Knee deep devotion

Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.

The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.

“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”

You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”

The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”

The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”

You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”

The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.

Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”

They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.

They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.

The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.

There he is.

Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.

You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.

His knife stops mid-cut.

The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.

Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.

You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”

The words hang in the air.

Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.

“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”

He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.

“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”

Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.

You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

This is going to be so much harder than I thought.

But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.

The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.

By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.

You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.

Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.

A gruff “Come in” came from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.

The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.

Then his crimson eyes flicked up.

The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.

You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.

“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”

He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.

“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”

His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.

“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.

“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.

“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”

He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.

You didn’t argue.

You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.

Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

That went badly.

You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.

Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.

You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?

If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.

You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?

It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.

You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.

The next morning arrived quietly.

You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.

You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.

You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.

About an hour later, the door opened.

Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.

For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.

“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”

You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.

“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”

Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.

“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”

You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”

He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”

You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”

Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.

“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”

But he didn’t ask you to leave.

You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.

It wasn’t much.

But it also wasn’t outright rejection.

You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.

Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.

“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”

You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.

“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”

The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.

You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”

Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.

“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”

He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.

You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.

This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.

But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.

You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.

Tomorrow it is.

The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.

You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.

You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.

They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.

You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.

“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.

A firm knock sounded at the door.

“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.

You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.

Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.

His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.

“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.

“I said I would,” you replied simply.

He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.

You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.

As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”

You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.

The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.

When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.

Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.

“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.

You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.

“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”

The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.

The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.

Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.

You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.

Tonight was different.

Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.

A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.

“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”

Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”

The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”

You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.

“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”

“I thought she hated him…”

“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”

Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.

Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.

For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”

You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”

His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.

“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”

“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”

Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.

A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.

“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”

Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”

You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.

Suddenly, you were alone.

You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.

A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.

“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”

You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.

“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”

His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”

Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”

The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.

Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”

You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Sukuna.

His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.

Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.

“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”

Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”

You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.

Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”

Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.

“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”

Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.

He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”

The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.

You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.

“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”

You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”

Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.

“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”

His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.

Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.

“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”

His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.

The music swelled again around you.

Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.

“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”

Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.

He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.

“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”

You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”

A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”

The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.

As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.

“Sukuna…” you started softly.

He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.

“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”

The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.

When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.

“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”

He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.

The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.

Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.

The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.

By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.

When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.

When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.

“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”

He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.

You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.

“Wait…”

Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.

You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"

The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.

Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.

“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”

He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.

“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.

Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.

The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.

“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”

He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”

He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.

The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.

His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.

Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.

“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”

He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.

“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.

You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.

You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.

Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.

You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.

For a long second he just stared.

Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.

“Come here,” he said, voice low.

You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.

You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.

The silence was heavy.

“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”

He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”

Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.

The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.

Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.

“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”

He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.

Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.

For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.

Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.

He didn’t pull away immediately.

“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”

You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.

“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.

Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.

“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”

Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”

Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.

God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.

He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.

Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”

You didn’t make him wait long.

You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.

“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”

A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.

Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.

The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.

Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.

“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”

You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.

There was no point in holding back anymore. 

“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Bullshit.”

The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.

“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”

You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.

“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.

“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.

“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”

His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.

“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”

His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.

“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”

The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.

Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.

You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.

“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.

“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”

His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.

“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.

Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.

“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”

He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.

“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”

His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.

Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.

“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer.

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.

Then he took control.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.

You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.

“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”

He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.

“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”

He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.

Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.

“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”

You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.

“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”

His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.

You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.

He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”

One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.

“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”

He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.

He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.

“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”

He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.

The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.

You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.

“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”

He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.

Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”

His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.

It snapped.

You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.

Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.

He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.

“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.

He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.

“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.

“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”

You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.

Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.

“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”

He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.

You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.

Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.

He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.

“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”

He pushed forward slowly.

The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.

Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.

“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”

He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.

You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”

He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.

“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”

He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.

You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.

“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”

You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.

“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.

You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.

“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”

“Good girl.”

He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.

The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.

“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”

The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.

“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”

“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”

It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.

Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”

He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.

“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”

Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.

Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”

He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.

Sukuna went feral.

He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.

You were cockdrunk almost immediately.

Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.

He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.

“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”

You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.

“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.

Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”

You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”

Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.

“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.

Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.

“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.

He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.

“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”

He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.

You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.

Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”

You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”

He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”

He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.

You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.

“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”

He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.

Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.

But he didn’t let go.

a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!

You blink out of your own thoughts and sip on your beer, the malt leaving a creamy texture only someone who's familiar with it could feel. You sigh to yourself as your college friends continue to catch up with one another, loudly passing stories of the lives you no longer share. And here you were still thinking about it quietly. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, but something within you feels out of place. Or is it you wanting to get out, especially when Gojo mentions something about a drinking game.

Everyone internally groans, some loud yet still somehow he manages to make everyone participate, including quiet Sukuna. You almost chuckle thinking about it, he tries so hard to be serious.

You join in as well, pulling yourself off the minibar, not wanting to look more out of place than you feel. You gather around, the cool air and the bonfire in Geto's wide backyard pair up well in this nostalgic atmosphere. It's also perfect for Shoko who doesn't need to be left out now when she has to smoke outside.

You join her side when everyone forms a circle around, drink in hand. "What's he up to now?" You whisper, looking at how Gojo pulls a reluctant Nanami out of his chair.

She blows smoke out while looking in the opposite direction before looking back to talk to you. She chuckled while tapping the ash off her cig, "Beats me, he's acting like the host but it's not even his house."

"I heard that!" That yell draws attention to both you and Shoko giggling to each other. You look around, suddenly conscious of the eyes on you before the laugh dies in your throat as you meet a pair of all too familiar ones. You look away a little too fast, not even having enough time to curse to yourself quietly.

"First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who came today. I'm glad you all chose to acknowledge the existence of your college friends, I know it must be hard to be sincere-"

"Get on with it!!" Someone, who you're guessing is Geto, exclaimed from behind since Satoru continued to do the opposite.

He goes on about how it's been years (11 months exactly, it’s now June) since the last time you all completely got together. No one says it out loud but you're glad to see every close friend you've made in college here, there was probably an underlying feeling of uncertainty before each one of you arrived.

He continues with how back in your sophomore year of college, you stood in the exact same way on Nanami's birthday but while listing down predictions for you guys after graduation. You were probably too wasted at the time you participated that now there was only a faint memory of the night of Nanami's surprise party, most distinctly remembering the appalled look on his face when he turned on the light. Only to be welcomed by just half of the people he knew invited there and being blasted with a big-ass party popper.

You don't really know where Gojo's going until he pulls out a piece of paper, folded and looking a little creased up. He expected people to beam at it like he's holding a relic except his friends look at him in confusion or indifference.

"Guys! It's the list!" A chorus of sarcastic ah's and oh's emit from you all. He nods in approval of the correct reaction, "And I found some pretty good predictions here. Sooo good that I made a drinking game out of it." Now that peaks your collective interest. How bad could they be?

Hiromi, the ever skeptical heedful man he is, raised his hand and answered without waiting to be called, "Now when did we have time to list all of those ourselves while inebriated? And who's to say you didn't just list down some weird scenarios there if we don't even remember who wrote each? And I doubt we wrote our names next to them."

Gojo smirks looking around you all, you didn't wanna read into it but you felt like he stopped a second longer when he reached you before moving to look at everyone. "Trust me, you'll know who wrote it." He does a double take and raises both his thumbs before he picks up his beer from a stool.

It took so long explaining the rules that Utahime managed to make it in time, surprising you from behind. You greet her as your attention draws away from Gojo, she was your closest friend aside from Shoko within the group. You try to brief her on what's currently happening but ultimately just tune Gojo out as you got the gist of his instructions and focused on her.

Everyone gets back to their steady commotion when he and Suguru go back into the house to bring out trays of straight poison (whatever vile concoction he somehow kept prepared for this.) You lean into Utahimes side, grabbing her arm in excitement as you haven't seen each other in almost a month. You suddenly feel a lot more relaxed when surrounded by two of your best friends.

You catch up, talking about when you'll see each other again, work-life, and pointing fun at Gojo before Utahime asks more about the game so she could also participate. Shoko starts since you tuned out Gojo a little too much earlier that you also don't know all the rules, "So basically we pass around this list and we could choose to read aloud or fold the paper— and we drink if it actually happened to us, or if you’re the reader you can also not read aloud and choose to drink so you can move to the next person"

You huff, "What's the fun in that? you won't even know what was written if they choose not to say and fold it."

Shoko raises her index up, "The catch is, you have to wait for the next person to see it cause they can choose to read it out loud too or choose to fold it!"

"What if it's consecutively bad that they don’t read?"

"Then you’ll just have to pray that the person after you isn't messy, which in our friend group..." She looks at Utahime, then they both look at you.

"Ha ha, okay." You roll your eyes, a smile planted on your lips while you take another swig from the bottle.  They giggle and coo at you while you feign your indignation and look away. "Don't worry too much about it, all the stuff there was listed long ago."

Utahime perks up, "Ouhh that list from Nanami's party?" You both nod or make a noise of agreement. And then you pause, before letting your own mouth run without thinking.

"Do you remember what was there?" Your brow raised in question. "Did I put anything in?"

"Shit, I don't remember putting anything either." Shoko whispered, before taking a puff.

At this, Utahime's grin spreads ear to ear, realizing she has an upper hand over you both. Your eyes squint, trying to read her face but you’re left uncertain. She giggles to herself and gives Shoko a knowing look as well. Almost as if she got the message too, Shoko laughs.

You start to feel left out, but not in a way that hurts you, just enough for you to get a little curious. "Wait, please, what is it?"

Utahime smiles just thinking about it, and waves her hand in dismissal. "No, actually it's nothing. It was so long ago already," Shoko can't help but put a hand on your back, as if trying to comfort you and control herself from giggling at the same time to avoid giving you fomo. You look at them pleadingly and she caves, "I mean, it was all during the whole Sukuna spiel, remember?"

Shoko sucks her teeth before continuing, "Yeah of course she does, how could we forget." She rubs your arm and something in you stirs.

Utahime nods, a harmless expression her face while your insides churn. “Holy— I can’t believe you were fucking around at one point."

Fucking around, yeah. You almost forgot how it was like that, at least to them. Your smile fades into something less, not fake, just less. You straighten yourself and laugh with them, almost to stave off the embarrassment you narrowly missed.

Suddenly you're a little nervous, and your hands start to feel kinda clammy.

Just in time to fill the silence, Satoru walks in with a tray of appletinis looking hella nuclear, and what you're assuming are Jaegermeister shots. You  grimace. 

Just how many predictions did you all put there?

***

“Satoru hype that shit up way too much.” Shoko comments, voice loud without having to yell. Your brow quirks up when you look down at her, leaning on your shoulder as she slumps onto you. 

The game started, and everyone had been reading them first, no one passing up. It got a little rowdier though when everyone started pulling up chairs and taking the shots. It starts mellowing out midway though, less competitive aside from Gojo who is still a lightweight, the air starts getting less tense for you and you find yourself enjoying the sound of  everyone sharing a laugh.

You wonder what Satoru was trying to do with bringing this out. Did he want to just fuck around or catch you lacking. If so, it’s his unlucky day because you’re on a roll by the second time you choose to not share something; also second least out of anyone who skipped, by the way.

Your lips folds shut into itself right after the bitter alcohol burns in your throat. You let out a parched noise, “That’s vile.”  You clear your throat and try to keep yourself from feeling the effects too soon. The game continues, and more and more does it feel like it’s easier to humor you.

Satoru finally gets financially cut off by his parents before the term ends

Geto gets caught faking results during a drug test

Shoko stops using cigs and starts vaping ‘cause she’s broke

And it goes on.

The game ends up turning into this mixture of just drinking and conversation starters. Everyone seems to have something to say with the level of accuracy events predicted had or if they counted. But this kind of vibe felt nice, like you were lighter now. 

Higuruma’s up when he gets the paper, this is the 17th one now, “Ah,” He looks up and chuckles to himself. Even someone as blunt as him started reacting a lot easier now. “Nanami,” He starts, “Nanami graduates top of the class without getting laid throughout college.” He looks up with an expectant grin. 

Everyone laughs at that (except the butt of the joke), some already pitching their own theories or coming to his defence. 

“That’s impossible, look at him-“

“So what if he’s still a virgin?”

Nanami stands, raising his hand, but low. Everyone turns to him, commotion dying and waiting for him to either bring the tiny shot glass between his fingers to his mouth, or to stand his ground. He raises the glass and opens his mouth before pausing. Then a small smile grows on his lips, “It was the night of graduation-“

“Impossible!” Satoru yells while Nanami’s smile falls just as fast when the blur of white hair from your vision stands up from his seat. The loud commotion grows with a chorus of laughter and a constant complaint of, “That’s not counted! That’s not counted!” Nanami didn’t even try entertaining him, sitting back down on his chair and dusting his slacks.

You leave Shoko by the chair (she drank the most shots currently), before walking over to Utahime who is currently standing nearer to the bonfire. “Is the game supposed to have a winner?”

She turns, making space for you to stand by her side, she shrugs, her eyes looking a little droopier now. You continue. “ ‘cause I feel like there should at least be a loser, like who’s you know,  the one most out of it first?” You both look at Satoru trying to re-explain the rules with too much passion. Your laughs stacked on top of each other, your cheeks hurt so badly from how much they stretched into a smile, but it's also numbed by the slight buzz in your system. “I think I’ve had good luck.”

A short silence follows, the cracks of the fireplace and the distant crickets creak in the trees. Utahime rubs her arms, warming herself. ”Well don’t jinx yourself,” She comments while staring at the fire, before turning her head to look at you with a cheeky glint in her eyes. 

For a moment you pause, her demeanor now mirrors her early reaction when you first mentioned the list. At first, you’re curious and squinting at her. What isn’t she telling me? Before looking at the sparse number of shots left on the tray, then back at her. You shake your head, “Nah, I’d win.” 

The commotion dies down and so does Satoru’s energy, seemingly taking a break when he dramatically lays back on the outdoor lounger. 

“We have 4 left to read! and…” Geto looks around, noting how Shoko, Nanami, and Gojo look near done from participating. “5 left of us.”  He claims, and no one protests.

The paper opens softly as Geto looks down at the list, then looks up, before looking down and contemplating to himself. 

He looks at the person next to him and it’s…Sukuna. Maybe it’s the mix of four different drinks in you or you’re just paranoid and Suguru just looks like that, but his eyes look like they’re smiling for him. 

A palm gently lands on your shoulder and you look back at Iori with her phone buzzing in her other hand. “Shit- it’s my boss. I’m gonna take this.” She looks at you then at Suguru, to which he nods to her in acknowledgment. It’s not long till you’re now alone with these three idiots after she leaves your side with a soft squeeze to your arm. You keep your focus back on Suguru.

You purposely keep your attention on just Suguru. 

“Four of us then,” You voice out, one of the first things you kind of directed at Sukuna, and with a tighter smile on your lips than normal. Geto beckons for you to come closer and you follow, not wanting to think much of it. 

Geto downs his shot quickly and your steps falter slightly on the way to them. It was a short 3 steps away but you wished your hesitation wasn’t noticeable. He’s already handing the paper to Sukuna when you stand a little off to the side, keeping a friendly distance. You didn’t notice it but the other three losers perch up in their seat and inch closer discreetly yet flagrantly watch the interaction.

You weren’t prepared to be this close to him, you realize. You didn’t know what to expect out of today but you showed up anyway. Time does really change your perception of someone, you think to yourself.

It’s weird how you were so used to his presence before, to be able to know who was behind you if your eyes were closed, and to be able to recognize the air that they brought with them. Deep down, something in you feels tight when the realization comes that your body is no longer familiar with him. You feel it in your posture, the stiffness of your spine and muscles. 

You’re now gawking at him, and time feels slower than usual. You excuse yourself in your mind for being so shameless, but he looks healthier now. His hair’s still the same, his skin looks a little tanner with a soft tinge of red from the alcohol. His head is craned over at Geto with his side profile facing you, his well trained neck muscles flexing underneath his black henley top. Man, this shit was so unfair. 

He’s looking away from you, but it has a purpose. You swallow the obvious disappointment that shouldn’t be there. He hasn’t talked to you today you note, but you also shouldn’t mind. What’s there left to say?

There was a very brief pause as he stared at the piece of paper, a familiar empty look returned on his face. 

“At least 2 people will be taken by next year, and/or after graduation.”

It was oddly specific. But it was oddly familiar to you too, a vague memory pieces itself in your head of the words being written on paper. You’re suddenly deep in thought, remembering where you were in that time of your life. That unknown tightness makes itself known in your body once more, except this time you know exactly where it’s coming from. 

You remembered the confidence you had back then, the sureness that what you had with him was concrete. The beginning that felt like a slow buildup to a solid relationship. No rush, you agreed and it felt exciting to sneak around at first. You could almost hear the thought said in his voice. 

That night, you had a petty fight. He didn’t hold your hand when you tried to and you were drunk so you vented it out on paper, not caring about how stupid it would be to read sober. Or in a few years. The tightness rushed from your stomach and wrapped around your throat.

He looks up, again his eyes find yours immediately. Again, no words were shared. It was all but two seconds, but it was long enough for the last two years of your private relationship to cross the bridge between both your minds. 

You note how he doesn’t make a move to take the shot. 

Prick.

It was you first who looked away, but you gathered yourself like you always did. Your eyes found Geto’s behind him, ignoring the nosy audience behind you. “That was targeted.” You  forced a chuckle out of yourself, the sound came up like a shield, like if you mocked it too it would mean you’re in on the joke. 

Your eyes flit over to Sukuna, but whatever vulnerability you let peek through was gone, replaced by a passive, sober guard. You smile at him, an attempt to look friendly but it falls as just that, looks. A look you were able to master in the years of keeping your relationship under wraps. You wonder briefly if he ever realized that. When you face away from him, you don’t get to take in the way his jaw clenched.

The diversion seemed to work when the tension in the air dropped, your friends went back to talking with a distant ‘told you so’ muttered by Gojo before the game picked up again. As a response, you tune your surroundings out — a reward for carrying yourself through this internal humiliation ritual. You don’t spare him another glance though.

It ends with Hiromi and Sukuna as the last ones standing because you decided to sit the second to last round out; a dishonest victory for him, you think bitterly. But stopping in the game doesn’t mean you will stop drinking. You came here to have fun with your actual friends and were sick of letting this guy affect you. 

It’s been almost a year already, that should be enough to move on. But it’s the same thought every once in a while.  The same mantra you repeat to yourself when you down the last of the leftover appletini shots with Shoko, Utahime, and Gojo. 

“Oh you should’ve seen the look on her face, Hime. She just smirked and was all like,” She copies how your head turned, “It was cold as fuck.” Shoko slurred, putting an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes with a lazy smile. “Whatever bro.”

“No! Seriously, we thought it was really bad back then but-.” She looks over at you to gauge if you’ll react violently in private but you don’t. Your eyes are hazy and calm, effectively numbed by the alcohol enough for it to be sincere. 

Gojo, impatient, completed the sentence. “—Just that we thought you guys were going out forreal.” You hate how that easily sobers you up, again. Even if it's only for a split second, you wanted to stop flinching at even the thought of how embarrassing that experience was. How crazy you had felt back then. 

You don’t say anything, you just let out an awkward chuckle. It’s missed by them though, the sound overlaps with your friends talking over it as they’re adding to the  joke. 

Shortly after, Shoko and Utahime retire upstairs to the room they’ll be crashing at Geto’s house. Its a big enough place with 2 other guest rooms but you really weren’t planning on staying the night despite your lack of ability to walk in a straight line. 

Even Gojo settled on the couch back inside while Higuruma was sober enough to drive Nanami off as well. You said your goodbyes to each other despite only talking briefly, then turned to try and help clean up, but a rough hand stops you before you stuff another pizza box into the garbage bag you found.

“I can’t let a guest do the cleaning, go to your room.”Geto smiled, he was evidently more sober than you.

You shake your head, slower than you could earlier. “Nope, gotta compensate ‘cause I won’t be able to hang tomorrow.” He takes the garbage bag still, looking down at you with a jutted lip. Before he asks why, you interrupt. “Have t’a finish some work — Going home.” You smile, nodding your head. He squints at you, not quite understanding. You straighten yourself up and pull out your phone, the loading screen in your app already looking for a driver.

“I’m uh, Uber.”You try reassuring him with another unconvincing smile while tucking the device in your back pocket.

“I don’t know how I feel about you going home at two a.m., alone.” He raised his brows as he emphasized the last word, “It’s definitely not safe and you’re drunk.” It was a short back and forth, you slowly losing interest in explaining and wanting to get into the car of —you open up your phone— Jose who’s 8 minutes away.

When he continues on his rant on safety and not trusting you to call him when you get home, you make a face at him, unable to control yourself. You push again, trying to clarify, “I do this all the time after my office parties-“

“-That’s dumb.” 

Your shoulders slump, running out of options to convince him. Before you could help it, “What are you gonna do, drive me?” Suguru scoffed at your words, it was obvious what his answer would be already as he was also struggling to stand upright fully.

A beat passes, his eyes scanning the backyard when he zeroes on a rosette head of hair, bidding his goodbyes by the sliding door to a knocked out Gojo, keys in hand.

***

You were gonna kill Suguru.

Your head scrambled to explain how you allowed yourself to get to this position, but he’s already circling the front to reach the driver’s side. You feel his gaze past the windshield, blatant, intruding. 

If worse comes to worst, you’ll throw yourself out of the moving car and roll out of the door if it means saving yourself from real danger.

The thrum of Sukuna’s black Hellcat was unpleasantly familiar. The red interior still looked new, but the passenger seat molded well to your body like a pair of old jeans. But the smell is different now, he used to have this cheap citrusy scented air freshener that hung from the mirror (courtesy of the former owner), obstructing his view. It's now replaced by a light charcoal freshener clipped on a vent.

“You should really get rid of that thing, it’s dangerous y’know?” Of course the first thing you say about his car isn’t a compliment. He rolls his eyes at how typical it was of you.

“Why?” He slides in and shuts the door gently, like second nature, he doesn’t bother with a seatbelt. “Worried I’ll get into an accident?” He asks, left hand finding the wheel. 

“Sure, but it’s similarly distracting for the air to smell like 20 fluorescent orange peels.” He laughs lightly followed by a nod, agreeing. He’s generous enough to roll the windows down halfway. 

A beat passes, “And yes, you should also be more careful now that you’re driving me home.” 

The door shuts, snapping you out of your lingering thoughts, the ticking from the hazard lights cease as he rolls out of the driveway. You’re quick to pull out your phone, head down. At least now you know it's going to be a mix of dry and windy tomorrow.

You know there’s no right way to act and dread is now backing you into a two seater sports car until you confront it. It catches up to you, in the form of the unwavering presence of his body right next to you.

There isn’t possibly enough space in this car for both you and your thoughts. You turn your phone off, internally scoffing at yourself for trying to play non-chalant, opting to just look out the window but it’s hard to see it through your bleary eyes since it’s tinted. 

You close them instead, thinking of a place outside of your own consciousness, outside of here. For a moment,  you’re able to achieve peace when you’re actively pushing down thoughts of him, nothing but the muted sounds of cars passing by and the faint breeze gently caressing your cheeks. You open your eyes and realize the window has been rolled down for you. 

Slowly, your head turns without thinking, he’s still set on the road with both hands tightly on the wheel, you note. 

On the highway when you feel the car speed up, your body slightly surges forward when you’re nearing a slower area, your hand instinctively reaching for the glove compartment to brace. He cleared his throat beside you, and you loosen your grip. You look down, realizing you’re holding onto his forearm while his hand is on the gear shift. Stupid manual car.

You’re quick to pull off him and awkwardly put your hands on your lap. “Sorry.” You mutter, your face warm.

He replies, similarly strained, “ ‘s okay.” It’s strange hearing his voice like that. Maybe it’s strange to hear overall since it’s been forever since it’s been directed at you. He had always been the picture of confidence to you, a natural cadence for smooth talking and sureness. You don’t know what to feel. No, scratch that, you know what you’re feeling. 

It’s getting harder to swallow your pride when memories and these feelings that you never had the chance to confront felt like bile rising from your throat. 

“You really won’t talk to me?” 

And there it is, that confidence finding its footing. It makes you sick how it’s so easy for him to take your silence as reluctance, though it actually is. You hate how he doesn’t spare a second to think before acting on his impulse to speak to you when you spend plenty.

A beat, and nothing from you. He scoffed, you can feel him adjust his seating in a more relaxed manner. He’s about to add when, “You cheater.”

You hear the scrunch of his pants on the leather interior pause, “What the fuck?” He muttered, low, offended at your words.

You turn to him, arms crossed over, on guard. “In the game, dumbass.” You deadpanned, matching his vulgarity. His eyes flick to you and then on the road, now one handed as he scratches his jaw, a light stubble growing underneath.

“A year later and that’s all you have to say?” he grunts, thick brows scrunched, his piercing tugged by the movement.  

“Yes.” You voice out sternly, a newfound stubbornness arises from your half drunk mind. 

“You were always a brat.” 

“At least I don’t care what others think of me.” You mumble like a petulant child. He makes a face, gaze flicking on the rear view mirror. 

He scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh Ryo I think out of everyone,” He meets your eyes at the nickname, “You would know what I’m talking about.”

Something stirs in him, the way his name sounded coming from you wasn’t new,  but it’s now stripped from any warmth that used to always come with it. “You know I had to.”

It’s your turn to scoff, “Yeah even after everything, it just has to go your way.”  There’s a shift in the air, the car picks up its speed, accelerating but you don’t flinch. 

“You’re not making sense to me right now.” He’s quick when moving the shift to 4th gear. Your eyes flit over to the dashboard 65,66…,70 kilometers per hour, “Sukuna-“

He slows down, moving back to 3rd gear when you’re approaching  a new set of traffic, then he breaks early.  You jolted forward, his arm coming up to block you by your stomach. Your eyes are wide and piercing at the windshield, “What is wrong with you?!”

He shook his head, unphased by the forces that just came onto your bodies. “You broke up with me,” he emphasized on ‘you’. Like saying that meant it justified how he made you feel after, your face twists in distaste. 

 “Oh so now we’re talking about it.” You’re looking down at his arm, he’s big, like bigger than it was when you were both in college. It’s a drunk thought you wanna ignore but it’s imposing. You don’t think of it because you’re dissecting how attractive he looks but it’s despite how he could overpower you, how typically you shouldn’t feel safe around a big man with anger issues and a fast car, you aren’t scared. Your safety is regretfully the farthest thing from the thoughts running through your brain right now.

When you pick up your head he’s already looking at you, the red light casts on his face, you can see everything now. The bump of his nose, the fleck of red on his irises, the way his monolids looked slightly hooded.

How can someone draw you in and simultaneously make you want to run far away? He doesn't make a move to detach himself from you. You try to shove him away, looking back at the still red light, then back at him. You push, he doesn’t budge. “Hey-“

“You ran from me, not the other way around.” Your lips part, you think you’re about to say something or scoff, but you can’t bring yourself to utter a sound.

“You don’t get to hold a grudge and make it sound like I was the one that left when you said you didn’t picture us like that.” A chill runs itself on your spine as he repeats verbatim what you said, a cold look on his expression. “Whatever that fucking meant,” He mumbled, arranging himself back on the drivers side, rolling the windows back up.

This was unfair, this was singling you out. But technically, he was right. You broke up with him and you never reached out after. But it wasn’t all your fault, that’s what you wanted to say. Despite everything you agreed to, it was out of how deeply you had felt for him.

 You trusted him that he wanted you just as much, but in time, you wanted more. But were you so wrong to want more than to be someone he came home to — without bothering to even so much as say hi to you around others? Were you wrong to not want to look like he just kept you around long enough ‘cause you’re a decent fuck? You swallow the words you couldn’t say, tongue thick in your mouth. 

It feels like you could breathe again when he pulled himself off you, but comfort doesn’t return immediately. The car moves forward and you’re back to sinking in your own pool of thoughts, completely disassociating. 

Sukuna looks back at you, noting how you’ve completely sunk back to your seat. You, who he remembered as someone so fired up and just earlier was laughing loudly, your presence now damp and the look in your eyes empty with all but 20 minutes alone with him. But he says nothing, his eyes on the road knowing he can never get it quite right when it comes to telling you how he felt. 

The road starts to make familiar turns, until the drive ultimately comes to a stop, slowing down in front of your apartment complex. You move around, making sure you have your bag and keys with you. When you held them in your hands, it still felt like you were leaving something behind. 

Your fingers ghost over the door lock, knowing if you flicked it open it would mean being obnoxiously loud in the silence. You don’t know how long you sat there, and he doesn’t unlock the door for you either. The thought that he’s letting you decide what comes next puts more pressure on you than you’d like to admit is actually there. 

“Were you—” It comes out hoarse with your voice high, your throat feels dry too. “I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t see you in my future.” He shifts, but you don’t even think of moving, tightly clutching your bag on your lap. “I didn’t think you did.” 

He’s quiet, allowing you to continue until you choose to let it settle. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

Your shoulders sag. This is unbelievable. You unbuckle your seatbelt and gather everything you own. Your throat constricts, “I don’t even know why I’m-“ When your hand finds the lock, it shuts back on its own. “What the fuck?” You turn immediately, hair whipping on your face. “Open it,” You’re tired, it seems to be more obvious to you when you’re pulling on the door the wrong way. “Open it!” 

He reaches for your bicep, you’re gonna break the handle. “Hey- Stop it.”

“Let. Me. out!” You smack on the window, you pound heavier with each word, it hurts the side of your fist. “You’re crazy!”  

“Oh I’m fucking crazy?!” He pulls you closer, away from doing anything even more damaging to yourself. “Whatever you have to let out, do it to me. Not the fucking car ‘cause it’s fucking pointless.” He spat, you don’t see the concern laced in his pointed eyes because his proximity is torture alone, eyes averted. 

Your nostrils flare as you breathe out a long sigh. “You were embarrassed of me.” It doesn’t come out as stern as you’d like it to be, the claim comes out as half a whisper. 

His hand loosens on you, but he doesn’t let go. You continue, “It made sense- it was the only reason that made sense when you couldn’t even look at me around our friends.” He finally lets go, hand resting on the back of your headrest.

“You said it was okay-“

Your voice can't help but raise in his wake, your heart beating faster than normal. “Of course I would! Would you have been with me if I pushed you to tell everyone? You couldn’t even do it earlier!” 

Sukuna’s hands find themselves planted on the wheel. He’s not even driving, but he feels like it’s the only thing grounding him at this moment. 

“You agreed to it! You didn’t say I should change anything, and we just kept going like before anyways—”

“—They knew we were sleeping with each other, I would’ve taken that!” Your voices overlap each other, both your defenses coming up to protect yourselves suddenly. “I would’ve taken being known as part of your body count. At least then I wouldn’t look so desperate. It was humiliating!” You unlock the door, thinking that you were gonna leave it at that. He locks it back, you throw glare at him.

“You don’t think it was embarrassing when you left ‘cause you told me there wasn’t a future for us? How fucking dumb I felt when you never showed up to gatherings and everyone looked at me?” You could’ve sworn a vein was appearing on his forehead, and judging from how he was putting his swear words to a minimum of two, he was definitely holding back.

“Don’t you dare twist this on me,”

“I was never fucking embarrassed of you!”

“You never fought me on it!” 

The yell leaves an imprint on the silence that follows. 

“I thought if I gave you an ultimatum, you’d back away. So I told you something I wasn’t sure was true myself, until you didn’t fight it. So maybe you were thinking the same and I just stuck with it.” Your words spilled, finally coming out of the confines you’ve kept it all these months. 

“I was lying to my friends,” You continued, the words unable to hold in your conscience. “I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. But I also couldn’t talk to you-“ Your voice cracked, “I was alone.” You couldn’t even look at him. You didn’t wanna be faced with any more disappointment. 

You wanted him to be distraught, to care that he hurt you, dragged your self worth without knowing, and you fed what was left of it back to yourself. But you weren’t sure if he did care, so you sat stiffly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” He asks, hesitant. 

You reply without the ability to filter yourself, “ ‘Didn’t wanna look insecure.”

“But you were.” He answers, and it still stings. Of course I was. 

“Could you blame me?” You shift in your seat, putting your phone inside your bag, you fish out for your keys you threw back inside during your earlier fit. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit. You find it again but you stay there. Waiting. 

You don’t know why you stay longer than you should, no, you do. You steal a glance at him, and his body is still, contemplative. You unlock the car door, and it doesn’t click back to lock. A part of you that you refused to acknowledge still waits for him, but your heart is already heavy with rejection, with the weight of his silence. 

You say nothing, the words are lodged in your throat. You’re quick to get out of the car, the crisp air bites your arms and you realize you left your jacket halfway to the entrance of your complex but you keep walking.

Your heels click on the pavement, arms crossed over your chest like you’re holding yourself together. You feel a sting in your eyes — this feels too final. Your lip wobbles but you don’t look back, you’re drawing a line in the sand. 

The keys fumble in your hand, your sight gets blurrier and blurrier. 

“You’re a fuckin’ baby, you know that?”  You stop breathing, fingers caught mid-twist on the door knob. You look up in surprise, your eyes wide and glossy. The sight tugs on Sukuna’s chest. 

He raised his hand, your jacket hanging off his fist. “You hate me so much you couldn’t even get back your jacket?”

Your body shivers when a faint gust of wind blows at you, and it feels like that might be enough to take you down like a pile of sticks. “F-fuck you.” Your teeth chatter, and you go back to trying to open your door. 

There’s two steps that shuffle behind you, a warmth on your back makes itself known. The keys cease its movement. Your head comes down on the door in a thud, still you don’t look back. “Can you please…” You start, but you aren’t sure what comes after. 

Sukuna’s hand wraps around yours on the door knob, he gently pries it off and takes the keys himself. You let him do so, fingers pliant. The touch is warm, intimate — it doesn’t help the twist in your gut.

“I didn’t know how to want you, but I knew how I felt.” He starts, the words coming out hesitant but like release at the same time. 

“It felt kinda like nothing would go wrong if I kept it between us. And it didn’t matter to me ‘cause you were,” He hesitated, fiddling with the keys himself till he found the right one. He twists it, the lock clicking. “You’re all I needed.” His breath is on your hair, arms caging you by the doorway.

“I thought if I gave you enough attention, it would be enough to keep you satisfied. And I know now it wasn’t enough. But I didn’t want to lose you then but I’m—yeah, I still did.” He takes a step back, his warmth leaving with him. The door swing opens with a light push of his fingers. 

He finds himself in the same position as you, breath stuck, body rigid. You turn around, he looks like he’s holding himself back on something with his fists closed tightly, your keys still between. 

“I wasn’t sure what I should’ve done. I never wanted you to be alone.”

The silence that passes is louder than any yell you threw at each other. You both stood there, a step away from each other. The door was now open, but it's for you to go in, not him. 

“Is that an apology?” You whisper, he looks down from the ceiling and locks in on you.

“I’m sorry.” He grunts, a foreign word paired with his voice. But it isn’t forced, it’s laid out for you to take if you wanted it. Your heart pounds in your chest, you don’t take your eyes off him. He takes a deep breath and for the first time he looks as uncertain as he actually feels. The words force itself out of him once more, “I’m-“

He blinks and your lips find his. It’s half a second that he doesn't kiss back until he finds your waist and melts into you, eyes shutting. You’re rough, hands coming up his hair and tugging him deeper onto you.  Strangely he’s soft, allowing you to pull him in. His hands however are holding onto you like a lifeline. Feeling your body, from your face to your hips, like you’re anchoring him to the ground. 

His hand is on the back of your thigh and squeezing, it’s when you gasp as he lifts you when his tongue finds itself in your mouth. Your arms are around his neck when you part from each other. 

Sukuna's eyes are half lidded, gazing up at you. Your thumb grazes his cheek, tracing the ink on his face before coming back down to kiss him, you want him closer.

This kiss is different, slow like you’re tasting him. He walks into your apartment while you’re still on his lips. You don’t see the door shut but you hear it. He blindly navigates his way into your apartment like the back of his hand, the only light coming from the dim moonlight cast behind the thin curtains. 

 He’s on the edge of your bed when you open your eyes, your breaths mingle against each other. You tug at the bottom of his black shirt, palming the expanse of his hard abdomen underneath. You pull off his lips with a whine, “What is it, baby?” 

He holds your face, cheeks warm at the nickname. He takes you in when you inch closer, trying to close the distance, your lips puffy and bitten to a flushed red. 

Both your brains struggled to connect your thoughts and feelings at this moment. Every graze of his fingers, and squeeze is out of disbelief, making sure that the other is truly there. 

You peel your own shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your bra and pants. His throat bobs and  you feel him harden underneath your thighs. 

You haven’t said anything since you entered your home. Sukuna is searching your face, a little too close to scrutiny. Your brows pinch together, but still you reach for the back of your bra. 

Before you let it fall, his hand finds yours that’s keeping your strap from unclasping. He’s waiting for you to say something, trying to get a read on you. You’re doing the same when he pulls you closer, his lips landing on your cheek, your neck, and to the skin above your chest. He picks his head back up, his eyes hazy and dilated. 

The hand on your back tightens atop yours, silently urging you to make your discomforts known, if it’s there. He’s patient now but his restraint is hanging by a thread and you, the blade that cuts it clean. 

You let go, bringing his hand down from your back to let the piece of garment fall. The weight of his stare is heavy on you, looking down at your soft breasts, nipples stiff and pointed up from the cold. Sukuna stops a groan from escaping his throat.

His head dips, mouth finding your collar bone while his teeth grazes them before biting down. Your hands come up to hold his head, whining as he sucks and licks the spot to soothe. But still, he isn’t dipping down to pay attention to your breasts nor is he squeezing you on the spots you want. Its easy to tell when he’s holding back.

He lets go, a bruise forming above the wet spot of your chest. You’re biting your lip, hands planted on his thighs and you’re leaning forward to balance yourself. It’s getting harder to keep this shit gentle when you’re pressing your tits together for him.  

“I don’t,” He swallows hard, “I don’t wanna fuck you.” He says, the words are bitter in his mouth. Liar.

A smirk finds itself on your lips, nodding. You don’t push him. Sukuna watches as you lift yourself off his lap, now standing between his legs. His hands work on their own as they find a place on your bare waist, but he stops the urge to plant your ass back on him. 

A gentle thud signals your pants are now at your feet. He scans your body from down up, you feel his eyes on your calves to your thighs. “You don’t wanna touch me?” You poke, stepping out of the pool of fabric. 

A hiss comes out of him when squeezed his cock, straining underneath the uncomfortable denim of his jeans. You know he won’t beg you, or plead, but you made a compelling argument. 

“Well, I want you.” You continued, looking down when you’re suddenly aware of how you were in nothing but your thin pink underwear. Your hand finds the hem of  his shirt, tugging up like you did earlier. “Do you still want me?” The words are half part of the tease, what it could possibly mean lingers in the air. 

The way he peers at you isn’t primal, it’s many things you know he won’t be able to tell you. But the answer lands when he takes your hand, guiding you to lay on the bed gently. You land on the pillows, sprawled out while he finally sheds his shirt and jeans off. It’s your turn to gawk, the familiar sight of the thick black bands decorating his skin, still there. It’s still him.

It’s not long until his lips land on yours, hungry and exploring. He kisses down to the skin above your stomach, his tongue sticking out to lick up to your breasts. Your shudder, eyes fluttering shut when his lips latch onto your left nipple and sucking. He’s taking his time before finding the neglected one on the right. Heat builds in your stomach, the fabric of your panties clinging to your folds. 

His lips pop off your chest, nose dragging down to your navel, then landing on your underwear. You bite your lip while you’re looking down at him. He steals a glance at you, winking. “You’re an idiot,” The laugh that bubbles dies down into embarrassment when you hear him inhale sharply, taking in your sweet scent. 

The deep groan from his chest has your stomach doing flips. Almost immediately, the flimsy fabric of your panties are gone.

The first taste of your pussy has him feeling like he found water after days in the desert. Eyes rolling back underneath his lids, then he sucks on your clit — harsh like he’s trying to get something out of it. 

You yelp, your thighs attempt to close around his head but his grip is unyielding as the way he laps at your core hungrily.

It’s taking more effort to stop making so much noise, your own palms coming up to muffle your mewls. Sukuna notices almost immediately, but he doesn’t stop you, instead he takes it as a sign to press his face harder, head moving side to side. 

His eyes are wide, a crazed look in them, lips impossibly secured on your cunt. There’s a rough squeeze on your ass, tilting your hips upward to meet his need to go deeper, like devouring you whole isn’t enough. 

Sukuna leaves open mouthed kisses on your quivering nub, pulling off it before spitting square on the sensitive flesh. “Y’ gonna keep quiet all night?” 

He spreads the fluid on your cunt like butter on his meal, middle finger sinking in while his other hand rubs on your poor clit.  Your mouth parts, a shock makes its way through your body, feet twitching. “Ry-ryo, I’m-“

His eyes are glued to how your hole grips around his finger. “No one been fucking this pretty pussy in a while, huh?”

You shake your head, your stomach tightening with each speeding thrust of his thick finger. Your insecurities now forgotten, hands falling to tug on his pink locks. To pull him closer or farther from you, you aren’t sure.

More whimpers spill out of your throat when he adds another digit, fast and unwavering. “I-I can’t—“

He watched you with unbridled attention, mouth parting as you groped your own tits and rode his fingers. “You wanna cum?” He asks, breathless. 

The voice you let out is now high and whiney, “Yes, yes, yes—” on the verge of a sob.

The plea runs down like oil on his back, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers, soiled with pre. He goes back to licking up your little clit, lost in the sounds he could emit from you or your body. It’s when he curves his finger upwards, enough to brush the spongey part inside of you, hitting it over and over again, that your legs start to shake. Your hips grow erratic, whimpers spill from you like a damn bursting open. He lets you ride it out, brushing your hair and sweat out of your face as he slows his fingers, your warm body quivering underneath him.

He sits back, watching you heave, legs spread open. You hum, legs shutting before falling to one side, your gaping cunt clenching at nothing, presenting itself to him. A sigh leaves you, “Thanks,” It makes him chuckle, followed by your own. The atmosphere is light for a moment, both of you catching your breaths when you hear clicking at the edge of the bed.

Sukuna’s sitting up on his knees, his presence abundant and just big, you think to yourself when you fix your sights on his cock. Finally free from the confines of his gray boxer shorts, an angry red tip leaking as he jerks his shaft. You realize you’re gawking and your gaze lifts to his.

“Polite as always.” He replied as if he wasn’t jerking his cock in front of you, to you. He’s using the hand he used to play with you earlier, your juices spread on his cock like a personal lubricant.  

There’s a tug on your ankle, you’re pulled away from the comfort of your pillows and now close enough that the smooth skin of your ass brushes against his balls. The same hand leads your legs to fold sideways. He hovers above you like a weighted blanket, his lips finding your jaw, then your lips.

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled against you, tip already lining up at the entrance of your drooling pussy. “I’m not as nice.” 

You both gasp in each other’s open mouths when he finally sinks in, slowly pushing, inch by inch. His head falls against yours as he holds himself back from bottoming out too fast.  

“Oh fuck”  

One of you cursed, but you weren’t sure who it came out of. The contents of your head now reduced to something lesser than mush. Unable to comprehend anything beyond sensations. Finally, he bottoms out fully, frothy ring of white developing at the base of his cock with each shallow thrust. 

Then he pulls out halfway, before pushing back in all the way. Your breath is caught in your throat, nails digging into his forearms holding your thighs. Slow and deep. Pulling back before plunging himself back to your aching heat. 

Again and again.

The pounding resounds in the walls of your apartment, heavy and accompanied by his throaty grunts and your uncontrolled whimpers. He kisses you, tender. A stark difference to the obscene arrangement he’s fucking you in. His balls are hitting your thighs repeatedly, forearm supporting under them and keeping you folded sideways. Every breath that leaves him grazes your skin, directly groaning into your ear.

The room disappears in and out from your vision with each roll of your eyes, each thrust compressing you closer between the sheets and his chest. Each push feels like he’s driving you to the edge, no, insanity. 

Because that’s exactly what this is. Seeing your ex on a whim, confronting him drunk, making him plead for forgiveness. 

Now he’s flipping you on your back, asking if he could show you how he could fuck inside deeper, and you’re digging your nails into his arms when your knees touch your shoulders.

Yeah, insanity.

A sob eagerly pushes its way out of your throat when he bottoms out in the new angle, the headboard bumping against the wall with the force of his hips. He’s on his knees, thrusting into you with his arms hooked under your legs, palms on the meat of your ass to bring your hips in to fuck on his cock.

Each loud cry prompts him to go even faster, testing how much more you could take, how much more noise he could get out of you.

Noises jolt out of you with each time the blunt head of his cock drives deeper, “H-harder.” 

His heart is pounding twice a second but he doesn’t falter, picking up his pace when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking gone.”

“I want more, Ryo—” 

“don’t-This is more.” Sukuna’s hips stutter, iron grip squeezing your flesh at the request. His tone is concerned, yet strained. Holding back on something you both want. He thumbs your clit, eliciting a cry out of you. But it’s not enough, it doesn’t feel enough. You need to be impossibly closer.

You’re shaking your head, stomach clenched as the heat builds up inside of you, but you don’t want it like this — Sukuna’s thumb rubbing hastily on your sensitive nub. Your desperation grows palpable, hips meeting his after each thrust, thirst still unquenched. 

He lets out a frustrated groan that you can only describe as guttural, resolve unravelling as he watches your tits bounce as you eagerly try and take more in. “I’m gonna- I don’t wanna hurt you.” He pants, leaning forward, your legs bending a little more towards you.

“No.” You choke out, “Don’t hold back-” There’s now a hold under your thighs, keeping you from moving out of your position. Your hands are clutching his thick biceps fervently, pulling him down to put his weight on you. Folding yourself in half for him, his hips slowing, thrusts turning deep and languid. “Don’t hold back on me, please.” You gasp out, an earnest request, voice teetering off aroused and closer to pleading.  

The air shifts and it’s easy to point when the rest of his resolve releases from the tension in his body.

“Okay, okay baby. Shit.” Throat bobbing before reaching out for you, “C’mere,“ He brings your face to him by the back of your head, lips sloppily meeting each other, tongue prodding past your warm, parted mouth. You’re barely able to kiss back, mewling against him when he pulls back slowly, before bottoming out all the way to your stomach. 

It’s not long until he’s picking up the pace, repeating the motion in a fast, unwavering tempo. He’s growing more vocal by the second, and you’re deduced to nothing but a mushy, crying, wet mess underneath him. 

“I thought you wanted more?” You don’t—can’t reply, something between whimpers and wet chokes only leave your parted mouth. “I gave you more, now you can’t even thank me?” The sound of his deep chuckle that follows after, reaches all the way to your pussy, getting wetter and wetter around him with each mean tease he sends your way.

Your legs are numb now, the only sensation left is the one building up in your core. The pads of his thumb brush away the stray tears running down the side, you’re biting your lip and pulling him in closer by the arms slung around his neck. “Th-thank you, Ryo.” It comes out as half gasp and a mewl, your breathing uneven and failing to regulate yourself at the stimulation from within. “So good, ’s really—more”

There’s nothing but a deep, guttural noise that returns to you. He feels your thighs struggle to hold yourself with his weight on you, holding himself above you, carrying your hips and letting your legs slacken against your side.

“You’re shaking so much.” Your muscles lessen in tension, heart tugging at the consideration.

 But you tuck that nervous, unstable part of you away, not ready to confront these feelings fully. You’re unable to look at him, head falling at the side. His lips fall on your cheek, wetly dragging them across till they’re hovering over your ear,

“Keep acting this nice I might do anything you want me to.” 

“Sh-shut up,” You mouth off, tightly shutting your eyes so as to not meet his taunting crimson ones. He can’t help the grin that tugs on his face, watching you get bashful over him mocking you. He remembers how easy it is to get to you, a trait typically bothersome for others, on you it’s wholly endearing. Despite your words though, you’re clenching around him, pulsing, wetter, and wetter still. 

He continues to press on, hips slowing down to start driving into you deeper, a dull ache hitting your cervix. “You missed this,” He bends down, closer against your face, smushing you who’s still turned away, pressing against the mattress.  Like he’s trying to merge your bodies together. “Admit it, you fucking missed this.” Continuing on his pace, grunting when you clamp down on him, “I can fucking feel you— Say you missed me, c’mon.” 

“I-I’m, Oh my,” The words float around your head, unable to connect as a full sentence when he speeds up.  You struggle, trying to keep up with both chasing your orgasm and his foolish requests. “Imissedyou, oh shit, I’m so close.“ You’re reaching down with your fingers, aiming for your swollen clit when a much larger, iron clad grip, sticks your hand to the bed. You feel like crying.

“What d’you say? A little clearer for me.” He pushes, unsatisfied with your answer. 

“Fuck you!” Your free arm lands on his leg, quads flexing as they’re put to work. Your nails claw into them, the flesh of his hard thigh burning with reddened marks. 

Still, he doesn’t let up, “I don’t think you want me to.”  He takes carrying your weight for his own advantage, dragging you body down on his shaft, up and down like he’s using you to jerk himself off.   

Amidst hot, bursting sensations within, the constant hesitation you seem to bring into everything peeks through. 

The words play in your head, and you waver. Your guard coming up, “I-I miss your cock then—fuck!” The curse spills out after a hand comes down on your puffy cunt, your nerves triggering small shocks all the way to your toes.  He’s really  pushing it out of you. A notch grows between his brows.

You feel so much all at once. Your physical feelings and emotional sentiments  clash with one another, making you unable to decipher what you want quickly — your emotions are unpacking at the most inconvenient of times. 

A taunt now left  feeling a lot more like a weighted decision. 

You look for an answer in his stare, he’s already focused on you and maybe equally nervous, reaching to see if you’ll meet him halfway.

Tears prick your eyes at the intensity of it all.

You reach for his face, and it feels like coming back to earth. “I miss you—I-I missed you.”  And he’s toppling over, your gravity pulling him in.

He lets out a breath, “F-fuck, I know,” It comes out closer to a snivel than a whisper, tucking himself in your neck and breathing in you scent. It’s grounding enough that he lets out a groan. “I missed you too.” 

His hips grow erratic, member throbbing in your walls, pre-cum mixing with the mess of your sopping cunt. He can’t last. The shame that comes with the fact doesn’t reach him though as he’s lost in the persistence of feeling you cum around his cock, rolling his hips, pink tufts on his pelvis rubbing against your mound. 

The knot in your core tightens even more, back arching off your bedsheets as his engorged tip rams upwards, grazing your cervix repeatedly. Your orgasm crests over like a thousand shocks, toes curling and twitching as you ride it out. He’s pulling out after, leaving your hole gaping, and hastily pumping up and down on his cock, drenched in your fluids. 

Curses spill out of him, watching your chest heave in the dim light, never averting his gaze before he shoots white spurts of his cum all over your stomach with a breathy moan.

Your vision comes and goes afterwards, hardly able to keep your eyes open. One moment he’s wiping on you with his soiled shirt, the next he’s pulling your covers over you and placing his arm around your waist.

Before sleep comes over your consciousness, a peck lands on the side of your head, soft and lingering. He mumbles something to you, you don’t catch it. The world around you already turning black, head quiet.

***

The sun peaks through the blinds, a warm glow casts on your naked back. Sukuna observes, fingers brushing against the yellow and purple blooming on the skin of your waist. There’s a faint buzzing that interrupts his quiet morning, continuous and irritating. He reaches over to your bedside table, careful to not dip your side of the bed too much.

“I knew you weren’t gonna call me last night! I was getting worried he’d drive you off the highway or something.” Before the voice could continue, there’s already another distant, feminine one, muffled and saying something along the lines of ‘Is that her’ or ‘Did you tell her?’

“Yeah! ‘m about to ask!” Sukuna’s face pinched at the clear yell, pulling the phone away from his ear.

 It’s early as fuck. 

There's a noise on his end, dishes clanking and clothes shuffling. “Since you're done ghosting us, I wanted to check if you were free next week? I promise, I won’t force you in a car with Sukuna’s grump ass agai—“

“Yeah, we’ll see if we can go.” Before Suguru could say anything, the grump hangs up with a furrowed brow, sliding your phone back on top of your drawers. 

He sat back on your headboard, contemplating the unfamiliar, light feeling fluctuating in his chest. He finds the culprit, stirring in her sleep, arm reaching out slowly for the warmth that left behind her. 

You peel your eyes open. taking in the morning light, blinking. Your hair falls down to your side when you turn, shamelessly gawking when you first take in his bare chest and only then do you peer back at his focused stare.

You tuck a hand underneath your head, challenging his focus.“What?” your voice comes out laced with traces of sleep.

“Geto’s asking if we’re free next week.” There’s a comfortable silence between you two, one that soothes over the warmth in the air. You’re first to blink, a smirk pulls on your lips at the sight of a grin on his.

“Only if you take me there.”

You lay tangled in the sheets with him, skin still warm, breaths slowing. His normal form was pressed against your side—two arms, one face, the black tattoos across his chest and shoulders stark against the pale sheets. One of his hands rested heavy on your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles that weren’t quite absentminded. The other arm was tucked under his head, red eyes half-lidded as he stared at the ceiling.

Neither of you spoke for a long minute. That was how it usually went after. The quiet always felt heavier than the rest of it.

Sukuna shifted first, voice low and rough like he’d just woken up from a nap instead of everything that came before. “You’re still here.”

You turned your head to look at him. “Yeah. Didn’t feel like leaving yet.”

He snorted, the sound almost amused. “Most people would’ve been gone by now. Smart ones, anyway.”

“I’m not most people, you of all people should know that.” you said, keeping your tone light even though your chest felt tight. You weren’t supposed to be here at all. Not like this. Cupids didn’t stay. Cupids didn’t get involved. Your father Eros had drilled that into you since you were old enough to understand what your arrows actually did—travel between universes, nudge souls together, spark what was meant to be. Never for yourself. Never permanently, at least.

But Sukuna had been different from the moment you’d crossed into this universe a few months back. You’d come to fix something small, a side character that refused to accept their true match, according to the storybook of legends. Gecko? No... Geta..? Whatever. The guy with the weird bangs. Instead you’d run into Sukuna in the library archives, arguing with some poor librarian about cursed texts. One conversation turned into another, turned into stolen moments in empty classrooms, turned into this—secret, messy, impossible.

He rolled onto his side, facing you fully now. The movement made the sheets slip lower on his waist. “You say that every time. Then you disappear for a week to go play matchmaker in some other fairy-tale hellhole.”

“It’s my job,” you reminded him, though the words felt flatter than usual. “I don’t get to pick where the threads pull me.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, that familiar flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Threads. Destiny. Bullshit. You act like you’re above it all until you’re under me.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you didn’t look away. “Careful. Someone might hear you being almost poetic.”

He barked a short laugh, the sound genuine enough to loosen something in your ribs. “Don’t push it. I’ll grow the extra arms just to strangle you with them.”

“You wouldn’t,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “You like having me around too much.”

There it was—the tension again, the one that wasn’t just physical. It hung between you like smoke. Sukuna didn’t do feelings. Not openly. He was the son of Beauty and the Beast in this twisted Ever After retelling, cursed with a beast form that most students avoided like the plague. Four arms, two faces, that monstrous beauty that made people whisper “villain” even when he walked the halls in his more human shape. He played into it sometimes, just to watch them scatter. But with you he didn’t have to.

You reached out, brushing a strand of pink hair from his forehead. Your fingers lingered. “How long do we have before someone comes looking for you?”

“Long enough.” He caught your wrist, not hard, but firm. His grip was warm. “Gojo’s probably still in the training fields showing off. Geto’s with him, pretending he’s not bored. They won’t come knocking unless they need me to break something.”

You hummed, letting him hold your wrist. “They know about us?”

Sukuna’s mouth twitched. “They suspect. Gojo keeps making jokes about ‘the cupid who finally got shot by her own arrow.’ Annoying bastard keeps bugging me about 'following my destiny'.”

That pulled a real laugh from you, quiet and breathless. “He’s not wrong, technically.”

The humor faded fast. Sukuna’s expression shifted, something darker sliding in. “You’re not supposed to fall in love, right? That’s what you told me the first time.”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“And yet here you are.” His voice dropped lower. “In my bed. Again.”

The words landed like stones in still water. You pulled your wrist free gently, sitting up against the headboard. The sheets pooled around your waist. “It’s complicated.”

“No shit.” He stayed lying down, watching you with those sharp eyes. One of his hands came up to rest on your knee. “You think I don’t notice the way you look at the door every time we finish? Like you’re waiting for the universe to yank you out.”

You didn’t answer right away. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. Outside, you could hear faint voices from the quad—students heading to afternoon classes, laughter echoing off the stone walls. Someone was practicing spells nearby; a burst of pink sparks lit up the gap in the curtains for a second.

“I don’t want to leave,” you said finally. Honest, at least. “But I have to. There are people out there whose stories I’m supposed to fix. Matches that won’t happen without me.”

Sukuna sat up then, the movement fluid, almost predatory even in his normal form. He leaned in close, forehead nearly touching yours. “And what about my story? Or yours? You ever think maybe you’re fucking with the wrong one by staying here?”

Your heart stuttered. “Sukuna...”

“Don’t.” He cut you off, but there was no real bite. Just tiredness. “I’m not asking you to stay forever. I’m not that stupid. But don’t pretend this is nothing.”

The silence stretched again. You could feel the pull already—the faint itch at the back of your mind that meant another universe was calling. A couple in distress somewhere, hearts out of sync. You pushed it down, hard.

He noticed. Of course he did. “There it is. That look.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Sukuna exhaled through his nose, then surprised you by pulling you back down with him. Not for more, just to hold. Two arms wrapped around you, solid and warm. “Shut up. Don’t apologize. Makes it worse.”

You buried your face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was strong, a little too fast still. “You’re an asshole for making this hard.”

“Yeah, well. Comes with the territory.” His voice rumbled under your ear. “Beast blood and all that.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Your mom would be disappointed if she knew you were sleeping with a traveling cupid instead of finding some proper Ever After princess.”

“My mother can choke on her own rose petals,” he muttered. “She’s the one who passed down the curse. Least I can do is enjoy the parts that aren’t fur and claws.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “You know I like both forms.”

His eyes softened, just a fraction. “Don’t get sappy on me now.”

“I’m not.” But you were, a little. The humor was your shield, the same way his sarcasm was his. “Though if you shift right now I might have to rethink that. Four arms take up a lot of bed space.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and real. “Tempting. I could pin you down properly.”

“Later,” you said, and meant it. For now, this was enough—the quiet, the shared warmth, the fragile bubble you’d built in secret.

But the bubble always popped.

A knock sounded on the door, sharp and insistent. Both of you froze.

“Sukuna! You in there, man?” Gojo’s voice, bright and way too loud for the hallway. “We’ve got that group project thing with the destiny scrolls. Geto’s already complaining about carrying your dead weight.”

Sukuna cursed under his breath. “Fuck off, Gojo.”

“Aww, is that any way to talk to your favorite blindfolded menace?” Gojo laughed from the other side. “Come on, I can sense two heartbeats in there.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Sukuna’s face was a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. He called back, “Give me ten minutes.”

“Five!” Gojo sing-songed. “And tell your mysterious guest I said hi. Cupid’s arrow finally hit the cursed beast, huh?”

The footsteps retreated, but not before you heard Geto’s quieter voice muttering something about “privacy wards next time.”

Sukuna dropped his head back against the pillow, groaning. “I’m going to kill them both.”

“You won’t,” you said, already sliding out of the bed and reaching for your clothes. The air felt cooler without him against you. “They’re your friends. Sort of.”

“Annoyances,” he corrected, but there was no heat. He watched you dress, eyes tracking every movement. “You coming to the quad later?”

“Maybe.” You paused at the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss him once—quick, soft. “Depends if the universe yanks me away first.”

His hand caught the back of your neck before you could pull away fully. The kiss deepened for a second, enough to make your pulse jump. When he let go, his voice was quieter. “Don’t disappear without saying something this time.”

“I won’t.”

You slipped out the door a minute later, heart still racing. The hallway of the dorm was empty now, afternoon light slanting through narrow windows. Portraits of old legends watched you pass—Snow White, Cinderella, all the classics mixed with newer faces. Your steps echoed softly on the stone floor.

Outside, the campus buzzed with life. Students in varied outfits hurried between buildings—some in full royal regalia, others in casual jeans and hoodies that somehow still screamed “destined for greatness.” You spotted a group of fairies practicing flight maneuvers over the fountain. A wolf-boy from one of the darker tales was arguing with a princess near the library steps.

You leaned against a pillar, trying to steady yourself. The pull was stronger now, a gentle tug behind your ribs. Another universe, another pair that needed your help. But your mind kept drifting back to Sukuna’s room, to the way his arms had felt around you, to the rare softness in his red eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Cupids didn’t fall. They didn’t stay. They didn’t build secrets in college dorms with boys who could turn into beasts at will.

And yet.

You touched your lips, still warm from his. A small, tired smile crossed your face.

The quad filled with more noise as classes let out. You straightened up, smoothing your clothes. Sukuna would be out soon, probably dragging Gojo and Geto into some half-assed argument about destiny versus free will. You could already picture it—the three of them taking up too much space on a bench, Sukuna scowling while Gojo laughed too loud and Geto mediated with that calm smile that hid everything.

You weren’t sure if you’d join them. Not today. The job called.

But you’d be back. You always came back.

For now, you walked toward the edge of campus, where the veil between universes thinned just enough for someone like you to slip through. The air shimmered faintly as you approached, like heat off pavement. One last glance over your shoulder at the west tower, where Sukuna’s window was still dark behind the curtains.

Your chest ached with something you didn’t have a name for.

Love wasn’t meant for you.

But it was too late to pretend otherwise.

The night air was cool against your skin as you slipped back through the veil, the shimmer fading behind you like it had never been there. Your duties had taken longer than expected—two universes, three quick fixes. A hesitant knight and a stubborn baker in one, a pair of rival heirs in another who kept missing each other’s signals. You’d done what you were meant to do: nudged the threads, sparked the right feelings, watched the first real smiles break across their faces. It should have felt satisfying. It usually did.

Instead, your chest felt heavy the whole time, like something was lodged there that wouldn’t move.

Ever After High’s college campus was quieter now, most students already back in their dorms or out at the late-night study spots near the enchanted fountains. The stone paths glowed faintly under moonlight, the old towers casting long shadows across the quad. You made your way straight to the west tower, feet moving on instinct. No one stopped you. No one even noticed. That was the advantage of being an outsider here.

Sukuna’s door was unlocked, like he’d been waiting. You pushed it open without knocking.

He was in his normal form, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The room smelled the same—wood and incense and him. A single lamp cast warm light across the walls, leaving most of the corners dark. When he heard the door, his head lifted. Red eyes met yours, and something in his shoulders eased, just a fraction.

“You came back,” he said. No greeting, no question. Just fact.

“Yeah.” You closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a second. The wood was solid under your palms. “Took longer than I thought. But I’m here.”

He nodded once, then patted the space beside him. You crossed the room and sat, close enough that your thigh pressed against his. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t light either. After the day you’d had, it felt necessary.

Sukuna spoke first, voice low. “How were the love fixes?”

“Fine.” You shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “People got what they needed. Matches clicked. The usual.”

He watched you for a beat. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am,” you said quickly. Then softer, “I think. It’s just… every time I do it, I come back here and it feels different. Like I’m cheating the rules.”

His hand found yours, fingers threading together without asking. His grip was warm, calloused from whatever training or fighting he did when you weren’t around. “Rules are for people who care about them.”

You let out a small breath, almost a laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re supposed to be the beast who gets tamed by beauty. I’m not even from this story. I’m not supposed to… claim anything for myself.”

The word hung there. Claim. Love. You weren’t meant to keep any of it. Cupids traveled, influenced, left. Falling in love was like stealing from the people you were supposed to help. Selfish. Dangerous.

Sukuna squeezed your hand once. “Too late for that.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

He shifted closer, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you against his side. The contact helped, a little. His body was solid, steady in a way the universes you visited never were. “Stay tonight,” he said. Not a demand. Closer to a request, which was rare for him.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The tension from the day started to bleed out, replaced by something warmer. For a while, neither of you moved. Just breathing together in the quiet room, the faint sounds of the campus filtering in—distant laughter from another dorm, the soft hoot of an owl outside the window.

Eventually Sukuna spoke again, his voice rougher this time. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You lifted your head, searching his face. His expression was serious, the kind that usually meant he was about to say something that would shift everything. “What is it?”

He looked away for a second, jaw tight, then back at you. “Legacy Day is coming up. The whole ceremony with the Storybook of Legends. Headmaster Grimm’s going to make everyone sign their destinies like good little puppets.”

You knew about Legacy Day. It was one of the biggest events at Ever After High, even in the college wing. Students stood up, declared their roles, signed the book that bound them to their parents’ stories. Follow your destiny or… well, the rumors were clear. Disappear. Fade out like you never existed in this world.

Sukuna continued, eyes hardening. “I’m not signing it.”

The words hit you like cold water. You sat up straighter, pulling back just enough to see him fully. “What?”

“I’m not doing it,” he repeated, slower, like he wanted you to hear every syllable. “I won’t accept Yorozu as my ‘beauty.’ Or anyone else they try to shove at me. I’m not playing the beast who gets saved by some perfect princess and lives happily ever after in a cage.”

Your heart started pounding, fast and uneven. Panic crept in, sharp and immediate. “Sukuna, you can’t. If you don’t follow your destiny—”

“I know what Grimm says,” he cut in, voice flat. “Sign or disappear. Poof. Gone from the story. But I’m not letting some dusty book decide what I am. I’ve got the curse already—two forms, four arms when I want them, the whole monstrous package. I’m not adding chains on top of it.”

You stood up without thinking, pacing a few steps across the small room. The floorboards creaked under your feet. “This isn’t just some choice. People have tried before. Rebels. They talk about it in whispers—the ones who refused and then… stopped being here. One day they’re walking the halls, the next they’re not. Like the world forgets them.”

He watched you pace, calm in a way that made your panic worse. “I’m not most people.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Your voice rose, then dropped again when you remembered the thin walls. You turned back to him, hands clenched at your sides. “I’ve seen how these stories work. If you don’t sign, you could vanish. Completely. And I… I don’t know if I could follow you wherever that goes. I travel universes, but this place has rules. Tight ones. If you disappear from here, you might not go anywhere else for me to find again.”

The fear was real now, sitting heavy in your stomach. You’d spent the evening granting love to strangers, making sure their stories played out right. The idea of Sukuna’s story ending because he refused to bend—it made everything feel fragile. Like the ground under your feet could crack open any second.

Sukuna got up too, crossing the space between you in two strides. He caught your arms gently, stopping the pacing. His touch was careful, thumbs brushing your skin. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did, meeting those red eyes that always saw too much. There was no fear in them. Just stubborn resolve mixed with something softer when he looked at you.

“I’m telling you this because I want you to know where I stand,” he said quietly. “Not because I want you to freak out. I’m not signing for Yorozu or anyone. My story isn’t theirs to write. And if that means I risk disappearing… then fuck it. Better than living trapped in someone else’s ending.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and unexpected. You blinked them back hard. “You idiot. You absolute asshole. Do you even get what that means? I come back here every time because of you. Because this stupid secret thing we have feels more real than anything I’ve ever fixed in other worlds. If you disappear, what am I supposed to do? Keep traveling like nothing happened? Pretend I didn’t break my own rules for someone who chose to vanish?”

His expression softened, just a little. One hand moved up to cup the side of your face, thumb wiping at the moisture gathering under your eye. “You’re not supposed to fall in love. Remember? That’s what you keep saying. But you did anyway. Same as me.”

The words made your chest ache worse. You leaned into his touch without meaning to. “That’s the problem. I did. And now I’m terrified because I can’t fix this one. I can’t nudge destiny here. Not when it’s yours.”

Sukuna pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you. You let him, burying your face against his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your cheek, strong like always. The scent of him filled your nose—familiar, grounding.

“I’m not disappearing tonight,” he murmured against your hair. “And I’m not signing tomorrow or the next day. We’ve got time before Legacy Day. Maybe I’ll figure something out. Or maybe the book can go to hell.”

You laughed once, shaky and wet. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not.” His voice rumbled through you. “But I’m not letting them decide for me. Not when I’ve got this.” He squeezed you tighter for emphasis. “Whatever this is between us. It’s mine. Not the story’s.”

The panic didn’t leave completely. It sat there, coiled tight in your ribs, waiting. But being held like this helped push it back, even if just for now. You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding on like he might slip away if you let go.

After a minute, you spoke into his shirt, voice muffled. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid before we talk about it more.”

“No promises,” he said, but there was a hint of humor in it. The kind that told you he was trying to lighten the weight. “But I if i decide otherwise... I won’t sign without telling you first. That’s the best I’ve got.”

You nodded against him. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

He guided you both back toward the bed, sitting down and pulling you with him until you were curled against his side again. The lamp light made everything feel smaller, more intimate. The outside world—the campus, the legacies, the threats of disappearing—felt farther away.

“You’re shaking,” he noted quietly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“Am not,” you muttered, even though you were, a little.

Sukuna huffed, almost a laugh. “Liar.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. His face was close, the tattoos on his skin dark in the low light. There was no beast form tonight—just him, the version most people never got to see without the extra arms or the second face. The monstrous beauty was there underneath, but right now it was quiet.

“I hate that I can’t protect you from this,” you whispered.

“You don’t need to.” His forehead rested against yours. “I’m the one with the curse, remember? I can handle a little disappearing act if it comes to that.”

“Don’t joke about it.”

“Not joking.” But his tone gentled. “Just… stay here tonight. Don’t think about the other universes or the book or any of it. Just this.”

You closed your eyes, letting the words settle. The tension was still there, thick in the air between heartbeats, but so was the warmth of him next to you. The quiet intimacy of the room, the way his breathing matched yours after a while.

Outside, the other children of fairy tales slept under the moon. Inside, you held onto each other in the secret space you’d carved out, knowing the clock was ticking toward Legacy Day. Knowing one of you might have to break rules that had stood for generations.

You weren’t supposed to claim love for yourself.

But lying there with Sukuna’s arm around you, his quiet presence chasing away the worst of the panic, you couldn’t imagine giving it back.

The night stretched on, slow and heavy with everything unsaid. You didn’t sleep much. Neither did he. But you stayed, tangled together, breathing the same air.

For now, that was enough to fight the fear.

The days after that conversation blurred together in a haze of quiet tension. You stayed with Sukuna that night, bodies close but minds elsewhere, the weight of Legacy Day pressing down like an invisible hand. His refusal to sign sat between you every time you looked at him. He didn’t push, didn’t demand answers. He just held you tighter when the silence grew too loud, his body warm and steady against yours.

But the fear kept building. You loved him so much it hurt to breathe sometimes. The thought of him vanishing—gone from this world, erased like a name scratched out of a book—twisted something deep inside you. You couldn’t fix it with an arrow. You couldn’t nudge destiny the way you did for strangers. So the next morning, before the campus woke fully, you slipped out of his dorm while he was still asleep. You left a short note on the pillow: “I need some time. I’ll come back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Then you stepped through the veil.

The first place you landed was loud and colorful, full of teenagers who looked like they’d walked out of horror movies but acted like regular high school kids. Monster High, they called it. The school sat in a town called New Salem, where monsters of every kind went to class together. You wandered the halls for a couple of days, invisible to most unless you wanted to be seen. Frankie Stein was in the middle of a science project gone wrong, bolts sparking as she laughed with her friends. Draculaura was planning some big party, her pink and black outfits bright against the lockers. Clawdeen argued with Lagoona about fashion choices near the coffin-shaped vending machines.

You watched a ghoul and a normie awkwardly flirt near the creepateria, their nervousness obvious. With a small flick of your power, you helped the thread along—just enough so their eyes met a little longer, a smile lingered. It worked. They started talking easier. But the satisfaction you usually felt was muted. Every match you sparked reminded you of Sukuna’s red eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw when he said he wouldn’t accept anyone else as his beauty.

You didn’t stay long. The energy there was chaotic and fun, but it made the ache sharper.

Next came a brighter, sunnier world. Malibu, with its big pink Dreamhouse overlooking the beach. Barbie and her sisters were in the middle of some weekend adventure—planning a road trip or filming a vlog, you weren’t sure. The house was huge and perfect, full of laughter and easy conversations. Ken showed up with a surfboard, grinning as he and Barbie talked about nothing important. Their friends gathered in the living room, music playing, everyone moving like life was one long, lighthearted day.

You sat on the edge of the scene for an afternoon, helping a quiet side character who kept missing signals from someone she liked. A gentle push, a shared joke at the right moment, and things clicked. They laughed together by the pool. It should have felt good. Instead you kept thinking about Sukuna’s bed back in the west tower, the way his voice dropped when he told you he wouldn’t sign. How he’d risk disappearing rather than be paired with Yorozu or anyone the story tried to force on him.

The love you felt for him sat heavy in your chest the whole time. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Cupids granted love. They didn’t hoard it.

After a few more quick stops in random places—quiet villages with budding romances, bustling cities where two strangers kept almost meeting—you couldn’t keep running. The pull to talk to someone who understood became too strong. You found a quiet pocket between universes, a neutral space that felt like soft clouds and endless warm light. Your father was already there, waiting like he knew you’d come.

Eros looked the same as always. Tall, with that effortless grace, wings folded neatly behind him. His expression was calm, a little knowing, the golden bow he carried slung over one shoulder. He didn’t wear the dramatic robes some stories gave him—just simple clothes that made him look more like a concerned parent than the god of desire.

“You’ve been busy,” he said as you approached. His voice was gentle, no judgment in it. “Jumping around more than usual.”

You sat on the edge of what felt like a marble bench that wasn’t really there. The space around you shimmered faintly. “I needed to clear my head.”

Eros settled beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “Because of the boy in that fairy-tale college.”

It wasn’t a question. You nodded anyway, staring at your hands. “Sukuna. He’s… he’s the son of Beauty and the Beast there. He has this curse—two forms, one more monstrous than the other. And he’s refusing to follow the destiny they want for him. He won’t sign the Storybook of Legends. He says he won’t accept the ‘beauty’ they’re trying to pair him with. Not Yorozu, not anyone.”

Your voice caught a little. “If he doesn’t sign, he might disappear. Just… gone. Like the world forgets he was ever part of it. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I love him, Dad. So much that it scares me. I’m not supposed to do that. I’m supposed to help other people find it, not keep it for myself.”

Eros was quiet for a moment, watching the shifting lights around you. When he spoke, his tone was even, warm in a way that eased some of the knot in your stomach. “Being a cupid was never meant to be a curse, you know. I never wanted that for you.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “But the rules—travel, influence, don’t fall yourself. You taught me that since I was small.”

“I taught you caution,” he corrected softly. “Because the work can swallow you if you’re not careful. But love isn’t something we hand out and then deny ourselves forever. I fell in love once, remember? With Psyche. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t part of any plan. But it was real. And it gave us you.”

He reached over and took your hand, squeezing once. “You’re allowed to love, kid. You’re allowed to want something for yourself. I see how heavy it’s been on you lately—jumping universes like you’re running from it. That’s not what this life is for.”

Tears stung your eyes again. You didn’t bother hiding them this time. “But what if I choose him and he disappears? What if my staying makes it worse? He’s willing to risk everything because he doesn’t want anyone but me. He told me that. And it terrifies me becuase I feel the same. I don’t want him with anyone else either.”

Eros smiled, small and genuine. “Then that’s a good sign. Not many would choose to disappear rather than settle for a story that doesn’t fit. He sounds like someone who knows his own heart. I’m glad you found him. Someone willing to fight the script for you—that’s rare, even across universes.”

The words settled over you, warm and unexpected. You let out a shaky breath, the panic easing just enough to breathe properly. “I left him a note. Told him I’d come back. But I’ve been gone a few days now. What if Legacy Day is closer than I think? What if he does something before I get there?”

“Then go back,” Eros said simply. “Talk to him. Be honest about what you feel. The universes will keep turning. There will always be people who need a nudge toward love. But you don’t have to give up your own to do that work.”

You sat with that for a while, the quiet space around you feeling less heavy. The conversation didn’t solve everything—the fear was still there, coiled tight—but it loosened the guilt that had been choking you. Loving Sukuna wasn’t stealing from others. It wasn’t breaking some unbreakable law. It was just… yours.

“I miss him,” you admitted quietly. “Even when I’m fixing matches somewhere else, my mind keeps going back to his dorm room. The way he looks at me when no one else is around. The way he shifts forms sometimes just to hold me with all four arms because he knows I don’t mind the beast side.”

Eros chuckled, the sound light. “Sounds like he’s got it bad too. Good. Means it’s balanced.”

You managed a small laugh through the leftover tears. “He’s an asshole sometimes. Stubborn. Says the most blunt things like they’re nothing. But when it’s just us… it feels right. Even with the secrets and the whole college full of lengends watching.”

Your father stood then, offering you a hand up. “Go back when you’re ready. Tell him how you feel. And if the story tries to take him away, fight for what you’ve built. You’re my daughter. You’ve got more power in your heart than most realize.”

The words stayed with you as you hugged him goodbye, the embrace brief but solid. When you stepped away, the veil opened again, pulling you toward the familiar stone towers of Ever After High.

You didn’t go straight to his dorm this time. You wandered the campus first as evening fell, letting the night air cool your face. The quad was quieter, a few students studying under glowing lanterns. The west tower loomed ahead, windows lit in some rooms. Yours—his—had a faint light behind the curtains.

Your heart beat faster the closer you got. The love you felt for him hadn’t faded while you were gone. If anything, it had grown sharper, clearer. You weren’t supposed to claim it for yourself, but you had. And hearing your father say it was okay made the choice feel less like a mistake and more like something worth risking for.

You climbed the stairs to his floor, footsteps echoing softly. The door to his room was closed, but you could sense him inside. No extra presences. Just Sukuna.

You knocked once, light but clear.

The door opened almost immediately. He stood there in his normal form, tattoos dark against his skin, red eyes widening slightly when he saw you. Relief flashed across his face, followed quickly by that familiar guarded look.

“You’re back,” he said, voice rough like he hadn’t used it much while you were gone.

“Yeah.” You stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. The room smelled like him, the sheets still rumpled from the last time. “I’m sorry I left like that. I needed to think. To talk to someone.”

He closed the door, leaning against it as he watched you. “And?”

You turned to face him fully, the tension from the past days rushing back but mixed now with something steadier. “I love you. A lot. More than I thought I was allowed to. I went to other places—Monster High with all its monsters trying to fit in, that bright Barbie world full of easy adventures—and every time I helped someone else find their match, I kept wishing it was us. That we could have something without the fear of you disappearing.”

Sukuna pushed off the door and crossed to you, stopping close enough that you could feel the warmth from his body. One hand came up to brush your arm. “I didn’t sign anything while you were gone. Didn’t even go near the damn book.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you said, voice softer. “But the thought of losing you… it made me run. I talked to my father. Eros. He told me being a cupid isn’t supposed to be a curse. That I’m allowed to love. And he’s glad I found someone willing to disappear rather than be with anyone but me.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, the hardness in them cracking a little. “He said that?”

You nodded. “Yeah. So I’m not running anymore. Not from this. If you’re going to risk everything by refusing the story, then I’m in it with you. However long we have.”

He pulled you against him then, both arms wrapping around you tight. His chin rested on top of your head for a moment, breath steady. “Good. Because I’m not changing my mind. No Yorozu. No forced beauty. Just this. You.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the earlier angst easing into something warmer, laced with the same quiet humor you both clung to. You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. “You’re still an idiot for making me worry like that.”

He smirked, the expression familiar and grounding. “Takes one to know one. Leaving a note and vanishing to monster school? Real smooth.”

You laughed once, the sound shaky but real. “It had vampires and werewolves. You would’ve hated the drama.”

“Probably.” His hand moved to your back, rubbing slow circles. “But I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too.”

You stayed like that for a long while, the night deepening outside the window. The campus slept on, legacies and destinies waiting for morning. But in this secret space, with Sukuna’s arms around you and the echo of your father’s words still fresh, the tension felt bearable. The love you’d claimed for yourself—no longer a guilty secret—sat between you like something solid.

There would be more hard conversations. Legacy Day was still coming. The risk of him disappearing hadn’t gone away. But for tonight, you held onto each other, breaths syncing in the quiet dorm room, the romantic pull between you stronger than any storybook rule.

You loved him. He loved you back, enough to burn his own destiny if it meant keeping what you had.

That was all you needed to face whatever came next.

The door locked behind you, and the room felt smaller, warmer, the faint lamp light casting soft shadows across Sukuna’s face. He didn’t say anything else. He just stepped forward, cupped your face with both hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was days of missing you poured into one moment—hungry, desperate, a little angry at the time apart. You kissed him back just as hard, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. His mouth moved against yours, tongue sliding in, claiming in that blunt way he always did. You tasted the relief in it, the yearning he’d buried for almost two weeks.

He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. One smooth motion and he laid you down, following right after, his body covering yours. The mattress dipped under your combined weight. Sukuna broke the kiss only long enough to look at you, red eyes dark with want.

“Missed you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Every damn night.”

Then his hands were on you, pulling at your clothes. He undressed you slowly at first, like he wanted to savor it, peeling off layers until you were bare beneath him. His fingers traced your skin, not gentle exactly, but reverent in their own rough way. He kissed down your neck, across your collarbone, mouth hot and insistent. When he reached your chest he lingered, lips and tongue worshiping every inch like he was trying to memorize you after the absence.

You arched into him, breath catching. “Sukuna…”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead he shifted, letting his true form bleed through just enough—four arms now, the second face appearing on the side of his head, monstrous beauty sharp and overwhelming in the dim room. Two hands pinned your wrists above your head. Another pair slid under your hips, lifting you slightly as he settled between your legs. The extra limbs made everything feel more—more pressure, more touch, more of him surrounding you.

He kissed you again, deeper, while one hand worked between your bodies, fingers teasing until you were gasping against his mouth. The tension from the weeks apart cracked open into something raw and urgent. When he finally pushed inside you, it was rough, one hard thrust that made you moan loud enough to echo off the stone walls. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving, deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that felt like punishment and apology all at once.

“Fuck,” he growled, the second face murmuring something low and filthy near your ear. “So good. Missed this. Missed you squeezing around my cocks.”

You couldn’t form full sentences. Just broken sounds, your body rocking with every thrust. His four arms held you exactly where he wanted—wrists pinned, hips lifted, one hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave marks. The angle let him hit deep, the pace relentless. Sweat slicked your skin where you pressed together. The bed creaked under you, the old wooden frame protesting the force.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Harder,” you breathed, the word slipping out between gasps.

He obliged, pace turning brutal. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his low grunts. One of his hands left your wrist to slide between you, thumb circling in tight, rough strokes that had your vision blurring. Pleasure built fast and sharp, weeks of longing making everything more intense.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice strained.

You did, meeting his red eyes and the second pair on the beast face. The monstrous beauty of him above you—tattoos shifting with muscle, extra arms flexing as he drove into you—sent another wave crashing through you. You came hard, clenching around him, a cry tearing from your throat.

Sukuna followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a rough groan, body shuddering as he spilled inside you. The extra arms tightened their hold, keeping you pressed together through the aftershocks.

For a long moment neither of you moved. Heavy breaths filled the quiet. He stayed inside you, forehead dropped to your shoulder, the second face brushing soft kisses along your neck in contrast to the roughness before.

“Stay,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “No more running.”

You nodded, still catching your breath, fingers threading through his pink hair. “No more running.”

He shifted back to his normal form slowly, two arms wrapping around you as he rolled to the side, pulling you with him. The sheets were tangled, the room smelling like sex and sweat and the familiar incense. You curled into his chest, heart still racing, the make-up sex leaving you both spent and closer than before.

The fear of Legacy Day still lingered at the edges, but for tonight it was pushed back by the warmth of his body and the quiet promise in the way he held you.

The room stayed quiet after, the kind of quiet that comes when everything heavy has been said with bodies instead of words. Sukuna stayed in his true form for a while longer, four arms wrapped around you like he could shield you from the morning that was coming too fast. You lay against his chest, skin sticky with sweat, breaths slowly evening out. One of his hands stroked down your back in slow, lazy lines. Another rested heavy on your hip. The second face had tucked itself close to your shoulder, breathing warm against your neck.

He didn’t let go all night.

Every time you shifted, he pulled you back in tighter. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets and limbs. The dorm room felt smaller, safer, the stone walls blocking out the rest of Ever After High. Outside, the campus was still dark, but you both knew tomorrow—Legacy Day—would arrive whether you wanted it or not.

Sukuna spoke sometime deep in the night, voice low and rough against your hair. “If I disappear tomorrow… this year with you was the best one I’ve had.”

Your throat tightened instantly. You pressed your face harder into his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your cheek. “Don’t say that like it’s already decided.”

“It might be,” he said simply. No fear in his tone, just fact. “I’m not signing. I’m not taking some forced beauty they picked out. Yorozu or whoever else. I want this. You. Even if it ends with me blinking out of existence.”

You swallowed hard, fingers digging into his side. “I love you. I don’t want you gone.”

“I know.” One of his extra arms shifted, brushing hair from your face with surprising gentleness. “But if I have to choose between living in their story or having this thing with you… I pick this. Every time. Best year of my life. Wouldn’t trade it.”

The words settled heavy and warm in your chest, cracking something open. You cried a little then, silent tears soaking into his skin. He didn’t tell you to stop. Just held you closer, all four arms making a cage of warmth and strength around your body. His beast form felt protective tonight, monstrous beauty wrapped around you like a promise. You stayed like that until sleep finally pulled you under, tangled together so tight it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began.

Morning came too soon.

The campus was buzzing with stress by the time the sun rose fully. Students moved through the halls in clusters, voices hushed and tense. Legacy Day had arrived, the biggest ceremony of the year in the college wing. The grand hall had been transformed—long velvet banners in gold and deep crimson, the Storybook of Legends placed on a raised pedestal at the center of the stage like some sacred relic. Headmaster Grimm stood at the podium already, expression stern, checking the list of names with sharp eyes.

Everyone felt the weight. Some looked excited, ready to embrace their parents’ paths. Others looked pale, hands fidgeting with sleeves or destiny scrolls. Whispers rippled through the crowd about past rebels who had refused and simply… stopped being there the next semester. Gone. Erased.

You sat in the front row, heart hammering so hard it hurt. The seat felt too hard, the air too thick. Sukuna was supposed to go first. They always put the more volatile ones early, like the school wanted to get the risky signatures out of the way.

When his name was called, the hall quieted even more.

Ryomen Sukuna.

He walked across the stage in his true form—four arms, two faces, the full monstrous beauty on display. Tattoos shifted across his skin as he moved. Gasps and murmurs spread through the audience. Most students had only seen the normal version in classes. Seeing the beast openly like this felt like a statement. He didn’t shrink from it. He stood tall at the podium, red eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

You met his gaze, hands clenched tight in your lap. Tears already threatened at the corners of your eyes. You loved him so much it felt like your chest might split open.

Headmaster Grimm cleared his throat, voice carrying through the hall with practiced authority. “Repeat after me. I, Ryomen Sukuna, son of the Beauty and the Beast—”

Sukuna’s voice cut in, deep and steady, repeating the beginning. “I, Ryomen Sukuna, son of the Beauty and the Beast—”

Grimm continued, “—do solemnly swear to follow my destined path, to accept the role written for me, and to sign my name in the Storybook of Legends, binding myself to the legacy of my parents.”

The quill hovered in Sukuna’s hand, the one on the far right arm. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. You leaned forward slightly, almost crying now, the tears blurring the edges of your vision. This was it. The moment everything could end.

Sukuna looked down at the book for a long second. Then he placed the quill down on the podium with a deliberate click. His voice rang out clear, loud enough for every row to hear.

“I won’t sign it.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd. Whispers exploded instantly.

Grimm’s face tightened. “Mr. Sukuna, this is not a choice. You must—”

“I said I won’t,” Sukuna cut him off, the second face on the side of his head echoing the words with a lower growl. “I’m not accepting the beauty they want to force on me. Not Yorozu. Not anyone. My story ends here if it has to. But it ends on my terms.”

Silence crashed over the hall. A full minute stretched out, thick and unbearable. No one moved. No one breathed. You waited for it—the moment he would start to fade, to shimmer out of existence like the warnings always said. Your hands shook in your lap. Tears slipped down your cheeks now, hot and fast. The love you felt for him burned so bright it hurt, mixed with the terror of losing the only person who had ever made you want to stay in one place.

But nothing happened.

Sukuna didn’t disappear.

He stood there, four arms loose at his sides, two faces calm as the seconds ticked by. The silence dragged on. One minute. Then another breath. Still nothing. No fade. No erasure. Just Sukuna, solid and real on the stage.

He processed it slowly. You watched the realization hit him—shoulders relaxing a fraction, the tension in his jaw easing. A small, sharp smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth on the main face. The second face mirrored it with a low chuckle that carried across the quiet hall.

Without another word to Grimm, Sukuna turned and walked off the stage. His steps were steady, unhurried. The crowd parted instinctively as he moved down the aisle straight toward you.

You stood up on shaky legs, tears still falling. He reached you in seconds, all four arms moving at once. Two scooped under your thighs, lifting you clean off the ground. The other two wrapped around your back, holding you securely against his chest. Your arms went around his neck automatically, face burying into the warm skin there. He smelled like incense and sweat and home.

He started walking, carrying you out of the grand hall like it was the simplest thing in the world. Students stared. Some whispered. A few looked stunned, others almost hopeful. Sukuna didn’t care. He kept moving, strong and steady, through the heavy doors and out into the bright morning light of the campus quad.

The stone paths stretched ahead, towers rising around you. The air felt lighter out here, the weight of the ceremony cracking open. Sukuna’s grip on you stayed firm, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back while the others supported your weight.

“You didn’t disappear,” you whispered against his neck, voice thick with leftover tears and disbelief.

“Told you I wouldn’t play by their rules,” he muttered back, voice low enough for only you. “Guess the book doesn’t have as much power as they think. Or maybe refusing actually works when you mean it.”

You laughed once, wet and shaky, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Your idiot.” He squeezed you tighter. “Best year of my life. And it’s not over.”

The quad was mostly empty, everyone still inside for the rest of the ceremony. Sunlight warmed the stone, birds calling from the enchanted trees near the library. Sukuna kept walking, no particular direction, just away from the hall and the expectations that had tried to swallow him.

As you passed a quieter corner near the fountain, two figures stood talking in low voices. A man with weird, long bangs that fell across one eye leaned against the stone edge, arms crossed. That Gecko guy... Beside him stood a girl with a mischievous smile and cat rars that shifted like they had a mind of their own. The man’s voice carried just enough for you to catch the words.

“…glad I ignored Cupid when she told me to stick to my destiny. Would’ve missed this.”

The girl laughed softly, leaning into his side. “Told you it was worth the risk.”

You smiled against Sukuna’s neck, the curve of your lips hidden in his skin. The words settled warm in your chest—a quiet echo, a small proof that breaking the script didn’t always end in erasure. Other stories were shifting too. Other hearts choosing their own paths.

Sukuna felt the smile. He tilted his head slightly, one of the faces brushing a kiss to your temple. “What?”

“Nothing,” you murmured, holding on tighter as he carried you further across the campus. “Just… happy.”

The towers of Ever After High rose behind you, the Storybook of Legends and its rules feeling smaller with every step. Legacy Day continued inside the hall, but out here, in the open air with Sukuna’s arms around you and the future unwritten, the pull between you felt stronger than any destiny ever could.

You loved him. He loved you back, enough to stand on that stage and refuse everything they offered.

And for the first time, it looked like the world might actually let you keep it.

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