vicinity. 

Unfortunately, trouble seemed to be following you.

And by trouble, you meant Sirius Black.

“Damn, Hufflepuff!” He cheered as he moved a sultry gaze up and down your body appreciatively. “Give us a spin, dollface.”

You felt all the blood in your body migrate to your cheeks as you fought to keep your mouth from falling open.

Lily, the beautiful angel (or the evil temptress, depending on how you looked at it), swatted at Sirius from her perch on the arm of the chair her boyfriend was currently occupying.

“Down boy; you’re going to scare her away.” She teased with a smirk as she winked at you. 

You felt momentarily grateful for her.

And then she spoke again.

“Then none of us will get to look at her.”

Fucking Helga, was it hot in here? They needed to open more windows; preferably one you could launch yourself out of right now, thank you very much. 

“That’d be such a shame, really. Sorry doll, you don’t gotta spin - no one else here deserves to appreciate such a view.”

“Okay.” You squeaked and turned in search of your friends.

You know what? Fuck your friends; you were leaving with or without them. 

They weren’t….flirting with you, were they?

Surely not.

Of course not.

What a ridiculous thing to think.

But…it certainly felt like they were flirting with you.

Maybe one more glance?

Just as you were about to approach the portrait hole, you turned for one more look at the objects of your affection and your current tormentors and - yup, sure enough - Sirius, Lily, and now James were all standing there smiling at you.

They were watching you leave?!

Okay time to go, that is enough nonsense for one day. 

You spun and collided with something tall and solid which thankfully caught your arms as you all but ricocheted off of them.

“Hey there, dove. Where’re you headed in such a hurry?”

Please for the love of gods, don’t tell me…

But of course, you looked up to see the face of one Remus Fucking Lupin smirking down at you. 

“You lot are everywhere.” You whispered in awe. The bastard only chuckled in response.

“Come on you guys! We’re going to start a game of truth or dare!” Lily called over to…you (?) and Remus.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to miss that, would we?” Remus murmured lowly into your ear as he steered you towards the growing circle congregating around the various chairs and sofas littering the common room.

And listen, you’re not particularly proud that you were so placid in Remus’ man handling you.

But in your defence…

In your defence, Remus was man handling you. 

And to your absolute horror, he plopped you down beside Lily on a large chair that was not quite large enough for two people. 

You tried to swallow your heart back down which was attempting to escape via your mouth as you became hyper focused on the fact that Lily sodding Evans was pushed up against you none too casually and- Merlin’s tits, was she playing with your hair!? 

You pretended to pay attention as a few rounds passed by; your friend being dared to give you a lap dance being the most brazen thing to have taken place.

Until it got to the Marauders.

Marlene dared Sirius to strip down to his boxers for a whole round which he was all but too eager to do, apparently. Meaning he got to ask the next person.

“Moony!” 

Remus smiled down at his lap before he looked over at one of his boyfriend’s mischievously. 

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl here.”

You’re not necessarily proud of the way your heart plummeted at that; this is what you had been telling yourself all night. They were taken.

No matter if they complimented you.

No matter if they caught you as you fell. 

No matter if they snuggled up to you on a chair designed for one.

No matter if one of them made you feel like you leaving the party early would have been truly devastating.

No matter.

“That’s impossible; there’s two of them.” Remus said quickly, causing your heart to ache for Lily.

Who even says that when their girlfriend is sitting right here!?

You kept your head down as the party all ooooh’ed and aawwwweee’d.

James let out a funny high pitched laugh as if he were an over excited kid on Christmas morning. “Guess you’ll have to kiss them both then.” 

You really should have left when you had the chance; you weren’t sure you could watch.

It was their business if they wanted to include another, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Or they can kiss each other; I think I’d enjoy that just as much.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Lily said as she stood; the space she once inhabited felt cold and vacant without her.

“Well? Come on then?” She said as she grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“Come with me.” She said again, wiggling your arm within your grasp, and who were you to deny her, really?

Like a well trained dog you followed her obediently over to where Remus sat before she all but shoved you into his lap.

“You seem like the fidgety type; maybe Rem can help with that, hm?” She said as she shot a wink at Remus over your shoulder.

His arms wrapped possessively around your waist as he rested his chin on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Is it okay if she kisses you, pretty girl?”

You had no time to be absolutely horrified at the pathetic little keening sound that escaped your lips as you looked up at the red-head now towering over you.

“What do you say, gorgeous?” And though her emerald eyes did shine with some mischief, you could see she was earnest; this was your choice.

“Okay.” You whispered barely loud enough for you to hear yourself over the hammering of your heart.

“Yeah?” She whispered as she knelt in front of you.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

And you only got to see the soft, hopeful smile that adorned her lips for but a moment before her hands were on either side of your face and she was pressing her soft lips to yours. 

It could have been hours or centuries but it was also all too soon before she was pulling away from you; a proud smile on her lips though her cheeks were a similar colour to her hair.

You became aware of the hooting and hollering going on around you as Remus’ chest began to vibrate in laughter.

“Beautiful.” He murmured - likely more to himself than to you, but you heard it all the same.

“Do I get a turn?!” James shouted before Sirius roughly grabbed him by the waist and planted him down on his lap.

“Not before me, Jamie.” He snickered as he shot you a wink. 

The audacity of a man to still be so confident sitting in nothing but his boxers. 

You tried to hide behind your hands though it was all for naught as Remus made a theatrical cooing sound and pulled you further into his lap until you were all but cradled in his arms.

“Maybe without an audience next time, hm?” He asked you as he brushed some hairs away from your forehead.

Not trusting yourself to speak (or to even make direct eye contact with the bloke currently cuddling you in your lap), you nodded with your face still hidden.

“Way to go babe.” James said as Lily went to join the two boys on their loveseat. “You were so good, we’ll even get a next time!”

read about their first date here!

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ keep on comin’ back

babydaddy!toji x fem!reader

the reason he keeps on comin back.

tags: dilf toji, explicit language, dirty talking, creaming, squirting, mentions of breeding, missionary, riding, creampie, nipple play, spanking, etc.

note: shoutout to oomf who said toji keeps coming back to me, you the inspo for this.

“What are you doing here? It’s not my week—hi megs, mimi!” you diverted your attention from your baby daddy to your adopted son and your daughter, hugging their small bodies; before letting them inside of your house.

Turning back around to block him from getting in, you bring up your question again. “What are you doing here? Don’t think you’re getting any, last time was a mistake.”

“Last time we almost gave those two another sibling and I didn’t hear you complaining when you were screaming my name and scratching my back up, while i made you cum back to back.” You bit your lip as he helped you remember the last time he unexpectedly came over, which led to you having multiple mind blowing orgasms that night; and a pregnancy scare.

“well that’s never gonna happen again. now are you gonna answer me?” you stared at his green eyes, arms folded over one another—unconsciously pushing your boobs up through your black beater.

“megumi’s supposed to be having a sleepover with his best friend, yuuji, at our place, but the plumbing’s backed up for like a good week. so, he asked could we do it at mommy’s house. plus, mimi said she missed her mommy.” you cooed and looked back at your daughter and step-son, watching them play with one another.

and before you could open your mouth up to ask a follow up question, toji beat you to the punch.

“tried to find somewhere else for me to go. but, there wasn’t any hotels available. and i think it would be great for the kids to have both parents under one roof. what do ya think?” he asked and you sighed, before moving aside to let him in.

“bags are in the truck,” he smiled and kissed your cheek, turning on his heel to grab their things from his car.

being in an on again and off again relationship with each other was took a toll on you both, but it was also tough for the kids. they couldn’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t together, however it was moments like this they were happy to have. and deep down inside, you both felt the same.

Toji returned with their bags and made his way up their stairs to the kids room, and the guest bedroom, with mimi hot on his tail. While the two of them got situated upstairs, megumi followed you into the kitchen to help you with tonight’s meal. You giggled as you watched him put on his mini apron before stepping onto his stool to watch you clean some meat for dinner.

Megumi watched with an intent stare as you moved with ease, learning from you while you cooked. “mommy? do you love dad?”

his question caught you by surprise and you nearly sliced your finger off. “yes, but not as much as i love you,” he giggled when you ruffled his raven locks before focusing back on the meal. although megumi’s mom died when he was a baby, you still loved him like he was your own. and truth be told, you really did love toji; no matter how many times he annoyed you.

“so, then why aren’t you guys married? my friend yuuji said that his dad said if two people love each, they should marry each other. plus, i saw this shiny ring in dad’s room at the other house—“

you eyes were wide. a fucking ring? there’s no way—maybe he’s got someone else in mind…right?

“mm…i don’t know. hey, you wanna have that sleepover still? go get the house phone and I’ll call yuuji’s dad.” you nervously laughed and watched him leave, before sighing out.

there’s no way, right?

—

the next couple of hours flew by, your mind was practically a blur—still caught up on the fact that toji has a ring and that he could possibly propose to you.

even though you guys broke up on good terms, parts of you missed him. real bad. you missed having him in your arms at night. missed his scent being all over you. missed him being with you and the kids. missed having him so deep inside of you almost every night.

and the reason the two of you broke up was because of him. he pushed you away, pushed you away from his heart.

yuuji came over and was having a ball with your kids, before the three of them crashed for the night, finally allowing you to have some time for yourself. you lounged on your plush brown couch, glass of wine in your hand as you caught up with one of your favorite shows, when toji’s deep voice echoed through your ears.

“knew I would find you here. what are ya watching?”

“uhh supernatural….toji can i ask you a question?”

“ya just did,” he chuckled and ducked when you hit him in the head with a throw pillow. “you know what i meant.” he nodded and you sipped some more of your wine before turning to look at him, your heart beating out of your chest; while you felt a heartbeat elsewhere.

“the ring you have, is that for me?” there was pause and his eyes caught yours. and before he could open his mouth, you spoke once more.

“meg’s told me you had it. do you really wanna marry me? do you think—“ your nervous rambling was caught off by his lips. the scar on his upper lip rubbing smoothly against yours, making you moan out. and when he pulled away, you whimpered; yearning for more.

“gotta teach him to keep secrets. damn big mouth.” he teased megumi and you gave him a slight kick, giggling at him, before he pulled you onto his lap—your plush thighs melting against his waist.

“but, yeah. ‘m gonna marry you. make you mine and pump you full of my babies,” his last comment sent shivers up your spine and you could feel your panties moisten with arousal. the tension was overwhelming and you couldn’t take it anymore. you crawled off his lap and swiftly pulled his dark grey sweatpants down to his knees, making his fat cock spring to life; before you immediately wrapped your plump lips around his head.

toji sucked in some air and tangled his thick fingers in your hair, pulling it while you worked your way down his dick. his cock was coated with your salvia, dripping down from his angry red tip—to the top of his balls, before you scooped it up and rubbed it all over him.

he was in pure bliss. basking in the sheer pleasure you were giving him. his jaw clenching as you made a sloppy messy on him, trying to suppress the moans that wanted to slip; until you swirled against his frenulum & teased his tip, making him loudly groan out.

you released him with a ‘pop’ sound echoing, your small hands jerking him off while you maintained eye contact with him, “shhh don’t wanna wake them up. now do we?” the look on his face sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and to your aching cunt, causing a switch to flip inside of you.

he watched you quickly pull your panties down, your slick sticking to the fabric, webs of your arousal following; before you squatted down onto his lap once more. “need you inside. need you to cum deep inside of me.”

you whined when you pushed him in, walls immediately stretching out and wrapping around him. this is what he missed. this is why he kept coming back…..well, one of the reasons.

his hands met your hips and helped guide you up and down on his dick, tip pressing into your cervix every once and a while. it didn’t take long for the moans to flow out freely from your mouth as you continued to bounce, stuffing you. and soon, you became even more gushy, cunt squelching while cream started form around his base—sticking to your skin while you moved.

“fuck you’re so tight. missed this pussy,” his hands collide with your ass, the fat rippling from the impact. he gripped the globes of your ass, loving the soft fat, before resting his hands on one of your cheeks.

everything about this felt sooo good. the noises you created and the touches he was giving you, was sheer bliss and you could feel an orgasm approaching. toji could feel you clenching down on him repeatedly and he groaned at the sensation. with his free hand he pulled the sleeves to your beater down—pushing it down a little—before putting one of your plump mounds into his mouth.

the warm, wet feeling of his mouth made you throw your head back; still enduring the workout of bouncing on his fat cock.

he didn’t know how he was able to last this long inside of you, especially with how long it’s been since the last time and the unbelievable head you gave him. but, he was nearing his end too.

you could feel his hands move to your waist, before your back met the soft plushness of the couch and your legs were planted at his sides. now, his cock was nestled deep inside of your tummy, hitting your spot each time he thrusted.

toji reached underneath your thighs and pulled out your wet sticky underwear, putting it into your mouth to muffle the lewd noises that left your lips. your eyes was rolling back into your head as he fucked an orgasm out of you. well, that is until he pulled you by your hair; forcing you to watch him fuck everything out of you.

“look at the mess yer makin—shit! cum for me mamas”

oh the mess you made.

specks of white blurred your vision as you stomach caved in and a stream of clear fluid splashed out, drenching his black t-shirt and the cushions underneath. you had reached nirvana, but the pleasure didn’t stop there.

toji’s grip on your hair tightened while he pounded your cunt silly—splitting you open, pumping thick white ropes of his seed inside of you.

unable to formulate any words, he just smashed his lips onto yours; hands around your neck as the two of you shared the best orgasms of your lives.

this was it. this is exactly what you wanted. what he needed. why he kept coming back.

he sat back, catching his breath while you started to come back to reality, staring at you with pure love. “guess we gotta order a new crib. hm?”

[ddejavvu]

remus x animagus!reader where he doesn’t know it’s her yet, and there’s just always this random cat (or other animal) following him around the castle, and cuddling up to him in the hospital wing after full moons

<333

"You shouldn't be in here."

Remus's stern words hardly deter you, especially because by now he's got the strength to push you off of the bed, but he doesn't. Instead he watches warily, neck craned and rolled into miniscule lines of chub that you'd kiss if you were in your human form, as your paws trace a path up towards his head.

"You're some sort of creature," Remus decides, speaking aloud in the deserted hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey only has one other patient now, but they've been quarantined in a separate room due to the infectious nature of their illness. It means that Remus can speak at will, and you're happy to plant yourself over his chest to feel it vibrate at the sound. You're more accustomed to doing so with your human ears, but it's nicer to hear your boyfriend's voice with cat senses.

"You're too smart to be a regular cat," He lifts a shaky hand up to your head, offering you a chance to inspect him as though you haven't already splayed yourself over his chest, "But the castle doesn't allow many magical pets. Which means you're not supposed to be in here at all. Definitely not in the Hospital Wing."

You offer him a soft, plaintive meow, purring when he strokes his knuckles over the space between your ears.

"Maybe you're an omen," He muses suddenly, eyes narrowing, "No one else ever sees you. Are you warning me of some cruel fate?"

You blink at him, slowly, and he decides, "You're not very threatening for an omen."

Remus has professed the exact same observation about your attempts to be threatening in human form as well. Somehow, the tightening of your brows and the downturn of your lips aren't enough to petrify Remus, though it works rather nicely on errant second-years who find themselves confident enough in the castle to misbehave, but too terrified to face the consequences.

You draw back your shoulders and let your fangs glint in the low lights of the hospital wing, mouth open to hiss warningly at Remus.

Your cruel fate is a good night's sleep, you grouse at him, lamenting the fact that he'll never hear the words, you'd rest more if you weren't always dishing out inexhaustible wit.

"Oh, very scary," He chuckles, poking teasingly at your left pointed fang, "I'm not afraid of you, cat, you couldn't hurt me more than I've already hurt myself."

And it's true.

His limbs, long and lanky, bear the scratch marks of his own claws, gnarled nails that lie in wait under the surface to be beckoned by the moon's silvery siren song. There's a tear on his cheek, skin split and blood carefully wiped clean, where he'd fought with himself, with the will of the universe, and tried clinging to his human skin. He's nursing a rolled ankle from thrashing about during his transformation, and a patch of his hair is still reddened with copper no matter how many times Madame Pomfrey had washed it with a wet washcloth. He's barely a boy anymore, more like a string of injuries hanging together with sutures and dittany.

In hopes that companionship works just as well as Pomfrey's healing remedies, you wriggle closer still to his face, draping yourself over his neck and laying your face against his own. It's an awkward position for him, probably more pressure than he's used to on his windpipe, but you keep your weight off of him as much as possible, and purr like the motor of Sirius's bike against his ear.

He's hesitant to accept it at first, which you knew he would be. He needs to be sought out, he needs someone to hold out their hand for five seconds before he decides to take it or not. You wait, one, two, three, four, five, and he exhales, the air hitting your fur.

"Don't be here when they check on me," He murmurs, hand back at his side as your tail curls around his opposite ear, "Thanks, cat."

[mononijikayu]

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

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

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

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

WORD COUNT: 30k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled faintly, bitter and content all at once.

And you would endure too. You already had.

But part of you wondered if you were truly satisfied.

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

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

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

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

"Is my lord sleeping in my tent tonight?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would endure too. You already had.

And you'll do it again.

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the door creaked open, revealing Ryomen Sukuna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who is that, my lord?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t continue. Not like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t deny it.

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

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

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

And still, he had let you fall.

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

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

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

But none of that mattered now.

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

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

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

“You’re with child.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you had no idea what that meant for you.

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

Young mistress Ryomen Chiharu, on the other hand, was a gentle spirit, her laughter melodic as she chased after her brother, always ready to join in his games but equally happy to indulge in quiet moments with you when she wasn't right beside her father, learning the ropes of his leadership.

Between the two of them though, there was certainly no quiet in the Vermillion Hall. But in those rare moments when silence fell over the temple, you would often find yourself lost in thought, reflecting on how far you had come.

Ryomen Sukuna’s absence weighed heavily on you at times, as he would be in between his own pilgrimage to Kyoto or dealing with matters here all across Hida. But you had learned to navigate the complexities of your life as a mother and a partner. If you had done it before, you could do it again.

You had for all this time forged a sense of independence that filled you with pride. You were no longer just the woman who had once worshiped at his feet; you were a mother, a protector, and a nurturer. You were more than what you were all those years ago.

You found joy in the small things in your life today more than you did beforel sometimes, you would be teaching your children the art of folding origami cranes, sharing stories of the world outside, and guiding them through the rituals of your worship to the other gods.

As you sat in the garden, Ryomen Chizuru carefully folded paper into intricate shapes while Ryomen Chiharu hummed a soft tune beside you, you felt a profound sense of peace. The sun warmed your skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, as if the world itself was celebrating this moment with you.

“Look, Mother! I made a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, holding up his creation with a proud grin that made your heart swell.

“It’s beautiful, my love.” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his fuschia hair. “Just like you.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, her bright eyes sparkling. “You did so well, little brother! Can we hang it in the hall, Mother? Please? We ought to show the world my little brother's wodners, don't you think?”

“Of course, little flower. We can make a whole family of cranes!” you replied, feeling the joy that radiated from your children wrap around you like a warm embrace.

As the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden, you settled back against the soft grass, watching your children with a heart full of love. The laughter of Chizuru and Chiharu danced in the air, a sweet melody that resonated deep within you.

“Let’s see how many we can make!” Chizuru declared, diving back into his pile of paper, his little fingers moving with surprising dexterity. Chiharu grinned and joined him eagerly, her giggles punctuating their efforts as they competed to see who could fold the most cranes.

“Remember, my love,” you chimed in, “for every crane we fold, we should make a wish. What do you want to wish for, hm?”

Chiharu paused, her brows furrowed in concentration. “I wish for us to always be together!” she said, her voice sincere and unwavering. "Healthy and happy. That we'll always love one another!"

“And I wish for a big adventure, mother!” Chizuru added, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “One where we can find hidden treasures! Together with you and big sister!”

You chuckled softly, imagining the countless stories waiting to be told. The world outside the temple was vast and filled with mysteries, but within the safety of these walls, they had everything they needed. You like to think that all that would only be happy if you were all together. If you had Chiharu and Chizuru, you would live well.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, you joined them in their folding. Each crease of the paper felt like a connection—an unspoken promise to nurture their dreams and guide them in their adventures. Of wishes for happier days, wishes for many more sunshines and of course, blissful years to come.

You shared tales of the cranes you had folded as a child, of wishes that had been granted, and of moments that had changed your life. You told them about your mother's beautiful painting skills, your father's brillliance in weaving the cranes together, your little siblings and their eagerness for play.

Chizuru listened with rapt attention, and of course, he would ask questions about your family. You told him as much as you remembered. But at times, you could not find anymore words to say. Your family have not seen you in these many years. And perhaps, never again.

Chiharu leaned against you, her head resting comfortably on your shoulder. She would wonder about how you were as a little girl, when you would play these little paper cranes too. But she did not push as much as her brother.

“Mother, can we fold one for father?” Chizuru asked, his voice softening with a hint of longing. "So that he may know we are missing him and thinking of him!"

“Of course, little flower.” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let’s make one for him, so he knows we’re thinking of him.”

As you helped them fold the paper, you couldn’t shake the thought of Sukuna. He had matters to settle today. And in the past few days, have been without a visit to Vermillion Hall. He had been more frequent in the halls as of late, much more so because your son was wanting his father. And Sukuna indulged him. 

You wanted to share these moments with him, at least to look at the children with those fond eyes, the looks he rarely lets slip through the view of others. He had no love for you, true enough. But that does not matter. So long as he loved the children, so long as he cared for him, then perhaps you could be content with that.

After what felt like an eternity of folding, you finally stood, stretching your arms overhead as you surveyed your creations. The hall was beginning to fill with the soft, ambient light of the setting sun, illuminating the vibrant colors of the paper cranes scattered about.

“Let’s hang them up!” you suggested, and together, the three of you transformed the hall into a dazzling display of colorful cranes, each one a symbol of a wish, a memory, and an unbreakable bond.

As you stepped back to admire your handiwork, Chizuru tugged at your sleeve, his face alight with curiosity. “Mother, do you think father will like them?”

You knelt down to his level, cupping his small face in your hands. “I think he’ll be fond of them. They’re a part of us, a part of our family. They are our wishes, after all.”

Chiharu chimed in, looking at her little brother. She too does not wish to break the spell for him. “And when he sees them, he’ll know how much we miss him!”

Chizuru smiled brightly, "Really? Father will be touched then!"

You nodded, feeling a warmth envelop your heart. “Exactly, my love. And we’ll keep making more until he comes home.”

As twilight settled around you, a hush fell over the temple, wrapping you in its embrace. The world outside seemed to pause, and for a moment, all that existed were you and your children, surrounded by the hope and love that filled the air.

With each crane hung in the hall, you were satisfied. The children, bored of making more cranes now, had told you they would play in the garden and you told them not to go too far. That you would see them in a few minutes. You just had to clean out the mess.

Once you had done so, and felt satisfied with the cleaning, you followed them with a lamp. You could hear Chizuru and Chiharu playing in the garden, their laughter floating through the open window, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them. Then they stopped laughing. You came out and stopped at your tracks. 

“Father!” Chizuru’s voice rang out, his excitement unmistakable. You rushed to the window just in time to see Ryomen Sukuna entering the garden.

Sukuna’s eyes locked onto Chizuru, and for a fleeting moment, all the tension of his time away seemed to melt away. Chizuru ran to him, arms outstretched, and Sukuna knelt down, catching his son in a warm embrace. You could see it in Sukuna’s expression, a rare softness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor.

“Look, Father! I made you a crane!” Chizuru exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement as he presented his creation with pride.

Sukuna took the paper crane, inspecting it with a careful eye, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Not bad, little flame.” he said, the praise simple yet meaningful, his tone unexpectedly tender.

Chizuru grinned at his father. Chiharu just behind him. “Father, can we show you the ones we hung in the hall? Mother helped us make them!”

Sukuna looked up from the crane, his gaze shifting between his children, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the man who had once held such power and authority. Here, among his family, he was just a father. The rarest of sights. 

“Lead the way, little flame.” he said, rising to his full height and offering his hand to Chizuru. Chiharu follows behind her brother, trying to keep her compsure.

You watched as they walked side by side, the small boy nearly bouncing with excitement as he chattered away, eager to share every detail about his creations. She looks behind you, as though to see you following them.

You followed at a distance, smiling fondly. As they entered the Vermillion Hall, the colors of the cranes fluttered like bright blossoms in the wind, each one a testament to the love and hope you had nurtured in their absence.

“Look, Father! There’s one for you!” Chizuru pointed, pride evident in his voice.

Sukuna stepped closer, his expression softening as he gazed at the multitude of cranes hanging from the rafters. You noticed how his posture relaxed, the tension of his dealings fading away.

He might have been a fearsome sorcerer to the outside world, but in this sacred space, he left that all behind. He was not to be the one to seem to be such a case, but he was a father. And he adored his children. Perhaps, Chizuru the most. Even if he does not say it outright. 

“You’ve made quite the display here.” he remarked, and you could see the admiration shining in his eyes.

Chizuru grinned. "We have, father! Mother says it has brighten the place! And that creates wishes!"

Chiharu chimed in. “Mother said every crane is a wish. Chizuru wished for you to come home, father.”

Sukuna knelt down to her level, his gaze steady. “And I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Chiharu nodded. Chizuru more vigorously, his enthusiasm contagious.

As they continued to admire the cranes, you couldn’t help but notice the way Chizuru moved closer to Sukuna, his small hand brushing against his father’s arm. It was a gesture filled with tenderness, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You felt a pang in your chest, knowing that Chizuru’s gentle nature was something Sukuna both needed and feared. In that moment, it reminded him of you—of the warmth and love that had filled the space between you before he left.

“Little flame.” Sukuna said, his voice lower, more serious. “You’ve become quite the artist. Do you know what it means to fold a thousand cranes?”

Chizuru shook his head, looking up at his father with wide eyes.

“It means you get to make a wish. A powerful wish.” Sukuna continued, his gaze softening further.

“What’s your wish, Father?” Chizuru asked, curiosity sparkling in his voice.

Sukuna hesitated, a fleeting expression crossing his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. “My wish? To always be here with you and your sister.” he said finally, and the rare sincerity in his tone sent a thrill through you. “For us to be together.”

Chiharu clapped her hands in delight, and Chizuru smiled brightly, the happiness between them radiating through the hall like the sun breaking through the clouds. For a moment, you looked at this and thought to yourself in a small little prayer, that this would never end.

You wanted for this to last forever.

Even if this was just that moment.

You wanted to stay in it forever.

══════════════════

NOTHING WOULD ERASE MEMORIES OF THAT DAY. Your husband had bid farewell a few hours ago, after the children had fallen asleep. He had already fixed his retinue; Uraume awaited him in the courtyard, standing with the quiet reverence they always kept. It was his yearly trip to Kyoto, to visit the remains of his beloved Hiromi.

You did not want him to go. The idea gnawed at you like a persistent ache, but what could you say? He had always made this journey, always carried this grief. A grief you could never touch. You could never be her, and he... he would never truly belong to you. Not in the way you longed for.

But still, you had kept your mouth shut. The children needed him here, but you bowed your head as he prepared to leave. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to smile, trying to mask the deep ache twisting your insides.

His footsteps were soft on the wooden floor as he approached, the flickering lamp light casting shadows across his face. He stopped before you, gazing down, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of his eyes on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name. His hand came to rest upon your hair, his fingers slipping through the strands, gently, almost tenderly, as though soothing you for the inevitable pain of his departure.

"Rest well, little one." he murmured, his voice low and quiet, a distant warmth in it that never quite reached you. "I’ll return soon enough."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There was nothing you could say that would change his heart, that would pull him back from the ghost he still loved. So, you let the silence fill the space between you.

His hand slipped away, leaving a chill in its wake. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his back a familiar sight, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, your heart heavy in your chest, telling yourself again what you’d told yourself a thousand times before.

He doesn't love me.

The thought was bitter but familiar, like an old wound that never fully healed. You clenched your hands together, willing yourself to let go of the dream. To stop hoping for something that could never be.

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. You were alone. Alone with your thoughts, and with the ghost of a woman you could never replace. And so you couldn’t sleep. You kept thinking about your husband, about the ghosts that he’s going to revisit. Yet you shook your head and tried to sleep. 

But you thought it would be fine. Even without your husband, nothing has ever happened of note. Nothing ever even mattered. Hida was at peace, even if you were not in your soul. The barriers your husband put were holding up, he had chosen good and able sorcerers to guard you all. It was well and good. 

The stillness of the night enveloped the temple, a deep tranquility that cradled you and your children in a cocoon of warmth. You had fallen asleep beside Chizuru and Chiharu, their soft breaths mingling with the rustle of the night. Everything felt perfect—until the acrid smell of smoke invaded your senses.

You jolted awake, your heart racing as a wave of panic washed over you. Coughing, you instinctively shielded your nose with your hands, trying to stave off the suffocating grip of the smoke. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you were met with a horrifying sight: flames licked hungrily at the wooden beams of your chamber, their orange glow illuminating the space in an eerie dance.

“Chiharu! Chizuru!” you cried, your voice hoarse with urgency. You leaned over, shaking your daughter awake, her eyelids fluttering as she fought against sleep.

“Mother?” she murmured, her voice thick with confusion.

“Wake up! We need to go, now!” You turned to Chizuru, who was still sound asleep, and shook him gently. “Chizuru! Please wake up!”

His eyes flew open, wide with fear, and for a moment, you saw the innocent boy you adored—the boy who had just wanted to make cranes and wishes. “What’s happening, mother?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice as he took in the scene around him.

“Fire! We have to get out!” You could hear the distant screams echoing through the temple now, chilling your blood. “We’re under attack! The Zenin clan are here!” a voice shouted from somewhere outside, the threat echoing ominously.

“Who are the Zenin?” Chizuru asked, his small hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“There’s no time for that!” You gathered your children in your arms, instinctively moving towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest. “We need to get to safety!”

As you reached for the door, a gust of heat surged from the flames, forcing you to recoil. You could hear the chaos outside—the shouts of the Zenin, the crashing of furniture, and the crackle of flames consuming everything in their path. The smell of blood and chaos and madness were all up in the air.

“Mother!” Chiharu whimpered, clinging tightly to you. You could feel her trembling against your side, and your heart ached for her innocence lost in this moment of terror.

“Stay close to me, little flower.” you urged, squeezing their hands tightly. “We need to find a way out!”

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of fear within you. The window! You dashed towards it, the heat intensifying as you drew closer, and you could see the fire spreading rapidly across the walls.

“Help!” a voice cried from outside, mingling with the frantic screams and shouts. The chaos was closing in around you, and time was slipping away.

You reached the window, your heart racing as you pushed it open. The night air rushed in, carrying the faint sounds of battle. You peered outside, desperate to find a safe escape route. You needed to think fast, you needed to act fast. Your children’s lives depend on it.

“Chizuru, Chiharu, hold onto each other!” You instructed, glancing back at your children, their eyes wide with fear.

“Can we jump?” Chizuru asked, his voice trembling.

You hesitated, taking in the height of the drop below. “We have to try.” you said, forcing a brave smile to reassure them. “On the count of three. Ready? One… two… three!”

You leapt out of the window, pulling your children to you as you fell. You landed hard, the ground beneath you jarring, but you quickly rolled to absorb the impact, shielding them with your body. Pain shot through your limbs, but you pushed through it, gasping for breath as you scrambled to your feet, still holding onto them. The night was alive with chaos—figures darting in and out of the flickering flames, shadows blending with the smoke that hung thick in the air.

“Over there!” you pointed towards a small alleyway between two temple structures, a route that would lead away from the flames. “Run!”

Chizuru and Chiharu obeyed, their small legs carrying them as fast as they could. You followed closely, adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to protect them at all costs.

As you raced through the chaos, you could hear the sounds of combat nearby—the clang of weapons, the shouts of warriors, the thudding of footsteps on the ground. The Zenin had come, their intent clear in the chaos that surrounded you.

You led your children away from the heart of the conflict, your mind racing with thoughts of Sukuna and where he might be. Would he know about the attack? Would he come for you? Where was he? The safety of your family was all that mattered right now.

“Keep going!” you shouted to your children, urging them forward as you glanced back at the temple. Flames illuminated the night sky, casting a sinister glow over everything, the beloved home you had built now a target of destruction.

But there was no time to dwell on what was lost. You had to find safety, to escape the grasp of the chaos. You pressed on, your heart filled with a fierce determination to protect Chizuru and Chiharu, no matter the cost.

In that moment, you were not just their mother; you were their shield, and you would not let anything happen to them.

It was clearer and clearer that the night was a nightmare unfolding in real time, chaos erupting around you as you pressed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Screams echoed through the air, mingling with the crackle of flames that consumed the temple, and the oppressive weight of smoke threatened to pull you under.

“Stay close!” you shouted, gripping Chiharu's hand tightly while Chizuru walked just a step ahead of you, his eyes wide with fear but determination. Each step felt heavier, the ground shaking with the panic of those fleeing the scene. You could hear the splashes of bodies tumbling into the river nearby, their cries for help haunting your every thought.

But as you moved closer to the water's edge, a surge of people rushed past you, frantically trying to escape the inferno. The panic of the crowd was palpable, and in an instant, you were swept away in the tide, a wave of bodies pushing against you.

“Chizuru!” you screamed, desperately searching for your son among the frantic faces. The chaos enveloped you like a storm, and the very ground felt unsteady beneath your feet. You reached for him, your heart pounding as you fought against the surge, but it was as if the world was swallowing him whole.

“Mother!” Chiharu cried, her small voice trembling with fear, and your heart twisted painfully at the sound. You turned to comfort her, wrapping your arms around her protectively.

“Hold on to me, Chiharu!” you urged, trying to keep her close, your voice strained. The water was rising, the current pulling at your legs, and you could feel the panic tightening around your chest.

Suddenly, a throng of people pushed toward the river, a wave of desperation crashing over you. Many had left in panic, knowing that the Zenin penetrated all the other gates too. And here they were dying. They fought against each other, shoving and clawing their way to safety. In the midst of it, you felt Chizuru’s hand slip from yours.

“No! Chizuru!” you shouted, your voice hoarse as you turned to look for him, your heart racing in your chest. The water began to surge around you, pulling you under as you reached for him desperately. Everything began to be swallowed by the darkness and the waves. 

The crowd continued to press against you, and in that moment of chaos, you lost sight of your son. You felt a surge of despair wash over you, as though the river itself was stealing him away. “Chizuru!” you cried out, but the water swallowed your voice.

The river, once a gentle stream, had transformed into a torrent, pulling you and Chiharu further into its depths. You struggled against the current, fighting to keep your head above water, but the chaos made it impossible to breathe.

Panic clawed at your throat as the realization hit you—your son was gone, lost in the tide of terror, swallowed by the chaos surrounding you. The thought was unbearable, a weight that pressed down on your chest and threatened to drag you under.

“Hold on to me!” you shouted to Chiharu, who was now clinging to your side, tears streaming down her face. You could feel her trembling, the cold water soaking through your clothes, and you fought against the current, trying to pull both of you to safety.

But the current was relentless, and just as you thought you could escape, a wave crashed over you, pulling you under. The water engulfed you, dark and suffocating, and you fought against the overwhelming force that dragged you deeper into its depths.

You could hear the muffled sounds of chaos above—the screams of your neighbors, the crackling of fire, the desperate cries for help. But all you could think about was your children, the warmth of Chizuru’s smile, the light in Chiharu’s eyes, now both in peril.

Desperation surged through you, and you kicked against the water, clawing your way to the surface. But the river fought back, dragging you further down, each movement becoming heavier, more labored.

“Chizuru!” you cried again, the name a plea that echoed in your heart. You could feel the air leaving your lungs, the weight of your despair pulling you under.

Just as the darkness began to close in around you, a sudden burst of strength propelled you upward. You broke through the surface, gasping for air, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat.

But the moment of relief was short-lived as the chaos swirled around you. You looked frantically for Chizuru, scanning the water for any sign of him. Your heart ached with fear, the thought of losing him suffocating you more than the water ever could.

“Chizuru!” you shouted again, but the only answer was the rush of the river and the cries of the crowd. “My son, my son!”

Then you felt a small hand clutching your arm, and you turned to find Chiharu’s terrified face. “Mother! I can’t swim!” she cried, her voice trembling with fear, and you realized she was struggling against the current as well.

“I won’t let go, I promise!” you assured her, fighting against the torrent as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. The river surged around you, but you held on with everything you had.

In that moment, all that mattered was your daughter. You would not let her be lost to this chaos, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. “We’re going to be okay, we’re going to be fine.” you promised her, forcing a calm you didn’t feel.

With renewed determination, you swam toward the shore, battling the current that threatened to pull you back into the depths. Each stroke was a struggle, the water heavy and cold, but you couldn’t give up. You had to find safety for Chiharu, to shield her from the horrors unfolding around you.

But in the distance, the cries of others still echoed, and every instinct in you screamed for Chizuru. You felt a fierce longing for him, an unyielding need to protect your son, to bring him back to safety. The thought of him alone in the chaos was a wound that tore at your heart.

The river finally began to recede, and you clawed your way to the bank, pulling Chiharu with you. With one final push, you scrambled onto the muddy shore, the water cascading off you like a broken dam.

But as you lay there, gasping for breath, a haunting realization sank in—the darkness still lingered. You had saved your daughter, but Chizuru was still out there, somewhere lost in the chaos.

“Chizuru!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation, but the only reply was the sound of rushing water and the distant cries of those who had suffered the same fate.

You couldn’t lose hope, couldn’t abandon your son. With trembling limbs, you forced yourself to stand, feeling the weight of dread pressing down on you.

“Chiharu, stay here!” you instructed, your voice shaky but firm. “I have to find your brother!”

“Mother, please!” Chiharu pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to you. “I don’t want to be alone!”

“Stay close to the shore, please. you urged, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

With a final glance at your daughter, you plunged back into the water, the cold enveloping you once more. Each stroke was a desperate prayer, a hope that you would find Chizuru safe and sound.

As you moved through the water, the world around you blurred, your heart pounding with every frantic search for his familiar face. The river roared like a beast, but you fought against it, determined to bring your son home, to save him from the grasp of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

In the depths of despair, you clung to the belief that love would lead you back to him. You would not rest until you found your son, until you pulled him back from the brink of loss, back into your arms.

══════════════════

YOU DON’T THINK YOU COULD EVER MOVE FORWARD. The world felt hollow without Chizuru, a chasm of grief that swallowed everything in its wake. Months had passed since the night of the attack, yet time had warped into an endless cycle of despair. You wandered through the temple, each corner a haunting reminder of his absence, every sound echoing the laughter that once filled those halls.

You hadn’t eaten in days, nor could you find the will to sleep. Each night, you lay beside Chiharu, listening to her soft breaths, feeling the warmth of her small body against yours. But your heart ached with the knowledge that your son was missing—lost to the river, to the chaos of that terrible night.

You clung to hope like a fragile thread, desperate to believe that somehow he would come home. You remembered his bright smile, the way his laughter danced in the air, a melody of innocence and joy. But now, silence reigned, a heavy shroud that suffocated you.

The days stretched into an agonizing blur, and you found yourself wandering the grounds of the temple, searching every inch of the riverbank, calling his name until your voice was hoarse. “Chizuru! Chizuru!” echoed through the empty space, a prayer to the gods, a plea for your boy to return.

But only silence answered, and each time you turned to the water, the memories washed over you. You could see him there, splashing happily, the sunlight glinting off his bright fuschia hair, his laughter ringing like bells. But that was just a memory now, a ghost that lingered in the corners of your mind.

The only trace left of him was his beloved toy, a small crane he had carried everywhere—a tattered reminder of his innocence, now found washed ashore, sodden and battered by the river’s embrace. You held it close, clutching it to your chest as if it could somehow bridge the gap between the world of the living and the void where your son had vanished.

The grief twisted inside you like a knife, sharp and unyielding, as you wept, your tears falling onto the toy. “Please, come back to me, my baby.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. But the river continued to flow, indifferent to your anguish.

When your husband had been informed, he had left immediately back for Hida. He found you first. Ryomen Sukuna had tried to protect you, and had stopped you from plunging into the water once more. His scarlet eyes frantically eyeing you. It was the first time they had been like that, but you could not care enough for it. You needed your son.

“You nearly drowned already, little one.” he had said, his voice strained with a mixture of anger and concern. “The river is too shallow, and you cannot risk your life searching for him.”

But the fire of desperation burned brightly within you. How could he expect you to sit idly by? “He’s my son!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I can’t just leave him out there, Sukuna! I can’t!”

His gaze had softened, but there was an impenetrable wall of sorrow between you, a chasm of understanding that seemed impossible to cross. “And you will lose yourself if you go, little one.” he replied quietly. “You must think of Chiharu. She needs you.”

Chiharu… the reminder of your daughter was a bittersweet ache. You had poured every ounce of love and care into her, but your heart remained fragmented, scattered like leaves in the wind. You wanted to be there for her, to be strong, but every moment without Chizuru felt like a betrayal.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he had suffered, if he had called for you in his final moments. The thought was a poison that seeped into your soul, a darkness that wrapped around you like chains, constricting until you could barely breathe.

Nights stretched on endlessly, and when sleep finally claimed you, it was only to be haunted by dreams of your son. You would see him running toward you, his arms outstretched, laughter spilling from his lips like tender music. But just as you reached for him, he would fade away, leaving you grasping at empty air.

Each morning you awoke to find the world unchanged, the sun rising over the river that had taken so much. Chiharu would rise with her innocent smile, but you could see the shadows behind her eyes, the worry that mirrored your own. She suffered too. She can’t do it anymore either.  You wanted to shield her from the pain, to protect her from the grief that consumed you, but you were too lost in your own sorrow. 

“Mother, are we going to find Chizuru today?” she would ask, her small voice hopeful, and every word felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“I… I don’t know, sweetheart.” you would reply, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your lips. “We have to wait a little longer.”

But the truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of facing the river again, of the darkness that lurked within it, of the memories that flooded back each time you caught a glimpse of the water. It had taken your son, and the thought of it held you captive in your own mind.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the temple felt less like a home and more like a tomb, filled with echoes of laughter long gone. You moved through the halls like a ghost, a shell of the woman you used to be, desperately clinging to the love of your daughter while mourning the loss of your son.

In the stillness of night, when the world around you slept, you would often find yourself at the river’s edge, the water shimmering under the moonlight. You would sit there for hours, clutching Chizuru’s toy, your heart aching for the child who would never again run to you, whose laughter had been silenced by tragedy.

“Where are you, my little boy?” you would whisper, tears falling into the water. “Come back to me.” But the only answer was the soft lapping of the waves, a haunting reminder of the joy that had been stolen from you.

Days faded into weeks, each moment a reminder of the love that had been lost, and the pain only deepened with the passage of time. Your heart was a fractured thing, struggling to beat amid the agony of loss, and yet, somewhere deep within, a flicker of hope still remained—a hope that perhaps one day you would find the strength to carry on, to honor Chizuru’s memory and bring light back into your world.

Ryomen Sukuna's grief meanwhile manifested in a tempest of rage, a dark storm that swallowed all reason and empathy. The night the Zenin attacked, their faces were etched into his mind, and with each passing day, that image became an obsession;a call to vengeance that drowned out the cries of his own sorrow.

He descended into the shadows of vengeance, moving like a wraith through the remnants of the world he had once ruled. The Zenin clan had crossed a line that he would not allow to remain unpunished. They had dared to touch what was his, and for that, they would pay.

With a swift and merciless hand, he hunted them down, one by one. The elegance of his movements belied the brutality of his actions. Each confrontation was a dance of death, each opponent a testament to his unyielding wrath. He tore through their defenses, a whirlwind of violence and fury, leaving behind nothing but a trail of blood and devastation.

Sukuna did not need to think; his body moved instinctively, fueled by a primal need for retribution. He channeled his anguish into each kill, the cries of the Zenin blending into a symphony of vengeance that soothed the raw edges of his pain, even if only momentarily. The thrill of the hunt and the finality of the kill provided a distraction from the hollow ache that resided within him.

He was relentless, taking down many of the branches of the clan with precision and ferocity, reveling in the chaos he unleashed. Just as the Ryomen were wiped out by the Fujiwara, the Zenin were nearly gone too.

Their screams echoed in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he found solace in their despair. The walls of the temple, once a sanctuary, now stood witness to the brutality of his wrath.

But even in the depths of his fury, a flicker of doubt began to gnaw at the edges of his resolve. Each life he extinguished was a stark reminder of the fragility of existence, a reflection of the life he had once shared with you and the children. In the silence that followed each battle, the absence of Chizuru pierced him like a knife, sharper than any blade he wielded.

He thought of you, alone and shattered, and how your grief mirrored his own. The thought stirred something deep within him—a conflicting urge to return, to be the pillar you needed, to offer you the strength to carry on. But the weight of his actions held him captive, shackled by the blood he had spilled.

How could he face you after becoming a monster? He had sworn to protect you, to provide a sanctuary for your family, yet here he was, consumed by darkness, reveling in a cycle of violence.

As he stood amidst the ashes of the Zenin clan, Ryomen Sukuna felt a hollowness that no amount of vengeance could fill. The cries of his victims faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, each one a reminder of what he had lost, and what he was becoming.

His heart, though encased in ice, cracked just a little at the realization that revenge could not bring back Chizuru. He was gone. The water had taken him. And he will not come back. Not even if you want him too, not even if Sukuna wanted to. 

The very act of killing, of exacting justice, could never quell the longing in his soul for the warmth of his son’s laughter or the joy that once radiated from your family. He would forever be haunted by the laughter. By the bitterness of that laughter tainted in blood and loss.

Days turned into a blur of blood and shadow until the last of the Zenin fell at his feet. And there he stood, amidst the remains of his enemies, drenched in the very violence he had unleashed, yet feeling emptier than ever. The echoes of Chizuru’s laughter haunted him, the memory of his son’s smile contrasting starkly with the brutality he had wrought.

Returning to the temple felt like an insurmountable task. How could he face you after everything? After your grief tortures him enough. After Chiharu’s silence bitterly echoes in silence. He had become a monster in pursuit of vengeance, and the thought of your eyes so dead, so bitterly ruined. It ruined him too. 

He had started all this bloodshed for the Ryomen.

He had started this cycle of vengeance for love and loss.

And somehow it will never end, somehow it will continue.

The rain stills and tears and he watches, standing there among them.

Blood and water look almost the same to him.

══════════════════

YOU WERE A SHADOW OF YOUR FORMER SELF. The chamber was a prison of shadows, thick and suffocating, as though they had seeped from the cracks of your broken heart. The once vibrant room was now a graveyard of neglect—crumpled papers strewn across the floor, each one a failed attempt to capture your grief in words. 

The air was stagnant, heavy with the scent of loss and decay, mirroring the unbearable weight that pressed against your chest. You sat amidst the chaos, the world outside reduced to an endless night, a void where you floated aimlessly, longing for an end that never came.

Chizuru’s absence had carved out a wound so deep that it felt like your soul had been hollowed out, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness. You could still see him, hear his laughter echo through the temple halls, bright and alive in your memory. But the warmth of those moments only sharpened the cruel edge of your despair. He was gone, and no amount of clinging to the past could change that.

You had tried, time and time again, to escape this torment, to free yourself from the suffocating grip of your sorrow. Each attempt to end your life was another desperate grasp at peace, at release. But every time, Sukuna found you—like some dark, twisted guardian, yanking you back from the brink. His grip was always unrelenting, his voice cutting through the fog of your despair with harshness that bordered on cruelty.

“You can’t leave me like this, little one.” he would say, his voice laced with anger, with something almost desperate. But it was the pity in his eyes that hurt the most, the silent judgment that reflected your own shame, your own failure.

You wanted to die, to vanish into the void and be done with it. Yet, Sukuna would not allow it. And as the days blurred into weeks, the crushing weight of your existence dragged you deeper into isolation.

You pushed him away, locked yourself in the crumbling sanctuary of your grief, convinced that the best thing you could do was disappear—to not burden him, to not burden Chiharu, with the shell of the woman you had become.

The days passed in a haze of nothingness, and you became a ghost, drifting through the remnants of a life you no longer recognized. Chiharu’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, but you couldn’t bear to face her, couldn’t allow her to see the emptiness in your eyes. She deserved better—better than a mother who was crumbling beneath the weight of her sorrow, better than a life filled with the echoes of what once was.

When Sukuna finally returned to you, it was as though he had stepped into a tomb. The door creaked open, and he entered the room, his presence filling the space with a commanding force that felt suffocating. His eyes roamed over the wreckage, taking in the chaos you had allowed to fester.

“You can’t keep living like this, little one.” he said, his voice low and strained with both anger and concern.

Your response was sharp, bitter, laced with the pain that had become your constant companion. “I’m not living, my lord. I’m just existing. There’s a difference.”

His jaw tightened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time I look at you? You’re wasting away, and for what?”

He moved to clean the mess that had accumulated around you, his actions careful but determined. It made something inside you snap. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop, that nothing could be fixed, that you were beyond repair.

But the words stuck in your throat, drowned by the flood of tears that threatened to spill over as he touched a crumpled sheet of paper—a poem you had tried to write about loss, about Chizuru. It was unfinished, like everything else in your life.

“Let me help you,” he said, softer this time, but his words were like knives. His pity, his attempts at love—it was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Chiharu should go with Hiromi’s family,” you said suddenly, the words falling from your lips like a confession, heavy with guilt. “I can’t… I can’t be the mother she needs. Not like this.”

He froze, his expression darkening with disbelief. “You want to send her away?”

“Yes,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “She deserves better than this—better than me.”

The air between you grew tense, thick with unspoken truths. His voice was hard when he finally spoke, laced with a quiet fury. “You think running away will fix anything? That abandoning her will make you whole again?”

“I don’t know,” you cried, the anguish spilling out of you uncontrollably. “But I can’t… I can’t watch her suffer because of me. I can’t let her see me like this.”

His gaze hardened, and you could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “She needs you. You’re her mother. You can’t just give up.”

“Give up?” you spat, your voice rising with a mix of rage and desperation. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t fought every single day just to breathe, just to wake up? You’re out there killing the Zenin, but I’m stuck here—drowning, suffocating in this nightmare! I let my own son die, my lord. I failed him. I failed Chizuru.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, raw and painful. Sukuna’s expression twisted with something dark, something that resembled both anger and grief.

“Stop it.” he snapped, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t let him die. This isn’t your fault. You’re not the only one who lost him.”

His words felt like a slap, but you couldn’t stop. The pain had consumed you, filled every corner of your soul until there was nothing left but the desire to disappear, to join Chizuru in whatever afterlife there might be.

“I want to be with him, please….” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore. I just want to be with him.”

Sukuna’s face contorted with rage, with desperation. “No. You don’t get to choose that. You don’t get to leave. Chizuru wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your guilt crushed you. “But I am a foolish mother. I let him die, and now… I deserve to suffer. It should have been me, not him.”

Sukuna’s frustration exploded. “Stop it!” His voice echoed in the emptiness of the room. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to give up. You’re not the only one hurting!”

His words hit you like a storm, and you recoiled, feeling the walls of your grief crack beneath the force of his anger. But the truth was still there, festering in your chest. “I can’t fight anymore, my lord.” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

He stepped closer, his presence a force you couldn’t ignore, but there was a tenderness in his eyes now, a desperation that mirrored your own. “Then let me fight for you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t lose you too. Not like this.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him pull you from the abyss. But all you could feel was the crushing weight of everything you had lost. “I’m already gone,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You’re too late.”

And in that moment, as Sukuna stood there, torn between his anger and his helplessness, you realized something—he could not save you. No one could. You were lost, drowning in the endless chasm of your grief, and all that was left was the echo of your son’s laughter, growing fainter with each passing day.

You stood frozen in the aftermath of Sukuna's departure, the stillness of the room amplifying the hollowness inside you. You could not help it. There felt nothing else but emptiness and grief.

The words you had thrown at him, fueled by anger, sorrow, and a desperate need to push him away now echoed in your mind, filling the void he had left behind. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest tightening under the weight of a decision that felt irreversible.

He was gone. Truly gone this time.

For a fleeting moment, you had wanted this—his absence, the silence, the space to collapse without anyone witnessing your downfall. But now, standing in the suffocating quiet of your chamber, you realized that his presence, oppressive as it was, had been the only thing tethering you to this world. And now… now you were truly untethered, free to fall into the abyss.

You glanced around the room, the wreckage of your grief still strewn across the floor; crumpled papers, forgotten attempts at healing, at making sense of your pain. They mocked you now, silent reminders of every failed effort to escape the unbearable weight pressing down on your soul.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs tore from your throat. It was as if the dam had broken, and all the emotions you had been holding back; the anguish, the guilt, the overwhelming despair rushed to the surface, drowning you in their flood.

You had pushed Sukuna away, believing that his love, his pity, would only deepen your shame. But now, without him here to absorb the brunt of your anger, you were left alone with the full force of your grief. And it was unbearable. Unforgiving.

The image of Chizuru, your sweet boy, your heart, he flashed in your mind. His laughter, his innocent smile, the way he had once filled your days with light. But now… now he was gone, and the light had died with him.

You could still see him in your mind’s eye, running through the temple grounds, carefree and full of life. But those memories only deepened the emptiness within you. They weren’t enough to sustain you. Nothing was.

You had failed him.

The thought repeated itself over and over, a relentless chant that echoed in your mind. You had failed him. You hadn’t been able to protect him. And now, you couldn’t even hold on to the family you had left. You had pushed them all away; Sukuna, Chiharu, believing that they would be better off without you. That they deserved better.

But now, as the suffocating silence wrapped around you, you realized that you had nothing left. No family. No purpose. Just the crushing weight of loss and the ever-present desire to escape it.

You crawled toward the remnants of your shattered life, your fingers brushing against the crumpled poem you had written about Chizuru, unfinished, like so much else in your life. Tears blurred your vision as you smoothed the paper, tracing the words you had once thought would bring you comfort, bring you closure.

But there was no closure to be found. Only an endless, gaping wound that refused to heal.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the knife hidden beneath your bed. It had been there for weeks, maybe months, always present, always waiting for the moment when you were ready. You had tried so many times before to end this;

You need to free yourself from the unbearable pain that clawed at your insides. But Sukuna had always stopped you, pulling you back from the edge with his iron grip, his desperate pleas.

But now he is gone. Now there was no one left to stop you.

You stared down at the blade, the cold steel glinting in the dim light of the room. It would be so easy, so simple—to just let go. To release yourself from the torment, the guilt, the constant agony that had become your existence. To be free.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet certainty that this was the only way out. You had lost everything, and there was no point in continuing this charade of life. Chizuru was gone, and you wanted to be with him. You needed to be with him.

Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife, and you brought it to your wrist, the cool metal pressing against your skin. Your breath hitched, but your resolve didn’t waver. This was what you wanted. This was the only way to escape the endless spiral of grief.

Just as you were about to press the blade deeper, a soft voice echoed in your mind, a voice so faint, so distant, that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Mother…..”

Chiharu.

Her name, her voice, pierced through the fog of your despair, cutting through the haze of your grief. Your hands trembled, and the knife slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor with a hollow sound that echoed in the empty room.

Chiharu.

The image of her face, so much like her brother’s; it was all that flashed before your eyes, and you felt a pang of guilt so deep it nearly shattered you. She was still here. She was still alive. And she needed you. She needed you to be alright. She needed you here with her, she needed her mother.

Don't take it all away from her, too.

You collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with sobs as the weight of your decision crashed over you. You had been so consumed by your grief, by your longing to be with Chizuru, that you had forgotten the life that still remained.

Ryomen Chiharu was still here, still waiting for you. And you had almost abandoned her. You had nearly left her alone in this world without a mother, without anyone to hold her, to protect her. You shouldn't have done this, you shouldn't have lived in your grief like this. What right do you have to live like this?

You buried your face in your hands, the realization crashing over you like a wave. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t leave her behind. Not like this. Not when she needed you the most.

But how could you continue? How could you keep living in this world without Chizuru, without the light he had brought into your life? The thought of facing another day without him, of waking up to the same crushing pain, was unbearable.

But as the image of Chiharu’s face lingered in your mind, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You had to keep going. You had to keep fighting. For her.

For both of them.

The knife lay forgotten on the floor, and you curled into yourself, sobbing wracking your body as you let the grief wash over you. You didn’t know how you would survive this. You didn’t know if you even could.

But for Chiharu…..you would try.

You needed to live for her.

You needed to live for Chizuru.

You need to live for yourself.

══════════════════

THE SNOWS CAME JUST IN TIME FOR WINTER MOONLIGHT. It took time. A lot of time. And you had been eager to try, you wanted to do it. You wanted to take that time to learn how to be alive again. The days stretched into weeks, and each one was a grueling battle you weren't sure you'll make it out alive.

But you wanted to fight to heal, to come to terms with the raw grief that still lingered in your heart. Because there was much still waiting for you. There was much of life still waiting to be lived. That is what your precious son would have wanted for his beloved mother. You were certain of that.

And you would have to do it alone, with Ryomen Chiharu being sent off to live with her mother’s family. You had bitter tears about parting. But you had to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could live. That you could be fine. You wanted to live well, to see Chiharu again. She will come back. But you have to be well again.

It was the hardest thing you could have ever done. You were a mother after all. You had grown him from the seed he was to the boy he came to be. You had suffered to bring him into the world. And now, to know he had disappeared, without a trace. To accept it, it swallowed you whole. 

The weight of Chizuru’s absence would never fully leave you, but slowly, you began to confront the pain rather than run from it. It wasn’t easy; some days were unbearable; but through reflection, through quiet moments with yourself, you began to find pieces of your old strength. The strength you had lost the day Ryomen Chizuru left this world.

The solitude helped at first. There were moments when you needed to be alone, to think, to remember, to cry without holding anything back. But as the year drew closer to its end, a different kind of loneliness set in—the kind that whispered of missed connections, unresolved conversations, and a love that still lingered beneath the layers of grief and hurt.

Ryomen Sukuna.

You hadn’t seen him since that day, when the anger had driven you apart. He hadn’t come back, and in those quiet moments, you wondered if he ever would. He wanted to give you time, you supposed. Or perhaps he had started to hate you as much as you had hated yourself.

But something deep inside told you that he was still there, waiting—always waiting. Perhaps he finally understood what it was like to suffer so deeply. And as the year approached its final days, the weight of the distance between you two became too heavy to bear.

It was just after the first snowfall of the season when you found yourself walking along the temple grounds, the world quiet and blanketed in white. The cold air stung your skin, but it was a welcome sensation. It was something to remind you that you were still here, still alive, still fighting. And you were grateful for it.

But for a moment , you couldn't help it. You supposed it was out of habit. You didn’t know why your thoughts kept drifting back to Ryomen Sukuna. You hadn't seen him in a while. And for good reason.

Perhaps, it was because of that. You couldn't help but think of him with every step. And with each step, you cannot help but feel the pull to see him again. Each step made that desire stronger, undeniable.

You found him at the edge of the temple's forest, his broad figure outlined against the dark trees covered in blissful snow piling onto it. He stood with his back to you, staring out at the horizon as if lost in his own thoughts.

For a moment, you hesitated, the memory of your last argument flashing in your mind. But then you took a deep breath and called his name rather than your worship upon him. All those words of anger pressed on in your memories, all those grievous whispers and all those harmful touches. You cannot help but remember it all.

He turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours across the snow-covered ground. There was something different in his scarlet gaze now; something softer, more open than you remembered. Perhaps it was grief, or perhaps it was weariness. Mayhaps even the cold. You could not fathom it well.

You don't remember if you were able to be this lost when you read him years ago. But you were lost now, almost like a child relearning its steps. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the sight of him didn’t fill you with anger or sorrow. Instead, it brought a sense of relief, of longing.

Without speaking, you walked toward him, closing the distance between you. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with everything unsaid. When you finally stopped in front of him, the words that had been trapped inside you for so long began to tumble out.

“I miss him, my lord.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the still air. “I miss Chizuru every day. I thought… I thought pushing you away would make it easier. That if I didn’t have to face you, I wouldn’t have to face the pain.”

Sukuna didn’t respond at first, his expression unreadable. He did not think that he should. He doesn't show it, but he hesistates. He doesn't know how to speak to you anymore. It had been so long. But ought to try. He had to. The cold did not bother him and yet your gaze did. He exhaled softly, his breath visible in the cold air.

“I know, little one.” he murmured. “I’ve….thought of him too. After all this time.”

“Has….my lord thought of me too?”

“Everyday.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. Ryomen Sukuna had always been strong, unyielding, but in that moment, he wasn’t the invincible force you had once known. In what little remains of his heart, he had loved his son. And perhaps, he had cared about you enough. You had lived a life together too, afrer all. You were as much his life as his son was. Even for a time.

You liked to think that for a moment, he was still as human as the day he had been born into this earth. He was just a man grieving his son, just like you were. He was just a man longing for his concubine, his friend, his partner. Someone that lives with him this life full of tragedy.

For a moment, you couldn't help but think that even curses, even monsters like him — they could feel like this.

“I never wanted to lose you like I lost him, little one.” he continued, his eyes dark with emotion. “Perhaps, it was better we parted these many years."

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I thought the same thing, my lord. But I was wrong. I was so wrong, my lord. I need you… I always have. I was just so afraid that if I let myself feel anything for you, it would hurt too much.”

He reached out then, his large hand cupping your face gently. “I need you too, little one.” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I always have. Perhaps, I always will."

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with both pain and relief. “I’m sorry, my lord.” you whispered. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt us both.”

Sukuna’s thumb brushed away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Hurt is hard to live through, little one." he said softly. “But perhaps, there is comfort in not living through it alone."

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. His embrace was immediate, strong and warm, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms, to feel the safety and comfort of his presence.

“You ought to stay by my side again, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice muffled against your hair. “We mustn't be alone in suffering."

You nodded against his chest, the weight of your grief still there but somehow lighter now that it wasn’t just yours to bear.

“I care for you, my lord.” you whispered, the words finally free from the prison of your pain. “I never stopped.”

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in so long. “I care for you too, little one. In all the ways that should matter. Even if I….I still care the most about you.”

The snow continued to fall around you, blanketing the world in quiet peace. And as you stood there, wrapped in Sukuna’s arms, you knew that healing would take time. More time than you could ever imagine. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you believed it was possible.

There will be more years together.

There will be more heartache.

There will be more misunderstanding.

There will be more words left unsaid.

But you would have each other.

══════════════════

HE HAD NEVER BEEN ABLE TO PROCESS GRIEF WELL.  But you would have known that about him all too well. And yet in a blink of an eye, everything had spiralled down. Everything had slipped through his fingers. Everything had been gone. You had been gone. And there was nothing he could ever do about it.

It had been a few days since you had passed, and Ryomen Sukuna’s world had shattered in a way he could never have prepared for. He had not been prepared for this. He had not been ready to face a day like this, where he would have to deal with your mortality. But it came as swiftly as you had come into his life. 

The once-mighty King of Curses, feared by all, now sat in a darkness deeper than any battle or curse he had ever faced. He had locked himself away from everything, even from Uraume, who had always been at his side. But this grief was something no one could witness. Not even them.

Alone, Ryomen Sukuna’s rage boiled beneath the surface, but it was hollow. His immense power, his endless strength, none of it mattered now. Not without you. Everything felt pointless, bitter. The world felt colder. Nothing mattered to him.

He could still feel it. The exact moment your heart stopped, the light draining from your eyes. Your weary smile, your lingering gaze; Your haggered breath into the world with finality.

Everything about it had scared him. It had haunted him since, playing on an endless loop in his mind. He had seen death countless times, taken lives without thought, but your death; it was different. The world itself seemed to stop the moment you did.

Perhaps it had hurt just as much as when he held Hiromi in his arms as she too passed. Perhaps it hurt even more. He did not know. He could not know. Not right now. Not when he was a mess. But it hardly mattered. Learning which hurt more will not lessen the pain of your loss.

Every minute since then, he had tried to hold it together, to bury the feelings that raged within him. But he couldn’t. Not when it came to you. No one could touch you. No one could see you, not like this. He would not degrade you to mortal eyes like this. Not ever. Not now. Only he could touch you. Only he could lay a finger on you. 

You had always been his. And now, in death, you still were.

He slipped into the room where your body lay, the room colder now, as if death itself lingered in the air. The sight of you—broken, unmoving—ripped something deep from within him. He, who was untouchable, who had always kept his distance from the frailty of human emotions, now felt as though he was drowning in them.

His breath hitched as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your skin. The coldness of your flesh pierced him in a way no blade ever could. His fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down to your lips, which had once smiled for him, spoken to him with warmth he could never understand.

And now, that warmth is gone.

There was nothing left.

There will be nothing of you here.

He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt. For someone who could destroy nations, who could command legions of cursed spirits, he couldn’t stop this. He couldn’t stop you from slipping away. The reality of it gnawed at him, a suffocating weight pressing against his chest.

Gritting his teeth, he began the painful task of cleaning your body. You were suffering for a long time, suffering from the pain of this illness. He could see traces of it still, little by little. The grief he had caused you over and over again, the pain of loss, of humanity lost and lived. 

And yet, it was these hands, his own, that were allowed to touch you. His hands, which had only ever known violence, now moved with a delicacy he had never shown anyone. Each wipe of the cloth was slow, as though he feared hurting you more, though he knew it was impossible.

But still, he couldn’t help himself.

This was the last act he could perform for you.

This was all he could do now.

The silence in the room was oppressive. The only sound was his ragged breathing and the soft rustle of cloth against skin. As he cleaned the dirt away from your body, his vision blurred. He blinked, forcing it away, refusing to acknowledge the tears threatening to fall. He did not cry. Not Ryomen Sukuna. Not the King of Curses.

But for you, maybe he would have.

When he had finished, he reached for the clothes you had worn in life, the ones you had always favored. His hands trembled as he dressed you one last time. It was an intimate act, one that should have been comforting, but instead, it tore at him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to leave him like this.

His fingers lingered on the fabric as he tied the final knot of your sash. He stared down at you, his chest tight with an ache he couldn’t voice. It was too late now, too late to say the things he had left unspoken. The things he had buried beneath his pride, beneath the walls he had built around himself.

He had never told you he loved you.

Not in the way you needed to hear it.

Not in the way you deserved.

And now you are gone.

His hand hovered over your chest, fingers curling in the air as if reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t pull away. His heart was a storm, a chaotic swirl of emotions he couldn’t name. Fury, anguish, bitterness, sorrow, guilt—none of it mattered now.

"I should have—" his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to continue. "Why did you leave?"

But what was the point now? The words were useless, empty. You wouldn’t hear them. You wouldn’t smile at him in that way that made him forget, just for a moment, what he was. You wouldn't be there to reassure him, to take care of his worries. You aren't here. So, what would be the point?

And yet....... he does not stop.

He could only continue on and on.

He didn't know he had so much words.

"I can’t….I can’t do this without you." he whispered once more, but the rest died on his lips. "I need you. I need you here, little one."

For all his strength, all his power, he had failed. Failed to protect you. Failed to keep you. Failed to let you live long and happy. Failed to tell you that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his cursed heart, you had mattered. More than anything.

Now, the King of Curses stood alone, staring down at the one person who had ever truly seen him. The only one who had remained by his side without question, with only but a smile. A smile kinder than what he had deserved. Beyond what he had done, beyond who he was — you had seen him more than Ryomen Hiromi had in these many years.

And as the silence of the room closed in around him, the weight of it all became unbearable. You weren’t supposed to die. You were supposed to live more years with him. You were…you were supposed to be as immortal as him.

He knelt by your side, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his voice nothing more than a breath. His words echoed ever so brokenly. He had nothing. He had nothing but emptiness. He had nothing but grief. He had nothing but regret. He had nothing, not even you.

"I'm sorry."

And Ryomen Sukuna, the most feared being in the world, was left with nothing but the emptiness of his grief—and the realization that, in the end, he had lost the one thing that truly mattered. The only one that mattered.

The room was unbearably still, the air thick with the weight of what had been lost. Sukuna remained kneeling beside you, his forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes closed tightly as though, by shutting out the world, he could deny the finality of it all.

But there was no escaping it. You were gone, and he was left with nothing but the void of his own silence. The silence of words he should have spoken, of a love he had never known how to show.

For what felt like hours, he stayed there, unmoving, as if the proximity of your body could somehow bring you back. He inhaled slowly, your scent still lingering faintly on your skin, but even that was fading. The fragility of it all clawed at him—how something so precious could be snatched away so cruelly.

Time passed in a blur. Minutes? Hours? He didn’t know. The world outside could have burned for all he cared.

Finally, when his body began to ache from kneeling so long, he pulled away, his expression hardened once again. The softness, the vulnerability he had shown, was fleeting. He had to bury it. You would never have wanted him to appear weak, not to the world outside. You always believed in his strength, even when he couldn’t see it in himself.

He stood slowly, his gaze still fixed on your face, as if committing every detail to memory. This would be the last time he would see you like this—unmoving, untouched by the world outside. His chest tightened with the thought of it, but he forced it down. He had to finish this.

With a final, lingering look, Ryomen Sukuna moved to prepare for the next step. He would be the one to take care of your final rites, and no one else. No hands but his own would touch you from now until the end. It was the only way he could honor you now, the only thing left that he could do.

He stepped outside the room for a moment, only long enough to speak with Uraume, who waited patiently beyond the door.

"Tell no one." Sukuna ordered, his voice low, commanding, but with an edge of something else; something raw and dangerous. Uraume, though unwavering in their loyalty, could sense the fracture in their master’s usually unshakable demeanor. They bowed their head in quiet understanding.

"Yes, my lord." Uraume replied, their voice soft. They made no further attempt to enter, to offer help. They knew better.

Sukuna closed the door behind him, sealing himself back inside the small room where you rested. He could feel the weight of Uraume's concern pressing at the edges of his consciousness, but he shut it out, retreating back into the solitude of his grief.

Returning to your side, he knelt once more, his hands moving with renewed purpose. He wrapped your body gently in fine silk clothes, his movements deliberate and precise. He had seen death many times before, but this—this was different.

This was personal. Every fold, every knot tied around you was an act of devotion, though he would never call it that. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t admit it. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't worthy of giving you devotion. A monster like him isn't allowed to love, to care. To give anything.

When it was done, he stood over you, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze locked on your peaceful, still form. For a long moment, he just stood there, the quiet pressing in around him.

"I should have told you." he murmured again, the words falling from his lips like a prayer to the dead. “I should have been….”

There was no response.

There never would be.

And for the first time in his long, cursed life, Ryomen Sukuna felt truly alone.

As the hours wore on, Sukuna knew it was time to take the final steps. He could not hold on to you forever. The world outside would demand answers, demand explanations, but none of it mattered. No one would understand what he had lost.

No one would understand what you meant to him, how in those fleeting moments between battle and bloodshed, you had given him a glimpse of something else—something more.

Something he could never have.

With a heavy breath, he bent down once more, gathering your wrapped body into his arms. His grip was firm but gentle, as though you were something fragile, more fragile than he had ever realized. He carried you as though you were a piece of his soul he couldn’t bear to lose, and perhaps, in a way, you were. You had been the one thing that made him feel like something more than a monster.

He carried you out, cradling you close, his expression a mask of cold fury that hid the pain roiling beneath. Outside, the sky was a dull gray, as though even the heavens mourned your loss.

He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the vast temple forest, the place where he had decided your final rest would be. It was a secluded area, far from prying eyes, far from the world that had taken you from him. The trees stood tall and silent, their branches swaying gently in the breeze as if paying their respects.

He stood there for a moment, as he looked at the stone monument in front of you. He had found Chizuru. He had looked for him. A long long time ago. He did not want to tell you. He feared that your grief would grow worse.

He had wanted you to think that your son had survived. That he had grown up and become a man. That he had lived a life of adventure. That he had grown old and built a family. He could not let you see a corpse. He could not let you handle blaming yourself even more. Or even obssess over a corpse. He could not let you. Not even if it would give you peace.

But perhaps, you would forgive him. Perhaps you would give him your mercy. Perhaps when you haunt him again, you would come to him and tell him about your son. About your anguish that he had taken him from you. Perhaps you would find peace together. Pehraps both of you could come and visit him. Even once.

But he knew better than that.

You would be in heaven, resting.

And he would not want to hurt you even more.

He doesn't deserve your visit.

Still, he would like to think that you would find peace here. Right beside Chizuru for all of eternity. You would be happy here. This was the only wish he could grant you. This was the only thing he could gift you. This was the only way he could free you.

Carefully, he laid you down on the ground, the cool earth cradling you as he began to dig. His hands, which had known only destruction, now worked to create something. It was a resting place for the one person he had ever allowed close after all he had suffered.

He stood over the grave for a long time after it was done, his eyes hard, distant, as though he could still see you lying there beneath the soil.

The world outside would never know what you had been to him. But in this moment, standing alone beneath the weight of his grief, Ryomen Sukuna understood that, despite everything, you had been the one thing he had truly cherished after all he had suffered.

Even beyond his children, even beyond power. Even if you would never make it behind Hiromi, he had cared for you. He loved you, in ways he knew how. In ways he could never bring to earth, in ways he could never speak.

And now, you are gone.

As he turned to walk away, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest echo of a voice he would never hear again.

And Ryomen Sukuna, for the first time in centuries, felt the unbearable sting of regret.

══════════════════

IT WAS ODD TO BE IN THIS POSITION. Ryomen Sukuna had never sought help from anyone. But now, driven by a sense of purpose he couldn’t explain, he found himself standing before Kenjaku, the only person who might be able to grant him what he sought: rebirth. Not in the spiritual sense, but as a cursed object—a vessel for immortality, a means to return to the world he ruled once more.

Kenjaku's eyes glimmered with interest, a twisted smile forming as they gazed at Sukuna, sensing the weight behind his request. "You wish to be immortalized as a cursed object, Sukuna?" they asked, their voice smooth and intrigued. "To be reborn again in another age, another time."

Sukuna nodded, his expression hard and resolute. "I refuse to rot in the ground. I will return. That’s all that matters."

Kenjaku’s grin widened. "Very well. But tell me, Sukuna… What about her?" They tilted their head slightly, a glint of amusement in their eyes. "Would you want her soul found as well? Like Hiromi? Would you want her to be reborn… alongside you?"

The question pierced through him like a blade. For a moment, Sukuna’s impenetrable mask faltered, his mind snapping back to the past, to a moment when you had both spoken of rebirth.

The two of you had been lying beneath a vast, star-filled sky, the world still around you as the wind whispered through the trees. Vermillion Hall was beautiful in the spring, he liked to think. But you enjoyed it more than he does. Perhaps more than ever, now that you were counting your days to its last. 

Your head had been resting on his chest for a while, and though Sukuna had remained silent, you had spoken softly, your voice filled with a strange mix of melancholy and peace. He did not want to bother you. It was rare that you weren’t having any coughing spells. So, he lets the moment pass, lets you keep your strength.

"Rebirth." you had said, the word drifting into the night air. "It’s a nice idea, don’t you think? To start over, to be born again."

Sukuna had scoffed at the time, finding little use for such fantasies. "It’s pointless," he replied. "To be reborn, to go through it all again—life, death. It’s a cycle I’ve broken, and I have no desire to return to it."

But you had only smiled, so beautifully so. Your gaze soft as you looked up at the sky. "Maybe for you, my lord." you’d said gently. "But I think I’d want peace. After this life... no more suffering. No more pain. Just quiet. I wouldn’t want to return."

“If I had offered you to be immortal, with me.” He asked you, looking at your orbs with longing. “Would you do it?”

You looked at him for a moment. And there it was once again. That ghostly smile.

“We cannot escape death, my lord.” You tell him, your hand resting on his cheek. You gave him what little warmth remained. “Whatever happens, we will all die. You may not die now, but we will all go. Soon, I will go.”

“Little one—”

“Is immortality the life you want to live forever, my lord?” You asked him, tracing your fingers on his cheek. “Would you wish to live life waiting for life to be worth living for? Waiting for lady Hiromi, or for Chizuru or Chiharu….or for me to come along again?”

He does not speak for a moment.

You smiled at him, but this time, sadder than ever before. “I do not want that life for you, my lord. Nor for me. I want us both to be free.”

He had looked down at you, watching the way your eyes had reflected the stars, the softness in your expression as you spoke of peace. He hadn’t understood it then. He probably would not understand until he loses you.

But now, as he stood before Kenjaku, your words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain.

The silence stretched between them, Kenjaku waiting patiently for Sukuna’s answer, curiosity glinting in their eyes. Sukuna's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to form the words.

He could have said yes. He could have demanded that you be brought back with him, that your soul be dragged from wherever it had gone, forced to walk beside him in this new life. You had always belonged to him, hadn’t you? But as the memory of your soft voice returned to him, your wish for peace, for release from the suffering you had endured, something inside him shifted.

After everything, after all you had suffered because of him… he couldn’t do that to you.

"She’s suffered enough from me." Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost bitter. His eyes were hard, but beneath the surface was something else—something like regret. "Let her rest. She doesn't belong in this world anymore."

Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the King of Curses. What a human answer, coming from such a demon of a man. But Kenjaku said nothing more, merely nodding in understanding.

Sukuna’s decision was final. He would be reborn, but you—you would have the peace you had always wanted. It was the least he could do. The only way he could honor you now, after everything that had passed between you.

And with that, the King of Curses sealed his fate, leaving you behind in the quiet you had sought, while he walked toward a future where he would live again, alone.

But he didn’t know that the gods had other plans.

He didn’t know that time was only waiting for its recourse.

He will see you again.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Survivor

Hi guys!

This is a new part of the serie "Lia and the Firefighter", from a request that you can find here :)

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Fire, firefighter, injury, smoke, explosion.

“Can you stop looking at each other like this?”

Katie talks just before rolling her eyes, looking at Lia and you. You were sitting around a big table in one of the Café loved by the team. You weren’t even talking to each other, to be honest. You moved your chair as close as Lia’s one, being a little behind her because of how many you were.

You like it that way though, like this you were able to pass an arm around her waist and kiss her cheek how many times you want without being seen by anyone. Well, unless Katie as it looks like.

“Don’t be jealous because Caitlin doesn’t look at you like this” you tease her back.

You see her arching an eyebrow, looking angry, but you also saw the corner of her lips tremble when she masked an amused smile.

“Don’t drag me to this” Caitlin, sitting next to Katie, smirks.

“Be nice, Pookie” Lia says to you, pinching softly your hip.

“Sorry”

You smile at Lia, flipping off Katie discreetly while kissing Lia’s cheek one more time.

“Yeah, be nice Pookie” you hear Katie mocking.

This is before hearing a sound that can only be a slap behind the head, followed by a growl of pain. No doubt, Caitlin asked her own girlfriend to stop teasing, in her own way.

Next to you, the others aren’t really paying much attention to you. Beth took Myle with her and it caught Alessia’s, Leah’s and Kyra’s attention right away. When Steph came with Calvin, it would have been utopian to hope for a second of attention from them. The dogs were happily eating almost half of the food the players were supposed to eat, but at least they were calm.

At first, when Lia proposed you to come and have coffee with her and her teammates, you said no when you learned that none of the girls' partners were present. You didn’t want to impose yourself on one of their times together, you know perfectly well that their agreement is essential for the good of the team. But then Leah grabs Lia’s phone and threatens to come for you if you weren’t here in ten minutes.

You don’t know what Lia exactly tells them about your relationship, but they know that you have irregular schedules and that sometimes you aren’t seeing each other for more than two days, especially when Lia is away for a game.

You miss her like crazy during this time, but you knew what your life would be when you got together. Plus, Lia is definitely worth the wait. And now that you are living together, it’s easier to have time together.

“Are you still hungry? Do you want more cake?” you ask Lia when you see that her plate is empty.

“I’m fine” Lia smiles.

“Another tea?” you try.

“Another tea will be great, thank you”

You answer her smile with one before getting up. You take Kyra’s mug when she asks you for another tea too with a smug smile, not without rolling your eyes.

“You are courageous to tease her like this” Beth comments to Katie. “She could crush you without even trying”

“Nah, Lia would protect me. Right, Wally?”

“Don’t push your chance” Lia smiles.

She loves the way you effortlessly slide into her group of friends, while still being yourself. Well, you are maybe not as clingy as you are at home, but you aren’t afraid to show how much she counts for you and Lia likes it.

Lost in reading the different possibilities of teas, you don’t feel your girlfriend’s eyes on you. You are in fact so lost in the menu that you miss a noise that you usually recognize in half of a second.

The explosion of one of the pipes inside the wall takes you by surprise. Like the other people you find yourself on the ground, needing several seconds before understanding what happened. The fire has already started and the only thing who comes to your mind is Lia.

You jump on your legs and look around, but with the smoke it’s hard to see through it. People are screaming and running around, and you really hope that Lia is already outside.

“Lia!” you still call, even if you know there is only a little chance for her to hear you.

She’s not near the table where they were seated, and you finally spot her a little far away. She’s looking around and you wonder if she’s confused and doesn’t find the exit. You’re too relieved to see her without any apparent injury to realize that she’s looking for you.

In two seconds, you are in front of her. Her pretty face is a little dirty because of the smoke when you take it between your hands.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

The Café is now empty, or at least you can’t see anyone because of the smoke. Finding the outside and fresh air is a relief for your lungs but for your anxiety too, you know that smoke can be dangerous for anyone, and you don’t want that for Lia.

You find the girls outside and after a quick mental count, you can confirm that they are all here.

You haven’t released Lia, trapped in your arms. She doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Did you call the firefighters?” you ask one of the employees.

You nod when he answers that there is an automatic alarm, before lowering your eyes to look at Lia. She’s already looking at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask her.

She nods and you kiss her temple before taking a discreet but deep breath. She is okay, you shouldn’t be so concerned when you know that everything is fine with her. Your eyes roam the crowd while you’re waiting for the firefighters. You wonder who will come.

But then, you see him. A boy, who is maybe six or seven years old. He’s crying and a lady is trying to console him. You frown softly and you can’t fight your instinct, you want to comfort him too, explain to him that firefighters are coming and that everything will be alright.

“I’m coming back” you whisper to Lia.

She gives you a curious look, but you only smile at her and kiss her forehead, letting her go slowly before making your way to the boy and the woman you assumed is his mother.

“Hi there, Kiddo” you say, kneeling in front of him.

He looks at you silently, tears still flooding on his cheeks. But it’s okay, you weren’t expecting him to be better just because of your presence. You are on a day off; you aren’t wearing your uniform.

“That was pretty scary, yeah? But you don’t have to worry, my friends are coming, and they are the best firefighters in the world. It’s going to be alright, you are safe, okay?”

“Will they be able to save my mother and my baby sister?” he asks between two hiccups.

You frown, before looking at the woman near him. She gives you a sad smile and shrugs. And you are suddenly scared of what you are understanding.

“What do you mean?” you ask still calmly.

You don’t want to make him more upset than he already is. But inside, your heart is pounding.

“She went to the bathroom to change the diaper of my little sister. I didn’t want to go with them, so I was waiting at the table with my game and then there was this big boom”

You have to listen very carefully to understand what he’s saying between his cries, but you feel your blood freezing in your veins. You don’t see any woman with a baby, which means they are still trapped inside the building on fire.

“He was crying in the middle of the Café, so I took him with me” the other woman explains.

“You were right to do it. You saved his life”

You stand to look at the Café once again. Smoke is getting out of it; the explosion has broken some windows, and the doors aren’t closed as they should to avoid the air stirring the smoke. It doesn’t look good.

Your decision is already made.

You have to go back inside and save them. You aren’t aware that Lia heard everything and that she understands really quickly what is happening in your head. But you are quicker than her.

You don’t look back, so you don’t see Lia trying to run after you. You don’t see Steph catching up with Lia’s arm at the last moment, only thanks to her footballing reflexes. You don’t see that she needs Leah’s help. And you don’t see either Caitlin grabbing her proper girlfriend’s arm when Katie takes three steps to follow you, warning her with her eyes only.

Inside the Café, there are flames now, coming from where you supposed the explosion was. You know that place, so you don’t have trouble knowing where the bathroom is. But it feels strange to be near the fire like this without your uniform protecting you against it. The heat warms your skin in the most unpleasant way.

You cough a little because of the smoke but try to stay focused on your mission. Find the mother and the baby and get them out.

You decide to ignore the characteristic noises of the building, made with wood decoration, just before things start to fall from the ceiling.

The door handle is burning hot when you touch it to open the door of the ladies’ bathroom, but you grit your teeth and open it as slowly as you can, not wanting to create a backdraft.

“Is someone here?” you shout.

You protect your mouth with the sleeve of your hoodie, trying to breathe as little smoke as possible. But when you finally see the silhouettes of the people you were looking for, you kind of forgot this detail.

You kneel next to the woman, who put the face of her baby against her to protect her.

“Give her to me, I’ll help you”

She hesitates, probably a little taken aback from your look. After all, without your firefighter’s clothes, your tattoos and your appearance are probably more impressive. But she doesn’t have another choice.

You help her to get up and beacon her to follow you. The baby is crying in your arms but it’s a good thing for you, at least she’s still breathing and conscious. The smoke is darker than before and there are way more flames. It’s a little harder to find your way back like this and you miss your helmet very much.

You swear when you realize that a beam fell during this time, making it harder to get out. But you only have to look up to understand that there are way more beams who might fall soon.

You explain your plan to the mother. You stack several things to help her to pass over the beam on fire, before following her to give her her baby. And as soon as she’s outside, you look for other things to stack, because there is no one helping you from the inside.

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe, between the smoke and the heat of the fire. You start to feel that your head is turning, and your reflexes are becoming lower and lower, which means you are running out of air.

You are able to jump to avoid the beam that fell where you were standing several seconds before. But then you fall backward and hit your head against the corner of a table.

The shock is hard, and you are out for some time. You don’t know if it is for several seconds or minutes. But then you hear the voice of your Commander, beckoning people in difficulty to hide under something. You know that the smoke is less strong if you are on the ground.

You finally lie somewhere under a table in the fetal position, not able to stay awake for more time.

********

You are startled awake suddenly, at least as much as you can be awake when you aren’t able to open your eyes. You hear people shouting around you and two big noises, like if someone suddenly had slammed two doors.

And then you feel your body moving without you able to do something against it. But with some thinking, you understand that you are in an ambulance.

“Her heart rate is stabilizing itself” you hear someone say.

Someone adjusts something on your face, and you understand that they put a mask on you to help you breathe better.

But then you hear a sniff, and you feel the person next to you turning in another direction.

“It’s going to be okay Ma’am. She’s safe now” another voice from the first says.

You don’t hear any answer and there is nothing but silence after that. But you, you feel your heart getting faster. Is Lia with you in the ambulance? What has she seen of you? How is she feeling?

“Her heart is beating faster again” says Voice One after the beeps of the monitoring get mad.

“What is happening?” Lia asks with a broken voice.

“Nothing to worry much about. Her body is adjusting to the trauma.”

Lia’s voice breaks your heart, and you try your best to stay calm. You don’t want to scare her more than she already is.

You probably fell asleep at some point, since you woke up in another place soon after. There is only silence there, but it helps you to try to understand what is happening. You can open your eyes for now again, or even move a single part of your body. There is still a mask on your face and a light weight on your hand to make you understand they probably put a catheter on it.

“Did you call her parents?”

You recognize Leah’s voice, the accent of the native of Milton Keynes making it easier for you. You are glad that she’s here for Lia, even if the other girl doesn’t answer something vocal.

“Do you want me to?”

There are some noises, and you guess that Leah probably just left the room. It’s hard to say how many minutes pass before you hear Lia moving too. You can’t see her but imagining her leaving the room too isn’t really pleasant for you.

On another hand, she could have her reasons. You knew from the first day of your relationship that your career might make her leave. You made a lot of decisions to protect her, even if she made you swear that you would never lie to her.

Today might be the day she decides that she has had enough.

But Lia isn’t leaving. You feel her stroke your knuckles and then your fingers. Her touch is comforting, like always, and you feel your body relax almost immediately.

Lia isn’t talking, but the comfort she brings you helps you to finally open your eyes. It’s hard to do, just like you are awakened in the middle of the night after a shift of 48 hours.

You look around and there is a flick next to you who makes you turn your head softly in that direction.

Lia’s green eyes are looking at you, unable to hide the surprise she feels when she realizes that you are awake.

She doesn’t seem to know what to say, but you do. You reach to take the mask on your hand, taking it off so you can talk.

“Please don’t leave me”

In your mind, you weren’t going to talk with a broken and almost cavernous voice, but you are. Lia doesn’t answer at first, taking the mask from your hand before putting it in its place.

“I am so mad at you” Lia whispers, coming closer to you. “But I’m not leaving in any way.”

You look at her eyes, knowing that she’s unable to lie to you in any way. And, to your big relief, she’s telling the truth. You feel your body relax again, probably helped by the caress Lia does now in your hair.

“Do you remember when you asked me to live with you? You said that you can’t imagine a world where I’m not with you”

You nod softly, not understanding at first where she wants to go with it. You remember, of course. You always have been scared to tell her how much you love her; how much you need her. In part because there are no words strong enough to say how crazy you are about her. But because you don’t want to scare her too.

“Can you please stop assuming that I’m not feeling the same way? I need you in my life too”

It’s another mystery for you, how you managed to catch a girl like Lia. And make her stay.

“Losing you would break me. Please, stop putting your life in danger. I’m okay with you working as a firefighter. I’m so proud of you because of it. But since now, you have to promise me to stay safe. For me. Please.”

She’s begging and it would be logical that she’s the one who should cry. But you shamefully feel some tears rolling on your face. Your throat is tight and makes it difficult to talk. So, you just nod and it’s enough for Lia for now.

She cups your cheek and wipes your tears with her thumb, before kissing your head softly.

“Okay” she whispers. “Now you have to rest. I’ll kick your ass later.”

You smile, even if you don’t know if she can see it behind your mask. 

“The baby” you whisper suddenly, remembering the family you tried to help.

“They are safe, all three of them. They are together. But please, don’t worry about the others. Worry about you now. Sleep, Pookie.”

You want to ask more questions, but your eyes are heavy, and you can’t resist much longer. You still can feel Lia’s presence next to you, helping you to have a real and deep sleep. She never left your side and finally doesn’t really kick your ass.

It’s finally your Commander who will do it several days after, even putting an advertisement on your head, making you do all the worst chores of the station when you will come back. It seems to amuse Lia a lot when you come back home, complaining after having cleaned the engines of all fire trucks in the firehouse all day long.

[finniestoncrane]

Pleaseeeee can I have a softer Cooper who worries a lot about his girlfriend having to deal with people looking at them weird all the time, but who would be happy to yell "THIS IS MY MAN!" to anyone who would listen?

Willingly

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i am already on the soft cooper train oh no lmaooooo just a little bit of soft boyfriend cooper, or as soft as i imagine he can get, being defended by his partner 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: guns, blood, violence, good old fashioned trope fic!

Cooper struggled against your gentle grip, his gloved hand pulling away from yours, fingers no longer entwined with yours. You looked to him, noticing he was avoiding your inquisitive gaze, and then noticed the crudely painted sign on the wall ahead of you. The gates to the nearest settlement were just ahead of you. Your last stop before you headed on to the next job.

“What? Are you embarrassed to walk in here holding my hand, Coop?”

His easy, charming smile seemed a little off as he spoke to you, still looking straight ahead.

“You kiddin’? Darlin’, this is for your benefit. Not many settlements are alright with folks like me at the best of times, but with you on my arm? We’d both be in danger, and I can’t keep spendin’ all my time savin’ you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I can hold my own. You know that.”

There was no response, but you knew better than to keep fighting your corner in this particular arena. So instead, you sighed, placing your hands which now felt so incredibly cold and empty, back into your pockets to keep them from mindedly grabbing Cooper’s hands again. You couldn’t be too annoyed. For someone as stoic and cold as he could be, the fact he tolerated holding your hand at all was a pleasant enough gesture. But his willingness to offer up any form of physical affection dwindled completed when there was a risk of running into people. He became reserved, quiet, well-behaved almost. It was something you hadn’t expected from him, to be shy or to allow someone else’s opinions to hold him back. And admittedly, a lot of the time, you had worried that it was because he didn’t want to be seen with you. But you knew it was the other way around in his mind. He was afraid of how people would look at you.

As though he could hear your thoughts, knowing you well enough after all this time together, Cooper spoke finally as you sidled up to the gates.

“You wake up to this face smiling. You call me handsome. You say I’m charming. Good lookin’ I might be in your books, but there ain’t a lot of charm left in these old bones, sweetheart. I couldn’t talk my way out of an argument, and since you keep remindin’ me that I’m not allowed to cause problems everywhere we go…”

He tapped his thumb against the barrel of his holstered gun.

“… Then I just better not give anyone any more reason not to like me.”

“Well, I like you, Coop.”

“And I will forever question your judgement on that, kid.”

Smiling, you both passed through the open gate of the settlement and separated with a nod to get the supplies you needed. Quicker, and safer, to go separately. But still, you kept your head down, Cooper with his ragged mask up and his hat brim tipped to cover as much of his face as possible. Quiet, subtle, nondescript.

It didn’t stop them though, three of them. Pointing towards you, setting their beer bottles down on the stained and rusting bar top as they rushed to follow you.

“Hey! Hello there, pretty lady! You all alone?”

Turning, you spotted the colour of the uniform first, immediately recognising that you had made a mistake in even acknowledging them. That telltale burnt orange jumpsuit. The arrogance in their smug smiles. The Brother of Steel.

“No. I’m not alone.”

“Sure looks like you are… you know, maybe you could come on over and we’ll by you a cola?”

They laughed amongst themselves as you walked on. That one answer and a quick disappearing act was all you were willing to give them, turning quickly back and trying to lose them in the crowd as they slapped each other’s backs and spat to the ground.

And you thought you had been successful. You found a trader with everything you needed on your list before you returned to wait just beyond the gate for Cooper, no further interruptions to your day from the louts at the bar. But the entire interaction had out you on edge, so much so that when Cooper appeared behind you, leaning in without you noticing to whisper in your ear, you jumped out of your skin. Luckily, he was quick, and managed to grab your wrist before your fist struck the side of his face.

“Jumpy, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t think I’m so handsome after all.”

His wink made you blush, it always did, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“You surprised me is all, smartass.”

Cooper smiled, tightening the grip on your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You feigned some resistance, pretending to put up a fight against his grin, his charms, his strength. But you were following his pull, your lips almost touching his before the blow was landed.

Cooper’s body was knocked completely off balance, his body falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Turning in the direction he was hit from, you found yourself staring down the three members of the Brotherhood from the market. Holding back some of the choice words you had for them, you managed to narrow it down to one question simple enough for even them to answer.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shocked by your ungrateful attitude, one of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward and pushing your shoulder with his finger.

“We’re saving you from assault, lady! This monster had its hands all over you, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. And you’re welcome.”

You scoffed, face going red with rage as you knelt to help Cooper up.

“You’re not saving me, asshole! You’re ruining the fucking vibe, you dweebs.”

Again, a far more polite term than you had wanted to use, but that didn’t seem to make the men any less aggressive towards either Cooper or now you. The largest of the men grabbed your arm, pulling you back up and away from the hand that Cooper had held out to you.

“Oh… you’re one of those freaks! No wonder you turned down some good old-fashioned heroes like us then.”

One of the others nudged you to the side, the other pushing Cooper back down to the ground with a kick, turning around as all of them converged on you until your back was against the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped by them as they made their disgusting comments.

“Why would you waste your time on some abomination like that, huh? You into freaky stuff? Cos I could sure show you a thing or two. What’s he got? Like two cocks or something weird like that?”

You spat out your retort, well aware of the repercussions, but not caring.

“He could be feral and I’d still let him touch me before I even thought about letting any of you near me.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed your eyelids shut, opening them again moments later when you realised you hadn’t been hit yet. Instead, all three of the Knights were on the ground, Cooper kneeling over them as he tightened the lasso and added the long length around their wrists for measure.

“Oughta keep ‘em long enough for us to make our escape, hm?”

You nodded, smiling, surprised still at how effective he was at handling anything the Wasteland threw at him.

“And I did it all without too much violence and noise, like you asked.”

“My hero.”

You swooned playfully, watching him as he made his way to stand beside you, both of you looking down without an ounce of pity at the men who writhed before you in the dirt.

“And look at you, shouting all those kind words about me for anyone to hear.”

“I keep telling you, Coop. I can hold my own, and I don’t care what people think.”

“You sure about that, darlin’? The likes of these fellas don’t put you off none?”

His eyes darted towards the Knights, now trussed up and struggling against each other on the ground, straining their necks to move their heads out of the line of Cooper’s gun.

“What? You think I’m put off by the Brotherhood? Yeah… and the rads put me off stuffing tin after tin of delicious cram down my throat.”

Cooper grabbed your hand in his, initiating the contact for the first time, and pulled you away back onto the cracked road. He knew he’d let go before you hit the next settlement, but he felt a little bit better about the risks associated. Especially since he had to admit, you could hold your own. And you were determined to do so when it came to him. It was nice to feel like he could let the affection be reciprocated.

[enkvyu]

9:45am — gojo satoru ;

gojo’s giving you one of those looks again, the type of look that is typically followed by nothing good. there seems to be almost no thoughts behind his sleepy eyes as he blatantly stares at you from across the table, and you subconsciously shift at the attention.

though you were drowsy too—checking your watch you realise it was only 9:45am—his gaze wakes you up.

you shove your chopstick in your mouth and around your food, you say, “well? spit it out.”

assuming you didn’t mean the rice in his mouth, gojo swallows and clears his throat. “i know something that might surprise you.”

“oh, okay. what is it?”

“here's the thing though, i can’t tell you.”

you stare at him. “why did you bring it up then?”

“you told me to spit it out.”

“well, that was useless.”

you direct your interest to the sushi in front of you and put a piece of sashimi in your mouth. a few silent seconds pass and gojo is still looking at you, and still very obviously holding something back.

eventually, your curiosity overflows. "gojo, just tell me what it is."

"i just told you i can't."

"why not? is it really bad? is it something serious? who is it about?"

gojo hums in thought. "it's about you. and it's about me."

you raise an eyebrow at his statement. "what the fuck? you have to tell me now."

gojo picks up the last piece of sushi from the plate you were sharing, and pops it in his mouth without another thought. you bristle at the sight. "what kind of person would tell the person the thing is about, the thing? also i'm taking the last piece of sushi."

"what are you on about? also you can't say you're taking the last piece after you've already eaten it! you didn't even give me the chance to scissors-paper-rock it!"

"my bad, i'll make up for it and pay for the food this time around. and i'm not telling you the thing no matter how much you beg me."

"gojo, you can't fool me i know for a fact you didn't bring your wallet today. so like always, it'll be on me. by the way, i'm not begging. i'm demanding you tell me."

"demand all you like, i'm not telling you anything." gojo sneers. "the sushi's already in my mouth, there's nothing you can do about it anymore."

you slam your hand on the table and level him with a stare. "spit it out!"

"i'm not telling you the thing! how many times do i have to say that?"

"i meant the sushi." when you don't laugh after, he realises you're serious. "i was eyeing that piece the entire time. don't you know you have to leave the best bite until the end so you can finish your meal perfectly. that was supposed to be my perfect bite!"

gojo looks at you and swallows. he reaches over for his drink and after a long sip, sighs happily. "well, it's already gone." he says with a shit-eating grin.

you swear passionately at him and he raises an eyebrow.

"did you want it that bad? if you want, i can still give you a taste."

you scrunch your nose at him. "that sounds absolutely disgusting."

"what? how?"

"you offered to regurgitate the sushi?"

he makes a face similar to yours. "no, i meant like, a kiss."

"oh." your grimace deepens.

"good oh or bad oh?"

"what do you think, oh."

he studies your face. "bad oh."

"correct." you take a sip from your drink and sigh, albeit a little unhappily. "i can't believe you dragged me here at nine in the morning just to steal my perfect bite of sushi."

"it's just sushi." gojo says. he looks over at you from above the frames of his glasses, noting the slight pout on your lips and the adorable furrow between your brows. without thinking, he clears his throat. "but because i like you, i'll order you another roll if you want."

you freeze. "what?"

"i'll replace your perfect bite."

"no, the part before that."

gojo smiles but there's something jittery about it. he fusses over his glasses and makes every move to avoid your eye. "that was the thing i wasn't supposed to tell you. i like you. but i guess you really are as demanding as you say since i told you anyway."

"oh." you say.

"was that a good oh, or a bad oh?"

"it's a 'i'm trying to think' oh." and then, after a pause. "oh."

he inhales sharply. "a double oh, that doesn't sound good."

you blink at him in the uncomfortable silence.

looking down, you observe the slides you had roughly put on before heading out at gojo's request to get sushi first thing in the morning. you look at the large shirt you had on, something gojo had left behind in your dorm after a sleepover, and the pyjama pants that you weren't even sure were yours. you look at him again, and he's in a similar outfit to yours. "you're telling me this now?"

"that's why i told you i couldn't tell you! why did you make me say it?"

"you're saying this like i knew what you would say!"

"you kept telling me to spit it out, spit it out, well i did and i still can't win."

"well you, well i actually, well," you clap your hands together. "actually i do like you too gojo, so—"

"you do?"

the two of you stare at each other.

you breathe out. "yeah."

"okay." gojo nods. "okay, that's good to know."

you fidget with your chopsticks, twirling it between your fingers. "what now?"

"i didn't think this far."

"oh."

"i'm going to," gojo clears his throat when it cracks. "i'm going to order more sushi. that's what you wanted, right?"

you look at him. "yeah."

when he leaves, you stare at the wall in front of you.

"so like, did you guys forget we're also here?"

shoko sips at her milkshake, blatantly staring. at least getou has the tact to pretend to be on his phone. still, it’s impossible to hide his interest and his eyes flicker over to you. “i’m never going to agree to another ‘let’s go get food’ again.”

you open your mouth to say something and shoko patiently waits. unfortunately, the right words do not come to you and you use the opportunity to bring your straw to your mouth and take a sip from your drink instead.

"isn't there something you should be saying to us?" shoko presses, gesturing over to the counter where gojo was ordering.

you glance over too and spot gojo looking over his shoulder at you. something sparks between the two of you and you tear your eyes away to look at shoko and getou again.

"yeah." you say. "we're getting more sushi."

not proofread, i just started typing w the dialogue “spit it out” and this came about

[gatorbites-imagines]

Love me some bratty wolverine but I NEED my obedient sweet sub too 😋 wolverine who's just so desperate for praise and being told he's good, needy and never knowing how to properly ask for it and just ending up whining and pleading to near tears.... letting you take all the control and being so frightened and uncertain until you're showering him with reassurance and praise

Logan Howlett x male reader

Headcanons

Super exhausted, we did an event as my new education place (what do you call the place you take a bachelor’s degree in english?) that went until ten in the evening, so I’m still pooped. Hope this is still enjoyable though.

How’s everyone else been doing lately? This ended up being more focused on the comfort and relationship part of it, but I hope that’s good too.

I believe the Wolverine from the Deadpool and Wolverine movie would be the type of Logan you are looking for. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, has been hurt so much and lives with such a deep guilt and self-hatred.

In the beginning he wouldn’t show it, especially if you were someone who knew him, or some variant of him, in the past. He has an image he needs to live up too, or at least that’s what Logan thinks.

To him, he doesn’t deserve anything nice or soft. He doesn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, which in the end just ends up being his Achilles heel. Logan has starved himself so much for any kind of affection or care, that when he starts loving somebody he becomes like a dog.

Not a happy wagging panting dog, no. more a starved, dirty, covered in cuts and sores, kind of dog, desperately pouncing on the tiniest sliver of food you throw his way.

In the beginning, Logan would try to deny these feelings completely. Again, he doesn’t think he deserves to even love somebody, especially not somebody as great as you. So, he tried to suppress it. but that only adds onto it. the stuff we try to suppress only comes back stronger; didn’t you know?

That’s why he tries so hard to stay cold, rude, mean, anything he can to chase you off. If you leave first, then it wont matter, right? But damnit, you stay. And you just seem to cling on tighter the more he struggles, like those dogs so used to fighting and snarling at everything for their own safety, finally being taken in by someone whose patient enough to love them, and wait for them to feel safe.

And when Logan finally starts to feel safe, letting down his walls little by little and oh so slowly reaching out. Then he becomes insatiable. In the beginning its small things like standing closer to you, his leg pressing against yours, him bringing you stuff that reminded him of you.

But soon he can’t help but be all over you, only when you’re alone though. You end up with 300+ lb. of hairy gruff Wolverine, glued to you like he needs to be close to you as much as he needs air to breathe.

This is also where you discover that he completely melts when you run your hand through his hair or beard, his eyes almost rolling back as he arches into your loving touch like a sunflower reaching for the sun.

This dynamic also follows into the bedroom. Here Logan starts out thinking he’s gonna be the one in charge and on top, as he’s always been in past relationships.

But when you show signs that you like to make the orders and tell him what to do, Logan is honestly relieved to let the ropes go, falling to his knees with a lump thump and crack, the floor splitting under his weight and desperation to just be good for you, to be loved.

You never thought you would see Logan of all people cry, but you quickly learn that praise is the way to get him there. You were terrified the first time he started silently crying as he rubbed his face back and forth on your knee, a minor tremble in his shoulders. But you learn it’s because he’s so overwhelmed by the fact that somebody actually still loves him.

Logan has spent all this time being in charge and being on edge, that he’s almost desperate and begging for you to take charge. Hed crawl down the street on a leash if that’s what you wanted, all that matters to him is your love, your praise and acknowledgment.

Of course you wouldn’t do that, and you worry a lot about his comfort and safety. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Logan will bend himself backwards to please you, even go further than he’s normally comfortable with.

This leads to you having to give him a scolding that has the mutant falling to his knees and clinging onto you, as if you were gonna leave him behind too. Communication has been and always will be hard for Logan, but over time you pick up his physical cues.

You still like to have him tell you in words what he wants though, just to be sure, but also for him to practice. Even when he’s near tears in pleasure you still want Logan to tell you what he wants, how, and where.

You two always end your times together with a long cuddle, the cuddling lasting longer than what you did before since Logan soaks up your love like a sponge that just never seems to end. You swear he purrs, even if Logan denies it vehemently.

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi,

Ok so this is inspired by all the drama and gossip I’ve seen on Instagram recently.

Can you write something with Lando and Y/N where Lando has made it clear from the very start that he likes Y/N and wants to date her? Y/N likes him back but is hesitant to start a relationship because of his many female friends, the fact that he and his family still follow his ex-girlfriend on social media, and because he still wears the bracelet his ex-girlfriend gave him. And y/n isn’t comfortable nor is she the type of person who would date guys with so many girls around him. She doesn’t want to explicitly tell Lando her reasons (because she doesn’t want to tell him what to do and not to do) so she always gives subtle hints when he asks why she doesn’t want to date him. Lando never picks up on these hints until someone close to him points it out, and he finally realizes what Y/N has been trying to tell him. And from here you can continue however you want

anon the way this is sooo real. also the drama? idc about it but i absolutely love drama in any way so!

tw: fem!reader, swears, idk lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.9k

ever since you had first met lando he had made it very clear that he wanted a relationship with you and that he really did like you. the boy was all over you. he was constantly offering you take you out on dates when he was in the same place as you. he always wanted to be around you, giving you a call to come over and sit in his flat with him while he deep cleaned his kitchen. lando even told all of his friends about how much he liked you. oscar was sick fed up of hearing how pretty he thought your eyes were and max had told him that if he did not shut up about how infectious your laugh was he was going to leave him to sort out the details for the quadrant video for himself.

so it was safe to say that you had no reason to doubt that lando like you. you liked him too. you did not show it in the same ways as him though, you just being a tad more on the shyer side. your mind should have been convinced that lando only had eyes for you but it felt like you were adding two and two together to get five. his actions just did not make sense to your insecure mind.

the first 'red flag' you had stumbled across- well you did not even stumble across it. your friend did. and had told you it was one hundred percent a red flag and how were you to know any different? you were not experienced in this kind of thing, due to your shyness.

you had both been out for lunch and some shopping when you had just been chatting about lando and how things were going. she had asked why you guys had not done much more than two or three basic dates and you had responded that you were a little nervous to progress with him. she had questioned this and at that point you were not totally sure why you were feeling like that which had made you feel more guilty at the time. you had told her about one little thing that was niggling at the back of your brain since you had discovered it. all of lando's loved ones still followed his ex girlfriend on basically all socials and even liked her pictures regularly, this included lando. although lando had not liked a picture since they had been dating he still followed her.

"you are having a laugh?" she gasped at your words. the way she seemed shocked had made you a little nervous. were you wrong to be worried about it? were you not worried enough about it? it was moments like these that you thought you were not cut out for romantic relationships, it was much too hard these days. you wished for simpler times when if you liked someone you just told them and then you were dating.

"is that bad?" you had asked her, worriedly.

"i mean, it's kinda a red flag. why would he want to follow her? unless he was still close with her. he must be if his family still follow her. she must've been one of those girlfriends that the whole family falls in love with too." your friend explains as thoughts. you had thought that her explanation would have made you feel better but just like that you felt your mind shift into almost sure to doubt.

you knew your friend kind of had a point with what she had said but the rational part of you, deep deep down, was telling you that all of this was just causing unnecessary doubt to grow in your mind. it reminded of you of how lando acts towards you and it settled your mind for a minute or so before you fell down the hole again. you had always believed actions spoke louder than words but what actions spoke louder in this case?

from then you had fallen down a horrible spiral of pulling apart almost everything lando did. your mind always going back to that conversation in a cafe and reminding you of what your friend told you.

lando had invited you out as he had missed you a lot and of course you had said yes because as much as you were stressing yourself out about all of this, you did like him. you were just wary, that was all. it was not your scene at all, this house party. you did not know anyone there except lando and max. max was there alone as his girlfriend was not able to make it. you three sat with each other all night and max had gotten a front row seat into seeing exactly how lando was acting around you and vice versa.

all throughout the night, girls that lando was apparently 'friends' with had come up to him and blatantly flirted with him, right in front of your face, everyone here knew that he had brought you here with him as his date. so it confused you to no end how lando just sat back and let these girls flirt with him. it was literally textbook, basic flirting. finger twirling a piece of hair around as she giggled at something he said. even though it was not really that funny. and you just had to sit back and watch because what else were you supposed to do? you did not want to tell him how to live his life. if he wanted to be 'friends' with these girls then who were you to tell him he could not be? you guys were not even dating, for gods sake! even if you were you were definitely not one of those girls who told their boyfriends that they cannot even talk to another girl, never mind be friends with one.

once the fourth girl of the hour had left you all alone lando turns to you again.

"you're a wanted man tonight." you tell him, your voice tight as you tried not to be jealous. you felt stupid being jealous, was there anything to even be jealous over? lando laughs at your words and does not seem to notice your tone or even the expression clear as day on your face. you were too busy talking to lando to notice that max had notice everything you had tried to hide.

"guess i am." is all he says. it stuns you that that was all he said to you but you do not cause any drama about it. well you do not mean to. it just comes out, really. you just have to hope that he does not take it to heart.

"it's a lot of girls." it comes out like a half laugh half scoff. max thinks lando is incredibly dumb for not even noticing the reassurance you were clearly seeking right now. he set himself a metal note to slap him on the back of the head once they were alone.

lando barely even registers the words you say as he changes the subject and that is it forgotten about. you know it was not on purpose. he did not mean to just change the subject there and then when you had brought that up but it kind of did make sense and in your mind it went down as another red flag. it sat right next to the one your friend had pointed out a few weeks earlier.

you had left a little earlier than you had originally intended and as you were waving goodbye to both boys from inside the taxi, lando had ever so kindly booked and payed for you, you see max's hand come to slap the back of his friend's head. it made you laugh but you did not think too much about it. neither did lando apparently as he just hits max back ten times harder as he heads back inside.

the third and final 'red flag' came from when you were stalking instagram. you knew yourself you should not have been scrolling through the f1 gossip pages but you got curious about that curly-haired boy that took up your mind constantly. you do not have to scroll very far to get to something that upsets you. a picture of lando with a fan and a second one zoomed in on his arm, showcasing a lovely bracelet that you had seen lando wear many times. the caption? 'lando is still wearing the bracelet his ex got him!'.

you felt dumb again. you did not have to ask anyone if that was a 'red flag', you already knew. the next time you met up with lando after you had seen the instagram post you immediately noticed the piece of jewellery and it was so fucking hard to take your eyes off of it from then. somehow max had ended up on this outing too and just like always, he noticed your eyes glued to his arm. it did not take him long to put the pieces together. he knew there and then that he had to sit down and have a chat with him. as soon as he possibly could.

max had left to pop into a different shop as you and lando had waited outside together.

"so, can i ask why exactly you don't wanna date me?" lando asks bluntly, like he had been sitting on the question for a while.

you flush. "we've been on dates." you tell him, like he was not there and did not already know that.

"i know. but i get the feeling you don't wanna go further with me. it's alright if you don't but i'd like to know why?" lando asks, you can see the traces of hurt in his eyes as the mere thought of you not wanting him the same way he wanted you.

"no, i do. well i don't but i do. i like you, really like you. but i'm scared to go further with you."

lando looks at you confused, as if it was baffling to him to be scared to jump head first into something, especially when he keeps making you doubt if you were seriously even an option in his mind sometimes.

"why are you scared?" lando presses further but before you can respond max comes out with a bag in hand and asks if you can all stop for some food. the moment is gone and you are not too sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

after the outing was finished and max and lando were hanging out at lando's max finally decides to have the conversation with his friend. hoping that he will knock some sense into his seemingly senseless mate. lando beats him to it though.

"today while we were out, i asked her why she doesn't why doesn't wanna be with me and she said she was scared? she didn't get to tell me why." lando admits, his worry evident to his friend. max huffs at his friends obliviousness.

"she's scared because you're going around wearing shit your ex got you! doesn't help that your surrounded by girls flirting with you and you don't even shoot them down. and not getting any hints she drops? dude you're more stupid than i thought."

lando's brows rise as he lets max's words set in. he is completely shocked. he had not thought about any of this or about how it would effect you. he suddenly felt a rush of guilt wash through him. he needed to see you right now.

lando basically runs to you, leaves max at his flat and rushes over to yours. he needs to apologise as soon as he can. he needed you to know that you seriously are the one he wants the most.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed)

Rule no. 5: Never leave him unattended

“Are you going to stay with us, To–”

“I am not helping you babysit your demon. I already deal with Megumi on my own,” Toji said. You rolled your eyes as you walked into the vast shopping mall. It was the morning time on a Sunday. Not too many people meandering about, but the ones who were looking found the trio (rightfully) strange. Sukuna stood behind you like a guard of sorts, and no matter how many times you told him that you were fine he was insistent on not standing too close. 

“The market has changed,” he said gravely. 

“It has quite a bit,” you responded. You tugged on his robe, wanting him to follow you into the closest store that you found. Sukuna squinted at the mannequins with no face posing with the latest season trends, tapping his fingernail on the lifeless body. 

“Are they cursed?” “They’re not real.”

You carelessly turned your attention away from Sukuna. A new shimmery gold handbag grabbed your attention, and you wheeled it around in your hands trying to find the price tag. The scent of burnt plastic tickled your nose, and you were going to call Sukuna to follow you back when you realized that the smell was coming from him. 

The mannequin that once was jumping in joy now bubbled and hissed in a molten puddle on the floor. You had no idea what happened but Sukuna stood over it with his arms tucked in his kimono. 

“It was weak.” 

“Don’t just stand there, move before an associate comes by,” Toji hissed. He grabbed your arm, pulling you out of your shock and in turn you grabbed Sukuna’s hand. 

“I thought you were leaving?” You gasped. 

“And leave with that lunatic?” Toji exasperated. “It’s almost time for school to start. I could buy Megumi some new clothes.”

You were going to ask about Megumi when Sukuna caught your attention again. People who worked in kiosks that usually have no shame when it comes to shoving a new product in passerbys, were distancing themselves from Sukuna. The only person brave enough was a jeweler who looked at Sukuna with bright eyes. 

“Hey, why don’t you come over here so we can get you dripped out? Let’s see a smile, we can get you some grills.”

“N-no, we’re good,” you answered for him, tugging Sukuna away. 

“It’s a shame. We got diamonds as big as he is!”

“Trust me, we don’t need them,” you waved. You were yanked back into place despite your attempt to move forward. Sukuna had stopped walking and was looking at the kiosk intently. 

“You used to be adorned in jewels. Emeralds and rubies were your favorite.” He gazed back at you. “Did your preferences change?”

You had no idea why your heart fluttered at his words. Maybe it was the fact that those were still your favorite stones but you only wore them on special occasions. Maybe it was the sincerity in which he asked you. You shook your head, taking his hand in both of yours. “It’s still the same. I just don’t have the money to buy you a cuban, that’s all,” you laughed. 

“Money should never be a barrier,” he insisted. He rummaged through his robes in search of something but with no avail. “But then again, if you want something, take it.”

“Slow down, big guy. I don’t need it that bad,” you stopped him. If he did to those workers anything like he did the mannequin you’d have a lot more trouble on your hands. The mailman was an easy mess to sweep away considering that he barely remembered anything, but there were cameras everywhere in the mall. 

“Yeah, when you guys are done fucking disgusting in public we can go to another store,” Toji rolled his eyes. 

Once again you three trailed into a new story with Sukuna under close surveillance. You were glad Toji decided to stick around so he could help you choose the clothes to put on Sukuna. 

Some outfits the demon agreed with and you cheered happily. Others he turned his nose up at and Toji would mutter “what the fuck does he know” under his breath until you pinched him to keep quiet. 

When you had a large pile of clothes in your arms, you directed Sukuna to a dressing room to try them on to ensure the sizing was correct. You sat on a couch next to Toji in the waiting area for Sukuna to flaunt his new clothes. You leaned back into the chair, letting out a deep sigh while looking up at the ceiling. 

“Oh– how is Gumi by the way?”

“He’s fine,” Toji grunted. “Worried since he can’t take the dogs with him to school and is convinced that I don’t feed them on time, but fine.”

You snorted. That does sound like the Megumi you know. He was the main reason why you ended up with Toji for a short while. He was so quiet yet inquisitive you immediately grew a soft spot for the kid. It just so happened that his very attractive father was into you. It didn’t last, your incompatibilities stacking up faster through the months, but you still cared for the little kid. You fondly smiled at memories with Megumi when Toji pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Hey, are you really gonna stay with… him?”

You took a peek at Toji. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had his signature frown on his face, the one he got when he was trying to work out a problem. 

“Sukuna?”

“No. The other demon you’re tethered to,” he deadpanned. 

“Um… I don’t know. I really don’t know what to do in the long run,” you answered honestly. 

“He can’t stay here. In our world, I mean. He has to go back,” Toji concluded. 

You weren’t sold on the idea. Toji could feel your hesitance and attempted to talk some sense into you. “He has a natural form that has twice as many arms, eyes, and legs than needed. You didn’t see it, but he burnt that mannequin down with his hand,” he said raising his palm “Oh and let me guess, he probably doesn’t have a normal diet. You cannot expect me to believe that a burger will satiate him.” 

Your silence was confirmation enough. Toji sighed and shook his head. “Send him back.” 

“I can’t,” you admitted. 

“Why not?”

“The book is technically lost,” you mumbled through your hand but Toji has impeccable hearing. 

“You lost the book,” he repeated. “You lost the only thing that can send him to whatever hellhole he came from.” 

“I didn’t lose it, thank you very much,” you snapped. “There was a mixup at the library and it was gone before Sukuna popped up. You can use his name every once in a while.” 

“Do you know how to get it back?” Toji asked, ignoring your suggestion. 

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be back at the library soon.” You twisted your hands together, biting your lip. “But Toji, he said that we are soulmates.” 

“He’s a demon. They lie,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was. That would be the most logical thing to consider. “He could be using you to free him and then he can really start destroying shit.” 

“You’re not wrong,” you mutter quietly. “I just don't feel that way. I think he’s telling the truth.” 

Toji stared at you like you had grown four eyes and horns. “I can’t explain it, okay? If he really wanted to hurt me, he could’ve easily done so and found someone who’s much more willing. Even though he can’t stand you, he seems to be getting along with you for my sake. You can’t tell me that’s normal for demons, whatever that is.” 

Toji returned to his usual thinking frown. You patted your knees and stood up abruptly. 

“He’s been in there a long time, don’t you think? I wonder if he needs help,” you say, already drifting to his stall. Toji didn’t stop you from walking down the hall and you rapped the stall door. 

“Sukuna? Are you okay in there?” 

“It’s all children's clothing,” said his voice from within. 

The door clicked open, a sliver of the inside appearing to you and you pushed it forward. 

Inside you found Sukuna in a tangled mess of clothes. One t-shirt was far too small despite being the largest size you could find and his pants bulged uncomfortably from his thick muscles. The expression on his face was utterly annoyed. You stifled  a laugh, not wanting to offend him. 

“Okay, let’s try something else,” you offered. After struggling to remove the shirt for five minutes you managed to remove it from his body without tearing it, a feat you mentally patted yourself on the back for. 

“I think we should stick with shirts with buttons,” you said, grabbing one of the white button down short sleeves. “But it just makes it a little harder since you have long nails.”

“Put it on for me,” he ordered. 

You raised a brow. “‘Please’ would be nice to hear.”

“You expect me to beg?”

“Not beg. It’s called manners. I won’t do anything unless you ask nicely.” 

An annoyed puff of air pushed through Sukuna’s nose. ‘Please’ was a desperate word. Sukuna was not desperate for anything. However, you were not changing your stance. You stared at him expectantly and another huff left him. Only you could bring him to his knees. 

“You’re as stubborn as ever. Please put it on,” he said through clenched teeth. 

You beamed, a reward that made the unbecoming plea worth it. “Of course I will.” 

You filled the air with bubbly conversation. “I think these shirts suit you the most. I could buy it in a couple of different colors so you have something that matches the time when we go out. I know another place we can stop by and maybe they’ll have t-shirts in your size so that you can put on your clothes without assistance. What do you think?” 

You faced the mirror to admire Sukuna. You wanted to step out of his way so that he could take in the shirt properly, but his hand slipped perfectly into the curve of your waist. He tilted his head, giving the shirt a quick glance before capturing your image. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“I believe you have great taste. I am forever in your care.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Demons are meant to be smooth talkers, you reminded yourself. And this one wanted to talk you out of your clothes. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[skyrigel]

“The Great War Part-3”

Part 1 || Part 2 || Benjicot masterlist

Pairing: Benjicot “Davos” blackwood x Bracken!reader

~ When mist of past finally clears up and you are faced with an ineffable truth of life, you reach for your darling husband's hand, surviving the great war [ wc : 4.7k]

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠ 18 + nsfw, p in v ( rough ), missionary position, breeding kink, blood kink, size kink, fingering, c- word used in sexual context, orgasm denial, first time, love confessions, jealousy, confused feelings, poetic subtexts, bad writing?! Proofread

I might write an epilogue someday but this is it, thankyou everyone for reading and following along, also this is for @ihateitheretaylor for our three years of surviving the great war by reaching for each other, love you to the moon and saturn.

Benji's whole face glittered under the weirwood tree, his hand inevitably touching his heart as he saw you.

Your maiden cloak adored in golden and silver embroidery, house's sigil glistening, a red stallion in golden fields, like the strands of your future husband's hair that were blazing against the sun.

His grin absolutely splited his whole face, lines stretching wide as he gazed at you walking towards him with your brother.

“ Who comes ? ” His smile true to his words,

“ Who comes before the gods ? ”

Aeron paused for a moment before he looked at you, his arms brushing your shoulder as he nodded, a tight smile but a smile indeed.

“ Y/n of House Bracken, comes here to wed. A woman trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of gods. Who comes to claim her ? ”

Benji raised his chin, instantly looking back at you like he couldn't get enough and for a fact—he really couldn't

“ Me, Benjicot Davos blackwood of House blackwood, lord of Raventree halls, I claim her.” He winked at you, “ Who gives her ? ”

Aeron took your hand, his smile genuine when he glanced back at you.

“ Aeron Bracken of House Bracken, Brother of lady y/n, son of Lord Amos Bracken.” He turned to you, blinking back the watery haze, you gulped down the lump in your throat.

“ Lady y/n, Do you take this man ? ”

Your face grew warm, and there were many realisations in life, some slow and crashing as waves, some quick and bold as lightning, when you looked back at the man who was going to be your husband, the man you remembered from a long time ago, a distant memory and sometimes as though it was taken from yet another lifetime— his youthful face, bright eyes, chortling laughter that echoed through your soul. So many years gone in punishing him for something he never did, cursing him as you sleep talked.

So when you saw him, it struck you soft as a breeze, hard as a blow; you would love him so much, perhaps you already love him or perhaps there was still time but it will eventually come your way, and you will love him so deeply, so, so much that the oceans would be jealous, you will love him so blazely that the sun would burn in agony, so luminous that the stars would be envious.

That's the way you would love him, and it wouldn't be faith that will tie your hearts and bind your souls today, it will be a choice, his and yours to not be parted, not even death could do so. You smiled, no longer fighting your blush and letting it crimson your cheeks.

“ I take this man.” You said for the all the gods to know, him, who stands here with his goofy smile, too big for his face, him, who calls you darling while you roll your eyes, he's is the one, you would have him.

Benji reached for your hand, joining your souls together through the tips of his fingers, Aeron backed away as you and Benji kneeled against the old gods, head leaned together.

“ I vow to protect you, to honour and love you, to respect and support you, my darling wife.” no yet, He had chosen you already, a very long time ago.

His thumb smeared across your knuckles, voice dripping with sincerest affection.

“ I vow to stand with you, in life and death and what follows after, to be with you in bad nights and good days.”

Your heart was beating too fast, grasping this moment to be forever your reality, it scared you how you had no control, you chose him because there was nothing else you could do—there was going to be no you without him.

A day ago you hated how much he tormented you, hated how much he ached your heart with his sweet honey like words.

And now you hate him how truly alive he could make you feel, like he has set your soul on fire, his laugh booming across the bloodshed while you're reaching for his hand.

“ I will always love you, my lady. In days when I would forget life, breath and myself— i would remember you like an oath.”

Benji pressed his forehead against yours, taking half your misery—half your pain.

“ From this day...” You said along with him, smile tugging at the corner of your lips,

“ till forever falls apart.” Benji smiled, side glancing Aeron and his glea only rippled more.

“ Can I kiss my bride ? ” He asked you, soft as a whisper and you blinked, hands sweaty in his, entwined for lifetimes to come.

“ You may.” You said, closing your eyes and even then you could feel his giddiness that rushed into you, the press of his lips against yours, it wasn't feral, it wasn't bloody, it was as sweet and as gentle, like the poets would say.

Perhaps it was Aeron's throat that cleared itself so loudly that blinked open your eyes, feeling your knees ache in the tendons.

“ You look so beautiful darling.” Benji winked, helping you get up—his tongue caught between his teeths— removing the husk from your gown.

And just like that, he was your man now.

~~~

The wedding was small but the feast that followed was wild, everyone was drunk and happy, it was truly a blackwood and Bracken wedding, one should have seen the smirk that passed between Bracken's when blackwood's pretty girls started serving wine, pouring up to brims with their sweet sly smiles and curvy beautiful bodies.

And ofcourse it wasn't missed how prideful blackwood's were being with their extraordinary arrangements, nose red and tongue loose with alcohol.

“ Bout' time laddie, bout' time—” One of the blackwood knight's chortled, patting his company with enough force to make his food come back on surface, “—should've seen his face...saw him in between bloody battle and oh lordie— should've seen the little Rat, squeezing between,” He made little vague gestures from his greasy hands, “ like a cunty little —”

“ Oh shut up, will you ! ” the said little rat of his tales snapped back at him, his Bracken mates laughing while he fumed with a red face.

“ Amusing, isn't it ? ” Benji leaned to your ear, making you shiver when his mouth grazed your ear shall, “ My heart, my shine, my darling beloved wife.”

“ Very amusing...” You said, turning to him and his beautiful face, pink on his tips, hair sticking to his forehead and a grin only fools in love had, but their on the corner of his mouth sticked a crumb, you shouldn't, really, but then you saw how Raventree hall's ladies saw him, their lusty gazes and seductive smiles, even now, they would bloom like a flower if his drunk sloppy gaze merely sprinkled by, like many realisations that followed today, this was also one of them, the one that wanted to tear away those prying eyes and keep him all to yourself, to burn those heart that desired for him, to ruin those dreams that they staged, he was yours, your husband, your lord, and you were his, his wife, his lady, and when the great war comes, it will be his hand that you will reach for, only his.

“ Here—” You blushed, “ let me.” You smeared away the crumb with the soles of your fingers, smiling a small, you don't remember watching the sun rise in the long time but if anything, it would be the way Benji smiled in that moment, forever mesmerizing.

As if on cue, your golden moment was ruined when Martha came over, she was daughter of lord in court, it was evident with the silk on her body, and her sweet calculated smile, something only courts knew.

“ It is so gracious to meet you, Lady y/n Bracken—”

“ It's lady Blackwood.” Your fork penetrated deeper into meat, “ Now.” you added with a smile, Martha nodded, her jaw hardening.

“ Ofcourse, Lady blackwood.” she tilted her head, fiddling with the chain on her neck, Benji was watching your sloppily, leaning on your shoulder and despite he was quite heavy, you weren't going to tell him that.

“ Congratulations, It is really credible what you did...to tie the two house together, a duty not anyone could do.” She bit her lower lip, shifting her sharp eyes to Benji who was putting more crumbs on his mouth, looking back at you with his chin raised.

You knew where she was getting at, duty and honour, to rub it on your face that this marriage is loveless, that it's just a duty that would end with two or three babes and forever isolation in chambers, but she didn't knew what you did, she didn't know the love that was swirling, had been, for the longest time, since one of these feasts with slurred laughters and nonsensical conservations where you saw each other.

“ Ben...” You pouted, ignoring her forced flashing of teeths, doing away the crumbs on his mouth while he fancied leaning in to kiss your tips, “ I am tired...can we—”

“ Darlin’ me too, shall we ? ”

It took a lot of nerves to not to burst in laughter the way Benji hurriedly got up, almost knocking his elbow in Aeron's face who sighed, but also smiled when he saw you watching your beloved husband.

You wondered where the wine was gone when he hooked your elbows together, all the while Martha hissed under her breath, haughty faced.

“ I wasn't expecting that...” You huffed, glancing at Benji, he was buzzing in excitement, practically floating mid air.

“ I...Martha was actually my first.” He shaked his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose, all colours drained out of your face, your knuckles clenched to bloodless flesh.

“ You know what I mean ? ” He asked, staggering behind you while you increased your pace, blinking back rapidly.

“ Ofcourse I do.” You snapped, not bothering to keep low in the dark of the tower, footsteps echoing through the night.

“ Okay, right...I wanted you to know—”

“ That you slept with another woman ? ” you turned around to him, his body knocked against you and in some other time, it wouldn't matter much, a forehead bump but he was drunk, you were angry, and times were changing, as both of your bodies tumbled down, he caught you by the waist, shifting you on top of him, a loud thud and soft ‘oof’ and a whimpered groan that was your own.

“ Are you okay, darling wife ? ” You pushed back the hair that crept out of your braid before you looked at him, propped on his elbows rested back, you shifted aside, letting your body fall next to him on the hard cold floor.

“ Yeah...you ? ”

Instead of answering you, Benji snorted first and then an absolute wave enveloped him, he was crackling with laughter, chest shaking as he glanced at you, turning away to clutch at his chest.

“ What's so funny ? ” You raised your brow, he shaked his head, taking the gods name in vain.

“ Oh Darling...” He flipped to your side, face to face as his eyes crinkled, watering at the sides, face flushed with rosiness and devil taking over his mouth. Soft and warm and pink.

“ You,” He whispered to you, taking your chin between your fingers and raising it towards him, “ are all the more breathtaking when you're jealous.” and here it was, the word, the feeling that roared like a monster on loose to destroy anyone who as so looked at Benji, a very feral twisting of heart.

“ No.” You lied, He shaked his head, leaning in, breath sweet and warm, you knew what that mouth was capable of, to kiss him was confetti bursting in your mind.

“ Liar.” He declared, gazing into your eyes and an ineffable pull broke lose, your lashes fluttered and the next moment he was kissing you and you were kissing him back.

The feral beast inside you said, devour him, make him yours, let him forget all the ones that came and gone, let it be you, only you.

You never knew how something could be more precious than air, a stiffled whine escaped your throat as he pulled away, catching a breath, grin dancing around his mouth, teasing you to catch — you weren't the one to turn down mockery, grabbing the side of his face and pulling him to you.

“ Oh my love...” He hummed inside your mouth, battling you for domination, tongue swiping across your lower lip.

He slided his hand in under your thigh, pulling you to his lap, he was dazed and drunk but in that moment, nothing could be sober more, when he picked you up from the floor without breaking a sweat and only sticking his tongue out when you watched him wide eyed.

“ I hate you.” You said, the feeling that clenched inside you was same as that unsettling tug in your navel when you spent your nights dreaming about him, when you touched his bloodied face, when you tasted his blood on your finger tips, it left it's mark, your thighs weak at the sensation that pulled inside your spine.

“ I can drop you.” He swayed your body in his arms, taking the stairs one at a time.

“ You won't.”

He smiled, “ No, I won't.”

Your face grew warm when two servants giggled softly, opening the door of his chambers or now—yours too.

It felt natural to be in his arms and to kiss him, like you had known him and this intimacy from ages ago and it baffled you how you had lived so far without starving to death without him.

“ Are you comfortable or is it just because we are married ? ” He asked, face illuminated by the moonish glow.

“ I..does it matter ? ”

“ Yes darling, it does...I want you to be happy, to be safe with me...I want you to know that we want this together.”

“ I want this.” You told him, not blinking as Benji's smile reached his eyes.

“ I love you.” He kissed your nose tip, pulling back expectantly but you only stared back, your heart heavy in your ribs.

You do, you know it, or well you will, it's going to happen and no matter what, it won't change, but deep inside, you didn't know how to form it in words, to say it and not feel sorry, to say it and erase back the years you gaslighted yourself into hating him.

“ I...” You breathed, and he understood, knew you like he was half your soul, his smile was small but he showed no sadness.

“ You don't have to say it back darling.”

And how could you not say it, the way you knew how much your heart would bleed from his love, flowing down your chambers to dripping through your veins, how much you love him, he was summer to your bleaking heart.

“ If I don't say it back, would you still love me ? ”

“ Darling.” He sat down gently in front of you, stroking your cheek as his gaze dropped to your lips, pulling it back to worship your eyes.

“ If you don't say it back then I will say it again, then we'll be even.” and the smile that tugged on both of your faces was worth every great war.

“ You are my first.” you told him shyly, hoping he understood or you were about to die out of shame.

But Benji just about died, his eyes flickered and raked you in, he had bowed, biting his lower lip while nodding.

“ Okay..okay..right.” He smiled, “ Fuck, I will be gentle baby.” His mouth twitched in a grin.

“ you must've had lot's of experiences.” you laughed, it came little bitter but Benji shaked his head, taking your hands and guiding them to his face, he looked cute, face cupped by your hands, your wedding band shinning.

“ I've slept with women but I never made love to them, it's my first time too.”

“oh.”

You lowered your gaze, Benji's touch was like fire, a wild feral flame erupting around you and you craved him, craved to get burnt by him, He softly raised your chin, and his eyes raised in a question.

“ I am not tired...if you're not.” You added quickly, feeling your nerves snap, were you too desperate, would it be bad if you were ?

Because this was your first time and so was his, making love, yes, to make love with your bloody feral husband, to touch him, to feel him, to have him, to keep him.

The way Benji's brow knitted together had you gasping for breath, you would take his refusal if it were that but you waited for so long, that the possibility of tommorow doesn't amuse you, to wait seemed torment.

“ Is that dress too heavy Darling wife ? ” and damn, you could die like that.

~~~

Those treacherous fingers weaved through the back of your dress, knots opening and with each moment he was closer.

You watched his reflection, he would occasionally glance, his blush breezing on his face as he wouldduck down to place a sloppy kiss wherever he liked, but when he looked up with that blazing look in his eyes, you knew it was done, you gave him a tilt of your head, face mere inches apart.

“ I want you....”

And so it goes, his heavy lidded eyes drank you in, his fingers moving your dress down until it fell down in a puddle of pastry around your ankles.

Benji grabbed your waist, he was going senseless in his brain, he couldn't think anything, his brain was short circuiting at all the things he would do to you.

Your back pressed against the soft silks as he climbed over you, his guard discarded somewhere, his chest bare and gleaming.

You breathed but Benji was breathless, mouth agape at your beauty, slowly his hands roamed around your shoulder, kissing every inch and praying to old gods and new because he didn't deserve you, you were all pretty things, bright and shine and him ?

Blood, chaos and thunder.

“ Oh my...oh darling—” His hands trembled, the need to mark you down like a blood stain and the urge to protect you like a dog.

To carve your pretty body and to bruise you blue and claim you all, it was confusing. And romantic. And very much turning him on.

“ Fuck ! ” He growled, your nipples were hard under his thumb and the pleading look you had in your eyes, he wanted to tease you, to make you beg on your knees and get it what you wanted but he was just a man, wild or lunatic, just a man who loved his wife so much, how could he refuse you anything even if it were the moon, he would steal a dragon and fly so high to give you what you wanted, to make true every wish, every dream you had, to fulfil you completely.

All breath was knocked out of you when Benji lowered his mouth, licking the skin of your breast and looking up for approval.

You whimpered at the sensation that practically had you shivering, your knees weakened as his tongue teased your hardened bud, wet and drooling mouth, placing hot kisses.

“ Please, please...Ben—” you tugged at his hair, he was sucking at plump flesh, his other hand rubbing your thigh, heating your whole body up.

“ What ? ” He said, strangled and needy despite trying to be the one to be incharge.

“ Ben... Please—” you heaved, pulling him to you but he pulled away, looking into you eyes and you saw how bloody bastard he could be sometimes when he wanted to be.

“ Darling...” You pouted, and he was just a man, gone before the words even made it out, his fingers teasing your entrance before he placed a kiss on your heart and took your tits in his mouth, humming like a starved man.

Heaven was an utopia concept that Septa talked about, but really, Septa never had made love because this is what it truly felt like, in his arms, in his bed.

Your moans filled the night as his teeth digged in your flesh, Benji was trying his best, the way he tried to stop kneading your breast too fast but ended up fisting it roughly between his palm, softening the pain with the sweet nothings he whispered.

“ How pretty...how soft..mmmm.” He nuzzled closer, you liked him that way, his hands rough, his words soft.

Your hands inevitably reached down between your legs and you just about felt the slickyness before he grabbed your wrist, pulling it back with a devilish grin.

“ Darling, no.” He kissed your finger tips and smiled, poking his tongue out to lick away the white thick juice that calloused your tip.

Whatever he did was enough to untie the knot in your stomach, your pit lurched like sea waves and wanted to crash the shore so badly that you would die begging him.

“Oh darling, how feral you are ? ” He teased, pinning your wrists above your head, his whole body pressing you down, placing a hard kiss on your mouth, squeezing your lips and sucking them dry.

All the while his knee socket digged between your thighs and like you were born to do it, you started moving along as the pressure built up, sparks flying.

“ c'mon, c'mon...do you want a kiss ? ” His jaw slackened as you grew your pace, hips buckling at the intensity and he was kind of very impressed, enough to smile down at your blue and purple bruising bod, releasing your torment.

His fingers only waited a moment before he was knuckles deep, your breath hitched and moans ribbed apart your throat.

“ Benji, oh lord..ah..mm” you hoped he heard the ‘ I love you's ’ you were chanting for him.

“ You're so wet for me...so wet baby.” His mouth dropped to kiss a mole on your tummy, all the while penetrate his finger deeper and then one became two, immediately having your back arch, hips buckling as two turned to three, digging inside you, huffing when he angled them in a way that had you closing your eyes and lose yourself to him.

“So tight for me darling.” You opened your eyes to find his lips on your ear shell, whispering it down to you and his fist inside you, just basking in your warm tight cunt.

“ Benji... darling...” Your face crumbled as tears rolled down, and a greater woman wouldn't beg but you would do anything to have him take you, anything.

You looked just in time as Benji climbed on top of you, his arm on top your head that propped him up so he didn't crush you down.

His fingers glided back from your folds before something thicker than his finger touched your clit.

“Oh.... dear lord.” your chest raised at the heavy intake of air, but He was massive and hard for you, his shaft angry at the unattention.

“Just the tip darling.” He pecked your swollen lips, a droplet of blood sat atop, curtsy by him that he gladly tasted, “sweet.”

You remembered thinking Benji wasn't a liar but in that fucking moment, he was the biggest liar to ever lie, his length pushing down and getting lost in your folds.

You glanced between you and him and shuddered at the thought of being split open by his cock, half his length shining and struggling to wrap inside you.

“ Fuck—” He cursed, “ Your tight pussy I-isn't letting em' in.”

Your thighs ached as he pried them apart for more access, his face red and breaking sweat. He managed to go ball-deep inside you, proud tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“ Benji...” You whimpered, face blotchy with tears that spilled while he kept telling you, it was just the tip and if anything, saying darling wife after every word.

The feeling of freefall, that comes after flying high and higher and not bothering friction and gravitation that pulls, it was just like that, when Ben looked into your eyes before his first thrust inside you, you were flying in the sky with him.

One thrust — and you were falling, your body wasn't your own and it was shearing, it was gleaful, it was infinite.

Your insides clenched as he pushed more, then more and each time his nerves popped harder on his neck, his eyes clenched closer to heaven but he would open them again, using his free hand that wasn't opening your legs to wipe away the tears that streamed down your face, relishing in your soft moaning that screamed his name.

Four thrust down and his restraints broke the chains, he was no longer in control, pounding inside you and all he could do was keep telling you how good you were.

He was bloody, the way he grabbed your arse cheeks to slam his entire length in, spiralling your whole world, bruising you blue.

“ Darling, so good...so good for me.” just when he pulled out only to thrust back in your swollen cunt again, balls deep in your sweet cunt and liar said just the tip.

“ Just like that...mmm..yeah.” just when you thought you were about to split open, with stars in your eyes.

“ Baby love...I love you...I love you.” and his feral took a peak when he leaned to pin your shoulders down, you were fighting for realease but he kept telling you not yet, not now.

“ Benny please...” You cried, but you can take that, you were being so good, such a nice doll to him.

“ I love you...oh my darling, love you so much...let me fill you with my babes..” He moaned out. “ Darling—” he croaked, thrusting harder inside you, the bed shook with his pounding, his face another blissful sight but even through the daze, he wouldn't stop gawking at you, watching you moan on his cock, all your sweet nothings just for him.

“ please... darling, let me see you carry our baby...”

And you had no say before your insides were filled with his juices, warmness spreading inside and out and everything melted in a slow daze and perhaps that's chaos.

The way you came on his cock, silvery misty substance mixing with his own and he dropped his face next to you, sniffing your sweet sweaty hair and placing a soft kiss.

“ That was...” He trailed, shifting his weight next to you and you felt breath rushing in your chest, “....so good baby.”

“ hmmm...” You closed your eyes letting the moment sink, when his arm came and wrapped around your waist then spooning your whole body.

“ My sweet love.” He said, out of nowhere and time passed, your naked bodies tangled in each other, drifting in a peaceful sleep.

~~~

It was one of those dreams, his face dripping with blood, yours or his, you didn't know but the urge to touch him was forevermore.

But then the reality struck you and with more convincing you opened your eyes to moonlight lighting his whole face.

His nose was nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his innocence brighter in the sky full of stars.

His sweet warm mouth drooling over your chest, a bead of his drool cooling your skin.

And the urge was sudden, like lightening when you smiled at your beloved husband.

“ Benji...” you whispered and he didn't move, sleeping and snoring softly.

“ Ben....” you tried again, ofcourse there was tommorow awaiting, but your heart said speak now.

“ huh.” He sleepily hummed, smearing his cheek on your warm body, smiling dopily like it was a very sweet dream.

You smiled, forever remembering the memory when you reached for his hand, entwinng your fingers together.

“ I love you.” You said, “ I love you so much darling.”

And just like that, you survived the great war.

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[pomefioredove]

Can we have kalim's ending for the yuu auction as well? I was pretty excited for his outcome

of course of course!

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: a kalim ending type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is maybe a little short, hi kalim :)

"Problems don't just go away when you throw money at them, you know," Vil says. The tone of his voice is sour, and he's making no effort to hide it. "You'll have to actually take some responsibility."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut it. They're not a pet, they can handle themselves. You're just butthurt it wasn't you,"

"And yet, here you are, still moping just the same," he snaps back. "Kalim, congratulations. I'm sure the prefect will- where'd he go?"

Despite their best efforts, Kalim hadn't heard a single word of the other housewarden's well wishes (and warnings).

He was gone before they'd even started, in fact.

Even with all he'd had prepared beforehand- the new room, the uniforms, all of your favorite foods- there was suddenly a list a mile long on his mind.

First, he had to get you.

Then, he had to show you around your new place.

Then, dinner.

Followed by dessert, of course.

(Maybe a light appetizer to start? Why hadn't he thought of that already?!)

And then he'd treat you to an evening of your favorite songs, laughter, and fun.

So on, and so forth.

Kalim may be a little oblivious at times, but your poor condition at Ramshackle is no secret to anyone. He'd been talked out of helping more than once before- and, so, this was his chance.

The gravity of technically owning a person who doesn't legally exist in this world hasn't crossed his mind even once. The way he sees it, he gets to host you indefinitely, take you on vacations with his family, treat you to the life you deserve after all you've done for everyone, and no one can tell him no.

Though, something still sits in the back of his mind, something that asks him to walk before running. A voice of reason.

If Kalim had a shoulder angel and devil, both of them would somehow be Jamil:

"I would advise taking it easy on them as they adjust. This whole spectacle must have been difficult for them. You're a good listener when you try. Now's a chance to show that,"

More than anything, Kalim wants to impress you.

Such a thought would make anyone else scoff- the gold and jewels and magic carpets aren't enough?

And his answer would be... well... no.

Kalim possesses many things. He has entire houses full of treasure, trinkets, fine silks, servants at his every whim... and yet, he's still missing something crucial. Something he's become more and more aware of since coming to NRC.

A bond.

Of course, he loves his siblings. And his parents. And the students in Scarabia. And the students in the other dorms. He might consider all of the above friends, but not at the emotional level he seeks. Jamil is a work in progress. But you- you're already well-acquainted, and friendly. You're a gracious guest, a great listener, and... well, you had the kind of bond he looks for with so many other people on campus.

Why else would everyone be lining up to pay to be your friend otherwise?

(That's how he saw it, anyway).

So, he listens. Makes an effort to, anyway. He even stops feeding Grim at dinner when you ask him to.

"Oops!" he says, offering the direbeast a gold-lined handkerchief to wipe around his mouth. "But it's good, right? Jamil's family recipe is always delicious!"

You quirk a smile at him. "I liked it. Grim?"

Grim mumbles something indistinct and crawls to sit on the other side of you.

"I'm glad! I remember you telling me that you miss it from your home- I can't believe some of our recipes are so similar!" he beams. "Maybe Scarabia will start feeling like a home to you, too, then!"

You laugh, a little awkwardly. "Aha... maybe. This is all just so sudden,"

"But... good, right?"

"Yes, good," you smile, tilting your head to the side. "It's a step up from being Crowley's errand-runner and sleeping in the cold, at least."

"Well, you'll certainly never be cold here!"

He laughs again, and a murmur of agreement ripples through the students in attendance, all the way down to the end of the long table.

"Ah... Kalim, this is nice. Really nice... I don't know how I'm going to repay you for any of this,"

"Pay? Like with money?" he raises an eyebrow. "You're my guest, and an honorary member of Scarabia now, so you don't have to do anything but relax."

That's not exactly what you meant, though you don't have the heart to explain what exactly Crowley's care had been like.

"...Right. But really, if you need anything done- I'll be glad to do it,"

He's quiet for a moment, thinking. "Well... if you're really bored, I'm sure you could find something to do. We have lots of board games,"

"No, I meant like, work,"

Kalim blinks. "Why would you have to work?"

You should've just let it go. Now this is getting embarrassing, admitting all that Crowley had you do when you had no say in the matter.

"You know... to earn my keep,"

"Earn your..." he squints. "You don't have to earn anything. Having you here is reward enough for me!"

Sometimes his oblivious nature can be a little comforting.

And even though it's dark, his positivity is as radiant as the sun... you can't help but return his smile.

"Alright, then,"

"Alright! Now..." he says, looking around the table. "Who's ready for dessert?"

[klaus-littlestwolf]

YanAlpha!Klaus M. Mates the Last Omega

Klaus meets an Omega while searching for wolves to make Hybrids. She’s the first Omega he has seen in Hundreds of years and he knows he has to have her…even if it takes some intense patience on his part

Warning:This is a Yandere Headcanon and it is labeled that way for a reason, the behavior exhibited by Klaus is dark, demented, and extremely manipulative. Proceed with Caution. DD:DNE

It started out as a Headcanon but it didn’t end that way so I’m not sure what to call it at this point

~Klaus met you after finding out he needed Elena's blood to change his Hybrids

•The Hybrid had gone off by himself, leaving his sister behind, to find a new pack of werewolves and since he already knew where to look it didn't take long

•Klaus had walked right into the camp, startling the wolves who saw him before looking to their Alpha as the Hybrid knew they would.

•'I am Dane, Alpha of this pack and I'm sorry to say we don't allow outsiders in this camp, you may find the Shadow Moon pack to be more welcoming, they're about 12 miles southeast.  Leave this pack, now.'  The Alpha demanded and though he really wanted to laugh, he contained it, noting how so many of the wolves were shifting to a certain area as if protecting one specific tent. The tent being away from all of the others and clearly the largest one in the camp making Klaus extra curious though he would deal with the insolent Alpha first.

'That's good to know for later, thank you.  What is this pack called if I might ask?' He inquired, wondering if he should come up with a name for his own pack now, though that thought quickly fled his mind. Naming his pack would be inconsequential, he would just call it his Army.

'This is the Lycan Blood pack, and it is time for you to go, I am the Alpha of this pack.  You have no business here.'

'Oh, but that's where you're wrong.  I do have business here.  My name is Klaus, perhaps you've heard of me?' Everyone became noticeably stiff, once again shifting between him and the far tent.

'You're the hybrid.'

'Oh, you have heard of me.  Wonderful!' He grinned and suddenly the girl who had named him turned to the Alpha.

'Take care of her quickly.' He was officially intrigued when the Alpha took off to the tent and 4 of the wolves lunged at him at once.  It was far too easy to dispatch them, feeding them his blood and knocking the rest of the pack and the humans unconscious before following the Alpha to the tent.

'Please no?!  I haven't done anything wrong Alpha!'

'I know but I can't let him have you, you need to understand!  I have to do this!' Klaus peeked his head into the tent, seeing the Alpha with a dagger in hand, pinning another wolf to the ground, knees on her arms to keep her still as she still tried to kick him, tears streaming down her face.  The hybrid grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him off of her, quickly shoving a bloody wrist into the Alpha-soon to be Betas-mouth and snapped his neck.

•He had changed your Alpha that was trying to kill you before realizing what you were and the smell that filled his senses was like nothing he had ever experienced, made even stronger by the fact that he is in your tent that holds your nest (something he had only ever heard of before), he was obsessed with it immediately.  He knew as an Omega it would be hard for you to resist obeying an Alpha now that yours was gone and he knew he could take advantage of that as he watched you crawl away from him and up into the colorful, very well padded nest

•'Don't be afraid sweet girl, I won't harm you.' You looked up at him, tears in your eyes that Klaus wanted to wipe away but he wouldn't push you so far as to enter your nest this quickly, before looking down at your old Alphas dead body.  'I've given him a gift, he's a Hybrid now, never again bound to the moon.  You're a smart girl, you know that stronger Alphas will take over other packs, that's all this is, he's not your Alpha anymore sweet girl, I am, and I intend to protect you.' As he moved forward you suddenly hissed, swinging your claws out at him making him jump back to see he had nearly entered your nest and while the Original Hybrid felt he should be welcomed into the sweet smelling snuggly bed he also had heard how protective Omegas were of their nests and knew that if he bided his time you would be dragging him in before long, therefore he controlled himself...for now.

~He knew it would take time to get you to trust him and view him as your Alpha but he was willing to wait for you

•He eventually got you to relax enough to sleep, snuggled up in your nest and drifting off, allowing him to take care of the rest of the wolves, turning them and feeding them the Doppelgänger blood before getting rid of the humans and packing up everything his new pack would need to keep.  He woke you a few hours later and helped you begrudgingly pack up your nest and load it into his car to transport you to the next pack he had been told about

•He kept you safe in his house upon returning to Mystic Falls a few days later, having given you the master bedroom to set your nest in and that's where you stayed.  He would sit with you for hours, the first 2 days just consisted of him staring at you before he finally got you to talk to him which he counted as a win, quiet as you were.  He knew you eventually would, an Omega needs other wolves more than any Beta or Alpha does, they don't function well alone and he was going to make you completely dependent on him as your Alpha…no matter what he had to do

•'Eat my sweet girl, your Alpha made it especially for you.' He always referred to himself like this, knowing it would make you associate him with the head of your pack, as he hadn't changed you into a Hybrid yet, wanting you to be dependent on him first.

'Thank you...it's good.' You mumbled, reaching for your drink and touching his hand, the skin contact sending a feeling of warmth shooting up your body and making you needy.  Omegas are naturally needy and cuddly with their Alphas and your wolf has been quickly searching for a new Alpha to follow and you knew Klaus knew that.  It's why he isolated you and never left you alone but it was finally too much as you felt your wolf in the back of your head purring, your Alpha finally touching her after leaving her needy for days. 

Klaus watched your eyes glaze over and he knew your wolf was at the forefront of your mind, exactly what he was waiting for.  Klaus had only ever heard rumors about Omegas and since meeting you he did all the research he could, even compelling your old Alpha to tell him everything about you and how you behaved so he was prepared for whatever you needed.  'Alpha...'. you whined and he smiled, taking your hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.

'Alphas here, Omega.  It's okay.  You're safe here, Alpha will protect you.' You whined again, dropping the plate of food and crawling forward, out of your nest and into his lap, nuzzling under his chin.  'Well, aren't you a snuggly thing.  My sweet girl, Alphas here.' Klaus was delighted by your attitude, wrapping his arms around you before picking up your plate.  'Eat Omega, your Alpha needs to make sure you're taken care of, don't I?' He fed her a bite of her pasta, digging his face into her neck as he heard her moan before the purr erupted from her throat.  The sound ran a chill down his spine straight to his cock, which was instantly hard pressed against her ass on his lap.

'Alpha?' She wondered and he nipped at her flesh.

'It's alright.  Alpha will take care of you, sweet girl.  Taste just as sweet as you smell, fuck!' His head began to feel foggy now and while Klaus didn't appreciate not feeling in control of himself, the overall feeling was quite...amazing.  He tossed the plate away knowing someone would clean it later, turning her to straddle his lap and pressing his lips to hers for the first time, his lips feeling like he had eaten pop rocks, a feeling that spread the more his skin touched hers.  He fell in love with her whines and whimpers as she pulled him closer, tugging at his shirt which he tried to keep her from removing before she ripped it straight down the front to get her hands on her Alphas strong chest.  'Such a needy little thing, aren't you?' His hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her up from where she tried to kiss his neck to look him in the eyes which were now golden and possessive.  'Did your last Alpha let you rip his clothes like this, or did he put you in your place.'

'Never touched me.' She choked and he tilted his head, confused.  'Said 'Mega's get in your head and make it cloudy...he only-only needed me to build the pack-Alpha please?' She pulled at his hand and while he knew he wasn't hurting her or even really cutting off her airway he eased his grip until his hand just touched her skin.

Klaus knew that Betas were more inclined to join a pack with an Omega, Omegas providing a feeling of safety which is what all wolves searching for a pack are in need of, of course he used her to help build his pack but not mating her?  Klaus had been curious about that but now he understood.  Many Alphas hundreds of years ago believed Omegas had the ability to control their Alphas because, as she had just demonstrated, their scent and touch can make their Alpha feel foggy but they feel it too, it enhances the experience of mating.  However, he knew that many Alphas some 5-600 years ago killed Omegas to keep them from "controlling their minds and stealing their packs".  While Klaus knew it to be a crazy superstition, it had seemingly worked out for him since the idiot "Alpha" hadn't touched his Omega.

'Alpha won't do that to you sweet girl, I will always give you what you need.' Klaus rocked his hips upwards against hers and his Omega practically wailed in need, his hard length pressing up against her through his jeans, though her pajama shorts that covered very little of her didn't do much to offer her protection with whatever kind of panties she had on.  His hands settled on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, face digging into his neck as she panted needily as he continued rocking up into her.  'There you go Omega, just feel me, such a good girl.' Another whimper followed that and he smirked as she nibbled on a spot at his neck.  Klaus only needed to rock his hips up against hers a few more times before she all but howled out her release, his arms tightening around her and holding her close as she settled down, knowing the more she touched him and breathed in his scent at a moment like this the needier she would be for him.  He wanted her needy, wanted her riled up and desperate as it would push her body to her heat faster because he knew the moment that happened it would be the nail in the coffin, she would give herself to him and there would be no going back.

'Nest Alpha, snuggle.' She all but demanded and he smiled, finding her adorable.  Klaus lifted her up and moved her to her nest, settling her down inside of it and handing her one of the stuffed creatures inside of it.  'Alpha, come.  Need you-'

'Not now Omega, Alpha has things to do.  I'll come and check on you in a bit, okay?' She shook her head quickly.

'No, want you in my nest!  Come!' Now she was demanding and he growled low in his chest making her squirm.

'Watch your tone Omega.  I will be back.' As he went to leave she caught his torn shirt and tugged at it, not meeting his eyes letting him know exactly what she wants which caused a smile to grow on his face and he pulled the tattered shirt off so that she could keep his scent in her nest before grabbing a clean shirt and leaving her to her inevitable nap.

•It's not like Klaus didn't want to be in her nest, he wanted it more than Anything!  But he knew that the second he crawled in he wouldn't be crawling out.  He needed to control himself and being surrounded by his Omegas nest, encased in her scent, wouldn't allow him to think of anything but mounting her and before that happened he needed her to be well and truly desperate for him.  He needed her to choose him when she goes into her heat.

~He kept on like that for a while, holding her and giving her bits and pieces of pleasure, but never more than that

•Klaus did feel a bit bad for it, he was truly falling in love with this sweet creature and she just wanted him to love on her the way her instincts insisted on but he wouldn't.  When he had come back later that night her nest was completely different, she had disassembled it and remade it in a different way, clearly thinking that her Alpha hadn't been satisfied with it and that's why he wouldn't enter it.  It looked incredibly comfortable and Klaus wanted more than anything to crawl in and never come out again, out of the nest or out of his Omega, but he couldn't. Not yet.

•He tried his best to keep her from thinking that he didn't like it but over the next few days as he could smell her getting closer to her heat she changed the nest 5 more times in hopes that he would like it. 3 days after he got her off for the first time, she finally hit her heat and he could smell it instantly

•The entire pack could smell it honestly, and all of them were quite stiff and unsure that day, watching Klaus as if waiting for him to snap. He didn't let her sit alone for long, not willing to leave her in pain when he could relieve it, but there was one more thing that needed done

•Klaus had planned to allow one of his Betas up the stairs to scare his mate a bit and make her all the more dependent on him but it seems the Beta he intended to use had beaten him to it when he thought his Alpha was distracted. He heard the Beta creeping to the door to his Omegas room slowly and quietly before Klaus turned to Mindy, one of his strongest Betas, and had her clear everyone out of the house for the night. He moved up the stairs behind his stupid Hybrid and he could see how desperate this wolf was for his Omega. He allowed the boy to enter his Omegas room without any complaint from him and he could see that the idiot boy was clearly excited. All of his Hybrids had been whispering since he brought his Omega back here, about what he's really going to do with her since any normal Alpha would have marked her by now. Some of them say he's just using her to his own ends like their old Alpha, some are saying he's going to kill her to keep her from having a hold on him, and some seem to believe that he just needs to keep her but that he's going to let one of his pack members have her since he doesn't want her...to Klaus, that was the stupidest conclusion they had come up with. But here this idiot Beta was, walking into his Omegas room as if he belonged there without a second thought. He cannot allow his pack to be full of men who would try and touch his Omega...he also can't have Betas in his pack that are this fucking stupid! Yes, it's true that he was going to have this Beta scare his Omega a bit like this anyway, but Klaus actually had hope that the Beta would be smart enough not to fall for it...apparently not. Klaus had known exactly which one of his Hybrids would be dumb enough to try something and there was nothing that could save him now…

•Klaus stood by the door, listening carefully as he heard his girl groan before smelling the air and whimpering as she realized the person who walked in was not her Alpha.

'Get out.' Y/n mumbled, writhing against the blankets uncomfortably. Klaus knew she was uncomfortable and scared now that this idiot was in her room and he desperately wanted to comfort her, however he knew that “saving her” would benefit him in the end. He was however quite happy with the fact that she only wanted him, rejecting this other wolf. Even after Klaus hadn’t given her what she wanted all this time, she still would only accept her Alpha. Klaus was fully confident that she was as in love with him as he was with her.

'It's okay Omega...I won't hurt you.' Klaus heard her let out a loud, angry hiss and he was actually impressed by his girl. As overwhelmed by her heat as she is, she is pushing through the brain fog to continue rejecting this idiot Beta. 'Alpha isn't here, he's not coming...but I'm here. I'll take care of you, Angel. I'll make you feel so good you won't even think about him again.' Klaus actually finds himself shocked at how stupid this Beta is, he knew he was an idiot and he had been meaning to get rid of him for a while, but if he's really this stupid he wants him away from his Omega now-Plans be damned!

'Alpha is gonna kill you for this.' She warned, and though it only came out a quiet mumble Klaus found himself smiling at how strongly he'd made his Omega believe in him.

'He doesn't care about you. All this time he could have mated you but he didn't, he doesn't want to Omega.' Klaus noted the Betas footsteps, not willing to let him actually get close enough to touch his Omega or to enter her nest. 'We've all been talking about it since he locked you up here...what's so wrong with that Omega that an Alpha doesn't want to mate her?' She whimpered sadly, the noise yanking on Klaus' heartstrings. 'Dane always said you were too needy, too desperate for this nest and for his attention. Personally I think he had the right idea, minus the not fucking you bit.'

'If you touch my nest I'll claw your eyes out!' She threatened but he snorted.

'You think you're stronger than me? Especially now? No Omega, now you're gonna put the claws away and do as you're told or I'm gonna do what Dane did when you misbehaved and I'm gonna take this nest away from you.' Klaus found himself shocked by that, Y/n hadn't told him of her old Alpha taking away her nest…maybe she hadn’t wanted to risk giving him the idea? That is one of the worst things that can be done, something the Hybrid would never even consider doing to his Omega and this idiot was threatening to do it during her heat! If Klaus hadn't already killed Dane several days ago (having been overly possessive after touching his Omega the first time), he would be killing him now…though now he wishes he’d made the idiot suffer a bit more.

'Get away from me!' As Klaus now heard the fear in his Omegas voice, he finally stepped into the room, rumbling a loud growl from his chest and startling the Beta who jumped back from the nest. 'Alpha! Please make him stop?! Please?!' His girl pleaded and Klaus felt his wolf howling in the back of his mind as he was overcome by the smell of his Omegas heat.

'What do you think you're doing in here?' Klaus asked, as calmly as he could which startled the Beta more.

'You aren't mating her, and if you're not going to, someone should.' The boy explained, trying to keep up his cocky attitude but being unable to keep the waver out of his voice as he grew more nervous.

'So you thought you would sneak in here while I was out, like a rat, and assault my Omega while she's in heat...if you truly think any Omega anywhere deserves that kind of treatment...then the world is damn lucky that you're not an Alpha.'

'I'd make a better Alpha than you! You leave her here alone every day to suffer-'

'Suffer?! She has everything she could ever need, she has her own room that no one else can enter and force her to smell other wolves, she has a nest full of everything she could want and I continue adding to it every day! I bring her meals and snacks, entertainment and I stay by her side everyday! Just because I don't force myself on her and make her take me as her Alpha doesn't mean she is suffering!' Klaus wrapped his hand around the Betas throat, pinning him to the wall and baring his fangs in his face, him whimpering like a scared little boy. 'You tried to hurt my Omega-'

'I didn't-'

'You threatened to take her nest from her for not giving you what you want. You threatened her...and I cannot let that go unpunished. No one hurts my Omega.' Just as he shoved his hand into the Hybrids chest his wolf began howling in the back of his brain once again, the loud purr that was coming from behind him was setting all of Klaus' nerve endings on fire. He felt the goosebumps rise on his flesh, every inch of his skin feeling tingly as he was overwhelmed by the scent of his Omega in heat and the sound of her purring just for him.

'Alpha...?' He turned his head to see her sat in her nest, her perfect soft skin now on display as she had stripped herself of her clothes, looking at him with a hopeful, pleading look. The sheen of sweat over her pale flesh seemed to remind him of how uncomfortable she must be and he jerked his hand back, tearing the mans heart from his chest and dropping it to the ground after using his shirt to wipe his hand off.  'Please don't leave me again...fixed the nest for you so you'll like it now...please stay?'

'You don't need to beg Omega, your Alpha is here.'  Klaus moved quickly, dragging the Betas body out the door before shutting it and moving back towards her, her scent overwhelming his senses as his mind became foggy once again.  He could see that her eyes were glazed over again, her heat taking its toll on her.  Klaus pulled his shirt over his head quickly, stripping his pants off as well as his boxer briefs to leave him completely bare as he crawls into her nest finally, being an instant relief to the both of them. Klaus grabs ahold of her ankle, pulling her towards himself roughly so that she’s laid out on her back now for him to touch as he pleases. ‘So perfect Omega, look at you…’ he hums, crawling over her and pressing his forehead to hers. ‘All mine now, aren’t you?’ She nodded quickly, moving her head to kiss him but he pulled back. ‘Say it Babygirl.’

‘Alphas! All Alphas now, no one else, never again! My Alpha…love my Alpha!’ She grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his now.

‘1000 years I’ve been waiting, you are never getting away from me now. And I will slaughter anyone who dares touch my Omega.’ He swore, lips still pressed to hers as he did. As he touched her Klaus found himself briefly wondering if this is what being on drugs felt like-every touch, every small brush of skin felt electrified and almost explosive. If this is what sex with his Omega feels like every time, he could never imagine wanting another women ever again, no other sex could top this feeling and he wasn’t even inside of her yet-though his Omega aimed to change that quickly.

‘Please?’ She whined, lifting her hips and rubbing her slick against his hard cock.

‘Please what, Omega? What do you need from your Alpha?’ He grabbed the backs of her knees and pulled her legs to wrap around his waist, her dripping cunt now pinned against him.

‘Knot! Please-Please Alpha?! Need your knot!’ His Omega was begging, she was a desperate little slut in need of his knot inside of her and the wolf in his mind was banging on its cage in his brain trying to get out.

‘You’ll have it precious, it’s all yours-‘

‘Mine! My Alpha! My Knot! All Mine!’ Her possessive behavior shocked him a bit, never having had a women under him before that would even think to claim him as her own. He was the Hybrid, he belonged to no one-but just as he thought this he was overcome with a heavy weight in his mind, his fangs pushing out of his gums as his eyes shifted to that familiar gold, dark veins forming below them. He felt no control in himself anymore as his wolf was now in the forefront of his mind.

‘That’s right pup, Alpha is all yours. No one else’s, not ever again. My pretty Omega, look at you, such a needy Little Wolf for me, need your Alpha to make it all better, hmm?’ She nodded, tears leaking from her eyes as she was completely overwhelmed. ‘It’s alright Omega, your Alpha is gonna take care of you so good. All mine.’ The growl that his voice had taken on clearly made his girl happy as she began purring quite loudly. ‘Scream for your Alpha, baby. Let all of them hear you in your pleasure, let them know who’s cunt this is!’ He shifted his hips back before pushing himself forward and filling his Omega with his cock for the first time. She squeaked a bit at the feeling of the stretch before moaning, claws digging into Klaus’ flesh on his back which only served to send a new shot of pleasure down his spine.

He began thrusting up into her at a borderline painful pace but her little whines and whimpers were driving him on. His wolf was content for the first time since smelling his Omega, driving his hips forward, fangs bared as he shoved his face into her neck and continued fucking his Omega. ‘Oh God! Alpha! Please?! Please Alpha?!’

‘Shh, hush now Little Wolf, I’ve got you.’ Klaus could feel how close she was, desperate to cum just as he was and as he felt his knot beginning to swell he pulled out of her slick hole and flipped her over. He ignored her whining as he lifted her ass up, presenting her to himself and shoving his cock back into her cunt. ‘Such a pretty Omega, aren’t you? Perfect little holes for your Alpha, I can have them all, can’t I? You wouldn’t deny me these lovely holes, would you?’ She shook her head, whining desperately and Klaus could feel her squeeze his cock, knowing she is going to cum.

‘Knot…Knot Alpha-Need-‘

‘I know Omega, Alphas gonna knot you up so good. Gonna be so full of me you’ll be carrying around my pups tomorrow-‘

‘Oh God! Yes-Yes! Please Alpha?!’

‘Does my Little Wolf want her mate to fill her with his babies? Fuck, you’ll look so gorgeous with your belly swollen with my pups,gonna be so sexy-I’ll never be able to stop fucking you Omega!’ Klaus felt his knot swelling as he knew he was close, needing to feel his Omegas pussy squeeze him the way he had always wanted. He trailed his hand down her spine, squeezing her ass and pressing his thumb against her tight little hole, receiving a loud squeal. ‘Cum for your Alpha, Little Wolf, squeeze my cock nice and tight and I’ll give you what you want.’

‘Yes! Yes Alpha! Oh Fuck!’ In that moment Klaus knew he had never felt anything more perfect than her sweet little cunt as she squeezed the life out of his cock, his knot expanding fully inside of her just as he buried his fangs into her neck roughly, finally marking her as his. His cock filled her almost violently with more cum than he would ever think he could, his orgasm lasting more than double what it usually did before they both collapsed.

His wolf had receded from his mind for the moment and he was slightly more aware of his surroundings, hearing his mate whine and realizing the uncomfortable position they were in as they had both collapsed awkwardly. He moved carefully onto his side and helped her move with him, his knot still trapped inside of her as it would be for at least the next 15 minutes, making him hold her hips to his gently so he didn’t hurt them both before holding her back to his chest and nuzzling her neck with a hand cupping her breast. ‘You did so good for me, Omega. Gave yourself to me so perfect, my good girl.’ He praised, kissing her neck over the mating mark he had gifted her and enjoying the soft purr he was rewarded with.

‘Don’t leave…’ she mumbled as her eyes drifted shut against her will, knowing she needed to sleep as her body was driven to rest as his seed attempted to take hold inside of her. They would be mating like this at the very least every few hours for the next 5-7 days during her heat, and even if he knew it would never happen, the Alpha inside of him was desperate to fill her with his pups as many times as he could during her heat.

‘You think I would leave you like this? What kind of terrible Alpha do you take me for Omega? I am not leaving your side once until your heat is over and you’re so full of my cum that you look knocked up already…I’m sorry that I can’t give you that…but we can have fun trying for the rest of eternity.’ He teased, nipping her ear and enjoying her soft whine.

‘Just want you Alpha…don’t need anything else if I have you.’

‘You will always have me Babygirl, I will never let you go. Never.’ He growled, thrusting up into her and enjoying her loud whimper as she felt his knot move. ‘Sleep Omega, Alpha will wake you soon when I will fuck you again before I feed my little mate and I fuck you in the kitchen. Just sleep little mate, you’re safe now. Alpha has you.’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was. 

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist. 

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.” 

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet. 

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.” 

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him. 

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly. 

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it. 

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway. 

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching. 

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer. 

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder. 

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other. 

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.” 

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him. 

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon