𝙎𝙄𝙈𝙊𝙉 𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙏 𝙍𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙔

"sukuna," you say, calling him to the delicate atmosphere of the dinner table. the table is packed with a delicacy — a warm pot of braised chicken with a side of buttered noodles. "c'mere already!"

sukuna stood up from his chair, his footsteps following the scent of the delicious meal... which was absolutely and definetly forbodden! his wife, doing such a thing that could potentially drain her!? absolutely not.

"did you just.." he paused, taking a big and long stare at the meal you just prepared. " do that all by yourself?"

"yes, why?" you asked, tilting your head.

"dumb woman. you're pregnant." he lectured, nudging your cheek with a slight poke.

" ..did you just call me dumb for being pregnant?" you pouted, grabbing his finger as you try to fight the urges to bite it shamelessly. "hey, if you just don't wanna eat my totally delicious cooking, then tell me!"

he scoffed, his lips turning into a playful grin as he chubs your cheeks completely out off his cuteness agression. "no, no. you're the one carrying my baby. if you wanna eat something, i'll do it," he says as he cups your reddening face with his gigantic hands.

".. you suck." you sulk, eyes full of embarrasment and determination.

he laughs as he lets your head droop low onto the crook of his necm, his arms caught in your embrace. "still, the foods going to turn cold. just saying, leave it to me next time, preggie," he teases, lifting you off his shoulder to implant a short but sweet kiss on your temple.

[𝜗℘] :: being bullied because you’re true form!sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. but when he finally notices the harassment, he doesn’t hold back.

゛ tags. concubine!reader, fluff, angst :: wc. 2.2k

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they can’t care less if you hear what they say.

I introduce you... Matching! <3

[𝜗℘] :: only you are worthy to kiss true form!sukuna & no one else :: tags. concubine!reader, fluff, suggestive.

you’re standing at the entrance of the estate, along with some other concubines. four of them. uraume is there with you as well. you’re all awaiting the one person you’re serving; ryomen sukuna.

it’s silent. the women don’t dare to speak up nor do they dare address you in a menacing manner because of uraume’s presence. you’re thankful for them. you really don’t want to have another petty fight with the concubines. not before your little trip to the village nearby.

you’re all accompanying sukuna to meet up with an infamous clan leader. it’s official business, but you’re needed as a sign of your lord’s high status. you’re basically his trophies that he likes to show off.

“interesting choice of clothing,” sukuna finally shows up. you all bow, showing respect. you look up and only then realise that he’s addressing you. his eyes wander over your figure, “who’s chosen that for you?”

you glance down at your kimono. it’s a beautiful red—suiting the color of sukuna’s eyes. your hair is put up in a neat bun, with a matching crimson hairpin that represented who you belong to.

him.

Years. Fucking years he was gone, vanished like smoke, and the second you finally started piecing yourself back together, he showed up at your door with that same damn cigar between clenched teeth and (cruel) blue eyes that always saw too much.

“Missed this tight cunt,” he grunts, voice rough as honeyed gravel, beard scraping your neck as he bites down, sucking a fresh mark into your skin. “Knew you’d still open up for me.”

You whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders, half pushing him away and half pulling him closer. He feels it, chuckles low, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours as he grinds deeper, the fat head of his cock kissing that spot that makes your vision spark white.

“Shh, easy love,” he murmurs, all honey and smoke, the manipulative bastard. One big hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing into your bottom lip to keep your mouth open for him, dirty fingers pushing down onto your slick tongue. “Don’t fight it. You were never good at pretending you didn’t need this.” and you hear the need me go unsaid, implied.

He pulls out almost all the way, just the tip stretching your slick hole, then slams back in hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. “Look at you. Already creaming on my cock again. Bet no one else could make you this wet, could they?”

His pace picks up, heavy balls slapping against you with every thrust, the wet obscene sound of it filling the room alongside your desperate gasps. He’s watching your face the whole time- hungry, possessive, a little mean.

especially when he’s got you pinned beneath him, buried so deep inside your tight, dripping cunt that you can barely think straight.

every brutal thrust has him dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you, slamming right into that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back and your toes curl so hard they cramp.

his hips is snapping with that cocky, practiced rhythm, stretching you open around his thick cock like he owns every inch of your body.

the wet, filthy sound of him pounding into your soaked pussy fills the room, your juices coating his length and dripping down your ass with every deep stroke.

and he just can’t help himself.

the moment you start clenching and fluttering around him, moaning like a whore, that feral side of him takes over.

he leans down with a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief and hunger, and sinks his teeth into your skin very hard.

he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, teeth digging in so sharply you yelp in pain, your whole body jerking violently beneath him.

“fuck- satoru!” you cry out, but he just moans like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

he thinks you’re screaming because it feels that good.

“shit, baby… you’re so loud for me..” he groans against your bitten flesh, voice husky and dripping with arrogance.

his tongue laps over the fresh, throbbing mark before he bites down again, harder this time, right above your collarbone.

the sharp sting blooms into burning heat as he sucks hard, leaving a deep purple bruise while his cock keeps bullying that perfect spot inside you without mercy.

you scream again, a raw, broken sound that’s equal parts pain and overwhelming pleasure and it only makes him worse.

satoru chuckles darkly, the vibration traveling through your skin as he grinds his hips in slow, filthy circles, stirring his cock deep in your guts.

“yeah? right there, huh? keep screaming like that, sweetheart. you’re clenching so fucking tight every time i bite you… makes me think you love when i get rough.”

he shifts his angle, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper, another harsh bite lands on the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before clamping down.

the pain shoots straight to your core, making your pussy gush around him.

satoru’s lost in it, he pistons into you faster, harder, the headboard slamming against the wall as he chases his own high.

he bites your neck one more time, right as his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing tight, mean circles.

the mix of pain and pleasure shoves you violently over the edge.

you shatter around him, screaming loud enough to make your throat raw as your walls spasm and flutter wildly.

satoru groans in satisfaction, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release while still nibbling and sucking on your abused skin like he can’t get enough.

to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.

he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.

your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?

"what? i literally look-"

his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.

you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"

he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.

he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."

it’s quiet except for the low tapping of rain against the window and the occasional rustle of blankets every time sukuna shifts against you.

which is quite often.

for someone who acts like affection is beneath him, he’s currently half sprawled across your chest like an oversized cat, one arm heavy around your waist.

you look down at him for a second, making sure his eyes are still closed, before reaching for your phone as carefully as possible.

“mhmm, keep scratching riiight there,” he mutters lazily.

you bite back a grin. “hmm, you like that?”

his grip tightens, pulling you closer until your legs tangle together beneath the blankets. one of his hands lazily traces shapes against your hip.

he’s completely relaxed— nobody would ever believe this version of him exists.

which is exactly why you start recording.

the phone captures the way his face softens, the way he leans into your touch, and the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth when you scratch lightly at the right spot.

“you’re sooo spoiled,” you whisper.

“tch, by who?”

“me, duh.”

he hums thoughtfully. “suppose you’re useful for something.”

“wow. you’re sooo romantic.”

“you know how i feel about you, woman,” he mutters. “don’t make me say it.”

you just grin down at your phone screen.

especially when he shifts upward just enough to press his face against your chest dramatically after you stop petting his hair for two seconds.

“jeez,” you whisper. “clingy much?”

“careful.”

“hm? or what?”

“i’ll remind you who’s in charge.”

despite the threat, his voice is rough with sleep, quieter than usual. affectionate in that awful sukuna way where every sweet thing sounds vaguely dangerous.

you’re still smiling at the screen when his gaze suddenly flickers upward, and straight to your phone.

you watch the realization hit him in real time.

“…are you filming me?” his expression twists into horror first, before hardening into his usual glare as he jerks upright.

“delete it.”

“no.”

“delete it now.”

“you were being cute.”

his eyes widen a fraction. “give me the phone.”

you scramble backward across the bed before he can grab you, laughing when he lunges and misses by inches.

“nuh-uh!”

“you insignificant—”

“maybe.. i’ll show uraume.”

dead silence, and the look on his face is murderous.

“you wouldn’t dare.”

your grin turns evil. “oh, i would.”

he’s off the bed instantly, and so are you.

you shriek laughing as you sprint out of the bedroom, nearly tripping over your own feet while sukuna storms after you.

“get back here, now!”

“uraume deserves to know you’re secretly pathetic—”

“i’ll burn that device if i have to.”

“you were totally acting all soft!”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED.”

you’re wheezing by the time you dart down the hallway, clutching your phone to your chest while he gains on you with terrifying speed, then suddenly strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you yelp as he lifts you clean off the ground.

“caught you.”

“i’m sorry— no, no, no!”

he pries your phone from your hands with annoyance while you laugh uncontrollably.

he glares down at the screen, pulls up the video, and watches exactly three seconds of himself melting into your touch.

“…this shall never be seen by anyone else.”

you grin. “but you looked adorable!”

“say another word and i’m never cuddling you again.”

“empty threats!” you hum.

Sukuna’s developed an irritating habit. Whenever he’s fed up with you, or whenever he doesn’t want to entertain one of your questions, he’ll simply stay quiet and gesture towards his stomach. It’s kind of like saying ‘talk to the hand’. But in his case, it’s ‘talk to the stomach mouth’. 

Then his stomach mouth will shoot you this wide, smug grin, like it’s more than happy to converse with you. And you’ll just toss up your hands and groan, annoyed that your husband won’t even bother to speak with you face to face. 

But recently you've taken Sukuna up on his offer, turning the tables to give him the silent treatment while still chatting away with his stomach. Because Sukuna underestimated just how much that mouth of his likes to rile someone up. Even if it’s the rest of his body. 

Now, Sukuna’s lounging on the bed, limbs draped carelessly along the mattress. He’s trying to feign indifference. Trying to pretend he’s unphased by the fact that you haven’t spoken to him in four whole days. 

But you know better. You see the slight clench in his jaw, the scowl that deepens on his face each time he steals a look your way. He watches as you sit by the window, gazing at the scenery outside. 

When the silence stretches on longer than he can bear, Sukuna sets his pride aside to clear his throat and ask, “Are you still doing this?” 

You don’t even spare him a glance, continuing to look out the window. “Middle Mouth,” you say, “will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I have no idea what he’s talking about?”

Sukuna scoffs in disbelief, but that mouth of his flashes its teeth and singsongs, “Sukunaaaa. She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I heard you,” Sukuna huffs, speaking to you instead of his stomach.

He hates this whole situation. Hates that you're not speaking with him. Hates that you’ve given his stomach mouth a nickname. And he hates that the mouth is entertaining it at all. 

 His jaw clenches once more, and he sighs before saying, “You’re ignoring me.” 

He’s not wrong. For almost a week, you’ve been avoiding your husband, refusing to interact or even look at any part of him other than his stomach maw. But despite all of his sulking and sour moods, you act as if nothing is amiss.

“Middle Mouth, will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I am not ignoring him. You and I just had a lovely conversation, didn’t we?”

“Sukunaaaa,” the mouth singsongs again. “She isn’t ignoring you…well, me.” That grin returns, and you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Why didn’t you start speaking with your husband’s stomach mouth sooner? He really is entertaining.

“Stop that. Don’t humor her,” Sukuna scolds.

“Middle Mouth, you can converse with me as you please.”

“I intend to,” his maw replies. 

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, but he’s not sure whether to direct his glare at you or his abdomen. “How long do you intend to keep up these antics?”

You brush an imaginary piece of lint from your clothes and say, "Middle Mouth, please inform the rest of Sukuna that I’m still waiting on a proper apology from him." 

“I’m warning you, do not–”

“Sukunaaaa. She is waiting for a proper apology from you.”

Sukuna stares murderously down at his lower half. He’s finally met his match. The only ‘enemy’ that he can’t silence by force. Himself. 

And secretly, you think that he slightly enjoys that you’re speaking with his stomach mouth. It shows him that despite this silent treatment, you still desire some form of communication with him. 

So he’ll put up with the teasing, the inside jokes, and the fact that his wife is being stolen by his own body.

You decide to press your luck a little bit further, and say something you know will send your husband over the edge. “Middle Mouth–”

“Not again,” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back.

“Do you remember what I told you? What we talked about last night?”

“What?!?" Sukuna demands, sitting up abruptly and sending the covers around him flying.

“Oh, I remember,” his maw says, immediately grinning and playing into it. 

“Well, I was thinking about it and–”

“Why are you speaking with my wife at night?”

“Our wife. And what we discuss during late hours does not concern you.” 

“Anyways, as I was telling you, Middle Mouth, before I was rudely interrupted–”

“No. This ends now."

In seconds, Sukuna’s beside you, all 7 feet of him towering over you intimidatingly. He rubs a hand across his jaw, like he has to physically force the words out of his mouth. “I.. apologize for not answering when you asked me which of my cocks I urinate from.”

“…”

“The answer is both of them.”

Immediately, your mood lifts. You turn away from the window, smiling and facing your husband like nothing was ever wrong. “Apology accepted.” And then to his stomach mouth, “We’ll continue our conversation later.” 

Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.

You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.

To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.

Except you didn't.

You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.

"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.

You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."

Loser König who is shamefully obsessed with you. He wants to talk to you, he really does, but he's awkward, too big for his skin. Whenever you're around, his tongue is heavy and thick inside his mouth. Language gets jumbled, his shoulders hunch in, and he worries. God, how he worries. He's pent up enough the merest brush of your pinky against his sends him into a spiral, giddy images of you below him, sweaty and moaning his name, dancing in his mind's eye.

When he finally works up the nerve to introduce himself, you shake his hand, perfect lips forming the syllables of his name. He knows he's done for. The sound of his name in your mouth was so sweet it had him cumming in his pants like some pathetic teenager. He feels pathetic when he has to angle his hips away from you so you don't notice the slightly darker patch of fabric over his crotch.

Loser König who gets off on the embarrassment of it all. He can't help his body's reaction to you, the dizzing rush of blood to his cock when you walk past, hips swaying and drawing his eyes down to your perfect ass. Your scent trails behing you, swirling in your wake. He wonders what kind of perfume you like, what would smell best mixed with the smell of his cum on your skin. He buys different perfumes to try, mixing drops of his favorites with the lotion he uses to jack off. It helps him pretend you're the one touching him. When he's finished and is laying on his back staring at the celing, shame floods in, the cycle restarts, and he's thinking about you again.

Loser König who learns to edge himself. Rather than allowing himself the satisfaction of an easy orgasm, he slips on a silicone cock ring, the black of the ring stark against the blue-white of his thighs. He has one photo of you, a blurry thing he snapped surreptitiously across a crowded bar. You weren't looking at the camera, face half turned away as you laughed at something or someone next to you. You hadn’t even known he was there, but he'd seen you. He always notices you.

He groans, left forefinger brushing across the pixels that mark your lips. It's a tender gesture completely at odds with the vicious way König tugs at his cock, fighting off his impending orgasm. He needs to learn to last, has to figure out how to make it, make him, worth your while. If you ever let him find his way between your legs, he wants to make sure he can last. He knows he won't, but he'd like to try.

you were way too drunk and the sigma chi house was spinning.

the music thumped through the walls and your head felt light and fuzzy, but you were smiling anyway, red cup dangling from your fingers as you leaned against the wall for balance. your friends had disappeared ages ago and you didn’t really mind.

that’s when you saw him.

tall. pink hair. tattoos crawling up his arms. he looked really familiar but your drunk brain couldn’t connect the dots. you just knew he was stupidly hot standing there by the stairs with his arms crossed.

you stumbled over with a bright smile.

“hi,” you said, voice soft and sweet. “you have the prettiest eyes. like… scary pretty.”

sukuna looked down at you and his eyebrow raised, but he didn’t move away. the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“yeah?” he asked, voice low.

you nodded, stepping closer until you were leaning into his space. he smelled so good. warm and a little sweet, just like someone you used to know.

“mhm. my ex had eyes like yours,” you mumbled, resting your forehead against his arm because the room wouldn’t stop tilting. “he was mean looking but really nice to me. i miss him a lot actually.”

sukuna stayed quiet, one big hand coming up to steady you by the waist so you wouldn’t fall.

you kept talking, words spilling out easily now that someone was listening.

“we broke up because i thought he didn’t care enough but… he used to do the sweetest things. like bringing me coffee before class or letting me play with his hair even when he acted all tough about it.” you sighed softly. “i think i messed up. i still wear his hoodie to sleep sometimes.”

his grip on your waist tightened just a little.

“you’re drunk,” he murmured.

“super drunk,” you agreed with a little laugh, tilting your head up to look at him again. “but i mean it. he was the best. made me feel safe even when he was quiet and scary. you kinda look like him, it’s weird.”

sukuna let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. he guided you through the crowd with a hand on your lower back, taking you upstairs without saying much. you didn’t even question it. his room felt familiar but everything was blurry.

he sat you on the edge of his bed and grabbed a bottle of water, crouching down in front of you so you could drink it. his hand rested gently on your knee the whole time.

“you’re really nice,” you whispered, eyes half closed. “my ex was nice like this too. when nobody else was looking.”

he didn’t answer right away. just brushed some hair out of your face with careful fingers and helped you lie down. when you reached out and grabbed his hand he paused.

“stay?” you asked softly.

sukuna sighed, but it was the soft kind. he sat on the edge of the bed and let you keep holding his hand, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles while you drifted off.

Tw: mention of stalking.

It all started with a cup of coffee on your desk. At first, you didn't drink it—what if someone wanted to poison you? But after a few days, you decided to give it a try. In fact, it was pretty good.

​Then, little sweets started appearing, actually your favorite ones. Was it weird? Yes. But you ate them anyway. It didn't interfere with your job and no one was bothering you, so you were fine.

​One day after ending your shift, a young soldier stopped you outside in the base parking lot.

​"Hey, uhm. You have a minute?" You could tell he was shy.

​"Oh, yes. Do you need something?" It was a rare situation; people didn't usually talk to you after you left work.

​"Can I get your number?" The man lowered his voice.

​"My number?" You thought about it. The guy was cute. Tall. And he didn't approach you like you were a piece of fresh meat. "Yes, why not." You gave him your number and organized a "date." But you were only going to get coffee and talk in a café nearby the base.

​What you didn't know was that someone was watching you from afar, clenching his teeth.

​You arrive home. The guy seems nice. Perhaps he was the one leaving the coffee and the sweets on your desk and finally got the courage to ask you out. You were showering when you heard your phone ringing. When you unlocked it, you saw a message from an unknown number.

​"Hi, sorry, I can't go to our date. It was a mistake asking for your number."

​Okay, that was concerning. You didn't even respond; you just deleted the number and kept going with your life.

​The day after, you arrived at the base and made your way to your desk. There was a chocolate and a little note: "You're too pretty for him."

​The note left your blood running cold. What the fuck did that even mean? You decided to ignore the note and just eat the chocolate. But you felt that something was off. People were acting weird; they didn't say hello to you, or didn't even look at you. And the oddest thing was Captain Price leaving you some documents personally.

​"Hello, sweetheart. Can you leave these documents in Lieutenant Ghost's office? As soon as possible."

​"Yes, sir." Those were all of your words.

​You were nervous. Your last interaction with Ghost—or Simon—was when he spooked some rookie by claiming that he was your boyfriend. You knock on the office door, waiting for an answer. When you hear, "Come in," you open the door and enter. You see him sitting at his desk.

​"Morning, sir. Captain Price told me to give you this paperwork." You softly place the papers on the desk.

​"Told ya to call me Simon," he said, observing the papers and grabbing a pen to write on them. In the meantime, you decide to look around. You could count on one hand the times you had been in Ghost's office. Your eyes stopped on a little box of the sweets you had been finding on your desk lately.

​"Here, give 'em to Price." Simon handed the papers to you. When he lifted his gaze, he saw the way you were looking at the little box. He smirked. "You want one?"

​You look at him with surprise.

​"Oh, no. No, sir. I'm fine, thanks."

​"Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy. Take one," he encouraged you. And you couldn't deny it, you wanted one, so you grabbed one.

​"Thank you, sir—Simon." When you took the papers, you saw it. The same calligraphy. The same calligraphy as the note.

​You stand in silence, watching the handwriting.

​"Everything good, sweetheart?" Simon took you out of the trance. You blink several times and look at him.

​"Sorry, sir—Simon. I have to go. Have a good day." You turn around to make your way to the door.

​"Wait." You freeze without turning around.

​"How was your date with that guy?" Simon asks. You could feel the irony in his tone.

​"I didn't have any date, sir." You turn your head to look at him.

​"Oh, didn't you? What a shame. The poor guy seemed pretty disappointed when I made 'im send the message." His voice was cold like ice. At this point, Simon was standing in front of you, with his eyes piercing your soul and your heart beating in your throat.

​Until today. A group of rookies, or that's what you suppose because you haven't seen them before around the base. As a secretary you have to deal with people, that's obvious. But that doesn't mean you have to be oblivious to any kind of weird attitudes towards you.

​"Hi cutie," one of the guys said to you, with a flirty tone?

​"Hello." You have to keep things professional, not caring if you wanted to throw up because of this disgusting man.

​"I need a favor, it's urgent."

​"What can I help you with?" Stay calm.

​"I need your number." I tried, I swear, I tried, but the only thing visible on my face was repugnance.

​"Sorry, I'm not allowed to do that."

​"Why not? Do you have a boyfriend?" He asked with a sarcastic tone.

​"No, I have no—"

​"Yes, she does have a boyfriend." You were cut off by a male voice. When you turned your head, you saw Ghost. The Lieutenant.

​"Hello, sir." It seems like all the bravery was washed out of the soldier.

​"What do you think you are doing with my girl?" Ghost took a step forward and I could see how the guy just flinched.

​"No-nothing sir, I didn't know she was taken." And suddenly the man was shaking.

​"Now you know, so fuck off."

​The man literally ran away from the room, maybe to the bathroom.

​"Thank you, sir." I would not say that my relationship with Ghost is the best one nor the worst. We were just coworkers.

​"Call me Simon," he said, looking at you. His eyes felt like someone looking at your soul.

​"Thanks, Simon." Why do I feel shy? He's intimidating, but I had never felt this way before.

​"Anytime." He walks away like nothing happened. But you had to sit in your chair and take a deep breath because you feel like you were about to pass out.

​After that day, the rumors spread all around the base.

​"You know the secretary? She's dating Lieutenant Ghost."

​"Fuck no."

​"That's why she's a secretary."

​And you weren't disturbed by those comments, nor was Ghost. Actually, Ghost was the one confirming the statement anytime someone asked him.

​"Yeah, she's my missus."

​But you thought it was just another rumor. Why would Ghost say those kinds of things?

not my best work lol but i hope you like it