#tw: implied dub con

[wausbasementslave]

So heres a really weird Shockwave x Reader scenario I had. It was inspired by a dream I had.

Yandere Shockwave making an uncanny sexdoll of you. Logically it's unlikely you'll return his "feelings" and most likely run away, which will be a real hassle for him and the plans of the Decepticons. Sadly for him (and buying time for you) a mere doll will be good enough. at least he knows that it can take his girth, even if dolls don't make good conversation.

But his plans change when, for one illogical reason or another, you decided to sneak onboard and into his lab. In your human error you bump into some equipment, and to your horror you discover it. This...thing had every mark and blemish you had, all the intricate details that made up your body were in full display. It would be like looking in a mirror if it weren't for the dead eyes. The disgust alone made you tear the intricate double to pieces. Carefully placed wires and circuitry get haphazardly cast aside. The synthetic skin gets reduced to mere ribbons as you deny the monster who made this any more satisfaction.

There can't be two of you, and soon enough this anomaly was extinguished, there is only the original now.

But sometimes the prototype has better features, at least to Shockwave. You stare in utter wide-eyed horror; he stares down with a single emotionless eye. "And I thought you were smart.." But his voice gave a different intent. Before you could take a single step, he quickly grabs you, pressing his fingers onto your body. "Let go of me!" You sob, his hand presses in. A warning perhaps, it's useless trying to get out his grip. "Now why would I let go of such a such a fine specimen?" He purrs, heat radiates from his chassis as one of his finger's carefully caress your body, taking in every soft detail. Perhaps he can have the best of both worlds.

[sems-diarie]

thinkin’ bout teasing joel miller with a mean handjob.

you pump him with both hands, twisting and slurping at the tip until his big fists clench in your hair. & he’s a groaning, whimpering puddle, strong hips twisting as joel stutters through a curse on your name—“fuck. suck that cum out, darlin’. come n’ g-get it—,”

and you pull off his dick right before it cums. you watch joel’s eyes flash red, watch his balls clench pathetically as pools of spend and precum roll over your lips, down your chin.

and then you do it again. and again. and again.

but joel figures by the time his pre is makes you filthy, when he realizes he’s soaking your mouth, your fingers, your neck, nipples in it—why not just fit it right into you?

flips you right onto your tummy and fills that pussy all up in one go.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon commission for Anna

Request: How about something like a bunny girl ventures into a forbidden part of the forest by accident while foraging for winter, and is taken by a werewolf who has been exiled from his pack? I wouldn't mind some overstimulation, a bit of CNC, praise kink, etc. But honestly, do whatever you think works! I'll be happy with just about anything.

Bunnydoll

Werewolf x werebunny fem!reader || (light) CNC, praise kink, chasing, knotting, dom/sub dynamics, dub-con (heavy), dirty talk || tw: implied kidnapping

You were just foraging, you tried to convince yourself of that. Nothing wrong with going out of the cave when he wasn’t there. It didn’t matter that he forbid you. You were just foraging the first time he got to you, too. And then you were his. You were his mate and now the sole member of his pack. He caught you once… And he would catch you again.

You heard his howl in the distance, and you threw the basket into the ground, all your berries falling to the ground. And before you could realize, you were running.

Your paws taking you as fast as possible through the woods. But you knew you weren’t fast enough. You knew he could catch you. You knew you shouldn’t have run in the first place. He had very few rules, and one of them was no running away from him. Your bunny brain couldn’t grasp what would happen, not really. But you ran… You ran for him.

And he promised.

He promised he would catch you and he would fuck you. And you… You ran. You weren’t sure if you wanted that or not. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be caught. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to catch you… But he promised he would, and you were running through the woods with a feral werewolf on your tail. It was probably a bad decision on your part, but you couldn’t turn back now.

Your ears kept twitching trying to catch a sound in the wind, to know if he was, in fact, behind you. But you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t hear him, or the woods, or anything over your beating heart. The fear running in your veins was just passed by the arousal crushing your body. You didn’t want to get caught, did you? But you couldn’t ignore the fact that you did ran. Even if he promised, you ran away from him…

And you were going to pay the consequences.

You heard him before you saw him, a howl not too far away from you, followed by his words, spiking anxiety inside your trembling body. “I told you I was gonna catch you. Told you it was in vain to run…” His growl behind you made you shiver, your whole body froze in the middle of the clearing. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew he won. He caught you.

“I- I’m…” You stuttered, no words coming out of your mouth, your ears twitching again, trying to locate him in the woods. You couldn’t see him. Not hear where he was.

He laughed cruelly at your stuttering, making you shiver. “Don’t. I didn’t say you could talk, did I?” You closed your mouth audibly, silencing your pleas and your denials. “Strip. Lay down on the floor, legs up your chest, I want to see how wet you are. I want to see what the chase did to you. And I don’t want to hear a peep while you do.” His orders were enough to make you want to whine, and you did, biting down on your lip to avoid crying. Tears prickled in your eyes as you did what he asked.

You laid your clothes on the hard floor and laid on top of them, grabbing your legs and pushing them against your chest, exposing yourself completely to his eyes. You saw him then, his bloodthirsty eyes focused on your dripping center. You felt embarrassed to know what the chase did to you, and even more so when he laughed at you, approaching and dragging his claw along your wet pussy.

“I told you I would catch you. I told you I would get what’s mine.” His words sounded crazed, his fangs glistening in the night as he laid over you, your legs over his shoulders and his leaking erection right where it belonged. He didn’t wait, didn’t give you a heads up, he pushed inside you as you threw your head back and cried out. “Such a good girl.” You couldn’t avoid clenching around his length, his fangs pressing down on your neck when you inhaled harshly at his words. “I felt that, do you like when I praise you? You like to be praised like the good little whore you are? You can talk now.” His filthy words in your ear made you squirm and whimper.

You wanted to say no, you wanted to deny the effect he had in you, but when you opened your mouth to say anything, the only words that left were: “Yes, yes please.”

“Please, what? What do you want me to do to your cute bunny-pussy?” He was lazily fucking into you, not caring about your pleasure, just jerking his cock with your pliant pussy, using you like the bunnytoy you were.

“Fu- fuck me,” you told him, not a plea, not an order, but a request. His lazy thrusts were accompanied by his fangs grazing your neck over and over, right over your pulse point, making your heart skip a beat and your pussy clench around him. The danger of it, the feel of being consumed and treated just like a prey… it aroused you to no end.

He laughed at you, once again. “That’s not all you want, is it? Be truthful right now, little whore. I will give it to you, you just need to ask. Come on, again: what do you want me to do?” You knew what he wanted you to say. You knew what he was waiting for.

And you embarrassed yourself whispering: “Knot me.”

He chuckled at your pitiful voice and fucked into your with intent, his hips hitting your body and making you fold like a pretzel. “Louder,” he ordered.

“Knot me!” You screamed into the night, not worried anymore if someone heard you. He was hitting all your good places, and it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all.

“That’s right, you are such a good girl. Do you deserve a knot? Do good girls deserve to be knotted?” His praise paired with his cruel tone made you whimper and try to grind your hips up to meet his. He didn’t let you, his teeth pressing against your neck and reminding you who had all the power there.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Please,” you could only beg.

“Good needy little whore. I’ll give you my knot. But first, you have to do something for me.” You felt tears running down your face as he kept fucking your pussy like you were just a toy.

“Wha- what?” You asked, desperation bleeding into your tone.

“Tell me how good it feels, tell me how good I fuck your pussy. Tell me your pussy is all mine.” You thought about it for about two seconds before realizing it might be the only way you could fight back a bit, challenge him for the power.

“It feels good,” you lied.

“Just good? Don’t be a liar now.” He laughed. “I could stop. If you aren’t enjoying it I could stop right now and leave you here, panting and desperate.”

You shook your head over and over. “No, no, no, no! I- I love it. I love your dick. I love it.” You were increasingly louder, his thrusts hitting your G-spot and his claws grazing your clit, a threat of a good time mixed with the danger of its sharpness.

“That’s a good little bunnywhore. What else?” He punctuated each word with a thrust, your eyes rolling back into your head. His questions were driving you insane, your brain could barely process anything when he played with you like that.

“My- My pussy is yours,” you let out, surrendering to him completely.

“Damn right it is. And you know what I do with my pussy?” You shook your head, tears flowing and ears twitching, your paws grabbing onto the back of his head as he whispered in your ear: “I knot it.” And then you felt the telltale sign of his knot asking for entrance, demanding it. He pushed in and out a few more times, the filthy sounds of your pussy making you blush redder and redder, your years flopping over your head every time he thrusted inside. And when his knot finally pushed inside, you let out a silent cry, your brain too gone to even produce sounds. “Keep talking, little whore. Tell me how does it feel. Does it feel good to have a big knot inside of you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chanted. You knew he wanted words, but you couldn’t get two thoughts in a row without one of them being how great it felt to have him inside of you. “It feels great. I love it. I love your knot inside of me. I love it.” You knew you were blabbering, your words losing meaning as he ground his hips into you, his knot pushing insistently against your G-spot making you see stars and galaxies behind your closed eyes.

You felt the signs of an imminent orgasm, and you knew he did, too. “Are you gonna come? Are you gonna make a mess out of your pretty pussy? Did you ask for permission?” He growled and you felt another shoot of his cum inside of you.

Oh shit. “Can I- can I come?” You thought about it with the last functioning neuron inside your brain, the one that wasn’t being fucked out of you, yet. “Can I come, please?”

“That’s a good girl. Just because you asked nicely… You can.” You whined at his words, but he didn’t stop. “Come now,” he commanded. His voice was final and authoritative, and just like the toy you were, like the good little bunnydoll he liked to use… You did.

You came messily around him, a filthy symphony of juices as he ground his knot against your dripping wet pussy. It should make you embarrassed how wet you got, how messily you came… But you were far beyond it. You were ascending to a high so tall you didn’t know if you’d survive the fall. You were seeing stars and galaxies, and probably the origin of life as you came. You screamed until your throat was raw and no more sounds were coming out of your mouth.

He kept whispering sweet words against your neck, his fangs nipping at your skin and making you shiver over and over, aftershocks hitting your system like tiny earthquakes. “I told you not to run,” he whispered against your ear as he got up with your pussy still wrapped around his knot, bouncing you as he walked back to the cave.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

I really loved your scenario of The Justice League AND The Ill reader,Lmao, poor reader they only need a rest.

Anyway, ever since I read the first part I was thinking about the kids, you know, the League Sidekicks, obviously The Reader knows them, due to work (I can really imagine Batman introducing His kids to the Reader to force a bond , And obviously The rest of The League does the same) So I had the headcanon that the reader really likes the children, they talk to them after missions, sometimes they buy them some gifts for their birthdays, they listen to them when they complain about their father figures (Therapist Reader), etc. But at the same time I can imagine The Reader being totally uncomfortable with his parents, so I can't help but think of a scenario in which The Reader is talking to the League kids in a good mood, but the League members walk in. to the room (They obviously saw the Happy Reader, so they want to gain some advantage) And The Reader just turns off, goes into business mode and is curt as always with the league, and when he finishes talking to the league, he goes back to talking to the children and their mood is happy again. Man I would love to see the league's reaction to the obvious reader favoritism

PD:I really love your work, you are amazing

Pd2:If The kids are yandere, ITS UP to you

A Week in Life: Take Your Kid to Work Day

Synopsis: A week in your life where you get a lot of new little friends, even if you know something’s sketchy about it.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Yanderes! Robin (Dick), Superboy (Konner), Miss Martian, Kid Flash (Wally) and Aqualad (Kaldur'ahm)

Tw: A single implication about Hal’s past dub/non con incidente (blink and you miss it); Implied emotional manipulation, I guess? Justice League using kids as a manipulation tactic; A little angst, I think we all hate how Superman treated Conner, so I added that, so technically not a healthy relationship between them here, could be interpreted as Superman manipulating him or Superboy trying too hard to make his bio-dad like him; The kid’s ages are definitely not accurate canon wise, but what is canon anyway? I mixed their personalities and origins from Young Justice (along with their age gap) and for Superboy it was mainly the animated movie Reign of the Supermen; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 3,3k

Requested? More than once.

Extra notes: Dick is 10, Kaldur'ahm, Conner, Megan and Wally are 13. I wish I knew more about the Wonder Girls to write about one of them, I felt bad for not adding them, but I would’ve felt worse writing for a character I have no idea how to write.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

Monday…

You’ve heard the rumors Gotham media was spreading for months now, you even asked Batman if you should prepare the marketing team in case of an emergency, he denied everything.

So why was it that now you were staring at a 10 year old dressed as a traffic light?

— Miss/Mister/Mx (Y/N)... I’m hungry… — Worst of all? The kid was cute.

You smile in a friendly manner.

— Okay, okay. Just give me a second, buddy, I need to talk to your… Dad…?! — You just now realized you didn't know their actual relationship. Batman only told you his name was Robin, that he was his partner, and that he was in the watchtower to observe. You didn't know superheroes accepted 10 year old interns, but whatever. The kid just stared blankly at you, not giving an actual answer to if you got your assumption right.

— Can I go with you? — Robin fiddled with his fingers. So cute. You nodded with a small smile. The kid jumped off his too big chair and ran towards you, surprising you by taking your hand. He had small hands. So cute.

You walked slowly, to accommodate to his height, in the direction of the door to the briefing room, where Batman was talking to John Stewart. This other Green Lantern was a breath of fresh air. The other one (the one who shouldn't be named) was away, working on another district of the universe since that whole… Less-than-consensual situation. You were happy and surprised when the League didn't just brush it off, and even compensated you for it, alongside making him go away. He either agreed to that, or caused the 3rd World War against the Justice League. It was a temporary predicament, but happier nonetheless, since John wasn't obsessed with you, unlike the rest of them, and easy to work with.

You cleared your throat so they would turn to you.

— Does Robin have any restrictions? He said he's hungry so I'm gonna take him to the kitchen. — You said politely. Batman shook his head.

— Just don't give him sugar. He needs to sleep before patrol tonight. — You raised your eyebrows in surprise and nodded your head. Batman looked at the boy. — Behave, chum. — You blinked, Robin nodded solemnly.

As you walked in the direction of the kitchen, the kid showed to be very happy and talkative. You were surprised, considering who his dad was, but it warmed your heart. At least it seemed he wasn't mistreated.

At some point, he let your hand go and started cartwheeling and doing acrobatics all the way there to show off his abilities to you. You gasped and clapped, praising his talent along with other workers from the crew who were passing the hall. You were slightly worried that he would fall and get hurt, but the kid was really confident in what he was doing (but they always are, until they fall).

When you got there, you were impressed that he wasn't even the slightest out of breath.

— Do you have games on your phone? — He asked, sitting down on a table while you rummaged the fridge for some sandwiches or any healthy snack, since you didn't know how his home diet was, but guessing by his build, which was a lot more athletic than kids his age are, he was probably pretty healthy. Son of the Bat.

— Hmm, I have Dress to Impress, Pou and Candy Crush.

— What is Pou? — Your heart panged and you sighed, feeling old.

— When were you born? 2010? — You walked towards him and settled a plate with a sandwich in front of him, before pouring a cup of juice.

— 2014. — Your mouth dropped, speechless. — Wait, so not even Stardew Valley? — You cleared your throat and shook your head, sitting beside him, while he started eating.

— Wait, can I even let you play? Does Batman let you have screen time? — He nodded.

— I have a phone. I just couldn't bring it with me today… He said he would show me around the tower, but he got busy with work… — He deflated a little at the end of the sentence, your heart broke. — Anyway… He told me I could distract myself. I just need your permission. — You bite your lip.

— Okay. How about we go to the recreational room and you can play some videogames while I work from the computer. — Robin nodded eagerly.

— Damn, you can't even play with me? Working sucks. That must be why adults are so boring. — You took a napkin and cleaned some food from his cheek.

— It's not that bad… You can do whatever you want. — He perked up.

— I guess so… — He looked you up and down. You prepared yourself for one of those moments where kids are so blunt that they don't know they could offend someone. — But you're not boring, (Y/N), you're cool. Must be why daddy likes you so much. And he doesn't like no one.

Tuesday…

Wow, what a weird coincidence. Just yesterday Batman brought his kid, and now Martian Manhunter brought his niece.

Miss Martian looked older than Robin, but again, she was a martian, her appearance was shifted to whatever she wanted to look like. All you knew was that she was young and new on Earth.

Right now, she looked very human. She had freckles and auburn hair. The only thing that made her stand out was the green of her skin.

When she presented herself to you, you got startled by her voice in your head, but you and Martian Manhunter softly explained to her that on Earth people didn't communicate through their minds, and it was kinda like an invasion of privacy. Kinda funny hearing him say that, but whatever.

Like Batman the day prior, Martian trusted the girl in your hands. So many coincidences, right?!

— So, honey, how old are you?

— Oh, on my home planet I should be about 39. But converting to Earth years, I’m 13. — She said with a shy but friendly smile, you smiled back.

— You’re pretty young then. How are you settling on Earth? Planning to go to school maybe? — She nodded.

— I just started the school year… I wasn't too sure about that, but my uncle said it would be good to learn human behaviors. — You nodded.

— American school is nice, I recommend you should take part in clubs. And don't feel pressured to make a billion friends. It's better to have one good friend, instead of 10 people you know but can't rely on. — She nodded, biting her lip.

— I already know some of the other sidekicks, I just don't have any civilian friends… I was thinking about joining the cheerleading team. — You gasped, excited.

— Oh, that's really good! I always wanted to join, but was never the sporty type. You’re sweet, I think that already gives you some points. — Her green cheeks got darker.

— You think so?! — Her voice got louder with excitement.

— Of course! Now let me give you some tips about the jocks, honey…

Wednesday…

Today, Flash brought Kid Flash. You haven't met him until now. The sequence of days the older heroes brought in their sidekicks was starting to look weird… But not that weird. Batman said he would give Robin a tour but became unavailable. Manhunter wanted Miss Martian to meet civilian people and have a good role model — you don't know why he decided that that role model should be you, but it made sense, so… —. Flash Said they would spend the day using the lab to experiment some more on Kid Flash’s still recently acquired powers. So. Coincidences, right?

The boy was 13 too, he had messy red hair and green eyes. Flash didn't specify their relationship, but their personalities definitely matched a little. Both a little hyperiperactive and smiley. Although that could be more of a speedster thing, especially the first part.

Like promised, they spent half that day on the lab, occasionally calling you for snack breaks. However, at some point, Flash gave an excuse and left you with the kid.

Huh.

— Sooo, what do you do around here? — Kid Flash asked, spinning around in a chair he found somewhere and rolled to the middle of your office in the blink of an eye. You half-smiled. It was nice not being crowded by those weirdos and being around fresh and youthful people, but it was starting to feel weird.

— I plan schedule appointments, organize team meetings, prepare agendas and itineraries, book meals and travel arrangements, handle record keeping and documentation, and make sure a project stays on budget. — The ginger blinked and stopped spinning.

— Uhh, you went to college for that? — You blinked.

— I did, why? — He chuckled slightly.

— Nothing, it's cool, sounds boring, though. — You nodded.

— What do you want to work with? — He looked to the side, thoughtful for a moment.

— I think I want to be a scientist.

— Oh really?

— Yeah, I like physics, mechanics and a little bit of chemistry. — You smirked.

— Chemistry? Sounds boring. — Kidflash froze for a second, wide-eyed, then relaxed and started laughing loudly. His chuckling prompted you to chuckle alongside him.

He used his feet to push the chair around your table and stopped at your side.

— Hey, can I see how much people get paid here? If I'm gonna be a member of the League one day, might as well optimize time and just work here. — You slapped his hands away when he reached for your computer, he pouted.

— Wouldn't that make it difficult to keep your secret identity hidden?! — Kid Flash stretched his arm, then draped it across your shoulders, you lifted an eyebrow.

— Babe. I'm a superhero. I could change clothes really fast right now and you wouldn't even notice. — You scoffed and lightly pushed him and his chair away.

— A phone booth would be more appropriate for that.

— What's a phone booth?

Thursday…

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

— So… Are you hungry? Wanna play videogames? — You grimaced slightly. He looked at you again, a little hesitant.

— Uh… I think so? — He blinked. — You guys have videogames here?! — He exclaimed, surprised. You chuckled.

— Oh yeah, for such a serious and stern guy, Batman really invested in the work environment. — You chuckled together, walking towards the recreational area.

You were curious about the earlier weird vibe, but didn't want to prod.

At first, you just let the boy play by himself, just sitting beside him and working while talking, that was until he paused the game between missions and stretched, then looked at you.

— Are you guys involved? — You looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

— You guys…? — He pursed his lips.

— You and Superman. — You grimaced slightly.

— Oh no, he's my boss, and not my type at all. — He nodded, looking pensive.

— He likes you. — You kept a blank expression, waiting for him to continue. — I like you too, so I can imagine why he likes you. — You stared at him, exasperated. He widened his eyes. — Not like that! — He raised his hands to deny. — It's just- I feel comfortable with you. I felt comfortable with some of his friends before, I didn't even know why, but I think it's because half of me is from him. Like I have some things from Lex since I was… Born… — He looked to the ground for a second, pouting lightly. — That's why Superman doesn't like me. — You widened your eyes.

— I'm sure he likes you! — Superboy looked at you like he didn't believe you.

— No, it's okay… He's polite, I guess. And took me in as his family, just not… As his son… More like a brother, or… A cousin… I mean, I can understand, I'm basically a hate baby, created by his biggest enemy to outdo and destroy him… — You shook your head.

You didn't know what to say, since you didn't know how their dynamic was like.

— H-He brought you here to spend time with you, didn't he? He just had an emergency to take care of… — He looked to the ground and then at you again. He didn't have the heart to tell you that's the first time they ever “hung out”, and that his genius brain clocked hours ago that Superman's plan was to create a connection between you both by orchestrating a connection with you and him. He also didn't want to bad mouth Clark. A part of him always would have hope that Superman would want to be closer to him one day.

Superboy looked at the clock and then at you.

— Don't you have a break? I can hear your stomach, I'm hungry too.

Friday…

This madness has to stop now.

— Nice to meet you, Aqualad. — You nodded at the boy with a small smile. You were a little mesmerized by his exotic appearance. He had brown skin, blonde hair in braids (where are his roots?) and blue eyes. His arms were also covered in tattoos that you knew had something to do with his abilities.

— I was showing him around the Watchtower, but now I have a meeting with Wonder Woman, why don't you two hang out for a while? — Aquaman, always the most obnoxious one. Their intentions were 100% clear now.

Aquaman didn't let you say anything else and left the room with said hero. You heard her murmur something about having to find her own apprentice to bring to the watchtower as soon as possible.

You looked at the boy, not knowing what to say.

— Have you ever been to Atlantis? — He surprised you by speaking first, his tone was gentle, if not a little monotonous, but he looked at you with interest.

— Uhhh, no? I’m not that good of a swimmer and I can't breathe underwater. — Aqualad smirked lightly.

— You wouldn't need to worry about breathing, there are multiple ways for humans to do that, from magic to technology. As for swimming… I'm sure we can find some sort of solution for that, also. And I doubt my king would be opposed to the idea of teaching you. — You nodded slowly. So much for subtly.

— … My vitamin D is low enough as it is, I’d rather stay on land, no offense. — The atlantean opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. — Aqualad! Do you like the food here? I've always been curious about your culture’s cuisine…

You kept talking for hours, eventually, Aqualad and you ended up in the training room, he offered to show you a little of his control over water bodies, and you, still a little fascinated over the convivence with superheroes, and this being the second time you met someone from Atlantis, accepted eagerly.

— This is just like H2O… — Kauldur’ahm blinked.

— It is water… — The boy confirmed, hesitantly. You laughed.

— No, no, not water. It's a TV show, it's about mermaids. I guess it isn't exactly accurate, but they can control water, just like you! — He nodded, slowly, contemplating. You looked at your watch, noticing your lunch time was due. You looked at him, shyly. — If you're up for it, we could watch it now… — That seemed to make him perk up a little and he nodded quickly.

— I would like to.

Monday…

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

There they were, in the meeting room, all seated around the big roundtable, almost double the number of people who usually sit there.

Now, the food order they made, made sense.

You pushed the food cart forward, one for Flash. You came back and pushed another one, this one for Kid Flash, you ruffled his hair. Then, you walked back and pushed the 3rd food cart around the table, delivering each meal for each hero.

— Steak for Green Lantern. One black coffee for Batman. One meat sandwich and chocolate milk for Robin. — You squeezed his cheek. He smiled brightly at you. — Toast for Martian Manhunter and a slice of strawberry cake for Missy Miss Martian. — As you put the plate in front of her, you whispered that you wanted to know how the cheerleading team was going. She nodded happily. — A burger with fries for Aquaman, a smoothie and salad for Aqualad. Oh, did you change your hair? I like it! — You smiled brightly at the boy and his cheeks burned, he nodded. — Ice cream for Wonder Woman. Another burger and fries for Superman and another for Superboy. I see you followed my advice, your style really matches with those piercings. Tell me how you did it later. — You laughed carelessly and went to the door. — Need me for something more? — Your bosses shook their heads, stunned. You left and closed the door.

— Can't believe you guys actually did it… — John shook his head, disappointed at his teammates.

— I knew it would work. — Batman said, sipping from his drink.

— That's why we stole your idea when we knew about it. — Aquaman chuckled.

— I really need to find a sidekick. — Diana huffed.

Batman turned to Robin.

— You did a good job, chum. — Dick chuckled.

— Yeah, I even asked for a sandwich without the crust. Now (Y/N) think I'm the cutest here. — He smirked smugly. Wally scoffed.

— Yeah, right. She totally doesn't think you're an annoying kid. — The duo stared at each other. — I, for example, made them laugh. — The redhead puffed his chest proudly.

— Are you sure it wasn’t a pity laugh?! — Superboy snorted at Robin’s retort.

— Although Robin might be physically more adorable, and Kid Flash, in his words, made them laugh. (Y/N) and I started a TV show together, my king. — Aquaman nodded at his apprentice’s words.

— You did a good job.

— But (Y/N) actually said they wanted to talk to me later! That usually oficializes human’s friendships! — Megan said, softly.

— They said the same to me, the other day. That I could talk to them whenever I wanted… — Superman looked at Superboy, surprised. He felt awkward praising him, so he just nodded his head and looked away. Superboy pouted slightly.

— Because you told them your sob story, now they think you're a loser. — Conner glared at Dick. — Their physical language showed that they loved me, B! I honestly deserve an Oscar after that performance! They're gonna be ours before you suckers know it!

As a screaming match raised inside the room, the adult heroes looked at each other, lost for words, not only had the kids gotten you roped a bazillion times faster then they could ever dream, but also you were so amazing that they were enamored with you too.

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Yandere kurapika with a heavy heavy breeding kink. He’s absolutely obsessed with the idea of you being pregnant 👀👀👀

progeny // kurapika kurta

tw ⇢ dub-con, obsessive behavior, imprisonment/isolation, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of lactation, implied murder, drugging, handjob, grinding

wc ⇢ 7.3k

It had been six excruciatingly long years since the Kurta massacre. Six years of chasing empty leads, of doors slamming shut in Kurapika's face whenever he got close to the Phantom Troupe. His crimson eyes, once a source of pride amongst his people, now mocked him daily - glaring reminders of his failure to attain vengeance.

So when the encrypted message arrived with a potential location on a Kurta survivor, Kurapika could scarcely allow himself to feel hope. Too many times it had been cruelly dangled in front of him, only to dissolve into agonizing disappointment. He pored over the intelligence again and again, his hands shaking. This had to be legitimate. It simply had to.

Four sleepless nights later, Kurapika found himself on the first available airship to Yorknew City. His leg jittered anxiously the entire way, his mind cycling through every possible scenario. A trap from the Troupe? A sick game? Or could the near-impossible be real? When the ship finally touched down, Kurapika moved like a man possessed, following the coded coordinates to a dilapidated apartment complex.

His trembling hand barely registered the flimsy doorbell as he rang. Seconds ticked by like torturous eternities. Then, after what felt like a small age, the door creaked open to reveal...you. Kurapika's knees very nearly buckled at the sight of those telltale scarlet irises. Tears stung his eyes as he choked out a wavering, "You're one of my people."

That first night, he simply sat in reverent silence, studying the sacred eyes of his kinsman that he'd been deprived of for far too long. You seemed equally transfixed, if not deeply uncertain of this severe stranger's intentions. When you attempted to ask him to leave, Kurapika answered with a resolute headshake.

"I cannot do that. It's too dangerous to leave you here." His voice was thick with the weight of trauma, but carried a steely undercurrent of determination. "I'm getting you somewhere safe, where no harm can befall you."

True to his word, Kurapika immediately went about securing a transport ship to whisk you away from potential threats. You didn't have a choice. He had failed his clan once before through negligence - he would not repeat that grave mistake. This time, he would smother any flicker of danger towards the Kurta with extreme prejudice before it could even spark.

The following weeks were a fortified blur as Kurapika installed you in a veritable military bunker tucked high in the treacherous mountain ranges. He pulled every resource at his disposal to ensure your isolation and safety was absolute. Each day, he would rise before dawn to pursue his hunt for the Phantom Troupe, searching for that agonizingly elusive trail of vengeance. But like clockwork, he returned to the safehouse every evening, his frayed nerves only calmed by the sight of your scarlet eyes.

At first, Kurapika tried to keep things professional, nodding stoically whenever you greeted him. But the more time passed, the more you became his sole remaining attachment to a people he had lost. He drank in your every word, no matter how innocuous, wanting to ingrain the cadence of his kin on his psyche again. Your existence, your pure perseverance despite all odds, stoked something primal within him.

Eventually, Kurapika began staying later and later into the night, reluctant to abandon your presence, irrationally fearful something terrible may occur the moment he left your side. He started simpling...hovering. Watching you for long, unblinking stretches despite your visible discomfort. His fixation had been ignited, and it burned brighter with each passing day.

It was on one particularly humid summer evening when the stifling mountain air had you gasping for respite. You moved to crack open one of the safehouse's windows, hoping to coax in even the faintest whispers of a cool breeze.

The moment your fingers pulled against the latch, the electronic lock released a sad, mechanical whir of protest. You froze, realizing in that instant that the safety restrictions were not mere automated security protocols. They were under the total control of your increasingly overbearing guardian.

Slowly, you turned to find Kurapika shooting you a pointed look from the wingback chair across the room. His sharp jawline was locked, lips pressed into a severe line as he clutched the access fob in a white-knuckled grip.

"I wouldn't advise that," he said at last, his tone carrying curt reproach. "It's for your own safety to keep the windows secured at all times."

You opened your mouth to protest the blatant removal of your autonomy, but Kurapika silenced you with a mere arch of his brow. Heat prickled in your cheeks, flustered by his sheer audacity, his utter dismissal of your objections before you could even voice them. Who was he to declare what you could and couldn't do?

But as quickly as that spark of defiance flickered, it extinguished under the knowing weight of Kurapika's stare. He knew better than you, had spilled more blood and peered deeper into the abyss of human monstrosity. If he deemed something a risk, no matter how small, you didn't dare challenge it. Your very life rested on his prudence and protection.

So you bit back the fleeting urge to assert your independence. Instead, you gave a meek nod of surrender and retreated from the window with one last, regretful glance at the impenetrable night sky beyond the sealed glass panes. Your world had become startlingly small under Kurapika's wing.

He watched you like a lion scrutinizing its cornered prey until you sank back into the shelter of your designated space. Only once you had compliantly resumed your spot did that intense scrutiny finally ease, his body unsettlingly loose and calm again.

"There's fresh fruit in the kitchen if you need refreshment," Kurapika offered, as if making peace after the unspoken admonishment. "Let me know if you require anything else for your comfort."

You murmured a soft thanks, careful to not meet his pewter gaze for too long. The complex bundles of emotion they sparked - shame, defiance, loneliness, begrudging gratitude - were still too tumultuous to comfortably untangle.

With a slight dip of his chin, Kurapika turned his attentions back towards the scattered intelligence reports sprawled before him. But you could have sworn you caught the faintest wisp of a self-satisfied smirk playing across his lips as he resumed his nightly obsessive planning.

The message was clear: no matter how insular and temporary you hoped this arrangement was, he had no intentions of loosening his ruthlessly overprotective stranglehold. Not now, not ever. For in Kurapika's mind, he had already failed his clan once before.

He would not fail their legacy again, even if it meant eclipsing your every last freedom under his total, unwavering control. Your life belonged to him now.

What had begun as a flicker of protectiveness had been steadily stoked into an all-consuming obsession. And there would be no putting out that raging fire.

The next few days passed in their now familiar routine of forced complacency. Kurapika would depart each morning on his futile hunt for the Phantom Troupe's latest trail, leaving you confined to pacing the reinforced walls like a caged animal. You attempted to resist the itch of restlessness, but it clawed at your insides, making you increasingly reckless.

It was on one particularly moonless night when Kurapika was delayed by an anonymous tip that you decided to seize your fleeting window. You waited until the security monitors confirmed him still blocks away before punching in the override codes and disabling the safehouse's locks. You didn't have a plan or destination in mind - you simply needed to feel the sweet embrace of open air again, to remind yourself of the unfettered freedom you had lost.

The sleepy mountain town seemed almost haunted in the inky blackness as you strode its deserted streets. The crisp night wind caressed your face, and you reveled in the simple pleasure of being anything other than a prisoner in your own refuge. Eventually, your aimless wandering drew you towards the soft amber glow and faint music wafting from the local tavern.

A hand came to rest on the rickety oak door, then stopped as you wavered. Kurapika could return any moment now. But the fleeting indulgence of a cold pint and casual conversation with strangers was too tantalizing to resist any longer. Steeling your nerves, you pulled the door open and strode inside.

The raucous sound of drunken laughter and the thick fog of smoke immediately assaulted your senses. You wound through the crowd to the dingy bar, squeezing between bodies until you could flag down the bleary-eyed bartender. He poured you a tall glass of the darkest stout on tap without a second glance at your rumpled, out-of-place appearance.

As you nursed the first few sips, savoring the bitter familiarity, a rough voice lilted from behind you.

"Well aren't you a little ways from home?"

You turned to find a smarmy looking stranger waggling his brows lecherously. His breath reeked of stale beer and desperation.

"Just looking to unwind is all," you replied curtly, turning back towards your drink.

His calloused hand suddenly snaked out, gripping your forearm with surprising strength as he leaned in too close. "Well then how 'bout I buy the next round and we can 'unwind' together, sweetheart?"

You wrenched your arm away with a disgusted glare, preparing to hurl a blistering retort. But even as the first word formed on your lips, an eerie wave of dizziness crashed over you, blurring your vision. The tavern seemed to tilt precariously as you swayed on the barstool.

No...it couldn't be. That first drink. You made the mistake of leaving it unattended. As the horrible realization dawned on you, your faculties began to rapidly abandon ship.

"There's a good girl," the leering stranger's voice slurred as if underwater. "Just relax and enjoy the party favors."

You tried desperately to cry out, to raise even a tremor of alarm, but your voice failed you. The room pitched and spun until merciful darkness finally swallowed you whole.

The crisp slap of cool night air was like a bucket of ice water shocking you back to semiconsciousness. Your eyelids fluttered open to find yourself being half-carried, half-dragged down a dank alleyway by that stranger. The cloudy haze in your brain screamed at you to fight, to thrash and flee, but your body responded with only feeble murmurs.

Suddenly, a dark silhouette stepped out from the shadows up ahead, swiftly blocking your captor's path. The figure prowled closer, the dim streetlight glinting off a shock of brilliant blond hair.

Even in your drugged stupor, you immediately recognized the menacing aura radiating off of Kurapika. He had found you. Your heart should have leapt with relief, but your addled mind could only focus on the pure, unadulterated fury etched across his features.

"Let her go." His tone was low, practically subterranean with its seething intensity. "Now."

The stranger paused, seemingly taken aback by Kurapika's threatening presence despite outnumbering him. His grip on your arm only tightened stubbornly.

"This doesn't involve you, kid. I'd beat it while you still—"

He never got to finish that thought. Kurapika's knuckles connected with the man's nose with a wet crunch before anyone could blink. As he collapsed in a heap, clutching his bleeding face, Kurapika moved with terrifying fluidity.

A haze of fists and chains and guttural screams engulfed the cramped alley. You flinched with each tormented wail, hunched against the damp brick wall as your assailant's bones shattered piece by piece. The copper stench of blood flooded the air in thick, viscous clouds.

When it was finally over, the sickening sound of the stranger's gurgling breaths were barely audible above the drumming of your pulse thundering in your ears. Kurapika stood over him, chest heaving from exertion as he slowly retracted his bloody knuckles and Nen chains back into waiting.

Only then did his gaze fall upon your fragile, crumpled form. The molten rage simmering behind his eyes extinguished instantly, transposing into something akin to lucid fear. In a single deft motion, he scooped you up and cradled you against his chest.

"It's alright...you're safe now," Kurapika murmured, his voice dripping with the type of tender worry one reserves for a gravely injured child.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a pathetic whimper escaped your dry lips. Horror at your near miss quickly gave way to the warm comfort of Kurapika's secure embrace. Your eyelids grew impossibly heavy as you nuzzled against the soft linen of his blazer. Even as the world faded to black again, you felt utterly, inviolably safe within the confines of his sinewy arms...his obsessive protectiveness.

When you finally came to again, it was in the dimly lit familiarity of the safehouse's living quarters. Kurapika sat vigilantly on the edge of the mattress, his eyes two orbs of hollow, sleepless torment.

As you stirred, he immediately went into a flurry of doting. Cool rags were pressed to your clammy forehead. Chilled teas and electrolyte waters hovered against your lips, Kurapika tipping them carefully to soothe your sandpaper throat. His touch was insistently gentle, but you could sense the roiling tempest churning beneath that zen exterior.

In your addled state, you kept up a litany of small whining sounds and petulant fidgets. Kurapika bore each one with inexhaustible patience and care, stroking your hairline languidly as you grumbled childish complaints about your headache or an itch that needed scratching.

Even as the last vestiges of the toxin worked its way out of your system over the next several hours, you never felt fear or vulnerability - only the profound relief of being tended to so meticulously under Kurapika's hawkish devotion.

Several times, his gaze seemed to unconsciously drift down to your parted, pouting lips as you whined insistently. You thought you caught his throat bobbing ever so subtly, as if waging an internal war with some primal desire. But the moment never transversed, and he remained ever the devoted, if tightly-wound caretaker through the hazy night.

It wasn't until the first rays of dawn filtered in through the slitted windows that you drifted into a deep, restorative slumber. And in those last, fleeting moments of consciousness, you realized with dawning horror how completely and utterly co-dependent on Kurapika's obsessive protection you had allowed yourself to become.

In the aftermath of the nearly tragic incident, there would be no venturing outside again...not without him. Not ever. The fire of his obsession had been stoked into a conflagration - one he wholeheartedly welcomed if it meant never going through such terror again.

You had been rescued from the depths of pitiful frailty, only to become irrevocably entangled in the dark, singular orbit of Kurapika's unhinging fixation on you. And from that point on, fleeing its gravitational pull would be inconceivable.

In the days following your terrifying brush with tragedy, Kurapika became an utterly inescapable presence in every waking moment. Where there was once at least a semblance of periodic solitude as he attended to his Phantom Troupe hunt, now there was only the soft footfalls of his eternal proximity.

He lingered in the periphery like a silent, hollow-eyed sentinel as you tentatively went about your daily routines. If you retreated to the bathroom to bathe, Kurapika wordlessly trailed just beyond the cracked door - near enough to instantly intervene at any prospective threat, far enough to preserve a facade of privacy. You found yourself instinctively avoiding the mirror, unable to meet the shame of your own reflection exposed under his vigilant leer.

At night when you crawled between the sheets, Kurapika took up an immovable post in the wingback chair at your bedside. You lost track of how many dawns you awoke to find him stock-still in that exact position, eyes open but untainted by even the slightest hint of slumber. His piercing stare studied your sleeping form with the rapt diligence of a memorial statue guarding a crypt.

You stopped attempting to dissuade him from these nightly vigils. The few feeble protests you voiced only caused his jaw to hinge tighter, a muscle throbbing with mute ferocity. He would not be deterred or negotiated with - this was the price to pay for the grave lapse that nearly severed you from his obsessive care.

If you shuffled into the kitchen to prepare meals, Kurapika's shadow would materialize just behind your periphery. You quickly learned to suppress any instinctual startles at his sudden appearances, lest you mistakenly provoke his haunted man's nerves. He never spoke or impeded your chores, but the mere imposition of his intense presence transformed even the most banal acts into ordeals of hyper self-consciousness.

Some evenings as dusk cloaked the mountain safehouse, you would chance hopeful glances out across the perimeter's reinforced windows. Vast forests of pine and spruce swayed in hypnotic tandem with the coastal breezes sweeping up from the sapphire horizon. Your gaze traced every contour of the landscape beyond that glass barrier - drunkenly drinking in the beauty and vast freedoms you had once taken for granted.

Without fail, Kurapika would seem to materialize at your side during these morose ritualistic dances. Not an inch separated your arms as you stood wordlessly, noting how his chest would slowly rise and fall in mirror-sync to your own. His quicksilver irises carefully studied the longing etched across your features, probing for any fragile cracks that may signal another reckless bid for escapism simmering beneath the surface.

You soon discovered it was easier to not meet his needful, imploring stare on those evenings. To instead lose yourself in the melancholy meditation of what lay on the other side of that glass partition - the lush, unfolding world of oxygen and wilderness and infinite possibilities now forever sealed away from your grasp by this compound's fortifications. The reckless abandon that landed you in such peril in the first place.

Even during the sporadic moments you managed to steal for idle time - curling up with a borrowed novel or simply staring vacantly at the safehouse's sterile walls - Kurapika's presence would pervade your space like a congealing, inescapable vapor. You became aware of every infinitesimal motion in your peripheral field, each aborted gesture from him laden with fierce meaning and scrutiny.

He would simply materialize in your blind spots, folding that lithe frame into the nearest chair or loveseat until his entire posture radiated a single, silent statement: I'm here. I will always be here to watch over you from this point onward.

And you lacked the will to protest this gradual dissolution of personal boundaries. Not when the memory of that squalid alleyway still haunted your subconscious with visions of shadowy hands groping, of Kurapika's knuckles shattering bone in retribution. You were in his custody now, for better or for worse.

Even as the weeks blurred indistinguishably together, Kurapika seemed to only swell with more unquenchable determination. Daily you witnessed his demeanor oscillate from the gruff stoicism of a jaded warrior, to the endearingly focused worry of an overly-fretful parent, then finally the predatory ruthlessness of a beast safeguarding its sickly litter from any prospective encroachment.

There was a possessive ferocity igniting behind those slate irises anew each time his gaze passed over you. As if merely looking upon your face, your chest inhaling each breath, was an involuntary ritual - the only reassurance that could momentarily dull the roaring anxiety in his psyche.

So Kurapika kept vigil, and you stopped attempting to politely deflect his obsession. Better to accept this isolated existence under his ever-watchful protectionism than risk another lapse that may invite that same violence and horror down upon you both. At least here, within these confining walls, remained the unshakable constant of his presence...his dominion over your absolute safety.

The weeks crystallized into cold months, Kurapika's fixation only intensifying like a caged flame feasting on its own limited oxygen supply. Until eventually, you struggled to remember what life could have possibly looked like before this arrangement - before his utterly uncompromising ownership of your personal inviolability became the sole, inescapable pillar of reality itself.

You mustered up what little courage remained and approached Kurapika one evening as he pored over the dwindling stack of intelligence reports.

"Kurapika...I need to get out of here, even if just for a little while," you said, trying to keep your tone measured. "Taking a walk through the village, feeling the sun on my face. Please, I'm going stir-crazy cooped up."

His pewter gaze slowly lifted, boring into you with an inscrutable intensity. You braced yourself for the immediate dismissal, the curt rebuff that your pleas for a shred of freedom were selfish folly in the face of your security.

Instead, Kurapika simply gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Very well. But I will accompany you. My presence is non-negotiable for your safety."

Your heart leapt at his acquiescence, yet you knew better than to voice any objections to his stipulations. That, too, was non-negotiable when it came to Kurapika's obsession.

The next morning, you ventured out with Kurapika at your side, his eyes sharply scanning every alleyway and passerby like a starving falcon scrutinizing the underbrush. You tried not to let his overdone protectiveness dampen your elation at breathing fresh mountain air and ambling aimlessly without the barriers of steel and concrete constraining you.

At one point, you stopped to admire a young mother cradling her newborn along the village square's central fountain. The infant was swaddled snugly in a pale yellow blanket, their tiny face completely ensconced in peaceful slumber. You couldn't help the wistful pang that tugged at your heart watching the scene.

"Would you like to hold them?" the mother offered warmly after catching your enamored glances.

You looked to Kurapika, almost reflexively seeking his permitting nod as if he were your warden. To your surprise, he simply watched in pensive silence as you gingerly supported the bundle's head and brought the sleeping babe into your embrace.

A serene calm washed over you as the newborn's warmth and weight settled against your chest. Your body seemed to instinctively know all the coddling motions - the gentle swaying, the soft shushes, the protective tuck of the blanket over their tiny frame. For a fleeting moment, everything from the outside world evaporated - the threats, the walls imprisoning you, even Kurapika's hawkish presence. There was only the simple perfection of cradling new life, so pure and unblemished by the world's cruelties.

All too soon, the spell was broken as the mother reached to take her child back. You surrendered them with one last, regretful look into their peaceful slumbering features. As you turned back towards the path, you caught an indecipherable look swimming behind Kurapika's silvery irises. Was that...yearning?

The walk continued in loaded silence until you reached the safehouse again. Ever vigilant, Kurapika checked and triple-checked all security parameters were active before allowing you both back inside. He then insisted on giving you a full body inspection, tutting over any prospective scratches or bruises you may have sustained.

Night fell, and you began your usual bedtime routine of winding down with a book on the living room's plush sofa. Right on cue, Kurapika appeared to take up his self-appointed post in the chair alongside you.

Rather than lapsing into his typical reserved observation, he seemed...restless this evening. You caught his gaze flicking over your face and abdomen several times, his stare carrying an uncharacteristic intensity more akin to hunger than mere study. Finally, just as you were about to question his odd distraction, Kurapika leaned forward in his seat.

"You looked quite natural with that baby earlier," he stated in a low, ruminative tone. "I could envision you as a tender, nurturing mother. The image....suited you."

You felt your cheeks flush hotly despite yourself, ears straining to detect even the faintest undercurrents of impropriety in his demeanor. Just what was he implying?

When you finally found your voice to respond, Kurapika cut you off by rising abruptly to his feet.

"Get some rest. That's enough activity for one day."

With that, he swept towards the bedroom, leaving you to simply blink owlishly in his wake. You worried your lower lip, unable to voice the nagging feeling that his comments carried some suggestive subtext your mind simply couldn't piece together.

For now, it seemed Kurapika's ever-watchful protectionism had evolved to encompass...other considerations. Ones that, given his increasingly mercurial obsession over you, prompted entirely new uncertainties to send your heart murmuring apprehensively against your ribcage.

In the days following Kurapika's unsettling comments about motherhood, an inscrutable new energy seemed to permeate his already intense obsession over you.

His customary silent vigils persisted as always - the motionless sentrylike presence shadowing your every action, the sleepless nights spent unblinkingly patrolling your bedside like a fanatical bodyguard. But there was also something... else underlying those mercurial silver irises whenever they washed over your form.

Kurapika's gaze had shifted from the typical hyper-focused studying for dangers into outright lingering. You began noticing his line of sight would unapologetically rake up and down the curves and lines of your body whenever you moved about the safehouse. As if he were committing to memory every last dip and swell, documenting it alongside the myriad threat assessments constantly churning through his mind.

His comments, once clipped and strictly pertaining to your security, started carrying strange insistences that left you disquieted.

"You have such a patient, calming presence," he remarked one afternoon while you lounged with a book. "The kids would love you."

You shot him a bewildered look over the rattling chains of innuendo in his tone, but Kurapika simply arched an expectant brow as if awaiting your acquiescence.

Another evening, you bent to retrieve a dropped utensil from the kitchen floor only to straighten and find his towering presence hunched mere inches away, studying you with unrestrained focus.

"Carrying a child would suit your figure," he stated in a detached, clinical murmur. Before you could even formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply turned and strode off to catalogue more intelligence reports.

The most overt advancement came one evening as you diligently prepared dinner, muscles burning from chopping and stirring the hearty stew. You were so engrossed in your motions that you failed to notice Kurapika materializing behind you until his sinewy arms snaked insistingly around your midsection.

A startled gasp seized your lungs as his palms came to rest possessively over your abdomen, his firm chest pressing flush against your arched back. For a dizzying moment, you were overwhelmed by the masculine heat and musk of him surrounding you so utterly and inescapably.

"Don't linger over the preparations," Kurapika's lilting voice reverberated against the nape of your neck. You shivered despite yourself as his warm breath danced across your skin. "I'm...starving this evening."

His hips unconsciously canted forward ever so subtly, enough to insinuate himself deeper into the negative space behind you. The unmistakable prominence of his semi erect cock nestled with shameless insistence against the supple curves of your ass through the thin linen of his trousers.

Just as your befuddled mind scrambled for any coherent reply, Kurapika abruptly extricated himself and strode off with the same unruffled collectedness as always. As if he hadn't just allowed the most salacious depths of his obsession over your body to rupture, however briefly, to the surface.

You stood rooted in place, blood pounding deafeningly in your ears as a dozen frantic impulses warred within you. Outrage, indignation, fear, reluctant curiosity... and horrifyingly, something darker and more primal still that responded with undeniable want to the memories of Kurapika's powerful, unapologetic dominion over your personal space.

When you finally managed to recompose yourself and carry the pot of stew to the dining table, Kurapika was waiting with his customary inscrutable expression. No hint of the previous violation lingered in his pewter irises - only that same boundless, soul-deep need to protect and provide that had morphed into such zealous, all-consuming obsession.

As you picked warily at your bowl, hyper-aware of his eyes drinking in your every move, you knew there would be no acknowledgement or discussion of the incident. He had simply exercised another disquieting assertion of ownership over your body and intimate personal freedoms. Just as he had with everything else in the vise of his self-appointed guardianship.

With a smoldering pit of unease taking root in your core, you realized this new dimension to Kurapika's fixation was only beginning. What fresh transgressions would his possessive appetites attempt to justify through the warped lenses of security and obsession?

Only time would tell what depraved lines he may be willing to cross... all in the name of protecting the last remaining embers of his beloved Kurta legacy.

Over the following days, Kurapika's comments about you having children took a disturbingly frank turn. Gone were the veiled observations about motherhood - replaced by straightforward statements that left no room for interpretation.

"Feels like you'd make a good mom," he mentioned offhandedly one evening as you cleaned up after dinner. His eyes shamelessly raked over your body. "Got the hips for it, that's for sure."

You froze, heat prickling your cheeks at his brazen appraisal. Before you could formulate a flustered response, Kurapika simply continued.

"We should think about making that happen sometime. You know, for the clan's sake." He gave a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing something as mundane as laundry plans.

Your mouth opened and closed, utterly stunned by his audacious suggestion. But Kurapika didn't linger or acknowledge your discomfort. With a final weighted look, he turned and strode from the kitchen, leaving you rattled to your core.

The inappropriate remarks only escalated from there. Kurapika seemed to grab any available opportunity to leisurely speculate about you bearing his child in graphic detail.

"Pregnancy's gonna do amazing things for those breasts," he mused one morning while you brushed your hair. You could feel the heated trail of his stare lingering on your chest in the mirror's reflection.

You very nearly dropped the hairbrush, whipping around to gape at him in disbelief. Kurapika simply held your flustered glare, his expression infuriatingly impassive.

"What? Just being honest here," he stated with a casual shrug of his broad shoulders. "Don't act so scandalized. This is a big damn deal for preserving our people."

His dismissive indifference towards your obvious mortification only fanned the flames of your humiliation. You wanted to shriek at him, to demand he stop vocalizing such disturbingly personal thoughts. But Kurapika's piercing stare maintained its unwavering intensity, extinguishing any momentary flicker of outrage before it could take root.

You knew better than to protest his obsession. Raising objections now would only make his intentions that much more overt...and quite possibly hostile. The thought chilled you to your core.

So you suffered in whip-tailed silence as Kurapika's indelicate comments plagued nearly every interaction. No activity, no matter how innocuous, seemed off-limits for him to unsubtly speculate about you becoming his breeding mate in graphic vernacular. And with each new remark, you saw the feral glint smoldering brighter and brighter behind his slate irises.

It was only a matter of time before he outright admitted the depraved depths of his fixation upon you. You dreaded that inevitability, but decided playing meek and obedient remained the wisest strategy for self-preservation. At least until you could formulate an escape plan from under his obsessive watch.

You did your best to hide any discomfort at Kurapika's increasingly frank comments about you having his children. Outward protests only seemed to egg him on with even more graphic remarks. So you kept up a facade of calm obedience, hoping it might discourage him from acting on his unhealthy fixation.

But Kurapika wasn't so easily deterred. His obsession had morphed into an all-consuming hunger that chipped away at his restraint day by day. You saw the signs - his jaw clenching, fists balling up as he inwardly battled those urges. Sometimes you'd catch him staring at you with undisguised longing, his gaze hungrily tracing your curves.

It all came to a head one autumn night as you pretended to read, keenly aware of Kurapika's presence lingering nearby. The tension was suffocating, his pent-up intensity rolling off him in waves. Several times you felt him move closer, only to sense him forcibly checking himself. Finally, you decided to try excusing yourself to the bedroom.

The moment you stood up, Kurapika pounced with startling speed. In one fluid motion, he gripped your shoulders and shoved you back into the armchair, caging you in as he straddled your hips. His lithe body was coiled like a panther pinning its prey.

"Enough games," he growled, his voice low and gritty with want. "No more pretending."

You gazed up at him wide-eyed, taken aback by the naked hunger etched across his chiseled features. This wasn't the restrained Kurapika - this side of him was feral, unrestrained. Arousal and obsession burned in his dilated pupils.

He leaned in close, the hard planes of his body hovering over yours as his hot breath fanned your flushed cheeks. You could feel the thrum of his hammering heart against your own chest.

"You know how obsessed I am with continuing our legacy," Kurapika rasped with grit-toothed intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes."

One calloused hand fisted in your hair, wrenching your head back as he asserted his dominance. You instinctively froze, trembling at his overwhelming presence and display of power. Kurapika drank in your fear and captivation with a ruthless gleam.

"Don't fight it," he warned in a husky timbre. "By morning, you'll be pregnant with my kid whether you like it or not."

A shudder rippled through you at the grim finality of his words. Yet some primal part of your psyche still couldn't help responding to the masterful undercurrents of his seduction, your body warming despite your trepidation.

Kurapika's eyes narrowed, sensing that fractional flicker of reluctant arousal. With taunting slowness, he closed the gap until his lips hovered a hairsbreadth from yours. His tone took on a dangerous, velveteen purr.

"That's it...just accept what's going to happen," he murmured, the barest brush of his mouth against yours. "Don't fight my obsession growing inside you."

Then with a predator's swift strike, Kurapika's mouth crashed into yours with smothering, impatient desire. He hungrily devoured your gasp of surprise, his fervent onslaught of lush dominance overwhelming your senses.

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, hands roaming over your body as if mapping every curve. Kurapika broke the heated kiss for air, eyes glazed with undisguised longing.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you'd look pregnant?" he murmured with awestruck reverence.

One of his hands drifted down to splay possessively across your lower abdomen. Kurapika's gaze followed, drinking in the feminine plane as if he could somehow envision it swelling with new life.

"Carrying my child..." he continued in a hushed, wondrous tone. "Your body nurturing the next generation of our people."

He leaned in to trail feverish kisses along the slender column of your neck, causing you to shiver.

"It's all I've been able to think about," Kurapika rasped against your skin. "Just imagining how radiantly fertile you'd look, swollen with my baby..."

His hand stroked tantalizingly over your abdomen again as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your natural scent like an intoxicating elixir.

"I want that so damn badly," he admitted in a throaty rasp thick with yearning. "To see you heavy and glowing with our future growing inside."

Kurapika's kisses wandered across your jawline until his smoldering gaze locked onto yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession.

"Say you want it too," Kurapika pleaded, thumb tracing maddening circles low on your belly. "Tell me you'll let me put a baby in this luscious body..."

He drank in every microexpression flickering across your features with rapt focus, hanging on your every reaction. Kurapika leaned in closer until you were sharing the same heated breaths.

"Can't you just picture how incredible you'd look?" he murmured, voice strained with longing. "Tits getting heavy and full, that stomach finally swelling outward with our child growing inside..."

One of his hands cupped your breast almost reverently, like weighing the promise of its future maternal fullness. Kurapika's thumb brushed over your peaked nipple, drawing a soft gasp from you.

"Fuck...you'd be so unbelievably sexy carrying my baby," he groaned, utterly transfixed. "A goddess - all ripe, fertile curves and that beautiful glow mothers-to-be get."

He nuzzled his scruffy cheek against yours, peppering your jaw with open-mouthed kisses until you squirmed beneath him. Kurapika's palm stroked insistently over your abdomen again, as if willing his fantasies into reality through sheer habit.

"I can see it so clearly, feel how soft you'd be..." His voice dipped into a gravelly timbre. "Just imagine me waking you up with a nice, hard fuck every morning. How many times would I have to breed you before it finally took?"

A jolt of arousal coursed through you, your cunt clenching at his crude, possessive words. You bit back a whimper as Kurapika's hand snaked down between your thighs. His fingers expertly sought the sensitive nub of your clit, coaxing it with languid strokes.

"Maybe I'd just stay buried inside you all night," he growled, grinding his stiffening cock into your hip. "Keep that pussy nice and filled up with my cum, see if that does the trick..."

Your eyelids fluttered shut as Kurapika continued stroking your sensitive folds, his other hand kneading your breast. You felt utterly lost in the haze of his carnal need, swept away by his possessive lust.

"Fuck, that's the sexiest thought," he rasped, grinding his bulge against you. "Imagining you all stuffed and swollen with my kid, knowing I'd bred you..."

Kurapika's lips sought yours, tongue slipping inside to explore and claim. You whimpered into his kiss, helpless to the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins. He finally broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering with naked want.

He didn’t say anything, just studied your features intently as he slowly unzipped his fly. Kurapika's hand disappeared beneath his trousers, pulling his rock-hard length free. He gave himself a few languid pumps, hissing softly at the contact.

You stared, transfixed. His cock was just as you imagined - thick and veiny, pulsing with a hungry need to plant his seed.

"Go on...feel it," he ordered gruffly.

Your hand reached out on instinct, fingertips ghosting tentatively over the engorged flesh. Kurapika let out a hiss, his hips bucking into your touch. You felt a thrill at his response, a surge of feminine satisfaction.

He pressed his cock firmly into your palm, forcing you to curl your fingers around the warm girth. You stroked him experimentally, relishing the velvety-smooth skin stretched tight over his pulsating hardness. Kurapika let out a guttural moan, eyes fluttering shut as his head lolled back in pleasure.

"Get a good look, honey ," he purred. "This is what's gonna put a baby inside you."

His hands reached out to grasp your hips, yanking you down on the armchair until you were splayed before him. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your slick-drenched cunt to his ravenous gaze.

Kurapika's cock bobbed excitedly at the sight, already drooling an obscene amount of pre-cum. He gripped your hips, dragging you flush against him. The swollen head nudged your soaked slit, smearing its sticky promise against your heat.

"Gonna make you a mommy tonight," he breathed, eyes glazed with lust. "My sexy little wife, full and round with my kid."

With that, he plunged inside your cunt in one rough, impatient thrust. You cried out as his thick cock stretched you impossibly full. It was a delicious, overwhelming ache, like your body was being molded and shaped to his whims.

Kurapika set a punishing pace, fucking you with relentless intensity. He was like a man possessed, driven by a singular purpose. His hands dug into your hips, nails scoring your skin.

You clutched desperately at his broad shoulders, fingers raking his skin. You were completely overwhelmed by the sensation of him dominating your body, filling you up over and over again with his need.

Kurapika's face was contorted with lust, eyes screwed shut as he pounded into you. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat-slick chest heaving with exertion. You could feel the raw urgency in his movements, the desperate need to spill his seed deep inside.

Your fingers threaded through his silken hair, gripping the roots as you held his fevered gaze. Kurapika's eyes widened, pupils blown wide with arousal at the display of submission. He gave a guttural groan, his pace faltering as he struggled to stave off his imminent release.

"So fucking sexy," he growled, teeth gritted as he fought to hold himself back. He pistoned into you harder, deeper. His thumb reached down to furiously circle your swollen clit. "Come on, honey. Let me hear you scream..."

You arched into him, the friction of his thumb on your sensitive nub and cock pistoning into your cunt pushing you towards the edge. Kurapika's hips slammed into yours with bruising force, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his orgasm neared.

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, body tensing with anticipation. His hand gripped your thigh, hiking it higher for deeper penetration. That last bit of delicious pressure was all you needed to send you careening over the edge.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his throbbing cock. You came with a strangled cry, body spasming as you squirted onto his cock. Kurapika gave a ragged gasp, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release.

With one final, primal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. You felt the warmth of his seed flooding your womb, painting your inner walls with his virility. Thick, creamy spurts of cum filled you to the brim, his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied every last drop.

Kurapika's hips rolled languidly into yours, prolonging the aftershocks of his climax. You clung to him, legs trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Your bodies were entwined, sweat-slick skin pressed flush against each other.

As the haze of lust ebbed away, Kurapika's gaze softened, taking on an adoring warmth. He caressed your cheek, his voice thick with emotion.

"I hope I got you pregnant," Kurapika murmured, voice hushed with naked longing. He leaned down to trail openmouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

"Can you imagine?" he rasped against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Your belly swelling with our child, my obsession made flesh and blood?"

He nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your mingled scents with an almost spiritual reverence. When Kurapika pulled back to meet your gaze again, his eyes were alight with feverish yearning.

"I'm going to dote on you relentlessly," he vowed in a low rasp. "Worship every curve, every new glow you get from carrying my baby."

His palm stroked over your lower abdomen, fingertips committing every plane and whisper of definition to memory.

"You'll let me, won't you?" Kurapika's tone edged towards pleading. "Let me obsess over you morning, noon, and night while you nurture our offspring?"

He dipped down to trail reverent, openmouthed kisses along the valley between your breasts.

"These are going to swell up so full and ripe..." he muttered thickly, voice muffled against your fevered skin. "I can't wait to taste how sweet your milk will be."

Kurapika's smoldering gaze met yours again, pupils blown wide with naked obsession. His hand splayed possessively over your abdomen once more, relishing the possibility of it bearing new life.

"Just stay right here with me and make my fantasy a reality," he rasped, the barest hint of a plea entering his gravelly timbre. "Let me put a baby in you and finally satisfy this all-consuming obsession."

His thumb stroked over the hint of your hipbone, gaze following the motion with rapturous focus.

"I'll take care of you both..." Kurapika vowed, voice dropping to a rugged murmur. "Mind, body, and spirit - you'll want for nothing beyond my total devotion."

With that, he sealed his promise with a searing, breathtaking kiss that made his singular obsession for impregnating you resoundingly clear.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Captured.

A Continuation of This Piece.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader x Yandere!Gojo (JJK).

Word Count: 3.3k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Implied Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Threesomes, The Pervasive Aire of Homoerotica, Slight Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Violence, Intimidation, and Biting. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

He let you wait outside while he booked a room. It was a test, obviously – to see if you’d try and run as soon as he let you out of his sight. You didn’t. You kept your back pressed against the peeling cement wall and your hands in your pockets as the man at the front desk screamed, as you listened to the slick sounds of carnage and Geto’s muffled laughter. By the time he came out, his clothes dotted with dark stains and his hands lathered in the same dripping scarlet, you thought you might’ve been too sick for whatever he wanted to do with you.

He held up a hand, two keys and their accompanying plastic tags hanging from each finger. “Pick a number, one through ten.”

You just wanted to get this over with. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about monsters or mysterious men or any of this ever again. “Eight.”

“Oh, the honeymoon suite.” Your eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side. “Kidding, kidding. That’ll have to wait, for now.”

The room was nicer than you’d expected. Not quite the oppressively beige monstrosity you’d feared, but not as far from the eye-bleedingly pink love hotel that’d be the permanent backdrop in your worst nightmares as you would’ve liked. Currently, you were sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed with faux-velvet sheets, staring at your feet as Geto washed his hands in the in-suite bathroom. So lost in your own spiraling thoughts, you didn’t notice the water shutting off, didn’t hear him approaching you until the mattress dipped at your side and a pair of hands came to rest on either side of your waist. In one smooth, effortless motion, you were hauled into his lap, left to balance on his thigh as his eyes raked over you unabashedly. “You should try to relax. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me.” His hand fell to the hem of your sweater. You’d gotten dressed in a blind panic after waking up to an apartment crawling with those awful things, but now, you regretted not throwing on as many layers as you could, not putting as many barriers as you could between yourself and the feeling of his calloused fingers skirting over your skin. “I can help take the edge off, if you’d like.”

For the first time that day, you felt a spark of relief. “Do you have anything? I’m alright with pills.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of…” His hand splayed over your stomach, his tone laced with a dark edge. “Choking you until you black-out, then having my way with your helpless body?”

“Oh.” Just as quickly, that spark was extinguished – crushed under an unforgiving heel and stamped into total nonexistence. “I… I think I’d rather be awake, thank you.”

He hummed, tapping two fingers against your hip. “Have it your way, little one.”

Without warning, you were thrown onto the center of the bed. Before you could haul yourself up, before you could fully realize what was going on, Geto was between your open legs, mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh and his hands tearing at your shorts. The flimsy material gave away easily, and your panties didn’t last much longer. You took back what you’d said about wearing less revealing clothes; making this take any longer than it already did would’ve been torture. As deftly as he worked, the knot of dread forming in your chest was faster, quickly overshadowing every rational thought you might’ve had in favor of telling you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that this was dangerous, that you didn’t know what was going on, that you—

His broad tongue laved over your now-exposed slit, and your panicked mind went completely blank. His mouth was hot, and he didn’t waste time, latching onto your clit and sucking before you could think to push him away. Your body, nerves fried by adrenaline and senses dialed up to the point of hypersensitivity, responded immediately, your back arching as you struggled to swallow back a fractured moan. He encouraged your reactions, laving over your clit as two of his fingers found their way to your now-dripping entrance.

His digits slipped into you without resistance, scissoring apart and splitting you open as your own hands balled around the sheets, as you locked your jaw into place and did what little you could swallow back any sounds that’d make you seem more pathetic than you already were. Your pitiful attempts at resistance earned a throaty chuckle that reverberated against your clit and made your thighs clench together. Vaguely, in the distance, you felt his hand curl around your ankle, then you were being bent in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he ate you out like a man starved. It was all you could do to keep your eyes shut, the tears that would’ve escaped otherwise safely locked away, to make sure you didn’t kick or thrash or do anything that’d make him decide you’d be more entertaining after you’d been half-mauled by one of his monsters. It was all you could do to keep your mind blank, to block out the terrible, wet noises rising up from between your thighs, to—

The door creaked as it swung open, and you scrambled to pull away from Geto, to cover yourself before someone saw you being brought to the brink of climax by a murderer. He held you in place, though, his grip turning vice-like as he kept you splayed-open and on-display for the familiar, white-haired stranger now standing in the doorway. “Satoru,” Geto started, still idly pumping his fingers into you. “How kind of you to join—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, Gojo had him pinned to the far wall, a small crater blown into the cement where the point of collision would’ve been. You could see an orb of blinding, blue light forming in his other hand, but Geto only clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Keep your dick in your pants, pervert,” he purred, eyes flitting to you. “There are innocents nearby.”

The orb of light disappeared, but Gojo didn’t move. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

You watched a first form at Geto’s side, watched in a daze as his knuckles collided with Gojo’s cheek with enough force to send him flying across the room and into the side of the bed, fracturing the steel frame. “Me neither, ‘toru.”

Letting out a ragged exhale, Gojo pushed himself to his feet and their conversation devolved into a rush of blows and kicks and insults half-finished before Gojo’s fist collided with Geto’s chin or Geto caught Gojo’s throat in his teeth. Clothes were torn, blood spilled across cheap carpeting, and you blinked once, twice, before shaking your head and hauling yourself up and taking stock of the situation.

They were fighting. Eventually, one of them would probably win, and that winner would probably want to fuck you. Maybe, after that, one of them would also help you. Maybe.

Gojo caught Geto’s hair in his fist and pulled. You could’ve sworn you heard Geto moan.

Okay. Alright. Yeah. No. Fuck this, actually.

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, you stood up and pulled your sweater down to cover your still dripping cunt before inching towards the door which was, surprisingly, still in one piece (it would dawn on you later that Geto must’ve left it unlatched, if not open, much to your delayed mortification). You could figure something else out. There were two other people who knew about your monsters, which meant there must’ve been at least one more. Gojo had been wearing a uniform, when you first met him, running for your life from the mangled mess of teeth and claws that’d managed to sink its talons into you, and you thought you’d heard him mention a school. You could find someone else, someone who wouldn’t ask for sex, someone who wouldn’t know your name before you introduced yourself, someone who’d give you a protective charm or a talisman and then demand for money or unpaid labor in return. You could—

It felt like vertigo, like the surface of the Earth had shifted underneath you. Your body tilted, collapsed, and then Gojo’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed into your back and his fingers burrowed into the flesh of your side. “Trying to get away?” His voice was raspy. Geto must’ve gotten his throat. “That’s not very nice.”

“You were the one who burst in uninvited and distracted me,” Geto muttered. His lip was busted, and he cracked his nose back into place as he hauled himself up from the floor. “If you hadn’t interrupted us, they’d still be cumming on my tongue so adorably.”

Gojo didn’t seem to pay him any mind. His attention remained fixed on you, his free hand drifting to your vulnerable pussy. Using his thumb, he gathered some of the slick staining your inner thighs, toying with it as he spoke. “I thought the first time I touched you like this would be more romantic.” He paused, his ears ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Or, the first time I touched you while you were awake, at least. It… it got harder to control myself, toward the end.”

You snapped to Geto, teeth bared. “This wasn’t what we agreed to. I don’t want to—”

“Don’t talk to him.” His fingers slipped into you, curling against the walls of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your chest, and Gojo pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “Don’t look at him. He’s not supposed to be here.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Satoru.” Stretching his back, he made his way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, letting out a strained groan. “If I hadn’t been so kind as to donate all of those very valuable, very hard-to-come-by curses to your pitiful cause, you would’ve waited… how long? Another year before so much as breathing the same air as your little crush?” His half-lidded stare met yours, and he smirked. “You should have a taste. The poor thing is heavenly when they’re scared.”

“He’s always been this bossy. I’m sorry you had to deal with him on your own.” Gojo drew back, but didn’t let you go. Rather, he looped an arm under your knees and pulled you off your feet, carrying you back to that fucking bed. He laid you out with more care than Geto had, but his expression remained uncannily blank. He’d been blindfolded the first time you’d met, and whatever eyewear he’d come with had been either removed or torn away, revealing eyes that were almost painfully blue. The only mercy was his hair – long enough to fall over his face and obscure his empty gaze, his parted lips. His hand drifted to your injured leg, still bandaged from the knee down, and his lips quirked downward. “I’m sorry you had to get hurt, too. But…” He smiled, leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. “It’s good that we’ll get to be together, right?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him to stop touching you, to let you go home, but you couldn’t go home, so you said nothing.

Geto let out an exaggerated yawn. “I didn’t put this little reunion together because I wanted to hear you talk, ‘toru.”

“See what I mean? So fucking bossy.” And yet, one of his hands fell away from you. You heard fabric rustle, metal clink, and then his cock was free, prodding against the inside of your thigh. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as your eyes broke away from his and raked over his pale shaft, his flushed head, already leaking beads of ivory precum. He was tall. They were both massive, but nothing attached to a human being should’ve been that big. “You’re lucky I’m letting you watch.”

“Who said I’d be watching?” So preoccupied by your own terror, you didn’t notice Geto shifting until you felt his hands on your sides, then at the hem of your sweater, pulling your only remaining protection over your head. You scrambled to stop him, but there wouldn’t have been much you could to do fend him off at your best, let alone in the state you’d been reduced to tonight. With a breathy chuckle, he finished stripping you down, his attention immediately falling to your chest. “You wouldn’t want me leaving you alone with him, would you, little one?” He bowed his head, catching your nipple with his teeth and pulling harshly. A pained whine slipped past your lips before you could choke it back, and he turned towards Gojo, grinning. “See? They like me.”

Whatever rage Gojo felt, he managed to bury it beneath a soft smile, a pulse of pure electricity in his eyes as he took his cock in his hand, dragging the tip over your entrance. You thrashed, kicked, fought, but he only cooed as he thrust into you, like he was trying to comfort you. Like you would need to be comforted if he just stopped.

He bottomed out, his hips pressing into yours with a blissful sigh, and you lurched forward, moving to claw at his eyes, to wrap your hands around his throat, to do something. Geto caught your wrists before you could so much as touch him, though – laughing as he forced your arms flush against the mattress. As Gojo started to move in earnest, Geto slotted his lips against yours, taking advantage of your distress to force his tongue into your mouth while Gojo fucked you open, whatever gentleness he’d been attempting to show you falling away in favor of burying himself that much deeper in your tight heat. As soon as Geto pulled away, Gojo took his place, his kiss not quite as aggressive but no less invasive, no less unwelcome. You should’ve never left your apartment. You should’ve never run from your monsters. At least they might’ve been kind enough to kill you quickly.

By the time he broke away from you, your vision was spotted with black, your lungs aching from a lack of oxygen. Jerkily, he straightened his back and raised a hand, his fingers soon tangled in Geto’s hair. You watched in a daze as teeth clashed against teeth and lips collided with a bruising force, and considered the terrifying possibility that you might’ve been the first person either of them had ever kissed.

Gojo’s pace turned erratic, his hold on your hip crushing. His pelvic bone caught on your clit every time he thrust into you. You’d been able to control yourself when faced with Geto’s teasing, but now, every little cracked moan and pained whimper slid past your lips, barely audible above the sound of slick squelching and skin slapping against skin. Unwillingly, you clenched around him, and Gojo doubled over with a throaty groan, burying his face in the side of your neck. You felt his mouth on your throat, then his teeth, sinking into your skin deep enough to draw blood. You clenched your eyes shut, willing your body to go numb to the pain, to ignore the coil of pure agony winding tighter in your core, but Geto caught your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and stare up at him. “Trying to run away again so soon?”

“S-stop,” you half-sobbed, trying to pry his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me—”

“We’ll have to bring a gag along, next time. That is, unless you learn to be more appreciative.” He shrugged his sweatpants below his waist, wrapping his fist around his cock and guiding it to your lips. “Open up, little one.”

You grit your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as tightly as you could, but Gojo bit down on your collarbone and you screamed, jerking against him. Geto took advantage of your misery, slipping a thumb into your mouth and prying your teeth apart, forcing his cock down your throat. “Bite down,” he muttered, voice low and tone sharpened, “and I’ll make sure he knocks you up.”

A wave of cold dread washed over you, but you didn’t have time to linger on your newly realized fear. Geto was already fucking your skull, already leaving you struggling not to choke as you tried to remember how to breathe around him. Where Gojo was uncontrolled, Geto almost seemed… unaffected, holding your head in place while he rolled his hips with the idle pace of a man determined to milk every second he could out of you. It was unbearable; the burning in your throat, the heat in your core, the feeling of Gojo battering into your cunt until you couldn’t stop your legs from twitching, your back from arching, your pussy from clenching around Gojo’s length and drawing a sinful noise from somewhere deep in his chest. You let out a ragged moan half-suffocated by Geto’s cock, and then you were coming undone around him, your body convulsing underneath his. Gojo wasn’t far behind. With a hitched groan, he pressed his hips into yours and pushed another open-mouthed kiss into your neck, making no attempt to pull out before flooding your pussy with something thick and awful.

Geto wasn’t far behind, his eyes falling shut as he came down your throat. For the longest time, neither of them moved, Geto forcing you to choke down every last drop of his cum while Gojo stare down at you, eyes blank and lips parted, his expression caught somewhere between tender and awe-struck.

Finally, he glanced away from you, looking to Geto instead. “Let’s switch. I want to feel their mouth.”

Geto let out a breath of a chuckle. With your body limp, your jaw slack, he pulled away from you, leaning just close enough to let his lips brush against your temple before straightening his back and moving to take Gojo’s place between your legs. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”

~

Hours later, when your skin was little more than a patchwork of hickeys and bruises and you couldn’t feel anything save for a constant, excruciating ache in your cunt, Geto had fallen asleep with his arm around your waist and Gojo laid next to you, head propped on his fist and a soft smile painted across his lips. You could see the sun starting to rise from behind the thin motel curtains, feel the dread that accompanied being in a strange place with strange men at a strange time, but it all seemed secondary, pushed to a distance by your exhaustion, your devastation. When Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you out of Geto’s hold, all you could summon was a whine of protest, and even that was quickly glazed over with an airy laugh, a quiet hush.

Geto’s shirt (discarded three hours in, when he stepped aside for a shower while Gojo made you cum on his tongue for the fourth time) was pulled over your head, Gojo’s glasses (lost in the initial fight, found briefly while Geto was bouncing you on his cock with one hand and jerking Gojo off with the other, then lost again) snagged off the floor and pocketed. As he slipped out of the beaten motel door, you shut your eyes against the dim light, burying your face in his chest, and he encouraged you to, cupping the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss into your forehead. With his lips still lingering against your skin, he spoke, his voice muffled by his proximity. “It’s alright. You can sleep, if you need to.”

It might’ve been sweeter, if you hadn’t been able to feel every inch of his smile cutting into your skin.

“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

[shotmrmiller]

You don't need anyone else but us.

TW: implied dub-con, drug usage.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.1K

A/N: Im biting my knuckles at the idea of you going on a date with this guy at some restaurant, and the bum slips some aphrodisiac into your drink :)

It started small, with symptoms so faint they were barely discernible. Fanning yourself with your hand, you hoped to keep the beads of sweat forming at the nape of your neck from ruining your perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” you asked your date with a flustered, timid smile. 

“No, I feel fine, but you do look a bit rosy. You alright?” As you give him a reassuring nod, a striking hum passes through your body, like a raindrop rippling still water, and every wave shoots arousal straight to your core. 

He reached across the table to grasp at your wrist, bringing you closer to him so he could press a cool hand to your burning forehead. “You’re burning up, sweets. Maybe it’s time we take you home, hm?” You try to stammer out a response, but fire is pooling in your belly, making it hard to think. He quickly raises his hand, and gestures for the tab, then changes seats to be right next to you. “I’ve got you.” The fabric of his long sleeve grazes your uncovered back as he pulls you flush against him with his arm, and every shift of it scrapes at your nerve endings.

The pants that escape your mouth sound deafening in your ears, every twitch of your muscles amplified. It hurts, and even then, the edges of that pain are blurring, twisting into scalding pleasure. Your cheek feels the vibrations of his voice as your head rests in the hollow of his throat, and with the last of your lucidity, you catch the tail end of the conversation between your date and the server.

“— she’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid,” and through fogging vision, you observe as he hands the server the two wine glasses, remnants of red liquid at the bottom— but he had finished his wine and the rest of yours. “Have a good evening.”

He moves to get up, scooping you in his arms, and you’re powerless in your vulnerable state, body listless against his, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Before you know it, you’re being practically carried out the door, frosty air nipping at your feverish skin. Your date bends his legs to hook his arm under your knees, and with a grunt, picks you up in a cradle carry. Head lulling on his chest, a pathetic whimper slips past your lips at the smell of him and his cologne that you had formally thought was overpowering.

“I know, sweets. We’re going to my flat, and I’ll take good care of you there.” But as he approaches his car, you’re abruptly wrenched from his arms, an unmistakable voice speaks up, tone harsh, severe. 

“She’s not goin’ anywhere with you.” Simon?

Simon gently lowers you onto your wobbly legs, allowing you to steady yourself against the car. The freezing surface of it stings, a raw sensation surges through your body, and a sibilant hiss escapes your mouth. 

Simon steps away, and Johnny takes his place, cupping your face. You let out a soft moan at the contrast of his chilly hands on your burning skin. “Hey,” he softly says, “you a’right?” Your peripheral vision catches a flurry of quick movements, making you instinctively turn your head, but Johnny’s hands exert a gentle force, keeping your head locked in position, fixated on him.

“Eyes on me, bonnie.” Johnny’s hands lower, trailing down to your neck, cool fingers enveloping your throat, and this time, you mewl. Loudly. “Och, I ken, i ken. We’ll be home in no time, hm? Simon’s just takin’ out the trash.” 

Johnny’s thumb traces soothing circles against your fluttering pulse, and you whine when you imagine those circles being drawn on your throbbing clit, how euphoric it would feel. Maybe it would assuage the liquid fire in your veins— satiate the need to be filled, stretched.

“A’right hen, we’re takin’ ye to my house, gotta keep an eye on ye.” Johnny lifts you into a side carry, effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing. “It’ll be over soon.” God, you hoped so.

Placing you on his bed, Johnny takes off your heels and sits by your side, holding your hand in his. “How ye doin’?” Blinking, you thickly swallow and realize that your mind is clearer than it was at the restaurant. “Better, I think.” 

Johnny hums, and turns to Simon. “Can ye get her a glass o’ water?” Simon looks at you, then flicks his gaze to Johnny, and slowly dips his head, before pivoting to leave. “Just rest, hen, I think that dunderheid spiked yer drink. I told ye he was nae good, but nae, the lass is grown, she can make her own decisions, hm?” Johnny reaches out to caress your sweaty forehead and drags his roughened knuckles across your cheekbone. 

With a gentle touch, you reach up and firmly press his hand against your cheek, nuzzling it, and holding his gaze. “I’m too dependent on you,” and Simon walks in, a glass of water in hand, and your eyes shift towards him, “the both of you. One day, you’ll both move on, and,” your voice trembles, choked with emotion, as tears gather in your eyes, “I’ll be left behind and—” Simon’s deep timbre voice cuts off your outburst with a stern tone. 

“Enough.” Johnny gives Simon a reprimanding look, and takes the glass, handing it to you. 

“What Simon means t’say, is that yer haverin’, hen. Go on, drink yer water. All of it, gotta rehydrate, a’right?” As you knocked back the cup, you remained oblivious to them sharing a meaningful look, and Simon giving an imperceivable nod, one that Johnny reciprocated. 

Carefully setting down the glass on the nightstand, you get cozy under the covers, breathing in his comforting scent, eyes sliding shut. Johnny pats your leg once and whispers, “Get some rest, hen. We’ll be outside, call if ye need anythin’.” A sluggish tip of your head is his only response, and without a sound, the two men exit the room.

Johnny casually rests his weight on the kitchen island, absentmindedly scratching his arm. “How’d ye get that bawbag to use the drug?” Simon shrugs nonchalantly, and says, “A little persuasion.” Johnny hums low, and after a pause, questions, “And how long will it take fer the drug in the water to take effect?” 

“I gave her room temperature water,” Simon chuckles, “I say 5 minutes, give o’ take.” 

In a matter of moments, the distinct sound of your high-pitched keens and mewls reached their ears, causing them to exchange a knowing look.“Heads er tails?” Johnny asks, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Simon removes his mask, running his fingers through his tousled hair, and states, “Tails and the winner gets to come in her first.” 

They shake on it. 

A/N: i was told to make a pt.II by my moot @rookiesbookies so I GUESS I WILL. set under the cbf! johnny x ghost au.

[qierxing]

Head empty just yandere Heartslabyul as your imperial harem members

yan!poly!Heartslabyul x Reader

tw/cw: dub//con, gender-neutral reader but referred with masculine terms, drugging, manipulation, implied somnophilia, political machinations

—

you were raised with the expectation that you would shoulder the crown and rule over your people, justly and fairly. because of that, by the time you were crowned, your mindset compared to others your age was mature beyond what was considered normal.

you would be lying if you weren't bitter. Although you've long accepted that no one else could be trusted to rule this land and its people, you often wondered what your life would be like if there were no etiquette lessons and sword practices consuming your childhood.

In the end, it's all foolish dreams. You sit on your glittering golden throne and watch apathetically as the imperial court cheers and raises a toast to the new royal blood.

You were prepared for the responsibilities of a monarch, but what you weren't prepared for was your vassals' obnoxious nagging.

Your kingdom's tradition and laws have long allowed for polygamy, and your previous ancestors were known for their large harems. That day, you finally learned why: to ensure that royal blood would still be carried on, no matter what.

it's distasteful to you. you try to ignore your vassals all talking your ears off about potential consorts and lovers. but it's only so long before you crack.

Riddle Rosehearts was the first one to be by your side.

Not by choice. Duchess Rosehearts was the one who brought up her darling son to your vassals first, who then presented him to you. You would've turned them away, if not for the boy's eyes. Something in those stormy gray eyes makes your heart ache. His mother clutches her son's shoulder in a vice like grip that goes far beyond parental worry. Perhaps he too knows what it feels like to have no control over his life. 

And so reluctantly, you let him join you as a consort. 

It's not bad. Rather, he's so intelligent and diligent that you often ask him for help and advice on the kingdom's affairs, knowing that his strictness with himself and others provides a valuable impartial view that you can hardly find anywhere else. Besides, even if he is too stiff and formal at times, you appreciate his aid in paperwork that threatens to drown you.

in fact, he's so dedicated to carrying out his duty, that you find him nearly unrobed on your bed. Seven above, that nearly gave you heart palpitations. As attractive as he is, you have no intention of forcing the boy to give up his virginity against his will, even if he is married to you. 

you explain this to him as patiently as you can, even when his face scrunches up in hurt and confusion, asking if he wasn't enough–but you shut that down immediately. He is more than enough, and he isn't obligated to do anything he doesn't want to, even if his mother taught him otherwise. the revelation shakes his mind, causing his walls and views to crumble before him in the following days. you would like to think he became less stiff as he realized his true worth.

That is when an unexpected addition to your harem happened.

Actually, it was completely by accident. Your servants had often brought you various snacks and sweets during your work, as you were infamous for being extremely cranky without the motivation of good food. When Riddle, of all people, brings you a strawberry tart while you’re in the middle of some particularly grueling financial budget papers, it gives you pause.

It's not that you didn't trust him. It’s just…this is the boy who refused to eat more than the healthy amount of sugar. Even if you offered him various pastries and cookies, he always shunned them, saying it wouldn’t be right for him to consume them. 

So you spear a fork into the tart and bring it up to your mouth. When the bite meets your tongue, you swear your soul ascends to heaven. The taste is absolutely indescribable: the crust was flaky and light and the filling was sweet and creamy. This has got to be the best dessert you’ve ever tasted in your short life.

When you inquire Riddle about where he had gotten his hands on the tart, he shyly looks away from you and mumbles something under his breath. Not wanting to pressure him, you decide to let it go with a request to send your highest compliments to the patisserie. 

Since then, he is the one bringing you various treats, all unbelievably delicious tasting, each time you’re stuck among paperwork and meetings. You’re grateful, even if it does make you wonder who this mysterious patisserie is. You’re not particularly familiar with every kitchen staff member, but you would think that you would be aware of such talent residing in your walls. 

The truth finally comes to light when Riddle bursts into your office one day, in tears and hyperventilating, as he collapses in your arms. Alarmed, you quickly try to make sense of his babbling words. 

It turns out that the very patisserie wasn’t in your kitchens, as you thought. No, they were humble commoner folk who ran a modest bakery in the shopping district. Riddle had been secretly visiting the bakery whenever he had the time to buy their desserts and to visit his friend, the owner’s son. Problem is, his mother had found out and was furious that her son would debase himself and his reputation like that.

Trey Clover stands behind his parents with wide, frightened eyes as Duchess Rosehearts shrieks on about how she’ll shut down the establishment herself for daring to corrupt her son and so forth. It’s rather annoying that she would go this far in the name of parental love–thankfully she stops screaming once she catches sight of you. 

For once, you’re thankful for the absolute authority of imperial power. Duchess Rosehearts begrudgingly draws back when you block her attempt to defame the bakery. With a disappointed glare searing over the rest of you, she storms out of the bakery, door slamming shut behind her with a deafening crack.

You watch with mild interest as Riddle rushes forward and envelopes Trey in a tight hug that nearly knocks the tall man over. Despite the fact that Trey should be the one more distraught, he comforts Riddle with an ease that is almost suspiciously, dare you say, reminiscent of fondness. You look away before your thoughts dwell on it for too long.

Of course, it’s not all over. Trey’s parents kowtow at your feet with desperate gratitude, even if you beg them to stand up and raise their heads. As you glance over at Riddle in Trey’s arms, thoughts begin to arrange themselves into a proposal.

You and Riddle both know that Duchess Rosehearts would not stop here. Your presence was only a mere temporary hurdle in her plans to bring down Clover Patisserie, and there was no telling what she would do next. So, you propose something nearly unheard of to them.

Your vassals will throw an absolute fit if you openly sponsor their bakery and provide protection without something in exchange. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but this is the only way that Trey and his family would be safe. 

Surprisingly, he accepts the proposal with grace, becoming the second consort of your harem that very day. 

He inquires if there’s anything he should be aware of for his duties, making you laugh raucously and Riddle blush to the roots of his strawberry hair. You wave him off, telling him he only needs to do the things he loves and to bring you more of those tarts that cured your stress during your work times. The smile he gives is radiant and you wonder how it is that Riddle managed to find someone who makes the sun pale in comparison.

The next day, Riddle tells you between paperwork that he gifted Trey his own kitchen to bake and cook, and you nod in approval. It’s too easy to tease him over his obvious favoritism toward the baker, and it only makes you want to bully him more when his face becomes tomato red.

The annual royal banquet comes up and it dawns on both you and Riddle that Trey will have to present himself to the feral noble masses who are itching to know who this new addition is. The three of you are thrown into a hurricane of preparations, not just for the banquet, but to prepare poor Trey, who has never attended such an elite event, for the troubles ahead.

It’s certainly not for naught, you think, as you rake your eyes over your consorts. Their beauty outshines everything, in your personal opinion. When you make the introductory speech, you’re well aware that the audience in front of you is not just dazzled by you, but rather the two handsome men dutifully hovering behind you.

You hope that Riddle is enough of a buffer when the nobles inevitably swarm them with excited and curious eyes. As much as you would like to help, you were stuck with your own battles of greeting various guests and entertaining those who were trying to butter you up.

The Diamond family catches your eye first. 

It wasn't something positive, per say. But it is quite hilarious as the Marquis introduces you to his family: his wife, his two elder daughters and his only heir and son–only to find the aforementioned son missing. He’s left stuttering in shame even if you don’t particularly mind. It would’ve just been another boring greeting, but at that moment, his eyes dilates in fear, and when you follow his gaze, you see why. 

Cater Diamond is currently flirting with Trey. And very openly, at that.

The sight should make you furious, and yet you nearly burst out laughing. How could there be anyone this daring? Surely the young man would know better than to try hitting on an imperial escort–if he was aware that is, of the man being one. 

You decide to be the merciful mediator, because Riddle is nearly about to blow a gasket by Trey’s side and Trey looks like he’s too flustered to appropriately reject the advances of the eldest Diamond son. 

“Lord Diamond, I do believe your father is looking for you.” His face is full of surprise at the image of you grinning at him in amusement when you gently break the awkward atmosphere. 

After he leaves in a hurry, your two consorts apologize profusely for letting the flirtations happen. You reassure them that it was fine, that whatever they liked to do was not meant to be dictated under your actions. However, their faces still remain guilty and dismayed, as though you had reprimanded them instead.

The encounter remains in your mind as an entertaining memory. So much so, that when your vassals pester you again on adding another member to your harem, your mind immediately goes to sparkling jade green eyes and vivid orange hair.

If anything it was on a whim. Of course, you consulted both Trey and Riddle before sending the invitation, and they both agreed, even if Riddle looked much grumpier than usual. You hardly believed that the proposal would be answered favorably; after all, you’ve learned from recent gossip that Cater Diamond was a rather well known playboy. You doubt that kind of man would enjoy being tied to an imperial harem, even if it was under your lax control.

Perhaps that is why it’s so surprising that when he finally is in front of you, he acquiesces to your proposal with no hesitation at all. You ask in disbelief if he was sure of his decision, and he affirms it with no distaste in his voice. He notes your incredulous face, giving a cheeky grin in response.

Apparently he's been wanting to separate himself from his family for a while. The reason for his scandalous affairs were only attempts at getting his family to send him away, but he never succeeded. He says that your proposition finally gave him the freedom to be away from his family. While you don't want to pry further, it confuses you on how the Diamond family managed to raise such an eccentric young man.

Regardless, he becomes the third member of your harem. There were some small tensions between him and Riddle, but thankfully they resolved rather quicker than you expected–it seems that although Cater acted rather laid back, he has skills in organization and networking that even Riddle had to begrudgingly acknowledge. Ask him on the most recent gossip on the nobles and he's sure to provide you a list alphabetized on the latest trends around the capitol. Besides, it seems him and Trey get along quite well—too well, in a way. You don’t think you’ve seen a pair more prone to exchanging sensual, fleeting touches. Well, that’s not your problem.

You pray that nothing more eventful comes up in the meantime. Trey could only supply you with so much cake and cookies before you simply keeled over from sugar intake.

It seems the Seven were not on your side.

The Knights' jousting tournament was something that slipped your mind. When it gets brought up on the agenda in a meeting you silently curse. In the racket of you ascending to the throne and tending to your harem, you had neglected a big aspect to your royal life.

Personal guards. Normally, you should've had personally assigned soldiers that would accompany you for protection, but you've kept putting it off since you were able to protect yourself just fine with your abilities. And hiring new people, for any reason, was always going to be a long chore of vetting, paperwork, and tests.

The worst part is that Riddle and Trey joined in on the nagging. Going on about how they worried for your safety as if you weren't already trained in self defense and swordplay since your childhood days. Cater just shrugs when you look at him desperately for help and winks while running off to who knows where. Traitor.

Whatever. The sooner you pick, the sooner they'll get off your back.

Somehow this year's tournament is rather disappointing. Your three consorts give commentary throughout the matches, but it cannot stop the boredom starting to overtake you. Trey discreetly offers you a cup of wine and you take it gratefully.

The announcer signals the start of a match, with Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade taking a stand against each other. You hear Riddle faintly murmuring to your side about how they look rather young to be in a tournament like this. But you're rather absorbed in their intense fight, to the point where Cater teases you, asking if your taste included younger men. you roll your eyes and tell him to be quiet.

The fight ends in a spine tingling draw. Both men have their swords knocked out of their hands, but they’re still glaring at each other with such raw passion, that it’s fascinating. You know you will hardly meet any others that could catch your attention.

The end of the tournament ends with the roar of the crowd shaking the colosseum and the boisterous victory announcement. The two of them weren’t finalists, but that matters little to you. The victor was impressive. But they weren’t what you wanted.

“Ace Trappola, at your service, your majesty.”

“Deuce Spade, at your command, your majesty!”

The two greet you with enthusiastic fervor that has you chuckling in amusement. They are just the breath of fresh air you need. 

“Starting from today, you two will be my personal guards.”

They’re left with gaping mouths at your bold statement. Your consorts, too, are sputtering at your side. Riddle is already trying to convince you to reconsider. Trey is gently trying to ask if you’re really sure about this. Even Cater, for all his light-hearted banter, chokes an incredulous scoff, covering his mouth with a fist.

Yes, there’s always the threat of treason, and they might be slackers, but if you were going to have to employ someone, you’d rather it be someone entertaining. 

Regardless, the two are knighted and become your guards in record time. 

For several days, a persistent headache haunts you with how much Ace loved riling up Riddle for no reason, or Deuce somehow managing to blunder his way into destroying several pieces of priceless antique furniture. It takes only two days for Riddle to kneel at your side, begging you to please just switch guards, these two were ridiculously incompetent and not worthy to serve under you, but you only pat his head and send him off back to his chambers to rest. 

Trey and Cater were arguably more agreeable, but you don’t miss their tired looks whenever they had to clean up after Ace pissing off a passing noble or Deuce somehow causing a fire when tripping over an iron poker. It makes you feel guilty, of course, but you still cling on. Call it stubbornness but you didn’t want to let go of the two. It was selfish, you know, and monarchs could never afford to be selfish, but was it so wrong for you to indulge in the only pair who seemed to disregard your status?

The answer came one hot summer evening, when you’re on your balcony trying to unwind. Tonight was the usual designated night to share a bed with your consorts, but you deigned to postpone it since you weren’t in the mood nor did you want to force the other three to deal with your sour attitude. It’s halfway through your third glass of wine that you were a rustle, then after starting your fourth, you hear footsteps, to which you turn and just narrowly miss a dagger aiming for your heart. The blade instead rips a gash through your left shoulder, causing you to grunt in pain, alcohol thankfully dulling most of the throbbing sensations. Unfortunately, your mind is hardly clear enough to have a steady stance to fight back properly, let alone see the assassin’s face. 

You can’t believe you were going to die pathetically like this. If this was going to happen anyway, you should’ve at least finished your glass of wine—

Shouts, then sounds of clanging steel, and a blur rushed into your sight, tackling the hooded assassin and knocking him down. Deuce’s familiar blue hair registers in your blurry vision, holding down the assassin, while Ace’s flaming hair and eyes come closer in view, shouting something that keeps fizzling out to nothing. Your world tilts to its side suddenly, a loud buzzing in your ears, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you find Riddle with swollen, tear-crusted eyes hugging your bedsheets, while Trey exhaustedly sits behind him next to a wash basin and several empty vials. Cater was out cold on the chaise beside him, several papers littering his body. It seems that the assassin was quite thorough, as they made sure that if their sharp blade didn’t manage to end your life, then the quick acting poison laced upon the steel would. Ironically, according to the herbalist and doctor, because you drank a whole wine bottle, the alcohol managed to slow it down somehow just long enough for you to get treatment. A miracle, indeed.

For once, the room is no longer filled with tension with all five of the men together, but a genuine sense of relief. You give the two of your knights soft smiles and a sincere thank you which makes their faces flush like a ripe strawberry. Your escorts don’t protest, mirroring the same gratefulness in their faces. 

Something changes after that night. 

Of course, you’re extremely glad that Riddle is no longer blowing his top off after Ace goads him about being a stick in the mud, but since when did Ace get into pet names with Riddle? Rosebud? The nickname makes you gag internally at how corny it is. Not to mention that Riddle…doesn’t mind being called that?! You watch in disbelief as he preens at the compliment from your knight, trying not to give away your incredulousness. 

Okay…whatever, at least they’re getting along? 

Deuce shows up with your slice of cake with a beaming glow that has you taken aback as you accept the offering. Ace mutters about how Trey must’ve spoiled him again behind you and it takes everything inside you to not spit out your cake mid-bite. Again? Trey was kind, you’ll give him that, and he did tend to baby Riddle and you but—

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t out of left field.

Cater titters knowingly when you slump in bonelessly into the lounge next to him trying on new earrings and bangles. 

“And what ails my dearly beloved king?” You choke on your spit before glaring at him. He giggles, dangly silver drops chiming in tune with the laughter. 

“Not you too…” It felt like the whole day you felt like you were background to some of the most insufferable flirting, and with your escorts and knights, no less. You raise an eyebrow at the shiny, glittering jewelry scattered on the vanity in front of the man. All imperial escorts did have an allowance, but you don’t remember Cater buying anything like this nor gifting him such things. When you inquire about it, Cater gives you a smirk and a wink.

”Rido and the younger ones have been quite sweet lately.” The sentence makes you nearly fall off the lounge. He chortles and blows you a mock kiss with no shame as you sear him with another heated glare. 

The way they started interacting starts making you feel self-conscious and…embarrassingly enough, left out. Which is such a foolish thought. Of course, who would in their right mind love the person who tied their lives to them, romantically and sexually? And even though they were in such a situation, the fact they all loved each other was a blessing, wasn’t it? How many history lessons did you have where the monarch’s harem wasn’t full of in-fighting? That meant more prosperity and stability political wise, and there wouldn’t be any trouble between you…

Yet, your heart clenches at the thought of Trey’s smile directed at Cater, of Riddle gently caressing Deuce’s head, and Ace slinging an arm around Deuce…none of that affection could ever be for you. 

And it’s best that way. Your father’s voice echoes distantly in your mind. You watched him solemnly on his deathbed as he implored you to not make the same mistakes he did, before his breathing stilled, and his hand lay limp in yours.

Yes, perhaps it was better this way. 

Still, your thoughts are still wandering that you barely jolt back to present to a cabinet meeting looking expectantly at you. 

“Pardon, could you repeat that?”

Riddle watches in worry as a dark shadow crosses your face as the demand for your harem to grow is conveyed. He coughs, causing the members to turn to him instead.

”If that’s the case,” he states with no hesitation, “then I might have some candidates in mind.”

You turn to him with the same expression as the other cabinet members. It drops to shock at Riddle’s suggestion.

As much as you wanted to oppose it, there wasn’t really a good reason to. You sat with your arms crossed as Riddle explained the proposal to your very two personal knights. Ace and Deuce exchange looks, and something between them is communicated before they turn to you and accept, despite your hope they wouldn’t.

And so, your harem became five.

You put your foot down after that. It was already enough to have your heart cracked into pieces with the knowledge you could never have their love. You don’t think it could handle another.

So you tuck your heart away as you smile with them over dinner, bantering over whether flamingos can play croquet or dancing with them at various balls, heart racing as the chandelier lit their face with a warmth you’ve never seen before. If it means you won’t get hurt or distracted, then that’s all you could ask for.

One fateful day, a letter out of numerous piles is hand delivered by Cater and changes your entire world.

It’s sealed with the crest of the fairest queen in the seven realms, meaning only one person could have sent this—Vil Schoenheit. Inside the elegant letter details a marriage proposal that listed all the benefits of taking him as a spouse. With all the pros listed out so cleanly, it was clear that the queen already knew that you couldn’t reject it so quickly.

But you must dissolve your harem. I do not take kindly to those who are not loyal to me and me only.

Something in your heart cracks at reading the condition. You should feel elated, somewhat, that you no longer had to drag around escorts for formality. And for the others, it meant being freed from a duty they were all forced into. But tears threaten to bubble over your eyelashes, and when Riddle asks you if you’re alright, one manages to overflow and trail down your cheek like a traitorous banner. 

You don’t want to let them go.

Trey asks for the nth time if you’re sure you don’t want him to be with you or if you want some tea before you shoo him away. Ace and Deuce were meant to guard your chambers, but you wave them off too, saying you’ll find stand-ins for their places. Riddle and Cater were harder to shake off, but even they, too, were finally shut out when you closed your bedroom doors in their worried faces.

In the end, like a coward, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them what that letter was, despite them asking nonstop about it. You’re not sure what to tell them either—that they were being discarded of their positions, no longer needed, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness—oh, who would even believe you?

When Vil graces your halls, the looks your escorts give you is enough to fill you with burning hot shame. 

Cater doesn’t have his usual mischievous smile when he greets the queen, his emerald eyes sharpening to pin pricks whenever Vil speaks. You should’ve scolded him, reigned him back, but the guilt eating away at you made you hesitate. It didn’t help that Riddle, for all his perfect etiquette, suddenly seemed to forget what formalities and niceties were around the queen. The regal queen gives you a strange look as Trey sets down a plate of pastries a little too hard in front of him. Your gaze darts away as you sip the tea in front of you nervously, flanked by Ace and Deuce, their scowling faces too apparent.

They’re not dumb. Royals don’t visit other realms willy-nilly often. And it’s clear what Vil is here for.

The next day leaves you lethargic and sluggish, but you try to pull through, if only for appearances. While you stroll through the gardens with Vil, you try to avoid the burning stares of your guards behind you, no doubt dissecting each and every bit of your conversation with the queen. They pull you away as soon as the clock hits the afternoon hour, stating you had duties to attend to and so on and so forth. You excuse yourself and hope you don’t look like a mess to Vil, whose appearance is still immaculate despite the heavy winds and hot sun.

You try to focus on the stack of papers in front of you, despite the edges of your vision blurring and your head spinning. Taking the last sip of what remained of your tea, you squint uselessly at the words as Riddle murmurs something to your right about dinner and farewell banquets. The last thing you remember is the smell of chamomile and poppy flowers and the last document regarding international treaties. 

By the time you wake up from your ill-timed nap, it was midnight and it had been decided that you were too unwell to properly receive the fairest queen, and thus Vil would be sent back, to come back another time. Cater explains with a tight smile while Riddle nods along. Behind them, Trey pours another cup of warm milk and offers it to you with a sympathetic smile. You take it, despite the guilt threatening to swallow you alive. 

The days following are a haze of routines that you thought you once knew but couldn’t process. Nothing had changed, right? It seemed like you couldn’t recall what Trey made for you for yesterday’s tea, nor whenever Cater asked you for an opinion on his outfit. Before, you remembered the guards’ shifts to the letter, and yet, you completely forgot when Ace took over to guard you. Riddle smiles at you like usual, helping you with paperwork as usual, and yet…why couldn’t you remember what you had signed yourself?

Some nights you wake up to Trey or Cater, running their hands over you, despite the fact that they weren’t there before when you went to bed. Sometimes, it would be Ace and Deuce, bickering in hushed whispers before they shut up seeing you awake. And every time morning came and soreness set in your body, Riddle would greet your groggy face warmly, wiping away sweat and a strange stickiness that clung to your skin. 

The thought of marriage is erased from your mind, and slowly, but surely, you can’t remember why you thought of breaking apart the men who treated you so fondly. 

Perhaps you should have heeded the tales of those who ended up being puppet kings.

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[honeyxbee]

Too Sweet ― Dabi

TW: NSFW, yandere themes, Implied non-con/dub-con, fem!reader, kidnapping, dacryphilia, corruption kink

words: 333

If there is a god, Dabi is certain that he must be one sadistic bastard. 

How else would such a sweet thing like you end up in the headquarters of the strongest villains in the country? 

He thinks it’s almost cute — the way you looked at him all worried when you stumbled upon him bleeding in an alley, how quickly you used your quirk to heal his injuries. You’re obviously not from Japan, you would have immediately run in the other direction if you were. 

It’s too bad, really. A girl like you doesn’t belong in a place like this. 

But who could blame him for knocking you out and taking you home with him? You’re so cute and sweet. Besides, your quirk could prove to be of use to the organization. 

“You’re such a crybaby,” Dabi grunts, slouched in a chair across the room. He tilts his head slightly, eyeing your trembling form in the corner. He didn’t even bother tying you up, it’s not like you’d get far if you tried to run, anyway. “…Y’know, you should be happy. You’re alive and unharmed, right?” He sounds almost bored, as if you’re just overreacting to a normal situation. 

But when you look up at him, all teary-eyed and trembling, his dick twitches slightly within its confines. You just look so innocent, and he can’t help but want to change that as soon as possible. 

He wonders if you’d give him that same pitiful look while he fucked you for the first time, if you’d cry and plead with him to stop or slow down. Even if you’re a virgin, he’s sure it wouldn’t take long for him to train you to take his cock while healing him up after missions ― make it second nature for you to climb onto his lap every time he gets back. 

Yes, that’s exactly what he wants to do, Dabi decides. You’re his now, after all.

And he’d hate to let you go to waste.

[seijorhi]

Etched in Red: Vermillion (Part One)

Event Masterlist

Okkotsu Yuuta x female reader

Part Two

w.c 1.4k

tw: yandere themes, kidnapping, implied dub/non-con, non-explicit gore

There’s nothing… wrong with being weak.

It isn’t a moral failing or anything to be ashamed of, it just is. For most people – normal people – that’s okay. They accept it, adjust their lives accordingly and move on. 

The thing is, most people don’t actually need to be strong, not in the physical sense. 

Most people aren’t jujutsu sorcerers.

Yuuta frowns, watching you laugh as Inumaki offers a hand to haul you up to your feet, brushing the dirt and grass of your skirt once you’re upright. Another sparring session that ends the exact same way all of them do; you, flat on your ass, wholly at the mercy of whichever of his friends is standing over you.

Problem is, they’re going easy on you; Maki leaving her left side wide open, Panda practically telegraphing his hits. Lately, he’s noticed it with Yuji and the other second years, too. It’s like an unwritten rule that they never go too hard, never push you too far. Trying to help you without hurting you in the process.

Because the simple, painful truth is, you aren’t strong enough to take it.

And believe it or not, he does get it… sort of. When Gojo dragged him into this he was petrified. Useless. He got thrown in the deep end, first first with Maki and then with Inumaki, and he had to figure it out fast, but… he also had Rika. 

He also had his cursed technique. 

Three years in, with graduation looming, you’re a step above a window. Still a grade four, although unlike with Maki it’s not some political, sexist bullshit keeping you there.

For right now, that’s okay. They’re your friends, none of them think any worse of you for it. They cover you on the missions you’re sent out on, and that’s not gonna change any time soon, but–

“Everything okay, Yuuta?”

He exhales a shuddering breath then straightens and turns your way with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” he asks, idly toeing at a rock by his feet. Maybe you won’t notice the flush colouring his cheeks. “Looked like you hit the ground pretty hard back there.” 

You laugh, waving it off like it’s no big deal, and to be fair it isn’t – you go through this multiple times a week, but that doesn’t mean it rankles him any less when you say, “Nothing I can’t handle. Toge was taking it easy on me.”

You don’t know the half of it. 

“C’mon,” you tell him. “Panda says you’re up.”

—

Forty minutes later, breathless, aching and bruised all over, Yuuta shuffles with you and the others back to the dormitories to shower before eating when a familiar head of white hair pops into view.

“Yuuu-taa,” Gojo greets in a sing-song voice, altogether too happy for the group of exhausted, hungry students glaring back at him. “A word?”

Not remotely a request, considering he’s got an arm looped over Yuuta’s shoulders, steering him away from the rest of the group before he can get so much as a word out. 

Leading him into an empty classroom well away from the dormitories, Gojo props himself up against one of the desks, leaving Yuuta to stand awkwardly in front of him, trying his best not to feel like a misbehaving child about to be lectured. 

When he speaks, there’s no trace of levity left to soften the blow. “What happened?” 

Gojo isn’t talking about the training session outside.  

Yuuta swallows, stiffening. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You read the report. As long as she’s with me, Rika and I–”

“So you expect the higher ups to send you along on every mission she’s assigned?”

His cheeks flush again, this time with indignation. “They can’t send her alone! She’s not– she… ” Isn’t strong enough.

At his floundering, Gojo lets out a heavy, over-dramatic sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders alone. “Yuuta, you’re a special grade. Do you really think they’ll let you play babysitter just because you have a crush?”

His heart squeezes, a thick lump lodging itself in his throat. He doesn’t deny it, there’s no point. Blindfolded or not, Gojo sees everything.

Not that his Sensei has room to talk about crushes. 

“I don’t care, I’ll go anyway! I’m not letting her get hurt.”

“Special grade or not, you won’t be able to stop it,” Gojo tells him, a strange sort of smile teasing at his lips. “They’ll smell her coming a mile away, that inexperience, overconfidence. Such a weak, tasty little sorcerer. Easy pickings. She’ll draw them in like flies to honey, one after another, until there’s too many to fight all at once – that’s what happened last time, didn’t it? You lost focus.”

Yuuta stills entirely. 

Gojo tugs at the bandages over his eyes, revealing one brilliant, blue iris. “She dies. That’s the only way this goes. You understand that, don’t you?”

—

It kills Yuuta that Gojo turns out to be right.

The body lying on the cold, metal table can barely be called that. Half a torso and a leg. That’s all he got back after getting rid of the curse. 

“Okkotsu,” Ieiri’s calm voice breaks through his reverie, and he glances up to find her tired eyes boring into him from across the room. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think she looked concerned.

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, letting his head tilt back to fall against the cool tiles. “I’m not the one who died.”

Ieiri opens her mouth, only to close it a moment later. “Of course.”

And so it goes. Inumaki, Panda and Maki hover, quiet and subdued. No one knows what to say, but none of them are surprised, he can tell that much through the thick, strained silence. 

Death is pretty much a constant for them. Jujutsu sorcerers don’t tend to lead long, happy lives, but this isn’t just losing a classmate seven days out from graduation. A pang squeezes at his chest and he doesn’t bother holding back a heavy exhale. 

“I’m tired. I’ll… catch you guys later, I guess.”

Yuuta doesn’t wait for an acknowledgement, turning on his heel and leaving them there outside the gym, staring uselessly after him.

But he doesn’t head back to his room. There’s nothing for him there. 

No, Yuuta walks for a long, long while. Back to civilisation, to the city teeming with people and curses, each step more surefooted, eager than the last.

By the time he reaches the apartment, he’s pounding the pavement, and takes the stairs two at a time. His hand shakes as he slots the key into the first lock and twists, then the second, his heart’s halfway to his throat when he pushes it open, heading straight for the bedroom–

The knot in his chest loosens, a relieved sigh escaping him at the sight of you, spread out in his sheets in nothing but your underwear, fast asleep. Safe, where he left you.

It takes him no time at all to toe out of his sneakers, shed his jacket and climb up onto the bed next to you, mindful not to jostle you too much, not to disturb the thick metal links coiled loosely at the bottom of the mattress. Your eyes are still puffy, cheeks wet with the sheen of tears when his fingertips glide over them, intent on smoothing your hair back from your face. 

Poor thing, you must’ve tired yourself out. 

Yuuta has every intention of letting you sleep for a little while longer yet – he’d meant what he’d said to Maki and the others, there’s a bone tired weariness that’s been clinging to him since he dragged himself back to campus that morning, and it’s only now, here, lying next to you that he feels it start to leach away, like poison syphoned off. 

A small, soft smile tugs at his lips. 

Perfect, beautiful girl. 

Gojo was right. You had to die. There aren’t enough sorcerers to deal with the increased curses plaguing the city. Weak or not, they would’ve kept sending you out, and he wouldn’t always be able to guarantee that he’d be there to protect you.

You had to die so they’d leave you alone. So that he could keep you safe. 

Nestling closer, he thumbs at the curve of your cheekbone again and brushes a kiss against your lips, doing his best to ignore the hot pulse of want that burns through his blood, coiling tightly in his guts. 

There’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now he just wants to lie here with you, safe and tucked away. Together. 

It’s better this way. You’ll see.

[pin-k-ink]

loving the unlovable // ryomen sukuna

tw ⇢ true form!sukuna, dub-con, huge age gap, sukuna being a tsundere, lots of fluff, violence and gore, descriptions of injuries, heavy angst, implied sexual content, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, character death, obsession/unhealthy relationship dynamic, voyeurism, power imbalance, verbal aggression, manhandling, heavy petting

wc ⇢ 14.6k

a/n: my favorite work yet. i will remember this one forever

The shadows of the ancient trees seemed to stretch endlessly as the pale moonlight filtered through the canopy. In the stillness of the forest, a presence stirred - a malevolent force that sent a chill through the very air. Sukuna emerged from the darkness, his footfalls silent yet carrying an unmistakable weight of dread.

As he prowled deeper into the woodland, something caught his attention - the faint sound of labored breathing. His sinister eyes narrowed, lips curling into a subtle sneer as he followed the sound to its source. There you lay, motionless among the fallen leaves, your small frame battered and wounded.

Sukuna regarded you with a dispassionate gaze, his head tilting slightly as he studied your fragile form. Without warning, one of his fearsome nails extended with a sickening screech of bone against bone, the razor-sharp point hovering over your exposed skin. A low rumble echoed from deep within his chest - not quite a laugh, but a sound that conveyed his dark amusement at finding such easy prey.

To his mild surprise, you stirred at the ominous sound, your eyes fluttering open to meet his piercing stare. There was no fear in your gaze, only a strange sense of calm as you regarded the monstrous figure towering over you.

"Not afraid to die, are you?" Sukuna's gravelly voice sliced through the silence, his words dripping with derision. The point of his nail traced along your arm with practiced precision, parting the skin just enough to draw a thin line of crimson.

Rather than recoiling, you watched with an eerie fascination, your small hand rising to grasp at the torn fabric of his cloak. There was no pleading in your voice, only a peculiar sense of certainty as you spoke. "You won't kill me...not yet."

An imperceptible flicker of intrigue danced across Sukuna's obsidian eyes at your peculiar confidence. His shoulders rose and fell with a low, rumbling chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the trees themselves. "Is that so? And what makes you so sure, little creature?"

Undeterred by his menacing presence, you met his gaze unflinchingly. "Because I intrigue you..."

Sukuna's lip curled in a disdainful sneer at your bold proclamation. With one fluid motion, he gripped your tiny frame, hoisting you into the air until your faces were mere inches apart. His fist easily encircled your midsection, your feet dangling helplessly above the forest floor.

"You dare presume to know my thoughts, insect?" he growled, his hot breath fanning across your face. "I could crush you without a second thought." To emphasize his point, his grasp tightened ever so slightly, the pressure becoming almost unbearable.

Yet, you did not flinch or cry out. You simply held his gaze, an enigmatic smile playing upon your lips. In that moment, Sukuna felt a flicker of something he could not place - a strange sense of being...challenged by this mere slip of a girl.

With a disdainful snort, he loosened his grip and turned, fully intending to leave you broken and forgotten on the forest floor. But as he took his first step away, tiny arms wrapped around his leg, your small body clinging to him with surprising tenacity.

"Wait!" Your voice rang out, thick with desperation. "Please...let me stay with you."

Sukuna paused, his towering form going rigid as he slowly turned his head to glare down at you with smoldering contempt. "And why..." he uttered in a dangerously low tone, "...would I indulge such an insolent request?"

Unbowed, you met his piercing stare, your fingers digging into the fabric of his tattered cloak. "Because I won't leave. I'll follow you...pester you...until you give in."

A tense silence stretched between you, the forest itself seeming to hold its breath. Then, Sukuna's shoulders began to shake with a low, rumbling chuckle that escalated into full-blown laughter - harsh and mocking, yet underpinned by a strange sort of dark amusement.

"You've got spirit, child...I'll give you that," he finally uttered, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he shrugged you off his leg, your small body tumbling unceremoniously to the ground.

As you looked up at him with a mixture of trepidation and hope, he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Very well...you may follow at my heels like the obedient little parasite you are. But make no mistake..." His obsidian eyes bored into you with an intensity that could pierce souls. "If you overstep your bounds even once...I'll make sure you beg for the mercy of death."

Sukuna's lair was a crumbling, ancient shrine hidden deep within the twisted roots of a towering mahogany tree. As he led you through the dimly lit corridors, the stale air carried the faint scent of decay that seemed to cling to every surface.

With a disdainful flick of his wrist, he motioned to a small alcove, little more than a glorified nook. "This will be your quarters for the night, leech. Try not to perish from discomfort," he sneered.

Too exhausted and overwhelmed to muster a retort, you simply nodded meekly and settled into the cramped space, curling up on the cold stone floor. Within moments, the weight of your ordeal took its toll, and you drifted into a fitful slumber.

When your eyes finally fluttered open hours later, Sukuna was seated cross-legged nearby, his penetrating gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that could have incinerated lesser beings where they lay.

"To sleep so soundly in the lair of a cursed spirit," he mused, his tone laced with mordant amusement. "Your manners are as lacking as your survival instincts, girl."

Groggily pushing yourself upright, you opened your mouth to respond, but he swiftly raised a hand to silence you.

"Save your excuses. I've no interest in listening to the pathetic whimpering of mortals." With that, he rose to his feet and stalked away, disappearing down the shadowy corridor without a backwards glance.

The first pale rays of dawn were just peeking through the crevices when Sukuna's imposing form materialized once more at the entrance to your tiny alcove. His eyes narrowed as he regarded your sleeping form with thinly veiled disdain.

"Up, leech," he commanded gruffly. "Our bargain has ended. I grow weary of tolerating your pestilent presence."

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, bleary from a night of restless slumber. As the weight of his words sank in, a small furrow creased your brow in defiance.

"No..." The single syllable slipped from your lips barely above a whisper, but carried within it an unmistakable rebellion.

Sukuna's eyes flashed with a volatile blend of dark amusement and burgeoning ire. "I beg your pardon?" His voice adopted a tone of perilous calm, like the ocean's stillness before a raging tempest. "You dare defy me, insect?"

Pushing yourself upright, you met his piercing stare with surprising boldness. "I won't leave. We never specified one night only."

A taut silence stretched between you, the air itself seeming to thicken with Sukuna's wrath. Then, his lip curled in a vicious snarl, and he moved with blurring speed -- one moment towering over you, the next slamming you back against the unforgiving stone with a hand like iron around your throat.

"You try my patience, child," he hissed through clenched teeth, his face mere inches from yours. "I should slice you into pieces and feast upon your insolent tongue."

Even faced with such terrifying malice, you held his gaze with eerie composure. "But...you won't..." you wheezed, struggling against his grip. "Not...yet..."

Another beat of deafening silence followed, the coiled tension between you crackling like lightning about to strike. Then, almost too fast to register, Sukuna released you, stepping back with a contemptuous sneer.

"Clearly, I overestimated your faculty for self-preservation," he growled, dragging a hand down his face in exaggerated exasperation. "Very well, you may remain...for one more night. But heed my words carefully, girl..." His piercing glare bored into you like twin daggers. "Tread lightly, lest I reconsider granting you the mercy of a swift demise."

a few years later

The gentle burbling of the nearby river provided a soothing melody amid the stillness of the forest. From the shadows of his shrine, Sukuna's piercing gaze remained fixated on the riverbank, where you had settled to bathe.

It had been years since that fateful night when the obstinate girl-child had wheedled her way into his domain under the guise of a single night's stay. Yet here you remained, a persistent thorn in his side that had, against all reason, taken root and refused to be dislodged.

As the warm waters lapped at your lithe form, tendrils of steam dancing along the gentle curves that had blossomed over time, Sukuna found his obsidian eyes tracing the contours of your body with undisguised interest. A low rumble reverberated in his chest - not one of menace, but an unmistakable purr of dark appreciation.

"The leech has sprouted into something of a noxious bloom," he mused aloud, his deep timbre reverberating through the shadows. A cruel smirk played upon his lips as he drank in the sight before him, shameless in his voyeurism.

You remained blissfully unaware of your shadowed observer, carelessly exposing the full radiance of your budding feminine form to his hungered gaze. Wet hair cascaded over your shoulders, beads of water tracing tantalizing paths along the swell of your bosom before disappearing beneath the river's mirror-like surface.

An imperceptible shift in the air was the only warning before Sukuna materialized at the riverbank in a swirl of ethereal mist, his towering height casting an imposing shadow over you. "Enjoying yourself, leech?" His voice sliced through the stillness like a blade through silk.

You started violently at the sound, instinctively shying deeper into the water's embrance in a futile attempt at modesty. Yet even as a furious blush stained your cheeks, your eyes met his without faltering - the same strange mixture of defiance and fascination that had so captivated him all those years ago.

"S-Sukuna..." you stammered, your breath catching in your throat as he descended into a predatory crouch at the very edge of the riverbank. "I didn't realize you were watching."

"Evidently," he purred, his rumbling baritone caressing every syllable as he drank in every flustered reaction. Reaching out with one long, sinuous finger, he traced the outline of a droplet that trembled precariously on the hardened peak of your nipple. "Tell me, leech...do you still fear me?"

A tremor that had nothing to do with the water's chill racked your body at his touch. Yet you leaned ever so slightly into his touch, drawn like a moth to a flame. "No..." you breathed, holding his smoldering gaze. "I've never feared you, Sukuna."

The dark spirit's lips twisted into a cruel facsimile of a smile, one that sent thrills of equal parts dread and exhilaration down your spine. "Then you are a fool, dear girl." With that, he withdrew his hand, rising fluidly to his feet and turning away in one seamless movement.

"Return before nightfall," he tossed over his shoulder as he strode off, his imposing figure swallowed once more by the shadows. "Our...discussions...are in need of resumption."

As the sound of his footfalls faded away, you remained rooted in the shallows, heart pounding as a heady mix of trepidation and undeniable longing swirled within you.

As the shadows lengthened, you made your way back to Sukuna's lair, your stomach rumbling with hunger. You found the cursed spirit seated cross-legged in the central chamber, his piercing gaze fixed on some indiscernible point in the distance.

"You've returned," he stated flatly as you entered. "I trust you're prepared to satisfy my curiosity regarding the mundane human ritual of...dinner?" He uttered the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Stifling a sigh, you began gathering ingredients and utensils from the makeshift kitchen area Sukuna had grudgingly allowed you to establish years ago. As you cooked, you fielded Sukuna's barrage of disdainful questions about the peculiarities of mortal sustenance with a weary patience born of long practice.

Finally, you set a modest meal before him, watching in bemusement as he inspected it with a sneer of revulsion. "I will never understand why you subject yourself to such banalities, leech."

Rolling your eyes, you settled down to eat, politely ignoring his disparaging mutterings about the frailties of human existence. Same song and dance as every night.

Much later, you tiptoed down the corridor leading to Sukuna's private chambers, a mischievous grin playing across your lips. Spying the cursed spirit's recumbent form in the gloom, you stealthily slipped under the arm he had carelessly draped over the edge of his stone bed...

Only for said arm to clamp around you like a vise, hauling you up so abruptly that your feet cleared the ground entirely. You found yourself suspended face-to-face with Sukuna, his obsidian eyes blazing with unrestrained fury.

"You dare intrude upon my personal domain, worm?!" he bellowed, his free hand contorting into a series of wicked talons that hovered mere inches from your exposed throat.

Reflexively you threw up your hands in a placating gesture. "It's just me! It's just me!"

Sukuna's murderous expression flickered momentarily with recognition before resolving into one of contemptuous disgust. "Idiot girl," he growled, bodily hoisting you out of the chamber and depositing you in an unceremonious heap in the corridor. "How many times must I reiterate that my quarters are strictly forbidden?!"

As he slammed the door in your face, you couldn't quite stifle the giggle that bubbled up from your chest. "Same time tomorrow night?" you called out impishly, not bothering to pick yourself up from the floor.

The resounding bellow of outrage was enough to set your soul vibrating. Just another typical evening in the lair of Ryomen Sukuna.

The morning sun bathed the meadow in a warm golden glow, wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. You sat among them, idly weaving together a crown of daisies and baby's breath, a serene smile playing across your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna observed from the tree line, his penetrating gaze scrutinizing your every move. There was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he watched you laugh and dance amidst the blooms, so carefree and vibrant. An ache he couldn't identify.

He had seen countless mortals come and go over the eons - frail, fleeting creatures snuffed out like candle flames in the blink of an eye. Yet you persisted, your persistence grating on him at first until it gradually transitioned into...something else. Something he refused to name.

You were just bending down to pluck another blossom when Sukuna materialized at your side, his towering frame casting you in shadow. With a startled cry, you turned wide eyes up at him, the carefree smile slipping from your face.

But before you could react further, he reached down and scooped you up with ease, his massive hand encircling your slender waist. You automatically clutched at his arm for balance, lower lip jutting out in a tiny pout of protest.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, staring up at Sukuna with bewildered indignation. For once, he did not meet your questioning gaze, instead turning on his heel and striding back towards his lair without a word.

As the last rays of dusk faded, bathing the ancient shrine in deep shadows, Sukuna deposited you unceremoniously just inside the entrance. You gazed up at him with a petulant frown, momentarily frozen by the foreign gleam in his eyes - something wild and unrestrained flickering behind their obsidian depths.

Then, recovering some of your usual defiant spirit, you straightened and fixed him with a pointed look. "Since you're being so hospitable tonight, I don't suppose you'd allow me to bunk with you in your quarters?"

The request seemed to break whatever spell had momentarily fallen over the cursed spirit. He blinked, then his face contorted in a sneer of disdain as he reached out and shoved you back, not gently.

"Don't be foolish, girl," he growled, his voice laced with gravel. "You know my rules well. Now remove yourself from my presence before I remove you more...permanently."

Shooting him one last mulish glare, you turned and flounced off down the corridor, grumbling under your breath. Yet Sukuna remained rooted in place long after you departed, an inexplicable ache blossoming in his cursed chest.

The routine persisted for days and nights on end - you would saunter up to Sukuna's quarters once darkness fell, bat your eyelashes innocently, and inquire if perhaps this could be the blessed evening when he'd grant you permission to sleep beside him.

His response never wavered. A withering glare, a derisive snort, and then his large hand would clamp around your arm, yanking you off-balance before bodily depositing you outside his chamber door with an unceremonious shove.

"You're an insufferable pest," he'd growl, lips curled in contempt. "Quit deluding yourself into thinking I'll ever indulge such impertinence."

On one such night, you trudged away grumbling rebellious obscenities under your breath, lower lip jutting out in a full-on pout. Sukuna had been particularly rough, nearly sweeping your feet out from under you with the force of his push.

Fuming, you stalked outside into the night air, hoping the cool caress of the forest breeze would soothe your ruffled feathers. But you'd barely made it past the tree line when a sinister presence caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle.

A malevolent curse spirit oozed from the shadows, its grotesque form an amalgamation of oozing sludge and razor-sharp appendages. You froze, breath catching in your throat as its voracious eyes fixed on you, dark ichor dripping from its gaping maw.

Just as it reared back, prepared to strike, a thunderous bellow reverberated through the trees. "GIRL!"

Sukuna materialized between you and the curse like an avenging wraith, one clawed hand batting the foul creature aside with contemptuous ease. It hit a nearby tree trunk with bone-crunching force before dissolving into noxious sludge.

You stared up at Sukuna with wide, stunned eyes, his heaving shoulders the only indication of any exertion. Slowly, he turned to face you, mouth contorting into a vicious snarl.

"You foolish, foolish girl!" he raged, grabbing your shoulders and giving you a bruising shake. "Have I not warned you time and again about wandering from my domain unattended?! Do you have a death wish?!"

Trembling, you could only shake your head mutely, cowed by the sheer fury blazing in his eyes. With a disgusted growl, Sukuna released you, though his grip on your arm remained bruisingly tight as he hauled you back towards the shrine.

To your surprise, rather than depositing you at the entrance as usual, he dragged you straight to his private quarters and shoved you inside before him, slamming the door with a decisive thud.

"Sukuna, what-?" You turned to face him, brows knit in bewilderment, only to be silenced by the sheer intensity of his scathing look.

"Silence, idiot," he spat, raking you with his piercing glare. "For once, I'll indulge your persistent wheedling...if only to ensure you don't stumble into anymore folly this night."

He snorted derisively as realization bloomed across your face, lips curving into a delighted smile. Shaking his head, he jerked his thumb towards the pallet against the far wall. "Well? You have what you wanted. Now cease your incessant nattering and let me have some blessed quiet."

Biting your lip in a futile effort to contain your grin, you scurried over to the bedroll, trying and failing to ignore the thunderous pounding of your heart. As you settled in, Sukuna's rumbling bass filled the chamber once more.

"Just for tonight, leech. Don't delude yourself into thinking this..." He waved a dismissive hand, "...situation will become permanent."

Even as you nodded, the secret smile tugging at your lips suggested you had absolutely no intention of dropping your persistent campaign. As the night deepened, the sound of Sukuna's steady breathing rose and fell in a reassuring cadence - the soothing rhythm of the most terrifying lullaby to which you'd ever drifted off.

The following morning, you emerged from Sukuna's chamber squinting against the brilliant rays of dawn filtering through the trees. Stifling a yawn, you wandered towards the small spring that provided the lair's water source, blissfully unaware of the dark eyes watching your every move.

Sukuna observed in tense silence from the shadows as you knelt beside the glittering pool, idly trailing your fingers through the cool waters. That strange ache blossomed in his chest once more - a longing he could neither name nor comprehend.

With a irritable huff, he pivoted and stalked deeper into the gloom of the forest, forcing your bemusing form from his mind's eye. Yet the phantom sensation persisted, an ember of something warm and unfamiliar smoldering in his cursed soul.

Night had long since fallen by the time Sukuna re-entered his lair, shadows clinging to him like a shroud. He paused at the entrance to his private chambers, piercing gaze sweeping the dimly lit space with scrutinizing intensity.

"Tolerable for one night," he grumbled to himself, fingers tightening briefly on the doorframe. "But no more. That wretched girl has overstepped enough boundaries to last an eternity."

Before the words had fully left his lips, a slight shift of movement in his peripheral vision caused his entire body to go rigid, cursed power rippling through him like a shockwave. Whirling with blinding speed, he contorted one hand into a wicked scythe of talons, dark energy gathering in a volatile maelstrom.

"You dare--?!" The words morphed into a guttural snarl as his gaze landed on the slight figure now perched impudently on the very edge of his bed. "Leech!"

You grinned back at him, infuriatingly unperturbed by the malevolent force roiling off him in waves. "Well hello there, cranky pants. Sleep well?"

"I warned you about encroaching upon my personal domain," Sukuna raged, his free hand whipping out to seize you by the waist and bodily hoist you into the air. "Do you never learn?!"

Rather than cower, you merely gazed back at him with guileless defiance, small hands clutching at the iron bands of his fingers. "Don't be like that, Sukuna. We both know you won't hurt me."

The cursed spirit's towering frame seemed to swell with unholy wrath, muscles rippling beneath his ashen skin. Yet as his obsidian gaze bored into yours, that damnable heat flickered in his chest once more - an unwelcome tendril of yearning that slithered through the cracks in his cursed, callous shell.

With a noise of disgust, he released his grip, allowing you to tumble gracelessly back onto the pallet. Yet before you could so much as stir, he whirled and made for the door, fully intent on ejecting you from his quarters with extreme prejudice.

Only to find himself arrested by your slight form clinging tenaciously to his leg, arms and legs wrapped around the limb like a limpet. "No wait, Sukuna please! I'll be good, I swear!"

The cursed spirit stilled, piercing eyes slitting dangerously as he glared down at your pleading face. For a long, tense moment, the air itself seemed to thicken with the weight of his inhuman ire.

Then, it dissipated in a rush, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as a weary exhale gusted past his lips. Wordlessly, he reached down and detached your grip with ease, ignoring your mewl of dismay. Instead of throwing you out, however, he simply turned and resumed his seat on the edge of the pallet, pinning you with a glower of stern resignation.

"One more night, leech," he growled, the capitulation sounding physically pained. "But no more of these insipid antics. Am I making myself absolutely clear?"

Your face split in a beaming grin that caused that damnable warmth to bloom in Sukuna's chest anew. Nodding fervently, you scooted up to join him on the narrow bed roll, relishing the simple intimacy of your shoulders brushing against his granite frame.

As the night wore on, and your breathing evened out in slumber, the cursed spirit remained awake and pensive, his piercing gaze roving repeatedly to the slender form curled up beside him. Something was shifting deep within him, an inexorable drift that filled him with equal parts longing and foreboding.

He could sense the tenuous grasp on his power beginning to waver - a dangerous riptide of emotion churning beneath the hardened surface of his being. And at its dark, irresistible center...that wretched girl remained, an infuriating yet inextricable piece of his cursed existence.

The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the crevices, bathing Sukuna's chamber in a soft, dusty glow. The cursed spirit's eyes drifted open slowly, his penetrating gaze instantly falling upon the slight form curled up beside him.

Your chest rose and fell with the deep, even breaths of untroubled slumber, a thin trail of drool trickling from the corner of your parted lips. Hair mussed and splayed across the pallet in a bird's nest of tangles, you looked every bit the image of innocence lost to dreams.

Yet Sukuna found his obsidian eyes tracing the delicate contours of your face with undisguised fascination, drinking in each and every detail as if truly seeing you for the first time. From the dusting of freckles across your upturned nose to the flutter of your lashes against flushed cheeks, he catalogued it all with rapt attentiveness.

Without realizing what he was doing, one long-fingered hand drifted up to gently brush an errant lock of hair from your forehead, his rough calloused fingertips a harsh juxtaposition against your petal-soft skin. You didn't so much as stir, too deeply ensconced in slumber to register his uncharacteristically tender ministrations.

Sukuna felt himself leaning in closer, an unfamiliar pull tugging at the very fabric of his being. Your warm, honeysuckle breath fanned across his face as his own drifted nearer and nearer still, until the delicate curve of your cupid's bow brushed whisper-light against the austere line of his lips.

In that crystalline moment, something seemed to shatter within the cursed spirit. His entire frame went rigid, the muscles coiled taut as an over-plucked bowstring beneath his ashen skin. Just as swiftly as the hypnotic compulsion had fallen over him, it dissipated in an icy rush of clarity.

With a strangled snarl of disgust, Sukuna violently recoiled, his sudden movement jostling the pallet hard enough to rouse you from slumber. Bleary eyes blinked up at him in groggy confusion as he loomed over you, his expression contorted into one of blatant abhorrence.

"Out," he ground out through gritted teeth, visibly struggling to regain control over the tempestuous storm of emotion roiling through him. "Get out, leech!"

Your brow furrowed in hurt bewilderment, mouth opening to protest or question his irate outburst. But Sukuna was having none of it. Reaching down, he seized you by the arm and bodily hauled you upright, marching you towards the door with such force that your feet barely skimmed the ground.

With one final shove, he deposited you in an unceremonious heap in the corridor, slamming the chamber door behind you with a thunderous bang. Left alone in the dim passageway, you could only stare at the unyielding slab of wood with a forlorn mixture of confusion and heartache welling in your eyes.

Inside his sanctum, Sukuna paced like a caged predator, every muscle taut and thrumming with pent up violence. His clawed hands alternately clenched and flexed, dark energy crackling through him in volatile surges.

"Damnable, pestilent girl!" He punctuated the snarled words with a strike that reduced a nearby pillar to rubble. "What depraved curse has she inflicted upon me?!"

Yet even as he raged and seethed against the irresistible tide of unfamiliar emotion, a small, insidious ember smoldered in the inky depths of his cursed heart. An ember that, unbeknownst to him, had been steadily burning brighter and hotter with each passing night...fanned into radiant existence by your infuriatingly persistent presence at his side.

You knelt in the small vegetable patch you had painstakingly cultivated, idly plucking weeds and tossing them aside with more force than strictly necessary. A sullen pout tugged at your lips as you mentally replayed the events of that morning on an endless, mortified loop.

The feeling of Sukuna violently recoiling from you, the look of unadulterated disgust contorting his features - it was all seared into your mind's eye with agonizing clarity. You hadn't even done anything, just woken up as per usual! Yet he'd practically torn you from his quarters, flinging you out like some repulsive insect he couldn't be rid of fast enough.

You were so absorbed in your simmering indignation that you failed to notice the imposing figure materializing at the edge of the garden until his rumbling baritone sliced through the weighted silence.

"Stop wallowing in the dirt like a pathetic grub, leech. It's unbecoming."

Stiffening, you steadfastly avoided meeting Sukuna's piercing gaze, mouth pressed into a mulish line. The cursed spirit regarded you with obvious disdain for a beat before snorting derisively.

"What, no clever rejoinder? No insolent prattle to assault my ears with?" His tone dripped with disdainful sarcasm. "How unlike you."

You remained stubbornly mute, turning your body slightly so your back was angled towards him in a blatant gesture of defiance. An imperceptible muscle ticked in Sukuna's taut jaw, his obsidian eyes glinting with fleeting irritation before smoothing out into cool disinterest.

"I see. The child chooses to have a tantrum then," he drawled, folding his arms across his massively muscled chest. "How terribly vexing for me."

Despite your best efforts to tune him out, his rich, resonant timbre seemed to effortlessly penetrate the walls you tried to erect. You couldn't quite stifle the small pout that crept across your lips, shoulders hunched defensively.

A humorless chuckle gusted from Sukuna at your petulant display. Then, his voice dropped a shade lower, taking on the ominous timber of flint striking steel.

"Perhaps a compromise is in order..." You froze, ears straining in spite of your resolve to ignore him. "...so that you might cease this insufferable tantrum."

Unable to resist, you turned your head slightly, peeking up at him through your lashes with naked trepidation. Sukuna held your gaze for a beat, then seemed to reach some internal resolution. When he spoke again, his tone was laced with the sort of weary resignation one might reserve for a rabid dog they've decided to humor rather than put down.

"You may..." He audibly ground out the words through gritted teeth, as if they physically pained him. "...take up residence in my quarters on a more...permanent basis. If that will satisfy your obstinate need to perpetually vex me."

The effect was instantaneous and profound. Your sullen pout blossomed into a radiant smile that bathed your entire being in a sort of incandescent light. Before Sukuna could so much as blink, you had launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his granite-hewn waist and hugging him with every ounce of jubilant force in your slight frame.

The cursed spirit went rigid as a statue, his towering figure locking up in abject bewilderment at the unanticipated onslaught of unchecked affection. For several agonizing beats, he seemed torn between violence and simply phasing through the earth to escape the uncomfortable intimacy.

Then, as quickly as you had barreled into him, he pried you off with deliberate force, holding you at arm's length with a look of profound consternation. Clearing his throat gruffly, he averted those piercing obsidian depths, struggling to regain his customary icy aloofness.

"Yes, well..." He cleared his throat again redundantly. "Don't make me regret this indulgence, girl. Now release me and tend to whatever menial chores suit your industrious nature. I've had quite enough emotional upheaval for one morning."

Giggling at his obvious discomfort, you nodded enthusiastically and scampered off, every line of your body seeming to fairly sing with unrestrained jubilance. Sukuna watched you depart with a mixture of stark confusion and something frighteningly akin to fondness flickering behind his stony facade, the beginning embers of a connection that would irrevocably alter both your fates.

The shadows had long since descended over Sukuna's lair by the time you made your way to his private chambers that night, a contented smile playing across your lips. You found the cursed spirit seated on the edge of the modest pallet, his piercing gaze fixed on some indiscernible point in the distance.

Wasting no time on propriety, you bounded over and flopped onto the bed with unrestrained glee, reveling in the simple luxury of the soft furs and downy fabrics. Sukuna's obsidian eyes slid towards you, one pointed brow arching ever so slightly in a look of profound disbelief.

"Must you behave like an overexcited pup, leech?" he rumbled, mouth curved in a moue of distaste even as his gaze danced with fleeting amusement. "One would think you've never experienced the comforts of a proper resting place."

Rolling onto your back, you grinned up at him impishly, hair splaying across the pelts in a makeshift halo. "Maybe I'm just savoring the novel experience of sharing a bed with a ruggedly handsome cursed spirit."

Sukuna's eyes narrowed to slits of warning at your brazen flirtation, lips pulling back to expose a hint of fang. "Don't get ahead of yourself, girl. I allowed this arrangement to cease your childish carrying on...not to indulge any misguided fancies you might be entertaining."

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you fixed him with an appraising look through your lashes, openly drinking in the sharp lines of his chiseled features and muscular frame.

"Is that so?" you murmured, tone taking on a lilt of exaggerated innocence. "So you're saying there's no chance whatsoever of...extracurricular activities?"

The cursed spirit visibly bristled at your suggestive implication, fingers flexing as his obsidian gaze bored into you with smoldering intensity. Just as his lips parted to deliver what was sure to be a scathing rejoinder, the impish glint in your eyes seemed to catch him off guard.

Instead, you flashed him a brilliant smile, one that held no guile or insinuation - only a pure, radiant warmth that temporarily stole the breath from Sukuna's lungs. "I'm only teasing. Just being near you like this...it's enough for me."

Those simple words appeared to utterly disarm the formidable spirit. His mouth worked soundlessly as his angular features slackened slightly, temporarily unguarded and almost...vulnerable. An unfamiliar heat bloomed in his crimson gaze, softening it in a way you had never witnessed before.

Without consciously realizing what you were doing, you pushed up from the bed and scooted around behind Sukuna's seated form. He tensed fractionally as you molded yourself against the unyielding plane of his back, arms winding around the solid column of his neck in a tender embrace.

Yet unlike all the times before when he would have recoiled or shoved you away, the cursed spirit remained utterly motionless. His head bowed fractionally, harsh lines of his profile inscrutable in the dimness as he permitted your affectionate display to linger unchallenged.

In that weighted moment, it was almost as if some imperceptible barrier between you had begun to crumble - allowing a tiny flicker of connection to take root and smolder. Sukuna's next indrawn breath seemed to carry the weight of eons.

As the night stretched on in pensive quiet, your eyelids grew gradually heavier, lulled into a sense of peace and security by the steady cadence of Sukuna's breathing and the solidity of his form against yours. Safe in the knowledge that for now, in this stillness...he wouldn't push you away.

The balmy summer night was alive with the chirruping songs of crickets and the gentle whisper of the breeze. You knelt among the lush vegetation of your beloved garden, hands buried in the loamy soil as you carefully tended to the vibrant array of herbs and vegetables flourishing under your care.

So absorbed were you in your peaceful labors that you failed to register the first ominous shadows flitting through the tree line -- dark, malevolent presences that slithered forth with ill intent sparking in their depthless eyes.

It wasn't until a strangled cry rent the air that your head whipped up, eyes widening in stunned trepidation as grotesque, humanoid figures emerged from the gloom in a loose semi-circle around the garden's perimeter. Their twisted forms seemed an affront to nature itself, corrupt energies roiling just beneath the surface in profane defiance of the sanctity surrounding them.

"Sorcerers..." you breathed, instinctively shrinking back as your heart thundered in your chest. "But...how...?"

"The girl that soils Sukuna's domain," one of the gaunt figures rasped, its sibilant voice grating like rusted metal. "She will lure him out."

Another of the wicked men threw back its head in a horrifying parody of laughter. "Then we shall extinguish both blights upon this world in one fateful stroke!"

Before you could so much as blink, a crackling vortex of malign power burst forth, searing towards you in a blinding eruption of crimson light. You managed a single terrified scream before the onslaught slammed into you, sending shockwaves of unimaginable agony ricocheting through every fiber of your being.

The world tilted violently, the idyllic garden backdrop washing in and out of focus as you scrambled feebly against the onslaught. But the dark sorcerers were utterly relentless, pressing their brutal assault until your struggles grew feeble, your piercing cries reduced to gurgling whimpers of anguish.

Just as the encroaching blackness threatened to swallow you whole, a deafening roar of purest wrath split the night -- a vengeful bellow so seismic that it caused the very trees to shake in its wake. Through a rapidly dimming haze, you glimpsed the ashen silhouette of Sukuna materializing amidst the fray, his eyes blazing like twin supernovas.

The ensuing onslaught was apocalyptic. With an earthshaking crash, the cursed spirit unleashed the full brunt of his unholy capabilities in an explosive torrent of unearthly energies. The ground itself seemed to fracture and buckle under the sheer concussive force, whipping up a maelstrom of debris that swallowed the shrieking sorcerers whole.

In the span of mere heartbeats, the fiendish entities had been utterly decimated -- rent asunder by the full fury of Sukuna's unrestrained might. As the maelstrom receded, an unnatural silence fell, shattered only by the cursed spirit's harsh, heaving breaths.

Then, his piercing gaze fell upon your fragile form, crumpled and broken amidst the ravaged remains of your once-vibrant garden. Sukuna seemed to freeze for the span of an eternal second, features slackening incrementally as utter stillness cloaked his towering silhouette.

The next instant, he was at your side, sinking to one knee and gathering your battered body into the protective cradle of his arms with a tenderness that belied the violence still thrumming through him like livewire.

"Leech..." The nickname slipped raggedly past his lips, stripped of its customary inflection of derision or disdain. "Girl..."

Your eyelashes fluttered feebly as his gruff rumble penetrated the fog of anguish shrouding you. Somehow, you managed to croak a feeble murmur, the words scarcely more than a piteous whisper despite the gravity with which you uttered them.

"They...destroyed my garden..."

A tremor seemed to race through Sukuna's towering frame at the simple lament, his hold instinctively tightening as if to shield you not only from further harm, but the very notion of such trivial worries. When he spoke again, his voice carried a brusque gentleness that resonated through your very bones.

"Stubborn girl...there will be time to restore your foolish plants once you've recovered." His massive palm cradled the back of your head, fingers lightly sifting through the tangled tresses. "Rest now. I shall rebuild it all...with my own hands if need be."

As the realm of consciousness began to slip away from you once more, you managed the faintest murmur in acknowledgment before allowing yourself to drift into oblivion's soothing embrace. Your final cognizant thought was one of wonder...at how, even on the precipice of certain demise, Sukuna's mere presence remained an inextricable tether to hope and safekeeping.

The first tendrils of awareness seeped in gradually, a soft cocoon of warmth and security enveloping your battered form. You stirred with the barest of movements, eyelids fluttering open to find yourself swaddled in the plush furs of Sukuna's sleeping pallet.

A low rumble instantly drew your bleary gaze, finding the cursed spirit himself seated cross-legged at your side, his penetrating obsidian stare fixed unwaveringly on your face. There was an uncharacteristic intensity burning in those fathomless depths, something wild and unrestrained simmering just beneath the surface.

"You're awake," he stated simply, making no move to disguise the open appraisal raking over your form as if reassuring himself of your continued corporeal existence. "How do you feel, girl?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he swiftly raised one clawed hand in a hushing gesture, silencing you before the words could form.

"No matter," he rumbled, raking his other hand through his disheveled mane in an uncharacteristically agitated gesture. "Clearly you require more rest to regain your strength after that debacle."

Confusion furrowed your brow as flashes of the dark sorcerers' ambush began to trickle back into your consciousness. But before you could so much as part your lips again, Sukuna leaned forward, the intensity in his eyes nearly scorching you with its heated focus.

"Attempt to rise or exert yourself in any fashion, and I will not be responsible for my actions," he growled, brooking no argument. "You will remain in bed and allow yourself to recuperate fully. Is that clear enough for your stubborn mind to comprehend?"

You could only nod mutely, instinctively sinking back into the sumptuous bedding as the weight of his stern edict settled over you. Sukuna held your gaze for a beat longer, then snorted and shifted his hulking frame, never fully removing himself from your bedside as if standing sentry.

Over the next few days, you quickly learned that the cursed spirit was fiercely serious regarding his mandate for your recovery. He scarcely left your side for more than a few minutes at a time, his formidable presence both reassuring and faintly discomfiting as you steadily regained your strength.

What's more, on the rare occasions you did rouse to find him absent, a brief glance out the chamber's lone window revealed he had already seen to restoring your beloved garden to its former verdant glory. Somehow, through some arcane effort, he had coaxed forth a miniature oasis from the ravaged soil and ash - a riot of fresh blooms and burgeoning greenery that made your heart swell with profound reverence.

Yet for all his apparent efforts to put you at ease and provide comfort, Sukuna adamantly avoided any heart-to-heart discussions or sentimental heart-renderings about the motivation behind his doting behavior. His demeanor was brusque as ever, a perpetual furrow pinching his brow whenever he happened to catch you studying him with wondering eyes.

"Cease gawking at me like a bedridden simpleton, girl," he'd grouse, deliberately turning his striking visage away to discourage further scrutiny. "If you insist on testing my patience, I'll keep you bedbound for another fortnight."

But his bluster and growling threats were belied by his actions come nightfall, when he would slide beneath the downy layers beside you with deliberate care. Unlike the prior fleeting times you'd been granted the intimate privilege of sharing his sleeping space, he no longer exerted any effort to maintain a respectful distance between your forms.

You would awake in those twilight hours to find his hulking frame spooning yours with almost protective insistence, one corded arm slung possessively over your waist while his pointed features remained a tense, watchful mask. Any attempts to disengage and afford him space were met with a low, rumbling murmur of displeasure and a reflexive tightening of his restraining hold, as if he feared your withdrawal on some subconscious level.

So you simply allowed yourself to sink back against his solid warmth with a resigned sigh, letting the sound of his even breathing lull you into a sense of strange security. Whatever internal warlord was raging inside the cursed spirit was not your battle to fight...at least not yet. For tonight, you would permit yourself to shelter inside the uncharacteristic tenderness he seemed determined to blanket you in, however briefly.

For deep within his volcanic stare, you could discern the telltale flickers of an emotion he refused to name - burning embers that glowed more fervently with each passing night spent entwined in silent communion.

Two sunsets had come and gone without any trace of Sukuna's imposing presence darkening the entrance to his lair. An uneasy sense of trepidation had settled over you like a shroud, each passing hour compounding the knot of dread coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

Where was he? The cursed spirit was no stranger to extended disappearances on his own inscrutable whims. But never before had he ventured off without so much as a gruff word of departure, leaving you to fret and wonder in his consuming absence.

You paced the confines of his inner sanctum in restless arcs, shooting furtive glances towards the unmoving slab of wood that served as the entrance. Surely if he intended his leave to be permanent, he would have...what? Sneered some parting barb about ridding himself of your pestilent presence?

No, the utter silence - the yawning void of his absence - chilled you more deeply than any of his harshest rebukes ever could. It simply wasn't like him.

You had just completed another fruitless circuit around the cramped chamber when a resounding boom shook the very foundations, instinctively dropping you into a defensive crouch. Heavy, thunderous footfalls reverberated through the passages beyond as something - no, someone- barreled towards the inner sanctum with reckless momentum.

The entrance burst open with a splintering crash, and there he was - Sukuna's towering, unmistakable silhouette haloed in the flickering torchlight beyond. Yet as the dust settled and your incredulous gaze drank in his form, utter dismay clenched like a vice around your heart.

The cursed spirit appeared utterly savaged, his ashen skin hanging in ribbons from countless deep lacerations that wept a steady stream of ebon ichor. One arm hung in an unnatural angle, the other clutching a gaping wound just below his ribcage as if trying to keep his very entrails from spilling forth. Dark power seethed and crackled around him in a volatile miasma, casting his features in a perpetual state of wrath-contorted ferocity.

An unintelligible bellow ripped from Sukuna's bloodied lips, causing you to flinch instinctively. Then another form materialized beside him, resolving into the lithe frame of Uraume - one of the only entities who could be considered an ally to the volatile curse.

"Listen close, girl!" he barked in his customary sandpaper growl. "You must approach Sukuna. He's been driven to the very brink, and right now you're the only one he might-"

"SILENCE!" The roar that erupted from Sukuna's chest could have parted oceans. "Don't presume to make decisions for me, dog!"

In the blink of an eye, his remaining hand had snapped up in a vicious swipe that sent Uraume hurtling back down the passage in an explosion of masonry and dirt. Turning that blazing stare on you, the cursed spirit's teeth gnashed in a bestial snarl.

"Well, leech?" he growled, a spatter of ebon blood splattering across his chin. "Coming to bask in the sight of your precious Sukuna laid low, are you? Have you a taste for more violence?!"

He took a menacing step forward, every motion broadcasting his intent to rend and subjugate to the most primal part of your hindbrain. Yet you held your ground, swallowing hard but refusing to be cowed by the maelstrom of dark malice radiating off him in waves.

"Just...let me help you," you managed, struggling to keep your voice steady and implacable. "You're in no condition to-"

"YOUR HELP?!" he thundered, unleashing a torrent of power that slammed into you with bruising force, driving you back several paces. "I don't require a weakling mortal's pathetic overtures!"

A massive clawed hand whipped out, gnarled fingers encircling your slender neck with crushing intensity that immediately stole your breath. Eyes bulging, you scrabbled helplessly at the iron vise of his grip, succeeding only in drawing parallel lines across his sweat-slicked flesh from the ragged ends of your nails.

His mouth twisted into a vicious sneer, eyes glittering with soulless, obsidian fathoms that intimated he would crush the spark of life from your fragile husk without hesitation. "You dare come before me in my domain and lecture me about conditions, girl?"

But you refused to relent, spearing him with a defiant glower even as black spots began dancing across your vision.

"S-Sukuna..." His name emerged as little more than a strained rasp. "I...won't leave...you."

Something indiscernible flickered behind his raging ferocity in that endless moment of stillness. His grip slackened a bare fraction, just enough for you to suck in a ragged gasp of air that seared like fire down your abused windpipe.

Before he could summon the will to renew his merciless onslaught, you pressed forward with quivering hands outstretched, placing them against his heaving chest. He stiffened at the contact, but did not retreat or rebuff your trembling advance.

"Please, Sukuna..." you rasped, meeting his tortured glare with steady imploration. "Let me in...just this once."

His lips peeled back to expose a rictus of fangs in a final, thunderous snarl of primal resistance. But as the seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, the tension seemed to incrementally drain away, until only a bone-deep weariness remained etched in the harsh planes of his striking features.

With a low, subterranean rumble, the cursed spirit dropped into an ungainly crouch, until at last his proud, indomitable head lay cradled in your waiting palms. His eyelids slitted to mere crescents of lambent crimson as you sank shakily to your knees before him, every remaining shred of resistance crumbling into ash.

"Do as you will, foolish girl," he breathed, his voice little more than a ghostly rasp. "But make it count...for you may not get another chance."

He allowed his eyes to close fully then, the final rampart between his furious cursed pride and the infinitesimal seed of human vulnerability blossoming between you giving way at last. Hands trembling with a thousand warring emotions, you reached out and began tenderly clearing away the cloying streaks of gore and viscera that marred his statuesque features - a silent vigil that would mark the first flickers of a connection both of you had fought so viciously to deny.

The ensuing days after Sukuna's grievous injuries had been tended stretched into an interminable silence so deafening, you could practically feel it weighing upon your very bones. The cursed spirit had retreated into himself like a wounded animal, avoiding your questioning gaze and concerned overtures with an almost frantic single-mindedness.

Where once his imposing presence had been an inescapable constant at your side, now he was utterly absent - a specter that haunted the shadowed fringes of the lair, retreating deeper into the gloom whenever you dared approach. Even the sanctuary of his private chambers had become off-limits, the air around it saturated with a tense, forbidding aura that screamed stay away.

At first, you tried to chalk up his mercurial behavior to simply needing space to recuperate and process the harrowing ordeal he had endured. But as the days bled into weeks without a single word or sidelong glance from your self-appointed jailer, a simmering frustration began corroding the anxious concern you harbored.

This recent stint of avoidance was entirely unprecedented, even for Sukuna's infamously fickle temperament. You found yourself lying awake at night, tossing restlessly as a litany of increasingly agitated thoughts swirled through your mind.

Was he truly so disgusted by whatever vestiges of vulnerability you had glimpsed that day? Had you finally overstepped some unspoken boundary that severed the tenuous connection you had so painstakingly forged?

The flicker of panic that possibility sparked within your chest ultimately propelled you into motion one evening, as the inky shadows began their nightly unfurling across the ancient shrine grounds. Slipping from your modest sleeping quarters, you stalked the familiar warren of tunnels and crumbling chambers with renewed determination blazing in your eyes.

You reached Sukuna's sanctum just as the cursed spirit himself materialized at the entrance, clearly intent on disappearing elsewhere once more before you could catch him. His steps slowed fractionally as his piercing gaze registered your presence, lips immediately peeling back in a menacing snarl of displeasure.

Yet you stood your ground, arms crossed stubbornly over your chest as you leveled him with an unwavering stare. "Not this time."

Sukuna seemed to swell with wrath at your brazen rebuttal, the very air around him growing thick and suffocating with his barely-restrained power. "You dare seek to bar my way, insolent girl?"

Despite the deadly undercurrent to his words, you did not so much as flinch. "I dare demand answers," you shot back, amazed by the sheer bravery - or perhaps foolishness - fueling your own voice. "You can't keep avoiding me forever, Sukuna. And you sure as hell can't abandon this place and leave me wondering."

A dangerous crimson glimmer flickered behind his obsidian eyes at your impertinent challenge. With a speed that caused the air to whip your hair, he closed the distance between you in two ground-devouring strides, his looming silhouette casting you in shadow.

"You presume much, leech," he spat, the old epithet dripping with as much venom as a serpent's fangs. "Were it any other who showed such disrespect, I would tear them asunder without a moment's hesitation." One thick-nailed finger trailed along your jawline, the caress carrying a blatantly threatening weight. "Do you truly wish to test the limits of my dwindling patience?"

But you obstinately refused to be cowed, tilting your chin up in defiant challenge. "Then do it. Tear me apart, if that's what you want." Your voice was soft but unwavering, the naked conviction behind it seeming to momentarily undercut Sukuna's towering menace. "We both know you won't follow through on that threat...I just can't fathom why."

The cursed spirit recoiled almost imperceptibly at that, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. For a span of heartbeats, you could practically see the roiling tempest building behind his eyes as he struggled to formulate a response.

Then, it burst forth in a tumultuous torrent, as if some invisible dam had been irreparably breached.

"Because you haunt me, you insufferable blight!" he snarled, thick fingers tightening in your hair until it stung. "For years, you've chipped away at my defenses with your pestilent tenacity, worming your way past every wall I built until I could no longer be rid of you!"

His free hand slammed into the wall beside your head, the stone buckling inward from the sheer force as he loomed over you like a force of nature given mortal shape. "Your existence has become as indispensable to me as breath itself, do you comprehend that?! Every wretched thought, every insipid desire, can no longer be conceived without your infuriating visage lingering at the mind!"

Another blow struck the unforgiving barrier as his onslaught continued unchecked, words belying emotions so violently profound they could scarcely be contained. "Your heartbeat has become a rhythm that my whole wretched self is forced to follow! TO RID MYSELF OF YOU NOW WOULD BE THE SAME AS CARVING OUT MY OWN WRETCHED SOUL!"

His monumental wrath finally crested in that suspended instant, hands clenching into trembling claws at his sides as if he yearned to grab you and simultaneously pull you close or dash you against the nearest immovable surface. You gaped up at him, utterly transfixed and speechless in the face of such a cataclysmic admission.

Sukuna searched your face with a look of abject desperation, as if willing you to give voice to the very understanding that eluded his tormented grasp. When you remained silent, he seemed to crumple slightly, his shoulders drawing inward with a ragged exhalation.

"Well?!" The single, plaintive word scraped from his lips, more broken plea than demand. "Speak, damn you! Put voice to the festering sickness I cannot rid myself of, no matter how I strain against it!"

Slowly, as if in a daze, you shook your head in a woefully inadequate gesture. "Sukuna, I..."

Your voice trailed off as color rapidly bloomed across your cheeks, eyes abruptly skittering away from his intense scrutiny. By the time they drifted back up to settle on his features, a fiery combination of audacity and sheer longing had taken root.

"I want to kiss you right now," you breathed, the words carrying every ounce of yearning thrumming through your thunderous pulse, "...but I can't reach."

As the simple admission hung in the weighted stillness, you watched transfixed as a myriad of fleeting emotions flickered across Sukuna's striking features. Surprise, naked vulnerability, even a glimmer of what could have been confused for shy uncertainty - until at last, his lips curved in the ghost of a sardonic smirk.

A soft huff of breath parted from the cursed spirit's lips - the unmistakable rumble of restrained amusement resonating from his granite-hewn chest. Yet rather than the mocking disdain you had grown accustomed to over the years, this exhalation carried an undercurrent of begrudging fondness...affection, even.

Slowly, with deliberate carefulness, Sukuna sank to his knees before you, allowing his towering stature to diminish until you were virtually eye-to-eye. His penetrating obsidian gaze remained unwavering, pinning you under the weight of its molten scrutiny as he seemed to drink in your every nuanced reaction.

"Is that so, little leech?" His words were little more than a low rumble, stripped of any bite or rancor. "You wish to bestow your affections upon this...undeserving curse?"

You swallowed hard, mustering every shred of bravery humming through your veins as you gave a infinitesimal nod. Sukuna's lips quirked in a fractional smile, one edge hitching up ever-so-slightly in a subtle softening of his perpetually harsh features.

"Very well then, you sweet fool," he murmured, the rumbling baritone of his voice seeming to reverberate straight into your core. "I shall grant you this indulgence...for now."

With that, he shifted infinitesimally closer, until you could feel the heated puffs of his exhalations ghosting across your face...until his rugged silhouette filled your entire field of vision, encompassing and infinite and utterly overwhelming in its proximity.

Pausing there with exquisite restraint, Sukuna searched your features one final time, allowing one last fragile heartbeat of respite before inclining his regal head in a barely perceptible nod.

The faintest of whispers, little more than the suggestion of his warm breath ghosting against your mouth. "Proceed, my leech."

In the days that followed Sukuna's vulnerability laid bare before you, a tectonic shift seemed to reverberate through the very foundations of your peculiar existence together. What had once been an intricate dance of push and pull, antipathy and grudging acceptance, had blossomed into something altogether new...something infinitely more electric and profound.

If you didn't know better, you might have assumed the legendary harbinger of curses had undergone a complete metamorphosis in the wake of that pivotal moment shared between you. Yet even at his most doting - his most outwardly affectionate - the unmistakable kernel of Sukuna's uncompromising intensity remained.

You noticed it most profoundly in the way his obsidian eyes would trail your every movement, never once straying from your form with a sort of palpable weight and hunger that made your pulse thunder. No matter how seemingly mundane your activities - tending your garden, preparing the evening meal over the hearth fire, simply sitting and staring off into the middle distance - his piercing stare was an inescapable tether tying you back to earth.

At first, you tried valiantly to ignore the way his massive presence seemed to loom over you at every turn, casting its hulking silhouette across yours in a manner that was both comforting and faintly discomfiting. But Sukuna was nothing if not relentless...and persistent in his quest to shatter the very foundations of personal space itself.

It began with the brushes of contact that seemed to linger a moment too long at first - the rough pads of his fingers traipsing across the exposed curve of your shoulder in passing, or ghosting along the small of your back as he navigated around your slight frame. Simple, chaste gestures that nonetheless raised the fine hairs along your nape with their loaded promise of so much more.

Then came the blatant encroachments, as if the cursed spirit had grown impatient with even the slightest iota of perceived distance between you. One moment you would be standing before the hearth cooking utensils in hand, gently humming an idle tune under your breath. The next, Sukuna's towering bulk would materialize at your back, chest pressing flush against you as corded arms snaked around your hips to bracket your frame against his.

"Y-your hands are in the way..." you'd stammered the first time, acutely aware of the masculine heat radiating off of him in waves. "I can't cook like this."

The response had been a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating against your back, shortly followed by the unmistakable brush of Sukuna's lips against the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder.

"Then don't cook, foolish girl," came the gravelly murmur against your flushed skin. "Not when I've yet to properly satisfy my own...hunger."

From there, his public displays of ravenous affection only escalated. No activity seemed exempt from his roving hands and wandering mouth bestowing their lusty attentions upon you with shameless fervor. He would haul you into his lap with little preamble as you chatted idly, effortlessly trapping you within his brawny thighs as he pressed scorchingly hot kisses along your jawline and the column of your throat.

More than once, you found yourself rendered speechless in the midst of some menial task or another - breath catching as Sukuna simply wrapped himself around your smaller frame from behind, nuzzling the crown of your head while emitting a soft rumble of sheer contentment.

"Your incessant blathering was insufferable before, yet now the silence grates upon my senses," he'd grumble against your hair, flexing his grip around your hips a fraction tighter. "Speak, leech. Let me bask in your existence a while longer."

When night fell and the two of you inevitably gravitated towards the plush embrace of his sleeping pallet, any pretenses went out the window entirely. Sukuna seemed determined to enfold you in his granite-hewn embrace until you were thoroughly and utterly consumed, limbs intertwined as his muscular bulk smothered you beneath its sweltering weight.

"S-Sukuna, I can't breathe!" you'd gasp in mock protest, squirming fruitlessly in the iron bands of all four of his arms as his lips found the feverish pulse beating in the hollow of your throat.

"Breathing is an indulgence, not a necessity at present..." would come the velvet-over-gravel purr against your sweat-dampened skin. "Be still, mine."

You lost track of how many nights you awoke curled atop his chest like a favored pet, buffeted by the rise and fall of his deep, slumbering breaths. But rather than extract yourself, you gradually found your own hand drifting up to trace the sharp, austere contours of the face regarding you through half-lidded eyes - his expression curiously unguarded in those hushed moments before the sun crested the horizon.

"Your fascination bores into my thoughts, even in sleep," he'd rumble, arching one imperious brow while making no move to dislodge you. "Does your insufferable scrutiny never end?"

You would simply shake your head, fingers trailing to the masculine curve of his lower lip as you committed every beloved detail to memory. "No more than your need to keep me close does, it seems."

A huff of sardonic laughter before his arms flexed and crushed you more tightly against his chest, all traces of humor melting away into naked, vulnerable sincerity.

"Too true, leech...too true." His deep timbre would reverberate through your very soul as he brushed a lingering kiss across your brow. "Now sleep...and grant me the mercy of indulging this unforgivable weakness a while longer."

Hushing any reply with the molten brand of his lips upon yours, he would acquiesce to the inevitable pull of slumber with you cradled against him like a talisman...twin souls shielded from the rest of the world's harsh realities if only for a few stolen hours.

The gentle burbling of the river provided a soothing melody as you sank into its welcoming embrace, allowing the tepid waters to lap soothingly against your bare skin. A contented sigh parted your lips as you tilted your head back, basking in the warmth of the midday sun filtering through the canopy overhead.

Yet you couldn't quite shake the unmistakable prickling awareness that something...or someone...was watching you.

Dragging your lashes open, your gaze was immediately arrested by Sukuna's imposing silhouette seated on a nearby boulder at the river's edge. His eyes positively smoldered with naked intensity, drinking in every exposed inch of your damp skin with ravenous hunger.

You felt an instinctive flush creeping up your neck and cheeks under the sheer weight of his molten perusal. Not that his frank ogling came as any surprise - the cursed spirit had made little effort to disguise his desire during the past years. But there was something heavy and electric crackling in the air around him now...something more visceral and carnal thrumming through his coiled muscles as he watched you.

Almost involuntarily, your arms drifted up to attempt shielding your bare curves from his searing gaze, throat tightening minutely. "S-Sukuna...must you stare like that?"

The words emerged in a breathless murmur, your gaze skittering across the sharp planes of his features in a futile attempt to avoid being utterly pinned like a butterfly to wax paper. Yet his eyes remained utterly unmoving, devouring you with dark promise.

"And why should I not?" The low rumble of his voice seemed to reverberate through your very bones, sending delicious little tremors shivering along your nerve endings as if in premonition. "Do you not comprehend how utterly bewitching a vision you present, resting among the water's crystalline touch like some mythical nymph?"

You swallowed hard at the ardent compliment laced through with undisguised yearning. Despite the amorous attentions he had already lavished upon you, Sukuna never failed to set your pulse thundering with even his subtlest invocations of desire.

"If you find me so pleasing to look at..." you ventured, aiming for nonchalance but only succeeding in sounding softly winded, "then perhaps you could indulge me and look away? Just for a little while?"

A pregnant pause stretched between you as he appraised your halting request, that mercurial gleam flickering briefly behind his volcanic stare. Then, a low rumble of sardonic laughter rolled forth as his lips quirked in an amused sneer.

"Look away?" he echoed, tongue curling around the words with relish while his gaze continued its shameless roving. "And forfeit the pleasure of imprinting every inch of your body into my memory? I think not, dearest leech."

Sukuna's hulking frame surged to its feet in one fluid, leonine movement that immediately stole the breath from your lungs. Slowly, he began advancing towards the river's edge with inexorable intent simmering in every ground-devouring stride.

"In truth...gazing upon your exquisite form any longer might jeopardize what fragile restraint still tethers my baser urges," he continued, a low, rumbling growl that made you shiver in spite of the water's warmth. "No...I've indulged in simple voyeurism more than long enough, I think."

You felt your pulse skyrocket as the meaning behind his words penetrated the hazy veil of desire blurring your senses. Sinking deeper into the shallows, you instinctively drew your knees up in a futile attempt at modesty, breath catching in your throat as Sukuna reached the riverbank.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered, even as a profound certainty took root in the pit of your stomach. You knew exactly what he meant...what he intended. The mere prospect of it sent a molten thrill of equal parts trepidation and exhilaration lancing through your veins.

In lieu of responding with hollow words, the cursed spirit simply appraised you with a look of rapturous, unvarnished need for a suspended breath...before effortlessly discarding the tattered remnants of his clothing and stepping into the shallows with purposeful, silent intent.

You couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried, thoroughly transfixed as he stalked ever closer with all the sublime grace of a panther emerging from the underbrush. Raw power and earthy masculinity radiated from his every flex and ripple of corded muscle, enveloping you in its gravitational pull until he loomed over you like an elemental force contained in mortal flesh.

Sukuna gazed down at you for several suspended heartbeats, something deep and profound lurking in those abyssal depths. Then, with aching slowness, he reached for you - the first caress of his calloused fingertips trailing across your jaw and down the quivering column of your throat with searing reverence.

"I want you..." The confession emerged in a low rasp burred with strain, yet ringing with indelible conviction. "Every exquisite shred of your mind, body and soul wrapped around my own indelibly. To become so thoroughly entangled that not even the boundaries of eternity could serve to separate us..."

With a shuddering gasp, you surged up to meet him, wrapping your arms around the granite expanse of his shoulders and finding his mouth in a searing, needful kiss. He answered with a bestial growl, hands spanning your back to crush you against the scorching brand of his body as the world momentarily ceased to exist beyond your joined exhilaration.

What transpired next in the sylvan seclusion of the forest hollow defied articulation through mere human tongue or pen. A communion of two souls who had danced upon the frayed edges of merciless boundaries for far too long, now diving recklessly, irrevocably into the churning depths of whatever thrice-damned connection bound them.

There was no more hesitation or restraint, only an exquisite ache of yearning met with Sukuna's furious brand of intensity - the push and pull of eternal cosmic forces colliding in a single crystalline vertex as you tangled together amid the water's eternal cadence. His mouth and hands and the raging power contained in his very being cleaved you in two, stoking embers into raging conflagrations that threatened to set the very air alight with each gasping breath and trembling caress.

It was only afterwards, when coherent thought fractured through the haze of bliss cradling your senses, that you became aware of Sukuna gathered you up against his chest with preternatural gentleness. His mouth ghosted across your brow reverently as you nuzzled into the thrum of his pulse, every hitched breath carrying the same aching awe and untempered adoration as before.

There were no words spoken as he carried you from the shallows and back towards the sanctum of his domain, only the weight of a connection irrevocably and infinitely forged fresh upon your souls.

The following weeks dissolved into a fevered haze of tangled limbs and breathless intimacy. Sukuna kept you sequestered in the shadowed sanctum of his chambers, allowing scarcely a moment's reprieve before his smoldering gaze and calloused touches stoked your shared passion anew.

With a low, rumbling growl, he would surge over you, pinning your pliant form beneath the scorching brand of his granite-hewn bulk. His large palms mapped every dip and swell of your curves, calloused fingertips tracing paths of searing devotion across your feverish skin until you arched shamelessly into his sensual ministrations.

Sukuna worshipped you with an intensity that bordered on primal obsession. His mouth branded scorching kisses along the elegant column of your throat, teeth grazing that sensitive juncture where your pulse fluttered erratically under his merciless onslaught. You lost yourself to the exquisite duality of pain and pleasure, body thrumming with unbridled ecstasy as he sheathed himself inside your welcoming heat over and over until the world shattered apart.

In the blissful afterglow, he would cradle you against his chest, reverent fingers trailing idle patterns through your disheveled tresses as you drifted in sublime, satiated languor. "Rest now, my precious leech," he would murmur gruffly. "You'll need your strength...for I've only just begun to lay claim to what's mine."

True to his velvet promise, the cursed spirit allowed no quarter for respite, driving you both to sublime precipices with relentless fervor night after night.

Until one particular dawn found you rousing from a restorative slumber, only to find Sukuna looming over you - his harsh features limned in soft pearl light, eyes burning with an indecipherable intensity. Before you could question his strange mood, he silenced you with a calloused fingertip, leaning in to trail the other hand down the taut plane of your abdomen in a shockingly tender caress.

Then, to your utter bewilderment, Sukuna dipped his proud head and pressed his brow against that same spot with an infinitesimal tremor racing through his powerful frame. He remained frozen like that for several weighted beats before rearing back, utterly transfixed.

"You are with child," he rasped in a low rumble of awe, obsidian eyes roving your body with naked reverence. "My child."

One hand extended as if to caress your abdomen once more, only to still just before making contact - as if restraining himself from laying claim to something inviolably sacred. When his molten gaze crashed back to yours, it burned with the intensity of a thousand suns, every facet of the indomitable spirit laid bare.

"Did you not comprehend what you agreed to when you forever bound yourself to me, foolish girl?"

Utterly transfixed, you could only shake your head in a dazed stupor as Sukuna's granite-hewn form descended over yours once more, fitting your bodies together with devastating precision as if sealing an unspoken cosmic covenant.

"Then allow me to show you..." he growled against the swell of your parted lips, voice shredded with rapture and ardent possession as he sealed your joined fates with another searing embrace.

As the weeks melted into months and your pregnancy blossomed, Sukuna's already ardent doting intensified tenfold into something borderline primal. The cursed spirit remained an inextricable bulwark at your side, allowing scarcely a moment's separation between you as your condition advanced.

His touches, once ravenous and claiming, now carried an undercurrent of exquisite tenderness and devotion. Whenever possible, one of his large, calloused palms would splay across the burgeoning swell of your abdomen in a silent reassurance of his vigil. You lost count of how many times you awoke cradled against the scorching brand of his bare chest, with Sukuna's obsidian gaze riveted to your midsection - as if he could will their unborn child into manifesting through the sheer weight of his intensity.

Often, he would lie utterly motionless beside you for what felt like eons, fingers lightly tracing the taut curve of your belly in contemplative reverie. Then, as if beckoned by some unseen summons, he would stiffen almost imperceptibly before a look of naked awe blossomed across his austere features.

"There..." he'd murmur, voice little more than a rasping whisper thick with emotion as his palm flattened firmly against your abdomen. "Feel that, leech? Our offspring moves with prodigious vigor..."

You would laugh softly in breathless delight at the sensation of minute flutters blossoming into unmistakable kicks against his steadying hand, always in awe of Sukuna's inexplicable ability to anticipate them. Amusement would sparkle in the inky depths of your shared gaze whenever he harrumphed indignantly at your mirth, a hint of that old familiar imperiousness writ across his chiseled features.

"Mock me if you wish," he'd growl, leaning in to nuzzle the fragrant hollow beneath your ear. "But you'll not deter me, even for a moment. This life you bear will want for nothing while its father keeps watch..."

Then the hot brand of his mouth would slant over yours in a ferociously devouring kiss, his free hand roving relentlessly across your sensitized curves with scorching intent. You surrendered to his inflamed ardor completely, shamelessly reveling in the molten frissons of desire Sukuna so effortlessly incited in you even well into your third trimester.

" Insatiable..." you'd gasp between fevered caresses, squirming futilely against the granite cradle of his pelvis undulating against yours. "The child's practically done cooking and you still can't keep your hands off me..."

An iniquitous smirk would curve his lips in answer as his mouth trailed liquid heat along the taut column of your throat. "And whose fault is that, precious leech? You taunt me with every look, each intake of breath that gently swells your form... How could I resist feasting upon such utter temptation while I still can?"

This interlude would inevitably lead to another protracted joining, all the more impassioned due to the constraints necessitated by your condition. Yet Sukuna appeared undeterred - energized - by the challenges inherent in worshipping your burgeoning shape. No position or angle seemed too unorthodox to accommodate, so long as he could indulge in every newly hypersensitized inch of satin skin left panting and flushed in the smoldering wake of his lavish attentions.

And when, at long last, even your seemingly boundless ardor reached its peak and left you limp and thoroughly sated, he would huff a self-satisfied growl against your temple. His palms would caress the gentle swell with a tenderness that never failed to steal your breath anew as you reveled in the tranquility of the aftermath.

"Sleep, mine..." he'd rumble, the inflection soft yet weighted with immutable possession. "I shall revel in our offspring's vigor until I fall asleep as well..."

So you would slip into blissful oblivion cradled securely against Sukuna's granite contours, lulled by the measured pounding of his heartbeat and the reassuring glide of his fingertips tracing idle sigils against your abdomen. Safe in the knowledge that while your world had irrevocably shifted and expanded to encompass this extraordinary metamorphosis, his unwavering guardianship remained the inviolable anchor grounding your joined existence.

Even before the child took its first breath, Sukuna had dedicated every fiber of his towering, unearthly being to ensuring neither you nor his young would ever know a moment's doubt...a single tremulous heartbeat beyond the sheltering, infinite orbit of his devotion.

-

Sukuna's jaw was set in a taut line as he prepared to depart, the muscle ticking visibly beneath his chiseled features. His obsidian eyes burned with an intensity that could incinerate souls as he raked his smoldering gaze over your form.

"I will return before the moon sets," he growled, the words laced with an undercurrent of vehement reluctance. "But you are not to exert yourself or wander far, leech. This separation tries my restraint enough as it is."

Sensing the turmoil simmering beneath his imposing veneer, you offered a placating smile and reached up to trace the harsh contours of his face. "I'll be fine, my love. The little one and I will explore the garden for some fresh air, nothing more."

Sukuna's eyes slitted dangerously at your flippant reassurance, but he made no further rebuke. With a disdainful snort, he turned on his heel and stalked away, disappearing into the shadowed tree line like a wrathful specter consigned to some undesirable errand.

Shaking your head fondly at his overprotectiveness, you set off towards the burgeoning garden sanctuary at an unhurried pace, drinking in the vibrant scenery and allowing the tranquility to soothe your restlessness.

You never saw the vile, twisted figure slithering through the underbrush until it was too late. An aura of pure malevolence radiated from its very presence, freezing you in place like a rabbit in a snake's thrall. Those haunting words like rusted nails on a headstone would be the last thing you processed before the darkness claimed you:

"Well, well...what a delightful prize you'll make..."

-

The air was fragrantly alive with the perfume of fresh fruit as Sukuna materialized at the entrance of his sanctum, arms laden with an assortment of your latest cravings. His strides slowed fractionally as the silence stretched on without your usual cheerful greeting, the furrow between his brows deepening incrementally.

"Leech?" he called out gruffly, piercing gaze sweeping their domain with mounting unease. Where was the insufferable chatterbox? Ordinarily she would have come scampering at the mere hint of his return, practically levitating with excitement over whatever frivolous indulgences he'd procured.

That's when he caught the faintest undercurrent of a malign presence tainting the air - a profane blight that caused the hairs along his nape to bristle with instinctive aggression. Sukuna rounded the corner with the swift lethality of a panther, only to freeze as his eyes landed upon a grotesque, hunched figure blocking his path.

"Meddlesome vermin," he snarled, drawing himself up to his full towering height as unholy power thrummed beneath his very skin. "Where is the girl?"

The man let out a gurgling, wet chuckle that grated like rusty blades before gesturing carelessly towards the shadows behind it. "Oh she's around here somewhere...what's left of her anyway."

White-hot rage detonated through Sukuna's being like a shockwave, barely allowing the malformed words to register before he lashed out with catastrophic force. One second the creature stood leering with repugnant confidence...and the next its entire vile essence had been utterly erased from existence without so much as a parting scream to mark its demise.

As the residual ozone of his onslaught simmered into eerie quiet once more, only one thought pounded through Sukuna's skull with inescapable dread. With each frantic bellow of your name that echoed unanswered through the labyrinthine corridors, the knot of trepidation within him twisted ever tighter until it threatened to splinter his ribs from the inside out.

When at last his frenzied search reached the fringes of the garden, there you lay mere feet from the treeline - a crumpled, motionless silhouette wreathed in rapidly congealing crimson that very nearly brought the indomitable Sukuna to his knees.

He crossed the space in two lurching strides, sinking to the loamy earth beside your broken form as gently as his shaking hands would allow. Calloused fingertips ghosted across the pale curve of your cheek, the warmth so recently alight there already seeping away into the abyss of oblivion far too soon.

With excruciating care, Sukuna cradled you against his chest, willing his desperate touches to somehow reignite the brilliant spark of your radiant existence. Yet as his palm came to rest upon the swell that housed the fragile blossom of new life you had both sworn fealty to beyond the constraints of eternity itself...he felt nothing.

No tremulous flutter of vitality, no rhythm of a miniature heartbeat destined to become his entire world. Just...emptiness. A void that stole the very breath from his lungs and seared his eyes with an unforgivable ache he didn't dare put a name to.

In that moment, the indomitable force of nature that was Sukuna could do nothing but draw your lifeless body flush against his own. His lips brushed your cooling brow with a tenderness too profound for words as his piercing gaze glassed over, staring sightlessly into the endless oblivion your light had fled.

No roars of anguish rent the air. No seismic upheaval of his cosmic maleficence rocked the foundations in inconsolable devastation. Only the scouring blanket of silence and stillness fell...engulfing the once indomitable Sukuna in a void more vast and eternal than any eternity he'd ever known.

The hushed stillness that blanketed the clearing felt utterly suffocating, a death knell smothering every infinitesimal particle until reality itself seemed to grind to a halt. Sukuna remained frozen, trapped in the hollowed vacuum of this calamity as he cradled your lifeless form with a tenderness that defied every facet of his fearsome, primordial nature.

For once, there were no words - no gravel-toned rumbles of reassurance or the faintest flickers of consolation that you would stir and blink up at him with that radiant warmth he had grown terribly, irrevocably addicted to. Just the silence...and the fading whisper of your breath mingling with his own before fading away entirely.

"Breathe, damn you..." The ragged plea emerged as little more than a fractured rasp as his hand drifted up to cradle the back of your skull, thumbs brushing featherlight against your marbled cheeks. "Fight against me as you always do when I overstep, leech. Unleash that stubborn, foolish spark upon me once more..."

But you remained achingly, horrifically still - a fragile husk where the vivacious spirit who had bound your fates together once blazed with unfettered vitality. Sukuna's throat worked convulsively, lips shaping a benediction he could no longer bear to speak aloud, lest it seal your oblivion in inevitable truth.

So instead he lost himself in the reverie of recollection, frantically revisiting every infinitesimal moment and indelible impression seared into the cosmos of his being. From that fateful eve in the forest when you'd first foolishly bound yourself to his existential path...to the shared agonies and hard-won intimacies and sacred vows that had incrementally chipped away at his callous exterior until the most unshakable bastion lay irrevocably breached.

Yours had been the beating heart that carried his own bestial cadence in tandem, an orbit of incandescent radiance to which he remained hopelessly, inescapably tethered. And with that searing spark of your effervescence now extinguished, the darkness of his eternal existence stretched on in a hollow, suffocating void he could scarcely fathom enduring.

Trembling fingers tangled in your lank tresses, smoothing the silken strands away from your features in one last, tender caress. Sukuna pressed his brow to yours, allowing the achingly finite essence that had once reverberated between your entwined spirits to soak into his marrow one ultimate time.

"I am…undone, precious leech..." he whispered, every timber of his deep voice sheared to anguished splinters against the weight of this ineffable parting. "I am erased...unmade...what force could keep my tormented soul anchored to life without you as its guiding light?"

He drew a rasping breath, memorizing the flutter of your lashes against his cheek and the softness of your brow furrowed ever so slightly - just as he had that first, fateful evening you bound yourself to his dark orbit. Then Sukuna's lips found yours in one final, searing brand...the farewell benediction and aching vow that an eternity would never suffice to articulate.

As his burning touch lingered there fractionally longer than any mortal lifespan, the cursed spirit felt something ancient and primal splinter deep within his celestial essence. The uncaring cosmos itself seemed to crack and wheeze in protest as he sliced through its indifferent veil, severing every tether that lashed his malign power and eternal vitality to its perpetual cycle.

Uncaring of the fallout, Sukuna simply clung to your slackened frame, allowing the irrevocable oblivion of his fading existence to blanket you both in its infinite solace. If he strained mortal perception, he could almost glimpse the fractured glimmers flickering at the periphery - the first vestiges of that spark he'd once sworn to follow like an insipid moth into its searing, soul-cleansing embrace.

Of oblivion's sweet, eternal reunion with the only light he'd ever known...the final tether securing his wretched existence to all of creation's truths irrevocably severed at last.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One] [Part Three]

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

~

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

~

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

~

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

~

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

~

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

~

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

~

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

~

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

~

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

 He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

~

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

~

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere husband Genghis Khan

❝ 📜 — lady l: I hope you like! I hadn't written to him yet, but I confess that I liked it! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes!❤️

❝tw: dub-con, mention of massacre and destruction, possessive and violent behavior, implied torture.

❝📜pairing: yandere!genghis khan x female!reader.

Genghis Khan set his eyes on you after you became a concubine, one of his many that he possessed. After invading your city and looting and massacring the inhabitants, you were given to him as spoils of war. A concubine and nothing more.

When you were summoned to his tent, you were scared to death. Terrified of what he could do to you. You had already seen what the other soldiers had done to the captives women and you were shaking in terror at the thought of suffering the same.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when you walked in and found him waiting for you, wearing light clothes and drinking. You took a deep breath and walked towards the conqueror of your city. He looked at you briefly and you knew what you had to do.

To your surprise, Genghis wasn't rude or forced you, he was quite calm and gentle. A word you never thought you could use referring to him, aiming at the reputation he maintained. That said, you started to like him more, to like the nights you spent together more and more.

You were called by him every night and not every night was about the pleasures of the flesh, but because he enjoyed your company. You also started to like him, he wasn't that bad, at least not to you.

He soon decided that he wanted to marry you, to transform you from a concubine to his wife. You were surprised when he told you this news, but you didn't reject the idea. Being his wife would bring you more benefits than being his concubine and soon the preparations began.

The wedding was celebrated in typical Mongolian style and you were welcomed by soldiers and people important to him. Even his main wife, Börte, congratulated you and she seemed genuine. Genghis Khan appreciated this fact immensely, he could always benefit from it later.

You were treated with all the perks he could give you, jewelry, food, clothes made of the purest silk, anything you wanted he would have no problem getting. If you asked him to, he would destroy an entire tribe or city just for you.

You held a lot of power over him, especially when you got pregnant with your first child. Genghis was especially happy about this and you spent the whole night making love after this news. He was falling more in love with you every day.

He was quite possessive, however, and that was obvious to you. He once had one of his own subordinates tortured for daring to lust after you. You would never forget the screams that night or the bloody way your husband had appeared to you.

Genghis cares and cares for you in his own way and often resorts to violence to do so. He wasn't a conqueror without a reason, there was a murderous fury inside him that many knew. It soon became very clear to everyone who they must protect at all costs. You kept him in check.

He might have other concubines and wives, but he always came back to you in the end. In your arms, he had found a comfort he didn't know he needed until he got it. Genghis could kill anyone who looked at you the wrong way, but it was because he loved you.

You may not be his first wife, but you are definitely his favorite.

[remember-to-be-gentle]

I am in the bathroom at work still thinking about this:

You, the poor pack human, were shivering at Lance's side, both of you standing along the edges of the chalk drawn capture the flag arena.

"Watch closely," Lance whispers, low enough that you feel his voice vibrating through your chest, "one of them is going to stuff you full tonight."

This was a punishment for you. A reward for the pack. You wished Lance would tell you what you'd done wrong, you'd apologized so many times and he never forgave you.

"They're going to be rough with you. Rougher than I am. They've been holding back for long, unable to touch and breed you since you got here. What do you think is going to happen when the thing they've been dying to taste becomes theirs for one night only?"

You try not to look at Lance. It's not cold but you're shivering. You knew all of this. You weren't stupid. Lance and Blake were the only barriers between you and the other wolves getting a chance to stuff you full of cock--and that line blurred at Lance's discretion.

"You should've taken a nap today when I offered it," Lance murmurs, his gaze on his pack as they tackle and wrestle one another. "Because tonight, you're not getting any rest."

Sorry for all the asks, my brain is at 100% while I'm trying to sleep. I was thinking about the pack human having a bunch of dog beds all over the commune to hang out in and the thought hit me: Lance puts a night with the pack human up for grabs for whoever wins at a pack bonding game (like capture the flag or something). No idea how viable this idea is considering Lance's possessiveness, but I felt the need to share.

the idea of big dog beds scattered all over the commune is really funny but honestly it would be practical! as for offering up the pack human as a prize, that's right up lance's alley lol the pack human is a gift and a privilege for pack members, so he'll offer (or take them away) however he sees fit. lance might be possessive, but he's also a bit of a voyeur with a thing for humiliation. it's just as likely that the game was a result of something the pack human did to disobey him and is meant to punish them.

[delirious-donna]

tw: semi-public sex, dub-con(ish) to be safe but reader does consent, female reader, implied unprotected sex

Diluc enjoys surprising you with his presence when you least suspect it. Deliberately choosing to hide when you try to pay him a visit at Angel’s Share, smirking at the disappointed frown and pretty pout to adorn your face. It won’t last long—your disappointment—he’ll make sure of that.

The streets of Mondstadt are quiet at this time of night, perfect for what he has in store for you. Knowing every shadowy recess in the area and following you silently like a phantom in the night. You can sense something is amiss yet there is no terror to strike your heart, only intrigue. Your mind wandering to the whereabouts of your missing beau and thoughts of knocking at the door of Dawn Winery to locate him.

Those thoughts are about to be dashed…

Diluc strikes at the most opportune moment, a gloved hand pressed over your mouth and his low reassuring tone in your ear to calm the frenetic pulse of your heart. His arm like a steel band around your waist, lifting your feet from the cobbled ground and pressing you deep against the stonework of a shadowy building.

His hands roam you freely, touching all the places he’s admired this evening and the leather of his gloves feel silken and hot against your bare skin. With the initial shock over, your kisses grow hungry, answering his devouring lips with equal fervour, deep-seated need rising in the pit of your stomach.

Diluc makes it his mission to fuck you senseless in the most remote part of the city, his slender fingers flattening your tongue to silence the decadent moans he knows you’d make if he didn’t. Your cunt swallowing him eagerly, each snap of his hips harder to control as you suck him back in, attempting to keep him buried deep until you’ve milked him of everything he has to give.

“I should fuck you like this more often, darling, you look so pretty stuffed with my cock and bathed in the moonlight…”