plague.-.

Your memories were hazy, your thoughts scattered, but your eyes were focused – on the brightness up above, and how it illuminated the darkness all around.

"I need you to stand"

You didn't want to.

Because if you brought your eyes back, you'd see it again – your red hands. Sukuna's red hands.

The corpses lying next to you.

Was it so wrong to look somewhere else?

Your body had practically given out already, every nerve ending numb and your stomach completely emptied, the stench of it's contents making a vile mix with the blood that stained your clothes.

You didn't want to, but your face was unceremoniously moved away from the safety of the moon's glow, and turned towards another beautiful vision – Sukuna's eyes, so red and sharp, casting an even brighter light as the fire of the beacon shone within them, consuming you whole.

You could feel it now; how he had two large palms cupping your cheeks. You could somewhat feel how his fingers dug into your cheeks, but it was a faint sensation more than anything. Your body didn't exactly feel yours anymore, just a sack of meat and bones that you were vaguely aware of.

"Tch" you saw Sukuna grimace. Was he unhappy with you? Had you done something?

You wanted to reach your hand to him, but it didn't move. Wanted to apologise for whatever it was, but the words didn't leave your lips. You tasted salt, but it wasn't seawater – maybe you were crying. Was that why he wasn't happy?

While your brain tried to make sense of this dreadful world around you, it suddenly shifted completely. Sukuna hooked an arm under your legs and another on your back, and lifted you up with ease.

Your head danced as you struggled to focus your eyes again, looking at everything from above now, in Sukuna's embrace.

And there, you saw it.

The boy you had killed.

Everything became too real again, too fast.

"Sukuna–" you cried, digging your nails onto his shoulders, turning to hide your face in his chest. If everything had gone numb for a few seconds, now it was like being electrocuted back to reality.

"You're ok" he said, but you felt him exhale. Clearly he was glad you had seemed to come back to yourself… even if you weren't.

Words still were stuck in your throat, and all you could do was hide into him, concealing your eyes in his broad frame. Sukuna carried you down the steps, taking you away from the horrific scene staining the lighthouse you loved.

But carried you where, exactly?

Because the further you went down, the closer you could hear it – sounds of struggle, of pain and violence. Battle cries and two many pairs of boots thumping on the ground nearby.

It was never this loud around here.

"What's happening?" you asked, all focus shifting. Choso had said earlier that the lighthouse would be used as a base – is this what it was?

Why did it sound like fighting, though?

Was there fighting?

Was your family safe?

"I need to find Choso" you said immediately, attempting to leave Sukuna's arms, but his grip only tightened. "My brothers, I need to–"

"No" Sukuna grunted, tone final and sharp. "I'm keeping you safe"

It took you a second too long to understand the words fully.

But when you finally did, you started thrashing around, kicking and pushing and trying to get away from the man who held you. "I'm finding them" you protested, but Sukuna only let out a long sigh, turning you around so you could face him fully.

"Listen to me" he said, and his tone was so calm, so soft, that it did make you stop. "I'll find them, but I can't do that if I'm worried about you"

Something about how he looked at you… you believed him. Trusted him completely. The only thing that brought you a sliver of reassurance in this moment were his crimson eyes.

What in hell were you even supposed to do, when the world was crashing down all around you?

So you didn't resume the struggle, just let him hold you. Being alone terrified you, having Sukuna join in the middle of whatever battle terrified you, and not knowing where your family was terrified you more than anything.

But the way Sukuna looked at you… he seemed to understand.

He softly lowered you down, your feet touching the ground with a gentleness that wasn't expected from a situation like this. You used his arms to steady yourself, until you were sure you could stand up on your own.

You knew the lighthouse meant safety; but right now this room you knew so well felt cold and dark and full of ghosts.

"I'm scared" you admitted, refusing to let go of your grip on his forearm. Your hands were shaking, you realised.

And Sukuna noticed it too, taking the opportunity to place his palm on top of yours, pressing it ever so slightly to his warm skin. "I know" he murmured, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I promised I'd come for you, didn't I?"

You wanted to protest, but every word was lost to the wind when Sukuna came down to seal his promise with a kiss. You seem to relax under his touch, even just a little, but really, Sukuna's reasoning had been selfish – he simply couldn't bear to hear your voice break when you begged him to let you join again.

Even right now, feeling you shake and cling to him, it hurt more than a dagger to his back.

His hand left yours to cup your cheek, his other interlacing your fingers together. You felt so small under him, so fragile. Sukuna would have rather taken you far away, away from all of this, but he knew you'd never leave your family behind.

In an odd way for someone like him, he also wanted to protect them.

And that meant keeping you safe so he could do that. But it pained him to leave you in here just as much as it pained you to stay.

The kiss was tender, lingering for as long as you both could in the situation you found yourselves in. You were terrified it would be your last, and Sukuna would never let it show that he was just as scared.

When he tried to pull away, you couldn't bear to let him go.

"I can fight" you tried to say, as Sukuna took a blanket and placed it over your shoulders.

"I don't want you to" he replied, helping you sit on the corner, hidden among the furniture.

He had seen how you looked upstairs, when he failed to protect you. Sukuna could deal with that guilt later, but right now the one thing he was certain of was that he'd never allow you to be in that situation again.

And he saw how you suddenly looked both relieved and more worried at his words. "They would have sent my brothers to the beach" your brain started trying to map out every possible scenario, trying to hold on to him again. "There are caves to hide down there, they know it well–"

"I'll find them" Sukuna reassured again, taking your hands to his lips for a short kiss, and placing them gently back on your lap.

"There are boats, too, maybe they would have–" you kept saying as he readied himself.

"You have the key?" Sukuna interrupted. He had one hand already on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder to wait for your nod. "Lock the door as soon as I leave"

It was all you could do.

Sukuna hadn't expected to be back in this hell so soon.

He was foolish enough to allow himself to dream these past few weeks. To hope for a life that could be gentle, maybe even shared with someone else, the only person in this forsaken world that didn't see him as a killer and nothing more.

Stupid. This was all it ever came down to, and he should have know better.

As soon as he was out of the lighthouse, he was greeted by a very familiar scene. Men running, men crying, men strewn along the floor as the smell of their blood mixed with the sea salt in the air.

He didn't want you to see this, what war actually looked like. What it had done to your home.

He waited for the click of the door locking behind him, finally letting out a long exhale. His body struggled to move, picturing how you might look on the other side – were you still there, saying a silent prayer with your forehead to the frame? Were you crying again?

He hated this, but he had to move. Because this one time was indeed different; he wasn't fighting for the sake of it anymore.

Right now, he had a promise to keep.

Find your family. Keep you safe.

He could only hope you wouldn't do something stupid, but Sukuna tried to keep that possibility as far away from his mind as he could as he left you, and dove deeper into hell.

The first man who tried to charge him didn't even get a chance to fully lift his sword. Sukuna's blade had already slashed him across the middle, a movement as effortless as walking.

Fighting was second nature to him.

And Sukuna didn't want you to see that either.

Another soldier, even more stupid this time. The poor boy tried to turn around when he realised who he was facing, but Sukuna was fast.

Another one down.

Would you have been as disgusted by him as you were with yourself?

As Sukuna slashed through his enemies, all he could think about was how you had looked when that man was bleeding all over you. You were too fucking good for this world, too fucking good for him.

He wanted to protect you more than anything, and right now he was doing an awful job at that. Wasn't there when you needed him most earlier, and abandoned you to cry all alone in a room that probably had blood dripping through the ceiling's floorboards.

The least he could do was find your family.

But Sukuna recognised these uniforms, and he knew there were far more of his men than your brother's. The fighting seemed to have started not far from here, and the fact it had scattered to your home was just bad luck. Just what happened in war, when armies were forced to retreat.

The rebels must have learnt of the loyalist's plan to set camp up near the lighthouse, and set up an ambush up the road. Seemed the most logical conclusion – it's what he would have done, after all.

Just an order he would have given without a second thought.

Right now, his thoughts were clouded with regrets.

Sukuna rushed past the sweaty men clinking their swords, more worried about his mission than serving in his master's fight. He followed another source of light, as bright as the beacon and the moon up above both – it was the roof of the main house, set ablaze.

Sukuna growled at that, hating to see your home caught up in this destruction. Hating how normal it felt, too.

It's just what happened in war.

Men fought. Homes burned. Women suffered.

That truth suddenly brought him to a halt, blood running cold. Don't do anything stupid, Sukuna prayed once more, hoping you would stay put where he had left you.

He had to find them, and fast. The faster he did, the faster he'd have you safe in his arms again.

His boot kicked the wooden door, making it rattle on its hinges as it struggled to stay connected. The fire was hot above his head but Sukuna didn't care, looking in the most obvious place first and foremost.

"Choso?" he called, the name uncomfortable in his mouth. Sukuna kept moving through, using his elbow to hide his face in amidst the smoke, kicking every door as fast as he could.

He hated seeing your home caught up in flames like this. The dining table; where he had first taken a good luck at your beautiful face. His angel, come to save him. The room where you had stitched him together. Your room.

All gone.

Sukuna didn't know who was responsible for the fire, but they'd pay for it. He'd make sure of it.

But most importantly of all though, was the fact the space was empty.

No one was here.

There were signs that a fight had taken place, and your father's sword wasn't anywhere to be seen. Sukuna hoped they would have been smart and left, but he knew your family was as stubborn as you were.

Finally, he noticed the door all the way at the back – open, flailing in the wind. He rushed there, remembering the path behind the house where they would have certainly escaped from.

He didn't know if it would lead to anything, but it was the best clue he had.

Sukuna rushed through, coughing with the smoke, feeling the heat burn the hairs at the back of his neck, but determined to complete his mission.

Finally, he saw someone he recognised.

Sukuna had seen your brother fight before, and Choso had been talented then. But seeing how he fought to defend his home – it was more than that. Choso moved like an animal; bleeding and sweating but still going, slashing across another man as another two rushed to join the fight.

There were already three corpses at his feet, all in rebel colours. How long had he been fighting on his own?

Well, he wouldn't be anymore.

Sukuna ran towards him, his sword intercepting a blow that would have come right for your brother's neck if he hadn't been so fast.

"Sukuna?" Choso's eyes grew wide as he turned around to see who had helped him.

And he wasn't the only one – the other two men seemed utterly confused by Sukuna's interruption. They exchanged a look, unsure of what to do now that their commander had joined the fray… but on the other side.

"Focus" Sukuna said to Choso, effortlessly turning his sword around to slash the men's head clean off.

The other rebel looked terrified, motioning to run backwards before Choso ceased the opportunity to sink his blade into the man's middle, aiming it diagonally upwards towards his heart.

A clean cut, a fast death. As merciful as one could be in times like this.

Sukuna would have scoffed if it didn't remind him so much of you.

"Where are–" he started to say, but Choso was falling forwards fast as soon as the other man's body hit the ground.

Sukuna grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to keep him upright. "You're injured?" he asked, feeling the pain of his guilt only grow. If he had been too late–

"No" Choso panted, struggling to keep his breath in. Sukuna didn't believe him, but he knew what adrenaline could do to a man. "Is my sister–"

"She's safe" Sukuna reassured, and Choso breathed a little easier.

"Where–"

"Safe" Sukuna repeated. "Where are the others?"

"The beach" Choso tried to say, and Sukuna smiled at how well you knew your family. "My father can protect them, but if the soldiers are already down–"

"I'll go" Sukuna decided. "Go to the lighthouse, she's–"

"What? No" Choso protested, trying to find his footing though it was clearly a struggle. "I need to keep fighting"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, helping his old rival to stand once again. Only then he noticed the red staining Choso's shirt, right on his side. Not fatal, he hoped. A comical thought to have about someone he himself had tried to kill not too long ago.

But it explained why Choso looked so pale.

"You're as stubborn as your sister" Sukuna huffed, forearm to Choso's chest to keep him upright.

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Thanks" Choso chuckled dryly.

"Point me to where they are, I'll go–"

"Sukuna?"

The familiar voice snapped both their heads sideways, to the tall man atop the horse, tall above everyone else. His long hair flew in the wind, his heavy armour glistening in the light of the fire behind him. No one else had been dressed quite so flashy for this honourless ambush, but Sukuna didn't even need to look to know who it was.

He would have recognised that unsettling tone anywhere.

"How rude to join once the fight is already won" Kenjaku laughed, as if his clean armour didn't suggest just the same.

Sukuna gritted his teeth, angry. He was the last man he expected to see here, and the last one he hoped to too.

"And who is this?" his king continued. "Didn't know you to take prisoners"

"Not a prisoner" Sukuna said quickly, raising his voice to match his status. "A guest"

Kenjaku seemed awfully amused by that. "Guest?" he echoed, smiling.

"His family runs this lighthouse" he explained. "They took care of my injuries, and I'd hope to return the favour"

Kenjaku turned his head sideways, watching the scene. Choso, slumped forward with one hand to Sukuna's shoulder, trying his best to stay upright despite the blood quickly leaving him. And his once loyal commander, holding on to the boy in a way that suggested he actually cared.

"This boy wears the wrong colours" Kenjaku mused, fascinated.

"And still they allowed me to stay" Sukuna argued.

Kenjaku sighed, seeming to grow annoyed now. "So it is as Kento told" he shook his head. So his fellow men were still alive, it seemed. "Fine. Have the medics tend to him"

"Thank you, my King" Sukuna did a small courtesy, and the other man finally seemed to approve.

"You seem to have grown sentimental, Sukuna" he taunted. "Go clear the rest of them"

Sukuna nodded, looking ahead to the other soldiers still scattered around the battlefield they had made of your home.

He didn't have a choice.

Your hands were shaking where they gripped the blanket, hiding in the corner where Sukuna had left you. You felt useless. Uterly, completely useless, hiding like a scared child instead of searching for the people you loved.

What if none of them ever returned?

What if you were lost in here forever, or worse – found by someone who wasn't them?

In the darkness of this room, it was impossible to not let your mind wander. Every possible scenario to explain the loud sounds outside the door, every horrible thing to excuse the fact Sukuna had been gone for so long.

You hated it. This space was suffocating, and your imagination was even worse. All you could do was say your prayers, to whoever may listen, and wait.

Wait.

Until you heard it.

A knock. Sharp as you had grown to expect. A voice calling your name.

You ran as fast as you could, unlocking the door with trembling hands, cursing at yourself for how you failed this simple task.

But when it finally swung open, Sukuna was standing there. Covered in sweat and dirt and stains of red you didn't want to look at, but alive.

That was all that mattered right now.

But even in this state, you threw yourself at him, sinking your face onto the crook of his neck where you noticed a fresh scratch that hadn't been there earlier. Sukuna was fast to catch you, hands immediately dropping his sword to the ground so he could bring them to your middle and pull you in close, breathing in your scent.

Alive, the two of you exhaled the same thought.

"Did you–" you started.

"They're safe"

"All of them?"

"All of them" Sukuna confirmed.

You didn't even know what emotion was the strongest then. Relief? Gratitude? These seemed like such thin words to describe the weight of how you felt. It was all coming in a rush, finally a light shining to ease the dread you had spent the last hours in.

"Thank you" you muttered, sinking your head on his chest now. "Thank you"

Sukuna pulled you in tight, so glad to see you here, so glad to see you safe. If only he could keep you right here in his arms forever – but he knew that was impossible. At one point, sooner or later, you would have to come face to face with the state his men had left your precious home.

"We… can't stay here" he whispered to you, a hand at the back of your head to keep you right where you were. "Will you come with me?"

"Where?" you asked, already knowing what your answer would be.

Sukuna exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to figure out the best way to start. "We'll be regrouping near Kenjaku's castle" he explained. "He assured there would be a room for us, and your family too"

Maybe the good news would hold your focus, but Sukuna always knew you were too astute for that.

"Regrouping?" you echoed, lifting your head. "Do you mean–"

"Yes" Sukuna nodded, seeing the understanding start to turn behind your eyes.

"They attacked my home" you stated, a fact you were begging him to deny.

"They attacked the loyalists" Sukuna explained, knowing it wouldn't make it much better. "They were the ones who wanted to use the lighthouse as base"

You did seem to consider what he was saying, though your heart was heavy. "I don't want to be near them" you shook your head, sinking into Sukuna again. "I want to stay here"

Sukuna left a kiss to the top of your head, fearing the news he had to give. "You can't"

"Why?" your voice came out muffled against his chest, making this even harder.

Sukuna didn't know how to answer you. How could he tell you your childhood home, the place you loved, had been left to burn?

"Why?" you asked again, and again he couldn't tell you. He saw you look up at him with anger and fear all over your beautiful face, and push past his shoulder to move him out of the way.

Sukuna stepped to the side, allowing you to see the waste that lay ahead of you. He had expected you to collapse like you had earlier – but it seemed you were far beyond grief at this point.

Your hands balled into fists, your breathing stopped. "Who did this?" you tried to say, though your voice came out raspy and tight.

Sukuna sighed, bringing you back to him. "I don't know" was all he could say, as you allowed your head to be brought to his chest again. You weren't ready to look at it just yet.

"My family is safe?" you asked, with all the remaining strength you could muster.

"Yes" Sukuna confirmed.

"And they will come too?"

"Of course"

"Fine" you huffed. "Take us to your camp"

Your venom and resentment was dripping from every word, but your hand still reached for Sukuna's when he guided you out the door.

Being forced to face the aftermath was never something Sukuna enjoyed. Before he could have dismissed it and turned a blind eye – but it was impossible to do so when the person walking through the wreckage of their home was someone he cared about.

You didn't scream or sob once you saw it, but that was almost worse. It was like all fight had just left you.

Sukuna didn't know a way he could make this better, not when it was his men that caused this.

"Don't look" he warned you as he helped you up on a horse, but you didn't listen. As much as it hurt, you wanted to see all of it. Had to.

You didn't speak for the whole ride. Not when Sukuna sat you between his thighs, with one of his arms protectively holding on to your middle to keep you close, nor when you stopped to get some rest.

You curled against him in the night, and feeling your warmth brought him some comfort, but you couldn't reciprocate it. Everything about you had gone stiff.

The only time he saw you show some emotion was days later, when you finally made it to camp and requested to be guided to the medical tent where your family rested. Sukuna saw you fall in front of your brother, and Choso's arms close around your back even though he was the one laying on the stretcher. He saw your father place a hand to your shoulder to calm your tears, and the two little ones rush to your side.

And then he left.

Sukuna didn't feel like he was allowed to watch such a scene, when he had been the one to bring destruction into your life. Cursed, he spat on the floor, reminding himself of his condition.

He had done his duty, kept you all safe, bargained in your favour – perhaps it was time to let you go.

What a fool he was to think he could ever do that.

"It's good to see you're well" someone said amidst the busy voices at camp, a tone far gentler than Sukuna would expect.

He turned his chin up to see Kento walking towards him, armour still on after the battle. It was nice to see him, but Sukuna couldn't find any words to respond, settling with a short nod instead.

"I am sorry about the lighthouse" his friend said solemnly, coming to stand next to Sukuna. "Is she in there?"

He wanted to huff and spit in reply – how sorry could he be if he was one of it's attackers? But Sukuna knew better, and Kento was but a soldier. Not someone who could have prevented this; no, the only person who probably could have was Sukuna himself.

"Yes" he replied, hands deep in his pockets as he looked at the rocky floor below. Sukuna had grown accustomed to the distant sound of crashing waves, and their lack was extremely loud right now.

"How are–"

"They're alive" he cut in. Kento nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"I heard her brother is in there" he continued, voice low and meant only for Sukuna. He didn't need to complete the thought for Sukuna to understand what he meant – no doubt treating Choso wasn't just a show of mercy from Kenjaku.

"He's not of rank" Sukuna groaned. "Just a boy playing at war"

"I know" Kento agreed. "I'll doubt that'll stop them getting any information they can out of him"

Sukuna finally kicked the stone he had been staring at, sending it rippling across the field. Of course nothing was every easy. "I'll ask for an audience" he decided, turning around to face his friend fully.

Kento nodded, trying not to linger on the subject. The two men stood side by side, taking in the movement all around them – such an odd thing, when the world seemed at a standstill.

"How are the others?" Sukuna muttered.

"Alive" Kento answered. "And well, too"

"Hm" Sukuna exhaled, the best he could do.

"Naoya is dead" Kento continued. "I trust that is good news to you"

"It is" Sukuna crossed his arms, remembering the reason he had sent the boy to his death in the first place.

"There were search parties when they found his body" Kento explained. "That's when they found us, too"

"That so?"

"We explained what happened" he continued. "Convinced them the lighthouse wasn't worth searching, that you were recovering there"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, all this seeming like part of a life he had half forgotten already. He didn't care for Naoya or Kenjaku or strategy – the only thing he cared about was in the tent right behind him, crying.

Because of the men standing all around.

His men.

"You attacked it anyway" Sukuna spat.

"The enemy forced our hand" Kento explained solemnly.

He knew it was true.

"Sukuna?" another voice called, and he was glad to see Toji standing above them, that scarred lip almost forming a smile. But he extended a piece of parchment, with lettering he recognised too well. "Kenjaku wants to see you" he explained.

Sukuna grunted but nodded, scrunching the invitation into his pocket. But just as he started to move, Toji stopped him again, nodding to the tent Sukuna had been guarding.

"Her too"

"So" Kenjaku started,sitting upon his throne with all the arrogance of a King and the dignity of a street urchin. Sukuna hated the man, hated his sense of self importance and how he saw people as pieces on a game board. And what Sukuna hated more than anything – was the way he was looking at you right now.

"My most precious commander disappears in the middle of war" he continued, chin resting on his knuckles. "And comes back with an enemy, two children, and old man, and… Pardon me, miss, I don't think we are acquainted"

He had that pompous smile dancing across his lips as he addressed you, waiting with all the patience in the world just to see how you were going to respond. Sukuna stood with his body half covering yours, but he could just about see how tense you looked behind him, your hands grasped together to hide their sweat.

Sukuna's fingers twitched, earning to grasp yours, but he only held his hand close. He knew how unpredictable his King could be. Especially in a room surrounded by soldiers in armour, closing in on you both like this was a criminal trial instead of a celebratory reunion.

"Well?" Kenjaku pressed on.

"She's with me" Sukuna snapped before you could give him your name, tone territorial as his body stepped to fully cover you. Gratitude swam in your chest, but it wasn't enough to calm your fears just yet.

"By the gods, Sukuna" Kenjaku laughed, throwing his head back in delight. "There is no need for such jealousy, my friend"

Sukuna huffed, rolling his shoulders back. "It is me who must atone" Sukuna reasoned. "Let her go and rest"

"Oh, you will atone" the king responded, leaning back into his seat. "But right now… I am curious"

Sukuna remained quiet. He should have known better, should have expected the whole camp would be talking about his disappearance and the woman he insisted on guarding since.

If there was one thing Kenjaku enjoyed, was knowing people's weaknesses. Ally or otherwise.

"It is rude not to introduce yourself" he challenged, and Sukuna heard your breathing hitch behind him.

"She has been through enough" Sukuna argued.

And it was true.

You had, and he blamed himself for it.

And now here he had gone and trapped you into another viper's nest.

"Explain, then" he rolled his eyes. "Since this girl seems to be mute"

Sukuna inhaled deeply, considering his words very carefully. It took everything in him to not attack this king right there, just for the way he spoke of you. But he knew he had to be careful here.

"They tended to my wounds" he explained.

"And now you ask to drag them to my camp?" Kenjaku rose an eyebrow. "Quite the odd payment"

"Their home was destroyed" Sukuna argued through gritted teeth.

"The price of war" his king waved a hand. "Quite a shame"

The whole room felt suffocating with the dozens of stares – he knew other people were scared of him, but they seemed even more fascinated by you. By this woman who had the fearsome Sukuna acting like a sworn shield.

He was ready to fight each and every one of them if he had to, but before he could speak again, he heard your voice coming from behind him, your name leaving your lips.

Kenjaku finally seemed terribly amused.

You had stepped fully next to Sukuna now, lowering yourself in a small reverence. Sukuna should have expected it – you were as brave as you were foolish. "It's an honour to make your acquaintance, my King" you said, voice still shaking at the edges, but these were the first words Sukuna had heard from you in days.

And for that, he was relieved.

"So she can speak" Kenjaku hummed, delighted. "Maybe you will give me some explanation, since my knight has forgotten himself"

Sukuna swallowed thickly, his jaw clicking as he tensed it. He knew you were intelligent, but you didn't know Kenjaku like he did.

"I know nothing of war, my liege" you continued. "My family controls the lighthouse, or, controlled" you corrected yourself, pain dripping from each word.

"Yes, so I hear" he squinted his eyes at you. "A base for the enemy, and yet you call me King"

Sukuna was ready to intervene, but you continued. "I know nothing of that, my liege" you said, composed. "My brother has fought for the other side, it's true, but has since recognised the error of his ways and–"

"Please, girl, there's no need for deception" Kenjaku waved you off with his hand, opening another smile as he relaxed onto his chair. "I know all about your traitorous brother"

"He–"

"He's helped me" Sukuna interrupted you now, as soon as he heard the tears starting to form through your voice. Your head snapped to him, eyes wide and terrified, like Sukuna was hope personified. "Choso betrayed his men for our cause"

Kenjaku seemed annoyed now that Sukuna had joined the conversation again, his lips pursing sideways as his finger tips tapped the hand rests. "Why?"

Sukuna swallowed, your eyes on him burning more than all the others. "He's recognised the pretender for what he is"

Kenjaku was still not satisfied, seeing trough Sukuna's shameless flattery far too easily. He only scoffed, and kept waiting, giving him time to come up with the truth or a more convincing lie.

What the hell was Sukuna supposed to say?

Because I love her? They'd find it ridiculous.

But he didn't have any other explanation.

"My King" Sukuna knelt fully, the greatest show of respect. "I have done much for you, I only ask one thing– spare them"

This action alone seemed to please him, however. "I can't remember the last time you've knelt, Sukuna" Kenjaku laughed, one eyebrow perched up on his forehead. "Is this whore really worth it?"

Sukuna kept his eyes on the floor, knowing Kenjaku was just trying to taunt him. To get a reaction. And he hated that it was working.

"You left, Sukuna, and now you ask for mercy?" Kenjaku continued when it became clear Sukuna wouldn't. "I should kill her right now to show you respect"

Sukuna snapped into action as soon as the words left his Kings lips, standing up just as two men in armour stepped in to hold you by the arms. For the first time, Sukuna could see your face fully – scared, terrified.

"Fucking touch her again and I'll kill you" Sukuna threatened, sword already unsheathed, and at the very least you did feel the two men loosen their grip.

But still, you looked at Sukuna with wide eyes that screamed for help, but this wasn't a fight the two of you could win with strength alone, not when you were surrounded like this.

You had to think, and you had to think fast.

"Stop" you yelled, forcing them all to listen. "I am with child"

At that, the whole room came to a halt.

Sukuna hoped no one would notice how he looked at you so utterly confused, his thick brows squinting together before his brain understood what you were doing. The two men had let go of your arms, looking to Kenjaku for instructions.

But all he did was let out a very, very long laugh, that reverberated through the whole hall.

"So that's what this is about?" he continued, enjoying this far too much. "I thought you were smarter than to sire bastards, Sukuna" he laughed.

"Not a bastard" he replied, embarrassed at how that obvious lie had made him feel inside.

"Oh" Kenjaku hummed. "Has my commander fallen in love?" he mocked.

Sukuna swallowed thickly, but held your gaze as he gave his final word. "Yes" he confirmed.

He thought he saw a small smile try to tug at your lips, the first one in a long while.

"How touching. Fine" his King sighed, sounding utterly bored now. With nothing but a wave of his hand, he dismissed the men around you. "Guards, show them their room. I won't harm your family – yet. But they'll stay here"

"T-Thank you, my lord" you tried to say.

"And Sukuna" Kenjaku completed, as you both turned to leave. "I hope to see you at camp soon enough"

"Are you mad?!" Sukuna flew to your side as soon as the household guard shut the door behind him, the large bedroom greeting the two of you. He didn't bother looking around, no, all he cared about was bringing you close, cupping your cheeks with his gruff hands.

You only laughed at his hurried embrace, resting your forehead on his. You were clearly proud of yourself, and Sukuna couldn't deny it – you were too smart for your own good.

Still, the biggest threat was dealt with. For now.

"Don't I deserve some thanks, sir?" you teased, and Sukuna let out an annoyed tsk just above you.

"You fool" he huffed, lowering his hands to pull you into his chest. "You shouldn't have said anything, you–"

"Did you mean it?" your voice interrupted him, so small he wasn't sure you had actually meant for him to hear it. Maybe you weren't sure either.

So Sukuna pulled you back just a little, lowering his head so it was closer to yours. "What?"

"You have fallen in love?"

Sukuna's shoulders tensed, his fingers digging into your sides. The question was preposterous, as surely everyone would agree. There should be no such thing as love for someone like him – he wanted to protest it, deny it, claim you were too good for such a man.

But he didn't.

"Yes" Sukuna admitted, the word falling off his lips far easier than he would have ever expected.

What was the point in denying it now?

Maybe this would have been his biggest act of selfishness, but the beautiful smile forming on your lips made him not care.

"Do you mean that?" you whispered, and he hooked his finger under your chin to force you to face him.

"Yes" Sukuna repeated.

He wasn't good with words, so he proved it to you the best way he could. A slow kiss, warm and tender, one he hoped would prove to you how terrified he was of losing you.

Even the fight being over did nothing to calm Sukuna's anxieties on the matter. For the days ride you had barely exchanged a word, and Sukuna had feared you had finally seen him for what he truly was, and shut off your heart completely.

There were no words to explain his happiness when you reciprocated the kiss, leaning into him with enough force to prove your devotion.

Life could be so easy if it was always like this. Of course, that was rarely ever the case.

"We are not out of danger yet" Sukuna broke the kiss, thumb brushing the skin of your stomach as he remembered how your cunning had saved you both. "They'll know you weren't telling the truth in a matter of weeks"

"Then make it true"

"…What?"

Was it just him, or had time stopped for a second?

You brought your hand to rest on top of his, pressing him ever so slightly into your flesh. Your eyes stared at his behind long eyelashes, your face the happiest it had looked in days.

"Make it true" you repeated, mouth just inches from his.

Somehow, you had left the powerful Sukuna speechless. Perhaps you weren't just cunning – maybe you were a witch too. A sea witch, come to steal his heart that night he had thought you an angel.

"You are betrothed" he reasoned, more to himself than to you.

"I don't want to marry a lord I've never met" you replied, steadfast. "I want to marry you"

Did Sukuna ever fathom he'd hear these words?

Maybe he had been killed in battle, and this was heaven.

"You don't know what you're saying" he whispered, though his fingers were tensing, digging into your flesh. Gods, you made this so hard for him.

"I do" you swallowed, bringing your hands to his pink strands now. "You saved us"

That made him pause.

This whole time, Sukuna had been chastising himself for all that had happened, believing you blamed him too.

He would have never suspected you were grateful.

"My family is alive because of you" you kept saying, tears starting to stream down your face. "I am alive because of you"

There was a knot the size of a rock inside Sukuna's throat, keeping him silent as he heard you say the most meaningful words you could have to him.

"You kept your promise" you smiled, even amidst the tears.

Sukuna pulled you close, resting your forehead to yours again. "I couldn't live with myself otherwise" he confessed.

"I don't want you to leave me again" you cried. "I want you to make me yours"

Sukuna couldn't help a scoff, a hand pulling the back of your head to him as he adorned a mesmerised smile.

"You are already mine"

And with that, his lips were on yours again. Restless, inevitable, all consuming – a kiss that was like a ship sinking into the ocean, slowly accepting the truth that couldn't be avoided anymore.

For Sukuna's smug words, he knew he had been yours far before you had been his. From that first night, when you saved him. And saved him again and again and again.

Made him believe there was more he could be.

"Sukuna–" you whispered his name, throwing your neck backwards as he leaned down to explore the flesh there, leaving open mouth kisses all over. One of his large hands had traveled to your thigh, pulling it against him, holding you upright so that you didn't have to.

So that you could just give in to all the pleasure he wanted to give you.

This was mad, he realised. But the whole world had already gone mad way before this.

"Sukuna" you moaned again, hand pulling strands of his pink hair, his lips coming lower to your collarbones.

He exhaled, biting your shoulder playfully. "If you keep saying my name like that" he panted. "I won't be able to stop"

"Don't stop" you pleaded, nails leaving small half moon marks on his skin.

With far too much ease, Sukuna lifted you up and carried you to the mattress in the centre of the room. He lowered you down, gently, making sure there was a pillow behind your head and your clothes weren't all askew.

You were nervous, feeling your heart hammering inside your chest and an unfamiliar heat pooling between your legs. You had never been touched like this before, had never expected you would have begged for someone like this.

Sukuna's gruff hands were gentle as they caressed your flesh, tenderly squeezing your legs as he started pulling the fabric of your dress to your waist. You had read about this in books, thought you had some idea as to what expect.

But then Sukuna stood up, and you were utterly confused.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, squinting at him for just long enough to see him grab you by the ankles, pulling you all the way to the edge of the mattress.

Your brows were completely knitted together as you saw him sink to his knees, a very amused grin visible on his lips before they disappeared.

Disappeared, and… touched you somewhere very unexpected.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" you yelped as his head sunk between your thighs, feeling an odd mix of pleasure and shame as soon as what was certainly his tongue had touched you in the most intimate of places.

Sukuna didn't bother explaining, because he knew you'd understand soon enough.

Two of his hands closed your thighs around his head, forcing them shut between his head. How was he breathing?! you thought, but all thoughts suddenly started fading away. "Oh" you moaned, back arching off the bed.

None of the books said anything about that.

"Stay still" he grunted between your legs, but you could have sworn he was laughing. It was, in fact, impossible to remain still, when Sukuna was so good at being so depraved – his tongue alone making you see stars as he kept drinking from you like you were the finest wine.

Your body acted like it wanted to run away from him, but your mind wanted nothing more than to stay right there. It was an odd thing, how he made you so sensitive you felt like you had no control, like your body was just acting on it's own and squeezing and tensing and gasping and then… Soaring, far above the sky.

A feeling like nothing you had ever felt before, washing all over you like the sun coming out after a storm.

The books didn't tell you about that, either.

You blinked slowly, completely lost in a daze as you saw Sukuna climb on top of you, his face a wet mess. Had you done that?

"Am I making you feel good?" he teased, right to your ear, and you felt yourself shiver all over again. How did he make you react like this, so easily?

"Y-yes" you replied, hypnotised by him. His smile was bright and smug when he brought his lips back down to yours, letting you feel your taste on his tongue, completely unashamed.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked between your lips. You only shook your head no.

That was all the confirmation he needed, before he started untying your dress, loosening the fabric all around your skin.

Instinctively, you brought your hands to hide yourself. You had never been seen like this before, and a million thoughts invaded your head. Would you be… sufficient? Would Sukuna think you beautiful? Would he be disappointed?

The man had just been between your legs, but the idea of being completely naked by candle light in front of the man you loved… it made you far tenser than you had ever expected.

You had read about how much a woman was expected to prepare before her wedding night, and now it was only just downing on you how impulsive this all had been. Should you have prepared more? Would you manage to please him at all?

What if you couldn't and–

"Don't hide from me" Sukuna whispered, softly caressing the top of your hand where you held on to your breasts. The touch was so tender that you found yourself nodding, slowly lowering your hands despite the heat in your cheeks.

If you had any doubt about your adequacy, it was all gone when you saw Sukuna's face then.

You had seen him angry, scared, murderous. But you had never seen him quite so…infatuated.

His mouth had fallen into a silent gasp, so completely focused on your naked form even the tattoos around his face seemed to soften. "You are beautiful" he whispered, testing how it would feel to slowly cup one of your breasts, watching for your reaction every step of the way.

You swallowed thickly, happiness mixing in with the anxiety. "I like this" you nodded to his hand, how it was exploring your flesh, the pad of his thumb just slowly rolling one of your nipples.

Sukuna watched you as you spoke, bringing his other hand to give the other equal attention. You completely lowered yourself down, enjoying how Sukuna palmed at your skin with his hands, quickly followed by his mouth as his touch grew more rough.

"Mmh" you hummed, thighs squeezing together like they had before as you felt that heat start to pool again. Sukuna was utterly focused on your chest, his tongue rolling each nipples and mouth leaving wet kisses all over you.

It was gentle, but firm, and it left you desperate for more. Your eyes blinked open in your lustful haze, realising he didn't match you in your nakedness. "I want to see you too" you whispered, bringing a hand to pull at his shirt, and you watched his crimson eyes follow yours.

Sukuna seemed to understand, begrudgingly pulling away from your chest to sit back on his heels, and start pulling the shirt over his head. It revealed his chiseled torso, the scar from the night you had met, and all the muscles decorated by years of exercise and years of criminality too.

You found everything about him beautiful.

Every painful mark that told a story you wanted to ask him about. Your hands followed every dark line that contrasted against his skin, adorning his beautiful frame, from his abdomen to his thigh.

It only occurred to you then, that he might have been as nervous as you to be naked together.

"You are beautiful too" you whispered, and you could have sworn the tips of his ears turned a light shade of red.

Sukuna shoved you back down onto the bed, mouth finding yours and hips settling between your thighs. You were quick to respond, your legs pulling you into him like they once had done on the lighthouse floor, on that day you had been so ready to give him everything.

Before it all had taken a turn, and life become a nightmare.

But Sukuna had rescued you from that.

Right now, you couldn't be happier in your decision.

"Tell me if it hurts" he commanded, and you felt something start to press against you. Ah, that the books had told you about.

You nodded, interlacing your fingers together with his. You had expected pain and discomfort, but there was nothing of the sorts when Sukuna slowly started to enter you, patiently taking his time to work you open.

Still, you were struggling to accommodate his size.

"Is this, um, normal?" you questioned, worrying again about him finding you inadequate. Was it possible you were built so wrong you could never do this in the first place?

But Sukuna laughed, and slowly, he let go of one of your hands to bring it lower, to where you were connected. The tips of his fingers seemed to find the bundle of nerves he had been exploring with his tongue earlier, softly taking it between his thumb and index, the sensation alone making your body jolt again.

"Relax for me" he kissed the side of your face, hips managing to sink into you just a little bit more as you tried to do as he asked.

You had never read of this technique he was employing, but you weren't opposed to it at all.

The pleasure slowly did make you relax, and little by little Sukuna's hips sunk deeper, finally entering you halfway. He grunted on top of you, clearly struggling to not lose composure as well, while you relished in the sensation of being so completely full.

You had always hoped to lose your maidenhood with someone you loved, and you had actually done it.

Sukuna had saved you from that as well.

"Beautiful" he kissed the side of your face, taking himself the last few inches into you before entering all the way. You let out a loud whimper when you felt his hips connect with yours, but soon they started moving, and suddenly all the fears were wiped away.

This felt good.

"Oh–" you whimpered as Sukuna rolled his hips into you, pushing himself up just a little to watch your beautiful face as you took him for the first time.

You looked down to see where you were connected, mesmerized by the scene, but soon you looked up again – to his penetrating crimson eyes, and the handsome smile beneath them.

Sukuna had a trickle of sweat dripping from his forehead, threatening to fall on you, but you didn't care. You were happy to share everything with him, every fluid and sweat and every inch of you – what had once seemed so terrifying, now brought you nothing but pleasure.

Sukuna felt so right inside of you.

He enjoyed the way your eyes were turning to the back of your head, his fingers going back to massaging the bundle of nerves to make you feel even more electric. You clenched him and Sukuna responded with a groan, hips slamming faster and faster into you.

You loved this, loved him – loved how desperate he was to make you feel good.

Just as that odd sensation started to creep back up again, you pulled him by the shoulders to lay completely on top of you, almost crushing you under his weight, but you didn't care.

You wanted his mouth on yours when you felt that high again.

And like he had thought the same, you felt him jolt inside of you too, whole body tensing as something started to spill inside of you, along with your name echoing from Sukuna's lips.

What if you did become pregnant now, you found yourself wondering? There would be no need to tell more lies, then.

But you were happy to keep trying anyway, just to be safe – of course.

There was so much still left to do. So much left to consider.

But right now, you deserved this little bit of peace. To be held in your lover's embrace, to be touched by hands that worshiped you. By the man who you trusted to keep you and your loved ones safe.

And all else could wait.

✧ a/n this chapter was so much fun i really hope you enjoyyy!! i love these two so much. part of me actually wants to add an extra chapter but we shall see.... excited to hear your thoughts <33

Smiling a pleasant smile whenever anyone approached, nodding your head and making conversation as you were expected to, sure – but that odd veil never seemed to lift from behind your eyes.

Sukuna wondered how none of the other idiots here had noticed.

"My friend" Yuki answered his question with a raised eyebrow, in a tone that said she was shocked Sukuna had even noticed anyone else's presence in the room apart from his own.

He was well aware of other people's assumptions of him, so he didn't bother replying to her taunt. "Is she alright?" Sukuna asked instead, after he watched you check your phone for what had to be the tenth time in a single minute.

Yuki sighed, turning to take a look at you with a solemn expression herself. "She's going through a tough time" was all she said.

Sukuna didn't like the sound of that at all.

So he decided he wanted to change that.

He lifted himself up and walked right past Yuki, picking up a fresh bottle of beer on the table while he was at it. The blonde seemed curious but let him be, turning to rejoin the party as Sukuna strode far away from everyone, and towards you.

"This seat taken?"

His voice took your eyes away from your phone, tilting your head up to blink at him in surprise. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and he watched you quickly scan your surroundings, trying to figure out if there was anyone else he could be speaking to.

"No" you replied, almost like a question, but you moved to the side so he could take the seat next to you on the small sofa.

Sukuna sat down awkwardly, his broad frame taking up most of the seat, but you didn't seem to mind. "Here" he grunted, passing you the fresh bottle while bringing his own to his lips.

You were surprised at the gesture, but had no choice in accepting. Not with the way Sukuna was practically shoving the cold glass into your hands and forcing you to drop your phone onto your lap.

"Is that for me?" you asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Who else would it be for?" he asked, instantly regretting how sharp he sounded.

But you didn't scoff, or roll your eyes, or call him an asshole like most people seemed to do. Instead, you laughed – only a small chuckle, but some tension finally seemed to ease from your shoulders.

Naturally, his own shoulders dropped as well.

"Thank you" you muttered, hands closing around the bottle, phone now forgotten to your side.

Sukuna didn't know why you were so attached to that thing, but he seemed to understand it was a good thing you had finally let go of it. "Let me" he said, searching for his keys inside his pocket to remove the bottle cap for you.

It was only a favour, something that had no business feeling this intimate. But Sukuna was far too aware of how his thigh brushed against yours when he leaned in, of how close you allowed him to move into your space even if just for a second.

The sound of air escaping the freshly opened bottle matched how his own finally leaving his lungs, he realised.

"Thank you again" you smiled kindly. And then, to his surprise, it was your turn to lean into him – you extended your hand, clinking your bottles together. "Cheers" you said, completely unaware of how you had surprised him.

Sukuna nodded, reciprocating the gesture. He watched you tilt your head back as you drank, followed the curve of your neck and noted the beautiful angle it made with your shoulders. He hid his crimson gaze behind his own drink, but anyone else around would have noticed – Sukuna was fucking hypnotised.

You finally lowered your hand with a satisfied hum, opening the first real smile he had seen the whole evening. "I needed that" you sighed.

Both your hands closed around the cold glass, phone still forgotten.

"Not having fun?" Sukuna asked, tilting his head to meet your gaze. You were close, very close, but you didn't seem intimidated by him like everyone else.

How intriguing, he thought.

"I am" you replied, looking away – maybe because you were nervous, Sukuna hoped, or maybe because you were lying.

"Are you?" he questioned, keeping his eyes locked on your face. You struggled to hold his gaze, blinking towards him and then away, until you finally sighed and understood you couldn't lie to him that easily.

"It's been a long week" you confessed, looking down at your hands.

Sukuna let that hang in the air for a moment, letting the weight of what you said sit with both of you instead of you alone.

"Yeah?" was all he managed to say. He wasn't good with things like that, but fuck if this pretty girl at the party didn't make him want to try.

You only nodded, looking down at your hands. He saw your eyes blink down, then to your phone by your side, then down again, and finally… to him.

You opened a little smirk, more self pitying than anything – and it was right then that Sukuna decided he wasn't giving up until he saw that real smile again.

"Let's change that" he said.

Three hours later, Sukuna had you crying for a completely different reason than whoever the fuck had gotten you that upset in the first place.

"Kuna, fuck– I can't–" you moaned as your legs only pulled him closer, your hands clawing at his shoulders in desperate need, face all scrunched in a mess of delicious tears that he was enjoying kissing away.

"You can" he groaned against your skin, slamming his hips into yours again, earning a loud whimper that sounded like music to his ears. "Taking it so fucking well for me"

You brought your hands to his face again, chasing his lips desperately. He had one hand rubbing small circles against your clit, determined to get a second orgasm out of you before he had even had one himself.

When he had suggested leaving the party together, Sukuna hadn't necessarily expected this was where the two of you would end up. But hell, he wasn't mad about it.

As it turned out, you looked even more beautiful crying from pleasure.

"I'm gonna–" you whined as your back arched, body trembling slightly as Sukuna kept slamming into you through your high, enjoying the way your eyes rolled back and you completely let go, suspended in bliss and relief.

"There you go" he smiled, biting the side of your neck. "Knew you had it in you" he teased, and you let out an elated laugh, bringing him closer.

"You feel so good" you hummed, and Sukuna decided he wanted to push himself up just to see your euphoric face. He brought his two hands to close around yours, pushing both above your head as he interlaced your fingers together, hovering just above you as he admired you like a painting.

"Good" he replied with a sly smile, a particularly harsh thrust punctuating the sentiment. "You're fucking gorgeous"

Too gorgeous, he thought.

"You think so?" you asked, and he hated how surprising that was to you.

He kissed you again, as if to prove a point. Your mouth parted and your tongues danced, with all the excitement of an unexpected night, but far too intimate for a one night stand. "Gorgeous" he repeated, biting your lower lip.

"Th-thank you" you tried to say, and Sukuna laughed against your lips. Who the fuck thanks someone during sex for just stating a fact?

Why would he be sleeping with you if he didn't think you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, after all?

"Kuna" you moaned, that stupid nickname you had given him after your first orgasm, but he was beginning to like it. He enjoyed thinking he made you feel so good that his full name was just too much effort.

"Go on, say it again" he rasped to your ear, hips rolling deliciously into you.

"Kuna–" you whimpered, legs closing around him, and your voice was the thing that finally tipped him over the edge.

Your nails dug into the back of his hands but Sukuna didn't let up, pining you with all his weight as you happily took everything he was giving you. Spilling everything inside the protection he was wearing, but he caught himself wishing there was no barrier between you.

Maybe next time, he thought, letting hope slip out in his blissful state.

Sukuna's hips stilled finally, face coming to the crook of your neck. He left a kiss there, followed with one to your jaw, tasting the sweaty mess he had made of you, and then one to your cheek – your salty tears prickled his lips, but when he noticed your chest move up and down far too quickly, he started to worry they weren't from pleasure this time.

Sukuna pulled away from you fast, scrunching his forehead as he watched tears pour out of your eyes; slowly, not dramatic, like you simply couldn't stop them from escaping.

His breathing completely stopped, everything about him going very still.

"Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you said as fast as you could, shaking your head sideways and attempting a smile. But Sukuna was not happy with your response still.

"Are you sure?" he prodded, not meaning to sound so stern, but everything in him was in high alert. His crimson eyes didn't leave yours, but his hands started roaming the curves of your body, caressing in slow circles to soothe whatever it was that had you crying like that under him.

Was he too rough? Was it too much?

Were you scared of him like everyone else?

To his surprise though, you let out a little wet laugh. "You're sweet" you said, opening a beautiful smile that completely undid him, despite the wetness all over your face.

Fuck, he thought.

Sukuna hoped you couldn't see it, but he was almost certain he was blushing.

"Tch" he grunted, rolling around to settle next to you and pull you into him. "No one else would say that"

"You are" you replied while Sukuna turned you to him without any struggle, resting your head right on his broad chest. He was so warm, you thought, letting yourself sink into him.

"Then why are you crying?" he asked again, unwilling to let it go. Sukuna tangled a large palm on your hair, softly caressing the back of your head, trying to figure out what the hell he could do to help.

"I didn't expect to, I–" you tried to explain, but those crimson eyes were back on you, and his other hand around your waist had you somehow trusting you could just be honest with him.

"I'm scared you'll leave" you admitted finally, voice too small.

Sukuna pulled away from you just slightly, just so he could see your face. "Why would I leave?" he asked, like the notion alone was ridiculous.

You swallowed thickly, struggling to meet his eyes. "You won't?" you asked pitifully, looking anywhere but him.

He wanted to kiss you to prove it. Wanted to hold you all night and fuck you again and again so you'd finally get in your head how much he wanted you.

But he could tell this went far deeper than just insecurities.

"Who made you think like that?"

Sukuna hadn't expected his question would bring more tears to your eyes, and it was almost like he could see you shut him away in real time. Your eyes fell downwards, and your hands played with your own nails instead of gripping him like he wanted – clearly something still too painful hiding just under the surface.

So he didn't let you. "Hey" he called, bringing his hand to your chin now, to force your eyes up. "I'm not going anywhere" he reassured.

It sounded like the right thing to say, and he knew he fucking meant it, but why the hell did he feel like it only made you pull away even more?

"You don't have to do that" you shook your head, hiding into his side and attempting to sound more composed. "Sorry, I'm sure the last thing you want is a one night stand cryi–"

"Stop" he interrupted then, stern. In one swift move, Sukuna was on top of you, taking on the role of cleaning your face with his gruff finger tips, trying very hard to be gentle.

He could see it in your face how surprised you were. How you expected to mean nothing to him. Sukuna was used to people assuming he slept around, but truth was, he didn't – Sukuna didn't really do one night stands. Today had been as an anomaly for you, as it was for him.

So the fact you were crying, thinking he would just dispose of you like that? That pissed him off more than anything.

"I'll get you some water" he announced, leaving a gruff kiss to your forehead. "Then we can have a bath, and then you can tell me. If you want" he completed, far too aware of how serious he was sounding.

The last thing he wanted was to scare you.

But you smiled, surprising him again with a shy nod. "That sounds nice" you murmured.

He could have sworn your hand tried to cling to him as he stood up, but he wasn't even sure you were aware of it.

Sukuna did as he promised, taking care of you for the rest of the night. He cleaned you up, dressed you in his old oversized shirt that looked much better on you than it ever had on him, and held you tight for the whole night.

You didn't want to tell him why you were crying then, but you had time. This wasn't the only night you spend together, after all.

Sukuna hated to admit it, but ever since then, you barely left his mind. What started on that unexpected night turned into something more meaningful, day after day, kiss after kiss – but still, you struggled to tell him what made you so scared.

He tried to figure it out himself, piercing together little bits of information you had given him, mind always conjuring up the worse case scenario.

He just had to understand why it never mattered how often you spoke or how nice your day was – when it was time to say goodbye, he could see the silent fear creep up all over your beautiful face.

You tried your best to hide it, but he didn't want you to.

Sukuna didn't mind reassuring you, not really. Sometimes just an extra hug when you needed. A kiss to your forehead. A promise that he'd call later. He understood you just needed confirmation he wouldn't leave. Needed confirmation that you meant something.

Why the hell did you think you didn't?

That was the part that drove him mad.

And the day you finally decided to tell him, he understood.

It was a grim story about some asshole called Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo. The name alone made him sick.

He didn't even know the guy, but every time you opened up more, his hatred only grew.

It wasn't nice to be falling for someone who was still getting over someone else, but Sukuna learned to be patient for you.

Sometimes you pulled away, talked down on yourself, expected nothing but pain from the unavoidable feelings that were starting to grow; but Sukuna was always there to pull you back. He didn't blame you for it, after all, it wasn't your fault – it was his.

The man who had taken your heart only to step on it with no care for how it left you to take up the pieces.

Satoru Gojo.

Sukuna looked up the asshole everywhere online, like a predator stalking his prey. He had to know. Everything in him was consumed by how much he despised the man that made you believe you were cursed.

He found his profiles easily enough, clearly the idiot enjoyed showing off. He had to admit he was good looking – white hair and blue eyes and a confident smile. Rich too, it seemed. The type of guy who felt entitled to use people, Sukuna rolled his eyes with a scoff.

It wasn't nice to imagine there were probably pictures of him out there that you were in too. With that easy smile of yours – the one Sukuna only saw rarely, only at times you let yourself truly relax.

You probably smiled like that more often before him, didn't you?

He hated imagining the two of you together, but Sukuna wasn't jealous – he couldn't be, when he was the one you turned to. The one you were slowly letting into your heart; and Sukuna was in no rush.

Not jealousy, he reassured himself, heart hammering into his chest as he held you tight in the night, your nails digging into his bicep like you were trying to cling on even in sleep.

Definitely not jealous, he thought again, when your gorgeous smile returned one day and Sukuna caught himself wondering how anyone could have it in them to hurt you.

Not jealous – angry, Sukuna settled on, fantasizing about punching that smug grin right out of Satoru Gojo's face, on a night you had cried when telling him about how you felt disposable.

Who knew opportunity would actually present itself.

That one fateful day, Sukuna had been waiting too long where you were supposed to meet before he decided to walk back and look for you.

What was probably only five minutes had felt like a life time. You were never late. Sukuna was fucking worried.

So he walked back, fast, turning a street corner and then another, until he finally saw you from across the street.

Oh. Maybe he was jealous, he realised.

Because standing on the other side was you, clearly upset, clearly holding back tears – and across from you, the man he had only ever seen in pictures.

With his hand holding yours.

Sukuna's owns instinctively curled into fists as he rushed to your side, vision turning red.

"Hey" he yelled, crossing the street. "The fuck is going on here?"

Your eyes immediately snapped to him, managing to relax him the tiniest bit. You rushed to him, pressing two palms to his chest, pleading with him with your teary eyes. "Kuna, it's ok" you said, and he went over every little detail of your face to reassure himself that you really were ok.

And then, his crimson eyes shifted up.

Now that he was this close, Sukuna could see it clearly. That truth he could only have assumed before.

This Satoru Gojo was pathetic.

With his stupid mouth slightly agape, brows furrowing together like he was confused at what was happening.

Yeah, asshole, Sukuna thought. She's with me.

"Who the fuck do you think you are" he snarled, pulling you into his chest. "Putting your hands on my girl?"

The way the other man's face fell gave him all the satisfaction he needed, that smug face contorting like the words had physically pained him.

Good, Sukuna thought, not a sliver of sympathy.

You had completely hidden your face into his chest now, knowing exactly where safe was. Sukuna could feel how your breathing had changed, could feel the wetness in his shirt. "Please don't yell" you sobbed, and his heart hurt hearing you like that.

"He made you cry?" Sukuna asked, all focus back on you. His beautiful girl. His.

Crying because of this idiot.

His hatred towards Satoru was only outweighed by his love for you; Sukuna was fully focused on wiping each tear away, tenderly brushing his finger tips over your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was late" you murmured to him, leaning into his touch. It was unfair how you could undo him like this – this was meant to be the big stand off he had been dreaming about. His chance to beat up the guy who had made you so scared of love.

But now, he found himself wanting nothing more than to make you smile again.

"Don't" he replied with a kiss to the top of your head. "Got me worried sick, and then I find you upset and this asshole with his hands on you–"

"We just ran into each other" you shook your head, hands balling into his shirt. The nice one he had bought for your date specifically. "It's ok"

Hell. You sounded so apologetic. As if you had done something wrong by happening to run into the guy.

You looked at Sukuna with those pleading eyes that begged him to forgive you for whatever crime you thought you had committed. Even in this moment, so scared he'd just leave.

Sukuna hated this.

And right there – the man who made you think like that.

So close. So fucking close.

And he had the audacity to try and hold your hand.

Everything in Sukuna wanted to confront Satoru, but all his focus was on you.

Making sure you were ok.

Making sure you were safe.

Making sure you were away from him.

"He the one you told me about?" Sukuna asked you, even though he already knew the answer. He held you right where you were, your back to the white haired man, refusing to let him have another fucking look at you. "Let me get you out of here" he said kindly, helping you walk away.

You followed, standing by Sukuna's side, leaning into him for comfort as you continued forwards with your eyes glued to the floor.

And as you both walked away from him, Sukuna couldn't help another look back.

At his challenger. His rival. The man whose ghost still clung on to you in your darkest moments.

Satoru Gojo.

A man he hated so much, but right now looked nothing but pitiful.

Sukuna wasn't moved by his desperate tears. He was convinced Satoru Gojo didn't care for anyone but himself, anyway.

Part of him did regret not throwing that punch he so desperately wanted.

And as much as he hoped with everything in him that you'd never run into Gojo again – Sukuna hoped he would.

this is very healing to write!

Toji’s smirk grew lethal. "Sure." Then he leaned in, his voice dipping low, filth curling around every syllable, "but only if you cling to my back so close... wanna feel that pretty squishy tits of yours pressed right into me the whole ride."

"Tojiiiiiii!!!" your knees nearly buckled, but you so nodded fast, you felt dizzy. He just chuckled and slapped your ass lightly as he walked away.

You picked out a cute white shirt dress, short and soft, one that Nanami had once complimented. A little innocent, a little too short if you bent down. Toji was already at the door when you showed up, holding the lunch bag.

"Ready?" you chirped, cheeks pink.

He turned, gave you a slow once-over. "Hmm... lookin’ so cute for him, huh?" he stepped closer, way too close. "too cute," he murmured, gripping your thighs suddenly, his hand riding up under your dress, fingers brushing the fabric of your panties.

You gasped, clutching his shoulders. "Toji—what—!"

He hooked a finger into your waistband, yanked them down slowly until they dropped around your ankles. You could feel the air hit your cunt, feel his breath as he leaned in and muttered against your ear, "You really not gonna wear panties to see Nanami? tsk tsk... such a tease."

"But you're the one—" he shut you up as his fingers rubbed over your folds, knuckles brushing your clit just enough to make your legs tremble.

"Give him a little surprise, yeah?" he whispered, voice like smoke. "Sit on his desk with nothing under that dress. See how long your gentleman lasts."

You whined, trying to squeeze your thighs shut, but he just laughed low in his chest, palming your ass once before pulling away and tucking the panties in his pocket. "I’ll keep these."

***

Ride was silent and too hot. You sat behind toji gripping onto his shirt, your dress riding up with every bump. When you reached Nanami’s office, he pulled over, leaned in, and kissed you fiercely on the cheek, then one on your forehead, warm and affectionate. "Be good."

And then he drove off, engine roaring, leaving you standing there, pulse racing, holding a lunch bag and a secret under your dress. You walked through the front doors of the building, heart thudding loud.

The lobby was cold, overly sterile, with marble floors and clean lines. Toji’s voice still echoed in your ears. “Sit on his desk with nothing under that dress…”

You shook the thought away, clutching the lunch bag tighter as you stepped into the elevator. Floor 6. You stared at your reflection in the mirrored walls, hair perfect, dress innocent, lip gloss dewy. Totally normal. Totally not hiding a filthy little secret under your dress. The elevator dinged. You stepped out and walked toward his office door, then pulled out your phone and called him.

“Sweetheart?” Nanami answered almost instantly, voice warm and deep. “What is it?”

“Nanamin... I’m here… at your office.”

“Oh?” he sounded surprised. “Why?”

“You forgot your lunch,” you said, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “So I thought I’d bring it.”

“Did I? I haven’t even checked…”

"Yeah...you did."

"It was fine baby, why would you..."

“Mhm.” you smiled softly. “You always do things for me, Nanami. It’s just lunch.”

There was a pause followed by a low chuckle. Then the door opened. Nanami was there, glasses on, sleeves rolled up and his eyes softened the moment he spot you.

“You didn’t have to,” he said again as he guided you inside.

The air-conditioned hallway buzzed with curious murmurs as workers glanced over, some subtle, others bold.

“Who’s that girl?”

“Nanami’s girlfriend? wife, maybe?”

“Nah, she’s way too young for him…”

“Maybe he likes them young.”

“Is that why he’s been ignoring me? I’ve been dropping hints for weeks.”

“Ugh, figures. Nanamin already has someone.”

You clutched the lunch tighter as Nanami placed a warm hand on your shoulder, leading you past their stares like it meant nothing. Like you were his. And no one else mattered. He guided you into his private office and closed the door quietly behind you. The tension snapped shut with it.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, placing the lunch on his desk. “You really didn’t have to. I would’ve just bought something later.”

You sat down on the edge of the table, legs swinging slightly. “It’s fine… didn’t have class today anyway.”

Just then, his phone buzzed. Nanami glanced at it, unlocking it with a sigh. Then his brow twitched, just slightly. “Toji,” he said flatly, and turned the screen toward you.

"Yo golden boy, is she there yet? she got a surprise down there for ya 😉👙"

Your face flushed in an instant. You panicked, eyes widening as you tried to grab the phone, but Nanami pulled it back, observing you quietly. “Oh?” he said, voice calm but low. “So Toji was telling the truth?”

“N-No, he's nottt!” you stammered, clenching your thighs. “nothing, Nanami… I-I mean there’s nothing, really—”

He didn’t respond immediately. Just walked over slowly. Deliberately. You were still on his table, legs dangling, knees together. He placed one large hand on your thigh, gently parting them.

“So,” he murmured, thumb brushing up the inside of your bare skin, slides under your dress and stopping at your wet heat, “Oh? what do we have here .... is this the lunch you've brought me hmm?"

You shook your head mortified.

"You came here with no panties on.”

You nearly whimpered under his gaze, heat pulsing between your thighs.

“And what were you expecting to happen?” he asked softly, eyes dark behind his lenses. “Me to behave?” Your lips parted to answer, but no words came. Only a gasp as his fingers teased your folds more, his knuckles brushed slick warmth, and he hummed.

“You’re wet.” His tone was unreadable. Cool and collected. But his fingers stroked like a man starved. “Did he do this?” he asked, slipping one finger inside slowly, dragging it out again with agonizing control. “Toji?”

“N-Nanami—!” you hissed, squirming.

“Or was it me?” he whispered, pushing back in. His fingers curled expertly. “Was it the thought of sitting on my desk, spread open like a gift? did that make you this wet?”

You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry out. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “You walked past all of them like this. Dripping and nothing underneath this tiny dress.” A second finger slid in. You clenched tight around him.

“That was reckless, sweetheart. Dangerous.” He pumped them deeper now. Slow and punishing.

“Do you like the risk? the thrill of nearly getting caught? wanting someone to hear the sounds I can pull from this pretty little cunt?”

You moaned softly, head falling back. He pressed a kiss to your throat, then pulled his fingers out with a wet pop and licked them clean like a gentleman tasting wine. “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, voice still calm. “You’ll sit still and be good now, won’t you?”

You nodded, trembling. Nanami just smirked, loosened his tie, and reached for the blinds. “Nanami… I didn’t—It was Toji. He did it. I-I didn’t mean—”

Your words broke apart as you tried to explain, thighs trembling from the last wave of teasing his fingers had left behind. Nanami looked down at you, his hands now on his hips, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the veins on them tight. The man was composed, but you knew him well enough now to see it, he was barely holding back.

“Is that so?” he said, stepping forward slowly. “Toji did this?”

You shrank back a little on his desk as he approached.

“You’re such a tease,” he murmured, voice dipped in something close to disappointment, “doing something so dirty like this, y'know... I have a meeting in less than half an hour.”

“I—I’m sorry, Nanamin…” your voice quivered, hands gripping the edge of his desk. He looked down at the growing bulge in his pants, palming it with a slow roll of his hips.

“How am I supposed to do my job now?” he said, mostly to himself, almost amused at his own restraint. Your gaze fell to the thick shape straining against the fabric, and he caught your expression. He tilted his head, stalking closer. “You like the idea, don’t you?”

He brushed your knees open again, fingers tracing your slick folds. “Is this something you read in one of your little smut stories? a nice girl showing up at an older man’s office with no panties… spreading her legs on his desk like a gift? Hmm?”

You were already panting, hips twitching. “N-No! I— I mean I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

He cut you off with a quiet tsk, fingers rubbing again in slow, slick circles, then he unzipped his slacks. “You can’t even speak properly now.” His voice was still calm, condescending. “Making a mess on my office desk and you’re telling me this wasn’t planned?”

Your eyes widened as he pulled himself out, thick, flushed, heavy in his hand as he stroked slow from base to tip.

“You’re such a handful,” he sighed, lining himself up, the blunt tip dragging up and down your folds. Not pushing in. Just gliding through the slick warmth, over and over, watching your body twitch at the tease.

“Look at that.” His tone dropped lower, amused. “You’re soaking. You want this. You’re fucking dripping onto my desk like a needy little girl who doesn’t care if someone hears her.”

You whimpered, hips lifting to meet him. Then— knock knock.

“Mr. Nanami?” a voice called from outside. “Apologies for interrupting, but you had asked for the quarterly reports to be sent over? Should I email or print a hard copy?”

Nanami didn’t flinch. Didn’t even stop moving his cock up and down your folds, slow and heavy, smearing your arousal all over himself as if nothing had happened.

“Email it,” he called out smoothly, eyes never leaving yours. His tone was sharp. “And I’ll review it before the three o’clock. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” The footsteps faded. Silence returned.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, completely dazed. He leaned in, lips barely brushing your ear.

“You’re going to be good now,” he whispered, voice dangerously soft. “No sounds. No mess. No biting your lip so hard you bleed, either. I want to hear the way you break, just quietly enough to not get caught.”

He pushed in. And everything inside you snapped. His thrusts were slow, deep, and punishing, one hand over your mouth to muffle the messy gasps he was coaxing out of you, his breath harsh near your ear.

“Tch… you’re tighter when you’re doing something you shouldn’t.” He hissed as he bottomed out again, dragging out slowly, savoring the way your walls clenched. “Acting like such a good girl, then showing up here like this. You’re trouble, sweetheart.”

But just as he pressed his hips into yours again—Knock knock. “Mr. Nanami—sorry, but I need to show you this. It's urgent.”

Nanami clicked his tongue, exasperated, and looked down at you, your legs trembling around his waist, mouth still covered, eyes blown wide. You whined in protest when he pulled out with a wet, reluctant sound, cock flushed and still hard.

“Hide under the desk,” he ordered lowly, zipping halfway, voice calm but sharp. “Now.”

You scrambled under, hands on your knees like a trained little pet. You were breathless, cheeks burning as Nanami sat down, just inches from your face. His cock rested thick over his thigh, still slick with your arousal.

“Come in,” Nanami said, adjusting his cuffs with his usual cold composure.

Click. The office door unlocked. Footsteps entered. You stayed still, heart hammering in your ears, but your eyes kept drifting to the tip of his cock, still flushed and twitching slightly. Tempting. So fuckin' tempting.

The man sat across the desk, flipping open a file. “This is the report for Sector D—we need sign-off before 3, sir.” Nanami nodded, voice calm as ever. “Go ahead.”

You leaned forward slowly. Tentatively. Then your lips brushed the head of his cock. He shifted, only barely but you caught the way his hand gripped the pen tighter. You licked up a long stripe. Then wrapped your lips around the tip, eyes locked on the underside of his chin. His thighs flexed slightly.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Nanami cleared his throat, not even looking up from the file. “Yes. Continue.”

You slid your mouth down further, sucking softly, cheeks hollowed. He didn’t move. But you could feel it, the subtle tension coiling in his muscles, the way his jaw clenched tighter. He kept signing, speaking in his usual tone, while your tongue circled around his shaft, lazily, lovingly. Occasionally, he gave the tiniest push of his hips when the man looked away. A silent approval.

When the man finally gathered the file and left, Nanami didn’t move. He waited until the click of the door lock sounded again. Then his head tilted down, his voice was lower now, strained, almost breathless.

“You’re really something, aren’t you?” he said, voice still silky. “Dirty little minx, drooling on my cock like that while someone’s in the room.”

Your eyes fluttered up at him, still licking him slowly. "M'sorryyy Nanaminnn.."

An apology that sounded so painfully unconvincing that he almost laughed. Apparently, that was the final straw.

“Since you’re so eager, open wider.”

Without waiting, he gripped the edge of the desk and shoved his chair back just enough. Then his hand wrapped in your hair and guided your head down onto his cock deep.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, hips rolling slowly up into your throat. “That’s it. Take it. Gag on it if you have to.”

You choked softly as he fucked your mouth at a steady rhythm, hips rocking up, his breath coming shorter, thighs trembling. Your eyes watered but you didn’t stop, not once, not even when he muttered:

“Look at you, on your knees under my desk. Do you even know how obscene you are right now?” He thrust harder. His voice was strained but tight. “You're lucky I'm busy. If I didn’t, I’d bend you over this desk and make sure everyone outside hears you scream.”

Then with a growl, he shoved deep one last time and came hot, thick ropes flooding your throat as he held you there, hips trembling. “Swallow,” he whispered harshly, thumb brushing your cheek. “All of it.”

When he finally pulled out, cock twitching against your lips, he helped you stand. You were gasping, face cold with sweat, makeup slightly smudged. He smirked, his version of it, subtle but smug.

“Such a nasty girl,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt cuffs. Then he kissed your cheek, and your lips, gentle but brief. “I’m booking you a cab.”

You nodded dumbly, still dazed. He walked you to the office door, but not before leaning in one last time.

“When I get home,” he said lowly at your ear, “you better not be wearing panties again. You pull a stunt like this, get ready to be punished properly.” Then he kissed your forehead.

“Now go. Before I cancel the meeting and fuck you over my desk anyway.”

This week pressed down harder than the last two, frustration piling up in a way that no amount of venting could shake loose. The workload itself wasn’t the problem, though the bays stayed packed and the hours stretched long, but it was the endless grind of dealing with clients that wore him thin. Every conversation, every explanation, every time he had to repeat something that should be obvious to anyone who’s ever driven a car and yet somehow never is, it all chipped away at his patience.

Tuesday dragged on longer than the normal closing time because one of the regulars stopped by for what he called a “quick noise check.” It’s a phrase Sukuna has long learned to distrust immediately, and sure enough, it turned into an hour of hovering, finger-pointing, and questioning every line on the estimate like it was a personal insult instead of a list of what actually needed fixing.

He kept his voice steady, answering every question without a hint of impatience, even when he had to explain the same thing twice, because that’s just part of the job, whether he likes it or not. Still, it left a dull and persistent irritation that refused to fade even after the man finally left. It followed him into the evening, showing up first as a text about the quote being "higher than expected," then another message nitpicking the labor rate, and finally a call that circled back to the same tired points, just dressed up in new words. Every bit of it came laced with those passive-aggressive remarks—"maybe I’ll take it somewhere cheaper next time"—like the man thought he was negotiating instead of just wasting everyone’s time.

Paying clients keep the lights on, and that’s what matters at the end of the day, so Sukuna bit back the urge to tell him exactly where he could shove both his car and his opinions. The taste of that restraint lingered, bitter and sharp at the back of his throat for a really long time. This is the part he hates most: pretending their ignorance isn’t a slap in the face, forcing himself to stay professional when the real problem is never the car, but always the person behind it.

The rest of the jobs moved forward without major surprises, but the mental load from that one client stuck around, making the days feel longer than they had any right to be.

After almost two weeks of being snubbed, Haru finally stopped pretending Sukuna didn’t exist, back to curling up on the couch like nothing ever happened. Even so, every time Sukuna left for the shop without him, he caught the occasional wounded glare, just to remind him he wasn’t completely forgiven.

His gym routine took the hit he’d expected—only three sessions since last Thursday, the fourth lost to late-night texts and staying late at the shop on Wednesday to finish paperwork. Not ideal, but just enough to keep the habit from falling apart entirely.

Thursday evening, for once, the shop locks up on time. He heads out with the windows down, letting the late-summer air cool his arms as he drives toward the store. Passing the front row of parked cars, he spots yours, and that’s all it takes to know you’re somewhere inside, even before he catches sight of you.

The fluorescent lights inside the store feel especially harsh tonight, pressing against the dull headache left over from a week of dealing with other people’s incompetence. He moves through the aisles, and his basket slowly grows heavier with the usual protein shakes, energy drinks, nuts, and instant noodles.

Turning into the pasta aisle, Sukuna sidesteps a forgotten restocking cart and spots you crouched by the lower shelf, completely absorbed in the boxes of pasta lined up in front of you. He stops beside you, waiting a moment, but you’re so focused you don’t even notice him standing there at all.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice sounds more like a gravelly rasp after a day of gritting his teeth and the silence that followed.

You tilt your head, blink, and surprise flickers across your face as you process the sound of his voice. For a moment, he just watches you, taking in how your smile blooms as you straighten up. It’s a small thing, but he notices it without thinking much of it at first, just noting the difference from last week, when you’d talked about work.

"Hi!"

Even with just that single word, your voice sounds lighter this time, easier, like whatever had been dragging you down before has finally loosened its grip. He offers a single nod of acknowledgment, and you flash another smile before nudging your cart past him. He watches you for a moment before turning back to his own route without further thought, except that it no longer feels like running into a stranger.

Sukuna grabs what he came here for without lingering, but the awareness of you doesn’t fade completely. At the drinks aisle, he pauses in front of the cooler, and his eyes drift over the rows of lemonade bottles. He hasn’t brought up the tailgate, and you haven’t mentioned it either, but his hand closes around two bottles anyway. It isn’t an assumption about your time, but rather a preparation—a habit of preferring to have the right parts on hand before the work begins. The bottles clink into his basket, and he doesn’t bother to question it.

Minutes later, standing at the checkout, he watches as you try to wrestle a mountain of groceries into just two tote bags. Your shoulders tense, and the frustration flares in your eyes as you realize the math of the bags isn't going to work, and you’re left surrounded by extra plastic bags on the floor.

By the time he steps through the automatic doors, you’re only a few steps ahead, still struggling with an armful of bags that dig into your fingers and drag your shoulders down. The weight is too much, the volume of groceries making every move awkward, and you look one bad step away from dropping the whole lot.

He closes the gap between you and steps in just as you fumble for a better hold, reaching out to snag the two heaviest bags from your grip without asking, like it was always the obvious solution.

"Here," he rasps.

The weight shifts easily into his hands, and for a moment you just stare, caught off guard, before you nod and let him take over. He falls into step beside you, matching your pace as you walk toward your car. When you pop the hatch, he sets the bags down and steps back, adjusting the hold on his own groceries. His gaze flicks to the rest of your bags still hooked over your arm, but you manage those on your own, and he leaves it at that.

While he waits for you to finish, his hand drifts to the lemonades, fingers curling around them almost absently. Offering them feels easier than letting the moment slip by unacknowledged. When you straighten and turn to him, the gesture comes without thought—he lifts his hand slightly with a questioning tilt of his head, holding two bottles between his fingers.

For a moment, you blink at him in surprise before a wide grin spreads across your face. A soft laugh escapes as you hold up a finger for him to wait, then dig through your bag and pull out two glass bottles of sparkling juice. You lift them toward him, matching his gesture exactly.

You blink at him, caught off guard for a split second, before a grin tugs at your mouth, wide and unrestrained. A soft laugh escapes as you hold up a finger—wait—then dig through your bag, glass clinking as you pull out two bottles of sparkling juice. You offer them up, matching his gesture exactly, the unspoken challenge clear in your eyes.

Sukuna exhales a low, amused sound under his breath, just shy of a laugh. He finds it genuinely funny that neither of you asked about sitting on the tailgate tonight, yet the same thought occurred to both of you at the same time, and you showed up ready to share something anyway. It’s a ridiculous coincidence, but he accepts it with a single nod. There’s nothing else to add, and together you both turn toward the Jeep.

After opening the tailgate and gently letting it down, he tosses the bags on the passenger seat, making sure they won’t tip over. A quick press of a button on the dash and the CD resumes, music spilling softly into the cabin. The door clicks shut behind him as he circles back, climbing up onto the tailgate to settle in beside you.

Tonight, the slight weariness from the garage settles into his bones, changing the way he sits. One leg bends up, foot planted flat against the metal, while the other stretches out until his heel brushes the asphalt. His elbow rests across his knee as he stares out at the empty lot.

The sharp crack of his lemonade bottle cuts through the low hum of the music. He takes a long pull, barely tasting it, attention only half on it as you settle in more comfortably beside him, crossing your legs. When you nudge the imported bottle his way, it slides across the floor, and he catches it smoothly, fingers wrapping around the glass just before it can topple. He glances at the label as he sets it aside, the unfamiliar branding barely registering before he sets it aside.

Music swells, the next track blooming from a muffled prelude into a sharp guitar line and a low, rhythmic synth. The first notes are all he needs—he knows this one by heart. It’s a sound he’s heard for most of his life, sticking around through years that changed everything else. There’s a brief, familiar pull to it, but he lets it slide past, refusing to follow it down the same way he always does.

You lean back on your hands, tilting your head toward the dark sky. “What’s that?”

He keeps his gaze fixed ahead, already knowing how his voice will sound before the words even leave his mouth. This band brings back too many memories he keeps locked away, no matter how much time has passed.

“Joy Division,” he rumbles, not bothering to hide the strain threading through his voice. The silence that follows isn’t heavy; it’s just full of music, filling the space between you. After a long moment, he adds, “Old favorites.”

The words come out simple and almost automatic. It’s the easiest way to put it, even if the meaning behind them is something he’d rather not touch. That band has been with him long enough to feel like a part of him, staying the same even when everything else has changed. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it, cutting the thought off before it can dig in too deep and become too much.

Watching your foot tap lightly to the beat, he lifts the bottle for another sip, letting the rhythm carry without focusing on it too closely.

A faint wind stirs through the open space, barely there unless you’re really paying attention to it, and at first, Sukuna doesn’t even notice it. His focus is settled somewhere between the music and the silence, and he doesn’t feel the need to interrupt it. The quiet lasts long enough that it would turn awkward with the wrong person, but here it doesn’t. It only ends when you decide to break it.

“My best friend’s staying over this weekend. Girls’ night… except it’s actually two nights. I just bought four bottles of wine, and she’s definitely bringing something ridiculous for dessert. We’re gonna rewatch that one show we swore we’d never touch again because we’re grownups now, and then probably stay up until three talking about people we don’t even like.”

He watches you while you talk, liking how your energy changes when it’s not about work and the brightness he saw in the pasta aisle returns. The details themselves—like wine, the show, the people you’ll gossip about—don't really matter to him. What matters is the way you say it, the ease in your voice, and the lack of strain from last week. That’s enough to hold his attention without pulling him into it.

“I told myself I wouldn’t touch work. Like, not even check Slack, not one draft review, nothing. Just—fort building, movies, takeout, maybe matching socks if we’re feeling fancy.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile, just a flicker of amusement at the way you phrase it. It sounds like a plan you’re already half planning to break, but he doesn’t call you on it or ask.

“God, that sounds silly when I say it out loud… But I just can’t wa—”

You stop mid-sentence, and he’s genuinely thrown by the sudden silence. His eyes flick around, searching yours for a clue, wondering if something happened or if something out in the shadows caught your attention or spooked you. It’s rare for you to just stop without apologizing first, and the abruptness puts him on edge, his focus sharpening as he watches you lean back and close your eyes.

“Is that… The Police?”

For a second, it doesn’t make sense, but then the music clicks into place in his mind. He nods out of habit, only to remember you aren’t even looking his way.

“Yeah,” he adds.

When your eyes open and a smile flickers across your face, he holds your gaze.

“That’s my mom’s favorite band.”

The warmth in your expression is unmistakable.

Light from his phone flickers against the dark interior of the Jeep, then fades just as quickly. He ignores it at first, guessing it’s just his mother again. A moment later, the phone buzzes—once, then again, the sound low but persistent, where the earlier notifications weren’t. He knows his mother’s frantic pace, but the buzz means texts, and multiple texts in a row usually mean Jin.

By the fourth vibration, he caves, muttering a low, clipped “Sorry” as he finally grabs the phone and checks the screen. Sure enough, it’s Jin. The messages are split up, just like his brother always sends them.

yuji’s at mom’s i’m still two hours out he fell off the table he wasn’t in pain when she gave him the phone, but he was crying earlier i think he’s fine but she’s panicking you know how she is can you go check?

His jaw tightens as he reads through the messages. It’s not panic, not even close, because this doesn’t feel like an emergency. His mother’s panic is a predictable variable in any situation, but with the kid involved, Sukuna can’t just brush it off. What the fuck was he even doing on the table?

He closes the screen, shoving the phone into his hoodie pocket. "Something came up. I have to go.”

You slide off the tailgate before he can even move. “Yeah. Of course.”

He doesn't linger at the back of the Jeep tonight, closing the tailgate right away.

“Bye,” you say as you turn toward your own car.

“Drive safe,” he replies at the exact same moment.

You blink, then nod, echoing it back softly as you turn toward your car. “You too.”

Sliding into the seat, he hesitates before turning the key. Even with Yuji tugging at his thoughts, he keeps an eye on you through the window, waiting until you’re safely inside your car. Only when your door clicks shut does he fire up the Jeep’s engine, shift into gear, and pull out of the lot, his mind already leaving the lemonade behind and focusing on the road ahead.

tags: @5seos @nerdjoenjoyer @nakiich @sspiralma @plaguecxlt @puttyly @chiaramartyna @shamelessdancer @qq-cup1d @man1cslut @spookyeomgoose @starmapz @sukunash0e @ssoapyyy @ita606 @dianhani @i-luv-mangos @ninani-nanina @alexa4040 @ram3nsukuna @dadonprimma @frigga13 @nessca153 @localfandomjumper @unlimited-impressions @sushikuna @wiredswan @emikoshiriyuki

“Do you understand?”

You blink, eyes trailing from the window to your mother. You take in the sight before you of the beige paste in the mortar before you, before your gaze lifts to meet hers. You nod in spite of hearing little else but ‘stomach ailments’.

“Good,” she smiles, going on to explain more herbs and their uses in basic treatments, although your mind keeps dragging you elsewhere as you struggle to stay present.

You know better than to think this comes from a good place. It’s not that your mother doesn’t care, of course these lessons are, technically, well-meaning and useful, the only reason she keeps you here is to keep you away from Sukuna.

Ever since the ‘incident’ in question, stray glances have been thrown towards your friend more and more often from more and more villagers. It has your hair standing on end, and being apart from him leaves you listless. Your mind can’t shed the image of your best friend with blood trailing down his shoulders, and the strange way he holds himself sends your mind into a near-constant spiral of panic.

If you find him like that again, will Arai help? Will you be so lucky as to find him in time again?

Instinctively, your eyes wander to the spot where Murata’s house resides, an overwhelming itch to check in on him suddenly coming over you.

With a severity to her voice that makes you flinch, your head whips back around to your mother as she states your name. “You need to pay attention. Someday, you could help heal your husband’s ailments using this. It’s your duty.”

Your brow knits, your disdain obvious in spite of the fact that you obey.

Husband. Duty.

You want nothing less.

The only boy who isn’t the worst is Sukuna.

Still, you murmur a half-hearted apology and let her carry on in another lesson you can’t escape.

You would be willing to wager a bet that a part of the reason she’s left the village so little since the incident with Imai’s boys is that she doesn’t want you near your closest friend. It feels as though every chance to sneak out and every attempt to simply walk out the door is foiled. It doesn’t often stop your friend, pokes you with a wheat stalk through the window on the nights where he hasn’t seen you all day.

He can’t pull his weight through the window anymore, struggling to carry the near-dead weight of his extra arms that never recovered from nerve damage, even nearly a year later.

But he never fails to show up.

And you rarely fail to sneak out on those nights.

Your mother carries on, droning on about mugwort and perilla until your ears feel as though they’ve just about fallen off and your eyes begin to glaze over. Were you being taught under different circumstances, you’re positive you would retain more. It’s not like the information isn’t useful, even if you were to approach it from the guise of using these remedies on yourself as an archer, but you can’t bring yourself to care, staring at the mortar and pestle with hardly-feigned interest every time she lifts it.

There comes a point where you swear time must have stopped because every time you look outside, the sun is still in the same place over the horizon.

It’s like the world is just playing games with you at this point.

Your head lifts when you hear someone young yelling. It’s distant, too far to tell whether it’s your friend or another of the village boys, but it drags away any semblance of concentration anyway.

“Pay attention,” your mother scolds you. It’s not like screaming is uncommon when it comes to children playing, so you give her back the small fraction of your attention that she had to begin with. 

But it only lasts so long when the yelling turns into a full-blown scream. Not the kind that you might brush off, but the kind that turns your blood to ice. You freeze to the spot, eyes wide as you stare at the pulverized mugwort for only a split second as your nervous system goes haywire.

Your breathing picks up, every single scenario you’ve conjured over the past three years whisking through your mind like a whirlwind. Your body acts on sheer panic alone. Inaction had you nearly losing him once, and now that the wind isn’t muffling the noise, you know your best friend’s cry.

You push up to your feet in an instant, your mother’s protests lost on you as you forgo shoes and go racing out the door towards the racket. Your mother’s steps aren’t far behind as you find Imai and Arai dragging something out of the fields behind Murata’s house. Your feet carry you over the packed dirt and scattered grass so quickly you almost wish they didn’t.

Your body betrays you when the sight before you is somehow worse than anything you’ve ever conjured in your mind. Your nightmares seem easier to navigate than the cruel fate that awaits you.

Blood seeps too fast from a large hole in Sukuna’s chest, punctured all the way through by the hunting spear that usually lies behind Murata’s home. It’s lodged in his chest, too close to his heart. His head hangs. Pink hair, matted and bloodied, hangs from atop his head, enough stray strands scattered across the ground to say that he didn’t give in without a fight. He hangs limp as they drag him by the end of the spear and one of his upper arms, and you can’t say for sure whether you’re too late or not.

When your body freezes a second too long, your mother grabs a hold of your arm, trying to drag you away from the sight.

“NO!” You scream, the sound wrenching from so deep within your chest that pain rips through your throat. You throw your full force in the opposite direction of her grip, nearly barreling you both into the dirt as you physically claw at the ground to keep her from dragging you away. “RYO!”

Arai shifts, continuing to hold the back of the spear as he steps between you and Sukuna in an effort to prevent you from the gruesome sight as though he isn’t the very cause of it. One of the lower arms hanging awkwardly from Sukuna’s torn sleeves twitches against the ground where he’s been dragged.

With one goal and one goal only in mind, you dig your nails into the earth, pulling with all of your might against your mother. “LET HIM GO!” You screech, tears gathering in your eyes as you fight your instinct to wail and cry for help when you’ve already witnessed the reality of Sukuna’s life. The only help coming to aid him is you, and you alone.

The adults fail to acknowledge you as anything more than a nuisance. They’re tearing your world apart in broad daylight, and they talk about you as though you’re not even there.

“Get her out of here.”

“I’m trying!”

More footsteps follow, but everything else is a blur when your mind clings to your friend. It holds on for dear life, your grip on the ground so desperate that when you drag yourself forward, your knees scraping harshly over rock, the pain doesn’t even register.

“RYO!” You plead again, clinging to a thick root in the mud that sticks under your nails. “Please,” your voice breaks into something harsh and jagged as tears spill, the sobs tearing through your body. The words that spill from your lips next don’t sound like you. “I need you.”

Your friend twitches again, a movement you barely manage to spot from around Arai’s figure. It doesn’t give you hope, but it’s all you have. It’s the last thread that keeps you from losing yourself, too, in that moment.

“Get,” Imai grits far more harshly this time, “her out of here.”

Your mother’s grip shifts long enough for you to surge forward, but Arai grabs you by your collar, keeping you out of reach of your friend.

You can only catch another mere glimpse of him, and it sends your stomach into a nauseating spiral. The dizzying sensation throws you off-balance and your mother catches you beneath your arms, dragging you back.

“No. NO!” Fighting against your body’s flighty instincts and your mother, you take everything you’ve learned from your limited time spent sparring with Sukuna to launch your weight straight into the ground. The impact is sudden and immense as you shake your head and attempt to pick yourself up, not having expected to successfully pull from her grip.

She scolds you, calling your name repeatedly on top of every consequence she can think of, but it’s nothing more than noise to you. Every scream attracts more attention, and for better or for worse, her words fall in amongst the rest of the chatter.

“Is that the boy I keep seeing around Murata-san?”

“Does it have four arms?”

“Stop fighting!”

“What’s wrong with his face?”

“We’re better off without it.”

“We must return home!”

“STOP!” You screech through the onslaught of overwhelming commentary as your mother drags you by the arm again.

Your chest heaves, vision blurred by tears as you fight with every last piece of iron will in your body to save your friend.

To your surprise, your scream silences much of the gathered crowd’s chatter. The shrill nature of it catches even Arai off-guard and he recoils from the noise, the tip of the spear he was holding stabbing into the ground and holding Sukuna in place at an awkward angle. Arai steps aside just enough that you finally can face your friend. Your mother still attempts to drag you away but you hang as a deadweight to prevent her from doing so with ease.

Your chest heaves, but with every inch you’re dragged further from him, your nervous system is sent into a frayed panic. Your heart pounds, the overwhelming sensation that it’s been torn by hand from within its cage like sawing through steel. Your breathing picks up, eyes burning as every inch you’re dragged backwards betrays everything you’ve spent the last three years building up since Saya’s passing.

“NO!” You cry out again, wrenching at your mother’s grip hard enough to pin yourself to the dirt again. Blood slowly wets the ground where gravel digs into the skin under your nails, but it’s the least of your worries as you’ve finally anchored yourself, tiring both yourself and your mother, and you can see Sukuna at last.

Really see him.

His breaths are shallow but present as he hangs limp on the spear. You can barely make out movement of his chest at all, thanking every god that might listen that his robes shuffle just enough to call it breathing at all. The protruding part of the right side of his face is covered in blood, as though one of the men holding your friend hostage has attacked his face, drawing blood as it drips from his scalp and an exposed area at the top of the cartilage.

His shoulder doesn’t hang right. In fact, most of them don’t. The bottom two remain damaged, hanging limp, while the upper arm Imai still has a grip on is twisted wrong. It must be completely out of the socket. Blood pours without stopping from a slice that starts at the same arm’s palm, jagged when it reaches his wrist, only ending midway up his forearm. The crimson pooling beneath him is unrelenting, staining the burlap of his robes from the waist down into something earth-shattering.

But the worst part is the spear whose sharp stone end protrudes from the upper left of his chest, angled into the dirt. On the off-chance it didn’t scathe a vital organ, it may have only narrowly avoided it.

“Ryo.” Your voice is frail, scraped over rocks as a sob wracks your body. Ignoring the pain in your fingers, you dig your nails further into the dirt-packed ground. You’ve lost faith in the onlookers to help, the most you can do now is hope. Pray. As if your dearest companion was ever protected by a god.

Fingers on the better of his two lower arms twitch again. His lashes flutter, and you find immediate relief in the fact that, by some greater force of good, he lives still. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Ryo,” you continue desperately, something uncomfortable churning in your stomach like stones. It’s heavy and nauseating, but you cling to the fact that he’s listening. He can hear you. Over your mother’s yelling, over Arai and Imai trying to navigate the situation. He hears you. You suck in a breath through your sobs, your chest heaving as the sensation rips through you like a wildfire. “You can’t leave too.”

His lashes flutter once more, remaining a crack open this time. His head still hangs, and it’s only the slight tilt to the way he’s positioned that allows you to get a glimpse of one of his upper eyes. When your breathing picks up as he responds, the upper eye positioned on the protrusion from his face slowly opens as well. It’s red, far beyond just the natural hue of his irises or even the strain of tears. A blood vessel has burst, flooding the eye with a deep, unnatural crimson.

Your mother drags you by your torso, but your grip on a stone in the mud is unrelenting. You hear her call out for someone to help her, further flooded with anger when movement stirs behind Murata’s house. Saya’s mother, proving that she’s not an onlooker, but a perpetrator of the violence, too. You grit your teeth, steeling yourself as your attention returns to Sukuna.

He doesn’t look at you, but he’s aware of you. It’s all you need. “Please,” you hiccup as you inhale sharply. “I need you.”

Like an axel lodging back into place, your words jolt something in his mind. The fog splits as though it’s been sliced, and his pupils rise to meet you.

You’re hunched over, dirt and mud clinging to your nice pink kimono. You fight tooth and claw, giving everything you have to be there with him.

Even as you fight, he hates the way your eyes flicker across his face, cataloguing every last detail you can before he becomes nothing more than a memory in the mantle of your mind. He pictures himself as a whittled carving, similar to the toys you once played with together. He’s sure his lower arms would be whittled with less care than the upper ones, a distant memory given that even you rarely see them. His lower eyes would be barely an indent, a remnant of what was, and what you can recall.

His mind cruelly conjures the image of his best friend, not even thirteen, alone in the world. Hunched over, your knees pulled to your chest as everything you’ve ever known is torn from you by forces out of your control.

He hates the anguish twisting every feature on your face out of place. He hates the temperature of red as it boils under his skin. His fingers twitch again, the muscles of his lower arms protesting when he tests them.

Familiar static lingers at the tips of his digits, little slices that barely divot the dirt at first. Sensing his defiance, Imai grabs the spear again, giving it a hateful and harsh jolt. Sukuna’s head hangs again, blood crawling up his throat to spill from his lips.

“RYO!” Your fighting grows more frantic, less controlled, as Saya’s mother bends over to tear your fingers from whatever it is you’re clinging to.

Sukuna’s jaw hangs ajar as he adjusts to the sharp seizing of torn musculature and chest pain that bleeds red. Imai spits cold words at him, but his mind swims with the only warmth he knows.

You. You. You. You.

The static grows sharp.

He doesn’t know how to unleash it with accuracy. It’s never been a blessing. It’s always been something dark that simmers like hot oil beneath his skin. An energy he can’t quite wield, yet it seems to draw some people to him like a beacon and he has yet to understand it. He sees creatures you don’t. He knows different of the supposed folklore you’ve both heard stories of.

He knows the horned beast with a long curled tail and spikes along its back, the entity so demonic for tearing down an entire village in one fell swoop is no demon at all. He knows there are no claws, no fangs, and no venom.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” You cry out in defiance as the two closest things he’s ever had to a motherly figure both try to pull you away without so much as a glance at him.

His head lifts again. He blinks as viscous crimson seeps between his lashes, temporarily blinding him in one eye. With the stronger of his lower arms, he drags it to the best of his ability to the spear, but before he can even grab it, Arai’s foot comes down hard on his wrist.

He’s never been more grateful for the severed nerves in his arms, but his jaw still hangs loosely in pain. It’s dull, but not gone.

You scream at the sight as Saya’s mother frees your hands from whatever it was that you were holding so steadily onto. The sight has your fear turning ugly. Both the maw on Sukuna’s stomach and face grit their teeth in kind. Tears flood your face as you pull, writhe, and scream against your mother’s wishes. You attract more attention that Sukuna has never shown himself to and it brings a startling thought to his weakened mind.

He wants peace. He wants to be normal.

But if not normal, he just wants to see you smile again.

“RYO!” Your voice is ragged, tearing through him in a violent wave. The hurt wavering your voice is more painful than any spear through the chest. He sucks in a shallow breath as he grits his teeth, both men above finally distracted enough that he’s able to reach for the spear with his good hand. The stone blade is sharp against his palm, but the static of tiny slashes provides enough friction that it doesn’t touch him.

He tries to push himself up, to maneuver his body in a way that it pulls the spear from the dirt, but his strength is miniscule. He shuffles uselessly against his assailants, but he’s left with no sensation in the lower half of his body. “Stop,” he sputters through the blood, not for his sake, but yours.

“Grab a dagger. Finish this,” Arai ignores him.

The man’s words are lost on him. “Stop,” Sukuna coughs. The way his body wracks sends pain like a jolt up his spine. He groans, giving a weak tug at the spear to pull it from the earth, but it only serves to bloody his palm.

Imai and Arai move around him like a mission as your mother and Saya’s drag you away. You dig your heels into the ground, you claw, you scrape, you bite.

But it’s the screaming that finally gets through.

“DON’T HURT HIM!” His heart wrenches. “LET HIM GO!” It twists, and he has to grit his teeth to bear the pain. “RYO!” You’re almost out of sight when he hears you cry out in pain as you’re dragged away wrong. “I CAN’T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!”

His blood runs cold as something inside him tilts. The static erupts into furious slices as he cries out for you. They travel over the ground, leaving harsh divots in their path. They sit in the air like a storm, cutting through tension, thick, hot, and no longer figurative, but undeniably real. He falls out of Imai’s grasp at last as the man steps away, allowing Sukuna to catch himself on the one good arm he has before his torso slides further down the spear. His attacks die down as he catches his breath when he startles both men.

“Get the dagger!” One of them yells with more urgency.

He can’t say which one of the men it is that moves first, but his good arm lifts as he cries out in fury and rage and in mere moments, the man has halted, bones sliced through so cleanly that the way he falls apart is unnatural. It doesn’t phase the child. His hand lowers back to the spear as he unlodges it from the ground with a harsh pull in the midst of the terrified screaming surrounding him.

Someone moves towards him, wrenching one of his bad shoulders. He recoils immediately, and with one look, they pay the price for touching him. His hand whips up and redirects his anger in a series of slashes. Their arm meets the ground as Sukuna falls back, the spear pulling more blood from his mouth as its weight shifts. He grabs the weapon again, his movements panicked as he feels the only gaze that matters searing into him.

He runs on adrenaline, fueled by an innate need to survive. He can’t let the image of you, alone in the world, become reality.

He slices clean through the spear’s wooden handle, holding the stone tip in a shaking hand. The situation around him has grown dire with many running to protect their families while others scream to kill him. To kill the two-faced curse.

One of his weaker arms drags off the ground, a modicum of strength and feeling returning to it. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but the energy within him shifts in ways he’s never felt before. In the same way your words stirred something within him, a grasp on the energy curling within fell into place out of sheer need.

His head lifts, bloodshot eyes searching the commotion for you. He looks past the stack of severed limbs at his side where you’re still fighting with every fiber of your being to get to his side.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” You cry, being dragged by one arm. With his senses on high alert and a new understanding of something within, he can practically feel your pain. In spite of the fact that your arm is at an odd angle, it’s the fear and desperation in your chest that he feels the strongest.

He wonders briefly if it’s the innate understanding of the energy in the world around him beginning to fall into place, or if your places in one another’s lives has simply connected you as such.

“STOP!” You sob again, your head whipping around to look back at him. You don’t see the limbs. You don’t see the blood. You don’t see the people running in fear.

You see your best friend.

You see a man with a dagger ready to plunge it into his back.

“RYO! LOOK OUT!”

One by one, every scream knocks something into place until his systems all begin to function once more. It’s fragmented and broken, it’s not the smooth motion of a waterwheel, but something far more cobbled together.

He twists awkwardly, plunging the tip of the spear into his assailant’s knee before they reach him. As they recoil, he reaches for the spear’s handle in his chest, gritting his teeth as he pulls it through his chest. Inch by painful inch, the bloodied handle gives way until he’s able to release it onto the ground before him. A hole runs clean through his chest, blood pouring from it in waves without the spear to cauterize the wound.

Your chest heaves with exhaustion as you kick and scream, yelling protests for the world to hear. Your calls and prayers are met in tandem with Sukuna’s ability to fight back, grateful to see life in his eyes, in spite of the ensuing violence.

When you see him free of the spear, his lower body slowly beginning to move as he gathers himself, your movements pause as you can only pray that by some miracle he isn’t left with horrible injuries. Saya’s mother takes the opportunity to reposition her grip, unaware that you’re paying avid attention. You twist your wrist, turning towards her as you free yourself. With your free hand, you pry your mother’s hand away and dart through the mess towards Sukuna.

What they might do to him, you can only hope they won’t do to you.

It’s the last ditch effort you can possibly think of that might stop this mess from ending in the only way you see it going.

Your arms wrap around him, blood soaking and staining your kimono as you collapse on top of him on the ground. His entire body heaves, his breathing laborious and his heart in a fit of uncertainty.

He wraps one weakened lower arm around you. The other remains limp, the effort of channeling his energy not worth it in the moment, and one upper arm remains out of the socket. He’s not quite sure how to fix that one with his limited understanding of his abilities. The other holds him up on an elbow, just out of his own pooling blood, cool and viscous against his skin.

The pressure and weight of your embrace doesn’t soothe the pain, but the world’s action quiets down for a moment.

Because you were right.

What they might do to Sukuna without worry, they will not do to you.

You sob endlessly into his shoulder while his head spins. His brain function is barely put together, unable to fully wrap his head around the concept of forcing the energy he wields to heal his chest when he’s running on fumes and lost an immense amount of blood. He can’t begin to tell where your tears end and his start. At some point, he became numb to the very sensation of his own.

The world is an overwhelming uproar of voices and yells, questions about the origins of the unknown boy and calls to find Murata. Between the noise, the sun, the wind, and your warmth all pressing down on him, he can’t make sense of the way the energy within him curls and bends. It may have clicked for long enough to pull himself away from death’s door, but now as he tries to stitch himself back together and reverse the damage of his injuries, he’s losing himself in the fog.

Imai’s voice rings out over your ragged breaths, grave and furious as he favors the knee without a sharp stone lodged into it.

“Move aside. This doesn’t have to do with you.”

You flinch, your grip tightening. Sukuna’s chest protests the movement, his jaw hanging open as a groan of pain parts his lips. He coughs, blood sputtering from his mouth as he struggles to hold himself out of his own pooling blood.

Imai calls for your mother, trailing behind as she watches in horror with Saya’s mother. “Get her out of here!” He hisses, his fingers clutching the back of your kimono as he attempts to drag you from Sukuna. The boy’s grip on you tightens, but even so, he prepares himself for disappointment.

But you only cling harder to him, burying your face into his shoulder. His heart pangs.

“NO!” You scream as your mother wrenches on your shoulders. Sukuna offers enough weight that pulling on you means trying to drag him along with you, an effort that can’t be accomplished with only one person. Asking someone to get near the equal parts terrified and furious boy is a big ask when they’ve seen what he’s capable of.

But with you this close, he doesn’t even know what he’s capable of and fears it altogether.

But even more so, he’s tired. The fight is leaving his body with your comfort tied to his side in a bloody bow.

As your mother fails to pull you from him, Imai takes matters into his own hands, the dagger in his hand suddenly held unsteadily at your jugular.

Sukuna’s eyes, bloodied and blurred, rise to meet Imai pleadingly. “Don’t,” he manages to rasp through the fog, “please.”

Imai’s lips curls. “You have no authority to make demands here. Let her go or–”

“How dare you?” Your mother roars furiously, her grip on you loosening on your shoulders as she makes a move to protect you. In the effort to do so, she staggers Imai’s stance, and the dagger lodges itself into Sukuna’s shoulder. He groans, inadvertently digging his nails into your side as it drags more of his blood to the earth below.

Your mother rounds Imai until she can separate him from you and Sukuna by the shoulders. She gives his hunched shoulders an adamant tug, sending him back and his hand flying outward, still tightly wound around the weapon’s handle. The dagger drags heavily over Sukuna’s shoulder, opening his wound further. Blood spills from his lips again, his eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep conscious under the weight of blood loss and brain fog.

He doesn’t even hear your yelp, it’s the way you jolt that makes him open his eyes again.

His clouded vision goes red at the sight that meets him. The cut from his shoulder drags straight into yours, the two forming a single, long slice telling of the misfortune that comes with being friends with the creature of nightmarish tales.

He swallows hard, pupils flickering across your shoulder until he finds your face. Contorted in pain, you look like another person.

His breathing comes hard. Every breath is purposeful when he pours every last ounce of harnessable energy into one hand, turning to shield you from the onslaught of slashes he lets out in the air.

Imai’s guttural cry makes you flinch.

But it’s your mother’s shocked gasp that has you looking up.

Regardless of how frustrated you’ve been with her, she’s still your mother. Some part of you hasn’t fully registered what Sukuna is capable of, in spite of the dismemberment and blood surrounding you. You don’t fully have a grasp on the damage he’s wrought and the choices he can’t come back from anymore, too caught up in anguish and anxiety.

But when you look up, your vision glazes over as you lift your head past the remnants of Imai to your mother, her chest heaving and eyes wide with fear. Sukuna’s arm falls into the pooling crimson beneath him, no longer only his own blood, as his consciousness begins to fade. Your mother’s scratches are only surface-level, a decision Sukuna made through fog and iron.

But she still breathes fury and desperation as she raises hell to pull you two apart, begging for help from villagers unwilling to come any closer. You can feel Saya’s mother’s fury burning into your back as she’s forced to watch Imai succumb to the violence that she already blames for the loss of her daughter and husband.

“What’s going on?” Murata’s voice rings out in the midst of your mother’s cries. You can hear Imai’s boys sobbing in the distance. Arai’s wife cries with them. No one dares to speak ill of the child whose very existence is calamity. The guardian locks eyes with his own child, his lips pressed into a thin line as he’s backed into a corner.

He doesn’t need any replies to his question, because through your sobs as you cling to Sukuna, Murata knows. He’s likely always known it would come to this.

Even as Sukuna– a few days from thirteen– stares up at Murata from over your shoulder, he knows already that there was never any question in what decision his guardian would choose. He’s seen it all before and he knew from the start that he would see it again.

“Forgive me, Ryomen.”

Crimson irises fall, rolling to the side as he willingly gives in with no fight left in him. He lets his head fall back into the bloodied dirt, matting his hair with the remains of those lost as he prepares for death, protecting you with what last energy he has and praying that when his world goes black, yours remains intact.

It’s the least the gods above could do for smiting him in such a cruel way.

–

When you wake, your head pounds. You shut your eyes tight, praying that the light won’t harm you, but it’s that same familiar sensation from when you slammed your head against the tree last year when facing Imai’s boys. The sun’s light furthers the sensation of something rattling in your brain and your memory is fuzzy.

You can’t recall falling asleep, nor can you recall passing out, if that was the case either.

There’s nothing but fog in every direction, and no discernable way out.

Your limbs are heavy as you lift them towards the sun, blocking its rays from hitting your face. Your throat is dry, raw, and you sputter out a cough as you attempt to sit up in your bed.

The noise attracts your mother’s attention, who kneels in front of you without niceties. You try to shake your head of her grip as she grabs your cheeks and turns your head this way and that, seemingly looking over your vision as though it isn’t swimming.

“Stop,” you rasp, clumsily swatting at her.

She grabs your wrist in her palm, her grip tight. Your brow furrows on instinct as you squint up at her, trying to make sense of your surroundings. When you shift your gaze, the back of your head begins pounding.

“I am not playing around,” she states, punctuating the phrase with your name.

You try to shake your head, but it just results in harsher pounding. You hiss, reaching for the back of your head to find swelling, but you can’t recall how it happened.

“I’m not playing,” you mutter, tugging on your arm, but her grip is without relent. “My head hurts.”

“I would imagine it does.”

Confusion clouds your mind as you stare at her, attempting to blink away the incessant onslaught of sunlight on your senses. She doesn’t grace you with a reply, though she finally drops your wrist.

It’s then that you notice that her arms and parts of her chest are bandaged, though you can’t recall why. Had she burned herself?

She gets back up to her feet, shaking her head at your father as they speak in a low tone you can’t quite make out. Your head drops, gaze fixating on your blanketed lap where your hands reside. Blinking, you flip one over, staring at your palm. It’s not just dirty from the day’s usual grime, it’s dry and cracking, a deep and stomach-churning crimson dried into the cracks. You lift your other hand, finding the same of both, with dried blood packed beneath your nails and a noticeable sting when you pick at it.

Your mind swims, cloudy as you trudge through memories in search of what happened.

Dried blood clings to you in all of the spots that aren’t so easy to clean, but what really strikes you is when you look down at your shoulder and find blood soaked into the hemp material of your clothes. You lift a hand, pushing them aside and staring blankly at a tightly wrapped bandage, soaked in deep crimson as it wraps from your clavicle to your shoulder and across your chest to secure it.

In true childlike manner, your first instinct is to touch it, taught an instant lesson when your body fights back with a stinging sensation. You wince, staring down at it in confusion.

“Do not touch your shoulder,” your mother reprimands you with little care in her tone as she physically wrenches your hand away. You whine in protest, resisting the way she pulls your arm.

“That hurts.”

You don’t even get a snarky reply this time.

“What did I do?” You query, completely at a loss as to what’s happened recently when something strikes you. “Where’s Ryo?”

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “Do not ask about that boy.”

You can only watch in confusion as your stomach churns uncomfortably when she crosses the floor to whatever she has cooking over the fire. “What? Why?”

Her head whips towards you with enough venom to make you shrink away. “He’s gone.” The word sits before you like the ill omen they always considered him to be. You swallow hard as your stomach threatens to throw up the limited amount of food that’s already in it. Your body runs cold, a horrifying sensation settling into the tips of your fingers and toes as though they’ve already gone numb.

Your chest feels as though a weight presses down on it and in a horrifying burst of panic, you throw your blankets off and make for the door. Your mother calls for you, but you’re too fast as the door slams open and you’re met with a horrific sight.

The iron in the wind hits you first. A low metallic tang that grips you by the throat has you bringing a hand to your lips as there is no fresh air to save you. It’s the still-bleeding remains that finally wrench your stomach into full unease. Whatever food you had managed to eat in the last day is emptied from your stomach as you clutch it uncomfortably, unable to tear your eyes from the spot where the pooling blood is just that– still a pool. Not dried.

It hits you hard, yesterday’s events. The blunt force of the memory is more painful than whatever blunt object Murata made the decision to knock out not only Sukuna with, but you as well.

Which leaves you with one bitter question. He’s gone. That’s inevitable. But how gone? For as cruel as Murata could be, you don’t believe him to be a killer. You can’t. So you can only hope the hate harbored towards your friend wasn’t enough to spear him through the chest yet again.

The mere thought leaves you dizzy as your mother pulls you back inside. You stumble back, falling over your feet and onto your knees as you try to gather yourself, but nothing feels right. Anxiety grips every muscle in your body, stuck in a permanently tense sensation like your nervous system doesn’t know how to let go.

Struggling to suck in a breath from where you’ve fallen to the floor, you stare up wildly at your mother. “Where is he?”

Not an ounce of care stares back at you. Your father doesn’t even glance over his shoulder as you struggle to put together the missing pieces of the puzzle. “He’s gone.”

“Where is he?” You cry with increasing panic. White encroaches on the edges of your vision as your body goes into full-blown paranoia. “I can’t–” You shake your head wildly, pushing to your feet and taking a couple of steps away from your mother in the midst of your anxiety. “I need him, I can’t–” Your breathing picks up, every gasp serving to send your body in the wrong direction as you stumble away from the figures you can barely make out anymore. “Not Ryo too,” you cry out, tears spilling over.

Your mother calls your name, taking both of your biceps as she holds you in place. Your nervous system goes haywire, your body tipping over the edge as you’re sent into fight or flight. She tries to explain that you don’t need him. She tries to explain that you’ll be a good daughter. She tries to explain that someday you’ll be a good wife to a husband who you’ll take care of.

But nothing registers as all you can picture is your brute of a friend, cast away if the blood loss didn’t take him first. He didn’t even get ten years at your side before being sent out into the forest again to scavenge for rabbits and search for warmth in the sort of places most people don’t dare look.

And that’s only if you can hope he’s still alive.

“Where is he?” You repeat your question as she outright refuses to give you a real answer.

There’s no hope in your mother’s scream when she finally raises her voice past the disappointment she’s been holding over you. “HE’S GONE!” She moves you to a chair, your feet moving clumsily over the ground as she drags you across the floor. Your shoulder protests every movement and your mind can’t make out the difference between your left and right, caught between panic over Sukuna and the sickly feeling that comes with the complete and utter shutdown of your body.

Spiralling into a complete manic state, you stare through her as you barely manage to scrape a reply past your lips. “He can’t be. He can’t– I can’t–” You swallow hard in an effort to quell the uneasy feeling in your stomach as your head swims, the white ring around your vision closing in on you.

“You can and you will.”

But your world is dark again when your body and mind protest that sentiment with a complete and utter shutdown.

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➴ a/n ; it hurts my heart to put these poor babies through so much :'( i promise things won't be quite as intense going forward! thank you for the support on this series though, i appreciate you all <3

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