#this is longer than i thought it would be

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[colorlessjay]

Can’t help but think abt how super ultra mega fine S6 Dean probably thinks S16 Cas looks. he is sleeping in that guest bedroom with a RAGING and possibly guilt-ridden boner so much 🤣

I mean, can you blame him?

Part 5 of "Back to the Future" AU

Turns out, Dean is gonna be stuck in the future for longer than he expected. He thought it was hard when no one would give him answers to what happens in the future ... that wasn't the only thing hard Especially because S16 Castiel is doing it on purpose

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part4 || Part5

[serene555]

Quit tending to your little flowers and pay attention to him, will you?

Many believed Sukuna was incapable of love—and honestly, so did he. He was a sadistic monster, a hedonist who thrived on chaos and slaughter. The King of Curses needed no one but himself, and as for romance? He scoffed at the mere idea. Love was an illusion for the weak, a pathetic attempt to make their meaningless lives feel significant. Or so he thought.

Then, you came along.

At first, he was sure he’d end up killing you. Maybe after a day. A week, tops. But for some reason, he didn’t. You didn’t cower or crumble like everyone else. You didn’t bore him, either. That was the most irritating part. Instead of dying, you lingered around like some annoying pest, and for reasons he couldn’t understand, he didn’t get rid of you. Weeks turned to months, and instead of plotting your demise, Sukuna found himself… invested. He didn’t want to consume or torment you—no, you were something else entirely. Before he knew it, you’d flipped his entire world on its head. You made him happy. And worst of all, it wasn’t the kind of happiness he had to take by force—it just was.

The realization disgusted him. He hated it. He hated you. But not enough to leave. And so, he decided: if he was going to be this pathetically human, it would be a secret he took to his grave.

“Weakling,” he barked, appearing in front of you like the menace he was. His scowl was practically carved into his face, though the impatient tapping of his fingers betrayed him. “How much longer are you going to mess with those damn flowers? They’re weeds with delusions of grandeur.”

Of course, he’d never actually drag you away. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed, glaring at your garden as though it had personally insulted him. He muttered curses under his breath, but his eyes kept drifting back to you, softer than he’d ever admit.

“Don’t call me thaaat!” came your sweet, drawn-out whine, a playful protest aimed at his deep, rumbling voice. The sound was lighthearted, almost innocent, yet it hit him in ways you couldn’t possibly comprehend.

Oh, how blissfully unaware you were of the effect you had on him. Your voice, your expressions, even the way you turned to glare at him—it all stirred something in him he refused to name. You were so small, so utterly unassuming, yet somehow, you managed to occupy more space in his mind than anything else.

He grumbled in irritation as your whiny response met his ears. You were far too comfortable with him—a fact that both annoyed and amused him to no end. He had never imagined another being would dare speak to him with such familiarity, such blatant disregard for his status, such insolence. Yet, try as he might to be annoyed, he couldn’t ignore the strange warmth it brought him. The fact that you showed no fear around him was utterly baffling—and, somehow, endearing.

His crimson eyes lingered on you, sharp and calculating, though his gaze softened just slightly as it roamed over your figure. You were, undeniably, a beautiful woman pest. How irritatingly distracting you were.

Sukuna’s patience snapped as he watched you continue to fiddle with the weeds in your garden, completely ignoring him. His scowl deepened, as his large frame tense with irritation. This was getting out of hand.

He took a step toward you, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I said, stop.” His tone was low, a warning wrapped in cold menace. “Those weeds of yours have had enough.”

You glanced up at him briefly, your expression unbothered, before turning back to your task, muttering something about the flowers.

A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but he was done with words.

Before you could register what was happening, Sukuna reached down, his massive hand sweeping under your waist. With a single, effortless motion, he lifted you up and tossed you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a sack of some useless patatos.

“Sukuna!” you yelped, suddenly upside down and dangling over his shoulder, your world spinning as you tried to steady yourself. Your protests were drowned out by his steady, unyielding stride.

“Stop whinning, woman,” Sukuna said, his voice calm but thick with irritation. “Learn to obey at once.”

And just like that he was carrying the little insect who had managed to wrap her tiny legs around his being to his chambers, your soft little hands already clawing at his back but he barely two shits about your little protests. You were his and now you would pay attention.

———————————————————

an: a man in love, a sinner he maybe is forgiven, right?

lol

The lengths I would go to to justify my love for Sukuna are absurd.

[patchouii]

I’ll never get over how Will gave him the skankiest most arrogant little smirk right to the camera when he said “the charm being debatable”….. the tricky thing with the show is that we’re introduced to The Main Guy when his brain is already being affected with encephalitis (which Hannibal, of course, aggravates, and is then treated and cured while in the BSHCI in early S2). And where is your identity— both the one you present to the world and the one you consider closest to yourself— held? Along with your instincts, your smarts, your function and memories? Your BRAIN, of course.

And encephalitis hits all that like an electric mixer by inflaming the brain and exerting pressure, leaving someone in pain and vulnerable in all sorts of ways. If it was real life, the show would be over before the year or so of S1 ended because Will would’ve keeled over dead or been severely disabled as a result. But of course it’s fun and fiction, and Hannibal has always used real facts as inspirations rather than concrete things. After S1, Will’s empathy changes— there are no more nightmares, there’s no more uncontrolled factors. He has a remarkable (and fantastically fictional, of course) amount of conscious and selective control with his visualizations. So I definitely think that Will is closer to a pure, authentic version of himself in S2+ because of that, and sometimes I do wish everyone would recall that it was only during S1ep2, in his second or third session with his brand new FBI-appointed psychiatrist who knew his boss personally, where he said that he really wanted to go back to the field because killing Abigail’s father hadn’t really impacted him, and that he thought it felt good. That it felt powerful.

And then he chose to have more sessions with a psychiatrist who responded to that by saying that humans are made in God’s image, that killing is an act of God, and that we can certainly do as God does…… that just goes to show how he views things. If he’d had a proper psychiatrist, they’d have likely agreed with Chilton and marked him down as having some solid “dark triad” traits, if not a potential diagnosis. This isn’t to say that Hannibal’s influence didn’t matter either way in the end— it definitely did for both of them and their self-realizations and character progressions. Hannibal’s influence provided him with things to consider and understandably inflamed a sense of deep anger and a desire for violence in him.

I think that without their S1 story, it would’ve taken Will a lot longer to accept and wield those parts of himself openly, and it would’ve looked very different in terms of events. But it’s well established that he’d been buckling under the pressure of a lifelong ethos of what he should be like, feeding his darkness the scraps his empathy could scrape from crime scenes, and would’ve cracked and had his “becoming” eventually— or maybe made some other kind of harsh decision like ending his life.

the "diagnosis" Chilton gave Will during his trial was the one closest to the truth ("Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack Crawford couldn't see past it. (...) There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is.")

unlike Alana Bloom or Jack Crawford, he saw what a manipulator Will was and that in front of them he played a poor, confused, wounded bird ("(...) A particularly-manipulative one at that. Poor, confused, wounded bird for Agent Crawford and Doctors Lecter and Bloom. And for me, well, I get the psychopath's triumvirate: charm, focus and ruthlessness. The charm, of course, being debateable.")

he believed Will that Hannibal may be the Chesapeake Ripper and said Jack Crawford: "Hannibal once served me tongue and made a joke about eating mine. It's hard not to at least consider it.". Jack ignored him. (I think Jack was already planning some large-scale action against Hannibal, but that's a topic for another post)

he called Dr Lecter "Hannibal the Cannibal"

he understood that Will Graham was alive because Hannibal Lecter liked him that way

criticized Jack for letting Will and Hannibal get closer to each other and then leaving Will alone ("You dangle Will Graham and now you cut bait. You are letting Hannibal have him hook, line and sinker.")

when Jack expressed hope that the relationship between Hannibal and Will was one of those friendships that ends after the disemboweling, Chilton told him: "I would argue, with these two, that's tantamount to flirtation. Will is going to lead you right to him." and let's be real, he was right.

[koqabear]

hands-on lesson

“Intern Hueningkai is doing his best to follow in his mentor’s footsteps— Taehyun thinks the younger is a little lacking, but there’s nothing a good training session can’t fix.”

Taehyun x fem!reader x Hueningkai

genre: office au, smut, fluff

word count: 8.6K (me when i say js smth short and LIE)

warnings: barely proof read :3 hard dom!Taehyun, sub(ish)!Hueningkai, sub!reader, no mxm but… there’s definitely something odd happening there, shy!huening, slight jealousy, possessiveness, alcohol, dry humping, spanking, manhandling, nipple play, oral (f. rec.) pet names (honey, baby, sweet girl, angel, pup, good boy [m. rec] etc.) degrading, hair pulling (m. rec), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, praise, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism?, masturbating, strength kink, hueningkai carries the reader once, size kink, scratching, begging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, creampies, dacryphilia, bulge kink, big dick tyunning, phew!!! (lmk if i should add anything!)

notes: no thoughts. saw txt bank and tyunnings looks…. *__* #NEEDthat (only like 2k of plot and the rest smut… god… used to pray for times like these)

Hueningkai has always been a bit of an awkward person. It’s his biggest fault, he realizes, blessed with characteristics and looks that give him a demanding presence, aware of the lingering glances and strong impressions he leaves— and while such attention could be seen as a blessing to others, it only has him sweating and shifting uncomfortably, just as he is now as he makes his way into his new office job. 

It was all supposed to be simple; a private, indoor nine-to-five, where he sat at his desk and stared at spreadsheets all day. A job with minimal communication, something straight from his wildest, introverted dreams. Sure, his coworkers were much more sociable than expected— it was a small, tight-knit community, one that included drinks after work and invites to eat lunch together— but what hadn’t been expected whatsoever, was the loop that you would throw him in.

He’d like to think that he’s always been a composed person; knowing when to keep to himself, scurrying away from interactions he knows will leave a sour taste in his mouth later, but with you, all logic seems to be thrown out the window— and he finds himself blabbering like an idiot in front of you, stuttering through the simplest of sentences after you’ve only asked him if he’d like to join you and your fellow colleagues for drinks after work. Despite his gut screaming at him to politely decline, to make up a reason to not go and excuse himself, he finds himself giving in with one hopeful, shining look of yours. 

Never mix business and pleasure; it was a universal rule, right? So why Hueningkai found himself dawdling in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his fingers through his bangs and wiping his glasses nervously, he couldn’t quite fathom. Did his suit look okay? If he’d have known that his day would end with him going to a bar, he would’ve chosen something more breathable. He’s taken much longer than anticipated in the bathroom, and he knows that the others are still waiting for him, but he just can’t bring himself to move— his feet remained glued to the tiles, and his eyes continue to search his reflection for any imperfections, shaky fingers re-tucking his shirt in for the umpteenth time.

“Are you gonna come out? Or do you need me to hold your hand and walk you out,” the soft yelp of surprise that jumps from Hueningkai is nothing short of pitiful, whirling around and clutching onto the sink as he makes eye contact with a stone-faced Taehyun— the two regard each other in silence for a moment, and Taehyun can only watch with amusement as the tips of Hueningkai’s ears grow from a warm, honey color to a vibrant red. 

“I-I’m sorry, I was just,” he clears his throat, fixing his posture to stand at his full height, under the deceptive hopes of exuding confidence, “just touching up. Looks like I got distracted.”

He tries to crack a small smile, the action faltering after Taehyun simply gives him a once-over and nods solemnly. A dreadful silence fills the air once again, suffocating Hueningkai as he shifts his weight and clears his throat nervously. 

“You look fine,” Taehyun says, holding the bathroom door open and nodding out to where the others wait, “let’s go.”

“Ah. Of course,” Hueningkai can only keep his head bowed and his steps quick as he passes the man, only a few months older than him yet oddly intimidating, always carrying a knowing glint in his eyes that keeps him on edge. 

Taehyun follows close behind, swift steps allowing him to catch up immediately as he passes Hueningkai with a soft, coy comment that renders him speechless. 

“I’m sure ___ will appreciate you dolling yourself up for her.”

Truly, Hueningkai ponders to himself, if there’s anyone in this office that should be made fun of for pining hopelessly after you, it should be Taehyun— at least, that’s the conclusion he arrives to as he watches the older man follow you around the whole night, desperate to make you laugh and constantly glancing over at you with those big, sparkling eyes of his, lips curling up to a fond smile Hueningkai isn’t sure Taehyun is aware of himself. 

The interaction at the office is chalked up to nothing but a jealous streak. Does it bother Taehyun, watching as you continue turning your attention back to Hueningkai all night, eager to include him in the team? He may be a bit socially inept, but Hueningkai isn’t oblivious of the watchful eye Taehyun places on him, hyper aware of his stare whenever he tries to talk and joke with you, no matter how successful the interaction— with every sweet smile and endearing laugh you let out, Hueningkai can’t help but glance over at Taehyun, only to find him already staring back. 

“How come this is the first time you’re here with us?” you ask at some point, a joyful flush lighting your face up as you sip idly on the glass of wine you ordered— you lean in curiously, a smile pulling at your lips as you observe the way Hueningkai tenses, eyes following his adam’s apple that bobs nervously. “I’ve been wanting to see you out here with the rest of the team, but you’d always refuse.” 

Your words are a bold jab that sends Huenginkai’s mind into a jumbling malfunction— it’s clear your choice was deliberate, and his mouth dries at the fact that you wanted him here. No matter how hard he fights it, a soft blush rises to his cheeks. 

“W-well, I suppose I was just… nervous.” he says, eyes darting away from you, trying to avoid that amused curl of your lips, the way your eyes sparkle and observe him carefully, clearly enjoying his reactions, “I’m still a bit new here, after all. I just wanted to get to know everyone better before I accepted.”

“Well, what better way to get to know each other than outside of work?” you ask, glancing around the bar, at your scattered coworkers that chat away in their own little bubbles. Hueningkai watches as your eyes light up mischievously, scooting closer so you can pull your final test to his resilience; your hand is hot as it lands just above his knee, placing your weight on it as you lean in to murmur in his ear.

“I’d love to get more familiar with you— and if the bar isn’t your favorite, I know of a better place we can talk.”

Before you can gauge Hueningkai’s reaction or give him a chance to respond, a call of your name takes you two apart— Hueningkai can only stare off into the distance, lost in a trance as you send Taehyun a bright smile, hopping off the barstool as he beckons you over to where he stands. It takes Hueningkai a few minutes before he can finally bring himself to move. 

“You’re quite curious about the new kid, aren’t you?” Taehyun asks, tilting his head curiously as he observes your reaction closely— you merely wave him off with a sheepish laugh, taking another sip of your drink before you answer. 

“It’s the first time I’ve seen him agree to come out with us— I wanted to make him feel included.”

“You’re so sweet,” he coos, leaning in and lowering his voice, eyes flickering off to a point over your shoulder, “I’m sure he feels real included with the way you smother him with your attention.”

“Awh, don’t get jealous,” you grin, biting back a grin at the way he closes in on you, not caring whether your coworkers see or not, “I’ve got plenty of my attention to go around.”

“Do you really?” he asks, his eyes intense as he holds your stare, “is that why you keep running back and forth between the two of us tonight?”

“Well, it’d be much easier for all of us to get along, no?” you say, doe eyes innocently sparkling with your question, “but I’m afraid you might just bite his head off every time you interact with him.”

“Actually, that’s not really true,” Taehyun corrects quietly, leaning in to murmur into your ear after you’ve sent him a confused look.

“I can be quite good at sharing, you know.”

The thrill of his sentence is like a spark of electricity sent down your spine. You allow his words to hang in the air, the proposal something that will either hold true or crumble like sand in your grip, and when you take a step back to look Taehyun in the eye, you’re met with just the thing you needed; a firm, bold stare, burning with an intensity that begs to be provoked.

When you reach out to take his hand, a haste gesture that’s returned by interlocked fingers and a tight grip, a satisfied smile snakes onto your lips; the two of you are swift as you weave through the crowd and back to the lonesome figure at the bar. 

The cocktail that Hueningkai has been nursing since the beginning of the night is watered down and has left a ring of condensation on the table. People watching can only be entertaining for so long before he’s itching to leave, having socialized enough to leave his battery drained for the rest of the week— the only thought on his mind now is to find you and say goodbye, but it seems as though the crowd has swallowed you whole. Just when he thinks it might be best to slip out wordlessly while he still can, a gentle hand lands on his shoulder. 

“Hope you weren’t thinking about running away,” you giggle softly, as though the mere idea of it were ridiculous— Hueningkai is spinning in his seat to face you, the relieved smile on his face tensing as he takes in the guest that you’ve brought along; but when Taehyun’s eyes lock with his, he can only find mischief swimming within, as though laughing at a joke Hueningkai had yet to be let in on. 

“It’s so crowded here, don’t you think?” you ask, refusing to address the bystander to your conversation, “It’s impossible to talk in here— let's step outside, I’m sure it’s better out there.”

Before he can realize the weight of his decision, Hueningkai nods and stands to his feet— anything to get out of this stifling environment, he thinks; maybe this way he can finally bid you goodbye and go rest.

It’s getting late— I think it’s best I head home now. Thank you for inviting me, I had a wonderful time with you. 

Simple, concise. Rehearsed. 

It was all thrown out the window the moment you batted those pretty eyes at him, grabbed his hand so gently— as though afraid you’d lose him if you didn’t handle him carefully. 

No— the moment you opened that perfect mouth of yours, used that gentle voice to lure him back to your place, had that been the moment Hueningkai was supposed to enforce self-restraint and turn you down? When you were already so close, your scent muddling his senses and your lips shining with that sticky gloss that shone obscenely under the street lights?

If it was, then Hueningkai was doomed from the start. 

“F-fuck, please, I can’t—” that skirt is truly a blessing in disguise, Hueningkai thinks to himself; tight in just the right ways, riding up your thighs and allowing your panties to peek through the pantyhose you wear, both equally soaked through as you grind pitifully into Taehyun’s lap.

“Hmm? Can’t take anymore?” Taehyun coos sweetly, bringing a heavy hand down to your ass and smiling at the way you yelp from the impact; his fingertips dig through the fabric and into your flesh, only hiking your skirt up more as he guides you over his covered cock— setting the pace, guiding you to press harder onto him, to feel his length rutting against your aching cunt. 

“Don’t you wanna give our intern a little show, honey?” he asks, looking over your shoulder and at the aforementioned man— the epitome of a mess, really, his face flushed and his eyes wide as he watches you rut hopelessly into Taehyun, a wet spot only growing on his gray slacks where you hump him mindlessly. 

“Wanna show him how it’s done?” he continues, leaving slow kisses along the column of your neck, listening to the way you gasp and plead for more, “teach him how to make a cute thing like you feel good?”

“Yes, yes yes yes,” you breathe, grabbing onto his neatly pressed button up with desperation, clutching it in your fists to tug him closer to you; glancing over your shoulder, you can only let out a weak whimper as your low-lidded eyes meet Hueningkai’s, a new wave of desperation washing over you as you press your leaking cunt further against Taehyun’s length. “Please, make me feel good.”

Such good manners, Hueningkai noted to himself, begging the way you do— that sweet, vulnerable tone, the break in your voice— how could they ever turn a request like that down?

You’re so soft— the feeling of your skin against his is an addicting sensation, running his palms up and down your torso like a fool as he hovers over you, lips glued to yours desperately; it’s a sloppy, sad excuse of a kiss, your swollen lips parted as Hueningkai drinks in your moans, feels the way spit pools at the corners of your lips, cooing soft praise as his hands reach up to grab your breasts— fingers pulling and tweaking your nipples teasingly to get you to squirm and squeal, just as he’d been shown— the gasp of Hueningkai’s name against his lips is enough to have him smiling in satisfaction.

“Pretty thing’s been toying with us all night,” Taehyun says sweetly, watching the two of you part and gasp for air— his eyes travel from the string of saliva that connects you two to the fucked out expression you don, dazed eyes barely holding eye contact with him as he smiles— his gaze then trails off to the nervous intern before him, head cocking to the side at the way he awkwardly continues to grip onto your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin as a way to mask his restlessness. 

“And you’ve been teasing this poor boy so badly too, can’t you see how wound up you have him?” his teeth dig into his bottom lip, biting back a smile at the sight of you diligently turning back to the man in question, listening to the quiet whine he lets out, “Why don’t you give him a reward for being so patient with you?”

The two of you can only squirm and obey as Taehyun directs you two— his mere presence is domineering, his voice a firm command that finds you shifting nervously as Hueningkai stares down at your dripping pussy, mouth agape and thin glasses slipping low on his nose as he takes you in, as though it’s the last time he’ll ever get you like this. 

Your sheer stockings have been slipped off, tight pencil skirt bunched at your hips to reveal just how needy you’ve become— Hueningkai could only watch with awe as Taehyun slipped off your lacy panties, a string of your arousal clinging on and leaving a wet spot on the fabric; a tinge of jealousy hit him as Taehyun pocketed the item swiftly, desperate to keep such an intimate part of you with him as well. 

“What, are you just gonna stare like an idiot?” Taehyun asks, startling the youngest out of his daze— his lips press together, adam’s apple bobbing nervously as his eyes flit from your swollen clit, your slit that glistens and leaks slick that dribbles down your hole and onto your sheets— and his eyes flicker back to Taehyun before he can stop and think, watching as the older merely scoffs in disbelief. 

“Oh baby, is this what you were chasing around the whole night?” Taehyun says to you, hovering his lips over yours, pouting mockingly at the way you whine and plead incoherently, “just a dumb pup that doesn’t know the first thing about making a girl feel good?” 

Hueningkai’s face feels like it’s on fire, and it definitely reflects on his skin that glows a brilliant red, eyes widening at the things Taehyun spews about him to you— a determination to prove him wrong fires up within, and before he can second guess himself, he wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you closer. 

“Mhh, look at that,” Taehyun says, cupping your cheek sweetly, watching as your eyebrows furrow and your mouth falls open to let out a soft moan, “that’s a start.”

Hueningkai’s movements are soft and shaky, so gentle you’d almost miss it if you weren’t so needy— his tongue is warm as it presses against your clit, hesitant before it flicks up and feels the way you twitch; it slowly becomes a steady motion, soft kitten licks that have your cunt clenching around nothing, hips grinding down in search of more. 

“Not enough, huh?” Taehyun practically reads your mind, not having to wait for a response as he reaches down and tangles his fingers roughly into Hueningkai’s hair— he watches as the man jolts, peeking up through his lashes to look at the other in panic; when Taehyun’s grip tightens and pulls on the long locks, his eyes flutter shut and a small groan rumbles in his chest. 

“C’mon,” Taehyun chides, using his grip to guide Hueningkai’s mouth down, watching as his tongue lolls against your hole before pushing him forward, smushing his face firmly into your pussy, “give our angel some more.” 

Hueningkai doesn’t need to be told twice— feeling your entrance clench against his tongue is enough, tasting your cunt that leaks onto him and leaves him intoxicated; he allows his tongue to slip inside, opening your walls and feeling the way you flutter around him, sucking him in and whining for more— Taehyun can only watch with a coy smile, hand continuing to guide Hueningkai’s actions as his nose is pressed against your aching clit, the hitched moan you let out enough to encourage the man between your legs.

“Shit— hah…” you’re a panting, dizzy mess, hands gripping onto the sheets as Hueningkai slowly becomes more eager; nuzzling into your cunt to dig his tongue in further, pretty nose pressed into your clit and hot muscle curling into your walls, feeling the way your thighs shake and tense with his movements— not allowed to pull away either, Taehyun’s firm grip on his hair keeping him pressed against you and moaning into your cunt. 

“Kai…” you slur out, hips jumping at the way he hums against your pussy, attempting to look up though his fogged lenses and failing— the sound of your broken voice enough to have him imagining the flustered expression on your face, cock twitching at the mere thought. 

“Need more…” you plead softly, eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips dig into the plush of your thighs, pushing up and throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, “please, wanna feel your fingers…”

You hear Taehyun let out a chuckle at your request— but you pay it no mind, whining desperately and grinding your hips down in hopes that Hueningkai will listen— and though the loss of his mouth on you has you ready to whine and complain, the feeling of his long fingers pushing in shortly after has all thoughts dying in an instant. 

“Oh my god…” it isn’t just you that’s gasping and moaning in surprise— Hueningkai’s mouth continues to spill curses as he feels your warm walls envelope him, lithe fingers slipping further inside and curling curiously against the spongy spot against his fingertips— feeling you jolt with a sharp cry, he knows he’s discovered something good. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Taehyun mumbles, drinking in your expressions before he’s glancing back down at Hueningkai, “but I know you can be louder for us, baby.”

Hueningkai’s fingers that have begun a steady pace are joined by his plump lips that circle your clit and begin to suck on it harshly— if it hadn’t been for Taehyun, Hueningkai would’ve been content watching your hole soak his digits, a thick ring of cum pooling at his knuckles as he continues to thrust against spots you never thought existed; overwhelmed by the stimulation, you can’t control the way your hips buck and twitch, hands searching for something to ground you— they find themselves intertwined with Taehyun’s soon after, feeling him give your hand a reassuring squeeze and a kiss to the back of it; you think you hear him mumbling soft praise to you, but it’s all lost as Hueningkai’s tongue continues to lap and suck at your clit.

“Tyun, Kai, I’m—” the words die on your tongue, nails digging into Taehyun’s hand as you squeeze your thighs around Hueningkai’s head, “‘m so close!” 

“Just a little more baby,” Taehyun purrs, listening to the way Hueningkai’s pace quickens, fingers pumping into your greedy cunt that squeezes him tighter, “c’mon, you can take it.”

Your eyes are squeezed shut from the pleasure, your orgasm building up to an intensity that leaves you unaware of the way Taehyun observes you carefully, drinking in every furrow of your brows, your trembling lips, the broken sob that leaves you once it all crashes down— your cunt pulses and sucks Hueningkai’s fingers in as you finally cum, a weak cry the only thing you can muster as he continues to help you ride it out, tongue lapping up the release that leaks around his fingers.

“I’ve got you, there you go sweet girl,” Taehyun coos, smiling sweetly at the way you pull him in to bury your face into his chest, clinging onto him for support— his words bringing a broken whimper out of you lips, gasping against the sturdy muscles of his chest as you calm down. 

“Kai, please…” you sob, your cunt well abused by the man’s tongue that continues to lap at you leisurely, already having cleaned his fingers and gone back for more— he’s drunk off you, humming absentmindedly against your cunt before he’s licking a long stripe along your entrance, relishing in the long whine you give him as he flicks his tongue on your clit, “please, no more— ‘m sensitive…”

He’s reluctant, only giving in after Taehyun forcibly grabs his hair and tugs him off— through bleary eyes, you take in his fogged, crooked glasses and low-lidded gaze that continues to stare at your glistening pussy in wonder, slathered in a mixture of his spit and your release— he places a gentle kiss on your cunt, listening to the gasp you let out with a crooked, shy smile. 

“Sorry…” he sighs out, massaging the bruised spots of your thighs, licking his lips absentmindedly before he looks up at you, eyes wide and sparkling with doubt. “D-did… did I do okay…?”

You blink in disbelief; when you’ve gazed into his eyes and confirmed that he’s serious, you throw your head back with soft laughter, shaking your head in disbelief before looking back down at the man between your legs— you take in his flustered expression, unable to hold back the fond smile that creeps on your lips. 

“God, you really…” your leg hooks into his back, heel digging into the firm expanse as you reach down to cup his face, his eyes fluttering shut upon contact; your thumb caresses his cheekbones, reaching to adjust his frames as you sigh. “Drive me crazy. You’re perfect.”

“C’mon angel,” Taehyun coos, cupping your cheek and turning you to look at him— he’s pouting, thumb tracing your bottom lip as he speaks, pulling it down with dark eyes, “don’t forget about me, I’m here too.”

The whimper that leaves your throat is downright pathetic— your cunt clenches, tongue darting out to lick his finger, mouth obediently opening as he pushes it in; your eyes are glazed with desire as you suck on it gently, your free hand reaching up to Taehyun’s shoulder, bringing him down towards you. 

“Tyun, I need you,” you sigh out, pulling him into a soft kiss, lingering against his lips as you speak, “want you to fuck me so bad.”

Your desperate pleas leave the two stunned— Hueningkai can feel his cock twitching desperately against the sheets, watching with wide eyes as you squirm shyly, flustering at the filth that Taehyun whispers in your ear.

“Such a greedy thing,” Taehyun purrs, grinning at the way you melt immediately at his words, “was Hueningkai’s mouth not enough for you? Not satisfied?”

“N-no, that’s not true,” you interject quickly, glancing down at the man between your legs that continues to stare up at you with wide, shining eyes— then you look back at Taehyun, heating up under his condescending gaze, “just want more— wanna feel your cock, please…” 

“Yeah? Want me to show you what you’ve been missing?” he murmurs, leaning down to plant kisses against your jaw, chuckling softly at your eager nods, “want me to fuck you good in front of our intern? Show him how it’s done?” 

“Yes— please, yes—” you breathe out, mewling at the soft sucks and bites he gives you, “fuck me, I need it, want it s’bad— ah!” 

Taehyun’s teeth are sharp as they sink into the juncture of your neck, a loud keen escaping you as your back arches from the stinging sensation— his tongue is quick to soothe against it, his hand that was previously tightened against the youngest’s hair falling possessively against your waist, his glare lethal as his eyes lock with Hueningkai’s.

“You heard her,” he grumbles, coy smile tugging at his lips as he nods over to the chair that’s placed by the window, “now be a good boy and go watch over there.”

Taehyun’s jealous streak is alive and well; Hueningkai is happily resigned to sit back and watch as Taehyun kneels between your legs, heavy cock leaking against your pussy as he ruts his cockhead against your clit, the two of you too lost in each other’s lips to do anything about it— he watches with furrowed brows as you whine and mewl at the stimulation, hips jumping with need every time his tip teases your entrance; catching on it, just enough to slip in for a moment before it slips out again. 

The noise that leaves your mouth when Taehyun finally enters you has Hueningkai closing his eyes and trying his best to not cum on the spot— his hand that had previously been wrapped around his weeping cock is still, squeezing his base as he watches Taehyun stretch you out slowly— your teary eyes jump from Taehyun’s face to Hueningkai’s, mouth falling open to let out another pretty moan as Taehyun bottoms out inside you, hips glued to yours. 

“Shit… you’re so tight,” Taehyun groans, throwing his head back at your wet walls that continue to flutter around him, trying to suck him in deeper; looking back down at you, he smiles, taking in your wandering eyes as he glances over at your point of interest. 

“You enjoying this?” he teases, thrusting his hips shallowly to pull another whine out of you, feeling the way you clench even tighter around him, “like having him watch you like this?”

“Yes, nngh, fuck—!” you gasp, words stuck in your throat as Taehyun slowly pulls out of you, until his leaking tip is the only thing your cunt can ache around— you jump as he bottoms out in you with one harsh, swift thrust; when your glistening eyes meet Taehyun’s, you’re met with that familiar, dangerous glint in his shining pupils. 

“Then be a good girl and show him how good you feel.” 

Your mind is nothing but a melted puddle in your head; your eyes have rolled to the back of your skull, mouth fallen open as you lay there and let Taehyun use you just how he wants— thick cock battering into your walls harshly, calloused hands holding onto your waist to keep you close, hips angled up so he can fuck into you better— it’s so good, you’ve never been fucked like this before, nothing but a pretty doll for Taehyun to use in order to reach his peak, brows knitted and eyes zoned in on every expression you make, cock twitching at every moan and cry of his name. 

God, all this time working together in the office, yet you never took note of Taehyun’s physique; his suit always tailored to perfection, just enough to fit but not enough to show what was hiding underneath— you’re stuck in a trance as you watch the way his stomach clenches with every thrust, abs glistening from the sweat that runs down his body, your legs wrapping around his small waist to pull you closer; his body feels so firm under your hands, grabbing onto his biceps and crying at the way he fucks you into the mattress, his quiet, deep voice murmuring filth into your ears as he angles his cock just right, finding your sweet spot with ease— listening to the way you squeal and press your hands against his chest, gasping that it’s too much; when you feel him smile against your lips, you know you’ve fucked up. 

“Too much?” he mocks, slowing his pace, listening to the way you whine— only to shudder and tuck your face into his neck, pussy clenching at the way he’s bottomed out inside you, rolling his hips so slowly and deeply— pressing you further into the bed, chest pressing against yours and trapping you under him as he huffs, “we can’t stop now, baby— Hueningie’s enjoying the show too much.”

Like clockwork, you glance over Taehyun’s shoulder and at the man who remains seated, watching— and Taehyun can feel the way you gush around him, pussy so slick and stuffed that you have no other choice but to let it leak out and soil your sheets— because really, the sight is to die for. 

His tie has been loosened, his blazer shrugged off— his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, heaving chest peeking out and glistening with sweat— his hair is ruffled, glasses hanging low on his nose, and when your eyes meet his, you feel trapped; he’s entirely fucked out, his neediness conveyed with a single glance— when your eyes begin to wander back down, you can’t help the whine that leaves your swollen lips. 

“Hyuka,” you cry, fingers digging into Taehyun’s shoulders as he continues to fuck you deep, holding onto your thigh to keep you close; you can’t keep your eyes off the way Hueningkai continues to fuck into his fist, matching the rhythm as slick sounds emit from the cum that leaks out of his needy tip, droplets falling onto his hands that continue to grip tightly around his length— you watch as he swipes a thumb over the slit of his cockhead, a whimper falling from your lips at the way his hips buck and his cock twitches; you think your mouth started watering.

“Greedy girl,” Taehyun chides, propping himself up on his elbows, taking your chin in his hands and forcing you to turn back to look at him— your eyes glisten as they meet his harsh gaze, stomach flipping at the intensity as he tuts disappointedly at you. 

“Drooling over him while I’m here,” he punctuates his words with a calculated thrust to your sweet spot, listening to the choked moan you let out with a satisfied smile, “fucking you this good.”

“‘m sorry,” you mumble breathlessly, fingers digging into his back, feeling another orgasm beginning to build up, “‘m sorry Tyunnie, please don’t stop— please, I’m so close…”

Listening to your mindless rambles, he lets out a breathy chuckle— only to grab your thighs, bringing them up and throwing them over his shoulders, watching the way you melt at the new angle— and he lets out a soft groan, feeling his own high approaching with the way you continue to clench around him so tightly. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he breathes out, hands that were holding onto your thighs now bringing them down toward your chest, practically folding you as your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as he presses his weight against you, thick cock bottoming out and reaching in deep, hitting the spots that make you gasp and yelp— he’s leaning down to press his weight against you, pushing you into the mattress as he rolls his hips and angles himself to hit your sweet spot; his hand leaves your thigh, reaching down to circle your clit, and you shudder with a broken cry, “got you falling apart on my cock— fuck, and you’re still looking over at him.” 

“I’m close,” you gasp, hands reaching for his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and leaving marks, “oh my god, I’m so close, please, just like that—”

“Gonna cum?” he whispers, the mischief in his tone lost on you as you nod, “tell me how sorry you are. Maybe then I’ll let you cum.”

You’re snapped out of your daze the moment you feel everything stop— his cock pressed deep into you, his fingers that lay still on your clit, the weight of his body heavy as you look into his eyes, only to be met with his heated, expectant stare.

“‘m sorry…” you mutter meekly, cunt clenching and gushing around his thick length desperately, only to be met with his low grumble that asks you for what?  “‘m sorry for ignoring you— sorry for making you wait—” 

“Should be sorry,” Taehyun interrupts with a breathy laugh, throwing your head back at the way he begins to thrust into you again, deep and agonizingly slow, “took forever to finally get you like this— and now I have to fight for your attention?”

Hueningkai watches you shake your head fervently, in awe as you roll your hips against Taehyun’s, desperate for more— his cock pulses in his hand, slick with cum that continues to leak, eyes wide behind his glasses in fear of missing anything— he watches you react instantly to Taehyun’s motions, his hand circling your clit roughly as he begins to pound into you again, your body bouncing from the weight of each thrust, punching out moans from you.

“You really wanna cum that bad?” Taehyun mocks, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him— he looks down at where his cock disappears inside you, shining from your arousal, the wet squelching that comes with every thrust enough to have you heating up from embarrassment; but Taehyun thinks otherwise, etching the sight into his mind as his cock twitches and aches for more— your breathy voice that slurs out pleas is the only thing that breaks him from his trance. 

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good,” he growls, feeling his climax creeping up on him, mean thrusts turning sloppy, “c’mon baby, lemme hear you.”

“It’s you— fuck, ngh— fucking me so good, ah!” your stomach tightens, feeling Taehyun’s large hands splay over it, pressing down and making you feel his length that continues to fuck into you— his thumb is persistent on your clit, your body growing restless from the stimulation, “god, love your cock— you’re so good, wanna cum, need you to cum—!”

Your pleas have Taehyun closing his eyes with a hissed out curse, concentrating on making you cum before him— Hueningkai can only watch from his spot, gulping thickly as he takes everything in; your nails that dig into Taehyun’s shoulders, trembling hands slipping and running down his muscled back, leaving bright red marks in their wake— Taehyun’s cock that continues to ram into you, picking up his pace and pressing you further into the bed as you cry and whine that you’re close, face screwed up in pleasure— Hueningkai has to stop his own motions all together, biting down on his lip at the ebbing pain of his denied orgasm; his eyes flicker between your face and your pussy, both sights equally entrancing as he listens to your peak approach. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—!” you whine, words lost on your tongue as you bury your face into Taehyun’s chest— your words are muffled, but they still reach Taehyun’s ears, “please cum inside me, want you to fill me up, please please please—”

“Fuck,” Taehyun hisses sharply, feeling you crash down with a loud moan, cunt creaming around him, “fuck, such a good girl— gonna fill you up, make you mine, pump you full of my cum—”

Taehyun’s hips have a mind of his own as he rides out his high, hand on your stomach continuing to press down even after you’ve begun to cry from the sensitivity, thick cum pumping inside you until it can no longer stay inside— you can only lay there and take everything Taehyun gives you as he calms down, hips coming to a stop as they press flush against yours; right when he thinks his arms might give out on him, he sits back, looking at your spent, sweating body with a triumphant smile. 

“So pretty,” he coos, caressing your face lovingly, watching you nuzzle into his palm with a tired sigh, “tired?”

“Mh-hmm,” you say softly, looking as though you might doze off any second now— you flinch at the sensation of Taehyun pulling out, the said man watching with hungry eyes as his cum slowly begins to pool out of your fluttering hole; he looks back up at you, tutting softly as he gives your cheek a playful pat. 

“That’s too bad,” he hums, your eyes fluttering open just enough to see him get off the bed, nodding over to where Hueningkai remains, “cause you’re not done yet.”

You whine, legs closing and thighs rubbing together nervously, but Taehyun is having none of it as he scoffs mockingly. 

“What happened to our greedy girl?” he asks, your stomach flipping at his words, “our little intern here hasn’t had his turn with you yet— I’m sure he can’t wait to show you what he learned.”

“Right, Kai?”

The exhaustion from your previous orgasm seems to have gotten to you— because with a mere blink of your eyes, you find Hueningkai hovering above you, gazing through bleary eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt, staring at you with a desperation more intense than before; his hands are deft as they unbutton his pants, pulling them off with a swift motion and feeling your eyes immediately fall onto his weeping, blushing cock—  you’re quiet, allowing him to loom over you and pry your thighs apart, situating himself between them until his cock is resting over your mound, leaking and twitching against your stomach; you think you see him gulp, eyes running over your spent body as he clears his throat softly. 

“Do you think you can take more?” he quietly asks, hesitant to do anything yet unable to stop the way his cocks ruts softly against the softness of your stomach, “we can stop if you want us to.”

Immediately, you shake your head no— your hand reaches down to where his cock rests, feeling his breath hitch as your fingers trace around his cockhead, pressing into his slit— his eyes are wide as they meet yours, melting at the pout you give him. 

“No, wanna feel you,” you say, taking a hold of his length, slapping it against your stomach to watch the way it sticks, “want you to fill me up with your cum.”

His lips press together in shock, a broken whimper creeping out his throat— he’s trying his hardest not to cum, your mere touch enough to have him close. Pulling away— somewhat reluctantly— from your hold, he grabs his cock and lines it up with your sopping entrance; the sight of it leaking with Teahyun’s cum has his cock twitching in his hand, pressing it carefully against your fluttering hole. 

“Shit, you’re so warm…” he groans, watching his thick tip push slowly into you, the mixture of release coating his length as he eases himself inside— soft walls pulse around him, cum seeping out your entrance and coating his pelvis that remains pressed flush to yours; he watches your eyes widen and turn blank, a sharp gasp falling from you the moment he bottoms out. 

“Oh— you’re so…” words fall short, feeling his cock twitch inside you, his tip nudging against the deepest spots you never knew were there— you think you might feel him against your cervix, the stretch and length of him leaving your mind empty— “fuck… Kai… you’re so big…” 

The words have him shivering— his chest is flushing from all the attention, only able to stare down at you in awe as he feels your cunt adjust to his size; sensing his unsurety, you roll your hips against his and send him your signature, pleading look. 

“Kai, please,” you moan, reaching up to grab his hands and placing them on your hips, “just use me— just wanna make you feel good.”

The phrase just use me has Hueningkai’s brain short-circuiting; with one last look at you— your sweaty, spent body, thighs shining with slick and eyes fluttering with the last bit of coherency you have— he groans, fingers digging into your waist and pulling you right into him; the yelp you let out at feeling him nudge into you cervix falls on deaf ears, and Hueningkai allows himself to get lost in your dripping cunt. 

His hips snap into you, thick cock slamming into your sensitive, used walls— you can merely cry and wail as you allow him to chase his pleasure, teary eyes taking in his dark eyes that remain glued to your cunt, watching himself disappear inside you; thick, creamy ring forming around his length, the wet sounds that come from your cunt and the weak clenches you give him with every  thrust— it’s intoxicating, so much that he hasn’t realized how loud his moans and grunts have become. 

“Y-you’re… so beautiful…” he whines, grabbing your hips and raising them into the air, just so he can have easier access to you— snapping his hips harsher into you, deep and cruel as he finds your sweet spot with an accidental, sloppy spot; listening to you keen and scramble to grab the sheets, his eyes narrow in concentration to find it again— and when he finally does, he doesn’t let up. 

“Kai, kai kai—” you whine out, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure; your brain is fogged and your cunt can only let itself be abused, squelching and leaking even more cum that dribbles down your ass and onto the sheets; it's a filthy, pathetic mess, and you feel Taehyun’s amused gaze on the two of you all the while, “Kai, please— agh, it’s too much!”

But even if the overstimulation has your body on fire, the last thing you want is for him to stop— Hueningkai seems to be on the same page as you, merely groaning at the tears that slip from your eyes, leaning down to hover over you and press you into the mattress, just as Taehyun had done before— carefully, he reaches out to cup your face, thumb wiping the tears from your eyes away. He leans down to give you a brief, sloppy kiss, pulling away to pant against your mouth. 

“‘m sorry, sorry baby,” he weakly says, out of breath as he continues to rut his cock into you wildly, “please, just a bit more— just give me a little more, ‘m so close, c’mon.”

With every wail and mewl you give him, a soft apology is whispered against your skin— plump lips kissing your tears away, burrowing his head into your neck as he murmurs that he can’t stop, sorry— his hands gripping onto your hips to ensure that you don’t squirm away from him, even if he continues to abuse your most sensitive spots. 

The line between pleasure and pain has blurred long ago, leaving you a sobbing, babbling mess as you continue to let Hueningkai use you, the man pressing his body against yours and successfully trapping you beneath him; your nipples rub against his firm chest, hands clawing at his broad shoulders, leaving marks with every harsh thrust that sends you reeling. He’s big in every sense of the word— overpowering you, covering your sight with his body and keeping you in whatever position he’d like with his mere hands— his grip is steady on your waist, making sure to keep you as close to his hips as possible, whether it be by angling your body differently or using his strength as leverage to fuck you against him— a little toy for him to use, your body nothing but a means to get him to cum. 

“Ah, your pussy’s so good,” he groans, looking down between your legs, curiosity getting the best of him as he reaches down to feel against your stomach, brows furrowing at the bulge he feels— then he presses down, the pressure making your breath hitch. “you’re sucking me in so good— you’re so tight, ‘m sorry, I just can’t get enough of you—”

“Kai” is all you can cry out, thighs beginning to twitch and your hips jumping with shocks of overstimulation, “Kai, hurts, can’t take it…” 

“Yes you can,” Taehyun speaks up, seeing through your lies with an amused smile, “c’mon angel, just a little more— don’t you wanna feel good? Hmm? Wanna feel him fill you up?” 

You whimper, unable to respond— his hand that was previously feeling the way his cock slipped in and out of you through your stomach wandered down, finding your clit and beginning to massage it gently; feeling you clamp down on him, Hueningkai moans, his high beginning to approach dangerously. 

“Just be a good girl and let him use you a little longer,” Taehyun says, watching fondly as your face twists with concentration, trying your best to keep up with the man that continues to abuse your cunt, “that’s it— just a little more…”

“‘m so close,” Hueningkai breathes out, thrusts becoming sloppy and his fingers on your clit becoming frantic, “can you give me one more? Wanna feel you cum on my cock, please baby.”

“Mhh, ‘s too much—” you gasp, a sudden pleasure beginning to seize your body, back arching and hips rolling in search of it— Hueningkai sees it immediately, putting in his last efforts to ram into your sweet spot, sweat running down his neck as he concentrates to not cum before you, “wait— wait, think ‘m gonna—!” 

Your peak crashes onto you unexpectedly, a rush of strength making you pull Hueningkai down as you bury your face into his neck, legs wrapping around his waist, cunt throbbing and tightening around his cock; Hueningkai is following immediately after, a long, broken whine leaving his lips as he lets his hips lose rhythm, rutting and pressing as deep as they can; hot, thick ropes of cum fill your already stuffed pussy, but the man above you is stubborn as he continues to fuck it back into you, fingers collecting anything that slips out and pushing it back in alongside his cock— the sensation has you gasping and clawing at his back. 

“Alright you two, that’s enough,” Taehyun’s firm voice is startling as Hueningkai jumps away from you, cock still buried inside as he finally takes in your broken state with wide, bewildered eyes— when he looks over at Taehyun, the elder merely chuckles. 

“She’s fine,” he says, cupping your cheek and leaning down to give you a chaste kiss, smiling at the way you blindly chase his lips, “she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’ll be okay.”

Gesturing for Hueningkai to pick you up, he nods over to your bathroom down the hall. 

“C’mon, let's go clean up,” two of you— or rather, Hueningkai, with you limp in his hold— follow diligently, and a part of you wonders if the moment will come where the three of you address this strange dynamic. 

But with the way these two act so unphased, you think you might know what the answer might be. 

 ◦◦◦ 

“You barely touched your lunch today,” Taehyun frowns, slipping your jacket on for you as you prepare to leave the empty office, the said lunchbox in your hand and your bag in the other, “was Hueningkai’s cooking that bad?” 

“Hey, of course it wasn’t,” you scold, smacking his chest, ignoring the way his eyes darken at the action— you glance behind you and at the said man that’s just finished shutting down his computer, slipping his blazer back on and looking up at where the two of you wait— the smile he sends you is innocent, making your stomach twinge with guilt at Taehyun’s comment, “I was just so worried about the presentation this Friday, I guess I just lost my appetite.”

“My poor baby,” Taehyun pouts, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, “you’ve been working so hard this past month, I’m sure it’s gonna turn out great.”

“What happened?” Hueningkai is last to arrive at the scene, taking in the furrow of your brows with a worried frown. “Everything okay?”

“No, you’re starving our baby here because of your terrible cooking,” Taehyun chides, breaking into a grin as you gasp and hit his chest once more, “she barely touched the lunch you gave her.”

“That’s not true!” you gape, escaping Taehyun’s hold to run over to him, “oh my god, don’t listen to him!” 

“Was it really that bad?” he pouts down at you, puppy eyes glistening as he listens to you stutter through your explanation, placing gentle hands on your hips, “I woke up extra early this morning to make it for you.”

“Kai, of course not,” you stress, cupping his face and peppering kisses all over it— the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, his cupid’s bow— completely unaware of the way the two fight back mischievous smiles, “I love your cooking— I love you, love that you’re so sweet and make me lunch.”

“Then, how come you didn’t finish it?” Taehyun asks, sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, placing his head on your shoulder, “so ungrateful… maybe we need to teach you a lesson, hmm?”

He places a soft kiss on your jaw, feeling you tense the moment you catch on to their scheme— you glance up at Hueningkai for help, only to find him staring back at you with unforgiving, sulky puppy eyes. 

“I think we should,” Hueningkai agrees, bottom lip jutting out cutely as Taehyun continues to kiss and nip at your neck, “you’re so mean, honey.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, unable to do anything but let the two men grab your hands and lead you out— their discussion on who’s place to go to doesn't process in your mind, and all you can think is that you fell into their trap, good. 

“Oh, you guys are so…” you mumble, still speechless as they turn to look at you— you turn from Taehyun’s dark, teasing gaze to Hueningkai’s playful one, shaking your head in disbelief, “terrible.”

You can’t help but think back to a few months ago— Huenignkai’s shy, flustered personality, Taehyun’s hopelessness and his silent jealousy— and you can’t help but wonder what monsters you’ve turned your boys into.

Hueningkai reaches to give your hip a loving squeeze— Taehyun chuckles, bringing your hand up so he can give it a kiss. “Save it for the bedroom, love.”

Oh, you’re in for a long night. 

[salemlunaa]

❀˚܀stop stalling and admit you’re afraid ❀˚܀

it’s okay to be scared but you gotta know how to deal with it.

❀˚܀ ACT I | Admit to yourself you’ve been stalling

no you’re not being productive while scripting every single detail, i get that can be satisfying but when are you gonna lock in. Do you feel accomplished when you sit back up for the fifth time “before i induce let me script this ONE LAST thing”, just to wake up in your unfavourable story? again?

Although scripting puts so much joy in creating and shifting awareness to your new story, you need to admit to yourself that spending more time scripting trivial stuff than actually trying to induce pure consciousness can be harmful.

܀˚❀ ACT II | Look at the law

at this point we all know the law of assumption tells us to “assume as if to be that which you want to be”.

so assuming you have your dream life, are you sitting there upset about your circumstances, begging for an instant method of you were there. Would someone who’s just baked a cake sit there and script what the cake would look like and what flavours it would have, would they cry and get desperate for an instant cake-baking method?

Would someone who has successfully manifested blonde hair be binge watching “i hAvE bLoNdE hAiR ✨✨” subliminals, or would they spend time gushing over their hair and how beautiful and blonde it is, which is basically reaffirming what’s true: they have blonde hair.

Instead of stalling and be miserable, gush over your new story, actually apply the new fact that you’re in your dream life, apply he fact that you are a master at inducing the “I AM” state. Use what you know to reaffirm what’s true.

܀❀˚ACT III | It’s okay to be scared, how do we deal with this?

Sure it’s comforting to reduce yourself to a “failure” even after barely trying. You fell asleep one too many times so you run back to stalling, you don’t wanna let yourself down again. You “failed” and woke up in an undesirable state. You don’t want to go through that again so you stall and tell yourself that doomscrolling on tumblr and adding “one more thing” to the script is way more important, and that you’ll “do it later”

But I must warn you, this will lead you down a path where more time is wasted. And although time is a concept do you really want to spend a day more in your unfavourable environment? you could’ve have everything, an hour ago, yesterday, a few minutes ago, IF YOU APPLIED.

“But it’s not that easy…” according to who? who is assuming the that?

“But I always fall asleep and fail it’s not that simple…” according to who? your subconscious doesn’t know that so who is perpetuating that assumption over and over again?

“scripting feels so good tho lemme just try tonight” TRY? the operant power doesn’t try! and yes scripting is so fun, but more fun than living the dream?

i thought so.

as you can see you can flip these thoughts, you don’t have to be afraid of failure if you know failure doesn’t exist for you. you don’t have to stall when you succeed at everything you do, there’s no point in it.

so get off your ass and apply loves, this community is lovely but don’t stay here longer than you need to

🐅🌀 don’t be afraid and apply what you know

[frostbitten-writer]

Bathtub nights

Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader

Tags: established relationship; no description of R; nakedness??? I don’t know how to name it, but no smut or suggestiveness; FLUFF

A/n: just a simple, cute one-shot that I thought about while daydreaming, so yeah, enjoy 🫶🏻

The rustling sound of leaves and the creaking of wood were the only things that could be heard in the slow night. The hideout was full and peaceful, the little ones kind of helping with the feeling of pure chaos. You were usually stuck with them during the day, but not that you were complaining, it’s just the fact that you saw Ekko even less. He was always so stiff and serious, never eating or caring for himself. The wrinkles and lines on his forehead were giving him a few more years than he had, making his young face look older. So that’s why you’re here, balancing the tray with his favourite dish in your hands while walking up the steps to his workshop, which, unfortunately for you, was at the top of the tree. 

The wooden door creaked open and you slipped your head into the room, only to see an even more slumped version of Ekko sitting at his desk. To the sound of your steps, he turned around, and you could see his stiff face softening ever so lightly from your presence. The workplace was untidy and yet cozy, just like Ekko. The whole atmosphere was just screaming him. The room was illuminated by a small, warm lamp that made Ekkos eyes seem even warmer, the little specks of gold shining so bright, you almost felt your body melt. 

Carefully setting the plate of food and bread down in the mess of his desk, you sat on his lap and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck while looking down at him with a tender smile.

“Hey..” He rasped out, voice groggy from several hours of silence, his callused and dirty from metal hands snaking up to your hips.

“Hi, tree boy, already studied everything about trees and their existence, or is there something more?” You joked, lips forming into a lazy grin, one hand coming up to one of his dreadlocks.

“Not yet, but I’m close to it..” He smiled, clearing his throat a bit before giggling quietly to you tickling him with his hair. 

He looked at your face with a certain softness that only he could give to you, the expression of love no one else got to see. If you stared a bit longer into his eyes, you could promise you saw his pupils forming into hearts. 

“What’s that that you brought..?” He mumbled, peeking at the plate with a mysterious meal.

“A bit of food, your favourite.. hazelnut soup~” You hooked his chin between your fingers, tugging his head back straight to face you, his big doe eyes looking at you with interest. 

“Really..? You’re so good to me.. how did I get with you..” He mumbled and rested his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes drooping closed. 

“Well, I have to feed you with something if you don’t eat yourself..” You teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, kneading the lumps and muscles.

He whined a bit at the sensation, head lolling to the side.

“I just- I didn’t have time to do so.. I feel like time’s running away from my grasp..” He whispered sincerely, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“It’s okay, you just need some rest.. how about we take a warm bubble bath?” You suggested, doing your best to persuade him.

“You just want a reason to get me out of clothes..” He mumbled, his voice still tired but playful.

“Maybe~” You giggled quietly, jumping out of his grasp and then taking hold of his wrist. “Let’s go, space boy!” 

He only chuckled, the steamy soup long forgotten while you two ran down the spiral steps. 

Many Firelights stopped in their tracks at the sound of something or someone running down the stairs like a madman, their surprised expression growing back to neutral as they saw you two giggling and laughing. They all knew the effect you had on Ekko, they saw it by the way he would smile. Not the smirk he’d do when a plan worked, but a genuine one, an ecstatic grin.

When you reached your shared apartment, you slipped into the room, going straight to the bathroom, hands still clasped together. 

The steam was rising smoothly from the tub, the mirror already fully fogged, making the room humid and warm. He was about to ask how you managed to get it full, if you had already thought about it before asking him at the workshop, but he quickly shut himself up to the smell of the new oil or soap you borrowed.

“I found a new lavender and vanilla oil at the topside, smells amazing, right~?” You purred out with a grin, his expression confused and yet happy.

“Of course you did, found it.” He rolled his eyes affectionately, tugging at the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.

 

-

 

You both were now settled down in the bathtub, foam and bubbles flying around in the mist. He held you against his bare chest, your back rubbing against his skin, his long legs enveloping you from both of your sides. His dreadlocks were wet, his muscles finally getting their rest.

“Now that's a way to end the day, right..?” He whispered and pressed some lazy pecks to your shoulder. You only hummed in response, shifting sideways to face him, your damp hand wiping his face paint off.

“You always do that..” He giggled quietly, closing his eyes affectionately to let you get to his nose and forehead.

“And you love it..” You watched the drops of white colour roll down his cheeks. The smile on your face grew intimate, the chaos temporarily fading away.

“I do..” He whispered back, kissing the inside of your palm before tackling you and pressing gentle and chaste pecks all over your face…

[hwallazia]

HOT TO GO – 김홍중

⋆ synopsis. during a xmas eve dinner with your family, your best friend disappears. concerned, you search the entire apartment complex, only to stumble upon him watching porn alone. unable to resist, you decide to tease him a bit about it.

pairing. best friend! kim hongjoong & fem! reader.

wc. 2,9k

warnings. smut (mdni!), F2L, soft dom! hongjoong, suggestive language, cussing, liquor consumption, getting caught obviously, teasing & flirting, porn watching (this whole thing is porn but wtv), auralism?, getting interrupted ughhh, hongjoong comes on reader’s face and tits, praise, dirty talk, nicknames (pretty boy, pretty, attagirl & more), blowjob, implied cum eating but not explicitly written, an awful attempt at comedy in the end.

nic’s notes ⋆ second of the event & december’s already ending, i knoww (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i’ll finish the event in january i promise !! i really don’t like how this came out, but i couldn’t leave y’all without a christmas gift! merry xmas, loves <3

living room, dining room, bathroom, backyard, even inside the fucking oven. you had searched everywhere for hongjoong, and yet he’s nowhere to be found.

just an hour ago, you were enjoying some drinks with him, the strong alcohol of the tequila burned your throat deliciously, and the surroundings only caused the liquor to impact you even harder. small bright lights provided dim and comfy lighting to the room for those who were under the influence already — which were probably your uncles, who actually were spending a lovely time playing some drinking games. your mother and her sisters were chatting pleasingly near the kitchen aisle, your aunt looking for a new bottle of red wine only meant that the conversation was going to last longer than what anyone could predict, whereas your grandma was nowhere to be seen — she probably headed to her bedroom to get some well-deserved sleep, your mother had already forced her enough to stay awake past midnight.

“so yeah, that’s pretty much it. never met up with that bitch again, she prolly moved to somewhere far from here since i never heard from her again either. or well, at least that’s what i’m manifesting.” you summarized, chuckling at the end before you chugged another sip of tequila. hongjoong stared at you intently, one brow up, as your throat bobbed up and down with one smooth gulp.

“you sure are going hard on that tequila,” he said whilst glancing at your drunken irises. the way you frowned your brows and cringed almost made him laugh. how cute.

“excuse me, you’re the one who hasn’t drank one sip.” you deadpanned, a low laugh escaping his lips unintentionally as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand; his body rocking forward, driven by habit. “c’mon, let’s get you a drink. a cocktail for starters.” you said without giving him a chance to defend himself, grabbing his forearm as you led him towards the kitchen, where an exasperating and almost unbelievable collection of bottles, full of any kind of liquid you could imagine. your mind was already scheming what to prepare for your dear best friend; some vodka mixed with any energetic drink that you could find in the fridge seemed like an excellent idea.

but you could never fathom what your dear friend’s mind was envisioning, nor what held his eyes so intently. while you walked him whenever you were taking him, your cute ass was swinging, side to side in a smooth motion that had him going nuts. actually, if you held a gun against his head and asked him if he had thought about anything else that night, he’d let you shoot him, because he could never fathom the thought of you finding out how much of a pervert he was. but it was true though, the way that black, tight, and short dress hugged your figure made him salivate all over himself like a dog, the nastiest one. your curves were to die for, and hongjoong would gladly prove it — just so you know. god, what wouldn’t he give for just one night with you—to hold those hips with his own palms.

but that’s his secret. so shush.

hongjoong just couldn’t handle the view anymore. he halted you when he sank his heels onto the wooden floor, and with a deep sigh, he crafted the best excuse he could muster. you gyrated your head and let go of him when he began speaking. oh here we go. “wait, i actually have to go to the bathroom.” you glared at him, not believing a single word that was coming out of his mouth. “it’s an emergency!” he yelped in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, quite amusing to hear.

“fine. i’ll just pretend that you actually wanna go to pee and that you’re not a pussy that can’t handle a round of drinks with me.” you scoffed in a teasing manner, an almost invisible smirk showing up on your lips as your hand positioned on your hip.

“i’ll take the blame.” he sentenced, putting relaxed hands in the air as if he was being accused of committing a crime — and to be honest, he was just about to commit one.

after that, he headed towards the bathroom, your eyes followed his figure as it disappeared into the large, bright lighted corridor. with a sigh and an unopened bottle of tequila in your hands, you made your way back to the kitchen, determined to join the endless conversation that was taking place in its aisle. you aunt jessica looked in your direction, and when her blue irises landed on the delicious tequila that you had with yourself, she couldn’t help but let out a squeak sharp enough to shatter glass, immediately inviting you to participate in their talk with a smile plastered on her face.

you had to do something while hongjoong was gone after all.

but an hour had passed, and the conversation had turned rather depressing, your maternal aunt’s marriage problems overshadowing the happy, joyful christmas vibes. you needed to find hongjoong; otherwise, this conversation would only fry more brain cells than it already had. you exhaled as you rose from your seat, a glass of red wine resting in the palm of your hand gracefully — or you also could call it the other reason why you’d wake up with a mind-scattering headache.

“excuse me, i’ll go upstairs real quick,” you announced to the six ladies that you had just chatted with.

“darling!” your mother stopped your movements. “where’s hongjoong? haven’t seen him in a while now.”

“i don’t know. i was wondering the same thing just now.” you paused briefly. “i’ll go find him.”

normally, you’d find him in the backyard, playing with your younger cousins — to be honest, he nailed the role of the cousin way better than you. but strangely, he wasn’t, which only led you to do what you’d normally call research because at this point, the man had either gone invisible or was aiming for the world record in the longest game of hide and seek. at least, ten minutes passed and he was still missing.

you dragged your feet towards the bathroom, the tiredness of being in a tight and rather short dress and high fucking heels with your best friend missing as a bonus started to hit you. as you made your way to the guest bathroom, you passed by your bedroom, but something odd happened to catch your attention. a weird light was coming out of your room and you were absolutely sure you had turned everything off and closed the door—you didn’t want any babies sleeping in your beloved bed, for god’s sake.

your feet move backward in a quite amusing motion, your body now standing in front of the semi-open wooden door. with a cocked brow, you peeked through the crack in the door and saw hongjoong’s figure laying on your bed; back facing the door. as the gorgeous, lovely, and very funny best friend that you are, the only idea that came to your mind was to surprise him. little did you know that he was the one who surprised you.

with slow, cautious steps you approached his lying body. you noticed he was watching something on his phone, the bright white light from the device illuminating his face, yet his shuddering pants were the thing that caught your eye.

and one or two steps were more than enough for your eyes to finally and fully take in the scene unfolding before you.

your best friend was jerking off while watching porn. in your own house, in your own bed, in front of your goddamn eyes. and fucking hell, you could clearly see his dick grazing your blankets in a slow, sluggish tempo.

now, in this situation you have two options: either get mad at him and yell at him for being a pervert and a lunatic, and never speak to him again for ruining everything up only because of being an idiot for doing that in such an inappropriate place and situation and day and just everything,

or

help him.

“well hey there.” you purred as you grazed the sides of his undone pants, his hand flew away from his hardened cock as well as his phone, which glided through thin air; a heavy and rough thud reverberated through the walls—a crack on its screen is guaranteed. wide open brown eyes stared at you, a pinkish, tender blush creeping up his cheekbones. “i was feeling kinda lonely out there, y’ know?”

your velvety tone tickled his spine, delicious goosebumps creeping up his limbs. “yn, w-what’re you doing here.” a breathless hongjoong spoke, trembling hands trying to put his dick back inside that wrinkled, damp, and surely uncomfortable fabric.

“that’s what i should be asking, don’t you think?” a little chuckle penetrated hongjoong’s mind, it took everything from him to not grab you by the arms and kiss the shit out of you. at this point, the poor man is delirious—thankfully, your soothing, reassuring hand calms his nerves down when you rested your palm over his. well, sort of. “heeeyy, already cutting the fun short? don’t tell you’re that much of a wet blanket.”

you got on your knees greedily before your hand glided over his dampened length, first rubbing his girth and then his cocktip smoothly. hongjoong hissed before cursing under his breath. “why’re you doing this.” he couldn’t help but ask, though it wasn’t as if he had any intention of stopping now. if you were going to start something, you’d better see it through. he adjusted his position, finally sitting properly whilst giving you enough space to do your work.

you chuckled as you glanced up at him, doe-eyes stabbing daggers into his heart, mind, and soul. “is it so bad that i don’t want you to go back there with a boner inside those pants?”

a low, growly fuck was shot into your eardrums when your thumb slid over his now leaking tip, trembling fingers almost digging holes into your sheets. “i could do it on my own—nguh” a gravelly moan sent shivers down your spine as soon as you swirled your tongue around the trail of precum his tip was spreading over his hard-on.

“y’ sure you could?” he couldn’t compete against your seductive voice and teasing touches. matter of fact, he couldn’t compete against you at all, not when you were so kind, sweet, sexy and just fucking stunning. the way this man was wrapped around your finger is fucking comical. with a deep sigh, he gave in to you.

“fuck no.”

“that’s what i thought.”

no other words needed to be said for you to swallow his whole length, his tip tickling the back of your throat. hongjoong’s head tilted back as he placed his right hand behind him for support, while the other rested gently on top of your head; fingers provided soothing massages to your scalp. you didn’t expect his moans to be so heavenly sweet, yet low and masculine, and they were impacting you in the most pleasant way; thighs started to rub together incessantly, in search of some friction, some relief.

“oh fuck thaaat’s it. you’re so sweet for doing this, so—ugh, fucking gorgeous.” dead eyes stared down at you, following your every movement, every gesture, every breath. his irises casted shadows over you, and a dark fire sparked within them.

and being totally honest, you were more than ready to lose yourself in them.

after some minutes of just pure sinful, wet sounds, your jaw was starting to hurt, causing you to get some of his girth out of your mouth unintentionally.

poor you, ‘cause hongjoong was already way too into it.

you felt how his palm applied light pressure down the crown of your head “oh c’mon pretty, you were doing so good before, what happened?” he cooed at you, a devilish expression ruling his eyes.

and did that smirk drive you over the edge. “i—“ his hand glided over your neck and pushed you all the way down, making you pathetically choke on his cock. tears filled your vision and soon began to stream down your cheeks, ruining your mascara—not that you were concerned about that, your red lipstick was all smudged anyway. spit dripped from the corner of your lips, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips with some hairs of his pubic zone.

what a view, hongjoong thought.

“attagirl.” he purred in a silky tone. all pain was gone in just a sec.

hongjoong could feel and hear everything. and when i say everything, i mean every fucking thing. the way your tongue danced over his tip, how it enveloped his length greedily and lapped at every bit of precum it could collect, or how you would whine when his cocktip hit that spot of your throat, how you’d gag around him and just how fucking sinful you sound and look with his dick in his mouth.

“you’re seriously gonna—ah be the death of me.” he heaved, that familiar coil was starting to form in his stomach and he was more than happy to give you every last drop of his load.

even though this may not be his ultimate fantasy, he’s more than content with what he’s receiving. he’d die happily when he gets to come inside you while in mating press. but let’s not get too excited.

“fuck—c’mon, joong. cum all over my face, i know you’re close.” you popped his cock out of your mouth so you could jerk it off properly, at a fast pace that had him seeing stars.

“god you’re—that gonna make me— shit!” he cussed as he jolted beneath you, under your control and intoxicating ministrations. with your poisonous irises and vicious manners, he came completely undone for you, because of you. tensed, muscly limbs and a deliciously arched back formed the scene that surely won’t leave your mind for the next two weeks. a satisfied moan of yours accompanied the melody of grunts that were escaping helplessly from his swollen lips—too reddened from biting them so harshly.

his hand replaced yours and began doing the same motion, but now angling his dripping tip towards you. “show me that pretty face and those pretty tits, cutie.”

what a pervert, you thought. and naturally, you wouldn’t have done so. but god, you were so fucking blissed out that you didn’t even think twice before popping your breasts out of that dark, fitted dress and presenting your face to him — totally surrendered to him like a slut.

the remaining white shots of cum spurted all over your face, a sinful string of that white essence connecting your lashes with your cheekbone, whilst a brief load of his seed painted your tits.

“fuck you’re kinky.” you deadpanned, giggling.

“guess you kinda have that effect on me,” he smirked, breathlessly. fuck, you want him to fuck you right now.

you smiled as you stood up just to push him onto the mattress, easily straddling his naked lap. “so, tell me.” dangerous grins were plastered on your faces. “why would ya be watching porn over here, behind my back…” your manicured nails traced scribbles on the exposed skin of his forearm, slowly shifting in an upward motion. “… when you have me.”

“well if i’m being honest, i had you,” he explained, confusion filling your mind. he chuckled at your tilted head and cocked eyebrow. “that specific pornstar has a similar voice to yours, and whenever she moaned…” his eyes drifted from your eyes to your lips. “she just sounds exactly like how i dream of you moaning.”

and that pushed you over the edge.

you pressed your clothed crotch against his unintentionally, your instinct to seek friction overpowering your senses. his dark, low chuckle penetrated your mind. he straightened his back as he sat correctly and enveloped your torso with his strong arms. with one deep, endearing look into your irises, he whispered with a honey-dripping voice. “can i fuck you, yn?”

“thought you’d never ask.”

a harsh knock at the door made both of you jerk. “yn! i know you’re in here! come on, we gotta take some pictures with the family! get outta there, you got two minutes.” the high-pitched, squeaky voice of your mother sentenced as if she was the goddamn FBI or something.

with a profound exhale, you stared at each other. “well, i don’t know about you, but i personally don’t want to fuck with a time limit. it’s not like i’m able to make you finish in two minutes. i don’t even know if i can finish in two min—“ you grabbed his lips with your fingertips, shushing him immediately.

he glanced at you with puppy dog eyes. “would you shut up for once?” you giggled. “okay, pretty boy, we’ll get there. now, let me clean myself up and change into some new clothes so i can go take the damn pictures before my mom splits me open.”

you sighed, unlike hongjoong who smiled like a little kid. “i’d like to split you open.”

you chuckled as you threw the nearest pillow to him. a muffled awh was heard and your heart sank a bit, in the most tender way. that foolishly in love kind-of smile just could not leave your face. “shut up, you romeo.”

| masterlist

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Vet here!

I 100% believe that there are situations where rehoming the pet is the kindest, most humane thing to do for the pet and the people involved.

I'm not talking about dumping the animal on the street, but working to find a more appropriate home for that animal's needs, or because your needs are different than you thought.

Here are some reasons I have seen pets rehomed, all of whom thrived afterwards:

A person in the home developed an allergy or other medical issue that made keeping the pet unsafe for them, or made it so they could no longer meet the pet's needs

The family had a child, and the pet was not at all okay with having a tiny screaming, crawling, etc. person in the house

The people did not do their research and ended up with a bad match

The people did their research, but the animal in question did not fit the expected behavioral profile and thus is stressed in the lifestyle they are in. One example of this was, someone who had competition dogs (they did agility, obedience, and flyball) got another member of their breed of choice. This particular dog wanted to sit on a couch and cuddle with someone, and do a nice easy daily walk, and maybe give paw for a biscuit. She absolutely did not want to have to travel every weekend and do intensive daily training, even though 99% of her breed would be absolutely bonkers without all that work. Nor did she want to deal with her rambunctious housemates. She ended up in a pet home and being a lovely companion for her new (experienced) older human

A person wanted to get a cat after their sweet older cat died. They went to the shelter asking for an adult cat, and someone handed them a sweet little wiggly kitten that they promptly fell in love with. They took said kitten home, and he was extremely high-drive, playful, climbing everything and getting into everything. Without daily active playtime, he started biting. The owner did not have the time or desire to do that type of intensive play this cat needed, and didn't want to get him a companion cat due to finances

Pets who have medical issues that the family is not financially (or time-wise) prepared to handle, but someone else is willing to take on that expense/time. This happens often in emergency clinics, and is how I obtained one of my cats and a former dog

This one is controversial BUT often improves safety for the pet: the person gets a new partner, and the partner dislikes the animal or vice versa. While in my own personal ethical code, that would mean finding a new partner, I would rather see the pet rehomed to a loving family that wants them then have to live in a household where they are at risk

Sometimes, recognizing that you are not in fact the best fit for your pet, and finding someone who is, is a great act of love. There are a tremendous number of resources available to help find that better fit, including training groups, online communities (beware though, and make sure you investigate proper homes thoroughly), breed rescue, friends, family members, and even talking to your vet who, presumably, knows your pet to some degree. If you have a pet from a responsible breeder, contact your breeder! If you obtained through a rescue, contact that rescue group! Not all of them will help you, but many will.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[maxverstappendefender]

winter wishes // ln4 smau

description: girlfriend!reader x ln4 go on a ski trip that takes an even better than expected turn

tw: none that i know of

a/n: i hope you all had an amazing christmas (if you celebrate)! i don't own any photos used. part of my december fic series called winter in the fast lane

masterlist

winter in the fast lane masterlist

liked by landonorris, martingarrix, and 11,308 others

youruser: snow trip = in progress... teaching lando to snowboard = fail

tagged: landonorris

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maxfewtrell: HE ATE ITTTT

↳ youruser: absolute highlight of the trip

↳ martingarrix: he was so cocky before too lmao

↳ landonorris: i do not feel safe here.

↳ user1: someone save lando

landonorris: damn, had to out me like that?

↳ youruser: i still love you bby

↳ user2: they're so cute

↳ user3: when will it be my turn

user4: the second photo just called me single

↳ user5: same

liked by youruser, maxfewtrell, and 2,184,620 others

landonorris: ski trip 2k24

tagged: martingarrix, youruser

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youruser: aww you and martin in the first photo!!

↳ martingarrix: me and my man!!

↳ landonorris: excuse you martin

↳ user6: they should be fighting for yn, not each other

↳ user7: literally.

maxfewtrell: where am i in this dump?!

↳ landonorris: not here.

↳ user8: ouch

user9: his own girlfriend not being first in the dump is killing me

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youruser: boyfriend appreciation post since everyone thinks we hate each other

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maxfewtrell: me and p have nothing on you too

↳ landonorris: at least you're aware

↳ youruser: nooooo, you two are too cute

↳ user10: goated friendgroup

landonorris: AWWW LY BABYYY

↳ user11: can't even spell it out lmao

landonorris: BEST GF EVERRRRR

↳ youruser: i can see you commenting

↳ youruser: stop drinking

↳ user12: called out

user13: they're so cute

↳ user14: prob not gonna last much longer

liked by user15, user16, and 8,129 others

ln4fan: lando spotted out shopping! allegedly seen at a jewelry store....

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landonorris: MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM MR. NORRIS AND SOON-TO-BE MRS. NORRIS. haters get fucked.

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mclaren: congrats!!

carlossainz55: little lando is not so little anymore

maxfewtrell: thank god!!! thought she was going to say no

↳ landonorris: read my caption mate

↳ youruser: i would never say no

↳ user17: max is being messy lol

youruser: LOML AND CANNOT WAIT TO MARRY YOU

↳ landonorris: will be the best day of my life

martingarrix: photo creds to me!

[hischierslovergirl]

G'mornin'! I just saw your post and I want to say it's always warming seeing someone getting back into writing!! And so please can I request:

Luke Hughes with "the first initial kiss being a peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one" + "I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

Have a lovely day and take your time, no rush <33

Thank you so much for requesting and for your encouragement xx. This turned a bit longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy!

Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, your car decided to show you just how bad it could get. You’d already had a long and crappy shift of dealing with handsy old men, your manager and coworkers were seemingly fighting to see who could piss you off the most, you had spilled a red colored drink on your white top, and now you had to deal with whatever problem your car has now. Needless to say, you were over it.

Members of the club you worked at passed you by without even a simple glance in your direction as you stood there with frustrated tears welling in your eyes, phone to your ear as you tried to get a hold of anyone. Your hopes of someone coming to your rescue dwindled with each unanswered call until you had officially given up. You sank to the ground, knees pulled to your chest and back pressed against your car as you let out a sigh of defeat.

“Hey,” You heard a familiar voice call out.

You slowly lifted your head up from its spot between your knees and your gaze landed on Luke, one of the guys you grew friendly with during his many trips to the golf course. Though, truthfully, you had always been a bit more than friendly with him on occasion, always throwing subtle flirty remarks his way that he would bashfully return. He was a little on the shyer side than most of the guys you encountered at work, but you liked it. You liked him.

“Hi, Luke,” You weakly smiled at him, hoping the sun had set enough that he couldn’t make out the small streaks of mascara underneath your eyes.

“Is everything okay,” He carefully asks, taking a few steps closer to you with his hands shoved into his pockets, “I thought your shift was over a few hours ago?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he remembered you always got off at three on Tuesdays, but it still made your chest warm.

“It was,” You confirm, your eyes flickering to his usual group of rambunctious friends a few feet away from him before finding Luke again, “My car isn’t starting, and I can’t seem to find anyone to come pick me up, so I’m stuck here until my parents get back from the city in a few hours.”

“A few hours,” Luke lets out in disbelief before he shakes his head, his curls bouncing around in disarray, “Absolutely not. I can take you home. You’re not waiting out here for hours.”

“Luke, no,” You stressed, finally rising to your feet so you’re closer to eye level with him, though he still has quite a few inches on you, “I can handle waiting a bit longer. It’s okay. Plus, it’s way out of your way.”

A fact you knew courtesy of the time Jack had invited you to a party they had sometime last summer. A party that you left early because of the multitude of girls hoarding the one person you had gone there for.

“Doesn’t matter,” He stubbornly stands his ground, hesitantly taking a step towards you, “I’ll give you a ride, okay? Don’t worry. Making sure you get home safe will never be out of my way.”

Luke didn’t take no for an answer, and that was exactly how you ended up in seat of his expensive car with his music softly playing in the background. You had never been alone with Luke before, let alone in such a confined space, and it made you nervous. Any of the usual teasing and flirtatious remarks you would throw his way were left in the parking lot of the country club, only awkward casual conversation falling from your mouth now.

Luke kept stumbling over his words, occasionally veering off into a rant of sorts whenever certain things were brought up, and it made a smile twitch at your lips. After a few minutes he would realize that he had been talking far too long, though you didn’t mind, and he would mumble a bashful apology before directing the conversation into something different. By the time you were nearing your house, a bout of silence had fallen over the two of you and you watched everything flashed by.

“This is the one,” You pointed to the house on the right side of the street, “You can just drop me off at the end. I can walk the rest of the way.”

Luke brought his car to a stop right in front of your house, quickly throwing it into gear and grabbing the key before he was darting out of his seat. You watched him with furrowed brows and curious eyes as he jogged to the passenger door before carefully tugging it open. He was sporting a shy, timid smile, his hand grasping at the frame of the car as he patiently waited for you.

“Thank you,” You sheepishly mumble, hugging your bag to your side as you slip out of the seat.

“Of course,” He clears his throat, awkwardly shifting on his feet, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

Luke walked close enough to you that his hand kept brushing your arm, making warmth spread up your neck and to your cheeks as you kept your gaze on the ground in front of you. Once you were standing in front of the door, you finally turned to face Luke and you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked under the warm porch light. His features were soft and delicate, his curls framed his face in a way that made your mind run rampant with the idea of running your hands through them.

“Thank you, again,” You swallow thickly, “For taking me home. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” He nods, and you swear his eyes drift down to your lips, “It’s the least I can do after all the gatorade’s you supply for me and the boys.”

His joke brings a quiet giggle out of you as you playfully shake your head, “I definitely make sure to keep my cart stocked when I know you guys are coming. Though I can never seem to have enough for Jack.”

“Yeah, he throws them back like they’re going to disappear,” He chuckles, his lips tugging upwards into a smile.

“I believe that,” You airily chuckle, your gaze quickly darting to his mouth before looking away, “Well, I’m sure you probably have better things to do tonight, but I really do appreciate you.”

You hastily stand on your toes to place a small and delicate kiss on his cheek, your eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment until you were flat on your feet again. When you meet Luke’s eyes again, there was a certain glint to his eyes that made you nervous, but he gave you no time to dwell on it before he was surging forward and slamming his lips on your own. Your reaction was instantaneous, your bag falling from your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck and you kiss him back with everything you had in you.

Luke’s hands found purchase on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as he brings you further into his chest. His mouth is moving against yours, unyielding and fueled by months of suppressed feelings as you lose yourself in the moment. It felt like the two of you were connected for hours when you regrettably pull away from him to catch your breath, his hands sliding to the small of your back to keep you close to him.

“I’m sorry,” He eventually breathes out, his chest heaving against you, “I just— Um, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time and I—”

“Luke,” You tenderly cut him off, peering up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been thinking about that for a long time, honestly. Actually, I was wondering if we could do it again sometime?”

[cabbagestrand]

oh, to be taken care of

[imaginespazzi]

Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas) 

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it. 

Until now. 

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi. 

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life. 

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests. 

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest. 

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama. 

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too. 

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need  something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet. 

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything. 

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at. 

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose. 

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely. 

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily. 

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues. 

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum. 

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps. 

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first. 

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck. 

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much. 

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want. 

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew. 

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls. 

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks. 

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream. 

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways. 

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt. 

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead. 

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags. 

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt. 

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face. 

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors. 

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her. 

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi. 

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde. 

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.” 

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms. 

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing,  “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them. 

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can. 

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing. 

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it. 

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth. 

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago. 

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing. 

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach. 

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual. 

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever. 

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly. 

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing. 

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone. 

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly. 

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning. 

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing. 

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in. 

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery. 

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips. 

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep  -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply. 

Good morning Paigey <3 

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply. 

I miss you baby. 

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead. 

I love you Paige. 

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her. 

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream. 

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return. 

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette. 

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch. 

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief. 

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts. 

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone. 

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips. 

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest. 

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still. 

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?” 

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight. 

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend. 

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree) 

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder. 

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer-  and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it. 

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt. 

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head. 

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy. 

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder. 

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips. 

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.  

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless. 

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other. 

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender. 

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot. 

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them. 

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year. 

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you) 

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids. 

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek. 

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever. 

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it. 

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents. 

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister. 

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder. 

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is. 

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is. 

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask. 

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one. 

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands. 

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest. 

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart. 

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves. 

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi  turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing. 

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols. 

“Open it,” Azzi says softly. 

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands. 

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding. 

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words. 

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture  “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.” 

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. 

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

[bananapeeeeellssss]

I was reading a bunch of DPXDC stuff on here and AO3 with Ghost King Danny, and thinking about how people wrote when he spoke if it wasn’t hear-able to human ears or a different languages and that got me thinking - what would that sound like? Then my brain did some braining and thought - wouldn’t it be cool if it was just all languages overlapping? Like “Who goes there” in English, but at the same time every known and unknown language (or just the dead ones, since he *is* the Ghost King) at the exact same time with the translation. That would support the whole ‘super hard/impossible to translate’ because it could change every time depending on what languages or sounds are enunciated more.

Add in the fact that logically, the vast majority of gods would not just speak the language you know or maybe even the most commonly used, this kinda makes sense? Well, not really, but who cares. As a wise author once stated, “canon is a sandbox and I am the lightning which will shape it to glass” or smth like that. Also, anyone who dies instinctively knows how to understand the language(s) so they can understand their king (as Ghosts). So now I’m just imagining a situation like this (forgive me, I don’t know how to bold or italics or anything on tumblr I’m new):

Constantine, furiously flipping through translations book after translation book of paranormal languages and not finding anything on God speak: “Bloody hell, where is it!”

Danny, who just got summoned by some cult/to save the world/for some other reason and has crazy social anxiety but needs some kind of ‘sacrifice’ to make the summoning legal or else do a bunch of paperwork, thinking: *Can I just ask for a sacrifice? Would that be rude?*

Danny, Awkwardly: “I need a sacrifice before I can leave. Just like a rock will do. I don’t like paperwork.”

Constantine, attempting to translate, gesturing vaguely and panicked as he continue to flip through book after book: “It’s saying that it needs a sacrifice in Kevlar**, something about a crystal, and Korea?*** I think it wants Black Bat as a sacrifice?

Jason: *Cackling* How did you translate that so badly?

**Sacrifice in Hmong is Kev txi

***Paperwork in Acoli is “Karatac”, also I know Cass is Chinese not Korean but for the sake of this Constantine does not and/or assumes that the Ghost King can’t tell

Or, Jason randomly discovering that he can understand any language now. Just not speak it.

In conclusion, I have now decided that whenever a god speaks it is representative of all those who have ever entered their domain or presence, and because mortals are not capable of understanding the complexities and beauties of language, they will never understand.

…crap, now I want to write a tragedy or essay or poem or something about the symbolism

TLDR: God language is just all languages overlapping at once, scenario, and author having a mental breakdown over ELA and this being much longer than expected

[jaem4eva]

Merry Christmas Indeed

© jaem4eva december 2024

pairing & wc - jeno x reader & 1.3k

genre - christmas au, smut (minors dni)

summary - It's Christmas Eve and when better to give Jeno an early Christmas present!

authors note - hey!! long time no see! so I wrote this as part of a cute secret santa that was hosted by @leejenowrld and surprise! im your secret santa. I hope you enjoy this and happy holidays everyone ❤️

As the snow fell outside, blanketing the world in a white blanket, there was no place you'd rather be than nestled on the couch with Jeno. It was Christmas Eve, and the two of you were wrapped in blankets, cups of hot cocoa nearby, lazily flicking through your favorite holiday specials. 

The light glow of the Christmas tree filled and casted a warm golden hue in the cozy living room. Jeno's hand traced gentle circles on your thigh, the soft weight of his touch sending a sense of calm through your entire body. You leaned into him, your fingers lacing with his as you rested your head against his shoulder.

"Are you sure it’s fine that you’re here with me instead of with your parents?" you asked, voice laced with concern as you stole a glance at him. You could tell he was fully at ease, but that small, lingering worry was hard to shake. Usually he spent Christmas with his mom and dad but tonight he was here and you hated the thought of keeping him away from his family.

Jeno smiled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that instantly put your mind at ease. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “My parents don’t mind anyway, they would rather me be here while they prepare for tomorrow’s party.” 

You flushed slightly, a warmth spreading through your chest. It wasn’t the first time he'd said something like that, but hearing it now especially on Christmas Eve felt like the sweetest thing in the world.

"I just want everything to be perfect," you murmured, taking a slow sip from your mug. Jeno chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. “It already is,” he whispered. “As long as I’m with you, Christmas is perfect.” 

You smiled, your heart swelling with the kind of happiness that only Christmas and moments like this could bring. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, the world felt as if it had stopped for a while, just for the two of you.

“You know I could give an early Christmas present…” you started trailing off as an idea popped in your head. Maybe it was the domestically of it all or the fact that the feeling of him caressing your thigh was turning you on. 

You turned to face him fully, your gaze locking onto his as you tried to gauge his reaction. The dim light of the room created a cozy but charged atmosphere, heightening the tension between you.

He raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Oh? What exactly do you have in mind?” His hand lingered a moment longer on your thigh, sending shivers of excitement coursing through you.

You leaned in closer, nearly whispering, “Something a little fun for you?” You brought your lips up to his neck, peppering it softly. The warmth of your breath made him shiver, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as he embraced the sensation of your kisses. Each gentle touch seemed to send a ripple of electricity coursing through him, igniting a familiar longing.

He reached up, threading his fingers through your hair, encouraging you to continue while simultaneously urging himself closer to you. “You definitely know how to make a night memorable,” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation.

You pulled back slightly, locking eyes with him, a playful spark dancing in your gaze. “I just really want to show you how much I appreciate you,” you said softly, your voice laced with warmth and sincerity. 

Feeling emboldened, you let your fingers glide down his chest, allowing the tips of your nails to lightly trace the defined lines of his abs, marveling at the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. The warmth of his skin sent a thrill through you, and you could see the flicker of anticipation in his eyes as you hovered just above the waistband of his sweats. 

With a teasing smile, you leaned in closer, letting the distance between you vanish, your breath mingling with his. “You do so much for me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “and I want you to know just how much that means to me.” 

You could feel the soft thud of his heartbeat quicken at your words, and the tension in the air thickened, swirling around you like a seductive fog. Your heart raced as you let your hand linger at the band of his sweats, the tantalizing moment stretching out deliciously as you savored his reaction. Palming his now hard on you could see his thoughts through his eyes as he muttered a small curse under his breath. 

“Can I show you?” you asked, your gaze never wavering from his, the playful mischief in your eyes now giving way to a deeper, almost electric connection. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you caught in a bubble of intimacy, vulnerability, and unspoken desire.

You then moved your hand into his boxers pulling him out softly as you made circles on his tip spreading his precum to get him worked up a bit more. He shuddered slightly due to the sensitivity, a small smirk forming on your face as you got on your knees in front of him. 

Locking eyes you started pumping your fist up and down slowly before giving the tip of his cock a few small kitten licks, taking the head between your lips. Lightly sucking on it you swirled around your tongue, noticing the way his breathing became heavier. “Baby…” he muttered out, restraining himself from thrusting his hips all the way into your mouth. 

His small sounds only encouraged you to go further, taking as much as you could and using your hands to wrap around what you could. Moving your mouth on him, you went slow as to tease him a bit. Once you felt him twitch in your mouth you started to go faster really working him as you looked up to lock eyes with him.

“You’re so good at that” he breathed out running his hand over your hair, grabbing it to guide you as you continued to move up and down his cock. 

Jeno started to move his hips up now fucking your throat making you slightly gag. Saliva was now dripping out the sides of your mouth while tears began to prick your eyes but you couldn’t even focus on that, determined to get him to finish. 

“Fuck I’m so close” he said throwing his head back keeping his hand on the back of your head pushing you all the way down on him. Choking on his cock you pulled back catching your breath still stroking him. The messy hair, dilated pupils, and small tears on your face made Jeno twitch in your hands. Smirking, you ran your tongue from his base to the tip swirling it at the top not stopping your hand. 

Immediately you took him down your throat again, working faster than you were before. Jeno’s moans filled your ears as you sucked harder bringing him to the edge. His jaw goes slack as he finally reaches his climax, holding your head down as you swallow all of his cum. Finally letting go you pull off of him licking your lips while gently stroking him to help him finish riding his high. 

“Merry Christmas love” you said sweetly getting up before giving him a kiss on the lips. Grabbing your thighs Jeno had stood to pick you up, deepening the kiss, only disconnecting to whisper an ‘I love you’ against your lips as he brought you to your shared bedroom.

Oh what a Merry Christmas indeed.

[solaceseven]

Ashes of Tomorrow Pt. 2

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

→ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna x fem!reader

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

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

→ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t your room.

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

Why am I here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He looks like you,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fork froze mid-air. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room fell silent for half a beat.

Then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze mid-step, your heart stuttering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come look,” you urged, stepping aside.

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

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

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

“Not bad,” he murmured, his tone low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all he needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why green?”

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

He hummed thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

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

“Red,” he said without hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely not,” Shoko said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sukuna…” you began, your voice faltering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same,” Nanami added, adjusting his glasses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sukuna, what—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sukuna…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t even look up. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Gojo whined, reaching out as if to grab it.

Without hesitation, Shoko raised her hand and smacked his away. “Touch it, and you lose that hand.”

Gojo gasped theatrically, clutching his heart. “How could you be so cruel?”

“You have so much food in your bag,” Shoko deadpanned, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Had,” Gojo corrected, dramatically pointing at Sukuna. “Until he decided to lighten my load.”

Sukuna, who had been observing the exchange with mild amusement, crossed his arms. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead from exhaustion. You packed like the trip was going to take a month.”

The group erupted into quiet laughter, the tension lifting as the banter rippled through the clearing. Even Sukuna’s lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile.

Shoko smirked, finally taking a bite of her snack. Then, with a small, unexpected gesture, she held it out to Gojo. “Here.”

Gojo’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “I knew you had a heart, Shoko!” He took a bite happily, earning an exasperated sigh from her.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she muttered, shaking her head, but there was a faint smile on her lips.

The lighthearted moment settled over the group, easing some of the tension from the day. For a fleeting second, it almost felt normal—like the world outside these woods wasn’t crumbling, like you were all just friends on a casual outing.

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

By the time the sun began to set, Nanami led the group to an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of what looked like a small, ruined town.

“This is as far as we go tonight,” Nanami said as he surveyed the area. “We’ll set up here, take turns on watch.”

Geto and Gojo took the lead, entering the gas station first to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long before they gave the all-clear, allowing the rest of the group to enter. The gas station was grimy and smelled faintly of mildew, but it was shelter—four walls, a roof, and a place to sleep that wasn’t exposed to the elements.

Sukuna himself would stand guard outside, taking first watch as always.

Inside, the group began settling in. Shoko found some makeshift blankets in the backroom, handing them out to whoever needed them, while Nanami quietly discussed the watch schedule with Geto. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but there was a subtle undertone of relief in having made it through another day.

You dropped your pack in a corner and set up a small space to sleep, but your thoughts remained on Sukuna. Even as the group moved about the room, settling into their makeshift beds, your focus lingered on the door. You couldn’t relax—not entirely—knowing Sukuna was out there, keeping watch alone.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the gas station had fallen silent, that you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Sukuna’s tall silhouette appeared at the doorway, the moonlight casting a faint glow on his face as he entered. His movements were quiet, deliberate, though the weariness in his frame was impossible to miss.

The moment you saw him, you didn’t hesitate. Sitting up from your spot, you reached for him, your voice soft as you beckoned him closer. “Come here.”

Without a word, Sukuna dropped down beside you, settling himself against the wall with a low, tired sigh. You didn’t give him a chance to protest or brush off his exhaustion. Instead, you immediately nestled into his side, tucking yourself gently against him.

“Get some rest,” you murmured, your voice tender as you rested your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it.”

Sukuna didn’t resist. His arm came up to wrap around you, pulling you closer as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers traced absent patterns against your arm, his sharp eyes flickering briefly toward the others to ensure everything was as it should be. Only then did he allow himself to relax.

The world outside was cruel and unpredictable, but here, wrapped in the quiet comfort of Sukuna’s warmth, it felt just a little safer. His presence grounded you, a reminder that no matter what the next day brought, you’d face it together.

For now, in this fleeting moment of peace, it was enough.

The group rose with the first light of dawn, the orange-pink hues of the sunrise spilling through the broken windows of the gas station. Nanami was already awake, his map spread out on the counter as he quietly calculated their next steps. Geto leaned over his shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, occasionally pointing out alternate routes. Shoko sat cross-legged on a worn-out chair, sipping something lukewarm from a tin cup, her med kit already packed and resting by her feet. Meanwhile, Gojo lounged nearby, fiddling with a piece of twine he’d found, trying (and failing) to fashion it into a slingshot, much to his own amusement.

Sukuna was the last to wake, but not on his own. You were still half-asleep yourself, head resting on his shoulder after a night of shared warmth. He hadn’t stirred once during the night, his even breathing a steady comfort against the chaos outside. As you blinked yourself awake, the golden light spilling into the room illuminated his face, softened by sleep in a way you rarely got to see.

Your gaze lingered for a moment, guilt settling in your chest. He had been carrying so much—keeping watch, leading, protecting. He needed the rest more than anyone. But the day was calling, and you knew the group couldn’t wait much longer.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and placed a gentle hand on his stomach, giving him a soft shake. “Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of the others. “It’s time to go.”

His brows furrowed slightly at first, his body instinctively resisting the pull of consciousness. But after a moment, his crimson eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a hazy focus. For a second, he didn’t say anything, just blinked at you as if grounding himself in the moment.

Then, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Alright.”

You offered him a soft smile, pulling back to give him space to sit up. He rolled his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair before rising to his feet with practiced ease. Around you, the rest of the group was already moving with purpose—packing, checking gear, and preparing for the day ahead. Sukuna, however, lingered a moment, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you again.

“Let’s get moving,” he said quietly, his tone steady but gentle as he reached for his pack. And with that, the day began, the group falling into rhythm once more under Sukuna’s watchful guidance.

By the time the sun fully crept over the horizon, the group was packed and moving again. The weight of the journey was palpable, and everyone was more focused as the hours stretched on. The empty highways gradually gave way to rural roads lined with skeletal trees and patches of wild grass, their uneven crunch underfoot the only consistent sound.

By midday, the group came across an abandoned farmhouse nestled at the edge of a sprawling field. The structure was mostly intact—shattered windows and weather-worn wood hinting at its age—but it was isolated and quiet, offering a moment of reprieve.

Geto and Gojo took the lead, sweeping the farmhouse to ensure it was clear. It didn’t take long for them to give the all-clear, and the group filed in. Sukuna remained just outside, his sharp gaze sweeping over the horizon as he stood guard.

“This will do,” Nanami said, surveying the inside of the house. “We’ll rest here for now.”

Inside, everyone quickly settled into their tasks. Shoko rummaged through a dusty kitchen drawer, unearthing an old, rusted first-aid kit with a satisfied huff, while Gojo poked around the pantry in search of something edible.

You found yourself brushing cobwebs off the mantle of a fireplace, eyes flitting to the window every so often. Sukuna’s presence just beyond the porch felt like a tether, grounding you even as the day’s tension lingered in your chest.

Sukuna stepped inside shortly after, his heavy boots creaking against the old wooden floor. He walked straight to you, his brow furrowed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You turned to him, offering a small smile. “You’ve asked me that a lot today.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Can’t help it. You’ve got a knack for finding trouble.”

You scoffed, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’ll remind you I’ve saved your ass a few times now.”

Before Sukuna could respond, distant footsteps reached your ears, and the air in the room shifted. Instantly, everyone stilled, their movements halted as their senses sharpened. Sukuna’s hand instinctively went to his weapon, his crimson eyes narrowing as he exchanged a glance with Geto.

The group moved quickly, gathering near the front of the house with weapons drawn. The footsteps grew louder, and it wasn’t long before figures appeared on the horizon—four or five, their postures tense, weapons glinting faintly in the sunlight.

“Humans,” Geto murmured, his voice barely audible.

“That doesn’t mean friendly,” Nanami said, his jaw tight as he positioned himself near the door.

The figures stopped about twenty feet from the house, one of them stepping forward and raising a hand in what seemed to be a gesture of peace. “We don’t want trouble,” the man called out. “Just looking for supplies.”

“Keep moving,” Sukuna barked, stepping forward onto the porch. His voice was sharp, commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

The man hesitated, glancing back at his group. “Look, we’re not here to—”

“Don’t take another step,” Sukuna cut him off, his weapon glinting in the faint light as he raised it slightly. “I’m not saying it again.”

The tension in the air was electric, every muscle in your body coiled as the strangers deliberated. Finally, after a long pause, the man nodded. “Alright. We’re leaving.”

The group of strangers retreated, their movements stiff and reluctant, but they didn’t look back. Sukuna stayed on the porch, watching them until they disappeared completely from sight. Only then did he lower his weapon and step back inside.

You were waiting for him, your arms crossed but your expression soft. “You didn’t have to be so scary, you know.”

Sukuna shot you a look, his crimson eyes still blazing. “You think I’m going to take chances? Especially with you around?”

Your breath caught at the quiet intensity in his words. He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours, and you felt the weight of his protectiveness settle between you.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice quieter now. “I’m not losing you.”

The raw vulnerability in his tone made your chest tighten, and you reached out, slipping your hand into his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, you replied, “You’re not losing me. Not now, not ever.”

His grip tightened briefly before he nodded, releasing a small, relieved exhale. “Let’s secure this place,” he said, his voice gruff but softer now.

As you followed him through the farmhouse, the tension from earlier began to fade. Sukuna’s steady presence at your side reminded you that, no matter what this world threw at you, you wouldn’t face it alone.

As night fell, the group gathered in the living room around a small fire crackling in the fireplace. Its warm glow danced on the walls, softening the room’s grim edges. Gojo, never one to let a heavy mood linger, leaned back against the wall with his usual smug grin.

“Well,” he began, flicking a glance at Sukuna, “I’d say we handled that pretty well. Didn’t even need to waste any ammo. Nice job, boss.” He gave an exaggerated wink, clearly fishing for a reaction.

Sukuna ignored him entirely, his crimson eyes fixed on the fire, his arm resting casually on the back of the couch where you sat perched. His body angled slightly toward you, his presence steady and grounding.

Shoko rolled her eyes but smirked faintly as she leaned back against the wall. “Let’s just hope they don’t come back with reinforcements.”

“They won’t,” Sukuna stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The finality of his words seemed to settle the matter.

Nanami, seated at the far end of the room, was hunched over the map, his brow furrowed in thought. Geto stood beside him, gesturing to something on the paper. Their low murmurs filled the lulls in conversation as they discussed potential routes and what lay ahead.

“Tomorrow’s another early start,” Nanami announced eventually, his sharp gaze lifting to sweep over the group. “The farmhouse is a good stop, but it’s too exposed. We’ll need to move at first light.”

There were murmurs of agreement, but the tension began to ease as the conversation shifted.

Geto launched into an outrageous story about a prank war between all of them during their college days. The schemes were both elaborate and ridiculous: Shoko’s chair was saran-wrapped until she couldn’t use it, Nanami’s carefully organized notes were swapped out for pages covered in absurd doodles, and Sukuna’s jacket had been rigged to release an explosion of glitter when he grabbed it, leaving him fuming as everyone else howled with laughter.

Shoko’s revenge was methodical, hiding alarm clocks throughout their dorm to blare at odd hours, while Nanami’s retaliation was subtle yet sharp—he salted Gojo’s coffee just before an important presentation, leaving Gojo spluttering in front of the class. Even Sukuna had joined in, stuffing Shoko’s favorite pastries with wasabi, prompting days of silent glares and thinly veiled threats.

The prank war culminated in chaos when Gojo and Geto teamed up to flip Sukuna’s entire dorm room upside down, duct-taping the furniture to the ceiling in a masterpiece that left the rest of the group cackling while Sukuna plotted revenge.

Gojo was now sprawled out on the floor, laughing so hard he was nearly gasping for air, his hand slapping the ground in a steady rhythm. Shoko, her head tilted back against the wall, groaned dramatically, clearly remembering the chaos of those days, but the faint, amused smirk on her face betrayed her fondness for the memories. Nanami let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head as he thought back to the sheer absurdity of being caught in the crossfire so many times, his ever-composed demeanor no match for the group’s relentless antics.

The laughter was infectious, spreading through the room like wildfire. Sukuna, usually composed and stoic, let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his sharp features softening as his hand briefly covered his face in an attempt to smother the sound. It was so unexpected, so unguarded, that you couldn’t help but laugh even harder, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as warmth bloomed in your chest.

Without thinking, you leaned into Sukuna, seeking the comfort of his solid presence. His arm slipped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as though it were second nature. The heat of the fire and the gentle weight of his arm wrapped around you created a cocoon of warmth that made the outside world feel like a distant memory.

As the laughter began to fade and the fire’s crackles filled the quiet room, Sukuna’s hold on you didn’t waver. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm, a subconscious gesture that spoke of comfort and connection. You tilted your head slightly, catching the last remnants of his rare smile before his features returned to their usual sharp focus.

Eventually, the fire burned low, and the group began to settle down for the night. Blankets and makeshift beds were laid out across the living room and adjoining rooms, everyone finding their place to rest. You grabbed a blanket of your own, your eyes scanning the room before slipping upstairs to check for anything salvageable.

In one of the smaller bedrooms, you found it—a dusty but intact bedframe with a mattress. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Smiling to yourself, you headed back downstairs.

You approached Sukuna, who was still seated on the couch, watching the group with his usual keen intensity. Gently, you touched his arm to catch his attention.

“Come with me,” you said softly, motioning toward the stairs.

He raised a brow but followed without a word, his broad frame silent as he ascended behind you. When you led him into the small room and gestured toward the bed, his expression shifted from curiosity to something almost incredulous.

“What is this?” he asked, his tone edged with confusion.

You smiled, nudging him toward the bed. “You deserve a bed. It’s not much, but it’s better than the floor.”

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his crimson eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze flicked to the bed, and he huffed a quiet breath, the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You shrugged, your grin widening as you moved to drape the blanket over the mattress. “Maybe.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work. There was something softer in his expression now—an almost reluctant gratitude that he didn’t voice, but you could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed.

When you finished, you turned back to him and patted the edge of the bed. “Go on. You need rest more than anyone.”

He rolled his eyes but stepped forward, sitting heavily on the mattress. The bed creaked faintly under his weight, but it held firm. With a quiet sigh, Sukuna leaned back, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying too.”

It wasn’t a question, and you didn’t argue. Instead, you climbed onto the bed beside him, settling under the blanket as he lay back with one arm behind his head. The bed was small, and the proximity sent a soft warmth blooming in your chest.

For a while, the two of you lay in comfortable silence, the faint creaks of the old house and the distant chirping of crickets the only sounds. Then Sukuna turned his head slightly, his gaze finding yours in the dim light.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You deserve the bed more than me.”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Someone has to look out for you too.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering across his features. Without a word, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The tender gesture made your chest ache in the best way.

“I don’t think I say it enough,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was laying down armor he rarely took off. “But you mean a lot to me.”

Your chest swelled with warmth, and a soft, happy laugh escaped your lips as you tilted closer. “You’ve been saying it in your own way,” you whispered, your nose brushing against his. “But I don’t mind hearing it out loud.”

His mouth curved into a faint, lopsided smirk, but the look in his eyes was nothing but earnest. “I guess I could get used to saying it,” he muttered, his tone softer now, almost teasing.

You grinned, your hand resting lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Good,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

Sukuna didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed you—a slow, deliberate kiss that felt like both a promise and a confession. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“Don’t ever forget it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that made your chest tighten in the best way.

As you settled into the circle of his arms, his hand resting securely on your waist, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a peaceful calm. With Sukuna’s quiet strength wrapped around you, the world outside felt just a little less daunting.

The group was already gathered in the living room, their gear stacked neatly by the door. The air was tense but focused, each person making final checks on their supplies. Shoko adjusted the strap on her med bag with practiced ease, while Geto leaned over the map spread out on the table, marking alternate routes and murmuring quietly with Nanami about possible contingencies.

As you and Sukuna entered, Shoko glanced up, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush of sleep still on your face. Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small piece of bread, handing it to you with a casual smirk before tossing another to Sukuna.

“You’re both going to need the energy,” she said simply, her tone as dry as ever but her gesture undeniably thoughtful.

“Thanks,” you murmured, smiling softly as you accepted the bread. Sukuna caught his piece easily, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment before taking a bite.

Nanami’s voice cut through the quiet hum of activity, bringing everyone to attention. “We need to move soon. The longer we wait, the harder this will be.”

The room stilled as Sukuna stepped forward, his commanding presence effortlessly drawing every gaze. His crimson eyes swept over the group, sharp and calculating. “You know the drill. We stick together—no splitting up unless it’s absolutely necessary. If we run into trouble, we fall back and regroup. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, the gravity of his words settling over the room. Shoko slung her med bag over her shoulder, and Geto folded the map with a decisive motion, tucking it into his pack.

“Let’s move,” Sukuna ordered, opening the door and stepping into the cool morning air. The sky was a pale wash of orange and blue, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. The crisp breeze carried a faint hint of dew and wild grass, a sharp contrast to the weight of the journey ahead.

The group moved in a tight formation, the familiar walls of the farmhouse fading behind you as the path stretched out into uneven terrain. The silence between everyone was broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional quiet murmur of conversation. Sukuna walked slightly ahead of you, his broad frame cutting a steady, reassuring figure against the morning light.

As the hours passed, the sun climbed higher, its warmth pressing down on the group as the path grew more overgrown with weeds and debris. Sukuna glanced over his shoulder every so often, his crimson eyes scanning for threats but always flicking briefly to you as if to make sure you were still close.

When the sun was high in the sky, he raised a hand, signaling a stop. “Break,” he said firmly, his voice carrying over the group. Everyone eased onto whatever flat surface they could find—tree stumps, boulders, patches of grass—and began sipping water and pulling out small rations.

Sukuna settled next to you, his knees brushing yours as he leaned back on his hands. His gaze lingered on you, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “You’re quiet today,” he remarked, his voice low and almost tentative.

You glanced at him, offering a small smile. “Just thinking. About what we’re leaving behind, and what’s ahead.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You worried?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “A little. It’s just… hard not knowing what we’ll find.”

His expression softened further, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his stoic exterior. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly, his voice steady and sure. “Together.”

The simplicity of his words, paired with the quiet strength in his tone, settled something in you. You leaned a little closer, letting your shoulder brush his as you whispered, “Thank you.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, but his presence remained a steady reassurance. When the break ended, he rose first, offering you a hand to help you up. The small gesture was unspoken but full of meaning, like so much of what he did.

As the group moved out again, you found yourself walking just a little closer to him, the weight of the journey ahead feeling a little lighter with his steady presence by your side.

As the group trudged along the overgrown road, Sukuna raised his hand in a silent command to stop. His deep voice cut through the quiet, steady and authoritative. “Five-minute break. Stay alert.”

Grateful for the pause, everyone settled into their own routines. Nanami leaned against a tree, unfurling the map to study the route ahead. Geto wandered a little further off, scouting the surroundings with a practiced eye. Shoko sat on a large rock, rummaging through her med kit and muttering to herself as she reorganized supplies. Meanwhile, Gojo flopped dramatically onto the ground, munching on a pilfered apple, his expression one of exaggerated exhaustion.

You dropped your pack with a relieved huff, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension. The weight had been nagging at you for the last stretch of the journey. Sukuna’s sharp eyes caught the movement immediately, and he crossed the short distance between you in a few long strides. Without a word, he stepped behind you and placed his hands firmly on your shoulders, his touch both surprising and steady.

“What are you—oh,” you started, but the words melted away as his thumbs pressed into the sore muscles at the base of your neck.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he worked at the tension in your shoulders. “You’re all knotted up. You’re gonna hurt yourself carrying all that weight.”

The relief was instant, and though you felt your cheeks flush, you couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped you. His hands were rough but careful, the perfect combination of firm and gentle. “I’m fine, really,” you said, though your voice betrayed how much you were enjoying it.

“Sure you are,” he replied dryly. “Fine enough to wince every time you move. You’re not hiding it very well, y’know.”

You huffed but didn’t argue. The truth was, it felt too good to tell him to stop. His hands moved expertly over your shoulders and down to your upper back, kneading away the tension like he’d done it a hundred times before. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief, which earned a quiet chuckle from him.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Sukuna teased, his tone lighter but still warm.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, glancing back at him. “You’re good at this.”

“Used to help my brother with this stuff,” he said casually, his hands never faltering. “He’d push himself too hard sometimes. Guess I got good at noticing when someone needs a break.”

The mention of his brother softened you, and you turned your head slightly to look at him more closely. His expression was calm, focused on what he was doing, but there was a tenderness in his touch that made your chest ache in the best way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, his eyes flicking down to yours. “Just don’t be stubborn about it next time.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no heat behind it. “You’re the one being stubborn right now.”

He grinned faintly. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s gonna be complaining tomorrow if I don’t fix this now.”

When he finally stepped back, you felt the loss of his warmth almost immediately. But then, Sukuna crouched down beside your pack, his hands already undoing the straps. “Let’s see what’s making this so damn heavy,” he muttered.

“You don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a look that clearly said he wasn’t asking.

He pulled out a sweatshirt first, shaking his head. “You don’t need this.”

Next, a gardening book. “Or this.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he worked with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Then, he paused, holding up a small deck of playing cards. His crimson eyes flicked to yours, one brow arching in disbelief. You recognized it instantly as the deck he’d confiscated from Gojo’s overstuffed bag before the trip.

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone hovering between incredulity and teasing.

You winced, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “Gojo’s good at convincing,” you admitted.

Sukuna snorted, shaking his head as he slipped the cards into the pile of discarded items. “You’ve been spending too much time with him. He’s rubbing off on you.”

“You’re just mad he beat you at cards last week,” you teased, unable to resist.

His eyes narrowed playfully, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you carry his bag next time.”

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as his teasing melted into something warmer, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer. Then he stepped back, picking up your pack with ease.

“I’ll carry this for a bit,” he said, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sukuna, I can—”

“No arguments,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “You’re no good to me if you’re falling behind because of a sore shoulder.”

You sighed, though the smile on your face betrayed how much his care meant to you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re lucky I’m nice,” he quipped, his smirk turning playful as he gestured for the group to start moving again.

As you fell into step beside him, his steady presence made the long road ahead feel just a little easier to face. Moments like this reminded you that even in the chaos, there were still moments of warmth, humor, and quiet care worth holding onto.

The night was a shroud of darkness, the faint light of the crescent moon barely piercing the dense canopy above. The group moved cautiously along the narrow forest path, the distant rustle of leaves and eerie stillness pressing on your senses like a vice. Every step felt like a gamble, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

Then, a distant but unmistakable sound shattered the stillness—a guttural moan carried by the wind, followed by the crunch of twigs snapping underfoot. It was faint at first, almost like a trick of the mind, but as it grew louder, there was no mistaking what it was.

Your pulse spiked. Ahead, Sukuna’s posture stiffened, his head snapping toward the sound. The groans multiplied, joined by the sickening squelch of feet dragging through the underbrush. The horde wasn’t just nearby—they were closing in.

Before anyone could react, they appeared. Shadows surged from the trees, pale, rotting faces catching the faint moonlight as their guttural snarls grew louder. Zombies. Dozens of them.

The group sprang into action, weapons drawn with the efficiency of survival instincts honed over months of living on the edge. You unsheathed your knife, your heart pounding as you fell into position beside Sukuna.

The undead swarmed like a wave, their twisted hands clawing at the air. Sukuna didn’t hesitate, his blade slashing through the nearest zombie with precision and power. Beside him, you dodged a lunging creature, your knife plunging into its temple with a sickening crunch.

Geto’s crowbar swung in a brutal arc, caving in the skull of a zombie while Gojo’s machete carved through the air with deadly speed. Shoko and Nanami worked seamlessly, clearing a path as they fought back-to-back.

But the numbers were overwhelming. For every zombie that fell, another seemed to emerge from the shadows, their grotesque forms relentless in their pursuit.

You barely had time to breathe as you sidestepped another attacker, its rancid breath brushing your face before you drove your knife upward into its jaw. The creature collapsed, but the sound of groaning and snapping branches told you there were more coming.

“They’re everywhere!” Shoko yelled, her voice strained as she swung her blade at an advancing zombie.

Nanami glanced around, his movements calculated as he crushed another skull. “We need to split—regroup later! We can’t hold them here!”

“No!” Sukuna snarled, his voice sharp as his knife slashed through another undead. “We stay together!”

“They’ll overrun us!” Nanami countered, his tone resolute even as his weapon struck another foe. “We regroup in two hours—this is the only chance!”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes flicked to you for a split second, hesitation flashing across his face before he relented. “Fine! Two hours, back here!”

The group split in a blur of motion, each pair darting in a different direction through the trees. Gojo and Geto broke off down one path, their movements fluid and efficient as they covered each other. Nanami grabbed Shoko’s arm, pulling her in the opposite direction as they vanished into the trees.

You barely had time to react before Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip strong and unwavering as he pulled you forward. “Stay with me,” he growled, his voice low and urgent.

The two of you bolted into the forest, the snarls and groans of the undead growing louder behind you. Branches whipped at your face and arms, but you didn’t dare slow down. Sukuna’s hand was your lifeline, anchoring you as the world descended into chaos.

“Don’t fall behind,” he said, his tone sharp but protective.

“I’m not planning to!” you shot back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you kept pace with him.

The forest seemed endless, each step a fight against the relentless pursuit of the horde. The stench of decay clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You could hear the zombies crashing through the underbrush, their grotesque snarls echoing around you.

Sukuna pulled you sharply to the right, ducking under a low-hanging branch as he led you into a dense thicket. “Here!” he hissed, crouching behind a fallen tree and pulling you down beside him.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your knife still gripped tightly in your hand. Sukuna peered over the edge of the log, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness. The groans of the undead grew louder, the shadows shifting as the horde moved closer.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Sukuna’s hand tightened around yours, his grip grounding you as the creatures came into view.

He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “We’ll move when they pass. Stay quiet.”

You nodded, your pulse racing as you tried to steady your breathing. The zombies stumbled past, their rotting forms just feet away. The smell was overwhelming, and you fought the urge to gag as one of them paused, its hollow eyes scanning the area.

After a few tense moments, Sukuna let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly, though his crimson eyes still flicked to the shadows. He turned to you, the tight line of his jaw easing only as his gaze found yours.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but unshakable, a thin thread of worry laced beneath the surface.

You nodded, though your chest heaved from the adrenaline still surging through your veins. “Yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but the smear of blood streaking across his cheek and the jagged tear in his sleeve betrayed his words.

Your gaze dropped to the shallow cut on his arm. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing your fingers gently against it. “You’re hurt,” you said, your voice soft, concern cracking through your composure.

“It’s nothing,” Sukuna replied, his tone softening at the look in your eyes. But before he could reassure you further, the air around you changed.

The faint rustle of leaves exploded into chaos as snarls and guttural growls pierced the night. Heavy footsteps tore through the underbrush, and the trees seemed to shift and tremble as two zombies burst into view, their grotesque forms lurching toward you like predators zeroing in on prey.

Sukuna’s expression darkened, and he grabbed your arm, jerking you behind him as the first zombie lunged. His blade flashed in the moonlight, cutting through the creature’s skull with a sickening crunch. Without missing a beat, he spun, driving his boot into the chest of the second, shoving it back against a tree. But instead of crumpling, the creature let out a guttural snarl and surged forward with surprising strength. Sukuna’s blade came up just in time to block its clawed hand, the force of the strike reverberating up his arm. He shoved it back with a growl, stepping into its space and aiming a slash at its throat, but the zombie twisted unnaturally, avoiding the blow and slashing back with sharp, decayed claws.

The faint rustle of leaves had barely begun to settle when a third zombie appeared, bursting from the shadows like a predator springing its trap. It was on you before you even realized it, its grotesque form moving with an unnatural speed. The sheer force of its charge slammed into you, knocking you off your feet and driving you into the cold, hard ground.

The world spun as you landed with a bone-jarring impact, the breath punched from your lungs. Before you could even process what had happened, the zombie was on you, its decayed face inches away, snarling and snapping its jagged teeth like a rabid animal. Instinct took over, and your arms shot up, locking against its shoulders as you strained to hold it back.

The weight of its body bore down on you like a crushing tide. Its claws raked at your arms, shredding fabric and skin alike as it fought to overpower you. Pain flared hot and sharp, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins pushed it to the back of your mind.

Your mind raced, panic clawing at every nerve as you tried to push it away. The knife—it had been in your hand. Where was it now?

Your eyes darted wildly, searching the dim forest floor. There—it lay just a few feet away, glinting faintly in the moonlight. Desperation flared in your chest, and you shifted one arm to reach for it, your fingers trembling as they scraped against the dirt.

Panic clawed at you as the zombie snarled again, its grotesque face lunging closer. Its teeth snapped wildly, its hot, fetid breath washing over your face, shoulders, and neck. Every inch of you screamed in terror, but you shoved back against its shoulders with all your strength, your muscles trembling under the strain.

The zombie's teeth snapped closer, so close you could feel the heat of its breath against your skin. Its claws dug deeper into your arms, ripping at your flesh as it pushed harder, forcing your back to arch painfully against the ground.

Your fingertips brushed the hilt of the knife, but it wasn’t enough. The zombie snarled louder, the sound drowning out your frantic gasps.

“Sukuna!” you screamed, the raw, desperate cry tearing from your throat.

“I’m coming!” his voice roared from somewhere in the chaos, but the zombie’s weight bore down on you, blocking out everything else.

Terror surged through you as the creature’s jagged teeth lunged toward your shoulder. With a final, desperate push, your hand closed around the hilt of the knife.

Adrenaline exploded through your veins as you swung upward with everything you had. The blade plunged beneath the zombie’s jaw, slicing through decayed flesh and bone, the impact reverberating up your arm.

The zombie convulsed, its body jerking violently before going still. Dead weight collapsed on top of you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare into the sky, gasping for air as your trembling hands released the knife.

The world blurred as you gasped for air, your chest heaving. The stars above seemed to spin, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at the sky. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, so loud it drowned out everything else.

Am I even alive?

Before the thought could settle, the crushing weight was ripped away. Sukuna’s hands gripped your shoulders, and in one swift motion, he pulled you to your feet. The sheer force of his movements sent a jolt through your body, grounding you in the present.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice a mix of fury and fear, his crimson eyes raking over you like he was afraid to find the answer.

You swayed slightly, your legs shaky beneath you, and his hands steadied you, his grip firm but not harsh.

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, dazed. Then you felt it—warm, wet, wrong.

Both of you froze, the world narrowing to the crimson stain blooming across your shoulder. Sukuna’s grip slackened, his hands trembling as his sharp, commanding gaze faltered. For the first time, the indomitable Sukuna looked powerless.

“No.” The denial came in a fractured whisper, as if spoken louder, it might shatter him entirely.

Your own hands trembled as you pressed them to the wound, your fingers slick with blood. The air caught in your throat as the weight of realization dawned. “Sukuna… I—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off, his voice biting yet unsteady. His crimson eyes darted to the wound, refusing to believe what he saw. “Just a scratch.”

“But what if it’s not?” you choked, tears slipping free as fear surged through you. “It only takes a minute, Sukuna—”

“Stop.” His hands latched onto your waist, his grip hard, desperate. “Don’t. Say. That.”

“You know it’s true.” Your voice cracked, splintering as the unspeakable hung between you like a death sentence.

“It’s been seconds!” he barked, shaking you slightly, his breath coming fast. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

You shook your head, the pulse in your ears drowning out everything but the countdown hammering in your mind. “You have to do it.”

His face went pale, his jaw locking. “What?”

“You have to kill me, Sukuna,” you whispered, your voice broken, pleading. “Before it’s too late.”

“No.” His denial came quick and brutal, a guttural snarl ripped from his chest. “Don’t you dare ask me for that.”

“Sukuna—”

“You won’t turn!” he shouted, his fury barely masking the crack of desperation in his voice. “It’s a cut. A goddamn cut!”

“But we don’t know!” you cried, your voice rising into a frantic pitch. “It only takes sixty seconds, and that thing—it was snapping at me! Its teeth were so close—”

“Stop!” he roared, his voice shattering the night air. “It didn’t bite you!”

“Twenty seconds,” you whimpered, your knees threatening to buckle. Panic clawed at you, its icy grip closing around your throat.

His hands fell to his sides, curling into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. His whole body shook as he struggled against the inevitability.

“Shut up!” His voice cracked, trembling with anguish. “You’re not—”

“Please!” you screamed, tears streaming freely now. “Sukuna, you have to save yourself! You have to do it! Please!”

“I CAN’T!” His voice erupted, a guttural cry of despair, raw and agonized. His entire body trembled as his hands reached for your face. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and erratic. “You don’t get to ask me this,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “I can’t—I can’t do it.”

“Thirty seconds.” The countdown fell like a hammer, each tick an agonizing reminder of what was slipping away.

Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—I don’t want to hurt you, Sukuna. I can’t… I can’t turn into one of them.”

“I’m begging you,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on every syllable. “Please… don’t let me turn into of them.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled.

“Forty seconds,” you sobbed, clinging to him, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the world. “Sukuna, please.”

His hands cupped your face tighter, his tears spilling unchecked as his resolve crumbled. For a moment, it seemed like he might hold on forever, refusing to let go.

His jaw tightened, his teeth gritting audibly as his hands fell away from your face. His body rigid as he turned his back to you. His shoulders trembled with the weight of his emotions, his breaths sharp and uneven.

“Sukuna,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “Please—”

He didn’t respond, his hand dragging through his hair as he paced a few steps forward. His movements were erratic, torn between rage and despair. When he finally stopped, his head dropped forward, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned white. The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, slowly, he reached for the gun at his hip.

Your heart raced faster as he turned back toward you, the weapon in his shaking hands. He raised it, the barrel glinting in the faint light as it pointed directly at you. His crimson eyes burned with anguish, his expression twisted in a way you had never seen before—raw, broken, and utterly lost.

“Sukuna,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision as you looked at him.

His hand trembled, the gun quivering in his grip. His jaw worked, but no words came, just the silent agony etched into every line of his face. You could see it—the war raging inside him, the impossible decision tearing him apart.

“Please,” you whispered again, your voice breaking.

His crimson eyes burned into yours, filled with anguish, rage, and something utterly broken. “Don’t make me do this,” he rasped, his voice low, raw, and trembling with emotion.

“Fifty seconds,” you whispered, your voice cracking as desperation took hold. Tears blurred your vision, but you held his gaze, silently pleading. “Please, Sukuna.”

The gun in his hands quaked, the barrel dipping before he forced it back up, his entire frame trembling under the weight of the decision. His finger hovered over the trigger, paralyzed, as his breaths turned shallow and uneven. His face twisted, the confidence you always saw in him splintering into fear and despair.

“Sixty seconds.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Everything froze—the wind, the trees, the very earth beneath you—as if the world itself was bracing for what would come next.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Your head snapped down to your shoulder, your hands clawing at the blood-soaked fabric as panic gave way to disbelief. Your trembling fingers probed the wound, and relief slammed into you like a tidal wave.

“It’s…” Your voice cracked, tears streaming down your face as a sob bubbled up from your chest. “I think it’s just a cut. Sukuna—it’s just a cut.”

His crimson eyes widened in stunned disbelief. The gun slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull, final thud. His body gave out entirely, knees slamming into the dirt as his hands flew to his face. A guttural, broken sob ripped from his throat, raw and agonized, his shoulders shaking violently.

“Sukuna!” you cried, collapsing in front of him. Your hands, trembling with adrenaline and relief, cupped his face, pulling it away from his shaking palms. “I’m okay! Do you hear me? I’m okay! Look at me!”

His red-rimmed eyes met yours, hollow and haunted, like a man who had stared into the void and barely clawed his way back. “You can’t…” His voice broke, barely audible, a plea wrapped in heartbreak. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you said, fierce and unyielding despite the tears that streamed down your face. Your forehead pressed to his as you whispered again, “I swear to you—I’m not leaving you.”

His arms shot out, wrapping around you with a desperation that made your breath hitch. He crushed you to him, burying his face in your neck as his body convulsed with shuddering breaths. His hold was fierce, as if he feared you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words escaping him like a prayer. They were broken, raw, and vulnerable, trembling in the quiet air. “I love you so much. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught, your heart breaking as you cupped his face again, pulling him back to meet your eyes. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “I’m here. I swear, I’m here.”

His hands cradled your face now, his touch reverent as though he needed to feel you to believe you were still there. “I thought…” His voice cracked, his jaw trembling as he choked on the words. “I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” you whispered, your own voice breaking. “Not now. Not ever.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence between you heavy with unspoken promises. Then Sukuna’s lips brushed your temple, soft and trembling, a wordless thank you for still being there.

And in that moment, the world outside could burn, the apocalypse could rage—but in his arms, with his heartbeat pounding against yours, you knew you’d fight through hell to stay together. Two hearts, still beating—alive.

part three coming soon!

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