#mariachi

Sukuna would often spend his lunch breaks with the other workers, sitting near them as they played guitars, violins, and trumpets beneath the shade of the trees, and it was there that he first discovered his passion for music. Watching their fingers move across strings and valves, completely absorbed in the melodies drifting through the warm afternoon air. What began as simple curiosity soon became a quiet hobby, something he did purely because it made him happy. After work, when they returned home, Sukuna would play an old guitar he had found in a cobweb-filled storage room, his mother had once said belonged to her father, and at that revelation he felt an unexpected connection, as if it had always been meant for him. The instrument was worn and imperfect, but that never mattered to him. He wasn’t playing for anyone else. He played for himself, patiently practicing note by note, determined to get better.

As the years passed, Sukuna took on more work at the estate, his responsibilities growing heavier as he stepped into long days of manual labor, until he was finally old enough to earn his own wages and open a small bank account in his name. Month after month, he saved what little he could, most of it going back to his family; repairing the things that had been broken for years, like the kitchen sink that leaked if turned too far to the left or the back door that never quite closed, forced shut with a makeshift lock. Even their meals changed; for the first time, they had enough, no longer going to bed with empty stomachs. Still, Sukuna allowed himself to keep a small portion of his earnings, because he carried a dream of his own. To one day buy a new guitar. The old one he practiced on was worn and humiliating to bring before others, leaving him to borrow instruments whenever the workers gathered to play. But he held onto that quiet promise, firm and unshaken, that one day he would have a guitar that was truly his.

Things in Sukuna’s life changed one afternoon when the patrón called the workers to his office to discuss plans for renovating the barn. Before making any decisions, he wanted to hear everyone’s thoughts. That’s when Sukuna noticed her. A strange woman seated in the living room across from the boss’s wife. The mysterious woman didn’t even glance his way; her attention remained fixed on the mistress, her expression tight and sour, clearly irritated by whatever was unfolding between them. Sukuna slowed his steps, curiosity piqued, trying to catch a word or two of what was happening between them. He had never seen that woman around the estate before. Perhaps one of the new hires, he thought. The estate had recently taken on more workers, after all but something about her didn’t fit the picture he had imagined, it was something that pulled his attention in a way he couldn’t quite place.

Sukuna stepped out after finishing his conversation with the boss. The meeting had gone well, everyone agreed the barn should be renovated to give the animals more space. But whatever had happened between you and the boss’s wife seemed to have gone very differently. He saw the doors swing open as you stormed out of the room, your steps sharp with anger. Sukuna watched for a moment, curious. Maybe she got fired, he thought. Just then, the missus turned and glanced in his direction. Sukuna gave a small nod of acknowledgment, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat slightly in greeting before continuing down the hallway. Without a word, the woman turned away and walked straight into her husband’s office.

Sukuna spent the following weeks working on the barn renovations alongside the others. The work was steady and demanding: cutting wood, hauling bags of cement, carrying heavy planks across the yard. Everything was going smoothly, but the labor, combined with the relentless heat, left him exhausted by midday. One day during lunch break, he lifted his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it onto the table beside him, letting the breeze cool his skin for a moment. The sun burned high overhead, and the air shimmered with heat. That’s when he noticed it, from the corner of his eye, someone was watching him. Half-hidden behind the edge of a wall, cautiously peeking out. It was the same woman he had seen inside the house two weeks ago, the one who had stormed out of the living room in the middle of an argument with the missus. Sukuna frowned slightly, surprised. He had assumed she had been fired after that scene. Yet here she was. When the woman realized Sukuna had caught her staring, she immediately ducked back behind the wall as if she’d never been there at all. Sukuna let out a low chuckle at the reaction. Years of hard labor around the estate had given him a strong, well-built physique, and he was used to people looking. He simply laughed it off, taking it as a compliment before leaning back, enjoying what little remained of his break.

One evening, Sukuna returned home from work to find his brother rushing toward him, worry etched deep across his face. Their mother had grown seriously ill over the years, forcing her to stop working, and the treatment she needed was far beyond what they could afford. Since then, both brothers had taken on extra work, doing everything they could to earn enough. Sukuna worked long days at the estate, but that wasn’t all; he had formed a small band with his friends, playing at the bar on weekends to earn additional cash. All he could do was hope that, eventually, he would gather enough to provide the care their mother desperately needed. He didn’t know what they would do without her. Aside from his brother, she was the only family Sukuna had ever truly known—always there for schoolwork, for celebrations, for the times they were sick, for every small and difficult moment of their lives. Losing her would leave a wound so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever heal from it.

Mariachi Sukuna performed every Sunday at the bar with his friends. He played the guitar, Geto handled the violin, Toji the trumpet, and Gojo was the lead singer. Gojo had named the band Los Honorables, Sukuna thought the name was a little cringy, but he wasn’t about to argue over something so trivial, especially since the crowd seemed to love it for some reason. That night, the bar was alive. Music filling the room, laughter echoing off the walls, couples twirling across the floor, and the usual bar fight flaring up in the corner. That’s when he saw her again, sitting at a table in the back: the mysterious woman from the estate, now dressed elegantly, her hair and makeup done perfectly. Across from her sat a man with a beer in hand, leaning forward and speaking to her, but she barely glanced at him. Her eyes were fixed on the band. More precisely, on him. Sukuna noticed how short her replies were, how little patience she gave the man, and for a moment, he felt a surge of sympathy for the poor fellow. Then a slow smirk crept across his lips, pride and delight mingling at having the attention of such a captivating woman. He played on, each note sharper, more confident, a little prouder than before.

Sukuna returned to work the next day, though the day was lighter than usual. The patrón had paused the barn renovations to inspect the progress, leaving little for him to do on-site. With time to spare, Sukuna wandered through the estate gardens, pausing to admire the blooms and greenery. Memories of his mother tending these same gardens years ago. Pruning each plant, carefully watering every flower, tugged at something deep in his chest. And, as if fate had a sense of timing, there she was again: the same woman from the night before, sprawled on a blanket across the grass, dressed casually with a wide-brimmed hat shading her face from the burning sun. She hadn’t noticed him yet; her back was turned, absorbed in writing in a small notebook, what Sukuna assumed was a diary. He stopped and quietly observed her, captivated by the way she seemed so serene, so completely absorbed in her own world, unaware of anything else. After a long moment, he cleared his throat softly to get her attention. The sound startled her, making her jump slightly, clearly not expecting anyone to find her there. “Oh!” she exclaimed, looking up at him with wide, startled eyes.

Sukuna found her reaction unexpectedly endearing. Truthfully, he was relieved she was alone. He had been meaning to speak to her, to finally start a conversation. He had seen her around the estate several times in recent weeks, yet he had no idea who she was; to him, she had simply been a mysterious presence, quietly stirring his curiosity. When you finally told him your name and who you were, the realization hit him like a jolt, your parents were the patrón and his wife. You had spent most of your life in the United States pursuing an education, only returning about a month ago after finishing your studies. Sukuna felt a pang of embarrassment, he should have guessed that you were connected to the owners. Anyone else who had spoken to them like that would have been fired immediately. In return, he introduced himself, sharing snippets of his own life. How he had grown up around the estate, following his mother there as a boy, eventually working there himself, and how he had discovered a passion for the guitar over the years, which was why you had seen him performing at the bar that night.

Eventually, Sukuna had to return to work to finish the second half of the barn renovation. He felt a twinge of disappointment that their conversation had been so brief, but at least now he knew you lived on the estate. The thought lifted his spirits, he was looking forward to seeing you again.

Over the past months, Sukuna had learned so much more about you. Surprisingly, the two of you had grown close in what felt like mere days. The friendship had simply clicked, as if it had always been meant to happen. You began sharing more about your life with him, and eventually told him the truth about the outburst he had witnessed that day in the living room. Your mother had informed you about the man who was meant to be your future husband. He had come to the estate to meet you, but you had no interest in him. The marriage had already been arranged between your family and his, meant to strengthen the bond between them. Your love life treated like a transaction. Learning this had hurt you deeply. You were their only child, yet your feelings hadn’t even been considered. All your life, you had read romance novels, dreaming that one day the fairytale love you devoured in those pages might become real for you. Sukuna had tried to comfort you as best he could, but honestly… what could he really do to make it better? A few kind words from a simple worker were never going to change the reality waiting for you.

With time, Sukuna had slowly become your closest friend. Having spent most of your life in the United States, the estate and its people still felt foreign to you. Most of your friends remained overseas, and letters took weeks to deliver and to receive a reply. In a way, Sukuna became your anchor, a steady presence in a world that often felt distant and uncertain. You shared parts of yourself with him you had never revealed to anyone else, and he did the same. He told you about his childhood, how he had grown up with almost nothing, how his mother and brother were the only family he had, and how he never even knew who his father was. He confided in you about the desperate struggle they faced now, how his mother’s illness had left the two brothers working tirelessly just to gather enough money for her treatment. Your heart ached for him, for the weight he carried so quietly. One day, unable to bear his burden in silence, you quietly handed him an envelope filled with money. It helped him greatly, though it still wasn’t enough to cover the full cost of the treatment. Even so, Sukuna accepted it with profound gratitude, and in that moment, it became clear: you had become someone irreplaceable to him, someone he held dearly, someone whose presence had quietly reshaped his world.

Sukuna would often seek you out during his free time, finding moments to share lunch together in some quiet corner of the estate grounds. Sometimes you talked, exchanging stories and laughter, and other times you simply sat in silence, happy in each other’s presence. You would admire the beauty of the gardens stretching around you, the sunlight dancing across the flowers and the gentle sway of the trees, while Sukuna sat beside you with his notebook, scribbling lyrics for new songs. Gojo would sing them when the band performed, but Sukuna was the one who wove the words, after all he had always been a poet at heart, finding his voice not only in music but in the careful shaping of each line, each verse.

Then one afternoon, the boss approached him, summoning Sukuna to his office for a private talk. The seriousness in his voice immediately set Sukuna’s mind racing, and for a moment, he imagined the worst. Had the man noticed how close you and he had grown over the past few months? With your arranged marriage looming, it would make sense for him to be angry. Sukuna’s body tensed as he stepped inside the office, the doors closing firmly behind him. But to Sukuna’s surprise, it was the exact opposite of what he had feared. It was good news, great news in fact. The previous capataz had retired due to old age, and the patrón had chosen Sukuna to take his place. With this promotion, he would earn more money, finally bringing him closer to affording the costly treatment his mother so desperately needed. 

As he stepped out of the front doors to return to work, you suddenly jumped out from behind a tree where you had been hiding. Of course, you didn’t actually scare him, but he couldn’t help smiling at the playful effort. “Did you have something to do with this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybeee…” you teased, dragging the word out. “Okay, fine, I did,” you admitted, finally laughing. “Father wouldn’t stop talking about needing someone new, so I mentioned you. Honestly, it was a good recommendation if you ask me it makes sense. You’ve been here working forever, you know this estate better than my father at this point, and everyone respects you. Obviously, you were the best choice.” Sukuna chuckled at your confession, then gently took your hand and pressed a quick kiss, guiding you away from the house with a warm, quiet smile. 

Then one morning, while he was working on the barn, you ran to him like a storm, tears streaming down your face, throwing yourself into his arms. Your voice trembled as you told him what you had overheard your mother and aunt talking about your future husband who was planning to formally ask for your hand in marriage. Of course your father would agree, chasing more influence, more control over the lands, using the marriage as a tool to gain the power he so desperately craved. Without thinking, you clung to Sukuna, seeking refuge in his strong arms, in his presence, as if letting go might make the world crumble around you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you fiercely, his own chest tightening. There were no words that could soothe your pain. No lies of “everything will be fine” could ever mend what threatened to break your heart. So the two of you remained like that, locked in each other’s embrace, the morning slipping by unnoticed, the sun climbing higher as silence hung heavy between you. And yet, beneath it all, a raw ache gnawed at Sukuna’s chest. The thought of you marrying another man, of you living somewhere far away, made something inside him twist with a painful, desperate longing he couldn’t name, couldn’t deny, and didn’t dare to speak.

That same night, Sukuna returned home from work to a house shrouded in darkness, all the lights off except for a soft glow coming from his mother’s room. As he stepped inside, he saw his brother waiting on the sofa, his girlfriend beside him, her arm resting on his shoulder. His brother stood slowly, his voice barely above a whisper: “She’s gone…” Sukuna heard the words, but his mind refused to accept them. Panic surged through him as he ran to his mother’s room. The lamp on the nightstand cast a gentle light, and there she lay in bed, her body covered by the blanket, her face eerily calm, almost peaceful. Sukuna sank to his knees beside her, clutching her cold hand in both of his, pressing a soft, trembling kiss against it as a final goodbye. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to buy the medicine, to save her, to see her smile again. He had just recently earned the promotion he had worked so hard for, yet it all meant nothing now. All the money he had painstakingly saved for her care was useless. He had failed his mother. He had failed his family. And the weight of that failure crushed him like nothing else ever had.

He didn’t return to work for a week, taking the time to arrange and mourn his mother’s funeral. The morning after it happened, Sukuna had gone to the estate early to inform his boss about the situation. The patrón, understanding and compassionate, offered his condolences and immediately granted him the week off. After all, he had known Sukuna’s family for years, aware of their unwavering hard work and loyalty to one another, so he gave Sukuna the time to grieve and attend to any personal matters that required his attention.

When you heard the news, you went straight to his house, knocking on the door. A man you had never seen before; bearing a striking resemblance to Sukuna, yet with subtle differences, opened it. “Who are you?” he asked in a low, broken voice. You explained that you were a friend of Sukuna’s and that you had come because you were worried after hearing the news about his mother’s passing. The man simply nodded and told you to wait by the door while he went to fetch his brother. A few minutes later, Sukuna appeared. You froze, staring at him without a word. His hair was disheveled, his skin paler than usual, dark circles shadowing his red eyes, his face swollen and weary from the weight of grief. Without speaking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. At your touch, he broke down completely, tears flowing freely. “I’m here for you…” you whispered softly against his ear, brushing his hair back and offering all the comfort you could. That night, you stayed by his side, refusing to leave, caring for him in his grief and holding him close as he endured the pain of his loss.

Days had passed since his mother’s funeral, and the night, you had stayed with him. Your parents suspected nothing; you had quietly slipped out through the window under the cover of darkness, your maid the only one aware of your midnight escapade. She had been a friend since your childhood, long before your studies in the states, and besides Sukuna, she was the only person here you truly trusted. You knew she would never betray your secret. But something had shifted that night, seeing Sukuna in one of his most vulnerable moments stirred something in you, something you couldn’t name. Your feelings were tangled, restless, and raw, caught somewhere between empathy, admiration, and something deeper. When Sukuna finally returned to work, you said little, only handing him a bundle of white flowers. “For your mother,” you murmured. Then, reaching out again, you offered a single red carnation. “This one… is for you.”

After things had begun to return to normal and Sukuna seemed more like himself again, you finally told him what had been gnawing at you—the marriage proposal. It had all happened during the same week as his mother’s passing. You had been desperate to reach him, confused about why you hadn’t seen him for days, until you overheard the workers talking about his absence. Your heart had clenched at their words, and that same night, you had sneaked out to visit him. But now, with him back and slowly recovering, you could finally confide in him. You needed his comfort desperately, yet it had felt wrong to burden him with something so small compared to the weight he had been carrying. When you finally spoke, you confessed that you hadn’t truly had a choice in the marriage. Your father had already arranged everything, and the man who had asked for your hand was the very same one Sukuna had seen that night when he had performed at the bar. You had been expected to say yes, with no room to refuse. The wedding was now officially set for two months away. Sukuna said nothing. He simply looked into your tear-filled eyes, cupped your face in his hands, and leaned forward to press a gentle, comforting kiss to your forehead. 

You accompanied him the following Sunday to one of his concerts, as he wanted you to officially meet the band. You had agreed, your maid helping you get ready for the night and carefully crafting yet another story for your parents to believe. Sukuna waited for you at the gate, sitting astride his horse. You studied the majestic creature, impressed by how it carried itself with quiet authority, reminding you oddly of Sukuna’s own presence. You laughed softly at the thought. The horse was a black Shire, occasionally helping Sukuna with work. He had told you the horse’s name was Hiten. You hesitated for a moment before reaching out to stroke its mane. Sukuna only smiled, helping you gently onto the saddle to sit in front of him. Hiten galloped down the streets of Mexico, taking in the vibrant nightlife. Your family’s estate was more on the countryside. It was rare for you to visit the city, your parents forbidding you from leaving the grounds. Everything here looked so different from the states: the colorful architecture, the street vendors calling out their wares, people playing music, children running and laughing in the streets. It was breathtaking, alive in a way that felt refreshing and genuine, a world you had never truly known before.

When you both reached the bar, Sukuna left Hiten in the local stable for the time being and took your hand, guiding you through the back door to introduce you to his friends. There, you met them: Satoru with his striking white hair and piercing blue eyes; Suguru, whose long, glossy black hair made you silently vow to ask him his haircare routine after the show; and Toji, who intimidated you the most, speaking little, his strong, chiseled features and the scar on his lips giving him a dangerous edge. You introduced yourself as Sukuna’s friend and spent most of your time chatting with Satoru and Suguru, laughing at Satoru’s occasional teasing and playful flirting, while Sukuna and Toji prepared everything for the show. 

When they were ready, you stepped out the front, finding a perfect spot to watch the performance. Your eyes immediately fell on Sukuna, captivated by the way he played, his hands moving across the guitar strings with meticulous precision and passion. The stage lighting illuminated every detail of his charro suit: the carefully woven golden embroidery tracing intricate patterns across the deep black fabric, the fitted jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the red bandana tied neatly in a bow at his neck, and the wide-brimmed sombrero perched atop his head, casting a slight shadow over his focused expression. The suit clung to his toned, muscular frame, highlighting the strength in his arms and the disciplined posture he carried, every movement radiating confidence and elegance. On that stage, under the lights, Sukuna looked breathtaking—powerful, handsome, and utterly captivating. It made you feel things you shouldn’t have felt.

When the show ended, you both said your goodbyes to the others and made your way back to the stables to retrieve Hiten. But as you walked, you noticed Sukuna veering off in a different direction from where you had come. “Where are we going?” you asked, curiosity and caution mingling in your voice. He smiled softly, saying it was a surprise, and that it was fine. Trusting him, you relaxed against his strong frame as he held the reins, guiding Hiten down the quiet streets. He led you to the local bay, the water shimmering under the moonlight, boats drifting in the distance, and a sky full of brilliant stars stretching above. He handed you a cup. “Agua fresca,” he said. You sipped it slowly, letting the refreshing flavor linger on your tongue before taking another, more confident drink. The two of you talked about the show, Sukuna asking your opinion about his friends. They were nice, you admitted: Satoru with his playful energy, Suguru calm and composed, and Toji… you hadn’t learned much about him, his quiet, intimidating presence keeping you cautious.

Sitting together on a bench, you admired the peaceful scene in silence, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. You noticed Sukuna wasn’t looking at the bay, he was looking at you, his gaze calm and steady. Then, without warning, he cupped your face and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The sensation was electric—the rough warmth of his lips, the mingling taste of his beverage with yours. Shock froze you in place, unable to respond. Noticing your stillness, Sukuna’s eyes opened, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Shit… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his again. He hesitated for a heartbeat before responding, the kiss deepening, charged with a sudden, undeniable passion. When you finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva still connecting your mouths before breaking, he whispered, voice low and conflicted, “We seriously shouldn’t have done that.” You nodded, heart racing, and repeated softly, “We shouldn’t have… but I’m glad we did.”

You returned to the estate long past nightfall, the world quiet and still as you slipped down from Hiten. You whispered your goodbyes to Sukuna, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to his cheek before hurrying back toward your window, your heart still racing from everything that had happened. Inside, your maid was waiting, already prepared to help you change for bed. As she worked, you told her everything in hushed, breathless excitement. The beauty of the city, how alive the bar had felt when the music filled the air, how the band had played new songs Sukuna had written for Satoru to sing… and finally, how Sukuna had taken you to the bay, and how the two of you had kissed. She giggled softly at your story, promising with a bow that she wouldn’t tell a soul about your secret, not until you were ready to make it known. But even as the words settled, you felt the truth weigh heavily in your chest. As much as you wanted that future, you knew it could never be. You were already promised to another man. A man you barely knew, a man you did not love. Lying there, you couldn’t help but wish your life had been different… that you had been born into a family that valued life over alliances, happiness over power. It felt almost cruel, how your father could show kindness and compassion to his workers, yet when it came to you, his own daughter, that same compassion seemed to vanish without a trace.

The days began to blur together, slipping by faster than you could hold onto them. Sukuna working at the estate while you were pulled into a suffocating routine of pointless outings meant to “get to know” the man you were expected to marry, quiet arguments with your parents, and long afternoons with your mother and aunt planning every detail of a wedding you never wanted—dresses, guest lists, decorations, all of it moving forward as if your heart had no say. And yet, in the quiet of the night, you found your way back to Sukuna, meeting in hidden corners where no one could see, clinging to those stolen moments that felt like the only real thing left. But even those moments were shadowed by fear—the days were passing too quickly, your wedding drawing closer with every sunrise. You didn’t want to marry that man… but more than that, what would happen to you and Sukuna? Would you be forced to let him go? The thought alone made your chest ache unbearably, and so you held onto him a little tighter each time, cherishing every glance, every touch, every second as if time itself was already trying to take him away from you.

But then, one Sunday, Sukuna arrived earlier than usual to the bar, his mind already set on finding a man he knew all too well—Kenjaku. Their history ran deep; Kenjaku had once offered Sukuna a place in his line of work, promising far better pay than his position as capataz at your family’s estate. Sukuna had refused, not only because his family depended on him, but because he knew exactly what kind of work Kenjaku dealt in; the dirty, dangerous, bloodstained kind, where every job could be your last, where one wrong move could cost you your life… or worse, put the people you loved in danger. And yet, despite that, Sukuna hadn’t stayed entirely away. Since his mother’s death, Kenjaku had crept further into his life, offering small distractions, temporary escapes from the grief that refused to loosen its grip on him. They had made a few quiet deals before. Nothing too deep, just enough for Sukuna to forget, if only for a moment. That Sunday night, Sukuna approached him again, finding him exactly where he expected. Leaning in the shadows of the bar’s second floor, an ominous presence tucked away in the darkness. “I have to make some special deliveries soon,” Kenjaku murmured, his voice low, almost inviting. “If you want… I can give you a ride there, for a price of course.” 

The months slipped by in a blur, and now it was the night before your wedding. Sleep refused to come, your thoughts tangled in anxiety over what awaited you the next day. Your maid did her best to calm you, bringing tea and soft reassurances, but nothing could quiet the storm inside you. It wasn’t just the wedding, you hadn’t seen Sukuna in days. You knew he was still working at the estate; you had caught glimpses of him from afar, but he never came to you at night anymore, never sought you out like before. A painful thought crept in, had he given up on you? Was this his way of ending things? Surely, he had to be hurting too, knowing you were about to belong to another man… but it still stung, the silence, the lack of even a proper goodbye. You sighed, lying on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, your room bathed only in pale moonlight. Then a soft thud against your window. You barely paid it any mind at first, assuming it was just the night air pressing against the glass. But then it came again. And again. Every few seconds, the same persistent sound. Growing irritated, you pushed aside the curtain and looked down from the second floor, only to freeze. There he was. Sukuna. Standing below with a handful of pebbles. “Good,” he muttered, exhaling in relief. “I was starting to run out of rocks.”

“What are you doing here?!” you half-yelled, half-whispered, your heart racing. “I came back for you,” he said quickly, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I’m leaving… and I want you to come with me. If you want but you need to decide now. We don’t have much time.” You could only stare at him, stunned. You had never imagined this, not like this. To leave everything behind the night before your wedding… to run away with the man you loved. It felt unreal, like something torn straight from the pages of the fairytales you used to read. The prince rescuing his princess from a life she never chose. Your heart leapt, racing with something dangerously close to hope. “Give me five minutes!” you called out hurriedly. “Let me get my things!” You rushed through your room, hands trembling as you packed a small bag; only the essentials, a bit of cash—your entire life reduced to what you could carry, all for a chance at something that finally felt like your own choice.

You tossed your bag out the window for Sukuna to catch, then hurried back to your room to fetch something else, a large casing. “Help me bring this down!” you called, urgency in your voice. “It’s important.” Sukuna let out a huff, a mix of annoyance and worry flickering across his face; if anyone caught the two of you, it would be bad—for you, and worse for him. “Fine,” he muttered, helping you carefully down from the second floor. Once you reached the ground, you said, “Open it. It’s for you.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting a gift from you. With a click, he unlatched the casing and lifted the lid, revealing a brand-new guitar. The polished wood gleamed under the soft lantern light, every curve and line meticulously crafted. Along the side, in elegant gold lettering, was engraved: Ryomen Sukuna. His eyes widened in surprise as he lifted the guitar, turning to you with a smile. He drew you close, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Surprise!” you cheered. “Thank you… truly, this is perfect,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and gratitude, cradling the guitar like it was a piece of his own soul.

You followed Sukuna through the darkened streets, your bag clutched tightly in your hands. He moved quickly, with urgency in every step, and you didn’t dare ask where he was taking you. You would wait until he seemed calmer, until the tension in his shoulders eased. Soon, he guided you into the back of a truck, climbing in beside you. The air inside was thick, heavy with the scent of alcohol, tobacco, sweat, and something else. You said nothing. Instead, you leaned your head against Sukuna’s shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you as your eyes slowly drifted shut, trusting him enough to let yourself fall asleep. 

The journey was long and exhausting, each mile stretching on endlessly. Sukuna and the man—Kenjaku, as he had introduced himself, seemed to get along a little too well, like old friends who shared a history you weren’t part of. And in truth, they were. Sukuna had told you they had known each other for years. From what little you gathered, Kenjaku dealt in “transporting goods,” though the way Sukuna spoke about it made it clear it wasn’t anything clean or honest. There was something unsettling about him, something that made your skin prickle, so you kept your distance, speaking only when necessary during those long hours of travel. Instead, your thoughts drifted elsewhere. To the life waiting ahead, and the one you had left behind.

You couldn’t help but imagine your family’s reaction the next morning, the chaos your disappearance must have caused, the whispers spreading through the estate, through the city. You wondered how your former fiancé had taken it. You didn’t hate him, not truly, but you didn’t care for him either. He had been the man your life was handed over to, as if you were something to be bought and claimed. Still, despite the uncertainty, despite the fear quietly lingering in your chest, one hope remained steady within you, that whatever consequences followed, they wouldn’t catch up to you or Sukuna. All either of you wanted was a chance… a chance to start over, to build a life where you could finally belong to no one but each other. 

Time passed, and your new life was not easy to settle into at first. You weren’t used to living this way. Not after a lifetime of being cared for, of having maids attend to your every need without a second thought. The adjustment was jarring. The first time you washed clothes at a lavadero, your hands ached after scrubbing just a few of Sukuna’s shirts, the rough material unforgiving against your skin. Cooking wasn’t any better. You somehow managed to burn rice, something you hadn’t even thought possible. But Sukuna never mocked you. He only laughed softly at first, then patiently showed you how to do things properly. How to wash clothes without hurting yourself, how to cook without ruining the meal. And with time, and with his quiet guidance, you began to learn. Little by little, what once felt impossible started to feel natural.

Sukuna had bought a simple, one-story house in the countryside, far from everything you had once known. He chose a quieter life, raising animals and selling their meat in town for cash. It didn’t bring in nearly as much money as he had earned working as a foreman for your family, but it was enough. Enough to keep both of you fed, safe, and, most importantly, happy. With the money you had brought, you slowly began to transform the house, adding small touches to make it feel like a home; new couches, a proper dining table, softer bedsheets. It wasn’t grand, but it was yours, and that alone made it beautiful. Over time, Sukuna built a new circle around you both. There was Choso, a quiet young man who worked at the town’s workshop; Tengen, an elderly woman who owned a small taco restaurant and treated you like family; and Uraume, who became one of Sukuna’s closest companions, often helping him with his music. Though he had left behind Satoru, Suguru, and Toji, he never abandoned that part of himself. In his spare time, he continued to write songs, and sometimes, in the town’s central square, he would sit with Uraume, guitar in hand, letting the music carry pieces of his past into the life you were building together. 

You were in the kitchen, carefully cooking quesadillas just the way Tengen had taught you, when your gaze drifted outside to the backyard. There was Sukuna, working under the sun, handling the animals with practiced ease and quiet precision. You watched the way his muscles moved with each task, the strength in his arms as he lifted heavy hay bales, his shirt clinging slightly as sweat traced down his skin. There was something captivating about him in that moment—something raw, grounded, and undeniably magnetic. It stirred something deep within you, a warmth that settled in your lower body and spread slowly, impossible to ignore. You shifted slightly, pressing your legs together in an attempt to steady yourself, hoping to hide the effect he had on you. But as subtle as you thought you were being, Sukuna noticed the faint flush on your face giving you away. 

That night, as you stepped into the shower, Sukuna appeared behind you, his presence close and grounding. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you gently but firmly against the cool wall tiles. “Didn’t think I wouldn’t notice how you were looking at me earlier,” he murmured softly against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. Your body tensed in response, a rush of heat and anticipation pooling in your core again. You leaned back slightly into him, trying to meet his eyes. “Ryo…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and longing. He didn’t rush, letting the moment stretch between you, the closeness, the shared warmth, and the quiet intimacy making your heart beat faster. His right hand stroked your thigh as it moved down to your pussy, brushing your clit in a gentle, circular motion as his left hand held you motionless. You moaned at the sensation, and you could feel your body becoming frantic. "Please, Ryo," you whimpered, trying to stare up into his eyes. The two of you suspended in that fragile, electric connection.

“What is it that you want? Speak clearly,” he teased, his voice low and playful. Your cheeks flushed, a mix of excitement and shyness warming your face. “I… I want to feel you,” you admitted softly, your heart racing as he leaned in. He slowly moved from rubbing your clit with his index fingers to pushing the middle and ring fingers inside. "Fuck," you whinned, feeling how firmly he was forcing into you as your cunt tightened around his fingers. "Please... faster," you pleaded, sensing his compliance as his fingers moved quickly and fluidly outside and back inside of you while you moved your leg for a more comfortable position. Every glance, every touch carried a weight you hadn’t realized, and the room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, lost in the moment.

He leaned close, pressing soft, teasing kisses along the curve of your neck, leaving behind faint, tender marks that made your pulse quicken. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice low and charged with intensity. His hands moved with precision, guiding you closer to the edge of overwhelming sensation, your body responding instinctively to every touch. “I’m so close…” you breathed, voice trembling as your chest heaved, reaching your climax. He chuckled softly, a deep, satisfied sound, and slowly removed his fingers, letting you catch your breath. You turned to face him, eyes wide, a playful fire in your gaze, moving closer in a bold, spontaneous gesture as you got to your knees and quickly brought him closer to your mouth, sucking him off. He let out a startled gasp, closing his eyes for a moment as his hand cupped your head gently, steadying you. The moment stretched between you, charged with intensity, intimacy, and unspoken longing, the kind of closeness that made the world outside fade entirely.

You continued sucking his dick, occasionally kissing his tip and, for added enjoyment, gargled his balls. Sukuna groaned softly and said, "Don't stop… I'm nearly there..." You looked up at him and abruptly pulled away, laughing as you hurried out of the shower. Sukuna was momentarily stunned as he stood there. "No, you don't!" he yelled as he pursued you, snatching your arms and drawing you further to him until your chests were pushed together. Your cold nipples feeling warmer against his hot chest. “We are going to finish this properly."

He brought you back to your shared bedroom and placed you on top of the bed. You pushed yourself back, your legs wide open for him. He started working right away, lowering himself to his knees and grabbing your hips to bring you closer to his face. His mouth leaving kisses on your cunt before eating you out. "Sukuna…” you purred.  "Greedy girl," he moved away from your cunt and brought his face closer to you. He cupped your face with his right hand and kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips. His left hand fondling your breast. His tip pressed against your entrance, causing you to gasp. You put your hands on his shoulderblades and said, "Please be gentle." He smiled softly and said, "Of course," as he pushed inside of you, causing you both to gasp. The way your walls clamped on his length, his veins, made him feel too amazing inside of you. Your fingernails scraped his flesh as you lowered your hands to his back and held it firmly. The tension between you slowly melted into something softer, something deeper, as the night stretched on around you. The world beyond faded completely, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the quiet sound of your breathing, and the steady rhythm of two hearts finding each other again and again.

Two years had passed since you left your family behind, building a new life alongside Sukuna, and now with the baby girl you had just brought into the world. She had become everything to you both, a living piece of you and him. She carried her father’s hair, though softer in tone, and your eyes, a perfect blend of the two of you. You often found yourself thinking back to the moment you discovered you were pregnant. It had been an ordinary evening. After Sukuna and Uraume finished playing in the town square, the three of you went to Tengen’s for dinner. You hadn’t felt like cooking, your body already worn from a long day of chores. But shortly after finishing your tacos, a sudden wave of nausea hit you. You barely made it to the restroom in time, the experience leaving you embarrassed and apologetic, worried Tengen might think you disliked her cooking. She, of course, brushed it off gently and helped you, offering medicine and kind reassurance.

Still, the feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it only worsened. You found yourself getting sick after meals, your body feeling off—tense, unfamiliar—and your cravings becoming stranger by the day. Concerned, Sukuna insisted on taking you to the town’s doctor, a woman named Shoko. She examined you carefully, asking questions that only made your nerves grow, until finally, the results came. Her expression softened as she looked at you. “Congratulations,” she said gently. “You’re pregnant." the words left you frozen. Shock, fear, and uncertainty all rushed through you at once. Sukuna was waiting outside, giving you privacy but suddenly, facing him felt terrifying. What if he didn’t want this? What if this changed everything? Your thoughts spiraled as you stepped outside, clutching the results in your hands. 

“So…?” he asked, searching your face. You couldn’t find the words. Instead, you simply handed him the paper. His expression shifted to shock, his silence stretching for what felt like an eternity. Your heart began to sink. “Sukuna, are you—” Before you could finish, he lifted you into his arms, careful and protective, his laughter breaking through your fear “We’re having a baby!” and just like that, all your worries faded, replaced by warmth and relief as you laughed with him realizing that somehow, everything had fallen exactly where it was meant to be. 

The following months were spent preparing for the baby, turning a small room into a nursery filled with warmth and care. You bought everything you could think of. Soft blankets, tiny clothes, toys, diapers and yet, the most difficult task remained choosing a name. No matter how many you suggested, the two of you could never quite agree, eventually deciding to leave it for later. Letters arrived as well. From your friend back at the estate. You both quietly sent each other letters, keeping up to date with everything that was happening. The other bundle of letters were for Sukuna from his friends: Satoru, Suguru and Toji. Lastly, the others were from Sukuna’s brother, congratulating him and sharing news of his own, a baby boy he and his girlfriend had recently welcomed. The thought filled you with quiet excitement. You imagined your child meeting their cousin one day, playing together, sharing toys, their laughter echoing through the house. The image alone made your heart swell.

When the time finally came for you to give birth, you swore Sukuna was more nervous than you. He hovered constantly, asking if you needed anything, questioning the nurses, pacing as he waited for any sign that the baby was close. And then, at last, she arrived. You saw it in his face immediately—the tears in his eyes, the overwhelming joy, the pride as he looked at you and the child in your arms. You held your daughter close, both of you gazing down at her in awe, when Sukuna softly spoke a name. A variation of his mother’s. You repeated it under your breath, letting it settle, letting it feel right. And this time… you both agreed.

Taking care of the baby was exhausting, leaving you with little time for yourself. Your body had changed, of course, it was only natural after everything you had been through but that didn’t stop the quiet insecurities from creeping in. You felt different, less like yourself, and on your worst days, even a little… less beautiful. Those thoughts began to twist into something heavier, darker, making you question things you never had before. You noticed Sukuna acting a little distant—quieter, more distracted, and your mind filled in the gaps with fears you couldn’t control. Did he no longer find you attractive? Was he cheating on you? The doubts weighed on you until you found yourself retreating into quiet corners of the house, hiding away just to cry where no one could hear you.

Then one day, Sukuna approached you, his expression softer than you had seen in a while. “I have a surprise for you. Go get ready and meet me at the front door,” he said gently. “And don’t worry—I’ll take care of our daughter. You just worry about yourself.” You nodded, a little confused, but did as he asked. When you stepped outside, you found him waiting, your daughter nestled comfortably in her stroller, wrapped in blankets and fast asleep. The three of you walked through the town together, following him without question until he led you to the town's gardens. It was peaceful there. Only a few people scattered in the distance, some strolling, others dancing softly to faint music carried by the breeze. He guided you to a quiet spot near the pond, where ducks glided gently across the water. You admired the view, speaking about how beautiful it all was, but then you noticed Sukuna hadn’t responded. A flicker of worry crossed your chest as you turned to look at him. And that’s when you saw him down on one knee, a small box in his hand, a delicate ring catching the light. “Will you marry me?”

You said yes without hesitation, throwing your arms around him as laughter and tears spilled freely, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like a promise finally fulfilled. Around you, a few onlookers gathered, clapping and cheering, their joy spilling into yours. It was a little embarrassing, but sweet, and somehow it made the moment even more special.

That night, you returned home together, gently putting your daughter to sleep before retreating to your room, the quiet intimacy between you both lingering long after the excitement of the day. Sometime later, you woke to the soft sound of music drifting through the house. Curious, you slipped out of bed and followed the melody to your daughter’s room, carefully pushing the door open just enough to peek inside. There, bathed in the soft glow of the night, you found Sukuna sitting by her crib, the guitar resting in his hands as he played a gentle tune, his voice low and soothing. Your daughter giggled softly, her tiny hands reaching out toward him, completely captivated. You leaned quietly against the doorframe, watching them, your heart full. In that moment, you realized this was everything you had ever wanted. Not the life you were once promised, but the one you had chosen. And somehow… it was far more beautiful than the fairytale books you once read as a child, far more beautiful than anything you had ever dreamed of.

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Dividers by: @\olenvasynyt