I don't have much to say here other than thank you for taking a peek here. Here's some of my work in this all new list with ALL my work. I had to dig up some of these bad boys.
Masterlist
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A pet peeve of mine is getting the long fics with no cut to shorten the post before clicking it open to read the rest - and I did that with this last fic. So so sorry!
A/N: This is a series. I've been working on this for the past few months now. Enjoy!
WC: 2960 words
Bro Santa was HQ’s daddy dearest. He loved the kids on his team and helped them grow into understanding their Jinki’s with dedicated care and attention.
But would you believe it if he wasn’t always like that?
No at first, he was a grouchy, rugged manwhore. Your words. Anytime you saw him at the bar, you’d serve him and whatever friend he had for the night, man or woman.
Always two beers. Sometimes a frilly cocktail.
You didn’t really pay too much attention to him. He’d glance at you, rake his eyes up and down your body, and give you a knowing smile.
He always tipped well. Always greeted you and bid you farewell. Called you ‘his girl.’
You try not to go after men like him. The kind that’ll do anything for cash. The kind that’ll do almost anything for a price.
Givers were odd. And so was he.
He always had a lot of money. Sometimes over tipping. Like that’s what got your attention.
Sure you were working for good money, but you weren’t working like that.
Other times, you noticed he’d be talking to newer people. ‘Cleaners’ you think they were called. You’re ex hated them. Butting their noses where they didn’t belong. That’s when you found out it wasn’t just drugs he was moving around. It was people. Givers.
You didn’t like thinking back to that time. Open your eyes to see what you should avoid. Like the man of the hour. The final warning to not get close to him was the first time he sat at the bar on your first day of bartending.
“I don’t want to deal with fuckin’ kids, man. Pain in the ass.”
He was sat with a friend of his, probably someone from the underground scene. You did notice him hanging around them. Sometimes you wondered if they knew about a certain group you were trying to avoid.
You had a 5 year-old to worry about. So that was that.
The only one’s aware you were even a mother were the regulars. Like…regulars. Friends of the owner type regulars. Like Bro. Yet, that didn’t seem to stop him.
“Let me get a whiskey, princess.”
You ignore his pet name when you snap back to reality, taking a decently filled bottle from behind you and looking at him with a small smile.
“Something new, huh? On the rocks?”
You wait for him to say something. Anything. Instead he holds your stare.
It’s then you really take in his face. How his hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his goatee is well taken care of and trimmed to be as short as possible. His bandana hides the majority of his forehead, but you can see how he’s furrowing where his brows would be.
You play his game for a moment longer, setting the glass down. “Got something on my face?”
Bro gives you a smirk, his mouth the only thing moving. “I’ve been trying to get you to look at me for a while. Figured we’d get to know each other. But, you don’t seem to want anything to do with me.”
His hands interlace with each other, resting on the bar. You look down at them. They’re large, a ring on each middle finger, one around his thumb. “I’m hurt, chula.”
“You want the drink or not, Santa?” It comes out light, but he knows he’s testing you. You're irritated tonight. And he feels like he knows why.
“I want the drink, sweetheart. Give the glass a little kiss for me would you?”
You scoff, pouring his drinking out of the chilled bottle into an empty glass. No ice. The final touch was you putting the glass onto the table, some of the whiskey slipping out.
“Hey.” He tuts. “Come on, bonita. Talk to me.”
You roll your eyes, shoveling up ice from the ice bucket below the bar, and tossing it in his glass. “Sorry. Rough night.” You say sarcastically, uncaring on how full that glass is now.
“You really haven't gotten laid in a while have you?”
You grimace at his words. He’s not wrong.
It’s the way he says it so knowingly that irks you. “What the fuck is it to you?” You bite. “If that’s your way to get in my pants, just take your fuckin drink and find a hooker. There’s a ton around here.”
“I don’t want that.” He grins, the frown disappearing. “I’m tryin’ to get to know you. Been wanting to.”
You roll your eyes.
Night after night, he comes in and sits right the fuck in front of you. You greet him normally, and end the interaction the same way.
“Bite me.”
Until finally he steps his game up. He waits for you.
You walk out, letting your co-workers do the last of the closing shift. You barely made it across the street from the bar to head home when you caught his eye. He was leaned against the wall, talking to some blonde guy with a scar on his left eye. The stranger gives Bro a knowing smile, tapping him on the arm before walking off.
The giver grins at you. That wicked, crooked smile that matches his lax energy. You don’t see how or why he’s attractive to you right now. But your eyes keep raking up and down his body.
“You look a little tense, nena. Need some hands?”
With a tired sigh, you give Bro a small glare. “Trying to get in my bed, Santa?”
“Or get you in mine. But that can wait. Maybe let me take you out?” You scoff, ignoring his presence as he walks besides you.
“What the fuck are you even doing here? That’s how I know something’s weird about you, you left the bar like…an hour ago.”
“Just made some solid cash. That’s all.” He at least sounds sincere. “Come on. Celebrate with me.”
Bro cautiously steps towards you, his hands out of his pockets but also away from his body. As though he’s telling you he’s unarmed. You trust him for now.
“I’ve been dying to get to know you since I laid eyes on you.”
Okay maybe not. You snort, “Please. I got a lot on my plate already. So why the hell are you trying so hard?.”
“Why else would I have waited this long to get your attention?”
“All this to get to third base? You’re a dog.” Part of you stills when you hear those words leave you. You’re usually not this abrasive right off the bat. Then again, Bro has been trying to get under your skin– maybe even your sheets, for a while. So why is it when he steps right into your bubble, you let him lean to your ear.
Bro has no shame. Growling with a sick smile and nothing innocent shining against his teeth. “You wanna throw this dog a bone here? If I’m that bad, I’ll leave you alone.”
His hand slides around your waist, and you put your hands against his chest as he pulls you in.
“What do ya say? You’re free this weekend aren’t ya?”
This was such a bad idea. You tell yourself you’re just looking for a way to let off some steam. Just looking for some fun.
Here you are, right against the door of the inside of your apartment. You know your kid is at your sisters, so this is your only chance.
Somehow, in the middle of your makeout, you find the strength to push back. You giggle, wiping at your chin and lead him to the living room. You push him down, immediately following him with your knees trapping him from either side of his lap. Lips press together, hands roam all over.
“Knew you wanted me, all you had to do was admit it.” Bro whispers, in between the little gaps of your kissing.
“God you’re such a fucking snark.”
With that, you stand in front of him, pulling your shirt of and shimmying off your jeans. He sits up, his own blue short short sleeve slipping off. His white tank top hugs his body, stretching against his chest and you notice a silver chain hangs just below his collarbone.
You're left in your underwear now, you're quick to try and fall to your knees but he stops you almost instantly.
“Hold on, baby. Hold on.” Bro’s fingers trail up the soft skin of your thighs. Sending you a tickling sensation. You reach out. Your fingers gliding on the tops of his shoulder while his mouth presses open mouth kisses on your tummy.
You whimper, the sensation of his tongue on you making you feel butterflies just under the layers of flesh. This was new.
You were used to the quickness, the borderline bdsming, the rush. This had you really pause and think.
After months of carefulness, after making sure there was no way for your past to catch up to you, you couldn’t have thought this was safe. You bring a random man- well…as random as he gets, home. You go all in, ripping your clothes off for some relief and you're just…not even second guessing this. Why would you, anyways?
This was temporary. This was just sex.
‘Just sex…’ You think to yourself. ‘Just…sex…’
“Why are you being…” You feel the words slip away from you, the same time Bro’s hands grip at the back of your ass. Fondling you as his kisses began to rise. He pulls you onto his lap, one arm wrapping around your waist while his hand was firmly places right under your panties.
His lips met your chest, lips wrapping around a nipple and looking up at you with complete desire.
You feel your face grow warm, unable to form any sounds other than cooing eager pleas.
“This feels nice.”
‘What a stupid thing to say.’ You think.
“Good.” Bro responds. “Want you to feel nice.”
His words are slightly muffled, his tongue staying out of his mouth to swirl over your areola. You look away, eyes finding anything else to gaze upon. Your heart sinks a bit when you see the little blanket peeking out the toy chest but before you can even think anything to yourself, you squeal with surprise.
You look down with a mad pout, raising your hand to smack Bro for biting you. He lets go, reaching up to stop your hand and presses your lips flat against his.
Your muffled moan is angry, your eyes closing to get lost in the feeling. Your hips grind down on his bulge that’s just waiting to burst out his zipper. Every grind, you hear him groan and it feeds your ego like no other. He whimpers at some point, the second you begin to twist your hips right as you find that spot on your clit with a gasp. You dig into that spot with another roll of your hips, stopping only when he taps your thigh gently.
The second you pull away you’re both huffing into each other's faces.
“That fuckin’ hurt.”
“Aw, need me to kiss it better?”
You scoff, lowering yourself to your knees and fiddling with his belt to release him from his confinements.
“You’re such a pain.” You mutter. Your hand wraps around this length right as he raises his hips to lower his pants, scooting the front of his boxers down just enough to spring it free.
You pause, staring at this…monster.
The head is red and angry, the base of it is buried under thick black curls, and the girth…
You gulp. Taking in a deep breath before hovering your mouth over the tip. Slowly, you bring his cock to your mouth, taking in as much as possible. Your hands reach up and grip his thighs. Trying to breathe through your nose.
You only began moving when his fingers gently start to brush your hair away.
Every thrust into your mouth, had you gurgling a new sound of ecstasy. You were getting more and more cock drunk with every. Single. Push.
You manage to take him halfway, your eyes glancing up at him with a plead.
“Come on, mami. You can take it.” He groans, one hand reaching up to push his shirt back, the other holding the back of your head to keep you in place. “Right there. Hold it there.”
You have to breathe through your nose in shallow breaths. Otherwise you might-
In thinking about it too much, you painfully gag, tapping his thigh fast to warn him and he lets you go.
Your head rips away from him. Panting and swallowing whatever residue stayed in your mouth. Your eyes were teary, rose runny and you're sure your lips were swollen.
And you loved it.
Eyes looking up at Bro, you give him a drunken smile. You brace yourself on his knees again, lapping up his tip and shaking your head onto his cock.
The groan he makes as his head tips back has your back arching, wanting to give him more. But in the back of your mind, you had a small idea.
You watch him nearing his peak. Waited till he started panting and you grated your teeth just light enough for him to feel it.
Bro hisses, his hand snapping to grasp under your jaw.
Your eyes widen in fake shock, and falters at the look of pure irritation that reads on this man's face.
“You wanna play stupid games? I got a stupid prize for you.” He growls. “Come on. Do it again, I dare you.”
You blink, his cock still twitches every now and then. With a sly crack of a smile, you bare your teeth out again.
Suddenly, you squeal, feeling yourself getting manhandled to your back on the sofa. The sound of light tearing snaps you out of your haze and you look down. He tore your good pair of panties.
They weren’t lace, or fancy, but they were comfortable dammit. And comfort doesn’t come around on the ground.
“Hey! You fucking jack-ass!”
You let out another squeal, feeling a sting to your most sensitive bits.
It’s not long before his mouth is pressed against you, sucking in your clit, fingers curled deep inside of you while you thrash in overstimulation.
He’s already dragging out your second orgasm so far. And you just need a small break.
“Please…!” You whine. “Please! Oh my fucking- you’re gonna make me…make me…!”
You listen to him hum, egging you on, nodding with your shaking legs before your body convulses in small but strong jolts of pleasure.
You arch your back, hands closed in fists you hit against his head in vain. He’s not letting up but he is laughing into you. Finally, he pulls away, his long tongue lapping at the slit of your pussy one last time.
“Yeah I think you’re ready now.”
Dazed, you don’t even know what he says as he helps you onto his lap.
You only understand you’re being held up, your knees on either side of his waist before feeling the head of his cock prod at your entrance.
“Come on baby,” You manage to hear. “Let’s go. Ride me.”
You nod, eyes fucked out and hands bracing on his shoulders.
Slowly, you lower yourself onto him. Wincing and whimpering in mild discomfort. You try to just get it all in to adjust sooner but Bro stops you.
“Despacito, chula. Don’t be hurting yourself now.”
“Wan’ it.” You drool out. “Want your cock. I wan’ it.”
Bro pulls you towards him. His lips hover yours while he whispers. “Andale, pues. You want it? You want me?”
“Yes!” You hiss, fully sitting on his lap now, him hilting into you. Your mouth is hung wide open. A new sound rips from your throat, echoing out with a dying breath. “Oh fuck, you’re fuckin’ huge-!”
Bro gives you a grunt, laughing when he finds his composure. It’s still broken, feeling your walls fluttering around him. “And I thought I had you prepped enough. You’re fucking strangling me.”
With every thrust, you’re apologizing. With every grunt, you’re moaning. There’s no winning here. You’re just ready for the sweet release awaiting you, and there’s a feeling in your chest you’re sure is going to make you pass out..
Your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in. Eventually you feel yourself tiring out, but that idea leaves you as soon as you feel his arms wrap around your waist.
You shout, arms wrapping around his neck, and biting into his shoulder to try and quiet down. He’s pistoning in and out of you, lifting you up as though you were just some fleshlight.
Bro lets out a deep sigh, like he was holding his breath. His voice is ragged, rough, and super close to your ear. “Cum for me. Let go. Let me feel you fuckin’ cum for me!”
You feel that knot tighten in your belly.
“Squeeze me tighter…tighter! Fuck!”
Bro practically roars his release out, triggering yours not long after. Somehow that enhances his sensitivity.
After shooting ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you, the tightness of your cunt has him throwing his head back and hissing in slight discomfort. Or oversimulation would be the better term.
“That’s it, chula.”
Bro brings a hand up, cupping it under your jaw. He makes you look at him. You’re fucked out expression having him grinning from ear to ear.
“Y’alright?”
You give him a lopsided smile. Giving him a drawn out ‘uh huh.’
“Think you can take me again? Or you wanna take a little break?”
first of all . . . I AM SO SORRY ಥ‿ಥ second of all, ahhh, i'm never confident when i do pinkish colours, so hopefully these look good.
i have two version of the hearts because the og heart dividers looked too big when filled, so i made a smaller one to help balance it out. but yey options ?!
No thoughts just ghost being horrified when his baby girl insists that he doesn't love her.
Small round face flushed red from wailing, tiny hands slapping against the breakfast table after ghost had set down her pancakes shaped like hearts.
"Stop it!!! Stop it dad!!" She wails, and ghost freezes at the fat tears that roll down her face "you don't love me!! Stop pretend!!! No love meee!!!"
This is nothing compared to her occasional tantrums, genuine heart-broken sobs as she declares ghost hating her. Simon, her own father who retired when she was born, who quit smoking after she said he smelled funny all the time, who leans all the way down when she wants to hold his hand on walks.
Ghost tries to soothe her, kneeling down to talk "man-to-man" as he says it. That only seems to upset her more today, kicking at his face and sobbing harder.
It's only when you come in from the kitchen and scoop her into your arms that she settles at all.
"What's wrong, sweetpea?" You ask, though you heard the whole thing from the kitchen. When she nearly breaks into outright sobbing again, you ask "your dad loves you very much, what makes you think he doesn't?"
It's now that she finally looks at ghost, eyes shiny with tears and clinging to your shirt for comfort "dada doesn't smile at me ever. Because dads smile at their daughters but he doesn't!! he doesn't love me!!"
Oh.
Simon...never really was able to emote much due to his scars. Of course he never smiled. Not that his little girl knew that.
Ghost goes tense across from you, expression darkens. Ghost doesnt like to talk about the things that happened to him, can hardly stand to see himself in family photos. He always told you he wasn't built to be a father.
He slips out of the room before you can say anything, and your daughter only takes that as proof, crying again.
"I told you, dad doesn't love me!! He doesn't want me, he hates me!!!"
Just outside the room, ghost starts to shed tears of his own. Why did he ever think he could give her what she needed?
He grabs the car keys before slipping out the back door. No need to make a fuss.
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⏾ a/n: this post was inspired by this request, although it is not really close in context 😭 sorry anon!! i also really wanted to name this post something else and i couldnt explain the context well... 😭
When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.
But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.
Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.
“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.
Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.
Enjin sneaking and slipping into your bed from behind you, slithers his big, inky hands up along the curves of your hips up to the smooth skin beneath your shirt of your rib cage. greedy, inquisitive lips kissing slowly, suggestively at the back of your neck to the slant of your soft shoulder. you softly, tiredly mumble him a whispered enough and he whines a little, continuing on kissing your neck, stopping just at the juncture of your jawline, watching you peer swiftly over your shoulder.
"baby, I've missed you, please let me have this"
"En', no. I'm too tired, I've been on non-stop missions for the past few days, besides..." you slightly adjust yourself a bit, maneuvering the comforting blanket from your body to showcase a deeply nuzzled and coddled Dear sleeping ever so close to your chest. cute tiny little arms holding on to you with a grounding grip, snoring lightly. peacefully.
Enjin groans, irritatingly. slumps his head against your shoulder defeated, then sharply gazes down at the sleeping younger cleaner clinging onto his partner.
"what's he even doing in here anyways? shouldn't he be with Bro or something?"
"Enjin, stop. he had a nightmare, poor baby, and Bro is currently away on a mission. so get over it."
again, Enjin exceeds an annoyed protracted groan, but with more rolled vexation and provocation of not having his alone time with you. and solely, only with you. he rests his chin onto your shoulder, then catches a quick glimpse down at the now awakened young cleaner. smugly grinning up at him, snuggling closer into your warmth and tenderness.
and Enjin could feel his blood vessels pop rigorously along his neck and forehead. the knowing, menacing glint shimmering in the young cleaners eyes, triggering something so frenzied.
\( ᐖ)/ heianera!sukuna’s wife has been ignoring him, and he won’t have it
“Has she eaten?”
Uraume stands reverently at Sukuna’s side, flat gaze fixed ahead of them. “No, My lord. She has yet to leave her quarters.”
Sukuna grunts something under his breath, then dismisses his attendant who shuffles across the threshold of the lattice frame doors and disappears past the translucent sheets.
It’s quiet. Especially without your routine complaints or gossip of the shrine’s happenings. His breakfast tastes notably pungent this morning, the fisherman who refused to pay tribute at this month’s offering no longer as appetizing as he looked when he begged for mercy at Sukuna’s feet. Like a petulant child, he pushes his tray away from him and gathers his kimono to hoist himself up.
You haven’t said a word to him in three days. Any longer and the two of you might never speak again.
It’s juvenile—offering your Lord the cold shoulder like some inconsolable child. For fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in history. The undisputed King of Curses. Why is his attention anchored on a mere spiff? A lover’s quarrel?
No. He will sort this once and for all.
You’ve had enough time to sort out your emotions. The two of you will speak again today if he has a say in it. Which he does.
Promptly, he arrives outside your chambers. There’s not a sound coming from inside. For all he knows, you were assassinated in your sleep, stubborn and set on sleeping in separate rooms.
Sukuna doesn’t knock. The entitled man just slides the door open, inviting himself into your space.
Sukuna quickly realizes maybe he shouldn’t be as reckless as he’s feeling—only met with the sight of two irises piercing daggers into him.
You’re half-naked, sliding yourself into your kimono and brushing your unruly hair from your face.
But, no. Sukuna’s not focused on your pinched up and twisted expression that’s making a show to scowl at him. His attention is fully honed in on your body. Not because he wants to tear that stupid kimono off of you and devour you like he has for the past couple of lonesome nights. Even the worst fights ended with you sprawled beneath him—tears staining your cheeks while you screamed his name in pure bliss.
His crimson slits are dragging over your swollen and perky breasts, rounded out more than normal. The slight pouch of your belly. The second heartbeat jumping behind it.
Huh.
“Where is Furi? Were my instructions to her of not allowing any visitors in unclear?” you practically shout, working to tie your obi sash in haste. Perhaps you do not wish to spend another moment in his presence.
Sukuna slips inside, sliding the door shut and crossing his arms over his chest. He feels his temper simmer to a manageable level. If anything, your spat from the other night is inconsequential. Truly, he doesn’t even remember what the two of you argued about. His long hours away from the shrine? A servant who stared at him too long? His tendency to be a brute with the people of his domain? It’s usually one of the three.
“I was unaware that I was a visitor in my own shrine,” he retorts, head tilting as he gives you a slow appraisal with all four eyes. “Have you done something new with your hair?” he smirks, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
“Go find a scythe to fuck yourself on,” you curse, a pout on your lips as you stare at yourself in the mirror, clearly unsatisfied with the reflection staring back.
“Maybe I should,'“ he practically purrs out, a curl on his lips as he motions to leave your room.
He stops in place when your gaze flies towards him, doe eyes tinged red and filled with tears. You must have been crying all night, your cheeks swollen and eyelids puffy.
“Woman,” Sukuna starts slow, still marveled at the fact that you have domesticated him into rationality. “Use your words. I may be the strongest creature in all the lands, but what I am not is a mind reader,” he growls, gaze thinning in tepid vexation.
The corner of your lips twitch downward, before a tear slips down your cheek. You suck in a shaky breath, before staring at your reflection once again with disgust. “Something’s wrong with me, Ryomen,” you whisper, voice wavering. “I keep crying. Nothing tastes good anymore. I want to hit and kick you one minute, and then feel your kisses on my throat while you press me into the futon.”
You bite your lip, Sukuna’s form swallowing the background as he hovers over you from behind. Like they belong there, his lower pair of hands settle on your waist, while the other pair shift to correct the poorly tied obi.
Sukuna’s words, vulgar and rash and mean, are an absolute to his actions. Gentle. Loving. Tender.
Leaning down, he presses a kiss against your pulse point, feeling it jump under his teeth. Then, he whispers. Tone husky, a low timbre. “We’ve been fucking like dogs, little bird. When did you last bleed?”
You tense up, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you sort out your thoughts. “Oh my… N-no, I bled when… when that servant tried to poison you,” you stutter out, picking at your fingernails.
Sukuna can feel your heartbeat picking up as you begin to panic. Two hands find yours, large and calloused thumbs brushing over your supple skin. “That was well over a month ago. How incompetent are your servants that they haven’t noticed?”
You turn to face him, feeling more tears well up, running across your waterline. “I prefer to tend to m-my own sheets.”
Sukuna, a beast of a human, has to hold back his laughter from his wife whose about three seconds away from a breakdown. It is comical just how asinine you can be. Nonetheless, Sukuna has a strong incentive to see you joining him for breakfast again.
“Had I known you women were so complicated, I would have rethought this matrimony,” he grunts against your ear, a hand at your waist sliding up your belly.
“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you mutter stubbornly. You lean back against your husbands broad chest, inhaling deeply, breath shaking. “Us. You’re stuck with us.”
Sukuna’s gaze squints, ears twitching as he picks up on both the beat in your chest and the one in your belly. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice takes you aback. “Neither did I. Do you think we will be good at it?”
“You will,” he states with the utmost confidence, dragging your hair past your shoulder to inhale the scented oil dabbed on your nape. “You are a world’s more merciful than I am.”
You giggle, slapping his hand and allowing him to squeeze you in your intimate places, decorating your skin with short kisses. “That is true.”
The both of you stand there in silence. You and Sukuna never needed to fill the gaps with meaningless words, simply finding comfort in each other’s company. He’s nervous, you can see it in the tight expression he wears. And your pulse hasn’t slowed since you’d learned of what’s blossoming in your womb.
But you have each other. In a world full of curses and strife, Ryomen Sukuna and you managed to find worshiping devotion in one another that triumphs all.
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In which you jump out of a moving car to spite Boyfriend!Sukuna
“—because he was just making conversation!”
Sukuna scoffs, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Bullshit. That guy wanted to fuck you.”
“Oh my god. So what!” you yell. “It’s not like I was gonna fucking let him!”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Just like that, your angry face, which matches his, warps into one of calm decision. With speed he doesn’t see coming, you unbuckle your seatbelt, push open the passenger door and jump out of the moving car into the dead of night.
The car screeches to a halt not even a second later.
You’re pushing yourself up and testing the soreness in your ankle when a car door slams shut and Sukuna comes marching over to you. “You crazy, fucking bitch!” he snaps. Sukuna grabs your face, growling when you try to pull away. He inspects every inch of you, brows furrowed, and piercings glinting under the streetlights. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“I got a bitch ass boyfriend, that’s what’s wrong with me,” you grumble.
He ignores that. “You break anything? Wrist? Ankle? Dislocated your shoulder?” You shake your head. “Well, that’s a fucking shame.” Though as he says that, he can’t quite hide the tremors in his hands. Quieter now, he mutters with a tight frown, “Scratched your pretty face up. Fuck. Lost your one redeeming quality.”
“Okay, so I’m gonna walk home,” you say, deadpan. “I’ll see you around, asshole.”
Sukuna runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated noise. Then he smacks his lips against yours before you can actually start walking away (not that he’d let you get very far). “Alright, alright. You fucking win. Congrats. Christ. Get back in the car — we’re going to the hospital to get you checked out. Fucking dumbass.”
A hospital visit later, you’re in bed with him, cuddled up like nothing happened. It’s how arguments with him tend to go; neither of you really hold grudges against each other. Not when you’ve fucked any grievances out after. The last mention of today’s incident, however, comes in his sleepy mumble against the top of your head: “push me out instead.”
“Hmm?”
Sukuna’s hold around your body tightens, threatening to suffocate you with his hard chest. “Don’t jump out of the car. It’s stupid. Your body’s weak. Skin bruises easily. Cuts easily too. Just kick me out instead. I deserve it, I know... bonus points if it's into oncoming traffic.”
quarterly reminder that if i reblog something ai-generated it is 110% and always an accident and for the love of god please tell me so i can delete it from my blog
I may of sent this before but my wifi was messed up so I don't know if it went through, but!!! Can you draw 141 doing communal shower antics and maybe if you'll be soooo kind to bless me with some gaz stuff just doing anything on duty love him in your style, keep creating😘
i think we should be ridiculing them more for this. you don't get to try and go all "queer website" when your staff likes to go on nuking sprees targeting the trans fem users
would be remiss not to mention that the rainbow notably straight up just removed the trans flag colors from it. like they’re gone. it’s the progress flag minus the trans flag colors.
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Ryomen Sukuna, the feared Emperor of curses, had discarded two wives before you arrived at his palace—offered as a treaty, expected to be just another ornament in his collection. But unlike the others, you didn't fear him. You didn't try to change him. You simply existed beside him with a quiet grace that began to transform everything you touched.
The gardens bloomed brighter. The servants smiled wider. And somehow, impossibly, the monster himself began to feel human.
They say even emperors can fall in love. But some lessons come with a price.
Pairing: Emperor Ryomen Sukuna x Empress Wife Female Reader (Y/N)
Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)
Genre: Historical AU, Romance, Angst
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (Chapter 3), mentions of concubines/polygamy, heavy angst
ℳASTERLIST જ⁀➴
Chapter 1: "The Third Wife"
Chapter 2: "The Softening"
Chapter 3: "Devotion" (NSFW)
Chapter 4: "Spring Arrives"
Chapter 5: "The Beginning of the End"
Chapter 6: "The Price of Love"
What a beautiful curse this is @bookbrokelibrarian - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
