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â˝âââââchosoâŚdeals with the aftermath ââââââĽ
(but the aftermath = his roommates)
access the verse here!!
a/n ~ guys 𼚠weâve reached the end of the series đľâđŤ
this was so much fun to write and your continuous love and silly comments have kept me going! tysm, TRULY. i love u đ
the front door barely makes a sound when choso pushes through it the next morning.
his hoodie's half-zipped, hair a mess, eyes hooded and tired and lips still slightly swollen. there's this faint, dazed look in his eyes like he's still buffering back into normal time.
from the kitchen, gojo is mid-bite of a protein bar. "good morning, man who definitely got laid."
geto glances up from his coffee, grinning. âhe looks like he got hit by a truck.â
toji, sprawled across the couch, cracks an eye open, scans choso, and smirks. ânot a truck.â
choso's ears go red instantly. he tries to keep walking, tries to just leave, escape for the stairs, evaporate, when gojo's arm shoots out and grabs his sleeve.
"woah woah woah. not so fast. debrief."
"there's no debrief," choso mutters, attempting to peel himself free.
geto sets his cup down, suddenly very attentive. âdid it happen?"
toji sits up now, elbows on his knees, eyes sharp with interest. âit happened.â
chosoâs brain short-circuits. âiâuhââ
âIT HAPPENED.â gojo grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him lightly. âyou said you were just going over to hang out.â
âi wasââ choso tries, weakly.
âyeah?â toji cuts in, grinning. âhanging out horizontally?â
âbe serious for once in your life,â geto exhales.
âi am being serious,â toji says. âlook at him.â
the three men all turn their heads to choso, whoâs standing there, blinking slowly, like his mind hadnât fully reintegrated yet.
gojo leans in like heâs inspecting a rare specimen. âbro's lagging. hello? earth to choso?â
choso swallows. his throat feels dry. everything feels slow and warm. heâs still half in it, like if he closes his eyes heâll feel your hands again, hear your voice moan his name, how you felt around him.
âoh my god,â geto says. âheâs replaying it.â
toji snorts. âthe idiot's absolutely gone.â
choso snaps back just enough to scowl, weak and flustered. âiâm notââ
âyou are,â gojo cuts in immediately. âyou walked in here like a victorian man after seeing ankle for the first time.â
âleave me alone,â choso mutters, trying again to move past them.
he gets one step before toji reaches out and grabs the back of his hoodie this time, hauling him right back. âsit.â
âi donât want to sit.â
âyouâre sitting.â
choso ends up on the couch between them like a hostage, shoulders hunched, ears still burning. geto folds his hands, composed in a way that is deeply unserious. âwe just want a few details.â
âno details,â choso says instantly.
âone detail,â gojo bargains, holding up a finger. âjust one. like⌠scale of one to life-changing.â
choso hesitates, cheeks turning pink.
âLIFE-CHANGING,â gojo screams, pointing at him.
âi didnât say anythingââ
âyour silence was loud,â toji says.
geto leans forward. âdid you at least remember what we told you?â
chosoâs face somehow gets redder. âiâyes.â
âeye contact?â gojo presses.
â...yes.â
âcommunication?â
âyes.â
âconfidence?â toji adds, eyebrow raised.
choso pauses. thinks about it while his fingers twitch slightly against his knee. â...eventually.â
âeventually?â gojo wheezes. âwhat does that mean? you warmed up like an old car or some shit?"
âhe stalled at the start,â toji says, nodding sagely.
âi did not stall,â choso snaps, mortified.
geto is trying very hard not to laugh into his coffee. âso it was...good?â
choso goes quiet again and his expression softens without him meaning to, gaze drifting somewhere far, far away. something almost stupidly fond flickers across his face before he can stop it.
â...yeah,â he says, quieter.
the men go still before gojo yells, "OH MY GOD HEâS IN LOVE."
âiâm notââ
"you know what this reminds me of? he's imprinting like in those vampire movies," toji says.
"twilight," gojo and geto correct without a beat, and choso fidgets uncomfortably.
âyouâre blushing,â gojo adds gleefully. âheâs blushing. heâs glowing. oh my god, heâs glowing. thatâs insane. ive never seen you glow before. you look like you just got baptized.â
toji snorts. âyeah. in pussy.â
"can you not say it like that?" choso mutters.
gojo leans back, eyes sparkling like heâs just discovered a new species. âno, no, iâm fascinated. this is a metamorphosis. yesterday: awkward, virginal, could barely make eye contact. today: post-coital enlightenment. look at his aura, suguru. itâs shimmering.â
"he does look sort of radiant," geto nods. "except for his eyebags."
"it's post-nut transcendence," gojo says, waving a hand in front of choso's face. "he genuinely looked god in the eyes. his girlfriend. she's a goddess."
"i know that," choso says, embarrassed. "you can stop now."
âwait,â toji says. âimportant question.â
ââŚwhat,â choso says cautiously.
toji doesnât even hesitate. âhow longâd you last?â
choso chokes on air. "i'm not answering that," he croaks.
"that means not long," gojo says instantly.
"it doesn't mean thatâ"
"first time, man," toji shrugs. "we'll be kind."
geto tilts his head. "was it under a minute?"
"no!" choso snaps, horrified.
(that's only partly a lie, but they don't have to know.)
"five?" gojo presses.
"iâm notâ"
"an hour?" toji adds.
"stop guessing!" chosoâs fully red now, hands clenched in his sleeves.
gojo's eyes gleam. "blink once for under five, twice for over."
choso just squeezes his eyes shut completely.
"he's overwhelmed, leave him," geto sighs.
"okay, new angle," gojo says, pivoting instantly. "was she impressed?"
choso smiles softly to himself. "she's just amazing. she's so perfect, and made everything so easy, andâ"
"oh brother," toji mutters.
"no, no, donât do that," gojo says quickly. "donât get poetic on us again. answer the question."
"i am answering," choso says, a little defensive now. "itâs not my fault. she's perfect. you wouldn't understand."
"we understand, buddy," toji says with a sharp laugh.
choso groans. âjust no more questions, please.â
âlast one,â geto says.
gojo nods solemnly. âthe most important one.â
choso looks deeply, deeply tired. âwhat.â
they lean in, all three of them like a council of idiots, staring at him.
"how many rounds?"
âyou donât have to answer,â geto says ( which means he has to)
SYNOPSIS: (bakugou has a crush on his baby mama) mr and mrs bakugou, can we talk about kenji inside please?
WARNINGS: pro hero!bkg, flirting, angst
NOTES: u guys should read my other stuff ITS GOOD TOO!!!! i felt like we should get more kenji . the response so far to this has been soooooo crazy and insane. happy people are liking it. i love reading comments. LOVED how last chap had so many different opinions. some changed my mind too LOL
PART 4 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / PART 6
katsuki: Can you pick up kenj next Tuesday?
katsuki: Got a board meeting I canât miss
katsuki: Thanks
You: đ
one thing you have learnt about bakugou katsuki, your baby father, is that this man can hold a grudge. itâs as if heâs in hiding, specifically hiding from you and the embarrassment of your rejection but anyhow, he is not acting his normal self. you get no thirst trap swimming photos of him in the pool anymore. it used to be a sorry excuse to show your son flapping about in the water but now it is actually just kenji. kenji in his striped blue and white swimming suit floating, one where heâs underwater and his little kicks are creating these huge splashes. a photo that pissed you off the one where bakugou clearly cropped himself out of it. you could tell because his hands are on kenjiâs waist and the photo is at an awkward aspect ratio. that one makes you roll your eyes, because you didnât think your baby father could be so petty.
texts are more direct. he also, for this last week, has tried his best not to see you. telling you to pick up kenji from his parents or your parents. even one time asking you to drop off kenji to deku who will bring him up to his office since he was going to be finishing up a meeting when you arrived. only once, have you seen him in these ten days, sitting in his swanky black porsche outside your apartment, waiting for you and kenji to come home.Â
you knew it was him just from the car, nobody in your area has a car as shiny and expensive, practically raising the rent for your apartment by being there. like magnets you make eye contact with him through his windshield. thereâs no smile. he just chews down on his cheek and stares, like you werenât sitting on his face the last time you spoke. duality of man, you guess.
you point him out to kenji, âlook! daddyâs already here. nice and early.â
your son squeals, letting go of your hand to run towards bakugouâs car. bakugouâs face lights up at the sight of his son, light laughter flowing from his lips as kenji giggles. he hops out of his car and scoops him up in a hug.Â
âhow are you, little man? weâve got a big day today.â
kenji smiles, matching his fatherâs and youâre always in awe of how similar they look. exact same shade of blonde, same nose. you happened to birth katsukiâs mini me. at least kenjiâs got your hair texture and eyes.
âmonsta trucks!!â kenji screams, his fists high in the air and he pounds them on his katsukiâs shoulders.
you raise your eyebrows at the pair, âhe wonât stop talking about them.â
itâs like bakugou remembers youâre still there, glancing at you awkwardly and then back to kenji like heâs his safe space. you feel like flicking his forehead. âgot the tickets for free. saved one of the driverâs daughters or somethinâ.â
and thatâs all he gives you, buckling kenji in his car seat and leaving his door open so can say goodbye to your son. this is why you canât date the guy, if itâs this awkward now, imagine later.
once you finish smothering kenji in kisses, youâve got half the mind to throw up your middle finger to his father and give him a piece of your mind.
how were you supposed to know heâs liked you for two years if he never told you? itâs not like he wasnât dating people too during that time! and who does he think he is about not waiting for you⌠you didnât even know there was something to wait for!
instead you plaster on a fake smile, locking eyes with him in the rearview. âbye katsuki. weâre going to talk about this.â
bakugou grumbles under his breath, a blush flushing the apples of his cheeks. heâs so stupid. âyeah⌠i know.âÂ
bakugou stares through the mirror at you kissing kenji a last goodbye, before carefully shutting the door behind you. heâs stuck to your figure walking away, pressing your password to your apartment building and closing the door behind you.
heâs all sorts of fucked right now. if he thought about you a lot before, you are all he thinks about how. how to get out of this bubble, how still not feel like his pride has been slashed down the middle. rejection is not something bakugou katsuki was built for, itâs not something he experiences. but you, with your constant pulling away, muddled excuses⌠he snapped and now even though heâs ignoring you, he misses you so fucking bad.
âpapa, letâs go! MONSTA TRUCKS!â
that was three days ago and yes, kenji loved the monster trucks.Â
âoh heâs so gorgeous. i wish i had kids with him instead of my deadbeat baby daddy.â
youâre friends with some of the mums you see at pick up, others not so much. being one of the younger mums always put you in an awkward position, forced to listen to advice, techniques from mothers on their fourth child. sometimes you appreciated it and sometimes you couldnât deal with the attitude. today you decide to lean back on the fence behind you, checking your phone until your little boy comes running out.
âi used to have a crush on him as a teen⌠remember that ua sports festival? what am i even saying, iâve got a crush on him now and have you seen kenji? such a sweet kid.â
your head whips to the mothers giggling like school girls at the sound of your babies name. kenji? you follow the ladies gaze to bakugou katsuki slouched in a childrenâs bench he practically takes up ninety percent of. heâs in a black overhead hoodie paired with a black gilet, clutching his phone. he looks ahead for a moment in thought and you almost whine at the sight of him in a black headband, his wheat blonde locks pulled off his forehead. he looks so out of place in a childrenâs playground, in any other time, youâd laugh. he looks media dynamight grumpy with his intense frown and bulging biceps. you notice the stubble brushed against his lower jaw, a light shadow that makes him look a little rougher, less put together.Â
you had to have a kid with the most attractive man on the school run. though why the hell is he here right now? you slide out of your position by the gate, arms crossed as you walk to the pro hero seated on the paint chipped colourful bench.Â
âwhat are you doing here?â
bakugou looks up at you in alarm like you just caught him doing something to. he forces his heart rate to calm and tries not to analyse the annoyance thatâs apparent in your eyes. he tries to style it out, leaning back on the bench, spreading his legs wider. he just needed some time away from you, to gather himself before heâs thrust back into your orbit.
you notice how he clenches his jaw and gives you a once over. how you miss the smiles and the sweethearts and the babies and theâ
âitâs my day to pick kenj up,â he grunts, fixing his hair, hoping his hair doesnât look terrible. youâre not supposed to be here, pouting at him adorably with this lip gloss that has sparkles in it. heâs supposed to be annoyed at you, his pride is still on its way to being stitched up but fuck if his fingers donât twitch to loop around your waist and drag you onto his lap.
âno itâs not. you texted me you had a meeting today.â you shift to pull your phone out of your pocket but bakugouâs already shaking his head, sliding his phone between the tips of his fingers.
âi said next tuesday, sweetheart.â
itâs whiplash hearing the petname and you can tell he didnât mean to let that slip. bakugou tries not to react, his nose twitching, still frowning. he crosses his arms across his chest but he holds your gaze, not before dropping to your lips. fuck.
at that you unlock your phone to go through your texts⌠next is right there glowing up at you.Â
âoh. shit, i wouldnât have come otherwise,â itâs the volume increase of the gossip behind you that makes you spin around to glare at the mothers and wow, even some fathers now, very not discreetly talking about you and katsuki. theyâre all too slow to look away, their necks probably cracking from the movement.
âi never knew you had yourself a little fanclub,â you say turning back to katsuki whoâs back glued to his phone.
âwhat? you jealous again?â
again, meaning his orange haired assistant from his office. your eyes almost roll out of your head from his tone. snappy, cocky.
you keep your voice low, turning away from the crowd of parents who would love to see a showdown between you both. actually, itâs probably the first time theyâve seen you standing together.
âyouâre really pissing me off now,â and that makes bakugou glance up at you again, eyebrow quirked up. if he wasnât waiting for his son outside his nursery, heâd drag you to the backseat of his car for talking to him like that. with your permission of course.
âyou expected me to know exactly what i want from you after you just gave me head, i was half drunk and half asleep and that was your first time even asking me out! then you dump the fact youâve wanted me for two years and then said you wouldnât wait for me? you forgot to keep me in the loop. fuck off, katsuki.â
you keep your arms crossed against your chest as you plop down in the ten percent of the bench bakugouâs left over. you donât eye his chunky thighs or remember how it felt to sit on them a few weeks ago.
bakugou takes in everything you say, sitting still for a second longer than he should have. he shuffles down the seat to give you more space. he mumbles a small fuck, a loud sigh and ducks his face in his hands.
his silence only gives you more time to think about what to say, posture impeccable, âthen you decide to ignore me for a week with your little attitude and pisspoor photo editing. then iâm an idiot to not think about how us being up and down might somehow affect kenji.â
everything feels clearer hearing your point of view. sure, deku told him to consider this and bakugou even managed to leave out the detail that he asked you while your hand was on his cock. all the feelings heâs pent up during the week wheezes out of him like a popped balloon because even though he was hurt, he did spring that all up on you.Â
âbut iâve been so obvious that i want you.âÂ
your body heats from his admission again but your eyes stay looking forward, âyouâre a big boy, katsuki. speak up.â then you sniff, âitâs not like you havenât been dating people since kenji was born.â
you need to leave, youâve said your piece and kenji isnât expecting you here anyway which means bubble bath and a catch up on your newest series. but katsuki isnt having it. sure, he has regrets about how he dealt with your last encounter, mostly wishing he held you longer, he wasnât so impulsive to ask you on a date mid sex and he definitely shouldnât have lied to you.
if you want to hash it outside kenjiâs nursery, then fine, heâd indulge.
âthatâs not evenâ,â
âah youâre both here! mr and mrs bakugou, can we talk about kenji inside please?âÂ
miss butterwood, kenjiâs teacher, is a lovely lady. youâve always liked her, a young sweet darkskin lady who always matches her hair clips to her blouse. though sheâs not giving anything away, just a small smile and a nudge in the direction of her classroom so you both follow. itâs the confusion that makes it not even cross your mind to correct her with the names.
you glance over at bakugou whoâs just as baffled as you.
âweâre continuing this.â
ânow you want to talk to me,â you roll your eyes before mum mode switches on. youâve seen a few kids get let out, screams and laughs as they run to their parents outside. kenji is yet to appear and you feel a rock drop to the bottom of your stomach.
âwhat is this about, miss butterwood?â
âwhereâs kenji?âÂ
bakugou asks at the same time and miss butterwood releases a light laugh.
you and bakugou walk into kenjiâs classroom at the same time, sitting in the two adult seats provided by her desk.
âiâll answer all your questions in a momentâ,â
âwhereâs kenji?â bakugou repeats, voice a bite away from being a growl and your eyes widen at him.
for the first time ever, bakugouâs sitting up straight with his hands on his knees. being in the dark always makes him agitated but not knowing something about his son makes him angry, rude.
you rest your hand on his thigh to calm him. if something was really wrong with kenji, miss butterwood wouldnât be smiling in your face right now. bakugou doesnât acknowledge your hand, though his clenched jaw softens ever so slightly. âsorry about him. where is he though?â
âkenjiâs in the next classroom over. i can bring him in if it makes you feel comfortable, i just wanted to talk to you without him in the room.â
you nod in understanding whilst bakugou stares, eyes narrowing. miss butterwood must deal with a load of crazy parents because she doesn't even flinch.
âi have good and bad news for kenji today, which would you like first?â
âbad,â you and bakugou blurt in unison.
âtoday, kenji got in an altercation with one of the other children-,â
âhah?â
your jaw drops. kenji? your sweet little kenji who chases butterflies and enjoys nature documentaries with his daddy?Â
âone of the children pushed him in the sandpit, laughing that kenjiâs quirk hasnât developed yet. which is very normal for kids his ageââ
âwhat the fuck?â bakugou spits, âwhat kid?â
miss butterwood clamps her mouth shut, shaking her head, âsince kenji will probably mention it to you, it was one of his friends amar.â
bakugou feels like the ground has fallen beneath his feet. a fucking rascal is bullying his kid because his quirk hasnât developed yet? it feels like an ironic joke, a punishment for his younger selfâs antics. heâs over it, heâs felt enough regret to last a lifetime over himself as a kid though he definitely didn't expect to be kicked in the face with it today. heâs calling deku about this.
âoh my god,â you gasp and bakugou scoops up your hand that was sitting on his thigh, linking your fingers with his. you squeeze his hand tightly, both of you refusing to look down. you know amar, sits next to kenji in class and they play football together on the weekends, âis he okay now?â
âhe hit his head on the wooden frame of the pit and was in tears. we had to clean and patch up the scratch. though as soon as we cleaned him up, he went back over to the amar and pushed him, hitting his head against a tree.â
you shake your head, a faux frown on your face, your lip twitching.
âthank fuhâ,â but you squeeze bakugouâs hand extra tight for him to shut up.
âthis is all terrible. i hope the child gets reprimanded for striking first and we will⌠talk to kenji about hitting back, even if itâs in retaliation.â
bakugou tries to follow your lead but heâs not one to fake a thing, opting to sit back in his seat quietly. fuck that, heâs teaching his child to punch if he gets punched, nobody is getting away with shit. âwhatâs happening to the other child?âÂ
âsince he hit kenji first and also had to get patched up, we are about to inform their parents after and seat him away from kenji. the two were friends before this but i think this spawned from the fact amar got his quirk recently.â
âwhatâs the quirk?â bakugou grunts
âthat is not relevant,â you mumble, but bakugou stays looking at miss butterwood.
âit is a speed quirk,â is all she reveals and bakugou stretches his jaw.
âwhatâs the good news then?â
a smile falls across miss butterwoodâs face and it makes you smile too, your cheeks inching up. youâre beginning to think that must be something to do with her quirk, though it's not affecting bakugou in the slightest.
âkenji has been exceeding at a much faster rate than the rest of the class and weâve been thinking we could put him in some extra classes after school with the older kids to test alternate skills. logic, strategy and more,â
âtake that for a fuckinâ speed quirk,â bakugou mumbles and you roll your eyes.
âkenji is a bright, bubbly child and we know this incident today is out of his behaviour. we wanted to know if youâd be interested in him doing these extra classes. theyâll only be once a week, twice if he enjoys them.â
you look over at bakugou, slowly nodding whilst he gives you a single nod. âyeah, yes. that would be amazing! best we start with once a week.â
thereâs a tiny knock at the door and miss butterwood chuckles, âthere he is. come in!â
you rip your hand away from bakugouâs, turning to face the door to see your little boy tumble in with a brown bear plushie, gifted by his father. âmama! papa! iâm going in smart class!â then he pouts, standing between both your chairs, âi had a bump today too and⌠bumped amar.â
you stroke your baby's cheek, eyeing the white padded plaster at the back of his head, âmy poor baby.â
you watch miss butterwood, talking to another teacher outside the door, âwell done on pushing him back,â you say pointing in his face to make sure he listens, âyou never punch first, you always punchâ,â
âsecond!â shouts kenji and he slaps your larger palm in a high five.
bakugou rumbles in laughter, staring at his little family, âand here i thought youâd disagree with my parenting.â
you spin kenji around to face his father, analysing the plaster again. it should heal quickly, itâs about an inch long. bakugou takes his son's hand, swinging it back and forth.
âwe arenât raising a pushover here. we are practicing our patience until his quirk comes. we arenât sitting ducks in the meantime.â
kenji nods solemnly, âwe are not ducks, papa.â
bakugou can only deem himself lucky to be partnered with you to raise his kid and so fucking lucky that his kid has more sense than he ever had when he was his age.
miss butterwood walks back into the room, waving away the other teacher, âif kenji is okay and you two donât mind, he can have his first advanced class now? pick him up in an hour and a half?â
bakugou looks at his son who squeezes the plushie he grabbed for him on his last mission, âyou wanna go, little man?â
walking out of kenjiâs nursery without kenji and instead his father by your side wasnât your plan for the evening.
âso not only do we have a fuckinâ mastermind, we have a boxer in the makinâ. a wonder child.â
you laugh, playfully slapping his arm, âyou need to work on your reactions! you were about to act like he won an award for hitting the kid back.â
âi don't give a fuck. i only didnât because blood wasnât circulating in my hand anymore.â
âthat is not true,â you glare.
âhis teacher was using her quirk on you wasnât she? a chemical one, every time she smiled you were showinâ all your fuckinâ teeth.â
you gasp, âi knew it! i was thinking why werenât you being affected, looking like you were going to shake her for not saying where kenji was.â
bakugou huffs a laugh, âhero traininâ, baby.â
itâs the pet name that snaps you out of your back and forth, remembering you still have to have that conversation, talk about feelings when youâd rather much be whatever you were before.
you scan the area. all the parents have gone now, just you and bakugou at the entrance. you spot his black porsche on the empty road.
âwhereâs your lil beetle?â
rich pro hero makes fun of your little red car. only you and kenji sit in it, so you don't need a massive car or even a car collection like the annoyance beside you.Â
âitâs not even a beetle! and sheâs in the shop at the moment, bad exhaust.â
âyou took the bus?â
âyup.â
âhowâve you been gettinâ to work?â
ânormies take the bus, katsuki.â
âi can get my driver to take you.â
âthat is so not necessary.â
âiâm not askinâ. canât have my baby mama too tired to look after my kid.â
you don't have anything to say about that though blood rushes to your cheeks. youâll only say no once to a personal driver, youâre not an idiot to say it twice.Â
bakugou and you stand on the pavement like strangers. you leave a considerable gap between you both, holding onto the strap of your bag and staring down the road to where your bus stop is. bakugouâs fingers twitch like heâs infected and only your touch will soothe him. he wants to feel your smooth fingers between his calloused ones, the heat of your palm warming straight down to his heart. even an arm around your waist to pull you into an embrace because itâs fucked the last time heâs touched you was weeks ago.
âiâm gonna head to a coffee shop, grab a tea. thereâs no point going all the way home to come out again.âÂ
âi can drop you home or to the coffee place and i can pick him up after so you don't need to. we gotta talk. i need to talk to you.â
itâs the tired droop of his carmine eyes that drag you to his car. bakugou swings it open and once youâve settled in the seat, he shuts the door and you analyse the interior of his car. kenjiâs booster seat directly behind you, a green deku air freshener hanging off his rearview and heâs got a water bottle, his glasses case, yoghurt raisins and gum in the open console between your chairs. bakugou slides in, the sweet caramel smell of him overwhelming you.
âitâs so tidy in here. like itâs brand new.â you awe, not finding a speck of dust across the black leather interior. thereâs a rim of orange around his seats and you find the detail very katsuki.
âi don't fuck around with my shit. iâm careful.â he sniffs, jabbing his car key in the slot and switching his car on, âso is kenj.â
you blame the rumble your body makes on his smooth engine humming the vehicle to life. you can only remember what he said to you last time, i would be so careful with you knowing kenji could be hurt by our actions.Â
bakugou turns the heating on, checking his mirrors and just when you think he's about to actually start moving the car, he sits back in his seat, turning his head ninety degrees to look at you. if it wasn't so weird between you, youâd feel the prickle of stubble dusted along his jaw, perhaps bring him in for a kiss. tell him how sexy it makes him lookâ
âwhat?â
âwhich coffee shop was it?â
bakugou stretches his arm to rest on the wheel, looking at you before looking at the road. bad idea to have you alone in his car. your perfume, something spicy and floral has him dying to roll his eyes back, grab your neck and pull you for a kiss. you look almost nervous in his presence and he canât make out why, your eyes darting all around the car then his outstretched arm, his knuckles on the wheel. somehow youâre prettier than when he saw you last, dropping kenji off to him and before that, when you made yourself come on his lap.
you rattle off the location to him, transfixed by bakugou katsuki driving. this wasnât helping your case at all. he places his palm on the back of your seat, to reverse and you force yourself not to look at the length of his neck or focus on the heat of his body so close to yours. he could kiss your cheek if he wanted but heâs already moved, circled out of the parking spot and driving to the destination.
bakugou is a lazy driver, slightly slouched in his seat, his arm bent at the wheel. you notice him mumble swears under his breath when he sees a car in the wrong lane, then he glances at you, hands tucked between your pressed thighs.
âwanna put music on?â
âno itâs okay. itâs a short ride.â
another boat of silence, bakugou rests his elbow by his window, thumb underneath his top teeth. he needs to apologise, explain his behaviour and beg you to give him another chance, especially after hearing your side.
instead you both sit, eyes glued forward.
âyou look cute today. appreciated how you took control in the meetinâ. i get agitated too fuckinâ quick.â
you raise your eyebrow at him, this big muscled man, you can still remember the feeling of his tongue slide across you, is calling you cute?Â
a quick glance at you and he knows what youâre thinking. at a red light, he flicks to your torso then your legs. bites down softly on his bottom lip, âbig jumper, baggy jeans, lip gloss. you look cute today. donât dress like that if you donât wanna be called cute.â
he looks away when green glows from the traffic lights, the car gliding forward. you rub your lips together instinctively, warming up under your jumper.Â
you refuse to reply to that comment, instead, âwhatâs the headband for?â
bakugouâs hands drift to his hair, looking in the rearview mirror quickly. âwhat dâyou mean? my hairâs gettinâ too long. need a cut.â
you nod, eyes glued to the black fabric on his hairline. bakugou can tell, youâve got the same look in your eyes when he had you in his lap before you kissed.Â
âwhy?â he continues, grin spreading across his face like melting butter, âdâyou like it?â
he slides into a spot outside the coffee shop, getting ready to park.
âiâm not answering that, katsuki. youâre in my bad books.â
but the smile isnât leaving his cheeks, so much so he rests his hand over his mouth to cover it.
âif you say so, baby.â
somehow calling you baby during sex has continued out of your living room. you hate how you love it.
once he switches the engine off, you pop your seat belt off, opening your passenger door. âokay, iâll see you. text me about kenji.â
you think youâre free for a moment, finally fresh air because you were suffocating with all the tension in the car. youâre about to open the door to the coffee shop when a longer and larger arm above your head opens the door for you.
âwhy are you coming too?â
âi said we gotta talk. weâre talkinâ.â
two hands sit on your hips as he guides you into the shop and you let him, loving the heat of his back. youâd never admit it but you imagine for a moment if you did date him, claiming him for the world to know.
you pause in front of the counter and bakugouâs hands still havenât moved from your waist. âwhat do you want?â he asks, looking up at the board of drinks.
you pull out your phone to pay, âusually just a peppermint and ginger tea at this time, no sugarâ,â
âcan i get that and a black coffee please.â he asks to the barista.
the barista clearly recognises him, looks at his hands on you and then back to their ipad to note down your order.
âwhy a tea at this time?â he mumbles to you and his voice, so close, makes you jump.
âoh, caffeine and me in the afternoon will sit with me until itâs time for bed.â
bakugou listens, âi had night patrol far out, barely slept. my receptionist had to wake me up from my office sofa.â
you watch every word form on his lips, trying to find signs of tiredness. it explains the agitation before, the light dark circles under his eyes now that youâre up closer. bakugou taps his card on the reader, grabbing both your drinks and waits for you to pick a table.
âoh i was going to⌠thanks,â
his smirk is sweet and small, lightly shaking his head, âitâs nothinâ.â
once you both settle in your seats at the back of the shop by the window, you feel lighter despite not talking about anything yet. everything is so easy with katsuki, unbelievably so.
ââm sorry.â
you werenât expecting that.Â
ânot for everythinâ i said, but how i said it. i was just fuckinâ hurt.â
you lift your mug, blowing the liquid and inhaling the mint. you flick your eyes back up to his.Â
âi think âcause iâve been in my head about you that i just assumed you knew. i think about you all the fuckinâ time and thereâs been no change, nothing new between us until recently.âÂ
you crying in his arms after work, visiting him in his office, kissing him, sitting on hisâ
âbasically i like you a lot, a fuckinâ school boy crush and i thought i had no chance âcause you were datinâ other people.â
âhowâd you know i was dating people?â you never told him or kenji.
âiâm not stupid, yn. i can tell when a man has been in your apartment when i dropped kenji back and when youâd drop him to me when youâre going on one. kenjiâs never said anything about meeting one of those fuckers so i wasnt sayinâ shit to you.â
âbut youâve dated people too?â
katsuki takes a sip of his coffee, creases between his brows, âi havenât?â
you prefer to stare out of the window, âi remember an article with a photo of you and two women in the states and youâre an attractive professional hero obviously you have.â
âi havenât dated anyone, i don't date. that was justâŚâ
you lower your voice, lucky thereâs only a student with headphones on in the corner of the shop, âah, so you were just fucking them? youâre not my man, itâs fine. iâm just explaining why iâve been so confused.â
bakugou leans back in his seat, throwing his head back and sighing, âfuck.â
âso youâve liked me since you met me but i started dating people so you started fucking people and then we had sex again and you said you don't want to wait for me even though i never knew there was something to wait for.â
âfuck. fuck. i get it, i fucked up there.â
âand then kenji. youâre his father, youâre different to the rest of the guys iâve dated and⌠i don't want us to go wrong.â
bakugou stares at his stormy black liquid, âbut what if we go right? what if weâre fuckinâ good together?â
your mouth opens and closes like a fish begging for air. bakugou grabs your hands, across the table, urging you to look up. your lips are parted, his face only a few inches away from yours from across the table.
then he grins and finally you get to see his full set of teeth, his gold tooth that cases his canine. you feel like whimpering at the sight, âbaby, what if we work?â
you laugh softly, âi havenât thought that far ahead. but⌠but if we do dateâŚâ
bakugouâs nodding like a puppy hearing a list of his favourite words, âif we try then weâre taking this slowly. no telling kenji or our parents, i do not want to have their input on this.â
âanythinâ, baby.â
âand if i see you even flirt with another woman during this time, iâll kill you.â
bakugou stares at you like youâre stupid, head tilting, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, âi havenât cared about another woman since Iâve met you.â
you roll your eyes, clearly enamoured, âthis also doesnât count as a date and you better not ask me when my hand is on your dick again. that was classless.â
bakugou chuckles, intertwining his fingers with yours, gulping down his coffee despite the fact itâs still boiling
âterrible fuckinâ move, i know. iâll ask you again, weâll do somethinâ that will blow your mind.â when he sets his mug back on the table, heâs still slightly in shock, âyouâre actually lettinâ me?â
his reaction makes you shy, a little cocky, though you school your expression. staring at him without blinking, âdonât fuck up, dynamight.â
your baby father winks at you, squeezes your hand and downs the last sip of his coffee, âwouldnât dream of it.â
---
PART 4 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / SOMETHING ELSE
likes donât do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox
comment here if youâd like to be in the taglist xoxo
episode 10: stop the world I wanna get off (with you)
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)
summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your familyâs failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.
when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.
word count: 13.2k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness/death, grief, toxic ex-bf, reference to past sexual coercion/assault, money issues, stress and overwork, introverted reader, panic attacks, anxiety, violence, piv, fingering, cunnilingus
a/n: went a bit crazy on the word count for this one hehe hope you all enjoy
series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch9) | next chapter (ch11)
Waking up with you in his arms had Sukuna wondering if he was still caught in a dream.Â
It all seemed surreal, tangled up in your sheets, sunlight filtering through the blinds illuminating your bodies snuggled up in your bed. One of his arms was resting beneath your neck, while the other was curled around your waist, pressed against warm skin where your pyjama shirt had ridden up during the night.Â
Your hands were clutched against your chest, face buried in his shoulder, warm breath fanning against his skin as you slept peacefully at his side. He blinked sleep out of his eyes, careful not to move as he stared down at you, heart picking up at the sight of your tousled hair, at how peaceful you looked with your long lashes brushing against your cheeks.
Now that he was really giving it some thought, this was the first time that heâd ever woken up in bed with a woman. For all his sexual encounters, he always made sure that the girl would leave as soon as they were done, uninterested in taking his one night stands beyond anything but sex.
With you it was different. Heâd swear off sex completely if that was what was necessary to see you like this each morning, so soft and angelic in the golden light.Â
His hand moved from your waist up into your hair, threading through the soft strands, stroking gently as he held you against his chest, completely at peace feeling the calm rise and fall of your chest. He wasnât sure how youâd be when you finally awoke, a sense of anxiety making itself known in his chest as he considered that you might not want to be all tangled up with him like this in the light of day.Â
After all the events with Hiromi, he wouldnât be surprised if your aversion to touch made itself known once more, your trauma leading you to push him away, unable to separate the memories of Hiromi from the presence of Sukuna.Â
But for now he shoved the worries aside.Â
All that mattered was that right now he had you happily in his arms - if you woke up in complete terror then the two of you could cross that bridge when you came to it.Â
He found himself surprised by how long you ended up sleeping in that morning.Â
You were typically always awake before him, responding to his good morning texts in an instant, most likely already at the bakery or at the library, forever a morning person. But today it seemed as though you were completely at peace, finally getting yourself some well-earned rest.Â
There was a smug part of him that was convinced your relaxed state was his doing, that youâd been wound so tight for months and heâd finally given you the release and safety that you needed.Â
He liked the idea that he could have such an impact on you.Â
By the time you finally came to at 11am, Sukuna had started contemplating whether or not he should wake you himself. His arm was totally dead from you laying atop it, and his phone was completely out of his reach, meaning that heâd spent the last couple of hours splitting his time between micro-analysing every tiny detail of your room, and fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck you in this bed with all your cute little stuffed animals watching.
Admittedly, he really tried to put that thought out of his head, considering that you werenât anywhere near ready for that yet, but it was difficult with the way that you kept shifting against him in your sleep, each contact making him achingly hard.Â
It was almost a relief when your pretty eyes fluttered open, instinctively shifting away from him as you began to wake up. You looked cute, rubbing sleep from the corners of your eyes as you glanced up at him shyly.Â
âMorning, angel.âÂ
âHey.â You took a deep breath. âSorry-âÂ
âYouâve been awake like three seconds, the hell are you apologising for?âÂ
You shrugged, a red flush coating your cheeks as you pouted, reaching out to grab a frog plushie that sat beside your pillow, fiddling with its webbed hands. âYâknow, asking you to come over so late and crying and stuff.âÂ
âYouâre so stupid.â He said with a breathy laugh.Â
âIâm not stupid.âÂ
âReally? How come you keep believing that everythingâs an imposition then? If youâre so smart, surely you should be able to figure out that I want to be here. Quit apologising.â
âFine.â You mumbled, not unlike a kid who had just been scolded.
âGood girl.âÂ
There was an incredulous look on your face, but it did little to hide the furious blush on your cheeks at his words. Heâd gotten good at understanding what was and wasnât crossing a line for you, and flustering comments were definitely on the table.Â
As was kissing you on the forehead apparently, if last night was anything to go by.Â
It was almost embarrassing how happy that had made him, his heart racing at the thought of a mere peck on the forehead - not even a kiss on the lips and he still felt overjoyed. After all the time heâd spent mocking Choso for being down bad about various girls, heâd never expected that heâd finally understand it.Â
âYour hair.â He was taken aback as you reached out to him, fingers gently brushing the strands that had fallen in front of his forehead. âItâs down.âÂ
âWhat, did you think it just defied gravity or something?âÂ
âNo.â You giggled. âJust havenât seen it like this before.âÂ
Personally, Sukuna hated having his hair down - it would get in his eyes and made him look entirely too much like his brother Jin. Heâd been pushing it back since childhood, always making sure to differentiate himself from his sibling.Â
Though, heâd be lying if he said he didnât like the way you were looking at him right now.
âYou look so pretty.â You spoke softly.Â
âIâm not going for pretty.â He grumbled, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered. The feeling only intensified as you laughed once more, dropping your hand back into your lap as you gazed at him.Â
âHandsome then?âÂ
âAre you flattering me for a reason?â He asked with a wry grin.Â
âNever.â You said, entirely too seriously.Â
Fuck, you were so cute.
He pulled himself up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair, attempting to push it up as normal. A couple of strands fell back down, but for now that would have to do.Â
Trekking across the room he winced at the sight of his phone, an instagram message request lighting up the screen. It was from an account he didnât know, but the username and contents of the message made it easy enough to guess who it was from.Â
There was a whole lot of cursing, and a slew of insults about you, ranging from emphasizing how much of a prude you were to somehow calling you a whore within the span of the same sentence.Â
For all of your talk about how elegant Hiromi was with his words, it certainly wasnât shining through in this message. Heâd probably sent it when he was still raging drunk, although heâd still had the clarity to send it from a burner account to make things more difficult if Sukuna were to try reporting it to the police.Â
Bastard.Â
Sukuna glanced over at you, sitting on the bed and stretching, your shirt rising a little as you reached your hands over your head. He supposed that he should tell you about the message, but that felt wrong. He didnât want you to think about Hiromi for a moment longer - heâd take care of it and you could keep your peace.Â
âYouâve got all your socials set to private, right?â Sukuna asked.Â
You winced, clearly smart enough to understand what would prompt him to ask such a question, but unwilling to compromise your own peace by delving into his words. âYeah, only followers can message me.âÂ
âGood.âÂ
âDo you think heâll come back? Hiromi?â Your voice was quiet. The frog plushie was in your lap now, where you were fiddling with it anxiously.Â
Sukuna thought about that. He didnât really know Hiromi well enough to decisively say either way, but the man had probably been shaken up by Sukunaâs presence last night. His instagram message was filled with plenty of faux courage, but that was much easier to present through a screen than in person.Â
âI donât know. Maybe.âÂ
He hadnât meant to sound so flippant, only realising that his response had probably scared you when he noticed the way that your shoulders seized up a little.Â
âIt doesnât matter though. If he comes back Iâll deal with him.â He approached you, fingers finding their way beneath your chin as he leant forward, tilting your face up a little before pressing a kiss against your forehead as heâd done last night. âLetâs have some breakfast, yeah?âÂ
As heâd expected, heâd found your cupboards to be relatively bare. That tended to be the norm with you, only generally having groceries to spare when Sukuna was coming around regularly. Considering that heâd been in Kyoto for the past week he shouldâve expected that youâd go straight back to your habit of convenience store dinners.Â
Not that he minded, it just meant that he got to take you to a cafe for breakfast, which was probably for the best anyway, it was better for you to get out of the house.Â
You were staring out of the window of the cute cafe heâd led you to, drumming your fingers absentmindedly against the wood of the table as he approached with a tray in hand, placing a mocha down in front of you along with a pain au chocolat.Â
âThis place is good, I sometimes go before lectures, but the cakes and pastries arenât anywhere near as good as the ones your dad makes.â He said, taking a bite from the cinnamon roll that heâd gotten for himself.Â
âIâll tell him you said that, heâll be thrilled.â You said, turning your attention to him. It was clear that you were trying your best to act like everything was normal, but he could still see that glassy, far-off look in your eyes that said differently.Â
âI already have told him.â He said with a grin, thinking about the way the old man had lit up at his words.Â
Hell, heâd even received a call from his own dad a day later where Wasuke had told him all about how thrilled your father had been at the compliment, gushing about what a lovely son Wasuke had raised.Â
Ironically, his dad had spent the rest of the phone call yelling at him, asking why heâd be so damn polite to someone elseâs family but not his own.Â
You smiled. âNo wonder he loves you so much. Hadnât realised how much you were feeding his ego.âÂ
âOh? He loves me?âÂ
âYeah.â You said, rolling your eyes. âHeâs very invested inâŚthis. Keeps telling me to invite you over for dinner and stuff.âÂ
Sukuna tilted his head. âIn this? Whatever do you mean?â His tone was playful, feeling a rush of excitement at the way you glared at him. It was probably mean to tease you right now, considering the night youâd had, but some things were too good to pass up.Â
âYou know, this.â You gestured between the two of you, clearly praying that was enough of an explanation to sufficiently appease him.Â
It wasnât.Â
âNo, actually I donât know.â He said, leaning forward and resting his chin atop his hand. âGuess youâll have to explain it to me.âÂ
âI hate you.â You mumbled, before falling silent, unwilling to play along with his game.Â
He wasnât really surprised - he knew that you werenât ready to label things yet, but the fact that youâd even told your father about everything going on was enough of a sign for him on where your mind was at.Â
Well, that paired with the fact that heâd spent last night in your bed.Â
âI donât think Iâve received that invite, you know? The one to dinner with your dad.â He spoke after a beat of silence, shit-eating grin fixed on his face.Â
âNo?â You asked, blinking up at him innocently. âOh, I swear I asked you to come and be held captive in my dadâs apartment while he talks you through every baseball card heâs ever owned.âÂ
Sukuna laughed. âI definitely wouldâve remembered if youâd asked, that sounds like the ideal Friday night to me.âÂ
âSure.â You rolled your eyes, obviously assuming that was sarcasm.Â
To an extent it was sarcasm, since his perfect friday night would probably be something along the lines of fucking you on his couch while some shitty movie plays in the background, but as far as he was concerned spending an evening with you and your dad wasnât far off ideal either.Â
After all, heâd get to spend the night hanging out with you, hearing embarrassing stories about your childhood and just generally deepening the bond you had. Not to mention, he liked your dad a lot - he had plenty of time for the old man and was more than happy to listen to him talk through his card collection.Â
âIâm not kidding. Invite me over.â
You stared at him, surprise evident on your face as you gave him a little smile and a nod. You opened your mouth to say something only to falter as your phone lit up, a text coming in from an unknown number. Sukuna couldnât quite read it from his position opposite you, but the way that the colour drained from your face said it all.Â
The screen went dark as you sucked in a deep breath, making an effort to try and calm yourself. Sukuna stared at you for a moment before reaching out towards the phone.Â
âCan I see?âÂ
You nodded, unlocking it and handing it to him without a word, turning to look out the window, as if you could pretend that nothing was happening as long as you didnât personally acknowledge the notification.Â
He frowned as he stared at the paragraph before him.
[Unknown]: I didnât expect you to act like all the other whores who hang off Sukuna but I guess my expectations of you were too high. Have fun begging for a shred of attention once he dumps you for someone hotter. Iâll be making millions of yen as a lawyer living in Ginza, probably dating some sexy girl who has her life together while youâll be sad and alone wishing that you were with me. You were never good at thinking for yourself and it really shows. Hope you can live with your stupid decisions.
Digging his fingernails into his palm, he tried his best to calm himself down. What the fuck was this guyâs problem anyway? Why couldnât he just leave you in peace? Any normal guy would take a rejection, realise that they were unwanted and back off, but for some reason that wasnât enough for this guy - he needed to tear down your character too.Â
He could only assume that what he was reading right now was a mere fraction of that way Hiromi had spoken to you back when you were actually in a relationship - no wonder youâd woken up this morning and had the first word out of your mouth be an apology.Â
It pissed him off.Â
âAlright, Iâm gonna go deal with him.âÂ
You looked at him in disbelief, shaking your head desperately. âPlease, I donât want you to get in trouble.âÂ
He winced, sighing as he stared back at you, crimson eyes unwavering as he examined your anxious expression. âThen what do you want to do? We can always report it to the police, since he is stalking you.âÂ
âI-â You glanced around, as if nervous that someone might be listening in on your conversation. âI donât wanna go to the police.âÂ
He had to lean forward to even hear you, a little taken aback by your stance. Sukuna was the type of guy who probably wouldnât go to the police unless it was really necessary, but that was because heâd been on the wrong side of the law before. You, on the other hand, shouldnât have any objection to going to the authorities - you were completely in the right.
âWhy?â He asked, letting the question hang in the air for a while before deciding that you werenât going to give him an answer. âLook, we canât just do nothing. He showed up at your house and now heâs still texting you nasty shit. We can report it to the police, or I can go and deal with it, but he has to know one way or another that he canât get away with this.âÂ
âI donât want to do anything, I just want it to stop.â You mumbled, eyes trained on the table. âIâm just worn so thin, Iâm so tired from the last few months I donât want to deal with this at all.âÂ
âThen let me deal with it. Let it be my problem. Hell, if you donât want me to speak to Hiromi I can go to the police for you, I can do all the paperwork and shit, whatever, I just need to do something.âÂ
He could understand your point of view - taking any course of action would take effort and energy that you didnât currently have. But he was far from okay with letting Hiromi pull this shit and walk away with no consequences.Â
âThe police wonât listen.â You said with a deep sigh. âWeâve got no real evidence beyond a couple of messages where heâs being mean, which isnât exactly a crime. I know that the police never take harassment seriously so it just feels pointless. Besides, heâs such a smooth talker I know that heâll just turn things around and make me look like the crazy one.âÂ
âI mean.â Sukuna lowered his voice. âYouâve got a ring camera, right? So we can prove he showed up last night. Plus, stalking and harassment aside, he also assaulted you back when you were in a relationship. If you told the police about that theyâd probably take it seriously - at the very least youâd be able to get a restraining order against him and then if he ever tried anything again heâd be arrested.âÂ
You shook your head quickly. âI donât- I donât want to tell them about that.âÂ
Sukunaâs brow furrowed in confusion. âBut it would-âÂ
âNo.â You said firmly, before taking a deep breath. âVictims rarely get believed anyway - all that would do is lead us into a long and drawn out trial where Iâd have to re-live everything only for Hiromi to come out on top in the end. I donât want that, I just want to move on.âÂ
There was a part of him that wanted to challenge that, wanted to point out that it was worth trying anyway because what Hiromi had done was despicable, leaving you mentally ruined, unable to easily cope with intimacy in the way that you could have before.Â
But the panic on your face gave him pause.Â
It wasnât for him to decide whether you spoke up about that, and you were probably right - plenty of violent rapists walked free, so the chances of convicting a man for sexual assault when the two of you had been in a relationship at the time was even less likely.Â
Why should you have to face Hiromi again? Unpick all of your negative emotions only to come out of it with nothing. That wasnât fair. He wasnât going to force you into that.Â
âSorry.â He mumbled after a few beats of silence. âI hadnât thought about it like that.âÂ
âIt's okay.â You were clutching your mug tight between your hands, letting the warmth seep into your skin, avoiding his gaze. âI just- I donât wanna deal with a load of legal stuff, I donât really want anything out of this beyond him leaving me alone.âÂ
âI get it.âÂ
He reached across the table, tips of his fingers skimming gently across yours as he pulled your hand from the mug, entwining your hands together, squeezing lightly as he encouraged you to look up at him.Â
âNo police - thatâs fine. But please let me go and talk to that asshole.â He said softly, maroon eyes fixed on you. âLet me look after you.âÂ
Heâd expected more resistance - a conclusion to the conversation in the form of you firmly putting your foot down on ignoring the issue entirely and hoping that it went away on its own. To some extent he could understand your desire for that - heâd always heard that the best way to deal with a narcissist was to give them absolutely nothing, no fuel to feed their egos.Â
Sukuna really wasnât a do nothing type of guy though, so he was elated when you actually gave in, giving him permission to go and clearly lay out to Hiromi what he thought, since the message clearly hadnât made it through his thick skull last night.Â
So once the two of you had finished your coffee, and youâd begrudgingly handed him Hiromiâs address after making him promise that he wasnât going to beat the guy to death and get arrested, he headed off to confront the man.Â
Heâd dropped you off at his house in the meantime, taking you back to your place to pack up a bag of things, suggesting that youâd feel safer in a place that Hiromi hadnât stalked you to the night before. Considering that Toji and Choso wouldnât be back for a few weeks it was no issue for you to be there, you could just hang out in his room while he got the job done.Â
Rage was burning hot in his chest by the time he arrived outside Hiromiâs house, which was disgustingly fancy for a university student. Youâd mentioned that your exâs parents were wealthy, that theyâd actually bought him his own place to live in while he finished his studies, but he wasnât expecting this.Â
No wonder he had such an inflated ego if this was what mommy and daddy were prepared to do for him.Â
It was evident that Hiromi wasnât expecting him, considering the look of sheer terror that crossed the manâs face when he opened the door, all the blood draining from his cheeks, brown eyes wide with horror. Sukuna had to admit that it made him feel good - he knew he was a scary guy and any validation of that did wonders to his ego.Â
Of course Hiromi was nothing more than a keyboard warrior, a man with a load of pretty words and no real backbone. Sukuna wouldâve found him amusing if not for how scared you were of the guy. The fact that youâd ever let someone so pathetic have so much control over you made him sad - this man shouldnât have even been allowed to stand in your presence, let alone plague your mind for two years.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â Hiromiâs voice was calm, but the way that his hand was tightly clutching at the door said otherwise.Â
âWeâre past that, donât you think?â Sukuna said. âPlaying dumb doesnât really work for a guy like you, I know youâre clever.âÂ
âI apologise for my behaviour last night.â Hiromi said. âI was inebriated, I acted in poor taste.âÂ
Sukuna stared at him incredulously, before letting out a laugh, almost doubling over with how hard he was cackling. âYouâll really just say anything, huh? No wonder sheâs so scared of you, that apology was so convincing that youâd have anyone fooled.âÂ
âI was being genuin-â
âNot me, though.â Sukuna cut him off. âI know not to believe a single word out of your mouth.âÂ
Sukunaâs hand was pressing against the door now, keen to ensure that Hiromi didnât attempt the cowardâs way out of shutting it in his face.Â
âPlease, Iâm so hungover, can you just leave?âÂ
Hiromi was growing irritated now, standing up a little taller, clearly trying to twist the narrative so that he was the victim. He wanted it to look like Sukuna had shown up to pick a fight for no reason. That really pissed him off, and he could completely understand why youâd never felt like you had the upper hand with this man, his strong self-preservation ever knocking you off-kilter.Â
âNo. Iâm not leaving until I have assurance that youâre gonna leave her alone.â
âI told you, yesterday was just a mistake, I wonât-âÂ
âWhat about the message you sent this morning?â Sukuna asked.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.âÂ
He balked at that, almost impressed by Hiromiâs insistence on denying every single claim made against him. He supposed that was a perfect trait to find in a person training to be a defence lawyer. Yeah, Sukuna had done some research on the man that morning, getting you to contact Nanami for all the information he had before heâd made the drive over to Hiromiâs house.Â
That was how he knew that right now Hiromi was working for a company that valued their reputation significantly.Â
âOh, so you donât remember comparing my girlfriend to a whore this morning?âÂ
He didnât really care that you werenât technically his girlfriend yet, because in his mind you absolutely were.Â
âNo? Why would I do that?âÂ
âMmm. Mustâve been her other abusive ex then, I guess.â He said sarcastically. âHow about this, then?â He held up his phone to show Hiromi the long message that heâd received in the early hours of the morning.Â
âI told you already, I wasnât in my right mind, I was drunk.âÂ
âOh, so you admit you did send this one then?âÂ
For a moment, Hiromi seemed caught off guard. âNo, I-â
âYou know, it's funny - I get drunk all the time and Iâve never stalked a girl or sent her incel-like messages. Drunk words are sober thoughts and all that - or whatever that fucking saying is.âÂ
Heâd never really believed that, but it worked well enough for his argument right now.Â
âLook man, it was one night, one mistake. My bad. This is between me and her anyway, I donât know why youâre interfering. Sheâs probably told you plenty of lies about me and now youâre white knighting her, which is really lame - she isnât worth all that.âÂ
The level of delusion that Hiromi seemed to live under was something else entirely. Did he honestly think that he could turn Sukuna against you? That there would be any chance in hell that heâd believe someone who was clearly lying to his face over believing you?Â
Sukuna had watched you have a visceral reaction to being kissed, and the information that you had told him about Hiromi had to be practically dragged out of you. There was no doubt in his mind who the liar was here.Â
All of his instincts were screaming at him to punch Hiromi in the face right now, to break his nose and leave it at that - but your voice in his head urging him not to get into trouble was winning out. He didnât want to spend the afternoon in jail, didnât want to put you under that stress.Â
Heâd much prefer to spend his day back at his house with you in his arms.Â
So he took a deep breath, and kept firm control over his temper.Â
âI think youâre misunderstanding.â He said calmly. âYou say this is between you and her, but she wants nothing to do with you. So here I am, warning you to stop. Stop contacting her, stop talking about her, stop even fucking thinking of her.âÂ
Hiromi chuckled. âWhat, are you gonna police my thoughts?â He asked incredulously.Â
âNo, Iâm not. But if you so much as glance in her direction Iâll be getting in contact with that legal firm that you intern at and Iâll show them everything. The messages you sent earlier today, the ones you sent just before she blocked you, the ring camera footage of you bashing on her door last night.âÂ
Hiromi paled at that, eyes widening a little. In his drunken state he obviously hadnât considered that there might be a camera.Â
âAnd, with all those things in mind, they might also be interested to hear about the way that you treated her during the relationship. Working with a guy who canât take no for an answer doesnât look great for a firm who actively avoids taking cases to defend rapists.âÂ
âThatâs not what-âÂ
âI think you can lie to the police just fine, and Iâm not gonna put her through you dragging her name through the mud in a court. That isnât fair. But do you really think your firm will take any chances on you? I think youâll be out of there quicker than you can even comprehend whatâs happening.âÂ
Hiromi hesitated, anger clearly simmering beneath a measured expression, ever focussed on keeping on that mask of manipulation, even in this situation. But Sukuna could see his hands trembling at his sides, balled into tight fists.Â
âSo whatâs it gonna be? Keep your job and stay the fuck away from her? Or throw away your future for a girl whoâd rather die than go anywhere near you?â Sukuna smirked at him condescendingly. âYouâre a smart guy, right? Iâm sure you can make the right decision.â
â
You spent the next week practically living at Sukunaâs house.Â
Even though heâd gone out of his way to lay down the law to Hiromi, making it immensely clear what would happen if he came anywhere near you again, you still didnât feel particularly safe in your own home. Sukuna had offered to stay with you until you felt comfortable again, but your preference was to be in a different place entirely.Â
You hadnât spent much time at Sukunaâs place before. Mainly because he lived with Toji and Choso, and with the two of you in a weird place still, without any labels on what your relationship was, you didnât want to make things more complex by letting more people know about the situation.Â
Even if they all definitely already knew where Sukuna was spending his time outside of the house.Â
But right now it wasnât something that you had to worry about - with everyone off on summer break, Sukuna was currently the only one living in the house, and that meant that the two of you had the run of the place. It was nice, getting to spend the days alone together, in a place where you actually felt safe.Â
At first Sukuna had offered to sleep in Chosoâs room while you took his bed, not taking for granted the idea that youâd want to share a bed with him again, ever doing his best to take your boundaries into account.Â
Originally youâd taken him up on his offer, curling up alone in his bed that smelt so much like him as you tried to drift off to sleep. But as you stared into the darkness of his room, mind racing with horrible words that Hiromi had spat at you, you found that sleep was an impossibility in your solitude.Â
Sukuna was shirtless as he opened the door to Chosoâs room, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he gazed down at you. For a moment your mind drew a blank at what youâd even gone there for, too distracted by the sight in front of you. Your eyes trailed down his figure, admiring the tattoos running down his chest, his defined abs, the way that his sweatpants were hanging low on his waist.Â
Heart pounding, you tried to remind yourself of the issue at hand, completely frozen at the sight of him. Youâd known he was hot but seeing him like this felt like something else entirely.Â
âSee something you like, baby?â He asked, lips curling up into a grin as he watched you carefully.Â
âUhh- I- I wasnât-â
He let out a short chuckle as you stumbled over your words, leaning his forearm against the door, towering over your smaller figure.Â
âEverything okay? It's late.âÂ
You played with your fingers, averting your gaze from him in an attempt to hide the flush painting your face. âCouldnât sleep.âÂ
âNo?âÂ
You shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed to show up like this, acting like a little kid whoâd had a bad dream. What kind of adult couldnât deal with sleeping alone?
âJust feel too on edge, even if heâs not coming back, everything just keeps playing over and over again in my head.â
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. Planting a kiss atop your head, he ran his hand comfortingly up and down your back, letting you relax against him. You could hear his heart racing, your breath hitching at the realisation that despite his outwardly cool appearance, he was as affected by you as you were by him.Â
âWant to share the bed again?â He asked, saving you the humiliation of asking the question.Â
You just nodded into his chest, letting him lead you back to his room, settling you both into his bed and pulling you close against him, just like he had the night before. It was a little different, feeling a whole lot more intimate with him being half naked. But you found that it wasnât something that bothered you.Â
On the contrary, with his arms firmly wrapped around your body, you found yourself drifting off in a matter of minutes, the anxious thoughts floating away with his comforting presence at your side.Â
Sharing a bed became normal from that point on.Â
There was no more questioning from Sukunaâs side as to whether it was okay - it just became part of your routine, an addition to the list of intimacy that youâd allow him.Â
It wasnât really a big deal - sharing a bed. Before the events with Hiromi you wouldâve shared a bed with any close friend of yours without a second thought. But it felt like a major milestone now. Considering how panicked youâd felt when Sukuna had first kissed you, the fact that you now felt totally at peace when laying in his arms felt like a massive improvement.Â
You were sure that you still wouldnât be able to cope if it was anyone else touching you, but with Sukuna at the very least, you felt safe. It began to even be something that you would seek out, laying your head on his lap when youâd watch TV, nestling your face into his chest each night, nudging yourself against his lips when heâd lean down to plant a kiss against your forehead.Â
It felt almost like you were normal. Like you werenât someone whoâd had a complete breakdown in his room at a simple kiss.Â
Being with Sukuna all the time felt comfortable, and even with thoughts of the encounter with Hiromi still swirling round your head, you found that those days at his house were the happiest youâd ever been.Â
Youâd told your dad about the situation with Hiromi, filling him in on the fact that Sukuna had been looking after you ever since. The man had been livid, threatening to get in contact with your ex himself, only for you to calm him down and remind him that youâd rather he just took care of himself for now.Â
But he still insisted on you taking a break from the shop, promising you that heâd figure it out between your aunt and cousin so that you could take a break. Youâd tried to push back, but he wasnât taking no for an answer, teasing you about how heâd much rather you lock down his future son-in-law than waste your time working.Â
And as much as youâd protested, you had to admit that it was nice to wake up at Sukunaâs side with no weight on your shoulders - the whole day ahead of you, spending sleepy mornings in his arms, tangled up in his bed until the day got too hot to bear the warmth of each otherâs bodies.Â
Youâd do whatever you pleased with your days, heading out to cafes and parks, doing grocery shopping so that the two of you could cook meals together in the evenings. Sukuna always made the most of the time that you were alone in the house, taking the opportunity to show you his favourite movies and play games with him, laughing at just how bad you were when he destroyed you on Smash Bros for the 50th time.Â
It wasnât strange or uncomfortable, and the nervousness that youâd occasionally felt around him seemed to melt away. Being at his side felt natural, like it was where you were meant to be. You were comfortable with him to the point where you wondered what it would be like to take things further, the question always on the tip of your tongue as he pulled you close at night.Â
He definitely wanted to take things further - you werenât blind to that. When youâd cuddle in his bed, or when heâd place you on his lap, holding you against him on the couch when watching a movie, you could often feel how hard he was through his jeans or sweats.Â
Ever since heâd first kissed you on the forehead heâd been growing more bold, always taking the opportunity to place a gentle peck somewhere on your skin, be it your head, nose or cheek. Youâd often catch him staring at your lips while you were talking, getting the occasional impulse to lean forward and kiss him yourself, only to be caught up with uncertainty about how youâd react.Â
What if it undid all of the progress youâd made? What if you still couldnât cope?Â
The last thing you wanted was to hurt him, especially when you were in such a good place.Â
But you had to admit, that as the days wore on, that uncertainty began to unravel. The way that he made you feel was like nothing youâd never experienced before - completely different to your experience with Hiromi. And with each moment you couldnât help but think that it was worth the risk.Â
Denying something that you wanted out of fear of how it could go wrong was stupid. Wasnât it worse to not have it at all?
You knew that you wanted him, what were you even hesitating for?Â
â
Sukunaâs hand was wrapped firmly around yours as you made your way through the crowds at a summer festival in a nearby park. Heâd been excited to go for weeks, loving the idea of going on a date with you that felt more special than an outing to a restaurant or cafe.Â
Not to mention, he loved the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a yukata - and you certainly delivered on that front, looking absolutely adorable in your light blue outfit, covered with a pattern of red flowers. You were even wearing a cute hair stick, a red glass flower sitting on the end of it.Â
His get-up wasnât anywhere near as elaborate as yours, wearing a simple white yukata with navy accenting that heâd had for the last couple of years. He wasnât really the type of person to go to summer festivals, hence the simple and inexpensive choice of clothing.Â
Heâd always seen festivals as the kind of thing that youâd do on a date, having watched Choso attend many of them over the last two years with various girls. For that reason theyâd never been something he was all that interested in.Â
But now that he found himself with someone that he actually wanted to take out on dates, his opinion had shifted.Â
And he was glad for that, because the way that your face was all bright with joy had his heart racing. You were clinging to his hand as you tugged him here and there, bringing him round to each stall as you nattered excitedly about all the food you wanted to eat and how much you were looking forward to the firework display.Â
The two of you ate your way through most of the festival, feasting on every type of food that you could imagine on a stick before moving onto the sweets, making sure to try out everything that the stalls had on offer - sharing choco-bananas, candyfloss and candy apples until you both started to feel sick.Â
Opting to go and find a place to sit and let your food digest as you waited for the fireworks to start, you came to a halt for a moment at one of the game stalls, watching people shoot at targets, your eyes skimming over the wall of prizes. You gave Sukunaâs hand a squeeze as you stared, seemingly transfixed by the sight.Â
There was an assortment of stuffed animals up for grabs, which you seem instantly drawn to. Considering the sheer amount of soft toys that you had in your bedroom, he couldnât say he was that surprised, but youâd walked past plenty of stalls like that one already that evening.Â
âIâve never won one of these prizes.â You said with a pout, eyes clearly focussed on something specific but he wasnât sure what. âMy dad would always take me to these types of festivals as a kid and my aim would suck so I never won. My dad would try to win a prize for me but his aim also sucks so weâd walk away with nothing.âÂ
âThat checks out.â Sukuna said with a laugh, thinking about how heâd watched you miss throwing something into the trash from just an inch away. He figured youâd pout or tell him to shut up, but you just continued on with your story.Â
âWhen I was like ten years old, there was one specific plushie that I always wanted - this cute little tiger one that Iâd see every year at this festival that weâd go and visit down in Kyushu for our yearly holiday.âÂ
Sukuna stared at the display once more, his crimson gaze falling onto a tiger plushie sat in the middle of the display. In his opinion, it was an ugly little creature, overly chunky with a slightly misshapen face. The creators of the toy had clearly been too lazy or cheap to add eyes, opting to sew in black lines to suggest that the toyâs eyes were closed.Â
It was no more special than any of the plushies that lined your bed, but you were staring up at it like it was the best thing youâd ever seen.Â
Which, somehow, made Sukuna feel a little jealous which was stupid because this thing was a fucking plushie, but he only wanted you looking at him like that.Â
Regardless, he shook the feeling off quickly, because seeing you smile made him insanely happy and that meant that heâd do anything to keep that bright look on your face, even if it meant winning you that stupid little creature.Â
âIâve got pretty good aim.â He said casually, heart fluttering as you stared up at him all starry-eyed.Â
Although, it was nothing compared to the look that you gave him when he actually stepped up and won the damn thing for you.Â
Heâd always been great at these games - this kind of thing was absolutely within his forte, and he had no problem hitting every target he was given, much to the dismay of the boy tending the stall. Hell, the thing was probably rigged to make it harder to win and he was still good enough.Â
Youâd broken out into a huge grin as heâd handed you the tiger, clutching the thing like youâd been handed a valuable piece of jewelry rather than an ugly soft toy.Â
But your excitement made him feel good all the same, his ego thoroughly stroked as you gushed on about how impressive he was, how you had no idea he was so talented.Â
He was a man who received compliments all the time, both men and women alike always praising him for one thing or another. It was always something he saw as an annoyance - heâd never been the type of person who needed external validation to make him feel good.Â
A compliment from you though? That was something else entirely. Your soft little voice telling him how great never failed to put him on cloud nine. He could hear it again and again and never get tired.Â
The two of you made your way through the rest of the festival and up some steps, further into the park where the buzz started to die down a little. There were a handful of other couples up there, likely all seeking the same thing as you - a quieter place to watch the fireworks together.Â
It didnât take much time to find a nice spot, sitting next to each other on a secluded little bench, staring out at the sky that would be streaked with colour in a short while when the show finally got started. You leant your head against Sukunaâs shoulder, letting him slide an arm around you as you leant into his side.Â
The tiger plushie that heâd won you was clutched in your hands tightly, your fingers rubbing at the soft fur of its head, a small smile playing on your face as you stared down at it.Â
âWhat you gonna call it?â He asked.Â
âHmmm, Iâm not sure.â You said thoughtfully. âI havenât named every plushie I have.âÂ
âBut this oneâs special, right? Surely it should have a name.âÂ
You stared down at it for a moment longer before letting out a cute giggle. âYou know it kinda reminds me of you, maybe Iâll call it Kuna.âÂ
Sukuna glared at you with distaste, he wasnât pleased to be compared to this lump of a soft toy.Â
âYâknow, the markings and stuff, theyâre kind of like your tattoos. Plus, you won it for me so it only makes sense that he gets to be named after you.â You explained.Â
Admittedly, that softened the blow significantly, a warmth spreading in his chest at the thought that youâd look at this tiger and think of him. Perhaps once youâd gone back to sleeping in your own bed youâd even clutch it against you when you slept because it reminded you of him.Â
âDo whatever you want.â He grumbled, but it was mostly performative. You just giggled even harder, setting the tiger down in your lap as you huddled up closer to him, staring out at the view of the park you had from this vantage point. It was nice to see the festival still in full swing as before, the lanterns illuminating the people below you.Â
âMy dad wouldâve loved this festival, heâs always a snob about these kinds of things but this one wouldâve lived up to his standards.â
âA summer festival snob?âÂ
âYeah. He hates it when things move too far from tradition, I think he has these great memories of festivals he went to as a kid and gets mad when they donât live up to the same standards. That Kyushu festival that I mentioned? They modernised a lot a couple of years ago, had all kinds of westernised food and stalls and my dad was mad.âÂ
Sukuna laughed, unable to even imagine what it would be like to get on your dadâs bad side. He was always so kind whenever Sukuna was around, but he supposed that your father and his must have more in common than he was aware of - they wouldnât be so friendly otherwise.Â
âMy family didnât go to many festivals.â Sukuna said. âMy dad was always working and my mom left so there was no big family outing. Me and Jin went with some friends towards the end of high school, and I went to one in my first year of uni with the guys, but that was it.âÂ
âOhâŚThatâs a shame, I feel like it's the best when youâre a kid.âÂ
He shrugged before glancing down at you, his eyes soft. âMaybe, but I feel like Iâm enjoying it a lot right now anyway.âÂ
You blushed, still managing to hold his gaze as you stared up at him. You could feel his breath fanning against your face, your noses almost touching as he leant down a little, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment.Â
âI like having you at my place.â He murmured. âFeels right, seeing you there each morning.âÂ
âYeah?â You asked, breath hitching.
âYeah. I feel like you have no idea how crazy youâre driving me though.âÂ
You blinked up at him, tilting your head in question. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself because that shit was hard when you were always looking so damn cute, just existing in front of him like you werenât the prettiest woman in the world.Â
âI think I have some idea.â You breathed.Â
That statement alone was sending him into overdrive, heart hammering in his ribcage as you leant closer to him, the tips of your noses brushing for a moment before he threw caution to the wind. If you didnât like it you could pull away, but he wasnât going to pass up on what was probably the clearest signal youâd given him in weeks.Â
His lips pressed softly against yours, more cautious than the way that heâd usually kiss, giving you every chance to pull back.Â
But you didnât.Â
His heartbeat was ringing in his ears as the fireworks started to go off in the background - something that seemed completely unimportant to him now that he had you like this, your body warm against his, the taste of sugar still prominent on your lips from all the candy youâd eaten that evening.Â
After a few moments he pulled away, anxiety swirling in his chest at what might come next, wondering if heâd send you running just like the last time. But things were different now, you were staring up at him with a shy smile, no fear or disappointment in your expression like before.Â
âCan you do that again?â You asked sweetly, the colours from the fireworks reflecting in your eyes as you awaited his response.Â
He broke out into a grin as he leant forward once more, pressing his lips against yours with more force this time, his tongue flicking against your lips to give him access, deepening the kiss as he pulled you flush against him, one hand tilting your head up a little to improve the angle as you let out a little whine against him.Â
Pulling back for a moment to catch his breath he observed your flushed cheeks, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.Â
âIâll do it as many times as you want.âÂ
â
It was late by the time you arrived back at Sukunaâs house, still giddy from the evening, letting him pull you into his room, tugging you into his lap and picking up where heâd left off - his lips on yours, his fingers all tangled up in your hair.Â
You were clutching his shoulders tightly, your chest pressed against his as you leant into the kiss, the sensation making your heart flutter.Â
Over the course of the evening youâd decided that Hiromi mustâve been a terrible kisser, because with him everything just felt kind of wet and disappointing. Youâd assumed that you were the problem, that you were just one of those people who didnât really enjoy kissing.Â
That certainly wasnât the case.Â
With Sukuna it was just so different. It felt good - the way that his tongue would move with yours, paired with the way heâd nip lightly at your lower lip. Heâd intersperse rougher, open-mouthed kisses with soft pecks, keeping you on your toes and yearning for more.Â
The two of you had been at it for a while, no words required for the moment. It was clear that this time was different to the first kiss that youâd shared in Sukunaâs room a few weeks back, this time there was no hesitation in your mind, no thoughts of the trauma Hiromi inflicted, no nagging fear that Sukuna was just interested in a one night stand.Â
This time it felt right.Â
His fingers were toying with the obi holding your yukata together, and as you shuffled a little in his lap you became all too aware of his hardened length beneath the fabric, pressing up against your thigh.Â
If youâd been in this position a few weeks ago, there was no doubt that it all wouldâve been too much for you, that the realisation of him wanting you like that would be too overwhelming, sending you running for the hills.Â
But some power that had been held over you had been released lately. Perhaps it was the realisation of just how pathetic Hiromi truly was that had spurred this. Were you really going to let a man as sad as him impact your intimacy with someone far better?Â
Absolutely not.Â
So instead of stomach-churning anxiety, you found yourself grinding your hips against Sukuna, giving in to the desire and need that had been steadily building in your gut over the last few weeks.Â
He pulled back from the kiss, expression measured as he studied you, head tilting to the side in question, wondering just what it was that you were trying to do.Â
âI want you.â You whispered, lips still close to his.Â
His red eyes widened a little in surprise, clearly not expecting to do anything more than making out. Considering how slowly youâd warmed up to things you couldnât say you were shocked by his reaction.Â
âWe donât have to do anything.â He said carefully, one of his hands cupping your cheek. âI donât want you to feel pressured, if thatâs what this is.âÂ
âIt's not.âÂ
He gave you a skeptical look. âIâm not gonna be mad, you donât have to-âÂ
âI want this.â You cut him off. âPlease. My only experiences with this suck, I just want something good to overwrite it all.â
He bit his lip, considering his options. A pang of uncertainty struck you just as hard as ever, your subconscious murmuring that he just didnât like you that much, as if he hadnât spent the last few hours mapping out your lips, the past weeks holding you as you slept.Â
âI know youâre experienced, I know you can make it feel good.â You reasoned, and he gave you a look that could only be described as exasperation. In a less serious conversation you probably wouldâve laughed.Â
âYeah, Iâm experienced at fucking, Iâm not so experienced at sweet, gentle stuff.â He pointed out, before running a hand through his hair. âI mean, Iâll be sweet and gentle with you, I just mean- you caught me off guard, I guess.â He let out a breathy laugh.Â
âYou donât have to treat me like Iâm made of glass.â You murmured, glancing down in embarrassment.Â
âI know, I just- I want it to be good for you. I figured Iâd have time to make that first time special, make sure that you were comfortable and all that.âÂ
âIâm comfortable right now. Iâm comfortable with you and I trust you, soâŚâ You trailed off, playing with the edge of his yukata, where the fabric crossed over his chest. He sucked in a breath, clearly fighting a war in his head before speaking again.Â
âAre you sure, baby?â He asked firmly, red eyes fixed on you, searching for any hint of reluctance, but finding none.Â
âIâm sure.âÂ
His lips were on you once more, kissing you desperately as his hands tugged on the bow holding your yukata together. You busied yourself pushing his yukata down off his shoulders, leaving him bare-chested as the fabric fell down to the obi at his waist.Â
Even though youâd seen him shirtless before, the sight never failed to ignite something in you. He was so unbelievably hot, his tattoos serving to accentuate the physique that heâd clearly worked hard to get.Â
Not that he allowed you much time to admire him - his lips moving onto your neck, sucking at a sweet spot just above your shoulder as he finally got the bow untied.
A soft gasp left you as he nipped at your skin, warmth pooling in your stomach as he slipped the yukata down your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. You hadnât planned for this, which meant that you were wearing mismatched underwear, something you probably wouldâve considered if youâd known the night would lead to this.Â
Not that Sukuna seemed fazed, pulling back for a moment to admire you, his hands skimming up your sides, raising goosebumps under his touch.Â
âSo pretty.â He hummed, peppering kisses on your shoulder, his hands finding the back of your bra and unclasping it deftly.Â
Your heart was thudding as he slowly pulled it off you, a wave of shyness washing over you now that you were bare under his gaze. It wasnât like you were particularly insecure about your body, but being in this situation for the first time in a long time, with only bad experiences to reflect on, was a little nerve-wracking.Â
âFuck.â Sukuna breathed softly, hand cupping one of your breasts, tracing along the curves carefully with the tips of his fingers, his touch light, like you were made of something fragile.Â
Eyes fixed on him as his fingers carved a path upwards, a shuddering sigh left your lips at the sensation of his fingers reaching your nipple, skimming tenderly over the peaked bud, the feeling sending a jolt of electricity straight to your gut.Â
In the back of your mind, youâd been aware for a long time that you were touch-starved. Because despite your crippling fear of intimacy, you were still a romantic at heart, still someone who yearned for closeness and the touch of another person. Those feelings had just been twisted and corrupted by Hiromi, locked away thanks to his mistreatment.Â
But Sukuna had the ability to pull them from you once more, all of your nerves going haywire as he tweaked your nipple with two fingers, leaving you rubbing your thighs together with need in the face of the attention he was giving you.Â
His fingers were nothing compared to his mouth, a fact that you found out almost immediately as he craned himself down, flat tongue running over the bud, teasing you for just a moment before bringing it between his lips and sucking tenderly. The pressure made your breath hitch, waves of pleasure passing through you.
It was a pleasure that didnât subside easily, practically frozen on his lap as he lathered your breasts with attention, feeling yourself grow wetter with each flick of his tongue, unsure of what you should be doing right now while he made you feel good.Â
After all, it wasnât like you had much experience with this. Should you be doing something? Was it okay that you were just clinging to him and whining like you were? A small flicker of insecurity ate at you, anxious at the thought that heâd be disappointed by your lack of experience - that other girls heâd been with mightâve done a better job at pleasing him.Â
âGet out of that pretty head of yours.â Sukuna pulled back from your breasts, straightening up and bringing a thumb beneath your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. âCan practically hear you overthinking.âÂ
âSorry, Iâm just worried I wonât be good at this.âÂ
Sukuna rolled his eyes. âNot sure you understand how badly I want you, baby. Itâll be good because I get to touch you. I donât care if you donât know what to do, Iâve got plenty of time to teach you anyway.âÂ
The implication behind his tone, that this was just the first time of many, had your stomach fluttering. A feeling that was only heightened as Sukuna slipped his hand down between your thighs, fingers pressing against your panties.Â
âSo wet, is this all for me?â He asked with a small chuckle, causing your face to redden in embarrassment. âIâm flattered, baby.âÂ
His fingers moved deftly to the edge of the fabric, lifting you ever so slightly and pulling your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. He then maneuvered you a little in his lap, so that you were sitting sideways, your head nestled in the crook of his neck. Your eyes were fixed on that space between your thighs where his hand was currently positioned, the tips of his fingers running along your folds and gathering up the slick that had accumulated there.Â
Your body was jolting each time his fingers brushed over your clit, like youâd been yearning for this longer than youâd been aware of, desperate for him to make you feel good.Â
But that didnât stop the panic from rising in your chest at the feeling of his middle finger pressing gently at your opening, mind conjuring memories of how badly the stretch had hurt the last time youâd tried anything like this. Even when masturbating youâd only ever touch externally, opting to avoid the inevitable pain that penetration would bring.Â
âYou okay?â He mumbled against your hair, hand stilling for a moment. âWe can stop.âÂ
âIt's okay, Iâm just nervous.âÂ
He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze with the arm currently wrapped around your midsection. âWeâll take it nice and slow.âÂ
You sucked in a breath as the tip of his finger pressed into you, his movements careful and calculated as he worked his finger into your tight heat. You knew that you were clamping down on him more than you should be, making the situation harder for both of you as your walls gripped his finger tightly.Â
âRelax, baby.â He cooed, planting a couple of kisses on the top of your head, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, distracting you from the discomfort as he slid his finger deeper into you. It still hurt a little, the feeling foreign to you, but with each small ministration of his finger, you could feel a hint of pleasure sparking in your gut.Â
Fingers digging into his biceps, you let out a soft whine that had his cock twitching beneath you. That positive reinforcement made you feel good, flesh slick coating his fingers as you loosened up ever so slightly.Â
âThere we go.âÂ
He was moving his finger a little faster now, having located that sweet spot inside you that had your stomach clenching with need, more little whimpers falling from your lips with each subtle movement.Â
It came as a surprise when he started to push a second figure in, your body jolting and instantly relaxing as he applied more pressure on your clit. His free hand moved up to below your chin, tilting your face up to look at him, red eyes hazy with lust as he pulled you into a deep kiss, effectively distracting you from the pain of the stretch.Â
He kept you like that for a while, exploring your mouth as he worked two fingers inside you, swallowing up your soft moans as he expertly curled his fingers into a spongy spot that had your mind overcome with desire, desperate for more.Â
âFeel good?â He asked, breaking the kiss, a thin trail of saliva connecting the two of you for a moment.Â
You nodded, eyes wide and glassy as you stared up at him, knowing that your voice would come out all shaky if you tried to speak. He huffed, grinning as he picked up the pace, palm pressing more firmly against your clit now, your gut tightening as the pleasure built.Â
âGood.â He hummed.Â
It didnât take much time for him to make you cum after that. It was clear that he hadnât really been trying before that point, focusing more on getting you used to the sensation, stretching you out so you were ready for what would come later. But upon hearing that it felt good, it was like he kicked things into a different gear.Â
You whined and squirmed in his lap, clutching desperately at his bicep as you watched his hand moving between your thighs, heart racing at the sensation of him littering soft bites on your neck, pussy fluttering around his fingers each time his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.Â
The orgasm caught you off guard, crashing over you quickly and suddenly as the pressure in your gut released. His name fell from your lips as you clenched around his fingers, gasping for breath as he continued his onslaught, red eyes filled with lust as he watched your pleasure filled expression with a lazy grin.Â
âThatâs my girl.â He purred, pulling his hand out from between your trembling thighs before lifting you off him, laying you down on his bed, completely exposed to him.Â
Even though heâd already seen everything, had already had his fingers buried inside you, you still felt a little exposed lying splayed out before him like that. Especially with the way he was standing over you, gaze drinking in your body appreciatively, with a focus that had your heart pounding.Â
It didnât help that his lower body was still covered, his obi still holding up the lower part of his yukata, leaving you in a sense of vulnerability that he didnât currently share.Â
Though, he didnât give you much time to feel shy, the bed dipping beneath him as he knelt down at the end of it, laying himself down on his stomach, settling in between your parted thighs, his breath fanning over your exposed pussy.Â
His fingers found their way to your clit, toying with it for a moment, letting out a low chuckle at the way that your legs twitched from overstimulation, your body still coming down from your last orgasm.Â
âSo pretty.â He mumbled, before bringing his mouth to your pussy, licking a broad strip up it that had you gasping with pleasure.Â
Youâd always wondered what it was like to be eaten out.Â
It wasnât something that Hiromi had ever done. All youâd ever done with him was have penetrative sex - foreplay hadnât been something he was particularly interested in, claiming it to be a waste of time. You hadnât imagined that it would feel this good, your toes curling at the sensation of Sukunaâs warm tongue pressed against you, working in tandem with his fingers on your clit.Â
âS-Sukuna- fuck-âÂ
A vibration passed through you as he let out a hum against your pussy, never letting up as he flicked his tongue mercilessly against you. It was clear that he knew what he was doing, tracing patterns against you as he lapped up the juices from your first orgasm. The embarrassment of him being between your legs quickly faded as you lost yourself in the pleasure, a hand reaching down to tug at his pink locks.Â
He made you cum even faster that time.Â
Your second orgasm had your vision turning white, thighs squeezing around Sukunaâs head as you whole body shook, pulling at his hair hard enough to draw a groan from his lips. Not that the action deterred him, staying between your legs and lapping up the fresh slick that was starting to drip down your thighs.Â
Quiet chuckles were leaving him each time he ran his tongue through your folds, enjoying the way that your legs would shake with each pass, fingers twisting in his hair as you tried to gasp for breath, overwhelmed by the feeling.Â
Sitting up, he wiped slick from his chin, shooting you a grin that had your heart racing. âYou taste so sweet.âÂ
Cheeks turning a furious shade of red, you glanced away, doubtful that was actually the case, thinking back on how Hiromi had said heâd never eat you out because it was gross to do that kind of thing.Â
And yet here Sukuna was telling you that you tasted sweet.Â
It felt like you were going insane.Â
Sukuna was on his feet, watching you carefully as he undid his obi, letting his yukata fall to the floor. Your eyes trailed over his body, a little surprised to find that he had tattoos on his thighs, almost jealous of the tattoo artist whoâd put them there in the first place.Â
But your attention was quickly drawn away from the tattoos as he pulled off his boxers, your breath hitching at the sight before you.Â
You knew that he was big. Youâd heard the rumors from girls, and even if you hadnât, Sukunaâs general physique paired with his unfaltering confidence made it an easy assumption to make.Â
But now that you were actually seeing it, you came to the conclusion that you might have been underestimating him.Â
He was far bigger than Hiromi had been, and that realisation scared you, because sex had been a painful experience back then, with a person far smaller. Youâd barely managed to take two of Sukunaâs fingers, this was something else entirely.Â
The fear mustâve been written all over your face, because Sukuna looked sympathetic as he approached, crawling onto the bed. âJust like before, we can take things as slow as you want.â He promised, cupping your face in his hands gently.Â
âI just- thatâs not gonna fit.âÂ
âIt will, but if you donât wanna try we can stop.â His fingers were stroking your cheek, letting you take your time and think of your answer.Â
There was a part of you that wanted to run for the hills, to tell him that it was all too much. But a much bigger part of you did want to try, desperate to appease him. It was hard to say no to someone who had your stomach swarming with butterflies at their mere presence.Â
Of course you wanted to give it a try.
âCan I- can I be on top?â The question came out a little shaky.Â
Sukunaâs red eyes flew wide with surprise, clearly not expecting that response. âUhh- yeah? If thatâs what you want?â He seemed perplexed by your request.Â
âI donât like the idea of not being in control right now.â You explained.Â
Youâd only ever been beneath Hiromi, essentially a passenger to anything that happened, unable to do anything about the pain, not in control of the speed or the depth or anything else. You were certain that Sukuna would stop if you asked him to, but while you were adjusting, you wanted to be the person in the driving seat.Â
âOh.â He thought about that for a moment, brows furrowing. âYeah, that makes sense. You wanna sit in my lap?âÂ
You nodded shyly, shuffling back on the bed as Sukuna sat with his back resting against the headboard, holding out his hand to you, helping you clamber into position on top of him, your knees planted on either side of his thighs as he gazed up at you. It felt a little odd to be looking down at him, but the way that he was staring up at you with such burning desire had your stomach flipping.Â
Sukunaâs hand was wrapped around his cock, rubbing the tip against your folds as you hovered just above him, mustering up your confidence as he gathered up slick, more juices leaking from your pussy at the action, turned on at the feeling of his cock pressing against you.Â
âTake your time. There ainât a rush.â He whispered.Â
You took a deep breath as you lowered yourself down, hissing at the feeling of the head trying to push into you, meeting similar resistance that Sukunaâs fingers had earlier in the evening. His maroon eyes were on you, monitoring your expression carefully. His hands were on your hips, guiding you downwards but being careful not to force you, just helping you keep your balance.Â
âThatâs it, baby. Doing so well.â He praised.Â
Even if that was a lie, which it definitely was because you currently only had the tip in and you already really wanted to cry, the compliment still made you feel good. It gave you the will to keep trying at least, because who better to work this out with than someone who was so sweet and patient with you.Â
Steeling yourself, you slid yourself further down his length, moving yourself down at a snailâs pace, each movement accompanied by an excruciating stretching feeling, which you were only managing thanks to Sukunaâs fingers rubbing comforting circles against your hips, his words of encouragement helping to subdue the pain.Â
It felt like an eternity until he was fully inside of you. A couple of tears had dripped down your cheeks, and your chest was rising and falling far quicker than usual, your body entering panic mode at just how stretched out you felt with him bottomed out inside of you.Â
âGood girl, just relax for me, yeah?â He whispered.Â
Your forehead was pressed against his, with your nails digging hard into his shoulders as you tried your best to overcome the pain. The grip that you had on him was so tight that you were sure youâd drawn blood - but he didnât seem to mind, all of his focus was on you.Â
Gently, he kissed you, moving his hands to your face as he pulled you close, keeping you still in his lap as he pressed his tongue into your mouth, letting you get all caught up in him. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with one of his hands snaking down between your bodies to rub slow circles against your clit.Â
And little by little, the unbearable fullness started to become a little less painful. The tension in your thighs started to release, your body no longer in crisis mode at the concept of the foreign object currently filling you.Â
âOkay, baby?â Sukuna was breathless as he pulled back. It was apparent that he was currently engaging in an exercise of restraint, his tone a little clipped, his cock twitching with every tiny movement that you made.Â
Heâd been waiting for this for a while - he was probably in agony having you sit still on him like this, all tensed up and squeezing his cock like you were.Â
You nodded shakily, before bracing your hands on his shoulders and raising your hips up once again. You couldnât say that it didnât hurt - that ache was still present, but it was at least bearable now, the drag of his cock along your walls almost familiar as you moved.
It was a slow process at first, dragging yourself up and down his length, thighs burning at the effort, heart fluttering as you looked at Sukuna beneath you. He seemed to be enjoying letting you take the reins, red eyes filled with lust as his gaze flickered between your face and body. Heâd heap praise on you, fingers playing with your clit, face lighting up whenever pleasure would appear in your expression.Â
And pleasure was definitely something that you found - the stretch fleeing to the back of your mind after a couple of thrusts that had you seeing stars. Your attention became fixed on replicating that feeling, on hitting that spot over and over again, desperate to feel that spike of pleasure that summoned itself in your gut.Â
You sped up the movement of your hips, grinding yourself against him, moans and whimpers falling from you as you tried to seek out that pleasure. That was how you found out that your stamina for this sort of thing was limited, movement slowing as you tried to catch your breath.Â
âWant my help, angel?â Sukunaâs voice was low and husky, as if he was barely restraining himself.Â
Youâd nodded weakly, letting out a yelp of surprise as he thrust up into you, holding your hips firmly as he took over. Heâd clearly been waiting for this, laughing at the way that you were clinging to him now, falling forward so your chest was pressed against his, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he moved you like you weighed nothing, pulling your hips up and dropping you back down on his length.Â
And somehow, he was able to hit that pleasurable spot every single time.Â
It was almost embarrassing, what a poor job youâd been doing of getting yourself off, when he clearly understood the task much better.Â
You could feel your orgasm building up, pussy tightening around him as your release approached, only to have it snatched from you as Sukuna pulled you off him. Youâd started to protest, to whine about how close you were, only for the words to be snatched from your mouth as he repositioned you so you were lying on the bed, climbing on top and sinking back into you.Â
âYou feel so fucking good.â He rasped, thrusting into you faster. It was clear that he had more freedom in this position, able to push deeper into you, unrestrained by your body on top of his. âWanna do this every day- fuck- youâre so damn cute, you drive me crazy.âÂ
A whine of his name fell from his lips as you squirmed beneath him, gazing up at him with reverence. His hands were clasping yours tightly, pushing them down into the sheets.Â
âYouâre mine, huh? Gonna be my sweet little girlfriend?âÂ
You tried to respond, your words getting lost in a moan at the feeling of a particularly deep thrust. The coil in your gut was tightening dangerously, legs trembling with each movement of Sukunaâs cock inside you. It felt heavenly, like nothing youâd ever felt before.Â
âIâll take that as a yes.â He chuckled, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a deep kiss, muffling your whine as you came around his cock, squeezing him desperately tight as you came undone, waves of pleasure washing over you, leaving your vision blurry and your body trembling.Â
It didnât take too long for Sukuna to follow suit, warmth filling you up as he released inside of you, a low groan of your name leaving his lips as he rode out his own orgasm, his hips only stilling when he was thoroughly spent.Â
Youâd expected him to pull out quickly after that, but he didnât. Instead, he lay down on top of you, keeping himself nestled inside your warmth as he kissed you tenderly, his hands raking through your hair.Â
âYou feel so good.â He mumbled. âWant this all the time.âÂ
You let out a small hum of agreement, your mind still reeling from that third orgasm, the feeling of Sukunaâs softening cock still buried inside you preoccupying your thoughts. Youâd never imagined that you could feel good from something like this.Â
It was nice.Â
Really fucking nice.Â
âWe can do that.â You whispered, feeling his body relax a little on top of you, warm breath brushing against your ear as he let out a contented sigh.Â
âThank god.âÂ
a/n: I really didn't intend to write 4k words of them fucking but here we are
thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed this chapter - reblogs and comments are appreciated, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic! <3
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somehow, someway you were casted in doing your first porn shoot with porn star!sukuna. heâs intimidating, really. Tall stature, cold stare, beefy arms that look like they could suffocate immediately, not to mention his massive hands that could easily grip every part of you. How were you supposed to fuck this man? Youâre in a state of shock, eyes glued to the heavy, throbbing cock hanging between his legs. Was that thing supposed to fit inside you? Youâre damn near shaking, ready to forfeit and call it quits on the job, cancel the shoot. Do the other girls actually fuck this man? It has to be some type of movie magicâŚright?
Wrong.
Ten minutes into the cameras rolling and you feel like youâve been thrown every which way, legs bent so far back behind your head, embarrassing and lewd noises escaping your throatâdo you really sound like that? Yes, yes you do. Never in your life have you been fucked to this extent. Your legs wonât stop shaking, your nails digging into his skin, tears streaming down your face from noting but pleasure. You feel every inch, every vein pulsating against your gummy walls. Hell, you can barely take, the stretch is making your mind spin, you feel so damn full of him.
But each time he threatens to pull away, youâre clinging onto him like your life depends on it, sucking him back in and clenching your cunt. Each thrust, fast or slow, leaves you breathless, gasping for air in between moans, trying your hardest to keep up with him, but itâs too hard when heâs slowly turning your brain into much each second.
âYouâre so biiiggggg! Oh my goddd!â Your brows furrow, teeth clenched as your eyes wander to where you both meet, transfixed on watching him go in and out of you, your juices coating the base of his cock. Itâs a beautiful sight, one that makes you lazily smile, slowly looking up at him with half lidded eyes.
This man knows how to fuck. And he knows how to do it a little too well. Heâs dumbed you down to nothing but a slut for him, fucking you until you slowly but surely become addicted to him. Youâre almost positive no one else will able to top this. What a way to set your standards.
âYou like watching it disappear in and out, huh?â He rasps, toothy smirk evident. He grabs at fistful of your hair, forcing you to watch him fuck you. âSee that? Look at how fucking deep I goâŚohhh fuckkk!â He lets out a throaty groan, slowly pushing deep inside you, until heâs balls deep, skin to skin.
You let out the loudest whine ever, toes curling when you feel him kiss your cervix, a wave of pleasure crashing down on you. Heâs still got a tight grip on your hair, hips moving erratically, slamming inside you like an animal. âNnngh! Fuck!â You scream. âYouâre so deep! Ah! Oh my goddd!â You try to push him away, hands weakly pressing against his abdomen. Itâs uncontrollable at this point, your body shaking in his hold, eyes rolling back as you cum around him.
He lets out a deep chuckle as he watches you lose control of yourself, enjoying you go dumb on his cock. Youâre squeezing around him tightly, yet his pace never falters, heavy balls slapping against your ass. He lets go of your hair, your head falls back on the messy bed. âStill with me, baby or do I need to pull out, hm?â He almost says it in a threatening way, smirking down at you, wondering if you can even understand him.
âNo, no, please,â you manage to come to life, shaking your head as you grab hold of him, âkeep fucking me. Please, please, please,â you barely say above a whisper.
âLook at you begging,â he mockingly says. âAll for some dick.â He secretly loves it though. He loves that glazed over look in yours eyes, knowing youâre drunk on his cock. So he keeps fucking you, just to watch you lose control again. He wants to see you cum again, screaming and writhing, clenching around him. He pulls out, hearing you whimper from the loss of contact, your eyes widening at him. âShh, shh.â He shakes his head at you, grabbing a hold of your legs, spreading them wider. Your poor swollen cunt, leaking and needy. He stares at it, licking his lips before letting a glob of his spit slowly fall onto your clit.
Youâre breathing heavy, trying to catch your breath but it seems impossible. Every move youâre watching, biting down your lip when you take in the sight of him, skin coated in sweat, abs shining under the ring lights. He takes his cock, slapping it on your pussy a few times, making sure to use his tip to spread his spit between your folds and against your throbbing clit.
âPussy is so wet and needy, baby. Youâre clenching around nothing.â He takes his thumb, spreading your pussy to inspect it. âLook at how pretty.â He glances up at you, that glint in his eye making your heart pound with anticipation. âWhose pussy is this?â He asks, slowly rubbing your clit.
âMmph! Itâs yours,â you whimper, blinking at him.
âHuh? Speak up, baby, I canât hear you.â Heâs still teasing you, rubbing ever to slowly to the point of insanity.
âItâs yours,â you say slightly louder.
âItâs mine?â He glances your wet cunt, then back at you.
âYes,â you nod, âyes, itâs yours,â you moan, reaching a hand up to cup your tits.
âAtta girl.â His tip presses against your sopping hole, sucking him back in with no hesitation, leaving you breathless. Your hands entangle in the sheets, jaw slack, feeling dizzy from the stretch. âNnngh, shitttt!â He tosses his head back, the warmth of your cunt wrapping around making his balls ache, ready to explode. âYou feel so fucking goodâhahâyouâre already creaming around me again,â he says somewhere between and chuckle and moan.
Youâre nothing but a babbling mess again, legs shaking as tears brim your eyes because the sensation is so overwhelming yet so intoxicatingly good. âIâŚ.fuckkkâyouâre gonna make me cummmmm!â You cry out, gripping onto the sheets below to brace yourself. The moment he reached down to rub your clit, it felt like everything within you exploded, youâre writing against the sheets, screaming into the mattress as you cum again. Sukuna is sure to hold you steady, making sure you feel every little thing. âYes, yes, yes!â You babble, body twitching.
From this point on, Sukuna knew he had you hypnotized. Every little touch, every little word, it was enough to drive you crazy. And you knew it too. Youâd be lying if you said you didnât forget of the entire film crew watching this go down. You were starting to wonder if this was even professional anymore? Somehow, this seems beyond that. Especially when Sukuna is willing to cum deep inside you, whispering the most nasty things into your ear that even the microphone canât pick it up.
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)
summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your familyâs failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.
when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.
word count: 7.7k
content: 18+ mdni, eventual smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness/death, grief, toxic ex-bf, reference to past sexual coercion, money issues, stress and overwork, introverted reader, panic attacks, anxiety, reader has really low self-worth
a/n: sorry this chapter took a while, had a lot of life stuff I had to deal with but should be uploading regularly again now!!
series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch7) | next chapter (ch9)
Sukuna had waited in his room for a while after youâd left, in the hopes that you might come back. Heâd slid back down onto the floor beside his bed, sitting in the warm spot where your body had been moments before.Â
He couldnât understand what had gone wrong.Â
As far as he was concerned, everything had been working out perfectly. Youâd spent the whole night at his side, smiling and giggling at him, huddling yourself up close to him whenever he gave you the opportunity to do so. Youâd been giving off all the right signs, everything emboldening him to kiss you like he did, convinced that you wanted it too.Â
Hell, you even kissed him back at first.Â
Somewhere after that things fell apart, and no matter how many times he replayed the kiss in his head, he just couldnât find any answer as to what triggered your reaction.Â
Was it something heâd done wrong?Â
Did you think he was a bad kisser?Â
No, that couldnât be it, he was very confident of his skill on that front.Â
But outside of that, what could it be? The way that youâd scurried out of his room looking all scared and anxious had his chest seizing uncomfortably. He didnât want to be the reason that you were feeling that way, not when you already had so much going on. He really hoped that it wasnât his fault.Â
He gave you about ten minutes before he went searching. As much as he respected that you needed some space, he also didnât like the idea of you wandering about the party alone and in a vulnerable state - that was just asking for some asshole to come and take advantage of you, and that was the last thing you needed.Â
Pushing his way through dozens of bodies, he put in his best search effort, combing every room, the garden, and the porch before finally going to his friends to ask if theyâd seen you anywhere.Â
The gang were all sitting outside around a fire that Toji had built, seemingly having the time of their lives while Sukuna was undergoing a total crisis. That kind of pissed him off, because he should be having the time of his life too. And what pissed him off even more was the non-committal shrug given to him by Satoru and Suguru telling him that he shouldnât worry about it because youâd show up somewhere.
Fortunately, your friend Shoko was sitting at Suguruâs side, and she was much more helpful than Sukunaâs useless friends, telling him that youâd texted her to tell her you were heading home because you were feeling ill.Â
Sukuna knew that was a lie. It also made him feel just a little bit shit to know that youâd texted your friends to let them know you were leaving but hadnât thought to text him. That had him really wondering if heâd done something to hurt you.Â
âFuck.â He hissed under his breath.
âEverything alright, man?â Toji asked, staring up at him from the camping chair he was currently lounging on, beer in hand without a care in the world.Â
âYeah.â Sukuna grunted, unwilling to get into the details of this eveningâs events in front of the whole group. There was no doubt in his mind that as a collective, his drunken friends would have a field day at the revelation that Sukuna had a girl who he liked actually flee from him when he tried kissing her.Â
He wasnât in the mood to deal with that humiliation right now.Â
Toji seemed to know that there was more to it than that, but he didnât press, going back to staring aimlessly at the fire, listening to Satoru and Suguru bickering over which of them needed to do this dishes the next morning since theyâd both be too hungover to want to do anything.Â
Sukuna stepped away for a moment, heading back into the party and out of earshot of his friends, finding a quieter corner where he tried calling you. He wasnât really sure what he was expecting, but his heart dropped a little when the call went through to voicemail, the sound of your lovely voice telling him to leave a message making him feel like a knife was being twisted into his chest.Â
So he texted you instead, telling you that he was sorry, even though he didnât really know what he was apologising for, and asking where you were. At least you replied quickly, but you didnât really tell him anything that he didnât already know, just confirming that you were on your way home and reinforcing the lie about feeling ill.Â
Naturally, he offered to come over to see you, to look after you if you wanted to insist on keeping up the illusion of you not feeling well. The outright rejection to his offer stung. He just wanted to see you, wanted to hear from you exactly what had happened in his room earlier that evening. He just needed to understand what was going through your mind so that he could make an effort to fix things.Â
As long as you left him in the dark there was nothing that he could do, and that fucking sucked.Â
And what certainly didnât help his mood as he stared down at his phone like it had personally offended him, was being approached by Yorozu, who had unfortunately managed to spot him in his quiet corner in the kitchen.Â
She greeted him with that annoying squeal that she always did, hurrying over to him, arms wrapping around him in an embrace that he was quick to step back from.Â
He wasnât sure why this woman was so insistent on touching him. Heâd slept with her once in his first year of university and it was probably up there as one of his greatest regrets. Not only had it ignited her never-ending obsession with him, but the sex hadnât even been good. Pretty much every other girl heâd been with had managed to get the message that he wasnât interested in them, why couldnât she?
âOver here all alone?â She purred. âNot found a girl for the evening yet?âÂ
âNot looking.â He huffed, pushing past her.Â
âAwww come on Suku, let me show you a good time again.â She reached out and gripped his bicep, rubbing her thumb over his arm in the way that made his skin crawl.Â
âIâm good.âÂ
She pouted. âBet that girl you were with earlier was disappointing, thatâs probably why youâre in a bad mood, huh? Let me cheer you up.âÂ
âFuck off.â He hissed, pulling his arm away as he glared down at her with vitriol.Â
He wasnât kind enough to deal with Yorozu on a good day, and he certainly wasn't about to stand there and let her insult you. There was no question that heâd be a thousand times happier with you in his bed than heâd ever be with Yorozu.Â
âYouâre so fucking annoying. Would rather eat shit than fuck you again.âÂ
She was clearly trying to say something as he turned his back to her, her face screwed up in rage as she processed his words. There was no point in waiting for her response, he couldnât really care less about what she thought. He knew that no matter what he said to her sheâd go back to clinging to him the next day anyway - she was just that particular breed of pathetic.Â
Frustratingly, sheâd probably direct her anger at you rather than him. Sheâd see the woman who had his interest as the root of all evil, deluding herself that heâd be into her if there wasnât another woman in the way.Â
How stupid.
For the first time that evening he was actually grateful that you had gone home, since that would ensure that Yorozu wouldnât track you down. Having some foolish loser hurl vitriol at you just because you had his attention definitely wasnât what you deserved.Â
Leaving Yorozu sputtering in the corner of the kitchen, he made his way back outside to his friends.Â
Yuki and Choso were making out, with the blonde sitting on his friendâs lap, both on a camping chair that looked like it was about to give out under their weight. Satoru, Suguru and Shoko seemed to be lost in some conversation that he wasnât interested in contributing to, in which they were presenting arguments for which lecturer was objectively the most attractive at their university.Â
Honestly, he wasnât sure why heâd even bothered coming out - he shouldâve just headed back up to his room and drawn the curtains on this shitty evening. But somehow, that seemed like far too depressing a fate - heâd much rather pretend that nothing was happening and hang out with his friends, rather than lie on his bed and fantasise about just how close heâd come to having you there with him.Â
The only person that really acknowledged his presence as he sat down was Toji, who instantly leaned forward with interest. âRough night?â He asked, voice low. No one else was listening, but it was clear that his friend didnât want to accidentally draw their attention.Â
âSomething like that.âÂ
âWhereâs your girl?â Toji asked, voice dropping even lower, ensuring that his question was for Sukunaâs ears only.Â
âYou heard Shoko, she went home.â Sukuna said with a shrug and Toji scoffed.Â
âDid you scare her off?âÂ
âNo.â He lied.Â
âSure.â Toji fell silent for a moment, taking a long sip from his beer as he stared at the flickering flames of the fire before them.Â
The party was starting to wind down a little, and their tight-knit group was the only one left in the garden now. Sukuna was grateful for that, because dealing with a bunch of strangers in his house when he felt like this was not ideal.Â
âDid you fuck her?â Toji asked straightforwardly. âYou guys were gone for a while.âÂ
âNo.â Sukuna replied quickly, words coming out a little more defensive than they shouldâve. âThat was never what I- no, I didnât fuck her.âÂ
âBut something did happen?âÂ
Sukuna sighed, glancing around to double check that no one else was listening in on this conversation. Telling Toji was one thing, but he certainly wasnât about to get vulnerable with everyone listening in.Â
âWe kissed.â He mumbled. âAnd then she ran away.âÂ
It sounded so pathetic to say it out loud. In his entire life heâd never had a girl flee from him like that, and it just had to happen with a girl he actually liked.Â
âYou kissed her?âÂ
âYeah.â
âAnd then sheâŚran?âÂ
âYeah.â Sukunaâs response was dry, not keen on drawing too much attention to that point, frustrated that Toji was essentially just repeating his words.Â
âWhat the hell did you do to her, man?â Toji asked.
âNothing.â Sukuna hissed. âI donât understand what happened - we were kissing and then all of a sudden she was pushing me away, apologising and saying that she needed to go. She was super freaked out, like taking panicked breaths and everything. She said it wasnât my fault but then she just went home without telling me and wonât pick up my calls.âÂ
Toji frowned, scratching his chin as he considered that. Sukuna was pretty sure that his experience was unique, and that Toji wouldnât have any real insight to offer, but at this point he was at a loss, and more than happy to hear someone else out if there was any chance they could explain what the hell happened.
âI mean, she probably thinks youâre just tryna fuck her.â He said finally, and Sukuna glanced at him in confusion.Â
âHuh?âÂ
âSheâs a nice girl, right? Not the kind of person who would hook up with a random guy at a party.âÂ
âIâm not a random guy though, weâve been hanging out for ages.â Sukuna responded, running his hands through his pink locks in exasperation.Â
âSure, but you have to see it from her point of view. Youâre this popular guy with a reputation. Sheâs probably scared that youâre playing some sort of game with her. I mean, did you even talk to her about your feelings or did you just take her to your bedroom and kiss her?â
âThe second one, but-âÂ
âDude. She needs more than that.âÂ
âLike youâd know.â Sukuna bit back, but he knew that he was just lashing out because Toji was right.Â
Considering everything that he knew about you he shouldâve spoken to you first, shouldâve made his intentions clear, even if in his eyes heâd been making it clear for weeks just what he thought of you.Â
He hoped that the kiss hadnât ruined his chance to do that.Â
Toji shrugged at his words. âI ainât got a girlfriend but if I wanted one Iâd do it much better than you.â Â
âShut up.â Sukuna mumbled, the statement lacking any real malice and they both knew it.Â
âJust go and talk to her tomorrow, man.â Toji said after a few moments of silence. âIt's obvious that she likes you, I saw the way she was looking at you earlier. Sheâs probably just worried that youâre gonna break her heart - and sheâs right to be cautious because youâve done that to plenty of girls.â
Yeah, that was fair.
â
The next morning he forced himself out of bed at 10am, fighting off a mild hangover from all the drinking that heâd done last night, and trying his best not to let disappointment wash over him at the realisation that you hadnât sent him a text like heâd been hoping.Â
But he wasnât too proud to text you.Â
[Sukuna]: morning
[Sukuna]: Iâm coming overÂ
He stared at the messages for a while, deliberating over sending another, something along the lines of âI hope thatâs okayâ, but he ultimately decided against it. If you didnât want to speak to him you could just refuse to answer the door. Although, he really hoped you didnât do that.Â
You still hadnât opened his messages by the time heâd gotten dressed and headed downstairs, which was odd, because he knew that you would typically wake up earlier than he would. He liked to think that you were making the most of your day off and having a lie-in, but he couldnât shake that uneasy feeling that you were actively avoiding him.Â
No point in spending all his time speculating though, heâd find out soon enough.Â
His house was an absolute mess, a fact that he idly observed as he picked his way towards the door, with plastic cups and cans strewn all over the floor. If he was lucky, Choso would wake up and clean it during the time that he was out and he wouldnât have to lift a finger.Â
âItâs too early.âÂ
Just as Sukuna was putting on his shoes, he was startled by movement and the sound of Satoruâs voice from a mess of blankets on the couch. There was a whole lot of rustling before his friend popped his head out, white hair in total disarray as he fixed Sukuna with an upset look.Â
âSome of us are trying to sleep.âÂ
âWhat are you even doing here?â Sukuna asked, paying no mind to Satoruâs accusations of him being too loud - it was past 10am and this was his damn house.Â
âFelt too sleepy to go home.âÂ
âWhereâs Suguru?â Sukuna asked, half expecting his other friend to pop out of some hidden location, considering that the duo were rarely apart.Â
âDunno.â Satoru said with a shrug, stretching his arms out above his head. âHeâll show up somewhere.âÂ
âRight.â He said, losing interest in the conversation as he finished tying his shoes.Â
âWhere are you going?â Satoru asked.Â
âOut.âÂ
Satoru rolled his eyes. âYeah, but where? Figured we could hang out since you so rudely woke me up.âÂ
âGoing to the library.âÂ
âLiar.â Satoru said with a pout. He was sitting up properly now, wiping the sleep from his bright blue eyes. âI bet youâre going to that bakery arenât you? Your girl said that you should bring me along one time, so let me come, stop hoarding all the good sweets for yourself.âÂ
âIâm not going to the bakery.â He said with a sigh, dragging a hand through his messy pink hair as he regarded his friend with exasperation. Satoru was quite possibly the worst of his friends to run into in this sort of situation because he was so damn insistent and nosy.
âThen where are you going?âÂ
âHer house.â He said gruffly, figuring that if he told the truth Satoru might lose interest and leave him alone.Â
âShe didnât stay here? Thought I saw you take her up to your room last night.âÂ
Satoru mustâve been more drunk than Sukuna had realised last night if he didnât even remember their group hanging out in front of the fire without you. He was somewhat grateful for that, because it guaranteed that Satoru hadnât overheard or wouldnât be able to remember any part of his conversation with Toji.Â
âNah, she headed out.âÂ
âWhat was the sex like?âÂ
âNot answering that.â Sukuna said with a warning glare, one that Satoru simply ignored in favour of poking his grumpiest friend.Â
âSo, bad then?âÂ
âNo.â He scoffed.Â
It was rare that Satoru ever really got to him, usually the manâs insults would roll off him like water off a duckâs back, but he was feeling particularly sensitive this morning. If the two of you had actually had sex last night, he was sure that it wouldnât have been bad. The implication of that alone pissed him off.Â
âOh, so good then?âÂ
âWe didnât have sex.â He said through gritted teeth as he pulled on a hoodie, wishing more than anything that Satoru had slept in his own house last night.Â
âOof. Bad luck man. I feel like sheâs the type who would be more into pretty boys - maybe you should send her my way instead if youâre not going for it?âÂ
Sukuna took a deep breath and tried to ignore Satoruâs prodding as he made for the door without another word. If he stayed any longer heâd probably be forced to bash his friendâs head in, and he had enough problems to deal with without a murder charge on his hands.
â
He almost thought that you werenât going to come to the door as he stood outside your little house, hand tightly gripping a paper bag filled with pastries that heâd grabbed from a nearby cafe. Heâd realised that despite all the time heâd spent with you at the bakery, he wasnât really sure what your favourite was.Â
Youâd had Hokkaido cheesecake that one time that heâd bought you a cake from the shop, but he wasnât sure if that was your favourite or just what you felt like on the day.Â
The thought crossed his mind that you might not even like sweet treats that much, considering you worked with them everyday, but at this point he was already here with pastries in hand so he might as well give them to you either way.Â
It was strange how anxious he felt as he stared at the door. He felt a little bit like he was going to throw up, his stomach churning uncomfortably, heart beating faster with every passing second as he waited for you to appear.Â
Exhaustion was written all over your face when you finally opened the door. It looked like heâd awoken you from sleep, dark circles present beneath your eyes, your hair all ruffled in disarray. Despite the anxious expression you were wearing, you looked adorable, adorned in an oversized sweater, a pair of shorts peaking out from below the hem.Â
âHey.â You mumbled, glancing at him for a moment before averting your gaze nervously, playing with the sleeve of your hoodie.Â
âI brought you something.â He said, holding up the bag. âCan I come in?âÂ
You shrugged, taking a step back which he took as an invitation. He pressed the bag of pastries into your hands as he moved through the door, closing it behind him and taking off his shoes, opting to take the initiative as he walked into your living room, sitting down on that comfy sofa that heâd slept on just weeks ago.Â
Shuffling in behind him, you kept your distance, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he made himself comfortable on the couch. You were listless in your behaviour, your demeanour unlike anything that he was used to seeing from you. Whatever had transpired last night had clearly impacted you significantly.Â
âI got a few things.â He said, gesturing to the bag in your hands. âDidnât know what youâd want, so I got some pastries and muffins and stuff.âÂ
You were looking at him as if heâd just sprouted a second head, completely bewildered and out of place. It was evident that you couldnât understand why he was acting like nothing happened, the guilt of yesterdayâs events evident in all of your body language.Â
But Sukuna didnât want to make things feel weird or awkward. He was here to work things out and him acting like something was wrong was not going to help the two of you in achieving that goal.Â
âThanks.â You said finally, your voice coming out a little raspier than usual. You stayed frozen in the doorway, eyeing him cautiously.
âYou can sit, you know. I donât bite - unless you want me-âÂ
The joke died on his tongue at the panic stricken look on your face, and he quickly remembered what he was here to discuss, clearing his throat awkwardly. But you did as he asked anyway, perching yourself on the edge of the sofa, not too close, but not miles away either.Â
You werenât looking at him, your form tense as you took a shaky breath, waiting for him to take the lead. Even though heâd had this big plan to come here and work things out, now that he was actually sitting here with you he found that he didnât really know where to start.Â
Should he be apologising? Or should he just straight up ask you what the hell happened last night? He didnât want to talk about anything that might upset you, eager to avoid forcing you to withdraw further, but at the same time, he needed to get to the root of this issue or youâd never overcome it.Â
âAre you okay?â He asked, figuring that was a fairly safe question to ask.Â
âUhh- y-yeah.â You mumbled, but he heard the way that your voice cracked a little bit.Â
âDoesnât sound like it.â He mused aloud. âDid I- was it something I did?âÂ
âNo.â You responded quickly. âNot really.âÂ
âNo or not really?â He asked, looking at you carefully. Those meant two very different things in his mind.Â
âNoâŚIâm the problem, I guess. It doesnât matter.âÂ
âIt matters to me.â Sukuna said earnestly, wishing that youâd look at him instead of staring down at your lap. âIâm just confused, I thought that things were going well and that you wanted me too, and then you sort of justâŚran away.âÂ
You tensed a little at his words. âI- I just couldnât cope with it, Iâm sorry.âÂ
âCouldnât cope?âÂ
You shook your head, brow creasing as you stared down at your clasped hands. âI wanted to, I- I really did, itâs just- as soon as you kissed me I was reminded of a lot of things and I couldnât deal with it.â
He tilted his head as he considered that. Following his conversation with Toji heâd been almost certain that your reaction was a result of not trusting him. It made sense that youâd believe that he was just leading you on, or kissing you only for the sake of having sex. But your response made it seem like the issue was something else entirely.Â
âReminded ofâŚ?âÂ
âHiromi.âÂ
Ohhh.Â
Here heâd been thinking that it was all his fault, that heâd done something that had you fleeing for the hills, when it really the everlasting effects of your ex. Even though youâd spoken about your relationship with Hiromi as if it was just some nightmare that youâd already overcome, he hadnât considered that the trauma of that relationship would follow you into the next one.Â
He really wanted to kill that guy.Â
Although, the fact that the kiss reminded you of Hiromi made him feel a little on edge - had he done something to make you uncomfortable that led you to think he was just like your past boyfriend? Or was it just a side effect of kissing in general for you?Â
âSorry, it's stupid.â You mumbled. âI donât know why, I just kept having visions of him kissing me and I was scared. I felt this sudden horrible fear that things would play out in the same way. Couldnât stop thinking about how everything fell apart with him and I donât want to be hurt like that again.âÂ
âIt wouldnât play out the same way.â He said quickly.Â
He believed that with his whole heart. Even if he wasnât experienced when it came to relationships, he was always so gentle and careful when it came to you. Heâd make an active effort to ensure that he did things right, that youâd never have to suffer what your ex put you through again.Â
But it was clear from the wary look in your eyes as you finally glanced at him that you werenât so convinced by his words. He could understand why - when youâd last spoken to him about Hiromi it seemed pretty clear that the man had abused you extensively, both mentally and physically, considering that he had coerced you into having sex.Â
No wonder you couldnât quite believe that it wouldnât happen to you again. The trauma of that relationship was probably greater than anything he could imagine.Â
âWonât it?â You asked softly. âHiromi didnât start off acting like that, it only came later, after I already trusted him.âÂ
Sukuna wasnât really sure how to respond to that. He wasnât going to make you do anything you didnât want to do, wasnât going to systematically destroy your confidence like your ex had. But you had a point - Hiromi probably didnât seem like the type of guy to do that either, so what was he meant to say to make you believe that he was being genuine?Â
âI- I donât even know what last night was.â You continued. âWhat wouldâve happened if I hadnât run away?âÂ
You were shaking a little as you looked up at him, big eyes gazing up at him, expression filled with fear. He hated seeing you like that, hated the fact that youâd even vaguely believe that heâd act anything like Hiromi.Â
âWhatever you wanted.â He said quietly.Â
That was the truth.Â
Sukuna hadnât brought you up to his room with the intent of sleeping with you, heâd done it with the intent of telling you how he felt. But with you sitting there on his floor looking so pretty heâd ended up jumping the gun and kissing you before he could find the words that he wanted to say.Â
That was foolish in hindsight. Heâd assumed that his actions in the moment had adequately expressed how he felt - he shouldâve done better.Â
But heâd never had the intention of taking things any further than kissing. He didnât expect you to be the type of person who would want to jump into his bed right away, and that was fine. Heâd already been plenty patient with you, he wasnât going to stop just because youâd kissed.Â
You were looking up at him with wide eyes, clearly at a loss for what to say next.
âFuck, just- listen angel, I like you. I brought you up to my room to tell you that I like you a lot. Thatâs all that wouldâve happened if you stayed. I get how things looked and I get that you havenât had a good experience with relationships before this but I just- I like you, you know?âÂ
That speech was not as moving as heâd intended it to be. He wasnât the type of person to rehearse conversations in his head before he had them, generally confident enough in any social situation to just wing it knowing that heâd be fine.Â
But in this instance he really wished heâd prepared some sort of speech beforehand.Â
He thought it would feel good to get it out in the open, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but in reality he just felt even more like he wanted to throw up, especially with every second that the silence stretched on, your eyes wide with shock as you seemed to process what heâd just said.Â
âYouâŚyou like me?âÂ
âObviously?âÂ
âIt's not obvious.â You said with a cute little pout, body language relaxing ever so slightly. Sukuna took that opening to shuffle a little closer to you.
âBeen giving you signals for weeks, angel.âÂ
âOh.â You frowned, clearly giving that a little bit of thought. âI donât think so.âÂ
He stared at you in disbelief, because you were an intelligent person, and he was really struggling with the idea that youâd be so unaware of just how besotted heâd been with you for a long time now. Heâd been going out of his way to see you, had been texting you non-stop, hell, heâd even held you while you were crying your eyes out in the library.Â
Did you think that it was just friendship?Â
And if so, did that mean that heâd been misreading signs from you? What if you thought that you were just being friendly this whole time and that was part of why you freaked out when he kissed you? What if it reminded you of Hiromi because once again a man you werenât interested in was kissing you?Â
Fuck.
âI- I mean, I thought I was.â He stumbled over his words a little, thoroughly caught off guard.Â
âI thought you were just being nice because my dad made you look out for me.â You said, letting out an awkward little laugh.Â
âWhat? He never asked me to do that.âÂ
This whole time had you been thinking that Sukuna was being forced to hang out with you? No wonder you were so cautious of everything. It made him a little sad that youâd even think such a thing - that you genuinely believed that you werenât good enough for him to be interested in you without external prompting.Â
He really wished that he could get a peak inside your brain, heâd love to unravel whatever it was that had your self worth so desperately low. He imagined that was probably the work of Hiromi too.Â
Fuck that guy.Â
âOh.â You fell silent, staring down at your hands once more as you let all of that information settle in.Â
Sukuna was positively buzzing with nervous energy, because heâd essentially just confessed to you, and you werenât really giving him anything back but disbelief in his words, which stung a little, because this was easily the most genuine that heâd ever been about anything in his life.Â
âSo, you like me.â You repeated, tone filled with uncertainty.Â
âI do.âÂ
âLike, you want to date me or something?â You asked, looking up at him now, eyes darting around his face nervously, as if you thought you were being pranked and were trying your best to detect any hint of insincerity in his expression.Â
âWell, yeah, that would be ideal.â He hadnât really thought about the specifics of what would happen after heâd told you how he felt, but he supposed that would be the natural next step.Â
âOhâŚâÂ
You were silent as you sat with that information, chewing on your lip anxiously as you returned your focus back to the ground. Uncertainty was stewing in Sukunaâs stomach at your response, not sure what to make of your odd behaviour.Â
Had he misread you?Â
âI just- I donât know. I think I just need some time to figure everything out, because right now Iâm just- I canât. I feel like my mind is caving in half the time and yesterday I had a whole panic attack and I just donât think I-âÂ
âDonât worry, angel. I can give you some time.â He said with a shrug, relieved that it wasnât an outright no that you were giving him. The panic in your tone had his heart swelling a little, understanding the internal conflict that seemed to be waging war in your head.Â
You wanted him, but right now you couldnât cope with it. Thatâs what you were trying to say.Â
âSorry, Iâm not asking you to wait or anythingâŚthat wouldnât be fair.â You said with a sad smile, quickly going back to fiddling with the hem of your sweater.Â
Now that was a little more reassuring, because it implied that there was something worth waiting for. He had to actively stop himself from jumping for joy at your words, because what he wanted to do was grab your shoulders and tell you that he would wait literally forever if it meant he could have you.Â
âNo, I can wait.â He replied casually, and you were once again glancing up at him in surprise, evidently not expecting that response.
It made him feel a little bit wounded that you clearly didnât think heâd be willing to do that for you, but obviously you still hadnât comprehended just how much he liked you. That was fine, heâd have plenty of time to show you once youâd sorted your head out.Â
âYou donât have to- I mean, I know that youâre a guy withâŚneeds.âÂ
Sukuna scoffed. His needs could easily be met with the help of his own hand and the mere thought of you.Â
âI havenât slept with anyone in months actually.âÂ
âO-oh?â You responded, face reddening at his flippant wording, and he liked that a lot.Â
âLook. Like I said before, Iâm not doing all this just because I want to fuck you, as nice as that would be, Iâm doing this because I like you. Havenât been able to stop thinking about you for a while now.â He said with a shrug, hoping that would be enough to ease your anxious mind.Â
Though he wondered if itâd had the opposite effect at the sight of your desperately wide eyes, shock written all over your pretty face. He adored that expression, so he continued.Â
âAnd if you also like me, which I think you do, then I donât mind waiting a while for you to figure things out. Besides, whenever you do decide that youâre ready we can take things as slowly or as quickly as you like - Iâm not going to pressure you into anything, because Iâm not an asshole.âÂ
Not an asshole to you at least, he certainly couldnât speak for his reputation with others.Â
âI do like you.â You mumbled.
His heart felt like it was going to burst, but he did a good job of acting nonchalant about it all. A smug grin spread across his face as he stared down at you, a furious blush blooming across your cheeks. âYeah?âÂ
âYeah, I just canât right now- the kissing and stuff Iâm not-âÂ
âI told you it's fine.â He interrupted. âWeâll just go on as we were for a while, and then when you feel ready we can do whatever you wanna do.âÂ
Sure, he wasnât thrilled that he couldnât touch you already, desperate to kiss you again, or at least hold you close to him like he did a few weeks ago when you were having your breakdown in the library. But for now he was happy to take the victories that he was given, and hearing that you were also interested in him was enough.Â
He just needed to be patient with you.Â
The two of you sat in silence for a moment, letting the conversation sink in before you finally spoke.
âI donât get you.â You said quietly, and he tilted his head in confusion. âIâve seen the type of girls that are all over you, and I mean, look at you.â You gestured in his general direction, eyes anxiously scanning his form, a compliment that had his ego swelling because he was pretty sure you were insinuating he was hot and youâd never said that to him before.Â
âHmmm. Whatâs your point?â He asked, shuffling closer again now, his thigh pressed against yours, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa, not quite touching you but close enough that youâd be able to feel the ghost of his presence against the back of your neck.Â
Heâd move away if you asked him to. He understood that you werenât really together yet, but now that heâd laid out how he felt he was going to take every opportunity he could to be close to you unless you asked him to stop.Â
âUhh- I guess I just donât understand why youâd like me at all.â You said with a nervous laugh. âI kinda thought that you might be playing a joke on me the whole time - a part of me still thinks that.âÂ
That was fair. Toji had pointed that out very clearly last night. It wasnât like the rumors about him were false, heâd been with a lot of girls and cast the same number aside. He wasnât typically the type of person to care about others, let alone date. You had every right to be cautious with him.Â
He couldnât really explain to himself why this was different, he just knew that it was. There was something about you that always sent his heart racing, and for the first time in his entire life heâd found himself wanting to get to know someone better. His priority on being with you rather than trying to usher you into his bed.Â
It was completely untreaded territory to him, and he wasnât sure how to explain to you that inexplicably he just did like you. He liked absolutely everything about you. All of his time spent with you was enjoyable and he respected how clever you were, how determined and tough you were to overcome everything you were dealing with. He adored the way that youâd always find time for him despite all the bad things going on in your life.Â
He just liked you. And that was even without going into the more obvious reasons like the fact that you were the prettiest girl heâd ever laid eyes on.Â
âI donât know why youâd think I wouldnât. I mean, look at you.âÂ
He felt exceedingly smug, using your own words back at you. It definitely had an effect considering how red your face was growing.Â
âOh- Iâm not- I mean- thanks.â You mumbled with a nervous giggle before continuing. âI just feel like Iâm nothing compared to those pretty cheerleaders that go after you. As poor as their personalities are.â The last part of your sentence came out a little bitter, and that had Sukunaâs brow furrowing.Â
âDid something happen?â He asked, thinking back on the comment that Yorozu had made about you when sheâd cornered him last night.Â
You shrugged. âIts not a big deal, just some girl telling me to stay away from you, saying that you were way out of my league and stuff.âÂ
That was definitely Yorozu. There wasnât anyone else who would be so bold, no other girl was so obsessed with him as to try and drive off anyone who they perceived as being competition. He shouldâve been harsher with her last night - he was certainly going to put her in her rightful place the next time she came trying to hang around with him.Â
God, she was a bitch. He hated that sheâd manage to catch you in a moment when you were at your lowest.
âAnd you believed her?â He asked. Wishing that youâd understand that everything that came out of that womanâs mouth was useless drivel.Â
âYeah. I guess soâŚâ You mumbled.
âWeâd literally just kissed.â He reminded you, and you gave him a sheepish look. âDonât listen to that shit, yeah? Youâre the person I want. Iâd rather tear out my own eyes than go anywhere near Yorozu.âÂ
That brought a shy smile to your lips and you huddled up a little closer to him, your arm brushing up against his side in a way that had warmth spreading through his body. He wondered if he could bring his arm down to rest around you rather than leaving it on the back of the sofa, but he was reluctant to push anything, afraid you might shut down if he took things too far.Â
Patience was important.Â
For a few moments the two of you just sat there, basking in the warmth of the other. Sukunaâs eyes were on you, red irises flickering over your form. You were so fucking cute, how could you ever believe that youâd be less attractive to him than someone like Yorozu? For someone so smart, you sure could be dense.Â
âDo you wanna watch a movie together?â He asked, breaking the silence. He didnât want you to usher him off home now that you were done airing everything out, eager to spend more time with you. He could accept that you werenât in the right mental headspace to be properly together yet, but he was definitely going to do everything that he could to win you over in the meantime.
âYeah, okay.â You hummed. He relaxed a little, glad that you were going along with his attempts to return things to some semblance of normal after your charged conversation.Â
It took the two of you a while to pick a movie, crowding close together as you went through your letterboxd watchlist, which mainly consisted of movies that Sukuna had suggested that you see. You finally settled on watching I, Tonya, a biopic about Tonya Harding that youâd been meaning to watch for a while.Â
Sukuna had already seen it, but he didnât really mind, it meant that he could pay closer attention to you while the movie was playing. Because, to be honest, even if it wasnât a movie heâd seen before, there was no way heâd be able to focus with you sitting so close beside him.Â
Youâd perked up a little now that youâd moved back onto normal conversation, despair no longer written all over your face like it had been when heâd arrived, unease thoroughly lifted from your shoulders. And as the movie started to play he found you settling against his arm as you dug into the pastries heâd bought, sitting close enough to enjoy the warmth of your body pressed against his.Â
He wanted to pull you into his lap, to kiss you until you were both breathless.Â
Patience. With all this waiting it would just feel even more deserved once you finally figured things out.Â
Although, he was a little curious to know what figuring things out would entail, because if it was trauma that you needed to overcome, he had little idea where you would even start with flushing that anxiety from your head.Â
âIf I went and beat the hell out of Hiromi, would that help?â He asked, clearly catching you off guard. Youâd been totally engrossed in the movie.Â
âHuh?âÂ
âAll the panic that you felt when we kissed, would it go away if I did something about Hiromi?âÂ
Despite yourself, you giggled. It was a sweet sound that had his heart racing, eager to hear you do it again. âWhat, like defeating some boss in a video game and allowing the world to go back to how it was before?âÂ
âSure.âÂ
âI donât think so.â You hummed, glancing up at the ceiling. âI hadnât really thought about being with anyone before you showed up. The thought always kind of repulsed me ever since Hiromi, so I just never considered it. And then when I was starting to like you I didnât think it would be an issue, but my body just went into panic mode when we were actually kissing.âÂ
Sukuna nodded. He could understand that, it was sort of like a PTSD response he supposed. Understandable considering how Hiromi had treated you.Â
âI kinda just moved on with my life after Hiromi and shut out everything that had happened. I think us kissing brought back all those memories Iâd repressed? I guess I just need to sit with them for a bit? Maybe ease intoâŚstuff?â Your voice turned a little shy at the end of the sentence, and he smiled down at you as he got the gist.Â
âMmm. I get it.âÂ
The two of you stayed silent after that, your eyes trained on the TV as Sukuna watched you from the corner of his eye, contemplating his next move. Slowly, so as to give you time to shuffle away if you wanted to, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to his side.
He felt you tense up for a moment before relaxing, letting him pull you close, cautiously resting your head on his shoulder. Sukunaâs heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, which was a little humiliating because heâd been with so many girls in his life and had never felt this way - especially not at something as simple as light touching.Â
âI can help with that.â His voice was low, and he felt a shiver run through you. âJust tell me if anything is too much, weâll go as slow as you like.âÂ
You nodded against his shoulder, and Sukuna gave your figure a light squeeze, mentally rejoicing at the amount of progress heâd made with you today. Considering that he woke up thinking that heâd ruined everything and somehow chased you off, there really couldnât have been a better outcome than this.Â
There was still a sense of unease in his gut at everything youâd said about Hiromi though. Heâd known it was bad, but not ruin being touched by anyone else levels of bad. Even though youâd dismissed his suggestion, he kind of did want to hunt the guy down in retribution for what heâd done to you.Â
But if he was going to do anything, it could wait.Â
There was nowhere heâd rather be right now than with you on your sofa, your smaller form curled up against his side.Â
Even if you couldnât be his fully right now, heâd take whatever he could get from you.Â
He just needed to be patient.Â
a/n: they're getting there (slowly)!!!!!!!
thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed this chapter - reblogs and comments are appreciated, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic! <3
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)
summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your familyâs failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.
when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.
word count: 8k
content: 18+ mdni, eventual smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness/death, grief, toxic ex-bf, money issues, stress and overwork, introverted reader, both sukuna and reader are SO confused
a/n: writing from sukuna's pov feels like my happy place I love being in his head hehe
series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch4) | next chapter (ch6)
Sukuna had spent most of his weekend on cloud nine. Not only had he thoroughly enjoyed his lunch with you on Friday, youâd also been messaging him a lot more frequently since the meeting without him prompting you first.Â
It was all fairly menial stuff - letting him know what you thought of movies that he suggested you watch, sending him instagram reels, keeping him up to date with your fatherâs condition. He couldnât deny the way that his heart picked up whenever he saw your contact pop up on the screen, ignoring his other notifications to go back to you as soon as possible.Â
You still hadnât called him yet, much to his dismay. But he was hopeful it was just because you didnât need support right now, and that youâd reach out if you ever did.
He wasnât sure though, because as much as you seemed to enjoy your time with him you were relatively hard to read, leaving him never quite sure if you actually liked him or if it was just in your nature to be polite and friendly.Â
There was a small part of him that felt a little anxious about your friendship with Nanami. A nagging worry in the back of his mind that if your friend was adamantly against Sukuna, you might eventually end up believing the rumors and stop hanging out with him - even if you had made it clear that you wanted to form your own opinion.Â
He supposed that his anxiety about Nanami wasnât just about the blonde spreading rumors, but also out of a fear that you and Nanami might be interested in one another. Youâd said that the two of you had been childhood friends but he had no idea how close you were to that wet blanket, and he really didnât like the way that Nanami was looking at you the other day.Â
Not that it was any of his business. Heâd asked you to be friends after all. Youâd given him all the opportunity to tell you if he was interested, and instead heâd said that he wanted to be your friend.Â
Because that was what he wanted, right?Â
He didnât want to sleep with you - not like he slept with other girls at least. He just wanted to hang out with you, be in your general presence. Wanted to see you smile and hear you talk about all the things that you found interesting.Â
And yet, the thought of being your friend didnât really feel right to him, and he certainly didnât like the slightly broken look that had appeared on your face when heâd said he just wanted to be friends.Â
It wasnât something that he could give too much thought to though, the churning feeling in his stomach was far too unpleasant whenever he considered that he might want something more from you.Â
That just wasnât the type of guy he was.Â
He was the sort of guy who went out partying constantly and only saw sex as something that youâd do for pleasure, not an act that heâd ever particularly involved his feelings in. He wasnât the type of person to be in a relationship, finding the concept wholly unappealing after watching his parents turn on each other and go through the messiest divorce known to man.Â
If everyone inevitably fell out of love, surely it just wasnât worth it in the first place? Better just to live for pleasure.Â
That had been his mantra throughout university, never letting any girl get near to him, no interest in a deep romantic connection. He was better off free and alone. That was the general attitude shared within his friends group - all of them far more interested in fucking girls than they were with stupid things like falling in love.Â
Choso was the only one of them whoâd ever really displayed an interest in a long term relationship before, he was a romantic at heart and genuinely believed in falling in love. It was something that theyâd all mocked him for, asking why heâd be interested in only having sex with one person for the rest of his life when there was so much variety available.Â
Heâd just told them to fuck off, claiming that theyâd all grow up one day and then theyâd understand exactly what it was that he valued about love.Â
It was because of the prevailing anti-romance views of his friends group that Sukunaâs pleasant Sunday afternoon was currently being ruined.Â
The five of them were hanging out at his house, sitting in the living room and smoking weed while they played Mario Party on Chosoâs Switch. Funnily enough, Choso was the only one not currently playing - they only had four controllers so someone had to sit out and heâd happened to draw the short straw. He didnât seem to mind though, blowing smoke out the window as he texted someone with a big dumb smile on his face.Â
Sukuna had figured that Choso mightâve started dating someone lately. He was out of the house more regularly than he used to be and was always hiding his phone from them, clearly not wanting his friends to see his phone and make fun of whatever texts he was receiving.Â
It was fair enough, theyâd mocked him enough in the past for him to learn not to tell them about any girls he was seeing unless it got really serious.Â
It just wasn't worth the mockery.Â
Unfortunately, Sukuna in his infinite wisdom hadnât considered that he should be careful with his interactions with you lest he face the same fate that Choso had encountered many a time. It wasnât like he was dating you so he hadnât even considered that your hang outs would draw any amount of attention.Â
Evidently he was wrong, because as Sukuna used his go on Mario Party to steal a star from Satoru, laughing cruelly as he did it, the white man turned to him with a scowl. âWhatâs your problem?â He whined. âFucking me over in the game and going on a date with Nanamiâs cute nerdy friend without telling us? Youâre such a traitor.âÂ
Sukuna froze up momentarily at Satoruâs words, at a loss for how to respond.Â
Sure, he wouldâve had you come over for a party to meet his friends at some point, but that wouldâve been on his own terms, after heâd had a chance to preface to his buddies how cool you really were and also that you were just his friend.Â
He wasnât expecting to be ambushed by them asking questions about you now. It left him scrambling for a satisfactory response that wouldnât leave him open to further questions or mocking.Â
âShe ainât a nerd.â Sukuna mumbled, for some reason deciding that nitpicking over the details was the most important matter right now.Â
Toji snorted as he looked over at him. âDid you fuck her?âÂ
âNo way.â Satoru cut in. âSheâs more of a stick-in-the-mud than Nanami is, basically a shut-in from what Iâve heard.âÂ
Sukunaâs fingers tightened around the controller, not liking the way that Satoru was describing you, despite the fact that the two of you had likely never even interacted before. He didnât think that you were a stick-in-the-mud, on the contrary, you seemed entertained by the stories that heâd told you, more than willing to entertain the things heâd say.Â
âWell, it would be all the more impressive then.â Toji shot back as he looked up at his pink-haired friend, waiting for an answer.
âNah. It wasnât a date.â Sukuna said sharply, his eyes fixed on the screen, trying to ignore the prickling sensation of his friends staring over at him curiously. They all knew that he wasnât generally the type to hang out with girls without the intention of having sex.Â
âWhat was it then?â Suguru asked as he rolled the dice on Mario Party.Â
What was it?Â
Sukuna didnât really have an answer to that question. It wasnât really a study session, even if thatâs what heâd framed it as in the first place - the two of you didnât end up doing any studying in the end. But attempting to put into words what heâd wanted from you was far beyond his capabilities.Â
He shrugged. âSheâs tutoring me.âÂ
âThe fuck do you need a tutor for?â Toji asked suspiciously, fully aware that Sukuna had the best grades out of all of them.Â
âLinguistics.âÂ
The room was silent as they let that sink in, nobody fully convinced by Sukunaâs words but clearly unwilling to poke at him too much in the way that they would if it was Choso. Sukuna was the type of man who had no problem backing up any threats that he made, and no one was particularly keen to get on his bad side.Â
No one except Satoru, at least.Â
âSure, tutoring.â Satoru teased, not even flinching beneath Sukunaâs gaze. âBet youâre just trying to pull her but it's turning out to be a harder task than you thought itâd be.âÂ
âIf I wanted to fuck her, I could.â Sukuna hissed, easily rising to the bait.Â
âOh? Wanna bet?â Satoru asked.Â
âFuck no.â Sukuna said quickly, uncharacteristically so. Toji was frowning at him now, evidently confused because Sukuna was the last person to turn down a bet, especially when Satoru was the one taunting him.Â
âDonât tell me you actually like her?â Toji pondered aloud. âWait, were you waitinâ for her to text you the other day at the club? Were you in a bad mood because she was ignoring you?â
Sukuna felt a little sick at this line of questioning. He was never the one to come under the line of fire, always nonchalant, the one whoâd make fun of others. He didnât like being the recipient and couldnât understand why Choso even put up with them if this was how he felt all the time.
âWhat does it matter if he does?â Choso asked, looking up from his phone, interrupting before Sukuna could formulate an answer.Â
Suguru snorted. âCome on Cho. Heâs not gonna date some nerd of all people.âÂ
âSheâs not a nerd, and I donât want to date her. Sheâs just my friend.â Sukuna said firmly, hoping that would bring an end to the conversation as he focussed on the screen once again, spamming the sticker button to give his hands something to do while he waited for his turn.Â
But as was always the case with Satoru, the white-haired man loved to drag things out longer than necessary.Â
âIf you donât want her, can I take a shot?âÂ
Sukunaâs red eyes glared down at him incredulously, trying to process the words that had come out of his friendâs mouth. Even if he didnât want to date you, the thought of Satoru having his grimy hands all over you made him feel deeply uncomfortable. He liked having your attention all to himself, he didnât want one of his buddies to steal you away just because they considered you a prospect now.Â
âSheâs definitely not gonna fuck you, dude.â Toji said as he smacked Satoruâs arm, green eyes flicking up to Sukuna for a moment before loudly yelling at Satoru to get on with his turn so that they could finish the game sometime today.Â
It was clear that Tojiâs actions had been an intentional effort to move the heat off Sukuna, and he appreciated that. As much as Toji was no doubt going to ask him about it later, he was a good enough friend to keep Sukuna from facing the scrutiny of the whole group.Â
And it seemed to work, because the rest of the evening went by without a hitch. They moved on from playing Mario Party to playing Mortal Kombat for a little while, where Sukuna jumped at the opportunity to take out his frustration on Satoru, before settling down with ordered pizzas to watch a movie.Â
The film that theyâd chosen wasnât really to his taste. Generally they rotated who got to choose which movie they watched, and today happened to be Satoruâs pick. Sukuna was something of a film snob whilst Satoruâs taste in films consisted exclusively of slapstick comedy and marvel movies - a niche that he was absolutely unwilling to stray away from.Â
He always dreaded the days where Satoru got to put something on, knowing that he was certainly in for two hours of something that would likely lower his IQ by the end of it. Today seemed to be no different, with Satoru selecting an older Adam Sandler movie called Little Nicky, which had a completely incoherent plot and jokes that fell flat on their face.Â
Satoru seemed to be loving it though, laughing out loud at half the scenes even though the jokes sucked. Sukuna hoped that it was just because he was really high after smoking all afternoon. He couldnât quite cope with the concept of this being funny to Satoru on a normal day.Â
Not wanting to suffer alone, about halfway through the movie he decided to drop you a text.Â
[Sukuna]: you ever seen a movie called little nicky?Â
[Sukuna]: its dogshit
[Sukuna]: worst thing Iâve ever seen
Putting his phone down on the arm of the sofa he figured that you wouldnât respond for a while. You were generally quite slow with texting unless it was really late at night and considering that you were so busy that didnât particularly come as a surprise to him. Checking your phone probably wasnât your priority.Â
But you mustâve been free tonight because a response came through fairly quickly.Â
[strawberry shortcake đ°]: omg little nicky? I love that movie
[strawberry shortcake đ°]: you donât like it? :(
Sukuna blinked at the messages, staring down at the notifications lighting up his screen, feeling majorly guilty that heâd just trash talked something that you clearly enjoyed. Although, there was a part of him that was majorly concerned for your taste if that was a movie that you liked. He hated the idea that you and Satoru were birds of a feather.Â
Scrambling, he tried to quickly repair the damage.Â
[Sukuna]: oh
[Sukuna]: well I guess there are worse movies out thereÂ
[Sukuna]: it's just not for me
You responded even quicker this time, and your words had Sukunaâs heart fluttering in his chest.Â
[strawberry shortcake đ°]: Iâm just messing with youÂ
[strawberry shortcake đ°]: idk what that movie is lol
[strawberry shortcake đ°]: but Iâll take your word for it that it sucksÂ
He couldnât help but smile down at his phone, thinking about you giggling as you typed out that message. You fucking with him had a warm feeling spreading through his chest, liking that heâd clearly gone from an acquaintance at the bakery that you were polite with, to an actual friend who you liked to joke around with.Â
It was nice to see you open up a little.
âHey.â Toji called out, watching Sukuna from the other sofa, eyes flicking between the stupid grin on Sukunaâs face and the illuminated phone in his hand. âCome help me with something a sec.âÂ
With Satoru fully engrossed in the film, and Suguru and Choso both dozing off on the sofa, no one took any notice as he followed Toji into the kitchen. His raven haired friend leaned up against the kitchen counter and appraised him carefully before speaking.Â
âGonna tell me whatâs going on with that girl?â Toji asked finally.Â
âNothing to tell.â Sukuna said with a shrug. In his mind there really wasnât anything to say, and he wasnât sure why Toji was making things difficult for no reason.Â
âOkay, well Iâve never seen you smile at your phone like that before. Actually, I barely see you smile at all unless youâre causing someone misfortune.â Toji was tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter, waiting to see if Sukuna would provide more information on his own, letting out a sigh and continuing at his silence. âIt's okay if you like her, I ainât gonna make fun of you.âÂ
Sukunaâs brows were furrowed as he stared back at his friend, not quite sure if he trusted those words fully considering the amount of torment that he and Toji had put each other through over the last through years.Â
âI donât know.â Sukuna said honestly.
âHuh?âÂ
âI donât know if I like her.âÂ
Confusion was written all over Tojiâs face, evidently expecting Sukuna to keep denying and tell him that his feelings were none of Tojiâs business, caught off by this rare display of vulnerability. Sukuna wasnât really expecting it either, the words had just slipped out without his permission, because youâd been really fucking with his mind lately.Â
âThe hell does that mean?âÂ
He sighed, dragging a hand through his pink locks as he tried to organise his thoughts. It wasnât really something that he could easily explain. He hadnât figured things out in his own mind yet, so putting words to the way that he felt about you felt like an impossible task.Â
âI donât know. It's weird. I enjoy being around her and stuff, and sheâs really fucking pretty, but I know that I donât want to take her to bed for one night like I do for other girls, which is weird because sheâs definitely attractive. I just feel so confused when Iâm around her and it makes me feel like shit, but for some reason I canât stop seeking her out?âÂ
Toji hummed as he seemed to mull over Sukunaâs words for a few moments. âHave you considered that you might have a crush?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âI mean, I donât think Iâve ever seen you care about a girl before - usually their opinion means nothing to you and you just do whatever you want to seek out your own pleasure. But this girl you obviously actually like being around and you respect her enough that if you were gonna sleep with her it wouldnât be just a one time thing.âÂ
Toji was able to sum up Sukunaâs thoughts with much greater clarity than heâd been capable of. Everything was such a tangled mess in his head, but the way that Toji phrased it made everything seem so straight forward. Because as much as the thought scared him, that was the case. It wasnât that he didnât like the idea of fucking you, he just hated the idea of only doing it once.Â
âSounds like a crush to me.â Toji said as he fumbled for his lighter on the kitchen top and sauntered over to the window, lighting up a cigarette as he watched Sukuna carefully.Â
Sukuna was currently in the midst of intense inner turmoil, because he had never in his life had a crush, and all of a sudden his desire to hear your voice and spend time with you all made sense to him. And as much as it was nice to have someone put a word to the way he was feeling, it was a word that he was certainly not comfortable with.Â
He couldnât have a crush, he wasnât like that.Â
And even if he was to accept that maybe he did like you in that way, the amount of issues that would present would be insurmountable. Because there was absolutely no way that youâd share the same feelings. You were so sweet and clever and innocent, and there was no way that youâd want someone like him corrupting you.Â
No, as much as you seemed willing to be his friend, there was no doubt in his mind that he wasnât what youâd want in a partner. You probably wanted someone safe like Nanami, someone whoâd get some high-paying corporate job and offer you a nice stable life. Not someone with face tattoos whoâd been arrested several times as a teenager.Â
So even if Toji was right and he did have a little crush on you, he needed to bury it deep within him before he got his heart broken. Â
âWhy donât you ask her out?â Toji asked after taking a long drag of his cigarette, evidently well aware of Sukunaâs internal conflict.Â
âSheâs got a lot going on. I donât think Iâm her type anyway.âÂ
Sukuna felt a little bit humiliated uttering those words. Ever since heâd started sleeping with women heâd always prided himself on being able to pull anyone, accepting many a bet from Satoru and always winning when the white-haired man claimed that Sukuna wouldnât be able to fuck a certain girl.Â
And yet here he was confiding in his friend that he wasnât sure that he could get you.Â
Fuck, you really had messed with his head. Something like this wouldnât have even crossed his mind two months ago, it was like the thought of you completely stripped away his confidence, and even though he hated it, there was a small part of him that wondered if seeing your smile was worth the loss of that part of his identity.Â
âMmm, I think she was datinâ that Higuruma guy in first year.âÂ
Sukuna looked at Toji with surprise, not really expecting his friend to know anything about you at all.Â
âHiguruma?â He asked with a frown, the name completely unfamiliar to him.Â
âYou donât remember him?â Toji asked as he scratched his chin, thinking of the best way to describe the man. âHe was Nanamiâs buddy, we ran into him a fair bit at Satoruâs dorm. He had a very distinctive nose.âÂ
Sukuna wracked his brain for any memories but they didnât come. Heâd spent the majority of his first year at university high, drunk or both, so there were a lot of gaps in his memory where that time period was concerned. Besides, Nanami always seemed to have nerdy little friends over, there was no way that one particular one wouldâve caught Sukunaâs attention.Â
âDonât know him.â Sukuna said with a shrug. âHow do you know they were dating?âÂ
âI remember talking to him at one of Satoruâs parties and he was showing me pictures of her, talking about how hot she was and stuff. He was bragging about how he was the only guy that sheâd been with, and I remember thinking that it would be funny if I could pull his girlfriend since he was so smug about it.âÂ
Tojiâs tone was a little sheepish as Sukuna glared at him, really hating the thought of his friend taking an opportunity to flirt with you and entice you into his bed.Â
âNever ended up meeting her in the end though. Ran into Higuruma early last year at another party and he was spreading all kinds of rumors about his ex, so I guess they broke up.âÂ
That was something that heâd have to ask you a bit more about when he got the chance, a little saddened at the thought of you putting up with a guy who would treat you like that. Sukuna wouldnât treat you that way. Sure, heâd done plenty of bad stuff and he wasnât really a good guy from most peopleâs perspectives, but heâd never do anything to hurt you.
âSounds like an asshole.â Sukuna muttered and Toji nodded, blowing more smoke out the window before leveling his gaze on his friend.Â
âAnyway, the point Iâm trying to make is that she dated that jerk, and I know that youâre way better than him - so get out of your damn head.âÂ
Perhaps he had a point.Â
â
A few days had passed the next time Sukuna ran into you, your meeting a complete coincidence this time around.Â
Heâd been in the library, which was a rare occurrence for him, but he had a paper due the next day for his lifecycles of languages module and he needed to dig out a few references to use in his assignment.Â
It didnât turn out to be a particularly difficult essay to write, but he was always amazed by just how long this kind of work took, not regretting for a moment that his major was in engineering and not something like literature - heâd probably rip his hair out if he had to write more than three essays a year.Â
He wasnât sure how you coped with it. You must enjoy writing much more than he did.Â
By the time he was done with his work it was just past midnight, and the library had pretty much emptied out. It was that weird period of the semester where most students were done with their coursework, but exams were still a few weeks off, meaning that very few people were taking advantage of their 24-hour library access.Â
They were probably out doing something much more fun with their time.Â
However, it seemed that the majority of students didnât include you. Because as Sukuna was heading down from the top floor, already dreaming about collapsing into his bed, he was stopped in his tracks at the sight of a familiar figure nestled in the corner of the first floor.Â
Your eyes were blown wide as you stared at the laptop in front of you, one hand massaging your temple as the other desperately scribbled down notes. Your hair was a little messier than usual, the dark shadows beneath your eyes more prominent than ever. It was clear that you hadnât put much thought into your outfit, wearing an oversized white t-shirt with cinnamoroll on the front, accompanied by a pair of black sweats.Â
Despite your disheveled appearance, the sight of you still sent his heart racing, Tojiâs words from the other day running through his head as he considered that he really might have a crush on you.Â
âYouâre up late.â He said softly as he approached you, and he couldnât help but chuckle at the way that you practically jumped out of your skin at his sudden appearance. You clearly hadnât expected to encounter anyone you knew at this time of night.Â
âYou scared me.â You mumbled with a sweet little pout, looking up at him with big eyes.Â
Now that he was up close he could see that your cheeks were red and tear-stained, as if youâd only recently stopped crying. His brow furrowed with concern as he took in your working space, which had three empty coffee cups and a half drunk red bull lined up beside your laptop.Â
It was clear that youâd been here for a while.Â
âYou alright, angel?â He asked. âYou seem frazzled.âÂ
âGotta do these assignments before the end of the week.â You explained, gesturing half-heartedly towards your screen. âIâve still got two 5000 word pieces left to go and I have to work at the bakery all day tomorrow so if I donât get them done tonightâŚâ You waved your arms in frustration as you trailed off, letting him fill in the gaps for himself.Â
âMmm. How long have you been here?âÂ
You gave that some thought, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you seemed to do some maths in your head. âIt's twelve now right? So I guess around ten hours?âÂ
Sukuna balked at that, heâd never worked for that long in his life, there was absolutely no way that his attention span would allow for such a thing, not if he wasnât extremely interested in the topic. To be honest, he doubted that you were even still focussing properly at this point - no one should be working for ten hours straight.Â
âYou need a break.â He said, and you shook your head, fingers going back to your keyboard as you began to type something out.Â
âCanât.â You mumbled.Â
âNothing you write in this condition is gonna be good.â He reasoned, hoping that didnât just make you feel worse. It definitely had some effect because your fingers stilled on the keyboard for a moment. âJust come outside with me for a minute and get some fresh air, your stupid paper is still gonna be there when you get back.âÂ
You bit down on your lip, nibbling it anxiously for a second as your eyes lingered on the screen, before taking a deep breath and nodding, closing the lid of your laptop and allowing Sukuna to lead you up to the roof.Â
Despite summer being just around the corner, the night air was still a little chilly as the two of you stepped out onto the roof, which Sukuna was grateful for. He wasnât sure why the library had to be so hot and stuffy all the time - it was like the whole place was engineered to make it impossible for people to stay awake.Â
There were a few benches scattered across the roof, it was a frequent place for people to hang out during campus hours, but right now it was completely deserted save for the two of you. He selected a bench that had a good view over campus, and encouraged you to take a seat next to him as he enjoyed breathing in the night air.Â
You seemed a little out of it as you sat down on the bench, pulling your knees up to your chest as you stared listlessly out over campus, your mind still clearly focused on your upcoming deadlines and how much work was between you and going to sleep.Â
âI always like being up on a roof.â Sukuna said, wanting to fill the silence with something that wasnât discussing just how much work you had to get done right now. He felt stupid as soon as he said it though, surely he could come up with something better than that.Â
But you giggled softly at the awkward statement, clearly finding it amusing that he currently seemed to be a little tongue-tied, quickly falling back into what he hoped was comfortable silence.Â
Sukuna was instantly wracking his brain for something else to say, trying to make normal conversation with you like he would with any other person, but for some reason that felt impossible at the moment, because the only thought that came to mind when he looked at you right now was how cute he thought you were.Â
Damn Toji and his words making him even more confused than before.Â
âWhat are you doing here anyway? Didnât think you liked the library.â Your quiet question had him rejoicing, because I like being on a roof was the only conversation starter that he apparently had in the tank right now.Â
âGot a linguistics assignment due tomorrow.âÂ
âThe language profile one?â You asked as you peered at him. Heâd never stop being impressed by the way you could recall things like which assignments youâd done in the past. He couldnât even remember what modules heâd done last year, let alone what work heâd had to do for them.Â
âYeah.âÂ
âWhich language did you pick?âÂ
âAinu.â The lecturer had given them a long list of dying or extinct languages that they couldâve chosen to do their research on. He hadnât given the assignment any thought at all until today and didnât want to waste time reading through the list so heâd just picked the first language on there alphabetically.
And he was kind of glad that he did considering how intertwined Ainu and Japanese history were, it was way more interesting to find out information relatively close to home than if heâd picked a random language from Europe.Â
âOh thatâs an interesting one. Doesnât paint Japan in the best light though.â You said thoughtfully.Â
âDid you do Ainu for your paper?â He asked, imagining that it was unlikely that youâd just picked the first item on the list like he had.Â
âNo, I did Sami for mine.â He regarded you with a blank look, and you gave him a small smile before continuing. âIt's a language spoken by an indigenous group in the north of Finland.âÂ
He supposed if he did the recommended reading each week heâd probably know that, but he didnât like to do much beyond the bare minimum to pass his classes. He liked reading fiction, but the idea of reading research was something that heâd never be interested in. It was just too boring most of the time.Â
âIâm not keeping you from finishing your paper, right?â You asked, looking up at him in a panic at the realisation that he was sitting out here and not working on the assignment that needed to be submitted tomorrow.Â
âNah, Iâm done. I was just heading home when I saw you.âÂ
âOh, donât let me keep you!â You exclaimed, peering up at him with concern, clearly desperate not to waste too much of his time since it was so late.Â
The worry in your eyes was cute, especially because heâd much rather spend time with you than go home anyway. He was right where he wanted to be.Â
âYou arenât.â He said softly, and you blinked at him a couple of times as if considering protesting, before deciding against it, averting your gaze from him and staring out over the campus once more.Â
His gaze lingered on you for a little longer, noticing the way that goosebumps were starting to manifest on your arms in the cold chill of the evening.Â
Without thinking about it too much, he pulled off the grey hoodie he was wearing and held it out to you, relishing in the way that a blush blossomed across your cheeks. âHere.âÂ
âIt's okay!â You held up your hands to try and reject his offer, but he wasnât taking no for an answer with the way that you were shivering.Â
âI run hot anyway, donât want you to catch a cold when youâve got so much going on.âÂ
He knew youâd accept it if he framed it that way. He wasnât sure why you were so unwilling to go along with someone offering you kindness and aid, but it seemed like it was hardwired into you to not be a burden to anyone. Using a logical argument with you seemed to be the best way to get you to begrudgingly accept.Â
You reached out tentatively, taking the soft fabric from his hands, brushing your fingers against his momentarily as he handed it over to you. His heart practically leapt into his throat at the feeling of your skin against his, and he couldnât help but internally mock himself for getting all flustered over the lightest of touches.Â
It was like he was some stupid teenager with his first ever crush.Â
âThank you.â You whispered, pulling the hoodie over your head and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up. As nonchalantly as he could, Sukuna came to rest his hands in his lap, keen to hide the growing bulge in his jeans at the sight of you wearing his clothes.Â
You looked so sweet, practically drowning in his hoodie with the fabric falling all the way down to your knees. He wondered if it would smell like you once you returned it to him. He really liked the idea that it would.Â
âYou should really go home and get some sleep.â Sukuna said quietly as you let out a yawn, eyelids fluttering like you were struggling to keep them open.Â
He didnât like the condition that you seemed to be in right now. How cute you looked in his hoodie aside, you also looked like a mess. It was clear that youâd been getting even less sleep than the last time that he saw you, and your hair was a little greasy, like you hadnât found the time to shower in a while.Â
It was clear to him that you were overworking yourself to an extreme extent, and he hated it. That wasnât how life should be, you should be free to watch stupid movies with your friends and play video games and just enjoy life. You shouldnât be walking around in a zombie-like state desperately trying to finish an infinitely long ticklist of responsibilities.Â
All he wanted was to see you smiling, to get that version of you that would appear through the cracks sometimes when you were alone, where youâd seem so happy and carefree. He hated seeing your face lined with worry like it was right now, clearly lost in your anxious thoughts as you chewed on your lip.Â
âI said I canât. Iâve got so much work to do.âÂ
âYouâll make yourself ill by acting like this.âÂ
âIt doesnât matter.â You mumbled. âI canât afford sleep right now, my dad has a doctorâs appointment tomorrow and if Iâm not there to look after the bakery theyâll have to close for the day and we can barely keep the lights on there as it is. One day of no customers could be what puts us in the red and then my dad will have no income and he wonât be able to afford his treatments.âÂ
Your breathing had picked up significantly, chest heaving as you outlined the chain of events that you sleeping right now would cause, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as you considered the situation. Sukuna watched you with wide eyes, heart wrenching uncomfortably at the sight of your distress.Â
âBut if I focus on only working at the cafe and stop doing well at my classes, my dad will be disappointed in me, because he never wanted me to work there in the first place, and if I fail at university itâll be my only option, and isnât that fucking despressing? And my dad could die any day now and I canât cope with that as it is but it would be even worse if he died thinking I was a failure. So no, I canât go home and get some sleep.âÂ
As you hissed out that last line the tears started to spill down your cheeks, voice getting caught in your throat as you shakily gasped for breath. Sukuna hadnât expected this. Even though youâd cried on the phone to him the other day, you seemed quite accustomed to holding it together, not keen on having others see you vulnerable.Â
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought, pulling you against his side and gently rubbing circles into your arm as you openly sobbed, your hands coming up to cover your face as you cried.Â
âIt's okay, youâre okay.â He murmured, heart racing at the feeling of your warm body against his. He was at a little bit of a loss, not used to dealing with anyone crying in front of him. His brother Jin had cried a lot when they were kids, and Sukuna had usually mocked him and called him names until he stopped.Â
He was pretty certain that wasnât the appropriate solution here.Â
Wanting to offer you a bit more comfort than he currently was, he shifted a little so he was facing you, wrapping both his arms around you now and pulling you in against his chest, letting you sob into his t-shirt.Â
Both of his hands were stoking your back as he whispered words of encouragement, reminding you that he was there, that things were going to be okay even if you couldnât see it right now.Â
Although he really wasnât sure that was the case. He wasnât a person whoâd experienced much loss in his life, and he couldnât imagine what it felt like to be counting down the days until the death of someone that you loved deeply. Especially not when you had to deal with a load of other bullshit on top of that.Â
Who knew if it would really be okay. But he needed you to believe that it would be.
He let you cry in his arms for a while, holding you against him comfortingly until the sobbing stopped and your breathing started to slow. âLet me take you home.â He whispered, really not wanting to leave you here working at the library after this.Â
âI canât-âÂ
âWhat if I work your shift at the bakery tomorrow? Then you can do your assignments and everything will be fine.âÂ
He surprised himself by bringing out that offer, because he did have lectures and basketball practice tomorrow, but he couldnât care less about blowing all of that off if it meant that youâd finally get some sleep and a little bit of peace for once.Â
You looked up at him now, eyes red and puffy from crying. âI canât ask you to do that.â Your voice was shaky, and you fumbled around in the pocket of your sweats to find a tissue, dabbing your wet face with the material as you pulled away from him.Â
The loss of your warmth against him kind of sucked, but he wasnât going to dwell on it.Â
âYouâre not asking, Iâm offering.â he pointed out, growing accustomed to how important wording was with you when it came to giving you anything.Â
âHave you even worked in a cafe or store before?â You asked with a sniffle.Â
âSure, I worked at a hardware store for a bit when I was eighteen. Look, as long as you come in with me and show me the ropes Iâll be fine. Hell, if you donât trust me to do a good job you could sit in the bakery and do your work there to keep an eye on me.âÂ
He actually really liked that idea, because the two of you had never spent the whole day together before, and heâd definitely enjoy being able to look over at you whenever he wanted. Not to mention, that way he could make sure that you were actually eating something on an average day, because it felt like you were growing more gaunt every time heâd see you.Â
The reluctance on your face was evident, but he was quick to speak before you could turn him down completely. âPlease let me help. I know that your dad wouldnât want to see you suffering like this, I feel like heâd be mad at me if I didn't help.âÂ
âOkay.â You agreed, the exhaustion on your face evident now. Sukuna supposed that one positive thing about your current condition was that you didnât have enough energy to fight him too hard.Â
âGood.â Sukuna stood up. âCome on, let's pack up your stuff in the library and get you home.âÂ
He held out his hand to you, electricity tingling beneath his skin as you let him help you to your feet, your fingers warm against his palm. But you were quick to pull away, wiping your face once more with your hand, clearly trying to look presentable to head back into the library.Â
Now that you were standing he couldnât help his heart from fluttering once more at just how cute you looked in his hoodie. Like you were his.Â
But he knew that now wasnât the time to think about that. You were distressed and you needed a friend, and he was going to make sure that he was that for you. The last thing you wanted was him making his confusing feelings known to you and likely adding to your list of current stresses.Â
The two of you made your way back inside, and you took a bit of time packing your belongings up into your backpack, making sure that you returned all of the library books to their rightful places, insisting that you didnât want to create more work for the library staff by leaving them out on the table.Â
Which he found very endearing, but also, it was approaching 1am and he really wanted to get you home as soon as possible. You certainly didnât make that easy.Â
But once everything had been put away he ushered you out of the library and walked you back to your house. Frustratingly, his house was in the opposite direction from campus, which meant that he had a long walk home ahead of him, but it didnât really matter as long as it meant you were safe and not having a complete breakdown.Â
He mostly talked at you on the way home, understanding that you werenât in a talkative mood but unwilling to let you stew in negative emotions.Â
He mainly went into detail about all the trouble heâd gotten into as a kid - stories about spending the night locked up in jail for trespassing and vandalism, the many lunches heâd spent in detention for fighting with other kids, and how mad Wasuke had been when heâd come home at eighteen covered in tattoos.Â
While your mind didn't seem exactly eased, you were smiling at some of his stories, asking questions and making comments about how crazy it is that heâs even semi-normal now. Heâd laughed at that, asking what you meant by semi-normal, only for you to remind him about how heâd willingly let himself get hit by that drunk guy that day he came to your rescue in the alleyway.Â
He supposed you had a point. But heâd certainly calmed down significantly since his teenage years. Wasuke probably deserved an apology one of these days.Â
As you approached your house the conversation died down as the two of you stood outside your door. You were frowning a little as you played with your keys in your hands, as if you were formulating something in your brain that you couldnât quite put words to.Â
âWhat time do you need me to show up at the bakery tomorrow?â He asked gently.Â
âWe open at nine, so around half eight? It's really okay if you donât want to help, Iâll figure something out.âÂ
He shook his head, frustrated by yet another one of your attempts to avoid accepting assistance. âNah, it's all good angel. Iâll be there. Youâre gonna get some sleep now, right?âÂ
A soft red blush coloured your cheeks, and you gave him a little nod before glancing down at the house keys in your hand, and taking a deep breath.Â
âIts a long walk home for you, isnât it?âÂ
He looked at you with interest, your shy demeanour a little uncharacteristic. It was sweet, the way that you were balling up the oversized arms of his hoodie into your hands for comfort. He wasnât sure if you were just feeling guilty about dragging him over to your place, but he hoped you werenât because it was completely his own choice.Â
âItâll only take about an hour.â He said dismissively, not wanting to worry you but wishing heâd brought his motorbike to the library today. He really wanted to fall into bed as soon as possible, especially if he needed to make it over to Shinjuku by 8.30 tomorrow morning.Â
âThatâs ages.â You said, brows burrowed cutely.Â
âIâll be alright.â
But you didnât seem to agree with that sentiment. âYou canât force me to get sleep and then not get any yourself, thatâs not fair.âÂ
He shrugged. âNot much of a choice, angel.âÂ
âJust sleep on my couch.â He blinked at you, completely caught off guard by that offer, heart thudding in his chest at the idea of sleeping in your house, in a place that smelled like you. And as soon as that thought popped into his head he pushed it away because that was weird and he really needed to get a grip.Â
âI donât wanna intrude, angel.âÂ
âIt's the least I can do.â You were looking up at him with tired eyes, and he didnât want to waste any more time keeping you up. So, as you unlocked the front door to your house, waiting to see what he would do, he didnât hesitate to follow you into the hallway.
Letting you lead him into the living room, it was a little too dark and he was a bit too tired to take in his surroundings, figuring that heâd have a good look around when he woke up in the morning. A warm feeling started to blossom in his chest as he watched you hurry around, grabbing him some pillows and a blanket, explaining to him where the bathroom was, and apologising that you didnât have a spare toothbrush for him to use.Â
He insisted it was fine, liking how flustered you seemed by having him in your house. As if suddenly remembering that you were wearing his hoodie, you let out a little exclaimed apology and pulled the item of clothing over your head, holding it out to him and thanking him for lending it to you.Â
Honestly, that was a little disappointing because heâd wanted you to keep hold of it for longer, but he supposed he'd have another chance in the future. You and your constant need to be polite and do the right thing could be so frustrating sometimes.Â
âDo you have everything you need?â You asked kindly, and he felt immediately guilty that you were treating him with all the politeness of a host when you looked like you hadnât slept in three days. Sukuna was the type of guy who could sleep in any conditions, and although he liked you fussing over him, he certainly didnât need it.Â
âAll good.â He said, exhaustion seeping into his tone. âYou just go and get some sleep, yeah?âÂ
âNight, Sukuna.â You whispered.
âNight, angel.â He shot back, once again noticing the soft blush painted across your pretty features.Â
He laid awake for a while after that, thoughts lingering on you, wondering if youâd ever slept all wrapped up in the blanket that was covering him right now. His feelings were all over the place with everything going on with you, concern stirring in his soul at the thought of your suffering, desperate to help but unsure if any of his actions might make things worse.Â
It was tricky.Â
But for now he needed to consider the small victories - youâd let him in enough that you were willing to let him sleep on your couch. You were even willing to accept help from him. That was a lot of progress as far as he was concerned.Â
As he stared up at the ceiling of your living room, the main thought that was on his mind was his conversation with Toji. He hadnât been sure back then but after the events of this evening he was absolutely certain.Â
He had a crush on you.Â
a/n: get ready for this man to yearn like you've never seen before
thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed this chapter - reblogs and comments are appreciated, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic! <3
synopsis â youâre the last survivor of a village destroyed by sukuna, the king of curses. when your soulmate mark flares upon meeting him, youâre bound in a way you never expected. taken to his shrine, youâre forced to stay in his presence, where the weight of his past actions looms over both of you, and the line between survival and resentment blurs.
wc â 34k (i'm sorry once more)
warnings â explicit sexual content (virgin reader), mentions of cannibalism, dead bodies, mentions of not eating, depression, some angst, sukuna ryomen (he needs his own warning), probably inaccurate portrayal of the heian era but i tried my best to research
authors note: hello. hi. sorry for disappearing for so long :( i lost all motivation and it took me really long to finish this. i apologise in advance if this isn't as good as my other works (ââ¸âźâś) but this is specifically written for my cutie sukuna dickrider5000 @kunaniee i love her so much ok bye have fun reading or don't aghhhh
In the Heian era, where fate wove itself into the fabric of existence, every soul was born with a markâa silent promise etched into their skin. These marks, unique in shape and placement, remained dormant until the moment destiny called. When soulmates met, the mark would burn, igniting a bond deeper than mere mortal understanding. To find oneâs soulmate was considered a divine blessing, a path to prosperity and harmony. To reject them was to defy the gods themselves.
But fate was never kind. And as Ryomen Sukuna stood amidst the ruins of a village he had torn apart, he never expected his own mark to sear with painânor to hear a scream that was not born of fear, but of something far worse.Â
Recognition.
Clawed hands carelessly tossed the limp body aside, a dull thud swallowed by the crackling remains of the village. Blood still lingered on his tongue, warm and metallic, but it was not the taste that made Ryomen Sukuna freeze. It was the searing, agonizing burn on his ribsâthe jagged, ink-black mark that had sat dormant for centuries now alight with a fire unlike anything he had ever known. This could not be happening. He was a curse. Yes, he bore a mark like all beings did, but soulmates were chosen by the heavens. The gods, in all their cruelty, had long abandoned him. Cursed beings were not meant to be loved. They were meant to wander, to ruin, to destroy. That was the law of the world. And yetâ
Sukuna grunted, his four crimson eyes narrowing as the sensation pulled at him, an invisible thread winding tighter, dragging him forward. It was not a conscious choiceâhis body moved of its own accord, muscles tensing as something deep, something ancient, willed him to go toward. The ground beneath his feet was littered with the remnants of what had once been a village, the stench of charred flesh thick in the air. A smoldering hut collapsed somewhere in the distance, its wooden beams snapping like brittle bones. Sukuna barely noticed. The burn along his ribs was growing worse, hotter than the flames he had set upon the village, hotter than hell itself.
Through the smoke and ruin, he saw it. A figure, small against the backdrop of devastation, hunched over as though in pain. Her breathing was ragged, unsteadyâalive, but barely. Sukunaâs lip curled.
Impossible.
And yet, even as he sneered, even as his rational mind screamed at him to turn away, his feet carried him forward. It was as if the moment his eyes fell upon her, the searing pain along his ribs dulledâreplaced not by relief, but by something far more unsettling. That strange, unseen force that had yanked him through the ruins, that had commanded his body to move without his consent, now seemed to settle, coiling around him like a vice. The angry burn of his soulmate mark, a fire that had threatened to consume him whole, now smoldered into a dull throb the closer he stood to her.
Ten feet. That was all that separated them. Emotions stirred within him, a chaotic maelstrom that he could not nameâbecause why should he feel anything at all? He was Ryomen Sukuna. He had scorched entire villages to the ground without a second thought, torn through flesh and bone with the same carelessness one might crush an insect beneath their heel. And yet, standing before this fragile, insignificant thing, something twisted inside of him.
Anger. That such a thing as soulmates dared to bind him, to claim him. That fate itself had the audacity to force this upon him.
Confusion. Because this should not be possible. Because curses were forsaken, meant to walk the earth unloved, untethered. Because he was Sukuna, and he had been told his existence was an affront to the heavens themselves.
Intrigue. Because she was not screaming anymore.
Her sobs had quieted into something softer now, though she had not stopped crying. Her breath hitched as she clutched the fabric of her plain kosode, the thin material trembling in her grip. A common woman. A villager. Someone who had been caught in the destruction he had wrought, and yetâthe sound she had made when she first saw him had not been one of horror. It had been the same strangled, pained recognition that had burned through him as well. Sukunaâs lips curled, a sneer threatening to form, but for once, he did not speak. Because in her trembling hands, in the way her tear-streaked face tilted toward him with something that could only be described as hatred, she looked nothing like the weak, simpering humans he was so used to crushing beneath him. And that should not have made his pulse quicken.
"Youâ youâ whyâ"
The words barely scrape past your throat, hoarse and trembling, but even then, they feel too small to contain the sheer, unrelenting horror crashing down upon you. You push yourself up from where youâre slumped on the ashen ground, legs shaking beneath you, bloodied palms pressing into the dirt for support. Your chest still heaves from the sobs you had not yet finished crying, but the moment your wide, tear-streaked eyes land on himâon Ryomen Sukunaâsomething inside you lurches. That unbearable pain, that fire-hot agony that had torn through your ribs like you were being branded by the gods themselves, had suddenlyâcooled. It was as if the very presence of the monster before you had soothed it, like the cruelest, most ironic balm, settling into a dull ache rather than an all-consuming blaze. And you wishâyou wishâthe fire had burned you alive instead. Because now, with every beat of your heart, the truth sinks deeper, deeper, deeper.
No.
No, this cannot be happening.
You know who he is. The King of Curses. The monster whispered about in fearful hushes between travelers, the name mothers uttered in the dark to keep their children from wandering too far. He was the thing that nightmares clawed themselves from, the merciless demon whose very existence was an offense to heaven itself. You had heard the stories. You had seen the carnage. And now, you stood in the middle of itâthe shattered remnants of your village lying smoldering around you, nothing but ruin left behind. But even thenâeven thenâthere had been no one left to mourn. Your mother had died years ago, though the village had long considered her gone before that. A whoreâs child, thatâs what they called you. A reminder of a woman who sold her body for coin, who had left behind nothing but a girl with no name worth speaking. No father to claim you, no family to shield you. The villagers had never caredânot truly. They had never gone out of their way to harm you, but kindness had been a currency you could never afford. And yet, despite it all, you had lived. You had carved a place for yourself in the cracks of this village, had found hands to grasp in the dark, voices to laugh with beneath the sun. Over time, you had made connectionsânot always strong, not always deep, but enough to remind you that you existed. That you were here.
But nowâ
Now, they were gone. And he was here. Standing there, four crimson eyes gleaming with something you cannot name, claws still slick with the blood of the people who once walked these streets. Your breath is ragged, your chest rising and falling too quickly, your mind screaming at you to move, to run, to fight, to do anything but stand thereâbecause the moment the realization sinks in, the moment your trembling fingers brush against the mark that no longer burns, you feel yourself shatter. Because the monster who had torn your world apart was the same man fate had chained you to. "How pathetic." The words roll off his tongue, slow and venomous, each syllable laced with undisguised revulsion. "A humanâyouâas my soulmate." Sukunaâs lip curls, his sneer carved deep with something that balances between disgust and amusement, as if the mere thought of such a bond is an insult to his very existence. His upper set of arms fold across the broad expanse of his chest, muscles taut beneath the intricate markings of his cursed flesh, while his lower arms slip behind his back, fingers threading together in a deliberate show of indifference. But his gazeâfour piercing, hellish eyesâbears down upon you with something that is anything but indifferent. Contempt, dark and seething, simmers beneath his gaze as he drinks in the sight of youâragged, trembling, barely standing amid the ruin of your home. He watches the way your breath stutters, the way realisation has stolen the very air from your lungs, drowning you in something far worse than fear. And yet, even as you tremble beneath his scrutiny, you do not bow. Perhaps that is what makes his sneer deepen, sharp teeth glinting under the flickering light of the fires still smoldering around you.
"This can't be happeningâplease, it canât!"
The scream tears from your throat, raw and desperate, flung into the heavens with all the force of a soul unraveling at the seams. But there is no one to hear it. No one to answer. The village lies in ruin around you, smoldering embers swallowing the last remnants of a life that no longer exists. You do not know who you are pleading toâwhether it is the gods above, the spirits who have long since turned their backs, or the cruel hand of fate itself. You only know that you are begging. That you want the weight of this revelation to be undone, unraveled, erased. That you would rather be struck down where you stand, your body reduced to the same ash that coats the ground beneath you, than bear the mark that now binds you to the very thing that has destroyed everything. Your heart pounds, erratic and unsteady, as if it too is trying to escape the confines of your ribcage, trying to flee before it is tethered to something monstrous. You want your scream to reachâto pierce through the fabric of the world, to shatter the gates of heaven itself, to demand retribution or mercy or even death if that is what it takes to escape the cruel design woven into your flesh. But the heavens remain silent. And Sukuna is still standing there, watching you. A low chuckle rumbles through the air, deep and laced with amusement, like the distant growl of an impending storm. Sukuna tilts his head, four crimson eyes gleaming with something darkly indulgent as he watches your anguish unfold before him. The sight of youâshattered, trembling, yet still uprightâis almost entertaining. Humans had always been pathetic creatures, simpering and frail, but there was something particularly amusing about how you struggled against what had already been decided.
âDone screaming yet?â His voice is smooth, mocking, each syllable drawn out as if savoring the weight of your despair. âOr should I give you more reason to weep?â
The sneer never leaves his lips, but there is something calculating in the way he watches you, waitingâexpectingâfor you to crumble completely. He has seen it before, in the eyes of warriors who had fought until their last breath, in the pleading faces of those who had begged for mercy before he split them apart.
But youâ
You do not fall to your knees. Your breath is unsteady, your chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic motions, but your legs remain locked beneath you. Your fingers twitch at your sides, curling into the tattered fabric of your kosode as if to anchor yourself to something, anythingâbut not once do you look away from him. Hatred, hot and seething, bubbles beneath your grief. And Sukuna sees it. The realization settles in the pit of your stomach like a stone, heavy and suffocating. Thisâthisâis the man you are bound to. The monster who carved through your village with all the ease of a blade through silk, who reduced your world to cinders without a second thought. The being who should not have a soulmate, who should not be capable of something as human as fate. And yet, the burning has ceased. The pain that had once threatened to consume you has dulled to a mere whisper, an unspoken confirmation that no matter how much you deny it, how much you wish it awayâ
This bond is real. Your lips part, your voice hoarse from your screams, but when you finally speak, it is not with a plea. It is not with desperation. It is with loathing.
"I would rather die than be bound to you."
Sukunaâs smirk deepens. âShould I kill you, then?â Sukuna muses, voice lilting with something dangerously close to amusement. His footsteps are unhurried as he advances, the embers at his feet hissing with each deliberate step. âIf you so desperately wish not to be bound to me, youâd prefer death at my hands, hm?â The flickering firelight carves jagged shadows across his form, glinting off the sharp curve of his fangs as he grins, head tilting in mock curiosity. There is something deliberate about the way he watches youâlike a beast toying with prey it does not yet wish to devour. Your breath is sharp, uneven, but you do not move.
You refuse to. Even as he draws closer, the stifling weight of his presence bearing down upon you, you lift your chinâwhether in defiance or simply out of sheer hatred, you do not know. âWith pleasure,â you manage, voice hoarse from the screams that had torn from your throat moments ago, raw from the grief that still threatens to drown you whole. "Because I would rather have my existence wiped from this earth, than have fate intertwine me to you.â Sukuna chuckles, the sound low and knowing. âAh,â he hums, and you hate the way his voice slithers through the smoke-filled air, curling around you like something tangible. âBut thatâs where you're mistaken.â The distance between you is barely anything now, the suffocating heat of the burning village pressing against your back, the sheer force of him suffocating from the front. The scent of blood clings to him, thick and heavy, mingling with the scent of charred wood and death. You swallow against the nausea clawing at your throat, hands trembling against the fabric of your tattered kosode, but you do not look away. âYou canât die at my hands,â Sukuna continues, tilting his head slightly, as if observing a particularly fascinating anomaly. âA little rule of the universe, I suppose. Soulmates cannot kill one another. No matter how much they might wish to.â Your blood runs cold. The weight of his words sinks deep into your bones, lodging itself somewhere beneath the searing mark on your skin.
No escape. Not even death could sever this bond. A shaky breath escapes you, but the panic does not rise the way it had before. Instead, something elseâsomething equally ugly and consumingâbegins to take root. Loathing. âThen I suppose Iâll have to find another way,â you say, voice steady despite the fire in your lungs, despite the unrelenting weight of his gaze. "Because I refuse to be tethered to you." Sukunaâs smile widens. There is something darkly pleased in the way he regards you, like a man who has stumbled upon a challenge he had not anticipated but welcomes all the same. âYou'll come to regret that,â he murmurs, though there is no malice in his toneâonly something inevitable. And then, before you can take another breath, before you can think to run, something shifts. The air twists around you, a sickening lurch in your stomach pulling you forward as space itself seems to bend. Your surroundings blur, the smoldering ruins of your village vanishing in an instant, the weight of the destruction replaced by something colder, heavier. When the world rights itself, you are no longer standing among the dead. Marble floors stretch beneath you, gleaming faintly in the dim torchlight. Towering walls loom on either side, draped in deep crimson banners, intricate symbols etched into their silk. The air is thick with incense, cloying and unfamiliar, and the oppressive silence tells you all you need to know. This is his domain.
His shrine. A hand clenches around your wrist before you can stumble, the grip unyielding, calloused fingers pressing into your pulse. You twist violently, wrenching yourself free as if his touch burns more than the mark itself, stepping back as your heart hammers in your chest. Sukuna merely watches, four crimson eyes glinting beneath the flickering torchlight. "You'll learn," he says simply, voice almost bored. Your nails dig into your palms. "Learn what?" His smirk deepens.
"That fighting fate is useless."Â
Your breath barely has a chance to steady before youâre shoved to the ground, the impact jolting through your already-weakened limbs. The cool marble floor bites at your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of your ruined village only moments ago. Disoriented, your body lags behind your mind, still struggling to catch up with the impossible reality of where you now find yourself. Thenâmovement. Figures descend upon you at once, their presence as immediate as it is overwhelming. Hands grasp at your arms, your shoulders, your waistâurgent but impersonal, as though handling something fragile yet wholly insignificant. Murmured words, unfamiliar voices, the rustling of silk and hurried footsteps. You flinch, instinct screaming at you to resist, to fight, but your body remains frozen beneath the weight of it all.
Servants. You barely register them. Barely make sense of the way they flit around you, their touches neither cruel nor gentleâsimply efficient. They are ghosts in the periphery of your vision, moving with the mechanical precision of those well-accustomed to obeying. And above them all, the presence of him. Sukuna looms, his four crimson eyes sweeping over the scene, cold and unreadable. He watches, impassive, as the servants move to peel away the soot-stained fabric clinging to your skin, as they work swiftly to assess and cleanse, as if you are just another thing to be handled. Then, with a sharp exhale, he turns on his heel. And the moment he strides away, the moment you are no longer within his direct sight, something within him snaps. Thisâthisâis not where he was supposed to be.
He did not bring her here. He did not will this to happen. The realization only fuels his fury. His steps are heavy, echoing down the halls of his shrine as his irritation twists into something far more volatile. The teleportationâit was not his doing. The thought alone unsettles him, a sensation foreign and unwelcome. He is Ryomen Sukuna. The undisputed King of Curses. No force, no law of nature should have the power to drag him anywhere against his will, and yetâyet, here they are.
Him.
And her.
His so-called soulmate. His upper lip curls in disgust at the mere thought.
A human.
The very notion is laughable, offensive, and yet the searing mark on his ribs serves as an undeniable reminder of the cruel joke the heavens have played upon him. A curse should notâcannotâbe bound by something as insipid as fate, and yet here he stands, the weight of inevitability pressing against his skin like a brand. The doors to his study are thrown open with little regard for subtlety. He does not sit. Instead, he paces, his mind a storm of questions and irritation, his fury barely leashed beneath the surface. And when his voice rings outâsharp, demandingâit is not a request but a summons.
âUraume.â
The air shifts. A moment later, the pale-haired figure appears before him, their expression as neutral as ever, as though this was merely another of his many outbursts rather than something far more unnatural.
âMy Lord,â Uraume greets, head bowing slightly. Sukuna wastes no time. âThis soulmate nonsense,â he growls, turning to face them fully. âExplain it. Now.â Uraumeâs gaze flickers, lingering on the tense set of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, as if itching to tear something apart. A brief pause, thenâ
âThe marks burn upon meeting,â Uraume begins evenly. âA response to recognition, an ancient contract woven into the fabric of existence itself.â Sukuna scoffs, his sneer deepening. âAs if that explains anything.â
âIt is not something that can be ignored,â they continue, undeterred. âNor can it be severed. Those who share the bond are connected in ways beyond their control.â A muscle in Sukunaâs jaw twitches. âBeyond control,â he echoes, voice laced with bitter amusement. âYou mean to tell me I have been shackled to some miserable human girl, and there is nothing to be done about it?â Uraume does not answer immediately. They merely incline their head slightly before continuing. âThe bond manifests in many ways. The burning of the mark is the first sign. But there is more.â Sukuna exhales sharply through his nose. âMore?â
âThe bond pulls.â His irritation flares anew. âSpeak plainly.â
âYou may find yourself drawn to her,â Uraume says, their voice carrying the careful weight of someone delivering news they know will not be well-received. âUnintentionally. Unwillingly. At times, the universe may see fit to force proximity.â Sukuna stills.
The teleportation.
The way space itself had twisted, wrenching them both from the smoldering remains of her village, spitting them out into his domain. The way the burning in his ribs had soothed the moment he had stood before her, as if merely being near her had tempered the fire beneath his skin. His fingers flex, an unbearable itch beneath his ribs. âYouâre telling me this is why I was dragged here against my will?â His voice is venomous, each word spit with unfiltered disdain. âBecause of some pathetic, celestial game?â Uraumeâs face remains unreadable. âIt is not a game, my Lord. It is law.â
Sukuna snarls. âThen why?â His patience is all but nonexistent now. âWhy would Iâa cursed beingâhave a soulmate?â The air is heavy with the weight of the question. Uraume meets his gaze evenly. âYou may be cursed, yesâ but there is no denying that the womb from which you came from was of a human.â
For a moment, there is only silence. Sukunaâs lips curl back, something ugly twisting in his gut, a resentment he cannot quite name. He scoffs, shaking his head as if the very idea is beneath him. As if none of this should even concern him. And yet, the mark still lingers. Still binds. His fingers twitch at his sides, the urge to tear at the skin beneath his ribs almost unbearable. Uraume merely watches. No more words need to be said. The truth is already clear. The bond is real. Unchangeable. Permanent. Sukuna has never wanted to destroy something more. Instead, he forces himself to stay still. Or perhapsâno, certainlyâthis is the cruel intervention of divine will. For the first time in his wretched existence, he feels helpless. Disgusted. That he, the King of Curses, is allowing his anger to simmer beneath his skin rather than tearing apart the source of his fury limb from limb. That he is controlling his rage instead of indulging in it.
It sickens him.
A low growl rumbles in his throat as he turns sharply on his heel, his strides long and forceful, carrying him away from the suffocating weight of his thoughts. He does not stop until he reaches the doors of his personal libraryâhis sanctuary, a place untouched by the triviality of men, where knowledge as old as time itself slumbers beneath layers of dust and parchment. The great doors creak as he pushes them open, revealing towering shelves carved from dark, lacquered wood, lined with scrolls and tomes that have endured centuries. The scent of aged paper, dried ink, and something almost metallic lingers in the airâa fragrance of history, of secrets forgotten by all but him. These books are not mere collections of words; they are artifacts, hoarded through conquest, stolen from burned temples, pried from the hands of dying sorcerers who thought themselves too wise to fall before him. He has never been a scholar, nor has he ever sought wisdom from words rather than war. But tonight, tonightâhe finds himself tearing through his vast collection with uncharacteristic fervor, seeking answers in the very knowledge he once scorned. His fingers, lined with claws that could eviscerate flesh with ease, now trace along the brittle pages of ancient texts. Scrolls bound with silk and inked with the knowledge of men long dead whisper their truths to him. Soulmates. Bonds. The consequences of divine intervention. He reads with a scowl carved into his face, the dim candlelight casting jagged shadows against the angular planes of his features.
And thenâa passage catches his eye.
"The bond does not merely burn at first meetingâit pulls.â
His grip on the fragile parchment tightens.
"The mark exists beyond flesh; it exists within the very essence of oneâs soul. To be bound is to be drawnâwithout consent, without reason. Distance holds no power over fateâs decree. One may find themselves in the presence of their fated without warning, without cause. A moment of weakness, of longing, even of hatred, and the soul may seek out what the mind rejects.â Sukunaâs fingers twitch against the page.Â
That was why. That was why space had twisted, why he had been dragged against his will, why she now lingers in his domain when he had never commanded it to be so. His own soulâa thing he once thought belonged only to himâhad betrayed him. A snarl rips from his throat as he slams the tome shut, the parchment crinkling beneath the force of his grip. The candlelight flickers violently, as if recoiling from his ire. He exhales sharply, inhaling the dust-laden air of his sanctuary, forcing himself to keep reading, to tear apart every ounce of knowledge this library has on the wretched concept that has shackled him to some miserable human girl. He finds more. More damning truths, more absurdities woven into the tapestry of existence.
The bond is unbreakable. The connection can strengthen over time, deepening with exposure. One cannot die at the hands of their soulmate. His jaw clenches at the last revelation. That meansâ
He had known this already, but it was settling in, that even if he wanted to carve her apart, to rend her flesh into ribbons, to rip the very life from her bonesâhe could not. He could not even hurt her. The idea festers within him, curdling like spoiled sake in his gut. He was Ryomen Sukuna. The one feared even in whispered legends. The monster who razed temples, devoured men whole, and defied the heavens themselves. And now, those same heavens had bound him to her. His teeth grind together, sharp as the swords he has broken in battle, his fingers twitching with the phantom urge to destroy something, anything. But as he keeps reading, his rage begins to shift to something more unsettlingâconfusion. The more he uncovers, the more it becomes apparent that the bond between soulmates is far more complex than he could have imagined. The books speak of intricate nuancesâhow the bond can act in a multitude of ways. How, for example, the physical or emotional pain of one soulmate can cause the other to feel an echo of that suffering, as if their very bodies were intertwined. A soul could writhe in agony while the other feels nothing but the pull of the bond, even when miles apart. Sukuna feels his blood run cold at the implications of this. Could the connection be why he was drawn to her so suddenly, as if by some unseen force? Why he could feel her presence even before he laid eyes on her? Why he had chosen to decimate that specific village? He reads furtherâof the various side effects of the bond. Sometimes the connection grows stronger over time, feeding off proximity, lingering gazes, the exchange of emotions. Sometimes it strengthens through shared experiences, pain, or even moments of vulnerability. He slams the book shut again, unable to stomach the idea of nurturing something as vile as this connection. His hands tremble slightly. He was Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna. And now, his very soul is bound to this insignificant human. His mind races as he processes the truths laid out before him, seething with confusion and a boiling rage he cannot yet unleash. No, this cannot be. A heavy silence fills the library as he leans back in his chair, contemplating the absurdity of it all. How could this bondâthis wretched, divine decreeâhave chosen him? The King of Curses, born to destroy and devastate, tied to a human who could never comprehend the complexities of his existence. This was the cruel joke fate had dealt him. And yet, as he sits in the vast, ancient library, surrounded by centuries-old knowledge, thereâs a strange and undeniable weight pressing on himâone he cannot simply ignore.
â
Meanwhile, back in the unfamiliar halls of his shrine, you sit motionless, your mind an unsteady blur of thought and emptiness. The weight of the servantsâ attention has lessened, though their presence remains in the edges of your vision. You barely register them anymore. You are here. Not in your village. Not among the ruins of everything you have ever known. Here. In the home of the man who has taken everything from you. Your fingers drift to your chest, pressing over the place where the pain had once burned so fiercely. Now, there is only a phantom ache. Your throat feels dry, but no sobs come. Nothing comes. The reality of it all settles like a stone in your stomach. You have no choice but to persevere, to live with this awful knowledge. The days blur together in a haze of strange routines and restless moments. In the cold, oppressive silence in the plain, stone room of Sukunaâs shrine, you sit motionless, your mind no longer capable of processing the weight of your situation. The servants, dressed in plain attire that blends seamlessly with the shadowed walls, come and go as if this were an ordinary home, though nothing about it feels even remotely familiar. They tend to you with an unsettling sort of politeness, ensuring your every need is met without a word. Simple, plain food is brought to youâmeals that you have no appetite forâand yet, you are expected to eat, expected to comply, expected to endure this existence, this punishment. Majority of the time you stare aimlessly at the portion of rice, a small serving of fish and the pickled daikon, too busy being a slave to delusional plans that involve being far, far away from this place. And so, you try to resist. The impulse to fight back, to scream, to tear through the shrineâs stone walls, courses through you, but itâs quickly smothered by the cruel knowledge of your futility. You cannot escape. The very air here seems to hum with some invisible force, a force that drags you back to this cold place whenever you attempt to leave. The first time you tried to flee, you had barely stepped outside the threshold before the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. A sharp, unbearable sensation shot through your chest, and before you could even cry out, you were standing once more in the exact spot you had fled fromâback in the center of the shrine, as if the land itself had rejected your presence, casting you back into its prison. And so you try again, this time walking with purpose, more determined, though dread tightens in your chest at the thought of failing once more. Every step away from the oppressive walls of the shrine feels like a small victory, but itâs hollowâsoon enough, you feel the familiar pull, the tug at the very core of your being, and thenâA sharp crack like thunder. The world shifts, distorting in an instant. You find yourself standing once again inside the shrine, the heavy stone walls closing in on you with a finality that shatters what little resolve you have left. The servants donât look at you with pityâthey donât look at you at all, as if they have long since grown accustomed to your resistance. They simply watch, emotionless, as you return, a failed attempt at freedom.
The days continue to drag on in this strange, suffocating monotony. You have become accustomed to the silence of the shrine, to the steady rhythm of servants coming and going, to the subtle way they watch you when they think youâre not looking. You know your place here. You know the walls that confine you, the barriers that exist between you and the world you once knew. Your every attempt to escape is met with the same crushing failure, a reminder that freedom is not something you are allowed. It is on one of these restless days, as you sit on the tatami mats, adorned with a simple futon in your room staring at the floor, that the silence is broken. The door to your room creaks open slowly, the soft scrape of wood against stone pulling you from your thoughts. You donât have to look up to know who it is. The presence fills the room before his figure even steps inside, as though the air itself shifts with his arrival.Â
Sukuna. He doesnât speak at first. You can hear the faint rustling of something heavy in his handsâthe distinct sound of pages shifting, the weight of a book, perhaps more than one. He doesnât make a sound as he approaches, his footsteps quiet and deliberate. But when he finally speaks, his voice is cold, emotionless, as if he is addressing something beneath his notice. You raise your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, but you donât speak. The words catch in your throat, buried beneath the weight of your exhaustion, your anger, your resignation. Instead, you simply watch as Sukuna strides into the center of the room, holding a stack of books in his hands. His expression is unreadable, his eyes darker than ever, but you can see the irritation simmering beneath the surface.
He places the stack of books on the low table in front of you with an almost dismissive motion, his sharp gaze flicking briefly to the spines before returning to you. âLearn something useful for once,â he growls, the words laced with something between annoyance and disdain. âI donât care what you do, but this incessant running is growing tiresome. You will stay here. You will live by my rules, whether you like it or not.â He stands there for a moment longer, upper set of arms crossed over his chest, four eyes narrowing as if waiting for something from youâperhaps a rebuttal, perhaps defianceâbut when nothing comes, he exhales sharply, as if your silence only serves to aggravate him further. Without another word, Sukuna turns and strides toward the door, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness of the room. Just before he exits, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorframe as he glances back at you one final time.
âI donât have the patience for this,â he says, the words tinged with irritation. âAccept your place, human.â And with that, heâs gone. The door swings shut behind him with a finality that makes your chest tighten. The books lie in front of you, their spines worn and ancient. Their pages hold the answers you are desperate forâanswers that Sukuna refuses to give, answers that you must seek for yourself. You glance at them, the fire of defiance still burning somewhere deep within you, but you are too tired now. Too drained. So, with a heavy sigh, you reach for the first book, the weight of your situation pressing down on you like an unrelenting storm. You begin to read, not because you want to, but because there is nothing else left to do. You open the first book with a heavy heart, the ancient parchment creaking as you turn its pages. The dim light from the candle flickers, casting long shadows across the room as you begin to read. The words blur at first, your mind too clouded with confusion and anger to focus on anything other than the weight of your situation. But as you read on, the words start to make sense. The more you read, the more you realize the true nature of this bond. The pages speak of soulmates, but not in the way you imagined. They describe the deep, divine connection between two beings whose fates are tied together by forces beyond their understanding. These bonds are not a mere product of human will or desireâthey are a force of nature, ordained by the heavens, irrevocable and absolute. You pause, your fingers trembling as you turn the page, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. There, on the next page, it speaks of the consequences of these bonds. The pain, the torment, the agony that comes with being tethered to someone whose very essence is a contradiction to your own. Soulmates cannot escape each other, not by choice or force. They are bound together, whether they like it or not. The burning of the mark, the unnatural pull, the sensation of being drawn to one anotherâitâs not a curse. Itâs not a domain of power or manipulation. Itâs divine will.
Divine will.
Your stomach churns violently, and you feel the world around you tilt, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The words on the page blur once again, but this time itâs not because you canât understand them. No, this time itâs because the realization is too much to bear. A sickening knot forms in the pit of your stomach, and you canât help but recoil at the thought. The King of Curses, the monster who destroyed your village and slaughtered your peopleâthis wretched creature, this abomination of natureâhe too was bound by divine will. The gods, the very forces that govern the universe, had deemed him worthy of a soulmate. But not just anyone. You. The words strike you like a physical blow, and you close the book with trembling hands, your mind spinning. The pain in your chestâthe phantom ache where the mark once burnedâflares up once more, but it feels different now. It no longer feels like the weight of a curse. It feels like something far worse.
A divine decree.
You try to steady your breath, but itâs impossible. You feel a wave of nausea wash over you, and for the first time since you were brought here, you truly understand the scope of your fate. This isnât something that can be easily escaped. This isnât just a cruel twist of fate, or Sukunaâs twisted will. This is divine authority. The gods have tied you to him, just as theyâve tied him to you. And thereâs nothing either of you can do about it. You feel your hands shaking as you drop the book back onto the table, your eyes wide with disbelief. Itâs not just Sukunaâs cursed power youâre bound to. Itâs the will of something greaterâsomething far more terrifying. And that realization fills you with disgust. You hate him. You hate everything heâs done. You hate the fact that the gods would curse you like this, tie you to a monster like him. Yet, you cannot deny the pull. You cannot deny the bond that tugs at you, drawing you closer to him with every passing day. Itâs not because of his power. Itâs not because of his curse. Itâs because the heavens have deemed you his. And that thought, that nauseating, repulsive thought, makes you want to scream. You want to tear the mark from your skin, to break this bond, to make it all stop. The days pass in a haze of helplessness, one bleeding into the next like ink spreading through water. You lose track of time, of the hours spent in silence, curled up in the same corner of the room Sukuna has forced you to call yours. The once-blazing fire in your chest has long since reduced to embers, but the weight of the markâof what it meansâpresses down on you with an unbearable force. The books remain scattered across the small table, their brittle pages whispering of things you cannot change. Divine decree. A bond that cannot be broken. An eternity bound to him. The knowledge festers in your mind like a wound left to rot. At first, you rage against it, against the cruel injustice of it all. But rage is exhausting.
Over time, it dulls into something quieter, something heavier. An unbearable listlessness settles in your bones, sapping you of any desire to move, to eat, to even breathe with purpose. You drift in and out of awareness, the servants tending to you with quiet efficiency. They bring you meals that you barely touch, garments that remain folded and untouched. You hear their whispers when they think youâre too far gone to notice. Pitying murmurs about the broken thing that their master has dragged into his domain. And though you tell yourself you do not care, you do. You despise the way they look at you, like you are something fragile, something doomed. Yet, you cannot bring yourself to move. Because what is the point? You are trapped here. There is no escape. You have tried, more times than you can count. You have slipped past the servants, darted down empty corridors, even clawed your way up the thick walls that enclose the shrine. Each time, the mark sears, and within the blink of an eye, you find yourself back in this same room. Fate is a prison, and you are its prisoner.Â
â
It starts as an irritation. At first, Sukuna barely acknowledges the gnawing sense of unease, chalking it up to the exhaustion of battle, the mind-numbing monotony of slaughter. The northern tribes had proven persistent, and though none could stand against him, their resistance had dragged on long enough to be an inconvenience. But then, it follows him back to the shrine. It lingers in the quiet moments, coiling around his mind like a vice, pressing into his chest like an ache he cannot place. There is no reason for him to feel this way. No reason for the air to taste heavier, for his thoughts to drag sluggishly in his mind. Until one evening, as he sits within his chambers, idly flipping through one of the ancient texts that now feel like a mockery, it dawns on him.
It is her.
The bond is acting upon him. He scowls, slamming the book shut as realization slithers through his veins like poison. That useless girl, the one who barely speaks, the one who sits in his shrine like a lifeless doll, is feeling something so profoundly that it is bleeding into him. How utterly pathetic. And yetâhe cannot stand it.
â
The door to your chambers is flung open with enough force to rattle the walls. You barely have time to flinch before his towering figure fills the space, his presence swallowing the room whole. âYou,â he growls, stepping inside with slow, measured steps. For the first time in days, you stir from where you sit, your fingers gripping the fabric of your robe tightly. You do not meet his eyes, but you can feel his glare burning into you, seething, livid. âEnough of this pathetic display.â Your chest tightens, but you do not speak. Sukunaâs lip curls, baring sharp fangs. âDo you think you are the only one suffering? That I am unaffected by this wretched bond? Tch. Even from across the land, I felt your self-pitying misery clawing at my mind like a parasite.â He steps closer, looming over you. âAnd I have had enough of it.â Your nails dig into your palms. The rage that had dulled into nothingness over the past days flickers, threatening to return. âThen kill me,â you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. âIf I disgust you so much, if I am such a burden, then why not rid yourself of me?â
Sukuna sneers. âFoolish girl. Has it not gone through your thick skull? One cannot die at the hands of their soulmate.â
âThe bond ensures that much,â he continues, voice dripping with disdain. âSo stop this insipid self-destruction. You are not a tragic martyr, no matter how much you wish to be.â Something inside you snaps. Your head jerks up, anger flashing in your weary eyes. âYou destroyed my village. You took everything from me, and now you tell me I have to live like this? To simply accept it? To accept you?â A low, mocking chuckle rumbles from his chest. âFinally found your voice, did you?â He tilts his head, four crimson eyes gleaming. âTch. It was unbearable enough when you were silent, but listening to you whine is somehow worse.â Your body trembles, with fury, with exhaustion, with the weight of something far greater than yourself. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The tension coils thick in the air, suffocating, unbearable. And thenâSukuna exhales sharply through his nose, as if tiring of this entire exchange. âEnough of this,â he mutters. His gaze hardens. âYou will eat. You will stop moping around this shrine like a ghost.â He leans down slightly, voice dropping to something more dangerous. âAnd you will stop letting your misery bleed into me.â
Your teeth clench. âAnd if I donât?â Sukunaâs smirk is sharp, vicious. âTry me.â You glare at him, defiant. But in your heart, you know he is right. There is no escape. Not from this shrine. Not from him. Not from the gods who have bound you together. So, with no other choice, you swallow the bitter taste of defeat and let out a slow breath.
âFine.âÂ
Sukuna watches you for a moment longer, as if ensuring you do not collapse into weakness the moment he turns away. Then, with a final sneer, he steps back and strides towards the door. âGood,â he mutters. âAt least youâre not entirely spineless.â The door slams behind him, leaving you alone once more. But this time, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you move. Small steps. At first, they are barely noticeable. Small bites of the simple food left on the lacquered trays beside your bed, the quiet scrape of wooden chopsticks against ceramic. Small brushes through the tangled knots in your hair, each stroke steadying trembling hands. Small steps across the cold floors of the shrine, guiding yourself to the stone bath where you sink into the water, letting the steam wrap around you like a veil. It is not much. It is barely anything. But it is something. Sometimes, in the silence, your mind drifts back to the village. You remember gathering firewood, splinters lodging into your fingers as you carried it back home to stave off the bitter chill of winter. You remember lining up in the early morning before the sun had fully risen, waiting for the butcherâs best cuts before the wealthier families claimed them all. You remember the fleeting warmth of small interactionsâthe women in the marketplace who knew of your motherâs shame, your supposed inherited stain, yet still exchanged quiet, idle words with you. There was no kindness, not truly, but there had been moments of something softer, something human. And now, they are all dead. The realization is a sharp knife twisting deep inside you. The mothers clutching their childrenâs hands. The butcher with his heavy cleaver. The old men who sat outside their homes, watching the world pass them by. All gone. Reduced to charred flesh, torn limbs, bloodstained streets. And himâyour soulmate, the cursed thing that the gods saw fit to bind you toâwas the one who had done it. The one who had laughed as he crushed their bones beneath his heel. Perhaps he had even devoured them afterward, the thought a sickening weight in your gut. A shudder rakes through your body. You sink lower into the water, letting the heat prickle against your skin, focusing on the slow, hypnotic swirls of steam curling through the air. You try to lose yourself in them, to let them pull you away from the thoughts clawing at your mind. But somewhere far from this room, far from the confines of this shrine, Sukuna feels it. It unsettles him. He tells himself it is nothing, just some lingering irritation from the bondâsome nuisance to be ignored like the buzzing of a gnat. And yet, the more time passes, the harder it becomes to dismiss. There is something changing. The weight of the soul-link no longer drags at him like it once did. It does not claw at the edges of his mind with that insipid despair that had seeped from you in waves. No. It is different now. It is quieter. Steadier. Something within you is shifting, solidifying. And for reasons he cannot explain, Sukuna feels it too. The sensation does not fill him with rage, as it once had. Nor does it disgust him. If anything, it is⌠tolerable. Almost grounding. And that is what disturbs him the most.
Because why? Why should it feel right? Why should the dull hum of the bond settle something deep in his marrow instead of igniting his fury? He loathes the thought. It claws at him, festering like an infection he cannot carve out. And worse stillâif he is feeling this, then surely she is, too. The mere idea sends a sharp pulse of irritation down the bond, but it does not vanish as quickly as he expects. Instead, it lingers, stretching between them like a thread neither of them can sever.
â
You do not know when it begins. When the suffocating numbness ebbs into something elseâsomething not quite peace, but not entirely hopelessness, either. There is no moment of revelation, no dramatic shift. Only the slow, creeping realization that the weight on your chest is not as heavy as it was before. That your limbs do not feel as though they are bound by lead. That your mind, though still a battlefield of grief and fury and disbelief, is no longer wholly consumed by it. You feel⌠steadier. And though you do not want to acknowledge it, though the very thought makes you recoil in disgust, you know where this newfound strength is coming from. It is the bond. The very thing you have spent days resenting, loathing, cursing the heavens for. Somehow, impossibly, it has begun to shift the tide inside you, pulling you from the abyss you had resigned yourself to. You hate it.
And yetâ
You take another bite of food. You brush through your hair a little longer. You walk beyond the walls of your room, even if only to feel the air shift around you. You exist, even if begrudgingly so. And across the shrine, Sukuna feels it all.
â
You tell yourself you are only wandering to know your prison, that this is merely another fruitless attempt at escapeâif not through the doors, then perhaps through knowledge. But in truth, you know. You have known for some time now. There is no leaving. Not by foot. Not by force. And so, you resign yourself to these corridors, to the vast emptiness of the shrine-palace that cages you. It is beautiful. You resent the thought the moment it forms, but denying it would be foolish. The architecture is unlike anything you have ever seen, a stark contrast to the wooden homes of your village. Here, stone forms the bones of the shrine, intricately carved with sigils you cannot decipher, the markings worn down by time yet still humming with unseen power. The halls stretch high, ceilings adorned with coiling dragons, their eyes inlaid with gleaming gemstones that catch the flickering candlelight. The floors, too, are cold stone, though you begin to learn where the softer woven mats are placed, offering relief from the bite of the chill. The corridors twist and wind like a labyrinth, grand staircases spiraling to multiple levels. You do not know how many floors there are, but you suspect the shrine is larger than you had imaginedâperhaps even larger than the village Sukuna had razed to the ground. Your footsteps become quieter with time, learning to move as the servants doâgraceful, measured, unnoticed. The evenings are the safest; you have observed the rhythms of the shrine, the times when the halls are busiest and when they are nearly deserted. The evenings are when the servants seem most preoccupied, bustling about with the preparation of Sukunaâs meals. You use these moments to explore, to test the limits of your captivity. It is on one of these silent excursions that you first stumble upon the gardens.
It is breathtaking. The shrineâs cold, imposing stone should not allow for something so alive, and yetâhere it is. A vast, sprawling garden enclosed within the palace grounds, untouched by the destruction that Sukuna so often brings upon the world. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers, of deep earth and fresh water. Trees stretch their ancient limbs toward the sky, their blossoms fluttering to the ground like drifting snow. Pathways of smooth, polished stone wind through the greenery, leading to pavilions with ornate wooden beams, their roofs curved like the wings of a bird. Lanterns hang from the eaves, swaying gently in the evening breeze. And then there is the pond. A deep, still pool of water, its surface glass-like, reflecting the moonâs pale glow. Koi fish drift lazily beneath, their scales shimmering like molten gold. A small bridge arches over it, leading to an island in the centerâa lone cherry tree standing there, its branches heavy with delicate pink petals. It is, impossibly, peaceful. You linger longer than you should, your breath quiet, your mind torn. You do not want to find beauty here. You do not want to acknowledge that anything in this place could be worth admiring. And yet, as the wind stirs the petals, as they dance across the waterâs surface, you cannot help but thinkâ
This is the first thing that has felt soft since the night your world burned. You return to the gardens the next evening. And the next. At first, it is with the same cautious hesitance that carried you beyond your room. You expect, perhaps, to be dragged back, for some unseen force to wrench you from this small solace. But nothing happens. The servants do not stop you, do not so much as glance in your direction. So you keep going. Each evening, when the shrine quiets, you find your way back. You move slower now, no longer pressing yourself against the walls or skirting around corners. You take your time. You run your fingers over the rough bark of the cherry trees, kneel by the pond to watch the koi as they move in slow, lazy circles. You walk the stone paths, memorize their turns, where they lead. There is a strange comfort in the ritual of it. Not peaceânever peace. But something adjacent to it. The weight of your captivity still sits heavy in your chest, but out here, surrounded by life rather than cold stone and flickering candlelight, you can pretendâfor a momentâthat you are not trapped. That you are simply wandering as you once did in your village, lingering too long in the markets, or pausing by the river just to feel the water brush against your fingertips. For the first time since being brought here, you do not feel entirely choked by your existence. But you are not the only one who notices. High above, Sukuna watches. From his chambersâthe highest level of the shrine-palace, where the walls are etched with ancient script and the air hums with residual powerâhe sees you. At first, it is only in passing. His eyes, sharp and restless, flicker downward when movement catches his attention. He expects a servant, perhaps Uraume, but instead, it is you. He nearly disregards you. It is in his nature to take little interest in the weak, in those who are of no consequence to him. And yetâhis gaze lingers. It does so again the next night. And the next. Something in him itches at the sight of you. Not in anger, not in furyâthose are familiar things, comfortable things, and yet what this is⌠he cannot place it. You are not trying to escape. Not now. He would feel it if you were. No, this is something else. Something deliberate. His arms rest against the wooden railing, fingers curling against the carved grooves of the stone. His upper set of arms remain folded against his chest, lips pressing into a thin line as he watches you move through his gardens, as if they belong to you, as if this is anything less than a prison. You seem⌠settled. Not content, noâhe can feel the weight of your thoughts, the heavy thrum of resentment in your bodyâbut you no longer seem consumed by them. The pathetic, broken thing he first brought here has started to breathe again. That unsettles him. Because he should not care. He should not feel the shift in your presence as if it is tethered to him. Should not feel the quiet, subtle difference in the way you carry yourself and have it reverberate through his own body like an echo. Sukuna is a god among men, a force that has torn through kingdoms, devoured all in his path. His domain is absolute. His power, unparalleled. And yet, despite all of thatâ
He cannot ignore the way his body knows when you step into the garden below.Â
â
Over time, the walls of your confinement grow wider. The slow, reluctant walks through the garden stretch longer. Your hands become familiar with the texture of leaves, with the way the koi in the pond move lazily beneath the waterâs surface. You wander beyond the paths you first stuck to, toward quiet courtyards and winding stone staircases that lead to new corners of the shrine-palace. The more you walk, the more you see. It is a cruel thing, how beautiful this place is. A place owned by a monster. You come to know the servants not by name, but by presenceâsome who seem more human, others who seem barely of this world. They move around you, neither avoiding you nor acknowledging you beyond what is necessary. There is no kindness, no cruelty. You are simply there, and that is all. And then, one evening, in the midst of your quiet roaming, you find the library. It is not like the grand, open libraries of noble houses, nor the small, humble book collections of monks. It is something else entirely.
The entrance is guarded by two enormous doors of blackened wood, carvings of creatures you do not recognize etched into their surface. The handles are cool beneath your touch, and when they give way, the doors creak softly, revealing the vast space beyond.
It is unlike anything you have ever seen. Towering shelves stretch high into the dim, flickering light, filled with books and scrolls of every imaginable kind. The scent of old parchment and ink lingers thick in the air, mingling with something faintly metallic. Ancient tomes bound in worn leather rest beside delicate silk scrolls, their characters barely visible under layers of dust. Some books seem humanâhistories of dynasties, accounts of emperors and wars. Others are clearly not. The symbols, the markings, are foreign, twisted in ways that make your stomach tighten. This is a place of knowledge. A place of secrets. And so, just as you return to the gardens each day, you begin returning here too. One evening, you find yourself lost in the pages of an ancient text, its ink smudged but still legible. It speaks of the early days of sorcery, of curses and divine punishments, of men who wielded power beyond their mortal means. Your fingers trace the characters absently as you read, absorbed by the details.
You do not hear the approaching footsteps.
But you feel him. A shift in the air. A presence so immense it presses against your skin like an unseen force. When you look up, Sukuna is there. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, four eyes watching you with unreadable intent. He says nothing at first, only observing you as if trying to decide whether you are worth the effort of addressing. You force yourself to meet his gaze, pulse steady despite the instinct screaming at you to lower your eyes.
Thenâ
âWhy,â his voice is slow, deliberate, irritated, âis a human wandering so freely in my shrine?â You should be afraid. A part of you still is. But something else has settled in the space between youâsomething no longer dictated by pure terror, but by something stranger. You do not look away. âYouâve made it clear I cannot leave,â you say, voice measured. âWhat else am I supposed to do? Rot in my room?â
His upper lip curls, but his eyesâhis lower setâflick to the book in your hands. âHm.â His gaze lingers before he strides further in, slow and deliberate. âThat book is full of half-truths. The author was a fool.â
You glance down at the pages. âSeems well-researched.âÂ
He snorts, plucking a scroll from a shelf as he passes. âAnd yet he does not understand the difference between innate cursed energy and cultivated energy.â He flicks the scroll open briefly before shutting it again, gaze returning to you. âA human should not be so interested in these things.â You set the book down carefully. âAnd yet you have hundreds of them.â A silence stretches.
He smirks. âFair.â He crosses the room, scanning the shelves with absent familiarity. For a moment, you wonder if he will leave, if this conversation is already over. Instead, he pulls another book from a high shelf and tosses it onto the table before you. âThis one,â he says, tone indifferent. âLess stupid than the one you were reading.â You stare at the book, then at him. âYouâre recommending me something?â âIâm correcting your ignorance,â he corrects smoothly. âIt is an insult to allow a creature bound to me to remain unlearned.â Something in your stomach twists at the word bound.
You exhale slowly, fingers skimming the bookâs edge. âAnd what is it you read, then?â
For a moment, he does not respond. Then, almost carelessly, he plucks a small, tattered volume from a lower shelf and tosses it onto the table beside yours. The cover is unassuming, the pages slightly yellowed from age. âWars,â he says idly. âBloodshed. Things more useful than philosophy and fables.â
You glance at him. âYou have philosophy books?â A pause. Then, to your genuine surpriseâ
A low chuckle.Â
âEven the strongest must have something to mock,â he muses. Your fingers graze over the book he has given you. It is not an act of kindness. You know this. And yet, as you sit there, the weight of his presence lingering, there is something in the air between you. Not peace. Not understanding.
But something.
Despite the revulsion that coils deep in your gut, despite the ever-present whisper of grief that lingers in the hollow of your chest, you cannot deny the way your curiosity festers. It is a quiet, creeping thing, burrowing into the spaces left vacant by sorrow. You should not want to know more of him. And yet, as the days stretch on, as the seasons shift imperceptibly beyond the shrineâs towering walls, you find yourself drawn back to the libraryâagain and again. It is not intentional. Or at least, that is what you tell yourself. At first, it is the books. You lose yourself in the scent of old parchment, the weight of knowledge pressing in from all sides. There is power in words, in understandingâan anchor in a world that has left you unmoored. But the books are not the only constant in that dim-lit chamber.
He is there, too. Not always. But often enough. Sometimes he simply exists in the periphery of your vision, draped lazily over a chair with a scroll in hand, the soft flick of turning pages the only sound between you. Other times, his presence is more directâirritated glances when you linger too long on a passage he finds idiotic, scoffs of disdain when you reference a text he has long since dismissed as foolish. And then there are the rare moments when he speaks. Not much, never more than necessary. But his voice threads through the silence, rough and edged with indifference as he critiques the material in your hands, as he tosses another book onto your table without looking up from his own.
That one is less idiotic.
If you insist on wasting your time with philosophy, at least read something with merit.
Hmph. Misinterpretation of strategy is a common human failing. I suppose I shouldnât be surprised.
You do not argue. Not often, anyway. But you listen. You always listen. And in turn, despite his reluctance, despite whatever internal war he fights beneath the surface, so does he. Neither of you realize it at first. The way the bond, ever silent and insidious, begins to settle. Not in warmth, not in anything so gentleâbut in recognition. It does not ease your hatred. It does not erase the blood on his hands, nor soften the jagged edges of your grief. But the weight of it, the sheer force of something inevitable, lingers between you both. Like an echo in your bones. Like a thread neither of you can sever.
â
So, your life at the shrine begins. Thereâs nothing you can do here, really, except roam. But ever since these impromptu, silent meetings with Sukuna, you realize that his presence in your life is becoming pronounced in more ways than one. It starts off with new tatami mats. You wake up as you usually do, only to realize that the rough, straw-like weave beneath you has been replaced. The scent of fresh rush grass lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of old stone. Your futon is different tooâno longer the stiff, worn-out bedding you had grown accustomed to but something cushier, the fabric smoother beneath your fingers. The discomfort that had once made sleep elusive is softened, made⌠bearable. You stare at it for a long moment before calling for one of the servants, asking why.
The answer is simple. âMaster Sukunaâs orders.â
Days pass, and it does not stop. Your baths, once nothing more than warm water and plain wooden pails, take on a strange transformation. Small satchels of herbs begin appearing at the bathâs edge, their contents filling the air with faint floral and medicinal scents. Lavender, chamomile, yuzu peelâscents that soothe, scents that linger even after you leave the steaming water behind. Then, your meals. The trays brought to you, once simpleârice, miso, a small cut of fishâbecome⌠thoughtful. More side dishes begin appearing: simmered vegetables, slices of fruit, a bowl of soup richer in flavor. Itâs nothing extravagant, nothing overly indulgent, but it is clear enough that it is tailored for you. The portions are small, balanced. The nutrients, something even your village had often lacked, are deliberate.
The realization unsettles you. It is not indulgence. Not luxury. Not the gilded treatment of a beloved consort or an esteemed guest. No, it is something else entirely. It is simply⌠care. But that word is difficult to grasp when it is him. When it is the same man who razed your home to the ground, the same man whose very existence is a contradiction to humanity itself.
And then the clothes arrive.
The garments left for you are finer than the rough, unadorned kosode you have been wearing since arriving. They are still modest, still plain in comparison to the silken layers of nobility, but they are yours. The fabric is softer, dyed in delicate shades that feel strangely out of place against the cold stone walls of the shrineâmuted hues of lavender, deep blue, pale pink, as if he had given you the sky at dusk and bottled it into cloth. Subtle patterns are embroidered into the edgesânothing ostentatious, but thoughtful nonetheless. A motif of wisteria trailing down the sleeves of one of the garments. The faintest traces of plum blossoms scattered along another. You run your fingers along the stitching, lingering on the unfamiliar softness. Again, you ask the servants who brought them.
Again, the response is the same.
âMaster Sukunaâs orders.â
And yet, he never mentions it. Not once. Not in the quiet moments you share in the library, where he only spares you a glance before returning to whatever text is in his hands. Not in the wordless passing of time, where the only thing exchanged between you is the occasional book he sets near your seat. Nothing is said. But the truth lingers, unspoken yet inescapable. It happens one evening, when the weight of silence is broken by the rustle of a turning page. You are reading. Some old philosophical text, one that debates the nature of the soulâthe way bonds form and fracture, the ever-complicated relationship between fate and free will. You hate it. Itâs wordy, pompous. It speaks in circles, never quite reaching an answer. Sukuna, sitting across from you, scoffs. âThat book is stupid.â
You glance up, raising a brow. âYouâve read it?â He leans back against his seat, expression unreadable. âYears ago.â A beat of silence. Then, almost begrudgingly, he reaches beside him and tosses a different text onto the table between you. It slides to a stop near your fingers. Another book. You eye it, hesitant. The cover is worn, but the script is meticulous, the binding careful. It is not new, not something tossed aside. It has been kept. âWhat is this?â you ask. He does not look at you. âSomething better.â And despite yourself, despite the wariness that never quite leaves your bones, you open it. The hours pass in something almost⌠comfortable. For the first time, you speak of booksânot of war, not of hatred, not of the bond that chains you together. He critiques, and you respond. You disagree, and he scoffs. It is not friendly, not warm, but it is something. And then, out of nowhereâ
âDo you like them?â
You blink. âWhat?â
âThe things youâve been given,â he says, voice flat, almost disinterested. âThe clothing. The food. The rest.â You hesitate, thrown off by the bluntness. Your fingers curl around the edge of the book in your lap. âWhy does it matter?â He does not answer immediately. Then, voice quieter, he mutters, âIt doesnât.â
A lie.
You swallow. A part of you still hates it. Hates that you are here, that you have no choice but to accept it. But another partâthe rational one, the one that understands that survival is often unfairâforces you to speak. ââŚThe bath infusions,â you say stiffly. âThe lavender is nice.â That is all you give him. He only grunts in response, unimpressed. The conversation dies there.
Or so you think.Â
The next morning, you wake to find a small woven basket left beside your roomâs entrance.
It is filled to the brim with bundles of dried lavender.
â
The changes are slow, almost imperceptible at first. The meals grow more elaborate, not in extravagance but in precisionâflavors that suit your palate, dishes you recognize from your village, though executed with the refinement only a palace like this could provide. The clothing becomes finer still, the fabrics layered more deliberately, the patterns more intricateâsubtle, but undeniably intentional. Even the bath infusions are no longer just lavender. You find rose, jasmine, crushed camellia petals. A mix of scents and herbs you have never encountered before, each carefully selected. And yet, through all of this, he never says a word about it. He does not ask if you enjoy them. He does not acknowledge the way you hesitate when you notice something new. The gifts simply arrive, seamlessly woven into your days, as if they had always been there. Until one morning, when the servants do not merely arrive with trays or bundles of fabric. They arrive with a quiet bow and a simple statement.
âYour room is being moved.â You stare at them, uncomprehending.
âWhat?â
They do not falter. âMaster Sukuna has ordered it.â
â
The new room is beautiful. It is spacious, lined with thick tatami mats and warmed by the soft glow of paper lanterns. The walls, carved stone and lacquered wood, are adorned with delicate paintingsâscenes of nature, of rolling hills and quiet rivers. And the viewâ You step forward, drawn to the open shoji doors leading to a balcony. From here, you can see the gardens in full. The winding stone paths, the koi pond reflecting the sky, the sakura trees that have begun to bloom despite the lateness of the season. It is breathtaking, so much so that for a moment, you forget yourself. You let your fingers brush against the wooden railing. The faintest breeze carries the scent of the garden into your lungs, and something in your chestâ
A flicker. A feeling so foreign, so small, you almost do not register it. But the mark does. It reacts. A slow warmth, a pulse of something eerily close to pleasure, unfurls beneath your skin. It is not overpowering, not painful like before. It is something gentler, something that sinks into your bones and lingers. The new quarters are beautiful, but it is the bathroom that surprises you the most. Carved stone and polished tile, the space is far grander than anything you could have imagined for yourself. The bathing area is deep, nearly a small pool rather than a tub, built into the floor and lined with dark slate. The walls are decorated with intricate motifsâdelicate carvings of twisting vines and blooming flowers, almost too elegant for a place like this.
And then there is the cabinet. It stands against the farthest wall, lacquered wood polished to a rich, dark gleam. When you slide it open, the scent of herbs and oils wafts out, so many that you nearly stagger back. Small glass vials, ceramic jars, and silk-wrapped bundles of dried petals are arranged in perfect rows. Lavender, rose, jasmine, crushed camelliaâscents you had noticed before. But now there are new ones. Richer blends, exotic spices, deep, warm fragrances you cannot name. Your fingers hesitate over one of the jars. The craftsmanship is exquisite, the lid inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Everything here is deliberate. And that unsettles you. Because this was not merely placed here for anyone. This was made for you.
And once again, just as beforeâ
The mark pulses. A slow, creeping warmth unfurls beneath your ribs, not painful, not harsh. Just⌠there. Lurking. Reacting. Far above, Sukuna exhales sharply, fingers curling against the armrest of his seat. The bond is responding again. He does not understand why this is happening, why every small shift in her acceptance of this place sends something insufferably warm through him. But as he watches from his chambers, sees her linger by the open shoji doors, sees her take in the beauty of what has now become hersâ
He realizes with great irritation that this feeling will not be leaving him anytime soon.
â
He is watching her again. Not intentionally. Not because he wants to. It just⌠happens. She is there, standing by the balcony of her new quarters, her fingers ghosting over the wood as if the very idea of having something her own is too much to comprehend. It is a strange sight. She does not look like the girl he found in the ruins of her village, curled in on herself, too broken to even summon tears. No, this woman is different. Still fragile, still guarded, but⌠something is shifting. He should not care. And yet, when he had given the order to move her, he had ensured that the room overlooked the gardens. That it was closer to the library, that the private bath was stocked with the things she preferred. He had not thought about it in the moment. It had simply been done. But now, watching her stand there, he feels it againâthat unnerving sensation deep in his chest, the strange, almost unbearable warmth that rises beneath the surface of his skin.
It is the mark.
It is responding.
To her pleasure.
The realization is infuriating. Because now, he knowsâeach time she enjoys something, each time a part of her accepts this place, no matter how begrudgingly, it is felt. The bond does not let him ignore it. And worse still, he does not know if it is the bond itself that compels him to act, or ifâ
No. The thought does not finish. He will not let it. He exhales, slow, measured. This is not something he will dwell on. He has no reason to. But as he turns away, retreating into the dim glow of his chambers, the warmth beneath his ribs does not fade.
â
You donât even realize when it happens. The teleportation. One moment, the futon in your new room is gently pressing into your back in the most comfortable manner, cotton tunic soft and short, providing extra comfort as you soundlessly sleep on the bed. The next moment, in your sleep-induced haze, the futon is⌠much softer? As if made of clouds, sprung with feathers. Thereâs warmth, thick and inescapable, curling around you, sinking into your very skin. The room feels different. More enclosed, the air heavier with a mixture of something clean yet darkly spiced, and thereâs the quiet hum of breath that does not belong to you. Your fingers shift against the bedding, feeling silks far richer than anything in your quarters, and thenâ
Heat. A weight at your back. A warmth so solid it could only belong to something alive. Your eyes fly open at the exact same moment as his.
Sukuna.
He is right there, his larger form looming, the faint gleam of his four eyes now slightly narrowed, assessing. You lurch away instantly, scrambling, but so does he. The space between you expands as you both shift back in sync, staring. His top pair of eyes regard you in that usual sharp scrutiny, but the lower pair flick briefly downwardâ
To the loose collar of your tunic, where sleep had disheveled it slightly, the smallest bit of cleavage exposed. Just a second too long, too brief to be purposeful, but enough for your breath to hitch, for your skin to prickle with the awareness of it. And then itâs gone. He blinks, gaze leveling again, unreadable. Perhaps you imagined it. Thereâs a moment where neither of you speak. The room is quiet, the outside world still swallowed in the deep black of midnight, the flickering lanterns outside casting uneven shadows against the walls of his chambers. You need to leave. You push up slightly, but before you can move further, his voice cuts through the silenceâlow, slightly rough from fatigue.
âStay.â
You freeze, watching him, wary. His posture is lax, one of his four arms folded behind his head as he leans into the plush pillows, but his expression holds a flicker of something serious. âWhy?â you finally manage, voice quieter than youâd like. Sukuna exhales slowly, as if the explanation bores him. âBecause a normal human wouldnât be able to leave my chambers.â You blink. What? He stretches, the movement languid, unconcerned. âAncient protections. Wards. I donât care to dispel them right now.â You eye the dark wooden doors leading out of the room, unsure whether heâs bluffing. His expression suggests he isnât. Still, the thought of staying here, in his room, is unbearable.
âI can sleep on the floor.â
He doesnât even look at you. âStay put.âÂ
Your fingers twitch against the sheets, unwilling, but he doesnât give you any further attention. His head tilts slightly, eyes slipping shut again as if your presence is already inconsequential to him. Slowly, stiffly, you lower yourself back down, turned away from him, as if that will make it less real. The silence stretches. You should sleep. But you canât. The question escapes before you can stop it.
âWhy did you kill them?â
Sukuna doesnât answer immediately. The silence that follows is so long that you think he might ignore you entirely. But then, his voice comes, quieter than before, but no less firm. âI am a vengeful cursed being,â he says. âBorn of the hatred humans have cultivated for centuries.â
You swallow, fingers curling into the bedding. âThatâs not an answer.âÂ
Sukuna finally opens his eyes again, all four glinting in the dim light. He watches you, assessing. âIt is the only answer that matters.â You exhale slowly, pulse steady but heavy. âDo you ever think like a human?â
His gaze doesnât waver. âNo.â Your throat tightens. His answer is so blunt, so void of doubt. And yet⌠Something about it doesnât feel entirely right. âThen why are you explaining yourself to me?â you ask, voice soft, almost careful. For the first time, he pauses. A slow breath leaves him, and his eyes shift, gaze flickering somewhere above you, to the ceiling, as if the answer could be written there. Then, so casually, so simply, he says:
âI canât understand human emotions.â
You frown slightly, but he continues, voice quiet, deliberate. âI donât feel remorse. I donât regret.â A brief beat. And thenâ
âBut I acknowledge what I have done.â
He doesnât say more. He doesnât say less. And you realize⌠This is the closest he has come to apologizing. You stare at him, searching, trying to make sense of it. It doesnât erase the blood spilled. It doesnât make up for anything. But it is something earnest, and it lingers between you both in the dark, stretching into the silence of the room. You close your eyes. The bond hums. Unbeknownst to either of you, it deepens. As you lie there, tension curling your body tight, you realize something unsettling. The King of Curses, Sukuna, has no reason to explain himself. Heâs ruthless, merciless, and in his eyes, human lives mean little. Yet, here he is, acknowledging his actions in a way youâve never expected from a being like him. It's not an apologyânot really. But in some strange way, it feels like the closest thing to one heâs capable of giving. You roll the thought over in your mind, slowly, carefully. He could have dismissed your question, ignored you, or even mocked you for your naive human emotions. But instead, he explained his nature as if it were something that mattered to himâan acknowledgment, a bare minimum of recognition for what heâs done.
Itâs not a redemption, far from it. It doesnât change who he is, and it doesnât make the blood on his hands any less damning. But itâs a shift, a slight crack in the wall that shields him. And for a moment, you wonder if thatâs as much as heâs capable of. The air feels heavier now, less tense but somehow more oppressive, the weight of the night wrapping around you both like a thick blanket. You donât realize when your breathing slows, when your body relaxes against the comfort of the bedding. The warmth from his presence is steady, and the soft murmurs of his breath become the backdrop to your thoughts. Itâs strange how something so unsettling can become⌠calming. Ironically, sleeping next to the beast turned out to be the best sleep youâd had since your arrival at this shrine. The next morning, you wake up, groggy and confused, only to realize, haphazardly, that youâre back in your own room. The futon beneath you feels familiar, your body entwined in the soft sheets, though not as soft as the ones in Sukunaâs chambers. For a moment, you wonder if it was all just a dreamâwhether you had somehow imagined meeting Sukuna, conjured him up in your sleep. But then, as you shift, a scent clings to your sleeping tunicâa dark, spiced aroma. Itâs unmistakable, the same one youâd inhaled when youâd been teleported to his room last night.
Oh.
â
The gardens of Sukunaâs shrine were a paradoxâa place of serene beauty nestled within the cold, unyielding stone of his domain. The koi pond you had grown so fond of shimmered under the fading light, its surface rippling as the fish darted beneath. It was a place of quiet, a place where the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only for a moment. You had come here often since your arrival, drawn to the tranquility it offered. Tonight was no different. The air was cool against your skin, the scent of blooming flowers filling your lungs as you wandered the stone paths. Your fingers brushed against the petals of a wisteria vine, its delicate purple clusters hanging like jewels. You turned a corner, and there he was. Sukuna stood at the edge of the pond, his imposing figure silhouetted against the fading light. His upper set of arms were crossed over his chest, while the lower pair rested at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if itching to grasp something. His crimson eyes were fixed on the water, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you considered turning back, retreating to the safety of your room. But something held you in placeâa curiosity, perhaps, or the faint hum of the bond that seemed to pull you toward him. He noticed you almost immediately, his gaze flicking in your direction. There was no surprise in his expression, only a faint irritation that seemed to linger beneath the surface. âWandering again,â he said, his voice low and edged with something you couldnât quite place. It wasnât anger, not exactly. More like⌠exasperation. You hesitated, then stepped forward, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. âI didnât expect to find you here,â you admitted, your voice soft but steady.
Sukunaâs lip curled slightly, a hint of a sneer forming. âItâs my shrine,â he said, as if that explained everything. âI go where I please.â You nodded, unsure of how to respond. The silence stretched between you, heavy and awkward. You glanced at the pond, watching as a koi fish broke the surface, its scales glinting in the fading light. The sight was calming, grounding. It gave you the courage to speak. âI used to live near a river,â you said, your voice barely above a whisper. âIn my village. It wasnât as grand as this, but⌠it was peaceful. I would go there sometimes, when things got too much.â Sukuna didnât respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the water, but you could feel his attention shift toward you. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection between you.
âA river,â he repeated, his tone flat. âHow quaint.âÂ
You ignored the jab, focusing instead on the memory. âMy mother used to take me there,â you continued, your voice growing stronger. âShe wasnât⌠well, she wasnât like the other mothers in the village. She was⌠different.â Sukunaâs eyes flicked toward you, a faint glimmer of interest breaking through his usual indifference. âDifferent how?â You hesitated, your fingers tightening around each other. It wasnât something you talked about oftenânot even to yourself. But something about the quiet of the garden, the way the bond seemed to hum softly between you, made it easier to speak. âShe was a courtesan,â you said finally, the words heavy on your tongue. âA⌠a whore, as the villagers called her. She wasnât married, and she didnât know who my father was. So, I was⌠well, I was a whoreâs child. Thatâs what they called me.â Sukunaâs expression didnât change, but you could feel the shift in his energyâa subtle tension that hadnât been there before. His gaze remained on you, sharp and assessing, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle.
âAnd?â he prompted, his voice low. âWhat of it?â You blinked, caught off guard by his response. âWhat of it?â you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief. âIt⌠it wasnât easy. The other children wouldnât play with me. The adults looked at me like I was⌠like I was something dirty. Something to be ashamed of.â Sukunaâs lip curled again, but this time, it wasnât a sneer. It was something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. âHumans,â he said, his voice dripping with disdain. âAlways so quick to judge. To ostracise. Pathetic.â You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. His words were harsh, but there was something in themâsomething that almost sounded like⌠understanding. It was fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp it, but it was there. âMy mother tried to protect me,â you continued, your voice softer now. âShe did her best. But⌠It wasn't enough. She died when I was young. After that, I was alone.â Sukunaâs gaze didnât waver. âAnd yet you survived,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact. âYouâre here. Still standing. Still breathing.â
You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the ground. âI survived,â you agreed. âBut it wasnât easy. I had to fight for everything. For respect. For a place in the village. For⌠for a life.â The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the weight of Sukunaâs gaze on you, his presence pressing against you like a physical force. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet reminder of the connection between you. âAnd now?â Sukuna asked finally, his voice low. âWhat do you fight for now?â You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity. Only a cold, calculating curiosity. It was unsettling, but it also gave you the courage to answer. âI donât know,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. âI⌠I donât know what Iâm fighting for anymore. My village is gone. My life⌠itâs not my own. Iâm bound to you, and I donât even know what that means.â Sukunaâs expression didnât change, but you could feel the shift in his energyâa subtle tension that hadnât been there before. He turned his gaze back to the pond, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. âYouâre bound to me,â he said, his voice low and edged with something you couldnât quite place. âBut that doesnât mean youâve lost everything. Youâre still here. Still breathing. Still fighting.â You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. His words were harsh, but there was something in themâsomething that almost sounded like⌠encouragement. It was fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp it, but it was there. âI donât know if I can keep fighting,â you admitted, your voice soft. âNot like this. Not when everything Iâve ever known is gone.â Sukunaâs gaze didnât waver. âThen find something else to fight for,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact. âSomething worth surviving for.â
You blinked, caught off guard by his response. âLike what?â you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. Sukunaâs lip curled slightly, a hint of a smirk forming. âThatâs for you to decide,â he said, his voice low. âBut if youâre waiting for me to give you a reason, youâll be waiting a long time.â The words were harsh, but there was something in themâsomething that almost sounded like⌠a challenge. It was unsettling, but it also sparked something deep within you. A flicker of defiance, of determination. You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the ground. âIâll think about it,â you said finally, your voice soft but steady. Sukuna didnât respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the water, but you could feel his attention shift toward you. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection between you.
âDo that,â he said finally, his voice low. âAnd donât waste my time with your self-pity.â
The words were harsh, but there was something in themâsomething that almost sounded like⌠concern. It was fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp it, but it was there. You nodded again, your fingers tightening around each other. âI wonât,â you said, your voice firm. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You could feel the weight of Sukunaâs gaze on you, his presence pressing against you like a physical force. The bond hummed faintly, a quiet reminder of the connection between you. And for the first time since your arrival at the shrine, you felt something shiftâsomething deep within you. It wasnât peace, not exactly. But it was something. Something worth holding onto. The days in the shrine began to blur together, a quiet rhythm of wandering the gardens, reading in the library, and the occasional, awkward encounters with Sukuna. The tension between you hadnât vanishedâit still lingered, a heavy undercurrent beneath every interactionâbut it had shifted. There was less hostility, less of the sharp-edged animosity that had defined your early days. Instead, there was something else, something you couldnât quite name. It wasnât warmth, not exactly, but it wasnât cold either. It was⌠something in between.
One evening, as you sat in your room, the thought struck you. You missed cooking. It was a strange realisation, one that caught you off guard. Back in your village, cooking had been a necessity, a way to survive. But it had also been a comfort, a small act of control in a life that often felt chaotic. Here, in the shrine, your meals were prepared for you, brought to your room on lacquered trays by silent servants. It was efficient, but it left you feeling⌠detached. You found yourself standing in the doorway of Sukunaâs library before you could fully think it through. He was seated at his desk, a scroll unfurled in front of him, his lower set of arms resting on the table while the upper pair were crossed over his chest. He looked up as you entered, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. âWhat is it?â he asked, his tone flat but not unkind. You hesitated, your fingers twisting in the fabric of your garment. âI was⌠wondering if I could use the kitchens,â you said finally. Sukunaâs brow furrowed, his expression one of mild confusion. âWhy would you need to do that?â he asked, his tone laced with skepticism. âYour meals are prepared for you.â
You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor. âI know,â you said. âBut⌠I used to cook. Back in my village. Itâs⌠something I miss.â Sukuna stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug, he leaned back in his chair. âItâs my shrine,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact. âSo, of course, you can use the kitchens, woman. Do as you please.â
You blinked, caught off guard by his response. âOh,â you said, your voice tinged with surprise. âThank you.â He waved a hand dismissively, his attention already returning to the scroll in front of him. âDonât waste my time with trivialities,â he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. You nodded again, then turned and left the room, your mind already racing with possibilities. The kitchens were vast, far grander than anything you had ever worked in before. The servants watched you with quiet curiosity as you moved through the space, gathering ingredients and tools. You settled on making breadâa simple, hearty loaf that had been a staple in your village. It wasnât anything fancy, but it was familiar, comforting. As you worked, kneading the dough with practiced hands, you became aware of a presence behind you. You turned, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Sukuna leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. You briefly noticed how the servants were no longer in the kitchen. Perhaps he had told them to command privacy when the two of you were present in a shared space? His expression was one of mild curiosity, his crimson eyes fixed on the dough in your hands.
âWhat are you making?â he asked, his tone laced with skepticism. âBread,â you replied, your voice soft but steady. âItâs⌠something I used to make back home.â Sukunaâs brow furrowed slightly, his gaze flicking from the dough to your face. âBread,â he repeated, as if the concept were foreign to him. âWhy?â You hesitated, your fingers stilling in the dough. âItâs⌠comforting,â you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. âIt reminds me of⌠before.â Sukuna didnât respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and assessing. Then, with a shrug, he pushed off the doorway and stepped further into the kitchen.
âDo as you please,â he said, his tone indifferent. âBut donât expect me to partake in your⌠human fare.â You nodded, your fingers returning to the dough. The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. As you worked, you became aware of Sukunaâs presence lingering in the background, his gaze occasionally flicking toward you. It was⌠strange, but not entirely unwelcome. When the bread was finally done, golden and fragrant, you hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the loaf, unsure of what to do next. Then, almost without thinking, you turned to Sukuna, who was still leaning against the counter, his expression unreadable.
âUm⌠do you want to try it?â you asked hesitantly. Sukunaâs brow furrowed slightly, his gaze flicking from the bread to your face. âWhy would I?â he asked, his tone laced with intrigue. You hesitated. âI just⌠thought you might want to,â you said finally. âI mean⌠you probably donât eat things like this, do you? Iâve heard⌠well, Iâve heardâseenâ you prefer⌠other things.â Sukunaâs expression didnât change, but you could feel the shift in his energyâa subtle tension that hadnât been there before. âHuman flesh,â he said, his voice low and edged with something you couldnât quite place. âYes, Iâve consumed it. But⌠things have changed since you arrived.â You blinked, caught off guard by his response. âChanged?â you repeated, your voice tinged with disbelief.
Sukunaâs gaze didnât waver. âThe bond,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact. âItâs⌠altered my tastes. I no longer crave what I once did.â The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken. You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. The idea that the bond could affect him in such a way was⌠unsettling, but also strangely comforting. It was a reminder that, despite everything, you were connectedâbound together in ways neither of you fully understood. Finally, you nodded, your fingers reaching for the bread. You broke off a small piece and held it out to him, your hand trembling slightly.
âHere,â you said. âTry it.â Sukuna hesitated, his gaze flicking from the bread to your face. Then, with a shrug, he reached out and took the piece from your hand. He examined it for a moment, his expression one of mild curiosity, before popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached for another piece. You watched him, your heart pounding in your chest. He didnât say anything, didnât offer any praise or criticism, but the fact that he took another piece was enough. It was a small victory, a tiny step forward in the strange, uneasy dance that had become your relationship. As you stood there, the scent of fresh bread filling the air, you realized something. Despite everythingâdespite the bond, the shrine, the blood on his handsâyou were beginning to enjoy his presence. And, though he would never admit it, you had a feeling he was beginning to enjoy yours too.
â
You donât understand how it had happened, or why it happened, but the servants had randomly told you that Master Sukuna would like to have dinner with you in the large and unused⌠dining room, could you call it? You couldnât recall ever seeing a table in there before, but it seemed like it had randomly appeared. When you step inside, you realize how much effort has been put into the space. The long wooden table, dark and aged, stretches beneath the golden light of the paper lanterns strung along the ceiling. Cushions have been placed on either side, meant for sitting, and at the very head of the tableâSukuna. He is already seated, elbow propped against the wood, his dual eyes scanning you lazily as you hesitate at the entrance. The scent of the meal reaches you before anything else, rich and layeredâgrilled fish with hints of charcoal, freshly steamed rice, something simmering in miso. An array of small dishes is spread across the table, each meticulously platedâpickled vegetables in delicate porcelain bowls, slices of tamagoyaki, bowls of miso soup steaming gently, and even a small dish of simmered daikon. It is undeniably a feast, far more elaborate than the simpler meals youâve been having alone in your chambers.Â
âYouâre standing there like a fool,â Sukuna remarks, though thereâs no real bite to his tone. He gestures vaguely to the cushion placed a few seats down from him. âSit.âÂ
You do, lowering yourself onto the cushion as a servant quietly pours tea into your cup. The warmth of the cup is grounding as you stare at the food before you, realizing you havenât eaten with another person since before your village was burned to the ground. A strange feeling prickles at the back of your mind, something close to unease but not quite. âIs this an interrogation?â you ask finally, glancing at him over the rim of your cup. Sukuna huffs out a short laugh. âIf it were, youâd already know.â Thereâs an ease to the way he picks up his chopsticks, spearing a piece of grilled fish with practiced nonchalance. The sight of it surprises youâbefore, you had only seen him tear into raw meat with an almost animalistic detachment, caring little for the formality of eating. You recall, vaguely, what he had said days priorâthat his tastes had changed because of the bond. That his body had begun to shift in ways he didnât fully understand. He eats cooked food now. It unsettles you in a way you canât describe. You reach for the rice, taking a small bite before speaking again. âYouâre eating properly.â
His gaze flickers toward you before he shrugs. âItâs tolerable.â
âThatâs a change from before.â
âHn.â He doesnât elaborate, instead reaching for the simmered daikon, plucking a piece between his chopsticks before lazily gesturing toward your untouched soup. âItâll get cold.â You hesitate before taking a sip, the umami of the miso washing over your tongue. The warmth seeps through you, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. Itâs good. Everything here is good. And for the first time in a long while, you eat without rushing, without the shadow of your grief looming so heavily over your head. Sukuna, despite his usual abrasiveness, eats with a methodical slowness, his movements lacking the usual aggression youâve come to expect from him. Occasionally, he commentsâsometimes about the food, sometimes a passing remark about the shrineâs cook. Once, when you reach for the pickled plums, he gives you a sideways glance. âYou like those?â
You pause, chopsticks hovering over the dish. âI do.â
âDidnât take you for someone who enjoys sour things.â
âDidnât take you for someone who enjoys cooked food.â
His lips quirk slightly, though it isnât quite a smile. âFair.â The conversation remains sparse, neither of you attempting to fill the silence for the sake of it. But as the minutes pass, the quiet begins to feel less stifling. You eat, and he eats, and the room, for all its strangeness, feels less foreign than it did before. After a while, you set your chopsticks down, the meal sitting comfortably in your stomach. You exhale, pressing a hand against your mark instinctively, feeling the faintest hum beneath your skin. Sukuna, too, stills slightly, as if something within him reacts to your contentment. But neither of you acknowledge it. Instead, he simply leans back, exhaling through his nose. âNot bad.â You look at him. For a moment, just a moment, you think about saying thank you. But the words donât quite form, so instead, you simply nod. The servants clear the table. The next night, the invitation comes again. The first meal had been an unusual affair, mostly spent in silence, though the weight of his presence was less suffocating than you had anticipated. Today, the food had also been exquisiteâsimmered beef with miso glaze, bowls of rice topped with pickled plums and seaweed, accompanied by miso soup with tofu and green onions. There were seasonal vegetables as well, prepared in ways you had never tasted beforeâburdock root, daikon radish steeped in broth, and delicate eggplant halves grilled to perfection. The sake had been poured into ceramic cups, unspoken yet offered.
What continues to unsettle you most, however, was how he ate. Sukuna, whose brutality and savagery had been seared into your memory, now sat across from you, a bit closer than last time, where he was seated on the cushions at the head of the table, picking apart his food with an unexpected level of restraint. The way he held his chopsticksâprecise and poisedâwas so at odds with the image of him you carried that it left you staring before you could catch yourself. He noticed, of course. âYou look surprised.â His voice was its usual deep, measured cadence, though there was an edge of something else lurking beneath it. You blinked, feeling caught. âYou⌠eat like a noble.â
His smirk was slow, almost lazy. âDisappointed?â You didnât know how to answer that. Instead, you glanced down at your own bowl and focused on your meal, determined to ignore the way his amusement lingered in the air between you. The next invitation came two nights later. This time, you found yourself more aware of the ritual of it allâthe quiet clink of dishes, the warm glow of candlelight, the faint aroma of cedar and incense hanging in the air. The meal was different yet just as richâgrilled fish with shoyu glaze, stewed vegetables, miso soup infused with fragrant yuzu peel. Again, he ate in silence at first, though his presence, as daunting as it was, no longer felt entirely suffocating. It was only after the first few bites that he finally spoke.
âYou didnât eat all of your rice last time.â You blinked at him, unsure of why he had noticed such a detail. ââŚI wasnât that hungry.â
 He hummed, idly picking at a piece of fish with his chopsticks. âHm. Wasteful.â You bristled slightly, even as you took another bite. âNot all of us eat enough to feed an entire village.âÂ
He let out something between a chuckle and a scoff. âYou say that as if you didnât just devour that piece of eggplant.â Heat crawled up your neck, but you stubbornly kept eating.
 âIt was good.â
 He lifted a brow, studying you with an unreadable expression before he returned his attention to his meal. âHmph.â The conversation that night was less tense than the first, though not entirely comfortable. You spoke in brief exchanges, nothing significant, nothing particularly meaningful, but it was⌠something. And then, it simply became routine. The invitations continued, and with each meal, something between you and Sukuna shiftedâsubtle, unspoken, but undeniable. The meals themselves changed with the seasonsârich broths for the colder nights, light and refreshing dishes for the warmer evenings. The air between you, though still lined with tension, became something you could withstand, something you could exist in without feeling entirely suffocated. You still didnât know what it all meant, nor did you particularly want to dwell on it. But as you sat across from him, the candlelight casting sharp shadows over his striking features, you couldnât ignore the strange sense of equilibrium settling between you. And neither, it seemed, could he.
â
The shrine was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. You were in your room, seated by the open shoji doors that led to the balcony, watching the moonlight spill over the gardens below. The bond between you and Sukuna had been⌠different lately. Less strained, less hostile. The dinners together, with the occasional quiet exchanging of books in his library, maybe they attested to the familiarity you felt each time the bond ignited a warm, fluttery feeling within you. There was still tension, of courseâthere always would beâbut it had shifted into something softer, something almost⌠comfortable. You werenât sure how to feel about it. The knock at your door startled you. It was late, far too late for any of the servants to be bothering you. You stood, smoothing the fabric of your kimono, and opened the door to find Uraume standing there, their pale face illuminated by the flickering light of the lantern they held. Their expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in their posture that made your stomach twist.
âHe needs you,â they said, their voice low and urgent. You blinked, your heart skipping a beat. âSukuna? What happened?â Uraumeâs gaze didnât waver. âHeâs been injured. A curse user attacked him. Heâs⌠not healing as quickly as he should.â Your breath caught in your throat. Sukuna? Injured? The idea was almost laughable. He was the King of Curses, a being of unparalleled strength and resilience. Heâd torn through armies, devoured curses, and walked away unscathed. The thought of him being vulnerable, of him needing help, was⌠unsettling. âWhat kind of curse user could hurt him?â you asked, your voice trembling slightly. Uraumeâs expression darkened. âThis one was⌠different. Their technique was unlike anything weâve encountered before. They wielded a cursed energy that disrupted Sukunaâs natural regeneration. Itâs not permanentâheâll likely be immune to it next timeâbut for now, heâs weakened.â You nodded, though your mind was racing. Without another word, you followed Uraume through the winding corridors of the shrine, your footsteps echoing in the silence. The bond between you and Sukuna hummed faintly, a quiet, insistent pull that grew stronger with every step. By the time you reached his chambers, your heart was pounding in your chest. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of blood and incense. Sukuna was seated on the edge of his futon, his upper set of arms braced against his knees, his lower pair hanging limply at his sides. His chest was bare, revealing a deep, jagged wound that ran from his shoulder to his ribs. The sight of it made your stomach churn. He looked up as you entered, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. âWhat are you doing here?â he growled, his voice rough but lacking its usual bite.Â
âUraume said you were hurt,â you replied. âI⌠I came to help.â Sukuna scoffed, though the sound was weaker than usual. âHelp? What can you do, human?â You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, you didnât know. But the bond between you was humming louder now, a steady, insistent pull that you couldnât ignore. Without thinking, you stepped forward, your fingers brushing against his arm. The moment your skin touched his, something shifted. The bond flared to life, a warm, golden light spreading from the point of contact. Sukunaâs eyes widened, his body tensing as the wound on his chest began to knit itself together, the jagged edges smoothing out as if time itself were being reversed. You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. âWhat⌠whatâs happening?â Sukuna didnât respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the wound, his expression one of mild disbelief. Then, slowly, he turned to look at you, his crimson eyes sharp and assessing. âYouâre healing me,â he said, his voice low and edged with something you couldnât quite place. You shook your head, your fingers still pressed against his arm. âI⌠I donât know how. I didnât do anything.â Uraume, who had been standing silently in the doorway, stepped forward, their expression one of quiet astonishment. âItâs the bond,â they said, their voice soft but steady. âIâve read about this before, though I thought it was a myth. Soulmates⌠their connection can amplify each otherâs abilities. In this case, it seems your presence is accelerating his healing.â
You blinked, your mind struggling to process the information. âBut⌠why now? Why hasnât this happened before?â Uraumeâs gaze flicked to Sukuna, then back to you. âThe bond has been deepening,â they said simply. âItâs likely that his injury, combined with your proximity, triggered this⌠reaction.â Sukunaâs lip curled slightly, though there was no real malice in the expression. âOf course,â he muttered, his tone laced with irritation. You didnât respond. Your fingers were still pressed against his arm, the bond humming faintly between you. The wound on his chest was almost completely healed now, the skin smooth and unbroken. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath your touch. It was⌠intimate, in a way you hadnât expected. Uraume cleared their throat, drawing your attention. âIâll leave you to it,â they said, their tone neutral. âCall if you need anything.â You nodded, though your mind was still reeling. As Uraume left the room, the silence stretched between you and Sukuna, heavy and unspoken. His gaze was fixed on you, his crimson eyes sharp and assessing. You could feel the weight of his presence, the way it pressed against you like a physical force. âYou can let go now,â he said finally, his voice low and edged with something you couldnât quite place. You blinked, your fingers twitching against his arm. âOh. Right.â You pulled your hand away, though the bond between you continued to hum faintly, a quiet reminder of the connection you shared. Sukuna exhaled sharply, his upper set of arms uncrossing as he leaned back slightly. âThis is⌠inconvenient,â he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. You hesitated, your fingers twisting in the fabric of your robes. âAre you⌠okay?â you asked, assessing his large form.
Sukunaâs gaze flicked to you, his expression unreadable. âIâm fine,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact. âThis is nothing.â You nodded, though you werenât entirely convinced. The bond between you was still humming faintly, a quiet, insistent pull that you couldnât ignore. You could feel his energy, the way it pulsed beneath the surface of his skin. It was⌠strange, but not entirely unwelcome. The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You shifted slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. âI should⌠go,â you said finally. Sukuna didnât respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and assessing. Then, with a shrug, he leaned back against the futon, his upper set of arms crossing over his chest. âDo as you please,â he said, his tone indifferent. You nodded again, though you didnât move. The bond between you was still humming faintly, a quiet, insistent pull that you couldnât ignore. You could feel his energy, the way it pulsed beneath the surface of his skin. It was⌠strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You finally turned and walked out of the room, your thoughts swirling. The bond between you and Sukuna had grown stronger, leaving you uncertain of how to feel. It was unsettling, yet strangely comforting. You were no longer alone in thisâwhether you wanted it or not.
â
A few days had passed since the mark between you and Sukuna flared up and healed the jagged wound he had acquired as a result of , and though the bond had only grown more undeniable, you hadnât seen him since. He had kept to his usual routinely dinners and library sessions, coupled with his intimidating presence, and though you tried to push your thoughts of him aside, the connection between you still lingered. It was late one evening when he finally appeared in the doorway of your room. He stood there, as composed as ever, his gaze unreadable as always. But there was something different about himâsomething subtle. In his hand, he held a small, delicate object wrapped in dark cloth, its edges slightly frayed from travel. He didnât say anything at first, just stepped into the room and placed it down on the table between you. âTake it,â he said flatly, as though the whole thing was beneath him, but there was a slight hesitation in his posture, something that hinted at⌠uncertainty? You eyed the object curiously and carefully unwrapped it. A small, intricately carved hairpin caught the lightâa simple yet elegant piece made from polished ivory, decorated with a delicate cherry blossom motif, its petals painted a soft pink. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and the intricate detail made it clear it wasnât something easily found in the markets. It was clear heâd brought it with great thought.
âIs this⌠for me?â you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. Sukuna gave you a sideways glance, his tone nonchalant. âItâs a hairpin. Nothing special.â He turned away, his back to you now, but you could feel his presence still lingering. You held the pin in your hands, feeling the cool smoothness of the ivory beneath your fingers. âItâs beautiful. Thank you,â you said softly, your gaze lingering on the gift. He paused, his back still turned. âDonât mention it,â he replied, almost too casually. âItâs just something I thought you might like.â But there was something in the way he spokeâsomething almost⌠kind. You hesitated for a moment before standing up, walking toward him. He didnât move, didnât seem to care that you were near, but as you gently placed the hairpin on his palm, you couldnât help the smile that tugged at your lips.
âYou didnât have to get me anything,â you murmured, your voice tender. âBut I appreciate it.â Sukunaâs eyes flickered toward your hand, then back to your face. There was no teasing, no mockingâjust the barest flicker of something softer, like a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly masked with indifference. âDonât get used to it,â he said, though his voice wasnât as sharp as usual. âI donât do this for just anyone.â
You nodded, feeling the weight of his words, but also something else in his presenceâsomething more than just the usual fear and tension. The following days were marked by small, unexpected moments. Another gift arrived a week laterâa hand-carved fan with delicate plum blossoms painted on the silk, an elegant thing that would have been far too extravagant for anyone else. Sukuna dropped it onto your desk with the same nonchalant air, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment before he turned away, just a fraction longer than usual.
âTake care of it,â he muttered. âYou humans are clumsy as shitâ.
âI will,â you answered, running your fingers over the smooth surface of the fan. âThank you.â From then on, small offerings became a part of your days. A piece of hand-forged jewelry, a box of rare incense, a fine brush for calligraphy. Each item, though simple, seemed to carry a depth of meaning you hadnât expected. Sukuna didnât speak of them much, never explaining his actions, but his gestures were slowly becoming harder to ignore. It wasnât the gifts themselves, but the fact that heâsomeone so distant, so removedâwas doing this for you. There was an intimacy in it, a vulnerability that you didnât expect from someone like him. It wasnât grand or overt, but in the quiet moments when he handed you another token, something in his gaze shifted ever so slightly. You were starting to understand the kind of bond this was becoming. And though he never admitted it aloud, his actions spoke louder than wordsâSukuna was beginning to care.
â
A few days had passed since the last time youâd seen Sukuna, and tonight, there was an unfamiliar shift in the usual atmosphere between the two of you. The tension in the air was still present, but it wasnât the same sharp, defensive energy. It was quieter. It almost felt⌠comfortable. As you sat down at the table, Sukuna arrived, a small bag in his hand. You eyed it curiously, but said nothing as he placed it down in front of you. Without a word, he unwrapped it slowly, revealing a loaf of bread. It wasnât just any breadâit was a loaf of melon pan, the sweet Japanese bread with its signature sugar crust, golden and slightly cracked, the bread soft and pillowy beneath it. (a/n; I know melonpan didnât exist in the heian era but pls spare me)Â
You stared at it for a moment, unsure if it was real, but Sukuna wasnât looking at you. His eyes were focused elsewhere, as if the bread in front of you didnât matter all that much. But there was a tension to his posture, an awkwardness youâd never seen before. âDo you like it?â he asked, his voice low and almost cautious. âI wasnât sure what to get you. But I remembered that night in the kitchen when you said you like bread.â You blinked, surprised. You hadnât realized heâd been paying that much attention. âYou remembered that?â you asked, your voice softer than usual. âNot hard to remember,â he muttered, still not meeting your gaze. âYou kept going on about it like it was the best thing youâd ever tasted.â You chuckled lightly, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or touched. Youâd mentioned it in passing, hardly thinking it would make an impact. âI wasnât going on about it,â you said, picking up the loaf. âI justâwell, I do like bread. And I really also like sweets. A lot.â You took a tentative bite of the bread, the sweet, buttery flavor melting in your mouth, and you couldnât help but smile. âThis is actually really good. Iâve never had melon pan before.â
Sukuna seemed to stiffen, watching you for a long moment, his gaze still unreadable. âI didnât know if youâd like it or not,â he said quietly. âBut I thought it might be a safe bet.â You continued eating, savoring the soft, sweet taste of the bread, and for a moment, the room fell into a rare quiet. It wasnât uncomfortable, though. It felt⌠natural. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since heâd placed the bread on the table. There was something in his eyesâmaybe it was reluctance, or maybe something elseâbut it wasnât the usual mockery or cold indifference. âItâs really thoughtful of you,â you said after a beat, your voice sincere. âI donât think anyoneâs ever paid attention to that before.â Sukuna looked away quickly, his expression closing off again. âItâs just bread. Donât make it into something itâs not.â You nodded, sensing he wasnât entirely comfortable with this exchange. But still, there was a warmth behind the gesture. âI know,â you said, your voice gentle. âBut still, thank you. You didnât have to.â
âI didnât do it for you,â he replied gruffly, though the edge in his voice was less biting than usual. âI just⌠remembered. Thought you might like it. Thatâs all.â There was something about the simplicity of itâthe quiet, almost tender momentâthat made it feel like more than just bread. It was an offering, in his own way, a way for him to show that heâd thought about you. Even if he wouldnât admit it out loud, it was clear that he cared more than he let on. The conversation drifted into comfortable silence as you finished the loaf, savoring each bite. Sukuna remained mostly quiet, though he didnât leave. His presence, usually imposing, seemed less heavy tonight, more grounded. âDonât expect anything else,â he muttered after a while, but there was no harshness in his voice, no mocking edge. âIâm not in the habit of doing this.â
âI wonât,â you replied, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. âBut Iâm glad you did.â He gave a slight nod, his gaze flickering to you before looking away again, his usual stoic demeanor slowly returning. But for the first time in a while, there was a sense of quiet intimacy between the two of youâno teasing, no barriers, just the subtle understanding that this, in its own way, was something more. The melon pan incident, as you had come to think of it, lingered in your mind longer than youâd expected. There was something unexpected in Sukunaâs quiet thoughtfulness, something you couldnât quite shake. It wasnât just the breadâit was the way he had remembered something so small and insignificant. And then, as if to prove that it wasnât a fluke, the following evening, there was another small gesture waiting for you. This time, it was a small tray of delicate Japanese daifukuâsoft, chewy rice cakes stuffed with sweet red bean paste (a/n: i doubt these existed in the heian era either bro sorry). You hadnât even said anything about them before, but when you looked up from the table, there it was, sitting between you and Sukuna. He placed it down with the same air of indifference, but there was a subtle tension in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for something. âYou like these, too,â he said, not making eye contact. You blinked, surprised again. âHow did you know?â
He shrugged, eyes cold. âYou should see the way your face makes this odd face everytime you take a bite out of this⌠delicacyâ You smiled, feeling the warmth of the gesture, and helped yourself to another piece of the daifuku. âThis is amazing,â you said, looking at him. âThank you.â Sukuna glanced at you, his face impassive, but there was a slight shift in his gaze. âYeah, yeah. Donât start getting sentimental on me, woman.â That night, as you finished the last of the daifuku, you found yourself oddly comfortable in the quiet. Thisâwhatever this was between youâwasnât the sharp, tense and uncomfortable back-and-forth that used to dominate your conversations. There was something easier about it, something less strained. It was as if the awkwardness had slowly begun to dissipate, and though neither of you had openly acknowledged it, the small moments of care were starting to feel more natural. Each evening, it became a little ritual. One night, there were delicate kashiwa mochi wrapped in oak leaves, another night, small matcha-flavored pastries. Every time, Sukunaâs voice was a little less sharp, a little less gruff. Sometimes, heâd even engage in actual conversationâabout trivial things at first, like the taste of the matcha or the weather, but soon it evolved into more. Subtle, important things.
âWhat was your childhood like? Did you have one, or were you born a curse?â you asked one night, breaking the quiet. It wasnât a question you ever thought youâd ask Sukuna, but something about the evening, the slow rhythm of the conversation, made it feel like a natural thing to say. Sukuna didnât flinch at your question, but the brief shift in his gaze told you he wasnât expecting it. He didnât respond immediately, taking his time to set down his cup before glancing at you with that usual, nonchalant air that had become so familiar. âYeah, you could say I had the tendencies of a human once,â he said, as though it were a minor detail. âBut I was unwanted. Doesnât matter much now.â His voice didnât carry the weight of pain or nostalgiaâjust bluntness, a dismissive edge that almost made it sound like the whole subject bored him. You blinked, surprised at the casual tone in his voice. âUnwanted?â you echoed, unsure what he meant.
âDidnât fit the mold,â he muttered. âNot good enough for the world I was born into. My power was too much, too early, and they couldnât control me. On top of that I was born⌠Well. Visible deformities, as humans would put it. So I was discarded. Thatâs how it works for people like me.â There was no bitterness in his tone, just a matter-of-factness, as though he was recounting something trivial. You leaned forward, intrigued despite his indifferent stance. âSo, how did you⌠become like this?â
Sukunaâs lips curled up into a small, humorless smirk. âThe same way anything like me happens. The jujutsu world is full of people who think they can control power, manipulate it, bend it to their will. But sometimes, power doesnât stay in the box they want to put it in. You either control it, or it controls you. And me? I didnât let anyone control me.â His voice didnât waver, but there was a sharpness to it that you hadnât expected. Sukuna wasnât someone who spoke about his past often, let alone with any kind of sentiment. He was always the feared sorcererâthe one who brought destructionâbut this⌠this was different. For a moment, he didnât seem like the invincible, untouchable figure everyone feared. He seemed like a product of a world that had cast him aside, and his voice betrayed just a hint of something that was more than arrogance or cruelty.
âSo, you just⌠became like this?â you asked, still trying to piece together what he meant, unsure of whether he was talking about his rise to power or something else entirely. Sukuna gave a short, dismissive shrug. âItâs not like that. I wasnât made this way by choice. Power like mine doesnât belong quietly in anyone. Eventually, it changes how people look at you. How you look at yourself. You either let them define you, or you define yourself. And I did.â His gaze darkened for a moment, a flicker of something hidden behind his usually aloof demeanor. âAnd in this world? If youâre not feared, youâre nothing.â The words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he wasnât saying. The vulnerability buried beneath the harsh, bitter exterior. For the first time, Sukuna wasnât the untouchable king of cursesâyou could see the cracks in his mask, the faintest glimpse of a person who had been abandoned, who had been forced to adapt to a world that only wanted to use him. You felt the desire to ask more, to understand him better, but you also knew pushing too far would only make him retreat further into himself. So, instead, you simply nodded, taking in his words. âThat sounds⌠rough,â you said quietly, your voice soft. Sukunaâs gaze softened just a fraction, a barely perceptible shift. But he quickly turned his attention away, hiding the brief crack in his demeanor behind his usual smirk. âIt is what it is,â he muttered, as if to brush off the conversation. Your smile grew, and for the first time, you felt something shift in the room. It wasnât a grand gesture. It wasnât anything to speak of, but it felt like a breakthroughâhowever small. A moment where he let down just a little of the wall heâd spent so much time building.
That night, after finishing another small dessertâthis time a bowl of mizu yokanâhe lingered longer than usual, sitting quietly, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows across his face. âAlright, thatâs enough with the questions,â he muttered, leaning back in his chair. âBut Iâll say this: donât go wasting time feeling pity for me, woman. Iâm content as I am.â
âI never said I was,â you replied, offering him a small, pout. Well, maybe you were a little touched by his little walk down memory lane. Sukunaâs lips twitched, a rare, almost imperceptible smile ghosting across his face before it was gone. âYeah, well⌠Youâre a really bad fuckinâ liar.â You didnât press him further, huffing at his quip. Instead, you simply reached for another sweet treat. âI guess Iâll just enjoy the desserts then.â
âDonât get used to it,â he shot back, but this time, the edge of his voice was softer, warmer, less biting. As the days passed, it became routine. Dessert after dessert, each one a little more thoughtful than the last, each conversation a little more open, a little less guarded. Sukunaâs snark was still there, of course, always ready to rise to the surface. But behind it, there was a quiet understanding beginning to form. Neither of you acknowledged it outright, but the subtle warmth that had started to develop between youâthe kind that wasnât just from the desserts, but from the time spent togetherâbegan to feel undeniable. The bond between you, unspoken and yet so palpable, was shifting things between the two of you. And while neither of you could put a name to it, it was becoming something neither of you could ignore. The subtle way Sukuna softened when you laughed, the rare moments when his sharp words were followed by a quieter, more genuine responseâit was clear that whatever this was, it was changing you both, one sweet gesture at a time.
â
Sukuna had been gone for three days. He didnât tell you where he was going, not exactly. Just muttered something about âsorcerer scum in the northâ and vanished before you could ask further. You didnât know when heâd be back, or what kind of shape heâd return inâbut strangely, you cared. Not just because his absence had disrupted your strange new rhythm of shared silence and desserts, but because⌠it felt empty without him. Youâd never admit it aloud. Not even to yourself in clearer terms. But the lack of his presence left the shrine quieter. Colder. And so, in a rare burst of curiosityâor perhaps boredomâyou wandered. The shrine was massive, stretching well beyond the main quarters and ceremonial halls youâd grown accustomed to. You drifted past familiar corridors into one you hadnât noticed beforeâone darker, older, but clearly still tended to. You expected to find storage rooms. Maybe empty quarters. What you didnât expect was to push open a delicate, lacquered door and step into another world entirely. The room was filled with light. Pale silks hung from the ceilings like drifting clouds, the scent of rare incense curling softly in the air. Ornate screens divided lounging areas, where cushions of every texture and color lay untouched. And thereâmoving gracefully among the furnishingsâwere women. Several of them. All breathtaking. They werenât speaking. Just moving quietly, their presence somehow both ethereal and heavy. Their clothing was elegant, hair brushed smooth and glossy, faces serene.
They didnât notice you. Or maybe they did and simply didnât care. You stood frozen in the doorway, unsure whether to step forward or back out entirely. But a faint shift of one of the womenâs headsâjust enough to glance at you with a vaguely curious expressionâpushed you to move again. You left before you could say a word.
â
The kitchen was warm. Familiar. It grounded you, especially now, as the strange image of that room still lingered in your mind. You found yourself poking around for somethingâanythingâto make, hands moving on autopilot. And then came Uraume. They stepped into the kitchen as they always did, quiet and gliding, like theyâd been summoned by the stillness. Their eyes passed over you like they were checking for something, as usual. You didnât say anything at first. But it tugged at you.
âHey,â you said finally, stirring a pot that didnât need stirring.
A pause. âYes?â
You kept your gaze down. âThose women⌠in the southern wing.â Another pause. âWhat women?â You looked up then. âThe ones in that big hall, past the tapestry with the dragon motif.â Uraume was still. They blinked once, slow. âAh. The concubine quarters.â It was said plainly. No hesitation. No discomfort. You blinked. âConcubines.â
They nodded, moving toward the storage shelves. âYes. Sukuna-samaâs, from before.â
You stared. âBefore what?â They tilted their head slightly, as if the question was strange. âBefore he stopped entertaining the idea of them.â
ââŚSo theyâre still here?â
âThey serve the shrine now. Maintain parts of it. Theyâre loyal.â They said it like it was obvious. âTheyâve remained since he conquered this region. Some⌠longer.â You didnât know why it sat strangely in your stomach. It wasnât a new idea, not really. Of course someone like Sukuna would have had concubines. Dozens, probably. Hundreds. He was worshipped like a god. Revered, feared. Power like that drew people like moths. And yet⌠you turned back to your pot, brow furrowed.
âYou seem bothered,â Uraume said flatly.
âIâm not.â
âYou are.â
You frowned. âWhy would I care if he had concubines?â
Uraume gave the smallest shrug. âYou tell me.â
There was no mockery in their voice. Just the same blank politeness they always used. You didnât answer. But that night, in your room, wrapped in plain sheets and half-watching the flicker of the oil lamp, your thoughts drifted to the quiet grace of those women. The elegance, the way theyâd moved like they belonged in a place Sukuna had once given them. You wondered what kind of man heâd been with them. Cruel? Detached? Charming, even? And you hated that you wondered. Because whatever it was that was forming between the two of you nowâtentative, strange, steadyâit was yours. Singular. Built one cautious conversation, one dessert, one half-smile at a time. But still. The image lingered. And you told yourself it didnât mean anything, even as something unspoken twisted quietly in your chest. Dinner that night was different. The kitchen had been filled with the scent of seared meat for the past hourâsavory and sharp, a heavy warmth that clung to the air like steam after rain. When the meal was finally placed between the two of you, the lacquered tray held perfectly grilled cuts of wagyu beef, marbled fat rendered to the point of melting. They glistened with a thin lacquer of sesame oil and tare glaze, smoky sweet and just slightly charred on the edges. A side of pickled daikon and wild mountain greens sat untouched as the silence stretched on. You were unusually quiet. Sukuna chewed slowly, watching you with the lazy attention of a predator thatâs already eaten but still enjoys the scent of blood. After a few moments, he grunted. âYouâre quiet today,â he said, voice rough around the edges. âYou usually annoy me a little more than this.â You blinked, forcing out a small laugh, not really feeling it. âSorry to disappoint.â He gave you a long look, one brow raised. For a moment, you thought heâd leave it alone. But then, casually, like swatting a fly, he said, âLet me guess. You wandered where you shouldnât have.â
You paused, chopsticks hovering above the beef. ââŚI didnât know you had concubines.â The corner of his mouth lifted. Not in surpriseâheâd known this would come up eventually. His grin was slow and unapologetic, almost boyish if not for the glint of something sharper behind it. âWhat, just âcause I look like thisââ he rolled his broad shoulders, letting his robe shift with calculated ease, revealing the ripple of muscle beneath and the unmistakable twitch of his four arms beneath the sleeves. His lower pair flexed beneath the fabric like it was second nature. Then one lifted and casually parted the dip in his robe, pointing to the maw on his stomach. ââyou think I donât have sexual needs?â
Your entire body recoiled in visible disgust. âEwâ! Donât say it like that, oh my god.â
Sukuna snorted. âWhat? You asked.â
âI didnât ask for that visual,â you snapped, flustered, face heating fast. âGods, youâre disgusting.â
He chuckled, low and mean, lips parting just enough to flash the glint of a fang. âDonât tell me youâre jealous.â Your heart jumped. âI am notâ!â
But then it hit. A sharp, unmistakable flare on your skinâyour soulmate mark, a searing heat blooming against your ribs. Your breath caught. Across from you, Sukuna froze for only a split second, his grin curving wider with dark delight as his own mark lit up in answer. âWell,â he drawled, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table, all four eyes trained on you. âThat didnât sting a little for no reason, did it?â You scowled, dragging your hand across your ribs, as if to hide the mark you knew he couldnât see from this angle. âItâs not what you think.â
His grin sharpened. âYou sure?â
âMaybe the bondâs just defective,â you muttered, flushing. âNothing else explains why Iâd be tethered to someone who talks about his sex life over dinner.â Sukuna barked out a laugh, actually amused now. âYou're the one who brought up the concubines, brat. I was just answering your question.â
âPoorly!â
âYou say that, but youâre the one blushing like a handmaiden.â
You gaped at him. âI am not! Iâm justâhot from the food.â He leaned back, arms spreading like a smug deity lounging in the aftermath of a battle. âSure you are. Should I open a window for you? Or are you gonna sit there steaming for another ten minutes?â
âYouâre insufferable.â
âI know. Yet here you are. Eating dinner with me like you have a choice.â The banter kept going, quick and barbed and strangely easy, like the rhythm of a sparring match neither of you intended to win. And somewhere between your second helping and his offhand insults, you realized something quietly terrifying:Â
He was joking with you. Not in the cruel, sharp way he used to. Not as a power play. But real joking. The kind laced with just enough truth to make you squirm, softened by something that felt suspiciously close to amusement. The mask he always woreâof bored superiority and distant menaceâwas slipping in tiny pieces. Sukuna was still sprawled on his side of the room, a cup of sake now in hand, the folds of his dark silk robe parted slightly from how carelessly heâd settled. The fabric clung loose around his waist, pooling around his legs, but tight across his shouldersâbroad, muscled, the lines of his body impossible to ignore.
You hated that you were staring.
But how could you not?
He was massive. Not just tall, but built, the kind of strong that wasnât sculpted by discipline but born from chaos. His four arms only added to the overwhelming size of himâtwo folded behind his head in a display of easy arrogance, the other two cradling the sake and resting against his thigh. And the tattoosâblack, inked like ropes and waves and ancient ritesâcurved along his chest and arms in harsh, precise lines, each one seeming to pulse when the firelight hit them. He looked like a walking shrine to something dangerous and unholy. âYou're starin',â he said, low and rough, the edge of a smirk in his voice. You blinked fast. âNo, I wasnât.â Sukuna shifted slightly, the way a large predator might stretch just to remind you of its size. âSure you werenât.â
You scowled and tore your gaze away, pretending to adjust the tray between you both. A grunt. âYou always get this twitchy when somethingâs on your mind.â You stiffened. He noticed. And then, like he could smell the thoughts dancing at the tip of your tongue, he grinnedâslow, amused, a little too satisfied with himself.
âWhat is it?â he drawled. âSomething about me distracting you? Got more of those pesky questions?â
You hesitated, heat rising uninvited to your cheeks. His grin widened. You hated him. Not really. You cleared your throat, not meeting his gaze. âI just⌠was wondering something.â Another grunt. âGo on then.â
You regretted it immediately. âSince youâre, um. Built like that. How do you evenââ
Sukuna raised a brow. âHow do I even what?â You inhaled sharply, your entire soul shriveling. ââŚHave sex.â
For one second, there was silence. And then Sukuna barked out a laughâa full, body-shaking laugh, low and wicked, as his top hands dropped behind him for support and his lower ones set down his cup. Your face was on fire.
âYouâve been thinking about what my dick looks like?â he said, positively leering at you now, all sharp teeth and gleaming eyes.
âIâNo! Thatâs not what Iâshut up!â You turned away so fast your hair caught on your collar. âItâs a logical question!â
He was still grinning like a wolf. âSure it is. Mustâve really been looking, huh? Taking in all the details.â
âI hate you.â
He tilted his head slightly. âYou're awfully curious for someone so offended.â You made the mistake of glancing back at himâand regretted it. His robe had slipped further down one shoulder, baring more inked skin, the thick curve of his bicep beneath. His claws glinted faintly in the firelight. His lower arms remained still, resting along his thighs like they had no business being that large.
âI was just thinkingâmechanically, it must be hard, thatâs all!â
He laughed again. âSo clinical. You want a diagram next time?â
âMaybe I will draw one!â
He leaned in a fraction. âYou'd be surprised to know I have two.â
You choked.
âWhatââ
Sukuna just smirked and raised his cup again, taking a slow, unbothered sip of sake like he hadnât just destroyed the last functioning part of your brain. âYouâre lying,â you said, eyes wide, voice cracking. He didn't answer. Just tilted his chin toward you and murmured, âOh? You sound a little eager.â You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing except heat, flushing up your neck and into your ears. You turned away again, practically sizzling. And then it hit you. Again. Traitorous fucking mark. That now-familiar burnâsharp and sudden, right under your ribs where your soulmate mark lived. It didnât hurt, not exactly. But it tingled, warm and electric just like before, enough to draw your breath in through your teeth with a little more panic this time. Sukuna inhaled too, eyes narrowing slightly. He set the sake aside.
ââŚThat didnât feel like nothing,â he said, voice dipping just enough to make your spine tingle. You curled slightly in place, clutching your robes tighter. âItâs malfunctioning. Seriously. Second time it's done this. Maybe we should ask Uruame for more informationââ
He gave a quiet, predatory chuckle, leaning in slowly, eyes half-lidded now. âYou react that strongly every time someone tells you they have two dicks?â
âStop saying it!â
He grinned again, all canines and danger, but it wasnât cruel now. It was teasing. Touched with something warmer, something⌠curious.
âYou wanna see or something?â
You gasped. âNo!â
Sukuna looked unbothered. âItâd answer your mechanical concerns.â
Your mark flared again.
His did too. And for a moment, both of you sat there in the stillness, the fire crackling between you, the bond humming like a pulled string. You clutched your knees, glaring at the floor, and Sukuna just watched youâgrin easing into something less cutting, more thoughtful. Almost fond.
Almost.
ââŚDo not speak,â you muttered. He didnât. Just took another drink, eyes on you the whole time, as if watching the bond itself smolder beneath your skin. And for once, you didnât run from it.
â
The days that followed passed with a new, unspoken rhythm. You found yourself in the kitchen more often, drawn there not out of duty but something elseârestlessness, maybe. Or habit. Or perhaps the strange, simmering calm that had started to settle in your chest whenever Sukuna wasnât storming the halls or barking orders. You didn't always cook; sometimes you simply sat by the coals and watched the steam rise from clay pots, fingers trailing idly through the condensation on the lacquered counters. Sometimes, when Sukuna returned from his travelsâbloodied or bone-weary, the heavy scent of the outside clinging to his robesâhe would step into the kitchen without a word. Youâd glance up, startled, only for him to give you a flat look and then wordlessly pluck a small plate from the tray beside you. Heâd take a bite. Chew. And then:
âThis is disgusting.â
Youâd scowl, snatch the plate from his handâand heâd pluck another bite before you could move it out of reach. Always with that same neutral face, as if his own reaction annoyed him. Sometimes he ate in silence. Sometimes he insulted the seasoning. But every time, he kept eating. And the next time you cooked, you made extra. He never asked you to join him in his private quarters again after the teleportation incidentâbut the library became the new middle ground. One of his attendants, pale-faced and jittery, would shuffle into the kitchen or your quarters, head bowed low.
âSukuna-sama requests your presence.â
The first time, you didnât know what to expect. But when you arrived, he simply waved a hand toward a lacquered cushion and returned to the scroll he was reading. You sat across from him, unsure, your knees tucked neatly beneath you, eyes flicking over the endless shelves of bound manuscripts and jade-carved seals. And so it became routine. No words were needed. You read. He read. Sometimes you fell asleep in the corner, waking hours later to find a soft throw draped over your shoulders and Sukuna still cross-legged beside the brazier, eyes lowered, lips barely moving as he mouthed the words on an aged scroll.
And the giftsâ
They started subtle. A new hairpin placed near your basin. A comb carved from cherry wood, the lacquer catching the light like a drop of garnet. You never saw who left them, but you didnât need to.
Then, one evening, you slid open the long wooden closet that lined one side of your roomâand stopped short. Silks. Dozens of them. Folded with impossible precision, stacked one atop another in a perfect gradient of color and detail. From simple kosode dyed with indigo and inkbrush plum blossoms to intricate junihitoe, layered with brocade patterns of cranes, chrysanthemums, and cresting waves. Obi belts in soft gold and crimson were coiled like sleeping serpents beside them, and a pair of zĹriâsimple sandals of silk and lacquered woodârested on the tatami at the bottom.
You stared. Touched oneâjust to be sure it wasnât a hallucination. The fabric whispered beneath your fingers. You said nothing about it. Not that night, not the next morning. But when you descended for dinner, dressed in one of the simpler garmentsâa dusky lavender kosode with a cloud-dappled sashâyou caught the way Sukuna looked up. And stopped. He didnât say anything at first. Just looked. Eyes dragging slowly over the lines of the garment, the way it fell over your frame, the sleeves trailing delicately at your wrists. His gaze wasnât hungry, not like you feared. It was something stranger.
Pleased.
He let his eyes linger for a beat longer, then turned his attention to his cup, muttering something about your sleeves being too long for eating properly. You rolled your eyesâbut you wore another the next night. A soft blue one, patterned with falling wisteria. And again, his gaze found you and stayed a moment too long. He never commented directly. Never told you he liked seeing you in the clothes heâd chosen. But he sent more. With each passing week, the collection in your closet grewâseasonal silks, embroidered linings, even warm padded kosode for the colder nights. You never thanked him out loud. He never asked you to. But in that growing silenceâfilled with slow glances, quiet shared spaces, warm sake and glimmering sleevesâsomething was softening.
Not just in you.
In him.
Even if he would die before admitting it.
â
You werenât used to needing help. The layered silk hung open over your shoulders, the inner robe already clinging lightly to your skin after your bath. The occasionâa seasonal shrine offeringâwas something you hadnât asked to attend, but Sukuna had simply told Uraume, and Uraume had simply informed you. Refusing hadnât felt like an option. The robe he had sent for the ritual was finer than anything heâd gifted before. Deep black, like wet ink under moonlight, lined with subtle patterns of pale camellias along the hem and sleeve. A wide crimson obi sat folded on the tatami, stiff and elegant, almost ceremonial. You were halfway through awkwardly wrapping it around your waist when you heard the door slide open.
You turned your head sharply. âUraume, I told you I donâtââ
But it wasnât Uraume. It was Sukuna. He filled the doorway like a shadow, his robes loose, hair unbound, his expression unreadable as he looked you over from head to toe. He didnât speak. Just stepped inside and slid the door shut behind him. Your hands paused on the obi.
ââŚWhat are you doing?â
He didnât answer right away. His gaze dropped to your hands. âYouâre doing it wrong,â he said finally, voice rough and casual. âYouâll look like a crumpled scroll.â
You scowled. âI can manage.â
âNo,â he said simply, already moving toward you. âYou canât.â You tensed as he stepped behind youâclose, too closeâhis broad presence almost suffocating. His lower arms moved first, brushing your hands away with a firm but wordless ease, fingers brushing your waist. You stiffened. âI didnât ask you toââ
âShut up and hold still.â You huffed but obeyed, fists tightening slightly as he took the crimson sash and began to move. His hands were slow, confidentâlike heâd done this a hundred times, maybe for a hundred other women. But it didnât feel mechanical. It felt deliberate. Every shift of fabric around your waist, every pull of the knot, felt heavier than it should. His knuckles grazed your hips, the calloused pads of his fingers tugging and smoothing, warm through the thin fabric. Your throat felt dry. The silence wrapped tighter than the obi. And then his top right handâlarger, warmerârose without warning, brushing against your collarbone where the inner layer had slipped. He tugged it gently into place, fingers lingering a second too long against your neck. You felt his breath at the nape of your neck, slow and steady.Â
You shivered.
ââŚYouâre touchy tonight,â you murmured, trying for casual, but your voice came out thin, breathier than you meant. Sukuna hummed, low in his throat. âYou're dressed like a priestess about to walk into a war camp. You should at least look the part.â
âYouâre one to talk,â you shot back, but your voice faltered as his hands pressed briefly against your lower back, adjusting the final tie. âYouâre squirming,â he said. âThat mean youâre nervous?â
âIâm not squirming.â
âYouâre blushing, too.â
You jerked away slightly, just enough to turn and look up at him. âYouâre imagining things.â His face was closeâtoo close now. His top pair of eyes watching you with that cool, sharp stare, but the lower set were lazier, half-lidded, like he was halfway through a thought he hadnât decided whether to speak aloud yet.
âYou keep looking at my hands,â he said.
You looked away. âTheyâre everywhere. Hard not to.â He chuckledâdeep and amused, like you were something heâd found under a temple stone. His fingers brushed against your waist one more time before finally letting go. The obi was perfectly tied. Of course it was. You stepped away, putting a little distance between you, heart ticking too loud in your ears.
âYouâre ready,â Sukuna said, turning toward the door again. But as his hand touched the frame, he paused. Looked back at you. His gaze dragged down and up again, slow, assessing. âYou look like something worth worshipping,â he said simply, and then slid the door open, disappearing into the hall like he hadnât just set your entire chest on fire.
â
You shed the layers slowly. The shrine offering had lasted hours, filled with incense smoke, ceremonial chants, and the unnerving stillness of being watchedâby shrine maidens, by spirits, and most of all, by him. The moment you returned to your quarters, you began pulling the robes off one by one. The outer layer first, then the weighty under-layers, until only the thinnest white silk clung to your skin, clinging slightly with the sweat from the firelit ritual. Your hair was pinned loosely, and you tugged the ornament free, letting it tumble over your shoulders as you moved toward your futon, bones aching from kneeling too long. The mattress was already rolled out, blankets fluffed. You collapsed into it face-first with a low sigh, the scent of camellia oil still clinging faintly to your sleeves.
It was warm.
Warmer than usual. You rolled onto your side, drowsy. The softness of the futon reminded youâuncomfortablyâof another night. The one where you woke to silk sheets, to the scent of spice and cedar, toâ
You touched your ribs absentmindedly. The soulmate mark was warm again. Not burning, but humming, gentle and strange, like a hand pressed lightly against your skin. You closed your eyes. Your breath slowed. He really was... something. Too tall. Too broad. Too much. And yetâwhen he looked at you from over his sake cup, smirking like he knew too much, your stomach had flipped. It wasnât affection. Not quite. But something else, just as dangerous. You hated how aware you were of him nowâthe way his sleeves slipped off his shoulders, how the lines of his tattoos looked inked straight into muscle and heat. The way his voice dipped when he said your name. You curled under the blankets, sighing. The air around you smelled different tonight. Not your usual incense.
It smelled likeâ
Something shifted. A soft, wet sound broke the quiet. Your brows furrowed.
shlick shlick schlick
Another. Rhythmic. Faint, but unmistakable. You blinked into the dark, pulse skipping. The futon was still soft beneath youâtoo softâand the scent now felt overwhelming. Clean and spiced, a little iron in the air, likeâ
Your eyes flew open. This wasnât your room. It was darker. The shadows deeper. Lanterns flickering faintly against high lacquered walls. The futon was larger, draped in sheets too fine for a servant, and the air was warm from a brazier still glowing in the corner. Your heart seized. You turned your head.
Andâ
There he was. Sukuna. Sprawled beside you, bare from the waist up, the sheets rumpled around his hips. One hand braced against the floor beside him, the other between his thighs.
Moving.
You froze. His chest rose and fell steadily, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly parted. His hair fell loose around his shoulders, messier than usual, and there was a look on his faceârelaxed, almost. Tension curling at the corners of his mouth with every movement of his wrist. You didnât dare move. Couldnât speak. He wasnât wrong. He really did have two of them. They stood large and proud, stacked on top of one another, with a tattooed ring around the base on each of them, the tips both flushed red. His lower right hand was lazily working the one on the top, the head leaking with each tug of his wrist. The sound continued, slow and slick and maddeningly soft. You couldnât tear your eyes away. Couldnât even process how you were here againâhow youâd been pulled into his chambers without a single sensation of movement. Your mark throbbed faintly under your fingers. Tingling.
You didnât breathe. Didnât dare. But something must have given you awayâa shift in your breathing, a twitch of your fingersâbecause Sukunaâs hand slowed. His head turned just slightly. And then his eyes slid open. All four of them. The top pair blinked lazily. The lower ones found you instantly, glowing faintly red in the low lantern light. Still, his hand didnât stop. âWell,â he drawled, voice deep and amused, âlook whoâs awake. I noticed a while ago when you teleported.â Your entire body tensed. Heat exploded across your face like fire, your limbs frozen under the silken blanket. You tried to speak. Nothing came out. His mouth curved into a grinâslow, wicked. The kind that always came before trouble. âI was wondering how long itâd take you to realise you were here,â he said, thumb dragging lazily along the underside of his length as if this conversation were normal, as if you werenât half-curled on your side beside him, wide-eyed and paralyzed.
âIâI didnâtââ you stammered, throat bone-dry.
âYou didnât what?â he asked, feigning innocence. âMean to end up in my bed again? Or mean to stare?â
âI wasnâtâstaring!â You yanked the blanket higher, half wanting to vanish beneath it. âI didnât choose to be here!â
âThatâs the thing about fate,â he murmured, finally slowing his hand until it stilled at his lower stomach. âDoesnât ask for permission.â Your soulmate mark throbbed again, stronger this timeâlike it was reacting to the charge in the room, the way his eyes hadnât left your face, the smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. âYouâre really⌠doing that right next to me?â you whispered, horrified. Sukuna raised an eyebrow, amused. âI was doing it before you got here. Youâre the one who dropped in uninvited.â You swallowed hard, eyes flicking away from his chest. âYou couldâve stopped.â He leaned in slightly, elbows resting on his knees, voice lowering.
âBut then I wouldnât have gotten to see that look on your face.â
You scowledâbut your heart was beating so fast it hurt. And just like that, he leaned back again, fingers ghosting down his abdomen once more. The heat between you was unbearable. His voice dipped, softer now, more dangerous.
âYou gonna watch⌠or join me?â You meant to look away. You really did. But you couldnât. Your eyes were glued to himâhis shoulders loose, posture lazy, that monstrous body somehow more inviting than terrifying in the warm flicker of firelight. His hand was still moving slowly between his legs, the wet sounds far too loud in the silence, and your gazeâagainst your willâdropped lower. You genuinely couldnât believe there weren really... two. Just like heâd said. And now you couldnât stop seeing it. The thick twin ridges of arousal, curved and flushed and gripped firmly in his rough palm. It was obscene. It was unreal. And worst of allâ
You were aroused. Not just flustered. Not just flushed. Aroused. Your thighs squeezed together under the blanket without meaning to. You could feel the heat between them, hot and growing slick, pulsing right under your skin. And the mark on your ribsâyour soulmate markâwas burning. Not painful, but molten. Like it had its own heartbeat. A steady throb that matched the sharp, quickening rhythm of your breath. Across the bed, Sukuna smirked without looking up. Your stomach twisted. He finally glanced at you, his lower pair of eyes heavy-lidded, the top ones lazily narrowed. All four of them glowed faintly with the same heat you felt crawling across your skin. âI can see the way youâre squirming,â he murmured, voice low and dark. âThe way youâre breathing. Youâre trying so hard not to move.â You swallowed hard, throat dry as bone.
âIââ you started, but your voice caught. He tilted his head, smug. âScared youâll make it worse?â Your hands fisted the blanket. You were. Because if you moved even an inch, you might not stop. Youâd never felt this before. Not like this. Not so fast, not so deep. In the village, you were nothing. Taught shame before anything else. The daughter of a woman who never married. No one touched you. No one wanted to. And you'd told yourself that was fine. Whenever need stirred, you took care of it alone. Quiet. Controlled. Always with the door locked. Always without mess. This wasnât that. This was raw. Loud. Him. Your breath hitched again, and before you could stop yourself, the words escaped in a whisper:
âIâm a virgin.â
The moment they left your mouth, you froze. Horror overtook your expression. Sukunaâs movements stilled. His eyes glinted. Thenâslowlyâhis mouth stretched into a grin. A vicious, satisfied grin. Canines bared. âI know,â he said. Your entire face went up in flames. âWhatâhow would youâ?â
âYou think I canât smell it?â he said, voice thick with amusement. âSmells like purity and frustration.â You made a strangled noise and curled in on yourself, panic flaring under the blanket. But you didnât get far. In an instantâless than a blinkâhe moved. Not like a man. Not like anything human. You gasped, head whipping up, because suddenly he was in front of youâkneeling, looming, knees partedâand his claws were digging gently into your right thigh. Not enough to hurt, just enough to hold. His skin was hot where it touched yours, and with one slow, effortless pull, he dragged you closerâstraight between his legs. You braced yourself on your elbows, wide-eyed. One of his hands still stroked lazily at himself, unbothered by the way you stared, and his voice dropped, rich and deliberate.
âI can teach you.â
Your breath caught.
âBut only if you want to learn.â
He leaned in, one of his lower hands rising to cup the side of your faceânot rough, not cruel, but firm, his thumb tracing just beneath your cheekbone.
âI donât take what isnât offered,â he said, gaze locked on yours, unblinking. âEven if fate drags you to my bed.â
The burn in your mark pulsed again. You could feel his against your skin now, somewhere near his hipâscalding, and perfectly in sync.
His mouth was just inches from yours. His voice, a murmur.
âSo. What do you want?âÂ
You didn't say the words. You didnât need to. Your body said it for youâheld still beneath his touch, not in fear, but in breathless anticipation. The blush rising to your cheeks. The way your legs tensed under his hold, yet didnât pull away. The way your eyes didnât leave his. The way your head inclinedâ a little too eagerly. Sukuna watched you, waiting. And thenâhe grinned. Not mocking. Not cruel. Smug, yes. But softer, in a way you hadn't seen before. Something hungry⌠but careful. âTch,â he muttered, loosening his grip on himself with one last lazy stroke. âDidnât think your first time saying yes would be without words.â Your lips parted, ready to protest, but he was already shiftingâreaching lazily for the dark robe heâd discarded earlier. With a low rustle of silk, he draped it loosely over his lap, letting the heavy fabric veil both lengths of arousal from your line of sight. He caught your flicker of visible relief and gave a low chuckle. âDidnât want to scare you,â he murmured, voice dipping lower, almost crooning. âYouâll see them again when youâre ready.â
Then his eyes found yours againâall four of them. Red. Gleaming. Lidded and sultry, tracking every inch of your expression like he was trying to memorize it. And beneath your ribs, your soulmate mark tingled. You gasped softly, feeling it pulse, and across from you, Sukuna inhaled just as sharply. ââŚThere it is again,â he muttered, more to himself this time. âAlways when youâre about to do something brave.â
Then, slowly, he leaned down. You didnât move. Couldnât. His hand slid beneath the back of your neck, the other still braced on your thigh as he eased you down into the pillows. Not like prey. Like something precious. He hovered above youâclose enough to breathe the same air. His mouth was a whisper from your cheek. âYouâve never kissed anyone before,â he said. It wasnât a question. You shook your head, just barely. Sukuna made a sound deep in his throat. Something between a laugh and a groan. âOf course not,â he said, and the edge of his mouth tilted again, predatory and amused. âYouâve never been seen before, have you?â You couldnât answer. Your throat was tight. âGood,â he muttered, more to himself. âIâll make sure youâre never forgotten after this.â Then he kissed your neck. Not soft.
Slow.
His lips were roughâchapped from too much sake and windâbut warm, dragging slowly up the column of your throat. His tongue traced the edge of your jaw, and his fangs grazed the underside of your chin as he moved, careful not to pierce. Your breath stuttered. He pressed another kiss. Then another. Up, up, until his mouth hovered just over yours.
âDonât think,â he said. âJust feel.â And thenâ
He kissed you. It wasnât delicate. It was confident. Firm. Guiding. His lips moved over yours with ease, coaxing your mouth to follow his rhythm. His lower hand slid behind your back, arching you up slightly so your bodies aligned, and you let out a tiny, helpless sound against his mouth that only made him smile into the kiss. âThatâs it,â he murmured, pulling back for half a breath. âYou're getting it. Try it again.â You did. This time, you kissed him backâshy and unsure, but willingâand he groaned low in his throat as if that was what unraveled him. âYouâre so warm,â he whispered, forehead against yours. âSo fucking soft.â His hands didnât strayâjust held you. Steady. Safe. The mark under your ribs flared again, and he felt it, too. His eyes flickered, all four glowing brighter in the dark. "Feels like fate's watching," he muttered. Then, with a grin:
"Letâs give it something worth remembering." He pressed his lips to yours againârougher this time. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, warm and insistent, and though your heart nearly leapt into your throat, you parted your mouth in response. A soft gasp escaped you as his tongue slipped in, slick and slow, winding with yours. The wet glide of it, firm and teasing, made your head spin. You hadnât known a kiss could feel like this. Hadnât known the simple joining of mouths could send heat pooling so deeply between your legs. And yetâthis was Sukuna. You could taste him now. Warm sake and something darker. Spiced. He grinned against your lips, as if he could feel the way your body trembled beneath him. His lower hands gripped your hips, holding you gently but firm, keeping you beneath him while the upper pair slid across your shouldersârough, but not unkind. His thumbs brushed over your collarbones through the thin fabric, and goosebumps rippled down your skin. He pulled back after a particularly wet kiss, strings of saliva clinging to both your mouths. All four of his crimson eyes locked on you, half-lidded, glowing with hunger.
âTake this off.â His voice was low, the command rasped more than spoken. One thick finger hooked lazily into the neckline of your undershirt, tugging at the fabric. The candlelight behind him threw warm gold across his bare chest, shadows dancing over the carved lines of his body. His tattoos shifted faintly as he moved, alive under his skin. The glint of his fangs showed when he smirked down at you. You swallowed thickly. Your hands hesitated at the hem. Sukuna caught that. His upper left hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, a rare flicker of gentleness crossing his expression.
âDonât look so scared,â he murmured. âI said Iâd teach you.â His voice dipped lower. âAnd I donât break whatâs mine.â Your breath hitched at that, the soulmate mark under your ribs pulsing sharply in response. He felt it tooâyou could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly, pupils dilating, his chest rising with a slow inhale like he was drinking you in. Thenâone of his hands slid down, fingers curling around yours at the edge of your shirt. He helped you lift it, slow, patient. His eyes never left your face. When the fabric finally peeled away from your skin, he hissed under his breath. Not in mockery. But in something else entirely.
Desire.
âYouâre soft everywhere,â he muttered, the pad of one thumb dragging across the dip of your waist. âFigures.â You flushed, squirming instinctivelyâbut his lower hands pinned you again, gently grounding you as his gaze dragged over your newly bared skin. All four of his eyes were focused on the rise and fall of your breasts, watching the soft mounds sway up and down, a grin tugging on his mouth. His upper pair of arms caressed themâ not softly but not roughly either, but rather, with the intent of bringing you pleasure.  A gasp left you when his thumb flicked over the stiff buds on your chest, and his fanged grin grew wider, a mix of amusement, lust and the slight mockery he always implemented when he was around you. âFeels good?â He drawled lazily, working your breasts until you felt blood rush down to the place between your legs once more. Gasps and moans left you at each caress, each twist and tug, your hands gripping his silken sheets. You hadnât known something like this could feel so erotic.
âSukuna⌠pleaseââ You gasped, hips bucking up, feeling an embarrassingly warm patch of arousal seeping at the front of your cotton underwear. âPlease what, woman? Use your words, hm? I know you canâ you were a mouthy little brat when we first met.â He said smugly, his crimson eyes gleaming as he gave a rough squeeze to your tits, snickering when he felt your back arch. You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to remember that he wanted this tooâ that this wasnât scary. He had wanted to teach you, after all. âPlease⌠touch me.â You surprised yourself with a bold move, grabbing one of his lower hands and placing it right between your legs. You stiffened at what you had just doneâ cheeks flushing pink, heartbeat quickening. But before you could utter out a single word, Sukunaâs mouth left a soft sigh, all four of his eyes dimming as his fingers felt the dampness between your legs. âYouâre so fucking wet. Didnât know a defiant woman like you had it in you,â he muttered, a low rasp catching in his throat as his fingers slid slowly, deliberately, through the slick heat between your thighs. You gasped againâhe hadnât even really done anything yet, but the sheer presence of him between your legs, his touch, his voiceâyour body was already trembling with need. The pads of his fingers circled over your clit, slow and cruel, making you shiver.
âLook at you,â he sneered softly, lips brushing your ear as he leaned closer, his breath hot. âSo eager now. Bet youâd beg real sweet if I stopped.â Your hips twitched instinctively at the threat. âDonâtââ you breathed, your voice cracking. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through your body like a tremor. âThatâs what I thought.âÂ
He worked his fingers up and down your slit, until you were shakingâ his thick fingers never stopping their rough advance on your clit, occasionally slipping down to your entrance to circle it, lightly dipping the pad of his finger in, assessing your reaction. Once he had made sure you were wet enough, he circled your entrance with two fingers, leaning down to press an uncharacteristically soft kiss to your forehead, that didnât contrast with his mocking words from before. With a slow, almost reverent motion, he slipped two thick fingers inside you. You clenched down around them instinctively, your head falling back into the futon as a broken moan escaped your lips. âFuck,â he hissed, watching the way your body responded to himâeyes heavy, your thighs shaking slightly around his hand. âTight little virgin cunt. You were made for this.â
You whimpered, squirming under him, overwhelmedâbut not afraid. His touch was rough, yes, but not cruel. His claws didnât scratch. His strength never bruised. He couldâve split you in two if he wanted, but he was holding back. All for you. One of his upper hands pushed hair from your face while the other remained at your side, possessive and warm. âYou feel that?â he murmured, voice a little hoarser now. âThe way your markâs burning? Means you like this. Means your body wants mine.â You noddedâbarely able to breathe. âItâsâ itâs not just the mark.â That caught him. He stilled for a moment, four crimson eyes narrowing slightlyâthen he grinned, slow and dangerous. âOh?â You bit your lip, unsure if you shouldâve said itâbut your hips gave a needy roll into his palm, your body betraying your answer. âThought so,â he said, leaning in to kiss you againâsloppier this time, tasting your moans as he curled his fingers just right, dragging them against a spot that made your entire body jolt. âDonât worry,â Sukuna growled against your mouth, voice like molten honey, low and rumbling. âIâll take my time with you.â He meant it, tooâbecause he didnât just slam into you like the beast you feared heâd be. Noâhe eased you into it. The two fingers working inside you curved again, and you gasped, thighs twitching. He grinned, watching your reaction with the satisfaction of a god unwrapping an offering.
âFeels good?â he asked, even though the answer was clear in your fluttering lashes, your parted lips, the needy way your hips chased his hand. You nodded, a shy, breathless, âYeahâŚâÂ
âUse your words, girl,â he said, nipping your lower lip. âTell me what you want.â
âI⌠I want more,â you managed. He hummed, pleased. âGood girl.â Then he drew back, slowly removing his fingers with a slick sound that had heat crawling up your face. âRelax,â he murmured as he tugged your thighs further apart with his lower hands, settling between them like a predator preparing to feast. âYouâre going to take me now.â You swallowed, your eyes drifting downâand your heart nearly stopped. He was⌠huge. Youâd already seen glimpses of him earlier, but up close, looming over you with both of his cocks heavy and dark against his lower abdomen, it became real. They were long, thick, veinedâand terrifying. You werenât sure how it was even possible. Your breath caught. âSukuna, I donât know if I canââ
âShhh,â he said, and leaned down, pressing a softer kiss to your collarbone. âI told you Iâd teach you. You trust me, donât you?â You hesitated. But when you looked up into his four crimson eyesâgleaming with something almost close to reverenceâyou found yourself nodding. âYes.â He exhaled, pleased, and brushed your hair back. âGood. Then relax.â He guided one of himselfâthe lower oneâ to your entrance, rubbing against your folds to coat himself in your slick. His upper arms cradled your head gently while the lower ones steadied your hips. He didnât push inânot yetâjust traced his tip through your arousal until you were squirming, your body aching for it. âYouâre shaking,â he said, almost fondly. âI havenât even put it in yet.â
âSukuna,â you whined, embarrassed. His grin widened, fangs flashing. âYouâll be crying my name properly in a moment.â Thenâslowly, so slowlyâhe began to push in. You gasped, hands fisting into the futon beneath you as the stretch hit you all at once. He was thickâyour walls fought to accommodate him, and still he went gently, inch by agonizing inch. âBreathe,â he whispered, kissing the corner of your jaw. âYouâre doing good. Look at you, taking me so well.â You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. It wasnât pain, not reallyâit was just overwhelming. The size, the heat, the intimacy. Halfway in, he paused. âWant me to stop?â You shook your head, nails digging into his shoulders. âNoâkeep going.â
His eyes darkened. âAs you wish.â
And he did. He bottomed out with a low, guttural groan, his body pressing against yours. You clung to him, eyes wide, breath shallow, stunned by the feeling of being so full. âThere,â he whispered, hips grinding slowly. âYou feel that? That stretch? That heat? Fuck, youâre doing so good fâme.â You moaned when he rolled his hips againâslow, careful, his lower hands gripping your thighs to keep you still. He set a pace, not fast, but deep. Every thrust dragged a gasp from your lips. His upper hands never stopped roamingâstroking your ribs, your breast, your throat like he was memorising you.
âYouâre taking me so well,â he murmured again, voice nearly reverent. âSo soft, so tight⌠fuck.â One of his hands slid between your bodies again, grabbing his hardened upper length, and guiding it to your clit with maddening precision. You jerked beneath him, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sensation. He let out a pleased noise, rubbing the cockhead insistently against your clit while shallowly thrusting into you. You felt a tightening in your bellyâ a sign you were teetering on the edge.
âSukunaâ!â
âI know, I know. Let go, girl. Iâve got you.â You did. Your body arched, trembling, the mark on your ribs flaring with white-hot warmth as you came hard around him, whimpering into his mouth as he kissed you through it. And only when your walls stopped pulsing around him, only when your body went limp with exhaustionâdid he start to fuck you in earnest. His rhythm changedâdeeper, rougher, one of his other cocks grinding against your oversensitive bundle of nerves as he chased his own release. The sounds were obsceneâyour slick, your soft moans, his grunts of pleasureâbut none of it felt wrong. It felt like something sacred. Something inevitable. He pushed himself up higher, grabbing your hips and folding your lower body in half, pounding you into the mattress, all while he parted his robe, letting the large tongue out to lap at your tits, the dual sensations making you cry and writhe for him. He came with a deep growl, hips stuttering, his arms curling around you tightly as he buried himself to the hilt. You felt warmth bloom inside you, and he didn't move, only held you thereâchest heaving, breath hot against your throat. Your soulmate mark pulsed one final timeâwarm, pulsing, satisfied. He finally stilled, panting, his breath warm and ragged against your ear. For a moment, the only sounds were the wind brushing faintly against the outer paper walls and the rush of your shallow breathing beneath him. Then, with a low grunt, he slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered softly at the sensation, your entire body oversensitive, flushed, and warm all over. You didnât dare look downânot when you felt the hot trail of his release trickle from you onto your inner thigh. Sukuna sat back on his heels, all four of his crimson eyes lazily dragging over your boneless form. His grin stretched across his face, fanged and smug. âLook at you,â he said, voice deep with satisfaction. âFucked dumb already? One round and youâre ruined.â
You flushed furiously, trying to cover your face with your hands, but he easily batted them away, laughing. âNo hiding now. I like this view,â he added, rough fingers gripping your thigh to spread you a little more, watching his own mess leak out of you. âBet you never imagined this when you were yelling at me in the shrine.â
âSukuna,â you groaned, mortified.
ââSukuna,ââ he mocked sweetly, then snorted. âWhat, worried youâll get pregnant already?â You hesitated. ââŚWill I?â He blinked at you, then barked out a laugh. âNo. Idiot.â Your brows pinched, still nervous. âButâhow do you know?â He wiped a streak of come from your thigh with his thumb, still chuckling. âYour human body canât carry a cursed beingâs spawn unless I mark you for it. Itâs not something that just happens. It has to be deliberate.â Your eyes widened slightly. âOh.â He leaned in, licking his thumb clean right in front of you. âWorried Iâll knock you up already, soulmate? Didnât know you were so desperate to carry my brats.â You buried your face in the futon with a noise of protest, and Sukuna snickered. But after a pause, he grew quiet. Then, with an uncharacteristic gentleness, he reached to grab a soft cloth from a folded stack beside the bed. You jumped slightly when he pressed it between your legs, but he hushed you. âRelax,â he muttered, voice gruff. âLet me clean you.â He wiped you carefullyâalmost methodicallyâthough he still made a few comments under his breath.
âMessy girl,â he murmured. âTook it all, though. Good job.â You felt warmth bloom in your chest at the praise, even if his tone was teasing. By the time he finished, your body felt like jellyâheavy and sore, but sated. Safe. He sat back again, clearly ready to move off the bed when your voice broke softly through the quiet:
ââŚCan you stay?â He paused. Your eyes stayed on the futon, your fingers curling lightly in the sheets. âJust for a bit. I⌠I donât want to be alone tonight. Besides, you told me last time I canât really leave because of those ancient wards and protections.â He let out a heavy, theatrical sigh. âGiving me orders in my own bedchamber. Youâre going to make this a habit, arenât you?â
âIâsorry, forget itââ
âTch.â He was already lying down beside you. You blinked as he rolled you gently into his chest, one of his lower arms slinging around your waist, the upper resting behind your head. âDonât make me say it,â he muttered, nuzzling his nose into your hair. âIâm not going anywhere. Not when you look like that.â
ââŚLike what?â
âDonât ask so many questions.â You didnât respondânot with words. You curled closer to him, and let the warmth of his body settle over you like a second blanket. For a few moments, there was nothing but slow breathing. Then his voice again, softer this time, yet carrying that familiar Sukuna roughness: âNo more fuckinâ complaining about ever staying in this shrine again. Let me make it clear you belong to me now. And not just because of the soulmate bullshit.â You smiled faintly against his chest. âYours, huh?â He snorted. âDonât get cocky. Itâs not a compliment.â But when you closed your eyes, he pulled you a little closerâone hand stroking down your spine, lazily soothing you into sleep. And just before you drifted off, you swore you felt his lips brush your forehead, light as air.
â
The morning sun slipped lazily through the slats of the wooden screens, casting golden lines across the futon. You stirred first, your limbs still sore, nestled in warmth that didnât belong to the blankets. For a moment, you just laid thereâhead tucked beneath a sharp chin, chest pressed against solid muscle, his heartbeat slow and heavy under your ear. You tilted your head slightly and looked up. Sukuna was already awake. All four of his crimson eyes stared down at you beneath lidded lashes, unreadable and half-lazy. One of his hands was still curved around your waist, another resting behind his head like he hadnât moved all night. âYou drooled on me,â he said flatly. You blinked. â... Huh?â He smirked, sharp and satisfied. âRight here,â he said, tapping his bare chest. âGross.â You shoved his shoulder weakly, but your face burned. âYouâre the one who stayed.âÂ
âYou begged me to,â he said smugly, stretching with a slow ripple of muscle. âClung to me like a baby monkey.â
âI did not!â
âMm. You kind of did.â You buried your face in the blanket. It was all overwhelming in the soft glow of morning, like the night before had actually happened. Like heâd touched you, kissed you, held you. He was still here. You gave him a glance, a coy smile on your lips. âSo likeâŚ, am I special now?â He turned, shifting until he was above you, strands of loose hair falling around his face. His grin was slow, teeth glinting.
âI didnât say that.â You made an annoyed noise and started sitting up, dragging the blanket with you. But one of his hands caught your wrist.
ââŚDonât go yet.â
You froze. He didnât say it againâbut he didnât let go either. His thumb traced slow circles into your skin like he didnât realize he was doing it. You looked at him quietly. âOkay.â He scoffed and dropped your hand. âDonât speak.â Still⌠when you started getting dressed, he didnât mock you for wincing from the soreness. He just watched you in that quiet, unreadable way again. And when you stepped out of the room, his voice followed youâdry and smug:
âMake sure to walk like youâve been ruined. I have an image to uphold.â You flushed, scowled, and slammed the door shut. But your mark still throbbed warm and pleasant on your ribs the whole walk back to your room.
â
Everything changed after that night. Not in the obvious, world-shifting way. Sukuna still insulted your cooking, still barked orders at his underlings, still scoffed whenever you were âtoo emotionalâ or âsoft.â But in the quiet spacesâbetween battles, between banter, between breathâhe became something else. Yours. He never said it aloud like he did after that night. Of course he didnât. But his hands said it when he returned from his blood-soaked travels and immediately sought you out, dirt still clinging to his robes. When he hauled you against his chest with a grunt and kissed you like the separation had physically offended him. When he bit your lip and then kissed the ache better. When he pressed his forehead against yours without a single word. âYouâre late,â youâd murmur. Heâd snort. âYouâre clingy.â But heâd hold you anyway. And over time, his affections grew more brazen. Lavish, even. Your closet couldnât contain all the silk kosodes, brocade uchikake, and embroidered under-robes he had sent in for youâeach one more beautiful and extravagant than the last. Sometimes, youâd find his gifts hidden in odd places. A carved comb tucked beneath your pillow. Earrings glittering inside a lacquered bowl. Once, a dagger with your name etched into the hilt. âYou spoil me,â you said once, trying to hide your flustered grin as you stepped into his chambers wearing a deep crimson robe embroidered with pale chrysanthemums.
He looked up from his seat, eyes sliding down your figureâhungry, satisfied. âYou look less like a ragged villager now,â he said coolly. âI can tolerate it.â But the way his fingers curled around your waist to tug you down into his lap during dinner told a different story. He made a habit of itâpulling you into his lap, letting you feed him from your chopsticks with a sly grin. Heâd mutter something about your hands shaking and then run his claws up your thigh beneath the table, just to watch your face. You'd squeak. He'd smirk. And later that night, heâd make good on the promises in his eyesâagain and again, until your body trembled from being ruined in the best way possible.
Youâd gotten used to the rhythm of it: the way heâd disappear for days or weeks, and how your chest would ache with longing without him near. But somehow, it was never a question anymoreânever a maybe. When Sukuna returned, youâd find him. And when you did, youâd walk into his chamber without knocking, and heâd kiss you mid-step like he was claiming you all over again.
âYou always find me first now,â he murmured once against your mouth. âI always know where you are,â you replied, breathless. ââŚCreepy,â he muttered. But his arms didnât let you go. And it wasnât just lust anymoreânot really. There were nights when he let you curl into his side as he read, one arm around you idly while the other turned pages. Heâd grumble when your hair got in his face, but he never moved away. Sometimes youâd catch him staring at your mark, glowing faintly when you touched him. Sometimes he kissed it. Sometimes you kissed his. And more often than not, it would end with you sprawled beneath him again, chanting his name like a prayer while he whispered filth and worship in equal measure.Â
He began to teach youâtruly teach you, as if heâd silently decided your body was worth protecting, worth strengthening, simply because it belonged to him. âYou ride like a peasant,â he sneered one morning, watching you awkwardly guide a restless horse in the training yard. But instead of walking away, he swung up behind you, his massive frame caging yours in the saddle. His hands rested over yours on the reins, his breath grazing your ear. âKeep your back straight. The horse can sense youâre pathetic.â Youâd flushed, of courseâhalf from his words, half from the heat of his body behind you. But under his sharp tutelage, you grew steadier, stronger. He pushed you in archery next, correcting your grip, adjusting your stance with hands that lingered a little too long on your hips.
Youâre not bad,â he admitted once, after you landed three clean shots in a row. âFor someone so insufferably loud.â But his praise was realârare and gleaming like a gemâand it warmed something buried deep within your chest. It became your rhythm. Days of training, evenings of teasing meals, nights tangled together in breathless heat. The bond between you bloomed steadily, thickly, until it curled around everything. You shared more nowâbooks, opinions, idle strolls, the occasional sarcastic bickering in front of stunned retainers who wisely kept their heads bowed. He never said the word love. But he looked for you before anyone else. Let you speak when others dared not. Let you touch him, freely, even when others feared to look. So when one morning you awoke, tangled beneath your silks, and found him standing in your doorwayâarms folded, dressed for the dayâyou werenât entirely surprised. You blinked sleepily, brushing hair from your eyes. â...Did something happen?â
âNo,â he said simply. His gaze swept across your room, unimpressed, before settling back on you. âThis space is small. Your things are cluttered. The bedding is thin.â You sat up, brows furrowing. âAre you... redecorating for me or something?â He gave you a look. âYouâre to sleep in my chambers from now on.â Your heart skipped. He said it like it was a decree. A natural fact. As if the moon had always belonged in the sky and you had always belonged in his bed. In his room. His space. His orbit. You stared at him, mouth opening, but he cut you off with a lazy flick of his hand. âI donât like looking for you. And itâs bothersome when youâre not already there.â
âButââ
âYou snore,â he added flatly, turning as if the conversation was done. âIâve accounted for that.â
You flushed. âI donâtâ!â But he was already striding back down the hall. And yetâlater that night, when you entered his massive chamber, your things had already been moved. His imposing form stood at the doorway, his face impassive, but eyes eager. âWell? Donât make me drag you in.â And when he wrapped himself around you, your mark pulsing softly against his ribs, you realized what heâd really meant. You were his. And now, so was thisâthis quiet, nightly nearness. No longer borrowed. It was yours.
Over the months that bled gently into a year, something shiftedâimperceptibly at first, like the tide tugging at the shore. But it was there. You felt it in the way Sukunaâs fingers brushed your lower back absentmindedly during meetings. In the way his lips found your temple in the morning, still half-asleep and grumbling, but always touching you, always reaching. He had become unmistakably yours. And youâsomehow, unbelievablyâhad become his tether to something dangerously close to peace. He still ruled with an iron hand. Still made men tremble, still took what he wanted without blinking. But now, there were nights where he let the world burn a little less.
One such night, after a gathering of trembling vassals, you caught him in the hallway, irritation still clinging to his expression. âYou didnât kill anyone,â you said, surprised. He gave you a long look. âThey didnât deserve it.â You tilted your head. âSince when has that mattered?â He stepped in close, crowding your space like always. âSince Iâve had to start hearing your voice in my head, nagging like some scolding little sparrow.â You blinked up at him. âThatâs not flattering.â He grinnedâslow, sharp. âDidnât say it was.â But his hand rose to cup your cheek, thumb brushing idly against your skin. And then, like a secret just for you, he murmured:
â...It helps. Sometimes.â You touched his hand. And over time, things like that happened more and more. Sometimes he'd come back from battle, blood-drenched and scowling, and you would be waiting. You always were, now. You had learned how to clean him up wordlessly, how to thread your fingers through his hair while he sat on the floor between your knees, letting your warmth soothe away the monster in his bones. He taught you things others would never dare offer a woman. Strategy, swordplay, ancient languages. Let you argue with him. He didnât always listenâbut he always heard. And sometimes, on quiet evenings, you would both sprawl out in the library. Books open, limbs tangled, one of his arms wrapped lazily around your middle. âIâm still not a good man,â he told you once, his voice low as dusk fell. You looked over at him, brushing a strand of his hair aside. âNo. Youâre not.â His eyes gleamed with something hungry. âAnd you still stay.â You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.
âEvery time.â
He didnât say it. He never would. But in the way his arms crushed you to him, the way his mark pulsed warmly against yoursâhe didnât have to. You were home.
â
The sakura trees outside his estate were beginning to bloom. Spring in this part of the province always came late â stubborn, slow to thaw â but when it did, the hills glowed pale pink for weeks. Petals scattered over the rooftops, slipped through the open shoji, caught in your sleeves when you passed through the inner courtyards. You had spent the day reading beneath one of them. By now it was late, and your limbs were heavy with warmth, your skin kissed golden from the sun. When you made your way back inside, the halls were quiet save for the flicker of lanterns and the familiar rustle of his presence. He was already seated in the library when you found him. One of his upper hands rested on a low table, a cup of sake untouched. His other arms were folded, two of them across his chest, the last propped on the armrest where he twirled a cherry blossom absently between his fingers. The petals looked absurdly delicate against claws that had once torn men in half. âYouâre late,â Sukuna grunted, not looking up. âI wasnât aware I was expected.â
âYou always are.â You rolled your eyes fondly and stepped inside, slipping down onto the floor opposite him. The silence between you had long stopped being awkward. These days, it felt like comfort. You picked up the second cup heâd set out for you â always â and took a sip, your gaze flicking to the folded scrolls beside him. âWar reports?â
âBoring ones.â You leaned forward, reaching to pluck the blossom from his fingers. âIs that why youâre being weird?â His eyes slid to yours. All four of them. Slow and assessing. And then, to your surprise, a grin curled over his mouth â too sharp, too knowing. ââWeirdâ?â he echoed, clearly amused. âYou keep sighing. And you're drinking sake without complaining. Youâre practically domestic.â He snorted and downed his own cup in one go. âTch. You're so full of yourself.â You giggled and sat back. âAdmit it. Youâre soft for me.â He growled in faux annoyance â and then sighed, tipping his head back until the corded column of his throat was bare, his hair brushing the floor. The candlelight cast shadows over his jaw, his mouth. âYou know what your problem is?â he asked at last.
You raised a brow. âI have many.â He turned his gaze to you fully now â all four eyes narrowed, intent. Something different lingered there. Heavy. Not dangerous, but⌠weighted. âYou made me want things I didnât even remember I wanted,â he said. Low. Gruff. Your chest tightened. âI didnât mean to.â
âI know,â he muttered. âYou never do. You just exist. And I...â His jaw flexed. âIâve been thinking. That maybe we should bind officially.â You blinked. âBind?â He looked annoyed â with himself more than anything. âMarriage,â he snapped. âA ritual bond. Ceremony. Vows. Whatever name you want to slap on it.â Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. âYouâwhat?â
âDonât act so surprised. Youâve lived in my chambers half the year already. You sleep in my bed, wear my gifts, eat at my table.â His voice was sharp, but not unkind. âYouâve wormed your way into everything. Might as well seal it.â You stared at him. Genuinely speechless. And then, finally, you found your voice. âSukuna. Marriage isnât⌠casual. Itâs sacred. Itâsââ
âI know what it is,â he cut in. His tone softened after a pause. âItâs a bond. Not just soulmates, not just fate. A choice.â He leaned forward, his arms bracing on his knees. âYou said once you were always treated like you werenât good enough. That no one ever chose you.â You stared at him, lips parting, your heart stuttering hard in your chest. âWell,â he said, his grin a little mean but his voice entirely sure, âIâm choosing you now.â You swallowed.
âAnd if I say no?â you whispered. He shrugged. âThen youâll still sleep in my bed, still wear my robes, still squabble with me over my brutality. Youâll still be mine, mark or no.â But something in his voice⌠sounded almost hopeful. You sat still for a long time, looking at him. Your Sukuna. With his four eyes, and two hearts (though heâd only admit to one). His jagged smile and hands that held you gentler than anyone else ever had. You reached across the space between you, threading your fingers through his. â...What kind of ceremony?â you asked, barely a murmur. He grinnedâbeamed, really. It was downright sinful how smug he looked. âThe kind where you wear something pretty and I carry you over the threshold like a war prize,â he said, already pleased with himself. You groaned and dropped your forehead against his arm. âUnbelievable,â you mumbled. But your fingers stayed tangled in his.
â
The day of the ceremony arrives with no announcement. There is no festival, no preparation from the villagers, no procession of nobles. Not even the servants in the compound seem to know whatâs going on â which is entirely intentional. You suspect Sukuna wouldâve hated the idea of fanfare almost as much as he hated the idea of people seeing him do something so profoundly human. So it is just the three of you. You, him, and Uraume. Uraume is the one who gathers the ceremonial offerings. Silent, precise, pale as frost, they move with reverence. Despite their usual loyalty to Sukuna above all else, today they look at you with something softer in their expression â a kind of subtle approval. Perhaps itâs because theyâve seen what he is like with you. Or perhaps theyâve been waiting for this even longer than you have. It takes place in the inner shrine, the one no one is allowed into. The sacred room where the oldest incense urns rest and moonlight spills through the open roof onto the stone floor. A shallow basin of water is set between you and Sukuna, scattered with cherry blossoms that drift lazily across the surface. Youâre dressed simply. No lacquered ornaments or jewels. Just the kimono Uraume had left out for you earlier that morning â silk, pale cream, embroidered with subtle gold thread along the sleeves. Sukuna is similarly understated, though he wears the finer version of his ceremonial robes â the one with the black sash and deeper crimson tones that match his eyes. He looks regal, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome. And somehow⌠nervous. Which is absurd. Because heâs Sukuna. Sorcerer King. Four-armed demon god feared by allâYet here he is. Standing before you. His eyes flicking to your hands, then away, like he canât decide if he wants to snatch them or keep pretending he doesnât care. Uraume kneels beside the basin, offering both of you a small flame each â not from a match, but from a sacred wick. You watch as Sukuna takes it without a word and holds it above the water. You do the same. Together, you let the flames fall. They extinguish with a soft hiss. And as the smoke curls up and fades, Uraume murmurs something you donât quite catch â old words. Words from before your time. And then they bow and slip out silently, leaving you alone with him. You feel your heart in your throat. Itâs quiet now. Still. Sukuna looks at you, all four eyes lidded and unreadable. His jaw ticks, like heâs forcing himself to say something. ââŚThatâs it,â he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. Your brows raise. âThatâs it?â
âYou said you didnât want a crowd. So you get this. You, me, and the fucking moon.â You blink at him. And then⌠you laugh. Soft and stunned and full of something warm. He frowns. âYou laughing at me, brat?â
âNo,â you smile. âIâm just⌠happy.â Something shifts in his expression at that. He reaches for your hand. Not to pull you close, not to start something wicked like he usually would â just to hold it. His palm is warm and rough. The way his claws curl gently over your knuckles always makes your chest ache. âYouâre mine,â he says, voice low and husky. âIâve been yours,â you whisper back. âNo. I mean now youâre mine. Not just fate, or soulmarks, or some stupid prophecy.â His thumb brushes over the back of your hand. âYou chose this. You chose me.â You nod. He pulls you to him then â sudden but slow, careful. His upper arms wrap around your waist, his lower pair pressing between your shoulder blades, caging you in so close that all you can breathe is him. His scent, his warmth, the familiar steady beat of his heart against your chest. He leans his head down, until your foreheads touch.
âNo one will ever take you from me,â he says, so softly itâs a vow. âNot divine will. Not time. Not death.â And for once⌠thereâs no teasing in his voice. No wicked edge. Just love. You tilt your face up and kiss him. Tender. Lingering. A soft press of lips that seals something older than words. One of his hands lifts to cup your jaw, tilting it just so, deepening the kiss â but not with hunger. With reverence. When you part, you stay there. Foreheads pressed. His breath on your lips. ââŚSo what now?â you murmur. He hums. âNow youâre mine. So youâll sleep in my bed every night. Youâll wear my ring.â He produces something from within his sleeve â a carved bone band, smooth and warm from his touch. He slides it onto your finger with the same care heâd show a sacred blade. âYouâll eat beside me. Ride with me. Bathe with me. And if I leave to destroy something, youâll be the one I come back to.â You look down at the ring on your hand. Then up at him. âAnd if someone else wants to marry me?â you tease. His eyes gleam. His grin is sharp. âIâll kill them.â You snort and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. And he lets you hold him. Lets you stay like that as long as you need. Eventually, he murmurs, âIâll have Uraume prepare the chamber.â
âWhat chamber?â
âOur bedroom.â
ââŚThatâs what youâre calling it now?â
âTch. Donât push it, wife.â You grin into his chest. His heart thumps beneath your ear â steady, strong, his. A beat passes. Then another. And then, in a voice so low you nearly miss it, rough as gravel and thick with something he refuses to name, he adds:
ââŚI love you, you annoying little thing.â You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is carefully blank â but his ears are red. Your smile turns radiant. âSay it again.â He scoffs and grabs your chin, thumb pressing to your lips in warning. âDonât get greedy.â But he doesnât deny it. Doesnât take it back. And for the rest of the night, neither of you let go.
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Summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. Youâve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.
cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut, crack, angst, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukunaâs nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, (more tags will be added)
wc: 7k
chp warning: fluff, tension, angst?, crack, Sukuna is a beefy asshole, also kinda chaotic
a/n: hello!! this is my first fic iâve ever posted ! iâve been so nervous to post, but here I am! please be kind! but also please comment and let me know what you think! I need input! I appreciate all feedback. reposts are appreciated and I truly hope you enjoy! love, rosie <3
What a fucking morning.
Itâs not even eight oâclock, and it already feels like the worldâs longest week. Itâs always something, isnât it? It started with the fire alarms blaring at two in the morning. This new apartment was supposed to be your haven, a fresh start. Well, that is what your âwonderfulâ landlord told you.
Instead, you found yourself wrestling with the outdated, screeching fire alarm. There you were, at two in the goddamn morning, beating the alarm with a broom, praying it wouldnât wake up the entire building. Nobora watched, half-asleep, as you battled the infernal noise, her small form silhouetted in the doorway, clutching her dragon Squishmallow for comfort. She barely even reacts to the loud crash of the alarm falling to the ground. The shattered plastic does not even phase you either. You simply shrug, throw the broom down, and pick up Nobora to put her back to sleep.
You finally got her back to bed just before three. Itâs fine, maybe I can still get some sleep. You lay your head down on the pillow, just starting to drift off when â is that moaning? You freeze in realization that the neighbors were in fact getting it on. These are also the neighbors you have yet to meet because moving has kept you so busy. You wanted to have a baking night with Nobora and bring them some cookies, now it will be just a little awkward, well for you anyway.
Their bedroom must be right next door because you could hear every detail. The walls seemed paper-thin, vibrating with their animalistic moans, leaving you no choice but to stare at the ceiling, hoping it would end soon. You felt a pang of envy mixed with embarrassment, your cheeks flushing in the dark. It was as if their moans were mocking your solitary existence.
âOh fuck, yes, baby,â came the muffled yells through the wall.
âDirty fucking bitch â take it.â
âAhh, fuckââ
âMhmm, give it to me!â
You sighed and shoved a pillow over your head, trying to muffle the sounds. I wish I was getting dicked down. You hadn't been with anyone since Nobora's father, too consumed with work and motherhood to even entertain the idea.
Hours ticked by with the soundtrack of someone else's late-night porno party echoing in your ears. You must have dozed off around four or five because you woke up at six, bleary-eyed and grumpy, unfortunately, ready to start your day. You always wake up an hour before Nobora. Youâve trained your mind to wake up no matter what. It's a precious, peaceful time. Just you, a shower, and some coffee to brace yourself for the chaos of single motherhood. It was a ritual, a grounding moment before the world demanded everything from you.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and headed straight for the shower. But today, even the water conspired against you. It was lukewarm for about thirty seconds before turning ice cold. You rolled your eyes, sighed again, and let the frigid water wake you up. It was a cruel reality check, a reminder that not everything was within your control. The icy blast shocked you awake, but instead of feeling refreshed, you were simply aware of everything and still very fucking tired. You lethargically wash your body and hair, fully used to the freezing temperature.
Now wide awake you turn off the shower and step out shivering. Muscle memory has you reaching for a towel hanging on the rack. Instead of grabbing a plush soft towel, your knuckles hit the wall. With a frown adorning your face, you scan the bathroom for another towel. To no surprise, there isn't one in sight. Of course. I never finished the laundry. So, you tiptoed into the hallway, freezing and dripping wet. Another groan escaped your lips as you made your way to the laundry room.
Passing by the kitchen, the rich, inviting aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. A small comfort in a morning of mishaps. Yet, as you entered the kitchen, you found yourself sprawled on the floor, your head throbbing from the hard linoleum. The culprit? Water from your shower pools on the tiles. Slipped and fell hard, right on your ass (and head).
Sitting up, you gingerly touched the back of your head, wincing at the dull ache from the linoleumâs unforgiving surface. The jolt of the fall had shaken you, and as you surveyed the chaos around you, a wave of frustration washed over you. The kitchen was a battlefield, and you were its weary soldier.
The hot liquid-!Wait. Hot? The damn Coffee. The pot hadnât been placed properly, and now it was everywhere, seeping under appliances and decorating the counter in erratic splatters. It was as if the universe had conspired against you, testing your patience with every spilled drop. The laugh that leaves your body was loud, it was a pure reaction to the shit day you are having so far. Thank god Nobara is a heavy sleeper.
You sighed deeply, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, and headed to the laundry room to retrieve a stack of towels. You snatch some towels from the still unfolded pile of laundry and head back to the mess. Wrapped in towels you try and clean the mess that was the kitchen moving with deliberate care.
As you wiped the counters, you couldnât help but think of how once, in another life, you might have found this situation amusing â a fun story to share over drinks with friends. But now, it was another chore, another hurdle in a day that seemed determined to test your limits. You were always doing something, always busy, never having time for anyone but work and Nobora.
The momâs guilt engulfs you as you think such a thing. Nobora is your girl, youâd do anything for her. She isnât a bad kid at all, sheâs almost perfect actually. Youâre just burnt out from repetition. Itâs all becoming too much. You need to find something to shake up your life, or you might explode over the next coffee spill.
With the kitchen finally tamed, you started another pot of coffee, meticulously ensuring the pot was secure. Three double-takes later, you finally moved on. The comforting aroma of brewing coffee filled the air and you took a moment to breathe it in. With a deep breath you finally exit the kitchen and with urgency walk down the hall to go change.
The messy bed you totally ignored to make is calling you back to it. Oh how you wish you could start this day over. But, thatâs not how life works unfortunately. Searching for a decent outfit in your closet, you toss them onto the bad and quickly dry your hair and put on some makeup. The goal is to look somewhat presentable before you tackle the rest of this long day.
Dressed in a white turtleneck, black blazer, and matching pants, accented by gold earrings and a watch, you felt a sense of composure return. Catching your reflection in the hallway mirror, you acknowledged the woman staring back with a small smile.
You step back into the kitchen with a quick glance at the clock: 6:40. Not too bad, considering the coffee debacle. With a fresh pot brewed and your daily agenda meticulously filled, you savored a sip from your favorite mug, feeling the familiar rhythm of your routine reassert itself. This routine was your anchor, a vital structure in the whirlwind of motherhood and a demanding career as head librarian.
Nobora, thankfully, was a dream child, attending an early-start preschool conveniently located near the library, a perk courtesy of her father's connections. The usual schedule: drop-off at 7:55, arrival at the library by 8:15. That gives you just enough time to prepare for the day before doors open at 9. Every task was strategically planned. Although, youâve learned to leave room open for chaos.
The library was your second home, a sanctuary that healed you in ways you couldnât describe. As head librarian at the cityâs main library, you were doing what you loved, and Nobora thought you were some kind of book fairy, bringing her new tales to explore every night.
You knew every corner, every hidden nook where sunlight filtered through tall windows, creating perfect reading spots. The children's section was your pride and joy, a magical realm you'd cultivated with careful attention. Colorful bean bags, twinkling fairy lights, and hand-painted murals transformed the space into something extraordinary. You'd spent countless weekends perched on ladders, brush in hand, bringing storybook characters to life on the walls while Nobora "supervised" from below, offering creative direction with the confidence only a child could muster.
Your colleagues often joked that you had a sixth sense for matching readers with their perfect books. It wasn't magic, though â just years of careful observation and a deep understanding of how stories could heal, inspire, and transform. You kept a mental catalog of every patron's preferences, their reading journey, their emotional needs.
As you sipped your coffee you read the daily news on your phone. Your eyes shift up to the doorway as you heard soft footsteps. You smirked, turning to greet your daughter. âGood morning, baby,â you smiled as Nobora entered the kitchen, clutching her dragon Squishmallow. Her hair was a messy halo around her face, eyes were still heavy with sleep.
âHi, Mommy,â she murmured, rubbing her eyes. Her presence was warm and melted every stressor away. Thinking of how used you are with her in your life makes you eternally grateful. She is your motivation, what makes everything worth it.
You kissed her head, lifted her into her booster seat, and adjusted the strap. âEggs or cereal?â you asked, knowing her answer before she even spoke.
âCookies ân Crunch,â she replied, yawning. You nodded, grabbing her favorite princess-themed bowl and spoon, and pouring cereal and milk with care. Her world was simple, unburdened by adult worries, and you envied her innocence. You watched as she ate, her small hands clutching the spoon with determination, and you felt a surge of love so strong it took your breath away.
"Want some orange juice?" you asked, already reaching for her favorite cup â the one with little dragons that changed color when filled with cold liquid. Her eyes lit up as she nodded, momentarily forgetting her cereal to watch the purple dragons turn blue.
"Mommy, look! They're changing again!" she exclaimed, her voice still scratchy with sleep but filled with wonder. These small moments of magic, watching her delight in something as simple as color-changing cups made everything worthwhile. You settled into the chair beside her, sipping your coffee while she alternated between spoonfuls of cereal and careful sips of juice. Her little feet swung back and forth, occasionally bumping against the chair legs in a gentle rhythm. The morning light streaming through the kitchen window caught the gold flecks in her pretty eyes â eyes just like yours â and you found yourself mesmerized by how much she'd grown.
"I'm gonna get your backpack ready, 'kay?" You ask as you stand up from the kitchen table and begin to walk to her room. You hear a muffled "kay" as she shovels more cereal in her mouth. You enter her mess of a room that you will have to clean later and grab her bright blue glittery backpack with two Tamagotchis hooked to one zipper and a gaming controller keychain hooked to the other. You're sure to grab her notebook, pencil bag, hat, and extra clothes and shove them into the back.
Your fingers brush against a crumpled drawing from yesterday, and you carefully smooth it out. Itâs a crayon masterpiece of you and her at the library, surrounded by what looks like floating books with wings. You smile, tucking it back inside before zipping everything up.
Returning to the kitchen, you set her backpack beside your tote bag, already packed the night before. You hummed in satisfaction, feeling the day improve. Nobora, your sweet child, brightened even the dreariest mornings. Her presence was a reminder of life's beauty, the reason you pushed through the exhaustion. You watched her, a small smile playing on your lips as she finished her breakfast, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin.
âMomma, Iâm finished,â Nobora announced, smiling as she devoured the last of her cereal. You helped her out of the seat, instructing her to pick a sweater from her room. Letting her choose her own outfits was a new routine, fostering her independence, though you often had to fix the socks. Watching her grow, witnessing her small victories, was your greatest joy.
You marveled at how quickly she was becoming her own person, her personality shining through in everything she did. As she picked out her clothes you rinsed off her dirty dishes along with your empty coffee cup and set them in the sink to be put in the dishwasher later.
She returned in a red sweater with a bow at the collar and black jeans, handing you her Converse to tie. Her socks matched this time â bright yellow but matching nonetheless. The sight made you smile; just last week, she'd insisted on wearing one polka dot sock and one striped one, declaring it "fashion." You'd let her, of course, because sometimes the best parenting was knowing when to let go.
"Hair clip or tie?" you asked as she followed you to the bathroom, her little feet padding softly on the floor. The morning routine was a dance you both knew by heart, each step familiar yet somehow special every time.
"Clip, please," she says as you lift her to sit on the bathroom sink. You style her hair, securing sparkly black clips on either side. Your fingers move with practiced ease through her hair, so much like your own. "Oh, absolutely gorgeous," you say to her and help her off the sink, placing her back down on the ground. She giggles and smiles brightly at your compliment, running down the hallway. "Alright, let's get going," you call, helping her into her coat.
"Toji is picking you up tonight with Megumi, okay?" Nobora nods as you open the door. She immediately makes a U-turn and darts back to her room, grabbing her Gameboy (it was once yours, once upon a time).
"I wanna play on the way to school." Her enthusiasm is contagious. You roll your eyes, chuckling. âAlright, come on.â
As you open the door, your neighborâs door flew open. A boy with pink hair bolted out, followed by another boy with brown hair, slightly longer. Their playful shouts echoed down the hallway. You paused for a moment, watching them, a small smile on your lips as they reminded you of your Nobora.
âYuji, donât forget your lunchbox,â the older boy called, his voice a mix of authority and warmth. Your eyes widened. âShit! Her lunch,â you muttered, rushing back inside to grab the bento box from the fridge. You let out a deep breath holding the bento box to your chest and did a quick mental checklist.
Phone. Wallet. Keys. Bag. Lunch. Nobora.
Nodding, you headed back out, only to hear Noboraâs screaming, âThatâs mine!â
âI just wanna see what level your Charizard is,â Yuji replied, pulling at Noboraâs Gameboy. You sighed, stepping forward to intervene, but your neighbor emerged, tall and imposing, with tattoos everywhere you could see (even his face), gauges, and hair matching Yujiâs. His presence was commanding. You found yourself momentarily distracted by his presence, his aura both intimidating and oddly captivating.
"No! I just got him to level 45 and he's special! Let go!" Nobora's voice rose higher, her fingers tightly wrapped around her precious game. The battle music from PokĂŠmon could still be heard faintly from the device's speakers.
"It took me forever to train him! Mommy helped me!" Nobora's eyes were starting to tear up, her protection of her prized PokĂŠmon becoming more desperate. You and the handsome stranger both let out a sigh at the same time. He steps over to Yuji and bends down. The older boy is standing to the side staring annoyingly at the younger one.
"Yuji, let go of the damn game. We gotta go," the man ordered, his deep voice and kinda terrifying.
"But Uncle Sukuna, I just want toâ" Yuji started to protest.
"Now."
Yuji huffed, releasing the Gameboy with more force than necessary, sending Nobora tumbling backward. The device flew through the air in slow motion, a perfect arc of impending disaster.
Your heart stopped as you watched it fall, helpless to prevent what was coming. The sound of plastic meeting tile echoed through the hallway like a gunshot, followed by the distinct crack of something breaking inside. The PokĂŠmon battle music cut off abruptly, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
Time seemed frozen as everyone stared at the broken device on the floor, the magnitude of what just happened sinking in. You could see Nobora's lower lip starting to quiver, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she stared at her beloved game system â the one that had been your constant companion through high school, the one you'd lovingly passed down to her, the one that held all her carefully trained PokĂŠmon.
Fuck.
You quickly collected Nobora, who was now crying, and picked up the broken Gameboy. âItâs okay, baby. Maybe I can get you a new one,â you soothed, rubbing her back. You felt a pang of guilt, wishing you could shield her from every hurt and disappointment. Yuji and the other boy bowed their heads, their expressions a mix of contrition and curiosity.
"I'm so sorry," the older one said, his voice sincere. His eyes darted between you and Nobora, genuine remorse written across his features.
You forced a smile, locking your door with slightly trembling hands. "Oh, it's okay. Accidents happen." But Nobora was not appeased, her tears flowing freely as she buried her face in your neck. You hugged her tightly, whispering reassurances, feeling her small body shake with sobs against you.
The man beside you eyed you up and down. You slipped the broken Gameboy into your tote and grabbed your car keys, trying to appear unfazed as the realization hit you like a truck. He was the one you'd heard last night, the source of those passionate sounds that had kept you awake.
His gaze was intense, but you were already turning away, checking your watch with growing anxiety. You were running late, and between the broken Gameboy, Nobora's tears, and this uncomfortable revelation about your neighbor's nocturnal activities, you just needed to get out of there. The sooner you could escape this hallway and its impossibly attractive but clearly complicated new neighbor, the better.
"Please, miss! I'm so sorry!" Yuji pleaded, his pink hair falling into his eyes as he bowed repeatedly. You sighed, turning back to the boy, your heart softening at his genuine distress. Before you could respond, the man groaned, "Yuji, she said it was fine, chill." His tone was exasperated but not unkind. The way he looked at his nephew spoke volumes about the care hidden behind that intimidating facade.
Yuji wiped his eyes and ran to the man, clutching at his uncle's shirt like an anchor. The other boy was standing beside him rubbing his arm to try and comfort him. You walk over and bend down to be on his level, Nobora sniffling in your arms. Her tears were subsiding, curiosity beginning to peek through her sadness.
"I'll tell you what, since we're neighbors, you can make it up to us." You smiled, and the boys looked at you, confused. Nobora perked up, listening intently, her grip on your neck loosening slightly. "How about you boys come over and play with Nobora one day, to make up for her game." The offer was simple, a gesture of peace in the morning's storm. You knew Nobora could use some friends in the building, and despite the rough start, these boys seemed sweet enough.
The tall man rolled his eyes, but the boys grinned widely, their faces lighting up like Christmas trees. "Yes, please!" they chorused, bouncing on their toes with excitement. Their enthusiasm was infectious. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a small flicker of hope amidst the chaos. Maybe something good could come from this disaster of a morning after all.
The man eyed you again, smirking. You gave a half-hearted smile, quickly making your way down the stairs to your car. You were behind schedule, thanks to the forgotten lunchbox and the Gameboy incident.
After strapping Nobora into her car seat, you handed her an applesauce pouch, her comfort snack for rough mornings. Her sniffles subsided as traffic cooperated on the way to school, the gentle hum of the engine and morning radio filling the silence. It has felt like the longest day you have ever lived, and work hasnât even started yet.
You pull into Nobora's school and park, you peek at the clock on your phone and to your surprise, you're right on time. The morning chaos hadn't derailed your schedule after all. You unbuckle Nobora, and wipe her face with a wet wipe, gentle strokes removing the traces of tears. Her eyes are still puffy, but at least she's stopped crying.
"I'll get you a new Gameboy, okay, honey?" you promised as you held her hand, crossing to the school. The morning sun cast long shadows across the playground, where early arrivals were already running and laughing. Her nod was small, her expression pensive as she clutched your hand tightly.
You considered calling out of work, but no, she'd be fine. She was tough, just like you. She'd likely forget the whole ordeal by the time she got home, distracted by whatever adventure she'd find with Megumi during the day. The thought was a comfort.
Inside, you approached her classroom. "Good morning, lovely ladies," greeted her teacher, Kento Nanami, with a smile. He was one of the kindest people you'd ever met, always patient with the preschoolers and offering his help whenever needed. His presence was calming and alluring, too bad he's engaged.
His blonde hair was perfectly styled as always, his wire-rimmed glasses perched precisely on his nose. The way he managed to look both professional and approachable in his crisp button-down and neat slacks was a daily miracle, especially considering he spent his days surrounded by paint, glue, and the general chaos of preschoolers. You'd seen him handle tantrums with the same grace he used to teach ABCs, never losing his composure or that gentle smile that made all the moms (and a few dads) swoon.
Nobora mustered a small smile and entered the classroom. You watched her join her classmates, grateful for the safe haven her school provided. Despite her puffy eyes and earlier tears, she was already gravitating toward the reading corner. Kento and you watch her for a few more moments before he turns his attention to you.
"Rough morning?" Kento asked, his eyes full of understanding. His voice was gentle, a reminder that you weren't alone in your struggles. He had this way of making everyone feel seen.
"Oh yeah." You rolled your eyes, pulling the broken Gameboy from your tote. The device looked even more pathetic under the fluorescent lights of the hallway.
"How did that happen?" he queried, examining the device with a gentle curiosity. His fingers traced the crack in the screen as you let out another sigh and chuckled.
"Well, there was this littleâ" you began, interrupted by small hands tugging your leg. You looked down to see Megumi, Toji's son, clinging to you. His dark hair was slightly messy, just like his father's, and his eyes held their usual stoic expression.
"Oh, there's my favorite boy!" You bent down, kissing his cheek. He rolled his eyes in that dramatic way only children can master, but you caught his small smile as he headed into the classroom. The way he tried to maintain his aloof demeanor while secretly enjoying the attention was so quintessentially Megumi. You turned to continue your conversation with Kento, but Toji appeared, flicking your forehead playfully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.
"AhâToji, stop. Not in the mood," you protested, swatting his arm. He pouted, showcasing his lip scar in that way he knew made him look both dangerous and oddly charming. "Who pissed in your Cheerios?" He teased.
You scoffed as Kento glared at him. "Watch your mouth, Zenin," Kento said sternly, though you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. You giggled, stepping aside to let a tired ooking mom pass with her twins.
"What?" Toji raised his hands in mock innocence. "I'm just asking our friend here why she looks ready to commit murder before nine in the morning." His grin was infectious, even as Kento shook his head disapprovingly.
"Some of us try to maintain a professional environment," Kento reminded him, adjusting his glasses with practiced patience.
"Some of us need to loosen up," Toji shot back, earning another stern look from the teacher.
Before this moment could be fueled by any more tension, you turn to Toji. "You can keep her until five tonight, right?" you asked, checking the time. 8:05. Ten minutes until work. You still needed to get to the library and set up for the senior book club that started at nine.
"Yeah, she can stay as long as she needs, pretty," Toji nodded, his casual use of the endearment as familiar as breathing. After all these years of friendship, his playful flirting had become just become normal.
You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I owe you one, you know."
Toji grinned, that mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Oh, I know what you couldâ" He winced as you pinched his arm, cutting off whatever inappropriate suggestion he was about to make in front of the children. "Oi!" he exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you pinched him.
You laughed at his pain and checked the clock one more time. You turn and waved goodbye to both men. Nobora was playing with Megumi as you left, their laughter echoing down the hall. The men wave back and watch as your figure grows smaller as you inch closer to the exit, finally getting to go to work.
"She's gonna run herself ragged," Toji muttered as you walked away, his usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine concern. Kento nodded, adjusting his glasses with a heavy sigh. "She doesn't want help, I've tried." Toji bit his lip, staring off in the way he did when he was genuinely worried. Kento turned to greet another parent, their voices blending into the morning's symphony of children's laughter and parents' goodbyes.
You speed-walked down the hall, hoping to avoid further encounters. But as you approached the exit, a man and a little boy entered â your neighbors. Your stomach dropped, a familiar flutter of anxiety mixed with irritation rising in your chest. Not now, not another awkward moment with your hot, broody neighbor.
Yuji spotted you, his face lighting up with that pure childhood enthusiasm that made it impossible to stay angry. "Neighbor!!" he called, waving frantically as if you were across a football field rather than just a few feet away. You couldn't help but smile, bending down to greet him despite your rush to leave.
"Well, hello! Yuji, right?" He nodded eagerly, his pink hair bouncing with the movement.
"Do you go to school here?" the little boy asked you with the cutest smile. You let out a small chuckle at the innocent question.
The tall man scoffed, the sound dripping with condescension. "Obviously not. That little girl whose game you broke does." He says to Yuji, the harsh reminder making the boy's smile falter.
You felt a flicker of irritation at how unnecessarily cruel he was being to the child who was clearly still feeling guilty about the incident.
Ignoring his harsh tone, you focus back to Yuji, maintaining your warm smile. "Which class are you in, sweetheart?"
Yuji's eyes light up, previous guilt momentarily forgotten. "Mr. Nanami's class! It's my first day!" His enthusiasm was contagious, practically bouncing on his toes as he spoke.
"That's awesome! You'll love Mr. Nanami, he's one of the kindest teachers around," you assured him, your heart warming at his eagerness to make friends despite the morning's rocky start.
"Noboraâs in there too! I am sure sheâll be happy to see you," you smile and hope Nobora wont hold a grudge.
Sukuna clears his throat and nudges Yuji with his hand, "Better hurry brat, you're gonna be late." Yuji's eyes widen and he quickly says goodbye to you both, making sure to hug Sukuna before darting down the hallway.
You wave to Yuji and stand, smoothing your blazer in a nervous gesture.You both watch him run down the hall, Kento greeting him with that warm smile of his.
An awkward silence settles between you and Sukuna, heavy with unspoken words. You turned, locking eyes with him, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. You wanted to say something, anything, but words failed you. Instead, you smiled politely, starting to walk away. His gaze was steady, and intense, following your movement, and you could feel the weight of it on your back.
"Hey!" his deep voice stopped you. You turned back, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah?" You force a smile on your face.
"Sorry about my nephew. I can give you money to replaceâ" His offer was unexpected, his tone almost apologetic. You swallow thickly as you can tell this apology is hard for him to say.
"Oh, no, don't worry about it! That thing was old anyway. I had it since high school." You laughed, realizing you were rambling. His presence was both unsettling and oddly comforting. You flash him a warm, genuine smile this time, trying to show there is no harm in the situation.
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. It was silent between you for a few seconds before he spoke again, "I'm Sukuna, by the way." He stares down at you with eyes that seem to be burning a a hole through your skin. That smirk isnât helping either.
"Huh?" you replied, confused by his sudden shift in demeanor. The man who had been so harsh with Yuji moments ago was now attempting something almost like charm. It was jarring, like emotional whiplash.
"We're neighbors, right? And my nephew destroyed your daughter's prized possession, so I guess we're on a first-name basis now." He smirked, running a hand through his hair, his confidence palpable.
Your cheeks flushed pink. How did this stranger affect you so much? Was it his handsome face, his rippling muscles, or the way he looked at you like you were something special? Or maybe youâd just been deprived for too long.
Blinking away your thoughts, you quickly introduced yourself. âRight! Neighbors! Yeah, your... nephews can come over whenever they like! Iâm still unpacking, but theyâre welcome!â Your words were a bridge, an attempt to navigate the unfamiliar terrain between you.
You stretched out your hand, offering a friendly handshake. Sukuna's fingers wrapped around yours, warm and firm. Your breath hitches as you feel an unexpected jolt of electricity run through your body and your quick to pull your hand back.
You both walked toward the parking lot. âSo, when did you move here?â he asked, eyes ahead, his tone casual.
âAbout three weeks ago. Itâs closer to work and Noboraâs school,â you replied, staring at the ground, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. His presence was both comforting and unsettling.
âOh, so do you know Toji?â he asked, his tone shifting slightly with a hint of amusement.
Toji owned the apartment complex. Heâd offered you a place to stay, insisting on a roomy two-bedroom with a laundry unit (he made sure to boast that up). You, him, and his late wife had been high school friends. After she passed, you supported each other in every way possible. He was your best friend, fiercely protective, and his son, Megumi, was like your second child.
âOh, yeah, we go way back!â you said, nearing your car. Sukuna raised a brow, a smirk playing at his lips. The expression made your stomach twist with unease. You stopped in your tracks and turn right in front of him, your brows furrowed in confusion.
"What?" The word came out sharper than you intended, but you were too rattled by his scrutiny to care. Your fingers curled into your palm as you met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated by those burning crimson eyes. The way he was looking at you â like he knew something you didn't â made your skin prickle with irritation.
His silence stretched between you like a rubber band ready to snap, the weight of his unspoken judgment hanging in the air. You could feel your pulse quickening, a mix of anger and something else you didn't want to examine too closely simmering beneath your skin.
Sukuna bit his lip, shaking his head. "Nothing, just not surprised." His words dripped with judgment. You watched in disbelief as his entire demeanor shifted. The almost friendly neighbor from moments ago morphing into something darker, more predatory. His presence loomed over you like a storm cloud, that playful smirk twisting into something cruel that made your skin crawl. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as his crimson eyes raked over you, calculating and cold.
You cocked your head to the side, squaring your shoulders despite the chill running down your spine. "I'm sorry?" Your voice was steel wrapped in silk, a warning dressed as politeness.
The familiar weight of judgment settled on your shoulders. Youâd felt it before, seen it in the eyes of others who thought they knew your story. People always jumped to conclusions, their minds diving straight into the gutter. And here he was, this arrogant stranger, about to prove he was no different. The realization cut deeper than you wanted to admit, a reminder that no matter how hard you worked, some people would always see what they wanted to see.
His presence seemed to grow more imposing as he stepped closer, invading your space with deliberate intent. The parking lot suddenly felt too small, too intimate for this confrontation. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a mix of anger and something else you refused to acknowledge making your pulse race. The scent of his cologne â something expensive and woodsy â mingled with the morning air, making it harder to maintain your composure.
He turned to face you fully, his crimson eyes boring into yours. "You don't think you're the first woman Toji's given a sweet deal to?" The implication in his tone made your blood boil. "Man's got a type, and you fit it perfectly." His words hung in the air like poison, each syllable dripping with judgment and assumptions that made your skin crawl.
As a mother, you have taught your daughter to kill people with kindness, always turn the other cheek. And you try to live by the same rule, but that rule can go fuck itself right now. You've dealt with enough men who think they can read your whole life story in a single glance, who believe they know everything about you based on nothing but their own twisted assumptions.
You have been holding it together all morning. Ever since those stupid fucking smoke alarms. Now thanks to this dickhead, you have the perfect moment to take all that built up stress on him.
You laughed, a bitter sound that echoed through the parking lot, before stepping closer until you were mere inches from him. The woodsy scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, but instead of making you weak in the knees like before, it only fueled your rage.
"Even if I was fucking Toji, which is none of your business. How fucking dare you." Your voice was low, dangerous, each word precise and sharp as a blade. The morning sun caught the gold flecks in your eyes, making them flash with fury.
Sukuna's eyes widened slightly, that infuriating smirk faltering as he realized he'd severely miscalculated. You weren't backing down. Instead, you were a force of nature, unleashed and unafraid.
Your finger jabbed into his chest, punctuating each word. "How fucking dare you assume I need anyone, especially a man, to help me live? You're a piece of shit, and to think I actually thought you were hot." The admission slipped out before you could stop it, but you were too angry to care.
Sukuna was stunned and, annoyingly, a bit turned on. No one had ever spoken to him like that without getting their ass kicked. The way your eyes flashed with fury, how you'd stepped right into his space without an ounce of fear. It stirred something primal in him. Your finger jabbing into his chest had left a phantom burn, and the admission that you'd found him attractive only made it worse. He couldn't decide if he wanted to shut you up or hear you yell at him some more.
You were trying hard not to explode from anger. Instead, you laughed again, the sound sharp and bitter, turning to leave.
"And if I hear your limp-dick ass fucking some bitch again, I'll go to Toji myself and have you kicked out," you added, slamming your car door as you enter it with enough force to make the vehicle shake. The sound echoed through the parking lot like a gunshot.
Sukuna stood there, shocked, his crimson eyes fixed on your retreating car. For once, that infuriating smirk was nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression of genuine surprise. Your words had struck deeper than he'd expected, leaving him with an unfamiliar feeling in his chest
You flipped him off for good measure and sped away, tires squealing against the asphalt. What a fucking morning. Your body was vibrating with anger, hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel as your mind replayed the encounter in an endless loop.
The audacity of that man, standing there with his stupid attractive face and his baseless accusations. Who the fuck does that guy think he is? He doesn't know you, doesn't know the years of friendship and loss that bind you and Toji together. He has no right to even assume anything about you, to reduce your entire life to some cheap clichĂŠ.
Once you arrived at work, you were flustered and running on pure adrenaline. The familiar sounds and smells of the library usually brought you peace, but today it was just another stop in your hurricane of a morning. You practically sprinted inside, your heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor.
"Morning, boss!" Ino called from behind the returns cart. "Coffee's fresh in the breakâ" He paused, taking in your expression. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," you managed, though your tone suggested otherwise. "Senior book club setup?"
"I put out some chairs, butâ"
The sheer force of your anger fueled you like rocket fuel. You threw yourself into the preparations, arranging chairs with military precision, setting out water pitchers and coffee urns with such efficiency that even Mrs. Tanaka, arriving early with her famous lemon squares, raised an eyebrow.
"My dear," she said, placing a gentle hand on your arm as you aggressively straightened a stack of discussion guides, "Whatever he did, he's not worth the energy."
You froze, wondering if your morning's drama was that obvious. Mrs. Tanaka just smiled, her eyes twinkling with knowing wisdom. "When you get to be my age, you can spot man trouble from a mile away. Now, have a lemon square." She patted your hand and continued to put out her delicious treats she crafted.
The simple kindness in her voice almost broke you. Almost. Instead, you took a deep breath, accepted the offered treat, and managed a genuine smile. There would be time later to process the morning's chaos.
You looked at the clocked up above and saw it was finally time to open. Ino quickly unlocks the main doors and people start to slowly shuffle in. The first book club members were taking their seats now, their cheerful morning chatter filling the room.
You squared your shoulders, pushing thoughts of crimson eyes and woodsy cologne to the back of your mind. You had a job to do, a daughter to raise, a life to live. You didn't need the drama that clearly came with Sukuna's presence.
With one last sigh you force a smile on your face and try to push the stress aside.
What a fucking morning.
summary/notes: AHHHH!! hi itâs me again! I truly hope you enjoyed this! chapter two is ready to be read through one final time and then it will be published! I wanted this chapter to kinda introduce the chaos that will ensue with these two! also, had to include my other husbands, Toji and Kento. again, please let me know how you felt! I truly love writing this story. and I hope you enjoyed! thanks <3
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âËପ⹠SUMMARY : when your ex comes back into town with his new girlfriend, you can't help but go crazy, and so finally you go to a concert with your friends (for the first time ever), where you meet the reserved, scary, and fan-favourite bassist, kyoutani kentarou.
tags: kyoutani kentarou x female reader, opposites attract, (kind of) enemies to lovers, sunshine x sunshine protector, literature major ! yn x rockstar ! kyoutani
Sung Jin-woo letting one of his shadows join? Only if itâs Igris.Â
đmdniđ
jinwoo x reader x igris
Warnings: nsfw, expletives, smut, threesome, would this be considered necrophilia? I sincerely hope not, anywaysâoral, pnv, dom jin, just absolute filth, creampieâalthough questionable, throatpie, multiple forced orgasms, first persons pov, links attached for some visuals, i just wanna shoutout this tiktok
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I canât lie, whenever I watch Igris in action my heart thuds in my chest, hard. Itâs just the way he carries himself that makes him seemâŚso human. But heâs a beast, and he became Jinwooâs shadow by a split hair.Â
Itâs no secret that theyâre both equally as powerful.Â
Sometimes I let myself fantasize for a while. Let myself think that when he looks at me, heâs feeling the same way. That his heart is slamming into his ribs, just like mineâif he even has one. I canât help but wonder, whatâs under that mask? Or rather,Â
Whoâs under that mask?Â
Jinwoo catapults across my field of vision, slamming into the wall of the training arena. Igris stalks towards him, sword at his side and cape flowing behind him. I watch his every move, his every strut. He glances over to me, staring down at me with a predatory gaze, checking on me. Well, thatâs what I allow myself to believe, only for a second. I know where his loyalty lies.Â
Regardless, my heartâs about to fly out of my fucking chest.Â
Within seconds, Jinwoo regains his strength, getting back up to rejoin this⌠âsparâ. His aggression is palpable, I can sense it from all the way over here in these four walls tucked behind this safety glass. Only Igris can bring out this side of himâitâs always a fair fight, after all.Â
Well, almost.Â
I always look away at this point. It always gets bad for Igris. But for some reason, I canât today. I watch, eyes fixed to the scene unfolding before me.Â
Jinwoo slams Igris into the ground, sending a rumble through the earth beneath me. The chair Iâm seated in shakes, and I grip the table in front of me. Igris fades into black smoke under Jinwooâs fist, and his glowing eyes snap up to meet mine, piercing into me with a threatening glare.Â
Fuck.Â
My core spasms. Suddenly Iâm empty, and yearning for Jinwoo to make it better. He stands and walks through the residual mist that was once Igris, toward me. I swallow hard and reign in the ball of muscle trying to break through my ribcage.
His stare never falters, his eyes are anchored to me. I stand as I urge myself to hold it, to dominate it. But itâs too intimidatingâheâs too intimidating. I look down, just for a brief second, showing my submission. And when I look back upâŚ
Heâs gone.Â
I feel a gust of wind and Jinwooâs voice growls my name behind me, his hot breath misting against my shoulder. I break out into a shiver, and I stumble back into him. He catches me, steadying me with his iron grip on my waist.Â
âJinââÂ
âIgris has taken quite an interest in you.â
He cuts me short with a hint of aggression in his voice. My stomach drops. His fingers wander down my hips, to my thighsâunder the hem of my skirt. He presses his lips against the shell of my ear.Â
âIâm not quite sure if I like that.âÂ
âWh-what do you mean?â I whisper, obviously unnerved. I feel his hard bulge press into me, and my pussy floods with heat.Â
âI'm his master.â Jinwoo speaks a little too calmly, subtly tugging my skirt up, little by little. âI know his thoughts, his feelings. He takes a particular liking to yourâhah, well, everything.â He yanks my skirt the rest of the way up in one swift, harsh move. âI mean, I do know the feeling.âÂ
What is he even saying? That IgrisâŚfeels something for me? I can barely think, much less focus on the words heâs speaking. Not when heâs thumbing at my soaked panty.Â
âI didnât know he could feel anything. Heâs a shadow.â I say, breathless.Â
âYes, he is. But he still has his ownâŚurges. Instincts.â He whispers quietly as he tugs my panties down my hips, letting them drop to my ankles.Â
âDesires.âÂ
âR-Right.â I gasp and hold my breath in anticipation and my body tenses.Â
Heâs going to bend me over this table and fuck me.Â
I swear I feel a gush between my legs, and suddenly my face is flush against the wooden table and his feet are kicking apart mine. My panty stretches between my ankles and he snakes his fingers around my throat.Â
âIgris.â He summons his best shadow in a thick, dark voice, and Igris fabricates from a black mist in front of me, as if he didnât just disappear. âIsnât that right?âÂ
I look up from the table, only to be met by a suit of armor and his piercing gaze spearing down through me. Shit. He can see meâŚlike this. With my panties at my ankles, bent over a piece of furniture.Â
How embarrassing.Â
I feel Jinwoo fiddle single handedly with the buckle of his belt, and then the button on his pants. His other hand maintains its searing grip on my throat and jaw, forcing me to meet Igrisâs quiet gaze. I struggle to breathe and my eyes threaten to leak.Â
My heart is going to explode.Â
âSee? He didnât even respond. He has total control over himself.â His voice lowers into a whisper next to my face and I hear his zipper. âHe actually wants to fuck you.âÂ
What? Heâwhat? My eyes bulge wider, if itâs even possible, and I feel his cock notch at my slick opening.
So what, heâs forcing him to watch us? To teach him some sick lesson?Â
Jinwoo must sense my unease, and he loosens his grip on my jaw and my head slumps back down to the table. But Iâm still staring into the void of Igrisâs eyes. He remains unmoving, eerily still in his stance with his sword sheathed on his back.Â
âCaalm.â He draws out the word, letting his fingers just barely skate along the length of my spine.
My back arches and I roll onto the tips of my toes to present my pussy to him. Pathetic. I almost hate how wet and ripe I am for him. He hasnât even looked me in the eye yet.Â
âWeâre not doing anything you donât want.â Jin-wooâs hand trails up to grip my throat once more, and he hunches over me until his lips are next to my ear again.Â
âIsnât that right, sweetheart?âÂ
Jin-woo breaches me with exigency, in one hard thrust of his hips. I let out a whimper and try to stay on my toes as I frantically adjust to his thick cock inside me.Â
âI see the way you look at him.â He growls as he presses a harsh kiss onto my jaw.Â
He knows. And heâs teaching me a lesson, too.Â
âIâŚI donât.â I canât find my voice to tell my lie, especially when Iâm doing it nowâstaring at Igris while his master is inside me.Â
Jin-woo lets out a low, wicked chuckle, and his hand tightens on my throat. Igris moves just a millimeter, as if he were about to let himself react to his master's slender fingers wrapped around my neck.Â
But he holds himself firm, head ever so slightly tilted down as he takes in the sight beneath him. The sight of my quivering, glossy eyes peering up at him, and my flushed, swollen lips glistening with a layer of spit.Â
âCareful, Igris.â Jinwoo warns his subordinate. âWeâre not in the arena anymore. You might hurt her if you retaliate here.â He unleashes me from his grip, allowing me to take an unobstructed breath.Â
âHeâs not a fan of my hand around your throat.â Jin-woo whispers into my ear, and pulls out of me suddenly, leaving me empty and aching.Â
âI wonât hurt her. Sheâs mine, remember?â Jinwoo speaks nonchalantly, as if he were stating a fact. Reassuring Igris, yet at the same time reminding him that Iâm his. I can sense Igris tenseâhe feels like a ball of kinetic energy, ready to burst.Â
Jinwooâs cock prods at me again, and I ready myself for the impact of his thrust. I know itâs going to be brutal. He slams into me with a ruthless smack, making the table beneath me topple onto two legs. My fingers grip onto its corners as I bite my cheek to stifle the moan threatening to rip from my throat.Â
âMine to fuck.â Jin-woo growls, and thereâs a possessive tone to his voice. He wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back. Now Iâm forced to stare directly at him. âIsnât that right, sweetheart?âÂ
That damn question again. He wants me to say it to his face. To make it clear that he owns me and my pussy.
âYes.â I just barely whisper and feel him ram into me again. âFuck!âÂ
Igris takes a step toward me, his stare trained down on me. Heâs so close to me now, and Iâm eye level with his armored crotch. Blood rushes to my face and Jinwoo hisses behind me.Â
âSoon.â Jinwoo snaps, using the grip he has on my hair to hold me firm as he immediately sets a relentless pace, fucking into me with a vengeance.
âSoon? W-whatâs ha-ppening soon?â My voice bounces from his incessant thrusts, and Iâm so fucking overwhelmed.Â
âIgris wants his turn.â Jinwoo growls.Â
HisâŚturn?
My heart lunges out my chest, and Iâm pushed closer towards the edge. The image of Igris actually fucking me is almost too much to handle. If he were to fuck meâŚoh god. Iâm going to cum from just the thought.Â
âJinwoo, wait. Iââ I moan softly as my legs tremble and my pussy grips his cock. Fuck, Iâm going to come already. And Igris is going to watch it happen. âPlease, s-slowerâor, or, Iâm going toâhaahâgonna!âÂ
âYeah? Already?â He huffs, letting his hips snap into me repeatedly, fucking me like heâs angry with me. âJust from the mere thought of my shadow fucking your needy little pussy?â
âN-No!â I deny the truth through a tiny, pathetic cry, fixating on the sight directly in front of me.
The armor guarding Igrisâs most prized possession looks tight.Â
âShow her your face.â Jin-woo orders quickly, huffing and puffing as he ruts into me.Â
Igris obeys, taking off his helmet and letting it fall to the ground with a clank. I crane my neck to look up at him and Iâm met with glowing red eyes.
Hungry, scarred, red eyes, staring down at me like he wants to wreck me.
His hair flows down past his shoulders, a stark white with silver highlights. Christ, heâs more gorgeous than I ever imagined.Â
And I'm comingâŚto his face.Â
âFu-uck.â I whine shakily and watch Igrisâs eyes widen and his angular jaw tense.Â
âOh fuck, sheâs cumming on my cock, Igris.â Jinwoo grunts and fucks me through every spasm that ripples through me. I writhe and squirm underneath his grip and my eyes fill to the brim with hot tears. âDonât you wanna feel that?âÂ
Igrisâs gaze snaps to Jinwooâs, and the answer to that question is written all over his beautiful face.Â
âShadow exchange.â Jinwoo growls under his breath.Â
Within moments, Igris fades to black and before me stands the menace himselfâthe shadow monarchâhuge cock in hand with his ominous, glowing eyes shooting freshly sharpened daggers into me.Â
Then I feel it. A delicious stretch. My still throbbing cunt desperately tries to adjust to Igrisâs fat cock. Heâs inside me. Heâs really fucking inside me. Fuck, itâs so thick and big that I could cry. I really might fucking cry.Â
I let out a wobbly whimper and force myself to keep still, if I move I think Iâll split open. All I can do is peer up into the luminous eyes that look back down at me with contempt, as I beg him to do something.Â
âOh my god. J-Jin. Jinwoo.â I chitter through my teeth and my tears of disbelief finally stain my cheeks. âJin-woo, heâs really i-inside me.â
âImpressive, mm?â He grunts, breathing heavily. He cups my chin, pads of his fingers sinking into my damp cheeks. He tsks, and a slight smirk tugs at his lips. âI want to be inside you too, darling.âÂ
Jinwoo drives his thumb and pointer finger into my jaw bone, forcing my mouth open. He gives himself a few sloppy strokes before swiping his swollen tip on my lips as if it were lipstick, coating them in my own cum.Â
âTongue.â He demands through a breathless groan, and my tongue instinctively darts out, tasting myself on him.Â
Iâm sweet.Â
âThatâs my good girl.â Jin-woo grins, his thumb rubbing my cheek tenderly like some sort of twisted praise.
His attention turns to his second in command, and he takes in the sight of him mounted to me. His cock twitches against my tongue, and my mouth reflexively closes around his mushroomy head.Â
âHnngâsheâs incredible, isnât she?â Jinwoo sounds so smug, and for the first time, I hear Igris grunt. âFuck her good, Igris.âÂ
The force of his first thrust litters my vision with stars, and it pushes me further down onto Jinwooâs cock all at once. Jinwoo takes an intentional breath to stifle a groan and begins balling my hair into his fist.Â
My clit definitely has its own fucking heartbeat.Â
Igris begins thrusting in and out of me like a starved man, shoving himself as deep as my tiny body will allow him. His movements are incessant, laced with desperation. Like heâs been waitingâwanting to do this for a long, long time. Heâs fucking into me like heâs never fucked a pussy in his life and the thought of that likely being the truth is making this even hotter.Â
âShit, I donât even need to fuck your throat.â Jinwoo huffs with a smile and stands still, proving his point. âHeâs fucking you so hard that your throat is riding my cock.â
Tears stream down my face and my head feels like itâs full of cotton. Am I even breathing? I test it out and hear a gurgling noise that I can only assume came from me. Jinwoo pulls out of me, holding my head in the air and I hear myself heave a loud breath.Â
âDonât pass out on us, sweetheart.â Jinwooâs dark voice echoes and I feel him tap my cheek a few times with his cock. âCome on, you can take us both. Right?â
He slowly sinks his cock down my throat again, inch by inch. I gag and my eyes water, because while heâs doing that, Igris is ramming him into the back of my throat repeatedly.Â
Itâs all too much.Â
I shake my head and tap Jinâs thigh, and he yanks out of me and I gasp for air. He strokes himself fast, with his hips thrusted into the air and his core flexed. He groans low and long, watching me. Watching us.
âMake her cum.â He speaks quickly, stroking himself harder. Igris pounds into me at a frightening rate and I feel the coil in my core suddenly snap. I let out a filthy moan, loud and languid, from the back of my fucked out throat. âSheâs gonna come, Igris.âÂ
I am. I fucking am.Â
âIâmâIâm cummiââ
Jinwoo stuffs his cock back down my throat with an urgency, hunching over me and fucking my throat like itâs a pussy. His hand snakes down my belly, and his finger barely swipes my pulsing clit. His ghost touch sends me over the edge and I cum so. fucking. hard. My pussy throbs so bad that Igris groans like a dying man and ruts me harder.Â
âOh fuck, baby. Yes.â Jinwoo moans, giving me one brutal thrust before emptying himself down my throat.
He grunts from the bottom of his stomach and he holds me for what feels like an eternity on his pulsating cock before tugging me off of him. I cough and sputter, swallowing between sorry attempts at taking a breath.Â
âGranted.â Jinwoo catches his own breath, and I canât even speak to ask him what heâs allowing Igris to do to me now. He leans down, caressing my face and brushing my sweaty hair away from my pleading eyes. He plants a tender kiss on my ear and as he pulls away he whispers to me.
âIgris wants permission to breed you. Thatâs okay, right darling?â
Jin-woo takes a step back and I call for him with my hoarse voice. But he only grins and uses his stealth to fade into thin air, seemingly leaving me alone with the knight commander Igrisâthe blood red. I feel his metal arm wrap over my chest and his hand grip my shoulder to gain purchase.Â
âI-Igris.â I nervously and directly acknowledge him for the first time in this entire interaction. âPle-aseâŚâÂ
He growls and pulls me off the table and into his hard exterior. My toes cramp from trying to stay on my feet but heâs way too big and I feel myself lifting off the ground. He wraps his other hand around my waist and supports me with ease, fucking me mid-air. I claw at his armour and my legs kick and cross but Iâm trapped in his undying grasp.Â
âHoly shitâŚIgris!â I cry out, frantic. âHold on!â Â
Igrisâs rhythm goes sloppy, and heâs trying to force as much of himself inside me as he possibly can. Heâs trying to kill me, not breed me. A high pitched squeal splits my quivering lips and I kick a little harderâentirely too overwhelmed and overstimulated.Â
âT-Too deep! Youâre too deep!â My tears stream down my cheeks yet my pummeled pussy weeps for more.Â
âYouâre okay, my princess.â Igrisâs deep voice hurls me into my third orgasm and I go limp in his grip, completely dissolving into the pleasure of his cock filling every possible part of me.
He cums with a gruff shout, tightening his arms around me as he stays inside me, stuffing me with cum until Iâm queasy.Â
My vision splits and fades to black and his grip on me fades with it. I hear a hushed sound and feel myself falling. Iâm about to slam into the floor. I brace for impact in my fizzled brain yet I donât feel the hard, cold tile. Rather, a warmth envelopes me, cradling me as I blubber and fail to set any breathing pattern, much less a steady one.
âShh-shh. Breathe. You did so well, baby.â Itâs Jinwooâs voice, cooing at me, and he holds me close to his warm chest. âYou were such a good girl for us.âÂ
Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader
Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?
Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X
Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3
It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-
'You're pregnant'
You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.
For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.
You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.
'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.
'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'
'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'
'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'
'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'Â
Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...
"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...
"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.
Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojoâs baby- now you would have to tell him!?
Shit.
You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, thereâs no way, it canât be. Youâre literally starting your journalism career, thinking youâd maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, youâre never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.
Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.
Thatâs a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.
What bonded two people like you now?
WellâŚ
âDo you need to go over your options, hunny?â One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.
âI just need to⌠think.â
Youâre pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoruâs friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. Youâd texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojoâs number- not going into details.
How do you even tell him?
What do you say!?
You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - âHello.â God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.
âUm, hey.â Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. âItâs-â
âThink I donât know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?â You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.
âYeah, well⌠I got your number from Shoko.â
âNeed a second round? Should have guessed.â Heâs gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. âI could be convinced.â
âJesus christ, Gojo.â You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. âAre you, I donât know, um⌠free for lunch or anything?â You despise the words falling from your lips.
âAsking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.â Satoru winks now at his friendâs shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.
âNo fucking way.â Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.
âI guess I could be convinced.â He purrs out those words, chuckling. âHmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.â
Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. âDo they have cooked Sushi there?â
âPshh, youâre such a prissy ass, canât eat raw huh? Didnât mind it raw from what I remember.â You hate this man.
âYou know what never-â
âShit, I was just kidding.â He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. âYeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?â He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasnât dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. âMiss being bitchy to me so bad?â
God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as heâd had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.
Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as youâre crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. âThere you go, cumming so easy fâme huh?â he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.
âMnh!â was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long heâs dreamed of this.
âF-finally got you to shut up, hmm?â He taunts you, normally youâd have something smart to say, but not as heâs overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but youâre burying your face, arching your ass.
âF-fuck you, Gojo- ah!â
The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment heâd met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you wasâŚ
He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.
Ever.
âIs like three okay?â You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.
âThree rounds?â
Youâre scowling at the phone as you question your lifeâs choices at this very moment. âThree o'clock, my god, for lunch.â
âSounds good, it gives us time later, to⌠you know.â You glare at the phone, unbelievable, heâs ridiculous!Â
âTime for what?â Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.
âDon't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.â Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.
âJust lunch, thatâs all Iâm asking you for. Sounds good?â
âWant me to pick you up in my-â
âNo, I'll meet you. Okay umâŚ. Bye.â You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.
The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin⌠would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?
You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby⌠Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, heâs so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.
The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, youâd have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as heâd tapped his lap.
âAnother round, sweets? Come to daddy.â
You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadnât had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didnât know existed, and who cared if youâve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasnât as good at it as he was.
Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.
You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, youâre pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldnât just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.
âTwenty Two year old single mom.â You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him youâre busy.
Busy.
*****
Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesnât really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, heâs never even gone without a condom before you, but when youâd said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.
Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.
You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didnât you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.
Hereâs the thing⌠Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or⌠well, said. Considering you slept with him and didnât say a single word after, itâs not like heâs hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, youâre too fucking pretty not to do so, not that heâd ever like a post.
Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but heâs not that, heâs Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no youâd look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that youâd never be one of his conquests.
That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his familyâs business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didnât, he didnât want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.
Satoru felt lost, honestly.
Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. Heâll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.
God youâd been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh heâs never seen you more mad.
Well no, he has.
Gojo loved to make you mad, because youâre so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.
Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. Itâs not like he forgot⌠but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like⌠some damn glow about you.
How corny is he lately.
He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. âGojo, um⌠how are you?â
Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?
You donât nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, whatâs this⌠shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he canât stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.
He tries to feign that heâs fine, that he hasnât missed you, but it couldnât be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.
He acts as if he hadnât died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldnât go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how youâve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.
Heâs jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesnât even work, he sure also wouldnât admit that he canât even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.
But god you look good in front of him.
He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. âMissed me so badly, sweets?â
You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when heâd had you cumming all over him, you werenât smiling. No, but you were drooling then.
âAh, look at you, so fuckin pathetic fâme, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority bratâ Satoru had huffed, as heâd fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. âJust from fingers?â
âI do h-hate you- mnh!â Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.
Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.
âFeel her, god sheâs so desperate, huh?â
âFuck you I- there, shit!â youâd rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before heâd even put his cock inside you, and Satoruâs cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect youâd felt around him. âFuck you for being so g-good at that!â
âOh, Iâll fuck you, sweetheart.â Heâd turned you then, whispering a âbend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?â
Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.
âHow are you doing, Gojo?â You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.
But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-
Stop that Satoru.
âIâm doing great, of course, miss me so much?â He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple heâd had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. âYouâre not sick are you?â
âNo, not sick just⌠yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?â
Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. âYou seem weird, everything okay?â
âWell⌠shit. I guess Iâll just say this. UmâŚâ You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. âRemember that night?â
âSweetheart, you donât have to do all this to have a repeat.â His hand comes to your thigh, and thatâs when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.
Fuck hormones.
You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when heâs had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldnât feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.
âItâs not that, itâs important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?â You say quietly, and itâs his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.
âWell just spit it out. What is all this, then?â
âItâs⌠I⌠YouâŚâ Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldnât have one for a good six months or more.
âItâs⌠IâŚ. YouâŚâ He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.
âNever mind, I should have known youâre-â
âShit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?â He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. âIâm sorry, it seems⌠serious. Just sit down and spit it out.â
You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. âI donât want anything from you, first off, so donât think that.â
âWhat?â He blinks in confusion.
âI donât need help, I can do it myself.â
âDo what!?â
âBut you have to know⌠itâs the right thing to do, to tell you.â You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.
âIs this⌠are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, thatâs okay baby, everyone-â
âIâm pregnant.â
âWhat!?â You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing heâs heard. âYouâre⌠by who?â He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.
âI was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed⌠I⌠never would have done it like we did if I knew.â You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. âI expect no help, no involvement, weâre young. I just-â
âThis a joke, right?â You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.
âItâs not a joke.â Heâs laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.
âItâs you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-â
âItâs not a joke.â You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. âItâs only been you, no one else for an entire year.â
âA whole year?â He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands youâve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.
Hands thatâŚ
Fuck, donât think of it.
âIâm not⌠I was too busy.â Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. âAs I said, you donât need to pay for anything, this isnât that conversation, this is just me letting you know. Iâm keeping it.â
Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesnât make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.
âI know youâre wealthy, I donât want you thinking I want some piece of it. Iâll take care of them alone, please donât worry.â You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he canât put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. âI can leave, now, we donât have to do this.â
âDo what?â He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.
âAct like we are civil, act like weâre anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.â
âA mistake?â He whispers.
âYes, for both of us. You donât deserve your life uprooted, sure I canât stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those wordsâŚâ
âCum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnhâŚâ youâd arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god heâd never felt anything like you.
âWant me to fill your pussy sâgood, huh lil brat?â you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and heâd groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. âBeg for it, thenâ
Oh, you had.
You hated him for it.
âItâs my fault, so donât worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am⌠indeed, pregnant.â
âPregnant, like, with a baby?â Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.
âYeah, a baby.â
âMineâŚâ His words send something through the both of you.
âYours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, weâre young, we have lives-â
âYou got a⌠like that scan shit set up?â
âUltrasound?â He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. âI do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like⌠the sex butâŚâ
âCan I go?â
You blink in shock now. âYou want to?â
âYeah. I mean⌠why wouldnât I?â He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.
It changes.
Heâs scared shitless, butâŚ
âI want to be involved. If you want me to be.â You blink back tears, but you fail, and if itâs one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.
He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadnât hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesnât stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.
âShit Iâm crying. Stupid hormones.â You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. âYou really wanna go?â
âYeah if itâs cool?â
Satoruâs shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like youâre having some insane dream. This canât be real, can it? Itâs fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like theyâre candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.
âGojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but youâre under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.â
âI know youâd never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.â You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. âSo, tell me what day, I'll be there.â
âYeah, are you sure? It will make it so⌠real, you know?â
âYeah, Iâm sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, arenât you like eating for two or some shit?â
You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. âI was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.â
âGonna be a huge ass baby, shit.â
âOh god!â You eye his lanky body, and heâs grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.
Maybe you donât know him like you think?
âTits are gonna get so big.â
Never mind.
*****
âAn ultrasound!? A baby? FuckâŚâ Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguruâs apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.
âSounds fucking insane, shit.â Sukuna chuckles, as heâs hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. âYou look like you could use a hit or something.
âBefore the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. Iâm freaking the fuck out right now.â
âImagine you as a dad though hah!â Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.
âCanât even keep a plant alive, shit.â Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.
âYou two are so supportive.â
âWell shit, she said you donât have to be involved, you can always just like⌠send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?â Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.
âDo I want a whole kid, no, I never even⌠I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.â Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.
âYou do need a hit. Youâre young, itâs not time to give your family fuckinâ heirs yet, is it?â
âTheyâd probably be delighted.â Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. âNot delighted that itâs out of wedlock and unplanned.â
âImagine her marrying you.â Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.
âThe fucks that mean?â
âShe hates you. God I think more than anyone.â Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.
âShe sure didnât hate this dick.â
âOh!â Heâs slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.
âHello?â
âGojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, Iâm heading out soon if you want to meet up?â
âWhy donât I have my driver pick you up?â He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.
âEverything okay?â
âYeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.â He shoots a wink at his friends.
âI mean⌠sure?â Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.
âItâll be easier this way, alright send me your addy Iâll head out.â
âAll right.â You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.
âWhat are you gonna do though, man?â Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. âGonna like⌠be with her?â
âCould cum in her whenever now.â Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.
âGrow upâŚâ They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. âNah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.â
They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. âDetails, man, itâs like the one girl you never told us about?â Sukuna asks.
âBecause youâre in love.â
âPshh, in love!?â
âHavenât seen you with anyone since.â Suguru earns Satoruâs middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.
âBet sheâs so good, though, all angry and shit, bet sheâs a freak.â Satoru doesnât even know if youâre a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.
âThis has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.â
âShit, whatâs your decision?â Suguru asks, and Satoruâs mind races, peeking at his watch now.
âI think Iâll make it when I like⌠see it?â
âAlright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved weâll be like⌠their uncles and shit.â Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.
âGod no, youâll ruin my kid.â
âFuck off now.â Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.
He remembers just looking at you asleep when heâd woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and youâd stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks heâd left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldnât describe, Satoru never felt that way.
He didnât cuddle, he didnât linger.
He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, youâd given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, heâd patted his lap and been a little shit.
He hated the recognition on your face, like heâd been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.
Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text heâs there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, itâs small but itâs immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.
âReady to go see this little parasyte?â
âA what!?â
âTechnically, it sort of is. Right, youâre like its host.â Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. âShitâŚâ
âA parasyte, youâre calling our⌠I mean I guess my⌠the baby a-â
âIâm sure itâs a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.â Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.
Was it shocking, this was Gojo.
âDear God.â
Howâd you end up pregnant with this idiotâs baby?!
You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his⌠god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a⌠parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know heâs correct and youâre wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.
âFire signs.â He mumbles, you look at him again.
âWhat?â
âYouâre a fire sign, itâs why youâre so feisty. I am too, you know.â You relax just a bit, curiously.
âYou believe in astrology?â You ask in shock, for as long as youâve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you donât really know each other.
âBaby Iâm the most Saggitarius man there is.â You giggle again, fuck thatâs three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.
âYou certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Donât call me feisty, yuck.â You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.
You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, donât worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.
âThis baby would be a fire sign.â You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojoâs long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojoâs always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.
âWould it?â He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.
âYeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.â
âSo itâll be a brat like you.â
âPsh, like you.â You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. âDo you know ifâŚâ
âThatâs why I want to see. Make it real?â
You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. âI get it.â
The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as youâre embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man whoâs inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that heâs getting such a view, he doesnât even think he saw you that much.
What he remembersâŚ
Your pussy is very pretty.
You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. âTight muscles, huh?â
Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. âWhat!?â
âYou are so tight.â
âGojo!â You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.
âSorry, Miss. Alright⌠relax, would you?â How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? âLook at the screen.â
You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little⌠heartbeat. Itâs a heartbeat.
âThere it is, congratulations you two. About⌠ten weeks?â Youâre enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. âLook there, thatâs the little baby.â
Baby.
A baby.
Itâs all real.
Satoruâs completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that youâre so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you donât know how youâll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think⌠and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?
But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, thereâs a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.
And youâd likely beâŚ
Alone in this.
âIâll go get a picture printed for you two.â The doctor smiles kindly, as youâre left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.
You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet⌠was.
âSatoru umâŚâ
âSatoru?â He asks quietly, and you flush.
âSorryâŚâ
âNo, I donât mind, just⌠crazy. This is crazy. Thereâs a whole life inside you!? And we made it?â You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as youâre sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.
âYou can back out now, itâs okay. I wonât put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but⌠it feels right to me?â He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. âBut if youâre backing out, do it now, it will hurt⌠fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.â
âIâm not backing out of shit.â You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. âWe both did this. Iâll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.â
âBut you-â
âI get it, we⌠arenât⌠together. But in this I will be.â
âSatoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest before I get this baby out.â You sniffle and he smirks a bit.
âSo unbelievable that Iâd want to?â
âYes. The Gojo I knowâŚâ
âYou may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I donât know you that much⌠aside from I agree about that tight-â
âI swear!â You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.
âThatâs it, huh?â He tilts his head curiously. âLooks like me.â
âIt looks like nothing yet, what?â Youâre taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. âYou could turn?â
âWhy, thatâs one benefit you know.â
âWhat?â
âCould fuck any time, cum inside whenever.â
âOh you wish.â You shove at his chest, and heâs grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.
âDonât act like you didnât enjoy it.â
âShut it.â Yes.
âSex is good for pregnancy.â
âYouâre so full of shit! I canât with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?â
âPerfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.â
âYouâre so dumb, I swear.â You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the babyâs⌠maybe itâs a face?
âAre we gonna live together?â
âI mean⌠what?â You eye him in shock.
âWhen the babyâs here.â
âNo, we donât have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, weâd kill each other.â He envisions it, the fights surely but⌠the sex, and seeing you in the morning?
âOr fuck. Alot.â
âThatâs how this happened.â You mumble, and soon youâre back home, and trying to ignore your bodyâs insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. âThank you for being there.â
âYou thanking me? the world is ending.â
âHush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You donât have to.â
âI⌠want to. Um, what will we say?â
You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. âWe could say weâre together, if you donât mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew itâs likeâŚâ
âSame. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.â You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.
Thereâs a lot you donât know.
âWell, I can act like I like you for them if you want.â You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.
âAct like you like me- you?â
âI could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.â
âHow will we explain the whole not living together thing?â
âItâs new, itâs 2025 Gojo, not 1810. Weâll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?â
âYouâd leave me at the altar.â You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. âAlright, so when should we tell them?â
âWhen you want to. So work on those acting skills. Iâll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?â
âSounds good. Alright donât miss Daddy too much.â You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.
âDaddy? Whatever.â
Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. âCould swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?â
You falter, whining softly, hating your bodyâs reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. âNever called you daddy, no way.â Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.
âOh? Must have been the liquor.â He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think heâll kiss you, and you know damn well you canât handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.
You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.
This is⌠because you both are having a baby.
Right?
âIt must have been.â
âAh, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.â He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesnât even fit him. âText me the details, Sorority brat.â
âSure will, Frat boy.â He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.
Shit. A baby with your enemy?
A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?
Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?
Satoruâs leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself⌠finally heâs in the back of the car again, as his driver looks in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut thatâs apparently aâŚ
A baby.
With his enemy.
An enemy he really wants to be inside again.
âEverything alright, Mr. Gojo?â Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.
âIâm having⌠a baby with a girl who hates me.â
âWhy does she hate you?â Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.
âBecause honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?â
âThatâs⌠oddly self observant.â
âYou saying Iâm a dick to you?â
âNo Mr. Gojo!â
âIâm kidding, relax.â Kiyotakaâs tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider thatâs opened. âDo you know shit about kids at all?â
âI have nephews, theyâre pretty good kids. But babies, not really.â
âI could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.â
âMany nannies, I heard.â
âWell, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these⌠things?â
âBabies?â
âMmhmm.â
âI think there are books?â
âHmm.â Satoru pulls out his phone then.
Fratboy Gojođ(yes thatâs his name in your phone now, no youâre not sorry): Should I order us baby books?
Sorority BratđŚđť(of course thatâs your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you⌠for today.
Fratboy Gojođ: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.
Sorority BratđŚđť: Whatever!
Satoru snorts then, but when youâre in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.
Fratboy Gojođ: Need some nudes for your spank bank?
Youâre gonna kill him.
Sorority Brat đŚđť: Good night, Gojo.
Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-
No, no no.
You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.
âFuck.â Youâll never drink again.
I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3
Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words
18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee.
Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission đ¤ You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!
Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.
Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.
Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.
Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.
Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.
Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.
Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.
Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.
Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.
Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."
Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.
Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.
Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.
Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.
Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.
Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.
Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.
Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.
Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.
Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.
Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.
Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.
Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.
Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.
Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.
Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.
Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.
Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."
Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.
Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.
Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"
Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"
Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.
Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."
Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."
Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.
Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.
Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.
Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."
Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.
Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.
Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.
Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."
Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.
Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.
Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)
I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! đđ
Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days đ Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?
summary: everything's going good, amazing actually. your baby girls happy, healthy, and turning one. your co-parenting relationship with sukuna has never been better, you smile a little more and fight less. yet despite all of the progress you've made, you continue to be unaware of anger and resentment that continues to build up inside of him.
genre: hidden child trope, toxic relationships, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, emotional cheating
part three | part four | part five
notes: again, tag list is closed! this part is also 9.3k words, so u may want to split it up or save it for later â¤ď¸
Sukunaâs house is different from yoursâ itâs sharper, darker, colder. Itâs devoid of warmth, a stark contrast from yours, yet thereâs a certain calm in the air when you wake up there in the morning. It could just be the fact that there's no random toys laying around, something you donât get to wake up to much often.Â
Or maybe the fact that you actually got to sleep in for once in your life since Sukuna was the one who kept an eye on the baby monitorâ waiting for any sign that Sayomi was starting to wake up. The goal was to catch her before she started crying so you could sleep in.Â
Maybe this was your gift for keeping a little human alive and happy for an entire yearâ a full night of uninterrupted sleep and waking up at 10:00 am.Â
You werenât sure why he was so adamant on having you two sleep over the night before her birthday, but after a whole week of him practically begging you without giving a real reason why, you finally said yes.Â
It made sense when he surprised you with Yomiâs very own room. He wasnât sure what to get her for her birthday and decided it wouldâve been perfect since she didnât have one at his house in the first place. The room itself was the complete opposite from the rest of the house, filled with different shades of pink and soft texturesâ very cottage fairy vibes.
You avoided saying that though, only because he wouldâve made fun of you for wording it that way. But it was beautiful, it became the one spot in Sukunaâs dark home that the sun had shone on.
He also revamped the room that was next to hers for you, just in case you didnât feel completely comfortable with letting her spend the night there alone. He didnât have to go that far, you wouldâve stayed in any room or even the couch, but you appreciated the extra effort. Your room definitely wasnât as fancy as Ms. Sayomiâs, but you could tell he had you in mind when decorating it. Soft white linen sheets, some art pieces hung up on the wall and a couple of plants laying around. It had a similar vibe to your home.
The party isnât until Saturday, but you still wanted the day of her actual birthday to be special. You took the day off from work and Sukuna took the day off from practice. Some close family will be coming over a little later for an early dinner. Itâll be your parents, along with Jin, Yuji, his other brother Choso and Chosoâs long time girlfriend, Yuki.Â
You havenât met Yuki yet, but youâre fine with having her around your daughter. Sheâs been with Choso since their freshman year of highschool. Just from what youâve heard so far, you get the feeling that she wonât be someone temporary in Yomiâs lifeâ something you wonât outwardly say to Sukuna, at least not in that same exact wording. The last thing you need is him getting offended that you still donât want him to introduce her to Yorozu.Â
Theyâve been official for a little over three months now, you told yourself that youâll allow it once they reach the one year mark. And no, you donât think youâre being harsh on the timeframe, you hold yourself to the same standard as well. You want Sayomi to meet a future step-parent, not a girlfriend or boyfriend.Â
You take one last look at your phone before heading downstairs. The closer you get to the staircase, the more your daughterâs laughter fills the air. Sheâs grown to be quite the daddyâs girl, Sukuna really doesnât have to do much and sheâs already smiling at him.Â
âMm!! Hi mama!â She excitedly greets you when you come into view, itâs the one sentence she can say just about perfectly.
Sukunaâs feeding her breakfast and you're pretty sure he was just eating her food as a âjokeâ, hence the laughter.Â
âGood morning, birthday girl!â You lean down and give her several kisses on the cheek. âAre you eating breakfast with your dad?âÂ
She tilts her head when she looks at you and babbles some random sequence of words that are only known to her, then finishes it off strong by saying âdadaâ.Â
âSounds fun babe!â You enthusiastically say, itâs always better to just act like you know. Sukuna ends up laughing, having no idea what the hell she just said either but he likes the passion behind it.Â
âDid you sleep good?â He asks in place of a normal greeting, continuing to feed Yomi the rest of her oatmeal.Â
âI actually did.â You say, brushing some of the babyâs hair off of her forehead. Youâre a little afraid to look anywhere else, Sukunaâs in nothing but a pair of short rugby shorts. You try to not think that everythingâs about you, but youâre seriously having a hard time believing he didnât do this on purpose.Â
Whether it was on purpose or not, the one thing you know for sure is that this man is not above accusing others of lusting over him and trying to objectify himâ all it takes is a glance while Sukunaâs in a silly goofy mood.
âWhat about you two? Did she wake up super early today?âÂ
âShe woke up so fucking early,â he sighs and complains. âShe got up at 5:00 am, so I gave her a bottleââ
âDid you measure it correctly?â
âWho knows, sheâll survive.â He waves off your concerns and continues. âAnyways, I gave her a bottle and took her back to my room. We both fell back asleep, then she woke me up at 8:00 am by picking my fuckinâ nose.âÂ
âThatâs so gross Yomi, he has germs up there.â You squish her cheeks and tease her.Â
âShe would not be here right now if you thought I had germs.â He murmurs, feeding her the last spoonful of her food.Â
âWhat did you say?â
âNothing.âÂ
The day goes by slowly. You end up having to go back to your house real quick to grab a couple things, like makeup since you forgot it for some reason. Other than you brief trip home, the three of you lounged around up until family members started showing up.Â
The first to arrive was Sukunaâs side. As always, Yujiâs excited to see his baby cousin. No introductions were needed for Jin and Choso since youâve already met them, so you introduce yourself to Yuki and spend some time getting to know her.
She was also nice enough to bring a smash cake for Sayomi, something that you and Sukuna slightly felt guilty about since you both completely forgot a cake and candles.Â
You donât even know how it slipped your mindâ probably happened because her actual party is on a different day and this is literally your first time celebrating your childâs birthday.Â
You quickly let it go after Sukuna told you a lot of kids in this world donât get to have cake on their birthdays. In that moment you truly understood why he is the way he is.
Your parents arrive around an hour later. They donât bother providing an explanation, even with Sukuna glaring at them as he patiently waited for one. Ever since they retired, theyâve started to run off of their own time, a.k.a itâs not 6:00 pm unless they say it is.
Itâs kind of funny when you think about it, but you still feel bad for the people that have actual appointments with them. The only reason why your mom shows up to her workout classes on time is because they threatened to kick her out for constantly showing up late.Â
Well deserved in your opinion, but you kept it to yourself.Â
Even with how.. particular your parents can be, everyone gets along surprisingly well. As expected, they really liked Jin, but it was Choso that ended up capturing their hearts. They even made a comment about how theyâd adopt him if they could.
Unfortunately Sukuna, who was already drinking, overheard that.
Itâs one of those days where youâre not sure if heâs being serious or not. You were leaning towards him being serious since they gushed over all the guests, except him. He also started listing off reasons why heâs better than all of them, and since itâs Sukuna, he never ran out of reasons.Â
Itâs impressive how obsessed he is with himself.
âDo you guys want a refill?â Choso gestured at your parentâs empty glasses, interrupting Sukuna and giving him another reason in his head.Â
âOn top of that, I donât interrupt others, especially when it comes to proving to others that I respect my elders.â Sukuna continues to ramble, he was also way more fucked up than he was when he first started. âWhich is ageist, or however the fuck you pronounce it. Listenâ mom, dadâ I donât care about how old someone is, there is no age limit to getting your ass beat.â
âDid you just call me an elder, Sukuna?â Your dad asks, deciding that getting called old was far more concerning than Sukuna basically saying his hands were rated E for everyone.Â
âMe? Never!â He tries not to laugh as he begins to twist the narrative. âChoso said that shit, not me.â
âI never said that!â Choso defends himself. But itâs too late, Sukuna was going to win this argument by any means necessary.Â
âYou didnât have to say it, you showed them that you thought they were old by offering to refill their drinks.â He turns away from your parents and smirks at his brother who was just trying to be nice. âTheyâre strong, independent people. Their arms arenât go to break off by pouring themselves a well deserved drink for being the best grandparents in the world.âÂ
âWow.â You turn to look at your parents who are floored by how he just doesnât shut up when heâs drunk. âHe holds you guys in such high regard yet you couldnât even buy him his first pair of earrings.â
âDonât you start with us now too.â Your dad says, you couldnât tell if it was a warning or plea.Â
âGod forbid women have hobbies.âÂ
âGiving your father a headache is not a hobby.â He scolds you, he doesnât get too far since you start laughing.Â
âOkay, okay. Iâll stop, Iâm done.âÂ
âGood âcause I was just getting started.â You already know who said this.
After chugging two massive glasses of water and listening to his daughter have a meltdown that heâs convinced was for fucking fun, Sukuna sobers up. You all decide itâs the perfect time to do a test run for the smash cake. Sheâs going to eat some of course, but everyoneâs more interested in seeing how Sayomi would react to a group of people singing happy birthday to her. It might not be the most accurate result since there will be almost a hundred people at your house on Saturday, but it doesnât hurt to try.Â
So you guys give it a try. Sheâs slumped back in her high chair, staring at the cake like itâs more of an inconvenience than it is a delectable treat. Sukuna tries to tickle her neck and she just frowns and slaps his hand away.
But no tears. This is good.Â
Her expression changes when you light the candle on top, making her a little more interested than before.
âMama no?â She asks and you nod.Â
âThatâs right babe, no.âÂ
She points at the lit candle, âno?â
âNo.â You say again, she seems to get it. Even if she didnât and eventually tried to grab at it, you were close enough to stop her. âNo touching, thatâll give you an ouchie.â
After fully explaining why fire was bad and doubting she understood or even listened, you moved on to the moment everyoneâs been waiting forâ the singing.
Itâs kind of ridiculous how far you all would go to see what her emotional limit is, but youâre left with no other choice. On any other day, itâd be fineâ cry your fucking heart out. But itâs her first birthday party, youâd rather not bring her to the point where she gets in one of her moods and then sleeps for the entirety of the day. If itâs something avoidable like not singing happy birthday or keeping balloons away from you, youâll do it.Â
It goes well at first, she doesnât seem to care, but something bothers you.Â
âSukuna.â
âWhat?â
âCan you sing along with everyone?â
âNo.â He responds stubbornly, crossing his arms as if itâd prove a point.Â
âWhy not?â
âI donât like singing.â
âYouâre singing happy birthday,â you scoff at him. âYou donât have to hit Mariah Carey notes to properly sing it.âÂ
âI donât care. I gave her a room thatâs bigger than some peoples homes, the fuck does she need me to sing to her for?âÂ
âŚ
Not only did Sukuna sing beautifully, but Sayomi also didnât cry for all the 12 times youâve rehearsed the song. She even smiled at one point, so you have high hopes for Saturday. Everyone was quick to go home after that, which is understandable. You all had lost track of time, it was already pushing 9:00 pm when you brought the cake out.
You were the last to leave since you had to pack up all the stuff you had brought for the overnight stay, but there was no rush. Yomi was already fast asleep in Sukunaâs arms, so you were able to take your time making sure you didnât forget anything important.
âYou sure you two canât spend the night again?â He asks as you walk toward the driveway.Â
âI canât, my parents are staying with me for two nights.â You remind him once again, too tired to even get frustrated at having to repeat yourself.Â
He most likely does remember and just thinks he can talk you into it.
âSo?â He chuckles, genuinely not understanding why thatâs an issue.
âTheyâre staying with me because they want to spend that time with her.â You hold back a smile from how you actually have to break it down for him. âThey want to see her at night before she sleeps and they want to eat their breakfast with her in the mornings. I doubt theyâd stay if the house was empty.â
âThatâs dumb but alright.â He mutters, placing a kiss on Yomiâs head right after. âGonna feel empty here.â
âAre you still tipsy?â You ask, looking at him with slight disbelief.
âMaybe.â He says in response, yet the long pause beforehand tells you yes. âIâve said worse than saying my house feels empty while drunk.â
âI believe that.â You end up smiling when thinking about how he tried to turn your parents and Choso into enemies. âIâm surprised youâre saying that in the first place. I doubt itâll feel empty here if you invited your girlfriend over.âÂ
The suggestion brings genuine laughter to the man, eventually having to cover his mouth for a moment because Yomi began fussing around in his arms.Â
âSay her name.âÂ
âWhy would you want me to do that?â You immediately shoot him an annoyed look.
âI donât think Iâve ever heard you say her name before.â The smile on his face is way too warm for someone thatâs just realized something like that. âItâs always âyour girlfriendâ or just her pronouns.âÂ
âI think youâre thinking too much into it.â You laugh with him. âI wouldnât even know how to confirm or deny that, itâs never crossed my mind.â
âMaybe.â He shrugs, not caring that much if it were true or not. âBut yeah, I could invite her over.â
âYou should.â
âDefinitely should.â He easily agrees. âProbably wonât though.â
âDonât complain about being lonely then.â You softly scold him. The way you said it makes him realize hasnât felt this much warmth from you in years.Â
Having her here wouldnât fix that.Â
He probably shouldnât say that.Â
Itâs not the same as having you two here.
He probably shouldnât say that either.Â
It would never make a difference in the way you see him.Â
âI know.â He ends up saying, then forces out a low laugh. âI probably just need sleep.â
âI think so too.â You end up taking Yomi into your arms and begin walking to your car, he follows right behind out of habit. âYouâre not used to someone waking you up so much in the morning.â
âMânotâ Iâll get used to it though.â He says, watching you put her into the car seat.Â
His chest tightens a little more than usual this time around as he watches you gentle secure the rest of the straps.
âItâs fine if you donât, I never did.â You let out a little sigh after stepping away from the backseat. âItâs just easy to get over it because sheâs cute.âÂ
âShe's the cutest,â he chuckles and shuts the backseat door. âI might be a little busy tomorrow, so if I donât get the chance to visit then Iâll just see you Saturday morning.â
âSounds good. Have a goodnight.â You offer him a little smile before getting in the car.
âYou too.â He canât find it in himself to smile back right now, but allows his eyes to linger on you a little longer. Itâs the one thing you donât get on him for and hopes you continue to just let him have it.Â
As pathetic as it sounds, itâs all he has left.
â
âNice of you to come out the night before your daughter's party.â Itâs one of the first things Suguru says after you finally sit down and look at the menus.Â
It was a new restaurant in the area that has quickly gained popularity from their food and laid back ambiance. It was still fancier than most, but one you could definitely relax and enjoy your dinner in.Â
âYou have no idea how much I needed this.â You admit, sounding more than relieved to be here with him. âItâs been such a long week trying to get ahead with work just so I could take some extra days off for Yomi.âÂ
âI bet.â He chuckles. âHowâs work been for you?âÂ
âItâs doing good! I have 2 potential clients that reached out this month. I'm considering hiring an intern for extra help and to see what having an employee would be like.âÂ
âWhy an intern? Just so you can say goodbye without feeling bad if you end up not liking it?âÂ
âThatâs exactly why.â You laugh with him. âItâd be good for them too, theyâd be getting the experience and a nice letter of recommendation for wherever theyâd want to go next.âÂ
âThat would be good for them.â He agrees and takes a sip of his drink. Heâs a whiskey on the rocks kind of guy and you donât know how he does it. âI remember getting so stressed out trying to land a good internship while I was in college, I never want to go through that again.âÂ
âDid you end up getting a decent one?âÂ
âMore than decent, it was one of the top ten financial firms in the country.â He reveals, acting a little shy about it. âBut my manager was such a fucking dick.âÂ
âThat sucks, I'm sorry. I feel like itâs more common than not. I had 2 during college and 1 right after and they were all really rude. I just stuck through it to fluff up my resume.âÂ
âYeah, same hereââ
âHere you go, Sir.â A waitress ends up interrupting the conversation to drop off your plates. âAnd hereâs yours Maâam. Was there anything I could get you two before I step away?âÂ
âYeah, a refill on this please.â He says, sliding his empty glass over to her. âWant more wine?âÂ
âYeah sure.â You smile and slide the empty glass over to her. âSame as the last one please.âÂ
âOf course, Iâll be back with those shortly.âÂ
The rest of the dinner is kind of just thatâ small talk with some personal stories sprinkled into the mix.
You try not to talk about your daughter too much during dates. You make it known that she's your everything, but youâve found that itâs nice to take a break from talking about things like milestones and teething.
Or the crippling anxiety you get whenever you think about how dangerous the world can be, and that you can try your best to protect her from it, but youâll reach a time where you canât and that terrifies you.Â
But thatâs a conversation that you save for your family and therapist.Â
Suguru isnât the first guy youâve gone on dates with, but the one thing thatâs made him stand out from the others is how he doesnât seem to care that youâre a mom.Â
He knows youâre busy a lot of the time and isnât pushy when it comes to seeing you. Heâs never made any backhanded comments about your life being ruined, like a couple of men have said in the past. You also like that he asks questions about her and seems genuinely curious, instead of asking just to be nice.Â
Are you trying to find Sayomi a stepdad? Not really. Youâre just having fun. Going out on dates and having girls nights for a couple hours, 3-4 times a month has helped you feel like yourself again in a short amount of time.Â
Itâs not like you bring people home to meet your daughter, so there was no harm in having some nights out.Â
As you both begin to walk through the dining room, Suguru takes your hand in his and itâs oddly nice. Youâve slept with him a couple times before, but your internal reaction to something as innocent as having your hand held made you realize how touch starved you truly were.Â
But the night is young, youâll have time later to sulk about how lonely you feel sometimes.Â
The cold air immediately hits you when you two step outside. Springs deceiving as alwaysâ you find yourself sweating at some parts of the day, then barely able to talk from how violent you shiver at night.Â
Except the usual feeling of wanting to run into a car with a heater on full blast fades away when you get a glimpse of pink hair and mass walking up to you from the corner of your eye.Â
This man couldnât sneak up on anybody no matter how hard he tried.Â
The moment you turn to face him, you canât tell what heâs thinking. When he first saw you walking out of the restaurant, he wasnât quite sure if it was you or not.Â
He hasnât seen you dressed up in almost 2 years. The times that he actually has shouldnât even count since heâd rip the clothes right off of you, leaving you bare for him to enjoy.Â
Then you got a little closer. Instead of your words, he was able to hear only the sound of your voice. You obviously donât use it on him because you donât like him anymoreâ for whatever fucking reasonâ but you used to use that same exact tone with him.Â
He doesnât even completely realize what heâs doing until Yorozuâs following behind him, asking where heâs goingâ and he suddenly realizes heâs walking straight over to you.Â
Thereâs no plan in mind, thereâs barely any thoughts except for what are you doing here and who did you leave his little girl with.Â
âOh, Sukuna!â is all you can fucking come up with right now. You two obviously arenât together but you canât help but feel like you got caught doing something bad, especially with the way he was looking at you. âSurprised to see you here, have you been here befââ
âWhere the fuck is Sayomi?â He cuts you off with a question that sounded more like an accusation. He didnât even bother to introduce the woman heâs with or introduce himself to the man youâre with.Â
He doesn't give a fuck about either right now, all he can see right now is you as he began to seethe.
âAt home?â You let out a light laugh, mainly from how uncomfortable youâve become in record fucking time. He makes it seem like sheâs all alone at home or waiting in the car for you while you finish your date. âSheâs spending time with her grandparents right now.â
âWhy didnât you say anything?â He continues to question you, looking back at Suguru once before going back to glare at you. He takes a small step forward and Yorozu lightly wraps her hand around his arm, youâre not sure if itâs an attempt to calm him down or hold him back. âI thought you were with her this whole time.â
âI didnât know I had to.â You begin to defend yourself, but he just starts laughing, it makes it hard to continue speaking but you do anyway. People are starting to look and you donât need him to cause a scene. âAre you mad? Sheâs safe at home right now.â
âOf course Iâm fucking mad!â He begins to raise his voice, taking another step closer. âYou didnât fucking tell me other people were watching her tonight!â
âWhat do you mean other people?! Theyâre my parents!â
âThatâs not fucking point! I thought you were with her this entire time!â Thereâs a strain in his voice as he begins to fully unload on you, it causes Suguru to step forward and hold his arm out in front of you. He doesnât know what Sukunaâs like, you havenât given him too many details, but with the way Sukunaâs looking at you right now, heâs fully prepared to block him from getting to you.
Seeing that pisses off Sukuna even more.Â
âI donât see the fucking issue, Sukuna!â You throw your arms out in defeat, âI donât even see why I should be telling you where Iâm going.â
âBabe, it's okay.â Yorozu steps in and tries to get him to relax, he drank a little bit before coming here, he could do anything right now. âIâm sure Sayomiâs safe.â
âNo, noâ YOU DONâT FUCKING GET IT!â He suddenly snaps at her, before pointing his finger at you. âLetâs get one thing straight, I donât give a FUCK about what you do or where you go. What I care about is where MY DAUGHTER is and who sheâs with. This whole fucking time I thought she was with her mother! I donât care how simple it seems to you, I need to know that kind of shit!â
The whole streetâs looking at this point and you swear youâve never felt smaller. Sukuna continues to release years worth of anger on you, all while his girlfriend continues to try to soothe him while throwing little glares at you, and you just continue to shrink beside Suguru, who did not sign up for this shit tonight.Â
âJesus fucking christâ OKAY! Iâm sorry, Iâll fucking tell you next time!â You yell back. âI didnât think it was going to be a big deal.âÂ
âThatâs his daughter, of course itâs a big deal.â Yorozu says, backing him up. Your eyes almost widen in surpriseâ you werenât expecting her to say anything at all, now sheâs trying to make you look worse than he already is.Â
âI didnât mean it like that. Are you fucking serious right now?â You grimace and take a step forward, but you end up getting stopped by Suguru who still has his arm out in defense.Â
He wasnât planning on saying anything, letting the parents sort this through and all, but even he reached his breaking point after seeing that the girlfriend was ready to go at it with you. Sukuna didnât look like he was going to do anything about it anytime soon either.Â
âListen man.â Suguru turns to him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. âWe get where youâre coming from, we understand. I can promise you she didnât have any bad intentions behind this.â
Sukuna laughs then stares him dead in the eye, clearly not really to settle down just yet. âWho the fuck is we? âCause last time I checked, it was her that hid a child from me for almost an entire fucking year and I doubt anything like thatâs ever fucking happened to you. So tell me, do you actually fucking understand? NO.â He then turns back to you, âAnd now youâre keeping shit from me again, is this just who you fucking are?!âÂ
âNo itâs not! I already said it wouldnât happen again!â You cut him off in frustration and your eyes slowly become glossier and glossier. âI apologized, Sukuna! I donât know what else you want me to say.â
âIt sounds like youâre just trying to get him to shut up!â Yorozu says. âYou were defensive from the start and donât sound remorseful at all.âÂ
âHow do you expect me to act when it was him that immediately started attacking me?! He couldâve talked to me about this in private but he chose to yell at me in public.âÂ
âHe wasnât attacking you, he was worried about where his daughter was since you never told him you were leaving her with other people.â She refutes.Â
âOkay ms. Sukuna whisperer,â you mutter and laugh. She literally just repeated everything he said. âIâm sure heâs real worried from how heâs letting his fucking girlfriend fight in his place.âÂ
âIâm my own fuckinâ person, sweetheart.â He chuckles, âno oneâs fighting in my place.âÂ
âComing to your defense then.â You roll your eyes as you correct yourself. âSomething a grown fucking man does not need, yet here we are.âÂ
âThatâs what couples do.â He says bitterly.Â
âOh, Iâm sure. Tell me, do couples also blow up every others fucking phones when they donât get a text within 5 minutes?â
âOr how about that one time you wanted to spend the day with Yomi after she got her ears pierced and you couldnât because someone else was demanding your attention?â
âYou couldnât even use your phone because of how many calls you were getting back to back!â
Crickets.
âNothing? Okay! Iâll let you two go then, so you can enjoy being a normal couple.â The look you give Suguru immediately tells him that youâre ready to go and begins to step back, waiting for you to take the lead.Â
âBack to your boyfriend's house then, huh?â Sukuna continues to throw jabs, showing you once again that he just likes to fight.
You tried so hard to get away from him, so hard to avoid being on the receiving end of his anger, yet here you are. He doesnât even let you walk away.
You were fucked since the moment he laid his eyes on you.Â
You take one big deep breath, trying to get it together because Suguru had already seen enough. Sukuna and Yorozu have also had the pleasure of watching you lose your temper. The small attempt to calm yourself does nothing to soothe the burn in your eyes, you eventually blink away the tears that have slowly built up within the last 10 minutes and they steadily flow down your cheeks.
Fuck.Â
If only they knew this was all from frustration and not fear or remorse. You donât regret a thing you said.Â
âNo.â You finally respond to his question. âMy moodâs ruined and I donât feel like staying out and making it everyone else's problem, Iâm not like you.â
âSo now itâs my fault?â He asks, getting defensive all over again.Â
âNo.â Your voice slightly raises and you sniffle right after. âItâs mineâ I donât communicate enough, I hide things from you, I have the fucking audacity to defend myself when it comes to you. How dare I try to do that after all Iâve done to you?â
âYou know I didnât mean it like that.âÂ
âNo, I donât know, but I felt it.â Your voice slightly trembles. âYou take any chance you can get to remind me how much of a piece of shit I am. Sometimes I wonder what life wouldâve been like had I never left you and I donât think itâd be any different from this.â
You finally begin to walk away from the two, with Suguru following along. Sukuna tried to say some other things to you, but it was all muffled out. Maybe it was from some of the wine you drank, or maybe it was just the pent up frustration youâve been having since he came back into your life. Whatever it was, you didnât hear a word he said, nor did you care anymore at this point.Â
Suguru was the one that picked you up, but you decided to take an uber back home. The last thing you wanted to do was unpack everything that just happened on the car ride back. You were also just plain embarrassed, Suguru never knew about the full story of you hiding Yomi away from her father.Â
The birthday party was less than 24 hours away, you needed the time alone to relax and prepare yourself to deal with all the people that were attending it.
â
As expected, the morning was hectic. The planner and her assistants got to your house at 9:00 A.M sharp and got to work decorating the main areas of the house and backyard. You didnât even know what to expect, you told her to do whatever she pleased, so youâre in for just as much of a surprise as everyone else.Â
Your only job for today was getting Sayomi fed and dressed in her frilly little birthday dress. She seemed to love it with the way she kept grabbing at it and smiling, but she hated the matching headband. You didnât even bother putting it back on after she ripped it off, you ended up tying half of her hair up and adding a little accessory.Â
When you finally walk back down the stairs, everythingâs pretty much doneâ the balloon decorations, flower arrangements, snack tables, different food stations. You momentarily interrupt your moms conversation with her to quickly thank her for everything, god knows you could never transform a space the way she could.Â
You didnât even have the time for that.
The guests started rolling in at noon, with each person that arrived, the more you dreaded her Sukunaâs arrival. The good thing about him is that he doesnât seem to tell his family much about the tumultuous relationship youâve have the past three months, so youâre sure itâll be easier to act normal around him with his brothers and Yuki around.Â
The entire family shows up around 30 minutes after the party officially started and of course, your childâs father manages to steal all the attention.
Heâs tall and built to begin with, imagine all the looks he got when he stepped into your home with a white button up, rolled up at the sleeves and the top buttons undone to show off his chains. On top of that, his grey slacks were perfectly tailored and his hair was neatly styled. Youâd think it would all clash, but it somehow worked with his ear piercings and eyebrow slits.Â
You donât look for too long though, he was already getting enough attention from everyone else. You hardly acknowledge him at all, actually.Â
The first one to greet you was Yuji. The sweet boy was already bouncing off the walls, ready to go outside and play with the other kids. But he also had manners, making sure to give you and Yomi a hug and kiss on the cheek. Next were Jin, Choso, and Yuki, which you greeted and gave a hug to in that exact same order.Â
By the time you reached Yuki, Sukuna was looking at you expectantly, but you ended up turning back around and leading the three to where all the food was.
Peace doesnât exist though when you have a child, your sweet baby girl proved that to you within those 10 minutes.
âDada,â Yomi says to you and points at him, as youâre walking into the kitchen.Â
âYou wanna go to Dada?â You ask, moving some hair out of her face, not bothering to look up at him.Â
âMm.â She lightly nods, looking at Sukuna excitedly.Â
âOkay.â You smile before side eyeing the man. âHere.âÂ
Without protest, he takes her. Heâs honestly been waiting for you to hand her over, not completely sure if youâd say yes if he asked. He wasnât even sure if you were going to allow him to come after last night, but figured it was alright since you never texted him telling him to fuck off.Â
Sukuna spent the rest of the day being pulled away by a bunch of relatives and family friendsâ out of sight and mainly out of your mind. A lot of those who approached him tried to use the birthday girl as an excuse to go up to him, but you knew they just wanted to finally meet the mystery man that fathered her. A part of you wondered how some of those conversations went. The topic about who Sayomiâs father was is a topic that everyone avoided, even just asking about it was a big no-no. So you can imagine it to be a lot of mental gymnastics trying to talk about it, you never even gave people an explanation as to how or why heâs in her life now.Â
Itâs not until you have to sing Happy Birthday when you have to interact with him. You almost want to laugh when he turns the corner and you see how blissfully unaware your daughter is of what sheâs about to have to deal with.Â
You were able to set aside your differences for a minute when he also acknowledged how much she was going to hate this. She may not have reacted much on her actual birthday, but now sheâs essentially in a room filled with strangers.
âShould one of us hold her while they sing it?â He asks, lightly bouncing her in his arm as if getting her in the best mood would make her fall from grace less steep.Â
You shake your head, âthatâs never stopped her from having a meltdown.âÂ
âRight.âÂ
He cautiously set her down into the high chair, where thereâs a purple princess cake in front of her thatâs waiting to be lit. Sheâs fine at first, her attentionâs on the cake, not the crowd in front of her.Â
Itâs after only a few seconds of singing where she slowly drops her happy demeanor, her face turns into one youâd make if you were all alone in a room and something randomly moves.
Complete terror of the unknown.Â
The worst is when she looks at you or her dad, she thinks crying is going to get her out of this situation so her bottom lip starts to quiver the longer you two go without getting her the hell out of there.Â
Too bad Sukuna was determined to keep her in that goddamn chair, so he takes a little frosting off the top of the cake and quickly swipes it over her lips.Â
Usually sheâd be offended by something like that happening, but her mood quickly turns around when stops pouting and actually tries it. She eventually starts kicking her feet around and pointing at the dessert, asking for more.Â
Singing happy birthday was a success, it ended with Yomi clapping her hands along with everyone else while chewing on her newest favorite food.
You gave her all the time in the world to eat however much of it she wanted, you were taking pictures after and needed her to look as happy as possible.Â
And it all went fine, at least up until the very end. You were so worried about Sayomi this entire time that you never considered what were some of the things that couldâve gotten on your nerves today, aside from looking at Sukunaâs face.
âOkay, now letâs get a picture with both mom and dad!â Your dadâs sister, whoâs never once in her life been able to read a room, exclaims.Â
You try to look at anywhere else but Sukunaâs direction after hearing that, it was so painfully obvious to him, only because heâs the only one that knew about what went down last night.
After everything, he still wanted to take a photo together as a family, even though heâs starting to accept that the three of you will probably never truly be one, especially after what happened last night.
But still, he puts his pride aside.
âCâmere.â He murmurs, holding his arm out for you.Â
You obviously go up to him, not wanting to give away any signs that there were issues between you two, allowing him to pull you into his side and throw his free arm around you.Â
âHi mama!â Your daughter flashes you a dopey grinâ doesnât matter if she hasnât seen you in 2 minutes or 2 hours, sheâs been greeting you each time she sees you and it makes your heart melt.
She makes the picture taking a little better, sheâs more giddy than usual because of the sugar content that was in her cakeâ sheâs probably in outerspace right now. Hopefully her energy crash isnât that bad at bedtime, but itâs her birthday. Sheâll do it if she wants to.Â
Her pathetic father had some hopes that youâd rest your hand on his chest or something for the photoâ just seems kind of natural to do so, but you take your daughter's hand instead.Â
At least it made a cute photo. Sayomi will look back and never know just how cold and distant you felt in his arms at that moment.
â
The last people to leave your house are your parents. They love staying over and seeing Sayomi, but miss the peace and quiet of their own home, so they decided tonight's the night they finally go back home.Â
Is a two day stay a lot?Â
For them it is.
Itâs not something to take personally, if you absolutely needed them, theyâd be here for you in a heartbeat.Â
Itâs not until you walk into the cluttered kitchen and realized youâre not alone. You find Sukuna standing over the kitchen island, quietly trying to open a bottle of wine.
âDidnât know you were still here.â You mutter, taking his attention off the stubborn cork.Â
âProbably because you spent the whole day ignoring me.â He says while finally opening the damn thing. The roomâs quiet as he pours you a glass and slides it over to you. âCanât blame you though.âÂ
âYou sure? You donât seem to mind blaming me for everything else.â You say, taking a seat in front of him and pulling the wine glass closer to you. Youâre not even taking jabs at him anymore, you genuinely meant it, which makes him feel worse.
He doesnât respond to that out of guilt and leans forward on the counter. He doesnât even know where to start right now, he was an asshole to everyone last night. But if he were to be completely honest, he doesnât care much about how he made Suguru and Yorozu feel last night. He was out for blood the moment he saw you stepping out of the restaurant, he wouldâve snapped on anyone.Â
And since heâs being honest with himself right now, he wanted to hurt you. Right now heâs just trying to figure out if last night's anger was how he truly felt or if that was just his final straw to an already bad day.Â
He didnât even want to go out last, his girlfriend just wouldnât shut the fuck up about it. He was tired and wanted to rest up since he had planned on being here the entire day. Lately, Yorozuâs been taking his ânoâsâ as suggestions and itâs so much easier just giving in sometimes.Â
He glances at you and youâre already looking at him, raising your brows at him. He knows itâs your nonverbal way of saying âfucking get on with itâ.Â
âAfter missing all that time with YomiâŚâ He begins to explain himself, carefully choosing his words because he wants you to understand. Right now heâd rather you understand why he reacted that way he did, instead of forgiving him. âNot knowing whatâs going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I donât know.. Iâ when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it. I trust your parents, but if you told me you were going out, I wouldâve cancelled my plans and hung out with her.â
âAre you saying you got mad because you got fomo?âÂ
He lightly chuckles at the word choice. âIt sounds so stupid when you break it down in your own words, but yeah, thatâs kinda what happened.â
âI donât think itâs stupid.â You assure him, itâs probably hard enough having to explain himself after the scene he caused. âI wouldâve asked, but you usually have date nights with Yorozu on Fridays, so I never thought to ask.âÂ
âIâd never choose a date night over spending time with Sayomi.â His voice drops an octave as says those words in all seriousness. âIâm also really sorry for the way she tried to get into our business like that.â
âCanât blame her, you made it her business the moment you decided you were going to call me out in front of her. Same with Suguru.âÂ
Fair enough.
âStill shouldnât have let her talk to you like that.â
âDid you even try to say something to her after I left?â You murmur, twisting the glass around by its stem. âOr does she think she can start arguing with me whenever we fight, because thatâs what couples do?â
âWe fought over that after you left.â He reveals, his expression grew a little more stressed as he continued. âI told her if she ever pulls some shit like that again, itâs over.âÂ
You were aware of how heated their arguments could get, so when he tells you theyâre bad, you donât take it lightly. You fully believe him when he says they stayed up until 1:00 am fighting over the fact that he never wanted her to speak to you like that again and how she constantly countered it by saying she was just defending him.
It barely got resolved, she just barely stopped arguing with him when he threatened to break up with her.Â
He was so fed up at the end that he even called her an uber home, all he wanted at that point was to be aloneâ his head hurt, voice all raspy from yelling too. Yet he stayed up for another hour or two just staring at the ceiling and listening to nothing but the faint breeze outside, wondering what the fuck was he even doing with his life.
You hum in response, youâre not sure if his threat is overkill or not, but it makes you feel slightly better. Enough to be okay with her meeting your daughter after a year? Nope.Â
âWell thanks, I guess.â You say nonetheless.Â
âYeahâŚâ He takes a deep breath. âI really am sorry. I can apologize to your date too if you want.âÂ
You almost laugh at the suggestion, he sounds so remorseful, itâs not very fitting of him. âNo needâ he ended things with me.â
His jaw might as well be on the floor from how shocked he is to hear that. âAre you fuckinâ serious?â
âMhm.â You say, letting how bad he fucked up sink in for him.
âFuck.â He puts his head down and lets out a low curse. âIâm so sorry⌠what did he say?â
âHe texted me when I got home, saying something along the lines of how my situation was a lot to handle, and that I deserved someone that didnât feel that way.â You finish the rest of the wine in the glass after saying that.Â
âAre you okay?â He asks, genuinely concerned. Heavy lids, brows slightly furrowed, he looks guilty as hell.
âHonestly⌠yeah. We only dated for three months, I only saw him a couple times a month too. I feel like he wouldâve seen something else anyways and backed out.â Youâd obviously like for Sukuna to feel bad about it for a while, but itâs the truth. You and Suguru wouldnât have worked out to begin with. When you two first started talking, he thought that Yomiâs dad was out of the pictureâ a lot has changed since then.Â
Then you bring in one of Sukunaâs record breaking meltdowns, you understand the guy.
Which also leads you to another thing.Â
âListen⌠youâre always going to have some sort of resentment towards me and I understand that.â You say, breaking the silence. âBut I donât want to spend the next seventeen years having you throw that in my face whenever I do something wrong. I think itâs time that we start thinking about splitting custody with her.â
You obviously havenât had enough time to think about it, but itâd be easy, especially with how she has her own room at his house now. Itâs not like he was bad at taking care of her anyways. If you stop breastfeeding her now, she could probably spend her weekends with him and be perfectly fine.
âWhat? No, I donât want that.â He immediately rejects the suggestion, slightly hurt over it. âI donât want to take her away from you, Iâd rather just visit when I can.âÂ
âAnd what if I donât want that?â You argue back. âThe last thing I want is for you to teach her that itâs okay to treat me like that. Iâll admit that what I did was a thousand times worse, but that doesnât mean you can treat me like a punching bag whenever you get triggered over something.â
âIâve never done any of that in front of her!â He tries to reason with you, but deep down he knows itâs not enough. Â
âThereâs always the possibility that you will. Look, Iâm trying to make it easier on all of us. If me not being around you helps you heal from all of this, then Iâm glad to do it.â You continue to explain, but it just falls on deaf ears.Â
Yeah, you two have your bad moments, but when itâs good, itâs really good. You two are able to laugh together, easily make decisions over Yomi together. He enjoys being with youâ the both of you.Â
âYou make it seem like I get pissed at the sight or thought of you, I donât! Last night was just a bad day, I didnât even want to go out in the first placeââÂ
You cut him off from going on a rant. âI obviously donât want you to have bad days, but thatâs not my problem, you canât just use that as fuel to lose your shit on me.â
âI know that.â He murmurs and sighs.Â
âAnd I know that you feel bad and mean it when you apologize, but you need to work on yourselfâ whether itâs therapy or making some other life change. I canât keep listening to you apologizing.âÂ
Therapy?Â
You see the weary look he gives you for bringing that up, but he canât even deny that itâs probably a good option at this point. He already had his own problems to begin with, having a child just makes it all worse. It doesnât matter how good he is to Sayomi either, sheâll grow up to see how mad he gets when things donât go his way, you donât want her learning from that.
âSo if I get therapy, youâllâŚâ He waits for you to finish the sentence.Â
âDo nothing. We can keep doing what we're doing. It works, I just canât have you treating me the way you did last night.â You lean back in the seat and cross your arms.Â
He apprehensively looks at you for a bit, not sure if youâre telling the truth. Youâre oddly calm for someone that just threatened to remove herself from his life if he didnât get help.
Heâd think youâd be a little bit more emotional about this, but then remembers youâre mentally and emotionally capable of leaving someone without a word.Â
âI did all my crying last night.â You say, he just realized heâd muttered that last sentence to himself.Â
âMâsorry about that too.â He easily apologizes again. âAbout all of it, I feel like a fuckinâ asshole.â
You look down at the empty wine glass, which he quickly fills up for you as a part of his final apology, and canât help but feel guilty at how much remorse heâs showing right now. Â
What are you so afraid of?Â
Itâs not like Iâd hide her away from you.
At least now.
But he doesnât know that, hiding her from him is all that he knows. If only you could be a little more selfless, allow him to make you feel the same way you made him feel at one point.Â
An eye for an eye.Â
You doubt itâd stop there, thereâd be no truceâ youâd destroy each other completely.
âTry not to be so hard on yourself.â You take another sip of the freshly filled glass, it makes looking him in the eye a little easier. âI made you this way.â
You absolutely fucking did, he refrains from saying and instead just looks at you back. Heâs recently come to realize that this is something you struggle with too, you donât say it but he sees it whenever heâs having a good time with Yomi. You look happy one minute, then the next you wipe the smile off your face. Itâs almost as if you donât allow yourself to have that experience with them, like you donât deserve it.Â
âWe just need to find a way to move on from it.â You say, wrapping up the last of the words you had for him.Â
âYouâre right.â Heâs been holding his breath enough that itâs shaky when he finally exhales. âIâll uhâ Iâll reach out to someone on Monday.â
âOkay.â It comes out so light, itâs almost a whisper. Itâs a hard conversation to have, you werenât expecting him to make it so easy. âCan I ask you something?â
Hearing the answer would probably make you feel worse, but itâs the one thing youâve always wanted to ask him.Â
âDoes it have something to do with when we were together?â
âYeah.âÂ
âItâs better if you donât ask, youâre hard enough on yourself as is.â He says, giving you back your own advice. You already know you caused enough pain by jumping to your own conclusions about him, hearing the truth from him was just unnecessary at this point. âHow were you supposed to know how I felt about you when I never told you?â
âI donât know.â
âExactly.â
The only times he's texted you back then were to see when youâd be free for him, you looked like a booty call on paper. It was stupid of him to think youâd stick around just because he was nice to you. He shouldâve taken you out more, called you when he had free time, let you know he missed you whenever you werenât around.Â
Itâs not that he was scared, he was just stupid. He genuinely thought youâd just feel it, but you clearly donât trust your gut. Heâll always wish he told you he loved you, heâd probably be getting ready to go to bed with you right now if he said it all that time ago.Â
He looks at his phone to check the time and realizes heâs overstayed his welcome. Not that heâs complaining, you two got somewhere from it. A mutual understanding almost. Maybe heâll finally be able to have his first decent night of sleep since he saw you at the park that day.
But who is he kidding?Â
Mutual understandings donât mean shit to a man that is unfortunately in love.Â
âDo you wanna sleep in the guest bedroom thatâs here downstairs?â You suddenly offer after seeing him check the time. He didnât live far, but itâd probably be nice if he skipped the driving for tonight.Â
âYou donât mind?â He asks, skimming through his missed texts.Â
âNo. Iâm sure Yomi would like seeing you in the morning too.â
He chuckles and puts his phone away. âIâd hope so.âÂ
He tried so hard to hate you, but the love heâs always had for you has sadly grown since being back in your life again.Â
And no, you donât try to deliberately hurt the people you love, like how he did last night. But like what you said, you made him this way, and now heâs stuck having to fix that part of himself.Â
Whatâs worse is heâs happy to do it if that means he gets to stay around you, because you will never be too much for him to handle. He chose the baby in a heartbeat, if only you knew heâd choose you just as fast too.
His phone buzzes again once heâs finally comfortable in the guest bedroom you offered him. For once, heâs not annoyed when he checks it.Â
[7:05 p.m] Yor: How did the birthday party go?Â
[8:45 p.m] Yor: Did she give you a hard time over what happened last night?
[8:50 p.m] Sukuna: No
[8:55 p.m] Yor: Thatâs good. Can I come over? I wanted to talk about yesterday.
[8:58 p.m] Sukuna: I wanna be alone rn. ill talk to you tomorrow
notes:
i just wanted to leave this here and the direct quote below for anyone thatâs a little confused/needs clarification on what sukuna got mad about during this chapter. he went almost a full year of not knowing he had a child, he has trauma from that. heâs fine with reader going out and doing whatever, he just wants to know where the baby is and who she left the baby with âźď¸
âAfter missing all that time with YomiâŚNot knowing whatâs going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I donât know.. Iâ when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it.â
and also, read the warnings!!! the angst and toxic relationship warnings are there for a reason. i understand that itâs not for everyone, but donât make that my issue by coming up in my comments and announcing your departure đ
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summary: on the rare occasion that sukuna takes his nephew out to the park, he notices another kid with blush pink hairâ a baby to be exact. he tries not to stare too much, but itâs hard not to, itâs a rare hair color. itâs not until the babyâs mother takes her out of the swing set and back into her stroller when he realizes why you ghosted him almost 2 years ago.
genre/warnings: hidden child trope, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut
notes: im very excited to announce this upcoming one-shot as a part of @indiewritesxoxo friday night flicks event! the release date is still tba and im limiting the tag list to 50, but iâll definitely be giving updates throughout the writing process â¤ď¸
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Preview:
Sukuna wasnât very obsessed with the thought of having children, that desire continued to dwindle down after his nephew turned 4 and is now all over the fucking place. He doesnât mind watching him, but with each year it's becoming more difficult trying to get the kid to focus and listen to him.Â
âYuji.â The man barks out, beginning to scold the boy because he immediately started running across the street the moment the crosswalk sign turned on for them. âI told you to hold my fucking handâ get over here.â
âOops, sorry!â Yuji starts to skip back. Itâs almost insulting how unworried he is when it comes to Sukuna and his temper, but heâs used to it by now. He reaches out to hold his uncleâs handâ even having the audacity to swing it back and forth. Sukuna just lets him because he ends up feeling bad whenever he yells at Yuji while heâs happy.Â
He guesses the one thing thatâs gotten easier when it comes to watching the little crackhead is that he can now finally take him to the park. Heâs able to run all that unnecessary excess energy off, making mid-afternoon to dinner time easier because he just eats and naps until Jin comes to pick him up.Â
Yujiâs especially excited today, they're going to a new park thatâs just down the street from Sukunaâs new house. It was a nice neighbourhood too, Sukuna already knew the place was going to be like Disneyland for the kid.Â
âUncle! Look!â Yuji yells out to him.
Heâs been looking this entire fucking time, why are children like this? At least Yujiâs slightly better than most, immediately flipping under the monkey bars like a pro after receiving his Uncleâs nod of approval.Â
âGood job, Yuj.â He says in return. Jin should really take him to a parkour gym one of these days⌠maybe get him checked for adhd too while heâs at it.Â
He continues to watch the boy until he suddenly hears some babyâs laughter on the other side of the playground. It reminded him of when Yuji was a baby, always squealing over something, even if it was something as simple as ripping a piece of paper in half. It was cute.Â
He tried to drown out the noise, but this kid was having the time of their life, so he eventually looked in the direction of where the laughter was coming from. Heâs genuinely surprised when he sees a little baby girl with fluffy pink hair. Itâs a rare hair color and outside of his family, heâs only seen less than a handful of people that naturally had it in his entire 27 years of life.Â
She couldnât be older than a year old. Her motherâ or nanny, this neighborhood has a ton of them, is kneeling in front of her and gently pushing the swing back. Every time she pushes the swing back, the laughter gets louder.
The lady eventually picks the baby up and smothers her with kisses⌠the same way you used to smother him with kisses, almost 2 years ago.Â
And the moment you turn around and place her back in her stroller, it becomes very apparent as to why you completely ghosted him 1 year and 7 months ago.Â
Yes heâs kept track, you were the best fuck of his life.
âYou fucking bitch.â He murmurs to himself as you begin to walk off with the child that is without a fucking doubt his. He quickly grabs his phone and calls a close friend, one thatâs a little too good at finding people's personal information.Â
âHey whatâs uââ
He immediately cuts Uraume off and cuts straight to the chase. âI need you to find someoneâs address for me.â
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All rights reserved Š 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.