NYX

  “can you hear me?” you question, popping open the lid of the kit as you get onto the floor next to her.

  her suit is torn in a few spots, gashes where whoever she was fighting got to her. kiyoko’s eyes flicker open and closed, unconsciousness battling to take over. “hey, ki, kiyoko, i need you to stay awake, okay?” your voice becomes wavered as you talk, tears building up in your eyes. 

  “y/n, i’m sorry,” she croaks out, enough energy in her to reach her hand out, grasping your forearm with it. 

  “don’t- don’t say stuff like that. i’m going to get you patched up and everything will be okay,” you brush back her hair, lips quivering as you move to her suit, using a small pair of scissors to cut the fabric apart. 

  her torso is more bruised than you’d ever seen it before, dark blues and purples already filling in around her ribs and stomach. your eyes scan the wounds that look to be doing the most damage, blood still seeping out of them and only your rug. opening up a bottle of alcohol, you dump some along the scratches, watching as it foams up. her hands clench open and closed as the alcohol does its thing. swallowing back your fear, you pull out a needle and thread, hands shaking as you snaking the needle into the first gash. 

  blood coats your hands, the needle pushing through the layers of skin. your stomach bubbles at the sight of it. pulling the needle through once more, you knot it off, grabbing your scissors to cut the thread and start once more. “you still with me kiyoko?” your voice is still strained, attempting to stabilize your fingers again to work on the next spot.

  “you’re really pretty,” her hand reaches out for you, grasping the back of your neck, clearly a little delusional from the pain and loss of blood. 

  “always the sweet talker.. at least you’re still mildly conscious,” you glance over at her face, goosebumps radiating from her touch. the blood coming from her forehead and mouth have seemed to dry, a crack in her lip pointing to more of a split lip than blood in her lungs. 

  letting out a sigh of relief, you work through the next scratch. some are deeper than others, and the length makes you think of scorpion. most of the time you never truly know who she’s fighting until you see it on the news, your heart racing as a helicopter televises her next stunt. it wouldn’t surprise you if it weren’t him though, having escaped from prison recently. 

  looking down at her wounds, you don’t see any signs of infection though, maybe indicating another foe. taking in a deep breath, you return to the last injury that seems to need stitching. it’s on her shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. “i’m just going to tilt your neck now, if it hurts, let me know,” sitting next to her, you slowly move her head with your hands, extending the skin to make it easier to stitch. 

  “whatever you need to do doc,” she mumbles, eyes clenching shut until you get her head in place. her obsidian-hued hair lays out around her head, mixing with her blood and your multi colored rug. 

  “we’re both really lucky you have incredible healing properties,” you crawl over a few steps, biting your lip as you plunge the needle into her skin. 

  it goes quicker this time, the last couple having given you some experience with it. knotting it off, you set the thread and needle off to the side, eyes staring down at her. her eyes have closed again, probably having fallen asleep after her adrenaline finally shut down and the blood stopped flowing out.

  letting out a deep breath, you make your way to your feet, walking back towards the bathroom to grab a wash cloth. soaking it up with the sink, you take the warm cloth back to kiyoko, kneeling back beside her. wiping it against the various scrapes and gashes, her skin starts to look a little more normal. 

  “you scared me, ki. honestly, this is all so dangerous.. and i just feel so helpless,” you confess, unsure if she can even hear you right now. rubbing the cloth around her mouth, you start to notice the natural red in her lips, and just how normal she looks when she isn’t beaten and bruised. “god, you really did almost give me a heart attack.”

  you start to notice just how likely your heart is to leap from your chest. that unfamiliar feeling racing through your veins. dropping the wash cloth next to her, you reach over to your bed, grabbing a soft blanket and a pillow to help give her some comfort. slowly lifting her head, you place the pillow under her head, staring down at her.

  her eyes are closed, chest slowly rising and falling. leaning down, you press a gentle kiss to her forehead, her baby hairs tickling your nose. you straighten back up, smiling down at her before standing up. stepping away from the room, you nearly reach the hallway when something stops you.

  turning around, you can feel a web grabbing the back of your shirt. kiyoko’s head is tilted towards you, hand reaching out of the blanket. “would you mind staying? just for a minute?”

  her voice is frail, quiet. your shoulders loosen, a soft sight leaving your lips. “yeah, of course, ki.”

The weight of him overpowered your aching body, forcing your forehead to the floor. Your shoulders gave out. Muscles limped. Grinding the familiar taste of his disappointment between your molars.

This was nothing new.

All your life, you had only wanted one thing: to make him proud.

These four walls soaked in your blood, sweat and tears. They watched you grow, watched you harden, watched you train until your bones became rubber and you vomited cries.

All for the approval and intention of one man.

Your mentor, your handler, the object of your every twisted desire. Many times had you imagined his hands, always rough with you— between your thighs, training you how to take him. Fantasised about those glaring eyes as he split you open, took your first before some target on a seduction mission would. Desired that degrading voice on your ear, reminding you that you were worthless, but you were his, as he fucked you into these same damned floors.

Broken little things like you loved sharp rocks to cut their hands on and call their own.

At last, his foot let up. You waited a breath, attentive to his every move. He was in front of you now, his glare pierced through the back of your skull.

"Get up."

You obeyed. As you had been trained. Rising to your feet and raising your head, even if the floor would have been more merciful than his eyes.

Sukuna snatched your face. Callouses etched into your cheeks as he stumbled you forward in a yank. "Do you enjoy pissing me off?"

"No."

"No, what?"

His hand clamped.

"No. Sir."

Your words squished from his grip. Still, you narrowed your brows. The glare you learnt from him, as you spat every syllable.

He rattled your head, hard. Sneering as his face shot closer. "Don't give me that attitude you fucking brat."

This was the part where you backed down. Apologised. Bowed your head and promised to be better. You didn't.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the ache in your bones, or the closeness of his face. Right there, a hair's breath. So close, so far.

So yours.

You kissed him.

Hard, and bitter, and blood on your mouth— you kissed him. With the clumsy charm of a virgin trained into a seductress. Shoving your broken body into him and stealing the air from his lungs.

For the first time in your life, you finally caught Sukuna off guard.

He stumbled, lost his balance and headed straight for the floor with a muffled grunt. The only time you ever took him to the ground— and it was from a kiss.

You collapsed into his hard body, parting for a breath, only to crash back into him. Your elbows dug into the floor beside his head. Fingers delved into his hair. You kissed him like it was a mission. A death wish.

Inexperienced in every right, but you didn't care. Not when his lips tasted like smoke and dreams, nightmares.

His hands snapped to your hips and your tummy fluttered. Air knocked from your lungs at the idea that maybe— maybe. Your fantasy would come true.

Strength came easy to him. In seconds your back hit the floor and he was on top of you. Burning into the kiss, harder, deeper. Kissing you with a crushing, dominating weight.

Until he finally shoved off.

A large hand clamped over your mouth and slammed your head back into the floor when you tried to chase after him.

Never had you seen Sukuna so… dishevelled.

Breath heavy, eyes hazed. His jaw so tight you were sure it might snapped. He stare asked questions he didn't want the answers to.

"Broken little girls really have no control, do they?"

Your heart sunk, but you did not regret it. Even when his glare returned and he pushed himself to his feet. Putting a distance between you that ached deep in your bones.

The fantasy shattered right before your very eyes. Shards across the floor. Melting into the failure with a new vice: disappointment.

Sukuna was across the room in seconds. Composed, cold. Not sparing you even a glance. Your kiss still fresh on his now scowling lips.

"Disgusting."

Before you could react, he was halfway out the door. Dragging your fractured pride with him.

But you heard it, the displeased murmur.

"What a way to waste your first kiss."

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. do not copy my fic layout. divider: @uzmacchiato . art: kinorilimaa (x)