ꨄ︎٠࣪⭑ lemme see ur kitty ⋆.˚𐦍

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

Him being jealous was the only time he fucked you precisely while being intoxicated. You can still feel the burn of his fingers rubbing your clit to splashing tears while his dick rut up against your dewy sweet spot.

Plug!Choso who acts like the whole thing never happened the next day, telling you he, “Doesn’t get jealous.”

Plug!Choso who you purposefully annoy afterwards by going out of your way to talk to frat!kuna while at some party, giggling harder than necessary and letting your palm run along the man’s bulky arms since you knew you had his eyes on you from afar.

Plug!Choso who drags you up to the second floor of that same frat house later that night, locating frat!kuna’s bedroom just to pin you up against the wall and bully his tongue deep into your pussy as some type of punishment.

Each time you started whining about how you were about to cum, he pulled away and slapped your cunt all meanly. Grunting, “If you wanted to cum, you should’ve let him come touch you instead.”

You were frustrated from being edged so you didn’t think things through when you said, “Maybe I will next time.”

Plug!Choso who didn’t appreciate hearing that one bit, two of his thick fingers diving up into your pussy and watching the way your slick spills all down his hand—decorating his wrist and slowly his forearm in your filth.

You ended up crying real tears due to how long he stretched things out. Even when droplets were falling down onto him, he still didn’t let you cum.

Plug!Choso who slobbered against your cunt, tongue lathering his name around your clit so you’d never fix your mind to flirt with some other guy in front of him like that again.

Plug!Choso who eventually tugged his face and hands away from you just to stand up, letting you slide down onto the floor still lacking the release of a delightful orgasm.

He let you watch as he sleazily unzipped his pants and tugged his fat cock out, giving it only a couple strokes with the same fingers that’d just been inside you. Then he beckoned you closer and you scrambled on your knees just to get to him.

Plug!Choso who wasn’t gentle with you at all, feeding you his dick as if this were the very position you always belonged in: on your knees like some slut while you sucked him real good.

His fingers thread through your hair just enough to get a tight hold onto your skull, quickly using you and your mouth like a proper cocksleeve as he spewed out all sorts of curses.

Even though he was upset with you, he still wasn’t too harsh with his words—managing to tell you how good your throat feels for his cock while simultaneously calling you a slut.

His slut, though.

Plug!Choso who had yet to let you cum but allowed you to touch yourself while he bashed his tip into the back of your throat, soon spilling sticky loads down your warm cavern to let you taste what he wasn’t letting you release.

Your face was a mess of wetness from tears and drool, nothing but soft mewls heard from your wobbly lips by the time he pulled away since he swore to cut off everything he had with you if you came before he said you could.

Plug!Choso who knew that’s all you wanted to begin with—to get bullied ‘n teased to the nth degree like that. He didn’t let you cum until you’d weeped a great sum of apologies and promised never to do what you did again.

But by then, he’d already had you folded up into a mean mating press against frat!kuna’s bed, telling you to cream around his cock and leave a filthy mess for that man to come find later.

Plug!Choso who was never one to be this possessive with anyone until he started dealing to you. He didn’t even think he had all that in him but you looked so pretty crying and begging for him until your voice had gone hoarse, he just couldn’t help himself!

Plug!Choso who’s shyly apologizing for his actions the very next day, assuming he’d been a bit too mean.

Plug!Choso who you laugh at when he mumbles that apology and then reveal that you only entertained Sukuna to make him mad.

Which, as it turns out, worked exactly in your favor!

Plug!Choso who's really good with aftercare no matter what. He could be high out of his mind or stupidly upset with you but either way, he's always making sure you're perfectly alright after the fact.

Plug!Choso who eventually comes out and says he wants more of a relationship with you, one that's not only built on sex 'n drugs. He asks you out properly while he's sober, bringing you your favorite type of flowers that you only mentioned once before, and later dinning you properly.

Plug!Choso who you started dating and now get your free weed from with soft kisses and the occasionally intimate, "I love you."

Plug!Choso who you cherish your time with greatly, even though there's a slightly jealous frat!kuna who's lurking around every corner of your relationship...

perm choso tags;

@yulissacastillo11 @xxvendettaxx @blcknebula @imyourightnow @cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator

@hopelissromantiq @2kool4skoolll @o4tmilf @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @avatar4eva @broimherebcsimboredok @indiaas-priv @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer

@prettysexcgorgeous @themicthatyeosangwith @autistmicfool @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks

@satoruslxt @sinovi @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @miss-f0rtun3 @jinjen @shamelessdancer

"I actually don't want to fucking hear it if you want to be an idiot," you grimaced, turning away from him to face Suguru.

You automatically flinched, sucking in a sharp breath that didn't make it down your throat as you saw all the fresh scrapes, all the red splotches that would surely swell and turn to blue or purple tomorrow.

Reflexively, you reached up, hesitating before actually touching him. Biting down on your lip before throwing another annoyed look over your shoulder at Sukuna.

"Can I help clean you up?" You asked, swallowing hard as you made yourself scrutinize his face and figure out if he'd need any stitches.

Suguru slowly opened his mouth to speak, but you could see the little cringe of pain that made you feel even worse than you previously thought possible.

You really should've known better than to expect Sukuna to clean up your mess for you. All he had done here was create an even bigger one.

And yet, you still felt like he was your responsibility.

"Please let me," you muttered, tilting your head to the side. "It's seriously the least I can do after he-"

You didn't finish, just waving your hand up towards his face as you fought back a pout.

"Okay," he agreed, but you saw the way his stare flickered behind you to the asshole that literally just assaulted him.

Sukuna's hand reached out, tried to grab your wrist, but you pulled it back before his fingers could actually wrap around it.

"Go sit in your car," you muttered, half-tempted to hit him as you looked towards the still-cracked open door to Suguru's house.

What if the girls heard?

Imagining what would have happened if they sleepily stumbled out of their beds only to see some stranger attacking their father. Another fresh wave of frustration washing over you while you tried to keep a level head here, tried to step up when clearly Sukuna wasn't as capable as you convinced yourself he was.

A handful of hours ago, you had been considering telling him you loved him. If you did, would he have felt the need to do this?

What did you really expect from him? For him to seriously change?

"You want me to leave you alone with me?" Sukuna asked, and you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him right now.

"Clearly, you don't give a shit what I want if you're here right now," you sarcastically muttered under your breath, bitterness coating your throat as it threatened to close.

Before he could retort or offer some snarled reply, footsteps interrupted, your driver for tonight awkwardly standing a few feet away.

Choso's dark gaze lingered on Suguru too long to be comfortable, conflicted from the years of idolization, all the time he'd spent looking up to him as an idea and the reality of his connection with you before finally readjusting and landing on you.

"Can I go back home and get some sleep?" Choso yawned, rubbing his tired eyes like he didn't want to deal with this, but would stay if you asked him to. The whole car ride had been tense, speckled with concerned glanced and awkward assurances he stammered out that he didn't actually watch your sex tape in a way that made you think he'd definitely seen some of it.

Knowing him though, it was probably something he stumbled upon in the total clusterfuck the last twelve hours were.

"Yeah, I'll take Sukuna back," you sighed, even though you suspected that car ride would be even more spectacularly awful. "Thanks, Cho."

"Course," he mumbled, rolling his shoulders back before he offered Sukuna a single annoyed once-over. "Do you ever fucking learn, dude?"

The answer was no.

But Sukuna didn't get to say it while he was already shuffling back to his car.

"He can sit on the couch and wait," Suguru graciously offered, as if he was playing host instead of victim here.

"Yeah, like I'm going to sit on your couch and-" Sukuna sarcastically started repeating him, and you held up a single finger to shut him up before he dared to finish it.

"You will, and you'll shut up."

And if he didn't, you were considering dropping him off on the side of the road.

Sukuna kept his mouth shut, but you didn't miss the way he glowered when he did sit down in the corner of the couch, the living room eerily quiet as Suguru flicked on a lamp so he wasn't sitting in the dark.

You could see how much it was killing him, how badly he wanted to demand you didn't leave the room without him, but honestly? You wanted to spite him a little bit, piss him off in return after he ruined your already awful night.

But regret did start to creep in once you let Suguru lead you back into his hallway bathroom, even if it wasn't even the one you had sex with him in last.

He shut the door behind him, his fingers hitting the light switch next, yellow bulbs bathing everything in warm light.

"It's kinda cute watching you boss him around," Suguru murmured, trying to break the tension, and you nearly broke into a smile at how absurd this whole thing felt. Being here right now. With him.

"You want me to call you an idiot too?" You dryly offered, and he grinned as you got down on your knees to search for first aid supplies in his cabinet.

"I mean, I think the shoe fits," he said, and you did let out a small, relieved laugh that he wasn't holding this against you. Soothing the inflammation of your irritability, bringing you back from the brink of completely losing it.

At least he could admit he was an idiot.

You didn't know if the man waiting out there for you would even realize what a moron he was until morning came.

"On the toilet," you muttered, gesturing for Suguru to sit, sighing as you sorted through his well-stocked kit after you placed it on the counter. Although all of his bandaids were various shades of pink and purple and featured kitties, you supposed it was still better than nothing.

And the girls would hopefully be too distracted by the colorful bandages to notice the bruises and cuts blooming underneath them.

"You didn't have to just take it, y'know," you muttered as you pulled out the alcohol wipes, ripping open the little square and struggling to figure out where to start.

"I probably deserve it," he shrugged. "I hit him first last time."

You didn't know what to say to that when your brain just brought you back to being between them. How they each pulled you in and pried you apart in different ways. The look on Sukuna's face when he saw Suguru's hand on your thigh. The betrayal that burned in Suguru's eyes when he realized it had been him.

"I really am sorry for not telling you about Sukuna sooner," you softly said, even if you didn't really want to rehash it. But you were sick of living in this weird in-between state with him, torn between guilt and hurt. "I just didn't know how to say it back then. I was kinda scared you wouldn't see me the same way."

"I told you before, I don't care what happened between you and him," he said, and even when you were hearing it a second time, your mind didn't want to let it sink in.

Another awkward pause. A tense silence you didn't have the strength to break.

"Are you friends with his whole band?" He asked instead, a hint of curiosity you guessed, probably at Choso's appearance.

"Yeah, I mean, I've known most of them for years," you muttered, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you carefully wiping right above his brow where the skin had split clean. Tossing out the wipe and grabbing a new one to keep working on the rest of his face. "I've kinda been stuck with Sukuna since we were basically, like, babies. Choso moved next door to him and his brother when we were teenagers, but uh, the band stuff came later."

You had never really known a life without Sukuna in it.

The only version of you that you'd known was when you were Suguru's girlfriend.

Who were you when you were on your own? What were you without either of them?

The thought was uncomfortable enough you kept chattering, cocking your head to the side as you continued, "Cho's actually a huge fan of yours, he actually starting playing because he saw one of your shows a few years ago."

"Seriously?" Suguru smiled, and you nodded, returning a smaller version of it.

"You would like him," you muttered, genuinely meaning it.

"Yeah?" He asked. You felt stupid nodding again, more like a bobblehead than a real person, suddenly struck by this funny flutter of nervousness as you remembered your proximity. Too close as you cleaned his face, that familiar dark stare of his dragging over every detail of your face like he was trying to memorize it.

He didn't break it either.

Not even looking away once as you started applying the girly bandages, brushing his hair out of his face to make sure you didn't catch any loose strands of hair in the adhesive.

"I missed talking to you," he said, and you struggled to face that you felt the same.

That even if this whole situation was screwed up, it was surprisingly nice to be able to speak to him like this.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Me too."

He stood up, leaning down to cup your cheek, steady fingers splayed out as he tilted his head to the side. There was no scent of smoke hanging onto his clothes anymore, just his cologne and the faint hint of blood and rubbing alcohol. His warm eyes locked onto yours, reminding you why you fell for him in the first place. What side of him you'd been trying to shove down in your memory.

"As much as I hate to admit it," he murmured, his stare flicking down to your lips for less than half a second before he caught himself. "All three of us would do anything for you."

You almost protested, pointed out that him and Sukuna were literally just fist-fighting on his front porch past midnight, but he just gave a little self-deprecating smile that let you know he knew what a fucking mess it was too.

"Maybe we're still figuring it out, but we'll take care of you," he promised, a cute crinkle by his lips when he offered a real smile this time. "Whatever it takes."

Trusting Suguru was too easy. You could slip back into it if you let yourself.

Both men had some gravitational pull on you, threatening to suck you back into their orbit when they spoke soft enough, said the right things.

"I'm here for you," he added, as if his stare didn't say it for him. "Always. Just a call away."

He started towards the door, hand hovering over the knob, and you got the sudden urge to stop him. Stall the moment just a little longer.

"Did you make up with Gojo?" You spoke up before he could grab it.

"Sorta," he paused, turning back to you as you studied the way his now grown-out bangs hung over his brows. "He came over earlier."

"Is he okay?" You nervously asked, wondering how he was handling it. You should call him tomorrow, just talk to him yourself, despite how hypocritical you felt for acting like it'd be him who'd let it leak that night when it was your own fault for not deleting it off your laptop sooner.

But there were a hundred other things you were supposed to do soon, a million responsibilities a more mature person would be planning out and scheduling to sort through the wreckage of your life.

Then again, would a more mature person even end up like this?

"He's embarrassed. Angry," Suguru answered, running those long fingers of his back through his hair. "Worried about you. We're on the same page there."

"I hope Manami gets hit by a fucking car," you muttered under your breath, and he laughed.

Your lips curling up instinctively watching him smirk and nod.

"A train," he added, trying to make you giggle too.

You almost did.

His hand reached back for the knob, but it was him who dragged it out this time.

"Have we made up?" Suguru asked, and you were once again rendered speechless. The hurt lingered. Crept around in the corners and crevices and popped back up when you weren't expecting it. Thinking to your vulnerabilities thrown in your face, of him leaving you behind and barely looking back.

"You really hurt me, Suguru," you quietly admitted.

"I know, I'm sorry," he apologized, soft and sincere. It wasn't exactly the first time he said it, but it was the first one where it felt like it pierced deep enough you wouldn't be able to push it away. "I regret what I said to you every fucking day. I don't think it'll ever stop."

You wished he was lying. Loathed how easy it was to see that he wasn't. That if he had a single wish, he would take it all back.

All it did was undo half the stitches on your heart to imagine what would've been. Where you both would be right now if he hadn't tossed your love at you and you hadn't walked out his door.

"You should call Satoru," you changed the subject. "You know, have someone here to help keep the girls distracted from, uh..."

You vaguely gestured up to his face, flustered as you shrugged your shoulders, tilting your head to the side and rubbing your neck.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Sure."

"I'll call him and tell him to check up on you if you don't," you threatened.

Suguru grinned a little, well, as much as he could with a busted bottom lip.

"His dad wants us to attend some meeting at the end of this week," Suguru muttered, leaning against the wall as you winced yourself at the mention of that asshole. "But no matter what he says or what shit he tries to pull, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure I can get as many copies as possible taken down, okay?"

"He's probably fucking pleased just to have the publicity back on you guys," you scoffed back, head shaking and nose scrunching up.

"I don't know," Suguru dryly replied, sharing your disdain. "Satoru said he was pissed at him for looking like a pussy in it."

You could tell by the way he said it that he was just repeating what his best friend told him. It still made you cringe, lips pursing together as you felt a sharp sting of sympathy for Satoru for being raised by a prick like that.

"I hate him almost as much as I hate her," you grumbled, and his other hand grabbed your arm the way he used to. Dragging his thumb over the sleeve of your shirt, understanding in the simple small gesture.

"They'll get what's coming to them," he said, with certainty you didn't share.

How long would it take for any kind of karma to come back around? What consequences would they face if they had good enough connections?

You didn't need to go searching and scrolling through comment sections to know what the general public's reaction would be. How ruined your reputation would be. Branded as a whore as if half of them wouldn't have done the same in your shoes.

Following Suguru back out into the hall, you walked into the living room to see Nanako sitting on the couch next to Sukuna, little arms folded across her chest as she squinted up at him in her pajamas.

"Who're you?" She yawned, oblivious to his bruised and bloody knuckles currently buried in his lap, blinking slowly as she fiddled with the plastic dinosaur you guessed she decided to sleep with tonight.

"A friend," Suguru answered, stepping out and taking back over the situation. "Let's go back to bed, sweetheart."

But then she saw you behind him, her whole face lighting up as she hopped off the couch and practically sprinted over to you, completely ignoring the fact her father now looked like he'd been mugged as she wrapped her arms around your leg.

"You're here," she squealed, her happiness making you smile even if it was just for a single second. "Tell me a bedtime story? Please?"

"They were just leaving, angel," Suguru tried to put his hand on her shoulder, leaning down to pull her back, but that only made her cling to you harder.

"But-"

"You should be back in bed," he softly scolded, stern enough to make her hesitate, throwing a pleading look up at him.

"Why?" She whined, not understanding. "I jus' wan' one."

Her eyes were the size of the moon, wavering and wide as they focused back on you. Begging you to pick her up and tuck her in like you used to.

Sukuna was probably attempting to telepathically beg you to go back to Jin's place with him, but you were still pissed enough at him you decided to cave into Nanako's demands.

"Just one?" You asked, squatting down to lift her up, letting her throw her arms around your neck as you glanced at Suguru for approval.

He nodded, and you retraced steps you hadn't taken in what felt like forever.

Listening to her ramble about how uncle Towu visited them today, how he even let them put pink in his hair, although she added he sounded sad when he was talking to daddy, your smile faltering before you forced yourself to regain your composure.

Putting her back in her own bed, making sure the blanket was covering her how she liked before plucking a random book off their shelf, stepping over stuffed animals spread over their floor. You had to whisper, keeping your voice low to not wake up Mimiko as you told her some pretty fairytale about a princess.

But even when you finished, she still wasn't asleep. Yawning again as she rolled onto her side, brown eyes still bright, illuminated by their night light.

"Can you come back soon?" She requested, trying hard not to drift off just yet.

"Maybe," you murmured.

Over Sukuna's dead body.

"Can you tell daddy I wan' one more good night kiss?" She whispered, rubbing her cheeks.

"Sure, sweetie," you smiled, stroking her head, too swept up in a role that wasn't really yours anymore.

You glanced back out into the living room, surprised to see Suguru and Sukuna actually talking, and not like, viscerally arguing. Wearing serious expressions, even if it looked a little silly on Suguru with all the bandages spotted across his cheeks and plastered above his dark brows. His mouth was moving, and even though you couldn't hear what he was saying, Sukuna seemed to actually be listening to him.

And then Sukuna was pulling out his phone as he grumbled something back, fingers typing on his keyboard before you awkwardly cleared your throat and they both turned back.

"Um, Nana wants another good night kiss," you softly said, jutting your thumb back into the hall towards their bedroom.

"Oh, sure," Suguru said, stepping forward.

You didn't know why you followed him back there, leaning against the doorway to watch as he treaded quietly to his daughter. Mimiko still dozing peacefully in her own twin bed, blissfully unaware that she managed to sleep through a mess.

"Daddy," Nanako yawned again, long and drawn out. "Why're you wearing my bandaids?"

"I fell outside," he lied, forcing himself to smile through it, and your heart strained inside your chest.

"Ouch" she sleepily said, blinking up before rolling over to look at you in the doorway. "Night night."

"Good night, Nana," you murmured softly, offering a small wave of your hand before your eyes betrayed you by glancing up at her dad standing by her bed. "Night, Suguru."

You turned on your heel, holding your breath as you kept moving forward. You didn't look at Sukuna even when you entered the living room this time, just heading straight for the door.

Footsteps lingered behind you, heavy and fast, Sukuna's presence feeling more like a poltergeist unfortunately attached to you than the only person you trusted.

Tomorrow, you'd be exhausted. Too drained to do anything without even your own bed to rot in. But tonight? The only thing keeping you alive was your anger.

Maybe you were misdirecting it.

Taking some of it out on the only person you really could. But fuck, Sukuna really pissed you off this time.

"Give me your keys," you muttered, holding out your hand as you heard him shut the front door behind both of you.

"I can-"

"Give me your fucking keys," you repeated, refusing to budge until he begrudgingly handed them over.

Immediately starting back towards his car, fumbling through the set to find his key fob, unlocking it with an irritated huff, yanking open the driver's door and climbing in to get it started.

The passenger door slammed shut next, but you still refused to so much as turn your head.

You'd known it before.

All you had to do was give him a goddamn millimeter and he'd take more than a mile.

"You're mad at me," he said, and you briefly considered banging your head on his steering wheel.

"I'm glad to see you have some functioning braincells still left," you snapped.

"I tried to fucking hold it in all day," he said, as if that changed anything.

"Do you want a gold star?" You scoffed, the sound ringing out in the quiet car without the radio to dampen it.

You had forgotten what it felt like to really fight with him, the charge in the air, ready to be ignited, one spark away from catching fire. Chest heaving as you desperately tried to contain all the words you wanted to spit at him, only half of them close to what you actually meant, lashing out when you were already spiraling.

"It's his fault this happened to you," he grunted, and you could bury your face in your hands, palms running over your cheeks as your stomach curled in on itself before you forced yourself to turn and stare out the window. His reflection was still there, the faint imprint of his frustrated expression, haunting you anyway.

"By that logic, it's your fault too," you defended Suguru, sick of this stupid game you'd been sucked into. "And mine for choosing him and letting him take the goddamn video. We all made shitty fucking decisions and now we're stuck with them."

None of you could go back and change a single thing.

You just had to figure out where to go from here.

His silence was enough to force you to turn, head swiveling to see if so much as a sentence had sunk in through his thick skull.

"God, you know you're such a fucking asshole," you hissed, half under your breath, so much hurt packed in it you hoped it felt like a punch. He recoiled like it was, blinking back at you as if he hadn't been expecting this exact reaction.

"I didn't think you'd show up," he grunted, and you sorta wished Suguru had hit him.

"Did you even think about how I'd feel at all?"

His mouth moved, but he didn't defend himself. You could see how badly he was itching to argue, irritation crawling under his skin at your accusation, but he was holding back.

"You had to know," you continued, lips pursing together as your frustration kept building, months of it collecting and cumulating into this. "You had to fucking know it would just hurt me more. And you still did it."

"That's not fair," he grunted, a low growl that you shook off. "You know I don't want to hurt you."

"Do I? Because you did for years," you reminded him, voice cracking at the end as your throat threatened to close around a lump bobbing up in it. You really weren't being fair now, dredging up more of the past when he'd been making such a point in changing.

But there was only so long you could keep bottling everything up. Holding it in and hoping for the best.

"Am I that pathetic?" You asked, exhaling hard as you threw a heated glance back at him in the passenger seat. "You think you can do anything and just assume I'll forgive you for it?"

"You're not pathetic," he muttered, his nose scrunching up like he was stunned at all of this. Taken back by the thoughts that had been twisting and taking root inside your head.

"I feel pathetic," you admitted, tearing your stare away from him.

Everything ached and everything was wrong and the one fucking person you wanted to rely on right now had blood on his hands that wasn't his.

He left you alone once again to do what?

Satisfy his possessive streak? Get out his anger?

Was he jealous that it wasn't him immortalized on the Internet for fucking you?

"I shouldn't have done it," Sukuna finally said, and you felt no relief. Nothing that eased the hole inside you he just ripped open more.

"No shit," you mumbled.

"It's just, he's always there," Sukuna scoffed, and you could only shake your head at how goddamn dense he was.

"And guess what?" You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from chewing on your already bleeding bottom lip. "You weren't."

"Don't-"

"No," you stopped him, shoulders shaking as you struggled to get full sentences out, the anger making all those other messy feelings even more heightened. "I needed you tonight. I fucking picked you, idiot, and you went out in the middle of the goddamn night to beat up my ex-boyfriend when all I wanted was you beside me."

You picked him. And he picked punching your ex-boyfriend.

God.

You couldn't breathe. Couldn't stand this.

The thick silence suffocating you, the leaded weight of his eyes as he finally fucking heard you.

You twisted the key in the ignition, turning on the radio so you didn't have to think about anything other than whatever stupid song was playing or what was on the road.

But with your luck, the stupid rock station was playing Suguru's single, the only he murmured was meant for another you once upon a time.

Groaning out loud, banging your head hard against the headrest before sighing and brushing your hair back out of your face as you checked the rearview mirrors.

"I'm sorry," he said for the second time tonight, staring out the window as you finally put the car in reverse. "I'll make an appointment with my therapist tomorrow. I'll apologize to him, or whatever you-"

"Do what you want, Sukuna," you muttered.

It wasn't like he'd listen to you anyway.

reblogs n comments are super appreciated <3 love hearing your thoughts as always !!

also for those interested and haven't checked it out yet, i recently started an f1 jjk au fic featuring sukuna and suguru here hehe <3

"Can you listen to me then?" He asked, and you wanted to say no. To tell him that he'd just need to find a new receptionist, that he didn't need to worry about you, that he should just act like you didn't exist.

Some fucked-up piece of you craving to toss a match and burn the bridge because you couldn't stand this awful in-between limbo of knowing he knew, that his perception of you had been permanently shattered and that he wouldn't see you the same again. That despite how much you did like him, all you were doing was dragging out the pain.

You hurt him. You hurt Suguru. You hurt your own fucking feelings by being dumb enough to think any of this was a good idea to start with.

It would've been so much easier if you'd just sucked it up and stayed alone.

At least, then you wouldn't be wrecked right now.

"Sukuna," you said his name, trying to find the courage to stop this here.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick earlier," he said, the door creaking like he was leaning his weight against it. "I shouldn't have said that shit when I don't know all the details."

Your mouth opened only to clamp back shut, breathing through your nose as he kept talking.

"I just felt like I finally fucking got you, and the idea of you being sold off to some asshole, it's just-" He growled, his voice cut off by a choking sound before he exhaled hard.

"I found out who it was," you murmured, not sure if you were trying to rub salt in the wound or self-sabotage. "I guess it's, like, official now."

He didn't say anything, a thick pause that you couldn't stop yourself from talking through.

"I don't know if you remember that white-haired guy that came in with Suguru, but-"

"Him?"

Hatred. Burning loathing that he didn't bother concealing or covering up. His voice loud, the sound of it lingering in your ears as you cringed, slipping off your dress and freezing at the first feeling of the cool air against your nipples before you walked over to your closet to grab the loosest hoodie you had.

"It could be worse," you softly replied. There were far worse men out there than him. Fates that were much crueler than the cushy one you were being promised.

How many times had you told yourself that you should be grateful? A few thousand? A million?

Repeating it until it cushioned the blow of being robbed of every choice.

"What do you need?" He grumbled as you shoved the hoodie over the head, his voice muffled through the wood. "A place to stay? A raise? Tell me and I'll-"

You stopped in the middle of pulling open a drawer and grabbing a pair of pajama pants out.

"You barely know me," you interrupted him. "I-"

"Stop acting like some sacrificial lamb when you don't have to be one," Sukuna scoffed. "I do know you, brat. How many hours have we spent together in the studio? You think I didn't watch you? That I don't care?"

"It's not-"

"Listen," he stopped you from arguing, your chest aching to contain your heart as you shut up. "I am not letting you marry that idiot."

Sukuna always acted like the world was black and white. That if he willed something hard enough, it would happen. Making his fate bend by brute force.

But you weren't like him, or Suguru, or even Satoru.

"Take a nap. Get some rest. I'll wait," he half-growled outside the door, and you couldn't reply. Your mouth felt too dry, throat stuffed with cotton as you listened to his footsteps echo down the hall. The slam of the front door shutting.

Would he wait?

You didn't know if you wanted him to.

But you crawled into bed anyway, buried your face under your pillow and shut your eyes as you scrambled to think of what to say to either men that had somehow crawled their way into your heart.

A dull ache settling into your heart, burying itself into your bones when you thought about Suguru, replayed your conversation in the car and wished that you had some other conclusion to come to. Snippets of the night you spent together floating back up, his face buried into your skin and his fingers roaming over your body, how he murmured your name like it was a promise he wanted to keep.

If you were being honest, you wanted it again. Wanted him again. Terrified to think he had been telling you the truth, scared that he'd actually see you for everything you were, all the good and bad, and then change his mind.

It was easy when you were able to convince yourself it was all fake.

But when it was real, raw, you wouldn't be able to shield yourself behind all the walls you'd been hastily shoving up.

And then there was Sukuna.

He made you forget. Let you act like you were someone else. Lie to yourself and try to fit into his life. Carve yourself a little niche in his world and cram yourself in there.

You liked him. Really liked him.

But you didn't know how much of it would matter - or where you would even stand with him in the future. What did he see you as?

A fling? A girlfriend? His employee that he also happened to be attracted to?

And what would he think when he got to know the rest of you that wasn't desperately struggling to be apart of his lifestyle? That would never fit nicely in?

You were surprised when you actually fell asleep somewhere between all the depressing thoughts, waking up to the sun still high outside.

Getting out of bed was hard, shuffling across the cold floor and rubbing your exhausted eyes as you walked out into a silent apartment. No Sukuna. No noises. You glanced at your purse, briefly considering checking your phone before you changed your mind.

You'd rather not know.

Instead, you went into your kitchen, pulling open the pantry to grab a couple cans of wet cat food before slipping on some shoes and deciding to check on the kittens.

At least they couldn't argue with you.

Wouldn't make you feel like shit even if they didn't mean to. Incapable of saying the wrong thing. Just offer cute meows and easy company.

Except, when you made it out to the woods, you weren't the only one out there.

Sukuna was sitting still, a kitten asleep in his lap while he pet its sibling, distracted you supposed, not noticing you until you accidentally stepped on a twig and the soft crack! of it breaking made him glance over his shoulder.

His tense face relaxed when he saw you standing there, shoulder slumping down as he tilted his head to the side like he wanted you to walk over.

"I guessed you'd come down here eventually," he grunted, mouth twitching as he talked. Like he didn't really know what to say to you anymore.

You swallowed hard, nervously approaching before you sat down next to him, careful not to get too close when you were already scared of making him more uncomfortable. You held out the two cans of wet food you'd brought down, offering him one to give to the kittens before starting to peel the lid to your own.

"Their mom hasn't shown up," he dryly said, and you just shrugged.

"I haven't seen her in a few days," you soberly muttered. The kittens still came when you called - but you were debating on just sneaking them back into your apartment if she didn't come back soon.

"Oh," he mumbled.

It was sorta impressive how awkward could be with a man you just had sex with yesterday. Who you woke up next to. That you let pierce one of the most intimate parts of your body.

But what else did you expect?

Everything came to an end.

"I'm supposed to go wedding dress shopping next week with Satoru's mother," you murmured, setting down the can and the discarded lid before pulling your knees to your chest. Staring off into the woods and pretending this was simply a casual conversation with a friend.

"You say his name like-"

"He's not bad," you defended him. "I mean, he was actually pretty understanding about everything. Said we could just keep seeing other people."

Sukuna made some disgusted sound of surprise, but you just shrugged, deciding against mentioning that Satoru had Suguru in mind when he said it.

"He said after a few years, once he has his dad's company, we could just get divorced and he'd-"

"Do you believe him?" Sukuna scoffed, as if you were spouting something insane.

"I trust him," you murmured, face flushing as you fiddled with your fingers. You had no reason not to. He was one of the few people that had never talked shit about you or laughed behind your back. Helped you out when he didn't have to.

If it was going to be anyone, you'd probably pick him.

He never expected anything out of you.

"So what? He won't care if I fuck you while you have his last name?"

You gaped at him, even though you knew you should've expected that. The kitten perked up off his lap, opening its mouth in a big yawn as it climbed off of him to start towards the open can just to get pawed back by the other one.

"I mean-"

"He won't care then if I do this?" He pressed, leaning in to cup your face, his nose brushing against yours as he shut his eyes to come in for a kiss. To claim you when he thought you belonged to someone else.

You kissed him back, out of habit, or maybe just to make some small part of yourself feel better.

But some tiny seed had been planted in your stomach, screaming at you that this might be a mistake too.

Because if you really didn't have any decisions to make, if you were meant to marry another man, how come it felt like you needed to choose between Suguru and Sukuna?

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3

You didn't smile though. Just bit your bruised lip before bending over to grab your purse from the ground. Ready to return to your real life.

He got out of bed, the practically ancient mattress creaking underneath him as he stood up next to you. Looking down at you, holding onto the way the sun hit your face through his small window, leaning in until he could smell his own soap on your skin.

"Look, um, after graduation, a few of us are going on a trip," He slowly said, loathing how strained it came out. "Gojo booked a whole place. You should come too. It'll be-"

"I can't," You interrupted, frowning hard. Lips pushed together in frustration, letting out a little exhale like you were upset over your own answer. "I'm sorry."

The way you said it, all soft and small like some wounded animal, made him sorry for even asking.

He stepped closer, and you went stiff. Shrinking back how you always did.

"My parents made plans for me," You added. He had never heard you sound so bitter before.

"It's cool," He lied. "I get it."

"No, not really," You mumbled, rubbing your nose like you were trying to stop yourself from sniffling. "They have my passport and-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Suguru reassured, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder and squeezing softly. You didn't need to defend yourself - even though it did make an uncomfortable twist in his stomach stab at his judgment at the new information you didn't even have your own passport.

"I'd rather spend it with you," You practically whispered, glancing down at your feet before looking back at the door.

God, you knew just how to fucking gut him.

"And Gojo," You belatedly added, as if it would make it sound less intimate.

"Well, if, um, something changes, you can sleep in my room," He casually shrugged. Or, well, as casually as he could, considering it felt like his organs were all straining inside of his chest, being squeezed just by that infuriatingly pretty puppy dog pout of yours.

"Suguru." You said his name like it hurt. Like you were peeling off a fresh scab on some old wound while you poured salt on his.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to keep pretending to be my boyfriend," You awkwardly said, bringing your nails up to your mouth to bite the corners of them out of habit.

Wringing the last drop of blood from his heart, driving a dagger in his lungs too when he couldn't manage to get any air in them.

It had never been real. But he still felt hollow at the thought that you wouldn't be waiting for him in the halls, that you didn't want everyone to think you were his anymore.

"Done with me already?" It was hard to make his voice sound light, disguising the sharp edge of hurt as teasing.

"Don't say it like that," You frowned up at him, and he was already rubbing small circles into your shoulder, trying to reassure you that he wasn't mad at you.

Just fucking frustrated that he fucked this up with you so badly that he was being left behind. That he was about to watch you walk out of his door - and pretty soon out of his life.

"We're still friends though, aren't we?" He said, watching your brows knit together as you tried to understand what he was getting at. "Friends help each other out. I'll still come pick you up and take you to your classes. Work too, if you want."

"You don't have-"

"I want to," Suguru insisted.

It was obvious you didn't know what to say. How to accept help.

"You know, you've done more for me than anyone else ever has," You mumbled, forcing out a shaky inhale before holding your breath.

Suguru couldn't believe he ever thought you were spoiled. Couldn't reconcile the stuck-up image he used to have of you to the open vulnerability of your shattered pride in front of him.

"You never had to be so nice to me," You said, like the bare minimum was more than you deserved. "So, um, thank you, Suguru."

And once again, he didn't know what the hell to say to you.

"Do, uh, do you need a ride home now?" He asked instead.

"Yeah, I've got a class in a couple hours, so-"

"I'll take you."

A week without a car wasn't as horrible as you thought.

Suguru was constantly there, texting you when he wasn't to check if you needed anything. You weren't sure if he felt bad for you, or if this was really just what a real friend would do.

It hurt if you thought too hard about him.

If you let yourself fantasize about him having feelings for you that weren't just platonic.

You shut those ideas down though.

Told yourself that this was all just fine.

Suguru driving you to school and work. Sukuna taking you back home at the end of the night - although he grumbled and gritted his teeth when he noticed Suguru was the one giving you the ride there.

Always standing by the door, arms folded across his chest to wait for you, mumbling that he would've rescheduled his appointments to give you a ride. He didn't push it though.

Neither of them did.

Both tried to ask a couple times about your parents, but you dodged their questions. Narrowly managed to cancel your mom's appointment for you with her esthetician too, claiming a cold and coughing over the phone - although you were sure she'd probably call you out over it at brunch.

Threaten to take you there herself even if she'd probably go on to paint it to all her polished friends as a mother-daughter day.

But the only thing you were good at was pushing your problems off for the future you to handle.

"Um, I don't think I'll need another ride after this," you murmured as Suguru's car parked in the corner of the parking lot Friday afternoon.

His dark eyes leveled you, left you squirming in the passenger seat as you struggled to breathe around him.

It was almost fucking impossible to meet his stare after you had sex with him.

Difficult just to be around him when you couldn't help but think of what it had been like when he was buried inside of you. How nice it had been for him to kiss you. To be held like that.

Suguru was still acting normal though. Completely natural, like it wasn't even on his mind at all.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his stare narrowed as his hand rested on the gear shift. You unbuckled your seat belt, looking in the side mirror to see Sukuna watching from the thick-paned window.

"Yeah, um, I should be getting my car back Sunday," you said, even though you weren't really sure they'd actually follow through. The only text you'd gotten from either of your parents this week was saying they'd send someone to pick you up before brunch.

"Okay," Suguru muttered, forcing a tight smile.

"So, I, uh, guess I'll see you around," You nodded, holding your purse tight against your chest as you pushed your car door open.

"Call me if you need anything."

You knew Suguru meant it.

That was probably why you waited until you were inside to send the last payment through your phone to him. He had never asked for it. Even said he didn't want any more of your money.

But you didn't know how to handle him if it wasn't a transaction. Didn't know what to do with his kindness when you didn't feel like you deserved it.

You sent him extra, as much as you could without making anyone tracking your transactions suspicious - adding one last note to him.

For everything.

It was easier with Sukuna. In some ways.

He was rough around the edges, blunt enough you knew where you stood. Well, mostly.

You weren't dating. Weren't in a relationship.

But he liked you enough that he wanted to be with you. You guessed it was better he didn't seem that serious about it, that his interest seemed to be on your body judging by how often his fingers found your body. Settling on your side or ruffling your hair, tugging you against him if someone else stared too long at you.

You had been shoving it down, pushing it away, but graduation was getting closer - and so was the end of all of this.

By the time he'd be getting tired of you, you would be preparing for wedding planning to some other stranger.

You guessed that was what the brunch was about. Your parents only ever wanted to see you when they wanted to use you.

There wasn't much left on your list of things to do before you were shackled to a stranger.

"You free tomorrow?" Sukuna grunted after the last customer left, his sharp eyes focused solely on you from where he was counting up the cash behind the counter.

You paused cleaning the windows, heart thumping hard in your chest as you shrugged.

"Yeah, if you don't need me here," You nodded slowly.

"Be ready at six. Wear something pretty."

He didn't have to tell you this time for you to know it was a date.

Sukuna was waiting against his car in your apartment parking lot for you. Leaning against the door, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose and one hand slung in his pockets, the early evening sun painting pretty shadows across his face.

You were almost skipping to get to him, and he was suddenly standing straight, squaring his shoulders and walking over to meet you halfway.

He picked you up, those huge hands of his firmly planted on your waist to lift you in the air and pull you flat against his chest in an almost crushing hug.

"Should I change or-" You started to ask, but he only squeezed you tighter, cutting off your voice in a surprised squeak.

"Stop thinkin' so much," He scolded you, carefully setting you on the ground just to grab your chin seconds later, tilting your head up to meet his stare. "You look good."

You really just liked to hear him say that.

Saved every compliment he ever paid you so you could replay them on a rainy day. Storm clouds were already starting to form - and you knew the bottom would fall out sooner or later.

Tomorrow could be doomsday. A funeral for the girl you'd become these last few months of freedom.

Tonight, though? That was still yours.

And you wanted to share it with Sukuna.

For a guy who looked like he was only made of jagged edges, harsh lines, a rough exterior that cut and scratched when you got close, his softness continued to stun you. Holding the door to the shotgun seat open for you, grumbling about a surprise that turned out to be a show at a local bar.

Live music and a loud crowd, buying you drinks and leaning in to murmur in your ear despite the noise. Dragging your barstool over until your thighs were touching. Taking photos of you in his phone when you weren't expecting it, slipping a hand down lower on your side to keep you firmly planted against his hips.

Kissing your throat when you weren't expecting it, his nose grazing against the tendon there, sucking softly even when you squirmed on the barstool, glancing around almost embarrassed.

Sukuna didn't care who was watching.

Mouth marking you as his, sharp canines sinking into your collarbone as you gasped his name.

"Kuna," You whined, swallowing the spit pooling in your mouth. He didn't pause, continuing to stain your skin with more rough kisses. A few other patrons were glancing your way, eyeing the way he was holding you, how your dress had started to push up on your thighs. "People are looking at us."

He snickered, pulling back to squint at you.

"Does it seriously bother you?"

You felt stupid for saying yes.

But you couldn't focus on him when you could still feel so many stares sticking to your skin.

He spared you the judgement though - just dragging you back out to his car before the band's set even ended. Pulling you in his lap in the driver's seat, reclining it back as you straddled his thighs, his fingers tethered deep in your hair.

Tearing at your clothes while he stuck his tongue down your throat, the radio playing low in the background. You shivered, and you weren't sure if it was from the chill of the ac running or his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

One of his hands groped at your chest, squeezing your breast right as you moaned into his mouth. You could feel his cock straining in his jeans, throbbing against you and only flustering your fuzzy brain even more.

He let out a low hiss when you squirmed, readjusting to pull down his zipper. His fingers in your hair tugged hard when you started to break the kiss and come up for air, and you let out a strangled noise of surprise that made him stop.

"You're not, like, a virgin, right?" He paused, thick brows scrunched together as he studied your face.

"No," You huffed, hoping he wouldn't realize that you had been a week ago.

"Good," he grumbled, and your stomach churned. You understood why. Knew it came from a place of concern instead of condemnation.

But it still felt bad.

Still clung to the corners of your mind when he slipped a finger inside you instead, distracted you even when he was driving it in deep.

You tried to make all the right sounds, the right expressions, leaning forward to keep kissing him while he slotted in another finger to scissor you open.

With Suguru, you just let go. Forgot about how fucking embarrassing he felt for someone to see you for a little while. But Sukuna was the sort of cool you couldn't help trying to keep up with.

Hanging onto the hope he hadn't realized yet you were really just a mess he didn't have time to clean up. Struggling to seem like someone you knew you weren't, cutting off bits of yourself and cramming yourself into a spot you wouldn't fit in otherwise.

"I want you so fuckin' bad," he groaned into your mouth, and there was some distant relief at knowing you were at least on the same page there.

Sukuna's finger slipped out, and he reached over to the center console to fish a condom out of it.

How many girls had he fucked in the front seat to start carrying them there?

You didn't let yourself believe you were special enough to be the first.

He grunted as he rolled the condom on, lips pursed together as he tried to do it fast. In a hurry before he unceremoniously shoved your underwear to the side, guiding himself back to your entrance.

God, everything was happening so fast and-

Fuck.

It burned.

More than Suguru's had, unable to stop yourself from squeezing down on him, every single muscle in your body going rigid at the feeling of him spearing you open.

Maybe it was the position, the lack of space his car offered, but you were stuffed. Convinced there couldn't possibly be any more of him just for him to force another inch in.

"You sure?" He groaned, his hips driving up as you let out a strained whimper.

Trying to nod when you couldn't fucking move with how full you were, burying your face in his neck so he wouldn't see how fast you were falling apart.

"Relax," He chided, clicking his tongue as he pushed your hair out of his face.

"C-can't," You stuttered, despising how desperate you sounded. His hips drove back up in short thrusts, each one driving you even crazier.

Clenching down tight as you tried to hold yourself together. He murmured something you couldn't make out, one of his hands moving down to rub circles on your clit like that would help.

You melted into him, moaning into his skin while he drove his hips up, his free hand helping guide your hips up-and-down. Sinking into your warmth, his deep groans etching themselves into your brain every time your thighs started to shake.

"Shit," he cursed, suddenly rubbing your sensitive bud faster, massaging this thumb over it.

"I think-" You whimpered, but he knew. Anticipated your own rubber band of restraint snapping before his did.

Making you cum hard and fast before he was suddenly pulling out to cum on his hand, your brain belatedly processing that the condom was now broken and only half-on. Your own pleasure slowly subsiding, your orgasm short-lived when reality was right there waiting for you.

Your head was spinning, body trembling as you tried to focus on the cum on his fist.

"Fuck," He groaned, rubbing his brow with his clean hand. "Sorry, should've stretched you out more."

"It's okay," You mumbled, your voice still coming out small, throat sore.

"I don't think any got in you," He muttered, but his Adam's apple bobbed anyway. "But I think Choso keeps planning b back at the shop."

"Oh, um, okay," You nodded along.

Discomfort still swirling in your chest when you had to crawl back over the center console, bumping your head on the ceiling of the car to get in your seat. Buckling up and ignoring the ache between your thighs when he put it in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.

Trying to subtly stare at his side profile when he drove you back to work, keeping a hand on your leg, rubbing little patterns you guessed were meant to be soothing.

"You know, if you were a virgin, that would be fine too," He eventually awkwardly added, glancing over at you when he stopped at a light.

"I know," You said, lips twitching up in a practiced smile.

What would he have done if you were? Gone slower? Insisted on waiting again?

You didn't say anything the rest of the way there. But you got out of the car after him once he was parked, folding your arms across your chest as you followed him back to the front door. There was only one other car in the lot, one with a vanity plate that just said YUKI.

The light was on inside - but when he tugged on the door, it was locked.

He rummaged through his keys for the correct one, letting you lean against him for support. Chewing on the inside of your cheek while you touched the sensitive spot just above your collarbone he'd been sucking on earlier.

Counting how many hickeys you guessed he'd left - all of which you would have to cover with concealer tomorrow.

"Should I come in with you or-"

He was already halfway through the entrance though, letting out an exasperated groan as his keys jingled in his hands. "I swear to god if you guys are fucking in here."

They weren't.

But when you trailed behind him to Choso's work station, Yuki's top was off.

Laying on Choso's chair, reclining back casually as she waved at you. Her tits were pretty, perky, now freshly decorated with two silver barbells going through her nipples.

"Hi, guys," She grinned. "Have fun on your date?"

Choso was unbothered, cleaning off his machines, barely sparing a glance up at either of you.

"Where's the plan b?" Sukuna grunted, and his employee just jutted his thumb over to the cabinet.

"I'll take that as a yes," She laughed, sitting up straight as her breasts bounced.

You were staring. You didn't mean to, but you really couldn't stop yourself.

Yuki noticed, giggling at how openly you were gawking.

"You should get yours done."

Sukuna dragged you away before you could respond, passing you a plain box. Taking you back to his own station and patting the chair for you to sit, swinging your legs off the side as you tore it open to take the tiny pill inside.

He spread your thighs, and you almost choked on it.

"Just making sure there isn't any of the condom left in there," he grunted, and you clamped your lips shut again.

Leaned your head back on the chair as you swallowed it, humiliation simmering under your skin as his fingers shoved back and swirled around inside you.

"Do you like that?" You awkwardly asked Sukuna, blinking up at the ceiling and holding your breath.

"Piercings?" Sukuna frowned, brows scrunched together as he glanced up between your thighs to study your reaction.

"Yeah," You mumbled.

"I guess," He shrugged. "But if you're asking if I think you should get some, that's up to you."

You wanted to ask if he'd like it if you did. If he would like you more.

Your chest still felt warm, the alcohol still clouding your system probably to blame for the next question that fell from your lips.

"Would you do it for me?"

"Wake up."

You knew it was Sukuna the second you cracked your eyes open, felt the calloused hand nudging you as your alarm blared in the background.

Recognized your own bedroom as you rubbed your eyes and sat up, your head swimming and your whole body aching as you reached over to shut your phone off.

The sun was barely rising outside, half the sky still shades of orange and pink as you swiped your alarm away.

"The fuck you have that thing set so early for?" He grumbled, trying to drag you back under your blankets next to him while your brain scrambled to piece together last night's memories.

The bar. His car. The tattoo shop.

Your-

You looked down, sucking in a sharp breath as you remembered the reason for the dull throb in your chest. You let him pierce your nipples.

"Shit."

Your parents might murder you.

Sukuna said your name, but you were begrudgingly rolling out of bed on unsteady legs, padding barefoot over to your mirror to take a peek at your appearance.

Exhausted circles under your eyes, swollen lips, dark hickeys staining your skin. And poking through your shirt was a brand new set of matching silver barbells.

"Come back to bed," Sukuna muttered, still half-asleep.

"I, um, can't," You said for the second time this week. It sucked just as much. Left that terrible taste in your mouth as stared at your reflection.

It didn't feel like you.

"Don't make me get up and drag you back here," He yawned, his own voice thick with exhaustion.

"I'm s'pposed to go to brunch with my family," You murmured, and something invisible compressed down on your heart.

It was a few hours away, sure, but you wouldn't put it past either of them to send someone to get you absurdly early - and you had to be cleaned up enough that you wouldn't get crucified in front of all their friends for being a complete fuck-up. You couldn't take out the piercings, but maybe you could find some way to cover them up, wear something loose enough they wouldn't be able to notice them through your clothes.

Sukuna sat up, brows scrunched together in annoyance as he started to wake up.

"Brunch?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes as if the idea of it was absurd. "Who the fuck has brunch?"

"My family," You mumbled.

"Cancel on them," He huffed back at you, and you couldn't meet the expectation in his stare.

"I really can't," You insisted, and you knew you needed to come clean. To let him know now instead of later that you weren't really someone he could change.

"It didn't even sound like your mom liked you," Sukuna scowled, painfully accurate in his astute observation. "Why would they want you there?"

"I'm, um, kind of engaged."

Ghostface!Suguru doesn't know how he ends up in your bed a few minutes later, dark robes torn to shreds by you—who was far more feral for this than he expected you to be—and cock slathered in cum as he'd recently painted your insides white per your request. "S-Shiiit, gorgeous..." His hair is hanging out down his back and across his toned chest from under the mask that you specifically ordered him not to take off and he feels beyond pathetic now.

Not only did he get caught but you also bossed him around all over the place as if he wasn't a literal serial killer who could drive his knife into your flesh at any given second now-

"Suguruuu," You start purring out his name again and the very idea of killing you dies inside him. If only you could see the down-bad expression painting his pretty features right now. But, in a way, the ghostface mask almost seemed to exude need as he loomed over you and his cum-covered cock went slipping over your greedy pussy. "You didn't think I was done with you yet, did you?" You ask.

Ghostface!Suguru gulps thicker than he ever has in his life and shakes his head, the gesture downright adorable even with that rather chilling mask on. "No," He hums softly, "But can I at least take this mask off, it's hot and I can't-"

"Take the mask off and I kick you out," You warn, to which his sweaty body visibly tenses. "Now," He watches the way your legs get to sprawling out again, as if there wasn't globs of cum leaking out of you already from where he'd just emptied himself, "Clean me up, won't you?"

The killer bats his eyes and although you can't see it, you could sense the way he was caught off guard. "You want me to... you want me to eat my own cum out of you? With the mask on?" He whispers carefully while leaning back and lowering himself to do so.

You feel his large, gloved hands grasp at your thighs and hold them open, diving right in without waiting for you to answer him. The mesh of his mask where his mouth is meets your cunt and you feel his tongue behind it, a whine exiting his throat at not being able to taste you without the stupid mask in the way whilst he begins to do his best to suck his own cum out of you.

It's filthy, really. The way he goes from eating his seed out of your cunt to literally eating you out has you moaning out his name and flying a hand down to cling onto the top of his mask. Fuck, he's never wanted to rip the damn thing off more in his life. Ghostface!Suguru just wanted to feel your hands in his hair and your pussy on his tongue raw, and yet here he was...

Feasting on your folds with flimsy mesh in the way. He supposed it wasn't so bad. After all, whenever he leaned up to breathe, he could still lick at the mask and gather what's left of your taste on it.

And when you squirt on the stupid thing a few minutes later, he realizes once again why he could never bring himself to kill you...

Well, that and he also realizes he has the free will to finally snatch it off his face—revealing his flushed expression and dazed violet eyes—before licking up everything you just poured out onto the item without a care in the world. It's not like you were going to do anything, he's the killer here, not you-

The man merely gets a moment to glance over for your reaction before he sees you've got his knife in your hands and pointing it at him.

Oh. Perhaps he should’ve thought twice about putting the damn thing on your nightstand instead of leaving it on his person.

Though, he is into knife play...

At the sight of your shaking hands, the corner of Suguru’s lips twitched, resisting a crude urge to smile.  

Under normal circumstances, he would have been wrought with shame and embarrassment for acting so indecorously—for allowing his emotions to precede his logic. But this tumultuous moment brought him to an undeniable revelation: when it came to you; he had always been ruled by his emotions. Whether it was the harsh words he had said in the past, or his cold detachment in order to subjugate you to a role you had never wanted.

Perhaps the first fleck of ember started when you stormed into his office with fierce determination. The way you forced him to answer for his own despicable actions and challenged the flaws in his carefully constructed reality. And then it slowly ignited when he had seen your swordplay and how you had demonstrated dignity in defeat, and then it burned into an all-consuming fire when he finally saw a glimpse of who you were at the campsite. 

Beneath your aloof exterior, your silver tongue, and cunning strategies, you had done it all for selfless causes. Never once had you acted for your own gain.

At the beginning, he found the quiet defiance in your eyes irritating, because it evoked a feeling he wasn’t supposed to feel. Because he knew, had it not been for the fact that he had chosen you to be a placeholder, he would have been captivated by it. 

But he could no longer continue to deny the radiance behind your fire.

Ever since you had entered his life, the lines between heart and mind had begun to muddle. No matter how resolved he was to keep you at arm’s length, you were impossible to ignore. 

Gravitating toward you was not a choice; it was an inevitability.

---

The two of you stood in tense silence, his eyes never once strayed from yours. Even the walls of the guest house seemed to hold their breath in suspense. Blood continued to trickle from his palm onto the saturated parchment, and only the soft, rhythmic splatter could be heard.

Suguru could only hope that his actions stirred your heart, yet seeing your impenetrable gaze told him you were likely unmoved.

Much to his dismay, you snapped out of your trance. Turning away, you called for Yumi to fetch some medical supplies. 

Not once did you spare another glance at him. 

With your back towards him, you busied yourself, quietly packing your belongings—desperately holding in the storm that threatened to tear through your ribs. 

“I would have expected that you, of all people, would know how to conduct yourself properly, General.” Indignation threaded each of your words.

Suguru slowly shook his head, as though to shake off the sting he felt inside his chest. 

Were you appalled by his actions? 

Or worse, was your panic just a moment of reflexive surprise?

Perhaps you truly didn’t care after all.

“Know that I remain true to my word,” his voice stayed assured. 

You tried to dismiss his words until your fingers brushed over your sword. It stared at you hauntingly in its abandonment—a mirror of your own abandonment.

Maybe you couldn’t completely blame Suguru, because in trying to be seen, you had callously sacrificed a part of yourself.

No more.

Not this time. 

You won’t be a fool twice. 

“As do I,” you replied, meeting him with equal determination. “You will not follow me.”

Before Suguru had another chance to speak, Yumi hastily burst into the room with medical supplies. Alas, even the universe seemed to caution him against further provoking you. And so he held his tongue.

“Geto-sama is skilled at treating wounds. It’s best you let him tend to himself.” Your words were more of a command than a suggestion.

It was only for a second, but Yumi shot him a piteous look before abruptly shoving the basket into his hands. Behind her gaze, it seemed to say: I wish you the best of luck, Geto-sama.

The insinuations in your words were not lost on him. You were truly a cold woman when you wanted to be. Petty words did not sway you, much less an impulsive blood oath. Yet, he did not regret any of it—not even for a moment. 

Suguru understood that the path of redemption would not be an easy one. Unlike his past victories, he couldn’t conquer this battle with tactical strategies or physical prowess.

But more than ever, this was a battle he was desperate to win. 

Losing was not an option. 

Because losing would cost him everything.

---

In the end, none of it was enough to convince you to allow him into Izuma, which was how Suguru found himself riding behind an oxen-drawn carriage. Haibara led at the front, while you and Yumi sat in the carriage, with only your personal belongings neatly packed.

Last night, the two of you eventually came to a compromise—an unfavorable one for him. Before heading to Izuma, you would return to your family home to visit your father once more. After that, it would be a three-week journey to the border. It had been agreed that he and Haibara would escort you until you reached it. Regardless, he knew he mustn't squander this chance. Altogether, the duration of the journey would be a month—each day a precious opportunity to make you reconsider. Once you arrived, he hoped you would have a change of mind. Otherwise, that was where your paths would diverge. That was where you would say goodbye—something he had come to loathe the thought of.

Surrendering one’s destiny to fate often seemed like a feeble excuse for the ill-prepared. For Suguru, victories and outcomes had always been ascertained through diligence and carefully composed strategies. 

Overwhelm. Dominate. Control.

But for you, he must learn to relinquish it all. 

For you, he must turn to foolish ideologies and optimism because he finally understood what it meant to be utterly powerless.

Suguru silently watched as you gazed absently into the distance through the small window of the carriage, lost in thought. Had he been a better husband, perhaps he would have earned the privilege to ask—the privilege to shoulder even a fraction of your burdens.

Since the start of the journey, his gaze constantly wandered to you, like a moth to a flame. And no, it wasn’t only for the sake of vigilance—that much he could admit. Even then, as he took in the sight before him, a familiar displeasure prickled at him. It was the same irrational displeasure that had flared when he learned you shared a bed with Yumi. At the moment, she was fast asleep, her head resting on your shoulder—blissfully undisturbed by the carriage’s unstable rattling. Occasionally, her head would slip from your shoulder, only for you to cradle it back into place without protest. 

It was unbecoming. Suguru inwardly seethed. After all, Yumi was your lady-in-waiting. For her to so brazenly display her closeness with the Lady she served would have garnered a swift reprimand under normal circumstances, but it was apparent that you didn’t care for such formalities when it came to her. In fact, it was painfully obvious you had a soft spot for her—a weakness that someone could exploit.

Were you oblivious to the significance of your new title? Unaware of how this would be perceived? 

Deep down, the answer rang loud and clear: of course you had known the implications. Yet you would rather have your reputation undermined than reject Yumi’s warmth and risk making her feel unwanted. 

That truth only heightened the simmering displeasure—one he had no right to name.

---

Last night, with the help of Yumi, you had sent your acknowledgment and gratitude to King Sato. Never had you imagined yourself being the recipient of the king’s disdain. Yet, what was most mystifying from this ordeal was not the appointment itself. 

It was Suguru. 

Many times you had tried to reason with yourself that it would be in your best interest to set aside your resentment, and take advantage of his eagerness to make amends. There was no doubt that he would serve as one of your greatest allies. After all, few could afford to refuse the backing of House Geto—or a man like Suguru. Furthermore, his willingness to go to Izuma with you would bolster your standing in society and fortify your marriage in the public eye. 

Now, more than ever, you needed allies in your arsenal as you laid roots in Izuma’s dire lands. And an equally pressing matter also persisted: navigating Sato’s intentions. It was difficult to discern what he had planned, and your intuition screamed that this was only a preliminary move.

Yet, despite knowing all this, the dignity you so stubbornly clung to would not allow you to accept Suguru. 

And your heart—as frustratingly contradictory as it was—wished that his change of heart was driven by sincerity, and not guilt. 

Had the events of the Eastern Campsite unfolded in Suguru’s favor, you were certain he would never have had the compulsion to change. He would have continued to treat you as though you were a thorn in his side. Made sure you remained confined within his own dictated boundaries—invisible, and above all, dispensable. 

It was clear where his heart truly lay when he shielded Ayaka from Takeda. Instincts have always been the purest form of honesty, impossible to feign or resist. One could easily pretend to be remorseful, which was why the more he tried to atone, the more your resentment grew. 

Your marriage—though it was laughable calling it as such—was destined to fail from the beginning. Up until the Eastern Campsite, he wouldn’t even spare a glance your way, let alone choose between an unwanted wife and his genuine lover in the face of life or death. 

It would have been ignorant of you to expect a different outcome, yet, an unspoken part of you sordidly wished… he had protected you instead. Even if it was at the cost of the princess. 

Had he done so, perhaps you would have been able to convince yourself that there was hope in your marriage—that there was room for mutual recognition and understanding.

Yet, what wounded you the most was not your injury, but the realization of how weak you truly were. No matter how hard you tried to rule with mind instead of heart—in the end, you were not impervious to wishful thinking and the desire for genuine connection.

It bruised your pride to admit that you longed for such childish fantasies.

And yet, you did.

You wished for a husband who loved you. Cherished you. Honored you. And in turn, you would have returned it all to him in a heartbeat.

Just as your father loved your mother. 

Just as Lord Shinjiro loved Lady Sumire. 

Looking at your bandaged hand, Suguru’s phantom touch tingled your palm as an unwanted memory stirred the corners of your mind. The warmth of his hand and the gentleness of his touch lingered—like a small fleck of ember that refused to be extinguished. Stubborn, like the man himself.

You could only hope that the small ember does not ignite an entire fire, because nothing good would come from lighting such fires. Only pain and ruin. 

All you had to do was endure until you reached Izuma. 

Once you reached the borders, you would no longer see Suguru; the two of you would become an estranged husband and wife.

And in time, a distant memory.

---

Admittedly, there was nothing interesting about the scenery outside of the carriage—an endless sea of green, rhythmic clopping of hooves, rattling of the stuffy carriage, and the occasional passerby. But you channeled all your focus on the view before you to ignore the way Suguru trailed vigilantly behind the carriage—his gaze fixed on you. Despite the task being far below his station, he remained diligent in his role as an overqualified soldier, escorting the new Lady of Izuma.

For the most part, the travel thus far had been peaceful, save for the torrent of voices in your mind that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment.

You had never felt more lost than you did now.

If only there were someone who could understand you implicitly.

Not just as Lady of Izuma. Not just as Lady Geto. Not just as the soon-to-be Merchant Guild Leader.

But just as you.

Yet, if there was one person who seemed to see you… it was Haibara.

Your eyes slowly shift forward to the man who led the carriage. 

It was regrettable, how he had become collateral from the fallout between you and Suguru, because parting ways with Suguru also meant saying goodbye to his advisor. Earlier this morning when Haibara greeted you at the gates of the estate, in his typical fashion his voice remained kind and understanding, but the small sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. If you had had the choice, you would have hoped that the two of you could remain friends. Alas, you understood that his loyalty lay with Suguru. You would never dare to put him in a difficult position.

Letting out an inaudible sigh, you closed your eyes, as though to shut out the noises inside your head that had grown discordant. Summer’s warmth lingered today—uncommon for this time in autumn, but not unwelcome—after all, you would most likely never experience this kind of weather again. Yet, even savoring the clement warmth did little to ease the storm inside you, reminding you of the summer day your father gave you the life-altering news that you were soon to be someone’s wife.

If only your father knew... being General Geto’s wife did not give you the stability nor protection that he so inconceivably and desperately sought for you.

Ever since you had left home, your father had never once returned your letters. But you continued to write to him, at least until your hand was rendered useless. 

You had always thought that no matter what, there would still be one person you could always return to. One person who would love and understand you unconditionally. Deep down, you knew your father still cared for you, but with every silent rejection it became increasingly difficult to hold on to that belief.

It felt as though you had been abandoned. Not only by your own husband, but by your own father.

And you weren’t sure which one hurt more.

---

The journey to your family home took three days. While the Geto Estate lay west of the capital, your family’s home was situated far to the east.

To your relief, the travel passed without incident—a small blessing amid all the uncertainty that had arisen in recent days. Suguru remained true to his word and followed your lead. You had made your stance abundantly clear, and he abided. He spoke only when spoken to, ensuring behind the scenes that everything proceeded as planned. 

You always knew Suguru’s name carried renown, but it was still a surprise to witness the extent of its reach firsthand.

On the second night, your group arrived at a remote inn along the main road. As soon as Suguru stepped inside, the innkeeper immediately recognized him—clearly startled yet awestruck by the general’s presence. He fumbled through an explanation that the inn was fully occupied, apologizing profusely as though he had committed a grievous crime.

But Suguru remained unmoved by the apology.

“You must accommodate my wife and her lady-in-waiting.” He simply replied.

There was no entitlement in his voice, yet the commanding edge in it made refusal impossible.

One might have written it off as arrogance or condescension, but you understood that kindness and compassion were things someone of Suguru’s stature could not openly display.

It was ironic how the roles had been reversed. But you must give credit where it is due: he fulfilled his part well and without complaint.

---

Longing and homesickness overcame you as your childhood home came into view. It had only been a little over four months, but it felt like a lifetime ago since you were here. The sun had begun to dip under the horizon, painting the skies in shades of pink and orange. A steady stream of smoke evaporated into the sky from the kitchen as the faint aroma of food wafted in their air—warm and savory. 

At the door stood your father. 

Seeing him for the first time since your marriage unleashed a tidal wave of emotion strong enough to drown you. Everything felt overwhelming, and it became nearly impossible to breathe. 

If only you could wake from this nightmare that had become your life.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you swallowed down the ache in your chest, built from the pressure of unshed tears.

He remained the same as the last time you had seen him. All that mattered was that he was alive and well. But that also begged the question: Why was he eager to marry you off to Suguru in the first place? 

Suguru swiftly dismounted from his horse and made his way over to the carriage. His hand reached out naturally, offering to steady you off the steps. 

It was only for a split second, but you paused at the gesture.

Shrugging off your hesitation, you took his hand, forcing yourself to ignore the warmth and steadiness of his hold. This time, there was an image you were determined to keep. Despite your father’s grave lapse in judgment in finding you a suitable partner, you didn’t wish to add to his worries and burdens.

“Father,” Suguru bowed courteously. “It is good to see you.”

“Suguru.” A bitterness laced your father’s voice. 

Sensing the tension from a small distance away, you nervously glanced between the two men. Suguru remained composed as though he had expected this treatment from your father. Meanwhile, the scowl on your father’s face was unmistakable. It was rare to see your father so displeased. The only time you had ever seen him treat someone else with such blatant animosity was when your grandfather made that unexpected visit all those years ago.

“Father!” You smiled, and quickly made your way towards him, pulling him into an embrace. Mostly because you had missed him terribly, and partly to temper his unexpected animosity.

To Suguru’s credit, he was the one who proposed meeting your father one last time before you headed off to Izuma. Not that you hadn’t planned to do so already, but it still surprised you at the time that such a thing had crossed his mind.

“I told you, you needn’t worry about me,” your father grumbled, gently shrugging away from your embrace. “You are another man’s wife now.” 

For a moment, your expression hardened. Though you understood that your father only drew a line out of care, it didn’t make his rejection sting any less. 

“It was I who insisted we come,” Suguru interjected. “After all, it wouldn’t be so easy once she goes to Izuma.” 

“And so I’ve heard,” your father’s expression soured even further. “Surely, you will go with her as her husband—will you not?” 

“Of course, Father.” Suguru replied without a moment’s hesitation.

Your father narrowed his eyes, as if seeing the deceit behind your husband’s words, but the discontentment soon dissipated when his gaze landed on Haibara and Yumi. 

At the very least, he seemed elated to see Yumi again. Perhaps even a little more excited than seeing his own daughter.

You trailed slowly behind the group as everyone made their way into the home—lingering for one last look, knowing that once you set foot in the derelict North, this place would remain only in memory.

Stepping into your childhood home felt like walking into suspension—where time had forgotten to move. Nothing had changed. It was as though not even a speck of dust dared to move in your absence.

You wished you could stay here just a little longer, but the itinerary was rigid; the group was set to leave by tomorrow afternoon, granting you only one night to relive the life you had left behind. The goal was to reach Izuma before the height of winter; further delays would put you at risk of being caught in its hazardous storms. Most importantly, delaying the king’s appointment would only further incur his wrath, so it was in your best interest to remain cooperative until you had a clearer picture of his agenda.

Since your arrival, a small, persistent ache lingered in your chest. It wasn’t only because of the homesickness you had felt, but more so, the edge of coldness your father seemed to have regarded you with. It was as though he was trying to put some distance between you and him. His reasoning was that you were someone else’s wife, but it was a weak excuse at best.

If only you could have convinced him to tell you what’s been plaguing him. But he was stubborn until the very end.

Your fingers brushed against the wooden panes as you slowly made your way down the once-familiar corridors. You recalled the way you had walked down these very halls—some days with rushed excitement, other days with quiet introspection. 

But you had taken it for granted; you were so certain that you would always return. Yet life always seemed to thrust you in the opposite direction of what you coveted. 

You wanted to cry. 

“Father, what shall I help you with?” You cleared your throat. 

“No need,” he waved you off, slipping into the kitchen on his own. “It is almost done.” 

Why wouldn’t he look at you?

Why was he being so cruel?

The dam inside you was becoming harder and harder to hold together. The more you tried to hold fast onto your tears, the more anxiety coiled itself around you.

“Yumi,” your voice cracked, frantically clinging onto the last of your restraints. “Why don’t you show Geto-sama and Haibara where they will be staying?” 

She nodded and returned a smile, oblivious to your predicament. 

You waited until they turned the corner before rushing in the opposite direction—back towards the front door. Your vision blurred with each passing moment until you could no longer contain the tears that you had been suppressing all this time. 

Finding a quiet corner of your home, you hunched over.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself break.

---

It had been a long time since you’d broken down like this. You weren’t sure how long you had been crying for—only that even as your tears continued to fall, your mind had screamed to cease this foolishness.

“Where did our Lady go?” Haibara’s voice rang from a distance. 

The sound of his voice snapped you back to your senses. You hastily blotted your tears with your sleeve and cleared your throat—recollecting yourself with urgency. But you frowned as your fingers touched your eyes, which were tender to the touch. You could only imagine how disastrous you looked.

Much to your horror, footsteps approached. You backed away, heart hammering, circling around the home in a desperate attempt to evade them. But as you turned the corner in your flustered state, you collided against something—or rather, someone’s sturdy frame.

You let out a small gasp only to find yourself staring directly into Suguru’s eyes.

Of course, it just had to be the man you least wanted to see. 

His expression hardened, gaze unreadable. You wanted to run, but his hand seized your wrist before you had a chance to flee.

“Strange… I thought I heard something here” Confusion laced Haibara’s voice, even closer now. 

“It’s only me,” Suguru called out, though his eyes remained fixed on you. His grip tightened—not to dominate, but to reassure. 

“She’s not here.”

“Geto-sama?” Haibara’s voice carried back in surprise. “Are you sure she wasn’t inside?” He must have been asking someone else.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Yumi could be heard from a distance. Her apparent concern stirred a pang of guilt in your chest.

Suguru’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding breaking through the stoicism, even as his chest ached at the thought of you crying alone. There were many things he wanted to do—to hold you, to dry your tears, to offer words of comfort. But he knew if it came from him, it would only wound you further. 

He gave you a quiet nod once before releasing your wrist. Without another word, he brushed past you and headed off in Haibara’s direction, granting you the space and mercy to return inside unseen.

---

Thanks to Suguru, you managed to slip into your bedroom undetected. Judging from the few belongings that had found their way inside, it seemed the two of you would once again have to share the same bed. Your heart involuntarily fluttered at the thought of what had just transpired—the warmth of his hand on your wrist, his silent reassurance, and how he had protected your vulnerability without a word.

Suguru Geto must have been the greatest pretender that ever existed.

At least, it would have been easier to label him as such.

But you knew what he had done just now couldn’t be pretend; it was clear in the way his eyes carried sincerity—a look that you had never seen from him before, as though he was a completely different man than the one you married.  

“There you are.”

You jolted as your father’s voice cut through your thoughts.

For a moment, he wavered as you turned to face him.

“Father, I—”

He lifted a hand in silent understanding.

“Come,” he said, softer this time, without the curtness he had regarded you with since your arrival. “…I’ve made all your favorites.” 

---

As you entered the dining area, your breath caught. True to your father’s words, every one of your favorite dishes was laid out on the table—warmed to perfection, timed meticulously as if he’d known the exact moment you would return. The gesture nearly undid you. But before you could dwell on it, Haibara, Yumi, and Suguru returned.

Dinner passed in quiet civility. Curiously enough, your father hadn’t further mentioned your appointment as the new Lady of the North. You nearly thought he was in denial until he casually mentioned he had already prepared a new pelt and a few jugs of wine for you to take to Izuma.

“A sip is all you’ll need to help with the cold. I’ve prepared enough that should last you through the winter.” Your father remarked.

From time to time he would eye your bandaged hand, holding back his tongue from commenting on your injury. But it was apparent that your injury had upset him.

As usual, Haibara made lighthearted, casual conversation, and Yumi would tactfully chime in as though they both felt the unspoken tension crackling in the air. Your father seemed enamored of Haibara and often engaged in conversation with him, even giving him hearty back pats. It was you and Suguru who remained quiet, mostly. 

Occasionally, you would try to sneak glances at him—to see what expression he wore—but he remained impassive, unfazed by your father’s particular coldness towards him.

Yet somehow, that only made your heart beat faster.

“Suguru,” your father suddenly said, near the end of dinner. 

Yumi had already started clearing the table, exchanging dinner plates for small fruit plates. 

“Yes, Father?” 

“Join me after the meal is done.” 

“Of course,” he obliged without hesitation. 

You shot a puzzled look at the two men, and then at Yumi—who only returned an imperceptible shrug.

The inquisitive part of you was tempted to eavesdrop on their private meeting, but lately, you had found yourself wishing to stay ignorant of certain aspects of your life—namely, Suguru Geto. 

---

This was the first time Suguru had met your father eye to eye, and the first time he had seen a glimpse of who you truly were.

Since his arrival at your childhood home, he had quietly observed the surroundings and, to his surprise, there was not another soul on the property—not even a housekeeper.

It appeared his observations about you were true: you were good with your hands because you had probably had to do a lot of things on your own.

The size of your family’s home was a far cry from the Geto Estate, but something about the serenity of the humble abode reminded him of something long lost, something he had yearned for a long time: home.

Though… he couldn’t quite shake off the disdain with which your father had regarded him since his arrival.

But Suguru would not allow himself to falter.

“So, you’ve come,” your father remarked, displeasure creeping into his voice.

“Yes, Father…” Suguru bowed politely.

“It is just you and me. There is no need to continue calling me father,” he leaned into his seat. “I can see through the pretense.”

The old man took a sip of plum wine from a small porcelain cup, observing Suguru intensely—like a criminal on trial before his court. For the first time, Suguru’s stomach churned with nervousness.

“You are… displeased with me.”

“Displeased is an understatement,” he scoffed. “Do you think I’m not aware of what happened to my own daughter? ‘Congratulations! Your daughter is a national hero.’”

“I entrusted her to you, and now she’s lost a hand!” His voice cracked at the last word, barely containing his unbridled wrath.

Suguru’s jaw tightened at the brutality of the truth. There was no excuse, no defense he could summon. So he only did what was right: he sat before your father, taking in the full weight of his justified fury.

With every word, every criticism, every insult—he could see how the old man’s face turned red with anger, and how his fists shook. It almost felt more detrimental to the judge himself, the way he worked himself into a rage.

“It was never her dream, Suguru—to be in the political spotlight. In fact, she had greatly resisted this marriage, but had only done it to appease me.”

“Then why had you sent her my way?” Suguru’s words cut through. “If it were only for the sake of marriage, why had you not sent a marriage proposal to anyone else for your daughter?” 

Father grew quiet; his expression hardened.

“Had I known what she would be subjected to under your care, I would have reconsidered.” 

“Only reconsider, Father?” A taunt played in the general’s voice.

The old judge took another swig of wine from his cup, gathering the fuel to speak his next words.

“We both have the same enemy.”

Suguru chuckled, dry and low. “A bold claim, Father. Dangerous, too. House Geto has never lacked enemies.”

“Do not play a fool, boy,” your father hissed. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“I do not.” 

“Now who is the one being dishonest?” 

Thick tension charged the room as the two men sat there—like two hunters encircling each other, trying to discern whether they were allies or foes.

“My daughter had to learn to become independent at a very young age. It is a regret—and a guilt—I carry as her father to this day,” he murmured. “Her mother, the only woman I had ever loved, died shortly after she was born. And as a broken man and single father, I had to make some hard decisions.

“To continue life as a judge, so that we could live a quiet life of comfort—but that also meant I couldn’t watch her grow up. Gave her to her grandfather to watch. One day she was still a delicate infant, and then the next, she was already walking and talking. And then shortly after… she came of age. And now, she belongs to another man.”

“Though I may have been an absent father… for my daughter I would lay down my life,” your father shakily confessed. “I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand. A father’s love.”

Suguru looked at the old judge, his own face unreadable.

“My end is inevitable,” the judge solemnly declared. “It has already been sealed—by that wretched Sato.”

Suguru did not flinch at the revelation, because he had suspected it when the king spoke of the old judge with such familiarity. Suguru knew Sato's habits all too well. And this was precisely why he had proposed coming to meet your father.

He didn’t want there to be any regrets. 

Suguru knew all too well what that never-ending darkness felt like.

“And why would someone like you make an enemy of the king?”

“I’m sure you have already figured it out, General.”

“I need to hear it from you.”

“Tell me. How much do you truly know of your wife?”

Suguru shot an icy gaze at the man sitting across from him. He found it a little ironic that he had been asked the same question twice recently, but for two very different reasons. His silence, however, spoke more than words could: he knew nothing about you, garnering a small disappointed hum from your father before he took another swig of wine. 

“In exchange for her safety, I thought you’d be a decent man. Treat her well—and in time, she would have revealed it to you herself. But if you still don’t know… then maybe it’s because you still have yet to earn it.”

Your father sighed. The ceramic cup clinked as he rested it on top of the desk.

“A pity… she would have been useful in your endeavors. Though I’m sure she has already proven herself to you at the campsite.” 

“What are you—”

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Do you think I was born yesterday, boy?” Your father snapped. “But enough dancing around. There’s only one reason I accepted your call.”

He gently placed a mahogany box on the desk, its surface carved with intricate floral designs inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

“It is the last remnant of her mother. You will give it to her… for me.” 

“And why would you not give this to her yourself?”

“Because I am a weak man,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, Suguru saw your own anguish through your father’s eyes.

“It is already difficult enough that you are all here. If I spend too much time with her, I will never want her to leave again.”

At the judge’s raw confession, Suguru found himself at a loss for words.

There was no doubt… had his own father been alive—he would have been good friends with your father. Both the late general and the venerable judge held an unconditional love for their families, and led lives of integrity.

Suguru couldn’t help but wonder, in another universe, had he not been corrupted by vengeance—had his family still been alive. Perhaps Ayaka might have been his most obvious suitor then. But perhaps… there would have been a chance where the two of you met under better circumstances.

And in that innocuous universe, perhaps it still would have been inevitable—that he would find you, and that he would desire you all the same.

---

Your father clicked his tongue. “It has been four months and you know nothing about her! What have you been doing all this time—did you lock her up in a cage?!” 

Suguru grimaced at the remark. Your father’s statement—even in his drunken state—wasn’t far from the truth. He supposed he could see now… where you got your perceptiveness from.

“Father, that’s enough, I… do not hold my alcohol well.” 

“You weak bastard!” He slurred. “I’m beginning to think I made the wrong choice! Conqueror of Stars my foot! You can win wars, but you can’t even overcome a cup of wine?! How are you going to protect my daughter?!”

This would have been the eighth cup. And he wasn’t sure how much more he could repress the queasiness in his stomach… but he digressed.

“I—”

“Oh, right! You can’t! Otherwise, she wouldn’t have lost her hand! I will have a word with Shinjiro when Sato sends me to my grave!”

At this rate, the vein on his forehead was about to burst. He wasn’t sure if Sato would claim him before an aneurysm did. 

Suguru grumbled internally, but it was deserved, and for that, he would endure the barrage of verbal assaults.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever find himself in this kind of predicament: drunk, while simultaneously being reprimanded by another drunk.

He understood where you got your silver tongue from now. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for an old judge fuelled on cheap plum wine and armed with righteous indignation.

He wondered. How mortified would you be if you were here to witness this ordeal? Or would you be amused? Either way, he couldn’t picture it. Because the harsh truth was, he had never once seen you smile or laugh in front of him. He supposed you had only ever mirrored his own emotions back at him. Cold. Distant. Aloof. 

And… that pleading look when Takeda’s blade nearly slit your throat open. 

He wanted to forget it, but he knew he could never.

“I know… my daughter may not have been the woman you imagined…” he murmured. “She’s inquisitive, sharp, and resilient… but she’s also selfless.” 

“I’m sure you can understand, Suguru, how lonely it could be to stand atop strength. When everyone around you thinks you’ve conquered so much on your own, then surely, you can do anything—that you do not need empathy, support… love. But what makes us human is that we all instinctively crave it.” 

“It is shameless of me to ask. But for my daughter, I will do it anyway—please… protect not just her body, but also her heart.”

Suguru held his breath, feeling the weight of your father’s request.

“…I will, Father.” He quietly promised. Yet, the words felt like glass on his tongue, because he knew he had already failed you on all accounts.

The room suddenly grew silent. Suguru fully expected the old judge to lash out at him again, but he was met with calm. As he looked over, your father was already fast asleep on his desk. 

Amid the stillness, it felt oddly comforting and peaceful. 

This kind of peacefulness, where the voices in his head were quiet... he could get used to it. 

Suguru carried your father to his room and settled him carefully onto the bed, laying him on his side. Half-asleep, the old man mumbled something about your room being just down the hall, and that he ought to be a better husband.

The wooden floors creaked under his steps as he made his way down the hall. In his somewhat hazy state, he imagined the countless times you had walked down the same halls. 

He could almost see the younger version of you running excitedly down the hall—then, over time, those footsteps softening into quiet determination as you grew older.

When he opened the door to your room, the first thing he noticed was how clean it was. Immaculate, even. Despite being long unoccupied, the space was preserved—like a memory frozen in time. Your father had kept it virtually untouched.

His pulse quickened as he saw you fast asleep, trying to quell the spiralling thoughts within. For the first time in this tiny space, it felt as though he was truly seeing a glimpse of you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, a familiar ache clawing at his chest, as he set your mother’s heirloom gently on the small desk. The surrounding items caught his attention—half-written notes neatly stacked on the surface, a small pile of books tucked into the corner, even a few articles of your clothing still folded carefully on the shelf.

Between two of the half-written notes, a neatly folded paper was clipped and tucked away. Carefully, he slid it out and unfolded the letter.

Father,  I do not resent you for this marriage, and I trust your judgment. But I wished you had told me what was troubling you. Sending me off to be with a lord will not solve the problem. I am scared. But it is not my future that I fear for. I am scared because it feels like you are saying goodbye to me for the last time. And I do not know why. Your daughter

And then, another one read:

Father, General Geto is a kind man, he had even provided me with ample space on the estate. Most importantly, he allows me to do what I wish freely. He is not much for words, but he is diligent and reliable. I could see why the King and even the nation favor him so.  Please rest assured I am doing well.  But enough about me. I worry that you are often alone.  If you have time, please write back to me, so that I know you are in good health and spirits.  Your daughter

You were selfless indeed. If you had known ahead of time what kind of fate awaited you—would you still have accepted it? The corners of his heart whispered: yes. 

What were your thoughts when you sat at your desk and looked out the window?

What kind of future had you imagined for yourself?

Surely, it was much brighter than this one. 

His fingers brushed the lid of your mother’s box, tracing the inlaid detailing. He knew it was wrong, yet he still wondered. 

When it came to you, it was like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He behaved in ways that were otherwise unusual for him. He found himself always curious about you. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop wanting to know.

He silently prayed for your mother’s forgiveness before lifting the cover. A golden hairpin lay inside, carved with delicate detail.

How could your father have forgotten to give you such a thing?

It would have been beautiful if you had worn it on your wedding night.

Why did clarity only come in cheap plum wine and regret?

---

You pretended to sleep, but in truth it was difficult. Not when your mind and heart spoke relentlessly, their discordant voices clashing in a storm that threatened to break you. You hadn’t thought that returning here—to home—would shake your resolve. In this moment, sharing a space with Suguru paled compared to the yearning of returning to familiarity—of a time when all you had to worry about was protecting your affiliation with the Guild from your father. 

Just as your thoughts teetered on the precipice of unraveling, the gentle sliding of your bedroom door tethered you back to reality. 

By now, you had become familiar with the sound of Suguru’s footsteps. 

Your first instinct was to pretend you were asleep to avoid conversation with him. Ever since he had caught you outside, you had felt a little self-conscious around him. 

He shuffled around a bit, and then you heard the rustling of papers, but soon after, the sweet scent of plum wine permeated the room.

Given Suguru’s dislike and low tolerance for alcohol, you could only surmise that he had done it under your father’s—most likely insistent—request.

Now the question was: how far gone was he?

“How much have you entertained my father tonight?” You asked evenly, back faced towards him.

He paused in his steps. 

Normally, it was easy to discern when one was pretending to sleep; the rhythm of their breathing was not as natural as the pretender believes it to be. In fact, it was almost unnatural because of how acutely aware they were of pretending. But the alcohol had dulled his otherwise keen senses—he had genuinely thought you to be asleep.

“I’ve brought him back to bed.” He cleared his throat. Despite his best efforts to sound coherent, the hoarseness in his voice and the slurring between his words told another story.

“My father is not the King, nor your soldier—there was no need to indulge his whims.”

“Had I not known any better, I would have mistaken that you were concerned.” A foreign amusement laced his voice.

It seemed the alcohol had emboldened the general.

You let out a quiet sigh as you reluctantly propped yourself up from the bed to face him. He stood in the middle of the room—expression indecipherable. His posture remained steady for a drunk, but the dim embers of the lamp revealed the flush on his face. 

“I don’t recall you as one to shy away from expressing your disdain.” You retorted lowly. 

“Perhaps…” he agreed with ease, unable to hide the small smile that crept up at the corner of his lips. “…I suppose I wanted to indulge him tonight.” 

Inebriated or not, it was the first time the two of you had shared something resembling an agreeable conversation. In fact, he hadn’t felt like he could openly talk to anyone in a long time—save for Haibara.

You watched as Suguru fumbled with the ties of his garments. A small heat crept up the back of your neck at the realization that he had no intention of stopping—even with your eyes on him. The contrast was uncanny compared to that first day at the Eastern Campsite, when he had practically given you a death glare for letting your gaze linger on him even a fraction too long.

Surely, it must have been because he was drunk.

You averted your gaze, only to realize that his sleeping robe still lay at the foot of the bed. With little thought—except for fluster and panic—you sprang up and snatched the robe.

“Your—” you spun over, eyes widening in sheer horror to find him now half undressed.

He paused mid-movement. Something incomprehensible—almost dark—stirred in his eyes.

Ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you deeply inhaled and calmly walked towards him. It was impossible to ignore his imposing figure, but your eyes remained fixed on his, refusing to look elsewhere.

You threw the robe over his bare shoulders. Straightening out the sleeves for his arms to go through. He obliged almost too easily, watching you with quiet intensity, as though secretly savoring the way you tended to him.

“You may be drunk, but that’s no excuse to lack decency,” you chided quietly, smoothing out the collar of his robe. 

Your fingers brushed against his chest, sending a shiver down his spine—and arousing a sensation that was long forgotten. Even in his drunken state, he knew there was a delicate line he must not cross. He fought against all desire and instinct to hold you—to intertwine his fingers with yours.

To kiss you.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t dishonor you again.

---

Suguru’s eyes shoot open, the first ray of morning light barely making it through the window—its pinkish hue bleeding into the bedroom as morning birds delicately chirped. He glanced over to find you still in peaceful slumber. Your chest steadily rising up and down. 

He allowed himself a moment of relief—you were still here.

Yet, despite the tranquility… he felt like death.

The last time he’d felt this ghastly was during a conquest on the western front—and again when fever took him at the Eastern Campsite.

He shut his eyes, trying to will the world to steady, but the room continued to spin.

And then his stomach lurched.

He shot up, heart pounding violently, and scrambled out of the room, sprinting through the corridor like a soldier on a battlefield. He barely made it outside before he hunched over and purged the contents of his stomach onto the grass. Acid burned his throat, the stench of plum wine and bile clinging to the morning air. Before he could recover, another wave hit—and then a firm hand patted his back.

“Let it all out, boy. You’ll feel better.” A lilt of amusement played in his voice.

Your father—the cause of this misery—was the last person he wanted to see. Judging by the cup of water he already had prepared, Suguru concluded your father had expected this outcome.

Perhaps that was the point.

Not that he minded.

“Feeling better?” The old man was very much smiling.

“Yes,” Suguru rasped, his voice raw from the acid.

“Good. Suffering builds character.”

Suguru let out a small scoff in disbelief, but there was no anger as he took the cup and rinsed his mouth.

“I do not recall you as a man of mischief,” he remarked.

“I am a man of many things,” the judge chuckled. “Though I’m not so sure you’d want to find out.”

A faint smile played on Suguru’s lips, understanding the gentle warning beneath the playfulness. Still, he supposed that if a small hangover could put your father at ease, he would endure many more.

Yet despite the growing rapport born from the absurdity of the situation, a persistent thought nagged at the back of his mind.

“Father, I can arrange for you to move to the estate,” Suguru proposed.

The old judge paused. Then his eyes softened, and a rare smile graced his lips. 

That smile unlocked something deep inside Suguru—a mix of aching and longing, as though he was seeing his own father through the old judge.

“I cannot do that, son—you know that,” he whispered, shaking his head. “If I come, it will put a target on my daughter’s back. I must stay here.”

“Why must you so willingly play the role of a martyr?” Suguru challenged. “Surely, you must know that it would ruin her.”

“I have already made my dues, Suguru,” the old judge said softly. “Just know that this, too, will be the last time I ever accept your call.”

Suguru understood that your father was resolute, and he finally understood the extent he would go to protect you. 

Your father’s love was cruel in its selflessness. 

But Suguru, too, had his own selfish agenda: to be someone who could be worthy of you. Someone you could come to rely on. Someone who could weather storms with you.

“I have failed her as a husband—it is not something I am proud of. But I vowed not to fail her again,” Suguru confessed, staring at his scarred hand. “I will set things straight, even if it means I must go against you, Father.”

Suguru’s expression hardened as he looked defiantly into your father’s eyes, as though he carried anger on your behalf.

“What do you plan to do then, General Geto?” 

Silence often carried a thousand words. Neither man said it aloud, but the look in Suguru’s eyes bellowed his convictions.

And in that moment, the venerable judge recognized the truth—the lengths the general would go for his daughter.

That he had, indeed, won the gamble in entrusting her to Suguru Geto.

“Then the last time it shall be, Father,” Suguru said, straightening his back. “It appears that we both have the same goal, and a role to fulfill.”

The judge only smiled and gave a firm pat on the general’s back. The gesture held an unspoken acknowledgement: remember what you’ve promised.

In the stillness of the crisp autumn morning, Suguru knew what he must do. 

In the end, both men held the same purpose: you. 

And so, he would begin fulfilling his vows—one by one.

a/n #2: Please note that I've refreshed my tag list for this series. If you were previously on the tag list and still wish to continue to be tagged, please leave a comment/shoot me an ask. I apologize for asking you to do it twice. I won't be refreshing the tag list moving forward, only this time since it's been a while since the last update.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Tag list: @miacakess @webyueve @sugurbo

Suguru still gave you butterflies. You supposed he probably had that effect on everyone. So casually certain, speaking to you so soft and low and sweet. Making you feel seen. Understood.

Like you weren't ridiculous or horrible or any of those awful things looping around in your head after you spent more than sixty seconds around your family. Like it wasn't absurd for you to be scared or insecure.

Even if he was really only saying it to make you feel better. His crush on you had been crumbled by someone else's hand, but it still fucking stung to know you had a chance. Reduced to ash just for him to attempt to rebuild the bridge he burned by being a friend.

"I want him to want me," You admitted.

Sukuna said he liked you. But you were waiting for him to change his mind. Convinced that maybe he already had.

"He's an idiot if he doesn't," Suguru bluntly said, and you laughed, trying to force out a sigh of relief you still didn't fully feel.

"What if he does and I'm bad?" You whispered, digging your nails into your palm, lungs straining to keep your breathing steady. "Like, in bed?"

You were terrified of disappointing him. Of losing him.

Suguru was taking too long to answer.

"I'm a virgin," you admitted, as if it wasn't obvious enough. His mouth fell back open, and you felt like you probably just shoved your foot in your own.

But you were scared.

"Do you want to lose your virginity to him?" Suguru asked, but you could tell he was holding back what he was actually thinking.

You knew what you didn't want.

You didn't want to lose your virginity to your husband-to-be. Didn't want to waste what little time you had left as single.

But you also didn't want to regret it. Didn't want to have to walk into work and see Sukuna looking at you with disgust or disdain because you couldn't live up to his expectations either.

"I want to lose it to someone I trust," You awkwardly mumbled, looking back up at him. His eyes were still warm, still sincere, and it clicked.

You trusted Suguru.

He was honest. He was considerate. He wouldn't make you feel like shit even if you sucked.

Could tell you what you were doing wrong, teach you tips and tricks so you wouldn't be so far out of your depth. Treading your head above the surface instead of totally submerged in your own embarrassment.

"Suguru," you softly said his name, and he held his breath. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

God, this was a horrible fucking idea.

He knew that.

Felt it in his bones. Every fucking atom and fiber of his being, actually.

But you were on his bed. In his dorm. Glancing around at everything while he lit the one singular candle he had. Why hadn't he said no?

Why hadn't he said yes and then added that he wanted it to be real? Not just to fuck you so you could feel safe having sex with another guy?

Your heels were discarded by his door, your purse perched on his nightstand, while your eyes flitted over to the photographs he had pinned to the wall - including a copy of the ones from the fucking photo booth where you were on his lap. Your stare almost immediately darted back to him as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, your whole body tense.

"S-should I take off my clothes or-?" You nervously asked, already pinching the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

"Let me," he murmured, pulling you up to your feet. Your hand felt right in his. Your palm was soft and warm, fingers interlacing with his on instinct.

It was hard to let go.

He took his time peeling your shirt off, his breath hitching at how you looked up at him, doe-eyed and genuine. You trusted him. He didn't deserve this. Did Sukuna?

Suguru got down on his knees, slowly unzipping your skirt and tugging it down your thighs. You were gorgeous. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything prettier than this, than you, hooking two fingers in the band of your panties and pulling them down to join where the rest of your clothes were discarded.

His palms traced up and down your legs, leaning in to trail tender kisses up them, admiring every inch you granted him temporary access to. Convinced that maybe if he proved that he could be a better man, that he could worship you more, you would change your mind.

Decide to give him a second chance, ditch the fake part of your relationship and give the real thing a try.

Your pretty gasp made his dick painfully hard inside his pants.

But you were already unclasping your own bra, still refusing to let him do everything for you, dropping it down right as he glanced up.

Every part of you was better than he ever pictured. He wanted to spend all night exploring each piece of you. Devote an hour to your thighs and two more to your chest. Staying up to touch and taste and take until you were begging him not to stop.

But that wasn't what you needed right now.

"Any guy would be lucky to have you," He muttered, reaching up to grab your hip. You bit your lip, and he was dying to kiss you again.

To cement himself in your memories as a man who would do anything to make you feel good. Show you what it was like to be loved.

Because that's what this was, wasn't it?

All this time he'd spent acting like he was your boyfriend, all those lunches and excuses to spend a few more minutes trying to make you smile, it had stopped being an act before he had even realized he was catfished before.

Maybe he had been pretending to be in love with you at first. But he wasn't anymore.

"I told you that you didn't have to-" You started, and he was standing, interrupting you with a real kiss. The kind you couldn't hide behind.

Capturing your mouth against his, just to send you stumbling back onto the bed. He caught you though, one arm wrapped around your waist as he muffled a soft mmph with a moan of his own.

Caged you in underneath him, your chest pressed tight against his, desperately tracing over your teeth with his tongue. Struggling to commit the details to memory, the scent of your perfume suffocating his senses. He could drown in it.

Drown in the feeling of your delicate fingers tangling in his hair, raking against his scalp.

He wasn't going to let you turn this into something smaller than what it was. Shrink it down into some cute little box you could slot away.

"S-Suguru," You murmured into the corner of his mouth, and he was hardly able to pull himself back to look at you. To prop himself up and give you space to breathe, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip.

Pulling it down to make you pout, eyes squinting at him as you sighed. You swatted at his hand, but you were really reaching to grab his shirt. Trying to tug it up already.

Impatient.

But you got what you wanted.

And he was just fucking glad it was him for now.

He tried to take off his own clothes slowly. Studying your face while he stripped down, trying to catch any sign you felt the same as him. Watching the way you tensed and twitched, pressing your thighs together as he stripped his boxers off and his hefty cock sprang up to smack against his abs.

"How-" You stopped yourself from finishing your question, clamping your mouth shut as you sucked in a sharp breath.

Suguru climbed back on top of you, hooking one of your thighs over his hip, a flicker of pride flashing through him at having you so disheveled. Your hair splayed out on his pillow, makeup already smeared, not even a trace of your lip gloss left.

"Gotta stretch you out first," He murmured, pausing to make sure you still wanted to.

"O-okay," You nervously agreed, and your slight stutter was so adorable it took every ounce of self-restraint not to start rutting into his mattress like a dog in heat.

Two fingers slipped between your slick folds, crossing the threshold, burning another boundary.

You stilled, and he froze too. Searching your eyes for some reluctance, some resistance other than how tight you were squeezing his sturdy digits.

"Keep going," You whispered, your voice strained and stiffed. But you were serious, brows scrunched together as you tried to buck your hips up to force his fingers in up to his knuckles.

"If it's too much," He hesitated, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Refusing to be someone you regretted.

"I'll tell you," You promised.

Because he was safe. Because he had become someone you trusted.

But not someone you loved.

Your heart was in someone else's hands even if your body was his tonight.

It was his own fault. But he'd mourn what he was missing tomorrow. Until then, he would give you all of him and hope you actually saw Suguru for who he wanted to be for you rather than who he used to be.

Pushing his fingers in deeper, curling and crooking slowly, admiring every twitch and tremble of you underneath him. Ignoring his own cock aching and straining for friction and release, leaving kisses everywhere he could.

Across your breasts, lips grazing over your nipples, up to your collarbone and trailing to your jaw, listening and memorizing the sounds you made when he found those sweet spots in the back and pressed against them.

"Right there, baby?" He whispered, feeling like it was a secret that just the two of you shared.

"Mm, mhm," You whined, lashes fluttering as you writhed at the force of them scissoring you.

His thumb trailed up to your clit, appreciating the little jolt his touch against your sensitive bud earned. The pitch of your fevered moan ringing in his ears.

"You look so pretty like this," He praised, and you pulled on his hair, forced him to look up at you.

Your skin was so hot, so warm underneath his, cheeks flushed as you tried to look serious.

"Can't you just fuck me?" You asked, and he hated how fast his resolve was crumbling.

Slipping his fingers back out, popping both in his mouth to savor the taste of you. Your eyes widened and wavered at the sight of him dragging his fingers along his tongue, but you held your own. Didn't tell him what you thought of him.

Always leaving him guessing.

He readjusted, leaning over to grab a condom from the top drawer of his nightstand. His fingers were shaking a little as he slipped it on, the tip of his cock already swollen, his pre-cum making it easier. Glancing back to where you were soaked too, your mouth stuck open.

His palms pressed flat on your open thighs, hesitating as your eyes met his.

"Are you sure?" Suguru slowly asked. He had to know. Even if it meant he lost the chance to ever have you at all. "We don't have to if-"

"I want to," You insisted.

He pretended that meant you wanted him.

Suguru wanted to say something, to comfort you, to make this special, to show you that all he wanted was you. But he couldn't get a single goddamn word out when he was sinking into your heart.

Wrapped around your warmth as he guided inch by inch inside you, your cunt clenching around him while your wrists suddenly crossed behind his neck. Holding onto him like you needed him, momentary panic flashing through your face.

He held onto you, pushing your hair back and caressing your cheek as he stopped before he was even halfway in.

"That's it, pretty girl," He soothed, your eyes watering as you throbbed around him. "Just relax for me, okay?"

You nodded, making a little whimper that wrecked him. Heart squeezed and bleeding at the shape of you being imprinted in his mattress, at your pretty pussy being molded to his ridges.

There was no fucking way he was going to last long.

He could barely make himself fit, but every fucking millimeter he pushed in just made it more intense, stretching you out on his thick length while you moaned loud enough his neighbors were probably getting a goddamn show.

"You're doing so good," He swallowed hard, struggling to shove down the intense pressure building in his stomach. Fiery need stoked in his chest, burning through his veins as he tried to control himself.

Your whole face lit up.

"I-I used to dream about us doing this," You admitted, and it knocked all the air out of him. Stalling still buried deep inside of you, everything inside him pulling tight.

He could probably cum from your confession alone.

Suguru had to focus on making you finish instead, dark brows furrowed as he fumbled for your clit again. Rubbing careful circles against it, practiced patterns until you were barely managing broken breaths, leaning up to kiss him in the heat of the moment.

Somewhere between the tongue and the teeth and the damp tears running down your face, you were shattering for him, cumming with a stuttered whimper or his name he was pretty sure he'd be replaying every night for the foreseeable future.

Still squeezing him tightly, still pulling at his hair and pressing your lips against his face in a messy open-mouthed kiss when he was coming undone right after you.

Connected in another way you couldn't erase.

Even if it was just a warm up for you. Just practice.

Just pretend.

He didn't want to slip out of you. Didn't want to let go of this. Rubbing your clit while you came back down from your climax and back to your senses.

"W-was I really okay?" You asked, all breathy and beautiful, looking up at him with big eyes.

"The best," Suguru murmured, and he meant it.

You didn't believe him though, kiss bitten lips swollen as you started to protest, but he cut you off. Pressing his mouth back against yours as he pulled out, cock still throbbing as the last of his cum leaked out into the condom.

It was the truth he'd been a little too late to realize.

You were it for him.

But then you broke the kiss, rolling over onto your side, and he realized your phone was ringing. Watching uselessly as you dug it out, nose scrunching up in cute concern as you saw whatever was waiting for you on the screen.

Was it Sukuna? Your parents?

"I should-" You started, and he refused to let you say the word leave.

"Stay."

boyfriend!aki, who humours you by letting you tie his hair, and even when it comes out crooked or uneven, he leaves it be, letting gravity decide when it will falls loose on its own.

boyfriend!aki, who flicks his cigarette into the ashtray mid-drag the second you call him inside. because lets be real, between nicotine and you, it’s never a contest.

boyfriend!aki, who hangs onto the smallest mementos of you—movie stubs from the nights you went together, the receipt from your first official dinner date, even the wildflower you once playfully tucked behind his ear, now dried & pressed in a book.

boyfriend!aki, who is deceptively gentle in the small intimacies such as undoing tangles in your hair with careful fingers.

boyfriend!aki, who sometimes calls you late at night when you’re apart on missions, asking about your day while his free hand works under the waistband of his sweats.

boyfriend!aki, who will most definitely beat up denji if he says something inappropriate (albeit on accident), because boundaries exist and he doesn’t negotiate when it comes to you.

boyfriend!aki, who texts concise and to the point: “what do you want for dinner” or “don’t stay up too late” and checks his phone almost obsessively whenever it pings, just in case it’s you. and if you text “i miss you,” he replies simply, “i’ll be home soon,” and then, placed strategically almost as an afterthought, “miss you too.”

boyfriend!aki, consent king, who always waits for a clear yes before pushing a boundary—because he wants you to feel comfortable and wanting it as much as he does.

boyfriend!aki, who sometimes cries after sex.

boyfriend!aki, who is nearly impossible to coax into a heartfelt smile, and yet you’re the only one alive who’s seen it.

boyfriend!aki, who is the big spoon on default but doesn’t mind (and secretly enjoys) being the little spoon.

boyfriend!aki, who likes seeing you in his clothes.

boyfriend!aki, who sighs in exasperation when he sees you asleep on the couch again. but the annoyance never lasts. he kneels beside you, lips lingering against your temple as if to say thank you for waiting, even when he told you not to.

After that night, he started dreaming about you. He dreamed about how your lips would feel against his, what it would be like to have you sleep next to him and rest your head on his chest. He was consumed by thoughts of you under him, how you tasted, the way you’d tremble if he kissed that sensitive part of your neck you told him about one late night on the deck. His need for you was insatiable. In his line of work, there wasn’t much time for dating, let alone sex. He hadn’t been thinking about it that much, especially when he’d been housing Denji and Power, but now … he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Naked. Underneath him. On top. God dammit, he’d have you any way you wanted.

It made him wish he had acted on his instincts that night on the deck: pushing you against the sliding door, his lips crashing onto yours, hiking your skirt up that just barely covered your thighs and using his non-dominant hand (the one that didn’t shake) to feel how wet you were. But alas, Aki Hayakawa was a gentleman. 

You two had been living together for a year. He hardly knew you, but also knew you like nobody else did. He knew how you took your coffee – black with two sugars. He knew the brand of toilet paper you liked. He knew that you liked to hang your coats in the closet on the right side. He knew you drooled in your sleep, and what TV shows made you laugh, and how much your water bill was each month.

He was acting out in ways that were unlike him. If he came home from work and saw you had a guy over, he made his presence known. When you were at the office, sometimes he would go to your room just to smell your perfume, and other times he would steal your panties. (He always gave them back, feeling too shameful. But he did keep one underneath his pillow.) Some nights, he would pretend to leave for work early and you would retire to your room for the night, and then he would hear the familiar sound of your vibrator and – fuck, he had to go to work hard. Again. 

You were taking up too much space in his head. He was becoming distracted at work, thinking about what you were doing during these late hours. Maybe the Fox Devil was right: you weren’t good for him.

But he wasn’t moving out any time soon.

It was a Thursday after work and you were completely exhausted. After attending endless meetings and having to argue with coworkers all day, you left work early and were grateful to have a night alone with some leftovers from the night before. You had completely forgotten Aki telling you earlier in the week that he had this Thursday and Friday off, your mind preoccupied with work responsibilities. Sighing as soon as you walked through the door, you set your bag down and shuffled out of your shoes. You shut the door softly, at peace with the silence. You didn’t even have the energy to get out of your work clothes; you simply padded your feet to the fridge, plucking your leftovers out. It was only when you reached up to the microwave that you noticed the apartment wasn’t as silent as you assumed.

Sounds emanated from another room.

You got on your tip-toes, not wanting to make much noise if there was an intruder, and felt for the pocket knife you always kept on your person. Passing by your bedroom first, you popped your head inside. Empty. Hadn’t been touched since you left this morning. The bathroom was next, and you held your breath as the sounds got even more noticeable. You peeked into the bathroom and … clear. Linen closet: clear. Coat closet: clear. But the sounds only became more clear as you got closer to the end of the hall, Aki’s room, and –

You stopped in front of Aki’s bedroom, the door cracked just enough that you didn’t need to pop your head in to see what was happening. Aki was home, for once, and you … you were watching him through the crack in the door. But how could you not? You knew where the sounds were coming from now, because Aki was the one making them.

His dark hair swept in front of his eyes as he sat back against his pillows. He wore a white t-shirt, while his boxers bagged around his ankles. Grunts slipped from his mouth – that pretty, pretty mouth you'd seen wrapped around a cigarette. And his hand … his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously – desperately – with a pair of your panties enveloping the head. The same red lace panties you thought you’d lost months ago. 

You almost considered walking away, making noise in the kitchen so he would know you were home, but then –

Then, your name left his mouth in a whimper.

He was stroking himself even faster, muttering your name into the silent room with your panties wrapped so nicely around his cock. He was thinking about you, wanting so desperately cum in your panties, wondering if you thought about him when you used your vibrator. You were frozen in place, completely fixated on him as he leaned back against his headboard, his face finally exposed so you could see the way his jaw went slack, the way he moaned out your name. And – oh my god, you should leave –

But you couldn’t. And deep down, you knew there was a dirty part of you that always wanted to see this. Ever since that night on the deck, when you were wearing your favorite dress and all that glitter, and you noticed that he was looking at you in a way a platonic roommate definitely shouldn’t. You had started to think about him late nights when you were alone with your toy. You brought home dates, wanting him to see, giggling when you recognized his jealous expression. You tried to wake up earlier, just to see him when he stumbled through the door. Once, you even did his laundry to smell the nicotine on his jacket. 

The two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves.

And when you watched him finally reach his peak, spilling into your forgotten red lace panties, you realized just how wet the ones you were wearing had become. You watched him grunt as he came, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off his brow. And when he muttered under his breath a soft, “Fuck,” you couldn’t help the short gasp that left your lips.

Aki stalled. Oh, shit. You hadn’t been quiet enough. He sat up more in his bed, pulling his boxers up, and you whipped your back against the wall. You cupped your hand over your mouth, praying he wouldn’t come out and see. But he was whispering, “Who’s there?” And you only had enough time to move ten feet down the hall before you heard the creak of his soles on the old floorboards.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder this time.

Your back went straight, and after what felt like an eternity, you slowly turned to face him. “Aki,” you put your hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see anything –”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he shook his head at himself, quickly walking back into his bedroom. You were stunned, not knowing what to do, as he continued talking to himself in the room: “Stupid fucking idiot not closing the fucking door. What the fuck? What the fuck? My worst fucking nightmare. Fuck, why do these pants always get caught around my ankles? I need to get out of here. Stay at Denji’s for the night. Fuck, fuck, fuck –”

He emerged from his bedroom, now wearing jeans, his favorite Converse, and a leather jacket. He tried to pass you without looking, whispering obscenities under his breath, but then you were tugging on his jacket, lips pressed together.

Aki paused, cheeks red with both embarrassment and anger at himself, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve. He noticed the redness of your face as well, the black of your pupils almost covering your entire eye, and were you … were you aroused?

Swallowing hard, your voice was but a mere whisper when you asked, “How long have you had those?”

He knew what you were referring to. It didn’t take an idiot. Your stares were locked, and despite his shame, he wouldn’t turn away. “A while,” he mumbled.

“How long is ‘a while?’”

“Months, okay?” His eyes narrowed and his voice took on a new tone. “Now, can you let go of my jacket so I can leave and save us both the embarrassment –”

“Months,” you repeated, licking the corners of your lips. His eyes were made of blue fire as he stared down at you, and even with your office attire on, you felt utterly naked beneath his gaze. “I’ve … I’ve been thinking about you for months too.”

Aki took a moment to process your words, and your grip hesitantly released on his sleeve. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t – let you get away so easily. His breath was shaky as he placed both of his hands on the wall behind you, pinning you to it. So many times had you two passed each other in this hallway, so many words left unsaid. And now, he was pressing you against it.

“You’ve been thinking about me … for months,” he thought out loud, leaning in a little and nosing your hair. Your scent was intoxicating. That perfume … he could cum in his pants just from smelling it. “For months, you’ve been bringing guys to the apartment to … to what? Make me jealous?” He chuckled under his breath. It took him so long to put it together. “For months, you’ve been touching yourself right before I leave so I go to work fucking hard.” His nose traveled down to your neck, grazing that spot you told him about, and you shuddered. “You’ve been putting me through the wringer and I didn’t even have a clue.”

“You’re … you’re not so innocent.” You tried to keep yourself together, but it was difficult with him pinning you to the wall and – oh, he was already hard in his pants, pressing into you.  “You’ve been stealing my panties so you can masturbate with them.”

Aki hummed quietly, pressing his lips so delicately to your neck, as if his cock wasn’t completely strained in his jeans. “I supposed I have,” he whispered against your skin, “for months.”

“Since that night on the deck,” you croaked out, hands balling into fists as he licked a stripe up your neck. If he didn’t stop, you’d surely moan. “But I didn’t say anything – didn’t think about saying anything – because … because we’re roommates.”

“We are roommates,” he said, lifting his head from your neck, his lips hovering so close to yours. “And if we’re just stating facts here, I’ve needed to kiss you since that night.”

You didn’t wait for him. Immediately leaning in, your lips pressed onto his in a hungry kiss. His mouth molded to yours, and he tasted exactly like you thought: like black coffee, cigarettes, those raspberry pastries he always kept in the kitchen. His tongue, slipping into your mouth, tangled with yours in a way that you had only dreamed about. Your hands released from their fists, instead reaching up to twist in his t-shirt, bringing him even closer to you. He’d hardly touched you and you were completely, utterly soaked. 

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips broke from yours for just a moment to beg, “I need to touch you.”

“Please,” you whispered back, and his mouth was back on yours.

He dragged one hand down from the wall (his shaky hand, believe it or not), still pressing you against it, and worked on unzipping your trousers. You nuzzled your nose against his as he kissed you deeply, slipping his hand in your pants, past the waistband of your panties and – you were exactly as he dreamed you’d be. Absolutely wet. Just as needy for him as he was for you. “Fuck,” he muttered into the kiss, spreading your soaked folds with two long fingers. 

Your lips tore away from his, a trail of spit following, because you simply had to release the moan you’d been holding in for so long. Despite loving the way your mouth fitted against his, he was glad for it, wanting to see your face when he started rubbing your sensitive clit. And fuck, was it the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Your fists on his t-shirt went loose as your body felt like it was made of liquid, angling into his. Your lips pursed, soft whimpers filtering out as he rubbed you in those tight circles.

“So fucking wet f’me,” he mumbled, grazing his lips over yours. “Dreamed about this for months. Fuck, I’ve gotten hard just thinking about this pussy.”

He finally dipped a single finger inside you, and your hips immediately jerked against his hand. Aki let out a shuddering breath when he felt how much you were squeezing just one finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly. “Please,” you whispered, despite his thoughts, “I can take more. I promise.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He shoved two fingers inside you, curling them against that spot that had your hips instantly bucking. “Fuck, Aki,” you whined as he plunged those fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to rub your clit. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. 

“Kiss me.”

Aki moaned from your words alone, kissing you hard while fucking you with his long fingers. He was practically drunk on you: your scent wrapped around him, you tasted like citrus, and the way bucked into his hand … god, he needed to fuck you. So bad. And if you didn’t want that, then he needed to jerk himself off immediately or else he was going to explode in his pants. The last thing he needed was another embarrassing moment tonight.

It only took seconds to have you sighing into the kiss, squeezing his fingers like a vice as you came. His thumb on your clit was relentless, taking you over that lovely peak, as you mewled and cried into his mouth. It was almost religious, the way you moaned, and Aki had never felt closer to God than in this moment.

When the adrenaline subsided, he slowly removed his fingers from you and broke the kiss. You watched him intensely as he brought the fingers covered in your slick to his mouth, tasting you. Your lips fell open slightly, eyes going wide while his own closed, savoring the taste. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself. How the fuck have we been living under the same roof and it took this long for me to see that?

Without missing a beat, you pushed yourself off the wall, winding your arms around his neck and latching your legs to his waist. He lifted you as if you were made of air, kissing you so that you could taste yourself. Before you could even perceive how much time had passed, you were on his bed, blouse disheveled and trousers undone. Even your hair hadn’t left the updo you put it in every weekday. Your eyes flickered to the right and you giggled to yourself. He had finally shut the door.

His eyes remained on you as he shrugged off his jacket, and then his pants. He was back in the same outfit you saw him in earlier, when your panties had been wrapped around his cock like a birthday present. He hesitated before finally pulling off his shirt, and you saw the scars lining parts of his chest. Definitely not a security guard, you thought to yourself but decided not to ask about it now. You reached up as he stood between your legs, brushing your fingers over the scars, and then dragged them down his abdomen. His frame was thin, but he was more built than you believed, always hiding himself under those oversized button-ups.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist as you touched him so gracefully. “Do you want to …?” His voice was so soft, the question hanging off the edge of his tongue.

And then, you smiled up at him, looking like an angel. “Yes, Aki,” you whispered.

He felt like a kid in a candy store. The only thing – the one person – he’d been dreaming about and looked at him as if he weren’t a machine, or a gun with the trigger pulled, was lying before him and liked him. For months, they’d both said. His dominant hand was shaking as he started unbuttoning your blouse, and when you noticed (though you had observed this the day he moved in), you grabbed his hand and placed it on your cheek. With his left hand and your right, you worked together to undo the buttons until your chest was exposed for him. 

Moonlight streamed through his bedroom, the only light source in a seemingly dark area.  City lights reflected on you as you pulled your hair free from the updo, those pretty strands fanning on his sheets. His sheets. Because you were in his bed. The blinking lights from corporate buildings outside your little apartment created a halo around your head and – fuck, you really were something religious. For so long, Aki thought only hell existed. I mean, all the Devils were here, contracted to them. But seeing you splayed out so heavenly for him on his bed, he knew then that Angels had to exist too. 

He took his time taking your pants off, watching the way you bit your lip when the cold air of his room hit your soaked panties. Your eyes glanced up to his boxers, seeing the indent of his long, thick cock, and your mouth went dry. His fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging down and throwing them off to the side, hoping you’d forget about them so he could pocket another pair. With you exposed and bare on his bed, he really took a moment to admire you: the way your cheeks flushed, how the halo around your head flickered, the way your arousal seeped out of your pretty pussy and your nipples peaked. He just had to touch you; it would kill him if he didn’t. Leaning down, he began peppering kisses on your neck, your collarbone, before finally latching his lips around one of those sensitive nipples. Your breath stuttered at the sensation, and he used his left hand to palm your other breast, twisting the nipple between two fingers. You writhed under him, and he couldn’t help but grind his clothed cock against you, groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipple in tandem. Locking your legs around his waist, you held him to you so he was forced to keep grinding against you. It felt too good, and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

He tugged on your nipple and released it, breathing heavily as his eyes met yours. “If you don’t let me go, I’m definitely going to cum before I’m even inside you.”

“Poor Aki,” you giggled, letting your legs fall back on the bed. “Would that really be so bad?”

His eyes were burning into yours, serious as a heart attack. “I’ve been fucking my hand to the thought of you for what feels like forever,” he whispered, pressing a light kiss to the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to ruin this moment.”

Aki moved up so that his lips were hovering over yours again, and he could really see the sparkle of your irises in the moonlight. You reached in between your bodies and gingerly massaged his bulge, feeling how much he’d already soaked his boxers with precum. “You couldn’t ruin anything even if you tried,” you replied, your voice light and airy. “I’m on the pill. I’m ready when you are.”

“Shit,” he groaned at your mention of being on the pill, trembling as you massaged him. This had to be another one of his dreams. Just the thought of being inside you without the barrier of a condom … he was so close to completely exploding. He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you, after all the hell he’d witnessed and brought forth into this world. But he couldn’t help himself. He needed to have you, roommates be damned.

He stood up, needing to get away from your gentle hand. You sat up a little to help him tug down his boxers, careful of that shaky hand of his, and his cock sprang free, dripping precum on the floor. Aki, ever the gentleman, laid you back down on his bed with ease, holding your stare as he spread your legs wide for him. He breathed, praying to whatever god placed you in front of him that he wouldn’t cum prematurely. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, but he was so desperate for you that all he cared about was not tainting this moment, this dream. 

Aki grasped his cock, giving it a few hard pumps and grunting, before positioning himself at your entrance. You both seemed to hold your breath as he finally slid in, just an inch at first, and the two of you seemed to release that shaky, nervous breath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, burying himself further in your tight warmth, bracing his elbows beside your head. 

“Keep going,” you begged. “It’ll fit, Aki. Promise.”

You were going to kill him, he was sure of it. Aki had felt the way you squeezed his fingers, but it was nothing compared to pleasure of being inside you, feeling how tight you really were. So much better than his hand. Once he was fully seated inside you, he opened his eyes just to look into yours. Your lips pursed, legs wrapping around his waist once again, and you slowly nodded for him to continue. His cock twitched.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, sliding out of you before slamming back in. You cried out, carding your fingers in his hair, and he molded his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own whimpers. You just felt so, so good – so good that he could cry. To think that his bed had once been so cold, so lonely, but now you were occupying the space, trembling underneath him as his cock slipped in and out of you. 

Your moans were like gospel. For so long, Aki had been used to loud noise: to Denji’s complaints, to Power’s shouting, to the Devils’ in his ear. But now, it was just you two on the altar of your apartment, silent except for your heavy breaths mingling and the sound of car horns outside. You were wet and slick like holy water, taking him so nicely despite his size, and god – it was like you were made for him and he was made for you. 

You tugged on his hair, needing him so badly even though he was already yours to begin with. He really would have you any way you wanted. All you had to do was ask.

Aki was already so close to release, but he needed you to cum with him. As he fucked into you harder, deeper, his cock curving against that spot that made your eyes roll back, he reached in between you two and found that swollen bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs. “Aki,” you whined, tears pricking at your eyes as he rubbed your clit. He could die happily now that he heard your voice like that in his ear, knowing it was him that made it happen.

“Yes?” He said, breathless, placing sloppy kisses on your jaw. You clung to him, melting into him like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. “I’m so close. Are you close, angel?”

You whimpered at the nickname. “Almost.”

“Almost?” He fingers went a little faster. “Let’s get you there.”

As his two fingers rubbed tight, small circles on your clit, he angled his cock inside of you so that he could brush your G-spot with every thrust. You were now clutching onto him with all the strength you had left, entwining your body with his and feeling his muscles flex against your stomach. He was so deep now and you were so close and oh my god, Aki Hayakawa had you like putty in his hands.

And it was like he knew it without you even saying it. Because as your walls started to clench around him, he whispered into your ear. “Cum for me, angel. Please, please, need to cum with you.”

Your body convulsed, going tight around his cock as you came. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you called out his name, spurring him to fuck into you faster, reaching his own peak in the middle of yours. He groaned deep into your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside of you. You kept your legs around his waist, not wanting to miss a drop, and arched yourself against him, coming down from the high of your intense orgasm. Aki was still rubbing your clit slowly, whispering praises into your skin like, “Did so good me … So pretty … Could listen to you cum for hours.”

You two laid like that for a while, feeling his cock soften inside you, panting heavily against each other. Once he finally pulled out of you, your combined releases dripping down your thighs, you laid beside each other on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, until he whispered, “Please, tell me that wasn’t all a dream.”

Turning your head, you smiled at him. “Do you feel this?” You pinched his arm.

Aki flinched. “Ow.”