#the wisp… is hurt.

[lanternlightss]

lady gunnhildr, one of the founders of mondstadt as we know it, you do not get appreciated enough for everything you have done

[tojisun]

what if simon only likes you because you remind him of his past lover

[sneakybella]

pretty hard to hide an injury like that

—~~—

one day my ao3 book will see the light of day… till then art! ;D

[sneakybella]

Comfort can be found in the strangest places

—~~—

Running out of art from the book but I swear it’ll get posted soon 😭😭😭

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - ELEVEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe sat in his truck outside the unassuming brick building for longer than he’d care to admit, over two hours. The sign out front read “Coastal Therapy Center” in simple, soothing letters, but nothing about this felt soothing.

Therapy. 

If someone had told him just three months ago he’d be here, he would have laughed in their face. Therapy was for weak people, that was what Ward Cameron had drilled into him since he was a kid. It was the kind of shit he’d spent his whole life avoiding because, what was the point? Nothing ever changed. Not for him, not for his so-called family.

After his mom died, Ward’s solution was to bury it—all of it. Grief, pain, confusion. “Camerons don’t cry,” he’d said. “We keep moving forward.” But what if forward felt like walking through hell?

The door felt impossibly far away, but he knew he had to get out.

“Get your shit together man,” he muttered under his breath.

He could hear his dad’s voice in his head, unforgiving. Weak. Pathetic. That same voice had driven him for years, pushed him to be stronger, tougher, to bury every fucking thing he felt. But it wasn’t Ward’s voice that mattered now, it was yours, the Picture of your eyes shining with tears the last time you’d spoken to him.

He glanced at the building again, still not knowing if he believed in it, if it could fix whatever was broken inside him. But he did know one thing: if he didn’t at least try, he’d lose you for good.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shoving open the truck door, but before he walked it, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. His fingers fumbled with the lighter, the flame sputtering before finally catching. He took a drag, the smoke burning his lungs in a way that almost felt good.

He exhaled slowly, watching the gray wisps disappear into the air. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. He should just leave. Get back in the truck, drive somewhere, anywhere but here. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pushing himself off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back to the door. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, although it felt like walking to his own execution.The waiting room was quiet, with soft music playing in the background. 

He hated it already. He didn’t belong here, but he chose to stay, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt like a bitch. He couldn’t stop his legs from bouncing as he waited for the receptionist to notice him.

When she eventually looked up and smiled, he nodded stiffly, avoiding her. He didn’t want her kindness. Didn’t deserve it. Rafe wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say when he walked into that first session. 

He didn’t know how to explain the mess, the voices in his head, the anger that raged over and the guilt that followed like a shadow. But he knew why he was here.

When the therapist finally called his name, Rafe hesitated for half a second before standing. She looked normal enough—glasses, sweater, clipboard—but it still made his skin crawl. He felt like she could see through him, as if she already knew all the shit he’d done and thought and didn’t want to admit to anyone, especially himself.

“Rafe?” she called again, her voice patient. He didn’t deserve that either, but he nodded and followed her to the room.

It was small, the kind of place that made him feel like a caged animal, he sat on the couch because what the hell else was he supposed to do, and stared at the floor, picking at a thread on his jeans.

“So,” she started, sitting across from him, crossing her legs like this was just a normal conversation. “What brings you here today?”

 “Huh, what doesn’t?” he said before he could stop himself. He glanced up at her, half expecting her to kick him out right there.

But she didn’t, instead she simply nodded, like she got it, she’d heard worse. 

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with whatever feels the hardest.”

He leaned back, running a hand over his face. 

Where the fuck was he even supposed to start? His mom dying? His dad? The drugs, the fights, the hole he’d dug so deep he wasn’t sure he’d ever crawl out? Or maybe with you, with the way he’d pushed you away until you had no choice but to hate him?

“I don’t know,” he said finally. His eyes stayed glossed over on a spot on the carpet “I guess...uh, I should start with my mom, right? She died when I was fourteen. Leukemia.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just nodded like she was giving him space to keep going. He hated the silence, how much it made him feel, but he kept going, because if he was going to do this shit right, he might as well not half-ass it.

““I’m sorry to hear that,” she said gently. “What do you remember most about her? What was she like?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “She was… everything, y’know?” His throat felt sore, “I know everyone says that shit about their mom, but she really was. She was the one who kept everything together. When my dad was being—” 

He stopped short, his jaw twitching at how hard he bite his tongue.

“When he was being what?” the therapist prompted.

“When he was being him, she was the one who’d step in. She’d tell him to back off, that I was just a kid, or that I didn’t deserve whatever shit he was throwing at me that day. She was the only one who ever really had my back.”

“How did losing her affect your relationship with your dad?”

“It changed everything. When she got sick, it was like… I don’t know, like everything just fell apart. She was the glue, y’know? Without her, my dad just—he went full-on Ward Cameron.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, “I remember the day she died,” he said after a long pause. “I thought I’d have more time. They kept saying it was bad, but I didn’t think it would happen that day. And then it did. Just like that.”

He rubbed his hands together, the motion frantic, restless. “I didn’t even cry. I just sat there, staring at the floor while my dad kept saying, ‘We’ll get through this. We’re Camerons. We don’t fall apart.’ And I was like, okay, I guess that’s what we’re doing then. Not falling apart. Just… moving forward.”

“What does that mean to you, ‘full-on Ward Cameron’?”

“It means he turned me into his fucking project.”

“Did he ever talk to you about what you were feeling? About how hard it was to lose her?” the therapist asked, her tone pointed.

“No,” Rafe said immediately,“My dad never wanted to talk about it. He acted like it was this... inconvenience. Yeah, he was sad, but he just buried it, wanted me to do the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” she prompted

Rafe let out a bitter laugh. 

“I’m the oldest, out of three. Not just the oldest— the only son. Wen she died, my dad decided I had to step up, be the man of the house. Take care of my sisters, keep everything running smoothly. Be his goddamn mini-me, like that was even possible. I was fourteen, but that shit didn’t matter. My dad expected me to bury all the shit I was feeling, I had to be twice as strong because I was the only man left.”

“How did that make you feel?” she asked, her tone measured but firm.

“How do you think it made me feel?” he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He sighed, leaning forward again and dropping his head into his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” she nodded, not the least bit fazed, “But I think it’s important to answer that question. How did it make you feel?”

“Like shit,” he admitted after a long pause. “I couldn’t do anything right. I was pissed at him for putting all of that on me, pissed at my sister for needing me, pissed at her for dying and leaving me with all this. And most of all, pissed at myself because no matter what I did, it was never enough. Not for him, not for me.”

“Do you think you could have stopped it?” the therapist asked softly.

Rafe’s head snapped up at that, but then he shook his head. “No,” he admitted, “I know I couldn’t, it wasn’t my fault. But it felt like it was, if I’d been better—smarter, stronger—she would’ve stayed. Or at least… she would’ve been proud of me for trying.”

He hasn't said it out loud since that night, with you.

She pursed her lips, as she took notes, “You should give yourself more credit, for how much you’ve survived.”

“Credit? For what? Being a fuck-up?”

She barely looked up from her notebook, changing the direction of her questions, “What do you think your mom would say to you now, if she could?” 

Rafe’s throat tightened, and he looked away, “I don’t know. Fuck, maybe... maybe she’d say she’s proud of me for being here. For trying to fix it, even if I should’ve done it years ago,” He paused, swallowing hard. “She probably would think I’m a fucking idiot, I pushed away the one person who actually fucking mattered.”

“Who’s that?” the therapist asked gently.

“My girlfriend,” He bit his tongue, the word stinging, “Ex-girlfriend now, I guess. After my dad died, I just—I started pushing her away. Picking fights over Ward, shutting her out when she tried to help me see the truth about him,” He swallowed hard, his throat burning. 

He hadn’t expected to feel this vulnerable, but now that he’d started talking about you, about what he’d ruined, it was hard to stop.

“She’s the one, y’know?” he muttered, his voice distant as though he was speaking to himself more than anyone else. “I fucked it all up.”

“What happened?”

Rafe let out a shaky breath.

“I was an asshole. I told her I didn’t need her, that she should just leave, like it wasn’t me who was the fuckin’problem. She did—she left, thought if I cut her loose or pushed her away, maybe I wouldn’t feel so fucking broken. Maybe if I wasn’t constantly looking at her and seeing everything I couldn’t be, I could... I don’t know. Get my shit together or some bullshit.” He rubbed his temples, frustration mounting “But then, like a fucking idiot, I started seeing someone else. All I could think about was how much it would hurt her if she found out. And it did.” His voice cracked, “It fucking destroyed her, I knew it would. That’s the worst part—I fucking knew, and I still let it happen, like the selfish piece of shit I am.”

He pressed his palms to his eyes, hoping it could block out the memory of you—your tear-streaked face.

“What do you think that relationship was about?”

His fists clenched again, “A distraction? I thought if I just... started fresh, started with someone who didn’t know all my baggage, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like I was constantly failing, I could just... forget. Forget everything. Forget her, forget my dad, forget how fucked up I was.”

“And did it help you forget?” she asked, her voice steady, but full of understanding.

“No,” He gritted out, “I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when I was with someone else. Every time I closed my eyes, it was her face I saw. Her voice I heard in my head, telling me I could do better, be better. Shit, all I could do was prove her wrong.”

The therapist leaned forward slightly, her expression compassionate. “It sounds like she means a great deal to you.”

“Talking about her,” He paused, wincing as if he was in physical pain, “She’s just—fuck, man—she’s always in my head. It’s worse than talking about my parents, worse than remembering my mom dying or my dad. Because with them, it’s just... loss, y’know? Her? I had her, she was there. She loved me, and I ruined it.”

“What do you think she would say to you now, if she could hear this?” the therapist suggested, “You don’t have to think about it, if you don’t want to.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He chuckled, but it came out jagged “Shit, that sounded real fuckin’ pathetic, huh? I can’t even talk about her without losing my shit.”

“It’s not pathetic. Give it a try.”

“I don’t know,” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise, “That it’s too late? She’s done with me, and I deserve it. I think she’d still tell me to get my shit together and she’s proud of me for trying, even if I’m still the same fucked-up mess I was when she left, even if she hates me. That’s the kind of person she is.” His throat tightened again, and he looked away. “But even if she did, it doesn’t change the fact that I broke her heart.”

The therapist let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “It’s clear that you’re carrying a lot of pain, not just from losing her, but from how you see yourself in all of this. Have you ever thought about what it might look like to forgive yourself?”

“Forgive myself?” Rafe repeated, his voice incredulous. He shook his head, scoffing. “I don’t even... know what that would look like, y’know?” His leg started bouncing again, the restless energy coursing through him. “How do you even do that? Is there, uh, like, a fucking manual or something for that shit?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head, “I keep replaying it. All the shit I said to her.”

The therapist didn’t say anything, just watched him, her expression poised. He hated that, how calm she was when he felt like he was losing it.

He huffed, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, yeah, maybe that’s why I’m here. I don’t even know where to fucking start. It’s just—fuck, it’s just a lot. Too much.”

“It’s a lot of guilt for just one person, Rafe,” she pointed out, “Your mom, your dad, your relationship. And I think you’re right—talking about it won’t change the past, but it might help you figure out how to move forward.”

He scoffed “Yeah, okay. Move forward. Sounds easy enough.”

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But it’s possible. You don’t have to figure it all out today, or even next month.” 

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’ve already started,” she pointed out. “You’re here.”

You’re here. 

Those two words rattled around in his skull. He was here, but why? To make himself feel better? To prove to himself—or you—that he could do this, could change? Did he even believe that?

He thought about the nights he spent pacing his room, phone in hand, your number glowing on the screen. He’d wanted to call, to apologize, to beg, but he couldn’t. What would he even say? 

Rafe let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his foot tapping out an uneven rhythm. He didn’t have it in him to argue, not anymore. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I’m here.”

He was there, sure, but the room still felt small, the air dirty, his own body too restless to sit still for another second. His hands clenched into fists against his thighs, his nails biting into the fabric of his levi’s.

“You say you’re a mess, but you’re here,” the therapist said after a moment, her tone even. “You’re talking about it, trying to figure out what went wrong and what you can do to make it right. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s given up.”

He wanted her to push, to give him a reason to bolt out of there, to justify why this whole thing was a stupid mistake. But she didn’t, she was waiting like she had all the time in the world.

“Why’s it gotta be like this, huh? Why does everything have to hurt so f-fucking much? Why can’t I just... be normal? Like everyone else?”

“Normal is a lot more complicated than it looks. What does ‘normal’ mean to you?”

He scoffed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know. Not waking up every day feeling like... like there’s this weight on my chest.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze firm but not invasive. “That sounds exhausting.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my life,” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like... I can’t turn it off, y’know?” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the space around him. “It’s just there. Always.”

“You mentioned earlier that you feel like you’re not enough,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Not enough for who?”

“For anyone,” he said immediately, then paused, his throat tightening. “For my dad, for my sisters... for her. I mean, shit, if I can’t even be enough for me, how the fuck am I supposed to be enough for anyone else?”

The therapist smiled faintly, not unkindly. “That’s what we’re here to understand.”

Two hours later and 300$ short, his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up with two missed calls and a flood of texts. All from Topper. 

Rafe grabbed the phone, unlocking it with his thumb and scrolling through the messages.

Topper: “Bro. SOS.” “I think she hates me.” “Like, actually hates me.” “Call me back. This is a situation.”

He huffed out a breath, tossing the phone back onto the seat. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Topper’s idea of a crisis was probably that your coffee order had foam when you wanted oat milk or some shit.

Rafe rubbed his temples knowing he wasn’t exactly in a position to play mediator. 

The last call came in five minutes ago, he muttered, “What the fuck did you do now?” and hit the call button.

Topper picked up on the first ring.

“Rafe!” Topper’s voice was a mess— frantic, breathless, like he’d just run a marathon. “Okay, okay, it’s official—she’s gonna kill me or us—”

“Top, what the fuck are you talking about?” He snapped, already annoyed.

“I—uh—Did you tell her I told you?” Topper stammered. “Because she blocked me, everywhere. She told me, ‘Never speak to me again,’ and blocked me! I’m dead. She’s gonna cut me off for good, man.”

Rafe bit the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t, but Sarah knows you know.”

“Why would you tell her?” Topper grumbled out, “You know she hates me too. She’s the enemy.”

“She’s my sister you fuckin’ idiot.”

“Semantics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling of his truck. He wanted to hang up, but Topper’s desperation was almost pathetic enough to make him stick around

His friend fell silent for a moment. Then, quietly: “You think she’s gonna be okay? I mean, with everything?”

“I don’t know. But she’s strong. She’s gonna do what she needs to do—whether we’re in the picture or not.”

Topper swallowed audibly. “So… what do I do?”

Rafe sighed, “Give her space. Just… back off and let her come to you. If she even wants to.”

“It’s kinda crazy, right? Asking you for advice? For the longest time, you were public enemy number one. You, the big, bad ex who broke her heart.” Topper’s laugh was nervous, he knew he was pushing it but couldn’t stop himself. “Now she hates me more. Like, I dethroned you. That’s wild.”

 “Yeah, hilarious,” he muttered.

Topper either didn’t catch the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “A real plot twist. I knew I’d screw up eventually, but I didn’t think I’d ever top your record.”

“Topper,” Rafe growled, “this isn’t a fuckin’ joke. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You mean, like… she really hates you, or…?”

Wow.

Rafe clicked his tongue in annoyance, “The fuck you think?”

"Wait, wait," Topper said quickly, his voice climbing. "You still haven’t asked her? Confirmed all this? What if I—what if I misunderstood or something?"

His eyes squeezed shut, as if the sheer force of Topper’s stupidity might give him an aneurysm. "Yeah, fuckin' genius. Because it’s so easy to ask someone who won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me."

"Okay, okay, fair," Topper admitted, “Your sister could’ help.”

“Again Top, be fucking serious.”

"Yeah, okay, nevermind. But what if it’s not true? What if I made things worse for no reason?"

"You did make things worse," Rafe snapped, his patience hanging by a thread. "You’re lucky she hasn’t shown up at your door to shoot you.”

"Not helping, dude," Topper muttered, then hesitated. "So… what’re you gonna do? I mean, if she won’t talk to you, if Sarah won’t fess up, how’re you gonna know for sure? What if she really is—y’know—and you’re just sitting here like a dumbass, waiting for a miracle?"

Rafe opened his eyes, staring blankly at the dashboard. Topper wasn’t wrong, but hearing it said out loud made his stomach burn, especially after he just spent a good fucking hour talking about you, pouring his feelings out to a stranger he paid for.

Was he wasting time—time you needed him to be stepping up?

"I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay? I want to know, but—she’s got every right to hate me, man. How am I supposed to just… show up and ask her something like that, huh?”

Topper exhaled loudly, his usual bravado replaced with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "Yeah, I guess you’re kinda in a lose-lose situation. Damn. That’s rough, bro."

"Thanks for the insight. Real helpful," Rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face.

“She’s blocking me, she’s not talking to you—you think she’s just gonna wake up one day and decide to make it easy for us? For you?"

Rafe sighed, "No. She’s not."

"So… what’s the move?"

Rafe stared out the windshield, his heart pounding in his chest. What was the move? He didn’t have an answer.

"Guess I’ll figure it out," he said finally, voice rough around the edges.

Topper hummed thoughtfully. "Well, uh, good luck with that. And, y’know, if you figure it out… let me know if I’m, like, still alive in her eyes or if I should start preparing for witness protection."

Rafe rubbed his forehead, trying to avoid the headache that was building behind his eyes. "You’re on your own there.”

"Fair," Topper said lightly, “Shit, this is depressing. We should go on a boat ride tomorrow.”

A boat day? He could almost hear the suggestion in Topper's voice: a desperate, half-hearted attempt to get away from it all.

"Yeah," Rafe hummed, "Maybe.”

"Seriously, though, it might help," Topper said, but he could tell the guy was genuinely losing it, "Get out on the water, clear our heads, get some space.”

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the dashboard “Space,” he repeated hollowly. Empty. "Yeah, I guess.”

Topper's voice came through again, sounding more serious "Just don't stay in your head too long, man. Don't get stuck there. You deserve a break too.”

Maybe the boat ride was the kind of distraction he needed to stop the spiral he’d been going down over the past few days. To stop thinking about all the things he couldn’t fix right now.

"Alrigh’, we’ll do the boat thing."

Topper, as if relieved that Rafe was playing along, responded with a chuckle. “Sweet. I’ll get the cooler ready. It’ll be good. I’ll try not to drive you completely insane.”

“Don’t make any promises,” He rolled his eyes, feeling the tension in his body soothe slightly, though it was still there—a bruise that hadn't healed.

The call ended shortly after, leaving him alone with his thoughts again.

He glanced at the phone, the notifications still lighting up with messages from Topper. He barely glanced at them, his mind turning instead to you, as always. To the things he should have said, the things he should have done. To the feeling of you slipping farther away, out of his reach, out of his life.

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing anymore, didn’t know how to fix any of this. 

He just knew that at least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts.

You were at ponguelandia again for the night, it wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Sarah had insisted, practically dragged you here after hearing about your “severe anemia” situation. Add the fact that carrying the baby could fuck up your health to the point where you’d be bedridden for the rest of your life (or worse), and it was a recipe for a meltdown. 

You couldn’t be alone right now, not after all that. Being around people was better than being alone. 

Her and John B were being everything you needed, so you’d put on a happy face and pretend you weren’t dying inside. They were doing their whole supportive couple thing, and it was almost everything you needed—if it weren’t also so annoyingly them. Could they be more in love? Probably not. It was nauseating in the best and worst way, watching the life you could’ve had with someone else if things had turned out differently.

Then there was Kie and JJ. They were around, too, in their usual JJ-and-Kie way: watching you, but not prying, holding back out of respect—or pity. They knew you’d passed out on the beach two weeks ago and that you were “sick,” but Sarah had spared them the details. Small blessings, you guessed.

You were trying your best to keep up the whole "everything’s fine" act, but it was getting exhausting. Sarah had been the one who knew the real story—about the anemia, the baby, the complications—and she was the only one who knew how much of a mess you were in.

You’d asked her not to tell any of them. That didn’t make the pretending any easier. All they knew was that you were feeling a little under the weather, run-down, nothing too serious. You didn’t want to tell them. They’d never understand, not in the way you needed him to. Not when the issue was...everything.

You were curled up on the couch in their messy living room, a blanket thrown over your legs, you were trying to hide under it. You were just tired of pretending you weren’t falling apart inside. But you could do it for Sarah, she deserved to have a normal night, one that wasn’t filled with you sobbing in her arms. 

John B was sitting on the other side of the couch, there was an awkward space between you two. Not in a bad way, just... you didn’t really know him. He and Rafe had a history, to say things were tense between them was an understatement. But you liked him for Sarah, he treated her right. 

That was more than you could say for a lot of people in her life, so... here you were.

Kie was sitting cross-legged on the armchair, holding a bottle of something that definitely wasn’t soda, while JJ sprawled across the floor by her feet. John B had his arm slung casually around Sarah, who was perched on the couch between you and him, her body half-turned toward you as if she were ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. 

Always watching, always waiting.

JJ tossed a pretzel at Kiara, which she caught without looking up.

“So, tomorrow’s the big day,” he announced, grinning like a kid.

Kie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“To you,” he shot back, pointing dramatically. “To me? Monumental. Legendary. Historic.”

Sarah groaned. “He’s talking about the party,” she explained, bracing for your reaction.

“What party?” you asked, already regretting the question.

“Just a little thing at Poguelandia,” John B said casually, brushing popcorn crumbs off his jeans. “Bonfire, some drinks, a couple of people. Nothing crazy, it's promotional."

 “A couple of people? Dude, half the island’s gonna show up.”

John B shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s not a party unless it’s packed.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, leaning back on his elbows. “You have to come. It’s gonna be sick.”

You made a face, “I’m not really in a party mood.”

Sarah turned to you immediately, her eyes wide and full of meaning. The look. The one that said, C’mon, you need this.

“It’d be fun,” she pouted, “You could use a little fun right now.”

“I’m fine,” you said, avoiding her eyes and focusing on the popcorn in your lap. “I don’t need a party to cheer me up.”

Kiara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. Just a chill day. You won’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“And there’ll be drinks,” JJ added with a wink. “Or, you know, drink-adjacent options for those who can’t hang.”

For a second, your stomach almost dropped. Did he know? The way he said it—so casually—it almost felt like he did. It felt like he was teasing you in that obnoxious JJ way, but with an awareness that made you want to crawl out of your skin. But then logic kicked in.

They didn’t know. Not about the baby, at least. As far as they were concerned, you were just sick. Which, to be fair, you were. “Drink-adjacent” made sense because no one expected you to down shots when you could barely keep yourself upright most days.

Still, the comment made you uneasy, and your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

“Right,” you grimaced, your voice stiff. “Because nothing says ‘party’ like seltzer water.”

“That’s the spirit. We’ll even get the fancy kind, with lime or whatever. Really roll out the red carpet for you.”

Kie snorted. “You’re so generous, JJ.”

“Hey, I’m a man of the people baby,” he said, throwing his hands up like he was defending his honor.

Sarah nudged you again, harder this time, and you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. She was giving you that look again, the one that screamed, Just say yes already.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” you muttered, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to resigned.

“Nope,” she said brightly.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

JJ whooped, pumping a fist in the air like you’d just agreed to crown him king of the Pogues. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“I didn’t say I was going. I said I’d think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving you off like the details didn’t matter. “Thinking about it is basically saying yes.” JJ grinned at you, “But y’know,” he started, pointing a lazy finger in your direction, “it’s still kind of insane that you’re here. The literal kook of the kooks.”

You rolled your eyes, “And yet, here I am. Stuck with the pogues. Truly the highlight of my life.”

“Admit it. You love it. The... gritty charm.”

“Right,” you casted a skeptical glance around the room. “Because who wouldn’t love the charm of beer-stained furniture, half-empty snack bags, and... whatever that smell is?” You wrinkled your nose for effect, though you weren’t entirely joking.

The place was a dump.

John B chuckled from his corner of the couch, tossing a piece of popcorn at JJ. “She’s not wrong, man. This place barely qualifies as livable.”

“Livable?” JJ looked mock-offended, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is prime real estate! You kooks don’t appreciate the artistic chaos.”

Kiara looked up from her phone. “It’s chaos, all right.”

Sarah leaned toward you, her voice low and teasing. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just salty you make this place look like a dump by comparison.”

“Please,” JJ cut in, leaning forward, “This place looks like a dump because it is a dump. But it’s our dump.” He grinned, flicking his eyes back to you. “And now, apparently, it’s yours too. Welcome to the family, kook princess.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Don’t get used to it.”

JJ clutched his chest again. “Ouch. Cold. But fair.”

The truth was, you did think the place was terrible. 

Objectively, it was, you already knew that since last week.

The furniture didn’t match, the walls had stains you didn’t want to think too hard about, and everything felt sticky, even if it wasn’t. You were used to perfect beachfront properties with matching decor and staff that catered to your every whim. This? It was a wreck.

But at the same time, there was something about it that felt... alive. The chaos wasn’t just chaos—it was theirs. The mismatched furniture, the random surfboards propped in corners, the lived-in feel of a space that wasn’t trying to impress anyone. It made you hate it and love it all at once.

Your eyes flicked to Kie, who rolled hers at JJ but couldn’t hide her smile. He said something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and she shoved his shoulder in mock annoyance. He grinned at her, that lazy grin he probably didn’t even realize he saved just for her. And she was trying so hard to look unimpressed, but her expression softened anyway, she couldn’t help herself.

Sarah caught you looking and smirked, nudging you. “Cute, right?” she whispered.

You gave her a half-smile, more honest this time. “Annoyingly so.”

JJ, oblivious to the exchange, flopped onto his back. “I don’t know why you all keep insulting my hospitality. If this was a five-star resort, it wouldn’t have vibes.”

“Yeah, vibes of a condemned building,” you grumbled back, unable to help yourself.

And when everyone laughed—Kie’s chuckle, Sarah’s giggle, JJ’s full-blown cackle—you hated yourself a little for loving it here, even as you pretended you didn’t.

Would things have been different if you hadn’t been born a Kook?

The thought hit you out of nowhere, unwelcomely, like it always did when you let your guard down. Would your family still be alive if you weren’t wrapped up in the trappings of wealth and privilege? If your dad hadn’t been able to afford that stupid private jet, if your mom hadn’t insisted on using it for every family trip, if your sister hadn’t tagged along on that one last flight...

It was a cruel, useless spiral of what-ifs that never went anywhere but still had you choking on guilt every time. Because it wasn’t just the money. It was the whole stupid kook world—the private schools, the country clubs, the constant need to show off and be better than everyone else. That world had shaped your family, pushed them into the roles they played, and it had been the death of them, literally and figuratively.

You wondered, not for the first time, if they would’ve been safer if you’d all been normal. Just some middle-class family driving to vacations in an old station wagon, complaining about rest-stop food and fighting over the radio. Maybe your parents wouldn’t have been so busy, and maybe your sister wouldn’t have been on that flight at all.

Your throat burned, and you blinked hard, trying to push the thoughts back where they belonged. The pogues were still talking, still laughing, completely unaware of the war blazing in your head.

“You’re lucky to be here, kook princess. You’re getting the real-life experience.”

You forced a weak smile, still staring at the popcorn. “The real-life experience.”

If this was real life, you thought bitterly, maybe you wouldn’t have so much to regret. Maybe you’d still have them. Maybe you’d even know who you were outside of the perfect, shiny bubble you’d grown up in—one that had popped so catastrophically you were still finding pieces of it in your skin.

Maybe if you hadn’t been born a kook, you wouldn’t have met Rafe when you were kids. You wouldn’t have been his best friend, wouldn’t have spent your whole childhood trailing after him, clinging to every crooked smile and reckless dare like they were proof that you mattered.

You wouldn’t have fallen in love with him at sixteen, back when you thought love meant him driving you to the beach in his dad’s truck, his hand on your thigh, telling you you were the only person who really got him. You wouldn’t have had your heart broken by him now, when he was with someone else. Your hand drifted to your stomach, a subconscious gesture that made your breath hitch. You wouldn’t be pregnant with his kid, either. Or sick.

You’d built this whole life around him without even realizing it.

Would it have been better? Not having Rafe at all?

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to imagine a version of your life where he’d never existed, where you didn’t have his name carved into your heart. Where you weren’t here now, still loving him. Where you weren’t pregnant and alone while he was somewhere else.

The truth—the awful, undeniable truth—was that you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

For all the ways he’d broken you, Rafe had been the one to hold you together when everything else fell apart, the one who pulled you out of bed when you couldn’t find the strength, who made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how.

If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know if you’d even be here now.

And you wouldn’t trade the sound of his laugh for anything in the world. Not the condescending biting one he used to throw around when he was being an ass, but the real one, the one that came out when he was caught off guard. 

Even if you hated him, you couldn’t regret him. Not all the way. Not enough to wish he’d never been in your life. Despite all of it—he’d been there when no one else was, that was enough to keep him tethered to your heart, even now, when you wished it wasn’t.

“Earth to princess,” Kiara's voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the dimly lit room and the blanket over your legs. She waved a hand in front of your face, “You still with us, or are you planning your escape route?”

You forced a smile, “Just trying to figure out how I got roped into your weird little cult, that’s all.”

They laughed, the sound was bright enough to pull you out of your head, just for a moment. It wasn’t the same as Rafe’s laugh, but it was something. Right now, you’d take it.

When you woke up, the house was already buzzing. 

The pogues were up and at it, setting up for whatever party they had planned. You’d slept in, which wasn’t like you, but Sarah had all but forced you to stay in bed last night, insisting you needed the rest. She’d even made John B sleep on the couch so you could take his spot in their bed. You felt bad—guilty, really—you tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but Sarah was Sarah. Stubborn, loyal, annoyingly sweet Sarah.

The morning, however, had been nothing short of a disaster.

You barely made it out of bed before you were sprinting to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the toilet like you’d had one too many shots at a party the night before. Except, this wasn’t from partying—it was the fucking morning sickness. Thank God everyone else was outside setting up, or you’d have to deal with their questions.

You stayed in the bathroom longer than you wanted to, rinsing your mouth out and glaring at yourself in the mirror like your reflection was to blame for your misery. Your hair was a mess, your skin looked pale. You looked like shit.

To make matters worse, the house was painfully loud. Every noise from outside echoed through the shitty walls, stabbing into your head. The party. Where everyone would be drinking, laughing, and probably noticing that you were the only one sitting in a corner looking like you’d been hit by a train.

Groaning, you wiped your face with a cold washcloth. “Fuck,” you complained under your breath, glaring at yourself in the mirror. 

You grabbed the bottle of pre-natal vitamins from your bag, the ones that looked like horse pills, and twisted off the cap. The nausea was already crawling up your throat again, and the last thing you wanted was to shove a giant vitamin down your stomach.

You didn't have much of a choice. You needed it, not just for the baby, but because of the anemia. If you didn't stay on top of it, you’d end up worse than you felt now—and that was already a nightmare you were trying to avoid.

You stared at the pill in your hand, mentally preparing yourself.

“Just swallow it,” you muttered, willing yourself into doing it. It took a moment, but you finally threw it back. You chased it down with a sip of water, grimacing as it settled in your stomach. It felt like you were choking on a rock, and you had to fight to keep your stomach from revolting all over again.

For a while, you sat back on the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, head in your hands, hating the lingering taste of bile in your mouth even after your oral hygiene.

You let yourself fall back, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily, pressing a hand to your stomach, not out of affection but frustration.

"I’m trying here, okay? Can you at least meet me halfway?" you muttered.

The distant noises and commotion from outside seeped in through the window, but it only made you feel more isolated. You reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through notifications you didn’t care about. A text from Sarah popped up: "Take your time. We’ve got it covered out here.”

You tossed the phone aside, rubbing your temples. You wished you could just stay here all day, curled up under the covers, but the thought of Sarah’s concerned face, of the inevitable questions and glances, made that impossible. You were tired of being a problem, tired of being the fragile one everyone tiptoed around.

You sighed, knowing there was no way you’d make it through this day without looking like total crap. You grabbed a hoodie from the back of the door, tossed your hair up into a bun, and made your way downstairs.

You found her in the kitchen, already pouring drinks and bossing JJ and Pope around. She spotted you lingering in the doorway and waved you off before you could say anything.

“Nope,” she shook her head, clicking her tongue at you like you were a misbehaving child. “Don’t even think about it. Go sit down. Rest. It’s gonna be a long day, and you need it, okay?”

You blinked at her, then at the mess around the house. Decorations were half-done outside, the tables and counter were an explosion of snacks, and JJ was currently trying to balance three folding chairs in one hand like a party trick. Kie was arguing with John B about where the cooler should go, and Sarah was somehow keeping it all from falling apart.

You leaned against the doorway, hand still on your stomach, glaring at her as she poured some sort of drink into a plastic cup. “You could’ve woken me up. I’m not completely useless.”

Sarah spun around, eyebrows raised and gave you a look that could kill. “Uh, no, you don’t get to complain. I let you sleep in because you need it, and I’m not about to let you overdo it, okay.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “I feel like a freeloader right now.”

“You’re not a freeloader,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “You’re my sister. And you’ve been through... a lot. So just chill. We’ve got this.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re pregnant, which means you’re officially on my do-not-let-her-do-anything list. Now go sit your ass down before I make one of them carry you.”

“Don’t drag them into this,” you muttered, but you were already giving up the fight. Sarah was like a pit bull when she made up her mind, and there was no arguing with her. You nodded reluctantly, letting her win this one. It wasn’t like you had the energy to argue anyway.

Outside, the rest of the group was scattered around the yard, setting up for what promised to be a classic pogues-style party. Pope and Cleo had arrived at some point; Pope was trying to figure out how to hang a string of lights between two trees, while Cleo stood nearby, holding a roll of tape and offering sarcastic commentary.

“Maybe if you’d let me do it, we wouldn’t be out here for an hour,” Cleo teased, tilting her head.

“And maybe if you didn’t talk so much, I could concentrate, baby.”

JJ was dragging a cooler across the sand, muttering something about how “beer doesn’t carry itself,” while Kie followed behind him, laughing and tossing bags of chips into a pile on the picnic table.

Sarah joined you on the porch, a can of sparkling water in her hand. “See? We’ve got it under control,” she said, gesturing to the scene in front of you. “Now, sit down, relax, and enjoy the show.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Aren’t you gonna take your own advice?”

Sarah grinned, “I’ll relax when the party starts. For now, my mission is to make sure you don’t lift a finger.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” she replied, linking her arm through yours.

And she wasn’t wrong. As much as you hated being doted on, it was hard not to appreciate everything she’d been doing for you.

Cleo spotted you from across the yard and waved, her smile wide and warm. “Yo! You gonna come hang out or just stand there looking pretty?”

“Both,” JJ called out, smirking as he cracked open a beer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. 

“I said pretty, rude boy. It doesn’t include your ass.”

“Cleo, you wound me. I thought we had something special.”

“Yeah, it’s called my patience, and it’s runnin’ real thin,” Cleo yelled back, smirking as she handed Pope the tape. “Here. Fix your mess before the whole damn tree comes down.”

Pope muttered something under his breath but took the tape anyway, climbing back onto the ladder. “You could’ve just done this yourself if you were so sure about it.”

“And rob you of the chance to prove me wrong? Never,” Cleo quipped, crossing her arms as she stepped back to watch him work.

The two of you headed toward the table where Kie was busy arranging snacks, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“How are we still out of guac?” She muttered, her tone more annoyed than concerned. “I swear I made enough to feed an army.”

“Your boyfriend happened,” Sarah said without missing a beat. “I saw him sneak off with a bowl earlier.”

Kie groaned, hands on her hips as she glared at the blonde boy, who was now lounging in a chair with his feet propped up on the cooler.

“You are a menace to society.”

“And yet, here I am, invited to all your parties,” JJ replied, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

Kie grabbed a chip and threw it at him, hitting him square in the forehead, "It's your party too, dick."

“Guys,” Pope called out from the ladder, sounding exasperated. “Can someone just hold the other end of the lights? I’m not trying to die out here.”

“I got it,” Cleo said, strolling over and grabbing the string of lights. “Don’t let go of that tape, or you’re on your own.”

Cleo had finally climbed up the ladder with Pope, muttering something sarcastic, only for him to pull her into a quick kiss that made her giggle.

It wasn’t long before everyone started getting ready for the party. It was only around 3:30, but you could tell everyone was in full-on prep mode, running around and grabbing last-minute things. You figured you should probably start getting ready, too, if you wanted to make it to the party without looking completely out of it.

You escaped, fully aware that Sarah would check on you soon if you didn’t start moving. Sitting on the bed, you scrolled aimlessly for outfit inspiration, but everything felt wrong—too tight, too flashy, or too… not you. You hadn’t exactly packed for a pogues-style party, and the thought of showing up in your worn-out jeans or one of John B’s oversized T-shirts made you shudder.

Sarah’s closet caught your eye, the door slightly ajar. A beacon of decent fashion that you knew was still hiding in there, despite her efforts to shed the kook label. She still had a few relics from her old life, buried beneath tie-dye and frayed denim.

You’d teased her about it last week, calling her out for keeping a little piece of her former self tucked away. She’d rolled her eyes and said, “A girl’s gotta have options.”

Today, you needed those options.

You bypassed the flashier options in favor of something understated. Nestled between a linen sundress and a denim jacket was exactly what you needed: a simple, fitted black dress. It was sleeveless, with a subtle scoop neckline and a hemline that hit just above the knee. The fabric was soft and unassuming but hugged your frame just right, giving it a quietly polished look.

“This one,” you murmured, pulling it off the hanger. It wasn’t loud or overly attention-grabbing—more like the kind of dress that someone who didn’t need to try would wear. 

Elegant, minimal, perfect.

Sliding it on, you immediately felt the difference. It didn’t scream for attention, but it made you feel put together, which was exactly what you needed right now. You ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles before stepping into a pair of nude sandals you’d found shoved in the back of the closet. Flat, simple, and mercifully easy to walk in.

Sarah popped her head in just as you were brushing your hair out into soft waves. “There she is,” she said, giving you a once-over. “God forbid you wear something ugly, huh?”

You tugged lightly at the hem of the dress. “I’m doing this closet justice.”

“You are. I forgot I even had that dress or I would've given it away."

“Thank God for that,” you replied, slipping on a simple gold bracelet you found on her dresser. “The pogues' style is great and all, but I have my limits.” You hadn’t even touched your makeup yet. With a sigh, you glanced at Sarah. “I’ll be ready in five.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t tease, already heading downstairs to check on the others. You glanced at the clock—it was almost party time, but you needed a few more minutes to look presentable.

You grabbed her makeup bag from her vanity and settled in front of the mirror. Starting with a light layer of foundation, you evened out your complexion. You weren’t trying to hide anything; you just needed to look less like you’d just rolled out of bed.

For the first time in what felt like years, you weren’t thinking about the baby. You weren’t worrying about keeping your secret from Rafe or everyone else around you. You weren’t wrapped up in the anxiety of it all. Instead, you were just doing something that felt simple, that belonged to your age—putting on makeup, getting ready for a party, like a normal twenty-year-old something woman.

This was the most normal you’d felt in months.

You’d been so consumed with everything pregnancy-related, trying to stay on top of your emotions while dealing with the fear of being found out. It was exhausting. You had forgotten what it felt like to be carefree, to be you—not just someone wrapped up in worry. There was something so familiar about it—the way the brush swept across your skin, the way you mixed your bronzer just right to highlight your cheekbones. It felt like the old you. Who knew this shit could be so therapeutic?

A soft sigh slipped from your lips. You needed more moments like this. Simple, easy moments where you didn’t have to think about the rest of the world. Just doing your makeup. Just getting dressed. Just being you—even for a little while.

When you made your way downstairs again, the mess had somehow multiplied. The house was alive with movement, and the sound of JJ yelling something unintelligible from the backyard. People had already started arriving—pogues, and a handful of kooks who never missed a good party. You spotted Sarah in the kitchen, pouring drinks into a massive punch bowl, looking entirely in her element.

You sidled up to Kie, who was setting out plates of food with military precision. “Hey, you need any help with this? Or anything, really?”

Kie glanced up, her brows shooting toward her hairline as she appraised you. “Is this the control freak in you?”

“Funny,” you deadpanned, leaning on the counter. “Seriously, though. Put me to work.”

She snorted, grabbing a handful of napkins and shoving them into your hands. “Fine. You can help set these out on the tables outside. But if Sarah catches you, this conversation didn’t happen.”

“Deal.” 

The yard looked like something out of a fever dream. String lights were half-strung between trees, chairs and tables were scattered everywhere. A cooler sat precariously close to tipping over, its contents already being raided by JJ, who was popping open another beer while Cleo scolded him for being “absolutely useless.”

You moved through the yard, laying out napkins and straightening plates, feeling some of the earlier tension and sleep deprivation ease from your back. It felt good to do something normal, something productive. By the time you circled back to the porch, Sarah was waiting for you, hands on her hips and a knowing look in her eyes. “I thought I told you to sit down.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Kie needed help. I’m fine.”

Sarah didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she handed you a cup of water and gestured toward one of the chairs on the porch. “At least pretend you’re taking it easy, okay? You’re gonna need your energy when this party really gets going.”

You rolled your eyes but took the seat, sipping the drink as you watched the guests buzz around the yard. 

Cleo and Kiara were already in tears laughing as JJ dramatically narrated Pope’s “world record attempt,” complete with fake announcer voice. By the time Pope finally flipped upside down with his help, everyone was cheering loud enough to drown out the music blasting from the backyard speakers.

JJ was yelling something about “legendary keg stand form” as Pope balanced upside down on the keg, supported by Cleo and a very unenthused Kie.

It was hilarious watching his usually composed demeanor dissolve into giggles as beer dripped down his face, but even funnier was JJ hyping him up like this was the Olympics. “That’s my boy! New record! Somebody time this shit!”

You laughed, for once letting yourself enjoy the day. It felt good to be surrounded by fun, to not be caught up in your head for a change. Maybe Sarah had been right—you needed this.

For once, you were wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. It felt so good to do it too, to feel like you were part of something instead of just watching from the sidelines. You could breathe again.

Pope wobbled, barely lasting ten seconds before collapsing onto the grass. JJ threw his arms up like they’d just won the championship, shouting, “A legend was born tonight!”

You felt all the stress and heaviness you’d been dragging and moping around had finally been put on pause.

Then, subtle at first, a tickle at the back of your neck, a whisper of unease. You moved around on the railing, trying to shake it off. You glanced around, casually at first, scanning the crowd. Everyone seemed caught up in something—JJ was on his third keg stand attempt, Kie and Cleo were busy arguing over the playlist, and the rest of the partygoers were either dancing or clustered around the fire pit.

Nothing out of the ordinary. You tried to ignore it at first, brushing it off as your brain’s way of being a buzzkill. It had a way of doing that—ruining a perfectly good night with its tendency to overanalyze everything.  You were having a good time, and you weren’t about to let paranoia ruin it.

But then you spotted her, Sofia.

She was standing near the back door, lit by the string lights strung across the porch, holding a beer cup. And she was staring at you.

Not just a quick glance, not the way someone looks when they’re zoning out. No. This was…staring. Your stomach twisted. This couldn’t be about you, she was just drunk and in her feelings or whatever. But there was something about the way she looked—sad, almost heartbroken—that made you want to bolt home.

You turned away, feeling like you couldn’t breathe, the night wasn’t as fun anymore. Maybe she wasn’t even looking at you. Except, you couldn’t shake it. You drained the rest of your water and headed inside to refill it, telling yourself you needed a second to breathe.

But of course, the second you stepped into the kitchen, Sofia was there.

She was crying—full-on crying—her mascara smudged and her cheeks streaked with tears. She was drunk, that much was obvious, so drunk she had to grab the counter.

Jesus.

 “Uh…? Are you okay?”

You weren’t Sofia’s biggest fan.

She had the love of your life—the guy you’d once thought was it for you—and that alone made it impossible to feel anything but complicated about her. Add to that the fact that she was a pogue, and… you’d never been friends.

The last thing you wanted to do tonight was play therapist, especially not for her. But she was still a girl, drunk and crying in the middle of a party, and no matter how much history—or lack thereof—existed between you, there was no way you were going to leave her like that.

You sighed, setting your cup down on the counter, “Do you need to sit down? Water?”

She only sobbed harder. Okay, not helping, noted.

“Hey, sit down,” you murmured, guiding her to the bench by the window. She didn’t resist, collapsing onto it.

Her eyes glassy and red. She looked up at you like you were the last person she wanted to see, but also, somehow, the only one she needed.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You crouched down in front of her, arms resting on your knees as you tried to figure out what the hell she meant. “What wasn’t supposed to happen? Did someone do something to you?”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head hard enough to make her curls bounce. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just… it’s Rafe. He—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands.

The second she said his name—Rafe—you already knew.

You didn’t know the details, didn’t need them, but you knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. That name always did.

Sofia’s voice cracked again, her words coming out between hiccuping breaths and slurred apologies, but you’d already braced yourself for whatever you were about to hear.

And yet, when she finally said it—he dumped me—it still felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water in your face.

What the fuck were you supposed to say to that?

"I’m not sure what you want me to do with this."

She flinched, her glassy eyes darting up to meet yours, but she didn’t say anything, just sniffled and stared at you like you had all the answers. You didn’t. Not for her.

"You’re upset, I get that," you continued, "But coming to me about Rafe? Really? What did you think was going to happen here?"

Her lip trembled, you thought she might start wailing again. "I—I didn’t plan this, okay? I just… I didn’t know who else to—"

On one hand, you felt bad for her.

How could you not? She was drunk, sobbing, in a way that felt painfully familiar. But on the other hand… what the fuck did she expect? She’d dated Rafe—your Rafe—knowing you were a six-year-long shadow she could never step out of.

She was with him knowing now she wanted you to what? Comfort her? Be her shoulder to cry on?

This wasn’t the time to be petty or mean, not when she was looking at you like you were the only person who could possibly understand.

“H-he dumped me,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “said… he said he’s not over you. That he c-can’t give me what I d-deserve because… because his heart’s still with you.”

You pursed your lips, a tangled knot of guilt, and something dangerously close to vindication swimming in your head.

Of course, it felt good to hear it—of course it did. But that didn’t make it easier to watch another girl fall apart in front of you because of him. As pathetic as it was, you knew what it felt like to be that girl.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the snarky comment sitting on your tongue. As much as this whole thing screamed bad decision after bad decision, she was still here, crying her eyes out, and you weren’t heartless. Not entirely, anyway.

“I knew,” she whispered, “I knew he wasn’t over you. From the beginning. I thought I c-could… I don’t know. Change his mind?” She let out a choked sob. “I’m sittin' h-here, drunk and crying to you, of all people, because I d-didn’t li-isten to my gut when it told me to walk away. I’m sorry,” she blubbered, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You probably hate me.”

You didn’t answer right away because, yeah, she wasn’t entirely wrong. You didn’t like her, that was for damn sure. But hate? Hate took too much energy.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Couldn’t say what you really thought—that she should’ve walked away, that no one could ever fill a space someone else left behind. So instead, you sat down beside her.

“I know it doesn’t help,” you said finally, “but it’s not your fault. Rafe… he’s complicated. He doesn’t know what he wants half the time, and even when he does, he’s too scared to hold on to it.”

She looked at you through teary eyes. “He held on to you for years.”

“Yeah. And look how that turned out.”

"If this is how I feel now, I can’t even imagine what you went through."

You bit your lip. She honestly thought this was the time for some heartfelt apology? God, bless her heart—no, scratch that, bless her delusions. She was standing there, looking like a wet mess, telling you she couldn’t imagine how you felt? If only she knew.

You sighed, grabbing a towel from the counter and tossing it at her. "Here. Fix your face. You look like you’ve been crying in a frat basement."

She caught the towel, her cheeks burning as she dabbed at her ruined makeup. "I—thanks," Her voice shook as she continued her drunk ramble, "I didn’t know... I didn’t realize how bad it hurt you."

You took a breath, part of you wanting to snap at her, tell her it was too little, too late. You could’ve easily unleashed all the venom you’d kept inside for so long. But then, there was that little voice in your head—one that, surprisingly, wasn’t making fun of her. You couldn’t be that cruel, you weren’t heartless, no matter how complicated things had gotten.

Sofia, in this state—drunk, emotional—didn’t deserve that. 

"You need to get your shit together, stop letting your entire world revolve around him.” You could see her flinch at that last part, but you weren’t done yet.

How ironic.

"You’re better than this. You don’t need a guy—especially Rafe—to make you feel whole. I learned something, and you’re going to learn it too. Life doesn’t revolve around some guy’s bullshit feelings. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be, put yourself first, always. I’ve been there. You’ve got to live with the fact that he chose someone else. It doesn’t matter if you did everything right—sometimes, it’s just not enough."

There was a part of you that really felt sorry for her, the part that was human, not just jaded from all the pain. But there was also a voice in your head saying, You don’t owe her understanding.

Loving Rafe Cameron could feel like the best and worst thing at the same time.

You watch her carefully, making sure she’s soaking it in. "You deserve better than a guy who doesn't know how to value you. And don’t get me wrong, I get it. We’ve all been there. You can’t fix him."

Sofia was still sniffling and wiping her eyes, catching her breath, maybe even trying to piece things together. You felt like you had done something... good? Maybe not good, but at least you’d been the bigger person, showing her a bit of mercy.

Before she could answer, the door creaked, and you both turned to see your cousin standing there. Instantly, all alarm bells went off in your head, your eyes narrowing instantly, hands searching for something to throw at his face.

"Topper," you spit out, the name coming out like acid, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

ooop- y'all not ready for chapter 12 heheheh

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[shrimpybbq]

a meeting with the in-laws

anon: high school gf's parents coming back after they've kicked her out once the baby's born and demanding to see their “baby" and it's a whole scene

It had been three days since the newest Cameron had arrived into the world, the small baby boy kicking and screaming like a true warrior. A coked-up Rafe swore he had never seen anything so perfect as when he saw his own little boy clutched tightly within his mother’s arms, his sweet red cheeks chubby and full of life. It had taken some convincing but soon Rafe had his son against his bare chest as he softly stroked at the wisps of hair atop his head. He sat by his sleeping girlfriend’s side, quietly cooing to his son. There in that room lay his whole world, and it was then and there that Rafe made a promise to himself: no-one would hurt either of them for as long as he lived.

Rafe found his first opponents rather quickly. The small family returned to Tannyhill on the third day and began to settle back into the house, bringing their son up to the nursery they had spent hours painting. Rafe had wanted to hire someone to paint the images on the wall but had begrudgingly agreed to help his girlfriend paint them herself when she began tearing up in front of him. They had decided on a space themed nursery after Sarah suggested it. As they settled the sleeping boy in his cot, a loud knock echoed across the property. The new parents ignored it, only to hear mumbled voices from the foyer grow louder and louder. It was with a start that Rafe looked up, his bicep being clutched tightly.

“My parents…they’re here!” she whispered anxiously, her eyes widening as she looked up at him for help, “they told me that I was dead to them Rafe!”

Rafe looked at his sweet girl, taking her into his arms as she began to tremble, hands running soothingly over her back. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s gonna be ok, alright? You’ve got me here and I-I’m not gonna let them treat you like shit, ok,” he muttered. Rafe watched her pull away from him slowly, giving him a small nod as she wiped away the tears that had managed to spill over. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head and whispered encouragingly “you can do this, baby.”

As they made their way down the stairs, it was clear that the Cameron’s did not take kindly to the familiar family standing in their living room. Rafe and Sarah were the two most obvious in their distaste, each wearing matching grimaces and glares. They both watched as her mother immediately ran to hug her daughter,

“Oh sweetie, there you are! My baby all grown up with her own baby - oh I’m so proud of you.”

Rafe watched as his girlfriend stood stiffly in her arms, a distraught expression crossing her face at the words. He couldn’t help but grit his teeth - he had watched as she cried for weeks after her parents kicked her out, her heart broken as they refused to answer her calls. They’d removed her existence from their lives for nine months and now here they were, claiming to love her again? No, that wouldn’t do, Rafe thought.

“Are you, though?” Rafe bit out. He grinned as all eyes turned sharply to him.

“Of course we are, our daughter has given us a strong and healthy grandchild. Why wouldn’t we be?” Her father asked, his tone filled with a certain menacing quality that both Rafe and Ward picked up on. The former ignored his father’s warning glance as he continued to speak.

“What about when you kicked her out, pregnant and alone with no money? Hmm, yeah I thought you’d remember that,” he spat, watching a flicker of shame cross the older woman’s face.

“Rafe that’s en-”

“No, come on Dad, you saw what they did to her, to my son. They didn’t give a shit until he was born, isn’t that right?”

All in the room stood in silence as the tension became so thick it could swallow them whole. It was only the audacity of her father that shattered the silence, “we want to see him.”

Fuck no, Rafe thought. He watched as his girlfriend scampered to his side, her eyes looking up at him pleading. They’d spoken often about her parents and had come to an agreement to keep them away from their family, not trusting their intentions should they come back. Almost imperceptibly, Rafe nodded towards her, a firm squeeze to her hip confirming he understood what she wanted.

“No.”

“W-what did you say to me, boy?”

“I said no. You’re not coming near my son, or my girl, now get the fuck off my property, alright?”

Ward looked between his son and the other grandfather, sighing deeply before coming towards his old friend. He spoke lowly, the rest of the room unaware of their words. It was only when both men turned back to the face their children did they speak.

“You must be very overwhelmed with all those hormones right now, sweetheart. You aren’t in your right mind,” Rafe heard her father say, fists clenching at the audacity he had, “we will come and see you next week. Maybe you could be alone next time.”

The Cameron’s wordlessly watched as Ward escorted her family to their cars. They turned back to see Rafe comforting his girlfriend, her head buried into his chest as she sobbed. Rafe stood there as his blood rushed through his body, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. This was his first experience being a parent - of feeling a sense of unwavering protectiveness come over him. He knew then that his promise to himself in that hospital chair would never be broken, for he would do everything in his power to keep his family safe. No one would ever hurt them, and as he slowly walked his sweet crying girl back to the nursery, he knew he would kill to keep them safe.

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

IGNEOUS

PAIRING: Sukuna x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. True form!sukuna, heian era, sukuna being an ass, mentions of cannibalism, smut, bath sex, very small dom/sub undertones, rough sex, hard degradation, degrading names, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm delay/denial, dirty talk, asphyxiation, scratching, biting, dirty talk, reader is a masochist, sukuna is a sadist, reader calls sukuna master once, breeding kink, creampie, virginity loss (only hurts like a small amount bc rly it's sukuna, his dick is fucking huge), corruption kink WORD COUNT: 28,617 SUMMARY: Volcanic. If you were asked to describe, or even alone thinking about it, you’d say your devotion and passion for the man was volcanic.

A/N: this is long as fuck and probably one of my most in depth oneshots/smut i ever wrote but what can you expect with someone like sukuna. pls mind the tags and i hope you enjoy!!

It was hot, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the Summer night, or because you may have been on the verge of having a hot flash due to tumultuous emotions.  

A lone bead of sweat sliding down your temple to drip onto the collar of your kimono spoke enough for your mood as it matched the apprehension licking its way down the nape of your neck to your trail down along your spine; a startling contrast in the matter to how serene and beautiful the night looked and felt as well.

The night was quiet for the moment, the tatami door haven been opened to give view of the obsidian sky with the risen midnight moon along with the magnificence and abundance of bright stars and lonesome clouds backgrounding it for quite the observation of an onlooker looking for a sight to see. You were no stranger to being enamored by such wonderous sights, your eyelashes falling heavily over your eyes as you blinked in tune to the way a lone breeze swayed the nearby branches of a towering cherry blossom tree, that the petals of wisped away towards the mountain range the palace laid atop of and the smooth and still lake below the palace. It was a heavenly sight, another hard contrast to the inhabitant of the palace that was due any time to come home.

You supposed it was that time again as well, a sigh heaving its way out of your lungs as you dipped a foot in the rippling water of steam and circled it around until the heated liquid tickled along your ankle and soothed the aching bones in your foot. It was time for him to come home, and it was his bath time. It had been two weeks since he had left, a regular occasion he took part of for his taste of carnage and his appetite, and whenever he came back, he was always in a mess and tracking through all the hallways until he got to his designated area for bathing. You knew what he left for, the footsteps painted on the floor in crimson told enough, but that still never deterred you from continuing to service him.

Even if he was a curse, ate people (you preferred not to think about that too much, but the days he came back with his nail beds caked in blood and you spied the corner of his lips crusted in it, it got difficult sometimes), and was all around the most feared presence in the land, he was rather fickle about his baths. He spent a sustainable amount of time in them, something you hadn’t expected from someone like him who spent more time dirtying himself up and dousing himself in blood then dipping himself into the relaxing water of a bath. Yet, given how he carried himself, his bath was fit for that of a King.

The onsen was closed off from a good part of the palace, remotely only near his quarters and where he lounged around for most of the day, and it was as beautiful as you had expected for how nice you noted the palace was whenever you first arrived there. Inside rather than out with dimly fire lanterns and the view you were looking out at from before, it was rimmed with a fine edge before lining itself up with various rocks holding a spout that continually poured hot water into the circular structure in a rippling rhythm that calmed your mind as much as it put your body on edge. It was wide enough for him and him alone, the sheer height of him taking up most of the bath as was and normally leaving no room for anyone else.

He truly made it for himself alone to enjoy after drawn out days.

You sighed again as your gut churned, not in trepidation per se, but more-so because you were inclined to see him again in a sick sense of affection you had taken up for him for the time you had been serving him. It was morally wrong, and perhaps a bad decision on your part to care for someone who had no regard for any human life, but you blamed it on your lack traction therefore in the matters of not having someone steer you in the right direction. Truth be told, serving the palace and him was truly all you had, something that he knew just as much as you did as it catered to his liking whenever he was in his mood to tease.

You were still deciding if that was pathetic on your half or not, and apparently it seemed to be to him if the many times you had huffed at him that you’d leave, and he had laughed in your face while goading you on told you anything.

(He had told you that you were free to leave if you so wished, but not only did that disregard the idea of you being killed over it if you left, it also disregarded the fact that whenever you said so and he aggravated you on to do it the grip he’d have on your obi or your waist spoke otherwise in a means to tell you that you weren’t going anywhere regardless.

Not that you particularly minded that either, the palace was rather luxurious and offered a good amount of protection, but you only ever said that at times to feel the sting of his nails through your kimono into your skin whenever he got wound up over the idea of you leaving. He liked to tease and laugh at you knowing you truly didn’t have the guts to leave him, but another part of you whispered treacherously in your ear that the mere thought of you running away from him made him angrier than he would’ve liked for himself. And that was something you weren’t sure of on your behalf whenever he’d dismiss and ignore you seemingly afterwards, but also something that only fueled your burning longing for him at the mere indication of his possessive nature over you.)

Withdrawing your foot from the water as it seemed to be accordingly to his temperature, you decided then to pass the time and bent low enough to pass your fingers through it, your knees pressed together hugging your chest as you tickled your fingertips along the ripples that seemed to calm your nerves for the time being. You tried to keep your head clear of any greying thoughts to keep your ears alive for the sounds of his footsteps, yet it was hard to focus when all you could think of was actually seeing him again. You ended up answering your earlier question to whether you were pathetic or not when you remembered that you put on a fine, white kimono embroidered with red orchids that accentuated you outstandingly, and one that he had supplied you with a while back before, for his return and the moment you had been told you’d be preparing his bath.

You didn’t necessarily know why you felt anxious to see him once again, you had welcomed him back plenty of times after his ‘trips’, yet you supposed it was more-so something you always felt deep down from your lingering desire for him that you had desperately tried to ignore.

(Then again, the older servant was always the one bath duty, and it had gotten put on you as she was busy tending to cleaning other things, so you were the one stuck with making sure all of his needs for the bath he’d demand for the moment he got back were ready.)

There was a long moment of silence as you lost yourself in your thoughts involuntarily, the breeze quiet and the lonely owl that had been hooting suddenly stopping as the hairs on the back of your neck rose in all-too familiar sensation. It was a suffocating sense, blanketing you in a surge of energy that tickled your nerves and nearly feel like your ribs were tightening in on themselves. Part of you could feel that sliver of fear make itself known with a pang to your stomach and your pulse quickening, yet the other more depraved part knew exactly what it was as the hum in your lower abdomen spoke enough for you as you released a low breath when the tendrils curled around your neck.

You blinked as it abruptly dissipated from you… then –

“Oh? Taking a bath without me? Or, perhaps, waiting on me?”

You never could find out how someone so big like him could sneak up on you like that, nor from the way you constantly kept your eyes and ears out for him, but lo and behold he always did and found it humorous if you ever jumped like a skittish cat. Nevertheless, your shoulders did jerk upwards, but you quickly stamped it down in favor of maintaining a mask of indifference rather than surprise and excitement to seeing him again. Last thing you needed was him bringing up so that you looked happy to see him again after so long to stroke his already large ego.

Yet you stood perhaps more quickly than you intended, bowing to him before looking at him while wiping your fingers along your robe and swallowing down the ball of saliva lodged into your throat to address him properly. The other trivial annoyance you didn’t what to happen was your voice to crack or to choke on your words in front of him in newfound nervousness that you got to see him again and for him to start teasing you for that as well. It was bad enough he liked to egg on your feistiness to try and get you to snap.

“I didn’t hear you come in; I apologize.”

His voice always slithered down your spine, the wavelengths wiggling into your brain to take home there each time you heard that low tremor leave his chest and soothe itself deep into your muscles and bones. “Lost in your own thoughts? Here I was thinking you were going for a dip.” Eerily, you compared his voice and tone to that of him dragging a nail slowly down your spine, tickling you at the same time of enticing you for whatever more sensations he could bring to your mind and body. “If you were though, then by all means don’t stop on my account…”

The warmth that enveloped your face didn’t help, out of annoyance or flusterment you weren’t sure, but you were glad that he couldn’t see your face so easily from your bent over position to see the thoughts cross over your expression and color your eyes. You stomped it down however, swallowing and holding back a sigh as you replied, “I wasn’t, and I got lost in time more-so.”

The hum that left him seemed to vibrate your entire body albeit you being several feet away from him, your eyelashes falling over your eyes heavily a few times as you alternated from looking at your own feet to his. The stark contrast in the clean and smooth vision of your feet and the crimson that coated his own feet and stained the floor always caught your attention, but you had long since grown out of feeling discouraged by it. You remained bowed at the waist as you watched him walk forward a few steps, eyes on the dark ink circled around his ankles and the sound of them apparent then as he tracked more blood as he went.

You didn’t rise up from your bow of respect just then, knowing he liked it when you waited for his dismissal of it as he also hated whenever people looked up at him without permission, and if the telling signs of his bare legs leading up to his thighs circled with the same onyx ink told you anything, it was that he was already nude (the man had no concept of modesty it seemed… well, apparently around you as you didn’t know if he walked around completely bare around the other servants). It was best you didn’t look for your own dignity. You could already feel the warmth take home in your cheeks and body the same time he spoke again, fighting down the urge to squirm whenever you felt the weight of his devilish eyes on you in a careful and powerful caress.

“How unlike you…” he drawled off, a tinting of humor in his voice while you watched him dip his own foot into the bath, the water tinging into a red from the essence on it, “Normally you’re the first I see and the last I get to watch go. I nearly thought you may have finally grew some guts and ran away like you’ve been crying about, but seeing you accounted for in here…” His voice was always so smooth no matter the scenario, yet the way he curled his tongue around the last words and syllables to let them linger in the air stirred a sensation down into your thighs.

“That’s not –”

“Hmm? ‘That’s not –‘,” he mimicked the tone of your voice in a manner that sounded way worse and more desperate than you would’ve liked to even admit since you knew he only did it when your voice took on a higher pitch, and heard his tongue click loudly against the roof his mouth, “What is it then?”

You bit into your cheek, feeling humiliated that longer you stood there in your bow and listened to him begin to pick you apart and willing yourself to not give in to biting back. However, you were none too strong in that department and found the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. “All the servants are always there when you come back… and we never leave until you say so.”

There was a short, bite of his laughter, the sound of the water rippling as you shut your eyes when you realized he was walking in, and he was just as quick to throw something back to you. “And yet, I see you the most. Even now after I dismissed you, you still stand there bowing… Perhaps seeking validation from your Master, girl?”

It was hard then, your jaw clenching as he continued to prattle off in a challenge to get you to snap at him so he could have a good laugh and toy with you as he seemed fit. The feeling of awe quickly left you in favor of burning humiliation and annoyance over his inclination to keep reminding you of his place over you and how you tried to never call him that even from the moment you met him, knowing damn well of the dastard smirk that marred his face as he said it. He could probably see your form stiffen anyway, finding sick amusement in the way he knew he could make you annoyed if he accused you of trying to suck up to him.

Bastard.

You rose back up and reopened your eyes, dead set staring at the sliding door he came through so that you could easily make your leave since he had already dismissed you and had his fun toying with you. Your fingers knotted in the front of your kimono, teeth nearly feeling as if they were going to crack and break from how hard you were gnashing them together as you glared at the door instead of him. Then you remembered why you were more anxious for his return than excited: his mouth. Forget the affection you had, you were quick to remember how much of a bastard he was that annoyed you more than anything.

“Then,” you started out, making sure you added a tinge of venom onto the tip of your tongue as you smoothed your hands down your robe, “if you’re done and I’m not needed, I’ll be leaving.”

Your nape prickled with the feeling of being watched so intensely, though you were none too ready to look him in the eye since each time you did so sent you careening down further in the pool of treacherous and growing emotions you had for him. However, even as you went to leave, he wasn’t ready to let you go so easily.

“Brat. Where do you think you’re running off to now?”

You paused, mid-footstep and your heart constricted in your chest to let that fire die away the moment the words left his mouth and a familiar pit growing inside of your stomach from the tone of his voice. You had only heard it before in hushed whispers with your blistering jealousy you tried to ignore when you caught wind of him seeking out concubines. You hated the envy that grew like an incurable parasite in your mind the moment you find out he entertained himself with others, yet it was folly whenever you realized they never did last long and usually only were sought out for one night.

A swallow broke your silence, gnawing unease and buzzing excitement bubbling inside of you as you waited for him to continue and hoped it wasn’t anything that costed you your life. You were sure it was only so much before he could take your bratty attitude (but it wasn’t like he never indulged himself in your feistiness), yet his inclination to egg it on and the fact you were still walking around serving him spoke for different reasons. There were your days though, as his mood swings could’ve been compared to stranger, unparalleled weather, that he outright didn’t acknowledge your existence and all but turned his nose up at the ‘little human servants’ he had for himself, and then the next day he was grinning at you in perverse asking you if you wanted to sit on his lap instead of on your knees at his feet. He was enigma in all intentions, but he was also a creature of chaos you had to walk on heated glass for in circumspection to not fall into the boiling lava below that’d melt the flesh right off your skin with one wrong step taken too far or with too much weight applied.

After all, he was still a curse, and an awfully powerful one that could crush you at that.

“Look at me.”

Damn.

You didn’t outwardly sigh in fear of him hearing it and getting put off from it, instead heaving it in and out mentally as you accepted your fate that he wasn’t going to let you leave without addressing him properly. You squared your shoulders to gather up as much bravery and confidence you could to look turn and look him squarely in the eye – eyes… for whatever he had planned. It wasn’t like you hadn’t looked him dead in the eyes before, watching that stupid smirk line his mouth whenever he caught the glint of a fire in your eyes, but it had become even harder after he told you he could read you like an open book and knew every emotion you were feeling looking through your eyes alone. After that, you had done your damnedest to try and not let him know of the feelings you had for him that you knew were present in your face whenever you looked at him.

In the end you obliged him, turning slowly to finally face him and meeting his eyes after so long. His eyes were as red as they could’ve been, molten heat coming from them that liquified hard into your stomach in knots that ran free like magma cascading out of a volcano the longer you were exposed to them. And even as you stood there taking in his form relaxed and spread out in the bath becoming a tinge of a pink color from all the blood, you could only think of the growing tension that was building between you two from the amount of time you had been serving him.

Volcanic.

If you were asked to describe, or even alone thinking about it, you’d say your devotion and passion for the man was volcanic. It had been dormant the moment you saw him, watching the way all four of those eyes slid along all of the new servants’ bodies in a lazy dispute with his chin propped up by one of the four fists he had, like he was sizing all of you up and seeing if you all were truly worthy enough to be in his presence. The lava inside of you tied to the strings of your affection for him were properly quiet and loose for then, your spine tensing and senses prickling in trepidation the moment he landed on you and did his own sweep of you head-to-toe before meeting your eyes. You had stared back with as much indifference you could endure, your shoulders laxing the moment he looked away and moved on, miffed with his bored expression and gnashing your molars together to wonder just what he wanted by all of it.

When he hadn’t been looking and swept his hand through the air to dismiss all of but three of you, you took him in. The bulk and ripple in his bicep the moment he moved his hand proved his strength, the dark shade of his long nails matching the black ink circling around visible body parts told you more of him, the four arms nearly as horrifying as the mouth atop his abdomen and second face atop of him protruding outwards was telling of his nature, his hair a pretty shade of pink like the kimono you had been wearing that day and the glowing of his crimson eyes matching the blood that had stained his mouth and seeped into the cracks of floor as it dripped in tune off of his fingers the next day when you realized what had happened to the rest of the servants sans you and two others. He lived up his name then, the stories you had been told matching everything you had seen as you got down onto your knees with your cheek caught between your teeth and scrubbed away to clean the floor right below his feet.

He was… grotesque and monstrous; carved straight from the flesh pits of Hell by the Devil himself. Truly a curse in the world when you remembered all the atrocities he had done and the sights you had witnessed serving under him as you allowed the back his hand to wisp across your cheek and your head for your promise to him. A mock of affection you supposed, letting the hands that ripped and teared through people lay upon the top of your head in a pet in moments you sat on your knees in front of him, and it was horrifying to think about how he did it and how much you enjoyed it the more he did so.

He was plainly evil as they came, nothing but a void of obscurity that followed him in dark fog of bad luck for those he deemed it fit for. He was… 

Sukuna.

Or as you had heard in hushed whispers the name villagers whimpered in fear at the mere thought of him: Ryoumen Sukuna.

Two-face Sukuna. You didn’t understand until you saw him up close that day, unable to look away from the uncanny way he looked when all four eyes landed on you and bored into your very soul to strip away any fabrications lying overtop yourself in his name. 

At that moment however, his name didn’t scare you as much as it did back then when you had been living in your village still, alone and bound to another before you ran off at nineteen from the prospect of vowing yourself to another before you ironically curled in on that thought and ended up ‘vowing’ yourself to another. You couldn’t remember when it changed honestly, serving him turning into… well, you were still serving him, but the complications that came along with it twirled away from you being just a measly servant that tended to his needs to someone that also kept his entertainment high whenever he was bored. You didn’t know why it was you; perhaps it was the way you liked to stare at him, scouring every inch of his skin you couldn’t find the means as to why you found him so fascinating, how you wondered someone of such an extent could even exist and how the man before you had once been a human, to the very reason of why he seemed to keep you around.

(You learned mere hours later that after cleaning the blood running through the floor that you and the other two had been the lucky ones, and you were best to be glad to be the one fitted for his presence.)

The magma inside of you had boiled the moment Sukuna first brushed against you, the muscle in his arm bigger than your head skimming along the side of you the moment he walked past and forever changing the way you looked at him whenever he brushed your cheek with an open palm. It was scalding; his skin hot with the blood of a curse coursing through his veins and deterring you from having any other focus for the rest of the day. It was an array emotions from then on out, your lust burning like hot lava in your gut every time he was near and spiraling out of control in moments you’d get your ‘praise’ whenever you did something right. You weren’t too sure if he showed the same type of ‘affection’ to the other servants, but there was a part of you that it didn’t quite settle well with if he did.

And it wasn’t like you ever got the pleasure of the people he brought into his bed, something that clawed at your brain in envy after you realized the extent of what you were beginning to feel for the man.

Part of you felt horribly disgusted with yourself the moment you realized your heart stuttered at the sight of him and your gut twisted at the mere mention of him, your inclination (or lack of, therefore) towards the men of the village not even comparing to your captivation with the King of Curses in spite of his carnage. Though perhaps it was because he was someone you had not ever seen before, his looks and power unmatchable above all else that drew you in like a moth to a flame and your sick attraction to knowing that the man could easily kill you with a flick of his wrist, but he didn’t. And that was perhaps what was so fascinating to you about everything and why your emotions went to Hell when it came to him, a burning stone inside of your mind and heart that continued to grow against your sternum brighter and larger with no intention of dying out the longer you were around him.

What made it worse was that he knew; he knew, if the intentional claw grazing across your cheek in a sign of mock affection with that smirk that was nearly too big for his face told you anything. He knew and he was playing with you, holding the strings to your puppet waving you around and wondering just when you’d crack and let him win his little game. You were none too ready to give in to him however, something that more than likely equally goaded him and annoyed him, but you knew if you wanted to keep his attention you were going to have to keep him busy with toying with you.

And so far, it seemed to be working.

Sukuna’s stare was like a white-hot cast iron pouring its contents all over your skin, seeping deep into your bones that groaned from the attention and melted away into mush inside of your muscles to leave you weak in the limbs ready to fall to your knees before him, and even as you watched his eyes do that long drag down your body and back up to your face like they always did, you already knew he was in for another round of a game. His form always captivated you, as it was in that moment from the way two of his arms were perched atop the rim of the bath and the other two lying still in the water, steam rising from his skin and water together creating a thin layer of haziness about him as the rest of his body was covered but the middle of his abdomen and up, so you were free from embarrassment of seeing the rest of him (not that it wasn’t something you hadn’t thought of at times, especially when you took in his towering height and double appendages).

You held his stare firmly, trying your best to not show your obvious flusterment he had brought upon you again, and the red of his eyes carved out a chunk of your gut to leave you with an even bigger pit of anxiety. Not so much that you were afraid of him, but wary of the rising fire between you two that seemed to be getting out of control the longer it was kept up with. Part of you wondered when it would eventually simmer, the fire dying and solidifying to its cool texture into that of an igneous rock in semblance of what was brewing between you two, and part of you was anticipating it ended soon.

“What is it?” you eventually asked, inwardly squirming from those bright eyes and masking your voice to sound less wobbly than you felt.

A fine, arched eyebrow rose on Sukuna’s face, his eyes narrowing to that of a feline’s (Sukuna was like a cat, you realized; he was a big, lazy cat flicking its tail about in a challenge for you cross over into his territory, and likewise to that of a feline toying around with you much like one would a mouse – cornering it and playing with it until it seemingly had enough) and a low hum leaving him. He made a show of eating you alive with just his stare before you watched one of his arms below the water rise, his index finger already pointed out as he flicked water off his clawed nail and turned his hand upwards, curling the long and thick appendage in a ‘come hither’ motion at you.

“Come here.”

The command made you still for a moment, your stomach suddenly flipping on itself in numerous different directions and filled the most chaotic of emotions. That phantom burn was back, cutting into your body and leaving deep lacerations along your flesh in its wake for the lava to take home and seep into your veins, while your heart stuttered at the call. You were no stranger to it, often obeying regularly and tending to whatever he wanted, but having him say it in the condition he was in was… not particularly something you were used to. Sukuna was well known for only wearing a layer of garment along his bottom half with no footwear or a top in sight (as well as the times he strutted around in just a kimono that showed more skin than covered it, more-so because he wore women’s kimonos since the sleeves could fit his other arms as well, which was why you and the other servants normally got kimonos as seemed fit), so you were used to just shamelessly ogling his chest and abdomen as much as you wanted, but him nude?

Not something you got to see, and there was a part of you that wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

(Foolish of you to even consider it, you knew that he knew that he was doing it for a reason.)

Nevertheless, you followed after his call, your steps somewhat slow as his hand remained outstretched, though he changed to his palm being open and face-up. You regarded him carefully as you got close enough to stand over him, watching his nostrils flare once before he nodded his head at you to come closer with the movements of his fingers helping him as well. A swallow was all you could muster, watching as one eye watched the movement very carefully before sliding back up to your face, awaiting for you to bend down far enough to his level so that your face was closer to his.

“Closer,” he purred, full lips twitching to barely hold his sick sense of humor.

You didn’t want to think on how the tone of his voice sent you mentally into another spiral, your ribs tightening and a snake wrapping itself around your stomach burning with the ravenous want for what was presented and to strike out for what it sought after. You could feel the hum along your lower belly, the sweat lining your spine ever-present as you as you felt another drop of it slide along down your back as you bent low enough for to rest your chin into his palm. Not something that hadn’t been done before either, but not used to it as well since it seemed rather intimate in some situations as opposed to him sizing you up.

His hand was as warm as it always was, and fingers still strong as he closed them in on your cheeks and pressed into your face. Sukuna squeezed your cheeks so much that it puckered your lips into a pout, something you duly noted that he took into consideration as the tips of his nails slightly dug into your skin. You blinked heavily trying to hold the eye contact, no doubt knowing that he could hear and perhaps feel the increase in your breathing and the thudding of your heart as that became fact when his lips twitched and another hum vibrated through his chest. Sukuna’s long eyelashes lowered over his eyes the same instance his canines came into light from his grin, sharp and dangerous in the warm light from the lantern that did little to help ease the sculpted contours on his face lined with that dark ink.

Sukuna leant in closer to you, his smell of blood masked by the wafting heat into your nostrils and eye ducts making you blink cutely at him as one of his eyes drifted around every inch of your face, “Perhaps you weren’t so eager to see me back then?” he murmured almost dreamily into your face, a front he put on whenever he was blatantly asking for you to stroke his ego, “A shame… Leaving so soon after seeing me.”

He squeezed your face once and relished in watching your expression push into one, before letting up enough for you to talk and grazing a nail along your cheekbone, “I’m not,” you persisted, more on the desperate side than you would’ve liked to admit, but seeing his eyes light up at your whine encouraged you to keep speaking, “I just thought you were dismissing me… And I’m always eager to see you back and I always eagerly await your return.” Your fingers clenched around the fabric of your kimono, Sukuna’s attention so close to your face making you think of less appropriate things to do to him and wonder just what it was like to feel his sharp teeth bite into your lower lip.

The grin that twisted his face was something that excited you as much as it unsettled you, like he was the cat who caught the canary and was going in for meal. His fingers squished your cheeks together once more before they drifted off, a finger trailing to pull down on your bottom lip before it slowly curled around your neck in one swift squeeze. Your thighs tightened in on themselves at the contact, his hands so much larger than your own something that never went unnoticed by you or him as his seven foot and some inches form completely dwarfed everyone in the palace. His nostrils flared in a show before he spoke, nails slightly digging into your neck as he squeezed your throat harder and his thumb rubbed along your pulse point.

“Eager to please, aren’t you?”

Yes, yes, yes. Your fingers knotted harder into your kimono, knuckles protruding outwards from your skin, “Always for you, Lord Sukuna.”

“How interesting,” he purred out once again in your face, a low vibrato that tickled your brain just right and had you biting the inside of your cheek when it warmed your body. However, nothing really prepared you for the moment he dropped his eyes down to look at your mouth, a low hum leaving again as brought his face mere centimeters away from your own.

You froze, not used to the attention he brought an intimate area like that, watching through heavy eyes and a parted mouth as he only seemed to come closer into your space.

Was he…

Your face warmed heavily, steam from the Onsen not helping as you fought between looking at his lips and his eyes, his face coming closer… and closer… and closer until –

Sukuna’s hand abruptly left your throat, flicking your forehead before pressing a finger there as he suddenly leant back away from you and pushed you away by the finger on your forehead. He had the gall to look disinterested again, like he was annoyed as another hand rose to scratch at the inside of his ear whilst looking off the side and examining the nails on another hand.

“Then you can wash my hair… and clean my nails. I can’t be bothered to do it right now since you’re so willing.”

The heat from the water just below you wasn’t enough to keep that foggy screen you were looking through at him up, the dousing chill you felt encase your body overwhelm you the moment he pushed you away by just a finger was enough to bring you out of your stupor. Whatever fog you had conjured up in a hazy mist looking at him whenever he had your face in his hand completely dissipated as he disregarded you from that odd little playout you two were having. Of course, what were you thinking? Sukuna never once really showed intimate affection that of a kiss to anyone so far from what you had seen, so what would have made you so different? It was your girlish wants, your long-time dream since you were a child to have a King or just a strong man offer up some affection to you, to have your first kiss by someone so powerful and take you into their arms…

It was every woman’s dream down in the village you had been born into, full of prospering life and growing by the day, but also your village was only down the mountain away from you lived as of then. And the King that you all looked up to was not the king your mother had read to you about in bedtime stories.

In reality, you were longing from a kiss from the Devil himself nearly; inhumane in his features and actions, and not a King that was seeking a Queen more than he was seeking out the means to drive fear into people to let it be known he was the dominant lifeform in their world. Sukuna was the one they needed to fear and was to respect, and he was the one that got it, because no one in their best mind would dare to oppose him – unless, of course, you wanted to talk about the abundance of sorcerers that had it out for him. Nevertheless, when you took in your situation and the reminder of your less than inclined attitude to seek out the men in your village rather than a curse, you supposed you could only blame yourself for falling up short and deeming yourself a true fool like he would call you.

You respected Sukuna, and, as much you wanted to bask in his affections and wanted him, in that same dance you could not stand his presence at times.

“Then you can wash my hair… and clean my nails. I can’t be bothered to do it right now since you’re so willing.”

You couldn’t stand him. He was annoying.

The entirety of the words caught within your throat you wanted to say to him felt like vomit stuck to your tongue, leaving you to steady yourself after his show of indifference to cover your humiliation as one-hundred words of varying degree ran through your mind at his behavior. You should’ve expected it though, it wasn’t the first time Sukuna toyed with you and you had gotten your hopes up for a sliver of affection, and it wasn’t the first time that it happened either for you to get caught up in thinking he was obliging you only for him to feign innocence and order you to do something else entirely. He was a conniving bastard really.

Moreover, you swallowed it all down, maintaining eye contact with the lower eye he had directed at you still to gauge your reaction whilst still inspecting his disgusting nails, and bowed with your cheek caught between your molars hard enough to draw blood, “As you wish.” You really were pathetic, weren’t you?

The noise that pushed passed Sukuna’s lips sounded more like a huff, like he was aggravated that you were obeying his orders instead sneering at him that he played with your wants and you were just obedient as always.  He perplexed you in more ways than one at instances like so, as he demanded and expected the world’s best respect from his servants and ‘disposed’ (read: killed and ate) the ones that didn’t meet those expectations. You knew Sukuna was a complex being, his interests being so flippant and his moods changing so fast it gave you whiplash, but for being fussy about wanting you to get down on your knees with your forehead to the floor praising him he sure did prod at you to get you lash out at him like you had done that one time…

You preferred not to think of it too much, a sigh you kept welled up in your lungs as you meandered over behind him, as the look in Sukuna’s eyes that day frightened you as much as it had excited you. It wasn’t that he was particularly angry, the dilated pupils spoke enough for that, but you didn’t realize how much he liked it whenever you finally spoke around him that wasn’t your mumblings that he made you repeat because he ‘couldn’t hear you’. Truth be told, you didn’t think about it often because it got you more… desireful than you would’ve liked to admit, and that defiant streak you had hidden underneath the constrictions of your kimonos came to life every time you saw that light in his eyes.

You ignored Sukuna’s little predator stare he was shooting at you as you came to stand behind him, a frown marring your face as you realized the only way to ‘tend’ to him was to sit directly behind him… with your legs opens… and perhaps nearly having your legs over his shoulders…. Bath duty was going to be the death of you.

The throb that emitted from within was a tickling sensation along with the presence of dampness rubbing against you, like your heartbeat was finding a home elsewhere and very familiar to you when you remembered it was same exact feeling you had felt welling up in your lower abdomen on a night that you had slid your fingers underneath your kimono and into your undergarments when you remembered that Sukuna was –

Sukuna’s head shifted, two bright, cherry-colored eyes finding your own in deadly precision that rooted you to your spot and diminished all thought in your mind whenever he spoke so quietly and sharp you had to strain to hear him.

“What are you doing?”

You blinked along with a small swallow, focusing on the dab of blood along his sculpted jawline and reprimanding yourself for getting aroused at merely the thought of your bare thighs touching his (bulging, ridiculously muscled, big) shoulders and arms and pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “I… I’ll have to sit behind you, to wash your hair that is.”

Sukuna gave you a languid blink, “And your point is?”

Ah yes, what was my point? “I was just letting you know that since I know you don’t like being touched without permission…” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t speak between clenched teeth at his haughty behavior.

“That’s hardly a problem… However –” You didn’t necessarily like the way his face split up into another Cheshire grin, a perverse nature in the way he slid one eye along what he could see of your body, “seems like that kimono’s a little too tight to spread your legs in, take it off and you’ll have an easier time. Don’t wanna mess it up either, do you?”

Despite what may have been Sukuna’s true intentions to get a peek of your form for his own pleasure, he was right. Your obi had been tied securely that morning, like it always was since you hated constantly readjusting it whenever you were tending to your daily duties, and the kimonos normally were restricting as was, but that still didn���t quell the bundle of tickles welling up in the acid of your stomach at the mere thought of just undressing in front of him. Having a nagajuban on underneath helped some and you could easily move your legs better in it, but it was also one less layer of fabric that separated you from Sukuna and it was rather thin.

Nevertheless, you complied him with a bow and flusterment evident in your eyes, deftly undoing your obi and the articles that helped secure your kimono in place before you were slipping your arms up through the silk sleeves and unraveling yourself free of the kimono. And all the while as you did so, he stared. That same stare you got whenever he was in a mood and wanted to toy with as deemed fit; the heat of the gaze of which hotter than the water in bath as you felt it prickle along your skin in chills in a phantom burn that boiled much like lava inside of a volcano ready to erupt. It was unnerving as it was seducing, feeling two eyes that time slide along the silhouette of your figure through the reedy fabric of your robe as you pulled yourself free of the extravagant kimono and folded it up to lie on a nearby jutting rock, and whenever you returned your gaze back to him he had nothing but that slick smirk split up on his face and eyes dilated as he shamelessly looked at you from head to toe.

“That’s better. Now c’mere,” he wiggled two fingers at you, eyelashes lowering in a way that shouldn’t have made him look as handsome as it did, “I’ve waited long enough.”

Sukuna was going to be the death of you. Metaphorically or literally, you weren’t sure, but you knew the costs of what you were getting into the moment you stuck around and followed after him like some lost puppy.

You gave him another nod, trying your best not to sneer at the back of his head whenever another short laugh left his chest as he faced back forward, and took the most inaudible, long inhale and exhale as you could before lowering yourself down to sit behind him. Even then you knew that any type inspiring mental talk you tried to put yourself through, that nothing would’ve really prepared for what you were going to do. You had touched Sukuna before in brushes much like he did you, but what you were going to do then didn’t compare at all.

The heat from Sukuna’s body was radiating, already making you flutter your eyes from the mere onslaught of it so close to you as you came down on your knees first, the thin layer of your nagajuban letting your covered knees skim across the expanse of his broad back. It was then you realized sitting on your knees wouldn’t work, pulling them out from under you with your cheek caught between your teeth as you wiggled your feet into the free space that wasn’t took up by the sheer mass of his body. Still, even then your knees were slightly digging into his shoulder blades, warm skin from his body churned your stomach and made you spread your legs further to try and help quell the familiar, uncomfortable knot growing within you at the mere thought of touching him.

You squirmed a fraction, lightly wincing at the all-telling sensation of dampness coating you that you’d have to care of later that night.

And in front of you, Sukuna cracked the knuckles in his fingers.

You tried not to think about the contrast in the light of your robe and the darkness of a spread tattoo scaling down his shoulder blade brushing against one and another, instead swallowing your anxiety as best as you could and ready to ask him what he wanted done first when you abruptly stopped by a splash of water hitting your face.

One arm of his had suddenly rose, a hand flicking all five of its fingers as he presented it to you to flick the droplets in your face, and his voice droning out as you blinked the hot water free of your eyelashes. “Start with my nails, you’re a woman so you should know how to do it… Though, your nails are disgusting half the time.”

Bastard.

Thankfully he couldn’t see the way you rolled your eyes, grimacing at the back of his head while keeping your hateful words to yourself when you obliged him and took hold of the hand he was presenting to you. Never mind that they were painfully calloused and as warm as ever, the size of Sukuna’s hands compared to your own would forever startle you – Hell, the size of his hands whenever he brushed them across your face was horrifying. He was larger than you on every way, something that should’ve frightened you and made you turn away, but even as you sat there digging your nails to pick free dried blood and flesh bits embedded into his own, you couldn’t find the means to turn away in disgust from him.

And on your own accord, you still obliged him, cleaning his nails free of any gunk to his liking.

(Though, he had the audacity to tell you that your nails were disgusting when his were always coated in old blood and pieces of human flesh whenever he ripped through people and didn’t have Uraume present to cook for him, and you were more-so annoyed that he was just being a hypocrite and prodding at you.)

Whenever you had finished one hand and were pulling free a rotten piece of skin from underneath his thumb’s nail on the second, he spoke while flicking water about, “Your sharp ass knees are digging into my back, move them.”

You would’ve grumbled if you didn’t think he’d dunk you underwater, obliging him as you then decided to be slightly cheeky and throw your legs over his shoulders, calves sitting snugly atop them as your feet rested along his pectorals. He gave no reaction much to your chagrin, perhaps a slight tilt to his head to acknowledge that you had put them there, but otherwise it seemed he didn’t care. Unsurprising given Sukuna’s odd nature to randomly touch you whenever he felt like it, but a win on your part since it wasn’t so often you were freely able to touch him.

Once you had grimaced and flicked his nails free on the second hand and moved onto his third, Sukuna graced you with his own version of light conversation, something you weren’t necessarily used to given his penchant of cooing at you in backhanded compliments and ways to get you to stroke his ego. Though, you perked every moment that he actively spoke, whether it was to you individually or not.

“You interest me, you know that?”

You paused, surprised and perplexed at the claim, and turned your gaze a stray pink strand of hair curled over his ear, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He casted a long look at you from over his shoulder, a glittering red eye sharpened and narrowed down as it nearly felt like he pulling your soul out bare for him to observe and prod at as he seemed fit. “Don’t play coy, girl, you don’t think I don’t know of your little situation?”

Situation… You had various ideas running along in your head to what he could’ve been alluding to, but the one that stuck to you the most was you ever-growing feelings for him that you were sure he had eventually caught onto. Still, you wanted to at least try and play ignorant with him in hopes he got impatient and just told you instead of dangling it above your head. “I still don’t –"

Sukuna mimicked your voice again, cutting you off and flicking a hand through the water, “’I still don’t –’, bah, don’t give me that innocent bullshit you like to pretend you have with me,” he turned forward with a sneer, but a hand from underneath the water rose to curl its fingers around your ankle, scratching at your skin there before trailing a long nail up your calf, “A girl unmarried comes here from the village… Willingly as well. Can’t tell if you’re just stupid or got a death wish, but given your… situation there’s a little more to the story, isn’t there?”

Your skin puckered and tickled from his ministrations, something he caught on to as the tip of his nose grazed along the side of your knee, dangerously close to your inner thighs while he sniffed you in his course. He repeated the motion twice before he pinched your calf and sent you a hard look from underneath his eyelashes, a signal he wanted you to speak up and answer him before he lost interest and left you hanging.

And if there was anything you wanted, it was Sukuna’s full interest in you.

“You said it yourself,” you managed out, rubbing your thumb along the jointed bone in his middle finger, “people do get insufferable at times.”

Sukuna’s nose tickled along your inner thigh so delicately as you felt your lower abdomen twist and flip at the action, nerves coursing through your spine and veins as he pulled away and circled his nail around your Achille’s heel. He hummed once while alternating between your balancing your leg up on one finger and bouncing it, an air of inquisitiveness to him as he regarded your words. “How odd of you to say, turning against your own species. Still, satisfy my curiosity; what was it? Are you just ‘adventurous’, looking for a way out in life? Hmm, that doesn’t suit you, you hardly ever roam around here; maybe it’s something deeper, huh?”

You didn’t answer him right away, his thumb nail dipping into your foot enough to draw a small dab of blood that you didn’t shy away from. Nor did you feel disgust when he turned his head enough for you to watch his ridiculously long tongue fall free of his mouth and lick up a slow trail to let the stray blood broken free of your skin seep into his tastebuds. You could see the ink on his tongue that matched the markings on his body, but you were more enamored in the way his tongue felt lapping along your flesh, the length of which you were aware, but the feeling of it tickling along you in wet laps, hot from his carcass of a mouth and puckering your skin was… enticing.

You wondered if you tasted good to him, a devious thought crossing your mind whenever you briefly thought it would feel like to have his tongue drag its way up your inner thighs until wiggling along a place that had never been touched before… a place you were more than willing to allow him to defile if he so wished. It was no secret Sukuna had sex, but it was always a want to know what it was like – not just in general, but with him.

The coil that had been steadily growing in your belly pulled considerably at the path your mind suddenly took, deep in the recesses of your mind thoughts that you only conjured up late at night, and your expression withered into that of mock pain as you flexed the calf he was holding from all the attention. Sukuna cut his eyes back to you, wriggling his tongue back into his mouth and a low hum rumbling of his chest as he assessed your expression.

“What was it?” he continued without missing a beat, dismissing the fact that he had just licked you, “Parents about to marry you off to some flesh bag down there and you just couldn’t stand the idea of being tied down? How droll, living the rest of your little life serving someone, I could only imagine how it burns you up inside…”

…What was he getting at?

“Or –” his curled all fingers around your ankle, and squeezed, “Perhaps they can’t handle you, your bratty mouth is enough to speak for and I don’t think anyone would put up with it… so maybe you ran off thinking you could find someone that could live up to your wants…” Sukuna’s nails dug into your foot harder, scratching away at your skin as more blood ran free and coated his appendages in a startlingly crimson. It seemed he was truly just an insatiable creature when it came to his appetite – be it flesh or other wants in general, Sukuna was voracious.

You winced at the wounds, the sting of pain burning just for a moment until it numbed out, replacing a heated hum within your mind and body at the rough treatment, and you waited for him to elaborate further. Your mind was less than stable for the moment, wondering just how he seemed to know everything about you when you never even spoke of your past to him. Though, he had a point when he mentioned your deep-rooted desires…

“So?” he prodded at you, catching your attention before it wandered off too far, “Tell me. Maybe your dearest father sold you off and you’re covering it up because you can’t take the fact they didn’t want you. Don’t be so upset about it… all the women like that end up here; just damaged goods…” His voice tampered off into a sick purr, like he enjoyed the idea you may have had issues with your family and it was why you ended up at his palace, and his tone trailed into something that offered a façade of softness. He was talking to you like he was taking pity on you, but if it wasn’t for the condescending way he was speaking and overall, his personality, you might have believed him.

But alas, he was Sukuna. He loved tearing people apart – physically and mentally.

He squeezed you harder when you remained silent, quiet from the way he was analyzing you as the bones in your foot began screaming at the pressure and your blood began sliding and curling around his forearm like a snake constricting itself around him when he broke skin. You couldn’t stand how blood complimented his skin, like he was born to be a predator in all his intentions – like he was born to be murderer and shroud himself in an ominous fog for the remainder of the time he walked the Earth.

Like people were supposed to fear him for all of time (how long had he already been alive for; how long would he be alive for? He’d outlive you for sure…).

You watched his lips part again, those canines you fantasized seeming much larger from the shadows the lanterns were casting, and decided to answer him before he had another chance to try and insult you or assume you abandoned by your family.

“That’s not it,” you snapped out, watching that gleeful grin split his face at the fast way you responded and when you thumb pressed down onto the bottom knuckle of his pinky finger. It wasn’t enough pressure to break it, Sukuna’s body was practically indestructible when it came to humans and you had unfortunately witnessed him growing back a foot once when it had gotten severed in a fight (you’d never forget the way it all molded back in bone, muscles, tendons and flesh, nor the sounds it made), and continued before he had a moment to prattle off again. “My parents love me, and my mother knew I didn’t want to marry since she was arranged herself… But there’s only so much they could do anyway and they tried to keep me hidden, but…” you stopped and scowled, remembering the priestess of the village pairing you up before you had ultimately left everyone and everything behind.

After that, it was how you wandered into Sukuna’s domain, seeking a new life in a place you wouldn’t have been able to ever been found by anyone that knew you. What you didn’t expect was seeking a way of salvation in the means of someone who couldn’t quite offer it.

He was quiet for a few moments, eyes scaling across every inch of your face, possibly seeing ever blemish, pore, markings, and any imperfections as he went, before he hummed and arched an eyebrow, “And yet, you still left them. Can’t imagine how that broke their little hearts, and can’t imagine your poor little husband-to-be,” he broke into a hiss, eyes staring at you, but more-so they were looking through you and he was seeing something else entirely together, “You don’t wanna go back to a place where you’ll be living a like little placeholder doing what you’re told to do, but you come here to nearly do the same and you don’t want to leave… Why is that?”

He knew, and he just wanted to hear you say it.

You swallowed, holding his gaze steady and murmuring out the words that nearly got lost in breeze outside and the steam rising from the bath, “I’m perfectly fine here…”

You didn’t answer his second claim, too afraid of his reaction.

Sukuna abruptly freed your ankle, eyes dangerously narrowed in a heavy smolder and his tongue making itself seen again as he curled and swiped it along all his fingers to lick your blood free of him and left your leg alone to sit atop his shoulder. A breath of a dark and velvety chuckle left him, tickling at your brain and making your skin erupt into more chills at the way it vibrated through your legs and the rest of your body as he pulled free his third hand to give you his fourth while rolling his neck and facing back forward. You took his hand without a word, slowly going back to cleaning underneath his nails as you tried to process that he truly had picked you apart without even you having to tell him anything.

“So interesting. You little brat, you oughta be grateful then… If only they could see you now though.”

You didn’t have an answer to that, your lungs squeezing for you to take a breath and your heart slamming against your ribcage,  knowing damn well if your parents found out you were serving and lusting after the man everyone feared they’d be crushed you were in his clutches. However, they’d believe you didn’t come to him willingly, believe you to be hypnotized by the curse from one of his abilities, though it was far from the truth. And you were grateful, you had stayed at the palace for a long while and nothing had become of you (read: you becoming his dinner), which was why your captivation by him only seemed to grow and you wondered if Sukuna only kept you around for you to tend to his needs.

You had half a mind to say something, thinking that perhaps his little speech was of means to get you to confess on why you had lingered about for so long and never actually tried to escape like some of the other servants did, but Sukuna was Sukuna, he didn’t care about petty, little, insignificant human feelings. Part of you thought about placing your hand atop the side of his chest, spreading your fingers along the significant width of it to look for that steady beat underneath all the flesh, blood, muscle, and bone to see if his heart still beat; a silly thought of your behalf, he wouldn’t be walking if he didn’t have a heart, but you assumed it more to coax you in a metaphorical sense than physical. Your affection for the man was far beyond that of only wanting to be his bedmate, something you knew you would never get no matter what, something that was incredible foolish of you to think of as you could feel the Gods smiting you for thinking you’d ever be anything more than another human to Sukuna, and nothing more than that of a pet to him.

And for that, you kept your mouth shut, keeping your true wants of wanting to feel him in more places through your kimonos tucked away in your heart and only obliging him for whatever he wanted when he asked.

You really were pathetic.

Sukuna didn’t speak again for a while, long enough for you to finish on his last hand and move to wash his hair. The pretty pink locks were always in an arrange tangles for the most part, slicked back on his head with oil and matted with… other essences you didn’t like to think about as you were meticulous in the way you washed it. When his shoulders relaxed as your nails scratched through his scalp, you grinned behind his head in victory, spending a less than needed amount of time there since it seemed he liked attention in that spot as you freed it of more gunk. Though, wrangling another particularly hard knot free and soothing your fingers through the strands, you took notice the unease in the atmosphere; Sukuna’s biceps bunching in like coiled snake poised to strike, and the veins in his forearms and hands making themselves known in a show of his rising agitation.

He was getting annoyed.

You were ready to ask him what was wrong or you were doing something he didn’t like, stomach becoming heavy with anxiety, but he beat you to the punch with a series of words that that horrified you more than that time he had you feed him severed fingers like grapes into his reclined form and awaiting maw doused in the bits of flesh and blood that came from them.

“I’m bored now. And I’m sick of playing this little game you’ve conjured up.”

Fear struck you for a moment, a feeling of absolute terror that Sukuna had grown bored with your existence entirely and was about to dispose of you threatening to make you literally bow your head into the floor and beg for him to keep you around. You hadn’t wanted to sound so desperate for him, but (pathetically) he was all you had and you would have been telling the biggest lie if you said he wasn’t what your mind and body had been craving the moment you laid eyes on him.

The words were on your tongue, ready to plead with him to give him whatever he wanted and start up a rebuttal that if you were so interesting that it would be best if he kept you around, when the familiar sensation of his nails grazing the skin around your ankle stopped you, letting your eyes wander over the way the tip of them so deadly but gently drew a pattern around the bone of your ankle before he curled his fingers around it in a strong grip. The heat from his fingers was boiling, nearly feeling that he was searing into your skin to melt the flesh away until he could feel your bone, and you opened your mouth to say… anything, but were thrown for a loop when suddenly your vision was warped and your world bent and turned upside down.

Literally.

Sukuna tugged once and one moment you were staring at his nails scratching at your ankle and coiled his long fingers around it, then the next you were underwater.

You didn’t get a moment to even process really how it had happened (your mind quickly concluding though after you heard the splash that he had dragged you over his head – flipping you – and into the bath) or how the hot water was pricking into your face like needles, stinging and burning your skin in stabs as you gritted your teeth before you felt his hands curl under your armpits and lift you free from being underwater. Your nose was clogged from the onslaught and your eyes watery from the invasion, something you tried dastardly to rid yourself of before you faced him and let an array of words fly off your tongue if you hadn’t finally looked him in the eye after coughing and sniffing through all the water.

You were pissed, and he knew that. And it was something he was expressing extreme humor in as well.

Sukuna had that same grin on his face, gleefully taking in your face and the rest of your body that was presented to him as you only glared with about as much dignity you could’ve mustered for someone that had gotten roughly handled and drug into a bath full blood and anything else imaginable. He hoisted you up closer to him, your erratic blinks from the motion flicking stray droplets free from your eyelashes as you felt your legs stretch as wide as they could for your knees to sit onto either side of his hips and hover you over his bare lap. You didn’t dare to sit down, your nerves pricking as a voice in the back of your mind screamed from the close proximity of you two, and instead only stared of what you could of his face while awaiting for him to speak.

“You look like a drowned cat; all weak and pathetic… but I can tell you got something to say, so say it,” he goaded at you, teeth as white as ever reminding of the old folklores you had been told of beasts in the ocean water with just rows of sharp teeth that tore flesh apart so easily.

Frustration welled within you, every single insult of a name you wanted to call him sitting on your tongue sour for you to spit out. And yet, you didn’t, wanting to leave him egging you on in want for you say it to him.

And it worked.

Sukuna brought you closer, his natural musk making you dizzy while you alternated from looking at his sharp canines (that you still longed to know what it felt like to have them bite into your lip, or graze across your collarbones), and the intracity of the tree bark-like protrusion he had on the left side of his face (that you wondered to know what it would feel like against your lips if you kissed him where his cheek was to be, and hoping that he could still feel it underneath that partial mask), and holding your breath to keep from fainting in his hold from being so close.

“C’mon, say it.”

Your face was hot, not only from being dunked into the bath water, but from his dangerous nearness and you hovering over his lap in nothing but your nagajuban and him being completely bare in the water below, something you tried desperately not to let show on your face was affecting you and something you tried not to let your libido wrap around too much for your excitement to take shelter in more as well. You had half a mind to just stare at his lips, thinking perhaps that would give him the idea of what you really wanted, but with Sukuna’s face coming closer and the hold he had on your becoming tighter, you couldn’t help but to only stare at him.

You frowned, a nasty scowl deepening on your face as he continued talking.

“I know how bad you want to, you’re not as discreet as you like to believe you are. What’s the matter? Afraid of a little word? Or are you just waiting on my permission like always? Well, you have it, go on, tell me what I want to hear –”

“You’re an asshole.”

You weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted to hear, but it was the first words you thought of and the first words you got out of your mouth. A lie you would be telling if you said it didn’t feel good to call him that, but a screaming in the back of your head telling you what you had was just going to cost you dearly. All feelings left you, dread imminent for just what he had said: your bratty mouth. Your tongue was venomous, saliva bringing itself forth from your gums as you thought of ways to backtrack what you had just told him but finding nothing and leaving you drowning toxin as it seep back down your throat to settle in the bubbling acid of your stomach and constrict around your heart to leave it panging in aftershocks for what you had done. A swallow was all you could muster, blinking as innocently as you could as you awaited his reaction.

And from his expression, you had actually managed to catch him off guard… but that wasn’t always the best idea.

God, you had really done it.

Though waiting on him to bite back surprised you, as Sukuna’s lips twitched first, then his fingers tightened on you before he threw his head into his shoulder blades and laughed; full-on guffaws you had ever rarely seen the man do that shook his body and echoed throughout the room. Sukuna’s laugh bordered on one of most eerie and horrifying sounds you had ever heard, he laughed boisterous and without a care in the world, but usually whenever he laughed he did it for a purpose. A purpose in which was in his favor, like whatever was presented to him in a challenge and he knew already he’d come out on top in his victory, he would laugh.

That made you all more anxious for what was to come.

You only watched the swell of his Adam’s apple bob for a few seconds longer, his chest rising and falling with each breath as you were jostled in his hold before he stopped with a loud sigh and craned his head back forward to look at you. You tried to remain as impassive as you could, but it was hard with someone like him who could scrutinize you with a single glance, and it didn’t help either whenever he leant back into your face with another of his vibrating hums and a newfound, pleased light in his eyes you hadn’t ever had the chance to see before.

Sukuna smiled again, a third hand rising out of the water to trail a nail against your cheek as he tutted at you, “Now was that so hard? Want me to praise you for it now? Must feel good doing what you’re told and getting a reward for it…” A lethargic blink on his behalf let you watch a droplet fall off his own long eyelashes, his next words slow and with a hidden meaning that made your skin pucker into chills went you thought too hard about it, “Keep talking and I’ll give you a treat like the good girl you are.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in, flustered by his voice and annoyed by the way he was talking to you altogether. Am I a dog now? Disregarding the way your stomach fluttered with the ghost of butterflies at the way he spoke, you realized Sukuna truly was only wanting to mess with you, like he always did. It really was just that; he wanted to provoke you enough to get you to snap back at him so he could laugh and tease you as he saw fit for his entertainment. He had gotten bored with your compliant behavior and wanted to strike a nerve in you somehow, dragging you into the bath whenever his little psychological warfare didn’t work against you and winning the upper hand once he got you in.

The back of your teeth mashed together, that feeling of frustration balling back up into your chest when you thought about if that’s what he really wanted then you could give it to him. You could test how far you could go with the insults if he was allowing it, your tongue sour to scrape all the bitterness off of to get what you really wanted to say to him out in the open. Consequences be damned, if Sukuna really wanted you to keep talking, you would.

You glared at him, getting even more annoyed whenever he only seemed to grin harder, and let the ties holding back your submissive behavior snap, “Is that what this all is? You just want me to degrade you? Call you an asshole, a prick, a bastard? I could go on…” You felt confident in speaking to him, nevermind he could easily squeeze until your eyes and spine popped free of your body, but the more you spoke to Sukuna like that, the more you felt alive. Why had you not done it before knowing you could live in the end?

His lips puckered, a low whistle breaching your ears and he let another devious chuckle out as he rolled his neck, “Such nasty words for a pretty mouth, maybe I made the right choice in not cutting your tongue out…” His words did little to scare you, knowing if he had truly wanted to do it he would have the moment you caught an attitude with him. A finger pulled at your bottom lip, exposing the bottom layer of your teeth as he tapped his nail against your teeth, the clicking noise annoying you as much as he was in that moment. You took a bold move then, biting down on his finger in retaliation for putting in your mouth as he only seemed to tiredly sigh and press down on your tongue with a squint, “Have you not ever heard to not bite the hand that feeds you? Then again, you’re some lousy, village girl with no education… I shouldn’t expect much from you.”

You let go of his finger, pissed with his little comments about you that were less than a praise (or his own twisted version of a praise), and squirmed in his hold. You dug your knee into his hip when you realized you couldn’t move that much, then at a loss of anything to bite back him said what was on the tip of your mind again, “You’re annoying me. This time, I will really leave.”

A bark of laughter made you pause and huff at him, ready for his next insult as he returned to pulling at your lip, “I’ve lost count how many times you’ve bitched about that, and frankly it’s gotten on my last nerve…” His hand gripped your face again, squishing your cheeks and forcing you to look him in the eye, “You and I both know you don’t want to leave.”

You didn’t have a doubt that he could feel the warmth of your cheeks onto his fingers, fisting your own fingers into your soaked robe underneath the water’s surface as you replied, “And how would you know?”

There was a beat, the breeze outside going quiet once more as the crickets left and you were left alone with Sukuna, and you knew then you should’ve bit your tongue on that question. The ambiance took a devastating turn so quickly, the banter between you two seeming almost lighthearted and flirtatious all but diminishing, and its place something… more, something hot, and you could feel that volcanic rumble the moment Sukuna’s pupils dilated the longer he looked at you. A bead of water trailed down you’re your temple and Sukuna regarded you for a long moment, his eyes remaining unblinking and unsettling you the longer he did so, before let go of your face and trailed along your jawline, lightly scratching at your skin as he went and whispering hotly into your face.

“Because your body is saying otherwise.”

A shock went through you, a chill sliding up along your spine to tickle at your brain that froze you for the time being as you tried to fight off the look of guilt on your face. He couldn’t have known… there was no possible way… The dread filled up your gut the same time you remembered your positions, desire napping in your belly like a fat snake steadily growing in warmth as Sukuna’s hand slid down to your neck, fingers making a show to tap your jugular before squeezing your throat once more. You fought back the whine as your lower regions throbbed once more, Sukuna’s nostrils flaring out again before he hummed and dropped his gaze lower to your chest.

And stared.

Just stared, until he grinned and circled his thumb along your throat, nail pressing in and –

“Nice tits.”

You balked, mouth gaping open at his claim and looked down to see what could’ve possibly made him say something like that until you realized you were practically all but nude for him to see. Your nagajuban truly was just some flimsy material you wore underneath your kimonos, the thick fabric of those keeping your covered, but since Sukuna had… asked you to nicely to take it off and you were just in the thin fabric that was stuck to your body like a second skin drenched in water and had become see-through and your nipples were hard and poking through the cloth and he was just staring at them – !

A noise that seemed to be what he was waiting broke free of you finally, an embarrassing, girlish gasp bubbled up from your lungs whenever another hand (him having four hands was a curse) rose up and pinched at your nipple experimentally and rolled it in-between his fingers. Whenever you wiggled and arched your back as you felt the numerous twinges of pleasures shoot down towards your belly and begin to make your body uncomfortable with want and flooding with the need to be touched. Not a smart emotion to feel on your part, and seeing his insufferable face split more into amusement only cemented that fact that you knew what was coming.

“So sensitive… Make that noise again,” he purred, tickling you and enjoying watching your face twist at his touch, “The act is cute, but I’ve grown bored entertaining it… Why don’t you really tell me why your body is feeling like this?”

“I’m not sensitive,” you argued back, trying your best to bat his hand away from your stimulated nipple, but to no avail as he resorted to just palming and squeezing your breast altogether. You huffed and let him have his way for the moment, gritting your teeth as you made up an excuse, “You threw me in hot water unexpectedly, of course my skin is going to react like this.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna’s hands left their respective spots, instead both wrapping around to caress the back of your neck and the other two holding your waist steady underwater, face coming closer than before and you stopped yourself from staring pointedly at his lips, “You lie, girl.”

He titled your head back, forcing your back to arch deeper and your thighs to brush against his sides as he pushed himself to tower over you, enjoying the way you bent under his demands and were pliant in his hold when he wished. To your horror, Sukuna sniffed you, the rumbling in his chest akin to a low growl as he squeezed at the nape of your neck, teeth too straight, too white, too sharp, on display as they gleamed with his victory and mesmerized you all the same. He laughed again once, titling his head at you like a curious animal before indulging you in your worst kept secret ever known.

“I know the smell of a bitch in heat, and you reek of it.”

If you weren’t mortified before, you certainly were then. Sukuna could smell you – Sukuna could smell you. He already had seemingly heightened awareness and senses, but you didn’t think he could smell… that. Your airways were restricted, mouth gaping back open with newfound heat seeping into your entire body; your muscles sagging and bones feeling nothing but like grounded mush as you could only stare at him with the truth out in the open. Though that very piece of information had morbid curiosity and stimulating excitement fueling a deeper part in you to know just where he was going with it. A treacherous, wanton part of you hoped he was leading to where you thought he was because… the idea Sukuna wanted you like you wanted him was… exhilarating. And if he had been waiting on you to just say it or something…

You didn’t get a chance to even process it too long, for Sukuna had started speaking again the moment you let the realization spread across your expression. “Foolish girl, you didn’t think I knew? Every time you’re around me you carry the scent of it, and I thought it’d be fun to play your little coy game, but I’ve grown terribly sick of it,” his eyes widened and you wondered if the glow from his eyes was your imagination, or his intimidation tactic, “You little brat, women throw themselves to my feet constantly, did you think pretending you weren’t like them would make me favor you? Make me chase you in the end until I snapped and put you in my bed?” he paused for another moment to let his expression morph into something near frightening, eyes dilating further as he took in your form so pliant underneath him and his nails scratched harder at your neck, “It doesn’t work that way, so it’s best if you own up now and maybe I’ll consider a solution.”

Sukuna’s words didn’t necessarily deter you, in fact him defending himself like that made it seem like you had quite the opposite effect on him as he was the one who had drug you into the bath because he had gotten sick of you playing coy. He could talk all he wanted, but the more he spoke the more he exposed himself to you, and that helped you in the end to fuel certainty that Sukuna did want you at least on a level of carnality.  And if the way he was holding you and had been trying to coax you to admit that you wanted him in that same spoke for anything, you knew your efforts had not been vain.

Sukuna had kept you along with him for a reason, and you weren’t sure what that reason was, but you knew most of it was his physical attraction to you. And you had stayed for your physical, mental, and emotional attraction to him, but you both would benefit from what had been brewing between you two like a long, overdue volcano ready to erupt.

You didn’t flinch in his grasp, instead eyeing him gently before letting your eyelashes droop and pushing your shoulders back, mentally grinning in victory when one eye slid down to stare at your breasts again. “I –” No, try something else. “Maybe I did, but it seems like it’s worked out in the end, hasn’t it?”

Sukuna gauged you from a long moment before his face split out into wider grin, another short laugh he gave straight into your face as you tried to ignore the remnants of skin in his teeth and instead focus on that treacherous long tongue. “So, what is it then? You want me to fuck your brains out until you can’t remember your own name? Or you wanna be my little whore?” A finger returned to pull at your bottom lip, the tension in the room far greater than the heat as he had murmured those words in the same tone from before while you desperately tried to keep yourself poised to not unravel at the seams.

A sigh threatened to leave you when images flashed through your mind at his inquiries, both making you anxious for what was to come to leave your stomach queasy as well as your body responding greatly to the ideas. You didn’t have to hide it anymore as you felt yourself beg from the pleasure in the form of your thighs growing hot and lower abdomen tightening up, bravely bringing a hand up to grab his finger and place on it your tongue, his nail scratching you there as you slid the appendage along to let your saliva coat his fingertip down to his second knuckle before closing your lips around it in a tease and popping it out of your mouth. He only watched with an amused expression, though the obsidian that was his pupils told you a much different story to how he was feeling underneath that mask.

It was nearly like you were in the caged clutches of a beast, ready to tear into your flesh be it by a pure physical sense or just alone sexually. Sukuna’s claws were controlled and ready, the muscles in him ready to snap from being so long coiled back like that of an agitated snake and he was ready to reach out into you to have his way that had been a long time coming. Moreover, it had been only a matter of time before you unraveled free from your fine silk hold and tumbled down below into the tattered seams of purity confined within the branches of Sukuna’s depraved world, and you lost yourself completely to whatever he was offering.

There was no turning back, and you let that be known as you looked him dead-set in the face.

“If I said both?”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Then you are a fool… But,” he relinquished all hold on you, returning back to recline on the bath’s edge with two pairs of arms splayed atop the rim and leaving you to hold yourself up by sitting on his spread thighs. You watched the shadows from the flickering fire inside the lanterns dance across his sharp jawline and daunting cheekbone, making him look all the more dangerous and unreal as he tilted his chin up and looked down at you figuratively, a challenge present in those rose-colored eyes that fueled the burning in your gut. “I’m never one to turn down such a desperate whore, though,” he paused to look at his nails, giving off the indication he was bored, “I’m also not some commoner. You seem much more inclined for this, so why don’t go ahead and show me – or yet, show me and tell me how much you want me.”

He finished off by circling a long finger along the surface of the water, giving you a long look from the side of his eye, eyelashes sitting pretty and brushing along his skin as he blinked languidly at you awaiting to see your reaction. You didn’t necessarily have one, swallowing as you understood that Sukuna was punishing you in his own way by not touching you and making you act on the progression of what was to come, and while you were nervous about the idea (especially when you were sitting on his thighs so close to him and he always had at least one eye on you) you couldn’t help not to feel that candle light of confidence burn inside of you. He was obviously affected by your body, and if you showed more of your body…

You could feel the magma inside stir; bubbling out of control and rising to its hottest temperature before it exploded free of its confined space the moment your decision was made. It was scalding as it poured into your skin, nearly feeling like all the walls holding your façade up were melting away your flesh and letting Sukuna see what rested beneath all the muscle and bone. He had burrowed himself deep even if he didn’t know it, pulling your bones apart and snapping to make himself fit within the skeletal cage surrounding your heart as he only dug deeper and found the garden that laid your soul. And if your soul and mind had been bared to the dark trenches of Sukuna’s grasp, all that was left was show him all of you.

With a long, inward sigh, you lifted your hands up, undoing the sash of your nagajuban in finality. You had dropped your gaze down to watch your hands move instead of looking at him, knowing that his eyes would have pinned you in your place and you wouldn’t have able to even follow through. However, Sukuna was never one to not give his input (even when it wasn’t needed nor wanted), and from the moment you began to slide your robe down to bare your shoulders for him, he spoke.

“Not so modest now, are we? Never thought I’d see the day you’re not all covered up in those shitty kimonos…”

You returned your glare to him as you slid one arm out from a sleeve, face too hot and body beginning prickle from the weight of his stare. “You got me these shitty kimonos.”

He had the gall to look smug. “I did, perhaps I should stop though. That way I can see you walk around like this with your tits out.”

You didn’t have an answer to that, returning to undressing yourself with your lip caught between your teeth tightly as you pulled your other arm free and opened the remainder of your robe. You weren’t sure what you were expecting (all four of his eyes widening at the sight of your nude body? Him suddenly dropping that demeanor and launching himself at you? A little bit of that purr he did with his voice whenever he was cooing at you in a mock praise, but that time he was telling you that you were a work of art? Hardly.), letting your nagajuban float behind you in the bath while feeling free and desirable being naked, but Sukuna just sitting back and staring at you with the most uninterested and sleepy look on his face was not it.

You swallowed and glanced around, eyes falling on the bright moon for a moment before returning back to him, pushing your shoulders back to accentuated your chest in hopes that he would do something. He did not however, instead only raising another eyebrow and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but there with you. It made you annoyed; there he was one moment talking about how nice your tits were and touching them, then the next he was looking ready to curl up his lip at the sight of your bare body…

He was the most difficult person in the world.

“What’re you doing?” he eventually asked, tapping a finger against the rim of the tub and sounding exhausted.  

You squirmed on his thighs, slightly feeling more and more self-conscious the more he just sat there with that stupid on his face, and rose your arms to cover your breasts, “You told me to show you and tell you…”

Sukuna scratched his cheek, yawning before he inspected his nails once more and smacking his lips, “All you did was show your body; already seen it. I was expecting a little more considering how pathetically desperate you look and smell.” You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to him only using one eye to look at you while the others maintained preoccupied, it was always going to be unnerving on how Sukuna could multitask on an inhumane level, but it was downright terrifying at times knowing that he could always see what you were doing regardless of where you may have been.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose. Your hackles raising with the desire to mouth off to him for his petty behavior. He had you naked sitting on his lap and he still wanted to toy with you, though you supposed he had a point since he had already fondled your tits and saw your body through the waterlogged fabric of your robe, and you had been expecting too much whenever you stripped yourself free. You supposed that you could show him more that you wanted him, but you weren’t too keen on begging like you knew his sick mind wanted, ready to gloat and degrade you the moment you arched your back for him and moaned. And to be honest, you were getting anxious and more excited the longer you two danced around the inevitable.

Only a fleeting pass of a multicolored imagination could let you guess how he was feeling.

Without verbally answering him, you decided to push aside your uncertainties for the time being to pursue what you wanted. He had given you the go, but while you may have not trusted your voice to provide the words for it, you certainly could convey your desire through pressing your body to his and preforming such actions. Luckily he kept his gaze on his nails, allowing you to scoot forward on your knees to up his thighs, growing closer and closer until you hit the wall behind him and were as close to Sukuna as you had ever been. He regarded you for a quick moment – a fast glance down towards your body you would’ve missed if you hadn’t been so close to him – before pretending to play disinterested again. You inwardly huffed, leaning closer to sit your ass completely along his crotch with a smooth roll –

You paused. That – Your eyes widened. It can’t be…

Sukuna only grinned. It is.

Despite the temperature of the water, the body part was the hottest thing in the room, sitting up high and proud against your belly and stretching up past your naval and scalding at the tip of. The sheer length of it made you nervous (not something you hadn’t thought given Sukuna’s towering height), but the feeling of it heavy against your flesh made you all the more apprehensive for what was to come. Genuinely, how were you going to get it to fit… and considering your ‘circumstance’, you knew it wouldn’t be an easy process.

A splash of water to your face brought your attention back from zoning out on a spot of Sukuna’s ear, looking back into the smug expression growing with glee when he noticed the worried look painted completely across your face. “What’s the matter? Surely you’re not backing out… after all that I would think you had more courage than to just run away with your tail tucked between your legs,” he tipped his chin down again, looking at you from a frightening angle, “You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?”

His words brought you free of whatever had you caged back, your lust blooming blue within the lava guiding you through to pursue what you wanted instead of letting your worries take over. You grew bold and furrowed your eyebrows, placing your hands atop his shoulder with your nails digging in and pressing yourself closer to his face, “No, I just need… adjustment.” You hoped he understood that. And you hoped he wasn’t going to just shove his cock in you without any more touching (no matter how tempting that sounded to you).

You expected a condescending laugh, his body shaking from how hard he did, or perhaps a scoff, but you didn’t expect the eye roll or the long sigh expanding his chest as the two arms underwater clutched at your hips, the hold possessively strong and his nails stinging into your flesh whilst slightly lifting you up from him without so much of an effort. “I guess we have to do this the old-fashioned way… But let it be known I’m only doing this so I can fit, I don’t need nor want you squirming and crying about how it hurts or doesn’t fit. Shit gets on my nerves…” he mumbled out that last bit as he maneuvered you to his liking, scooting you closer and sitting you down as his cock slid up between your ass and your stomach slid along the hard muscles of his own. His skin was still burning you, your skin puckered from his proximity and body humming with arousal.

Whenever Sukuna tapped a finger onto your hips in what you thought was an impatient gesture, you spoke, “What do you –”

You started whenever a fast sequence of pleasure darted down into your legs, your ankles rolling as it spread up back to your brain before manifesting completely atop your sensitive clit. A noise that was a cross between a gasp and squeal escaped you the moment you felt the flexible appendage alike to a tongue lap along between the parts of your pussy, wriggling along with the fat of it before the tip swirled your clit in agonizing circles. Your thighs shook as they fought to close, yet Sukuna’s thicker thighs kept them securely open atop his lap to keep whatever he was doing to you happening to his liking. You didn’t have a chance to think clearly or even ask what it was he was doing to you (or what body part that was), and all thought completely left you the moment that slick appendage parted your cunt apart with the tip and twisted its way into your absolutely drenched hole, rendering you the mess he knew you would become in doing so.

Whenever you gasped and threw your head back, Sukuna hummed with pure amusement.

“Mmm, you taste as good as you smell. And you’re absolutely soaked, you little slut,” he squeezed your hips and coaxed you to move them forward, “Oh? Don’t be so shy now, this is what you asked for so you might as well take what you can.” Sukuna continued to only sit back and watch you, propping his cheek into a close fist as took in every single expression that crossed across your face with only a look of mild amusement.

It was the mouth on his stomach you learned, the part seeming to have a mind of its own you thought on occasions if the numerous times you had spied it smiling at you said anything. The fact he could taste whatever was placed upon its tastebuds told you a lot, and if it wasn’t the fact that his tongue was currently fucking you and he could taste how your insides were it would’ve grossed you out. Sukuna chuckled as he watched your face twist into pleasure, that inhumanly long tongue lashing out across your inside in rough strokes as it probed you until you cried out loud enough to wonder if any of the other servants in palace could hear you.

The tongue mapped out your pussy in every which way it could to gather as much of your slick as he could to lather it upon his tastebuds. Your thighs began harshly trembling then, as you had locked them around his own while he slid his hands back onto your waist to keep seated nicely onto his abdomen. Your eyes rolled, your hips desperately trying to rock harder against him for his tongue to push deeper into your cunt and for your clit to hit in just the right spot along his flexed abdominal muscle. Your hands on his shoulders had moved into fists to anchor yourself as you began to push and pull as much as you could for how your mind was beginning to spin into dizziness and your legs were beginning grow weaker as the seconds passed both of you.

Sukuna only watched you with an impassive expression, looking like he could have been anywhere but there in that bath with you as you rode on his tongue. Your body was quivering, pulse accelerating as you felt yourself begin to slip down onto the slope to careen yourself down into a climax, and the noises passing through your lips by then were full-blown moans and you could take a very little note to the way Sukuna’s fingers were beginning to harshly dig into your flesh. It was then you knew it wasn’t enough, you needed Sukuna do completely dominate you; you needed Sukuna’s hands all over you and to touch every single part of your body to taint it with his own version of Hell. You were the lamb to his slaughter, you were the virgin offering themself up, and you needed to reject the Gods and humanity for your desire for the Devil in front of you.

You lifted yourself up the same time you uncurled a fist, coming down on his tongue as it swiped along the innermost part of you and tickled your spine. You clenched around his tongue and got delight in a slight pinch coming to his brow, bravely twirling a strand of pretty pink hair around your index finger as you moaned for him again. “Sukuna.”

His mouth twitched as he narrowed his eyes at you, all the while keeping your expression imploring in hopes he got the message. You were sure he did if the flicker of amusement glinted in his eyes for a brief second told you anything, but he wasn’t so easy to win over. Sukuna hummed and rose the one hand he wasn’t using to your face, dragging a nail along your jawline before tracing your lips, “If you want something, address me properly.” He spoke so calmly it infuriated you, his ability to remain unphased by your actions doing nothing for your confidence and making you regret even wanting to ask for it in the first place.

A shaky breath left you whenever you felt your pussy tremble around that tongue, each precise lick it gave to the inside of your cunt tickling and making you grasp for the long-awaited release you knew you were on the cusp for, the inside of your lower abdomen beginning to feel as if it was in a blazing fire from each fervent motion of his mouth and each rolling of your hips did to let his muscle grind along your tingling clit. The amount of loud moans he was pulling out of you was downright sinful, your grinding picking up as you tugged his hair hard enough to push his head back a fraction and angle your hips up to slide right along his body on the perfect spot atop your clit. A rumble in his chest made you clench hard around his tongue while your eyes fluttered shut when the vibration of it expanded out to reach the inside of you, a myriad of nerves tingling up towards your clit as your fingers tugged harsher onto his hair the moment you realized he wasn’t pushing you off.

“Please,” you whined, completely forgoing his order for you to address him as you should, “touch me.”

“Please, what?” he hissed while squeezing your cheeks, a fine edge to his voice that excited you more than anything. He was getting impatient.

Anxiety twisted its way onto your face, the word like a scorching coal on the tip of your tongue when you remembered what he liked to be called, and you shifted on his lap once more before parting your lips for the candied beg to finally leave your lips and grace his ears and ego.

“Please… Master.”

The smile that split his face into two should have frightened you, the way his eyes seemed to glow and widened should have made you more anxious, and the way he laughed should have made you think twice about what you getting into. However, none of that happened, not when Sukuna rewarded you for your submissive behavior and had you wriggling on his tongue once more when he moved both hands above the water to splay his fingers along your chest.

“Such a good girl, how adorable you sound like that,” he cooed, slowly and heavily dragging his searing palms down to your breasts as you arched further for him, “I suppose you earned it for obeying me…”

It was but a brief moment as the tongue inside of you stilled, your eyes reopening to see what caused him to stop until you felt the palms of his hands shift, the flesh atop them seemingly tearing itself open before warm breath misted across your aching nipples and teeth bit into them and tugged. You squealed and bucked atop his lap, another two tongues sweeping across your tits and his fingers creasing into your flesh he toyed with the flesh and rolled them around in his hands, bouncing with them with a laugh when he realized how much it did to you. Your anxiety dissipated the moment your body was flooded with more pleasure; that heat inside stoking itself in circles around your brain, heart and stomach as it grew and grew the more Sukuna touched you.

Your brain was pure liquid at that moment, only thinking of how fucking good it felt to have him tongue-deep into your pussy and his hands fondling your tits. You rolled your shoulders back and began scratching at his nape as you nearly started to create waves in the pool with how harsh you were riding atop him when the weight in your lower abdomen grew larger and harder, and your thighs were beginning to shake once as pressure pressed harder onto your sensitive clit.

Your muscles felt practically useless and the noises you were producing growing louder as his enthusiasm grew tenfold when his hold on your waist doubled down to almost bruising and you got to watch his nostrils flare at your behavior. You already knew Sukuna had been aroused just as much as you were from the thoughts of lust, and the thought sent a hard curl downwards to where your anticipated release grew in crescendo of wave tides.

You were close.

And Sukuna knew that. With a cackle he abruptly withdrew his tongue from inside of you, leaving you whining at the loss before he pulled you back a fraction and let it return to sitting atop your clit. One hand let go of your waist, a finger placed under your chin as he tipped your face to look back into his with half-lidded eyes, “You’re having so much fun you’re forgetting me. Though you’re dripping on me as we speak, I wonder just how much your cunt can take…”

You blinked as he removed his finger, holding up his hand in front of your face with the dorsal side facing you as you watched in horror and amazement as Sukuna’s nails shrunk. Gone were the talons you could still feel present on your waist and breast, instead on that hand was short, blunt nails, still dark in color as he flexed them and curled all but his index and middle finger down and pressed them against your sternum. Sukuna began a slow descent down your body, a cackle of electricity leaving his fingertips as he went that you could only assume was his energy, sliding down sensually past your naval, down in the curls atop your pussy, before they flicked into your folds. You braced yourself in that moment, Sukuna’s thick fingers parting your cunt open as he began to press his index in first.

Holding your breath you winced at the sting, the tongue from his abdomen already lubed with salvia and not as thick, as he watched your face carefully. When he slid in his finger completely in and took notice of the way you jerked and gasped at the new intrusion, you got the rare instance to see a look of surprise cross his face before it was completely taken over by the widest grin and a horrifying new purpose in his eyes.

Guess the cat was out of the bag.

“Virgin,” he hissed, a cackle born free from his twisted mind breathing out into your face as he pushed another finger inside of you and curled them hard. “Oh, you… You’re a delight.”

You whined at the sting of the stretch and his words, rolling your hips harder and more frequently against the tongue his abdomen had produced so that it lapped at your clit faster and turned the uncomfortable sting back into that saccharine pleasure from before. Sukuna wasn’t too keen to let it go however, slamming his fingers harder up into you and stroking them deliberately along your insides until they molded to him as all the while the mouths he had conjured up on his hands sucked and bit at your tits greedily the more your movements became desperate for a release. To which you knew then wouldn’t be long given the amount of stimulation you were receiving from the most sensitive regions of your body.

Sukuna seemingly found your virginity arousing to him, the hand that had been squeezing your hip darting up to grab your throat in a fast and hard squeeze, and one of your hands rising to curl fingers around his wrist as your airway was suddenly restricted for the time being. The mouths on your nipples bit down harder and rolled your skin between the teeth, and the extra tongue on his abdomen jabbing at your throbbing clit grew faster as you fought to gasp between his squeezing fingers and a wave of lightheadedness. It was not unwelcome however, arching your back as your eyes rolled whenever his fingers tickled the inside of you in lethargic bouts, and you could feel the ball in your stomach began to unravel in the appearance of your nirvana.

“Giving your virginity to me? You really shouldn’t have,” he snarled again, choking you harder after briefly letting up to hear you take a weak breath, “Take heed, brat, once you let me in, there’s no getting me out.” He laughed again whenever he watched your expression twist up, the look similar perhaps to those he had seen before underneath him, and picked up the speed of all his motions with a too wide grin, “Seems your pussy can’t take too much, are you really about to cum so soon?”

You were, you really were, but you were trying your best to fight it off so that he didn’t win so soon. However, staying quiet was not in your favor, a hiss leaving the man underneath you when you seemingly ignored him in favor of rocking your hips against his tongue and pushing his fingers deeper into your pussy. That simply wouldn’t do for him.

One mouth let go of a breast, allowing Sukuna to slap your tit once – twice before pinching your nipple even harder than he had before and slowing his fingers down at your behavior. “I asked you a question, you’d do well to answer me before I leave you to your own hands.”

You arched dangerously in his lap and scratched down his chest, all the sensations leaving your mind completely discombobulated as you babbled out whatever came to mind first, “I can take it – please.”

Sukuna tutted at you, leaning forward to press his hot cheek to yours, “I don’t know if you can… My fingers feel a lot different than your own, huh?” His finger spread themselves apart inside of you, and you thanked anything and everything that you couldn’t hear the obscene squishing you knew it was making in the water below you. “You thought I didn’t know? Walking up to me with your fingers smelling like your pussy, here I thought you were just being a little whore and teasing me… You just couldn’t help yourself.” His voice was hot against your skin, his tongue falling out of his mouth to lick a trail from your jawline up to your ear where he bit at it before whispering almost sugary-like in your ear, “Tell me, how many times have you fucked your own fingers to the thought of me?”

His words made you clamp around his fingers, all the memories of the nights you spent with your fingers inside of yourself those nights you spied Sukuna with another and could hear them all the while you imagined it was you he had pressed down into his bed completely ruining. Him knowing that you had touched yourself somehow still embarrassed you despite what you two were doing, but it didn’t deter you to not answering when you knew he could take away his own if you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“So much –” you panted, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders again whenever he rewarded you with a smooth lick along your clit and a curl against the wall of your plush cunt, “I always touch myself to the thought of you, Master.” Perhaps that was laying it on a little too thick, but you couldn’t find the means to care whenever it appeased him.

A low, ‘Hmm’ tickled you, Sukuna moving his face directly back into yours to let his nose and lips skim along your own, “Oh? I’m flattered...” he blinked languidly at you, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he watched you come undone atop him, “How many times did you cum?”

Your head was spinning, body feeling hot and the nerves inside of you tingling.

You clawed at his shoulders and shook your head when you felt the quivering of your legs increase, “I… I’m so close, please –" you broke yourself off with another whimper as the only answer he gave to that was to pull you impossibly closer, the mouths on his hands biting at you hard enough to bleed before licking up any stray dollops in a squeeze and let his tongue rub away at your swollen clit in fast tight circles.

“’Please’,” he mimicked your moan, snickering at your expression and releasing your throat to return to squeezing your waist, “How many times have you cum to the thought of me?”

You moaned his name again in a wail, your eyebrows furrowing with sweat beginning to line your brow as the combined factor of his fingers stretching and curling in side of you, his tongue rubbing along your clit and your grinding was nearly too much for you to bear. That one particular feeling was back in your lower abdomen; the weighted sense far different from the usual building orgasms you got. It was a pressure in your cunt that felt as if you couldn’t ignore and you needed to rid of it to get the tension out of you. Another moan passed your lips as you felt your mind and body begin to spiral into euphoria; you knew exactly what it was.

“Each time… All of them – ” you croaked off from trying to warn him into another high-pitched whimper whenever he dug his sharp nails into your side and pushed his fingers farther and faster into your pussy. God, he knew. He fucking knew it was coming and was trying his best to ease it out of you.

The thought had you unraveling at a devastating pace, your eyes rolling back into your head as Sukuna’s tongue slithered out of his mouth and his hot breath sifted across your face before he was licking the sweat off of you. He made his way down into your neck then, his smile pressed into your flesh there before he bit you. You cried out and it should have hurt you, but the pain and fear was far gone to feel with how Sukuna was treating your body. Wonderful near orgasmic heat born of pleasure radiated out of the bite in a humming electricity, your eyes staring into the ceiling almost sightless as everything spun out of control and became too hot for you to handle. The ball in your lower abdomen was stretching to its limit, your pussy clenching and unclenching as you felt it all began to descent into ecstasy the more he pleasured your body.

You whimpered whenever he bit particularly deeper, and Sukuna huffed into your neck, his lips beginning to move against your skin as he sucked at you and pushed his fingers as deep as they would go into your cunt. You arched harder against him in pure ravishment, your forms perhaps looking like an ink painting placed along on sacred scroll telling the tale of the Devil entrancing himself in a human woman, and you found his hair again tugging, his snarling against you and the added pleasure from all his body parts doubling down letting you know he quite liked it.

You were spiraling, his tongue dipping into your flesh to wiggle around the same his fingers pressed up against your cervix –

It’s right there, right there, right there, ther – Fuck!

“Sukuna – ”

Your hips rolled faster, harder.

He growled, loud.

Your frontal lobe completely morphed and only focused on him; just Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna as your back arched in a near gruesome backbend and your fingers knotted into his hair more. Another loud groan vibrated your entire being and your thighs blazed and tingled as they began to roughly shake with another obscene moan falling out your mouth. The pressure in you was too large to ignore then, spine tightening as you sought relief for it and when Sukuna’s tongue returned to rubbing harsh circles into your clit and his fingers pushed and curled, pushed curled, push and curled, push and curled – and your eyes rolled back – and just fuck it was right there, you were almost there – !

Everything abruptly stopped the moment Sukuna wrenched his mouth away from your neck, drawing a near mournful cry from you as all pleasure left your body when he pulled free his fingers and tongue away from your pussy as well. He sat back against the wall of the Onsen with a grunt, the orange lighting making your blood smeared along his face look daunting as he brought up the fingers that had been inside of you and licked them clean along with your leftover blood. You remained seated on his lap, body unsatisfied and heartbeat thunderous in your head befuddled from his behavior (and rather ticked off he conned you out of an orgasm), watching him be annoying as he sucked his free fingers of your juices with the most obscene noises you had ever heard come out of the man. He popped his fingers out with a grin, a dazed look in eyes as one rolled over to look at you.

“Sweet,” Sukuna sighed, smacking his lips obnoxiously and raising his arms up in a stretch, “Close your mouth, you look stupid gaping like that… Honestly, what were you expecting? You didn’t tell me you wanted to cum, so how was I supposed to know? I only pulled away because I didn’t want your puny ass fainting on me.”

You hated him (you didn’t), and you wriggled on his lap as the evidence of your uncared for arousal became evident despite the bath water. Sukuna regarded you with another eyebrow raise, watching you curiously as you lifted yourself up on shaky knees and meaningfully dug your nails into his shoulders as you readjusted yourself until his cock was placed back in front of you intimidatingly standing against your abdomen. Glancing at it through the water was enough to make you anxious again, spying the same black ink circled around the base of it and the reddened tip leaking from substance, and you had to swallow down the nervousness making itself known in your stomach when you took in just how far up it sized against you, and how thick it was enough to completely stretch you apart and mold your insides to accommodate you. And you how much you knew it would completely ruin you.

It shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did.

“Need something?” Sukuna’s voice purred out way too close to your face, your eyes fervently moving back up to his as you were caught blatantly gazing down at his cock. He looked smug, cheek propped up by his fist again as he had relaxed back, yet the painted emotion present his eyes nearly caused you to flinch back. Normally Sukuna looked as bored as he could be or humored about something he found funny, but being so close to him let you see the maelstrom of emotions that remained hidden within them. The lust was nearly able to be touched, to reach your hand into his world and take hold of the vines that would leave you littered with lashes in your skin but would do you good in the end to get through the precarious path.

It was enough to remind you of the throbbing in your neck and in your ankle from his rough treatment, enough to remind you of the light scratches on your waist, enough to remind you of the soreness present in your cunt, and enough to remind you of white-hot pangs of desire bubbling up behind your naval unsated. And it was enough to guide you through what you sought after for so long.

A sharp pinch and twist to your nipple brought your attention back to him, the eyes the same color as the strawberries you had seen growing in the mountains boring so intently into your own you had no choice to even try and pull away. He nearly acted like a bratty, pouting boy prodding and tugging at you to get your attention, but you kept that particular piece of information to yourself since you also did the same to get his attention.

Sukuna rose an eyebrow, “Well? Are you just going to stare at me or are you gonna tell me?”

His thighs flexing beneath you and his cock twitching against your stomach sent your mind into a frenzy, the vast urge to stop beating around the bush like you two had been doing winning out in the end as your impatience (and Sukuna’s, you were sure) had grown to its head. The lava inside was spilling out of the volcano, pouring out in a slow roll as the earth beneath it fell apart in the guise of your control and the world was doused in a glowing, fiery inferno that could only be quelled with the union of Sukuna’s own snake-bitten lust.

You fixed your expression into something of innocence, your face warm for what you were going to say and your resolve all but crumbled into diamond-filled dust whenever Sukuna looked upon you. “I prefer to just show you.”

A long finger tapped against his temple, his eyelashes heavy as he slowly blinked and murmured so velvety in made your thighs clench, “Then by all means, show me. Getting a little dry over here.”

(You could’ve done without the side comments.)

Boldly, you pushed yourself up again, letting a hand silkily glide down his chest to trace the tattoos until you got to his abdomen and made a point to individual touch each grooved muscle there. Sukuna regarded you with interest, and grinned whenever you skimmed fingers against the mouth atop his stomach and let the tongue hidden beneath lick at your fingers. You only kept them there for a brief moment, sliding down past the pubic hair before you got to the heat of his cock. Sukuna remained looking disinterested however, but your curiosity got the better on you as you curled your fingers around the sacred skin and gave it an experimental squeeze to test a reaction.

It was in your favor as you duly noted his chest hitch, but otherwise his expression stayed the same.

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, brat,” he warned, a hiss underlined in his voice letting you know his composure might’ve been for a show.

You bit your tongue to keep a nasty rebuttal from flying out of your mouth, instead leveling him with a half-hearted glare as you traced your finger around one of the tattoos along his base, “I can take it,” you argued back, watching his mouth fall into a thin line as his chin down and he glared at you from under his brow. His expression worried you for a moment, ready to just tell him he could do whatever he wanted as the magnitude of his glare reminded you of the day a pack of sorcerers made the grave mistake in trying to ambush him and it ended in a massacre, but his voice so hauntingly calm and quiet soothing your ears made you buck up nearly, the frequency of so like icy breath blowing across your neck and tickling you.

“Then take it. Go ahead, sit on my cock. I don’t want to see a single inch of me out you either, let me finally see what you look like with your pussy split apart by my cock.”

Sukuna didn’t offer you anymore words after that (and you tried desperately not to think on what he meant by ‘finally’), and while you were mentally scrambling over the way the words twisted your stomach and warmed your ears when you took in his relaxed position. From the way he was still just sitting there looking like a twisted, horrific version of a God with his cheek propped up by his fist and a lazy expression on his face like a panther, you realized he wasn’t going to do anything to help you further, sacrificing you to the clutches of desire to fend for yourself. You knew Sukuna was a man who was dominant through and through, his mere existence called for the submissive behavior of those below him, but you didn’t think he’d be one to let you do as you pleased when it came to sex.

Or, he was toying with you again, wanting until you said what he wanted to hear before he would finally lift a finger again and give you what you both wanted. Sukuna was capricious, his mood swings terrifying, so the little haughty, bratty act he was playing with you was him playing your own game as you did with him. You should’ve expected it really, playing a game with him was dangerous and anyone rarely came out the winner from his conniving ways, and with a sigh you accepted your destiny for carnality, biting your lip as you decided you nor him wanted to wait any longer while you pushed yourself up farther to let swollen tip of him bump across your clit.

Of course, you were still horribly anxious, never having your body breached in that way and with Sukuna’s large structure (were all dicks that big? Surely not, Sukuna was just big in general) you knew you’d be in for a difficult time. He only watched you as you moved him to your opening, your hands guiding him and you as you went and bracing yourself for inevitable. With a heavy inhale you began to push yourself down onto his cock, holding back a noise of complaint whenever his thick, blunt tip already began to stretch you far more than his fingers had done and you could already feel the sting present. While you had prep from him and the water from the bath had wet his cock some, it seemed still not enough as it was rough sinking down onto him in a torturous pace from the sheer length and width of him.

The pressure was painful you would admit, your insides nearly feeling like they were being intruded in the worst way possible as you slid down onto him centimeters at a time. It was a few moments of grimacing and holding back a whine while your other hand scratched at his shoulder before you got his bulbous tip in, a sigh leaving you as perhaps that way have been the worst part due to the shape of his cock but was quickly replaced with a choked squeal whenever Sukuna suddenly lifted his hips up and forced another inch of himself inside of your pussy.

“Oops,” he snickered, “Had to stretch a bit.” And without so much of another explanation reached a hand forward to pinch and play with your swollen nipple again between two fingers.

You gritted your teeth, a hiss leaving through the cracks of them as you let go of his cock and instead kept both hands atop his shoulders as continued your pursuit down. Your cunt was throbbing by then through the sting of pain, the stretch of his cock nearly making your eyes roll back as the feeling became a blurred line between just pure pain and unbridled ecstasy. Nevertheless, you were no quitter, squinting through your hazy vision to watch him amuse himself with flicking and twisting your nipple around as you continued on down to fully sit his hulking cock inside of you.

Your pussy ached and clenched as you pulled him into you, inch by inch you sinking down onto him, biting your cheek and practically holding your breath the entire time as it was a few more minutes before the entire brute of him was pushed inside, a choked gasp falling from your lips as you felt your walls stretch, constrict and throb once you got him where you wanted him. An electric shock spread throughout you whenever his cock seemingly pushed your innards apart to accommodate him, a dizzying sense fogging your mind at the completely full feeling you got just from sitting on his cock. He felt… amazing, nearly feeling like he breaching up past into your guts as the idea made you sway slightly and dreamily sigh when you began to feel your clit and cunt pulse at the mere entrance of him.

You shuddered whenever Sukuna made a rumbling noise underneath you the same time you flinched when you sat your ass onto his thighs, another choked sigh leaving you as felt you the muscles of your pussy contract and flutter around the new welcomed intrusion. You wiggled a bit before sighing in content and from how fucking good it felt having his hot arousal inside of you once and for all and how full you felt with him inside of you, before you arched your back again and sighed in complete bliss whenever the discomfort seemed to finally wane a fraction.

Sukuna switched from pinching your nipple to squeezing it, another mouth hand forming as it licked along your flesh in appease your efforts and reward you for taking all of his cock. He hummed in approval, “Look at that, never one to not back down, are you? You look good stuffed by my cock, perhaps the best you’ve ever looked.”

Overran by the fog clouding your mind and his words sending you into a state of abandonment, you rolled your hips once in a pivot, pulling him inches out of you before rolling back down until he bottomed out in you with a soft moan escaping your lips. You repeated the action when you realized how good it felt, discomfort leaving you and your throat filling up with a multitude of sounds as your brain only focused on the pleasurable sensations you were receiving from your cunt. Becoming easier to slide due to the amount of slick you were producing to coat him and your insides, you tuned in the way you felt each engorged vein rub across your walls, your skin puckering in chills as you continued rock up and down, up and down, up and down until you felt your body nearly melting from the attention.

Underneath you, Sukuna whistled, letting the mouth on his hand suck at your nipple harder as another arm rose for him to splay his entire hand across your stomach, pressing down with intent to feel his own cock inside of you and grinning whenever you whined and constricted up around him from the pressure. “You’re tight. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed at you, pulling at your nipple and lidding his eyes, “Tell me how good it feels.”

His voice made you want to curl in on yourself, hide away from him as the tone and assumption behind it made you embarrassed. However, there was no hiding from Sukuna then, slowly sliding about atop of him easy enough to not let the water splash too far out of the tub. “It feels so good,” you awkwardly started, gaining momentum as you found your voice better, “More than I could dream of.”

“’Dream’? How adorable.” The airy chuckle he gave reverberated throughout the room, the two hands below the water grasping your hips again as he flexed his fingers and secured you in a firm grip, another strange expression on his face as he leant back far enough to watch you rock on him, “Go ahead then, fulfill your little fantasy, I won’t bite.”

(“Unless you want me to.”)

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

With your clit and cunt throbbing and feeling him pushing against your walls so hot and insistently, you began to move your hips rhythmically against his, the stretch exquisite and your brain slowly shutting down any other thought that wasn’t Sukuna. You could already feel your body beginning to hum in delight from each way his cock slid along inside of your pussy, speeding up a bit as you watched his expression remain impassive, teasingly letting the mouth on his hand suck greedily as your nipple as he only watched you ride him. You could feel him purr practically whenever little, meek whimpers began flowing out of you, your rocking speeding up a fraction when it got easier with time.

Though with time, you realized the grinding wasn’t enough.

You lifted yourself up off of him, lethargically pulling him out of you and the slow slide of his girth making you grip him harder while biting your lip to keep from whining out. Once he was back out and his tip kissed your folds, his nails dug into your body for a brief moment (a break in his composure, you could argue) before you buried him back inside of you at the same pace, yet that time the stretch was tighter as you clenched up to get a better feel of his heat. The action of you pushing him back up into the hilt of you let a breathless moan fall out of you and hum from him, you tossing your head back once more with your eyes fluttering while the mouth on his hand kissed along your breasts.

You resorted to bouncing on his cock then, the feeling much better than that slow wind-up you had been doing as the water below you two began to slosh with your movements. Albeit the bouncing was better, you still couldn’t find that tangible spark from before, leaning forward as you didn’t trust your stability anymore as you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your tits into his chest. You breathed in Sukuna’s scent as you felt a hand slide to your lower back to follow the dip it made whenever your hips rolled, hoping that perhaps more contact with him would help you reach that level of euphoria you had been feeling from before, but alas you still couldn’t find the means of it. And with Sukuna only letting you use him and not making movements below to help, it wasn’t what you wanted.

It wasn’t enough. Your movements weren’t enough to get yourself off and they weren’t enough to get Sukuna off either. The slow way you were riding him told the tale of your inexperience, and Sukuna knew you wouldn’t be able to take the gentle coaxing the way his cock slid along inside of your pussy almost dreamily, softly and filling you warmth, all of that doing nothing for you. You needed the burn you felt from before whenever he had bit into your neck, when his claws had scratched at your hip, when his hand had curled around your neck to choke you. You needed a pinch of that pain that bloomed into a rose of pleasure, born from decrepit soil inhibiting curses and thorns that your mother had warned you about ever touching.

You needed him. You needed him in way you knew you could only have him.

You had to tell him.

Pulling away from his neck you leant back, duly noting Sukuna’s position and expression had not changed, still the same smug look from before whenever you started to bounce on his cock with his fist propping his cheek up. Your clit was throbbing and your orgasm was even further away, making a point to sigh and flutter your eyelashes in hopes he bit the bait better, “I need you.”

“Me? You’re the one bouncing on my cock as you please, what more could you possibly want?” Despite his knack to remain nonchalant to your beg, you could see it in the way his eyes lightened up; the slight shift in his expression morphing into something downright unnerving for a brief moment. You had seen that expression once before, whenever he had killed someone right in front of you and got the glee out of watching them ultimately surrender to him before they died. However, Sukuna made no indications he was ready to tear into your body (not in the hungry sense at least), so it only fueled you further as confidence seeped into your veins like hot honey. His eyebrows furrowed down harder at the expression on your face, yet his grin only grew, teeth sharper than you would’ve ever dared to try and fight back towards, and a malevolent intent brightening his eyes, “More. Tell me more.”

The heat from his cock was searing inside of you, sitting snugly within your cunt like it was made to fit there and heavy each time you moved only an inch, and it was hard to ignore the way he was twitching and seemingly growing hotter by the minute the more you kept him inside of you. You squeezed around him once more to test how far you push at it, watching as he only slowly blinked at you in a challenge and letting be known that toying with him like that would only get you so far. It was warning really, but you weren’t keen on caring as you pushed yourself forward into his face, lips skimming his as he had done you earlier before let a hand trail up to touch the protruding part of his face in gentle caress, moving to trace his lips whenever he was only sat still below you. You grew bolder, giving in and pressing a short kiss to his bottom lip and sighing in his face dreamily.

He visibly was affected by that; a slight eye widen and twitch from his cock again.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me yours, Sukuna. I can take it and you have me, so please –”

Sukuna abruptly stiffened with a growl, the hold on your hips turning to bruising and stinging as his nails began to dig through your flesh and draw blood. You watched all of his eyes flare open, his pupils shrinking until nothing remained but a small, dark spot and his iris burning like an inferno as they only seemed to glow brighter as you back off of his face, thinking perhaps you may have went too far in pushing your luck with Sukuna. Your heart may have matched the storming in his eyes as he seemed to look past you for a moment again, like he wasn’t seeing you altogether as an assortment of emotions flashed over his face making you all the more anxious.

His mouth had curled up in a sneer, his teeth sharped than ever than you knew could tear you to pieces, before you watched a flicker of astonishment and vehemence fill his expression, but they were quickly diminished just as fast as they had come and replaced completely with something else. Sukuna’s pupils sharply enlarged again, the crimson nearly engulfed as cruel determination erupted across his entire body, his eyes holding nothing but a horrifying intent and pure hunger. His cock inside of you throbbed once, your mouth opening to apologize for perhaps overstepping your boundaries when Sukuna’s hand that been resting of his cheek shot towards you, his fingers flexed and spread apart as he caught ahold of your throat once more in a hard squeeze.

His arms on your hips shot up around your back and pinned you down to the front of him, your tits smashing ruthlessly against his own broad chest shooting a thrilling jolt tickling your spine as you inhaled sharply from the close contact. However, whatever you thought to say or even tried to do dissipated into mere mush the moment Sukuna pressed against your throat harder and used the momentum to bring you in for a devouring kiss.

Sukuna was kissing you. If you weren’t in the predicament you were in, you would’ve let out a girlish squeal in embarrassment.

Though a squeal did leave you from how rough the kiss seemed be, Sukuna wasting no time to bite fervently at your lips to give him access to the expanse of your mouth, that sinful tongue of his mapping out what it could of your own and completely dominating you in that aspect. You let him, his teeth clashing hard against your own and the coppery taste of your blood pooling in your mouth before he swiped all that up with that serpentine tongue, Sukuna leaving no room for you to even try to take a breath or make a move against him. It should have disgusted you, having such a monster kissing you like he was, but you couldn’t find the means to even find a seldom thought to think in clarity whenever Sukuna was completely consuming you.

You were expecting it though – Sukuna’s breakthrough since he had the upper hand – yet it still managed to surprise you all the less when you were preoccupied thinking about his kiss. He stirred beneath you, his thighs flexing and his hips rocking up once in an experiment, before he roughly drove up into you further enough to make you squawk into his mouth that he greedily swallowed whole driving your tongue down still with his own. Your body shook, that spark of rough treatment making your cunt pulse in anticipation as he repeated the action once more with more vigor, picking up a devastating pace that had you bouncing in his hold and the water surrounding you both beginning to splash out from his intensity as he held you down to his content and fucked up into you as he pleased.

Sukuna broke away from you mouth with a hiss and let up on the choking for the time being, swiping the blood free coating his mouth and a wide grin on his face when you took in your expression before shoving a particular hard thrust in your pussy that slammed against your innermost regions and reveling in the way you openly moaned and fell forward to hook your chin over his shoulder. You couldn’t focus on the moon behind you both, your body jostling harshly in his hold blurring your vision as Sukuna fucked you like he wanted nothing more than to completely drill his cock so far deep into you it carved a hole for him and his cock alone. And you were content to let it happen, Sukuna taking note of that as he chuckled condescendingly and you felt his nails skim along your spine.

“Mm, you’re an atrocious kisser, I suppose I can account it though for you virginity – or your lack of now,” he hotly whispered in your ear, his tongue making a reappearance to flick at your ear while he sounded not the least bit affected from his actions.

You bit down onto his shoulder to keep the comeback subdued from him insulting you once more, a hum vibrating throughout his chest at the friction it caused and moaned into his skin. Your hands found purchase on his back, scratching at the skin of what you could as drool began to escape your mouth from the way you were getting mercilessly fucked, and all the while Sukuna only continued to drive up into you and listen the gasping noises that left your mouth.

You managed to say one thing however, a garbled variation of his name that you had to gasp for between each syllable in the same wavelength his thrusting was going.

“Su – ku – na –”

You wondered if the sigh you heard was of your imagination, though you could hardly deny it when afterwards he used the hold he had on your neck to push you back into his line of sight, laughing at your fucked out face and the hand on your tit bouncing along to keep up with toying with your swollen nipple. “Don’t run and hide from me now, you looked like you were enjoying yourself… No need to be shy, you just needed to get fucked, didn’t you?” he drawled out in a purr, that damnable tongue on his abdomen returning to lick at your clit again while he made you look him in eye.

Your pussy pulsed hotly, all your nerves going haywire from the attention your body was receiving from Sukuna, and you used what you could of your muscles to squeeze him of what you could. That slight discomfort was back, your insides getting thoroughly tossed around from the way his cock slammed up into you and he forced you to take it all without a second doubt. You tried to meet him as you went, that band behind your naval continuing to grow and grow in a dangerous vortex, clenching your cunt around him and trying to rock your hips whenever that tongue lapped at you in a slower pace all the while only giving choked gasps as the form of your pleasure.

His thumb tapped your neck, his pace picking up a fraction when he noticed the way you were trying to meet him with a roll down from your hips, and Sukuna’s composure slightly began to slip again. “This body…” he started out, that calm in his voice turning raspy with an underlining growl, “You… A pleaser, aren’t you? You should’ve thought this through, human, this body is mine now – you are mine now. There’s no running away from me.”

His words made a round of fluids soak him up further, your stomach twisting at the idea of Sukuna claiming you as his own, and you arched wantonly into him with your head falling back into your shoulder blades and your eyes rolling back into your skull. You could still faintly hear the sound of the water splashing and the resounding noise of your skin slapping together, though you could hardly focus when all you wanted was to appease Sukuna – be it by your body, or your words.

“I don’t care,” you whined out, sliding your hands down to his thick, roped muscle of biceps on the top pair of his arms, “I’m yours – take it – take me, please.”

You could hear Sukuna’s breathing get rougher, around the same time his hold on you got tighter and his pace get rougher as he slid his hands down to your lower back, arching you deliciously as your body began to lean back when his own leaned forward. He was borderline growling from his chest, a groan choked up in there as he slapped your breast again before pinching your nipple harshly, “How sweet of you, it’s a shame you didn’t realize the moment I saw you that you were already mine. Virginal, village girl too dumb for any rational thoughts comes to me for salvation, how could I pass that up?” A grunt passed through his lips as he began to weigh back down onto your throat, “If only they could see you now… taking my cock like a whore and begging me to make you mine… What would they think about their precious girl then?”

He was possessive, and God, you loved it. Your head was spinning as you spoke, not entirely too sure what you were saying, but not caring since all you wanted was to hear him talk. “They don’t – matter… Only you – matter to me – Master.”

“Maybe I’ll let you visit them,” he hissed, disregarding what you had said as the hand on your throat squeezing harder to completely cut off your airway for a moment. The black dots clouding your vision and your lungs shriveling in on themselves not enough to stop the pleasure coursing throughout you as he bent your back further, your head and back skimming the surface of the water while he continued to still fuck into you at a brutal pace. “Let all those meat sacks see the communal marriage candidate and what she’s become… Then I’ll fuck you right in front of everyone so they know you whore yourself out for me now. Make sure they watch the cum seep out of you when I’m done before I fuck you wherever else I please.”

You couldn’t even moan at that, though your cunt squeezing him as hard as it could told him everything, a boisterous laugh that formed into a snarl reaching your ears as the water in the bath sloshed around dangerously and high enough to splash out onto the floor above you two. Sukuna let up on your throat enough for you to take a ragged breath, your body jostling from his ferocious fucking and roughly handling you like you were nothing but a doll letting you moan a jumbled variation of his name when it felt like he was completely tearing your guts apart. He hissed again at your whine, his cock pulsing inside of you burning and a buzz of energy enveloping you both before he mouthing off again what he’d continue to do to you.

“How about your poor husband-to-be? I’ll find him for you, then I’ll force him to watch me fuck you at his feet before I gut him and he can watch you get fucked again as he slowly dies.” You clenched around him again at the idea, inhumane and disturbing perhaps to a normal person, but to you a fantasy in the making if it was Sukuna. Jealousy looked good on him, and the fact he was jealous over you and something far in the past? You dug nails into his forearms and squeezed him again, gasping each time his cock slammed up against your cervix as he huffed again and slapped your tit, “Fucking whore, you love that idea… I knew someone like you liked being fucked like this… how fun you are.”

Your eyes rolled behind your eyelids, stomach in knots with heat pooling into your lower abdomen as your pussy pulsed with each thrust he threw back into you. The discomfort was still present, but only a faint tingle, the overwhelming ecstasy shooting up through your legs and up your spine doing the most work for you and sending you careening down into euphoria further than you could’ve ever imagined. You could only gasp and whine as he continued to completely ruin your body, your eyes fluttering open the moment you felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere and a strange silence fill the air.

What greeted you was the lanterns flickering throughout the room, the moon waning away into nothing but darkness as the scenery changed to something you had never seen before and something disturbingly horrifying. Gone was the serene night inside of Sukuna’s Onsen, the pretty stars highlighting the midnight sky with the creamy moon shining down on the Earth, instead a darkened cave-like structure with what you could make out to be a giant ribcage of a long dead beast above you and a cesspool of crimson below you before you trailed your eyes back up to the man you knew was responsible for the sudden shift, sitting atop a large pile of skulls from different animals and humans as he only continued to fuck you through whatever he had done. You could only see his lower body from the lack of light, shrouded in fluorescent red watching his cock disappear and reappear into you while that tongue swirled your swollen clit with its tip, a cruel smile on the mouth atop his abdomen before you threw your head back and let yourself be used.

An invasion in your mind made you wince, an abundance of emotions hitting you all at once with variations of heightened arousal, vicious intent and clear signs of an acute sense of fondness. You weren’t sure if they were even your own, nor did you get time to even ponder on it a Sukuna abruptly changed the way he was going to fuck you. You gaped with a choked gasp, gazing sightlessly at the everlasting darkness when Sukuna gripped your hips as hard as he dared to without completely crumbling your pelvis, using your body suspended in the air from his lap as leverage to pull you onto his cock, bordering on violent to how he was fucking you but you could only seem to fall deeper into your release as it went.

The raw flesh of your pussy came to life the more it went on, vision nearly growing hazy as you dug your nails into Sukuna’s arms as hard as you could and your moans became nothing but choked pants and gasps. He was so deep inside of you… his cock reaching a place you didn’t think was humanly possible before his hand on your tits left it to press down on your lower abdomen, enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed underneath him whenever he pushed his cock further into you.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing me, I can feel your body giving in. Are you about to cum for me?” Sukuna spoke heatedly and full of malice, though it was also sultry and full of desire, the smile present on his face you could tell by the way words rolled off of his tongue. He choked you harder until you stiffened, your pussy securing him tightly inside of you and a long drawn-out moan leaving you.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes once more as you only focused on the way your muscles along your abdomen were contracting and uncontracting in the same fashion your pussy was pulsing. You were close; so so so close.

A bark of manic laughter made you moan whenever his cock jumped from it, Sukuna’s hand leaving your throat to grasp at your face instead to peel your eye open with two fingers, “Look around you, girl. No use calling for that name, not when your entire soul is now mine,” he let go of your eye and cupped your cheek, the tongue on his abdomen hurriedly licking at your clit as Sukuna returned to fucking you instead at a frenzied pace, his growling growing louder and his voice becoming raspier by the second, “Fucking – you’re gonna scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to and who’s the only person that can fuck you like this forever. Say it and I’ll fuck you full of my cum.”

He was close. Right along the same abyss of a dark path as you were to pleasure.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

You could only manage a mumble, “I wanna cum.”

His hips smacked into you. “Louder. Say it.”

The reaction was instantaneous, your muscles bunching up, eyes watering as the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold, his rough movements, and your rapidly approaching orgasm let the words flow freely from your mouth.

“Sukuna, please, I wanna cum! Just –” a louder whine fell out of you when he pushed you down in retaliation for more of your pleas, struggling to take his hard thrusts as you finally felt yourself let go and felt your cunt gush and squeeze one last time as you rambled the rest of your begs in a high-pitched cry.

“More.”

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Lemme cum – I’ll do anything! I want you to cum inside me so much I can’t hold it… I want you to cumin me so much there’s no way I don’t get pregnant –”

Your sentence trailed off as a snarling groan took over the sound all sound there was and his pace kicked into a destructive speed, a distorted curse spitting off his tongue as something popped and a shuttering noise flew into your ears while the inside of you felt briefly stunned from the action. After that, your body was suddenly uncoiling itself in the throes of your orgasm with a screaming plea of his name.  

Your cunt constricted around his cock in a poor effort to hold on, but the action had you spasming in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever experienced. The others paled in comparison from those late nights fingering yourself at the thought of him, your body feeling electrified from the intensity of it and your limbs jerking to find any part of his body to hold on to as you rushed through it. You didn’t know why your cunt and his dick felt like they were buzzing and vibrating from the release, but the heightened stimulation had you squirming throwing your head back as far as you could with a gaping mouth and eyes spinning into your mind while the hairs on your body rose from the change in the atmosphere. You were well aware you had gushed all over his cock as your legs jerked from the pleasure, and in the back of your mind you were only vaguely aware that he was still fucking you.

You nearly felt numb, throat feeling raw and horribly dry from the amount of screaming you had done as your body still bounced from his ravenous thrusts while you came down from that high in tremors. The drool from your mouth was something you didn’t notice, your fingers held onto his wrists instead and your legs shook, but none of that mattered when Sukuna groaned aloud, his hand cupping the back of your head before his follow-up snarl was devastating, his hand heaving you upwards back into his lap to sit you upright. You didn’t have time to register what he was doing until he viced his teeth back down onto your neck, the bite harsh and his thrusting gone savage while he fought through to his own release.

Sukuna had left you feeling spent and exhausted, legs quivering in their place as your moans fell into huffing noises with your body falling lack in his tight hold as Sukuna only hissed, snarled and groaned his way to finally giving you both what you asked for. The gush of air and energy you felt sparked around you two one last time, expanding throughout wherever you two were as the last of his composure leaving him whenever he pushed up into you with a ferocious jab that fluttered your pussy and a long-uttering satisfied groan vibrated the entire space.

Your eyes spun back as your mouth gaped when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full as a feeling of mild electrification prickled the hair on your body. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding throughout the inside of you. You could feel from the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your wombs as Sukuna’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being. His fingers flexed as they returned to both grasping your hips with a hissing exhale that you felt deep into your stomach when he released his neck, and meanwhile you tried to force your mind and body to leave that fucking high and try to at least find yourself into some clarity from probably the best fucking and orgasms you had ever felt.

With your face tucked into his shoulder you felt comforted, closing your eyes for a brief moment as Sukuna relinquished parts of his hold on you, maintaining the hold in your hips however as he sunk back into a relaxed position. You reopened your eyes when you felt him hit a stop, the scenery of the Onsen greeting you once more as you slid down his body in fatigue, legs useless and body beginning to feel the effects of your tryst. You had half a mind to ask him what had happened (and how you felt his emotions), but you put it away for the time as Sukuna seemed like a content cat not wanting to bothered anymore for the day. However you did wiggle in his grasp, feigning a means to get comfortable as you grimaced from the tall-tale sign of the mess he had made of you; a goopy-like substance painting you both that you could nearly hear squish whenever you finally settled down to where you wanted to be.

You only hoped Sukuna didn’t mind, biting your cheek and keeping your chin tucked to your chest to avoid his eyes as you rested your head onto his chest. You held it there for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut in case he said anything, but once a few moments passed and you could only hear his breathing, you listened intently. Fighting through your own thundering heartbeat wracking around in your brain and ears, you could hear it, and it lit up a light inside of you the moment you heard the first thump.

A heartbeat.

More importantly, Sukuna’s heartbeat.

It was steady, perhaps beating slower than average, but it was still there.

The magma inside of you had gone quite; no more burning or bubbling in the danger of erupting, instead in its place heavy igneous rocks shimmering with perhaps a gem inside from your turbulent emotions finally being put to rest. It was comforting as it weighed you down, content to say in Sukuna’s presence as long as he allowed you and devote what you could to him as he needed be.

You could feel your cheeks warm, easing more into his body as you finally felt him stretch underneath you, then he was sighing like he was hurt. “Do you think me a monster so much you look to see if I have a heart?” he asked with a tease, a finger dipping into the water next to your hip to circle it around in the seldom that he may have been bored.

You were thankful he couldn’t see your expression, for he would’ve seen the embarrassment written all over it from you being caught red-handed over something so silly. With your cheek squished against his bulging pectoral, you answered, “No, I just didn’t know if curses had one…” God, you hoped he didn’t get offended by that.

He did not, a snort reaching your ears before he flicked your forehead, “I would not be sitting here as we speak if I did not. My heart is still intact much like your own feeble, little organ, though it’s ways stronger than yours as well, little human.”

Sukuna could not go ten minutes without gloating apparently.

You rolled your eyes safely out of his sight, fully prepared to just remain resting on him until he told you to get off of him or something, until he shifted again and you felt the organ connecting you two suddenly stir. You nearly felt like your pelvis was shifting again (God, you weren’t going to be walking straight for days) and had to keep from squawking again whenever his cock hardened while remaining inside of you. It popped and you hissed, trying to rise up to pull him out of you, but Sukuna was steadfast keeping you in his lap and his cock snugly inside.

“Owww,” you whined, pulling away from his chest to hold onto his shoulders while you mewled whenever he gave a sharp thrust inwards once more.

Sukuna grinned, nails digging into your hips and a cackle on his tongue, “You complain now? You’re an odd one, and part of me thinks you quite like some pain. Got myself a masochistic whore, do I?”

“I’m not – Mmmm, Sukuna,” you broke into a sigh, breath hitching and body coming back to life for pleasure whenever he started to play with your nipples again. Surely not he was prepared to go again… You knew he had stamina, but from the way he had fucked you… “But you just –”

Sukuna tsked, one hand leaving your hip to tweak at your clit and humming whenever bucked onto him, “You should know better than to think I was done with you –”

Your world abruptly spun again, one second looking into Sukuna’s shit-eating smirk, and the next you were facing the wall he had been propped up against, your hands gripping the rocks placed there and your body bent over. The only thing keeping your legs from giving out was Sukuna’s new grip on you, guiding your hips back so that your ass met his pelvis and his thighs slapped against your own, and his cock suddenly reentering you with little to no friction due to the amount of cum from both of you still inside of you made you gasp at how fast he did it. Fucking back onto him out of a bodily reaction, he laughed, a hand coming down to slap your ass before he gave one heavy thrust into you, the new angle reaching a deeper spot and starbursts breaking out in your vision.

“Look at you, already used to it. You and I are making up for lost time… I’ll fuck you like a bitch first, then I’ll make good use of that mouth.”

You could only moan, back arching deliciously and fingers turning into a white-knuckled grip on the rocks in front of you, and your thoughts could only focus on the fact you had a long night ahead of you whenever his hand slammed down on your back for a deeper arch and his skin began to slap into yours in the sinful melody of your communion.

[wispisstillverybored67]

Has anyone noticed he always pauses "forever" between the for and ever?

[ddejavvu]

James who has no idea that your dog usually doesn’t like new people! But the first time he comes to your place your dog is all over him and wants to snuggle. He’s so wholesome I don’t think any pet could not love him. Bonus points for big fluffy dog getting fur all over him

Your arms ache with a phantom strain as you watch your dog attempt to flatten James beneath him- in a good way, this time. You're used to holding him back while he does his best to intimidate the day's houseguest, but he'd taken to James with a giddily wagging tail and a complete lack of his usual wariness.

"Hi, oh," James laughs, barely dodging a large paw to his face as your dog squirms around on his back, begging for belly rubs, "You're a big baby, aren't you? And a furry one, too."

There's wisps of shed fur lining James's entire outfit, and he's only been in your house for two minutes.

"What a sweetheart," James croons when your dog presses its heavy muzzle into James's stomach, "My goodness, you might be the worst guard dog in the world. 'You gonna protect my darling if someone breaks in here?"

"Usually he tries." You scoff, staring bewilderedly at your docile dog, "There's typically about five minutes of vicious barking and at least twenty minutes of holding him back until I can be sure he won't snap at your ankles."

James's hands never still from where they're roving through your dog's fur, and the little traitor looks up at you with a giddy grin while James dotes on him.

"Really?" James's face scrunches, one of his hands laying several heavy pats against your dog's side, "I can't picture that. I think she's lying to me," James looks down conspiratorially at your dog, nose-to-nose where your dog lays upside-down in his lap.

"She's trying to tell me you're a big mean monster," James squishes your dog's face, scratching dutifully beneath his chin, "But I think you're a harmless little baby. Isn't that right, hm? No, you'd never hurt a soul."

Your dog grumbles along, surely agreeing with him that you're a fearmongering tyrant who's trying to besmirch his good name. You draw out your phone to take a picture of them both, and when you send it off to Sirius and Remus, it's with the caption, 'Well boys, we've finally found someone who can tame the beast.'

'What the fuck?' Is Sirius's near-immediate reply, 'It took me an hour to get him to let me pet him last time, and I had to be actively feeding him or he'd freak.'

'James has a way with dogs, Sirius,' You can almost hear Remus's drawl through the text, 'That's how he gets you to do his laundry for him.'

"Your friends are very jealous," You hum, looking back to where James is now trying to gather all of your very large dog's gangly limbs into his lap, crooning all the while at the animal, "Sirius wants you to know he nearly lost a leg."

"Well maybe he deserves to, then, hm? I trust your judgement," James presses a kiss to the side of your dog's muzzle, "Maybe next time you could do us all a favor and go for the bollocks."

[mandalhoerian]

best friend's brother au with caleb.

☼ MC is your best friend, emphasis on best friend. The attachment is deep, it's sandbox love, something you can’t shake even if you tried. And you have tried.

☼ The thing is though, she was born into a world where she never had to doubt if someone would come for her. Her big brother Caleb was always there. Three years older, effortlessly reliable, and devastatingly kind in a way that would make someone go "What are we?" after an interaction.

☼ And you? You’re what MC would’ve been without him.

☼ You have never been a priority. You were an accident. A presence tolerated, never wanted.

☼ Your mom, when she was around, floated through life like a ghost, a wisp of perfume and cold hands, someone who never touched the ground long enough to be real. She loved things in theory, not in practice. When she spoke about you, it was as if you were a character in someone else's story, an inconvenience she pitied from a distance.

☼ Your dad? He was fire and fists in walls, a voice that cut through the air like a blade. Not always cruel, but never kind. His affection came with sharp edges. With rules. With expectations you could never meet. When he spoke to you, it was never to see you. It was to remind you of how much space you took up. How little you gave back.

☼ There was no safety net. No soft place to land.

☼ Food was there if you wanted it, sure. If you made it yourself. If you earned it. And if you forgot? Well. That was on you.

☼ If you got sick, you figured it out. If you needed something, you went without.

☼ You survived on scraps of affection, of attention. You learned to ration kindness like it was a finite resource, something you had to trade for, something that could be taken away the moment you asked for too much.

☼ And then you met MC. And she had everything.

☼ MC, who had a home that smelled like warm food and lived-in laughter. MC, who had an older brother who noticed things.

☼ Noticed when she was hungry. When she was tired. When she was upset about something she wasn’t saying. The kind of care that was so casual, so natural, it made your stomach twist with something bitter and ugly.

☼ Because no one had ever done that for you. No one had ever looked at you and seen you.

(Why does she get that?)

(What did she do to deserve that?)

(Why didn’t you?)

☼ Caleb wasn’t just a big brother — he was a gravitational pull. He remembered the way she liked her eggs. He made sure she had a coat when the weather got cold. He made sure she ate.

☼ You watched, bewildered, as he handed her a juice box while she was rambling about something completely unrelated. She didn’t even have to ask. She hadn’t even noticed she was thirsty, but he did.

☼ When you were hungry, you ignored it until it went away. When you were cold, you learned to sleep in layers. You didn’t understand what it meant to be taken care of before you even had to ask. Before you even realized you needed it.

☼ And you hated her for it. Just a little. Just enough to allow yourself to feel it thrumming in your chest, tight and ugly.

☼ You hated how ungrateful she was. How she never seemed to notice what she had. How she rolled her eyes when he nagged her about staying up too late or skipping breakfast. How she never seemed to think about the fact that she had someone who noticed when she was hurting, when she was tired, when she wasn’t taking care of herself.

☼ You wanted to shake her.

☼ You wanted to scream, Do you even realize how lucky you are? Do you even understand what it means to have someone who cares enough to pay attention? To watch over you, even when you don’t ask them to?

☼ And maybe — maybe, if she had been cruel about it, if she had been spoiled and smug and wielded his affection like a weapon, it wouldn’t have stung so much.

☼ But she wasn’t.

☼ MC was kind.

☼ She was the one who noticed when you were skipping lunch. The one who asked if you wanted to sleep over when your house was too quiet, or too loud, or just too much. The one who reached out first.

☼ She didn’t deserve your jealousy. She had never done anything but love you.

☼ But you still felt it anyway.

☼ So, it was never about Caleb himself. Not at first.

☼ It was about wanting someone to see you the way he saw her.

☼ (And it was only later, much later, after years of standing at the edges of their orbit, after watching the way Caleb watched her, after watching the way he took care of you, too, by proxy — only then did you realize what a useless little dream that was.)

☼ Because if she was sunshine and resilience, you were a train wreck balancing on its last two wheels. A cat on its ninth life and should have died at least three times by now. If survival was a game, you’d be playing on the hardest difficulty with no armor, no buffs, just pure recklessness.

☼ You popped painkillers back-to-back because you just wanted the pain to stop. You didn't consider the consequences until you were puking up foam and gripping the edge of the sink, realizing you might actually die. And the worst part? Even then, you thought, it’s fine. I threw up most of it.

☼ You avoided the dentist for a year because of the deep, visceral fear, until one day the infection got so bad you were feverish and shaking, and MC had to physically drag you there. The dentist took one look at you and told you the place you should be at is the hospital, because you were on the verge of sepsis.

☼ Caleb could never let that happen to MC. He wouldn't allow it.

☼ And it wasn't just that he took care of her. It’s that he wanted to. That he was invested. When she was sick, he brought her soup. When she was tired, he scolded her for not getting enough sleep. He nagged, but not in the way parents did, and certainly not in the way teachers do. There was no disappointment in it. Only concern.

☼ Because it's Caleb we’re talking about. He was nice to everyone. The golden boy, the one teachers love, the one who could probably murder someone and walk away with just a warning because the principal would assume he had a good reason.

☼ When you met him for the first time as he politely asked for you to be his sister's friend because she liked you very much, you didn't get it. You assumed he must be a bully and was threatening you, or something equally insufferable.

☼ But Caleb wasn't just popular — he was beloved. People gravitated towards him, and not because he was loud or demanding. He was just Caleb.

☼ It’s only later that you realized he was different with MC. Why he treated you differently by extension.

☼ You weren't an actual person to him. Not really. You were an extension of MC. A friend that she loved, therefore someone he had a passing duty to tolerate and occasionally help.

☼ When you and MC argued, he mediated with the same detached patience you’d expect from an older brother refereeing his little sister’s fight with a friend over a lost hair tie. He wasn't your gege. He’s hers.

☼ And you hated it.

☼ At some point, it became about him.

☼ The way he laughed, low and warm. The way he lingered at the door after dropping MC off, like he had one more thing to say but thought better of it. The way he called her pipsqueak but never called you anything at all.

☼ You hated that you liked him.

☼ You hated that you caught feelings for someone who doesn’t even see you.

☼ You hated that there’s no fixing this.

☼ Because Caleb is a siscon. A full-fledged, textbook case. His world has revolved around MC for as long as you’ve known him, and you know it always will.

☼ You didn't stand a chance.

☼ And yet — when you were with MC, and Caleb ruffled her hair and teased her for something dumb, and you stood there like a third wheel — you still held onto that tiny, humiliating hope that maybe, just maybe, he would turn to you next.

☼ He never does.

[crushmeeren]

Hi, I know you aren’t taking requests right now but I didn’t want to forget it so I’m sending it now for Whenever you open request again.

How do you think the MHA boys would react to your new mom body and “you” being unsure about it. If can be fluffy and/or NSFW

Thank you! 🙂

hi anonnie! sorry for leaving this in my inbox for so long, kinktober was a BITCH. anywho, hope you enjoy and that I included the characters you wanted!

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

Katsuki’s tired. His bones ache with exhaustion, and he wears dark, bruise like marks underneath his eyes that seem to weigh a thousand pounds. The bright light of his phone screen burns his eyes when he checks for the time.

03:30 a.m.

Katsuki moves gently as he sways back and forth in the rocking chair, his three month old furnace of a son snoozing peacefully on his chest. Finally.

One hand rubs up and down his baby’s back, the other arm supporting his butt. His son babbles softly in his sleep, and Katsuki tilts his head to press a kiss to soft wisps of blonde hair, lingering to deeply inhale the scent of new baby and lavender lotion. Red eyes start to droop, the flutter of his son’s heartbeat and his constant warmth lulling Katsuki to sleep.

His head jerks up with a start, desperately trying to stay awake, and so he rises to his feet, sweatpants falling a bit lower on his hips. With a quietness he’s never possessed before, Katsuki delicately lays his baby down without waking him. He pauses in the doorway, smiling tenderly in the direction of the crib before padding to your bedroom.

Katsuki’s ears perk when muffled sniffling greets him. Alarm bells ring in his head and he all but leaps into the bed, yanking the covers down to stare at you with wide eyes. The soft light of your bedside lamp exposes your tear stricken cheeks.

His stomach drops and then he’s crowding you, shoving himself into your personal space. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asks gingerly, brows furrowing as stretches his tank top to wipe your tears away.

Your lower lip wobbles when you bite down on it, and you launch yourself into Katsuki’s chest, knocking him onto his back with an “oof.” You shove your face into the side of his throat, arms curling as you cling to him.

“I can’t stand the way I look!” You sob, lips tickling his skin as you speak. Katsuki wraps you up in a tight hug, heart continuously splintering with each one of your labored sobs. “I love our son, so much, but looking in the mirror hurts.”

“Oh baby.” Katsuki’s voice cracks, firm hands framing your wet cheeks and guiding you to your elbows. He needs you to see the serious look his eyes. “Change is hard, but change is so fuckin’ good. You may not look exactly the same as before, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. You created our fuckin’ son. There’s nothin’ more beautiful to me in this world than that.” There are stars in his eyes as he gazes at you, cementing his belief in his own words.

Your expression crumples and you collapse onto his chest, soaking his shirt in tears as you hug him. “You promise?” You sniffle, tone a bit more hopeful than before.

“I swear on my fuckin’ life.” Katsuki secures you in his hold and rolls the two of you, hovering on one elbow as he pushes loose hair off your forehead. “Please, will you let me show you?”

The flush on your face forces a familiar honeyed heat to pool low in Katsuki’s belly, your sheepish nod all the permission he needs.

You gasp softly when his fingers slip your panties to the side, fingers barely touching your clit. It’s effortless for him to fill you completely with his thick cock, to press sweet words into your throat as he makes love to you. His chest is sticky with sweat, and you can’t get enough of the way he whines high pitched each time your pleasure overwhelms you and your pussy squeezes him.

Katsuki quite literally shows you how beautiful you are to him, and when you’re cradled on his chest afterwards, you start to believe that you are.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ shouto ༝ ᭝ ༝

“Will you shower with me?”

The lingering memories of warm water raining down on his skin, steam curling up into the air and your naked body run across Shouto’s mind. You raise an eyebrow in return, lifting your daughter from her high chair when she reaches for you.

“I don’t know, Sho.” Your gaze flickers to the side, avoiding direct eye contact. Shouto’s brows pinch together, frowning at your uncharacteristically shy response.

“Why?” It’s been ages since you’ve showered together. Since you’ve had sex, really. Not that he’s upset, he’s enamored with your daughter, but he misses you. A lot.

“I just don’t want to,” you say sharply, turning your back to him and walking towards your kitchen sink. Your tone doesn’t sit well with Shouto and he follows after you. He places a hand on your shoulder, hurt welling in his chest when you stiffen at his touch.

He lets his hand fall limply to his side. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. I want to understand.”

You sigh almost imperceptibly, slowly shifting to face him, and you hike your daughter further up on your hip. She giggles when she spots her daddy, little hands grabbing for him, and Shouto scoops her up with a loving smile.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you mutter, eyes trained on the back of your daughter’s head, softly brushing white hair behind her ears.

Shouto blinks a few times. “What do you mean?”

“You know, with the hideous scars and all.”

“Oh.” The silence is deafening. You freeze, eyes widening as your head snaps upwards with a horrified expression. Your jaw opens and closes as you clutch his forearm in a death grip.

“Sho, no — wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry—,”

“Do you believe that I’m ugly? Even with my scar?” He asks, not unkindly.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, of course not! I think you’re beautiful the way you are.”

Shouto hums, hugging your daughter tightly to his chest. She grabs his shoulders, nuzzling her face into his neck. “So what leads you to believe it’s any different for me?”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit, shrugging lamely, unable to come up with an answer. Shouto wordlessly laces his free hand with yours, and after settling your baby down for the night, he ushers you to your bathroom.

There’s no need to speak when Shouto helps you strip out of your clothes, goosebumps littering your arms when the fingertips of his left hand chill involuntarily and tickle your ribs. He’s bare within the minute, leading you under the hot spray of water in the next.

Shouto walks you backwards and presses you to the cool tile of the wall, steam circling upwards and suffocating the two of you. You grasp at his slippery shoulders, tilting your head while he leaves biting kisses along your throat. Shouto traces the c-section scar along your belly as if it’s something precious, touch featherlight before guiding you to flip and brace your hands on the wall.

The initial stretch of his cock sends a shiver of heat down your spine. The humid atmosphere making everything that much slicker, that much hotter. He places his hands over your scar to steady himself and holds you close, rolling his hips steadily until you’re crying his name and pushing at his belly because it’s too much.

Shouto’s determined to show you everyday that scars are to be cherished. They’re apart of you, and not a single inch of you could ever be ugly to him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ eijirou ༝ ᭝ ༝

It’s date night, and your fingers twitch with nerves as you finish putting up your hair. The two of you haven’t been able to go out alone for the past several months. Having a new baby is ruthless. It’s not for the weak, but you love every second of it, and you’re certain Eijirou does too.

It’s just…. You look different, now. Your body’s shifted and changed in ways you never imagined, but you wouldn’t trade your son for the world. It’s just taking more time than you expected to get adjusted in your new body.

Eijirou’s bright voice echoes in the living room, and your son’s echoing delighted peal of laughter warms your chest. With a defeated sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror and smooth your hands over your stomach, tugging at your shirt.

Eijirou calls out to you and you tell him you’re ready, slipping on your shoes and mustering up enough fake confidence to fool your husband for the evening. When you round the corner, he’s pretending to toss your son up into the air, little happy squeals filling the air. You lock eyes with your husband and genuinely smile, halting next to them and kissing your baby all over his face.

Eijirou kisses him too, reluctantly handing him over to his mother, who graciously volunteered to be on babysitting duty for the night. Once you’re out, Eijirou’s positive energy is infectious, fueling all of his actions and tainting yours too.

Still, a voice in the back of your mind nags at you about your appearance, and gradually your demeanor wilts. Eijirou notices, but he tries to lift your spirits anyways, wanting to save the serious conversation for when you get home. He wants you to enjoy yourself for the time being.

Eijirou gives you space when you return home. He gives you space when you bid his mother goodbye and when you put your son down for the night.

But as soon as you’re alone, Eijirou’s holding your hands and walking backwards until he lands on the edge of the bed, guiding you to sit in his lap and straddle his thighs. He stares up at you, settling his hands on your hips with a puzzled look.

“What’s on your mind my love? You seemed distracted tonight.” He squeezes your hips encouragingly. You purse your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut in the face of your self loathing as you confess how you’ve been feeling.

“So yeah, it’s just been a struggle recently. I’m worried you won’t love me the same because of how different I look now.” You bite the inside of your lip, waiting on edge for his response.

“Look at me,” he demands, gentle yet firm, as always. Your eyes flash open and he places a large hand on your cheek. “Sweetheart, you’ve changed multiple times since we’ve met, and I’ve only ever thought you’ve gotten more beautiful. It’s no different this time. Your feelings are valid of course, but just know you’ve always been, and always will be, the stunning woman I fell in love with. Until death do us part, right?”

You’re can’t be held responsible for the bruising kiss you startle him with. Warm lips and the faint hint of Eijirou’s cologne filling your head with cotton and making your heart thunder. Actions mean more than words, and your husband demonstrates the truth of that statement.

He manhandles you to the side of your bed where a mirror rests on the wall across from you, bending you into some half form of a full Nelson to force you into a front row seat of your pussy swallowing his cock. Eijirou hooks his chin over your shoulder and the heat in his eyes burns you alive. He whispers filthy praise into your ear, sending you over the edge in record time.

Eijirou will remind you of your beauty each day for the rest of your lives, if that’s what it takes.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch4: served || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

When Sukuna was in the sixth grade, he read A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket for a project. He doesn’t remember the plot, the characters, nor any details of real importance about the series, but he knows one thing for sure.

The title could describe how his day unfolded.

Nothing is particularly out of place throughout his morning. He wakes up to the sound of his alarm, blearily rubbing his eyes as he gets out of bed for an early morning workout. He throws his airpods in and turns on his workout playlist as he lifts weights and hops on his treadmill before taking a cold shower to rouse himself from the clutches of drowsiness.

He wakes up the kids, helping Yuji get ready while he multitasks making oatmeal for breakfast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their lunches, which he tosses into their Pokemon lunch bags alongside some snacks. Mornings like these are like clockwork for him, simple and predictable, just how he prefers. No surprises.

With the first snow of the season chilling the air, he bundles both kids up in winter gear and grabs his heavy coat before walking them to school. He sets his alarm for their pickup, allowing him just enough time to get to his final class of the day, albeit a little bit late. Nothing new about that, though. As long as he isn’t late for your presentation, that’s all that matters. It’s the one thing he’s keeping at the front of his mind so as not to disappoint you.

He’s not sure why it matters so much, but like an itch he can’t scratch, the thought won’t go away. Ever-present and the only thing at the forefront of his mind since he accepted the presentation on your behalf. He’s not foolish enough to think that there’s any world in which you want to present at all, even though he knows you wouldn’t say no to the extra credit, and he could use it too.

He blinks snow away from his lashes, letting it melt from the warmth of his cheeks as his gaze sticks to the ground before him. His fingers fumble with the metal lighter in his pocket as he walks. He’s had it for a long time, evidence of how worn it is carved into the steel, but he’d sooner pull it apart and put it back together himself than get rid of it if it failed.

As he reaches the campus with time to spare, he spots one of your friends outside the building to his next class. He recognizes the blonde immediately, the one you sit next to at lunch, though he doesn’t recall his name. He knows they share an Accounting class, though him and Sukuna have never interacted beyond brief glances.

Keeping his distance from the blonde, Sukuna pulls out a cigarette as his thoughts are once again back on you, and all he can do is pray the nicotine dulls the feeling of his heart palpitating just at the thought of you like some pathetic teenager. The smoke billows and wisps in the air, more evident than usual in the cold, and he relishes in its brief reprieve from his thoughts.

It’s lust.

It’s nothing more than a reminder that he needs to find an excuse for his neighbour to watch his brothers so he can attend one of Gojo’s shitty frat parties and get laid.

With a glance at his watch, he stubs out his cigarette and trudges past the blonde without a glance. He makes his way to his usual seat isolated from the rest of the students in the corner closest to the door in case he needs to leave. Flipping his laptop open, he waits for the old computer to boot up so he can put together a semblance of an outline to work off of for the presentation at the end of the day.

It’s then that his misfortune begins.

His eyes flicker down to a notification in his email inbox and he sighs at the sight of the contact, his boss at the warehouse looking for him to fill a shift. Right now. He could accept the shift, miss European History, get off in time to pick up his brothers, bring them home, shower, and make it to Art History albeit a few minutes later than he’d intended. That wouldn’t be a big deal, you wouldn’t present at the beginning of class. It would also give him enough money to begin looking at Christmas gifts for the brats, which is an appealing idea…

He accepts the shift, and slips out towards the end of class. The shift isn’t unlike any other, nothing that would make anyone think this day is worse than any other. Sure, he stepped in a deep pile of snow on his way back from his shift and his ankle damn near froze and his socks are wet, but he’ll live. Not the end of the world.

He clocks out and picks up his brothers without a hitch, getting back with enough time to quickly shower the remnants of his shift from his skin and toss on a black hoodie with a Deftones logo across the front, and a pair of black jeans that were strewn over the back of his desk chair. His neighbor would be over any minute and he could head to class, only a few minutes late. An exhausting start to his day, but not bad.

A knock at the door sounds, and Sukuna’s brow furrows. Since when does his neighbor knock? He gave her a key for a reason.

“Choso! Grab that!” He calls as he throws his laptop and textbooks into his backpack, sure the sitter just forgot her keys despite being literally across the hall.

With a sigh, Sukuna casts a glance back at his room to see if he’s forgotten anything, when Choso peeks his head through a crack in the door. “Kuna? Someone’s asking for you.”

The tattooed man’s brow furrows further as he throws his backpack over one shoulder and follows after his little brother, who had shut the door on the person upon realizing it wasn’t their neighbor. The little boy stands a small ways back as Sukuna opens the door.

A man dressed in a long, deep gray peacoat with neatly styled hair stands at the door. Something akin to shock flickers in the man’s gaze at the sight of Sukuna, but it hardens as he addresses him.

“I’m looking for Ryomen Sukuna.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his posture straightening. “What do you want?”

“Can you confirm you’re Ryomen Sukuna?” The man doubles down, keeping his expression indifferent.

With a scowl, Sukuna nods. “Yeah, I’m Sukuna. What do you want?” There’s more bite this time as Sukuna repeats his question.

“Excellent. I am here to serve you with legal documents. Please ensure that you attend your court hearing on March 23rd. By accepting these documents, you have been officially notified. Should you decline them, I am still obligated to make a note of this interaction.”

“The fuck?” Sukuna snatches the manilla envelope from the man’s hands, ripping it open and pulling the documents out. His eyes scan the words on the document, widening in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

–

If Sukuna were a better man, he would have put your presentation in his calendar. He would have made an alarm. He would have sent you an email. Anything to let you know he was occupied. If he was a better man, he wouldn’t have torn his court documents in two. The ripped paper is hardly any concern when the handle on his door fell to the ground with a clank with the force he used to shut the door. At least one of those could be fixed with tape.

If Sukuna was a better man, he would have noticed his mistake before it got dark out.

With his head in his hands, he stares out the window by the table at the back of his apartment, brimming with anger when it all comes back to him.

The fucking presentation.

He wants to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that you’re just a nuisance that wormed your way into his life and his mind. He wants to tell himself that you don’t matter and that he should forget about you like he had tried to last week, and accept that like everyone else in his life, he let you down.

But when he envisions your genuinely nervous expression at the thought of presenting even with him, his blood runs cold at the thought of you presenting without him.

He balls his hand into a fist, trembling from the sheer force of strength he puts into flexing his muscles.

“Fuck!” He hisses, slamming his palm down onto the table as he pushes himself up, sending ripped paper tumbling to the floor. His chair scrapes loudly across the scuffed hardwood of the dining space as he rushes to the door, pausing for only a moment at the sight of the handle he’d barely managed to screw loosely back into place. His jaw tightens as he grabs his keys and coat, tugging the door open a bit too hard as he hears the handle fall to the ground with a metallic thud inside the apartment.

As if he wasn’t already frustrated enough, this only serves to piss him off further. He considers himself lucky (if it can even be called that at this point) that his neighbor is still willing to watch his brothers (with a warning about the door handle) after the irritated dismissal he’d thrown her way earlier, but he’ll fix that bridge later.

There’s a more important one on his mind right now.

He’s not sure why he runs to campus first. Of course you won’t be there. Of course the professor won’t be in class, with the lecture hall closed and locked.

He tries the door again, as though a second tug at the handle might turn back time to three hours ago when he should have been here, but it’s nothing but wishful thinking. With his hand still on the unmoving handle, he slams his head against the door.

“Fuck!” With his brothers no longer around to hear, the curse escapes him in a furious roar. Whatever anger had been simmering at the surface for hours now bubbles over and explodes. In a flurry of frustration and pent up emotions, he reaches into his pocket and tosses the first thing that hits his fingers.

His lighter collides with the wall with a dull thud, falling in two pieces to the ground across the hall as a small dent is left in its wake in the drywall.

Sukuna’s hands rake through his hair, his teeth gritted as he inhales sharply, grappling with the weight of his emotions. He stumbles back until his back collides with the wall behind him, sliding down it with his head in his hands. He’s not sure how long he sits there before the sound of the cold wind whipping at the door outside brings him back to the present.

Running a hand over his face again, he grits his teeth as he stares across the hall at the lighter on the floor and frowns. Pushing himself to his feet, he crouches in front of it as he gathers the lid, hinge, and body, smoothing his thumb over the engraved name of his father on the steel.

Looks like he’ll be learning to fix a lighter sooner than he thought. Shoving it back into his pocket, he pulls his hood up over his head and makes his way back out into the cold. It’s well into the evening now, the cold snowflakes a sharp contrast to his warm skin as the night temperature falls well below that of the early morning.

His gaze rakes the empty Friday night campus. Distant laughter outside one of the bars on campus is all that disrupts the drone of wind and distant cars. You’re gonna be pissed. You have every right to be pissed, and he knows it, but for some god forsaken reason that Sukuna can’t make sense of, he can’t leave this be. He doesn’t want the image of your fearful expression as you present alone to be the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks of you.

Would it be stupid of him to show up at your door? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what the protocol is for shit like this because this doesn’t happen to people like him. Sukuna’s only long-lasting friendship is with Uraume, who knows him well enough to know not to hold his fuck-ups against him. It’s a miracle they’re still friends, if he’s honest with himself. Of course, he has other people he hangs around with here and there, but no one close enough to bother himself with matters like this.

Fiddling with the broken lighter in his pocket, he sets off towards your place, bussing to the nearest stop as he makes his way there from memory. He buzzes your apartment, staring at the ground as the machine rings several times, before it eventually hangs up.

No.

He hits the button for your apartment once more, but you still don’t answer. You’re not home.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the remnants of his anger fizzling out into concern and something that twists in his gut- dread. The day has worn him down so much he has half a mind to wait for you to come home and try to talk to you, but with his mind and body as drained as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll make it home if he doesn’t leave now. That’s not even taking the cold into consideration.

Trudging back to the bus stop, he slides down against the bench and stares up at the sky. The stars are barely visible, but a few still shine brightly enough to be seen over the glow of the city lights. Like everyone else, he took Astronomy as an elective just for the credits, and he remembers that the stars that don’t flicker are planets. He wonders if the one he’s staring at is Jupiter, or maybe Venus.

He wonders if you like looking at the stars.

Sukuna leans forward with his head in his hands. He’s fucked, he’s so fucked. How many ‘unfortunate events’ do those kids go through in that stupid book? How many more can he take?

He swallows hard, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and balancing it between his lips, reaching in again for his lighter. Although the cap isn’t attached, he hopes it still turns. To his relief, it produces a flame and he sets the broken cap over it to put it out, replacing the pieces into his pocket as he waits for the bus. The nicotine does very little to help dull the edge of his stress.

The ride home is quiet, save for the rumbling of the bus’ engine and the tapping of someone’s foot at the front of the vehicle. It’s not long before Sukuna’s back in his apartment with a screwdriver in-hand as he holds the doorknob back in place while screwing it back in. Its hold on the wooden frame is loose at best given just how badly he’d jostled it earlier and Sukuna has to turn to super glue to keep it in place.

Putting the kids to bed is a mechanical and empty action, one that he tries with every fiber of his being to hide from them. They’re smart kids, he knows they’ve already figured out something is up, but Sukuna needs to keep up appearances and make it seem as though nothing is wrong.

With the kids in bed, he sits at his desk with his laptop, his fingers hovering over your email thread. ‘sorry’, he types out, before hitting backspace. ‘howd the presentation go?’, he then types out, but that’s just about the worst thing he thinks he could send. ‘can we talk?’ he tries next, staring at the screen. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before typing and hitting send before he can overthink his words.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 10:02 PM hey. let me know if you get this. i owe you.

Shutting his laptop, he leans over his desk, his chin propped up on his forearms.

His mind is plagued with thoughts that make it feel as though a dagger is being plunged straight into his chest, each one twisting and dragging it through his body. He wants to fight back, he wants to fight back so violently that he draws blood, but there’s no one on the receiving end of his anger but the world itself.

He grits his teeth, exerting enough strength that he knows his jaw will be sore tomorrow. Every muscle in his body already aches, why not add another one? With a sigh, he finds it in him to sit back up, staring helplessly at the ceiling.

When Sukuna was in second grade, he read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. He doesn’t remember what that one was about either, but that one could be the title for his day as well.

–

You blink up at the ceiling the Saturday following your shitty presentation, emotionally drained. Though Nanami had proposed to take you for breakfast… or lunch or dinner, he had allowed you to decline this time, unlike on Friday. You’re no less thankful for him being there for you, but all you really want to do is take some time for yourself.

Pushing yourself out of bed to make tea, you stare out at the snowscape outside your window, glad you’re staying inside as you’re able to bundle yourself up in blankets. You pick up your laptop, setting it on your lap in front of you as you browse movies, looking for something that appeals to you.

Your email inbox number rises as you peruse streaming services, though you don’t bother to look at it. You’re not awaiting any emails. That is, until it’s rising steadily as you’re watching it.

You know who’s blowing up your inbox. It’s not the latest deals from the ramen store down the street, or Netflix requesting to change your password.

It’s the one person you don’t want to talk to.

Your mouse hovers over the ‘x’, your finger not even an inch away from clicking. Yet some sort of bitter curiosity gets the better of you as you click on your inbox.

Seven emails, huh?

You sigh as you stare at the emails. He’s replying to the thread of your last exchanges, so you can’t see a preview of what he’s written.

“Is it so wrong of me to be disappointed?” You remember asking Nanami last night, stirring the straw in your milkshake mindlessly.

He sits up in his seat. “He made you a promise, no? You have every right to be upset.”

You glance up at him. His sharp mahogany eyes are unreadable, but you can sense his sympathy for you through his actions.

You’re silent, absorbing his words as you return to mindlessly stirring your milkshake. The chatter around you is dull in comparison to the loud thoughts of inadequacy digging their filthy claws into your mind.

“I made a fool of myself.”

“No one will remember by Monday,” Nanami tries to reassure you, but it falls on deaf ears.

“I think I said that to myself after Prom.”

Nanami’s lips press together in a tight-lipped frown. “We were kids, back then. All of us, all of them. Things will be different this time around.”

“Do you believe that, or are you just saying that to reassure me?” You ask with a dry laugh, a nervous reaction to his sympathy.

Kento frowns, leaning forward. “I believe it with my entire being,” he replies firmly, ending his statement with your name. You glance up at him again, observing the way his jaw tenses when he sees your puffy cheeks and reddened eyes. “Don’t let this keep you from being you.”

You stare back down at the strawberry milkshake. It’s melting so steadily it’s hardly a shake anymore, it’s closer to strawberry milk.

“You know what the worst part of this whole thing is?”

“What’s that?”

“Well-” you laugh bitterly, “- I can't decide what's worse; That I’m actually still worried about him for some reason or that I ever believed him to begin with.”

Nanami’s gaze flickers away from you as he leans forwards over the table. He contemplates his words carefully, mindful of your obvious feelings for the burly man. “You don't deserve to contemplate that over someone.”

“What am I supposed to contemplate, then?” You chuckle wryly, finally taking a sip of your milkshake. It’s definitely just strawberry milk now. At least it’s not lukewarm yet.

“Did you see the latest episode of ‘Love is Blind’?”

You set your milkshake down with a clink. “Did you?”

“Well… No, but I heard Shoko and Haibara speaking about it at lunch.”

You crack a smile. It’s half-hearted and doesn't reach your eyes, but he senses your amusement anyways and returns your smile.

Now, staring at your unopened emails from Sukuna, Nanami’s words continue to echo in your mind.

“You don't deserve to contemplate that over someone.”

So why are you struggling to return to Netflix? You should just watch a movie and forget about him. If his words meant anything, he would have shown up when you needed him. He wouldn’t have made promises he couldn’t keep.

Sighing, you will yourself to click away and keep your mind off of him as you peruse movies on Netflix. Mindlessly scrolling through each category, it’s by the third one that it occurs to you that you haven’t actually been paying attention to your options, your thoughts occupied by the one man you’re trying to avoid.

After showing you his words mean nothing, why are you still so stuck to him like glue? Staring into your mug of tea, you frown when the answers to your problems aren’t swirling within the warm drink.

Against your better judgment, you take a sip of your tea and click on his emails.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 10:02 PM hey. let me know if you get this. i owe you.

Frustration stirs within you. He knew damn well that you would be upset with him for not showing up and the best he can do is an ‘I owe you’?

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:23 AM cmon just let me know youre seeing this

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:28 AM fuck, i know i

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:29 AM shit. hit send too early. i know i fucked up but give me a chance to explain

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:33 AM please.

The sight of his plea staring back at you feels like a mockery. Burying your face in your hands, you groan loudly to yourself, as though it might help you make sense of your emotions. Sukuna doesn’t plead with people, he’s made that much clear. Everything with him happens on his terms and is purely transactional, so what’s changed to have him suddenly begging for your attention without asking for anything in return?

Some delusional part of you wants to believe that whatever he wants from you is more than just free babysitting services but he’s given you no reason to believe otherwise.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 8:41 AM ill make it up to you. idk how but fuck

You know he’s serious when his email ends with your name. Not Prom Queen, not some nickname that borderlines on flirty, but your given name.

Your mouse hovers over the reply button, thoughts racing through your mind. What if there was an emergency? What if he needs help? What if the boys are in trouble?

No, if something was wrong he wouldn’t be rambling over email. Nothing is wrong, Sukuna is just an asshole, and maybe you need to remind yourself of that. Maybe you’re too kind, maybe you give others the benefit of the doubt too often when they don’t deserve it. Maybe the rumors about Sukuna were always true. Maybe Gojo is right about him.

With frustration fueling your movements, you close the emails and shut the tab. He doesn’t deserve your time and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin your weekend with his incessant messages.

Returning to Netflix, you finally settle on a romantic comedy you’ve been meaning to watch and get back to your (somewhat cold) tea.

–

After a relaxing Saturday spent by yourself and a rejuvenating Sunday spent alongside Shoko, who convinced you (again) to forget about Sukuna, you feel miles better than you did on Friday.

Shoko was ready to put up a fight with your former project partner when you told her what had happened. Now that classes had ended for the semester and you only found yourself on campus to make use of the library, the extra free time only fueled her fire. Nanami, usually cool and composed, was no better when the two of you joined him in the library.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, shooting a glance at Shoko who he’s certain had heard about what went down.

“I’m okay. Thanks, Nanamin,” you shoot him a smile. Though you do seem more at ease than Friday, it’s clear that your anxiety and frustration runs deeper than simply being disappointed. You’re heartbroken. Shoko and Kento would have to be fools not to see the heart eyes you’d had for the History major.

“If you need anything from me, please feel free to ask,” he offers.

“Anything at all,” Shoko tacks on to his statement.

A smile pulls at your lips, even as you find yourself sighing. “Can both of you stop trying to fight him? I’m okay now, really.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that I would fight him-” Nanami begins, interrupted by Shoko.

“I was.”

You can’t help a laugh at her confidence and the grimace that Nanami dons at the sound of said confidence. Regardless, you’re thankful for their support, even if Shoko’s just a bit too eager to teach Sukuna a lesson.

You all fall into easy silence as you study individual subjects, simply enjoying being in the presence of your friends. The morning is quiet and still in the library outside of the sounds of pencils and pens scratching over paper and textbook pages turning. Only a few other students made their way to campus on the first official day of break aside from you, Kento, and Shoko.

Your focus wanes quickly as you find your thoughts wandering, something that’s been commonplace when you find yourself stuck in your own head. Your thoughts roam back to Sukuna’s emails, to his mention of wanting to explain what happened. Had something happened?

You shake your head, trying to remind yourself he’s not worth your time of day and you have no reason to trust his words.

The morning drags on as you struggle to focus on your studies and the moment the clock strikes noon, you’re immediately packing up and dragging your friends to the lunch hall, desperate for the reprieve from your hopeless thoughts.

“I think I’m fucked for my Bio exam,” Shoko sighs as you take a seat at your usual table in the empty hall.

“Perhaps if you had spent more time in your lectures and less time smoking outside my Accounting class, you wouldn’t feel that way,” Kento bites back, earning a laugh from you. He may be aloof and calm, but sometimes you forget just how sassy the blonde can be when he wants to be.

“Shit, that was your Accounting class?”

“Mhm.”

“Motherfucker,” Shoko mutters under her breath, looking off to the side when something catches her eye and she sits up straight suddenly. Both you and Kento take notice of her weird behaviour and go to follow her line of sight, turning your gaze over your shoulder until you’re eye to eye with none other than the cause of all your problems.

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls unevenly, as though he ran to the lunch hall in an effort to find you, his usual aloof expression long gone and replaced with something you’ve never seen on him before- regret. He’s in a black winter coat, his hands fiddling with something in his pocket as he stands there as though he’s debating what he wants to do.

Your heart clenches, your chest feeling heavy all of a sudden. All you can do is freeze, staring uncertainly at him as your body flips between a morbid curiosity to know what happened and the sparks of anger that you feel for him putting you through something you made clear you didn’t want to do.

Finally making up his mind, he crosses the lunch hall to you, only to be met with Nanami taking a stand in front of you. Kento is a tall man, though you would never know when he stands between you and Sukuna. Even with the horribly obvious disadvantage between them, there’s something heartwarming about Kento putting himself between you.

Sukuna’s gaze hardens, his jaw tightening at the sight of Kento. He opens his mouth to say something, but Shoko speaks up first.

“Leave, Sukuna.”

Your lips purse as you glance between Shoko and Kento. It’s sweet, really, of them to try to spare your feelings and fend for you, but you can do it yourself.

“Ken, Sho. I can handle this.” Your smile does little to convince either of them, but with a frown, Nanami sits down. With a resounding sigh, you’re able to finally get a good look at Sukuna.

You’re used to him looking tired, you’re more than used to him looking downright exhausted, but the expression he wears now isn’t exhaustion. His muscles are tense, eyes flickering between your friends before they land on you and it’s only then that his distress becomes apparent. He’s doing what he can to hide it, but his facade of indifference is already cracked, falling apart at the seams.

Your heart twists at the sight as you wrestle with your anger and concern, deciding finally to put yourself first for once. Something Sukuna is clearly incapable of.

“I don’t want to see you, Sukuna.” Your voice is firm and even, and you’re grateful you’re able to keep up the hardened shell you’ve built up over the weekend. He doesn’t deserve your tears or your anxiety.

“I know. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll listen, but first you gotta give me a chance to explain,” his voice is raspy, evidence of some sort of strain, and you wonder whether he’s been crying or yelling, or maybe he’s been smoking more than usual. Conceivably all three.

You grimace, staring at the wall as you contemplate his words. “You promise you’ll leave me alone after?”

“Anything.”

He’s so quick to respond that it tugs at your heart strings. Why is everything about this interaction so unfamiliar? Where’s the Sukuna you know? Even as he had begun to open up over the last month, you’d never seen him like this. His hand is still fidgeting with something in his pocket, the faint sounds of metal scraping ringing out from his pocket, he keeps shooting glances back at your friends, and his usual air of confidence has fizzled out to nothing.

Then there’s his appearance. His hair is disheveled, pushed back and sticking out on all sides as though he’s been running his hand non-stop through it. His face is gaunt from a lack of sleep based on the dark circles under his eyes and his jaw has been clenched since the moment he arrived. In fact, that might be the only part of this encounter that is familiar, he looks about as angry as usual.

“Fine,” you sigh after a moment, observing the way he exhales in relief.

“Come with me?” He asks, nodding his head towards the door.

Kento and Shoko exchange an uncertain glance as you turn back towards the table and grab your coat and pack your backpack again.

“Call us if you need anything,” Kento speaks up, loud enough for Sukuna to hear as the two men throw scowls at one another. Sukuna knows he’s in the wrong, but he still doesn’t care for this protective behaviour Ken, as you called him, is throwing his way. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.

“Thanks, Kento,” you whisper with a dry attempt at a smile.

With one final challenging stare at the blonde, Sukuna turns to lead the way as you pull your coat on and follow him out into the cold. The snow has been piling up over the weekend, crunching beneath your feet and allowing the cold to seep into you, chilling you straight to your bones. You zip your jacket up further, wrapping your arms around yourself as you follow after Sukuna.

He glances back at you, at the way you’re obviously cold and struggling to keep in step with him given the height of the snow banks he’s trudging through. He diverts his path until you’re both in a spot that’s been cleared and you’re able to steadily keep pace with him, although you still keep a small distance back.

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words, and Sukuna knows he’ll deserve everything you throw his way, though it doesn’t make him anymore eager to get to his destination and keep his mouth shut.

“Where are we going?” Your voice is meek, and those sharp crimson irises observe you quietly from ahead for a moment before he replies.

“For lunch.”

“Oh, I actually brought my own lun-” Your words die in your throat at the sight of his brow twitching as he stares back at you. “Okay.”

You just need to grin and bear it through the next twenty or so minutes, and then you can ask him never to bother you again.

Keeping your eyes on the snow as it kicks up with each step, you’re silent for the remainder of your walk. You keep yourself a few feet back at all times, only catching up once he finally reaches his destination and holds the door as he waits for you to catch up. You pause at the entrance of the building, finding a cafe sign hung above the door.

With a nearly inaudible ‘thanks’, you slip past Sukuna into the building. You both pull your hoods down as you take a look around the cafe. Although it’s only a few blocks from the college, you’ve never been inside.

The interior is decorated in warm orange hues with deep wooden floors and plants lining the walls. There’s shelves from floor to ceiling filled with loaves of bread and a display at the front filled with pastries. Two menus hang above the back of the counter with sandwiches, soups, and salads, alongside cozy looking drink options. You make your way up to the counter slowly, followed closely by Sukuna.

“Get whatever you want,” he grumbles in a tone that would make anyone else think he’s frustrated with you, but it lacks the usual growl that would give that indication.

“Hm? Are you sure?” You ask uncertainly, knowing his financial situation all too well.

He nods. Luckily for Sukuna, he took an extra shift and he thanks whatever god will listen that he did and he can afford to buy you lunch. He owes you more than just food, but it’s a start and he hopes he can convince you to give him a chance to prove himself.

He brings a hand up to scratch his chin, the first signs of stubble poking through his skin and faintly visible around his jaw. It’s a good look on him although he clearly just hasn’t had time or bothered to shave.

“What’s good here?” You query, doing whatever you can to ease the discomfort between you, even though you want to tear into him for what he did.

“Ya haven’t been here?” He quirks a brow questioningly. You’re so close to the college he assumed you would have been. “I like the chicken and beef barley soups. The deli sandwich is good too,” he shrugs.

After a moment, you settle on a small soup and a grilled cheese, letting your attention wander to the plants as you wait for the food while Sukuna pays. Neither of you dare to interrupt the tense understanding keeping both of you from saying something you may regret, allowing the silence to suffocate you.

Even once your lunch is ready and the two of you find a quiet seat in the back corner of the cafe, it does nothing to ease the growing anger threatening to boil over as this frustrating man can’t even so much as apologize.

“How’s your food?”

You drop your spoon into the bowl. It clatters against the edge with a sound that startles the poor employee behind the counter, but your attention is stuck on the man in front of you. The stupid man who can’t bother to start with the one thing you truly want from him.

“You know I’m not happy with you, right?”

His gaze flickers between the spoon and your eyes, which are filled with a blazing fire he’s never seen from you before. He sighs, setting his own spoon down as he sits up. “Figured as much when you didn’t email me.”

“Oh, not emailing you back was what tipped you off that I might be upset? Not-”

“I know, I know.” He’s strangely somber as he accepts the way you’re tearing into him. “I didn’t mean to miss the presentation.” He hunches forward over the table on his forearms, his shoulders tense. There’s no subtle cocky bravado behind his demeanor as there usually is, he’s simply… here, listening intently.

Shaking your head, you chew on your lip as you do what you can to subdue your anger. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to miss our other meetings too, but you really had me thinking this time was different.”

“C’mon, those other times weren’t a big deal,” he gruffs, his forearms visibly bulging as he flexes the muscles. He’s doing his best to keep his frustration at bay.

“No, they weren’t. But this time, you signed me up for public speaking. I told you I didn’t want to do it. I even trusted you with my insecurities, and I thought because of that, this time would be different.” You swallow hard, shaking your head as you fight back tears. “But your word doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

“That’s-” His hand balls into a fist as he growls out the beginning of a sentence, but the sharp look you give him has him re-thinking his words. His hand relaxes, his fingers tapping on the table as he diverts his attention to a plant on the wall. “That’s not fair,” he manages, strained.

“How is that not fair? You told me you would handle it and you knew how I felt about presenting. How is that fair to me?” Your voice is low, somewhere between a whisper and a yell as you try to keep your voice down and more importantly even despite the tears pricking at your eyes.

Sukuna adjusts the way he’s sitting, his hunger subsiding at the sight of your growing frustration with him. “It’s… not fair to you.” All he can do is agree, because he knows he deserves this.

“So why couldn’t you grow a pair and at least warn me you wouldn’t be there? I could have prepared something at least!” You make a motion in the air with your hand in disbelief as your rage grows.

Sukuna’s jaw tightens as memories of why he missed the presentation flood his mind and god how he wants to walk out right now and not worry about you or your feelings, or hurting you, but that would be too simple for Sukuna’s life. No, whatever force of nature Sukuna had angered wanted him to suffer, wanted him to sit here and listen to your agony, pinned to the seat by his reverence for you.

He drags his hands over his face, shaking his head like a dog in an effort to come to his senses and come up with something to say.

His silence is somehow worse than his usual devil-may-care attitude. At least you know how to handle his arrogance and anger. His silence only serves to further the insult of his behavior. “You really have nothing to say about all of this?”

Sukuna has a million things to say, but his thoughts are so disorganized he doesn’t know how to make sense of what he wants to say. What needs to be said. He should have taken more time to come to terms with the gravity of the situation he’d gotten himself into, but he couldn’t bear the idea that you would be living with the thought that Sukuna had abandoned you. Yet he’s here now, with you, to disprove that and he doesn’t know what he can do to fix things with you. One misstep and he digs a deeper grave than the one he’s sitting in already.

That’s the thing about you. You’re the sun, able to brighten any room you walk into with so much as a smile, and Sukuna isn’t even the moon by comparison. He’s a distant star, flickering on the horizon but always outshone by those brighter. Even knowing this, he so selfishly doesn’t want to let you go. He hardly understands it himself, but he finds himself smiling more around you and that alone is worth the effort on his part.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out a pathetic excuse for an apology, one that he knows won’t put out the fires he’s started, but it’s the best he can manage in his disheveled state.

You shut your eyes, letting out a long, dragging sigh. When you open them, you’re staring down at your reflection in your soup bowl, distorted by floating noodles. It’s a genuine apology, a rarity when it comes to him, but he’s lost your trust and good will. Of course there’s a part of you that wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he’s not giving you any reason to believe his words, let alone a reason to leave you sputtering over words at the front of your class last week.

Kento’s right. You don’t deserve to be constantly guessing, even if it tugs at your already fragile heart. Why did it have to be him that your heart decided to fixate on?

“I don’t know how I expected this to go, but I guess I should have known this would happen,” you mumble, getting to your feet and grabbing your coat. You need to leave now before you second-guess yourself.

“Wait-! Fuck…” Sukuna’s on his feet in an instant, unable to look you in the eye as he reaches for your wrist, staring at the point where your skin connects like it’s burning him.

“Shit, just…” He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Gimme a moment.” He doesn’t dare let you go out of fear you’ll leave, his other hand dipping into his pocket as he fiddles with his broken lighter again.

It takes him a moment to gather himself but finally he finds his footing.

“Look, I owe you. I know I fuckin’ owe you, okay? It was a piece of shit move.” He finally meets your gaze, his resolve hardening. “I shoulda been there, I- I got caught up with something. I didn’t mean to miss it and I-” he hesitates, “- I’m beggin’ you to trust me.”

“Why should I trust you? You’ve never given me any reason to. This is just a shitty excuse to use me as a free babysitter again,” you shrug, trying to use reason so as not to fall for the excuses he’s sputtering that your heart so desperately wants to cling to.

His face contorts in disbelief. “Why the fuck would I care about that?”

“If that’s not what this is about, then what is it about? Because if you cared about me at all, you would have been there.”

“Fuck- No- That’s not-” He huffs, his anger threatening to boil over. Running his spare hand through his hair, he grumbles another curse under his breath. “Prom Queen-”

“Don’t call me that.” He knows that’s the cause of your humiliation in the first place, to bring it up right now is downright cruel.

“- Somethin’ happened- with the kids. I didn’t forget. I wanted to be there, I swear on my life that something came up.”

You pause, contemplating his words as he finally gives you some semblance of a reason for his absence, and it’s the exact reason you’d expressed to Kento that had you still worried over the man’s dumb ass. An emergency, a reason to be worried about him, even if he didn’t deserve that kindness from you.

“What happened?” You ask cautiously, sitting back down. Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief and releases your wrist when you sit back down with him.

“It’s nothin’ I can’t handle, but I need you to believe me. I don’t care that you were babysitting the brats. And that wasn’t free anyway.”

It was, but you’ll let that slide.

Your brow furrows. “What is this about then? Since when do you care about anyone other than your brothers or yourself?”

“Christ, I’m not heartless,” he mutters, shutting his mouth when you shoot him a glare. Yeah, he deserves that. “I care. I do care.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip.

“You didn’t seem to care when you didn’t talk to me for a week and a half straight.”

“I thought we already established that I was a dick for that,” he grumbles, frowning.

“That was when this was a one-time thing. Twice, Sukuna? Really? How am I supposed to trust you when you pulled the same stunt again so soon?” You grimace, quietly observing the way his finger is tapping the table in sync with his leg shaking. At the very least, he doesn’t seem to be lying.

“I don’t expect you to, just give me a chance. Gimme a chance to prove I mean it.”

Kento would kill you for even entertaining the thought, yet… you can’t help it.

“Can you at least tell me what happened?”

Sukuna sighs, leaning back and crossing his arms. If ever there was a time to tell you what happened, it should be now. But Sukuna can’t bear the thought of bogging down your life with more issues than what he’s already thrust upon you. “I don’t want you involved in it.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favors by not telling me.”

“I know,” he frowns, “but I don’t want you involved. It’s messy and complicated and I know you and I know you like to stick your nose in my fuckin’ business,” he scowls at the thought.

“You could at least be nice to me since you’re trying to apologize.” You grimace, exasperated with the attitude he’s throwing your way. You’re tired of his bullshit and who can blame you?

“Right. Sorry. I’m an asshole.” He sees the gears turning in your mind. “I’m a dick,” he tries to appeal to you. Had he blinked, he could have missed the way your lips twitched at the corners into the smallest hint of a smile. “Just give me one chance.”

You stare down at your soup, which is surely cold by now, scrutinizing him as you think things through. Your silence is nothing short of miserable for Sukuna, but he’ll give you all the time in the world if he can have your kindness for one more second.

It’s that same kindness that you just know Shoko and Kento are going to absolutely kill you for as you let out a prolonged sigh after weighing your options. “One chance, Sukuna. One.” Maybe you’re naive for it, but you want to believe that whatever reason he had is a good one.

To your surprise, there’s no irritated grumble or begrudging sigh from him. No notes of disapproval. He simply nods.

“And you have to help me study.”

“Deal.”

“Oh! And you have to come eat lunch with me on campus again.”

His lip curls up in distaste. “Your friends don’t like me.”

“They’ll come around,” you shrug. “Oh! And-”

“Alright, alright. Don’t push your luck, woman,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning on his fist. You giggle at him and although he knows things aren’t back to normal, it’s a start. He’s not stupid enough to think he’s fixed everything right away, but even if it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, he’s thrilled to at least see that you’re smiling.

That smile that’s like the sun.

The rest of lunch is quieter than usual, the regular cadence of your conversations never fully returning.

“How are Choso and Yuji? Is everything alright now?”

The burly man’s eyes seem to dull at the question as they stay fixed on the soup he’s eating. “They’ll be fine.”

His reaction is anything but reassuring. He doesn’t seem nearly as sure of himself as usual, choosing instead to push the question aside. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Fuck, is he ever difficult sometimes.

“You know, if we’re gonna try to be friends, I’d appreciate it if you gave me something to work with here,” you offer a wry smile, your best attempt at lightening the air. He shoots you a glance, spooning more soup into his mouth as he leans on his palm against the table.

“It’s been a shitty weekend,” he answers. Well, that doesn’t really give you anything to work with, but at least he’s being honest with you. You fall silent again, the steady clinking of spoons against porcelain and the buzzing of a lunch rush behind you seeming to fall to the wayside in favor of a quiet understanding that things aren’t quite back to normal.

“Am I allowed to ask how the presentation went or would I be digging my own grave?” Sukuna asks over a spoonful of soup after an extended silence.

“I humiliated myself, what do you want me to say?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” he tries to reassure you, though it comes across empty.

You’re reminded of the laughter and judgmental glares, setting your spoon down as the reigns of anxiety stir in your stomach at the thought.

“I’m sorry, Pr-” he hesitates, his jaw tightening as the new meaning of his go-to nickname sinks in. “- Princess. I hope you at least took credit for my bullshit.”

“I did.”

Sukuna offers a proud smile. “Good girl.”

You blink down at your soup as your stomach does a backflip and your cheeks heat up, and all you can do is pray that he hasn’t noticed the effect that his words had on you.

It’s not long before you’ve both finished your meals over relative silence. “Um- thanks for lunch.”

“Yeah. No problem,” Sukuna gruffs.

“I should go.”

“Let me walk you back,” he insists, as though the uneasy silence wasn’t enough for him. With a lopsided smile, you grab both of your trays and dispose of the trash before you find yourself back out in the cold again.

Sukuna mindlessly fiddles with the lighter in his pocket again, a reminder that he needs to figure out how to put it back together, much like his friendship with you, if he can even call it that.

In an effort to mend things, you turn towards him as you wait to cross the street, smiling shyly. “You know, I do appreciate the effort, Sukuna. I honestly didn’t think you’d really bother trying.”

He scowls. “Sometimes you’re too honest.” He sighs, but he can’t be too upset when you’re giggling again, even if it’s at his expense. “But, that’s fai- shit!” He cuts himself off, whipping his hand from his pocket in a flash as he pats his jacket down.

Your lips are pursed as you watch him, puzzled by what he’s doing. That is, until a puff of smoke leaves his pocket. You blink at him.

“Did you just…”

“Shut up.”

“Light yourself on fire?”

“I said shut up,” he hisses, his cheeks reddening. He’ll blame the cold if you ask, but he’s embarrassed beyond belief, his cool exterior crumbling as he somehow managed to spark a flame in his own damn pocket.

You bite down hard on your lip in an effort to stop yourself from laughing.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking laugh.” He snarls, flashing you a glare.

But being told not to do something only makes it that much harder.

“You’re-” A laugh bubbles between your words and you do your best to swallow it. “You’re okay right?” You strain through your barely-contained chortles.

With a peek into his pocket, he pulls out the lighter, lid, and hinge pin, tossing them into the opposite pocket as he pats down his coat once more. “Yeah, seems fine now.”

Well if he’s fine- you absolutely double over in laughter, unable to bear holding it in any longer.

“Oh, laugh it up, short stuff,” he grumbles, dusting whatever ashes had clung to his skin off onto his jeans. He grits his teeth as he watches you double over at his expense, his cheeks no less red than they were a minute ago as the crimson glow spreads to his ears.

At least this time he can blame the cold, or the fire.

Not that you’d believe him.

As your giggles finally subside, Sukuna’s able to relax more than he has since Friday at the sight of your eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine happiness. Maybe embarrassing himself in front of you isn’t so bad, if it brings back a semblance of the connection he’d been chasing since he found you in the lunch hall.

Wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, you tilt your head. Cute. “How did that even happen? Don’t lighters have like a- a-” you wrack your brain, turning your attention to the overcast sky. “Like a safety or something?”

Sukuna digs a hand into his pocket that isn’t singed, holding the base of his lighter out to you. “It might have, but it’s broken.”

Curiously, you run your hand over the broken hinge, flipping the lighter over. The name ‘Itadori’ is carved in cursive across the back.

“Itadori?”

Sukuna hums. “My dad.”

Your face softens. “I think it can be fixed.” You hold it back out to him and he tucks it back in place.

“Maybe.”

Now that Sukuna’s not literally on fire, you’re able to cross the street and head back to the library where you’re sure you’ll find Kento and Shoko.

“Are you gonna join us?”

“Another time. I gotta take care of some shit.”

“Thanks for lunch. See you around, Sukuna.”

Before you can turn away, his fingers brush your wrist, as if he’s hesitant to stop you.

“Thank you,” he breathes quietly.

You smile.

–

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Sho, please, you weren’t there!” You try to insist.

“Girl. I’m begging you, you’re better than him.”

To nobody’s shock or awe, Shoko and Kento are equally as unimpressed that you’ve given Sukuna another chance. It comes from a place of concern, of course, but they insist you’re letting him walk all over you.

“There was an emergency with-” you cut yourself off with a glance at Nanami. You suppose you can’t go airing out Sukuna’s personal business to him given that he doesn’t know about the kids. “There was a family emergency,” you insist, “it was an accident.”

“You believe that bullshit?” Shoko’s whipping an unlit cigarette through the air like it’s a sword and it’s you she’s aiming to strike.

“I don’t think it’s bullshit,” you mumble.

With a sullen sigh, Kento finally speaks up in an unimpressed tone. “Had we not just discussed that you deserve better?”

You wince, his words searing. “He made a mistake. Accidents happen, Ken.”

“Hell of an accident,” Shoko shakes her head. “You’re actually hopeless.”

Pouting, you look to Kento for backup, but he doesn’t seem to be in agreement either.

“Give him a break,” you whine, “he literally lit himself on fire today.”

There’s a collective hum of confusion from both of your friends.

“He was messing with a lighter in his pocket and he accidentally lit his pocket on fire,” you grin.

Shoko scoffs. “That’s almost impressive, between the safety and the lack of oxygen in his pocket.”

“Well, the safety was broken,” you reason.

“Hah. Dumbass,” she snorts, exchanging a glance with Nanami. “Just… be careful with him, okay? He’s got a short fuse and a whole boatload of baggage that you and your scholarship don’t need to be involved in.”

“Don’t let him step on you,” Kento pleads in a tone unfamiliar to you.

Your brow furrows as you observe him, but his expression is aloof as ever. “I know, I know. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

–

It’s cold as you slip into the lobby of Sukuna’s building the following evening. You’d re-opened your email tab the previous night to find a message from him.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Monday, 8:58 PM busy tomorrow? kids wanna see ya

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Monday, 9:39 PM Just the kids want to see me? ;)

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Monday, 9:47 PM you coming or not

You could envision his scowl from behind the screen as you teased him, a stupid smile on your face at the thought of it. Things may not be back to normal, but your heart certainly isn’t aware of that as it palpitates at every thought of him.

Now, as you make your way up to his apartment with your GameCube, you don't really know what to expect.

The moment you crack the door to his apartment, you’re bombarded by Yuji in a tight hug as he’s practically leaping into your arms in utter excitement. Caught off-guard, you barely manage to catch him as he excitedly chants your name.

“We missed you!” He grins as you let him up onto your shoulders, ruffling Choso’s hair while he calmly smiles in greeting.

“That’s enough,Yu,” Sukuna mutters from the stove. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, that same painfully tight black tank top from last week and a red plaid shirt that hangs loosely from his shoulders. A pair of wireless black headphones sits atop his head, but he pulls them down around his neck as you enter the apartment.

Yuji pouts as he begins to clamber down from your shoulders, landing with a thump! back on the floor before hopping over to the TV again.

Bringing you around the kids is likely a part of Sukuna’s scheme to bring things back to normal, now that you’re seeing him again. Kids are smart, too smart at times and they would know if something is wrong.

The apartment is warm in contrast to the cold winter evening, the smell of fried chicken wafting through the air. You bound up to Sukuna, peeking around his side. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He clicks his tongue. “D’you think I feed them takeout for every meal?” He arches a brow as he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Maybe,” you simper, looking over the ingredients. There’s a rice cooker with a steadily descending clock and he’s frying up some chicken. “Katsu?”

“Mm.”

“It smells great!” You grin, turning back to give Sukuna space to cook as you head back towards Choso and Yuji. “So, I hear you two missed me?” You chide, your heart filled with warmth when Yuji eagerly nods and launches into a story from school that he’d been wanting to tell you since last week. You listen attentively and his eyes shine when you laugh along with him.

“Give her some space, brat. Come grab plates,” Sukuna instructs calmly, once Yuji’s story is over. He’s more at ease than he has been in a while, and even with the weight of everything going on in his life piled on his shoulders, he feels the familiar pull of your gravity keeping him grounded.

Like some sort of drug, you just seem to relieve his tension merely with your presence. You really are like the sun, warming his skin and lulling his worries to a dull buzz.

As Yuji excitedly runs over to Sukuna in the kitchen, Choso gingerly approaches you. “Thanks for coming.” His tone suggests he knows a portion of what happened between you and Sukuna and he’s grateful you’d give his idiot older brother another chance. Smart kid, just like you thought.

You return his smile. “How’ve you been, Cho?”

“I’m good. Um-” his gaze flickers briefly to the back of the apartment where Sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Yuji set the table, handing the little boy three four plates. Choso’s voice lowers as he continues. “I think something’s wrong. Um- with Kuna.”

You tilt your head, following the little boy’s gaze. Sukuna doesn’t seem much different from any other time you’ve seen him. His skin is still somewhat gaunt, but he looks better than yesterday, no longer under duress. “What do you mean?” You prod softly.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, perplexing you. “Someone came to the house on Friday,” he tells you. Your lips purse at the realization that Friday was your presentation. Maybe his reason for missing your presentation is bigger than he’s letting on. “He seemed mad at them and then he was gone most of the night.”

“He seems fine now,” you comment, but you don’t know Sukuna well enough to know who could have angered him at the door. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure your brother’s fine. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Choso nods, sunken eyes following Yuji’s movements as he places napkins around the table. It’s not long before you’re all seated with a plate of chicken katsu curry. 

“Thanks, Kuna!” Yuji cheers gleefully, digging in immediately. His mild expression cracks as he picks up his utensils, eyes flickering around the table to his two little brothers before landing on you. He may only hum in response to Yuji, but you see the subtle gleam in his eye, along with something else that you can’t quite identify. Sadness?

Choso’s words echo in your mind, but you can’t find any other sign of anything being wrong. You settle on keeping an eye on him, smiling gratefully at him for making you dinner. The meal is filled with Yuji’s imaginative rambles as he shares stories from school and stories that may only be about forty percent true. Kids, right? Either way, you laugh along and grin at him.

“You know,” you begin once all of your plates are clean, “if you go check my backpack, I brought something for you guys.”

Like cartoon characters, both kids’ eyes widen and they bolt off towards the living room, two bundles of thrilled laughter as their full attention turns towards the GameCube tucked into your bag.

As you join Sukuna with two empty plates where he’s cleaning up in the kitchen, he casts a glance at you. “You’re too good to them.”

Placing your hands on the counter beside him, you shrug. “I just like spoiling them.”

“I see that. They ask about you a lot.” Your heart swells. You’re not a grinch, but you think your heart grew three sizes just now.

“I think they get it from you,” you tease, poking his bicep. He scowls down at you, rolling his shoulder as though it’ll rebuke your teasing.

“They didn’t,” he grumbles, turning towards the sink and flipping on the tap to run water over the plates.

You follow his movement, leaning against the counter beside him. “Is that why you’re being so grumpy about it? Because they don’t get it from you?” You grin, giving him a bright smile.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a devious smirk and before you know it, he lifts his hand from the running water and flicks it at your face. His smile widens to a grin when you jump, squealing in shock.

“Sukunaaa!” You cry, wiping the water from your cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand.

He chuckles, making a point of letting the water run over his hand again as he shoots you a sly smirk.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, brow furrowed. But when has Sukuna ever listened?

He subtly flicks more water at you, chuckling when you swat his bicep and go to join his little brothers on the couch with a pout that’s just too cute. Both kids move to the floor as the familiar sounds of Kirby Air Ride fill the room and Sukuna joins you on the couch, sitting just close enough that his knee brushes your leg.

“You’re studying English Lit, yeah?”

You nod, shuffling slightly closer to Sukuna to hear him over the TV. “Yeah, this is my last year. I’m hoping I can line something up in the next couple of months.”

“What do you wanna do?” He queries, leaning towards you just enough to give you the impression he’s seeking your warmth.

“A book editor!” You grin, eyes shining.

He lifts a brow. “You wanna read half-baked books for a livin’?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sure, something like that.”

Amused, Sukuna smiles, relaxing into the couch.

“Have you thought more about what you want to do?” You ask cautiously, tilting your head as you prod at Sukuna’s reinforced walls.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “No,” he grumbles, pulling his gaze down to his lap. Before you can push him any further, he glances at his watch and gets to his feet. “Be right back.”

You purse your lips as he hurries out of the room as though he has something to do. Sighing, you grab your bag that’s sitting on the floor by Choso, dragging it to your feet in search of the gum that you know is buried somewhere in its depths. You offer some to both of the boys before tossing your bag aside when something grabs your attention.

A torn piece of paper is on the ground at your feet, it must have slid out from under the couch when you had pulled your bag to your feet. That’s not all that unusual given all three of them are students, but the logo on the paper catches your eye.

Decorated in greens, you recognize the bold logo of a law office on the other side of town. A crease forms in your brow as you stare at the logo, but the paper has been torn in a way that all you can really see is the logo and that it addresses Ryomen Sukuna.

Could that have been Sukuna’s dad? No, that wouldn’t make sense if his lighter belonged to his father and ‘Itadori’ is engraved into its side. It had to be Sukuna himself. You suppose you’ve never actually heard anyone refer to him by another name, but the name is fitting somehow, even if he chooses not to use it.

The sound of footsteps alerts you to Sukuna’s return and you tuck the paper back where it belongs, or at least where you found it. The nosey and concerned part of you wants to prod, especially given the apprehension Choso expressed to you earlier, but you know better than to push Sukuna’s limits.

Sukuna rounds the corner with tense shoulders, tilting his neck to either side as he cracks it.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just didn’t wanna hear you nagging about what I wanna do.” There’s a little more fire behind his words than usual and you sense that this is not the time to be asking why in the hell there’s legal papers torn up under his couch like a rabid mutt got a hold of them.

“A little dramatic, don’t you-”

“Be nice, Kuna!” Yuji yells suddenly, pausing his game. 

Sukuna’s jaw slacks in disbelief at his little brother. “Pay attention to your game, brat,” he hisses.

“No! You’re gonna scare her off again! Meanie!”

“That’s it-” With a gleam in his eye, Sukuna lunges forward and tosses Yuji over his shoulder. He’s met with thunderous giggles as the little boy kicks and wriggles in an attempt to escape from his older brother. “You know what happens to kids who get in their older brother’s way?”

“NOOoooO!” Yuji cries out between giggles as he pushes his absolute hardest against the mass of muscles that is Sukuna. Choso is quietly laughing as he watches Sukuna toss his brother onto the couch, albeit gently. “No no no nononono!” Yuji puts his hands up in an attempt to block Sukuna, who pretends to sit on his brother, though you can see he’s not putting his full weight on poor little Yuji.

Putting only an ounce of his weight on his little brother, he slyly grins at you as you laugh along with the siblings, your eyes shining. He may be just about the most hardened and irritated (or maybe irritat-ing) man you’ve ever met, but it’s clear just how much he loves his brothers, even if he could use some time away from them.

“Kunaaaaaa!!” Yuji cries, weakly pushing against him.

“D’ya hear that? Almost sounds like my little brother, except it can’t be because he was a little shit,” Sukuna snorts, only to be met with giggles. You bring a hand up to your mouth as you laugh along with the poor little boy.

“Let me gooooooo!!”

“You done bein’ a brat?”

“Yesss I promise, yesss!!”

Sukuna stands up as Yuji dramatically rolls off the couch, feigning being dead. Sukuna plops back down beside you and runs a hand through his locks, mirth swirling in those striking crimson irises of his.

“You’re still a meanie,” Yuji sticks his tongue out at Sukuna, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he scoots closer to the TV, but Sukuna only rolls his eyes this time. “Don’t scare her.”

“If your brother keeps tutoring me, I’ll be back before you know it,” you reassure the young boy who grins brightly before his attention turns back to the TV. “Speaking of which, I should get going. My final project for Women’s Lit is due tomorrow at midnight.”

You begin gathering your things, pausing as you realize you would have to unplug the GameCube to pack up all of your things, so you settle on pretending to forget it, hoping that Sukuna isn’t paying attention, his eyes locked on the TV.

Checking to make sure you have your phone, wallet, and keys, you cast one last glance at the corner of the piece of paper beneath the couch that’s just barely sticking out, debating doing some snooping later.

To your delight as the boys hug you goodbye and Sukuna follows you to the door, he either forgets about the gaming console or lets it slide this time, leaning against the door frame.

“You make a mean chicken katsu,” you beam, “thanks again for dinner.”

“Mm. Thanks for the second chance.”

Your smile softens.

“I got work at one on Thursday. You up to watch the kids? If you drop by earlier, we can study beforehand.” He leans his head down to your level, the warmth of his breath fanning your face as he can’t resist flustering you at least once each time you visit. “And y’know, you never did get to tell me the third thing I owe ya,” he hums, his voice low and sultry.

Your breath hitches at the implication behind his tone and before you know it, you’re stumbling back away from his close proximity, fumbling for the button for the elevator as the rickety old door slides open with a jarring screech.

“See you on- uh- Thursday.”

“See you then,” he chuckles.

This man will be the absolute death of you.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

❦ a/n ; hiii loves! i hope you all enjoyed <33 very angst heavy chapter, i'm sorry :((( i absolutely adored writing sukuna's horrible day, the poor guy. i also had to consult my friend who's a lawyer on how one gets served documents, what a confusing process and i'm sure she was even more confused why i was asking her LMAO.

anywayyy i just wanted to say that the comments and tags and asks you guys have been sending in seriously make my day and i'm so here for it. thank you all so much for all the love and support <33 as always, it's super appreciated <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @creamflix @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @coldluminarykoala

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @18lisee @a-girl-with-thoughts

@lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

if your handle is on this list but you have not been tagged, please check your settings.

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[briefinquiries]

Tommy Shelby x Reader: By Order of Blood

Summary: Tommy Shelby thought sending you away would keep you safe, until the carriage was intercepted. Now, as he cradles your trembling, broken body, he swears two things: he will never let you go again… and the men who touched you won’t live to see another sunrise.

Word count: 8.5k

Warnings: angst, violence, injury descriptions (mentions of blood, torture, SA), PTSD, nightmares, and panic attacks, emotional distress, and revenge-driven violence (also includes lots of hurt / comfort).

A/N: Lost all motivation to write my normal stuff recently, but currently rewatching peaky blinders and feeling all sorts of ways about my boyyy tommy shelby.

"Tommy, please. Don't do this." Your voice was barely above a whisper as the weight of the moment pressed down on your chest like a stone.

You reached for him, fingers trembling as they grazed the fabric of his coat. 

But he didn’t budge. He stood rigid, back straight, his jaw locked so tight you could practically see the muscle ticking underneath his skin. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, a thin wisp of smoke curling in the dim light.

His face was unreadable, a mask of cold detachment. It was the same one he wore when giving orders that decided life or death. 

"You’re leaving tonight," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You shook your head before he was even finished speaking, your breath catching. "No– no, I don’t want to leave."

Tommy exhaled slowly, as if he was gearing up for a fight. "This is not about what you want."

Your throat tightened. "Tommy, please–"

"You’ll be safer away from me."

You let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Safer?" The word tasted bitter on your tongue. "Tommy, I’m safe when I’m with you. The further away you are, the less safe I’ll feel."

For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Hesitation. Regret. Maybe even doubt. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Buried beneath layers of steel.

His shoulders stiffened, his fingers tightening around the cigarette. "You’ll have guards."

"I don’t want guards." Your voice wavered. "I want you. What if something happens, Tommy? What then?"

His breath hitched, but he remained stoic. "It won’t," he said firmly.

You searched his face, desperate for something, anything, that would tell you he wasn’t as sure about this as he was pretending to be. That this was tearing him apart, too. But all you saw was cold resolve. Complete certainty. 

A hollow feeling spread through your stomach as the truth settled in your bones. He had already made up his mind. And there was nothing you could say to make him change it.

Panic pressed against your ribs. You wanted to tell him that being away from him would be worse than any danger that lurked in Birmingham. But you couldn’t find the words.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, Tommy took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out with slow, deliberate movements. When he finally looked at you, his blue eyes were unreadable.

"The carriage is waiting."

The words hit you like a blow, stealing whatever fight you had left.

You felt yourself nod, but you didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. Without another word, you turned and walked away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence.

And Thomas Shelby let you go. 

…

The wooden seat beneath you felt cold and unforgiving. But not nearly as cold as the hollow feeling in your chest.

You sat stiffly, arms folded across your body. Your stomach churned– a mixture between fear, anger, and grief. Each emotion fought for dominance, and yet all you could do was stare blankly at the road stretching endlessly ahead of you, your surroundings blurring past the window.

You tried to rationalize his actions and remind yourself why he made the choices he did. But this didn’t feel like protection anymore. 

It felt like a punishment. 

The hours dragged. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional creak of the carriage were the only sounds filling the silence. You hadn’t spoken a word to the driver or to the men Tommy had sent to guard you. You refused. Who cared if they thought you were some entitled brat?

But then, suddenly, something in the air shifted.

You weren’t sure what it was at first. Maybe it was just a feeling, an unease that coiled in your stomach like a vice. But then you noticed the hooves come to a gradual stop. One of the guards riding ahead straightened in his saddle, glancing toward the dense trees lining the road.

Your pulse quickened, but before you could even part your lips to ask what was wrong, you heard the gunshot.

A sickening crack followed by shouting. One of the men slumped forward on his horse before crashing onto the dirt road in a heap. The horses screamed, rearing violently. The carriage lurched, sending you slamming into the side with a sharp gasp.

Another shot. Another thud. 

The second guard fell before he could even draw his gun. Then the driver let out a strangled yell, yanking hard on the reins. 

But it was too late.

Figures emerged from the darkness of the trees, their boots pounding against the dirt, moving fast. Panic seized you. Without thinking, you scrambled toward the door, heart hammering, fumbling for the latch. You could still get out, still run, still–

But when you threw your weight against it, the door didn’t budge.

The impact from the gunfire, the carriage rocking on the uneven road– it had bent the frame inward. The wood creaked, but the metal hinges were jammed tight.

"No, no, no–” you pleaded. You pushed harder, shoulders slamming against the door.

Then, the other door was yanked open violently, nearly ripping off its hinges. You barely had time to turn before rough, gloved hands grabbed you, wrenching you forward. You thrashed against them, kicking, clawing, screaming for them to let go. 

"Shut her up!" A voice snapped. 

And just like that, the back end of a gun slammed into your gut, knocking the air from your lungs. Your vision blurred as your body doubled over. Fingers fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so hard your scalp burned.

One of the men leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek.

"I guess Shelby should’ve sent more men."

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as the other men chuckled darkly.

Your hands shook as you tried to fight, but there were too many of them, too many voices, too many shadows closing in around you. You screamed again. 

Then, a final, crushing blow to the side of your head sent the world tilting. Your knees buckled. 

And then– total darkness.

…

The office smelled of whiskey and smoke as the low glow of candlelight flickered against the walls. Tommy sat behind his desk, fingers wrapped around a glass he hadn’t yet touched.

Across from him, Arthur was talking. Something about business, numbers, men needing paying, but Tommy wasn’t listening. He had been distracted all night.

His mind kept circling back to you. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he made the right choice– that sending you away had been for your own good, that it was the only way to keep you safe. That image of you, eyes wide, pleading, your fingers brushing against his coat before he had forced himself to turn away remained at the forefront of his mind.

"Tommy, please," you had begged. 

He had ignored the way it made his chest ache, forcing himself to shut down the part of him that wanted to keep you close.

Because this was the only way.

Right?

But if it was the right choice, then why the fuck did it feel like such a fucking mistake?

"Tom?" Arthur’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Tommy blinked, setting the untouched glass down with slow, deliberate movements. His fingers tapped against the wood, a restless habit. "What?"

Arthur frowned, watching him closely. "You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?"

A muscle in Tommy’s jaw twitched. 

Arthur exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, Tommy. Forget about it. You did the right thing, yeah? She’s safer out of Birmingham. You said so yourself."

Tommy leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. He shook his head, reaching for the cigarette pack on his desk, desperate for something to quiet his mind. But just as he struck the match, the door burst open.

Tommy’s head snapped up.

John stood in the doorway, breathless and pale.

"Tommy–" he panted, eyes wide with urgency. "The carriage– we just got word– it was intercepted–"

For a moment, the words didn’t register. A slow, heavy silence fell over the room. Tommy just stared at him, cigarette burning between his fingers, unmoving. Then, a sharp, cold wave of panic slammed into his chest.

His chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet. "What?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

John swallowed hard. "One of the scouts came back. The men– the guards you sent– they’re dead. Driver too."

The room tilted. A deafening ringing filled Tommy’s ears, drowning out everything else.

No, no, no. No. 

"Where?" Tommy demanded, his voice now urgent, raw, trembling with barely contained terror.

"We don’t know yet–"

Tommy’s chest heaved, his breath coming sharp and ragged. "Find out," he snapped, grabbing his coat. His hands were shaking. "Find out right fucking now."

Arthur was already up, grabbing his gun. "We’re going after her, Tommy."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, pacing, trying to think, trying to breathe, trying not to fucking lose it.

He had sent you away.

He had sent you away.

His heart pounded violently, his throat tight with a kind of fear he had never felt before.

Not anger. Not fury. Not vengeance.

Fear.

Because if they had taken you…

If they had hurt you…

Tommy couldn’t finish the thought.

Because the moment he did, he wouldn’t be able to fucking breathe.

…

When you woke up, the first thing you registered was the pain. 

The deep, aching throb in your skull. The metallic taste of blood coated your tongue, thick and suffocating.

Your body felt heavy, your limbs sluggish as you tried to move, only to realize that you couldn’t.

Panic slid into your chest, sharp and immediate as you became aware of the restraints, of the rough, biting feel of rope digging into your wrists, binding them behind the back of a chair. Your breath hitched, vision swimming in the overwhelming darkness that surrounded you.

You struggled against the restraints, muscles screaming in protest, but the chair barely creaked beneath your weight. The air was damp, thick with the scent of rotting wood and stale sweat. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the faint melodic drop of water.

A basement. Maybe a warehouse. Somewhere completely forgotten.

A door creaked open and your breath stilled. There were footsteps– slow and leisurely. 

A shadow loomed at the edge of the room, then a man stepped forward, boots scraping against the concrete floor. The dim light of a lantern illuminated his features, dark eyes full of amusement, a smirk twisting his thin lips.

"Well, well," he drawled, tilting his head. "Look who's awake."

Your stomach coiled in disgust as he came closer, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay still, to keep your expression blank.

The man stopped just beside you, tapping a finger against his chin, mockingly thoughtful. "You’re prettier up close," he mused. "Is that why Shelby keeps you so close? Well… not this time I guess."

A beat of silence. Then, his voice dropped into something colder, sharper. "Where’s he keeping his next shipment?"

You didn’t answer but his smirk only widened. "Playing the silent game, are we?"

He moved closer to you, and before you could react, a sharp, stinging slap cracked across your cheek.

Your head snapped to the side, your vision blurring with the impact.

"You’ll want to answer me," he said menacingly. "Or this is going to get a hell of a lot worse for you."

You clenched your teeth, forcing your breath to stay even. 

He let out a disappointed sigh. "Stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Brave, even?" He stepped closer, gripping the arms of your chair, leaning in until his breath was hot against your ear. "But tell me, sweetheart… how brave do you think you’ll be when we’re through with you?"

You refused to let him see your fear. But inside, terror clawed at your ribs, sinking in deep.  

The man stepped back, studying you. His smirk hadn't faltered, but you could see the frustration flicker in his dark eyes.

"Not talking, eh?" He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if this were some inconvenience, some tedious task he had to complete before moving on with his night.

Then, without warning, his fist slammed into your stomach.

Your body jerked violently against the ropes, a strangled gasp ripping from your throat as the air was stolen from your lungs. White, hot agony flared in your gut, the chair beneath you rocking from the force of it. You coughed, your body instinctively trying to double over, but the ropes held you upright, forcing you to endure it.

Still, you said nothing.

The man let out a humorless chuckle. "Tough girl, huh?"

Another blow. To your face again. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the cry that threatened to escape.

"Tell me," he continued casually, shaking out his fist, "where the Peaky Blinders keep their weapons."

You lifted your head slowly, breathing heavily through your nose. Then, you spat blood onto the floor at his feet.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. And then, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so sharply you let out a strangled gasp.

"I was hoping you’d be difficult," he murmured, tilting his head. "It makes this so much more fun for me."

Deep fear curled around your bones like ice. Because you knew exactly what men like him were capable of. He let go of your hair abruptly, your head snapping forward from the force of it, pain splintering through your already throbbing skull.The next blow came before you could brace yourself. It was a heavy, brutal punch to your nose. Pain exploded behind your eyes, your body lurching sideways, nearly toppling the chair. Your ears rang, the room spinning wildly.

Your nose was dripping. It took you a second to realize it was blood, warm and thick as it trailed down your lips. Still, you didn’t speak. 

He let out a long, slow breath, tilting his head as he studied you. "I can do this all night," he said lightly, as if he weren’t already beating you bloody. Then, something darker crossed his expression. 

"But maybe," he continued, voice lower, silkier, more dangerous, "I could find other ways to make you talk."

Your stomach churned at the sight of his gaze, predatorial. Every muscle in your body seized as he took a step forward, one hand reaching for his pocket. Then, metal glinted under the dim light.

A knife. Not small, not discreet, but long, sharp, wicked.

He flicked it open with an almost lazy motion, rolling it between his fingers like a coin, as if the weapon was nothing more than a casual accessory to him. "You know," he mused, tilting his head, his eyes dragging over your bound, broken form with something close to amusement, "I've always wondered how many pieces a person can be cut into before they bleed out."

He crouched beside you, the blade dancing along his fingers, before slowly pressing the cold steel under your chin.

"Tell me what I want to know," he murmured, his voice almost gentle, like a whisper of silk against your skin. 

More silence. 

He smirked. A devilish grin spread across his face. “Maybe I'll start with the fingers."

Your heart pounded violently, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run, fight, do something– 

But what were you supposed to do? The ropes bit into your wrists, your limbs too weak, too battered, your breath too shallow.

"Think I'm bluffing?" he asked, watching your reaction. "Think I won’t carve you up, nice and slow?"

The knife dragged downward, grazing lightly along the column of your throat, just enough to prickle your skin, to remind you how easily he could cut deeper.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Because I will, sweetheart," he whispered, almost fondly. "And when I'm done, I’ll send the pieces back to Shelby. One by one."

“I don’t know where the weapons are,” The words spilled out before you could even think, desperate, shaky, but holding just enough bite to make them believable. “Tommy doesn’t tell me those things– says it’s not a woman’s business to know– that we’d break too easily if we got questioned.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse roaring in your ears as you held his gaze, willing yourself to look small, weak, unimportant.

He laughed. Low, dark, amused. He leaned in again, the overwhelming stench of sweat and smoke rolling off him in waves.

"You think I believe that?" His voice was smooth as he tilted his head, watching you with something cruel, calculating. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts, your hands twisting uselessly behind your back, fingers numb from the ropes cutting into your skin.

You didn’t answer. Because you knew better. Men like him didn’t want the truth. They wanted excuses to hurt you.

He sighed, feigning disappointment. "See, sweetheart, here’s the problem with your little lie." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper, something smudged with dirt and blood.

"One of your guards had this tucked in his coat. An order from Mr. Shelby himself," he said, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Says to keep you safe. Says not to let you out of their sight."

The bastard grinned as he tossed the paper onto your lap. "Now, why would Thomas Shelby go through all that trouble for someone who doesn’t know anything?"

You felt cold all over. He knew. No amount of lying was going to save you now.

"Yeah," he murmured, standing upright. "That’s what I thought."

His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your jaw, forcing your head back. You winced, but didn’t look away. A cruel smile spread across his face. "That’s good," he murmured. "I like when they look at me."

Then, cold steel pressed against your cheek. You flinched violently, your breath stuttering, but he only grinned wider, his grip tightening, holding you in place. 

"You’ll tell me what I want to know," he promised, his fingers digging into your bruised skin. "Sooner or later."

The blade slid downward, slow, deliberate, tracing the delicate line of your jaw.

Then, it pressed in. A sharp, searing pain bloomed beneath your skin, and you gasped, body jerking instinctively, but the ropes held you tight, trapped.

A thin line of warm blood trickled down your cheek. He hummed in satisfaction. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, slow, taunting. "Maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it," he mused, releasing you with a sharp shove.

…

Tommy paced the office like a caged animal, fingers tugging through his hair, his mind racing faster than his body could keep up.

The room was too small, too fucking suffocating, and the longer it took to get information, the more his chest tightened, the more his hands shook.

"Where the fuck is she?"

No one had an answer.

Tommy turned on John. "Who told you? Who gave you the fucking word?"

John swallowed, shifting on his feet. "A scout, one of our boys in Small Heath– he saw the wreckage. The guards, the driver… all dead, Tommy."

His stomach dropped.

Bodies.

But no mention of her.

He felt sick. Cold. A new kind of fear he hadn’t felt since the war clawed its way up his throat like bile. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. If they had taken you alive, that meant they wanted something from you.

He had to find you. Now. A sharp knock on the door cut through the tense silence. Isaiah stepped in, breathless, eyes wide.

"We’ve got something."

Tommy’s head snapped up so fast his vision blurred.

"Where?"

Isaiah wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head. "We don’t know for sure, but one of the lads caught wind of a group setting up shop in an old distillery just outside the city– on the outskirts near the river."

"Who?" Tommy’s voice was deadly calm, but the way his hands shook slightly at his sides betrayed him.

Isaiah hesitated. "You’re not gonna like the answer, Tom."

Tommy’s chest tightened. "Say it," he demanded.

Isaiah exhaled. "Sabini’s men."

The room went deathly quiet.

Arthur swore, kicking the leg of a chair so hard it splintered.

Sabini.

That filthy fucking bastard had been waiting for an opportunity to strike, and Tommy had handed it to him on a silver fucking platter when he sent you away. Tommy felt his pulse roar in his ears, drowning out every other sound in the room.

He turned to Arthur. "Get everyone. We move now."

His brother didn’t hesitate. As Arthur stormed out, barking orders to the rest of the men, Tommy grabbed his coat, his revolver already in his hand.

He didn’t just want to kill them.

He wanted to wipe them from existence.

Because they had taken you.

And Thomas Shelby was going to burn the fucking city down to get you back.

…

Your wrists were raw from the ropes, skin rubbed red and torn from how hard you had fought– fought for nothing, fought for no one to come, fought just to survive another minute, another second.

You were too weak to fight anymore. Your entire body was screaming in agony, every nerve burning, every muscle aching with exhaustion.

Your stomach throbbed violently, a deep, searing pain radiating from one of the larger gashes that had been carved into your skin. You could still feel the sting of the blade as it sank into your flesh, the warm trickle of blood spilling down your ribs, soaking into the shredded remains of your clothes.

What was left of them, anyway.

Your dress had been ripped apart, torn from your body in jagged, humiliating shreds, exposing bruised, violated skin.

The men had touched you, their hands roaming, gripping, forcing you still, their laughter ringing in your ears as they stripped you down like you were nothing more than something to be used.

You had fought, God, you had fought, thrashing, kicking, but their hands had been stronger, crueler, unyielding.

Now, you could feel the cool air biting at your skin, the exposed places where they had left their marks– dark bruises, bloody scratches, shame carved into your very bones. Your arms shook, the fabric clinging to what was left of you, offering little protection, little dignity.

You felt disgusting.

Ruined.

And even though they had been interrupted before they could take it any further, the damage was already done.

The way they had laughed. Cruel, mocking, like your pain was amusing, like your struggle meant nothing.

"Shelby won’t want you now."

The words had sliced deeper than the knife, burrowing into your chest, your ribs, your bones.

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done."

It was all still there, burned into your mind, bleeding into your skin like an invisible brand you would never escape.

And your ribs– God, your ribs. Every inhale was a battle, every breath felt like knives digging into your sides, sharp and relentless. You didn’t know if they were bruised or broken, but the deep, throbbing ache that rattled through your chest made you certain that something was damaged beyond repair.

Even the slightest movement sent sharp, unbearable pain lancing through you, making your vision blur, making bile rise in your throat.

Your face was swollen, beaten, the metallic taste of blood thick on your tongue.

Your body flinched violently as hands roamed over you, rough fingers gripping, bruising, tearing fabric, exposing too much. A cruel chuckle ghosted over your ear.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

The words barely registered through the haze, but the hot breath against your skin did, the weight of a body pressing against you. Suffocating.

You turned your head, gasping sharply, choking on a sob as your body tried to shrink away, but the ropes held you firm, like an animal waiting for slaughter.

Another pair of hands gripped your thigh, fingers digging hard enough to bruise.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to disappear inside yourself, trying to will yourself into a place where this wasn’t happening, wasn’t real.

Then– footsteps, shouting.

Not inside the room, but outside.

The hands stilled.

More voices now, low, urgent, laced with something that sounded close to alarm.

"Go check it out," one of the men shouted.

A few of them grumbled, hesitating, as if reluctant to leave, but then another loud thud echoed from beyond the door, followed by the distant clatter of metal hitting the floor.

The man above you cursed, pushing off of you abruptly, leaving behind a nauseating heat where his body had been pressing against yours.

"Fucking deal with her," he ordered the one who stayed behind before storming toward the door.

You heard them shuffle out, their boots heavy against the floor, the door creaking as it was pulled shut behind them. One remained. 

Then– Gunfire. A sharp, brutal crack shook the walls. The man froze. Another shot. Then another. Shouts of panic cried outside the door, the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the ground. And then the door burst open.

The man barely had time to turn, barely had time to lift his knife, barely had time to do anything, before a bullet tore through his skull, the shot echoing like thunder.

His body crumpled to the floor.

More boots pounded into the room. Your swollen, half-lidded eyes struggled to focus, your mind fading in and out, but you knew– you knew those voices. Someone dropped to their knees beside you.

"Fuck– It��s her." The voice was urgent, but familiar. "She’s alive. Love, it’s me– it’s John. Can ya hear me?"

He moved to untie you, but you let out a small, broken noise. Weakly, you tried to turn away, as if you could somehow hide your exposed body from him– hide from what had been done to you.

"Shit– someone get her a coat, something!" John hollered. 

More hurried voices. More boots scuffing against the ground.

Then a voice rang out. "Get out of the fucking way!"

The tone was raw, shaking with rage, sharp enough to cut through the chaos like a knife. Everyone moved aside instantly.

Tommy’s blue eyes locked onto you, widening as he took in the bruises, the gash on your stomach leaking blood, the torn fabric barely covering your body.

Then, under his breath, so low it was barely a whisper, he muttered, "Jesus Christ.” 

His coat was off his shoulders in an instant. He crouched down and carefully draped it over you, covering as much of your exposed skin as he could. The weight of it should’ve been comforting, should’ve felt like protection, but you flinched. The sudden movement sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through your body, making your breath hitch sharply in your throat. Tommy’s jaw tightened. His hands hovered, like he was unsure if touching you would only make things worse.

John knelt beside him, fingers moving to quickly undo the ropes. 

Your body swayed forward as the last rope fell away, your muscles too weak to hold you upright, but Tommy’s hands shot out instantly, catching you before you could collapse completely. He felt the way you tensed. The way your body tried to shrink away, as if you weren’t sure whether his hands were safe ones or not. 

“Can you walk?” His voice was low, controlled, but his heart was fucking pounding.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t even manage to look up at him– like you didn’t even register his question.

Your head hung limply forward, resting weakly against his shoulder. Your breath came in shallow bursts as the weight of exhaustion and pain dragged you down.

That was all the answer he needed. Without hesitation, he scooped you up into his arms. The moment he lifted you, a sharp, strangled cry tore from your throat as the wound on your stomach pinched.

“I got you,” The sound of your pain sent a violent shudder through Tommy’s body, his grip instinctively tightening. “I know, love. I know.”

Your head lolled against his chest, another small whimper escaping your lips as his arms adjusted their hold, careful but unrelenting. His breath was uneven as he stood, keeping you pressed tightly against him, shielding you as much as he could.

Your pain was his pain now.

Your suffering was his burden to bear.

And he was going to make every last one of those bastards suffer for what they had done to you.

The night air was cold, but Tommy barely felt it. His grip on you didn’t waver, his arms locking you against his chest, shielding you from the world as he carried you through the bloodstained corridors of the warehouse.

Every step he took was controlled, deliberate, but inside he was barely holding it together. You were too still, your body too limp in his arms. 

“Almost there," he murmured, his voice softer than he’d ever let it be, barely audible beneath the pounding of his own heart.

You didn’t respond. But when his arms shifted slightly, having to adjust his hold as he stepped over a body on the ground, you let out a small whimper of pain. His grip tightened instinctively.

"Shh," he soothed, his lips brushing against your temple, voice raw. "I’ve got you."

The car was waiting outside, its headlights cutting through the darkness, and the backseat door already open. Arthur was barking orders to the men, his voice clipped and deadly, but the moment Tommy stepped outside, all movement stopped. The others watched as he carried you– silent, grim, waiting.

They had seen Tommy Shelby furious before.

But this was something else entirely.

Without a word, Tommy laid you down in the backseat, before climbing in himself. He adjusted his coat so that it covered you again before guiding your head to rest more comfortably on his lap. 

The door slammed shut and the engine roared to life. The moment the car jolted forward, you let out another soft whimper, your fingers weakly reaching for him. 

"It’s alright," he murmured, as his hand brushed through your matted hair. "You’re alright."

You heard his words, but they felt far away… like a voice carried through water, muffled, distant. Your head shifted slightly against his lap as you forced your swollen eyes open. 

And then you saw it.

Blood.

Deep red, seeping through the white fabric of his shirt, thick and dark, staining the material all the way down to his waist. Your breath hitched. For a second, you didn’t understand. Your dazed mind struggled to catch up, struggled to process how he might’ve gotten hurt. 

Then it clicked. It wasn’t his blood.

It was yours.

Your fingers twitched weakly, brushing against the soaked fabric.

"Tommy–"

The word came out slurred, almost inaudible.

His hands tensed around you instantly. "I’m here, love," he said quickly, his voice sharper now, urgent. "I’m right here."

Your vision blurred. The world was tilting again. The blood, so much blood– 

"Tommy, am I dying?"

His arms tightened around you, his grip firm, protective, as if holding you together was enough to keep you here. 

"No," he said immediately, but there was something frantic beneath his voice now, something breaking. "No, you’re not dying. You’re alright."

You blinked slowly, the exhaustion dragging you down. 

Tommy turned his head sharply.

"Drive faster," he snapped, his voice thick with something close to desperation.

Arthur was already pushing the car to its limit, the tires kicking up dirt and gravel as they sped toward home. Tommy’s hand cradled your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your skin, even as his grip shook.

"You’re alright. But you have to stay awake," he said, almost pleadingly. 

You tried. And really, you wanted to. 

But the last thing you felt before the darkness pulled you under was the way his fingers trembled against your skin.

…

You felt the car lurch to a stop, the tires skidding against the dirt, but the world around you was hazy, your body heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and pain.

You jolted further awake when Tommy shifted, pulling you onto his lap before he pushed the door open.

Then, a rush of cold air. Sharp as it bit at your skin. Tommy stepped out, his grip on you unwavering, unrelenting. There were voices, then footsteps. The sound of boots pounding against the ground. 

Polly’s familiar voice. "Oh, my girl," she gasped. “What have they done to her?”

You tried to lift your head, to focus, but your vision swam, the world tilting in and out of darkness. 

Polly was moving fast, her skirt rustling as she rushed toward you, her hands reaching for you before you even realized what was happening.

"Get her inside," she ordered, her tone sharp, controlled, but beneath it there was fear.

Tommy didn’t hesitate. You felt the urgency in his body, the tension coiling tight in his arms as he carried you up the steps, past the doorway, into the dim warmth of the house.

Everything was spinning. 

When he set you down, the wound in your stomach pinched and a warm rush of liquid poured from it. You clutched at it– felt the blood pooling between your fingers. 

"Tommy, put some pressure on that!" Polly’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.

Your breath hitched, your body already trembling from exhaustion, from blood loss, from the deep, horrible throbbing wrapping around your ribs like a vice.

Tommy moved instantly, his hands already reaching for you. You felt him brush your hands away before pressing a towel firmly against the open wound on your stomach. 

The moment the pressure hit, white-hot pain exploded through you.

You screamed.

 Your body arched off the mattress, hands flying to his wrist, gripping hard, your nails digging into his skin, trying to push him away.

"I know," Tommy rasped without budging, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might break his teeth.

You tried to twist away, but his hands didn’t move, didn’t falter, didn’t let up.

Your vision swam, a high-pitched ringing buzzing in your ears, agony coiling through your body like fire, licking up your ribs, burning through your spine.

Polly was moving fast, grabbing bandages, ripping fabric, preparing whatever she needed, but all you could focus on was the pressure, the unbearable weight of Tommy’s hands pressing against your stomach.

"Fuck," Tommy cursed under his breath. "Pol, do something. Help her–"

"I need supplies, Tommy," Polly snapped. "I need you to go get them."

You saw Tommy hesitate.

"Tom," Polly’s voice was firmer now, demanding. "Go. Now."

A beat. Then, the pressure on your stomach lifted as he moved away. The moment Tommy’s hands left your body, you felt the loss like a cruel snap of cold air.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively tensing, but Polly’s hands were already there, replacing his. 

She pressed tightly against the wound, and fresh agony ripped through you, another strangled cry spilling from your lips.

"Shh, darling," Polly murmured, her voice softer now, gentler than before, but still edged with urgency. "I know, I know. We’re going to get you all fixed up."

You let out a soft, weak noise as Tommy moved, as if your body somehow knew it was losing its only source of warmth, of safety.

"I’ll be right back," Tommy’s voice was hoarse, raw, full of something broken.

And then, the door swung shut. 

Your fingers clutched weakly at the sheets, your body writhing slightly, trying to escape the searing pain, but Polly held firm. "Easy," she murmured, one hand moving up to smooth your hair back from your face, her touch gentle despite the blood coating her fingers. "Just breathe."

You tried. But every inhale sent sharp daggers through your ribs, every second felt like your body was tearing itself apart.

"That’s it," Polly encouraged, even as her hands remained firm, even as she continued pressing into the wound. "Just keep breathing, sweetheart."

Footsteps. A door swinging open.

Then, his voice.

"Here," Tommy said, sounding breathless as he stormed back into the room. His hands were full of supplies.

Polly barely glanced up. "Put them on the table."

He did, his movements fast and urgent. But the moment he turned back to you, his face fell.

His blue eyes flickered to the blood pooling around Polly’s hands, to the torn fabric soaked with red, and then, to your face.

Your body was trembling, your breath coming shaky and weak, your skin far too pale.

Tommy’s hands curled into fists. Polly looked at him before releasing the pressure on your wound.

"It’s not clotting," she said, flat, grim. Polly exhaled sharply, grabbing the needle and thread. "We’ll have to stitch it up."

His jaw clenched, his throat working around words he couldn’t say, his hands hovering uselessly at his sides. Without a word, he took his place back beside you, his hands finding your shoulders, his grip steady, firm, unyielding.

Polly met his gaze. "Hold her down."

And with agony in his eyes, he did.

A sharp, searing sensation that tore through your body like fire, ripping you from the darkness and into the cruel reality of the moment. Your eyes flew open, your breath catching instantly as a white-hot, unbearable sting shot through your stomach.

A scream tore from your throat before you even knew what was happening.

"Keep her from moving!" Polly’s voice was urgent, firm, cutting through the haze of pain and confusion as she clutched the bottle of alcohol she was using to clean your wounds.

Then, strong hands gripped your shoulders.

"Shh, love, I know, I know."

Tommy pinned you down, his weight pressing against you just enough to keep you still, but not enough to hurt you.

You fought against it anyway, your body thrashing violently, panic and agony blurring together as Polly’s hands worked quickly, pressing something sharp against your skin. Another wave of pain crashed through you, and you sobbed, gasping, your body twisting uselessly beneath Tommy’s grip. 

"Please–" Your voice cracked, weak and frantic, as the burning sensation only grew worse. “Please, stop–”

Tommy’s grip tightened, his breath harsh against your ear as he whispered, "I know,” he repeated. “You have to let her do this."

You couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear the pain, the sting, the relentless wave of agony pressing down on every nerve in your body.

But Tommy wasn’t letting go. His hands stayed firm, keeping you still as Polly continued, her voice clipped, professional– but you could hear the pain in it too.

"It’ll be over soon," she murmured, but it barely reached you over the sound of your own ragged sobs.

Another sharp pain seared through your ribs, and your body arched violently, another broken cry ripping from your throat. Your fingers latched onto Tommy’s arm, gripping him so tightly your nails dug into his skin.

He didn’t flinch.

His voice was hoarse, desperate, like this was hurting him just as much as it was hurting you. "I got you," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. "I’m right here, love. Just hold on. Just hold on."

But you couldn’t.

You felt yourself slipping away, the pain too much, too unbearable.

Your sobs grew softer, weaker, until the darkness swallowed you whole.

…

Sleep clung to you like a heavy shroud, pulling you under, keeping you trapped beneath the surface.

But then… voices.

Low, hushed, urgent.

You weren’t awake, not really. But the words drifted through the haze, barely reaching you, like an echo through water.

"I don’t know what happened in that room," Polly said, soft but grave, laced with something heavy, unspoken. "But our girl was hurt beyond what the eye can see."

There was silence– so suffocating that you could feel it settle over the room like a funeral shroud.

Then, Tommy’s voice, low, rough, dangerous in a way you had never heard before.

"What are you saying, Pol?"

A pause.

"You saw the bruises on her thighs, Tommy. The way her clothes were torn."

The words barely registered before a deep, unbearable shame clawed its way up your throat.

You wanted to pull the blanket tighter around you– to disappear, vanish, sink back into the darkness where none of this was real.

But your body wouldn’t listen. Your fingers twitched, barely moving against the sheets. Another silence. Longer this time. Heavier.

Then, Tommy’s voice, but it was different now. Not sharp, not angry. Shaken.

“Jesus Christ."

Another pause.

Then, a sound you never thought you’d hear from Tommy Shelby. A shaky exhale, almost like a breath that had been trapped in his chest for too long, forced out in a way that wasn’t entirely controlled.

You wanted to open your eyes.

Wanted to reach for him, for Polly, for something that made you feel whole again.

But your body was too broken, and your mind was too tired.

…

The room was quiet when you woke up.

Not the kind of peaceful quiet that brought comfort, but the kind that felt hollow, empty, like something had been ripped away. Your body felt heavy, every inch of you aching, wrapped in a deep, throbbing pain that radiated from your ribs, your face, your legs.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe too deeply.

Just listened.

The soft crackling of the fireplace. The distant murmurs of voices downstairs. The faint scent of whiskey, tobacco, and something familiar lingering in the air.

Then, movement

Your eyes shifted, and that’s when you saw him.

Tommy.

He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his head bowed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he had been praying but never finished the prayer.

His hair was disheveled, his coat abandoned somewhere, his sleeves rolled up. He looked worn down.  Like he had been carrying too much weight for far too long.

Your throat felt tight. When you shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in your body, the mattress creaked softly beneath you.

Tommy’s head snapped up instantly. His blue eyes locked onto you, and for a brief second they widened, raw and unguarded, before he jolted forward, hurrying to your side.

"Hey–" His voice was rough, low with exhaustion, relief, and something deeper, something broken. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here. I’m right here.” 

You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Your throat tightened painfully, your lips parting as if to form words, but all that came was silence. Then– tears. Hot, silent tears spilled over your cheeks, streaking down your skin before you could stop them.

Tommy’s breath hitched, his face contorting slightly, as if the sight of you like this physically hurt him.

"Hey," he repeated, his hands reaching up, cupping your face carefully, his thumbs wiping away the tears as fast as they fell. "It’s alright. You’re alright."

But you weren’t. And you both knew it.

More tears spilled, your body trembling despite the warmth of the blankets, despite the fact that Tommy’s hands were steady, firm, and safe. You let out a weak, shaky exhale, your breath stuttering.

Tommy’s jaw tensed, the pad of his thumb still brushing along your cheek.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. "You hear me?"

You closed your eyes and nodded weakly, but the tears kept falling. They wouldn’t stop– wouldn’t slow, no matter how hard you tried to breathe through it, to swallow it down, to push it away like it wasn’t happening.

His hands never left your face, gentle, steady, as if he thought you might shatter completely if he let go.

He watched you closely, his expression tight, unreadable, but his eyes gave him away. They were soft. Without a word, Tommy shifted, slowly, carefully, and sat on the edge of the bed. His weight made the mattress dip. And then, he reached for you. Not all at once. Not suddenly. Just gently. One of his arms slid behind your back, the other under your legs, his movements slow, deliberate, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.  So, when he finally pulled you into him, when he gathered you against his chest, you just let him. Because the desire to be held so gently by him outweighed the pain in your stomach. 

A soft, shuddering sob broke from your throat the second your face pressed into his shoulder. His arms tightened and his chest rose and fell beneath you.

"I’ve got you," he said.

You just cried harder. Cried into his shirt, into his chest, into the only thing that felt remotely safe.

And Tommy just held you.

Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

… 

The hands were everywhere. Gripping, clawing, pressing against your skin.

Hot breath ghosted over your ear, cruel laughter filling the darkness as rough fingers bruised their way over your body.

"Not so tough now, are you?" 

You thrashed, but you were trapped, bound, helpless. No matter how hard you fought, kicked, screamed, you couldn’t get away.

"Shelby won’t want you now."

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done."

No. No, please.

You screamed.

You jerked awake violently, gasping, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. The room was dark, shadows stretching across the walls, but the nightmare was still there, lingering, suffocating.

A figure moved beside you, reaching for you–  Too close. Too fast.

"Don’t fucking touch me!" The words ripped from your throat before you even registered them, your voice sharp, frantic, trembling with terror. 

"Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. It’s just me."

You sucked in a sharp breath, your pulse roaring in your ears as the terror began to splinter, reality bleeding through the nightmare. Your eyes darted to his face.

Not them.

Tommy.

A shuddering sob broke from your lips as you reached forward. Tommy caught you immediately, his arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly but carefully.

"Shh, you’re alright," he murmured against your hair. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

His warmth grounded you, but the nightmare still clung to you like poison, lingering in your skin, in your bones. You inhaled, your cheek resting against the curve between his shoulder and neck. His scent wrapped around you, familiar and safe. He smelled of whiskey, tobacco, gunpowder, something darker, something uniquely him.

The fabric of his shirt was soft, worn, and beneath it, you could feel the subtle heat of his skin, along with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was faster than usual, uneven, like he wasn’t as composed as he wanted to be.

The silence stretched between you for a long time, a heavy, fragile thing hanging in the air.

Then, Tommy’s voice finally broke it. "What did they do to you?"

You stiffened. Every muscle in your body locked up, panic flaring hot in your chest. Your breath shook, your fingers twisting into his shirt as your mind raced, panicked, hesitated. 

If he knew, would he still want you?

"Shelby won’t want you now."

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done." 

The cruel messages from the men lingered in the forefront of your mind. You were damaged. Used. Broken. What if he’d see you differently now? What if he never touched you the same again? What if he’d– 

"Please,” he cut in. “I have to know." 

Slowly, you swallowed, your throat tight, aching, before you finally forced the words past your lips. "They–" your voice was barely a whisper. "They touched me, Tommy."

The air in the room shifted as Tommy stiffened. Then his jaw clenched, his breath sharp and ragged through his nose. Before you could process it, he was moving. Standing up and turning toward the door. For a second, your brain didn’t register it– or understand.

Then, it hit you. 

He was leaving… Heading straight for the door. Panic slammed into your chest, raw and frantic.

"Tommy–" Your voice broke, but he didn’t stop.

No, no, no– 

"I’m sorry, I– I tried," you choked out, your throat burning, your hands reaching for him but too weak to move from the bed. "I swear, I fought. I– I should’ve fought harder, I–"

Tommy froze in place.

You didn’t realize you were crying again, but the words kept spilling out, rushed and broken, desperate to keep him here, to explain how hard you fought. "I’m sorry," you gasped, barely able to breathe. "Please– please, don’t go– don’t leave me– I’m so sorry–"

Tommy turned sharply, crossing the room in two strides, and then, his hands were on your face, cradling you, forcing you to look at him.

"No." His voice was firm, steady, but his eyes… His eyes were shining, raw, and shattered. "This is not your fault."

Your breath hitched, but he didn’t let go.

"I should’ve been there," he whispered, voice thick with agony, regret, fury… at himself, at the men who did this, at everything. "You hear me? I should’ve been there. And I should never have sent you away. I was wrong. And I’m so fucking sorry."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Tommy wiped it away with his thumb, his touch careful.

“I thought–” you stammered. “I thought you were going to leave.”

"Christ, I’m not leaving you love," he murmured, his voice so quiet, so broken it nearly undid you completely. "I just–" he swallowed thickly, his jaw tightening. "I want to go back there and kill every last one of those bastards for what they did to you."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking, exhausted, drained. But when you leaned forward, Tommy caught you instantly, pulling you into him, holding you tightly against his chest.

"Please stay," you whispered, your voice thin, fragile, desperate. "Please, Tommy– don’t go."

His hands tensed against your face, thumbs still brushing against your cheekbones, his blue eyes searching yours, reading every ounce of fear buried beneath the words.

"I’m not going anywhere, love," he murmured, his voice low, rough with emotion, as if saying the words out loud solidified them in stone.

A quiet, broken noise escaped your throat– not quite a sob, not quite relief, but something in between.

His hands slipped down, his arms gathering you close. Your forehead pressed against his chest, his warmth grounding you.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against your temple, barely a whisper of contact, but the weight of it was enough.

"I never should’ve sent you away," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with the guilt he would never forgive himself for. "And I promise you, love, I won’t make that mistake again."

Your fingers weakly clung to his shirt, your body melting against him as the last of your strength gave out. 

And Tommy held you together.