🌻 Carro 🌻

You sighed, stood up, and quietly headed to the stove. A simple plate: rice, chicken, some side dishes. Food he liked and definitely needed.

The hallway light was dim as you padded towards his room. The door was half open, the soft glow of the ring light spilling out. Inside, you moved carefully, staying well out of frame as you slipped the plate onto the desk beside him.

Then you were gone again, retreating like nothing happened.

Chris glanced to the side. His eyes softened instantly, and a small laugh escaped him before he could stop it.

“Oh,” he murmured, voice fond. “This is so sweet.”

He stood, picked up the plate, and turned it towards the camera with a shy grin. “My girlfriend brought me food.”

The comments flooded in

CUTEE COUPLE GOALS 🤍 SHOW HER PLS MAPPY HER ALREADY WE WANNA SEE HER!!

Chris laughed, shoulders shaking.

“Should I ask her to come here~?” he teased, eyes flicking toward the doorway. He already knew the answer. He just enjoyed pretending otherwise.

“Babyyyy!”

Then, louder, playful and whiny, “Babyyyy!”

“Babe, can you come here for a sec?”

You froze in the hallway.

The camera was still on.

Yet you moved back to the doorway where you knew you’d be safe, but not centimeter past it.

When you saw his teasing grin, you just shook your head quickly, eyes wide, refusing to even step fully inside.

“Why nottt?” Chris dragged out, pouting dramatically.

You only scrunched your nose at him in response. No way. Not yet. Not even your voice. Not the risk.

“Pleaaase?” he tried again, smiling too sweetly to ignore.

You hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, you stepped just BEHIND the camera. Carefully, you raised your hands and made a small heart with your index and middle fingers right in front of the lens.

The chat lost its mind.

Chris laughed, utterly charmed and steped closer to you and the camera as well. “They think that’s cute,” he said, between the screen and you. “They’re spamming that you should talk.”

Before you could escape again, he gently caught your hand and tugged you closer – careful, always careful not to pull you in frame. “She doesn’t want to show herself yet,” he told the fans, apologetic but calm.

“Sorry,” he mouthed towards the camera, but the apologetic look he gave the camera wasn’t meant for them. He squeezed your hand, reassuring.

That was when you got an idea. You knew that they wouldn't drop until they got what they wanted... So what better way to get STAY's attention off of you than...

In one smooth motion, you slipped your hand away, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and tugged it up just enough for the camera to catch a glimpse of his toned abs… then you bolted for the door.

The reaction was instant.

The chat exploded.

Chris yelped, eyes wide, ears burning as he hurriedly yanked his shirt back down. “Yah—!” He cleared his throat, flustered, trying (and failing) to regain composure. He turned his head, just in time to see you at the doorway, shaking his head with an amused, helpless smile.

“Babe—”

Before he could finish, you flashed him the most innocent smile and a not so apologetic finger heart, then disappeared down the hall, door clicking shut behind you.

“God—” Chris muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He looked back at the camera, embarrassed but laughing  

“My girlfriend, everyone,” he said fondly. “Brings me food and drives me crazy.”

He paused, smile softening.

“That’s my girlfriend for ya.”

A quiet exhale.

“Yeah... She’s something else.”

It’s amusing. He knows you. It may have been years since you last spoke, but it’s obvious you haven’t changed that much. To think that you’d be able to keep up with those two was laughable. That’s not to say that they’re bad people or anything, they’re just… a lot. Suguru’s not the pacifist he presents himself to be. Then there’s Satoru, who is as crazy as he looks, if not, more. 

Then there’s you, the one who was always too squeamish to go out and get her own food and spent the last century tucked away in small, quiet places— just fucking sheltered.

You, my dear, have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, all in the name of getting closer to him. Watching your bubble of delusion pop is something he now looks forward to.

Which is why he’s still getting ready for tonight’s party, despite hearing the news that you, Suguru’s new “friend”, will be attending. It won’t be long until you get yourself into some trouble, and you can bet that he’ll be there. Not to save you—fuck that. He’ll be there to savor the guilt ridden look on your face when you realize how much you took your old life for granted. 

—

You have made many mistakes in the past, and you’ve also made many stupid decisions.

Tonight is no exception. 

You did put two and two together the morning after the exhibit. At first, you were hesitant to give Suguru a call, but you eventually grew a pair and started dialing. 

And now here you are, taking shots with him, Satoru, and a girl you were literally just introduced to three minutes ago, Ieiri. Pretty name. Pretty eyes too. She’s so aloof with the two that it makes you think she’s either using them or has known them long enough to be used to their antics. 

There's a party tonight— you’re assuming it’s a big one with how Satoru ripped the phone out of Suguru’s hand to tell you to “just wear something fucking hot,” and then proceeded to remind you all throughout the week via text message. It explains your dress that’s way too short and feels too tight, but maybe that’s also because not once in the years you’ve lived have you ever gone to a party. 

Though it was more like a fucking rager— one that was strictly for vampires. 

Held in some giant, yet somehow fancy, warehouse in the middle of nowhere, all so no one could hear the music blasting from the speakers that were strung up on the ceilings. Waiters that looked out of place— you could just tell whoever’s idea it was to have them here think a little too highly of themselves. They were dressed to the nines, walking around with silver platters, serving alcohol and champagne flutes filled with the best blood on the market. 

And if the champagne flutes weren’t enough? There were live options too, with many guests openly feeding on willing(?) participants. Quite the culture shock for someone who spent their entire life tucked away.

Gojo’s tugging you around the place like a kid in a candy shop. All the different lights reflect on his white hair as he leads you to some VIP area, excited to introduce you to the others he and Suguru were talking about on the drive here. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you find yourself staring, almost in awe, over all the different tones. It was just as interesting as everything else around you— until you feel a shiver run down your spine. 

You’d think looking elsewhere would help you shake off that brief dark feeling you’ve grown used to over the years, yet the first thing your eyes land on is none other than Sukuna himself— the only reason why you came here in the first place. 

You never took him to be the social kind, but there he was walking around in a boring art gallery, so why wouldn’t he be at something more exciting? He definitely looked like he was enjoying himself. 

Maybe a little too much, actually.

He sat there as if the entire party was thrown just for him, lounging back on a fancy sofa like some fucking king. His white shirts rolled up to his elbows and buttoned half way down— it’d be easier to see his tattoos if he weren’t completely soaked in blood. There are three bodies already discarded around him, and horrifyingly enough, they all just so happened to look like you.

He wasn't done either, and is casually holding his third victim by the hair as he drank from them, who also looks just like you. And the worst part? He looked good doing it.

Gojo notices you staring and just laughs. “Don’t worry about him, Sukuna’s just got a bigger appetite than the rest of us. Don’t let him catch you staring though, or you might be next,” he teases, so blissfully unaware of the history you have with him. 

You have no idea how to respond to that. You couldn’t even if you tried. The moment he said that, Sukuna raised his head and looked right at you, eyes faintly glowing as blood trickled down his chin. Your attendance didn’t seem to phase him, like at all. If anything, he looks pleased with himself. The bodies around him must’ve been quite the sight for you. 

Then back he went to do what he came here for: Eat.

Suguru was the first person to notice the obvious shock on your face when you got to the VIP area after your little tour. He looks back and forth between you and Satoru, hoping his friend didn’t have anything to do with it. He was weird at times, but he wasn’t that fucking weird. 

“You good?” Suguru finally asks, clearly concerned. 

“I think Sukuna spooked her,” Satoru says, plopping a hand on your shoulder and giving it a friendly rub. The kind you give to someone when you’re giving them a pep talk.

“What did he say?” Suguru’s lips twitch as he asks, wondering what it could've possibly been this time. He wasn’t a stranger to Sukuna’s ways. He knew he wasn’t the best person either. If he had to tell you the truth, it was almost comical how bad of a person he could be at times.  

“Nothing— just saw him doing his thing. Had a little pile around him.” 

Little?

“Oh— yeah, don’t worry about him, sweetheart,” he chuckles, quickly brushing the topic off. “He’s pretty harmless… It’s been a while since he’s targeted his own kind.” 

Oh my god?

You weren’t even going to ask him to elaborate on that. Instead, you just laugh with them and brush it off as if it were normal, even though it fucking wasn’t. 

“Alright,” Satoru sings out, clapping his hands together once. “Let me introduce you to everybody.”

—

Sukuna lets the fourth body drop to his feet after deciding he’s had enough for the night. Rising from the couch and stepping over the little pile, he makes his way to vip, not because you were there, but because it was filled with the people he didn’t actually mind talking to. The people scattered around the dance floor were more like maggots to him. 

They weren’t all that useless though, they were smart enough to move out of his way as he walked through the crowd, knowing he’d do more than just ruin their night if they didn’t. Some of these people were hundreds of years old themselves, and while that might mean something, it still didn’t compare to him. Most of their bloodlines traced directly back to either him or to an ancestor of Satoru’s. It was common knowledge within the community. It was also known that the Gojo Clan wasn’t nearly as blood-lusty as Sukuna was in his earlier years. Rumor has it he used to turn multiple people at a time because they were more fun to hunt. He apparently enjoyed having a little challenge.

The first thing Sukuna sees when he steps into the room is you, chatting away with Nanami and Utahime. You surprisingly don’t look out of place, with them at least, the two most boring people in this room. 

Actually, boring might not be the right word— reserved. The type of people that’d make you think that the others might not be as bad if those two were able to tolerate everything that went on behind closed curtains. 

“Oh, hey!” Suguru says as he walks up behind him, then gestures towards you. You look normal enough when you turn around and see them striding over to you, but he hears you stop breathing for a second. “This is the artist I told you about— the one I met at the gallery the other week,” Suguru mentions, choosing to avoid bringing up Sukuna’s sudden leave. He wasn’t very fond of being questioned. 

There’s not one nervous bone in Sukuna’s body, giving you a subtle smile as he walks past you and sits on the couch to your left. 

He then proceeds to act like he has no idea who you are. 

“An artist, huh?” He repeats Suguru’s words in an amused tone. “What a cute hobby.” 

He’s all relaxed now compared to the last time you saw him, but you know that small piece of information pissed him off. Behind the bored look and thrown back shoulders is a man who had a newfound hatred for painting— he’s as scornful as ever.

You smile and nod in response, having no other meaningful words to offer aside from a measly “yeah” to his little jab. Little, yet enough to send you spiraling. There was never much of a plan to begin with, even though there really should’ve been.

You wanna go home. 

“You must be pretty talented with all the praise this one’s given you,” he says, pointing at Suguru, who’s starting to look a little nervous himself.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you softly laugh– one he sees right through, “you know what they say about practice though.” 

“Of course,” he hums. “Working towards a goal— how human,” he adds, draping an arm over the sofa. “You’re given a gift… a mind and body that’s built to do more than just withstand time. An apex predator. Yet you waste your time playing with paint?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a waste of time–” 

“No?” He cuts you off, tilting his head to the side. “You spend your days acting like a human when you’re  not. You can’t eat like them, can’t live like them,” he laughs, ”you can’t even die like them.”

It's clear he’s just trying to rage-bait you at this point, but his comment still had a little kick to it. He wasn’t wrong— you can’t die, you’ve also forgotten the taste of your favorite meal a long time ago. 

“Guess it’s just something to do with all the time I have,” you end up saying, all while pulling yourself back to reality. He sure was good at sending you back into an existential crisis, one you recently clawed your way out of. Just barely.

“Oof— looks like I hit a nerve,” he snorts, rising from his seat with his glass of scotch that was already empty. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll eventually realize that finding ways to fill that time is worthless, too.”

It’s nothing but silence as he walks off. Instead of walking to the door that led back to the rest of the party, he walks down one of the halls— off to do god knows what. You’re not even sure if you want to know at this point. 

“Don’t take what he says to heart,” Suguru says after hearing a door click from a distance. “He’s just blunt like that—”

“He’s old as fuck, too,” Satoru cuts in, earning a smack on the shoulder from Ieiri. “What?! It’s true!” 

“It takes him a while to warm up to others,” she says with a sigh. “Even then, he’s still… Sukuna. When you’ve been around for as long as he has, you just don’t really care for much. Years turn into seconds— that kinda stuff.”

“I can see that,” you murmur, taking a sip from your drink. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t hate you or anything. You would’ve already been his dinner by now if he did,” Satoru adds, thinking it’d make you feel better. 

It doesn’t.

Even when everyone moves on to an entirely different topic, you still find his words lingering in the room, filling you with the same dread that made you leave in the first place. You don’t regret your choice, but having him beat your own immortality into your head makes you question if that is true. If you’re actually just lying to yourself, and maybe in the back of your mind, you’re wondering if there’s a cure somewhere out there for this. It’s absurd to think about— the only way out is through him. Even if that was something you truly wanted, you highly doubt he’d let that happen. 

Given where you’re at, it’s not a thought that should be crossing your mind right now. You shouldn’t have even been here to begin with, but the thought of being in community, no longer feeling alone, sounded nice. Now that you’ve technically checked off “finding Sukuna” on your to-do list, and seeing how unwilling he is to speak to you, maybe this was the next step. To accept your mistakes and move on.

So instead of going home, the night goes on. You take all the shots handed to you, let the new friends you made drag you around all over the place, dance— you even laughed a little, though you still couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. 

That’s where you have him all wrong. Watching you laugh and have fun from a distance doesn’t make him think you’re happier without him. But the moment he started to somewhat understand you was the moment he tore his eyes away from you. 

He needed to step out, get some fresh air, and have a smoke. You’d think there’d be more people outside doing the exact same thing, but there’s not— just him and the night sky. He was wrong— he’s never seen a star form or burn out, not yet at least. But for now, thinking about how they’ve been around since his beginning was a good way to get his mind off things. 

Until he hears someone stumbling out of the noisy warehouse. No, he doesn’t need to turn his head to know it’s you. He refused to listen to his own gut when he first walked into that gallery— not this time. Unfortunately, your scents ingrained in his head, even now, years later, when you’re body is filled with vodka. 

“Oh don’t leave now, love,” he lazily murmurs the moment he hears you turn on your heel, still not bothering to look at you. “This is what you came for, isn’t it? To tell me how sorry you are, to explain why you did what you did.”

“I mean, yeah,” you mutter. “Then I remembered that you threatened to shove a dagger through my chest— I’m not really sure what to say to you.” 

“Really?” he hums, taking a sip from his drink.  “You looked pretty sad back there when I told you that you couldn't.” Die, that is. “I was sure you had a death wish when I found out that you’d be here,” he adds.

“Nope,” you sigh, almost sounding disappointed about it. “Just wanted to see you again.”

“How romantic,” he responds in the same bored tone. “You’re a persistent one, I’ll give you that.”

“I feel like you’ve always hated that about me.”

“I wouldn’t say I hate it. You were the one who begged for me in the beginning, though. Now look where we're at,” he says that last part bitterly.

“I know,” you murmur, still unsure what to say. There was sorry, but he hates apologies. You tried looking for him in the past, but you didn’t try hard enough, clearly. You both knew there weren’t any words that’d make it any better. And there’d be no point in admitting that you were scared, it’d just be an insult to him. 

“It was written all over your face earlier,” he says, taking a deep breath and looking back up. “The panic. That’s why you left, to convince yourself there was more to all of this.” 

“That’s not it,” you try to argue, but you’re cut off by a laugh. 

“The only person you’re lying to at this point is yourself,” he snorts, rising up from his seat and walking up to you. He’s not angry this time, or in whatever mood he was in when he spoke to you earlier. The look on his face is relief— like he had just freed himself from a lifelong curse. 

You have a feeling that lifelong curse is you when he gently takes your face in his hands, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

“How about this— go out and have some fun,” he has to be joking with the way he says it– too calm, too light. Your stomach begins to twist as he continues. “You made some new friends tonight, right? And I’m clearly not going to stop you from seeing them, so go enjoy yourself. And if that isn’t enough for you, then I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, staring at him in disbelief. 

“You know what.” 

notes: if ur confused on the “i’ll do it part”, he means go out there and have fun bc he already gets the gist on why she left. he’s still mad tho, so he pretty much said if that’s not enough for you and you truly feel like there’s something missing, come back to me so i can put you out of your misery (turn you into a past tense if ykwim) 💗 ALSO, taglist is open again please lmk in the comments if you wanna be tagged.

So, no, it’s not just a painting they thought was interesting— it can’t be. It’s a one of a kind piece, painted by a tortured woman in the midst of her despair. Not that you told them that, but they know well by now that you enjoy your solitude, so therefore, you are a mystery that they were lucky enough to bear witness to on the one night you decide to make an appearance. It speaks to them. Just like the clothes they wear and the cars they buy, the painting they will be purchasing at the end of the night will be another possession that defines them. 

While you may have slipped in a couple of lies here and there for the fun of it all, you didn’t think it was pointless or a waste of time. A man’s search for meaning, as selfish it may be at times, was proof that humans weren’t just flesh and bones. The fact that you’re still able to recognize that after so long was reassurance that you, too, were still human, even if it now was just a small part of you, one that you’ve learned to cherish rather than cling to.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think Mr. Enomoto is interested in more than just your works,” Suguru says as he walks up to you without Misa trailing right behind him, as she was earlier. 

She introduced you to the investor shortly after you arrived. He was a real people person who simply liked getting to know all the artists they featured, apparently, and while you don’t doubt that’s who he is by default, he clearly had other intentions. He immediately knew what you were at first glance. He flashed his fangs at you for fucks sake, and then laughed at your lack of a reaction, more so annoyed with how quick he was to reveal himself. 

“Lonely widow?” you asked. 

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, facing the painting you were looking at. “I’m sure he'd love that though, with his history of infidelity.”

“That's… really sad,” you almost laugh from how casual he is.

“You’re telling me,” he snorts, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, how long have you actually been doing this for?”

“Around 60-something years now,” you answer, taking a sip from your glass. “How long have you been an ‘investor’ for?”

“Mmmm– I wanna say around 20-ish years now,” he says tentatively. “Started off as a collector, eventually realized I could put some of the money I’ve stashed away for years to use, and now it’s like I have multiple of my own little galleries scattered everywhere. Except I have to share them.”

You lightly laugh, “sounds like someone’s a little disappointed about sharing.”

“A little,” he cheekily admits. “But it’s not the worst thing in the world. You meet a lot of different people, some more interesting than others… then are the days you get lucky enough to come across one of your own.”

“Can I ask what gave it away?”

“Just a feeling,” he hums, smiling warmly. “With that being said, it’s not often you run into a new face, but there’s an entire community of us here. If you were interested, I can–”

“Mr. Geto,” a voice calls for him at the end of the nearest hall, one of the curators gesturing for him to come over. “There’s a gentleman with white hair asking for you. I asked for his name, but he–” instead threatened him, not that he wasn’t going to say that in front of others. “I think it’s urgent.”

“It’s always urgent with him,” Suguru mutters, letting out a disappointed sigh and allowing his annoyance to come and go before turning to you. “You don’t mind if I excuse myself for a moment?”

“Nope, not at all,” you say, suppressing a smile. It seemed like an occurrence he’s very much used to at this point. He offers you a brief nod before walking in the curator's direction, leaving you alone once again. 

Maybe even more alone than you were before he came up to you. An entire community, he said. As nice as that sounded, you already know you’re going to turn down his offer, for obvious reasons. If anything, it was probably time to cut your stay here short— you’ve been searching for reasons to leave this city anyway. The last thing you needed was to join some group, knowing you had things that were significantly higher on your list of priorities. 

Like finding a certain grumpy individual, who you’d admit you have no idea how to find. You know he’s not at the estate anymore from your own research some years ago. He took all of his belongings and moved somewhere else, having no more use for the title he had there. Who knows what sort of position he holds now. 

You fully abandon the idea of finishing your conversation with Mr. Geto as you take the last sip of wine from your glass and prepare to excuse yourself for the night. It’s been more than an hour, and Misa should be more than happy with that.

Seems like you’ve had enough to drink anyway, given how you run right into the nearest person when you turn around to walk away. The apology would’ve come sooner had it not felt like running into a brick wall, but it eventually comes. 

You tried to at least, but then the words get caught in your throat the moment your eyes trail up to meet a blank stare that’s only familiar to you. 

Now that you think about it, he hasn’t reacted or moved once. There’s a glass of scotch in one hand, the other stuffed in his pocket. You can just tell he’s barely processing who’s in front of him right now.

You almost smile. Almost. You’re not so familiar with this version of him, but the perfectly tailored black suit is something you would’ve seen coming. So is his choice of cologne that slowly seeps into your space. Messy hair just barely contained with something too matte to be gel— pomade maybe? 

You want to smile, but then a hundred years' worth of resentment starts to unfold right before you. His gaze sharpens, coming to a full focus. Slightly parted lips coming to a close, accompanied by a clenched jaw that wouldn’t stand a chance against any words he decided to hurl your way. The only reason he was so silent now was because he didn’t have anything to say at all. 

He looks at you like you’re filth. 

Then he walks away. 

Sukuna could’ve done more than just walk towards the nearest exit. He could’ve been ruder. He was already on the verge of agitation to begin with. Suguru had promised him something— something he spent all day saving his appetite for, only for him to have to wait another hour or so because the secret lounge on the very top floor wasn’t quite ready yet. To no one’s surprise, Satoru was having none of it and threw a fucking fit, so he came here, grabbed a drink, and walked around. The type of people here are just as pretentious, if not more, but he figured they’d have a little more… tact. 

It wasn’t so bad at first, being surrounded by the subtle buzz of people murmuring nonsense to each other as they strode through the softly lit space. It was definitely Suguru’s crowd— very esteemed, very elegant. The word he’d really like to use is demure, if only the youth hadn’t used it up to the point of stripping it of its own meaning. Anyways, not his crowd, but a crowd he doesn’t entirely feel discomfort in. 

It was enough to keep him occupied while he waited.

Until some dumb girl ruined it by running right into him. It wasn't just any dumb girl, either— no, it was his dumb girl, stars in her eyes and all. 

He took one look at you and felt a sense of guilt for something he didn’t do. That perhaps he was the one who had been at fault all along. But then he realized that if he truly did something wrong, you wouldn’t have looked at him the way you did. Like you fucking loved him. It was disgusting.

So he left. 

It’s not until he’s walking down the poorly lit alleyway that he realizes you followed him and you’re saying something that he doesn’t quite catch. 

“M’not interested,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear. 

You know you don’t have the right, and that you should turn right back around before he says something you really don’t want to hear, but you continue to call after him.

“Kuna—“

“NO.” The word rips right out of him and cracks through the air. Hearing you call him that, hearing how natural it sounded— it was fucking insulting. The way you just stand there and look at him, with hope that you could fix this, is infuriating. He just barely regains himself, but the same venom in his tone remains. “Get the hell away from me.”

“Please,” you, of course, keep fucking going, “I’m so s—“

He cuts you off the only way he can at the moment, and that’s pining you against a brick wall faster than you can think, using the tip of a dagger to tilt your chin up, just so he can watch the way the shock of it all eats away at you. Right now, there is nothing more satisfying to him than watching your breath catch and eyes widen at the disbelief.

Yes, sweetheart. He’s actually threatening you right now.

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” he suppresses a laugh, pleased with how easy it was to shut you up. Goes to show there’s nothing like a little violence that’ll get him out of a mood. “Now, let me make myself clear, I only tolerated you when you were of use to me, but that was years ago. I don’t want an apology. I don’t care for an explanation. You are nothing to me.” 

“You don’t mean that,” you force the words out, still holding on to some hope that he’d spare you a moment. 

“Oh, but I do,” he laughs, and before you can argue with that, he leans in close and says one last thing, “you’re lucky I’m even giving you a chance right now. Come near me again and I’m shoving this thing right into your god damn heart.” 

And with that, he’s gone. 

—

Getting it together takes you a moment or two, especially after realizing you started your day craving his touch and then ended it like… that. You feel empty, too numb to even tremble. His words continue to chip away at you after their initial assault. 

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice calls out as you step back into the building. “Thought you left without saying goodbye.”

You turn in its direction, and it’s Suguru, who’s not alone. Judging by the white hair, you assume it’s the friend who always has something urgent happening. You just barely offer them a smile as you walk up. 

“I wanted to introduce a long time friend of mine,” he gestures at the friend, who you can already tell enjoys being a problem to society, judging by the grin on his face that doesn’t match his relaxed posture. 

But he’s polite, charming even, holding his hand out to shake yours as he introduces himself as Satoru. The way his name falls from his lips would make anyone think it was his favorite word, and he says it as if he already knew how much of a pleasure it is to meet him. 

“There’s sort of an after party after this that’s meant more for us, if you wanted to join,” Suguru continues, way more humble than his friend, who suddenly stops and looks at him. Satoru points at you and goes, “You mean to tell me she’s–”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“Oh?” The boyish grin on Satoru’s face widens, clearly excited to make a new friend, but there’s nothing innocent about the look in his eyes— half-lidded, now hungry for something else. It makes you think he definitely goes on benders and binges on others. “And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to scare her off,” Suguru sighs, though you can tell he thinks it’s a little funny. 

“I think I’m just gonna call it a night, if that’s okay,” you murmur, finding it harder to hide how upset you are as time goes on. “It’s just been a really long day. I wasn't expecting to stay this long to tell you the truth.”

There’s a tinge of disappointment in Suguru’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to push you. Then there’s his friend, who looks like you just kicked him in the dick. “Yeah, that’s fine. Uh— here,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek, black card. “The second number’s my personal number. No pressure, of course, but like I said earlier, there are a lot of us. Plenty of friends to make where you can just be who you are.”

“Thank you.” You take it off his hands, not so much thinking about when or if you would reach out to him,  you just want to go home. 

But, even to your surprise, it’s the first thing you look at that next morning.

—

Sukuna feels slightly guilty when he wakes up that following morning— not because he yelled at you or held a dagger just inches away from your throat. He felt guilty about the other thing he had done, after he got home, and Uraume finally found your address at the worst possible time. 

In his defense, he was exhausted and hungry. But does that make going straight to your apartment, with no intent on apologizing or speaking to you, right, in any way? No. 

From the rooftop of the building across your apartment, he watched and waited until you fell asleep. He has no idea how you managed to stay alive all these years— having someone break into your apartment didn't stir you in your sleep once. Maybe it was just because of how hard you cried yourself to sleep that night— something he feels guilty about, but only because he didn’t feel pulled to hold you for once. 

He stood over your sleeping body with only one intent, yet as he prepared himself to take your life away, he remembered the day he changed it. It was something he had done hundreds of times before, but the first time he allowed it to be so intimate. It changed him in a way, too. 

Forehead pressed up against yours as he asked, “Are you sure?” for the very last time. Your legs were already wrapped around his waist, straddling him, neck fully presented to him. 

Once you murmured the words “yes”, he sank his teeth into you. It hurt, he knew it did from the choked gasps you couldn’t contain. Even as he held you down by your hips, rocking you against him and feeling the head of his cock rub against the sweet spot inside of you, you still cried and clawed at his shoulders. 

You continued to tremble when he pulled away, and he almost felt bad about the bite mark he had left despite enjoying the taste you left in his mouth. Asking you to bite him back would’ve been too much, so he nicked himself deep enough, leaving an opening just for you right in the crook of his neck. 

“Drink from it,” he murmured, snaking a hand around your neck and pulling you toward him, until your soft lips were pressed against the self-inflicted wound. You did as you were told and drank, pulling a low groan out of him. “Fuck, that’s it— take what you need.” 

For someone who usually slid a dagger across his palm and squeezed his blood into a chalice, he never knew just how good having someone’s mouth on him could feel. Much less how it felt while he continued to drag himself in and out of your messy cunt. 

It was fucking exhilarating. 

Damn you.

He couldn’t take it back. 

For the second time that night, he walked away. Except that time he stayed home and drank himself into this morning's headache, and now he sits here on his balcony, sipping on a little caprisun pouch filled with crimson gold, contemplating each and every one of the shitty choices he’s made in life thus far.

You being one of them, of course.

end notes: I am genuinely cackling at the thought of him sparing her life, only to change his mind after uraume found her address. he's all like "on second thought, nope! I'm gonna fuckin' kill her" 😭 then pouting the next morning with his little caprisun. anyways, not much for notes this chapter but if u had any questions, feel free to ask 😚

"I-" You started, your throat going dry as you sucked in another short inhale.

"It's okay," He smiled softly, leaning in closer. "I want to kiss you more."

You almost laughed.

It used to bother you how often he was right. That despite being annoying and awful and a million other frustrating things, he was never wrong.

Hate and love had always been closer than you thought.

And what you felt right now?

Well, you guessed it wasn't so bad to start falling for someone like him when he was already head over heels for you.

You'd been pretending not to notice. Or rather, lying to yourself that it wasn't real. That he was just being nice, or making up for his past bad behavior, just paying penance for being a dickhead.

But it was in the way he looked at you, in how he listened and remembered every little detail you mentioned and mumble. In the softness of his touch, the tenderness in his fingertips when they grazed over your skin.

"Are you going to do it?" You dared, and his quiet laugh was enough to make your stomach flutter instead of churn.

His second kiss was even sweeter.

And somehow, he'd ended up dragging you back to his couch. His hands under your shirt, touching your body with the same reverence that had gotten you into this in the first place.

Suguru didn't mind that you changed. That you were softer now, more curves, left with stretch marks and swollen breasts, new aches that were more than just physical.

You weren't the same person you'd been before you were pregnant.

But you learned to accept he loved both versions of you.

You still bit your lip when he went to pull your shirt over your head, trying to cover your stomach with your hand before he pinned it down, gave you that slightly lopsided smirk that made you melt.

"Let me see you, baby," He murmured.

"A-are you-" You paused, but he leaned down and left a kiss where his son had been just a few months ago.

"If you knew how long I've been dreaming about you, you wouldn't be asking," He chuckled, and you slowly nodded.

Searching his face for disappointment when he stripped you down and only finding worship instead.

He made sure to show you just how much he meant it with his mouth. Trailing down your body, leaving bites and bruises blossoming over your throat and chest, unable to resist the temptation to at least taste your breast milk before going back to what he'd meant to.

Lapping at your cunt and your clit, spreading your thighs and stretching you open before finally shoving his cock in with slow, steady strokes. Taking his time, constantly checking in even when he was buried to the hilt with your legs wrapped around his waist.

"If it's too much-" He murmured, loose bangs hanging in his face.

"Suguru," You whined his name, wiggling to get him to fuck you faster, but he just chewed on the inside of his cheek. Dark brows knitted together tightly, choking on his self-restraint.

"Don't say my name like that," He groaned, cock throbbing inside you.

"You know," You started, thighs tensing as you brushed his bangs back and carressed his cheek. "I've been waiting for you too."

You'd done all the steps wrong. Took a few turns you shouldn't have. But you still ended up here.

Still found your way to him.

And you both apparently learned your lesson now - given that he managed to pull out in time, cumming on your stomach instead of inside you, prominant veins bulging across the back of his hand as he stroked his cock and let it spill over your skin, a few stray droplets spilling on the couch you'd make him clean later.

He made you finish first seconds later, your brain foggy and fuzzy as you murmured something that almost sounded like a proposal when his other thumb started rubbing smooth circles on your clit, careful patterns to make you cum just as hard as he did.

It took him a few seconds to process what you said, and even longer for you to realize what it was, seeing the surprise register in his warm eyes, his lips still all glossy when they parted.

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"

You tried to take it back.

But you still ended up with an engagement ring on your finger a few months later, a save-the-date stuck to your fridge on magnets set for the next spring.

Enough time for your son to be able to toddle down the aisle with a couple rings.

For now though, he was still confined to a stroller while you went shopping.

You settled into domesticity.

Into this new life where you found contentment in coming home from work to a pretty man and his pretty baby, both of them waiting with grabby hands and big smiles.

You'd almost forgotten how you'd gotten here.

Until a blond stranger bumped into you on the street.

"Hello," Nanami awkwardly greeted, nodding towards you. He looked exhausted. Lips pulled into a thin frown, his shoulders tight, tense. His hazel stare lingering on your face too long before shifting down to the stroller you were pushing - and the dark-haired baby babbling inside of it.

You didn't bother with a goodbye.

Just ignored him, pretending you hadn't even heard him. Planning on continuing to the store you were supposed to meet Suguru at. But Nanami persisted.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apology," You muttered, pushing your stroller past him.

You didn't need excuses. Some sob story about a cousin or a sister or a friend. Didn't want to hear about how he was wronged however long ago.

"I know. It's just, I regret-"

"What? Pretending to care about me? Or just that I found out?" You snapped, feeling his arm graze against yours. You wanted to recoil. To take a shower and burn the shirt you were wearing.

"I do care," He said it like there was any piece of you that would ever believe him. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You really never considered that hurting him would hurt me too?" You bluntly asked.

Nanami never considered you at all.

"Everything was always about him."

You stopped on the sidewalk, head swiveling back to level him in a hard stare.

"I really liked you," You muttered, not exactly bitter anymore. Just tinged with that same sadness that stuck around in your chest every time you thought about him. "I would've chosen you, y'know? Before all the bullshit."

He looked like he had never fully thought of that.

Like he was just seeing the situation for what it was.

That in some other life, if he hadn't been the one making it about Suguru, about his need to climb some social ladder, about his perception of right and wrong, that he could've had someone who put him first.

It was his loss.

You never needed him to begin with.

Leaving Nanami wasn't hard. You had to leave your old self behind already. But change wasn't all bad.

Hadn't you gotten a fiancé out of it after all?

Suguru was waiting for you outside of the double doors of the store, a lazy smile on his lips and a pretty glint in his eyes as he jogged over to meet you, taking the stroller and slinging an arm around your waist.

"I missed you."

“Fuck yes, god…” He’s leaned up, kissing you with your juices swapping between your mouths, desperately waiting to fill you up. “Fingers feel better than your stupid fucking knight?”

“His were quite long,” Satoru yanks his out, you whimper at the loss, he shoves them in your mouth, scowling. “Mnh!”

“Not as long as mine, admit it,” he damn near chokes you, fingers so deep you’re choking on them, gasping out as your cunt pulses around nothing. “Say it.”

“How can I speak with fingers shoved in my mouth!?” He’s gripping your chin and squishing your cheeks, grinning at you.

“You’re so cute like this, like a little puffer fish.”

“A puffer fish! Get your mouth back to work,” he kisses you, and you lose it, letting him press you down on that carriage seat, hands slipping up your hips, leaving bruising marks. “Yes, they’re longer.”

“Hah - he never made you cum like I do, say it,” he’s possessive while you desperately yank up his robes, parting them so his thick cock is released. “Say it.”

“Never came so much for your little bratty sluts, did you?” You stroke him, earning his whimper, smiling all mean.

“You’re the sluttiest brat of them all,” Emperor Gojo slides his tip through your soppy folds, you’re quivering. “You know that, huh?”

“You’re a brat,” he groans, kissing you deeply, your hips arch to take more of him in your quivering hole, gripping him so good he almost busts. “Thought I’d get to cum on your mouth?”

“I want to feel it on my cock, sorry empress,” he presses in then, you’re already so tight from a month without him he can hardly handle it, groaning. “Loosen up, insolent girl.”

“Too thick, what did you get bigger!?” Satoru grins, all cocky now, you almost laugh underneath him, earning a sharp thrust. “Ah!”

“You think you can laugh while I’m fucking into you?” Your laughter is quickly cut off when he begins to move. You’re clinging to him tightly, nails sinking in his skin. 

“G-god…”

“Wanna put so many heirs inside you,” he huffs, lips brushing up your ear hungry and messy, tongue lapping across your neck. “How many babies do you want?”

“At least three,” you whisper back, he groans at your answer, pumping in and out of your now messy cunt. “Four?”

“At least four, think you’ll get off easy and have only three? I want five heirs,” you’re losing it now, all your senses, just clinging to him as he ruts his thick cock inside you, already pulsing and leaking pre. “Perhaps six.”

“You’re insane… ah!”

“Won’t need any concubines then,” you flush at that, hearing his insinuation. “You hate them, don’t you?”

“Very m-much,” Satoru rolls his hips and groans out, right along with your sweet little cry, burying his cock so deep you can’t take it, thighs shaking, juices flowing so that it’s slipping down your inner thighs. “I hate them, mnh!”

“I know you do, jealous little brat,” Satoru sinks impossibly deep, filling you to the brim, moving inside your tummy. “Missed your pretty face all fucked out.” Satoru starts pounding his cock, heavy slaps melding with your muffled cries.

The swishing of your robes against each other, the heaviness of his cock pummeling your hole, his ragged breaths while he plants messy kisses everywhere he can reach. You're gripping him as your orgasm starts to build, cunt just spasming around him. Satoru leans up and looks down at you, both of your eyes locked for a moment, he rolls his hips and studies your face.

It's quiet.

His hand slips to cup your cheek, maybe a month ago you’d get uncomfortable with that look down at you with those brilliant blue eyes. No smirk on his features, no just looking, admiring the face beneath him, with that hair strewn, pins falling out of it. Satoru gently pulls back, that hand slipping up your jaw, thumb brushing little circles, your eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

“Look at me,” he murmurs softly, you do exactly as he asks, your hands clinging to his robes, fingers crumpling the expensive material. “All I want you to think about right now is how good I feel inside you…”

“Ah!” He jerks deep, keeping your attention on him, your thighs gripping his hips while your cunt milks him for that seed she wants so desperately.

“All I want your mind on is me,” he studies your every facial movement, lost inside you, cock slick and dripping. “Just how full I have you. Don’t I?”

You nod eagerly, you know he’s making you feel better when he doesn’t even have to, he could be furious Suguru kissed you, he could be hurt that you’re upset at Suguru’s lack of feelings, but instead he just slowly fucks you. In and out, hands gripping your thighs tightly, whispering your name.

“Is it just on me?” He asks, you swallow nervously, the intimacy of the moment slightly altered when the carriage shakes, only shoving Satoru’s cock inside you again. “Is it?”

“It’s just on you, it has been this entire t-time,” you kiss him so sweet he melts, words and thoughts on the tip of his tongue he’s terrified to share with you. “Satoru I missed all of you, even your really shitty chess playing -ah!”

“Brat,” you giggle again, but this time he doesn’t get mad, it’s fucking cute and sweet. The way you are with him, no one has been, to laugh and enjoy each other, to kiss and meld into one.

He’s lost once more, just looking at your cheeky little grin, your backhanded compliments, the way you taunt him - no one has and no one would. Yet here you are, you don’t see him for his power or what he can do, you just want him, you enjoy him, you miss him for who he is.

He’s more in love than before he left.

He certainly can’t tell you this, not yet at least, he’s so afraid to be hurt or worse hurt you with his responsibilities, with the women he still must see at times, but he knows one thing at that moment.

“It’s only you in my mind.”

Your smile falters, tears filling your eyes. “Kiss me again.”

He does just that, kissing buried inside you, cock pulsing until he’s so close, bringing your hips up to meet his harsher thrusts. “Gonna put so much inside you, can your cunt even take it?”

“Want it,” Satoru busts then, milky seed pumping and coating your slick walls, you’re cumming so hard you damn near push him out, he has to fight your muscles to stay in. “Toru!”

“Stop pushing me out, bratty empress,” he huffs, chuckling as your blush heats your cheeks. “Let me put it all inside you.”

“I can’t help that, arrogant jerk… mnh you came too much…”

“Says you, making a mess of this brand new yukata? Tsk,” he pulls back, fingers slipping across where you’ve dripped down your fabric. “So disrespectful to your emperor.”

“You caused this - mnh!”

“No, you did,” he shoves that milky cum, letting your cunt suck it right up, smirking down at you. “I need my seed to stay, stop pushing it all out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you lean up and kiss him again, thighs quivering on either side of him.

“I see you missed kissing me,” he whispers, you look down just a little shy for a moment, nodding. “Am I a much better kisser than Sir cunt?”

“Sir cunt!”

“Dirty mouthed girl…” You’re snorting, shaking your head then. “I am not!?”

“Am I better at kissing, please be so truthful!”

“Yes,” you melt for him, right in his arms, the carriage slows then, and the reality all starts setting in. “Of course you are.”

“That month made you sweet…” He helps you up then, you embarrassingly still feel his cum dripping out of you, when he sits you sideways on his lap, just holding you against him. You stroke his hair, exhaling, his head against your chest. “I feel very at home right now.”

It’s quiet again.

“That sounds so stupid, I couldn’t be further away from it, but…” He just looks up at you, his eyes unreadable. “I say too much, especially after your wicked mouth strikes upon me.”

“You do not say too much,” he feels it too, that comfort he cannot describe – perhaps best to akin it to when he’s with his mother or close family, but in a very different manner. The familiarity so quickly with you and so intense. “I feel it too.”

“This odd…comforting feeling?”

“Yes.”

“Is it normal? I’m not experienced like you,” he brushes your hair back, shaking his head. “It’s not?"

“What about you is normal?” You’re shaking your head, emotions overwhelming while he swallows nervously. “You’re an insane girl, you know that?”

“Your other women are just boring, except Lola I suppose.”

“Fuck Lola, and not literally.”

“I like to hear this.”

“Because you’re a jealous, petty little thing,” he tugs you closer now, frowning once more.

“Satoru, what is it?”

“I’ll have to spend time with them tomorrow.”

Your heart fucking sinks. 

“Oh.”

The carriage stops and you rush out of it, he rushes right after you, headed towards the golden double doors ahead, shoving through them as he shouts your name. “Will you just listen to me?”

“I can’t take hearing about it!” You whirl back, right in front of the tall staircase, the setting sun casting pink and gold shadows across you both. “I know you have to be with them, I know it’s not a choice – but don’t speak of it.”

Satoru sighs, tugging you close.  “I meant I will have to make a few fucking appearances, I did not say I’d-”

“You have to be with them.” The insinuation and insecurities are glaring, you wish you could hide them better,

“No,” he cups your face now, leaning down. “I will not lie with them.”

You step back in shock, gasping. “You cannot promise that forever, Satoru. Eventually you will have to give all of us babies, not just me.”

“I don’t want to be inside anyone but you,” he tugs you against him, people are walking around, whispering, but it’s all just you to him, the hurt on your face. “Your cunt was literally life ruining.”

“Oh god,” you almost laugh then, shaking your head with the confusing emotions swirling, and resting it on his chest, the place that feels more comfortable than the boy you knew your entire life somehow. “I said I wouldn’t complain and I ran out and got angry.”

“I like you angry and jealous, it makes me hard,” you feel it against your tummy, making you blush and heat up. “I don’t like you sad from this, though.”

You cling to his robes, breathing him in. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he tilts your chin up now. “I will avoid doing much, but I’m sure I’ll have to fucking do something. I at least have to see them tomorrow, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s…”

“Tradition.”

“Yes, I do not wish for you to think anyone’s getting what I just gave you… that’s all yours.”

You cup his face, nodding. “I hate them so much, I’m sorry.”

“You’re a hateful little girl, it’s just sexy,” you’re laughing, brightening his heart. “I love that evil grin, too.”

“I bet you do, ah!” Satoru lifts you in his arms, your arms wrapping his neck as he cradles you.

“I’ll carry your princess ass around the pavilion.”

“They’ll hate that!”

“Mmhmm,” he’s grinning all cheeky now, so boyishly handsome you remember suddenly just how young Satoru is, for all that responsibility he truly has. “I will speak with Kiyotaka about that dumb knight, as well as see if he has advice for keeping the concubines happy. Perhaps I’ll make him pleasure them.”

“You’re cruel to sweet Ijichi,” he snorts now.

“How would it be cruel?”

“You’d make him eat your concubines out?”

“Sure would if I don’t have to,” you just rest your head against his neck. “I feel that smile.”

“Shh, I understand if you must satisfy them in some way, even if it’s just you kissing them or speaking to them. It’s just been lovely to have you all to myself.”

“Greedy,” you bite his neck, making him hiss and tighten his hold. “I like you greedy, it’s quite alright. Should I show you how much I do?”

“Yes.”

Satoru is sure he can figure something out.

*****

He’s miserable.

Listening to the third concubine the next day, prattle on and on while he just wants to see you, be with you. He meets you walking through the gardens, the moment he walks by and snatching you up for a quick kiss, hugging you tightly before he must see the next. You’re upset, he knows it, but you also understand his choices are minimal.

He truly just has these pointless meals and talks with them, puts on a play of missing them and being kind. What did happen so quickly, no he had no feelings for the women per se, but he did at least enjoy them before. Didn’t he? Enjoyed, was that really the word, or was it mindless distraction, was it just par for the course, all the women all over him.

Did he know any of them, and did any of them know him?

Lola was as close to knowing some about him as the others, smart and witty, but the moment she’d smacked you his feelings shifted, barely knowing you. Something about the way you looked in that moment, helpless and lonely, the way your eyes met after he gripped her wrist changed everything.

Exiling Lola he felt no guilt, in fact he wished to do worse, but a quiet and secret exile to such a high up family made him look merciful. All of these court tactics were just that, ‘merciful’ acts, this and that. Looking this way to this country, appearing so powerful to that nation, was taxing and exhausting, so of course he lost himself in the women, the wine, the leisure aspects.

He was young when he took over this role.

Now he regrets not seeing you for that tea, his heart would have been gripped just like it was the night he saw you descending into those baths. When he thought it was over for his future wife, seeing the thin material just clinging wet and slick against your body.

Everything changed after that first night with you.

He does not want to be with anyone, yet he has his duties and he actively tries to avoid things if he can – but of course the concubines run up and kiss him, hug on him, and he can’t literally shove them off (well, he has but that looked particularly terrible and got him in all sorts of trouble).

He doesn’t find it attractive anymore, them straddling him so shamelessly and jumping in his arms, desperate to be with him once more, which was just the norm a couple months ago. Their eagerness to sink to their knees didn’t excite him, he had to tug them all up and clear his throat, shaking his head and making excuses.

Yet that’s when the rumors started even worse.

That Satoru Gojo wanted nothing to do with any of his concubines, and that he didn’t even touch them, horny and unsatisfied they ran around and told everyone, to the point you’d overhear. The week of him being constantly in your arms and in your chambers is full of scandal and gossip fodder – of course it’s normal for an Emperor to love on his wife at first, but to ignore the others completely?

It sets off angry reactions of the higher ups Satoru has already despised most of his life, and talks of bringing another who is so young it’s sickening are spoken about during a meeting. Satoru slams his hands down, glaring at the room.

“We’re not bringing any more.”

“With Lola gone-”

“No more. There’s already too fucking many,” Satoru’s uncle sighs, shaking his head as he looks over at him. “Especially at that age, are you serious?”

“These are elite women, Satoru, of course your wife is as well, we understand at first enjoying a honeymoon phase, but talks are you’re not interested in anyone.”

“And?”

“Satoru,” his other advisor admonishes, he’s one of the Concubine’s fathers. “My daughter thinks you just absolutely despise her, it’s what she cried to me about today.”

“God I don’t despise them,” he runs a hand over his face. “I just don’t want to spend time away, I’m trying to put an heir in my wife.”

“Well, if you had one we’d back off, but as of yet-”

“It’s not even been two months!”

“We’ll give it another month, but then your duties will resume with the concubines, we’re also aware you didn’t even try to make them pregnant before your new wife.”

Shit.

Satoru gets admonished - him, the fucking emperor - by the dumb old elders that he can’t stand, slamming the door of his room to find you lounging on his bed reading. You jump up then, frowning and running over to him, taking his hand. “Satoru, what’s wrong?”

“I hate this shit, these dumb old fuckers who think they know ‘the way of the world’ or some stupid shit,” he grumbles. “The concubines are gossiping.”

“God, when aren’t they…” You sigh now, hugging him tightly. “I’m causing you this trouble, with my jealousy.”

“You are not, I truly can’t imagine laying with them,” he kisses across your neck, tugging you close. “It’s just all you to me.”

“I feel the same,” you whisper, letting him cup your face. “If you have to please them to shut them up…”

“Yuck!”

“Satoru!”

“You want me to eat them out!?”

“No, yuck!”

“Ahem,” you hear Kiyotaka outside of the room. “May I enter?”

“Of course,” Satoru practically drags Kiyotaka in now, shutting the door. “Was anyone around?”

“No one heard your… odd conversation, never fear.” He smiles and takes your hand, kissing it. “My lady.”

“Ijichi, maybe you can help,” you mumble, as he frowns at you, eyes narrowing some. “What can we do about the um… The slutty brats?”

“The gossipy whores.”

“Ahem, the concubines you mean?” Kiyotaka asks, red on his cheeks, you both nod then. “The rumors.”

“Yes, she thinks I should please them so they shut up, can you tell her that’s fucking nonsense.”

“Well, it may ease them for a time,” Satoru almost throws up. “Yet eventually they’ll complain again, it may buy some time until you end up with child. Which I expect soon at your rate.”

“We’ll know in just a week if I don’t get my monthlies,” you run a hand across your stomach and sigh. “See, he’s right.”

“I am not shoving my fingers in them, you want to?”

“Me!? They hate me!”

“Well maybe if you made them cum, they’d like you.”

“You are not pushing your slutty brats on me,” you cross your arms then, shaking your head, when Miwa knocks next. You drag her in, and she looks at all of you.

“Oh no, what have I walked into?”

“You’re privy to gossip, what are the concubines saying?”

She flushes, holding her hands together and looking at Gojo. “That you have grown to dislike them, many think due to Lola.”

“Shit…” Satoru sighs. “What else?”

“Personal things up… that you do nothing with them at all, aside from kissing, and you even shoved one on the floor for trying to… please you?”

You grin.

“You sadistic brat, you’re happy for my downfall?” He demands, cupping your face then, you just giggle maniacally. “Evil witch, that’s what you are.”

“Did I cast a spell on your cock?”

“Yeah, you did,” he drags you against him, kissing you deeply and almost forgetting you’re not alone, when they clear their throats. “And you distract me from my duties. Miwa, Kiyotaka, couldn’t you two service these girls?”

“You’re shoving it on Miwa too!?”

“Oh dear, I’m going to faint!” Kiyotaka holds Miwa carefully.

“You will have to put them to work then disinfect!” Your words irritate him to no end.

“And what if they still complain?”

“It’ll buy time!”

Knock knock knock.

“Everyone’s coming today,” Satoru opens the door and it’s his mother, looking at the four of you curiously. “Mama!”

“Dowager empress Gojo.”

“Mama,” you say too, she smiles and smacks a kiss on your cheek, shutting the door to a now crowded chamber. “Could you hear us?”

“Only because I’m rather nosy, don’t worry I shooed off some of the girls, there’s a new servant here that I’m curious on,” she looks over at Satoru then. “Can I say I’m proud?”

“Proud, not mad?”

“No, proud,” she cups his face, so short compared to him but every bit as imposing, the three of you step back and watch the two of them then. “You’re growing to be quite a man.”

She kisses his cheek and he smiles, eyes shutting. “It’s not me, your daughter in law is a jealous witch.”

“Or are you lovesick?” He glares at her, Miwa and Kiyotaka giggle, but you feel so nervous then.

Love.

It’s something you thought you felt, but everything with Satoru was different – it was a friendship, it was comfort, it was fun. It was intense and at times hard to breathe with him around, hard not to tug him down for a kiss. Not to yank him to you and keep him pinned to the bed you share, not to just beat his ass at every game the two of you play and rub it in his face.

Suguru was like some ethereal fairytale, Satoru was something real, imperfect and tangible. With a huge obstacle.

He looks at you, cheeks pink, over his mother’s shoulder, unspoken words sitting in the air between you both.

“Them gossiping isn’t the end of the world, we have some time before this reaches too far, so for now just try to spend some time and buy them some stupid expensive gifts, surely we can work on what to do permanently. But it may take some time for that.”

“So no fingering?”

“No what!?” Mama Gojo slaps him.

“Ow!”

“Mama I’m sorry that was my idea…”

She sighs as Satoru rubs his cheek. “Go smack her!”

“No.”

“You like her better than me,” you snort in laughter. “You bewitched my own mother too!”

“I’m so powerful, should hex you and take your pretty thick eyelashes for myself next.”

“The cruelty!”

“You two focus on making a baby, I’ll see if I can mitigate rumors until then, before you resort to that, also I need to talk to your wife, some tips on being very fertile, hmm?”

“Oh dear god I don’t want to hear that conversation anyway, but yes I need to talk to Kiyotaka about something he’s looking into.”

“The…” You trail off as Satoru comes over to kiss you deeply. “Knight?”

“Mmm, your dumb fucking night,” he tilts your chin up then. “So you know, I’d never tell you to jerk a cock even if the nation burned.”

“Selfish man,” his words make your tummy clench, make you weak. “You’d let war happen if it meant I’d have to touch someone?”

“Sure the fuck would,” he whispers in your ear, lips brushing it as he holds you close. “I want you in the baths when the sun sets and I’m done doing my stupid rounds of amusing them.”

“With just you?” Your heart hammers in your chest. “I never have…”

“With just me.”

“And if anyone comes in!? And sees you with only me?”

“They’ll get a show of their emperor putting a baby inside their empress then,” he whispers, before smiling and walking away. “Don’t corrupt my wife, mama.”

“Out.”

Miwa, Kiyotaka and Satoru all leave you with Gojo’s mom then, and she crosses her arms, tilting her head. “So…”

“Oh god.”

“What position do you-”

“Mama Gojo!”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m quite serious, we need to make sure this heir happens quickly.”

“Oh god. Many?”

“He is like his father.”

Maybe you and Mama Gojo are too close.

*****

“He was at an Oiran house? Doesn’t he have vows or some sacred shit the Brits have?” Satoru sits at his desk as Kiyotaka tells him of his week.

“Indeed, it was pretty confusing to say the least – not to say men who take oaths keep them.”

“Well he certainly wasn’t going to be pure with her…” Satoru’s disgusted at the mere thought.

The worst?

He kissed someone just yesterday, and he’ll have to again today – they mean nothing, yet it’s his ‘role’ and you play yours as best as you can. Going so far as to ask him to fucking pleasure them, accepting that part of his life when he still wants to murder this whorish knight with his bare hands, and not for kissing you.

No.

For accusing you of not caring, of being some liar, some woman who toys with others, when you were the farthest thing from it there could be. It was as if he dishonored your personality and soul, that’s what really made him fucking angry, he truly just knew that wasn’t how you felt, he saw the pain and anguish when he ripped that necklace off, and when you handed it back.

“Aside from that, any other information?” He asks curiously, finishing signing off on papers that needed his attention. Kiyotaka is a little quiet, then pulls out the exact necklace you wore, and Satoru's brows are drawn together.

“Did I drop it somewhere? I thought I locked it up.”

“No, he gave it to one of the Orians’ there, I ended up asking for it from her,” Kiyotaka is blushing now. “I pleasured her so well she just said yes and did not charge me?”

“You sly man! Kiyo!” Satoru’s chuckling as Kiyotaka straightens up, clearing his throat.

“It was for the empress, I’ll do anything for her. And you of course.”

“Who knew you were that good, what did you do to her, hmm?”

Kiyotaka folds his arms, shaking his head. “I refuse to share those details, then you’ll absolutely make me please those mean little… ahem. The concubines.”

“See, you don’t like them either,” Satoru’s still chuckling. “I’m glad I married the empress, I see I’d have competition.”

“Perhaps.”

Satoru scowls.

“Never, your excellence!?”

“You always suck up when I call you out,” Satoru stands up now, Kiyotaka hands him the necklace, he studies the letters.

S.G.

“Does he just give these around? What’s he playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure, but he was also at a meeting that is anti … well, anti you propaganda, wanting to be a free nation.”

“Yes, well if I didn’t have to run shit I’d go right ahead and let them have at this nonsense, but as it stands that will not be acceptable to get too far. So… Here we have a counterfeit necklace he gives to multiple lovers, he’s at an Oiran house which I would assume is above his paygrade. Anything else?”

“He mentioned the empress,” Satoru tenses now. “Rather drunkenly, that he… took her…”

“I think I will kill him.”

“It was presumed as nonsense, no one believed him, that was at a tavern. Then he just sort of cried so I really am unsure where he is mentally, perhaps he is devastated by the empress denying him?”

“Yes, perhaps, but why another one of these? I suppose he needs some more looking into, because I doubt he’ll leave without attempting contact.”

Someone knocks at the door, Satoru slips the other necklace into his drawer, something to ponder later, would he tell you what was so fucking meaningful to you meant nothing? Could he hurt you like that, when you were already hurt by him having to be with these other women, when you already felt down about the knight’s cruel words?

Perhaps he’d keep it to himself for now, until he learns more.

“Enter.”

“Your excellence, it is time for you to go to your lunch meeting with Concubine Jia,” one of his attendants comes in to say. Kiyotaka gives him a sympathetic look, but all he can do for now is get up and do as he ‘should’.

He knew he hated tradition, but he never knew this would be the reason why he does. You’re truly inconvenient, your taste already craved upon his lips, fingers itching to touch you once more, but he supposes he’ll have to wait until the baths tonight to show you how much he misses you.

*****

You’re aware of Satoru’s time with Concubine Jia, he already let you know after you left your very intimate talk with Mama Gojo, he was ambiguous about his talk with Kiyotaka about Sir Geto, but you all did not have long. You have other duties to do, you’re hosting a couple that has come from your country, and of course none other accompanies them than Sir Geto.

It’s from a distance at first, standing toward the back with the guard in his gleaming silver chainmaill, but you’ll be damned if he was not right there. You tense as you show them along, as they are from your country and they recognize you as the princess. You hold yourself together, though internally you’re panicking.

The last thing you need with all your upset of Satoru’s concubines is Suguru Geto observing said husband alongside one, then just looking at you. You ignore him utterly any time he gets close, focusing on showing off the most meaningless shit you can think of, pointing everywhere and making up nonsense, it’s not as if you really know every place yet.

As they go to have dinner and get settled, Suguru Geto pauses and grips your wrist, you glare down at it, then back at him. “Please.”

“No, I do not wish to speak to you,” you shake your hand out of his grip. “If Satoru sees you? You’re good as hung, drawn and quartered.”

“Would be worth it to kiss you again,” he murmurs in your ear, earning your glare right at him. “Do you truly hate me now?”

“No, I couldn’t hate you,” you look around nervously, Miwa is the only one near, looking away as if to give you privacy you don’t even want. “I don’t hate you, but the way you treated me?”

His violet eyes glimmer, and you see him – the Suguru you remember, but he’s hardened, he’s just a little sadder.

Did you do this?

“I saw him kissing another woman, is it so terrible that I kissed you?” He cups your cheek now.

“It is, because he has duties, and my duty is to him.”

“That’s not the princess I knew,” he steps closer, leaning low, his silken raven locks brushing against your skin. “You think I didn’t fall in love too?”

“I know you did not, for you would not accuse me of having false feelings!” You practically hiss the words, he frowns, his brows drawing together. “Listen, I am sorry that my feelings progressed so quickly with Satoru, but it’s not as if I intended for it to happen.”

“You feel so much for someone who chooses others?”

“Suguru, don’t start,” he’s too close, then. You step back and take a gasp for a breath. “You had your chance to run away with me, multiple times.”

“Now I regret it,” you scoff, the old feelings of course stir when he says it. “Princess…”

“I’m an Empress now,” you tilt your chin up in the air, the way he looks at you then softens, angling his body to come closer to you.

“Look how you’ve grown already, hmm,” he caresses your cheek before his hand drops. “I’m sure your parents would be proud.”

The way he says that makes you tense.

He steps away, walking as two of the three concubines left come over to you, in their golden decorated robes of silk, whispering behind their fans.

“Isn’t he handsome?”

“He is indeed - a knight!”

Those are the whispers you hear, from the attending ladies walking behind the concubines about Suguru. Of course they’d say that, it’s true, once you thought he hung the moon in the sky, once you wrote a letter for him to save you. Now he’s here and you push him away, feeling overwhelmed.

It’s all too much.

“Ah, the Empress,” Concubine Lian says, you plaster on the fakest of all smiles possible. “How are you?”

“I’m splendid,” aside from your ex coming back and the man you’re falling in love with kissing another. “And you, ladies?”

“Hopeful,” they say at the same time, giggling behind their hands. Your eyes narrow as you look at them. “Aren’t we, concubine Nia?”

“Indeed. He’ll come back to us,” she says, practically sneering the words. “He always does this when he gets a new one, he gets wrapped up, then he brings us all back together.”

“Enjoy him for now,” Concubine Lian says, she’s blond and lovely and delicate, her breasts on full display in her high cut robe. “He’ll be back to us soon enough.”

“Why do you all deem yourselves fit to converse with me?” You raise a brow, they gasp out at your audacity, when Miwa comes they flit off, and she hands you a note very carefully.

“Miwa, what is it?” You feel the eyes of one of the servant girls on you then, it makes you tremble as she passes.

“You should read this.” You sigh, opening it up and freezing as you see the handwriting.

Sir Geto.

Princess,

I was hurt that day last week that I saw you, I am so terribly sorry that I could not be more understanding. This was not your choice, yet it felt as if you already have moved past our love.

You feel sick to your stomach.

You feel horrible and guilty.

I still should have acted with more grace as befits the former knight of the most beautiful princess in the nation, yet I acted rash and hurt you, I saw it after I kissed lips I dreamt of. If you could please forgive me, and just meet me to talk, there is much I must tell you of back home with your parents, and much I have to ask forgiveness for.

Please at least meet me even if you slap me as I deserve.

Yours,

Suguru.

You eye Miwa and shake your head.

“I can’t do that, even if I feel I owe him closure. Satoru would…”

“Kill him?”

“Yes, if he does not simply for being on the grounds…” you sigh now, folding the note up, and turning to the side to see Satoru walking across the way in the distance, with one of the girls in his arms.

You feel even sicker.

Was this to be your life, having to share the man you have come to feel so much for, a possessive and as he says greedy feeling, jealousy that rages at the mere sight of the girls on him. It’s not something you want or expected, you anticipated this as your role, in fact at first you thought your life would just be terrible.

You didn’t realize that it would be lovely in his arms, underneath him as he fills you, cuddled firm with your back against his chest, a strong arm around you. You didn’t expect Suguru to fade so much that this month Satoru was gone. You barely acknowledged your old flame, you barely read his notes any longer.

Of course he was hurt, and perhaps you did owe him a chance to explain himself, yet one part of you just wants to rip these women off your emperor, and drag him to the baths yourself. Now, you’re standing next to Miwa, who is a silent observer, watching another woman’s hand trail down Satoru’s chest, as many ooh and ahh and pass by.

Perhaps the emperor is back to normal!

I hear he still does not share their beds.

Well, they are still newlyweds, that’s typical?

Oh look, he’s kissing her!

The empress looks so angry, has she no class?

Your nails press into your palms, almost bleeding with how deeply they sink into your flesh, sharp pain penetrating and almost making you woozy. How the fuck can you stand looking at this, but you can’t look away either, you’re stuck just watching how he was before – but then you didn’t care yet, and then he wanted this.

Knowing the impossible situation didn’t make it any easier.

“Maybe you should get closure, what if I go with you?” Miwa offers softly. “I can be an escort and make sure he does nothing to hurt you.

“I don’t think he’d ever hurt me… yet perhaps I do owe him that kindness, Miwa he was so kind my whole life, I do not know how he became cruel suddenly.”

“It sounds as if he regrets it,” you nod and look back down at the letter. Miwa has been confided in with how you’ve felt in your life for Suguru and some of the nature of your relationship. “It’s your choice, empress.”

Your choice.

Do you or Satoru have choices?

You have to see the love of your life arm and arm with someone, you have to see her kissing him even as he’s leaned back, clearly not enjoying it. You don’t resent him for something out of his control, but how can it not hurt, how can the pain not just stab you brutally like a blade twisting? Seeing Satoru’s hand cup her cheek as he pecks little perfunctory kisses.

You know he wants you, yet you also fear how long that lasts.

Were you the shiny new toy, just as that concubine had said to you earlier? 

You can’t let them get to you, you know what it is when Satoru looks down at you, even if he’s not spoken a word of love, it’s early. Of course he hasn’t said that, yet you feel loved underneath him, the way he brushed your hair back and just studied you. The big grin in the morning he had when you finally woke up, that can’t be some ‘shiny new toy’ can it?

Why is it getting to you?

When Satoru and her step inside, you know you can trust him that he will not lay with her, it’s more than any emperor should give any wife, including his own father with Empress Gojo. Satoru already gave and tried so much, but the reality was something would likely occur behind those walls, and you feel sick at the thoughts.

You can’t think of it.

“I’ll think upon this, I do not wish to make such rash decisions when I’m so…”

“Upset?”

“Yes,” Miwa runs her hand soothingly up and down your back, “I want to be strong, like Mama Gojo is.”

“You will be and the Emperor adores you, everyone can just see it.” You take a little bit of a breath and nod, Satoru soon leaves the pavilion and maybe spends a few minutes at best, catching your gaze, his own face falling.

“Miwa, he said to meet him in the baths at sunset, will you help me prepare so that I may wait for him there?”

Miwa smiles knowingly. “Of course, empress.”

*****

Satoru sees you when you step into the baths, just a moment after you have had Miwa slip you in the sheerest slip of fabric known to man. He groans and quickly steps down in nothing but his fundoshi and his robe, Kiyotaka flushes just seeing you, even as you wave he runs off quickly, leaving Satoru and you alone in the enormous bathhouse, all to yourselves.

You pause on the steps, as he drops his silky robe, now completely naked aside from that strip of fabric. He’s chiseled within an inch of his life, your husband, glistening lines where his muscles meet, so perfect it makes you ache, just how he moves, how they flex when he steps in the opposite side.

You both step two more down, descending into the waters, his up to his lower waist, yours to your breasts, the material clinging so that he could see every pretty, perfect inch of you. He exhales and steps closer, his body moving through the water right with you, until you’re against each other almost, his hands gripping your face, dripping with water.

“Fuck I missed you,” he whispers, leaning low. “I wish that day in the baths you fucking slapped me.”

“You deserved it,” you whisper, blinking back tears now. “You were so pretentious that day.”

“You were – are – a fucking goddess,” he kisses your lips then, exhaling against them. “I’m so sorry if you had to see me kiss them today.”

“Yes, well…” you swallow, eyes filling with tears, breaking Satoru’s heart. “I have my own mess to tell you.”

“A mess?” Satoru pauses then, stepping around you until he’s behind you, tugging you against him now and sitting on one of the steps, the steam rising up as the hot water gently runs across both of your bodies. “Tell me, empress.”

“Geto is here,” he tugs you so hard you can’t breathe. “Nothing happened, not even a kiss.”

“Fuck,” he is furious at the thought of that man near you, he clearly didn’t even fucking love you. Yet he must remain calm, this is new and tentative, and he knows right now the last thing he can be is a hypocrite. “Go on.”

“So mature of you,” you tease, looking back at him, he cups your face, thumb brushing over your lips. “Truly I thought you’d lose it.”

“No, I can keep composed,” he nuzzles your nose just a bit, sighing. “What did he try to say to you?”

“That he wants to talk, that he feels terrible.”

“He should feel terrible, he was mean to my empress.”

“Yours?”

“Mine,” his hand slips to grip your tit now, groaning as he feels the weight in his hand, that perfect weight he adores, the only one he wants in his hands. “Do you need to talk to him?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Fuck no,” he’s already hard when he lifts you, body slightly out of the water, nipples pressed up and eager, cunt fluttering around nothing as he shoves the thin slip up your hips, material slipping against your skin. “All I want is for you to be so full of me you can’t think, all I want is for them not to exist.”

“Satoru! Ah!” You cry out, his teeth sinking into your neck, you’re getting soaked as his fingers swirl your clit, inhaling the steam that fills your lungs, mixing with the scent lingering off his skin.

“You want it too, hmm? Us to disappear,” you nod then, swallowing, your hips rolling for more of his touches. “Where would we go, my pretty empress?”

“Hmm – the m-mountains… f-fuck…” He sinks two fingers deep, pressing up and filling you to the brim, you’re clenching them and shaking, his lips capturing yours hungry and messy and needy.

“The mountains,” he’s got two fingers inside you, one gripping your tit, mouth moving over yours while your little fingers cling to his arms, as they flex and move, rocking further against his hard length. “Your prissy ass up in the mountains?”

“Rude! M’not… prissy…. You’re - fuck, in me, please.”

“You’re so sweet when you need my cock,” he whispers, lifting you and holding your thighs up, cockhead pressing against your entrance, a hand now around your throat. “Want me to fill you right here?”

“Please,” you’re begging him now when he drags you down in a filthy stroke, bottoming out at once. “Ah! So deep!”

“I know, you can take it sweetheart, can’t you?” You nod weakly – you want this, you want him inside you so full, filling you everywhere. “Feel me?”

He takes your hand and places it on your stomach, you feel the bulge and are furiously blushing even with the heat. “Y-yes.”

“I want this full,” his words fucking end you, lost already with the heat and the movement of his body. He allows you to adjust, a little merciful taking account of the water making you an even tighter fit, not moving yet. “Do you want it?”

“I want it,” you’d have thought it your duty a month ago, now you want it, need it, him holding you up high almost out of the water, gasping out. “Want you.”

“Not your dumb knight?” He rocks you down, you try to glare.

“Not your dumb concubines?”

“Hate being near them,” he huffs, he laughs when your cunt throbs. “You love when I say that.”

“Shh, slutty man,” he starts moving at that, stretching you out on his cock, the hot water sloshing around your bodies, his fingers tightening on your throat. “Ngh!”

“I love how you feel, evil succubus,” you’d talk shit, but his cock is stretching you too good, fingers digging into your skin and making you fuzzy, his other arm wrapped around you and just moving you like it’s nothing. “My little succubus.”

“R-ridiculous man,” your words are half hearted as he slams you down so hard. “Arrogant.”

“Insolent,” he fucks into you harder. “Witch.”

“Manwhore, mnh… shouldn’t know how to do that -ah!” Satoru slams you so hard you can’t see, blinking rapidly as he rocks his cock so deep, so hard, your cervix. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, hearing him suck in a breath when you clench tight with tacky, sticky walls.

“Perfect little pussy, it’s all mine,” he huffs, possessive and filthy, kissing your swollen lips. “Say it.”

“Yours,” Satoru groans, his lips find yours again, slow and deep this time, tasting your sweetness on your tongue, then he starts to set a punishing pace, each stroke hitting that spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl underneath the baths. “Close, close!”

“That’s it, cum f’me, only me, all me,” he’s lost in his kisses, in how tight your cunt grips him, in everything about you. “Wanted to do this that first day I fuckin’ saw you in this bath.”

“Y-you did?”

“God yes,” the sound of the water sloshing against the stone steps mixes with the slick sounds of your bodies moving together, the filthy slaps of skin on skin echoing in the and mixing with your cries and his groans. “Won’t let him touch you.”

“Don’t w-want you to touch them,” he sinks his teeth, eyes fluttering shut. He’ll figure something out, he has to, he can’t lose this – lose you like this. He can’t have a shadow of you in pain, living with this reality, he wants more.

He wants to tell you he loves you.

He’s so scared, but it takes everything to hold back.

“Fuckin’ love your body,” he murmurs, kissing across the bites and tasting the sweetness of your skin. “Love how you feel, how you sound… god.”

“Mnh!” You’re lost in his words, in him, in the tension coiling in your tummy, spreading everywhere. “Gonna cum, gonna - Satoru!”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your lips, blue eyes looking right at you in the way only he can. “Cum for me, just me, lemme feel it.”

He shifts his hips then, slightly angling so he drags just there until he hits your spot, making you see stars. Your head falls back, his lips sucking your neck while your orgasm wracks your body in waves. “Fuck…”

“Satoru! Satoru… S-Satoruuu!” You’re crying his name out over and over, clenching him so tight as he feels his own coming right with you, like you’re milking him for all he’s got, and fuck he wants to give it.

“Ready for all of me?”

Your answer is a messy kiss, nails pressing into his thighs, sinking fully down him and taking all you can.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, before he slams into you one last time, deep and hard, spilling his messy slick ropes of cum inside you with a low, guttural groan. “God, so good, f-fuck…”

He holds you there pinned, cock thickening and pumping even more against your already sore cervix, arms wrapping your body and tugging you so close against him. The water is lapping at your skin as you come down from the high of each other, his lips brushing against your temple, your hair line, everywhere he can reach, while the steam swirls around you, thick and heavy.

For a moment the only sound is that water gently moving, and your ragged breathing. He eases you off him gently, you both cry out at the loss, before he holds you sideways, gently stroking your slightly damp hair, studying your face carefully. He says nothing then, just swallowing, adam’s apple bobbing, while you cling your arms around his neck, watching him right back.

“Do you need closure from him?” Satoru asks, nearly in pain. You look down, but he tilts your chin up. “Do you?”

“I don’t know what I think about him, one moment I’m furious, the next I feel so guilty… yet I do not want to disrespect you.”

Satoru scoffs then. “I disrespect you existing.”

“You do not want to!”

“I still did,” you blink back tears, shaking your head. “You saw.”

“I did,” your foreheads rest together now. “I’ll get through it.”

“Shouldn’t fucking have to, end up like my mother so fucking sad deep down? I won’t do it,” he tugs you even closer, kissing across your shoulders. “I swear we will figure something out.”

“If not-”

“I will.”

“I want to believe you,” his eyes flutter shut. “Maybe I want closure, I’m not sure yet, I’m still very hurt by him.”

Satoru knows bringing up the lack of care from Suguru will make everything worse, so for now he keeps it down. “If you have to, then do so, but just… keep your heart protected.”

“You care for my heart, wicked emperor?” You whisper softly, he palms it, right above one of your breasts now, eyeing your slick breasts.

“I do, little witch.”

You both study each other, so much left unsaid, so much brimming at the surface, yet instead you lay your head against his neck, and he rests his on your shoulder, just holding each other.

Everyone better leave them alone they're so cute >:(

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"I'm pregnant." You hadn't mean to say it out loud. Maybe some part of your brain pushing it out so you didn't have to bear the burden of it alone anymore.

Satoru froze. Went stiff as he stared, lips parting without any sound coming out, the fingers grazing against your skirt shifting to grab your hand instead, about to lace through your own fingers to ask if you were being serious before Sukuna interrupted, "What do you want?"

You blinked, swallowing hard before stepping forward. Caught between both guys, literally in the middle of them as you looked up at the menu again. "Could you get me a slushie?"

You were sipping on it sitting between both guys an hour later, trying to focus on the movie playing on the screen when you could feel Satoru's eyes burning holes in the back of your head the entire time.

About to explode probably, unable to keep the information inside and still doing his best.

He eventually caved, leaning in to whisper in your ear when there were still twenty minutes left, "Is it-"

"I don't know," You whispered back, keeping your head forward.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. Already on edge just from Satoru being here.

He ended up glaring at Satoru throughout the rest of the movie, practically pouting the entire time until Satoru got in the driver's seat of his car.

But he didn't ask then. Just let his hand drift lower on your back, let his fingers dig into your side while he balanced Saori on his other hip.

"Is he gonna come home with us?" Saori yawned, hardly pronouncing half the letters, blinking long and slow as she snuggled against Sukuna's shoulder. Your chest was straining, your organs being squeezed just watching her and him, the only father she'd known until the past few months. A man who you were scared was starting to love you less now that he had to share you at all.

"No," Sukuna grunted right as you started talking.

"Not tonight, sweetie," You softly said, watching him start the ignition before Sukuna tugged you back towards his truck.

Neither of you were that happy with the other one's answer.

But what were you supposed to do?

Satoru was a part of your life. Would always be now. Whether or not this baby was his.

And truthfully, you'd always want him in your life. Always hold a space for him. Keep a door open for him to waltz back in.

The car ride home was awkward.

Putting Saori to sleep while Sukuna sulked was worse. On edge, nervous for the floor to fall through once he found out. It would, wouldn't it?

Sukuna always knew when something was wrong. Saw through you.

And you couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine. Pacing the floor of the bedroom when he walked in, still practicing how you'd say it.

"What's going on?" Sukuna demanded, and the sound of the door shutting too hard behind him made you cringe.

Making it sound like something exciting eluded you. And attempting to tell yourself that this was what he wanted, that it had been their idea, to remind him of that, it all felt like an excuse.

You didn't know how to answer him.

Why it felt so much harder to say here than it had with Satoru.

"I'm, um, pregnant," You muttered, under your breath, barely audible.

He stopped. Mid-step, standing stiff, all his muscles tensing as he stood there and stared at you.

It took him ten seconds to speak, each one you counted in your head as you waited for his reaction.

An implosion.

"How far along?" Sukuna grunted.

"You mean, is it yours?" You heard yourself ask, although you both know it was true.

"You think it isn't?" He asked back, a sharp edge to his voice.

"It could be either of yours," You murmured, feeling your mouth twitch.

There was a thick pause while he processed it, did the math and realized how long you'd known and hadn't told him. And then pieced together what had happened at the theater, his fingers digging into his palm as he exhaled hard.

"You told him before me."

"I-" You couldn't justify it. Couldn't change the truth. You had done it. Maybe you hadn't meant to, but you still hurt him. It felt like that was all you did. All you'd been doing since Satoru showed back up. "It just slipped out."

Another excuse.

You wanted to curl up and cry. You were exhausted. Physically, emotionally. Being carved into pieces and split up between everyone.

Honestly, you loved both of them. And you hated yourself for it.

For not wanting to lose either of them, for lying to yourself and living like this was sustainable.

Someone was going to break.

"It's him," Sukuna growled, his voice raw and rough and ripping through you. "It's always gonna be him."

"Don't-" You started again, but he scoffed and you immediately shut up.

"It's true," He insisted. You wanted to argue, wanted to have a big blowout fight you could still come back from, where you talked things through and it ended in his arms where you apologized and he told you that he still loved you. That everything was going to be fine.

But all it took was a look in his eyes, the tremble in his hand as he turned to know what was coming next.

"I love you," You breathed, a painful lump forming in your throat and choking your next words from bubbling up. Please don't leave.

"You love him more," He accused.

You didn't know if you did. Didn't know who you'd pick or what you'd do.

But he didn't give you a chance to defend yourself - and you wondered if you even deserved one.

"I can't do this with you," He muttered, jaw clenched as he walked to the closet. Grabbing a weekend bag and shoving his clothes in it. "Not right now."

You couldn't speak. Wiping away tears with your sleeve to stop him from seeing you cry when he threw his bag over his shoulder, walking towards the door.

"I'll still take Saori to daycare and pick her up this week," He grunted. "Just give me some space, okay?"

Numbly nodding, you watched Sukuna leave.

Was it the end?

Sleeping in a bed by yourself for the first time in fucking years, clutching your damp pillow and stifling your sobs so you didn't wake up Saori. Putting on makeup and pretending to still be okay when Sukuna showed up for pick ups and drop offs, both of you barely speaking outside of her, giving him the time he wanted.

Satoru showed up sometimes, but you tried to put some space there too, letting him take her to the park or out for ice cream on weekends without being there.

You told yourself you didn't need either of them.

That you were fine on your own.

They both tried to talk about prenatal appointments, Satoru trying to subtly hint that he wanted to be there for you while Sukuna apologized for storming out and asking to come to the next one, but you turned them down.

Maybe it was better this way. You'd done it by yourself before. Had planned out a future where you were a single mom long before either of them wanted any involvement. You could do it again.

But the world had decided it hadn't chewed you up enough.

You miscarried after a couple weeks.

Before the appointment to find out who the father was. You bawled in the bathroom after Saori fell asleep, bleeding and cramping painfully after you got off the phone with your doctor and they still scheduled another appointment to confirm what you already knew.

You lost your baby.

You guessed one of them did too, but they weren't the one carrying it, weren't the one growing it. You'd lost him or her. Lost Sukuna. Had lost your Satoru before.

It was funny, you knew him coming back would hurt. But you still loved him enough to let him.

And now you had to figure out how to tell them about this now too.

Say 'Sorry, but I'm not actually pregnant any more.' Return all the baby stuff you bought, or sell them somehow. Move all your stuff back around while you boxed up the last of Sukuna's stuff.

He probably had an apartment by now.

You buried your face in your hands, elbows digging into your thighs as you sat on the cold tile of the tub, letting yourself sob underneath the running water of the shower.

One of them would come if you called, but even making a decision like that, of choosing whose contact to pull up, felt fucking impossible.

So you waited.

Ignored their texts while you took Saori with you to your emergency appointment the next day, a dull numbness spreading in your heart when they officially delivered the news.

Saori didn't understand. Just swung her legs underneath the chair and played with the toy she brought with her.

They offered reasons. Stress. Problems with the placenta. Infections.

But nothing made it feel better. Nothing filled the hole in your heart.

Besides, you figured out years ago that you couldn't go back in time.

Once it happened, you were stuck. Living a new life you never really agreed to, making due with the best you had. Sucking it up and pushing forward.

You had Saori.

What else did you need?

It didn't make it easier to send out a fucking text of all things to each of the men that were supposed to be her dad letting them know she wouldn't actually be an older sister. That you were fine, but the baby wasn't.

Well, you really weren't.

But you weren't their problem anymore.

Sukuna called. And texted. And called again. Leaving voicemails you couldn't really stand to listen to. You were hurting enough. His guilt, his feelings, the pressure of them, you'd shatter under the weight.

All you could really do was text back that you wanted to be by yourself for a while. That you didn't blame him.

You only really blamed yourself.

But there was a knock on your door twenty minutes later, your bare feet padding across the floor to find a different man waiting behind it for you.

His car wasn't outside, but a cab was leaving, and part of you felt bad for interrupting his night. Figured he was probably having fun somewhere, maybe grabbing a drink with coworkers or-

You had barely opened it before he was walking in, pulling you in for a bear hug, squeezing you and shutting the door hard behind you. Satoru's hand on the back of your head, pulling you against him, stroking your hair softly.

"I'm so sorry," He breathed, hoarse. "Fuck, I-"

"You don't have to-" Your voice broke though, something crumbling in your chest at him being so close.

At how fucking nice he felt, how being in his arms still felt like home.

"I didn't think you'd come," You admitted, brows pinching together, trying to convince yourself to tell him to go and not able to get it out.

"I was only hanging out with Suguru. Besides, princess, I'll always come for you," He murmured, pressing a kiss on the top of your head, squeezing you tight.

Refusing to let go.

He let you cry against him. Let you fall apart. Bury your face in his chest until his shirt was soaked and you couldn't breathe.

Because even though you'd been torn, even though you'd been terrified, you still wanted your baby. Regardless of whose it was.

"It'll be okay," Satoru reassured you, tracing circles on your shoulder with his thumb, curled up on his lap like you used to back when you were his wife instead of the mess you'd found yourself like lately. "I'm here."

And when he brought your exhausted body back to bed a couple hours later, tucking you into your bed and sitting on the edge, he belatedly realized why the house was so silent. Noticed the absence of another man's stuff in your room. Put together why you hadn't been interrupted.

"Where's-"

"I think we broke up."

You got confirmation when Sukuna showed up in the morning. Bringing breakfast, looking at you with red eyes and glancing around your place as Saori skipped to greet him. Satoru had left, promising that he'd be back sometime tomorrow, that you didn't have to deal with it alone.

You were just glad he wasn't there for this.

And really, what was there left to say?

Sukuna left. You lost.

He could still be there for Saori. You'd fake a smile. You'd live with it. And sooner or later, you'd both move on. He'd find someone less damaged to love.

"I'm sorry," You murmured to him when Saori was distracted with her waffle, trying to cut it with the plastic utensils. Sukuna stared at you, and his stare made you falter, your face falling.

You were sorry you fell in love with him. Sorry you dragged him into your life. Sorry for not being able to sort your shit out.

"You don't have to apologize."

Him saying that didn't make you feel much better.

But time helped.

Days dissolving into weeks and morphing into months. You stuck to a fucked up shared custody plan with Saori. Sharing days and nights between all three of you. Although, sooner or later, it was Satoru who started spending the nights on your couch, always convinced to stay late by his mini-me when he dropped in for dinner.

Those were the times you felt the most like yourself again.

Watching Satoru sprawled out on your living room floor, playing with Saori, letting her stick hair clips and glitter all over him, laughing loudly while you giggled and teased them both. Was this what your life was supposed to look like? Were you supposed to be waddling around with a baby bump right now?

You had to let go of it.

Stop asking yourself the same stupid questions over and over again.

Accept your life for what it was.

Your feelings too.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe while you cradled Saori's sleepy body against your chest, softly placing her in her bed and brushing her wispy white strands out of her face. You turned back to him, walking back over and pausing by his side.

He smiled at you, and for the first time in forever, you believed that your world might be okay.

"You wanna stay the night?" You whispered, and he blinked.

Blue eyes sparkling at you, one corner of his lips curling up in a smile.

"You really want me to?" He asked, desperate for the answer you'd been denying for so long.

"Yeah," You breathed. "I really do."

He carried you to bed this time.

Held you close. Kissed you hard. Not tongue and teeth, exactly, but intense, like he needed your air to live, like he'd been waiting for this far fucking longer than you ever anticipated. Waiting for you since the day you divorced him. Pinned you beneath him, his hands on your thighs, tracing over your breasts, pressing his mouth over the peaks of your nipples, sucking softly while he tenderly fucked into you.

Sliding his cock in-and-out nice and slow, taking his time to sear every inch of him inside you, reminding you what every ridge felt like. He spread you open like a delicacy, murmured how much he missed you, how much he adored you into your skin. Lips leaving faint marks, love bites for proof of his worship.

"I never stopped being yours," He muttered, his hips stalling as they rolled against you, his head tilted back, eyes shut like he was barely holding himself together for you.

He never moved on.

And you'd never been able to either. Not for any lack of trying.

"Satoru," You whined, whimpering as he groaned your name and gritted his teeth, grinding his swollen tip against your cervix, the condom straining to contain his cock.

"I fuckin' love it when you say my name," He murmured, burying his face into your breasts, his breath warm on your skin.

Heaven sent.

"I love you," You confessed, the kind where you could feel it in your chest, the fuzziness, the warmth, his intensity you'd willingly walk into a fire for.

There were a lot of things you got wrong. Too many mistakes you made.

Satoru still stayed. Still loved you in spite of them.

He signed his name over your clit. Drew out words your brain was too frazzled to string together. But you had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say anyway.

He loved you too.

Always had.

Some things never changed.

And in the afterhaze, drunk on him, dizzy from your climax as he tugged you on top of his chest, tracing patterns on your skin, finding any excuse to touch you that he could, you could feel it in the air. Could admit that it was yours, that you wanted it, wanted him more than anything.

He decorated you with kisses, leaving them on your face and in your hair, soft and sweet and overwhelmingly him. Looking at you like you were precious, like he'd trade the whole world for a few more seconds with you.

"You're so beautiful," He muttered, leaving another kiss on your throat, dragging his tongue over your tendon just to make you giggle and push at his chest.

"You're supposed to sweet talk me before we have sex," You teased him, falling back into old habits naturally. Finding your place beside him had always been easy when he saved it for you.

"I must've forgotten," He hummed back, delicately leaving one on your collarbone next.

You rolled your eyes at him, shifting your thighs just for him to abruptly pull you in for a hug, his naked body against yours. Soft and hard and the sort of intimate you couldn't forget.

"Toru," You pouted, and he laughed, lighter than it had been in years.

"One of these days," He dreamily sighed, voice muffled into your skin. "I'll make you my wife again."

Everything that was said in that note stood true to this day– you think of him more than he’d ever know, and you still intend on meeting him again one day. You know you will. It may have been an arrogant way to think, but it was inevitable. The world is simply too small when you have a clock that never stops. 

But most of all, you truly did hope you could fall in love with him all over again when that day came. To meet him for the very first time again. Experience that same lovestruck awe you felt when you first laid your eyes on him. Watching everything around him dim as the world came to a halt. Foolish and unreasonable, yet so incredibly tender. 

You craved nothing more in a time when you had begun to grow a resentment he didn’t deserve. At least not from you. It didn’t matter how cruel he was to others— he saved the very little kindness he had left for you, so you left, refusing the last bit of good in him to go to waste. 

The memories of those you knew before Sukuna steadily blurred until the only thing you knew was him. It was bittersweet at first— your younger self wasn't such a fool after all for loving him and giving your life to him. But that changed over time. A statement that once brought you comfort slowly started to keep you up at night. Being haunted by uncertainty while he peacefully slept next to you felt like betrayal. 

You knew in your heart that all of the what-ifs that clouded over you would’ve eventually festered into regret, and it would’ve struck you over and over again until you struck back. 

He was meant for you to love, not to hate, so you left. 

It hurt at first. The only thing that made you feel better was knowing you left before you had the chance to harbor even just the slightest of resentment towards him, or towards the time you spent together. It was for the best. You’re able to remember it was you who chose this— hell, you fought for it. It’s left you with nothing but gratitude. 

You’re just hoping he understands that, or at the very least, believes you. Sukuna has proven himself to be quite unpredictable though. 

Sure, he’s had his moments where he’s proven himself to be wise, as someone as old as him should be. But unfortunately, his ability to hold a grudge is so honed that it can no longer be considered a personality flaw. It is a strength, and from the way he straight up cackles from just thinking about his hatred for certain people, it is also clearly a source of entertainment for him.

So, as much as you’d love to run into his arms and have him spin you around like they do in romance movies, it just wasn't realistic. You'd go as far as to say that expecting any type of normal reaction from him, knowing how absurdly evil he could be, was just putting him in a box. Sukuna wasn't going to let love stop him from chasing after you with a dagger in hand, one that he probably didn't have to think twice about having specially made for the next time he saw you. It'd have some personal touch to it, like your name engraved on the blade, and it would come as a surprise to absolutely no one. He's so fucking psychotic that you just expect that sort of thing from him.

Is that why you’ve pushed off going back to him for so long? Maybe.

You really do miss him. Deeply. So much so that it sometimes hurts. Your reluctance to see him again doesn’t change that or take away from it— it doesn't mean you love him any less, either. With that being said, missing a man who redefines what it means to be petty makes the pain from yearning so much more bearable. Especially when you’re convinced that the random chills you get down your spine are from him thinking about you in bad faith.

Which is why you’ve preferred to live in small, quiet towns. It’s harder for an outsider to go unnoticed in one. Easier to watch your back. Easier to run. You were so reluctant to move to the city because of it. Everyone’s a stranger. It’s harder to get a read on everyone's intentions, too. 

It’s gotten easier over time— the initial paranoia has subsided, but that feeling of finally being settled into your apartment never came. Five months in and everything was still too loud, too fast, too bright. You either did too much or too little. You’ve never complained about a place this much, yet this one consistently gives you new things to complain about. 

Not to mention that after 63 years of painting, you’re just now starting to hate it on your 64th. Just as that threatens to send you into another downward spiral, your phone on the counter rings. 

Misa. She doesn’t even give you a chance to say hello before getting on you about next week’s exhibit. 

“Hi, Hun.” She’s quick, but harmless. “Are you ready for next week?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, looking back at the canvas in your living room. “The last piece is almost done. I should be there in a couple of days to drop it off.” 

“No— you,” she clicks her tongue. “You’re still attending, right? You said you would this time.” 

Her questions met with a long pause, both aware of the excuse you’re having difficulty trying to find. This wasn’t your first time flaking out on an exhibit, you were bound to run out of excuses at one point. 

“I just don’t see the point,” you complain. “I’ll see everyone else’s work when I drop my last piece off anyway.” 

“The point is getting out and meeting potential buyers,” she reminds you, clearly fed up with the same excuse. “It’s your pieces that get asked about the most. Don’t you think it’s a little sad that you’re never there for that?” 

“…no,” you respond stubbornly before letting out a little laugh. “It’s not me that they’re buying.” 

“Obviously,” she laughs. “It’s still nice getting to know the artist. You can’t just come by and sip some wine for an hour?” 

The questions met with another pause, making her hold back on a frustrated groan. To her surprise, it doesn’t last as long as it usually does, giving her more hope than usual. 

“One hour?” You reluctantly ask. 

“One hour,” she confirms. “And if you don’t have fun, you can leave, and I’ll never ask again.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

It took another minute or so to get off the phone with her. Given your track record of broken promises, she made you do your own round of promises. Fair enough. The regret hits right as you hang up. Shopping for a dress, getting ready, attending— all of it. 

One hour. It was only going to be one hour.

—

A couple of hundred years is nothing in comparison to how long he’s been around. Living in opulence was all he knew. Wide, open spaces. Nothing but pure gold and ancient artifacts that would never step foot in some museum. Servants scurrying through the halls. It was the standard for as long as he could remember. 

However, there was a time when he lived simply. It started with you wanting to leave the estate, not even a year after being turned. Of course, he said yes, he always said yes. Before he knew it, you grabbed him by the hand and dragged him all over the world— that’s what it felt like at least. 

You chose the cities, where you were going to stay, when it was time to leave. Mansions to shacks, deserts to forests, snowcountry to beaches. There wasn’t a standard, no requirements. 

You would’ve dragged him with you to the moon if you could, and he would’ve let you. Wherever you were was where he wanted to be. 

So much time, yet for someone like him, it could be as if he had snapped his fingers, and 100 years would pass. That's how it was supposed to be anyway. He was supposed to go back to his life like nothing had ever happened. Nothing ever does, anyway. Yet, the marble floors were too sleek, the echoes from his footsteps were too loud, and if he focused enough, he could feel the walls of his spacious penthouse begin to close in on him— all serving as a reminder that he never actually came back. 

He stayed right where you left him, and for that, he hates you. He couldn’t even tell you all that you’ve ruined for him because you’ve made being found by him impossible. Even with you physically gone, he still can't get rid of you— your memory has become nothing but a ghost that taunts him. Yes, taunts.

And before he’s able to shove a dagger through your ghost’s heart, like he does on the days it won’t leave him the fuck alone, he hears his assistant coming down the hallway. The only reason why he knows it’s Uraume is that they shuffle instead of picking up their fucking feet when they walk. You’d think he’d be relieved to not hear his home echo once more, but it somehow pisses him off even more.

“What?” He grumbles, not even giving the assistant a chance to knock. 

He’s clearly in a mood, so they step into his office and try to make it quick, placing some fancy invitation on his desk in front of him. 

“You’ve received an invitation from The Hidden Inventory,” they say, as stoic as ever. “They’re having an art exhibit next Saturday.” 

Sukuna never picks up the invitation, he just continues to stare at it with a mixture of disgust and irritation. “How the fuck did they get my address?” 

“Mr. Geto is one of their investors,” they remind him, avoiding any further explanation because he doesn't exactly know either. 

That somewhat catches his interest, knowing that Suguru was a part of the same… community. 

“So they’re selling more than just paintings?” Sukuna finally picks up the invitation and looks through it. He’s become quite the glutton ever since the-thing-that-no-one ’s-allowed-to-talk-about happened. 

“I’m not certain,” they respond, reaching for their phone. “I can ask, if you’d like.”

Sukuna waves a hand. “No need, I’ll give him a call later.”

“Sounds good,” they nod and grab the other envelope in their hand. Sukuna notices them fighting back a smile, and for once, he is at a loss as to why. “These photos were taken by one of the newer associates. They were reluctant to share at first, but after taking a look myself, I thought you might like to see this.” 

As expected, Sukuna figured out who they were alluding to the moment he heard the word ‘photos’ and snatched the envelope out of his assistant's hand. It was more frantic than it was rude. 

He takes his time, carefully looking through each photo, until he reaches the last one that’s also the clearest shot.

And he freezes. He didn't tense or lock in place; he just stopped. Every fiber of his being was completely still. 

Times changed. The hair was different. The style was different. So was the makeup. 

But it was you. 

He wasn’t angry. He didn’t feel the hatred that he swore he felt for you just minutes ago. Not even sadness. Something in him just ached knowing that he knew absolutely nothing about you. 

“Where?” He finally speaks up, never looking up from the photo. “Is she here?” 

“Yes, sir,” Uraume responds, trying to recall all the details the new associate had given them. “The photos were taken downtown.”

“And the person who took these didn’t think to follow her?” He asks dryly. 

“It was mentioned that she was overly aware of her surroundings, Sir,” they say apologetically. “It wouldn’t have been long before she noticed. He figured it was best to take the photos and go from there.” 

Fair enough. Although he could take a guess at why you were like that in the first place. 

“Alright,” he hums, looking back at the photo. “Find everything— where she works, where she lives, where she hangs out, everything. I don’t care if it’s something small like her having a pet cat, I want their fucking name too.” 

“Will do, Sir,” they bow one last time before making their leave. “I will keep you updated throughout the day.” 

“Great.” 

Once the door fully shuts, he goes back to looking at the photos, as if it would help you feel more real. Memories that came flooding back, even the little details he didn’t think were important enough to remember. And yet, even though you two spent more time together than without each other, the girl in the picture still felt like a stranger. 

He thinks about all the time you spent together, all the times he held you, and maybe it wasn’t the right time to think about it, but he thinks of all the times he used to fuck you. How he’d fuck you. 

He wasn’t good with words, so he spent his time showing it. Were the memories enough to carry on into your next life? 

Given how it was probably your fourth or fifth life by now, he stops himself right there. The answer to his question was pretty clear, and it fills him with the same resentment he’s spent years living with. So he takes the photos and shoves them in his drawer, once again wishing you had just written a simple “I’m leaving” in your note, instead of all the bullshit you wrote about loving him and making your heart grow fonder. 

It would’ve saved both of you unnecessary trouble. 

—-

Watching you look at a map was all he needed to know that it was time to get ready to leave. 

“It’s only been 3 months,” he chuckled, taking a seat beside you on the bed, while you lay on your stomach trying to study the damn thing. “You don’t like it here?” 

You shake your head. “It’s too hot. I wanna go somewhere cold,” you say, pointing towards one of the countries on the map. “What about here?” 

“It’s colder than here,” he shrugs, pointing at a different place instead. “All of the snow and the rain is gonna be around here, though.” 

“Okay,” you hummed, looking back at the area he pointed to and reading all the different names— completely oblivious to the way he's looking at you. 

Hungry. Not one holy thought is going through his head. 

“You sure it’s too hot?” He asks, placing a hand on the back of your thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “Barely got any clothes on, is this not good enough?”

“Nothing's good enough,” you scoff. The complaint elicits a laugh from the man. You move to lie on your side, propping your head up on your hand. “I’m serious. I’m all sweaty, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Sweaty, huh?” He murmurs, running his hand all the way up your leg and squeezing your hip. “Can’t have that.” 

“No,” you suppress a laugh, trying not to pay too much mind to the way he starts playing with the waistband of your shorts. “That’s why we’re leaving.” 

“And we’re never coming back— look at what this fucking place is doing to you.” He’s just pretending to be outraged with you at this point, all while giving your shorts a tug. He hums, “These damn shorts aren’t helping either.”

“It’s not the shorts, it’s the weather,” you argue back. 

“I know— you look like you’re about to cry. Barely have anything on and it’s still too much,” he laughs, hooking his fingers around your waistband again, but this time waits. 

“You’re so annoying,” you respond, having to hold back a smile from how fucking determined he was. But he noticed and started pulling them down with a satisfied hum, and threw them to the side somewhere.

“And look at how wet that makes you.” He presses two fingers against you, spreading your slick up and down your folds, earning himself a soft gasp. “Feels good, huh?” 

And you try to answer, but your words get caught in your throat when he presses harder and rubs faster. 

“So fuckin’ messy,” he murmurs, landing a light slap on your clit before rubbing over it again. “Mmmm— what do you want, princess? Want me to keep going, or do you want something else?” You don’t answer right away, too focused on the big fingers that were running through your folds, which he only made worse by going faster. “There’s also my tongue… my cock…” 

“Mmh, please,” you respond, way too fast.

“Yeah?” He taunts you, clearly pleased by how eager you sounded. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Yes,” you respond, way too giddy. 

Everything happened so fast after that, one moment you’re saying yes.

The next, you're lying on your side with your back against his chest. You thought it’d be relaxing, but he’s in your ear, talking through it while he fucks you stupid. You could be screaming, crying, overstimulated, and he’d still be pounding you out.

And just when you thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he hooked your leg over his arm and bullied his cock into you until you came so hard that you nearly sobbed. 

At one point, he took a break from whispering things into your ear. You thought it was to kiss you, but all he did was drag his tongue up one of your tears. 

And as you sniffled, all he murmured in your ear was, “m’sorry.”

He wasn’t. He never once stopped fucking you throughout any of it. And when he finally did, you were hot and sticky and limp against him. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek, which was sweet, though you believe you deserved more for having your soul shot out of place. But, it’s as romantic as he gets.

It took you a while to understand which actions and words replaced “I love you”. But that night was probably one of the first times it actually clicked.

“Done being a crybaby?”

“Not if you start making fun of me again,” you murmur back.

He softly laughs, moving some hair out of your face, “I just wanted to see your face, I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

You turn over and let him. Neither of you said anything for a moment— he just continued to move some hair out of the way, while you watched him. You were surprised that he felt okay with you just staring at him like that, but his expression never hardened. Throughout that short-lived moment, he was still, allowing himself to be the admirer instead of the protector he had grown to become. 

His thumb grazed over your cheek as he tried to put the thought he was having into words. 

“You just showed up at my house one day,” he said, almost to himself. 

“I did.” You couldn’t help but smile. As simple as it was, it was true. “You thought I was a pest, too.”

“You used to undress me with your eyes,” he scoffed, still clearly appalled at all that he let you get away with. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you swore, shaking your head. And then you smile, “You look better naked than I had ever imagined– ow,” your hand dramatically shot up to your head. “You said you’d never hit me!”

“It was a forehead flick,” he chuckles, grazing his thumb over your cheek once more. “I didn’t strike you.”

“Rich people always find loopholes.” You try to keep a straight face as you say it. He, of course, argued with you because that was just how stubborn people were, but the innocent bickering died down after a couple of minutes. By then, you were finally able to answer his question. “What do you mean by regret?”

“...You know,” he grumbles. “Showing up to my house one day.”

“Of course not.” The question almost made you laugh, thinking you had already made it clear by now. “I’m what? 130 years old now?”

“163 years old, actually.” He was way too quick to correct you, but you let it go.

“Thanks,” you chirp out. “Anyways, I’d be dead by now if I hadn't met you. I enjoy my life. So no, I don’t regret it. Is that something you worry about?”

He finally takes his eyes off of you then, which was all you really needed to know. You figured it’s the reason why he even asked you in the first place. 

“I don’t know if it’s a worry.” He reluctantly admitted. “But if it were true, I’d feel guilty.”

It made sense. All the ones before you were sworn into some weird secret society and were devoted to him. They all had a purpose, easy to dispose of. You, on the other hand, didn’t serve him— there weren’t any rules you could break for him to dagger you.

Ah. So that’s what it was. It was easy for him to dagger others. You, he’d feel the guilt he talked of.

“Well… I could see why you think about that sometimes, but I don’t think I’d ever regret choosing you, or this,” you say, gesturing to yourself.

“Wonderful,” he chuckles in relief, before casually saying, “because if I had to dagger you? I would make Satan's fall from grace look like a child’s birthday party.”

“How concerning,” you dryly say.

“Absolutely,” he hums. “I meant everything I said in that letter I gave you— keeper of my heart, all the good that’s left of me. You’re mine.”

The last thing you expect to dream of is an actual memory you once had with Sukuna. This was your first one in... ever. It may not have been technically real, but it felt real. It was you’re first time seeing him in over 100 years. Explains the tears that you woke up with in your eyes.

You’re mine. 

So utterly possessive— yet it never bothered you. Even when you were his, he never made you feel like a possession. 

And now you ache. 

What a fucking joke. The dream couldn’t have been on a day that you didn’t have to attend some stupid event? What luck. Not like you could expect it— you were a vampire, not a fucking fairy. 

One hour. 

Then you get to go home and be sad about the stupid dream. Maybe grab “dinner” on the way home, too. For old times' sake. 

notes: ok so quick recap! both reader and sukuna's pov's. reader is a painter, hence why sukuna hasn't been able to fine her bc when the fuck has she ever been interested in that?? the random chills she gets down her spine are from sukuna having homocidal thoughts about her 😭 and reader has a little intuition thing with sukuna, so she gets the chills down her spine whenever he gets mad all over again, and he was wondering if she ever thought about him (she does), but his thoughts kinda sent her that dream of the past. it being a sex dream is not a coincidence. and yaaaaa, reader woke up on the day of the art exhibit, so we will see if sukuna ever shows up 🙂‍↕️ could you imagine having a sex dream about your ex and then seeing him that same day??

—

You weren’t a harlot. A traitor, perhaps, but not some whore he randomly found on the street. 

You were that man’s servant— by choice, might you add. 

Going to work in a grand estate sounded better than marrying your neighbour the moment you turned 20. You would’ve been his servant too, along with being forced to pop out dozens of that gremlin of a man’s kids, so off you went to work directly under the lord of the province you had grown up in.

Life before him felt empty— pointless, almost. Sukuna was his name. Is.

There’s no doubt he’s still out there somewhere. 

Despite how cruel he may have been at first, lashing out at you at times like some wounded, feral animal, you loved that man. That cold, broody recluse of a man— one whose skin had apparently never felt the sun's warmth, whose beauty that only a scant few had laid eyes on. It was a pleasure, if anyone had asked you, though they never did during your rare visits home. The villagers kept their distance from his compound during the day and locked themselves indoors at night, scared of the beast their parents, and their parents before them, have told tales of. Your parents included.

They would’ve never believed you anyway— there was a point where you also imagined Sukuna as a hideous monster after all. But no, the man who spat the ugliest of words turned out to be the handsomest of them all. 

You did everything you could to put a smile on his face, and then some to keep it there. Even his temper, as bad as it was, you had grown to adore. He knew how you felt— he saw that adoration in your eyes grow with each passing day. He could claim he didn’t like it all he wanted, yet the way he let you speak freely, to the point where you’d chide him over his impossibly high standards for his home, which no one visited, showed his acceptance long before he admitted it out loud. 

He was a grump. The little pout that’d form on his face made it easy to talk to him that way. At first, he just barelytolerated the way you spoke to him without permission, all the stupid questions you asked him. Then there were the times you’d break something, like a plate… or the ancient vase he had long before cleo-fucking-patra was born. 

You tried to blame it on the vase itself, and in that moment, he swore he’d drain every last drop of blood from your lifeless corpse. But then your eyes began to well up. 

You had no idea how old it was, you just knew it was something he seemed to care about, and you began apologizing over it— offering to glue the thousands of ceramic shards back together, offering to have your wages cut for however long needed. You would’ve been indebted to him for the rest of your life, so would the generations after you too— that was the last thing he wanted. 

At the time, he thought it was because he’d rather not deal with the same clumsiness for centuries, only for him to later realize that he just didn’t like to see you cry. It came out as frustration, his concern just barely concealed by his irritation as he tried to get you to stop. His words fell on deaf ears as you continued to convince him (and yourself) that you could fix it, searching for whatever pieces you missed on the floor. 

Tears still streaming down your cheeks, nothing but sincerity in the words that trembled out of you, not at all considering the risk of cutting a finger on a shard. 

It was pathetic.

He couldn’t handle it.

“Stop it,” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone snapping you out of it and pulling you back to reality. 

“But there’s patterns,” you said, sniffling like a guilty child. “It’ll be like a puzzle game–”

“I don’t need you playing with pottery shards,” he cut you off, making you realize how ridiculous it all sounded. “It’s just a fucking vase.”

It wasn’t just a fucking vase, but it was somehow easier to watch that break into pieces instead of the clumsy woman in front of him.

Things changed between the two of you after that. You wouldn’t say he was more cautious— quite the opposite, actually. Comfortable was a better word. Your questions were met with a hint of amusement rather than annoyance. He would still roll his eyes, sometimes going as far as letting out a long, disappointed sigh, but he still indulged in the exchange. The conversations were no longer one-sided— he began to continue them… somewhat begrudgingly at first, but the interest was obviously there. 

Sukuna was still Sukuna, of course. He’d try to poke fun at you here and there in his own rough, sometimes dark, way. His demands became requests that were followed by subtle threats. Were they bluffs? Yes… most of them at least. It was sometimes difficult to tell. His idea of a joke was talking about someone’s death, then following it up with quite possibly the most evil laugh you had ever heard. You got used to it in the three years you worked for him and lived at the estate. 

By that last year, it was him who’d start to seek you out. Again, in his own way, like calling for you the moment he’d catch a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. 

“Yes, my lord?” was usually how you’d answer him. You weren’t close enough to call him by his name yet. Who knows how he would’ve responded to that during the time you worked for him. 

“What are you doing out of your quarters at this hour?” he asked rather accusingly, despite not actually caring if you broke the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

“Oh?” you responded, feigning innocence as you looked around his study for a clock. “Past 11 already?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. Taking your employment for granted once again, I see,” he grumbled, setting his book down with a sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked you up and down. “Perhaps it might be time to give your position to someone else?”

“Perhaps not, my lord,” you responded, kindly shutting down his proposal as if it were some silly little suggestion. “I’d actually argue that I’m your best worker.” 

The battle within himself was lost in that moment, having to look away from you as he barely suppressed a laugh. 

The crystal glasses that he ordered you to polish over a week ago had yet to be touched. Not to mention you’ve successfully killed every single plant that’s been put under your care. Hell, even his recent victims have had more humane endings, not like yours, that’ve had to suffer, parched and ignored for weeks. 

And yet somehow, probably by the grace of the gods that've turned on him long ago, you were still there. There’s only one other servant who had worked under him longer than you had, but the difference between you two was that she actually listened to him. 

Something had blossomed between you two that night. The funny thing is, you two spent centuries arguing over who started it. He always claimed it was you, dropping yourself down onto his lap, when you could’ve simply left. Yet he was the one who took hold of your waist and led you there. 

You may not have been a whore, but he sure fucked you like one on top of his desk that night. Pinning your knees to your chest, leaving you open for him to do as he pleased with you, as if that were your only purpose in life. 

To make him feel something other than the boredom and bloodlust he spent his entire life ricocheting between. To satisfy a hunger he didn’t realize he had until you wrapped your legs around him. A hunger that only seemed to grow from the way he had you whimpering under him and clawing at his back as he drove his cock into you— showing you what it meant to belong to someone like him, which hardly meant anything at the time.

To be with him was to be ruined, to be consumed. It was as natural as a wildfire tearing through a field, reducing even the most beautiful flowers to nothing but remnants of what once was. Was it cruel? Of course it was, but you wouldn’t criticise a fire for burning all that’s in its path. 

So he takes, and takes, and takes. Too selfish to even consider your fate afterwards, or what should’ve been. He was fucked the moment he realized he liked how his name sounded when it rolled off your tongue, all breathy and desperate, sounding like a prayer for once rather than a curse. He sealed his own fate that night when he spent the entirety of it making you say it over and over, relentlessly hitting your sweet spot until you were crying and cumming around his cock, again, and again, and again.

He went from taunting you to talking you through it, to crashing his lips against yours as he fucked you through each one. 

Sukuna wasn’t going to kill you. 

Not that you knew that— you didn’t know anything at that time. You were just a girl with her first love. Naive, too, just like everyone else before experiencing heartbreak for the first time. But if you asked Sukuna, he’d say you were more foolish than naive. He teased you for years over it, how you just offered yourself to him on a silver platter. It wasn’t every day the prey decided to run towards their predators, yet there you were, with all the trust in your heart. All the stars in your eyes. 

His dumb little lamb. 

He thought it was sweet how your feelings blinded you from all the signs of danger. Even after your relationship with him had begun and he started giving you signs and leaving little clues, you didn’t see them. 

At one point, he came back home in the early morning, with unwiped blood on both sides of his mouth, and you still didn’t mention it. It was as if you refused to see it. You didn’t even bother to ask where he’d been. Any question or comment that could’ve led you to find out what he had been up to, you avoided. 

He didn’t actually think you were dumb, but he definitely thought you were smarter than you let on after that day. Truth be told, he didn’t have much of a plan— if you actually said something to him, there was a chance it could’ve ended badly for you. 

He was far from perfect at the beginning of the life you shared with him.

The blatant signs stopped after that night. Aside from him randomly being gone until the early mornings, he was normal. The sunlight didn’t burn him to ashes whenever it hit his skin. He ate meat, seared and always rare, and drank wine when having dinner with you. You never asked if he’d like to have a bite of your food. He was said to be a picky eater when you first started working for him, and you never questioned it. He already had the personality of one anyway. 

You were happy with the life you had with him, and despite never saying it, you knew Sukuna loved you back. You were convinced that you’d never hear him utter those words, and it was something you were okay with. He was better at showing it anyway, whether it be through gifts he’d randomly give you or choosing to take care of you himself instead of the servants whenever you got sick. 

Then it happened. 

The night you thought it’d be okay to be less cautious was the same night he thought it’d be fine to be less discreet. He was tired, hadn’t had a real, fresh meal in days. The servants stayed in their quarters during those hours anyway, there would’ve been more than enough time for Uraume to clean up the mess before work started for them. 

Unlucky for him, he just had to start a relationship with the one servant who always took curfew as a suggestion rather than an order. It’s no different now that you’re no longer one either.

One could imagine his irritation at hearing a stifled breath while he tried to feed in peace. You were quiet enough for most people, but, unlucky for you, his hearing was better than most. Maybe you would’ve just gone back to the room had he just kept his head down, but then again,  he turned the room he chose to sit into a fucking mess. 

Not to mention, there was an entire dead body right in front of him. He was also fairly certain they were in the early stages of some sort of disease, judging by the taste. It was one thing after another— nothing seemed to be going for him that night.

But what set him off? 

Looking over his shoulder and seeing nothing but pure terror in your eyes. It was the kind of look people gave him when they realized that they weren’t going to just be killed by some bad guy. With that, there was some hope— whether it be hope that he had a change of heart or hope that he’d get caught and punished one day. But then they realize they’re just food. His food. 

Which is somehow worse since they didn’t do anything to deserve it. It wasn’t some divine punishment for something they had done. He was just hungry.

At least with humans, you could govern them, give them a set of rules to live by, and punish them whenever they broke one. There’s always a sense of comfort in having safety and order. There were obvious exceptions, though. Animals? That’s fine. People need to eat, they need to feed their families. Animals kill and eat each other all the time. 

Just don’t forget that Sukuna also has to eat.

Just because it’s inevitable doesn’t mean it’s wrong. But he was human once— he understands the hopelessness of it all, he just didn’t expect to see that in you. Not after he’s shown you he could take care of you when you were physically at your weakest. Not when you go to sleep and wake up next to him, every single day. Unharmed. He knew that somewhere deep down, you knew what he was— he’s shown you. There was no reason for you to look as surprised as you were.

The silence between you dragged on for what felt like forever. You usually had something to say, something that would take attention away from the blood he’d sometimes have on him. But it was everywhere this time— the floor, his hands, actively dripping down his chin as he continued to stare you down with this bored, unimpressed look. He was angry, to the point where he didn’t even know how to express it.

But he suppressed it, pushing it down just enough for him to try to give you a chance to say something that wouldn’t worsen his mood.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked in a tone softer than usual. All it did was send your heart racing— he was able to hear that, too. 

“I– no. It’s nothing, I just–,” you lightly rambled, still at a complete loss for words. All he did was mock you, humming each time you stumbled on your words, as if he understood how nervous you were despite how pleased he seemed to be by it. “I thought I heard something. Just wanted to see if it was you.”

“You sure?” he continues to question you, slowly getting up from the seat and turning to fully face you. “You’re usually happy to see me. You look more…”

“Sorry,” you murmured, struggling to keep your eyes on his as he slowly began to walk up to you. “I’m just tired. I think I’ll– it’s probably better if I go back up to bed. I can– do you want me to wait for you? Before I go back to sleep?”

He smiled and looked back, looking over the room and the body on the floor, then returned his gaze to you. “Wait for what?” 

“Just… until you’re ready to go to sleep,” you mumbled, clearly not wanting to say what he wanted you to say, nor giving him the acknowledgement he wanted. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You let out a little laugh, one that was too forced and way too nervous.

He laughs with you as he starts going through all the different reasons in his head. “Just wondering, you looked disgusted earlier when you first interrupted me.”

He didn’t even try to hide how offended he felt from just that alone.

“I— no, I didn’t.”

“And then you started looking really scared,” he continued, clearly not looking to argue over what he saw with his own two eyes. The hostility in his tone only grew as he kept going. “Terrified, actually, even though I never actually tried to hide this from you. You just looked the other way—” he suddenly cuts himself off and slightly snaps, “I need you to stop looking at me like I’m about to fucking attack you.”

“I’m- I’m not,” you swore, feeling the tears begin to well up. “Why would I—”

“You’re not?” he barely scoffed, too tired yet too angry to completely let it all go. He continued to get closer, backing you into the corner. “Why do you keep stepping back then?”

You wondered if he even realized how unfair he was being— the way he began to intimidate you, just to prove his point. Yet with the way he was acting, telling him that you were just in a state of shock at first wouldn't have helped. There was no point in telling him that being scared that you bothered him was different from being scared of him either. He seemed too delirious to even think straight, let alone tell the difference. 

Too scared to admit it and too scared to deny it, left you wondering if there was even anything you could say to calm him down. You always look back at this day as the one and only time you truly feared Sukuna. 

And how he managed to make it so much worse. Slamming his hand down against the wall, right next to your head, making you startle out of your fucking skin in the process. He leaned in close so you’d hear every last word he threw at you. 

“You know… I already knew you wanted to avoid this for as long as you could, and I tried to respect that,” he began to mutter, low yet as threatening as ever. “But you’ve been running around the estate, playing the bratty, spoiled-rotten wife. You even dressed the part with all the clothes you asked for, and I gladly gave you. I wanted to make you happy and took pride in that, but I didn’t just fucking spoil you— I took care of you. Every time you got sick and weak and fucking vulnerable, I took care of you. Whenever your body was so frail from how hard a common cold hit you, I was gentle with you— I didn’t want to break you. And not once did I ever fucking complain, I just wanted you to be healthy and NORMAL again,” he says, starting to lose his temper again, hearing the pain in his voice as those last words tore through him. “Yet the moment you see me doing what I need to do to survive, you can’t even try to hide how fucking disgusted you are at the sight of me.” 

“I wasn’t disgusted by you, Sukuna!” you tried to argue, but your words continued to fall on deaf ears. He didn’t believe you.

“And if I knew this was where we’d end up, with you fearing me and keeping your fucking distance from me, I would've snapped your neck the moment you stepped foot into this house,” he added, managing to make that last blow the most painful out of everything he’s said by far. 

You believed him, even if it was only true for the time being, while his own brain forced him to run laps around it until he ran himself into the ground.

Not that it hurt any less. 

Unable to keep up with how fast your chest rose and collapsed, failing to control the breaths and heaves it created. There was nowhere for you to go, and for a moment, you genuinely believed he was going to follow through with what he felt he should’ve done to you at the start. But that was just one of the million things going through your mind, all while trying to get over everything he’d just said to you in his own rage. 

“I don’t— I don’t even know what to say to make you believe me,” you whispered, voice threatening to break after each word, unsure where to even look as he continued to stare at you. “I wasn’t scared, just… shocked. Then you turned around and you were— you looked mad. I thought I was bothering you. I told you I’d wait for you. I ju- I just didn’t want to bother you.”

The explanation made him take a step back, and only then did you begin to feel like you could start breathing again slowly. Though the tears continued to flow uncontrollably. 

The sight of you crying brought on a guilt that made him want to implode, especially that day. It was one of those memories that made his chest tighten whenever he remembered it, having yet to free himself from the thick layer of dread it never failed to coat him in. You could barely even look at him, but he forced himself to look at you— standing next to the bloody handprint on the wall, serving as a reminder that he caged you in so he could continue to rip into you. Then, leaving you with no other choice in the end but to hold on to your own arms, because his arms were covered in some random man’s blood. 

He didn’t even deserve to touch you at that point, nor did he deserve to be forgiven, but you did. There wasn’t an angry bone in your body that day. 

“I’ve loved you for years now— it wouldn’t go away after just one day.” 

You made it look so easy, how you could tell him you loved him without expecting to hear it back. He didn’t get it— he struggled enough with apologizing.

“I wasn’t trying to rub that in your face… just needed you to know I do all of that stuff because I know you like it.” 

He sucked at explaining himself.

“I know. Thank you.” 

“Same with taking care of you whenever you get sick. I wasn’t trying to— fuck. I hate watching you suffer through them.” 

“I know. I always feel bad for you whenever I catch a cold.” 

“Don’t. I want you to be okay.” 

“Thank you.” 

But you noticed that whenever he felt guilty, he’d keep going until he finally found the right thing to say.

“And that last thing I said— it’s not true.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. I’d never kill you.” 

“You were delirious and hurt—“

“I hate seeing you in a bad mood, and I’m sorry that I went and put you in one anyway. I can’t even think about you dying 60 years from now. I’d never kill you.” 

And luckily, you never did. 

Getting him to turn you was honestly a lot harder than you had originally thought it’d be. It was a lot of convincing, and caused a lot of fights where you both had threatened to leave each other. 

“There’s beauty in being human.” You never imagined those words coming out of Sukuna’s mouth, but they did. He thought that growing old and returning to the earth was something to look forward to. 

In a time when you genuinely thought that maybe it was time to give up on him and accept the idea that you’d outlive him one day, he showed you a different side of himself. One that had a little more humility. He suddenly became honest about all his life's regrets and all that he had learned from them. Reflecting on the versions of himself in the past that he’s regretted the most and the ones he’s most proud of. 

For someone who wanted you to stay human as much as he did, you were surprised to learn that being a vampire wasn’t one of his regrets in life. He liked being a part of history, and he looked forward to being a part of the future, to all that would fall and all that would rise in its place. 

You held on to him a little tighter after that, pestering him until he finally admitted that he didn’t want you to die.

He thought you deserved it all— experiencing all the milestones, falling in love and getting married, experiencing parenthood, growing old with someone by your side, all while still having a way out. 

But having a way out still meant that he’d have to wake up one day and realize that you just simply didn’t exist anymore. You’d be gone, and it’d be him left hurting knowing that the world went on without you.

So he did it. For once not out of the need for violence or control, or any other reason that seemed to always stem from chaos or misery. 

Forever was his gift to you. It was his way of thanking you, the one who held all his admiration and adoration. To say he loved you wasn’t enough— you were all of his love. The keeper of his heart, the source of his joy, all the good that was left of him.

Centuries had passed since that day— the beginning of forever, or what you really only remember as the one and only time Sukuna told you that he loved you. 

You had once made a joke saying that his “I Love You” was enough to last you until the end of time itself, yet here you were centuries later still feeling the same way every time you look at the letter that was on its last leg, despite being laminated. You’ve gotten copies made over the years, physical and digital, but like words that came from Sukuna himself, nothing will ever beat the original copy that he wrote himself.

The 1700s blurred into the 1800s. You made and lost friends, moved to multiple countries, sold homes and bought apartments, lived in a suburb, then moved to a farm, went to school, dropped out, went back, got a few degrees, dropped out, and went back.  Not to mention all the name changes. The only constant in your life was Sukuna— your partner, best friend, boyfriend, husband, your enemy every 50 years, and to some random guy you two met at a train station, your perverted boss who made you share hotel rooms with him. You watched each other change and become new people. Picking up new hobbies and learned random talents. Constants, but always growing.

And by the early 1900s, you were gone— taking nothing but a small carry-on with you, along with that stupid love letter he wrote. There were no phones yet— if there were, he’s sure you would’ve thrown it off a bridge, purely out of determination that you were going to fucking find yourself or something. All you left him was a little note that said: 

“I think it’s time for a break. I read in the paper the other day that distance makes the heart grow fonder <3 I hope that we can fall in love all over again the next time we meet. In the meantime, I will be doing some ‘soul searching’.”

p.s— i love you ! ! ! please take care of yourself ! i will be thinking of you more than you know. don't get a girlfriend.

He wanted to murder you then, and he still wants to murder you now,  well over a hundred years later. 

Yeah, that god damn note was written in 1923. He gave you a year to “find yourself” before he started looking and has not stopped since. And with how hard it’s been, you’re either dead or just purposely making it hard for him to find you. 

It’s the latter. He can feel when others die. You are very fucking alive. 

And yet, despite all the stress you’ve caused him in the last century, the love he has for you is alive and real. Unfortunately. If he wasn’t insane before, he definitely was now. There was once a time when he swore he couldn’t imagine you dying, but to be completely honest, he’s had many days where that was all he needed to feel better.

you were ethereal. radiant, like you’d fallen from heaven and somehow landed into his life. breathtaking, even when you were slumped over your kitchen counter with a red bull beside you and your eyes smudged with purple underneath. 

somewhere between his thoughts, the girl cums, and he snaps out of it.  she’s staring at him with wide eyes, panting, eyeliner smeared and mascara running down her face.  “you’re not here.” choso blinks. he pulls out, slumping onto the bed, and she’s still staring.  “what’s that supposed to mean?” “you’re thinking about something else.” he tenses, running a hand through his hair. the room is hot, stuffy, suffocating. outside, the sound of a full blown party tunes back in, and he can feel the steady bass vibrate through the walls. a few minutes pass as he regains his breath.  “sorry,” he mutters, glancing at the door. you weren’t here tonight—or at least you hadn’t been a few hours ago. the girl shifts beside him, and he looks over. “it wasn’t you—it was good. felt good. i’m just—” “no, i get it,” she says, already reaching over for her fallen clothes. “it was good. as long as it was good i don’t care if you care.” his eyebrows raise.  damn. she slips on her shirt, skirt already on, and he’s still in the same position from before.  “you don’t need water or anything?” he asks, and she stands, slowly as if trying to regain her balance. “lay low for a bit?” “i’m good,” she stumbles a little as she moves to grab her purse, but continues to make her way to the door. “thanks for this.” “yeah,” the door opens, and she slips out. “sure.” as soon as the door closes, choso lets out a sigh, sinking back into the bed. 

you were ruining his life, and honestly? he wasn’t complaining.  his phone vibrates on the beside table.  baby — 12:28pm hey you here?

he’s out the door two minutes later.  sukuna’s house parties weren’t always the most civil.  more often than not, someone would get kicked out, or a fight would break out and cause the party to end altogether. to avoid all of that, choso would always gravitate towards the lounge, or the outside deck.  you were in the lounge today, in a short skirt that barely stopped midthigh and one of those tops that you knew he loved.  “hey,” you smile, glancing over as he stops beside you. “where’ve you been?” “nowhere important,” he answers, casual enough that you don’t question it. he tugs you closer, and your hands wrap around the back of his neck as you face him. “thought you weren’t coming tonight.” “me too,” you mutter, head tilting. “decided you needed someone to keep you company.” “yeah? why’s that?” “cause you’re always lonely without me,” you don’t flinch at his warm hands that slide onto your waist. “always on the couch drinking or smoking without saying a word to anyone.” “untrue,” he leans forward, lips ghosting your ear.  you both tell yourselves it’s just because the music is loud and you’re in the midst of the party, but deep down, you know it’s not. “i talk to plenty of people.” “list?” “sukuna, satoru,” you feel him smirk. “you.” “you can’t include me in the list, stupid,” he laughs at your frown as he pulls away, and your own arms fall back to your sides again. “i meant when i’m not here.” “but you’re always here.” “then next time i won’t show.” “awh, don’t do that,” he tugs you out of the way as someone drunk comes stumbling past. “you’re right. i’ll get lonely.” you’re used to this. 

the close proximity, the touching, the soft words laced with unintended tension.  “you want a drink?” he asks, and he’s already leading you towards the mountains of coolers on the other side of the room. “can’t promise that there’s anything other than beer.” “beers fine.” he shoots you an amused look.  “you hate beer.” “if it gets me through this hellhole for a few more hours, than i’ll take it.” his arm is still snaked around your waist, guiding you through the mass of people with as much effort as blinking.  the air is thick with haze that’s probably taking off a few years of your lifespan, and the lighting is dim but brightened with the flashing of lights.  for some reason, it all feels right. everything felt right when you were with him.  “spirit,” he’s handing over a glass bottle. “not beer.” “shocker,” as soon as you attempt to pry open the lid, he’s doing it for you. “where’s sukuna? he’s the host and i haven’t seen him once tonight.” “probably screwing someone.” “seriously? i thought he’d—” “yo, look who decided to show,” the voice is light, playful, and when satoru stops in front of you and choso you roll your eyes. “what?! don’t give me that look. i was talking to kamo.” “hasn’t he been here for ages?” “yeah, until he disappeared into a room with that girl from tri delta.” “oh?” you take a sip of the drink, sliding your gaze back over to choso. “and how was that?” he’s watching you carefully, “she was okay.” “that’s not what she’s telling everyone,” satoru chimes back in, arms crossing. “she says you were amazing.” “she had an attitude.” “every girl from tri delta has an attitude,” he elbows choso in the side. “just be glad she’s actually talking you up. they usually do the opposite.” choso couldn’t care less what sorority girls had to say about him.  all he cared about was you, and what you had to say,  and right now, you weren’t saying anything.  “uh oh,” satoru says, leaning closer. “is that jealousy i sense? when are the two of you getting together by the way? not to be pressurizing or anything but there’s a bet and i really wanna win this one.” both you and choso snap your heads towards him.  “a bet?” you repeat, pure disbelief in your tone. “since when was there a bet?” “since a few months ago,” he shrugs, white hair ruffling as he reaches up to adjust the sunglasses on his head. “y’know, i don’t think i was actually supposed to tell you that.” “i hope you lose,” you say, and choso snorts in amusement. “me and cho’ are not getting together.” “sure you aren’t,” satoru says, eyebrows lifting as a girl walks past. “catch you two later. gotta go do something.” he’s gone before the two of you even open your mouths to respond.  choso shifts, leaning against the wall.  “you aren’t actually jealous, are you?” “no,” the answer is immediate, a bit bitter on your tongue. “the only thing i’m jealous about is the fact that you actually had sex.”

and just like that, the tension’s gone.  “huh,” he scoffs, nudging you, “when’s the last time you had sex?”  “a month ago,” you glare at nothing in particular. “and the whole time i was just thinking about my upcoming exam. so that doesn't even count.” “i’m sure you could go up to anyone right now and they’d hook up with you without a second thought.” “but would you let me go up to anyone right now?” “nah,” he gives you a lazy smile, one that he only ever used with you. “the guys here are trash. go find someone that’s not a frat boy, preferably. they’re off limits.” you take another sip of your drink, “like who?” his hand brushes against yours as he takes the bottle.  “i’m always down,” he says, still smirking. “you know that, right?.” “you’re a frat boy,” you tell him, watching his throat flex as he drinks. “and i thought frat boys were off limits.” “c’mon. i’m an exception.” “you’re about to say i’m not like the others, aren’t you?” “but i’m not like the others,” he says, passing the drink back. “i’ll give you another two weeks before you give in. those sex toys of yours can only do so much.” “they can do a lot, thank you very much.” “yeah i doubt that.” you give him an incredulous look, “well i doubt you could do much better.” “wanna find out?” “what if i do?” “seriously?” “no, you freak,” you say, pointedly turning away. “stop being horny right after you just had sex.” “i was just trying to help you out. can i remind you that this whole conversation started from your problem?” “which you dragged into something else entirely.” he shrugs, hands finding their way into his pockets.  “i’m always down. just remember that.” “mm,” is all you answer, bringing the drink to your lips again. “how about instead of talking about my sex life, you dance with me?” “i don’t dance.” “yeah you do,” you shift closer, looking up at him. “remember that last time. remember how much fun we had?” “now you’re making it weird.” “but you had fun.” “one time thing.” “fine. maybe i’ll go find satoru.” “you wouldn’t.” you turn, a smile playing on your lips as you begin walking into the crowd. 

you don’t have to look behind you to know he’s following.

"Yeah," You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as he led the way into the kitchen. He watched you start to take the boxes of food out, his blue eyes following every movement.

"Where's Saori?" He casually asked, glancing around like he was listening for laughter or little footsteps.

"Her and Sukuna are sleeping," You explained, peeking inside the boxes to figure out which one was yours.

His brows scrunched together, eyes narrowing as his stare dragged up-and-down your body, not really even in a sexual way. More like he was assessing you, the baggy shirt you were hiding yourself in and how your hair was haphazardly tied up.

"Are you okay?" He asked, walking around the kitchen counter, his hip resting on the side as he reached out to touch you. Fingers resting on your arm, his grip firm but still soft.

"I'm fine," You mumbled, forcing yourself to pull back to pull out forks from the kitchen drawer.

You didn't know why you were lying to him. Maybe it was just for some control over the situation you created.

"Saori's still sleeping," Sukuna's gravelly voice carried as he walked in the room, thick and sleepy. His face scrunched up in silent annoyance when he saw Satoru. But he didn't express it, just continued back over to you, pressing his chest to your back, wrapping an arm around you to bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. His nose nudged against your ear as he mururmed, "Something happen?"

You shook your head in response, holding up three forks. One for each of you. He snagged two of them, only pulling back enough to pass one to Satoru, refusing to let his hold on you loosen too much.

"Dunno about you guys, but I'm starving," Satoru lightened the mood with a laugh, sliding into a barstool and digging in, poking through the food hard enough you could hear the faint sound of his fork puncturing the plastic box. "I snacked before I left but-"

Sukuna didn't say whatever he was thinking, but he scoffed under his breath.

"What?" Satoru called him out on it, cocking one of his brows up to dare him to say it.

"You're really not satisfied with anything, are you?"

Before they could start arguing, Saori was walking in, rubbing her eyes sleepily and pouting at waking up by herself.

"You left me," She accusingly glared up at Sukuna, poking at his leg.

"Look who's here," He dryly said, and she blinked, looking over and finally realizing her other father was here.

She squealed, rushing over to Satoru and wrapping her small arms around his calf to squeeze tight.

"I brought you food," He grinned, ruffling her hair and picking her up to sit in the stool next to him, scooting it closer.

Your mouth parted, but you didn't say the words that were choking up your throat.

It could wait.

You just wish you hadn't.

Because four weeks later, when you finally managed to snag a doctor's appointment to get an ultrasound while they were both busy working, your only company was Saori swinging her legs in a hard plastic chair while the tech spread the gel on your stomach.

"What's dat?" Saori asked, the toy in her lap forgotten as she watched wide-eyed in the dim lights.

"We use it so we can see the baby inside of mommy," The ultrasound tech chirped back to her, happily smiling as she pressed the wand hard against your stomach.

"Baby?" Saori blinked, her little brain not comprehending the fact that the baby in question wasn't her.

"You can see on the-" The ultrasound tech stopped talking as she saw what you had already noticed.

Two separate sacs.

Twins.

You stared numbly at the two babies on the screen. Your babies.

Maybe Sukuna's. Maybe Satoru's.

Fuck.

"This is gonna be our special secret, okay, angel?" You murmured an hour later, buckling Saori into her car seat as she enthusiastically nodded.

"Okay," She nodded, although her leg was bouncing, already barely able to contain her excitement as she wiggled around too much for you to buckle her in neatly.

There was no way she'd be able to keep it secret.

And staring at the huge packet they were sending you home with, the ultrasound photos with BABY A and BABY B in neat letters printed there like it wasn't obvious there was more than one, you didn't think you could keep it to yourself either.

You sent Saori to play in her room when Sukuna got home from work, letting him pull you in for a hug and kiss your lips, hanging onto the feeling of being his, of his unfiltered affection.

"Where's-"

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had him stopping, his face freezing in a frown as he realized Satoru was here.

"I invited him" You admitted, swallowing hard as you pulled the door open.

"Why?" Sukuna gruffly asked, grimacing as he shrugged off his jacket.

Satoru was smiling when he walked through, at least, until he noticed your face.

"What's wrong?" He immediately asked, and an old memory of him floated up. Back when he used to come home from work to you, when he'd squat down by the couch and run his thumb over your lips, demanding to know about your day and then buying you takeout to fix whatever you had to complain about, always accompanied by dessert.

"I'm pregnant," You confessed, your eyes darting from Satoru's over to Sukuna's, waiting for a reaction you were scared of. For an ending instead of a beginning.

"You're-" Satoru started, and the hope in his stare, the way all his features softened, his lips curled up into a brilliant smile, it was brutal. Would that have been his face if he'd been around for you to tell him about Saori?

"How far along?" Sukuna asked, his voice measured, careful. Trying to calculate what you were clueless about.

"They measured from my last period, so, um, ten weeks," You mumbled, and you could see him harden at what it meant. That it really might not be his.

But he still stepped forward first, his hands on your waist to pick you up, your chest against his as he breathed into you. Sukuna kissed your collarbone, his lips soft there, his fingers probably wrinkling your sweatpants.

Could he feel you trembling? How fast your pulse was pounding? Smell the fear under your perfume?

He didn't want to put you down.

But Satoru didn't let anything stop him.

"Is it my turn yet?" He chimed in, and Sukuna looked up just to throw him a harsh scowl. But Satoru continued, a hand sneaking to touch your back before Sukuna had fully brought your feet back to the floor. "It could be my-"

"We'll see," Sukuna interrupted, like he didn't even really want to hear the words.

Satoru was about to pull you in for a bear hug, the ones he did best, where you ended up half-crushed and out of breath, but you were still trying to find a way to say that you weren't finished.

But you didn't have to.

Because Saori was more than happy to do it for you.

You hadn't even noticed her sneaking in until she was there, tugging on Sukuna's shirt and smiling, cradling two of her favorite baby dolls in her arms and trying to show him. You knew what was about to happen, but your lips wouldn't move, your tongue wouldn't work.

"Look daddy," She sweetly said, and Sukuna automatically looked down at her, attentive as ever.

"Mm?" He grunted, trying to turn his frown off to focus on her when he was still distracted.

"I've got two babies like mommy," She chirped, throwing only a brief glance towards your belly.

Satoru pieced it together while Sukuna was still staring, pale fingers flexing as he put his palm over your stomach. His voice was low, hoarse. "Twins?"

Pulling away to pull out the ultrasound photos was harder than it should've been. You really just wished Sukuna would say something.

But he didn't until you took the roll out of your purse, held it out for both of them to see, each one leaning over one of your shoulders and Saori jumping to catch a peek, that he did. He grabbed the photos, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"I think we'll need a new car."

Satoru bought you one a couple months later, big enough to comfortably install two new infant car seats. But Sukuna was busy too - building an extension on the side of the house after Satoru tried to suggest selling and buying something new. Moving furniture around and repainting, priming everything to be in perfect shape, somehow managing to convince Saori and Satoru to be his helpers half the time.

Nesting.

You scheduled an appointment to find out who the father was. But Sukuna told you to cancel. Said they'd find out eventually anyway.

It was one of the few things him and Satoru actually agreed on. Content to both keep acting like the twins were theirs - constantly trying to one-up each other for father of the year. If anything, Saori was the one playing referee in the middle of their competition, choosing sides depending on the day and picking her favorite based on whoever had spoiled her the most.

Sukuna took you to most of your appointments, but Satoru filled in where he couldn't.

It was weird, whatever this strange truce was that they established when it came to you. But it was easier to go along with it, to try and accept than to keep denying that you didn't want this. Didn't want them.

Sukuna had proposed, casually suggesting it over dinner when Satoru was watching Saori, pulling out a ring he admitted he bought six months after you first met. This time though, you told him to ask again after you had the babies.

You'd learned your lesson about running away. Let go of the issues that you let run your life for years. But you were still cautious. Concerned that if the babies were Satoru's he'd walk away before the wedding. Or worse, after it.

He didn't hold your answer against you, putting the ring back in his box, setting it there on his nightstand. It was pretty. Something you would've picked out for yourself - even if it was nothing like the ring Satoru had given you all those years ago.

Sometimes, you thought about maybe wearing both on a necklace, carrying them like that instead. But you were being greedy. Clinging to both of them instead of just choosing.

Satoru had even started sleeping over somewhere after you hit the thirty week mark, sometimes staying on the couch, sometimes even in your bed, waking up on your side and sandwiched between them.

Time kept slipping by. The days blending together and dragging on in this in-between where they argued and disagreed over paint colors and nursery designs. Teasing and taunting every chance they got, just to treat you all soft and sweet once the other one wasn't around.

The hardest change to get used to was yourself.

Two babies were a lot fucking bigger than just one. It was a struggle to do anything the closer you got to your due date, or well, the scheduled induction date if they didn't show up by then.

A boy and a girl.

They were both constantly squirming and kicking, bickering even inside you, making it hard to sleep, hard to eat, hard to breathe. Your stomach had been hurting on-and-off for two days with their constant movement, but you were pretty sure it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not strong enough to worry about.

One of them kicked hard, a nerve getting pinched in your back as you readjusted in bed, trying to roll over. Sukuna ran his hand over your back, rubbing the spot right as Satoru placed his hand over your swollen stomach.

"Brats," Sukuna yawned, massaging you and glancing over you to Satoru. "Maybe they are yours."

"They're angels," Satoru argued. There was only a small sliver of light coming through the window. You squinted through the dark at the alarm clock, half past one in the morning.

"She's barely slept," Sukuna grunted, tugging you back against him.

"Maybe because you kick in your sleep."

You felt it then.

The gush. Sudden dampness between your thighs, soaking the bed beneath you.

"Guys," You started, your voice small and shaking. But Sukuna was groaning at Satoru's insinuation.

"I don't kick," He grumbled.

"I think my water just broke."

You didn't think either of them had ever moved so fast.

From packing up the last of your stuff in your hospital bag, to arguing over who would watch Saori and who would go with you while you sat on the edge of the now-stripped down bed, a towel underneath you as your contractions went from weak to painful, trying to focus on breathing through them.

They both wanted to be the one holding your hand. The one helping you through it.

But unless they figured it out soon, you were probably about to be giving birth in the bathtub.

Your phone was on the bed, your fingers hovering over the timer as you counted the seconds between your contractions.

"She's my girlfriend," Sukuna snapped at Satoru. "I'm going."

Satoru stared at you, and you could feel the weight of it. The weight of once again not being the man who'd be there for the birth. Missing it again.

Waiting and hoping for you to say you wanted him there instead.

But you had built your life with Sukuna. Someone who had stayed even when he didn't have to. Who had stuck it out when you sobbed in his arms from nightmares and held onto you even when it was hard to do.

"Help," You mumbled in a strained voice, holding out your arm and wincing as a particularly strong contraction struck. Sukuna slung your bag of stuff over his shoulder, hurrying to help you up.

"Call me," Satoru said, following behind, biting his lip like he hated everything about this. Hating being the one left behind. "If anything happens. When-"

"We will," You managed, brows still pinched together in pain.

You glanced over your shoulder at him though, stared at the shape of him standing in the doorway as Sukuna helped you get into the car and buckled you in.

But you didn't get to wonder what it'd be like if it was him instead anymore.

"One more big push."

You were so fucking tired of pushing. You had no idea how long you'd been here. How many hours your labor was. Just a blur of needles and exams and pain. One of them was out already, but your relief was short-lived, your worry for whichever baby had come out overwritten by the fresh panic of getting the other one out too.

Half of you had wished that they wheeled you into the operating room and cut them out, just so it'd be over already.

But no, you were straining and sweating, pretty sure you were about to die even with the epidural in, some of the pain seeping through since you were pretty sure they hadn't exactly placed it properly. A baby was crying, whining as you forced yourself to push as hard as you could during the next contraction, begging your muscles to help you out.

There was a sudden emptiness, another weight being removed right after a dizzying wave of pain - but he was out.

"And there's our boy," The doctor said, but you saw the nurses behind them exchanging a look as he pulled the baby free from between your thighs. But you were looking to Sukuna, who currently had a death grip on your hand, his knuckles pale as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"You did it," He spoke softly, all exhausted and gravelly, tired circles under his eyes.

"Here's your daughter," One of the nurses interrupted, placing your baby - goop and all still covering her skin - and you felt your heart lurch. A tiny girl with soft pink hair, her eyes scrunched shut, long lashes fluttering as her chubby hands opened and shut.

"Look at her," You whispered to Sukuna, barely able to tear your eyes away from her to glance up at him.

You didn't think he was even breathing. His jaw was clenched tight, already stuck on the small yawn of her parted lips.

She was his.

"Can I hold her?" He asked, his breathing unsteady as he preemptively peeled his shirt off to still offer skin-to-skin.

"Yeah," You breathed, readjusting so it'd be easier for him to pick her up and cradle against his chest, her little cheek smushed against his tattooed skin.

The IV hooked into your hand shifted as you were tempted to reach out, to touch him somehow, your heart stalling at the sight of them together.

But before the moment could fully set in, one of the other nurses cleared her throat. "Would you like to hold your son?"

You were nodding, only vaguely aware of the way pointed way she had said your until you readjusted your other arm and saw him.

He wasn't Sukuna's.

The wispy white hair kind of gave it away. It was almost like looking at newborn Saori all over again. Familiar features you already loved on two others right in front of you again.

They were both beautiful, both already had your love, held your heart in their hands.

And you were lucky enough to get one of each.

Better than you could have ever dreamed.

Sukuna looked down at the boy, and you saw the briefest flash of disappointment there. But he hid it. Buried it under his happiness.

"I'll call Satoru."

He didn't tell him who the father was. No, he neglected to mention anything except the babies were here. Bluntly telling him to hurry up and offering the new room number for where you were moved to recover at. Both the babies had to go through what felt like a hundred tests, hearing and breathing checked, being weighed and measured.

Sukuna was hogging his daughter, holding her every chance he could, glaring at the nurses who came to check on her while she clutched onto one of his thick fingers, cozy and sleepy in his warm arms.

"She has your eyes," He mumbled, fixing the way she was swaddled. Already being overprotective.

"Are you going to hold him?" You mumbled, squinting at him as your son unlatched from your boob, your thighs sore and aching as you tried to sit up more. You had managed to take a shower, needing a nurse's help to stand while Sukuna and of the other ones stayed with the twins in the room, but you were starving, waiting for a certain someone to show up with Saori and food.

"Satoru should get to hold him first," Sukuna grumbled, and you paused, not really sure what to make of the respect in it. The fact that he wanted to hold your son, but was actually waiting for Satoru.

"Mommy!" Saori's shrill voice rang out, a pattering of steps rushing through as a heavier pair followed suit.

She raced in, but stopped the second she saw Sukuna holding her new baby sister.

"C'mere and get a better look," Sukuna grunted, patting the spot next to him on the uncomfortable couch. She hurried to climb up, clambering over to peek at the new baby.

But you couldn't help glancing back towards the door, holding your breath when Satoru slowly stepped into sight.

"Hi," You breathed, and his eyes were immediately on you. Not Sukuna. Or the babies. Just you.

"Hi," He echoed, and there wasn't anything you could actually say, or nothing that would come out right. So you showed him instead.

Readjusted so that he could see the little boy in your arms, his lips immediately parting and a strangled sound escaping. "Is-"

"He's yours," You murmured, and he was setting the bag of food down on the floor and walking over with that same stunned expression. You could see the panic there, the disbelief that what he'd been praying and hoping for actually happened.

"How do I-"

You tugged him down by his bicep to sit on the edge of your bed, moving his arms and helping get into the right position to hold his son.

"Kuna waited so you could hold him first," You whispered quiet enough that Sukuna wouldn't overhear. He was too busy showing off your brand new baby girl to Saori, who was giggling and attempting to squish her sister's cheeks already.

There was a hint grief in Satoru's stare. Regret that he missed out on this moment with Saori. Relief that he had it now.

That maybe he didn't have all of you anymore.

But he had this.

And you'd both just have to make that work.