Untitled

The night felt strange, too still yet intense at the same time. There were hardly any people on the street; it seemed the light rain had driven them all away.

It wasn't that comfortable silence you always felt at home when listening to music or watching tv; it was different, heavier. As if an invisible force were taking over the world and slowly filling everything.

You walked down the street, your brow slightly furrowed by the strange feeling, your hands tucked into the sleeves of your hoodie. The air was cold, but that wasn't what made you feel weird. It was that feeling again, something you couldn't explain. You felt like you were being watched.

You looked behind you, expecting to see someone on the street. Nothing. There were only houses, streetlights, an empty street that seemed completely normal... The same as you always saw on your nightly walks, only this time, the rain had caught you mid-walk, and you decided to go home earlier.

"You're being paranoid," you muttered to yourself, trying to ignore it.

You kept walking, but the feeling that someone was watching you didn't go away; it actually intensified.

A faint, ground-shaking hum began to fill the air. At first, it was almost imperceptible; you couldn't even tell if it was a car passing by. The sound grew louder until it became impossible to ignore. You stopped abruptly.

What on earth was that? The sound continued to grow, becoming deeper and more vibrant. You looked both ways again, expecting a truck or some other big vehicle, but the sound wasn't coming from the sides. It was coming from above. You slowly raised your gaze, and then you saw it. What you saw in the sky disconcerted you.

A ship.

There it was, dark, giant, and unreal, flying low over the neighborhood. You looked closely; it wasn't a plane, it wasn't a helicopter. It was a ship, you were more than sure of it. It descended from the rainy night sky as if it didn't belong to this world. There were no flashing lights like on airplanes, nor the familiar roar of engines. It was something completely different, something your mind wasn't prepared to process.

"No... no, this isn't real..." you thought, shielding your face from the rain with one hand. "This is a dream."

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, that ship was real. The wind began to rise around you as the ship descended closer and closer. The leaves on the ground swirled, your hair whipped around, forcing you to cover your face completely with your arm. The ground trembled slightly as the craft touched down, and the sound faded. The silence that followed was even stranger, because now you knew you weren't imagining all of this.

A hatch opened on the craft with a metallic clang, and from the darkness inside emerged strange, armored white figures; they looked like robots. They were all perfectly aligned, and what struck you most was that they were all armed. Your heart began to pound so hard you could feel it in your ears.

"What's happening?" you whispered to yourself, taking a step back.

Your mind screamed that it was impossible. But on the other hand, it felt so real that you doubted every second whether it was real or not. That maybe you were dreaming, just one of those dreams that feel extremely real, or that this couldn't be happening. But what good was deceiving yourself? They were there, they were real, and you could see them lined up in strict order.

What you found strangest about them was that they weren't moving. They simply stepped off the ship and settled perfectly into place, as if they were waiting for something, or someone. That's what made the fear grow within you, because you understood that they weren't the important thing. Someone else was coming, and you felt him before you saw him. A strange pressure in the air, a change in the atmosphere, a tingling sensation throughout your body, as if an invisible force were awakening inside you. As if something much bigger than white robots had arrived.

A tall figure descended from the ship. A man shrouded in a black robe, his hood obscuring his face, a few blond curls escaping and clinging to his face in the rain that was beginning to soak him. He walked slowly and deliberately, as if he knew exactly what he had come to this planet to do. Each step he took toward you seemed to resonate more than it should. Your body tensed as you watched him approach with confident strides.

"Run" you thought. The man smiled as if he had heard or feel your thought. But you didn't move an inch; you couldn't. The mysterious man stopped in front of you. Now that you saw him up close, you could see how attractive he was. His face was as beautiful as that of the gods themselves.

The silence between you was heavy and charged with something you couldn't name. And then, he raised his head.

The shadow of the hood parted just enough to reveal his rain-soaked face.

And his eyes.

They were an unsettling yet beautiful yellow, shimmering, but not human.

Your breath caught in your throat as the robed man moved closer and cupped your cheek in a soft, gentle touch.

"I searched for you across thousands of galaxies..." his voice was low, deep, and soothing. "...and, I finally found you."

His words made no sense, in fact, nothing did.

"What...?" your voice barely escaped, weak. "I didn't..."

He took another step closer, too close, lowered his gloved hand to your neck, and gave it a small squeeze. And yet, you didn't back away.

"You're coming with me," the man said.

It wasn't a question. You knew that immediately, but you still had no idea what was happening.

"No," you managed to say, your voice trembling. You backed away, ready to run. "I don't know who you are, but..."

His hand rose. He didn't touch you even an inch, but you felt it. An invisible force enveloping your body, stopping you, as if the air itself had solidified around you. Your eyes widened.

"What are you doing...?" you asked, panic in your voice.

"I'm going to show you what you are." His gaze didn't leave yours once it met your eyes. It was intense and absorbing, but somehow, you liked it. "Don't fight it," he continued. "Not me."

Your breathing became ragged.

"This isn't possible..." you said fearfully.

"It is," the man said, releasing you from his invisible force. He leaned in slightly, just enough to close the distance between you. "And you've felt it before."

That sentence made you hesitate, because the mysterious man was right. There were moments, dreams, sensations you had never understood.

"Who are you?" you asked again, more quietly.

"Please, call me Anakin."

Anakin. It was a beautiful name, yet something about it felt too familiar.

"No..." you shook your head, still not understanding anything. Why did you feel like you knew him? Why was he coming for you? But More importantly, Why did you feel such a strong connection between you? "This can't be real."

"I'm telling you, it is." Anakin extended his hand toward you, his palm open, waiting for you to take it. "Please, come with me. I'll explain everything on the ship. You'll catch a cold."

True, you were both still standing in the rain. You looked at his hand, then at his eyes, at the weird white robots standing there, then at the strange ship behind him.

Everything inside you screamed at you not to do it, that this was dangerous, that it was pointless. But there was something else, something deeper inside you. Something stronger than fear. Was it... recognition? Your hand moved before you could stop it, and when you touched his, something clicked. As if a missing piece of you had finally found its place. His grip closed gently, and his thumb stroked the back of your hand, sending a shiver through your body. Not even the cold rain had been enough...

"That's it," he murmured.

Seeing him there, in that suit, his armed troops outside the ship, that villainous aura, and his fearsome yet somehow beautiful yellow eyes, your first instinct was to escape. But it was that feeling of being somehow bound to him that made you enter the ship without fear, but with a lot of confusion.

The interior of the ship was cold, everything was metal. Everything looked clean and orderly; you felt like you were inside a science fiction movie.

"Leave me alone with her," he ordered his troops, and one by one, perfectly aligned, they left the room.

You had heard him call them "Stormtroopers". Well, at least one doubt was cleared up, they were no longer just "white robots"

Anakin sat at the controls to pilot the ship and pointed to the chair next to his. You sat beside him, trying to process everything that had just happened. But every time you looked at him, it became harder to think clearly. Maybe you should be afraid of him, but you found him dangerously attractive.

"This can't be real," you said for the millionth time, more to yourself than to him.

"It is." His response was immediate and certain... Again.

"I'm dreaming," you said, unsure if it was a question or a statement.

"You're not," he replied.

After a silence, you spoke again.

"Then explain what's going on" you said, looking directly at him. "Because none of this makes sense."

Anakin didn't respond immediately. He watched you, carefully considering his next words.

"Ask whatever you want, I'll try to answer everything," he said, pressing some buttons on the ship's controls.

"Who are you?" you asked.

"I already told you that you can call me Anakin," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, who are you?" you asked again, emphasizing the "who."

"Everyone knows me as Darth Vader, the Dark Lord and Emperor of the galaxy," he said with... pride?

"And I suppose Anakin is your name?" you said, somewhere between astonished and confused.

"Anakin Skywalker is my name. When there's someone else around, call me Lord Vader, but when it's just you and me, please call me Anakin," he said.

"Does anyone know your real name?" you asked, thinking it was a secret.

"They know my real name, but you know, it's more a matter of respect that they call me Lord Vader, but you are allowed to call me whatever you want, although I would prefer you call me Anakin" he said, looking directly into your eyes, which left you with another question.

"Your eyes," you said suddenly. "Why are they like that?"

A slight shadow crossed his expression. "Because I chose a different path."

"A path that makes you look... like that?" It wasn't that you didn't like them; in fact, you loved his eyes.

"A path that gave me power." A half-smile appeared on his face.

"That doesn't answer my question." You raised an eyebrow.

He leaned toward you, closing the distance between you.

"The Force."

Okay, seriously, what the hell was he talking about?

"The Force?" you asked, incredulous.

"It's part of me. And of you too." His gaze intensified.

Your mind tried to dismiss it, but it couldn't because you were experiencing it.

"And what does that have to do with me?" you asked, waiting for more answers.

Anakin took a while to answer. "Everything."

"What do you mean by that?" you frowned.

"I've seen you." His voice lowered. "In dreams. In visions. In the Force."

Your breathing slowed. "And what did you see?" you whispered.

He didn't look away for a second. "You." He moved a little closer. "Beside me."

"That doesn't make sense," you said.

"It does."

Of course not, you didn't even live in the same galaxy. How could you be destined for something? There were many questions, but one in particular you needed to know.

"Why me?" Apparently, that question seemed to matter to him, because he took his time before answering.

"Because you're mine. You’ve always been mine. You just didn’t know it.”

The silence was absolute. Your heart pounded.

"That's not an explanation." You tried to get more information.

"It's the only one that matters."

The rest of the journey was filled with questions.

And he answered more than you expected. He told you about the Empire, the war, the Force, and how it wasn't just something you used, but something you felt.

"There is light... and darkness," he said at one point. "And most people try to stay in the light."

"What about you? What did you choose?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

After a pause, Anakin replied. "I chose to stop pretending."

"That sounds... dangerous."

"It is." His gaze darkened.

"And you want me to be a part of that?" You still weren't sure if you wanted to stay.

He looked directly at you. "You already are. Since the moment you were born"

The worst part was that a part of you was starting to believe him.

When the Death Star appeared before you, you were speechless. It was impossible to describe; it was huge and terrifying, but also fascinating.

"Is that your 'home'?" you asked.

"Now it will be yours too."

You didn't know how to answer that. On one hand, you wanted to leave. You had your family and friends on Earth; you couldn't just disappear. But on the other hand, that invisible force kept drawing you to him like a magnet, so you didn't push him away. And that was enough for him.

When you got off the ship and entered the Death Star, everyone stepped back. No one questioned the presence of a stranger on the station, no one spoke, they just stared. They stared at him, and they stared at you.

"Why are they looking at me like that?" you murmured, pressing yourself closer to Anakin.

"Because they can sense it," he said, putting an arm around your lower back to give you more confidence.

"Sense what?" A shiver ran down your spine at Anakin's touch.

"That you're not like them."

"Believe me, Lord Vader, I'm quite normal."

He stopped when they reached another door and looked at you. "No, you're not" was all he said.

And for the first time since you met him, you couldn't contradict him. Anakin opened the door and revealed his... room? Office? Place?

"This is my workplace. If you need me, I'll always be here. No matter what I'm doing, I'll always be available for you, understand?" he said, entering. He poured a glass of water and gave it to you; it had been a long way.

His place wasn't just an office. It was entirely his own, dark and perfectly tidy. There was a large desk, some armchairs, and a door that perhaps led to his bedroom.

"Sit down," he said.

You sat next to him on one of the sofas. He slowly removed his robes revealing a metallic arm with a technology very different from what you knew, never taking his eyes off you.

"Tell me about your dreams," you asked; it was clear the questions weren't over.

He leaned in front of you. "They're not just dreams."

"Then what are they?" You took a sip of water.

"Visions." He moved closer. "In my dream, you were... by my side."

Your breathing became heavier. "Doing what?"

"Reigning with me as my dark queen... among other things," he said with a smirk.

Dark queen? By his side? What kind of "other things"? No, this had to be a mistake.

"That's not me."

"Not yet."

"What if I don't want to be a part of this?" Your rational side told you to run, but your body and mind were screaming to stay.

"You will," he said confidently.

"You can't decide that."

He moved closer, his nose almost touching yours.

"I don't have to." His voice lowered. "You're already feeling it."

Your pulse quickened. "Feeling what?"

His answer was almost a whisper. "Me. And once you understand, you won't want to leave my side for a single second."

In that moment, you knew something. You didn't understand how, or why, but you knew. Your life no longer belonged entirely to you, and the most dangerous thing of all was that you weren't sure you wanted it back.

A few days later, you returned to Earth, but it didn't feel the same.

You were gathering some things from your apartment while he watched you from the doorway.

"Is all that important?" he asked, flipping through a book he found somewhere.

"Yes," you replied, packing things into your suitcase.

"You don't need it." He set the book aside.

"Of course I do."

He moved closer slowly. "The only thing you need..." He stopped in front of you. "...is me."

Your gaze met his.

"That sounds kind of dangerous," you said, trying to hide your nervousness.

"It is." He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "But you're not leaving my side."

And he was right, you weren't. Because deep down, you had already decided what you wanted to do.

The trip back to the Death Star felt different. Not because Anakin had changed, but because you had. You weren't afraid of him anymore; you understood that you would be safe by his side. The silence between you wasn't awkward. Now there was only a strange tension between you; you could feel Anakin even without touching him.

"You are more relaxed," he said without looking directly at you.

"I don't know if 'relaxed' is the right word," you replied, playing with the hem of your sleeve.

"But you're not thinking about running away anymore."

Well, he was right about that...

You turned your head slightly toward him. "Does that surprise you?"

He thought for a moment. "No." Finally, he looked at you. "I expected it."

His certainty should have bothered you, but it didn't. "Are you always so sure of everything?"

"When it comes to you... yes."

You fell silent as your pulse quickened slightly.

"That sounds very... confident."

"It's certainty." He leaned slightly toward you. "There's a difference."

Your breathing changed barely. "What if you're wrong?"

His gaze never left yours. "Then it wouldn't be you."

You didn't know how to respond to that, because a part of you knew he was right.

The Death Star reappeared before you, enormous, impossible to ignore. But this time, it didn't intimidate you the same way; now it felt somehow familiar. Dangerously familiar. When you got off, the stormtroopers immediately stepped aside to let you pass. Their curious glances shifted toward you.

"Why is everyone staring at me again? I have already been here for a while" you murmured.

"Because they know you're staying, and they can feel it," he replied without pausing.

"Feel what?"

"The same thing they felt the first day you arrived. That you're not ordinary."

You frowned. "That doesn't reassure me much."

"It doesn't have to." He smiled playfully.

You continued walking through the endless corridors of the Death Star until they reached Anakin's workspace again. You both sat down on the sofas.

You knew he wanted you both to sleep in the same room; he'd told you that recently.

"Now that you've decided to stay, I can show you your room." Anakin said, gently caressing your face. "Although you can stay in mine if you insist." he said with a smirk.

To tell the truth, you had considered it, and it was a good idea, but you also needed a room to put all your things.

You were about to play along when the door burst open.

"Lord Vader." The man's voice interrupted the moment. He was an Imperial officer. "We need your authorization to..." He stopped when he saw you, and a look of fear crossed his face.

You felt the air shift abruptly.

"Don't interrupt me here again," Anakin's voice lowered, but it became dangerous. "Especially not when I'm with her."

"I-my apologies, my lord..."

The officer had barely finished the sentence when he brought a hand to his throat. His feet left the ground.

"Anakin." you whispered.

He didn't take his eyes off the man, but he could sense your discomfort and... He stopped.

"Learn," he said with cold calm. "Or don't make the same mistake again."

Finally, he let go. The officer fell to the floor, gasping.

"Leave."

He didn't repeat it. The man practically crawled away. A heavy silence filled the room. You turned to him.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, still feeling the tension in the air.

"Yes, i did," he replied confidently.

"Why?"

This time he did look at you. "Because no one is going to disrespect you while I'm here."

Your breathing quickened again.

"He didn't..." The man had simply entered without knocking.

"He thought about it."

That left you speechless. So much so that he decided to move to a different spot to ease the tension. Once in his room, the door closed behind you.

"This is too much," you murmured.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he said proudly.

You turned to face him.

"Anakin..."

He was already slowly removing his gloves and robes. His movements were calm, but there was something beneath the surface. Something that was growing with every second you spent together.

"Tell me what you're feeling," he said, still not looking at you.

"Confusion."

"No." He moved too close to you. "That's what you say." He stopped in front of you, gently lifting your chin. "What do you really feel?"

Your breathing became more ragged. "I..."

You couldn't finish because you didn't know exactly what to say. You felt him, but you couldn't explain it. You felt that strange but comforting warmth. That connection you couldn't explain, and that attraction that only grew stronger from the first second his eyes met yours.

"Don't make me say it," you whispered.

His hand brushed against your jaw. "You have to."

"Why?"

He leaned in until his lips were almost touching yours. "Because I want to hear it from you."

Your pulse was racing. "I feel you," you finally said, softly.

His expression shifted to one of satisfaction, but there was also something darker in his gaze.

"Again," he ordered.

"Anakin."

His hand tightened around your neck.

"Say it again."

Your breath caught, but not from Anakin's grip on your neck, but because you knew exactly what he was doing.

"I feel you... here." Your hand moved up, hesitantly, to your chest. "All the time."

"That's it," he murmured.

His other hand went to your waist, pulling you closer. He wasn't rough, he was firm.

"This is who you are."

Your mind screamed that it was too much. It was like the power within you had awakened the day you met him, The day all this began. Your body leaned toward him.

"What if I lose control?" you asked, almost whispering.

"Then when you feel yourself losing it, you take it." His eyes glowed, his forehead touching yours. "And I'll teach you how to use it."

Your breathing was completely ragged now. "This isn't right. I don't want to use the Force for evil."

"I never said it was. And we don't use it for evil. We use it for what's right."

Something inside you knew it wasn't quite "right," but you shared his ideals. Anakin was right about almost everything he said. Lord Vader might be the most feared man in the galaxy, but if Anakin asked you to rule beside him on the dark side...

You would join the dark side for him.

🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌🖤🌌

Note: Anakin my beloved... I really loved writing this one so i hope you enjoy it :)

Remember that you can make requests, just read the specifications in the pinned post :)

You met Jake Sully on a day when you did not want help.

You were grown, old enough to hunt on your own, old enough that the elders no longer watched your back every second, but still young enough that people expected you to listen when told.

You had gone farther than you were supposed to. The forest was quiet in a way that made your shoulders tight.

You noticed him too late.

The sound of a bowstring snapped through the air. Not at you. At the viperwolf that had been stalking your blind side. It dropped hard. You spun, knife already in your hand.

He stood there, tall and broad, but different in the face, in the eyes. Human-born, everyone said. Toruk Makto. Olo’eyktan. Too many names for one man.

“Easy,” he said, palms out. His voice was low, steady, like he expected to be listened to. “You’re clear.”

You hated that your first reaction was relief.

“I did not ask for help,” you said.

He looked you over anyway. Like he was checking for injuries without touching you. “Didn’t say you did.”

That should have annoyed you more than it did.

“You shouldn’t be this far alone,” he added.

You bristled. “I hunt alone often.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said, calm in a way that made your jaw tighten. “Still doesn’t mean it’s smart every time.”

You expected him to lecture. He didn’t. He just turned, started dragging the dead animal away from the path. Cleaning up the problem like it was nothing.

“You done arguing?” he asked over his shoulder.

You followed him despite yourself.

Later, when you returned to the clan, people noticed the way he looked at you. Not like a child. Not like something fragile. Like something that mattered. Something worth keeping an eye on.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

But that night, you slept easier knowing he knew where you were.

It then started small.

You didn’t notice it the first time because he said it like it was normal.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You paused mid-task. No one had ever called you that. Not your father. Not the men who flirted too loud. Not anyone who mattered.

You looked up at Jake. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t teasing. He was watching your hands, checking the cut on your palm like it was his business.

“I am fine,” you said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I see that.”

He took your wrist anyway. The kind of grip that said he expected you to let him. You did. That was the part that sat heavy in your chest later.

After that, the names kept coming.

“Easy, baby.”

“C’mon, pretty.”

“Hey. Eyes on me.”

You told yourself it was just how he talked. He talked like that to people who were close to him. You told yourself it didn’t mean you leaned in when he lowered his voice.

One day you snapped.

“Do not call me that,” you said.

He stopped. Turned fully to you. “Call you what?”

“Those names.”

He studied your face. Not offended. Not defensive. Just reading you. “You want me to stop?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“No,” you said finally, quieter. “Just…do not say them like I am weak.”

His thumb brushed your jaw. “Wasn’t what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” you asked.

“That you’re mine to look out for,” he said. “And I take that seriously.”

Your chest felt tight. Unsafe in a way you liked too much.

Then things became more more.

It showed in the way he stood too close. In the way his hand stayed at your lower back longer than necessary when guiding you through a crowd. In the way your body reacted before your thoughts caught up.

Nothing happened.

That was the problem.

You trained together. Ate together. Sometimes you stayed late, talking when the fires burned and everyone else drifted away.

He listened when you spoke about your day.

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t fix it.

One night, rain pinned you under a shelter. The space was small. Your knees nearly touched his. You could feel the heat off him, steady and grounding.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“It is cold,” you replied.

“Sure,” he said, not calling you out, but not pretending either.

He shifted closer. Giving you the option. You leaned in without thinking.

His breath hitched. You felt it. He felt you feel it.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“With what?” you asked.

“With me,” he said.

Your heart pounded. You wanted him to tell you what to do. To take the choice away. He didn’t.

Instead, he tipped his forehead to yours. Stayed there. Letting the tension stretch until it hurt.

“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “Always.”

𐀔 ࿐

You don’t really remember when you became romantically involved with Jake.

Maybe it was when he tended to your wounds and kissed your cheek, but you’d moved your head and his lips barely skimmed yours.

Or when you two went to go collect Leopard fruits and a feral viperwolf snuck up on you and he was there to rescue you. The name yawne slipping from his lips when he asked if you were okay.

You guessed somewhere in between.

Jake smiled softly as he watched you approach, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of you. "Sweetheart," he murmured, opening his arms in invitation. "Come here."

You eagerly closed the distance between you, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his familiar scent.

Jake's strong arms came around you, holding you close as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Missed you, baby girl," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. "Thought about you all day."

You hummed happily. "Missed you too," you replied, grinning up at him. "Couldn't wait to see you."

Jake chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I can see that. You're practically bouncing with excitement."

“I can’t help it.” You sighed.

"Now come on, let's go inside. I'll make us something to eat."

As you followed Jake into the hut, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

Later on, as you and Jake sat together on the soft furs, trading stories and laughter over a shared meal, the atmosphere shifted imperceptibly.

The easy camaraderie and comfortable companionship slowly gave way to a growing sense of tension, a palpable awareness of the other that seemed to hang in the air.

Jake's eyes kept flicking to you, lingering on your face and body with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

You found yourself stealing glances at him in return, your breath catching in your throat at the raw desire you saw reflected back at you.

The way he looked at you, the way his voice deepened and roughened when he spoke your name, it all served to stoke the embers of longing low in your belly.

You could feel your body responding to his unspoken want, nipples tightening beneath your tunic as a flood of heat rushed south.

Jake seemed to sense your growing arousal, his pupils dilating as his gaze dropped to your heaving chest. He licked his lips unconsciously, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"Fuck," he rasped out, voice strained. "Look at you. So fucking beautiful. Makes me want to touch. Taste."

You shivered at his words, thighs clenching around nothing as you fought the urge to close the distance between you. "Then do it," you whispered, heart pounding wildly in your chest. "Touch me."

Jake groaned in his throat, one hand coming up to cup your cheek possessively. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, trace barely there touch that sent electricity zinging through your veins.

"You don't play fair, baby girl," he chided, voice rough with want. "Know what you're asking for? Know what I want to do to you?"

You leaned into his touch, nipping at the pad of his thumb teasingly. "I want it," you breathed, pressing my face into his palm. "Want you. Want your hands on me. Your mouth. Your everything."

Jake shuddered, head dipping to brush his nose against yours in a movement that was both achingly tender and unbearably intimate. "Fuck," he rasped out, forehead resting against yours. "Gonna ruin you. Gonna make you scream so loud the whole valley will hear you."

You whimpered at that, hips rolling forward to grind yourself against his thigh shamelessly.

Jake groaned, hands coming up to grip your hips and still your movement. "Patience, baby girl," he warned, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Not going to rush this. Gonna take my time with you."

You moaned brokenly at that, arching into his touch as you sought to gain some friction. "Please," you begged shamelessly, too far gone to care how wanton you sounded.

Jake groaned, head falling back as he struggled to maintain control.

And with that, he lifted you up and deposited you facedown across his lap, one large hand coming down to smack your ass sharply.

"Ah!" you cried out, more from surprise than pain.

"Is that how you ask for something?" Jake chided, punctuating his words with another smack to your cheek. "Behave yourself, girl."

You keened at that, writhing beneath him as the stinging slaps sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain through you.

The humiliation of being spanked like a naughty child only heightened your arousal, dripping juices soaking through your tunic to dampen Jake's thigh.

"That's it," Jake praised darkly, continuing to rain smacks down on your rapidly reddening flesh. "Take your punishment like a good girl. Show daddy how sorry you are."

Daddy. The word Jake taught you that human men would grow weak in the knees at being called.

You could only moan in response, tears of overstimulated pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes as you submitted fully to his discipline.

The pain and embarrassment of the spanking only served to stoke the flames of your desire, making you ache for Jake's touch in a way that bordered on desperation.

"Please," you whimpered brokenly as the last smack fell, skin tingling from the thorough reddening.

"Need what, baby girl?" Jake prodded, voice low and hypnotic as he rubbed soothing circles over your abused flesh with his palm. "Tell daddy what you need."

You keened, hips rocking back into his touch shamelessly. "Need you," you gasped out, voice raw with want.

Jake groaned, one hand coming down to grip the back of your neck possessively as he held you in place. "Fuck," he rasped out, voice strained with barely restrained lust. "Hear that? Know what I'm going to do to you now? Gonna ruin this pussy. Gonna fuck you senseless until you forget your own name."

You could only moan in response, thighs clenching around nothing as you imagined the blissful stretch of Jake's cock spearing you open.

The thought of being filled and claimed and owned so thoroughly sent a fresh gush of arousal flooding your core, making you dizzy with want.

"Beg for it then," Jake challenged, voice dripping with dark promise. "Beg for daddy's cock like a good girl and maybe I'll give it to you."

You keened brokenly at that, undulating your hips in a silent plea for more friction. "Please," you gasped out, voice hoarse and desperate. "Need it. Need you. Please, daddy.”

Jake groan't groaned brokenly at your wanton begging, hand coming down to grip your thigh hard enough to bruise as he fought the urge to give in to your demands.

But as much as he wanted nothing more than to sink into your welcoming heat and lose himself in your sweetness, he knew he needed to draw this out.

Wanted to make you work for it, wanted to see you fall apart completely under his hands before he granted you the relief you craved so desperately.

"Beg properly then," he commanded, voice firm and unyielding. "Tell me what you want me to do to you. Describe it."

You whimpered at that, head dropping forward as a fresh wave of humiliation crashed over you. But even as embarrassed as you were by Jake's demands, the thought of begging so shamelessly for his attention only served to stoke the flames of your desire.

"I...I want..." you trailed off, biting your lip as you fought to find the right words.

"Say it," Jake prodded, voice dark and compelling. "Tell daddy what my baby girl needs."

"I need..." you tried again, swallowing hard as you summoned your courage. "I need you to fuck me. Need your cock deep inside me, stretching me open. Filling me up with your cum."

"Go on," Jake encouraged, rubbing soothing circles over your thigh as he waited for you to continue.

"I-I need you to claim me," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion and want. "Need you to make me yours in every way. Mark me inside and out so everyone knows I'm yours."

Jake groaned at that, head falling back as he pictured it, you spread out beneath him, pussy clenching around his cock as he pumped into you with deep thrusts. The thought was almost enough to make him lose control then and there.

"Fuck," he rasped out, hand coming down on your ass one final time before rubbing soothing circles into the abused flesh. "That's my good girl. So good for daddy."

You keened brokenly at that, hips rolling back into his touch as you sought more friction. The praise only served to heighten your arousal, making you ache with a desperation that bordered on pain.

"Shhh," he soothed, one hand coming up to card through your hair in a gesture that was almost unbearably tender. "Not yet, baby girl. Want this to last. Want to take my time with you."

You whimpered at that, head dropping forward as a fresh wave of want crashed over you.

But even as frustrated as you were by Jake's continued denial, the thought of being so thoroughly cherished and attended to sent a thrill of excitement racing down your spine.

"P-Please," you begged shamelessly, undulating your hips in a silent plea for more friction.

Jake snarled at that, one hand coming up to grip the back of your neck possessively as the other slides down to grab your ass hard enough to bruise.

He walked you backwards until your back hits the wall, caging you in with his body as he grinds his hips into yours.

Jake shuddered at that, hands sliding up your thighs to hook under your knees and hike your legs up around his waist. "Gonna fuck you now," he warned. "Gonna make you scream my name until you forget any other."

You could only moan in response, head falling back against the wall as Jake's fingers find your centre and slide easily into your wet heat.

He began to pump them in and out, curling to hit that spot deep inside that makes your vision go white.

Jake growls at that, fingers picking up speed as his thumb comes up to circle your clit mercilessly.

"That's it," he praises roughly, voice thick with arousal. "Let me feel you cum on my fingers. Wanna feel this pussy clamp down on me."

And with that, you shatter completely, orgasm crashing over you in waves of pleasure so intense they border on pain.

Your pussy clenched rhythmically around Jake's fingers as he continued to pump them through your climax, drawing out every last aftershock until you're boneless and shaking in his arms.

"Fucking hell," Jake groaned, releasing your legs so you can slide down his body slowly. "Never get tired of making you cum. So fucking beautiful when you let go."

You merely hum in response, too blissed out to form coherent words. You can feel Jake's cock throbbing against your belly, hard and heavy with need, but for now you're content to simply bask in the afterglow, safe and sated in his embrace.

But as the fog of your orgasm begins to clear, a new heat starts to build low in your belly.

You look up at Jake through heavy-lidded eyes, a coy smile curving your lips as you drop to your knees before him.

"I want to taste you," you murmur, hands coming up to undo the fastenings of his pants with deft fingers. "Want to feel you in my throat as you use my face."

Jake shuddered at that, fingers tangling in your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth immediately. 

“So eager for my cock. Such a good slut for daddy."

You moaned at the words, eyes rolling back in your head as pleasure courses through you. "All for you," you whimpered, freeing his cock from its confines and wrapping your hand around the thick shaft reverently. "Only for you. Always."

And with that, you seal your lips around the head of his cock and suck him into your mouth with enthusiasm.

Jake groaned brokenly at the sensation, hips jerking forward instinctively as he seeks more of that perfect heat.

"Shit," he gasps out, head falling back as he struggles to maintain control. "So good baby. Take daddy's cock so well. Gonna fuck this pretty throat raw."

You merely hummed in response, taking him deeper until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat.

You relaxed your jaw and throat muscles, letting him slide into your esophagus easily as you began to bob your head in a steady rhythm.

Jake's fingers tightened in your hair as he began to thrust into your mouth more forcefully, setting a punishing pace that has tears springing to your eyes from the effort of accommodating him.

But even through the discomfort, you could feel another orgasm building in your belly, the humiliation and degradation only serving to heighten your arousal.

"Fuck," Jake groaned, hips snapping forward one final time before stilling as he empties himself down your throat with powerful spurts. "Take it all. Swallow my cum like a good girl."

You did as instructed, gulping down every last drop of his release before licking him clean with a satisfied hum. As you pulled off his cock with a wet pop, a string of saliva and cum connected your lips to the tip before breaking away.

Jake stared down at you with possessive eyes, chest heaving and skin sheened with sweat as he struggles to catch his breath.

Without warning, he hauled you up into his arms and carried you over to the bed, tossing you down onto the furs roughly.

"You're going to be the death of me," he growls, crawling up your body to pin you beneath him with his hips. "Such a fucking temptation. Gonna ruin you for anyone else."

You merely smiled up at him, wrapping your legs around his waist as you grind your hips up into his insistently. "Promises promises," you purred, nipping sharply at his bottom lip. "Now shut up and take me already."

Jake snarled at that, one hand coming up to grip your throat possessively as the other lines up his cock with your entrance. With one hard thrust of his hips, he buried himself fully inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length.

"Jake" you scream, back arching off the bed as pleasure borders on pain. "So big! Gonna split me open!"

"Say my name, the correct one, baby girl," Jake gridded out, snapping his hips into yours. "This pussy was made for my cock. Gonna fit me like a fucking glove every time."

And with that, he set a relentless pace, pounding into you with enough force to rattle the bed frame against the wall.

Your cunt clenched around him, trying to draw him in deeper as you meet each thrust with an upward snap of your own hips.

"Harder," you begged shamelessly, nails raking down Jake's back as you chase your pleasure.

His large hand grasped your neck, squeezing that tender spot that had you gasping.

He obliged your demand with renewed fervor. The lack of oxygen only serves to heighten your arousal, sending you spiraling closer and closer to the edge with each snap of Jake's hips.

"That's it," he praised roughly, voice strained with barely restrained lust. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it's dripping down your thighs."

The filthy words sent you careening over the edge unexpectedly, orgasm crashing over you in waves of pleasure so intense they border on agony.

Youm clamped down on Jake's cock like a vice as you came hard enough to see stars, milking him for all he's worth.

His hips stuttered as he followed you into oblivion. His cock pulsed inside you as he emptied himself deep in your fluttering cunt, painting your insides with his seed.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, caught up in the aftershocks of your mutual release.

Only when the last waves of pleasure had subsided does Jake pull out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact.

He collapsed down beside you on the furs, chest heaving and skin slick with sweat as he struggled to catch his breath.

You snuggled into his side without hesitation, head pillowed on his chest as you listened to the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Jake's arms tightened around you reflexively, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. e."

but then comes another call that he declines once more with growing agitation.

it isn't until he sees a voicemail pop up when he actually engages. he settles back and presses the phone to his ear with a grimace, turning his eyes to the ceiling boredly as the message plays, and his heart practically stops beating when he hears the woman on the other end say that she is calling from the nearest hospital on behalf of you.

toji's jumping up from the couch to his feet with wide eyes as she explains that you've had some kind of accident, that you're being operated on at this very moment, that you'll be okay but need to discuss matters going forward about medicating and admittance and-

toji's out of the door before the message can even conclude.

and with his superhuman speed, he rushes to you with a blank mind and ragged breaths as though the very world is caving with each step he lifts from the concrete.

accident. you've been in an accident.

toji hates that he knows exactly what those words mean, what an accident aludes to. though he doesn't want to believe it, he knows.he knew the second he realized that the call was from the hospital. and its the first time in his life he's hated knowing you so well.

toji knows what you've been through. he's been informed all about your past, how your belief in your inadequacy overpowers the reality you live and the love that shelters you from the outside of your mind. he knows that depression and self deprecation have been a part of your life longer than he has, and he knows of your experience relapsing with self harm - stopping only to start up again when the voices get too loud for you to bear.

and he knows about your track record with having attempted to kill yourself twice in the past.

he knows. he knows it all, and he feared that this day would come for years. he feared the day your facade of happiness and contentment would give way and you would snap under the very pressures that you place upon yourself. while he's wanted to believe that you have gotten better for the foreseeable future, that your progress during your time with him was permanent, hell, he knew better deep down. it would have only been a matter of time, and your silence was the first give away. your silence that had been all too loud.

curses spill from toji's cracked lips as he manuevers himself through the crowded sidewalk with godlike precision and speed, racing as though he will be doomed if he does not get to you on time. a million thoughts run through his mind at once, shadowing him with guilt, with anger, with disbelief, with blood curdling fear that starts in his chest and trickles throughout his veins, to the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet.

death has come once again, knocking on at his door.

and for once, he wishes it was coming for him. for once, he prays that death would find someone, anyone else, other than the people he has dared to love. for once, he longs to step into that light and be taken in your place, but like cruel fate would have it, it comes for you, and you open the door rather than fight it. you let it in. you are practically death itself, and toji is as infuriated as he is horrified.

how could you do this to him? to yourself? to the kids?

he tries to reason with it in his mind, but every solution he comes to does not make sense. he can not for the life of him conceive why you wouldn't come to him like he's always asked you to when you're overcome with these particular urges. he doesn't understand why you've taken to harming yourself in isolation, away from the one person who would help guide you back into the light. he does not understand how you could care so little about yourself when you are everything and more to his family - how you could disgrace said family by trying to step away. forever.

death is merciless. it waits for no one. toji knows it first hand, up close, and yet you've tried to speed up the process. you've tried to take control over what is meant to be uncontrollable. and why? why the fuck would you do that? knowing who toji has lost? knowing that losing you would end his life indefinitely?

the ebony haired assasin's jaw clenches hard over and over. he has to reach you. there's no time. you need him. he has to get to you before it's too late.

and rationally, toji knows that if you're in the hospital, if the woman on the phone has told him that you are stable, that you will be fine, but his mind convinces him that with every second he's away, you are prone to even more danger.

look at what happened when he wasn't nearby.

toji throws the double doors of the hospital open violently when he arrives, blowing up papers and fabrics as he rushes forward and slams his hands on the front desk counter. the woman behind it jumps with wide eyes and looks up at him, and the very face of terror stares back.

and toji is out of breath, not from running, but from ancitipation. he swallows hard, nostrils flaring, ivy hues shrunken and wild.

the woman waits for him to speak.

"(y/n) (l/n)," he demands. "tell me where she is."

"uh- one moment sir," she stammers, blinking down at her computer. she types something and scrolls. "oh! are you - toji fushiguro?"

"yeah, where is she?"

"you didn't pick up. we were worried-"

"just tell me where th' hell she is!" he slams his fist into the counter, a shudder reverberating through the surface. he feels eyes on him but he doesn't care. he needs to find you.

"she just got out of surgery. she's down the hall to the right - first door on your l-"

and he's booking it. ignoring the shouts telling him to come back and fill paperwork. he doesn't exactly know where he's going, but he's got enough information to scope you out.

he follows the hurried directions and rips himself to the first door he finds on the left. he grips the doorframe tight, pushing himself through as his eyes scan the room for...

you.

bandages stained red wrapped over your wrists. tear stained pale cheeks. an emptiness in your eyes as you stare forward that makes toji's gut churn. these are the first things toji's hazy vision sees as the sight of you sitting upright in bed beneath nauseating flourescents, the scent of antiseptic and sickness thick in the air, greets him brutally.

he heaves in and out as he stares at you from the door, frozen with shock. a nurse and a doctor are at your bedside, the former adjusting the liquid iv you're hooked up to as the latter murmurs something that you do not listen to.

then, as if compelled by his sudden presence, your eyes lift and you turn your head slowly to the door. your glass eyes meet toji's from across the room, and the moment they do, he catches the shame that plasters over your expression and the urge to cry that tells in the way your brow wrinkles and your chest jerks.

toji rushes toward you.

"(y/n), what the fuck did you do? what did you do?" he hisses, pushing past the nurse and the chair blocking his path to approach your bedside. he's sweaty, with tendrils of dark hair messily straying over his eyes and his pulse jumping against his tight shirt. your lips tug downward as toji's familiarity swarms you, his warmth closing into your cold as he lifts your hands into his and examines the inside of your wrists closely, carefully. you wince with a jump, and your shoulders tense as you stare ahead. afraid to look at him. afraid to see what you've done to the one person who matters more to you than anyone in this entire world.

toji's breathing stutters as his eyes capture your wrists intensely. his thumb smoothes over the rough gauze, just beneath the pools of red at the center, insinuating the opened flesh. a sliced vein on either arm.

the assassin does not realize that he is trembling until he sees the way his grip shakes you. he can't think. he can't hear, not as the doctor inquires about who he is, not as you inform them that he is your boyfriend, and certainly not as the doctor introduces himself and explains monotonously how your operation was successful. they had to suture your blood vessels after you sliced into your arteries with a rusted razer, and have been administered a tetanence shot for good measure. your arteries had to be clamped shut to stop the bleeding. you were lucky to have been brought in when you were, for if you waited any longer, you certainly would have lost too much blood and there would have been no way to stop the bleeding.

it all doesn't even seem real. toji feels like he's inside of a dream, or a nightmare rather, numbed by the tone of a doctor who hardly even cares about your wellbeing, as he is only doing his job. detached, disconnected, unbothered. like you're a number he needs to check off. like the woman toji would kill for didn't almost fucking die without him knowing.

"the fuck is wrong with you," he grumbles to you, overlapping the doctor's speech. the said man eventually goes quiet as toji's low question lingers, and toji snaps his reddened eyes at you with a fire you've never seen. you curl your brows and watch him with blurry vision, your body shaking now as much as his. "you fuckin' kidding me, huh? the second i leave ya alone, this is what y're doin? you're tryna die?"

you frown deeply, tilting your head with the flutter of your lashes. "toji-"

"sir, i'd advise you to be careful," your nurse steps in, but your boyfriend's mass is blocking her way. "she's just been through a very traumatic experience, and she's only a few minutes post operation-"

"why would you do this?" toji fumes, looking to you with wrecked eyes. he searches your wounded gaze for an answer that you can not give, and as the tears slip down your face, he grits his teeth harder. "you're s'posed to call me. remember? y're supposed to talk to me, (y/n), not - jesus christ - what the fuck were you thinkin?"

"toji, i'm sorry," you whisper something so broken.

"if you were sorry, you wouldn't have done this shit in the first place!"

his outburst shelters the room in heavy silence, to which the doctor takes as a sign to give the two of you your space. he exits along with the nurse, shutting the door softly behind them.

you are left alone with the freshness of the wound you have opened, and toji looks to you like you've committed an act of the worst possible betrayal.

toji is not a crier. he does not cry. but he sees the way your tears flow, and his once steady hands shaking as they grasp your arms gently. like a forgotten curse, trauma washes over him in waves, and he sees a reality in which you were not saved. he sees a reality where he did not make it to you in time, and you slipped from his fingers. where you're gone. his love has gone again and there is nothing he can done.

he ducks his head as he grinds his teeth harder together, hair shadowing his face. he releases your arms softly, shielding a hand over his forehead as his face tightens and his body stiffens. he keeps one hand over you, and he feels you hesitantly curl your fingers over his and interlace them, trembling.

he stiffens completely, and fights the dreaded sensation of a lump building in his throat.

because to still be able to hold your hand now, of all times, is truly a blessing that he can not begin to fathom.

you can't stand yourself. you can't stand what you've done to him, but you couldn't escape that gnawing feeling any longer. there was an itch you had to scratch, and in that moment, locked away in the bathroom at work, all you could think about was your exhaustion. all you could see yourself as was the burden you've believed yourself to be for years. and all you could hear was that voice telling you that you were better off dead, that toji, megumi, and tsumiki would be better off having never met you, better off with you long gone.

you didn't think about how your death would impact them negatively. how the loss of yet another beloved woman in their lives would chemically change something in their brains. make them shut off completely, never to open up or dare to hope ever again.

no. that's never what you consider in times like these. that is not the reality that drives you to such measures.

and you regretted it the moment the blood came flowing, like twirling ribbons wrapping down your arms, falling in a spiral down to the floor. you regretted it the second the slices made you come to, made you remember that toji has only ever been there for you. only ever loved you, only ever begged you not to leave.

you fucked up. you know you did. and you know it now as you watch the formiddle, untouchable toji fushiguro crumble before you, clinging to your hand tightly like you'll vanish if he lets go, hiding his tears from the world that threatened to take you from him - hiding them from you.

you lift yourself up as best as you can, reaching your other hand to settle softly on his arm. you feel his muscles twitch and tense, and you hate yourself for it.

this is what you do. you hurt people. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve this life.

it would have been easier if you'd just died. if you never had to see the damage.

"toji, i'm sorry," you murmur. you sniff hard, holding his hand tighter. "i'm sorry. i - i wasn't thinking - i'm sorry. please don't - i'm sorry."

there is a long moment before toji says anything. "what are you sayin' sorry for if you went on and did it anyway?" he grumbles. he slowly lowers his hand, keeping his gaze down as he watches the way your hands wrap around each other's.

he can't look at your face. it would kill him. "you're not sorry."

"i am sorry."

"not for the right reasons," he snaps. "(y/n)... you tried to-"

"stop. i - just please stop," you close your eyes and shake your head. you swipe your tongue over your lip, catching a tear as it falls. "don't say it."

"i don't wanna say it either. but its what you did."

"i know."

"i can't-" toji blows out a long breath, turning his head to the side to angrily rub his forearm over his eyes. he clicks his tongue, turning back to your hands. with tight lips he reaches back for the chair he shoved away and pulls it forward for him to sit. his other arm rests atop your lap as his thumb slides over your knuckles subconsciously. "why didn't you come to me?"

"...toji, how... can i tell you that i want to die all the time?"

this brings toji's eyes to you. a redness surrounds them as his lids lower over his irises, his brows knitted tight together. "i'd rather you tell me that than me get a call from the fuckin' hospital, (y/n)."

you gnaw on your lip, nose twitching. "i was-"

"you understand that, right?" he slims his eyes.

"...yes-"

"do ya?" he asks again, sharper. "what the fuck was goin' through your head to make you think that this was okay?"

"i don't think this is okay, toji."

"then what? what?" he demands, desperate. he cranes over, leaning closer as if he can pull the answers physically from you with proximinity. "because if you really thought that, you would've thought about how much you dyin' would fuckin' kill me," he says passionately. "it would kill me, (y/n). i'd rather be dead a million times before you, you get that?"

you scoff. "why would you even-"

"because i fuckin' love you, (y/n). why the fuck else? i love you. i love you to the point where it fuckin' hurts to think about, and you know what i've been through. you know what the kids have been through-"

"toji, please-"

"you know that if you ever fuckin' died - if i wasn't there to help you, i'd be dead all over again. so i know you don't understand because you don't think about that. you don't believe in the truth, and that shit kills me. this kills me. fuck - just look at you. wh-" toji stops himself as his voice threatens to break. he shoots out a pointed breath, angling his brows as he stares at you. even like this, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and he has to convince himself that he isn't dreaming or in denial. that you are alive before him by some miracle.

"toji, i'm sorry," you say again.

"stop that shit. you don't mean it."

"i do mean it," you jolt his hand. "i do, but i can't just - i don't know how - i just -" you can't find the words, because what words are there? you know he's right. toji's devastated. he's hurt, and there's nothing you can say or do to fix that, to change what you've done. but how can you explain the unexplainable? how can you attempt to reason? "i was afraid to tell you," you admit. "i didn't want to be a burden... i thought it would be better if i just-"

"don't finish that fucking sentence. you're wrong," he growls. "you know you're wrong. your mind isn't always right, (y/n), you know it."

"but it's hard to see outside of that in the moment, toji. i don't know how to explain it, and i know there's no excuse, but i'm so tired," you shudder, voice faltering. toji clamps his lips shut, watching closely as you continue to cry, as you try to convey what he will never comprehend. "i'm so tired. i've been tired all my life, and every time i try to end it, i end up right back here. and i hurt people. i hurt you, and i - the kids - i don't even wanna think - i just... i don't know how to make it go away. i don't know how to live, toji. i'm not like you. i'm not strong. i'm not resilient. i'm weak and i'm tired and i drag everyone down with my weakness and my exhaustion and no matter what fleeting happiness i feel, i always come back to this feeling. this is all i am, toji. this is all i ever have been and i'm sorry that you have to deal with this because you love me. i'm sorry you love me. i make thing so awful and complicated. and i wish i could be better but i just can't. i don't know how."

he holds your eye, his heart aching at the sound of your words. how much you bury deep inside until you can not handle it any longer.

“i ain’t sorry i love you,” he says lowly, so gently it stings, and he doesn’t look away so that you know he means it. he always has.

and that somehow makes it worse.

you heave in and out with shallow breaths as you turn your gaze back to your wrists, shaking your head solemnly. you don't deserve him.

the medication you’ve been has numbed the sensation of pain, but you relive the moment you sliced through skin over and over.

that blinding sting you think you deserve. then the love toji shows for you every day that you feel you don’t deserve.

and as you cry, as you vent your most sheltered vulnerabilities, toji’s anger relents to make way for his sympathy, his love, his concern.

“doll, you’re breakin’ me,” he mumbles, bringing his other hand on top of yours. “you can’t keep livin’ this way. i can’t keep watchin’ you do this, girl. you’re not alone. you’re not unlovable. but i can only tell you that so many times until you start to believe that shit yourself.”

“i’m not good at this, toji. i don’t know how to be good for you. and you don’t deserve this.”

“you don’t deserve this,” he corrects. “i can never get why you treat yourself this way. y’re the last person in this world who deserves the shit you put yourself through.”

you shrug with a helpless laugh. “i wish i could see myself the way you do.”

he sighs. "yeah, so do i."

“i’m sorry,” you breathe out as toji ducks to press a lingering kiss to your hands, savoring your skin on his lips, savoring you and your life. “i’m really sorry for scaring you.”

he exhales again, resting his head atop your conjoined ones. he closes his eyes. “i’m just fuckin’ glad you’re alive,” he breathes desperately.

and you want to share the same relief. you do, but it’s only for his sake.

you crumble, leaning over as the tears come endlessly and you stifle the sobs that build with no end. “i wish i was different.”

the green eyed assassin lifts his head and hand to bring you toward him as he kisses your forehead softly, then your temple and your cheek. your tears are salty on his lips, but he doesn’t care. he's grateful he can even taste them now. he pulls back and caresses the side of your face, swiping away tears as he soaks you in.

and as you shame yourself, all toji can say is the one thing he does understand. the one thing that will never change. the one thing that he so desperately wishes you would hear. and its the following mantra.

“i love you.”

he seals the words with another kiss, and your body sags with the devastation of being unable to love yourself in the same way.

"please, (y/n)... baby please don't try to leave me again. you gotta let me in."

and all you can say as he pleads with you, even if you don't know if you can keep the promise - as badly as you want to, is: "okay."

and you bring your lips to his in a relieving, desperate, raw and fragile kiss. a kiss that toji savors for all that he is worth.

ryomen sukuna:

sukuna's ears ring when the words land so brutally on his ears that he can't even think straight.

it had been a comment in passing from a stupid, unwanted conversation he had been forced into with your cousin, who he happened to run into while running errands for you.

the salmon haired curse had been so disinterested as your family member yammered on and on about holiday plans for next year, what she was up to in the mean time, and whatever other senseless babble that sukuna could not have been paid to care about.

but then comes the mention of you. your name falls from her lips, tumbling with nostalgia and a twinge of sadness, and despite his previous disinterest, sukuna's ears are perking up now that the conversation topic has turned to you in the middle of this godforsaken line.

he's keeping the same guarded, bored expression, but only now, he's feigning disinterest as he listens. and then it slips, something so alarming in passing that he has to stop the conversation completely in order to process what the hell it is your cousin just said.

"...she really seems like she's doing a lot better since the incident..."

incident?

"what?" sukuna interjects, leading your cousin to pause mid sentence in subtle surprise. she blinks, humming in question as your crimson eyed partner glares down at her rather harshly, perplexed.

your cousin draws her brows together, the two of them now matching each other's confusion. she struggles to find the words momentarily, parts her lips, stops, then repeats the action.

"you know," she starts slowly, cautiously, as she watches sukuna's stare harden with the notion that he in fact does not know. he's growing impatient, visibly so with his sheer lack of knowledge on the topic. "the... her attempt..."

now sukuna's even more confused, and just as frustrated. his lips curl with dismay as he shifts, the line moving before him. your cousin has to bring his attention to the fact that there is now a gaping space between him and the next person, but he hardly gives a damn.

"attempt at what? what the hell are you talking about?"

"um... sukuna - the line-"

"they can wait. explain. now."

your cousin presses her lips together, an array of emotions swirling through her eyes as they dash between him and the space before him. with a sigh, and an air of sympathy, her shoulders deflate and she moves in a bit closer. sukuna, disgusted by the proximity, moves to step back, but completely freezes when the next words come.

"(y/n) tried to kill herself a year ago," she says quietly, like the revalation stings to even discuss, like she's swapping a century old secret that should not be told.

sukuna twitches. his eyes widen. his lips straighten, and he falls silent with the sheer shock of it. your cousin tilts her head, eyes slimming with concern. "you didn't... you didn't know that?"

sukuna would not consider himself to be a being that is easily ruffled or thrown off kilter, but his completely stiffened, blank expression proves otherwise. his eyes glower now into your cousin's head, and she reels, fearing that the glare is somehow directed toward her. in some ways, it is, for how is it that she of all people has presented him with this absolutely world shattering information in the middle of a grocery store line on an ordinary tuesday afternoon?

but what he is truly stunned by is the weight of the information itself, how it came from her lips and not yours, how you've dared to hide something so terribly concerning whilst smiling in his face all the while, pretending that everything is fine when it in fact is not. not at all.

you tried to kill yourself? is she serious?

you tried to take your own fucking life, and this is the first sukuna has heard about it?

oh, he's boiling over by the second, blood simmering, heart pounding heavy.

sukuna believed life to be one of the fragile things that you human beings hold so dearly to your hearts. morality is what makes you weak, but it is what makes you human, and from what sukuna has gathered from his lifetime, humans ordinarily cherish their lives on earth. he should know, for the screams of fear and devastation that have ripped from his past victims gave him no reason to believe that human beings would hate life. no, they cling to it. life is all they have in this world that inevitably takes it a way, and that is the curse of humanity. the blessing, as some would call it, as well. it is what keeps you humble, what drives your ambitions, what rules over your decisions and your lives all the same.

life is precious for you lot, or so he thought.

so why is it that you, the one human being in this world that sukuna could not bear to think about departing with, have attempted to gain control over the uncontrollable, to steal that preciousness and tarnish it with such disrespect and shame?

it does not make any sense to him. your cousin can tell that much by the way his face twists up and his red eyes shrink smaller and smaller. the line continues to move in front of him, and the people behind your cousin are growing agitated, attempting to bring sukuna’s attention to the movement with calls and snaps, but sukuna does not care to register any of it. no, how could he when all he hears echoing in his head is the fact that you've gone and tried to take your own life... and he didn't even fucking know?

"sukuna, really, i think you need to look ahead at the line," your cousin tries to reason, raising her hands defensively, treading violent waters.

he doesn't care. when he looks at your cousin, all he sees is everything you've withheld, the very notion that you could have ceased to exist, that he never would have even met her or you if you had gone through with it.

fuck. the king of curses is angry. the very thought is making him so fucking angry.

"details," he snarls, leaning forward with a grimace so prominent that it would sour milk and bring tears to a child. your cousin leans back, alarmed, anxious. "tell me exactly what the fuck happened, and do not think of leaving out any details."

"i really think we should do this somewhere else-"

"now."

and so, sukuna stops traffic until shoppers eventually find the will to move around the two of them as your cousin gives into the request, rightfully fearful of what your boyfriend would do if she were to further prolong this revelation. she knows that he is concerned, and that this is not informationt that would fall soft upon ears that have never heard such things before, but she has to admit, your boyfriend is a little… psychotic.

perhaps its because that is what you do to him. perhaps his love for you is so intense that he is driven to the brink of insanity at the very mention of peril befalling you, even if it is at your own hands.

so despite being in a crowded public space, despite how customers shuffle around them with pointed looks, your cousin gives in and tells him the story of how you have struggled with depression your entire life, longer than most. that, at least, sukuna was already aware of, but it is true that he did not understand the weight of such a human notion, nor the depths of how far your mental turmoil truly ran.

he urges her to get to it, and she does as a sorrowful glint catches her eye.

it was your mother who found you. you had been staying at your childhood home for a while, having taken leave from work due to mental strain and difficulties.

she heard water running first, rushing hard and fast and without end into the tub. when over thirty minutes passed, and the faint sound of water leaking across the floor registered, she sprung into action with growing concern.

a puddle greeted her barefoot at the bathroom door. she pressed her ear to the surface and knocked hard, calling your name, but you did not answer. she was only met with your silence and the running water.

your mom didn't waste any time. she threw herself into the door over and over, somehow by the grace of adrenaline breaking it down, and the sight that greeted her would scar her for life.

she sprinted into action, tumbling across the floor to pull your body out from the overflowing tub, your face downturned, completely submerged, and you, unconscious. drenched in bathwater, she hauled you onto the floor limp with a cry, hovering over you with tears springing instantly to her eyes. your name fell from her mouth over and over like a broken prayer as pressed her lips to yours and transferred air, pulling back hastily to pump at your heart. again. and again. and again.

until cruel life finally gripped you once more, harsh and unforgiving, stinging and cold. you spurted up water, coughing and sputtering, and your mother wailed with relief and betrayal as she rolled you to the side to empty your lungs.

how could you, she cried. how could you do this to yourself?

the story leaves your cousin with glassy eyes, as sukuna abandons his cart and storms out of the grocery store without another word. he need not hear any more. who knows what he might have done to the people around him if he stayed.

you know something is wrong the second you hear your apartment door slam open then closed. you jump from your lounged position in your bed, stilling with wide eyes as your attention is ripped from your book that you have in hand. silence greets you instantly after the loud noise, and you draw your brows together, deciding to pick up your phone to check if your boyfriend had texted you.

instead, you are greeted with a row of texts from your cousin from fifteen minutes ago, who happened to run into him at the store. the next text you read is the following, and you pale:

(y/n), why didn't you tell sukuna what happened last year?

as if on cue, your salmon haired partner barges through your bedroom door. when your gaze snaps up, he is all rage, white hot and red. his eyes are lethal upon yours, his breathing slow and regulative. he looks like he could kill something.

your body freezes instinctively, for you don't remember the last time you've seen sukuna so angry... not at you, at least. you remember right here and now, that sukuna is a being capable of far worse than murder. though you've never feared for your life in his presence before, you think that this is the first time you really have.

you open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say, and the very sight reminds sukuna of your cousin's stupid fucking clueless face when she was blabbing your business to him without a second thought, and he grows even angrier.

"umm..." you start softly, closing your book and setting it down next to you. you swallow hard as the dots slowly connect in your mind - your cousin's subliminal text, sukuna's rage, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach with fear, anguish, and humiliation.

this can't be happening. certainly, that can't be what your cousin is referring to.

sukuna does not comfort you by filling the silence. no, he simply waits with waves of heat practically radiating off of him, spiking the sweat that begins to dot at your forehead. slowly, you close your book while keeping your eyes on him nervously, setting it aside.

please, no, you think over and over again. please, let it be anything else but what you think it is.

you elect to find anything to talk about, anything at all. you notice that his entrance was not accompanied by the sound of grocery bags hitting the floror, and your anxiety further spikes. you imagine the circumstance as your worst nightmare - your cousin spilling all the things to sukuna that you wished to abandon in the past, that you never wanted him learning about, and him completely losing it, abandoning the groceries you already had to beg him to go pick up in the first please to come storming back to you in search of answers.

you fear that you know what happened before its even verbalized, but you don't want to believe it. and you don't even know how to ask him what's wrong, for you'll only be greeted with the ugly truth in the end.

“…kuna?” you eventually bring yourself to call his name, attempting to sweeten whatever blow will come with the nickname he grew to tolerate, but by the way his jaw visibly clenches, you can tell that you’ve likely done more harm than good.

“do not play dumb with me,” he starts, his voice low. you tense, staring at him with blown eyes, like a fish out of water or deer caught in headlights. "you have five seconds."

you shift uncomfortably. "five seconds for what?" you ask, and though you wish your voice to be steady, the question comes out uneven, shakier than you would have liked. your body is betraying you. you try to shift topics, but you know it is a fruitless endeavor. "d-did you get the groceries?"

"five seconds," is all he says, eyes paralyzing.

you know sukuna too well. his silence speaks for itself. he reduces his conversation to either few words or none when he is truly angry with you.

you are fucked.

and yet, much to sukuna's aggravation, you continue to play dumb. how else are you meant to react to such a situation?

"what do you mean?" you ask quietly. "what are you-"

"five," he cuts through your words harsh. he does not move, but he suffocates the room with his rage, and you are finding it harder and harder to breathe.

you don't want to talk about this. you can't. how could your cousin have told him? you never wanted sukuna to know. not him. anyone but him.

despite his character, sukuna was your escape as you healed over time. after your attempt, your mother shunned you, pushed you away for fear that you would do something to permanently damage her heart or blood pressure. god, you remember her being so angry with you, much like how sukuna is now. you remember the sheer disbelief she expressed, the raw torment eating away at her soul as she sobbed every second she saw you following that day.

she couldn't understand why you would try to drown yourself in her bathroom tub, knowing that she was home. she couldn't understand why you would ever try to think of taking your own life, especially in a place where she would discover you. how could you do something so selfish?

but how could she understand? how could anyone have understood the darkness that has loomed inside of your brain from the moment you even gained consciousness?

you're not sure what happened. where it began, what trauma you've surpressed to plunge yourself in this pit of unimaginable emptiness at such a young age, but you don't want to remember. you don't want to feel the pain that accompanies fading fragments of abuse, and yet you do. and it has followed you through adolescence, into teenagehood, then into adulthood and has yet to yield in all this time.

medications never helped, nor did a stranger forcing you to vent in the privacy of a padded room, watching the time tick by as you sat in weighted silence, unwilling to open up, unwilling to feel.

if you were being honest, all you've thought about over the years was leaving this earth. letting death sweep you away into emptiness so that it could finally relieve you of the hell that ran rampant in your mind, but your family and loved ones would have never listened. never understood. never really heard you. after all, confessing that you've wanted to kill yourself for as long as you can remember is not necessarily a discussion that you think would have gone over lightly.

so last year, when work was pushing down into your shoulders and making it impossible to carry on under its weight, when your loneliness hit an all time high and your mental health dropped to an all time low, when no amount of alcohol or weed or antidepressants or therapy could distract or help you, you gave into the voices. you gave into the urges, and sank into the bliss of knowing that it would all be over.

in truth, you weren't thinking about your mother when you did it. you weren't thinking about anyone, really. only yourself, and how much of a burden you've been to everyone's existence. how the second you would slip away, everything would finally be at peace.

but then, you were saved, and life gripped you again, and you were forced to bear witness to the damage you caused. and it wrecked you. it still does. after that you were admitted, then you and sukuna got together not long after you were let out.

excommunicated from your mother, tossed aside as the black sheep, you shielded sukuna from any memory of your past as best as you could. your cousin is the only one you still keep regular contact with, and clearly, even she has her opinions about you, yammering your story to anyone who will listen.

now, granted, you know you should have told sukuna about this, but it is difficult to speak with him when it comes to these things. you don't like to open up as it is, and sukuna, while inhumane, is not very sympathetic to human grievances. so you locked it away, moved forward, and finally found a reason to live. him.

but he was never supposed to know. because you knew how he'd react.

"time's up."

you snap your eyes wide as sukuna makes his first movements since he's arrived. he steps further in and closes the door behind him, turning the lock.

you press your lips hard together as he saunters over, slow steps, and stops at the edge of the bed to stand over you. you crane your neck to look up at him, horrified, unable to speak.

but sukuna is not playing any games, and he intends to no longer waste time. "why the hell is it that your imbecile of cousin has told me you attempted to kill yourself and not you?"

"sukuna," you snap, astounded by his bluntness, but you aren't sure why. he's always been like this. he was bound to react this way. "what-"

"try to deceive me and see what happens," he growls. "are you a moron?"

"don't - don’t call me names. you said you'd stop doing that."

"how could I when only a moron would do what you have done."

"stop," you fume. you go to stand and move around him, but he is quick to push you back down by your shoulders. you gape up at him. "what the fuck?"

"my sentiments exactly."

"ryomen," you exhale loudly. "you can't just come in here and-"

"yes. i can," he glowers. "i am hearing far more arguing than explanation and i will not tolerate it."

"i don't need to tell you anything. there's nothing to tell."

"deception after deception with you," he seethes. "you expect me to not question an attempt on your own life?"

"i-" you choke up, looking away as the image of your mother sobbing over your lap in your hospital bed strikes you hard. your nose flares and you tear your eyes away. "that wasn't information for my cousin to tell."

"no, it was yours. and yet i did not hear it from you. imagine my outrage at such a thing - in regard to your fucking life for that matter. what am i meant to think of this? have you truly, entirely lost your mind? to even conjure up something as disgraceful killing yourself?"

"why are you being such a dick?" you argue, voice rising with defensiveness as your boyfriend knowingly triggers your trauma. "there's a way to go about this sensitively!”

"i did not learn about your troubles in a sensitive manner, therefore i refuse," he leans down to your face, eyes fiery. you clamp your wobbling lips tight as you stare into his eyes and see the wreckage that you've done in the mask of aggression. "do not dare cry. it is you who has done this to yourself."

"fuck you," you thrust yourself to your feet to throw your hands into his chest, pushing hard. sukuna of course does not budge, he only stares at you sternly as your face scrunches with an emotion he can not name. you take in a shuddering breath and push at him again, then throw a punch. a slap. "fuck you. fuck you."

he catches your wrists easily in is firm hold. "swearing and hitting me will not change the past."

"i don't care," you whimper. "you shouldn't talk to me that way. you don't get it. you don't have any clue about anything-"

"that is why i am asking you now what happened and why, woman!"

you tug and struggle against him, but he does not move. "i don't want you to know, sukuna. i never wanted you to know."

"well, i do know,” he gives you a stern jolt that forces you closer to his face in stillness. he watches as your eyes gloss over with tears, the lines in your face wrinkling, as you have no escape from this. he feels something inside of him shift at the sight, his anger molding into something disquieting that he does not like one bit.

your tears, the very knowledge that there was a possibility in which he would have never met you, the thought of you hating yourself enough to do such terrible things to yourself - sukuna has never known sadness, but now it seems that something stronger grips him. something he never would have thought to experience in his milennia of existence.

fear.

his eyes unknowingly soften as you tremble. you're visibly shaken, and despite sukuna's fury, perhaps you are right in that he should approach this topic more carefully. after all, you are the one who tried to take your life, then you survived. he imagines you must be sorting through your on griefs.

"(y/n)," he says your name. a rare occurance, a stark contrast from your ordinary nicknames. you flinch at the sound, your eyes growing distance despite how they stare into him. he draws in air sharply through his nostrils, lips tightening. "why?" is all he can ask.

and in that moment, beneath layers of grit and toughness, beneath the insults and the demeaning tone, you hear it. the confusion, the shock, the fragile terror, the stage between grief and acceptance at having learned that the woman he has come to love could have ceased to exist. and that the same woman would have never told him otherwise.

you feel tears break past your lashes as you stare at him with your breath in your throat, and a soft cry builds in the back of it as it all comes crushing down on you.

"...i thought it was the only way," you start quietly.

sukuna knits his brows harder. "only way for what?"

"for me… to feel better," you break.

and sukuna is even perplexed more as you begin crying before him. the tears fall and he doesn't understand it at all, but what he does understand is that you have been hurting. far longer than he has ever known. and what can he do?

"i just wanted it all to stop," you say as you knock your head against his chest, hiding your face. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

"do not apologize to me. apologize to yourself," he grunts, looking down at your head. slowly, he releases your wrists and brings his large hands to the back of your head and your waist. "foolish. completely foolish. do not ever dare-"

"i won't," you sniff and hiccup, shoulders shaking. sukuna holds you tighter, like an impulse, like its his responsibility. "i just - i didn't - i'm sorry."

"hush," he stops you and you fall silent, save for the cries that tumble from your lips. sukuna sighs deeply, staring hard past your head. "do not speak any more. just... hush."

and you do. and sukuna holds you as you cry, until your very legs give in. until there's nothing left but the show of weakness that you’ve stripped him down to.