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Elizabeth Taylor’s eloquent and powerful speech while accepting the Vanguard Award at the 11th annual GLAAD Media Awards in 2000. After her dear friend and co-star Rock Hudson announced that he had AIDS prior to his passing in 1985 (the first high-profile celebrity to do so), Elizabeth—against great opposition during the fear-based AIDS hysteria and stigmatization prevalent in the 1980s—immediately organized a fundraising benefit to raise money for AIDS research (she later stated that she had the phone hung up on her repeatedly while trying to enlist the help of other celebrities with the benefit, and that some people thought she was “crazy” for getting involved with the cause). After Rock passed away on October 2nd, 1985, she also organized his memorial service and soon after became the co-founder (alongside Dr. Mathilde Krim) of the first AIDS research center amfAR. Her separate Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation was established in 1991 with the specific focus of providing nutritious meals (as well as medical and financial assistance) to people living with HIV and AIDS. She also lobbied the U.S. congress to contribute more money for AIDS research and education, devoting the last twenty-six years of her life to the cause. After Elizabeth passed away in 2011 at the age of 79, a large portion of the $156,800,000 raised at the Christie’s auction of her legendary jewelry collection was bequeathed to her charity in order to continue providing the services and assistance she believed were important in perpetuity.
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Lol might go on hiatus for a while. University and along with a few recently diagnosed disorders are absolutely bringing me to my lowest. Im sorry you guys, whenever I can ill maybe post a few drabbles here and there. Im still going to be interacting with my mutuals and reposting a lit of stuff on my alt, but no writing for a little while. Again, im so so sorry. I'll be back as soon as possible.
But honestly I think we all knew this was gonna happen
Sorry for neglecting this account 🙏 I've just been busy with exams and projects. Once those are over with I will go back to my normal posting schedule!
cw : yandere, stalking, paranoia, psychological horror, kidnapping, AFAB genitalia, non-con/dub-con, dead dove ; do not eat
SYNOPSIS : you’re the normal, unassuming nine to five worker who goes to a coffee shop a top pro hero frequents . . . tired, grumpy, always getting the same cup of coffee whenever you come in. he just wants to change your life for the better; even if you think it otherwise.
you’re as normal as normal gets. the common, everyday office worker that gets on the subway, clocks in, buys coffee and the occasional energy drink, and then goes home, slumps into bed, and snooze until you have to repeat. the only break you could possibly catch is on the weekends.
the coffee place you go to is the closest, cheapest place you can find. delivery is too expensive nowadays. there are some things you have to skip out on—but the coffee is decent, it gets you through your shift, so you live with it.
your routine is uninterrupted. safe, predictable, easy. at least . . . until a pro hero just had to start patrolling your area, buy some coffee at your coffee place, and boost the popularity there. the quality got better, thank goodness, but you’re still annoyed. the lines are longer and your lunch break seems to get shorter and shorter. you hate it. the change exhausts you more than you expected.
there aren’t any other coffee places that are within the measly amount of time you need to get there. and delivery is, again, too expensive. one day you’re standing there, rifling through your wallet to pay for your now more expensive coffee, and then pro hero deku is offering to pay for you.
it’s the least he could do.
you’re blatantly reluctant to accept—there are people staring. whispering. envious, even, and you think you’d be dumb to not accept a free coffee; not knowing what would entail after you accept with the best smile you could. (it was clear you were exhausted and drained. poor thing.)
it becomes a regular thing. he’s there earlier than you are, at first, and sometimes later, but he always asks to pay for you. then he insists on doing it. and then, you don’t have to ask. he knows when you come in. watches you leaves, stares without even breathing, sometimes.
you don’t know it, and how could you, but he’s got notebooks on you. they filled up quickly. stacked up before izuku knew what he was doing. he gets obsessed easily. stays hooked on that obsession. once he gains one, he never lets it go, keeping it close like an old worn out teddy bear, one with its button eye and stuffing falling out. it happens too fast, and spins out of control just as soon.
one day, the hero insists on walking you back to your workplace. you decline. the way his gaze follows you with a smile, as if he knows he can wear you down, like he did with the coffee . . . already, you remember why you’re not really into pro heroes or things like that. why you don’t date. you don’t say anything.
suddenly, you’re not just being watched while you step onto the subway. you’re being watched as you go into and leave work, while you walk home, while you sleep, while you cook, while you just stare out of the window. at some point, your curtains stay closed. all the time. you keep a taser and mace on you, maybe a pocket knife.
he thinks it’s cute.
you debate just doing delivery this time—just this once. the coffee shop suddenly isn’t your safe haven anymore. there isn’t anywhere you can breathe without feeling like there’s someone staring, analyzing, dissecting your very being. you do not want to think about when this started. because you know when it started. and it scares you.
you’re not able to order any coffee. pro hero deku bought some for you. says you mentioned where you worked offhandedly while the two of you stood in line one time, and he’s got a sheepish smile like a teenage boy asking his crush out, averting his gaze with a laugh. but the way you stare at him, and the way he stares back?
both of you know.
there’s a day when you’re walking to the subway again. this time, you had asked to do a little overtime—just to avoid seeing him on patrol. to ignore the way he lit up when he saw you. it’s late, but the city never sleeps, and right now, that’s all you want to do.
you don’t hear him behind you, but you feel his stare. there isn’t a chance for you to turn to look at him before he’s cooing in your ear, shushing you as he asks if you liked the coffee he left on your desk. he made it special, after all.
by the time you come to—you already know. it doesn’t smell like your apartment. doesn’t feel like your bed. your body aches in all the wrong ways, and there’s something warm between your legs. the saliva in your mouth is thick, and you have to blink a few times and struggle before realizing you’re tied to the fucking bed.
“. . . oh,” deku sits up, dazed. he blinks as he pulls his face from your cunt, the thin string of spit and your slick snapping as he licks his lips like he was just eating a really, really good meal. “you woke up.”
his pupils are dilated and half lidded as he presses a kiss to your tummy, and you want to sob. your tongue feels thick and heavy in your mouth as you sniffle, feeling pathetic and gross in the worst ways possible, and he shushes you.
“don’t be like that, bunny,” he presses a kiss to your cheek at the same time he presses two thick, scarred fingers into your warmth, and you heave.
“i’m gonna make sure you get the rest you need.”
note : this was fun to write!! my blog is inspired by multiple blogs, i feel like i did my inspos justice lolz
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Helloo! could I request a little cult!suguru x reader 👀 hes been on my mind so often recently and id love to see your take on him!! Feel free to ignore if you dont wanna! <33
Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, psychological control, codependency, emotional coercion, blood and injury mention, power imbalance, cult dynamics, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationship
Author Notes at the end!
You always thought love was supposed to feel good. Safe. Something soft to crawl into when the world collapsed around you.
But Suguru Geto taught you better.
It started the moment you met him at Jujutsu High — his voice like silk, words dipped in quiet arrogance, that sharp, predatory glint in his eyes that everyone else missed. But you didn’t. You saw it clear as day. The monster sleeping just beneath his skin.
And still — you stayed.
Because somewhere in the spaces between his smiles, his taunting remarks, and those late nights under the weight of cursed energy and exhaustion — you realized you loved him. Not despite the danger — because of it.
Suguru Geto was magnetic. Untouchable. Poisoned at the edges. And you drank deep anyway.
You were the perfect prey. And he? The perfect liar.
When he left — when the cracks in the world split wide and his name became synonymous with betrayal — you didn’t hesitate. You slipped through the fractures like smoke, abandoning Jujutsu High, your teachers, your friends, everything… for him.
And Suguru? He welcomed you with open arms and calculating eyes.
“You couldn’t stand the thought of being without me,” he whispered the night you found him, his hand curling beneath your jaw, thumb pressing against the pulse in your throat like a warning. His smile was soft, but his eyes? Cold. Dangerous. “Pathetic… but useful.”
You should’ve run. You didn’t.
And he used that love — expertly. Masterfully. You became a knife in his hand, a whisper in his ear, the perfect extension of his will. He never had to force you — he made you want to obey.
“If you love me, you’ll do this.”
“Prove your loyalty.”
“You’d never leave me like the rest… would you?”
It never stopped.
Delivering messages to his followers. Manipulating officials. Breaking rules you once lived by. Smearing your hands with blood and smiling through the ache. All because the thought of being anywhere but beside him… unbearable.
And Suguru knew it. He fed on it.
But lately — he’s losing control.
Tonight proves it.
The mission left you broken — limping, skin torn, dried blood caked down your arms. You can barely stand when you finally find him — tucked away in some forgotten temple, his followers kneeling like devout insects at his feet.
You stumble in, collapsing to your knees, breath ragged. The world spins. You hear gasps, the shuffle of people moving aside, fear crawling up their spines. But Suguru…
He’s silent. Watching.
And for the first time… it cracks.
He rises, slow, measured — every step deliberate. His hand catches your chin, thumb ghosting across your bruised cheekbone, fingers curling tighter, tighter — not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who holds the power.
His voice is quiet, almost too calm.
“You’re a fucking fool,” he murmurs, eyes narrowed, his thumb pressing against your pulse. “Throwing yourself into the fire for me…” He exhales sharp, jaw clenching. “I should’ve let you burn.”
Your breath catches, trembling under his grip — but you smile anyway.
“Then do it.” Your voice cracks, soft but defiant. “Let me go.”
The air between you coils tight — electric, suffocating, heavy with the weight of unspoken things neither of you dare admit. His hand doesn’t move. His eyes — fractured now, something dangerous and unfamiliar leaking through the cracks — stay locked to yours.
Suguru Geto manipulates nations. Twists minds. Tears down foundations. But this? You?
You’re a mistake he can’t fix.
His thumb slides lower, tracing your throat — intimate, possessive, lethal all at once. His other hand settles at the nape of your neck, keeping you close, caging you in.
“You’re mine,” he whispers finally, voice a low snarl, tangled in frustration, hunger, and something dangerously close to affection. “Don’t mistake that for love.”
But his grip softens. His forehead brushes yours. His eyes — tired, burning — stay fixed to your face.
And for once… his words sound more like a lie than the truth.
A/N: Omg ur literally a mind reader bae, ive been thinking about writing suguru.... THANK YOU SOSOSO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN!!! LOVE YOU MWAMWA
Please comment and reblog if you liked this! It helps keep me motivated!
You’re funny please never deactivate your account 🙏
This account will live in infamy long after I stop posting, trust and know. I will be 60 and maybe post something once a month just for the hell of it, what better things would I have to do during retirement??
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Summary: Morning creeps quietly into the temple ruins, casting fragile sunlight across broken stone and worn fabrics. After everything—the blood, the exhaustion, the fears that never quite leave—you wake nestled between the dangerous, complicated affection of Sukuna and Uraume. Sukuna teases as only he can, Uraume’s rare quiet kisses sneak in when they think you’re asleep, and together, they remind you, in their fractured, monstrous way, that your shifting identity is safe with them, that you’re theirs—regardless of form, scars, or the pieces of yourself you’re still trying to hold together.
Trigger Warnings: Light possessive behavior (typical Sukuna), implied past trauma, genderfluid reader (neutral and affirming language), gentle exploration of identity, intense protective energy, quiet affection, emotional vulnerability, soft kisses, references to injuries (healed), hurt/comfort dynamic
Word Count: 1.4k
Part 1
Author Notes at the End!
The first thing you noticed was the warmth.
Not the fleeting kind that slipped away with dawn, but the steady, consuming warmth that wrapped around you like silk and stone, breath and heartbeat—a fortress of muscle, scars, and impossible patience. For a suspended, raw moment, your foggy mind braced instinctively for the hollow ache that usually came with waking. That gnawing, familiar echo whispering you didn’t belong anywhere—never did, not really.
But it never came.
Instead, the quiet hum of rain settling over weathered stone filled your ears, grounding and soft. The scent of rain-drenched earth curled around you, tinged with faint copper from distant blood and the smoky bite of cedarwood burning low on temple altars long abandoned. It clung to the air, to the tangle of heavy limbs cocooning you, to the rough-spun blankets wrapped messily across your waist.
The realization prickled beneath your ribs, sharp and disarming.
You weren’t alone.
And you hadn’t been for a while now—not since Sukuna and Uraume made it very, very clear they intended to dismantle every lonely edge you’d carved around yourself.
Sukuna’s voice, low and rough with sleep, curled against your temple before you could retreat back into that ache. It slid down your spine, wild, possessive, steeped in that brutal affection only he ever directed your way.
“Morning, pretty thing.”
His hand, warm and calloused from lifetimes of violence, skimmed beneath the rumpled hem of your shirt. Fingers curled possessively over the strip of bare skin at your waist, thumb brushing lazy circles along your ribs—territorial, grounding, his. The familiar sharp edges of his claws ghosted along your skin, never pressing too deep—just enough to remind you he was there.
You groaned softly, exhaustion still heavy in your chest as you burrowed deeper into his side. The steady thud of his heart beneath your cheek anchored you further—the sound too loud, too steady to be a dream.
“I don’t snore,” you muttered stubbornly, though your voice cracked, hoarse with sleep and leftover adrenaline.
“You absolutely do,” Sukuna chuckled, his grin curling warm against your skin. Fangs grazed your temple, his breath hot in your hair as he nuzzled closer like he could sink beneath your skin entirely. “But I like it. Means you survived the night. Means I didn’t break you yet.”
You huffed, the protest weak, no real bite behind it—not when his arm locked tighter around you, cradling you like something precious he never intended to let go.
A faint rustle stirred nearby, barely audible over the steady drip of rain against cracked stone. Uraume’s quiet steps padded across the temple floor, as soundless as ever. Their pale hair glimmered faintly in fractured morning light bleeding through the ruined ceiling, eyes cool but softening the moment they landed on you.
It always unraveled you—the way their mask of neutrality crumbled, just for you.
Uraume knelt beside the makeshift bed of furs, cool fingers brushing along your ankle as they adjusted the twisted blankets. Their touch was precise, methodical—checking for lingering wounds in the aftermath of yesterday’s chaos.
“Did you sleep?” they asked softly, their thumb tracing idle patterns along the bone of your ankle. The touch sent warmth blooming beneath your skin.
You let out a low hum, eyes fluttering shut as Sukuna’s hand drifted lazily up your spine, tracing over scars and curves with familiar possession. “Eventually,” you admitted, voice still frayed. “You both… helped.”
The words cracked raw between you—a rare, fragile thread of vulnerability that prickled in your chest.
Sukuna’s grin widened, entirely too pleased, but it was Uraume’s faint, gentle smile that nearly undid you.
Their hand shifted, fingertips lingering at your ankle before they leaned down, pressing a soft kiss just above the bone. Careful, deliberate—but the heat it left bloomed sharp beneath your ribs.
“You didn’t have to—” you started, but Uraume’s steady gaze silenced the hesitation.
“We wanted to,” they said simply, finality slicing clean through old scars whispering love came with conditions.
Before you could argue, Sukuna tilted your chin toward him, his thumb brushing your jaw, gaze hungry but softened with something far more dangerous—tenderness.
“Look at you,” he rasped, crimson eyes gleaming as they traced over your flushed, sleep-warm face. “All soft in the morning. Makes me want to keep you like this forever. Makes me want to rip apart anyone who looks at you like they deserve you.”
Your chest tightened, warmth crawling up your throat.
“I’m already ruined, technically,” you muttered, humor tangled with quiet honesty.
Sukuna’s grin sharpened as he pressed his lips to your temple, lingering, reverent. “Not yet. But I’ll get there.”
Uraume’s faint exhale might’ve been a laugh, but they didn’t contradict him.
Instead, they settled beside you, their arm curling around your shoulders, cool fingers resting over your chest, thumb tracing steady circles over your sternum. Their presence—quiet, grounding—always steadied the fractures beneath your skin.
But uncertainty clawed up your throat again, raw and unspoken—the weight you’d carried too long.
You exhaled shakily, your hand drifting up to trace Sukuna’s inked bicep, following the spiral of markings down to where Uraume’s hand pressed against your chest. Their grip tightened, steady, unflinching—as if they’d been waiting for you to reach.
“You mean that?” you asked, voice barely steady. “Even if I… I don’t always stay like this?”
Uraume’s thumb paused mid-trace. “Stay like what?”
You hesitated, pulse stuttering beneath their palm.
“This… shape,” you breathed, the words slipping free like they’d been trapped behind your teeth for years. “Some days I feel softer. Some days sharper. Some days I want to tear myself apart and come back as someone else entirely.”
The confession cracked open beneath your ribs, spilling raw and trembling.
“Some days I want you to see me like this—held like this—but other days…” You swallowed hard. “Other days I need you to see him. Or them. Or someone new. I don’t always know who I’ll be. I just—”
Sukuna’s grip at your waist tightened, grounding, his voice low and brutal in its certainty.
“You think I only want you one way?”
The question thudded through your bones. You opened your mouth, but Sukuna didn’t wait.
“I’ve seen you burn. I’ve seen you shatter and stitch yourself together again. You could come to me as a storm, as a whisper, as a weapon—and I’d still know it’s you.” His fangs grazed your skin, his voice slicing through every lingering fracture. “You’re mine. Every edge. Every softness. Every shape.”
Uraume’s hand pressed more firmly over your heart, their pulse steady beneath your ribs. “Your form will never define your worth here.” Their gaze stayed locked on yours, unwavering. “You don’t have to pick one version to deserve us.”
Your throat tightened, fragile hope warring with old, jagged fears.
“What if I never settle?” The words trembled free. “What if it keeps changing?”
Sukuna’s grin curled wicked, his eyes gleaming with dangerous delight. “Then I’ll enjoy learning every new version of you. Over and over.”
Uraume’s lips brushed your shoulder, reverent, sure. “You shift. You drift. You evolve. We stay.”
The tears prickling at the corners of your eyes broke free, your laughter cracking weak beneath them. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”
Sukuna nuzzled closer, voice low and possessive. “I’ve never pretended. You’ve always belonged to me.”
Uraume’s fingers curled against your chest. “And to me.”
The storm inside quieted, their warmth anchoring you steady.
But the day stretched on—sun bleeding over stone, hours slipping soft and inevitable.
Later, your shape shifted, body heavier with sharper lines, broader shoulders, voice rougher around the edges. Sukuna only grinned wider, dragging you into his lap, fangs flashing as his hand traced over your jaw like you were carved perfectly for him.
“You look good like this, pretty boy,” he rumbled, biting affection thick in every word.
Uraume only smiled, their hand settling possessively at your hip. “You always do.”
The days blurred—some soft, some sharp, some where your form blurred entirely, fluid and unfamiliar even to yourself.
They never faltered.
In every version—soft or jagged, boy or not, shifting in-between—they stayed. They learned you all over again. And every time?
You belonged to them.
Exactly as you were.
And they never let go.
A/N: Part 2 of the bday gift for @all-with-angel !! This was such a bitch to post on tumblr, the gifs and the graphics were everywhere and I had to delete it to fix it. I fucking hate posting shit on tumblr. I also cried when I saw the word count since it was shorter than I expected so I had to take like 20 mins before posting this. Tumblr not acting right was my last straw and I cried again for another 10 minutes. But anyways, I enjoyed write both fics!!
Eye Graphic
Red Dividers
Please comment and reblog if you liked this! It helps keep me motivated!
A Quiet Place Between the Ruins: A SukUme x Genderfluid Reader
Summary: Caught between ruin and recovery, you learn what it means to be held together by fractured monsters who love in their own dangerous, unorthodox way. In the quiet aftermath of battle, Uraume tends to your wounds with cold, practiced hands, Sukuna offers his twisted brand of possessiveness, and together, they try—awkwardly, fiercely—to remind you that you're not alone.
Trigger Warnings: Mild references to blood and injury, possessive behavior typical of Sukuna, implied trauma responses, protective/soft touch, hurt/comfort dynamic, genderfluid reader (neutral terms used), emotional vulnerability, found-family themes
Word Count: 1.6k words
Part 2
Author Notes at the end!
You didn’t remember falling asleep.
The last thing you recalled was the faint hum of rain tapping against ancient stone, the low, steady crackle of fire echoing in the hollow chamber of the forgotten temple, and the cool, grounding press of Uraume’s palm against your ribs—anchoring you, tethering you to something that wasn’t pain.
Everything else was a blur. A slow dissolve into warmth, into exhaustion, into the weight of your own bones sinking against the earth until the world slipped sideways and you drifted, weightless, untethered.
When you stirred, it was with a sluggish ache threading through your side, a dull reminder of the wound you’d foolishly tried to downplay. Your body felt like lead, sore and uncooperative, but there was something else—something you couldn’t ignore.
Warmth.
Not just from the fire still burning low nearby, but from something alive and solid wrapped securely around you. The heat was near suffocating in contrast to the cool air of the ruins, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It pressed into your skin, into your lungs, and you clung to it without realizing.
It was only when you shifted, trying to ease the uncomfortable pull at your ribs, that the realization crept over you like a slow dawn.
You weren’t on the floor anymore.
Your head was pillowed against something firm, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. An arm, heavy and possessive, was slung around your waist, a thumb drawing idle circles into the curve of your hip through the fabric of your shirt. Fingers—familiar, rough, calloused—dragged lazily through your hair, nails grazing your scalp just enough to send a shiver curling down your spine.
“Finally awake, little thing?”
The voice near your ear was a rumble, deep and edged with amusement, but beneath the teasing lilt, there was something else—something he would never voice aloud.
Relief.
You groaned softly, pressing your palm against his chest as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. Crimson eyes, sharp as cut glass, softened at the edges in a way they never were for anyone else.
“Sukuna,” you rasped, voice rough from disuse. “You moved me?”
“I carried you,” he corrected, his grin wide and entirely too pleased with himself. “You practically melted into me. Very undignified, but entertaining.”
You scowled, but the weak glare held no real heat. You could still feel the ghost of his touch in your hair, the way his hold on you had tightened when you’d first shifted.
Before you could retort, another presence settled beside you, close enough for their cool breath to ghost along your temple.
Uraume.
Their fingertips brushed lightly over your wrist, finding your pulse with practiced ease. You felt the faintest pressure as they traced the edge of your bandages, checking for signs of fresh bleeding, for discomfort you might try to hide.
“You slept for hours,” they murmured, their voice as quiet as the rain tapping against the stone around you. Their hand drifted to your forehead, cool and steady. “You needed it.”
You huffed, but it came out soft, tired, lacking its usual bite. “You both act like I’m dying.”
Sukuna’s rough laughter crackled through the space, low and fond in a way that made your chest ache. “You flirt with death every chance you get, sweetheart. One of your more irritating habits.”
Uraume’s silver brows knit together, a flicker of disapproval breaking through their otherwise unreadable mask. “They shouldn’t be bleeding at all.”
“It’s stopped,” you muttered, your hand fumbling to rest over theirs, grounding yourself in their touch. “Thanks to you.”
Uraume’s gaze flickered briefly to where your hands overlapped. You didn’t miss the faint, almost imperceptible flush that crept to the tips of their ears, staining pale skin with the barest hint of color. They didn’t pull away, didn’t deflect, but you could feel the way their fingers tightened minutely beneath yours.
Sukuna’s thumb pressed a little firmer into the hollow of your hip, his other hand lazily tugging at a strand of your hair as if daring you to acknowledge the soft, domestic rhythm of it all.
You should’ve been used to this by now—the way they orbited you, the way their sharp edges dulled in your presence, the way their affection carved through their ruthlessness like sunlight cracking through ancient stone.
But you weren’t.
Not fully.
It still startled you, sometimes, how safe you felt here.
How easily you sank into the warmth between them.
The temple groaned softly, its stones long weathered by time and rain. Outside, twilight pressed against the crumbling walls, bruised clouds rolling across the horizon like silent witnesses to your fragile peace. Thunder grumbled in the distance, and the scent of damp earth clung to the air.
You shifted just enough to peer up at Sukuna through your lashes, the corners of your lips tugging into a faint, tired smirk. “You’re the least patient person I’ve ever met.”
His grin sharpened, all teeth and mischief, but his eyes remained soft, as if he hadn’t heard the insult at all. “Except when it comes to you,” he said, voice steady, unflinching. “You get exceptions.”
Uraume’s hand slid carefully beneath your ribs, adjusting the makeshift bandages with gentle precision. They leaned in, their breath cool against your shoulder, the faintest curl of their body pressing into your side.
“They always get exceptions,” Uraume murmured, not as a confession, but as a truth carved into stone.
Your throat went tight.
The weight of their words settled into you like a slow, heavy ache, unfamiliar but impossible to push away.
You weren’t sure when you’d started waiting for it to vanish—for the warmth, the attention, the brutal tenderness to be stripped away like it had all been a mistake. A borrowed comfort you had no right to.
You’d spent so long convincing yourself you didn’t need anyone, that your body had become a fortress, your ribs caged around a heart too guarded to be touched.
But they touched you anyway.
Clawed hands, steady and warm. Frostbitten fingers, careful and cool. They didn’t flinch when you bristled, didn’t retreat when you bled, didn’t scold when you collapsed in their arms.
They simply stayed.
They carved out a space where you could unravel without shame.
A trembling part of you—the part still curled around old wounds—hesitated to trust it. To trust them. To trust this.
You let the silence stretch, listening to the rain soften into a quiet drizzle, to the way the fire cracked and popped, its warmth kissing your skin.
Then, quietly, as if the words might shatter if you spoke them too loudly, you asked, “What happens if I fall apart?”
The question tasted like defeat, like fear, like a desperate plea you hadn’t meant to voice aloud.
Sukuna’s hand stilled in your hair, the grin fading from his lips as his gaze darkened—not with annoyance, not with condescension, but with something else. Something fierce. Possessive.
“You fall apart here,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Where we can put the pieces back together.”
Uraume’s fingers brushed lightly against your side, a grounding pressure that steadied your breath. “You don’t leave us like this,” they said, firm but soft, like a vow. “You heal here.”
The weight of those words settled in your ribs like the first breath after drowning.
Here.
With them.
With their claws, with their cold, with their warmth, with their steady, relentless presence.
The fortress you’d built around yourself cracked just a little more, splintering at the edges as the firelight painted soft halos along the weathered stone walls.
You pressed your forehead against Sukuna’s chest, breathing him in, the faint scent of smoke and iron curling around your senses. You felt Uraume’s breath ghost across your skin, their steady pulse beneath your fingertips.
You could fall apart here.
You could trust them to hold the pieces.
The thought was terrifying.
The comfort even more so.
But when you exhaled, the fight in your muscles eased, the tension in your chest unraveled, and you let yourself lean into them fully.
“Okay,” you whispered, so quiet it was almost a breath, but you knew they heard it.
You felt the way Sukuna’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb stroking slow circles into your side, grounding you, tethering you to the present. Felt Uraume’s cool fingers smoothing along your bandages, lingering just a little longer than necessary, as if they weren’t ready to let go of you yet.
The silence that settled over the temple wasn’t empty.
It was full—of things unsaid, of promises left hanging in the space between heartbeats, of a quiet, steady devotion that neither of them would ever name out loud.
You felt it in the lazy drag of Sukuna’s fingers through your hair, in the way Uraume’s breath brushed your skin, in the gentle pressure of their touch lingering along your ribs.
Eventually, your eyes grew heavy again—not from pain this time, not from exhaustion, but from comfort.
Real, terrifying comfort.
You drifted, lulled by the steady thrum of Sukuna’s heartbeat beneath your ear, by the faint scratch of his nails against your scalp, by the cool rhythm of Uraume’s touch ghosting along your side.
And when sleep finally claimed you, you didn’t dream of battlefields, of blood, of abandonment.
You dreamed of their hands anchoring you, of their voices promising you were theirs, of their warmth melting the ruins around you into something whole again.
You dreamed of a place where you could fall apart and still be wanted.
You dreamed of home.
And this time, you believed it.
A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATE ANGEL!! @all-with-angel I hope you enjoyed this, I really tried my best with this one since it's a bday gift for uuu!!! I wanted to make this longer but time wouldn't allow it :(( Nevertheless, i really hope you liked this and have a joyous day!!
Eye Graphics
Red Dividers
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