Latest Posts by ffushiquro - Page 4

#RENT-A-DILF! t. fushiguro

ৎ୭ sum. sims 4? more like sims whore. out of procrastination and sheer boredom, you install this pretty new game titled ‘rent-a-dilf!’ the catch? he actually spawns in real life and wants more than just one day with you. girl…

wc. 8.1k (erm)

warnings. fem! reader, dilf! toji, loser girl reader, unprotected, size differences, size kinks, he’s reaaal nasty, brief toy usage, praise, dirty talk, fīngering, squīrting, face fúcking, me breaking the fourth wall, cunnīlingus, bjs, making him whine, implied marathons, breeding kink, impact play, petnames, toji being well … toji!

an. HUUGE thank u 2 kali @blkkizzat for beta'ing some !! <3 this came to me in a dream so… this is all over the place eheh.

“HEY, GIRL. WANNA GET DILFED? PLAY NOW!”

“huh..” you swipe a fat thumb down the dimly lit screen of your phone. ah, the things you do at the buttcrack of midnight. your eyes were glued to your device for about a good hour as you allowed curiosity to get the utter best of you.

RENT-A-DILF! ™ was a brand-spankin’ new romance simulation game. it was a cheap knockoff version of tinder and the sims combined but made up of purely dilf characters. it was easy, you’d list your desired preferences and the game would randomly choose the perfect matches for you. it’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll match with one of the higher-up characters—specifically, the newest one that recently got added to the roster of digital men. toji fushiguro, also known as his ridiculous alias of ‘GUTREARRANGER385.’

at first glance - he’s smokin’ hot.

the app allows you to spin toji around, swipe a thumb through his shaggy black bangs, and even dress him up. your eyes skimmed toward a few words near his bio that read, ‘thirty-three, single, verified dilf, full nelson / doggy enthusiast. . ,’ and an extra tag that read ‘oh, i’m also filthy rich.’

well…

toji was a top-rated character, and again, he was just added to the line-up about a few hours ago.

as you sink into the fat cushions of your pillows, you grip your phone.

it was almost eerie—it was as if the dark-haired character was looking straight at you. while you’re deep in thought, still taking in his displayed stats and filthy bio, your eyes trace back up toward his face. it reads that he’s about a staggering height of 6’2 and judging from his burly build alone, he was fuckin’ jacked.

such swole muscles . .

you couldn’t stop staring for a bit, and the black compression tank with loose-fitted shorts didn’t exactly help things either.

his stance was idle as he had an accessory of a priggish grin curling across both sides of his scarred lips.

his lips, you were so busy fawning over toji’s body that you didn’t even notice the scar that vertically ran down the right side of his mouth. it’s such a brief detail but it’s sexy.

you kind of wanted to know more about him. now that you thought about it, the game had dozens of ‘???’ symbols near the pink box where his lore was supposed to be. he’s new so you’d probably have to wait until you learn more about him.

with your eyes trailing back toward him, just so smug. you could tell from his demeanor despite him being just literal pixels on your glowy screen.

or so you thought..

“fuck it,” you sigh, lightly tapping the print of your thumb against the bright pink ‘marry me?’ button.

you did a lazy skim beforehand about the app’s so-called ‘pity system’ and how dim your chances were at actually snagging toji. like hell, you were gonna spend money on a game—you just had to hope that you were lucky.

it’s damn near close to one at night before you slouch back, sprawling your legs out in an attempt to get more comfortable.

staring at your screen and scratching your head, seconds . . minutes go by and nothing happens.

the game swallows up the last remnants of your free gems and you’re leering back at toji who you could’ve sworn just rolled his eyes at you.

what . . the . . fuuuck . .

okay, girl. sooo nothing happened. now what?

your brows start to contort together in frustration and now you are really bored.

all you wanted was to see what was the hype around this new popular dating-slash-romance-simulator game and now, you were disappointed.

then again, you’ve heard of how games like these were known to scam their players.

with an annoyed groan, you toss your phone near the edge of the bed before crawling over toward your burgundy-colored nightstand. there, you lightly pull on the wooden handle, opening your drawer.

your eyes land on your sparkly-colored rose toy. just about a few days ago, it came in the mail and you were oh-so ecstatic to try it out.

holding your thumb over the heart-shaped power button, you hear the loud ‘beeeep!’ indicating it’s turned on.

reclining back, you lift your nightgown before sighing deeply. hopefully, your cute ‘lil toy could help make you forget everything that just happened.

honestly, you didn’t really think the stupid game would work anyway. you’ll leave a one-star review later.

the entire game screamed a scam but hey, you only live once. it was worth a shot. actually, no it wasn’t.

but on the bright side,

you were starting to forget about the app the moment your pinched fingers slid your panties to the side. a soft moan leaves from your lips the moment the rubber edge of the vibrator smears against your bare clit. your back nearly arches forward, and as you’re gnawing on your bottom lip, you can feel your toes curling.

“f- fuck,” you swallow in an incoming breath, hearing the loud ‘bzzzz’-ing resounding through each of your paper-thin walls.

the stimulation had you forgetting about that shitty game within seconds. you lie back against your pillow, sweet harmonic whines purring out of your dry throat as you gradually succumb to your coarse thoughts.

then it hit you.

why don’t you just fantasize about . . him?

toji fushiguro.

dark-haired, smug grin, scarred sly lips, beefy build, and cold green eyes..

as you started to envision him in your clouded mind—you let off a soft whine. your thoughts were scrambled, but the first image that popped up in your brain was his arms. his muscles, the various veins that would pop through his biceps.

oh- you only imagined what it would feel like to have his arms wrapped around your throat.

the thoughts alone make your thighs squeeze together, and the buzzing from the toy shrieks even louder once you turn it up a single notch.

‘powering off. . !’

wait,

what?

snatched straight out of your lewd fantasm, your fingers pause as they lie against the rubber toy. your eyes widen once the vibrating stops— and then in your room, it’s dead quiet again.

“you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” you whine, the realization that your toy dying mid-fantasy making your mood turn even more sour.

first, you lose in the game and you lose at playing with yourself too? damn, girl you’re a failure!

oh uh, sorry.

“heh, need help, sugar?”

you freeze the minute your ears perk up, hearing a smoky raspy voice. its low, with a bit of huskiness underneath it too. coldness sets against your thighs, creeping at the skin that hides underneath your pulled-up nightgown before you gulp.

was that…

“yeah, it’s me. y’er wished uh- ‘dilf.’ whatever i’m supposed to say,” toji adds in a raspy tone, crossing his beefy arms with a puffed-out chest. it was as if he was reading your mind. you probably had the dumbest expression plastered across your face because toji then smirked. “what? y’er toy that failed to make you cum made you speechless too? awwwh.”

smug bastard.

a wave of embarrassment crept against your skin as you closed your dangling, open jaw. oh fuck.

he saw that- he saw you, little ‘ole you playing with yourself. just seconds ago, you were fantasizing about if he really was here, and now actually he is.

in the flesh . . . literally.

“i… uh,” you stammer, struggling to form a proper sentence. toji stands tall, a few inches away from the edge of your bed. hooded, green eyes stare at you and he’s just loving it - the way your eyes rove down his body, openly checking him out.

he wore the same outfit you picked out for him in the game.

a compression tank top with some shorts. (you added a tiny pink bow on his head just to be funny) the more you ogled at him with cute, enlarged eyes—the more you realized just how big he was. ‘big’ was an understatement, the guy was huge. toji towered over you even while you were lying in bed. “wow,” you softly utter, your eyes coincidently landing on his bulge.

toji was packed- and it was as if his bulge was having a staring contest right back at you.

“i know, darlin.’ he’s big ain’t he?” toji snickers.

you finally meet toji’s eyes before scoffing. his personality traits weren’t kidding about him at all. he’s cocky. “i’m just- you’re real?”

“pretty much.”

“but… how?”

“touch me ‘n find out, darlin.’”

you deadpan, but it was tempting.

you don’t even realize that you’re already sitting up from your bed—slowly inching yourself toward him.

toji eyes you with the same impish simper, puffed chest, and hefty arms crossed. he’s so brawny, and the moment you softly feel on his left bicep with a hand, he snickers.

“mhm,” he mumbled under his breath, and you could feel his muscles tense at your touch. multiple veins pulsed down his exposed arms and oh- the entire thing was so sensual.

you still felt embarrassed but now you started to feel something else. toji noticed you started to stare at his hands and he raised a dark brow. “this not enough for you, yeah?” your eyes widened once he then bent down, a few inches away from your face. he’s actually real, and sure, you were probably staring at literal pixels but you didn’t care. “want me ‘ta touch you, pretty girl?”

“please,” you whine, and that single word comes out of your mouth so quickly. it flew past your lips within and split a second and you didn’t even register how fuckin’ whiny you sounded in front of him.

your body was burning hot, and you were blazing up underneath your nightgown. “i- i mean, yeah,” you try to play it cool, only embarrassing yourself even further. toji’s so close thought that you could fully smell him.

he smelled manly, a citrusy mixture of wood sage and leather. it’s strong, so strong that it makes you blink thrice.

“yeah what?” toji gruffs, and god he’s just getting closer ‘n closer. by now, he’s just a few spaces away from kissing you.

you’re hoping - praying that he couldn’t hear the dramatic thumps of your heart’s weak pulse.

it’s pounding loudly, competing with drums with each ba-dump! it creates in your chest. toji softly cups your chin, and raises a thin brow once you lean into his touch right away.

“ ‘m gonna need to hear that pretty mouth tell me what to do.” and his smoky voice softens just a bit.

leafy eyes intently stare at you before they shift toward your quivering glossed lips. you’re needy and oh, could he tell.

you lock eyes with toji before letting off a cute sigh. it’s more of a frustrated one—and he’s gingerly rubbing a thumb down your pouty bottom lip. “touch- i want you to touch me, toji.”

“aht ahttt. manners, darlin’,” toji eggs on, guiding his thumb near the corner of your lips. the edge was killing you, and the haughtiness in his voice only made you more irritated. “ ‘pretty please?’ c’mon, talk to me nice.”

toji’s simper turns pompous as he watches you attempt to shoot daggers at him. your knees squeeze together and you’re just so impatient that you just sucked it up, complying. “p.. pretty please, touch me toji.”

“good girl,” he murmurs, and his voice pitched a bit lower this time. it’s almost dangerous, and you gasp once his big hand snakes around your neck.

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this is even real - but fuck, you were never one to complain.

toji takes a glance at your snapped-shut thighs and he chuckles. “aw, poor thing. that cute rose toy didn’t seem to be much help, huh?”

“……”

ouch.

he just had to remind you of that. but his hand around your neck felt good. he’s gentle, slowly making his way down your chest. toji then starts to make you lie down on your back.

with a flop! the comfy queen-sized bed springs out and you sigh.

“toooji,” and it’s almost like you’re whining again. you hated how slow he was taking, and you knew it was on purpose. the stare he’s giving your body makes you almost moan. your room was slightly dim, but you could still make out his towering wide silhouette. “m- more.”

toji gets on your bed, the mattress dipping from the sudden weight before he grumbles. “bet you fuckin’ do,” and you gasp once he stares between your legs. you moan, watching as toji starts to smell your thighs. he doesn’t just smell though, he’s slowly rubbing his nose and entire face up and down your skin. he’s feral already, and you could tell just from the grunt that leaves his lips shortly after. “ ‘m guessin’ you don’t want me to just touch you anymore, huh sugar?”

“no,” you breathlessly reply, nearly writhing from his touch once his shaggy bangs ghost against your skin.

toji could already smell between your legs. so peachy, and he even made out the faint candied aroma of your body wash that lingered on your skin. your back was already creating an arch at the temptation alone. once his barred hands sprawl your legs apart, he stares straight at your dripping cunt.

oh - you were perfect..

toji huffs, taking a second to smear a thumb down your slit that’s dribbling with so much slit.

leisurely, it cascades down your folds and you watch with glassy eyes once he brings his same thumb up to his lips, getting a taste. “mmm, ain’t that a treat,” and you moan, a hand of yours clawing on his head. toji snickers, feeling your weak grip trying to push him further between your thighs. “my, aren’t you impatient,” toji rasps with a guffaw. “but heh- fine, spread these legs f’ me. ‘s been a while since i’ve eaten good anyway.”

and the moment toji feasts himself between your pretty plush thighs — you were fuckin’ screwed..

he was a literal animal. the second his tongue delves itself inside of your cunt - he’s insane.

toji grunts, pursing his carmine-colored lips as your feeble hips start to rock against his mouth.

“o- ohhh my god,” you’d whimper, tugging at his raven strands. his head movement was just ferocious, swerving from the left to right.

his tongue’s stupidly long too, and toji dips it inside of your pussy before fishing it right back out. he reels it out of your puffed folds before diving right back in.

he’s sluuuurping you as if his life depended on it, savoring your sweetened taste as his lips stuck against your clit. “ngh- fuck, toji,” and your lips couldn’t help but curl into a cute oval.

his tongue..

he’s bullying it between your folds, profusely circling the pointed tip around your pretty ‘lil clit. briefly, it gets trapped within his teeth and toji gives it a little nibble.

a soft yelp! rips out of your throat at the tender munch of his canines playfully munching on your sweetest spots. toji found it cute how you were so squirmy, so much so that his callused rough hands had to hold your hips down. with a cute shimmy, you’re wriggling your twitching sex against his mouth.

already, you watch the glittery stream of your slick starting to drip drip drip down his chin.

toji’s green eyes glance up at you and he snickers, popping in a single digit. slooowly, you feel his thumb sinking inside of your cunt before disappearing into the void of your entrance. you’re moaning, maintaining your firm grip on his head before whimpering. “mm, yank on it harder why don’tcha.”

toji grumps—his head pulling forward roughly at your adorable strength. he’s buried not six inches deep but nose deep, and you shiver once the tip of his button nose starts to rub up ‘n down your sobbing pussy.

he’s addicted- not only that but the epitome of pussy drunk.

“tojiiiii!” you slur out his name, a gasp shortly following out of your lips. the dexterous shapes and curves of his tongue make you whine out his name again . . and again . . and a-fuckin’-gain.

as he’s easing another thick finger inside of your cunt, you’re starting to fantasize.

why didn’t men like him exist in real life?!

he’s messy, giving each area of your cunt a multitude of sloppy kisses. bubbles of saliva trickle past the corners of his lips as he’s stuffed right between your legs.

toji’s damn near animalistic- his buds continuing to whine out for more of your divine taste.

he doesn’t think he’s tasted anything this good since.

you’re full, exhaling a sharp breath once you feel him plug in yet another digit.

“biiiig stretch, baby. three’s the fuckin’ charm,” toji huskily groans, staring straight at your pussy.

it’s so pretty, he’d never get over the shine that coats the entirety of your loving entrance. if he’d squint, he’d mistaken your clit for a blossoming flower. a more lewd one at least anyway.

it’s sloppy with the way he’s got three fat fingers barreling inside of you at once. toji watches as your stomach dips and you’re gasping, tightly pulling at his scalp. “hehhh, atta girl. get these fingers wet if you want toji sir later.”

toji sir….?

just as you were about to eye roll, you let off a moan once you hear the ridiculously wet sloshes of your cunt. he’s pumping all fingers in and out of you while flicking his tongue — multitasking.

with a ‘pop!’ he takes one out before sliding it back in, feeling you bare around each digit like a good girl. “oh- fuck, please don’t stop. pleaseplease,” and you grow even more hysterical as you’re just basically fucking against his face now.

as you’re jerking your hips against toji’s face, you feel a bit of stubble along with his slanted scar smearing against your cunt.

it tickled, but oh- you weren’t laughing.

your eyes were rolling at the enticing sways of his tongue every time. they reach deep- far deeper than the tips of his fingers if that was even possible. as toji’s still idly swirling his flat tongue inside of your gummy orifice, he hears you exhale a deep shriek. “ ‘m gonna cum!”

“awh,” toji slyly murmurs, and you coo out a surprised ‘oooh’ the moment he snatches out of his dewy-coated fingers.

they’re covered in translucent webs of your tangled slick when he gives your cunt a pat. “hear that, baby? said she’s gonna cum,” and he’s not even looking at you. verdant eyes gave your pussy his entire uninvited attention instead, and you feel him blowing his hot breath against your puffy slit. toji even presses his ear up to your wet folds before nodding. “mhm. ‘s exactly what i’m sayin.’”

“uh?? are you seriously talking to my pu—”

“quiet now, sugar. you’ll get y’er turn,” toji utters, making you moan with a spanking right against your fluttering clit. as you’re still laid back with your legs widely splayed out, you quietly bite back whimpers once his palm starts to maneuver a circle around your entrance.

a wet splash! ends up making you spurt out a few droplets of slick right onto the center of his hand. “nasty giiiirl,” he purrs, turning his palm around before licking it right up while staring dead at you.

your neck starts to feel a bit numb as it’s slightly raised just so you can keep staring at toji. he’s just toying with your pussy, casually flicking his tongue against your nub just to hear you whine.

“t- tojiiii.” you wail out, feeling your nerves practically scream at you.

you felt every bundle of axons in your body violently shake you to your very core. your thighs wrapped around toji’s broad neck, merely suffocating him—but he had to admit, going out like this wasn’t so bad..

“give it t’ me then,” he gruffly rasps against your pussy. his breath yet again fans against your folds, noticing that cute ‘lil pulse that would always occur whenever his lips were just a few inches apart.

toji even whistles against your slit, lolling out his tongue before lapping you up from top to bottom.

teasingly, he even goes down toward your neglected puckering hole to give it a loving lick. “all on my tongue, girl. hah- make a mess,” he continues, and you’re whimpering as he’s gruffly talking you through your incoming release.

all you’re seeing is nothing but white once it finally comes. bright, blinding splotches of white that blur your vision for a few seconds..

the moment you let go, you let off a sweet squalling orgasm that rings through your ears and toji’s.

more of a sobbing battle cry and it’s oh-so cute.

at least toji thought so, and he could feel the lessening hold of your fingers releasing from his ravened tresses.

toji’s slurping you clean, making sure his tongue doesn’t miss a drip of your syrupy mess. it coats down on his tongue perfectly, falling on his sizzling tastebuds and even pouring a stream down his chiseled chin.

“there we go girl, uh huhhh.” as he’s talking with his mouth full, you fall back against your bed.

you’re beat - stars clouding your vision and your current state was so cartoonish.

your legs felt like they stopped working, no batteries left in each limb and you’re still moaning whilst he’s lapping up the last few syrupy drops.

licking near the crevices of your inner thighs, toji hums. “heh. y’er cute. ‘s been a while since you’ve got eaten out, sugar?”

in a sluggish mumble, you stare at toji with metaphorical heart eyes. “i guess.”

“poor baby,” he clicks his tongue, sitting up. you’re panting heavily, watching as he gets up. toji’s broad body hovers over you and he runs a hand through his matted black strands. “y’know-” he pauses at the feeling of your hand reaching near his shorts. toji looks at you before snickering, raising a brow. “aw, don’t tell me you want a taste too. ‘s that what you want?”

“mhm,” you utter, and you don’t even realize you are drooling once you’re fondling your fingers with the hem of his briefs. they’re a viridescent green, matching his eye color. once you meet the strip of his boxers with bold black letters that read, ‘DADDY TOJI,’ you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

of course he’d wear briefs that had his name on them.

“don’t be shy, girl,” toji murmurs, placing a wide palm on your head.

you crawl forward as he’s now lying down on the bed with you on your knees. toji’s tank top was wrinkly, and it was pulled up just a tad bit for you to peep at his snatched waistline. it’s sharp, you’d guess that if you tried to touch his hips you’d be left with a paper cut. “ ‘m alllll yours t’night. and he watches as you waste no time, speedily pulling down his boxers.

you’re met that same huge bulge you saw when he was in the game—

it’s big, so big that it almost looked painful.

the way it poked out the fabric, hardening from the tent that was concealing it from being sprung out.

once you pull down his briefs, his cock eventually does spring out, and your eyes cutely widen. “f- fuck.”

“yeahh, toji sir’s gonna be inside you in a minute.”

“stop talking about your dick like it’s a person.”

“make me.”

he’s so annoying,

silence was your reply and toji snickers once he sees you deadpan. he liked getting on your nerves. he found it cute how you were trying to keep up your stubborn façade while wrapping a hand around his monstrous length at the same time.

but fuck.. he’s just so thick-

at first, toji could barely fit around your entire palm. his tip’s swollen, a ruddy crimson red with a pearly split tip.

it’s got veins running from not just one side but all, and you were frothing inside of the mouth just imagining that thing down your throat. you’re so close up to it, glancing at the tears of pre-cum that snivel from the meaty sides. you couldn’t help but give his rounded tip a few kitten kisses.

“m-mhm,” toji grunts, his core muscles underneath his tightly fitted shirt flexing.

seconds later, you softly swirl your tongue around his tip—getting a good enough taste before humming with a closed-eye smile. “go ‘head, get a taste.”

toji’s hand claws on the crown of your head once he ogles at the sight before him.

you - arched over, a hand slowly jerking up and down his hefty shaft. a vein on his dick prods against your finger the moment you cup your lips around his head. it’s massive, and it takes you a second to relax your jaw out.

“nnghm-” you blink twice, laying your wet tongue flat against his flushed crown. toji watches, and he’s oh-so smug. the hooking curve he had on his cock didn’t help either.

you could already start to feel the creases of your mouth numb as you tried to fit him inside. the bittersweet taste of his pre-cum lingers on your buds as your lashes suddenly close.

“niiiiiice ‘n slow, babygirl. you got it,” toji says in a smoky gruff.

the muscles in his burly thighs tense the more your mouth slams down on him. with his nostrils flaring up, toji lets off a loooong groan that puffs out of his chest. “fuuuckk-” he grunts, feeling your tongue circle its way around his sparkly tip.

it’s glimmering with excess dewdrops of cum and you couldn’t help but lap up every drop. toji then sits up on his knees, making you keep your current position.

his knees dig into the plush mattress as he stares at how you’re slowly taking him in your mouth.

with a hand still wrapped around his thick shaft, your lashes flutter once his bulbous cockhead kisses against your uvula. “ahn-” you gulp, a few strands of saliva pouring down the corners of your cracked lips. toji groans, feeling you already starting to lather his entire meaty length with spit as a substitute for lubricant.

it’s messy - and toji eyes you the entire time, his grip against the top of your head getting a bit stronger.

“good girl, mhm. no teeth, n- no fuckin’ teeth. wanna feel that pretty tongue ‘n that tight throat,” and you let off a muffled moan once his tip sloppily drubs against the back of your throat yet again.

you lie your tongue flat, making it wander everywhere—tasting the tasteless veins that were shaped akin to lightning strikes.

it’s all over his cock, and your eyes are closed as you try to savor every inch that eases its way down your right throat. “god- that’s it, that’s what this cute mouth is for, yeah? for dick, huh,” and some more drool seeps from your lips as toji holds up your chin, rubbing a thumb over your mouth. “p- put that mouth to good use, sugar.”

your plump lips wrap around toji’s cock as your head starts to bobble. wholly, you’re taking him in with the end of your conic-shaped tongue teasingly sliding down the midline of his shaft.

toji’s nostrils flare up as he starts to push you closer into his unsteady hips, sucking in a dramatic breath once he feels you starting to wetly fist his cock quicker with one hand.

again, it’s damn biiig, throbbing in the palm of your hand and you moan once you guide your other hand between your legs.

with quick reflexes though, toji reaches in and gives your wrist a slight swat.

“no touchin’, girl.” he grumbles, and you let off a pout as your puffed cheeks heat up. “don’t worry about her right now, she’s fine where she’s at, promise.”

if you didn’t have your mouth occupied you’d smack your lips to voice your frustration, but alas…

your head continues to bobble as you take various fat inches down your throat, occasionally taking a second to breathe for air.

toji’s abs flex as you continue, digging his thick stubby fingers down your scalp. “mmp-” you let off a muffled moan, feeling your thighs squeeze shut.

pathetically enough, you were still dripping and the conditioned air fanning against your exposed skin only made you ten times more sensitive. toji lets off a deep, heavy sigh once you start to fondle his balls.

they were all round ‘n swollen, and he nearly choked on his own words once feels your stringy saliva trickle down toward his heavy, neglected sack.

“nasty s- slut,” he huffs out, already starting to feel his cock tightening. your throat and its warmth were dangerous—and he can feel your jaw starting to slacken. “mmm, gettin’ handsy on me, yeah pretty girl?” and toji brings two fingers toward your face, plugging your nose.

it only lasts about two seconds and you moan, his dick sloppily popping out of your mouth and he hears you gasp. a lustrous stream of spit starts to dribble down your chin as you pant, cutely glaring at him.

“aw, such a messy baby. look at that wet jawww,” he smears a hand down your chin, watching you lean back in.

toji grunts, feeling you grip his base and he knew sooner rather than later, that he was getting close.

you’re opening your throat niiice and wide as if you were preparing to belt out a high note. he’s tapping back against the roof of your mouth and near your twitching uvula repeatedly, and that’s when toji starts to thrust his hips into your mouth.

“fuck, f- fuckk keep goin’,” his voice starts to pitch deeper with an even more husky rasp before he starts to pant. “ ‘m gonna cum, gonna fuckin’ cum right down this messy throat. ‘s that what ya want, pretty?”

“mhm,” your head nods, and you could feel your cunt twitching between your legs at the erotic imagery.

the mental image of toji splattering ropes and ropes of hot cum on your achy pink tongue. it makes you nearly drool just imagining it, and you start to moan again.

toji groans, never getting over the lewd sliminess of your saliva mixing. sloppy strands continue to fall past the edges of your quivering lips as your glassy eyes glance up at him.

toji’s puffing and huffing feverish heavy breaths that make you throb even more. his chest sinks in and out as he’s preparing to shoot a nice load right on your tongue. “hah- fine then, open wide baby girl. better take it all.” toji groans, shivering once your lips tickle down the slope of his frenulum.

with a loud spurt! toji ends up releasing, slimy creamy strings gradually painting near the inside of your mouth.

it comes out slow but it’s so hot- you let off a soft mewl at the bitterly somewhat sweet taste soaking on your highly anticipated tastebuds.

“mmmh.” you let off a satisfied hum, flapping your lashes as he dumps such rivulets of cum down your throat. frosty ribbons ooze down your throat one drop at a time and toji grunts.

“hah- good . . good fuckin’ girl, c’mere.” toji grunts.

as you’re trying to catch your breath yourself, he softly pulls you up by the neck, bringing you into a sultry hot kiss. you moan once his scarred lips harshly crash against yours at full speed.

toji swipes his tongue across the edge of your mouth, barely batting an eye that he’s tasting remnants of his cum on your lips.

as both tongues mercilessly fight for dominance, toji leans you to lie back down on the bed. he’s warm, and you can feel him shiver once you drag a palm down his beefy chest.

you taste a bit of mint on his tongue as he parts your legs with one hand blindly, giving your bare pussy a playful squeeze with his entire wrist.

“mmmpf-” you whimper against his lips, and toji’s big hands slowly trail their way toward your untouched tits. he squeezes them also.

you feel a curve of a smile from toji stretch against your lips as he hears you whine. still delving his greedy tongue in and out of your mouth, occasionally tilting his head, toji brushes his thumbs against the fleecy fabric of your nightgown that sheaths your perked nipples.

before you know it though—you now found yourself bent over and arched.

your lips were all hot and swollen, ridden entirely and you already missed his lips on yours as you laid chest flat down with a cute pout. you could feel toji’s eyes running down your back, shortly hearing a titter come from him once he stops to look at you.

“goddamn, sugar,” toji lets off a whistle as he enjoys the view from the back. your face was met between your fluffed pillows as you chewed on your lip in utter anticipation.

your slicked orifices were just weeping out with your syrupy arousal, clenching from the cold air aerating against it. toji wanders his eyes down the cute shape of your ass with his shaft in hand.

his stare - you could feel it, including the incoming chill that ran down your spine.

with a loud echoing spank, toji swats a hand against your ass, groaning at the jiggly flesh. “so pretty ‘n plump. ‘m gonna take my time with you.”

you moan as your ass instinctively wriggles. toji’s rough wide hands softly caress down your hips before he starts to align himself.

here it goes…

you were mentally preparing yourself, biting on the edge of your cottony pillow. the instant you feel his dewy tip smudge its head against your folds, you let off a deep sigh. shortly afterward, a sweet ‘oooh!’ departs from your lips from the fat size alone. your stomach was already seizing, and the wait was steadily killing you. “fu- fuck,” you croak out, hearing toji’s husky breathing from behind you.

all eyes were on you, and your sweet drooling cunt that just doesn’t know when to stop leaking.

it’s a gorgeous sight in his eyes—

the way how your pulsing inside your clit started to accelerate more ‘n more once he brings his flushed cockhead towards your entrance. “ahh, such a pretty pussy. let’s get the good girl a bit more loose,” toji heaves, and your mouth drops the second his hips sharply pierce inward. gradually, he’s starting to ease his way in..

he’s slow and gentle—

mainly because just a bit of pressure and he’d snap you in half like a twig.

he was that big, and once you were starting to feel the splitting stretch of his cock, you were hysterical. “ohmygoddd.” you blurb out, your hips already pathetically stuttering.

the stretch was so delicious, it’s so good that your eyes were starting to roll back toward the back of your skull yet again. toji groans, feeling your cunt trying to hug against him tightly, greeting him with a cute gummy flutter.

once his thick tip bullies its way inside with its sheer size instead of words alone… it’s game over.

a single thrust was enough to snap you right into reality, and you moan right as his hips punctuate its first hit.

that single hit soon turns into a combo, and toji’s cock started to maintain a decent pace before striking your cunt at all angles. he stares at the fat of your ass that bounces back against his sharp pelvis and he grunts.

“hah- that’s it, girl. fuck back into me, yeah.” and another rude palm smacks against your ass cheek. you whimper, feeling your toes curl at his weight pressing right up against you.

toji lifts his shirt which was practically gluing against his skin due to his masses of sweat. leaning in all the way close, he hovers his weight over you—making his abs rock against you as he starts to grind on your body.

“lemme hear ya,” he hoarsely whispers, feeling your cunt twitch the moment he wraps a hand around the back of your throat.

toji’s strokes were mean-

the epitome of ruthless once he’s just straight-up jackhammering into your walls.

your legs didn’t take long to become wobbly as you were whining his name constantly, choking on your crude inaudible syllables.

“toji—”

“again, not you little girl,” and you moan once his tip thrashes deep into your cervix. it’s nearly reaching there, attempting to drown it with sloppy vigorous kisses.

a palm goes over your mouth, muffling your sweet repetitive moans before he smirks.

“her,” and you whine, feeling him creep a free hand down between your parted thighs. toji rubs circles against your stuffed full cunt, hearing your whimpers pitch louder.

his rhythm was the definition of crazy, and as he was pounding into you continuously, you were slobbering all over the bare center of his palm. toji spanks between your legs, hearing your muffled yelp before lowly chuckling against your ear. a loud splash was heard from your cunt and he starts to smear it back against your throbbing entrance.

“mhm, see baby. she’s tryna talk to me again. ‘m more interested to see what she’s got to say,” and your eyes were practically crossed-eyed now. as toji’s deep voice talks your ear off, he playfully nibbles on your lobe. “wet pussy first, then the whiny wet girl, yeah?”

“mmph-” you moan, bawling your sheets into the open palms of your hand. toji gawks as your body starts to gradually lift.

it’s cute- your ass raises and you’re trying to match his pace. toji’s hitting you well and he’s hitting you deep.

each tilt of his hips sends you whiplash and you’re hacking on your own spit. “mmng.” as your muffled sounds resounded through your walls, you feel his hand go against your ass again.

toji’s favorite part always was to just see your skin bounce back against his.

the jiggle—it was the icing on the cake. the swerves of his hips have you getting dick-drunk within seconds.

bulging widely, your eyes enlarge the exact moment you feel something go against the back of your head.

it’s his foot- thankfully he’s wearing socks.

“fuuuck, such a nasty fuckin’ grip,” toji growls, bringing both hands toward your hips again. he’s holding you firmly, with his foot raising toward the back of your neck. you let off an even prettier moan this time, mutely gasping from the angle.

with toji’s foot near the back of your head, he’s in an even deeper position. “take it. take this dick, t- take it.” as you’re moaning, toji pushes you further into the follow.

oh- you were getting close again.

very, very close. so close that you could taste it in your tongue, it’s salty flavor never subsided.

it was coming quickly, and this time it felt a bit different.

your cunt’s glossing the entirety of toji’s cock that buries itself inside of your clingy walls before he groans. taking the pillow out of your mouth, your words and sounds aren’t so muffled anymore. “t- toji! somethin’s about to—”

“i know… iiiii know,” he cuts you off, and his thrusts against you start to slow. slow but still insanely deep.

you feel a bit of a bulge nudge against the lower pit of your tummy and you exhale. he’s in wholly, stretching out your pretty pussy and rearranging your insides—ironically enough just like his alias name.

“let go for me,” and you moan once he releases his foot from behind you, cupping your chin with a bare hand. you’re a mess, drooling from the sides of your swollen pursed lips before whining. “trust me, sugar. let go.”

at his words—you end up ‘letting go’ which fet like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

you’ve had orgasms but this felt like an entirely new world. you’re gushing out, sprinkling out a small clear stream on his cock before gasping.

your legs were on their last few hinges before collapsing and your eyes widened larger. “toji, toji s- shiiiit,” you ramble with furrowed brows and a dangling dropped jaw.

you’ve never felt more wet, and your entire body blissfully relaxes once your release comes.

toji’s still inside you before he sneers. your body gets limp and he squeezes your plump lips together. “woahhh,” he gruffs, pressing his chin onto your right shoulder. you shiver once you feel the clammy mess stick and soak between your thighs. “did you just squirt on me?”

“s- sorry, sorry,” you moan, feeling your left leg twitch. you’re still spurting out and it’s like a crashing wave that just keeps coming.

toji rubs a thumb against your lips, his hips coming to a sudden pause.

“ah. don’t apologize, silly girl,” toji coos against your neck, planting a kiss near your skin. he feels your body slumping but toji raises a brow once you make him pull out, lightly pushing him back on the bed. “oh? what’s this, sweetheart?” he lands on his chest before snickering. “atta girl. not scared ‘ta look me in the eye.”

“s.. shut up, toji.”

“hmph. how rude.”

toji ends up fucking you stupid, fucking the brain cells—whatever brain cells you had left in your brain by dumbing you down with fat inches of his cock.

round after round after round . .

you’re an entire drooling, babbling mess and despite your legs nearly giving out, you only wanted more..

he did countless positions with you, making you moan out his name constantly until it’s the only word that can slip past your glossed lips. until it’s the only word that can formulate in your brain.

you’re dumbfounded at his stamina - his speed.

you lost track of time and you were sure it was probably waaay past one am by now.

you were currently on top of toji, riding him with the loud creaks of your bed groaning in agony from both active bodies.

your hips were so sensual, rockin’ back and forth while he had a hand attached to your waist the entire time. that sly grin that painted across his lips never left. “yeahhh, girl. use those hip—ack,” and toji pauses mid-sentence once your hand wraps around his throat. “heh- the fuck?”

“you talk too much, toji.” you puff, watching his smug grin widen even more. he’s not even fazed?

oh- he’s turned on.

toji’s sat man-spread with his hand still gripping your hip. his cock’s puncturing inside of your cunt deeply, massaging thoroughly through your walls like its life depended on it.

the view of you swerving your body on his lap turned him on a lot more than he thought it would. it was just something about the way you moved your hips, going in circles and fuck- it drove him mad.

“funny comin’ from a pretty girl with a pussy who doesn’t know when to-”

you shut him up right away by placing your lips on his. toji grunts, leaning into your touch. you felt his hardened scar rub against the side of your lip before your hips quickened.

you’re slow - lustfully torturing toji with your hips. his cock’s pumping in and out of your cunt, feeling you freely writhe around him.

you taste sweet, and he tilts his head back as both crowns of teeth clash at full force. the constant stretch of his hooked cock never fails to leave you speechless as you whisper out soft moans against his thin lips.

“mmph-” toji gruffs, the bed’s creaking turning into mere wails.

you’re bouncing on him now, still having a hand wrapped around his throat before flicking your tongue against his. toji smacks your ass, then he does it again, and again.

hearing your shrilling whines makes him squeeze the fat of your flesh, eagle-spreading his legs even wider like the slut he was.

his body’s just overly glossed with sweat, it shines down his buff physique before you slowly pull away from him. slimy tangled strands of saliva tear away from each lip as toji stares at you.

it’s a mere pout on his lips before he huffs, tilting his head back. “ ‘m gonnaaa fuckin’ cummm,” he blurts in a thick tone, dragging out his elongated words due to your pussy making it hard for him to think straight. “hah- y’er hips are evil, sugar. fuck, gonna milk me.”

as he sucks in a honed sharp breath, feeling the weight of your hips swerve uncontrollably in hypnotizing arcs, toji slips out a whine.

it’s subtle, and you had to really listen to hear his husky tone pitch but you heard it. you watch as the veins in his neck pop, and as you’re still choking him, it turns him on even more.

his cock throbs fiercely inside of you, smacking against each gummy spot that’s located in your sloppy, spongy walls. you had a grip that he just couldn’t get enough of. it was cute how your hand could barely fit all the way around his thick neck anyway, but nonetheless—

toji ends up shooting blanks abruptly, a gruff groan leaving past his lips once he feels himself preparing to shoot inside of you. with your panties still glued to the sides of your thighs, you let off another bundle of exaggerated moans, slowing your pace down.

“f- fuck,” you inhale, feeling toji dig his nails into your left ass cheek. he’s clenching down his tense jaw tightly, emerald eyes flickering back for a moment as his mouth remains slightly agape.

once his milky knot’s pooling its way deep into the barrier of your womb, you let off a shuddering whine. “toji, fill me up, mhm- don’t stop.”

“ugh-” he groans, feeling the weight of his sack start to gradually shrivel up inside of you. the sight of you straddling him was enough to make him cum alone.

toji’s entire body felt hot - scorching, but compared to the dryness of his throat was an entirely different story..

he’s got so much, wads ‘n clods of creamy, gooey seed that plugs its way into your cunt.

you finally sit still, listening to the loud sloshes of all pounds of flesh grinding together. toji’s chest heaves in and out as he’s still got a hand glued to your ass, feeling his cock excessively droooool out such creamy lumps of cum.

“s- sugar,” and his sleazy smile returns on his lips again. toji’s fucked dumb just as much as you were, and you could tell because of how droopy and half-open his eyes were. “heh, got some nerve m- milkin’ me like that. some hah- nerve.”

“you don’t seem so cocky now, toji.” you hum, bringing a chaste kiss against his lips. a stocky arm wraps around your waist before his eyes close, locking lips with you for the final time, hungrily swallowing his low grunts whilst the two of you exchange saliva.

“girl whatever,” he grumbled with sass, and he was still cumming. you let off a soft moan, feeling a brief pudge from just how much he dumped into your pussy. you were leaking from the sides of your thighs, streams of frothy white tearing from each lip. toji licks against your lips before hearing your phone interrupt the two of you with a loud, screeching ‘beeeep!’ with a snarl, he huffs. “the fuck is that?”

you turn toward the side of the bed, reaching for your phone. “my phone, hold on-” and as he’s still plugged into you fully, keeping your walls tight ‘n snug with not only his shaft but his enormous sticky load, you squint. “huh..” and it’s a notification from the app ‘RENT-A-DILF!’

“what’s it say? hah- better be important,” toji mumbles, letting off a soft groan from the feeling of your hips shifting against him.

“ooh. it says . . i matched with a new character,” you reply, taking a moment to scroll your thumb down the brightly pink screen.

it displayed a new character that must’ve been added to the roster a few minutes ago.

as your eyes skim at the coral-pink description box, it mentions in bold how he’s not exactly a dilf like the other male leads….. buuuut the catch was that he was dashingly handsome.

and to be honest, the more you stared at the character with a lit cigarette sticking out of his lips and was draped in a jet-black tuxedo.. yeah, he was pretty hot.

“hm. says his name is shiu kong,” and you look back at toji who’s got a look of literal disgust. “what? do you know him?”

“………………….”

houndtooth [16]

hey ao3 besties, here is chapter 16. i'll post the full chap on here once i get home from work!! <3

We never go out of style

The thing with Sukuna and you is that it's fun. It's fun to kiss him at parties and to take him home and sleep with him. It's fun to just have this casual little on-and-off romance with him because, after all, you both know that you will always come back to each other.

Aka, I listened to Style by Taylor Swift and got the biggest butterflies when I pictured a modern College boy version of Sukuna to this song.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, College AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of sex at semi-public/public places. Reader and Sukuna have an on-and-off fling, but both develop feelings over time. During one of their breaks, they both kiss other people and get jealous about it. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

You aren't even sure how you got into that on-and-off fling with Sukuna. It was supposed to be just a little fun at a frat party. A few heated kisses in the kitchen while you were sitting on the counter, and he was standing between your legs, one large hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to kiss you in a way that made your head spin.

Just a little fun. Just a few sexy kisses with a sexy boy who had too many tattoos, too much confidence, and a reputation that should have sent you running.

You never planned to go home with him. But somehow you did, and somehow you ended up in his bed with him on top of you, in all his naked glory, tall and sexy with all those toned muscles and tattoos. And somehow, your hand was caressing his undercut and tangled in his slicked-back pink hair, ruffling it in a way that made him look almost cute. And somehow, the way he was grinding against you and fucking you into his mattress was the best sex you ever had.

Maybe that's why you walked over to him when you saw him on campus on Monday morning, leaning casually against a fence with sunglasses pushed up into his slicked-back hair, smirking that boyish smirk at you and lifting a large hand to wave you over with one long tattooed finger.

Maybe it was a combination of his skills in the bedroom and his confidence and boyish charm that made you agree to meet him again. Maybe it was the way he flashed you such an attractive smile when you said yes that made your knees feel strangely weak when you walked to your next class.

No matter what the reason was, ever since that day months ago, you have been in this little on-and-off fling with Sukuna.

Never quite the real thing, but also never not a thing.

Sometimes it's a few drunk kisses at a party, where you suck on his tongue and moan when he lifts you up to set you on the kitchen counter. Sometimes, it's loud, excited laughter and a fluttering pulse when he takes tequila shots where he licks the salt off your neck, letting his tongue-piercing glide over your skin. Sometimes, it's a wink and a flirty greeting while passing him in the hallway. Sometimes, it's a passionate hour spent in his bed, forgetting all the College stress when he dicks you down so good you almost cry.

Sometimes, you go weeks without talking to each other, both doing your own thing. But then you'll receive a text message at 3 a.m. asking you how you're doing.

"What's up, princess? Wanna meet up? I kind of miss your laugh."

You meet him every time. And it's always the same after a few weeks of not seeing each other:

A racing heart and a loud laugh when he stands in front of your door with a bottle of cheap wine and a single red rose. Needy, hungry kisses when you pull him into your apartment. Impatient hands tearing at each other's clothes as you stumble to your bedroom.

Your friends start to notice and ask you if you are dating Sukuna. You deny it, laughing and shaking your head. Who would be stupid enough to date him? You know this is something that only leads to a broken heart. No, Sukuna isn't someone for a relationship or anything serious.

But he is fun. So much fun. The bad boy with the charming grin. The arrogant asshole with the sweetest sweet talk you've ever heard. You know he is dangerous. A heartbreaker, a big flirt. Everybody wants him in their bed. He could have a pretty girl or boy on each finger.

You make sure not to get too invested. You keep it casual. A little fling when you feel like it. When you feel like getting fucked so good, you forget your own name. You make sure to push him away a little bit when things seem to become too intense.

You tell him you won't have time for him during the following weeks because you have to study. He doesn't have to know that, in reality, it's because you can't get his stupid charming smile out of your mind or because you catch yourself rolling over in your bed one night and sighing "Kuna" when you think you can still smell his cologne on your pillow where he slept a few nights ago.

This is dangerous territory. It's best to keep your distance for a while. You go out with your friends. You go to bars and clubs Sukuna doesn't frequent, meeting new people, flirting with someone new, maybe kissing one or two others just for the fun of it because you are young and free and you can do whatever you want. Or maybe it is to convince yourself you aren't falling for a pink-haired bad boy with the world's most charming smirk.

Your dormmate asks you if you and Sukuna broke up because lately, she hasn't seen him leave your room in the mornings with his hair ruffled and hickeys adorning his neck.

Another friend of yours approaches you with a sympathetic look and gently informs you that they saw Sukuna with some other girl last night, kissing her against the wall at a party.

You smile through all the comments, shaking your head and brushing it off.

"Oh, that's fine. We aren't dating or anything like that. He is just a little fling. It's not that serious!"

You try to ignore the uneasiness those comments cause. You smile and buy a new sexy outfit, and go to more bars to kiss more strangers, and Sukuna does the same.

Until you bump into him at another party. You turn the corner after grabbing a drink from the kitchen, and suddenly, you run into his tall, muscular figure, your face practically knocking against his chest. And he laughs and raises an eyebrow at you while his maroon gaze trails lazily over your body.

"It's been a while, princess. How was the studying?"

"It was good..."

"What were you studying again? Making out with strangers in bars?"

His eyes glitter challengingly, and his velvety low voice is carefully playful and teasing, but you can hear the edge in it. You glare up at him, 

"Oh, you mean the thing you were studying too? I heard you were hanging out with some other girl."

For a long moment, no one says a word, and you just stare deeply into each other's eyes. But then Sukuna laughs and cocks his head, 

"Well, it's true what you heard, but it was only two or three times. I'm not interested in her. Especially not now, when you seem to have time for me again."

You know he is leaning down on purpose, knowing full well how hot you find your height difference. You know he is brushing his lips over your ear with the intention of making you weak. You know he is calling you princess in that low sexy voice to make you come home with him tonight and forget all the dumb shit both of you did during the last few weeks.

You know now would be the right moment to tell him it's over for good. But you don't do it. You don't want to.

What you want is to put a hand on his toned chest and grab the front of his white shirt to pull him closer. 

"I have time for you, Kuna. I have time tonight and maybe tomorrow, too."

You can feel his smirk when he kisses you, and his muscular, tattoed arms wrap around you and pull you against that tall, strong body that feels so fucking good against you.

"That's good, princess, since I couldn't stop thinking about you and me those last few weeks. It's more fun when you're with me."

The two of you are back at your typical shit again. Passionate kisses at various parties, loud moans, and entangled sweaty bodies in either Sukuna's bed or yours. Once a week, twice, maybe more often. Sometimes, he stays the whole night and makes your dormmate complain about him using up all the milk in the fridge.

The occasional late-night texts turn into nightly calls. Lying in your bed in the dark with a racing heart as you listen to Sukuna's low voice telling you random things he did today, smiling when he tells you to sleep well.

You go to parties together and make out on kitchen counters. You go to clubs and dance and kiss and make it look so dirty that strangers come up to you and tell you to get a room. You give Sukuna a good luck kiss in the morning before his exam and laugh when he walks around with your red lip print on his cheek. 

People start commenting again on your relationship status, but you just laugh and roll your eyes.

Just like you roll your eyes when Sukuna pulls up at your place on a Wednesday at quarter to midnight, his car window rolled down, long fingers casually flicking off the ash of his half-smoked cigarette as he smirks at you,

"Wanna go on a ride, princess? Jump in. Let's drive to the beach."

"It's almost midnight, you idiot!"

"So what? I didn't say just for tonight, did I? We can stay for a few days, check into a hotel, have some fun tomorrow at the beach, go swimming, sip sweet cocktails at a shabby little bar, fuck in the warm sand, things like that. I know you want to."

You do.

You know you have an exam next week and really shouldn't miss any courses, but what can you do when Sukuna is here in front of you with his sexy smirk and that enticing sparkle in his maroon eyes, offering you the chance for a spontaneous adventure you will probably never forget?

You get into his car. You let him rest his large hand much too high on your thigh, and you let him kiss you breathless at every red light, giggling when he misses the traffic light changing, and the cars behind you honk. But Sukuna just grins against your lips and keeps kissing you while he lifts his hand to flip the guy behind him off in the rearview mirror.

You listen to him complaining about his teammates and his coach and make sure to nod understandingly and do the "Oh, no, he didn't!" and "Ah, that sucks!" at the right moments, earning you a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

You check into a cheap hotel down at the beach, feeling your heart beating like crazy because it feels like you are a criminal couple on the run in some noir movie. Or maybe two forbidden lovers meeting here in secret, far away from the cruel reality where everything is too serious, and people expect you to be a responsible adult.

Sukuna fucks you like he's starved for your body. Hard, deep thrusts and bruising kisses. Passionate sex that makes the old bed creak loudly while the sound mingles with your gasps and moans of Sukuna's name. Rough fucking that turns into surprisingly gentle lovemaking later that night, and Sukuna's soft moans against your neck and sweet little nothings whispered in your ear.

You return home two days later, feeling lightheaded and a bit sore from all the sex you had with Sukuna during those two days. On the hotel bed, in the shower, at the beach at night, on the drive home in his car.

His hand is on your thigh, slipping a bit under your short skirt, caressing your skin while he kisses you thoroughly in his parked car in front of your dorm. Maybe his hand tightens a bit on your thigh, not wanting to let go. Maybe you do the same, your fingers tangling in his soft pink hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away and saying goodbye.

When you finally exit his car, he grins at you with lips that are swollen from all the kissing and smeared with your lipstick. The red one that he likes so much on you.

"I'll call you when I'm home, princess. And let's meet again on Tuesday or something. I heard there's a party at Choso's dorm."

"Alright… or you could just stay the night."

The smile that lights up his face is enough to make your breath quicken. He is out of his car in a second, a large hand on the small of your back, steering you towards your front door. And you are grateful for the darkness of the night that helps you hide the stupid big grin on your face.

You don't know if you will ever be more than this on-and-off thing. You don't even know whether you would want it to be more. You don't know if you ever want to date Sukuna for real or if you ever want to call him your boyfriend.

But you know he is your boy, and you are his girl.

It doesn't matter how long your little fling will last this time, just a week or maybe a month. It doesn't matter if you'll go your separate ways for a little while again at some point. In the end, you will always come back to each other. Because one thing is for sure: Whatever the two of you have will never go out of style.

I HAD SO MANY BUTTERFLIES WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG AND WRITING THIS AAAHHH!!! College boy Sukuna is my weakness. I'm so in love with him!!Help meee!!

So yeah, I decided that 1989 is a great College Sukuna album, and I will now go back to listening to it again and daydream about him.

I hope you enjoyed this little story and that it could give you butterflies too, maybe!! Please tell me how you liked it.

Comments and reblogs would be sweet.

【Ｌｉｍｉｎａｌｉｔｙ】

Damaged Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Chapter 12 | I’m Cloudbusting Daddy.

Dark themes, references to past abuse. A PTSD freak out. Kinda hurt no comfort vibes? Take care besties.

You press your face into the cool tiles patterning your shower, feeling the water droplets forming random shapes against the thin flesh of your eyelids. It’s calming, the heat of the mist drenching your scalp, flowing in endless swirls around the drain beneath your feet.

It’s been weeks since the great revelations, since you opened the door to your anxiety for Simon and instead of retreating, he walked straight through. You’re glad he’s on leave actually, it’s given you time to process, move the relationship from one of faintly awkward strangers to the footings of a honeymoon period.

Without needing to verbalise it, you recognise that you’re both in deep now, the light above you reduced to a glimmering speck as you descend into dim and uncharted territory. You know he’s probably never spoken about some of the things he told you with anyone, the fact that he trusted you enough to reveal the difficult truth of his past means everything. It’s given you both a new footing you’re still navigating around.

The first time Simon slept in your bed, it felt like a big deal. A fucking big deal actually. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be brave enough to close your eyes around someone again, give them access to a space where you’re unguarded, vulnerable in the extreme. He stuck to his side of the mattress with almost rigid formality that made humour lodge in the back of your throat. Ironing board stiff and barely moving, shovel like hands folded neatly under his head, a side sleeper by all accounts, when you woke up he was still in the same position and the only indication he was comfortable was the change in his breathing, exhales of air expended from somewhere peaceful.

Slowly, like dream walking, Simon had gradually eased into it, until his hand laced with yours when it came time to turn off the amber light on your bedside table. That progressed to your head making it’s way onto his shoulder, or a leg being flung absently across his thigh. Shapes that gradually came together through the blackest night or in the early hours where the soft plumed birds chirp. With each passing day the awkwardness disappeared, until you realised your bed would feel entirely empty without his body there, even given the whistling snores he makes when he’s dozing through a nose broken more than once.

It’s going so well, it almost makes you uneasy. You keep waiting for him to show some sign of impatience with you, try and touch you somewhere that makes the wounds in your psyche flinch away, withdraw under the pain of previous caresses you’ve tried so hard to bury twelve feet deep.

But it never comes. Simon kisses you like a man fevered, possessed by the feeling of your lips against his, nips at your jawline and threads his big paws with your fingers. Steadily you’re recognising that perhaps Simon is more afraid of taking that leap than you are. The jump that involves acting on the slickness between your thighs after a particularly intense make out session, or acknowledging the hardness you’ve felt pitching in his black jeans.

In spite of your own anxieties, you’ve got to admit you crave that physicality with Simon. It’s stirred all sorts of excitement in you, the type that makes your stomach tense with anticipation, heat curling over your shoulders in waves every time he murmurs your name, slightly out of breath from long minutes wrapped up in you.

The water plunging from the spouts above you is turning lukewarm you’ve been in here so long. More than once you’ve taken a shower as an acute distraction from the overstimulation bought on by Simon’s presence. Slipping a hand between your legs to ease the ache he leaves, toying with your clit until a short and sharp orgasm blooms under your fingertips. Oddly, it leaves you craving more though, becoming less and less satisfying with each stolen moment.

A little frustrated, you shut off the flow. You both agreed you’d take things slowly, it’s needed, required even. You’ll have to shove batteries in your old vibe and sneak it into the bathroom. That should stave off the constricting desire that has you gazing at Simon’s broad back when you wake up before him in the mornings. The itch inside you to trace a palm over the corded muscle and sinew built there, press kisses to every scar. It’s a relief in some ways to be so attracted to him, when it’s been a while since frisson didn’t make you anxious.

“Oi.”

“Oi.” Simon replies softly, barely opening one eye, head resting against the sofa cushions. You can tell he’s awake though, his gravelled voice holds no sign of sleep. He’s always watchful, only rests in a light state of consciousness, sometimes waking if you move too much or twitch while you dream.

The tv show you were watching has long since finished, something else is playing. The hum of the dialogue onscreen washes over you, drowning out the negative voice inside your head. Simon’s black gaze is now resting on you entirely, slow blinking like a cat on the lap of an owner who dotes on it.

It’s now or never.

“Do you ever think about…” You pause, trying to bottle the shyness suddenly seeping into your body and making you clench your fists. “Trying stuff? Stuff other than kissing?”

Simon sits up and immediately you regret your statement. In his uncanny way you know he understands exactly what you mean. You get studied by eyes full of apprehension, something churning in the depths you can’t quite grasp, an undercurrent through a restless body of water that’s usually still.

“You don’t have to answer that! Sorry, forget I said it.”

Shit, now you feel awkward.

But Simon closes his rough fingers tightly around yours, the pad of his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.

“Stop apologising to me.” He huffs, the scar on his lip tugged downwards in a stern line. But his severe stare starts to crumble at the edges, humour breaking through the cocktail of uncertainty in them. “M’tougher than I look.”

You snort at that, then hold his hand properly, sliding your fingers to rest on his knuckles, marked and sloping as they are. Flipping his hand to bring yours closer still, you notice something, a vibrant red, crimson smear on the thin skin just before his weathered palm begins.

“Is that lipstick?!”

“Yeah.” Replies Simon, looking utterly unabashed. You press a pad into the stain, garish against his fair colouring.

“Do I want to know why you’ve got red lipstick there?”

He shrugs, lips tilting up at the corners in a surprisingly boyish way. Simon looks like he’s been caught out in some amusing fashion, it piques your interest immediately.

“Si?”

The smirk grows a little wider, so you squish his hand in an attempt to extort the truth from him. It has all the affect of a breeze blowing against a large rock. He doesn’t even flinch, though you’re puffing.

“Tell me!” You lean all your weight on his hand which remains resolutely steady.

“Surprised it’s taken you this long to notice it actually.” He hums, watching you wrestling with him while his eyes crinkle happily at the corners. “Pinched your lipstick weeks ago. Wear it everyday.”

You gawp at him, momentarily distracted. Simon uses that to flip your hand and traps it vice like in his paw.

“I’ve been looking for that!”

“Bought you new ones didn’t I?!” He grins stupidly at the outrage on your features.

“You’re a weird guy Simon.”

“Know that.” Simon shrugs without batting an eyelid. “Reminds me of you. Thought you’d lose your shit if I got a tattoo, lipstick will do for now eh.”

Warily, you eye him, the sentiment is crushingly adoring and it should have you running for the hills. Instead you’re more than a little bit pleased he wants to keep a part of you with him, even if that did involve stealing your favourite lippy.

“Have you got any other tattoos? Apart from your arm?”

“Nah. Don’t like sitting for em. Tha’s why I only got a half sleeve. Never went back for the rest.”

You digest that fact, your brain making links in the pieces of information you have about him. He finds touch difficult sometimes, you know that already. Occasionally he doesn’t sleep at all and you wake up to him pottering around your flat like a helpful poltergeist, tightening loose screws and fixing dripping taps.

“Do you prefer piercings then?”

Simon nods slowly.

“Mm. Done those myself in the main.”

“You pierced your own tongue?!” Horrified you gaze at him, imagining how difficult that must have been to do without flinching.

“Pierced other stuff too. Just took em out when I got bored.”

“Like what?”

“Come ‘ere?” Simon murmurs, pulling you closer then patting his lap. He still frames it as a question, giving you the right to refuse at any moment, to pull back without consequences. Feeling bold, you clamber onto his thick thighs, as his orbs flit over your form.

“See how many you can guess.”

Steadily he stares up at you, big hands resting gently on your hips, the lightest touch that might as well weigh tenfold with how heated you’re feeling. Spread wide across his lap, feeling the stretch in your muscles as they accommodate the broadness of him. It would burn to take him, you’re sure of it, but it would be the best feeling in the world.

Carefully you examine his face, a few lines around his eyes, scars that criss cross through his ash blonde stubble, light lashes framing the obsidian orbs so tenderly observing you in return.

There’s a little hole shaped mark in the corner of his lip, two by both sides of his brows. A few more litter his ears. Quietly you let your fingers trace each in turn, while he sighs at the whispering touches. You tap his Cupid’s bow and tilt your head to add the little metal barbel inside his mouth to the list of sites. Then your hand trails the length of his jawline, down to his Adam’s apple which jumps as he gulps.

“Did I get all of them right?!”

Simon’s orbs look over-bright, black pupils a vortex in which to drown. His breath quickens, a pace to match his thrumming pulse. It’s innocuous, but you touching him so tenderly has roused something wolfish that can’t be ignored. Simultaneously he wants you to stop and go further all at once.

“More or less.” He concedes, leaning his throat into your touch until a thrumming starts to drive between your legs. Boldly you trace a peck over his T-shirt, the outline of muscles bunching under your caresses until he’s taut like a spring.

“Anymore round here?”

Your thumb finds the edge of his nipple and curves around it, feeling the peak while he shivers slightly. It occurs to you then and there that Simon could have more piercings in delicate areas unseen as yet, and the thought of that has your pussy fluttering with anticipation.

“I’ll tell you if you’re hot or cold.” He rasps, throat bobbing again. Is it just nerves? Or is he really so affected by a trailing touch?

Sinking lower, you stroke down to his navel, navigating his belly button with a quirk of your eyebrow. Simon inhales softly when you pause just under it, tentatively drawing little circles.

“Hot.”

You giggle, the vision of this giant of a man with a cute noughties belly bar is almost too much to handle. So carefully you’re now barely taking in oxygen yourself, your hand reaches the waistband of his jeans, resting on it with a feathery lightness that totally belays the amount of intoxicating want you feel for him. The incredible urge you have to undo the faded metal button and let down the zipper of his fly.

There’s a split second pause while your imagination goes into overdrive, contemplating one thousand different moves that would lead onwards to the place you’ve been fantasising about getting to with Simon.

That momentary lapse in observation is all it takes to miss that he’s frozen, no longer heavily lidded with lust, forearms straining and bunched with tension until the muscles look fit to burst through his flesh. All easy humour has vanished from his face, his eyes are burning like supernovas in their sockets, while his knuckles whiten.

Then seamlessly he’s on his feet, you’ve been deposited onto the sofa and he’s halfway into the hall. You barely have time to blink, to readjust to the change in position before you hear the bathroom door slam.

Shit.

You don’t know what to do, give him space? Is that the best thing? Or does he need comfort? Surely he wouldn’t have moved if he didn’t need alone time. Waiting for a beat you listen, it’s eerily quiet, not even the sound of the clock ticking over to midnight in the kitchen breaks the tension.

Shit, shit.

Anxiously you clutch your knees, wavering between going to check on him and the worry that might make it worse. Concern gnaws at you, along with rapidly rising guilt. You never even considered what level might be too much for him and that brings nausea to your throat.

The front door opens.

“Need fresh air.” Simon calls shortly.

It shuts with a finality that feels like a death toll, leaving you reeling a little in it’s wake.

Shit, shit, double shit.

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defiance | king!sukuna x concubine!reader master list

chapter sixteen: dream's over

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine.

genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, pregnancy, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry

fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, graphic depictions of violence, suicide, more will be added as story progresses

word count: 4.4k

notes: i really haven't update in a month and?? how time FLIES. anyways, i hope you sexies enjoy this chapter. we get some more domestic sukuna and more info on these frequent meetings he's been having ((:

Sukuna has decided to throw a small festival as a way to celebrate your pregnancy now that you are 7 months along. 

You’re not really sure what he means by small, and you honestly don’t believe him because he only throws festivals strictly for the purpose of receiving gifts and blessings. Knowing this was meant for you and your unborn child, you doubt it’ll be anything but small, he probably only told you that so there’d be no pushback on your end. 

But no pushback at all, you’re on the same boat as him when it comes to gifts and blessings for the baby. The more the merrier.

The festival’s a couple weeks away but preparations have already started around a week ago since the servants needed to start drying and pickling all sorts of different foods. 

As for you, you were in the dressing room of your shared chambers with Sukuna, waiting for the tailor to arrive. 

Renovations had finally finished and you both were able to move back in. At first you insisted that the expansion wasn’t that necessary but you can appreciate it now. 

There was now a courtyard, some extra rooms, an expansion on the greenhouse, along with the koi pond and sandbox in the back that Sukuna tries hard not to act too excited about. 

It was more of a small compound now within the estate, providing extra privacy which brought you ease— you’ve been waking up with feelings of dread over nothing in particular lately.

It wasn’t anything alarming since there really wasn’t anything to be worried about, but the feeling still put you on edge. 

“I didn’t pay that old hag to take her fucking time to get here,” the king groans, pulling you out of your thoughts and making you click your tongue at his impatience. 

“What time is she supposed to be here?” You ask, even though you already knew the answer. 

“11.” He scoffs.

“It’s 10:52,” you let him know, making his eyes roll into the back of his head because he believes hired help should always be 30 minutes early. “Patience is a virtue, Kuna.” 

“I practically own that woman, I don’t need patience,” He quickly retorts. You can’t help but laugh when he gets all pouty like this, knowing he’ll go back to his quiet, serious self once the woman and her assistant arrive. 

“And who are you to talk, hm?” He adds. “You had a servant crying and throwing up for not bringing you your lunch on time last week.” He said, pointing his finger at you.

He smirked at the thought of what you could’ve possibly said to the girl since it was still a mystery.

You and the servant refuse to say what atrocities came out of your mouth that day, which makes him even more curious because it couldn’t have been anything worse than the things you have said to him throughout your pregnancy. 

But with the way you’re glaring at him for bringing it up again, it was probably something 100 times worse than what he’s ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that again,” you nearly scolded him.

“I’ll let it go,” he leaned back and said. “If you allow me to complain about that bitch who is now two minutes late. I fucking told you, she doesn’t need people being patient with her. What she needs is for you to repeat whatever the fuck you said to that servant so she can start crying and throwing up too—“

“The tailor is here, My Lady!” Hayami yelled out from the front of the house, cutting Sukuna off mid-rant because the whole entire house could hear him, and so would the tailor had he kept going. 

“Okay let her in!” You yell back and the father of your child genuinely looks wounded from how powerless he’s become against you and your ladies in waiting. 

“So you all are just going to interrupt me like that?” He whispers but keeps his argumentative tone. 

“Yes,” you break it to him. “Now sit down and don’t mention anything about her being late.” 

The tailor warmly greets you both when she comes into the room, congratulating you both over the shrine's newest addition. 

You both thank her and Sukuna surprisingly starts up small talk with the woman. 

Your thoughts on how oddly respectful he was being quickly came to a halt when “the journey here must’ve been pretty taxing, huh?” came out of his fucking mouth. The poor tailor didn’t know he was just having a mini tantrum because you had hurt his feelings not too long ago.

You pinched the low of his back the moment he said that, causing his smile to grow even wider because it fucking hurt— which scared the woman since the king experiencing any other emotion aside from homicidal rage was quite literally unheard of.

Seriously, she doesn’t know how you get along with him. She’s honestly suspicious of you too.

Maybe the rumors were true and you were a witch. 

But she doesn’t care, it’s none of her business and Sukuna’s paying her a rather generous amount for today. It’s safe to say that she’d gladly serve you even if you just so happened to be satan reincarnated with just how much money she was making today.

The fitting was.. interesting— for all three of you. 

The woman wasn’t expecting you both to act so domestic around each other. 

As for you and Sukuna, you just couldn’t get on the same page as this woman. You’re pretty sure she thinks you’re someone who got pregnant the night you lost your virginity with the outfits she’s suggesting for you and you can tell the king’s going to pop a vein because of it. 

“She’s pregnant, not a nun, stop trying to fucking dress her like one,” Sukuna grumbles with his head in his hands after the third fitting.

You don’t snap at him this time and you’re actually grateful for his attitude because you didn’t have the heart to say anything to the woman. 

“Right, my king,” she immediately stiffens up. “I apologize.” 

After a few more outfits you were able to finally decide on which one you liked. It was still modest compared to some of the things you’ve worn around the shrine before, it was something acceptable for both you and Sukuna. 

Once the tailor finally leaves after 3 grueling hours, Sukuna slams the doors shut without even saying goodbye, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Pinching me in front of her, really?” He clicked his tongue. You honestly forgot you even did that, but you’re not surprised he hasn’t let it go.

“She did not see that, she probably just thought my hand was on your back,” you say, not taking him too seriously.

“You still broke skin.” 

“Doubt it. Turn around and let me see,” you nearly demand. 

“And now you’re ordering me to turn around like I’m some brood whore for the night,” he retorts and you burst out laughing from how dramatic he’s being. 

“Oh you think this is funny?!” He nearly starts laughing with you as he cups his hands around your jaw. 

“I think it’s hilarious my king,” you say back.

“I remember every time you disrespect me, you know?” His question is more of a statement, a rather threatening one. 

“Do you now?” You ask, rubbing your thumbs over his hands, entertaining his antics. 

“I do,” he promises. “I bottle them up and throw them in the part of my brain that’ll magically unlock once that’s brats out of you.” 

“I’m sure you do, my love.” You reach out to cup his check with one hand. “Let’s hope you follow through with these statements given the fact I haven’t gotten this side of you in a very long time.” 

“Oh you’ll get it all.” His entire demeanor lights up as he continues to eye you up and down like you’re some kind of prey. 

And to think you would’ve crumbled under his gaze at one point, now you’re nearly making him promise to fuck you up once the time comes. 

He’s created a monster and is quite pleased with that. 

He pulls you into his embrace and starts whispering some more lewd things in your ear, just because it makes you giggle more than anything and he loves to see it. 

And also because there’s a part of him that thinks the baby will hear it if he doesn’t whisper. 

But he keeps that theory to himself because he knows you’ll make fun of him for it and you make fun of him enough. 

“Sorry to interrupt bu—“ Hayami comes to the door knocking, unaware of the little moment you two are having. 

“You women do NOT get enough days off, do you?!” He snaps, nearly throwing his head back.

“We do not, my king,” Hayami chirps, keeping her cheerful tone because she’s not really that scared of him anymore. “Kaori is here to visit you,” she turns her attention to you and says. 

Sukuna lets out a long sigh into the crook of your neck and mutters something along the lines of wanting to get rid of her already. 

You pat his back because all he wanted to do was to get some extra time with you before he goes off and does whatever he does. 

Unfortunately, you still aren’t 100% sure what  exactly he does, you just know there’s a lot of paperwork and random yelling involved.

“Can you lead her to the sun room and let her know I'll meet her there shortly?” You ask, trying to somewhat meet the man holding on to you halfway. 

“Of course, I’ll get some tea and snacks prepared as well.” Hayami says before making her way back to the entrance of the house. 

It takes some time getting Sukuna off your back, but you eventually get him to put one foot in front of the other towards his office.. the office that was literally just upstairs. 

He drags his feet to get there of course, wishing you’d tell Kaori to fuck off so you could hang out with him instead while he signs off on different bills and contracts and whatnot. 

But you promised you’ll come back right after and he’s holding you to that, even though there’s not much of a consequence if you don’t.

You let out a little sigh once you hear the door to his office fully shut and can’t help but laugh to yourself. The longer you’re with him, the more clingy he gets. 

The king’s a smart man and you’re sure he is aware of how clingy he is, he just doesn’t care how he acts around you anymore. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you apologize to Kaori, who’s been waiting for over 20 minutes now since she’s sat down. 

Had you not held such a high position in the estate, she would’ve ripped your head off by now for the disrespect— preoccupied with the king or not. 

But you’d never know that.

“It’s no worries at all!” She assures you before squeezing your hands. “I’m sure it’s a lot dealing with King Sukuna’s.. moods.” 

“Yeah,” you exhaled as you said it. 

You and your ladies in waiting have resorted to placing any and all sorts of blame on Sukuna and his infamous temper, even though he never gets mad at you and is surprisingly respectful to your attendants. 

It’s just more believable for others to hear that he’s having a meltdown, rather than something as simple as him refusing to get out of bed with you because you were extra warm on a cold morning. 

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you try to say with a straight face. “What can I help you with?” 

“Nothing at all,” she perks up. “I just wanted to bring some goodies for you,” she smiles and opens a box full of mini cakes and candies. “I’m sure the baby would love these!” 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry— I’m not allowed to eat these,” you reveal and she tries her hardest not to raise a brow at you.

Sukuna forbade you from eating anything that wasn’t made by Hayami, Miya, or Akari. It’s honestly the one rule that you’re completely on board with, given the long history of queens, consorts, and concubines experiencing attempted poisonings in the past. 

“That’s a little harsh of him, don’t you think?” The concubine nearly pouts at your decline. 

“Not really. I feel bad having to decline of course, but if following that rule brings him some peace of mind then I don’t mind.” You say. 

“I’m sure he appreciates all the sacrifices you make for him,” her lips thin after the words leave her mouth. 

“I’d hope so,” you say sympathetically, you really do feel bad for turning her down. “Ladies! Would you like some cakes?” You turn around and call out.

“Of course!” Miya pokes her head into the green room. “These look yummy Lady Kaori, did you make these yourself?” 

“Yes, but with the help of my attendants of course,” she gestures to the two women who have come with her today. 

“We can’t wait to try them! I’ll go ahead and take these to the back to share with the girls, thank you again!” Miya says as she offers her one last smile before leaving. 

“I’m glad someone was able to take them, you must’ve worked hard making them,” you say as you both get up from the table. 

“Oh it was nothing,” she brushes you off. “I’m just glad someone’s able to eat them!” She forces out a laugh and you try to laugh with her. 

But it’s uncomfortable because she is clearly offended, even though they’re Sukuna’s rules, not yours. 

“I’ll get going, let me know if you need anything.” She says before turning on her heel to leave your chambers. 

“Thank you, I will.” 

Once she and her attendants finally leave, you head to the back to find the girls, who are most likely hanging out in the kitchen. 

Which they were, the three of them were just hanging around and talking. 

“How were the cakes?” You ask as you lean against the counter. 

“No clue,” Akari says.

“If she does ask, tell her they were great,” Hayami follows, giving you a little wink.

“Wait, did you throw them away?” 

“Duh.” Hayami says. “Miya just took them so you wouldn’t be in an uncomfortable situation. If you’re banned from eating outside food, then we’re definitely not going to be eating food that’s gifted to you either. We don’t want to get poisoned.” 

“You really think Kaori would try to poison me?” You ask, genuinely concerned. 

“Not sure, but we’re not trusting anyone right now.” Miya adds to the conversation. 

“Fair enough,” you let it go. “Just burn them, or bury them— something. I don’t want any servants peeking through the trash and seeing that. It’s been peaceful around here and I'd like to keep it that way.” 

—-

“You’re starting the hearings early today,” you offer the king a faint smile, as he frantically moves back and forth around the room– trying to get himself ready for the shitshow that’ll become of his day. 

“Kuna,” you impatiently snap your fingers while trying to get the man’s attention.

“Hm? Oh– yeah,” he stops for a second and just nods.

“Were you even listening to me?” You cross your arms, nearly squinting at him because he’s failing miserably at whatever he’s hiding right now.

“No, I’m sorry– what were you saying sweetheart?” 

“The hearings,” you nearly grit your teeth. “Awfully early for them, no?”

“No-” he shakes his head. “No hearings today,” he corrects you and it honestly pains him to do so. He’d much rather have a hearing today. 

“Then what are you in such a rush for? The sun’s barely out. And why won’t you look at me?” You begin to raise your voice at him and it doesn’t even register in his head that you’re frustrated with his lack of communication this morning.

He swiftly puts on his haori and walks up to you, his hands now cupping your cheeks as he just stares at you for a moment. 

He’s worried, you can see it in his eyes– distant but nearly pleading for help and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this defeated before. 

“Promise you won’t freak out?” He asks. 

“I won’t. What’s going on?” You nearly plead, knowing nothing good was going to come out of what he was going to say.

One hour later—

“And he’s how old?” Sukuna nearly chokes out as he demands Uraume for clarification. 

The rooms filled with all of the district's shoguns, their advisors, and all high ranking generals— all equally as stunned as Sukuna himself.

Today was their third meeting since Uraume started spying on the west border, with this recent mission uncovering even more details on what they've been planning for a while now.

“Seven, my king.” 

The rooms quiet for a moment after that, except for a quiet “no fucking way” that came from one of the younger generals. Speaking out of turn like that is a punishable offense, except nobody really gives a shit right now, he said what everyone else was thinking.

The western region, or rather the Zen’in clan, hasn’t gone against the peace treaty in years— hundreds of years actually. 

The fact that they’re planning on breaking it now is a surprise in itself, not to mention the absolute trump card they’re using as leverage, in the form of a literal child. 

“General Toji, you grew up under that clan, care to share more about them?” The king basically calls the man out as all the attendees turned their attention to the high ranked general.

“..Yeah,” he husks out. “I’m pretty sure the seven year old’s my son,” he admits rather regrettably, also carrying a stunned look on his face.

“Of course that’s your fucking spawn,” Sukuna groans to himself, causing everyone in his vicinity, especially Toji, to tense up. 

His unseriousness served as a reminder that he was capable of murder without thinking twice about it, father to be or not. 

It left Toji to wonder if he should’ve just kept his mouth shut about that one little fact, but they’d find out soon enough if they did more research on the boy. He never exactly tried to hide the fact that Megumi was his anyway, the courtesan he got pregnant just opted to sell the boy back to the clan and he let it be since he thought the boy would be taken care of if they were willing to pay as much as they did for him.

“How did the boy end up there?” Sukuna asked while rubbing his eye, clearly irritated that this is now a fact. 

“Got a courtesan pregnant, she said she wanted to terminate the pregnancy so I gave her money for that. By the time I found out she got money from me and the clan for selling the boy to them, it was already too late.” Toji's knuckles were nearly white as he explained everything as briefly as possible. 

He knew his family was cruel, he just never thought they’d convince a child to sacrifice their life in a war, let alone his own flesh and blood. 

He’s angry, he’s hurt— he’s also one of the most respected generals in the region, so he reminded himself to get it the fuck together in front of the psychopath that was unfortunately crowned as king at 19 and has done a terrifyingly great job at ruling the region through fear. 

There was no room for weakness or mistakes in the presence of Sukuna, so man up.

“I understand that this might be a conflict of interest, but I have no intentions of betraying the region or the crown,” Toji says, feeling the need to remind the clans and the king. “I left them for a reason, and it was lo-”

“No need to state those reasons,” Sukuna cuts him off, unsure if the general was about to tell a sob story to sound convincing or not. He honestly didn’t care either way. “You need to tell me everything you know about the ten shadows technique.”

—

The meeting lasted around 9 hours, give or take. Today is one of those days where he seriously wonders why massacring entire villages is looked down upon, when acts like that have the power to prevent situations like this. 

Sukuna is usually the last one to leave, alongside Uraume and Mariko, it’s actually one of the very few formalities he really sticks to in the world of nobility, but not today. 

He held on tightly to the last of his composure as he b-lined it to the exit, trying his hardest not to look like he’s storming out of the room, even though he probably did end up looking like he was. 

By now everyone knew one of his concubines was pregnant and that he’s been less.. violent lately because of it. 

Many of the attendees have actually found themselves empathizing with the young king, especially after watching his face drop at the realization that yeah, the Zenin’s are planning an attack. They all knew the threat of war mercilessly ripped him out of the daydream he was in, forcing him back into the dreadful reality that he called his life. 

Several ground shaking explosions followed not too long after he stormed out of the room and off to god knows wherever he went off to. 

Some even heard the faint noise of yelling and cursing off in the direction he went in, his threats to no one in particular echoing off the trees and mountains, making their way back to whoever had a good pair of ears on them. 

The world feels like it’s slowly closing in on him and he’s convinced he might just completely lose his mind before midnight— throwing away the very thorough plan he and all the other generals just spent hours curating. 

Instead, opting to charge that clan alone, head on. 

But he can’t and he knows it, which makes it all the more infuriating because for once in his life he’s facing an actual threat. 

The threat being that final shikigami Toji’s hidden demon child has the power to conjure up. 

If he fucks up, this might just actually be the end of the line for him, he doesn’t like the thought of that— hence why he blows up yet another hill. 

The shockwaves made it to the shrine about 2.5 seconds after that. 

He takes a look at the view in front of him and realizes he’s completely flattened acres of land. Maybe once this is all over, he could have the shrine extended. 

If there’s even anyone left.

If you asked him how he truly felt about it all, the news broke him. 

He truly felt like something from above came down and clipped multiple different wires in his brain.

This wasn’t the typical anger where he considers rounding up prisoners and hunting them down like animals to blow off some steam, and it ends there. 

This was the type of anger where he wanted to drop to his knees and scream at god for doing this shit to him, again– a war, at quite possibly the worst fucking time ever. 

And he did, he doesn’t care if people can hear him at the moment. 

All he wanted was to enjoy these last couple months with you, and welcome his child in the peaceful-enough nation he created. 

But no, now the nation will be baptized in blood, win or lose.

Not to mention the fact that you were at your most vulnerable right now, you can’t even fully get dressed by yourself anymore without some sort of assistance. Now you were really a target and he can’t be in two places at once.

He already knows that he’ll look back at this years from now, whether it’s an immediate win or one that’s drawn out, and he will fucking seethe. 

It’s time ripped away from his grasp, he could have more kids, enjoy the pregnancies and newborn stages with them but he’ll feel nothing but rage when he looks at this one, knowing this one got fucked with. 

This is the type of resentment that will forever marinate in his heart and he’s not sure if death to that god forsaken clan will ever be enough for him. 

Maybe it’s a good thing, some extra fuel to really brutalize those people. 

Many will say watching him in battle years ago was terrifying, and they may think he’s somehow mellowed out by now. 

No. He’s learned to redirect it, compartmentalize it. There is now strategy to that power.

And just like always, he remembers the role he plays in this world and what’s required of him, since most people just aren’t capable of the things he was born to do.

His existence is a curse within itself and he knows most people wished he’d never been born, rightfully so. 

But those same people should really thank him one day, because this entire region would’ve been annihilated by now without him.

He was made for this.

So he takes one last deep breath, loosens his fist, and starts to make his way back to you, because that’s all he really can do right now.

Bracing himself, knowing you probably sat there all day hoping he’d come back with good news, yet you most likely heard the commotion he created and realized he’d be coming back with anything but that.

And when he did return, you both just looked at each other and knew. 

Barely any words were exchanged between the two of you. The meeting ruined his appetite for the night so he skipped dinner. He tried to get you to eat but you weren’t hungry either and he didn’t push it because he was too tired to try to argue with you.

He stayed up that night while you eventually fell asleep in his arms. For the first time in the last 7 months, he sort of wished you weren’t carrying his child. 

It was for the most selfish reason too, he just missed laying on top of you, resting his head on your chest while listening to your shallow breaths— it was the one thing that put him to sleep. 

And with how uncertain the future was looking right now, a part of him began to mourn that feeling because he truly doesn’t know when he’d be able to feel moments of peace like that again.

notes: so sorry for the news! hope u enjoyed the read! <3 pls leave a like, comment, and subscribe for more videos

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

defiance | king!sukuna x servant!reader

chapter ten: hidden letters

summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine. TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.

genre: female reader, heian era au but incredibly historically inaccurate, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, so much crack, angst, mutual pining, might be seen as dubcon but she wants him lol, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, srry srry srry

fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, ooc, mentions of grooming, graphic depictions of violence, suicide, more will be added as story progresses

word count: like 3.8k?

notes: no chapter warnings this time (: enjoy the read and happy sunday!!

master list

playlist (lana heavy)

“You’re joking.” 

“Oh come on,” Hayami scoffed. “That would be purely diabolical on my part.”

You crossed your arms, “What did they say?”

“That they’d like to see you again. They said they’ve been sending letters here for over two months now.” 

Interesting how the only ones you’ve received so far were from Hayami— making your mind going straight to a certain salmon-haired menace who most likely knows where they are. 

“And how did they find out?”

“I honestly have no idea.. I’m guessing from Toji, maybe?”

“Probably if it’s been two months,” you grudgingly said.

—

Sukuna had just gotten back to his chambers after a long training session with Uraume, and immediately heard ruffling coming from his office in the very back. 

Whoever had snuck in obviously didn’t hear him come inside since the noise didn’t stop, so he quietly shut the door– wanting to scare the shit out of whoever it was before he punished them. 

Right before he reached the doorway, he heard a little “ugh” that he was all too familiar with, immediately stepping into the office to see what you were doing there. 

He froze in place, eyes blown wide open and jaw dropped at the fact that he just got caught red fucking handed. 

He knew he couldn’t even talk his way out of this— all 12 of the letters he hadn’t disposed of were in your hand, all while you glared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” He asked in a panicked tone. 

“You’re really asking me that right now?” You retorted, beyond baffled at his pathetic response to getting caught hiding your mail. “Kuna, how long have you had these?” 

He slightly pursed his lips together, pretending to think, knowing the answer was at least 2 months, but not sure if he should tell you that. “Over a month.” 

It technically wasn’t a lie. 

“And why haven’t you said anything?!” 

He doesn’t like it when you grit your teeth like that, or the way you were staring into his soul at that moment. 

He quickly pulled it together, reminding himself that there was nothing to be nervous about. “Because they’re fucking assholes.”

“I’m well aware of that, I just don’t get why you decided it was a good idea to keep these from me,” you scoffed. 

“You’re the one who said you wanted them to think you’re dead!” He argued, just remembering that little piece of information on the spot, hoping your mood wouldn’t get worse than it already was.

“I did, but I still think I deserve to read whatever they have to say to me!” You argued back. “Don't you?!”

“Ugh, yes,” he groaned. “Okay— okay! It was wrong, I shouldn’t have hid them from you.” 

“Are these all of them?” 

“Yes,” you raised your eyebrow at his hesitancy to answer the question. “No,” he corrected himself. “I burned the first two.” 

“Un-fucking-believable,” you pinched your nose bridge. “Whatever, can’t take it back now.” You mumbled to yourself. 

That was right, no he could not. 

“They didn’t say much in the first two anyways.” He scratched the back of his head while accidentally admitting that he read them too. 

You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head from how he didn’t even realize he told on himself just now. “What did they say?” You let out a sigh.

“That they missed you, that they were worried about you for the longest time, apparently. And that they were happy to hear you were doing “okay”— no apologies or even acknowledging what they did to you.” 

“Of course they didn’t,” you said in a defeated tone. “You swear you only burned two of them?” 

“I swear.” He was quick to throw his hands up as he promised, slightly relieved that you seemed more sad than mad. It was easier to make you feel better when you like that. 

“No apology?” 

“I’m not apologizing for trying to protect you.” He retorts, rather firmly, making you roll your eyes again— you swear he’d rather die than apologize to another person. 

“‘Kay, thanks for that.” Your tone wasn’t too convincing, but you weren’t trying to fight with him. 

“Where are you going?” He held his arms out.

“Back to my chambers?” 

He shook his head at you for trying to leave him so soon. “I’m coming with you, hold on.” 

You groaned at him making you wait for him while he changed out of his training clothes and into one of his daily robes. But you left it at that, not wanting to snap at him anymore than you already did. 

He already knew you were mad, there wasn’t really a point in trying to prove it even more by continuing to attack him— no matter how questionable his thought process was. 

— 

It took you around 2 hours to thoroughly read the letters, all while Sukuna found random shit to do like awkwardly tidying up your room, even though it was already clean. 

He was just pointlessly moving around decor and random items at that point.

You figured it was out of guilt and you just let him wallow in it for a bit, until you finally invited him to sit on the bed with you while you read the last letter— the one that came in literally 3 days ago. 

All twelve of the letters were pretty much the same— asking how you’ve been the past year, how much they missed you, how they wanted to see you again– everything Sukuna said, along with them avoiding talking about what drove you to live at the shrine in the first place. 

You wanted to talk about how much they fucked up your life, but you’ve recently come to the decision that you’d stop mentioning any of the life regrets you had in front of Sukuna, who’d get quiet whenever you did. 

He obviously enjoyed having you here, continuing to talk about your misfortunes would just be a slap in the face to him at this point after all the effort he’s put into trying to make you happy here.

“Are you going to write them back?” He asked, looking over your shoulder and quietly reading the last letter with you despite having already read it.. three days ago.

“I’m not sure. I still don’t forgive them for all the things they’ve said to me.. and literally trying to kill me. I swear I could still feel how hard my dad slapped me if I closed my eyes and really thought about it.”

He frowned at that, tucking your hair behind your ear and rubbing your cheek, unable to understand how anyone could hurt you like that. 

Your own father out of all of the people in this world too. He’s convinced that they only reached out to you just so they could visit the shrine, maybe climb up the ladder a bit in terms of social classes. Having a daughter that was a concubine of the king was definitely one of the easiest ways to do it, especially with how he was well known to be picky with his partners. 

They could also work hard, but if they didn’t try to do that before, he doubts they’d try to do that now. Not only that, your parents and older brother just seemed lazy from the stories you’ve told him. Taking advantage of others and then playing the victims once they got caught. 

Sure, he believed in taking what you could get, he did it all the time. 

But you couldn’t be an asshole and a victim. There was a difference between making others think you’re a good person just to steal from them and simply going up to someone and demanding they give you something. 

He was a part of the latter of course, and if it was fucked up, at least he was true to himself.

On top of that, he couldn’t stand how fucking righteous they were. So what if you slept with people before marriage, it's not like you were born a noble or anything. 

It clearly worked out well for you in the long run anyways, if you asked him. 

A little too well, actually— not once leaving him disappointed, ever.

“Whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you,” his words brought a smile to your face. “But if they try to fuck with you I promise you I’ll skin them alive.” He concluded, wiping the short-lived smile right off your face. 

“What a hero,” you dryly responded. 

“More like a villain,” he snorted as he shamelessly corrected you. “Someones gotta be one and I do a wonderful job at playing the part.”

“That you do.” You agreed.

“Sooo,” he reached for the rest of the stack on the bed. “Can I burn these too?”

“Absolutely not, Kuna.”

—

“My king,” Kaori walked up to Sukuna and Uraume, bowing with her five other attendants. “It's a beautiful day, isn’t it?” The young woman attempted to spark up a conversation with him for what seemed like the millionth time.

Sukuna was on his way to the throne room, not in the mood for small talk. “I guess. Too bad I can’t enjoy it since I’m late for the hearing,” he briefly responded, hoping she’d get discouraged from keeping the conversation going. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Were you being accompanied by any of the concubines today?” 

“Lady Ayame’s already there.” 

He tried to get you to come today, and wished you actually would’ve because then this woman wouldn’t be approaching him— but you didn’t have the stomach to go to hearings on most days, today being one of those days. 

The only ones who could truly stand them were Ayame and Yuna, but he learned his lesson with Yuna after just one time. 

That little shit started laughing and clapping like a fucking seal after he beheaded someone for a reason he could no longer remember since it was already long ago. The only thing he remembers was Yuna embarrassing him and her not giving a single fuck if she did— never again.

“May I join? I would love to see what your daily commitments look like.” She smiled at him warmly.

Fucks sake— this is what he gets for trying to get another concubine when you both were fighting. Now he’s cursed with some random girl that thinks he picked her out because he was interested in her. 

And to make matters worse, you pushed him to visit her, which he ended up doing a couple times— you were an absolute trooper for even suggesting that, but eventually told you that he was done. 

Fast forward to now, both him and Uraume genuinely feel like she spends her day walking around the shrine trying to search for him, judging by the amount of times she’s approached him since the first visit.

“No, you may not.” He answered coldly, staring her down as if she were some persistent gnat. Nothing annoys him more than when a person asks him for something. 

The girl thankfully excused herself, still surprisingly as gracious as ever, even after receiving a harsh rejection. It was something he would’ve respected in the past prior to meeting you, but now it’s just old and boring.

Have a backbone, look at him like you want to stab him or something if you really want his attention. 

He found it funny how much things could change in less than 6 months— who would’ve thought he’d grown to enjoy being scolded, even feeling compelled to start petty little arguments to get you riled up. 

Key word: You. 

If anyone else were to try that shit with him, fuck— good luck. 

Having Kaori at the shrine wasn’t all that bad though. He surprisingly got along well (enough) with her father, who was the shogun of the Silk District. 

It was the main reason why he didn’t go back on the deal, even though he had already made up with you before it was finished. 

Direct access to silk didn't hurt anyone. Plus, he figured you’d like the clothing from there too— and you did. He likes the way your eyes light up when he brings you back new dresses, skirts, robes, whatever.

Now he just needed to find a way to get Kaori to fuck off, that girl was too persistent— it was going to drive him up the wall.

—

“Hey, is Mariko free right now?” You asked her lady in waiting that opened the main door to her chambers.

“Yes she is!” Mariko yelled out from the general area, before her attendant could even answer. “Please, come in! Aiko, could you make her some tea please?” 

“Of course, my lady.” Aiko bowed and excused herself.

“How can I help you princess?” She asked, her tone laced with her usual playfulness.

You wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname, she started calling you that after sitting next to Sukuna during the ceremony on the second day of the festival.

“Well..” you handed her the letters you received from your parents. “I’m trying to figure out if I want to write back to my family or not. Help me out here, Miss Consultant.” 

“I’d love to,” she said, immediately reaching for the papers. “You know, I thought you’d feel comfortable enough to come to me after one or two— not 12.” 

“Actually, there were originally 14. Sukuna burned the first two, and then I found the rest hidden in his office.” 

“Of course you did,” she mumbled while skimming through the letters, not even wanting to get into how much of an idiot that man could be at times— smart enough, yet so irrational. 

“Your parents are assholes.” She concluded after reading one of the letters. She already knew about your backstory, courtesy of Sukuna and his big mouth.

“I know.” You wholeheartedly agreed.

“Not even an apology?” 

“Nope.” 

“I mean— do you still want a relationship with them?” 

“Sometimes,” you admit. “But then I remember how easy it was for them to disown me.” And attempted to murder you, but you left that part out because you were pretty sure you sounded like a broken record at that point.

“Okay, keep this between you and me,” she directly faced you and started to whisper. “But General Toji’s so hot. If I were your mother, I would’ve been so proud.” 

Your eyes widened at the concubines confession. “Please don’t let Sukuna hear you say that.” You whined, not failing to think about the grade A tantrum he’d throw if he ever heard that sentence— you within a 20 feet radius of it. You had enough ptsd from the flower festival to make you physically recoil from her words. 

“He’s just jealous,” she nudged you with her elbow. 

“He’s terrifying when he’s jealous.” You murmur. “Anyways,” you quickly change the subject, “should I write back to them?” 

“It wouldn’t hurt,” she shrugged. “It’s not like they could do anything to hurt you now that you're here. You don’t have to have a relationship with them either. You can always make that decision after hearing what they have to say to you.” 

“That’s true,” You smiled, remembering how Sukuna said he’d support you either way. “Ok, I’m gonna do it. Even if it’s just to get some closure.”

“That’s my girl,” she clasped her hands together before pulling you in for a hug. “Now onto more important matters— when are you going to give the throne an heir?!” 

“Not anytime soon,” you clicked your tongue. 

“Boring,” she booed. “It would be such a cute kid too, what a waste of genetics,” she pouted.

An heir was something Mariko had been bringing up with you and Sukuna more and more often lately. Sometimes even when you two were together, but he never made it weird.

Ever since taking you to his son's grave, he’s been surprisingly honest with you about how he felt about having another child. 

And his feeling on that being that he didn’t want to have another one just yet, he also knew and understood your own fears when it came to pregnancy and motherhood. It was something you two would revisit in the future.

He however had slipped up many times while having sex with you— deliriously telling you that he was going to put a baby in you, and how you’d be the prettiest mommy. You both always ignored that little detail though once you both finally came back to your senses.

There was also the newly common occurrence where he’d “forget” to have Uraume bring you your usual morning concoction. 

“When will Uraume be coming this morning?” 

“Why would they come here?” 

“..To drop off the elixir?”

“Oh.. right— yeah, they’ll be here soon.”

Mornings like those always made you wonder if he was just lying to himself, but you weren’t going to push the subject— he’d eventually say something to you if he were that serious at giving fatherhood a second chance. 

—-

Kaori waited near the exit of the throne room, hoping she’d run into Sukuna again so she could invite him to eat dinner with her later. Her heartbeat steadily picked up once the doors opened, servants coming out first, the king and higher ranks usually being the last. Alas, after finally seeing him come out of the building she started making her way towards him, ready to greet him with a smile on her face— one that was just for him.

Except she was beat to it by you and your newest lady in waiting, Hayami.

A lowly servant turned concubine and a used up whore turned attendant— both of low birth, never once contributing anything useful to society except your bodies and wasting the shrine's resources.

Apparently you two were childhood friends, it made plenty of sense to her with how classless you both were— both of you spending your days frolicking around the estate, you being openly affectionate with the king for everyone’s eyes to see.

It was shameful how desperate you were to have the king's attention— all to yourself, at that.

For the first time ever, she saw a smile creep up on his face that usually held a stoic expression for the world, including herself, to see. 

The smile he had on his face being just for you, as you walked up to him with a letter in your hand. 

The circulating rumors of you being a witch made more and more sense to her with each day that passed. There was no fucking way King Sukuna could be that interested in whatever was in that letter— all while something randomly possessed him to tuck your hair behind your ears. 

And as if that wasn’t enough to have the misfortune to witness, he started rubbing your back and shoulders as you started to read its contents to him, his smile growing wider by the minute.

She was stunned you even knew how to read, most servants being illiterate due to lack of education.

He even spoke kindly to your lady in waiting, despite his reputation for being known to act like the servants and attendants in the shrine didn’t exist aside from his own— and yours, apparently.

She’ll never understand how some men could have shit for taste despite having the world at the palm of their hands. 

You didn’t even have manners— your eyes glazed over during the entirety of the ceremony that was held during the festival, not one ounce of respect or care for tradition that’s been around for hundreds of years.

How dare you act that way in the presence of a king?

Disgraceful.

Vulgar.

Ill-bred bitch.

And of course he let it slide after you took him back to your chambers afterwards to let him fuck you like the whore you were.

But it’s like what her mother told her: men will play around with whoever’s easy and available while they’re young, but they always end up marrying the good girls— the ones who’d actually make good wives and good mothers.

And that’s why she wasn’t worried about you, at all. He was going to use you for all that you had until there was eventually nothing left for you to offer, and then inevitably toss you aside, like the opportunistic whore you were. 

—- 

“Sooo.. what do you think?” You asked him right after reading him the letter you were planning on sending to your parents out loud.

He took the letter from your hands and skimmed through it, while his other hand kept a gentle, yet firm hold on the back of your neck.

“You spelled I hope you’re doing terrible wrong—“ 

“No I didn’t,” you hissed, pulling a chuckle out of him. 

He didn’t get why you were so nervous all of the sudden, it’s not like they were going to disown and throw you out onto the street. 

They already did that, like the useless people they were— clearly undeserving of a daughter like you. The last thing you needed were people like that in your life. 

But he did promise you that he’d be supportive, no matter how much he hated the idea of you potentially forgiving them. 

So he was going to keep his mouth shut and  do exactly just that— be the emotional support you needed for when or if they inevitably broke your heart again. 

“You wrote them a kind letter.” He said, holding back the many other choice words he had lined up for your family. “Did Mariko end up helping you with it?” 

“Nope, it was all me,” you proudly said. “I did ask her for her advice though before deciding if I wanted to write back to them or not. For now I just want to hear them out. If they’re insincere about it, then I’m not going to try to rekindle a relationship with them.” 

Thank fucking god. 

“Smart girl,” he continued to rub the back of your neck. “Anything else you and Mariko talked about?” 

“Nope,” you chirped, trying not to let his little smirk get to you. 

“You sure?” He prodded, alluding to the subject that woman has been persistently circling back to lately whenever she was around either of you.

Judging by how red you got, Mariko definitely brought up you both trying for children when you visited her earlier. You were always so shy when the topic came up, it was fun teasing you about it— he thought it was sweet.

“Positive,” you grit your teeth, removing his hand from you, only for him to take your hand in his and placing a soft kiss on it. 

“Don’t get all feisty with me now, I’m just asking you a question,” he continued to taunt you, tongue in cheek— all while Hayami held back her own giggles in the background, watching it go on until you complained about being hungry and wanting to eat already. 

And of course he offered to take you back to his chambers, letting Hayami have the rest of day and night off as usual.

next chapter

notes: kaori's a real joy isn't she? also, how are we feeling about sukuna hiding 2+ months worth of letters? and him teasing her about mariko pushing her to have babies?

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 08

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol, hockey injuries. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You lie awake for hours. What happened between you and Sukuna during the private ice skating lesson? Didn't the whole thing in the hockey arena feel too romantic and too intimate for just fuckbuddies? Do friends with benefits really kiss each other like that?

You feel strangely smitten, almost shy, when you think about your evening with Sukuna. He was such a gentleman, making sure you didn't slip and fall on your ass, helping you exit the ice and make your way to the bench, where you could put on your shoes again. You left the arena, and Sukuna ruffled your hair and made a joking comment about how you had screeched when you set foot on the ice for the first time. And you playfully hit his biceps and told him to shut up. But your heart was racing, and your face felt too hot, and you are sure you giggled like some teenager with a big fat crush.

Sukuna walked you back to your dorm, and you teased each other the whole way. You asked Sukuna if he wanted to come in, and he agreed with his typical sexy smirk. You spent an hour in your bed, low groans and soft mewls and the rhythmical sound of your headboard banging against the wall filling your room.

And now, Sukuna is gone again, but your pillow still smells like him. And you stare at the ceiling, unable to get that kiss in the hockey arena out of your head. A kiss that felt too romantic, too tender.

You know your little private ice skating lesson wasn't a date, but why did it almost feel like one? If you are honest with yourself, the hour spent ice skating in Sukuna's arms felt nicer than any real date you had.

You wonder if Sukuna is lying awake, too? Does he ask himself the same questions you are asking yourself? You want to convince yourself he isn't aware of it. But there's a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you how good Sukuna is at analyzing things. You are sure he can see how close the two of you have become, too.

But does he care? Does he want more? Or is it just fun for him? You know Sukuna has that bad reputation that paints him as a fuckboy. But is he, though? The thing is that ever since the two of you started your little arrangement, Sukuna seems to only fuck one girl... and that girl is you. And then there are all those little things Yuuji says that sometimes sound like he is dropping hints about Sukuna possibly liking you as more than just a casual fuckbuddy.

"Oh shit."

You groan and pull your blanket over your face, hiding yourself even deeper in the comfort of your bed. The little hopeful spark and the butterflies in your stomach scare you. You know this feeling all too well, and you don't want it!

You told yourself you would get through college without the complications of romantic feelings. All love ever did was cause you heartbreak and pain. You swore off it after the disappointment that your ex-boyfriend was. You swore to yourself that you would just have fun when you go to college. Nothing serious. No relationship. No feelings. Just fun. And this fuckbuddies arrangement with Sukuna had seemed so perfect for what you wanted. But what now? What if you suddenly develop feelings for Sukuna?

You cannot let that happen. You have to fight it!

Get a fucking grip!

You see Sukuna the next day, and you manage to act normal around him, ignoring the fluttery feeling in your stomach when he smirks at you and lets his large hand slowly trail down your arm to steal your heavy stack of books out of your hands and carry it for you to your classic literature classroom. He makes a comment about you obviously being too weak to carry it on your own while giving you one of his devilish looks, and you roll your eyes and yank the books out of his arms even though Sukuna already carried them all the way to the classroom.

You agree to meet him for lunch, and by the time the two of you have finished your meals and bickered playfully over all kinds of things, you feel better. More in control again. You can do this. You can continue this fuckbuddies thing with Sukuna without making things awkward. Even if his boyish smirk and those pretty, maroon eyes and mouth-watering muscles make your pulse race. It's fine. Sukuna is your friend. Just that. Just a very hot guy-friend who fucks your brains out anytime you feel like it.

It's perfect the way it is. You wouldn't want to risk losing this.

Sukuna asks you to see him after hockey practice, and you spend an hour in his bed that evening, moaning into his pillow and laughing against his buff biceps afterward when he lies next to you and shows you a funny video on his phone.

You steal a drag from Sukuna's cigarette that he smokes by his window, and he grins at you and pulls you into a kiss with that sexy, teasing tongue flick at the end before he tells you to be a good girl and go home to study for your classic literature course so you can join him in the top-grades-getter-league.

It's Friday, and Nobara keeps bugging you about joining her for a night out at a popular club, claiming that you will get a bad case of FOMO if you don't come with her. You doubt her words, but you have to admit that maybe a girls' night with some dancing and some fancy drinks is exactly what you need to get your mind off a certain pink-haired hockey player, and so you laugh and tell her to help you pick an outfit.

Nobara was right about the club being amazing. You really have a lot of fun, sipping on some pastel-colored sweet cocktail and dancing and laughing with your dormmate, feeling as if this is the authentic college experience.

The club is a popular meeting spot for college students. You see so many familiar faces. And so, it should probably not come as a surprise when you see several hockey players. You try not to do it, but your gaze keeps wandering through the club, searching for one particular Tiger.

And you find him.

He is leaning casually against a pillar, laughing at something his brother is saying to him before Yuuji gets pulled onto the dancefloor by Todo. Sukuna stays where he is, lifting a bottle of some vodka mix drink to his lips and tilting his head back to gulp it down. His Adam's apple bops enticingly, making you involuntarily lick your lips.

You have stopped dancing, you realize. Too busy staring at Sukuna.

Damn, stop it!

You shake your head and laugh, grabbing Nobara's hand to spin her around, forcing yourself to get back into your little fun time with your friend. But even as you dance with her, your gaze keeps straying back to your fuckbuddy, who is still standing at the same spot.

Several hockey players gather around Sukuna, laughing, chatting, and drinking together. Tequila shots this time. It looks like the whole team is here tonight, maybe celebrating something. Sukuna hasn't spotted you yet, and you use that chance to let your eyes trail slowly over him.

He looks hot. He always does, of course. Tall, athletic, and handsome. The tight black t-shirt he is wearing shows off his well-defined muscles and sexy tattoos. The expression on his tattooed face is aloof and bored, making him probably look even more attractive to all the girls who are eyeing him. Sukuna is a challenge. The bad boy, who seems so hard to please. The tough guy who seems like he never smiles. But you have seen his smile and know how to get it out of him.

You are about to walk over to Sukuna to greet him, but you freeze up when you watch a pretty girl dance up to him, a seductive smile on her face. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. The girl gets on her tiptoes, a sugary smile on her beautiful face as she says something to Sukuna. Her hand sprawls over his pecs, her body leaning closer and closer to him.

But Sukuna shakes his head at her and plucks her hand off him with a cold sneer on his beautiful face. He points a long, tattooed finger at one of his teammates and steers the girl over to him.

And as fast as that strange feeling in your guts appeared, it is gone again, and instead, you catch yourself grinning from ear to ear.

And suddenly, that maroon gaze is on you. You draw in a sharp breath, staring back at Sukuna as the seconds tick by.

Sukuna's tattooed face lights up with a broad grin, and he pushes himself off the pillar he was leaning against. Your pulse is racing as you watch him walk over to you while Nobara is laughing. Sukuna stops in front of you, tall and sexy with that boyish smirk and looking so good in his tight black t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey, princess."

The words come out slightly slurred. You tilt your head to smile at him, noticing the somewhat unfocused look in his usually so sharp eyes. He is drunk, you realize. His grin turns into a lopsided smile, and somehow, it makes him look almost cute. Softer around the edges. He seemed so aloof a moment ago when he turned that girl down, but now he is all playful again when he reaches out to wrap his strong arms around your waist and pull you against him.

"Fuck, I'm glad you're here, too, princess. I was so fucking bored."

He jerks his chin at Nobara in a greeting, informing her with a smirk,

"I am stealing her for a while. Find someone else to dance with, Ginger. What about my brother? He is a good dancer. Get him before someone else does."

Nobara complains loudly, smacking Sukuna's biceps while telling him that hockey players suck in general and pink-haired ones in particular, but you can hear the smile in her voice, and she really half-walks, half-dances away from Sukuna and you, looking for another dance partner.

You chuckle softly as Sukuna pulls you to him, making you stumble into his firm body. You put your hands on Sukuna's abs to brace yourself, grinning up at him, your pulse fluttering at being so close to him. His body heat seeps through his shirt, and his firm abs move under your palms when he leans down to press a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek,

"Come on, dance with me so Todo and the brat get off my dick and stop pestering me about dancing with them."

Sukuna pulls you with him to the middle of the dancefloor, where the rest of the hockey players are. You don't even have time to complain or feel embarrassed about your dancing skills because Sukuna's strong arms are wrapped so firmly around you that you can't really make any move on your own anyway. And the drinks you had make you tipsy enough to just go with it and laugh loudly as Sukuna grinds against you.

You find yourself relaxing, just having fun with Sukuna and his teammates, dancing dirty with Sukuna while singing along to the songs, and smiling when Sukuna grins at you. You wrap your hands around Sukuna's neck, letting him sway you from side to side, or press his tall, muscular body tightly against yours to grind against you slowly.

It seems only natural that the two of you kiss. Sloppy, drunk kisses that make you chuckle against Sukuna's lips, feeling a lot more intoxicated than you truly are. It feels exhilarating to dance and make out with him here in the middle of the club.

Sukuna's hands are all over you, running up and down your back and groping your ass. He slips his hands into the back pockets of your jeans and pulls you even closer to him, and you let your nails trail over his short undercut, smiling when it elicits a low growl from the back of Sukuna's throat.

He trails hot, wet kisses over your chin to your neck, and your breath hitches. It's new to be like this with Sukuna in public, but you can't deny how exciting it feels to have him all over you. Drunk Sukuna is clingy, you realize. He doesn't let you move away even a step. His large hands immediately squeeze your ass, pulling you to him again while his lips trail kisses over your neck and his sexy low voice murmurs in your ear,

"Need you, baby."

Your heart skips a beat. You know Sukuna is just drunk, and it means nothing, but you can't help but feel a fluttery tingle in your belly and chest at his words. You smile and grab Sukuna's chin, pulling him into another kiss to shut him up before he can say anything else that will make you spin out of control and that he might regret in the morning.

You weakly try to decline when Sukuna whispers in your ear that he wants you to go home with him. But he won't let go of you, clings to you, and kisses you all sweetly before he looks at you with a cute little pout that looks hilarious on his tattooed face. His voice is a bit thicker than usual, tongue heavy from the alcohol, making you wonder how many shots he had.

"Don't leave me alone, princess. Who knows what kind of trouble I will get into without my personal lucky charm by my side."

He keeps grinning at you and bugging you until you agree to leave with him, even if it is just to put him into bed. You let Sukuna put a muscular arm around your shoulders while his other arm pulls his twin brother to his side, and the three of you make your way outside while you hastily type a message to Nobara, telling her you are leaving with the twins.

You laugh when Sukuna throws his car keys to his brother, even in his drunk state, not forgetting about the beef he has with Yuuji over his beloved car,

"You drive, brat, but if you get even the tiniest scratch into my car, I will punch that stupid smile off your face."

You sit in the backseat with Sukuna while Yuuji drives. Or, more like, you lie in the backseat because Sukuna is on you the moment the car starts. You spend the whole drive with Sukuna lying half on top of you, kissing you deeply, with those intense deep tongue kisses that make you moan into his mouth and knead his firm ass through his tight jeans.

"So greedy, huh, princess? Don't worry, I'll fuck you until you scream my name." "Oh, shut up. You are drunk. I'll just tug you into bed and then leave." "Don't you dare leave me alone. I had some drinks, yeah, but I am perfectly fine. I can still fuck you better than any other could." He smirks at you with that challenging glint in his eyes, and your pussy throbs, your conviction wavering. Sukuna licks your neck slowly, teasingly, before he captures your lips in another deep kiss, successfully making you change your plans. Your hands slip under his shirt, caressing his hot, smooth skin, kneading his buff muscles, smiling when you hear him groan into the kiss. You go with Sukuna to his room and watch him take off his clothes, heart pounding in your chest as he turns around and beckons you over, his sexy muscles and tattoos unashamedly on display for you, and his gorgeous thick cock already half hard, waiting for you to stroke him to full hardness so you can have fun with him. Sukuna fucks you with sloppy, lazy strokes and those deep French kisses that make your pussy and your tummy flutter. You are gasping his name, wrapping your legs tightly around his narrow hips, mewling with every thrust, enjoying the drunk sex immensely. Sukuna fucks good, even when he had several drinks. The only thing that's different is that he is louder. And it's so sexy that it makes you clench around him, your eyes falling shut to bask in the sexy, loud moans falling from Sukuna's lips.

You really scream his name when you cum, and he moans yours when he follows you a few seconds later, hot thick cock throbbing inside you. Sukuna slumps on top of you afterward with a satisfied sigh, and you hum happily, caressing his neck and running your foot up and down his muscular calves and thighs.

You ask how late it is, but Sukuna doesn't answer.

"Sukuna?"

You push at Sukuna's broad shoulders only to hear a soft snore coming from him, realizing he fell asleep on top of you. You laugh and relax, letting a hand trail slowly up and down Sukuna's broad, muscular back, caressing him while he sleeps soundly on top of you.

Sukuna is heavy, but you let him sleep, grinning to yourself, feeling oddly happy, lying here under the hockey star. After a while, Sukuna rolls off you, mumbling softly in his sleep, but it's incoherent, and you can't make out any words. It makes you feel surprisingly soft for him.

You roll onto your side, too and press a soft kiss to Sukuna's tattooed shoulder, murmuring,

"Good night, Kuna. Sleep well."

You are about to get up to collect your clothes from Sukuna's bedroom floor to get dressed and then sneak out. But before you can get up, a large hand wraps around your arm, stopping you, pulling you back against Sukuna's warm, naked body.

"Stay."

Just a single word, mumbled in a hoarse, sleepy-sounding voice.

You tense up. Does Sukuna know what he is asking? He never before asked you to stay the night, and he also never stayed the whole night in your dorm. It feels like a line fuckbuddies shouldn't cross. On top of that, you don't think Sukuna is the type who lets someone sleep in his bed. You know he's already making a huge exception when it comes to you by taking you to his room and fucking you in his bed. Apparently, that's something Sukuna never did with his former hookups because he thought his room was none of their business. And now he wants you to sleep in his bed the whole night?

You know you are overthinking it, but you simply can't stop worrying that you are somehow taking advantage of Sukuna's drunk state. The sex wasn't the problem because your whole arrangement is based on having sex with each other. But this is something different. Sleeping in Sukuna's bed feels like a big fucking deal! If you sleep here, will he regret it in the morning? Will he be mad? You don't want to overstep a boundary.

"Sukuna..."

"Shhh, no talking. Just stay."

And as if he read your thoughts, he adds in that slightly slurred voice,

"I swear I won't regret it in the morning. Stay. I'll even make you breakfast."

You chuckle softly and close your mouth again, not trying to argue anymore, nor do you want to. You smile and snuggle back against Sukuna's tall, warm body, sighing when his strong arms tighten around you, and he buries his face in your neck, instantly starting to snore again, sounding so cute that it makes you grin from ear to ear. The bad boy star player all cuddly and tame.

Even after your night in Sukuna's bed and the morning after, when he made breakfast for you just like he promised, you tell yourself you can just stay friends with benefits with him.

Nobara tries to rile you up, teases you endlessly, and tries to get you to admit you have feelings for Sukuna. But you turn her down anytime, adamantly declaring you only want him as a friend. A friend who is very good in bed and who you can have sex with any time the two of you feel like it.

You think if you just say it often enough, it will be true. You will be able to convince yourself you have everything under control.

And then the accident happens.

You're in your usual spot in the stands, watching the hockey game, cheering and laughing. The mood in the arena is ecstatic because it looks like the Tigers overcame their loss two weeks ago.

You hold your breath in giddy anticipation as Sukuna steals the puck from a rival player and speeds across the ice, his gaze on the goal ahead. His playstyle is high-speed and brutal, as always. It's sexy to watch. Until two rival players throw themselves in Sukuna's way.

You gasp loudly as Sukuna crashes full speed into the two players. All three go down, slamming hard into the ice with a heavy thud and the loud clatter of their hockey sticks skittering across the ice.

You are on your feet before you even notice it, a hand pressed over your mouth, staring wide-eyed at the ice where Sukuna is lying in a pile with the players he crashed into. The whole arena is yelling in shock because their star player went down, but you only hear it as a far-away noise because the blood in your ears is rushing much too loudly as your heart races fearfully.

What is going on? Why is Sukuna not getting up? You see the other jersey with the Itadori name speeding towards the scene. Yuuji pulls one of the rival players off his brother while yelling something you can't hear. He instantly gets attacked by several other players, but Yuuji fights back angrily, punching them and pushing them away from Sukuna.

Sukuna, who is still lying facedown on the ice. He isn't moving. Panic threatens to drown you, and before you know what you're doing, you start running and pushing your way through the crowd. Nobara is yelling your name, but you don't stop to wait for her.

You feel sick to your stomach. Your heart is pounding fearfully in your chest as you stop in front of the plexiglass, pressing your hands against the cold glass. Your anxious breath fogs up the glass as you watch the whole team and the team medic rush to Sukuna, who is still knocked out.

Or worse.

Tears are gathering in your eyes, and you feel a sob finding its way out of your mouth.

Please let him be okay! Please let him be okay! I never even told him how much I like him!

That's when you see Sukuna make a slight movement, and you huff a shaky sigh of relief.

The team medic is saying something to him, and Sukuna nods softly. You press yourself anxiously against the plexiglass, watching as the doc carefully pulls Sukuna's helmet off.

Yuuji and Todo help lift Sukuna onto a stretcher under the anxious gazes of the whole arena, which is filled with fearful silence.

You are still pressed against the plexiglass, watching as they carry Sukuna off the ice. Sukuna's eyes meet your worried gaze as they carry him past you. He lifts his head slightly, looking at you with a dazed expression. A dreamy look crosses over his tattooed face, and to your surprise, he smiles at you even as his maroon eyes seem unfocused and caught in some daydream.

Sukuna smiles a dreamy little smile at you while his lips move. You can't hear what he says, but you think you can read his lips, and what they murmur is something like "angel".

You stare after him, stunned, even when the stretcher is already getting carried to the back of the arena, away from your gaze.

The game continues, but the Tigers are out of it. The shock of seeing their star player get knocked out seems to sit in their bones. The cheerful and excited mood in the arena has dimmed almost completely. You bite your nails nervously as you stand at the boards, watching the game but not really seeing anything, too lost in your thoughts and worrying about Sukuna.

He was so fast when he crashed into those two players, and he seemed so out of it when they carried him off the ice. You were relieved to see him conscious again, but the shock still makes a painful knot remain in your stomach.

You practically flee from the rink once the game is finally over. But you cannot even consider the idea of going back to your dorm. Nobara walks up to you, reaching out to pat your back.

"Hey, I'm sure he is alright. That thick head won't crack from a bit of ice."

You smile weakly at her, knowing this is her being nice and sympathetic, but you still tell her,

"I'll wait here. Maybe I can talk to Yuuji."

"Okay, you do that. Let me know if Kirby Boy is okay."

You loiter around the lobby, waiting impatiently for a sign of pink hair. When Yuuji finally walks toward you, you hurry over to him with a fearfully racing pulse.

"Is he okay?"

Yuuji smiles that sweet, reassuring sunshine smile at you and nods,

"Yeah. He scared me, too. But he just has a concussion."

"A concussion?"

You stare at Yuuji worriedly, but he laughs softly and rubs your arm,

"It's no big deal. I get one almost every season. Kuna will be fine, don't worry. He just needs to rest for a day, or our coach will kill him."

You huff, feeling like Yuuji is downplaying it, or maybe this is really the way the hockey guys are. But his reassurance makes you relax anyway.

Yuuji cocks his head,

"I'm heading to our dorm to get the car because they won't let Sukuna walk home. Do you want to come with me?"

You nod and quickly hurry after Sukuna's twin brother.

When you finally see Sukuna after his accident, you curse loudly.

He is sitting on an examination table in the first aid room in the back of the arena, in his sweatpants and Nikes and the black compression shirt he always wears under his hockey jersey. His pink hair is ruffled, and he still looks as dazed as when they carried him off the ice. A dark blue bruise is already forming around his right eye.

Your heart clenches at the sight, and you find yourself hurrying over to Sukuna and hugging him lightly before you can stop yourself.

"Oh god, are you okay?"

You pull away a bit to look at him with big, worried eyes while you caress his biceps gently, afraid to hurt him if you touch him more firmly. As if the big, broad hockey player is a fragile porcelain doll. But you can't think rationally at the moment. All you see is that Sukuna is injured, and it triggers something in you, making you feel all protective and worried over him. And scared. So scared to lose him.

But Sukuna laughs softly and smirks at you. It's a bit crooked and a bit slower than usual, but it manages to calm you down regardless. A large, tattooed hand comes up to rest on your back.

"I'm fine, princess."

But you see how Sukuna can't seem to focus his gaze on you and how he squints his eyes against the bright neon light in the small room. Even if Yuuji hadn't told you about Sukuna's concussion, you would have figured it out by now. He belongs in bed, in his dark room with the curtains closed and lots of rest.

Luckily, Yuuji is already by his brother's side, pulling him up.

"Come on, let's get you home."

You help Yuuji, the two of you taking Sukuna in your middle and leading him slowly to the car. He complains all the way about how he can walk on his own and that he doesn't want Yuuji to wreck his car. You roll your eyes, but at least Sukuna seems to be halfway okay if he can talk like that.

You sit with Sukuna in the back of the car again. Not making out this time, but instead holding his large hand in yours and watching him worriedly, checking if he is still okay.

Once you are in Sukuna's room, you help him take off his tight compression shirt and sweatpants before telling him to get into his bed. He is a good boy for once and does as you say, lying down and letting you pull his blanket over him.

Sukuna looks up at you with that same dazed smile he had in the arena when they carried him past you and he thought you were an angel. It's an expression that seems so foreign on his face that it instantly makes worry flare up in your chest again.

Your decision is made at that moment. You grab the hem of your sweater, pull it off, and slip out of your jeans, crawling into bed to join Sukuna under his blanket,

"I'm staying. I don't think you should be alone right now."

Sukuna laughs softly, but his muscular arm wraps around you immediately and pulls you against his side. You sigh and snuggle against Sukuna, placing a hand on his naked chest, feeling his warm skin and his heartbeat, which is strangely reassuring.

Sukuna's low voice sounds tired but nonetheless smug when he murmurs,

"You're really worried about me, huh, princess? That's so cute."

"You were knocked out. Of course, I am worried. If you had seen the expression on your face when they carried you off the ice, you would have been worried, too!"

"Shhh, it's okay, princess. I'm just teasing you."

Sukuna's large hand lands on yours, holding it in place right there on his chest, his thumb caressing the back of your hand as he adds in a low voice full of amusement,

"I should get injured more often. I quite like it when you get all scared for me and dote on me like that."

"Oh, stop it. You are such an idiot. And don't you dare get into trouble!"

But Sukuna just laughs that raspy low laugh as you add firmly,

"You should get some sleep now. The doc and your coach said you should rest."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it."

And Sukuna really drifts off to sleep just a few minutes later, his body and brain obviously exhausted and in dire need of rest. You, on the other hand, can't find sleep for a long time.

You lie awake in Sukuna's bed, your palm resting on his chest, fingers sprawled over his defined buff pecs, feeling his heartbeat and listening to his soft breathing. The earlier anxiety has left your body now that you know Sukuna will be okay. But something else is keeping your mind busy.

You fucked up. You have a big problem, you realize.

Because what Sukuna's little accident clearly showed you is that he means a lot more to you than you planned.

I AM SO WEAK FOR HIM!! 😭 Tipsy Sukuna made me smile so much while writing 😍 He is so clingy and cute. "Need you, baby." I would have MELTED!! Did you feel protective over injured Kuna, too? I wouldn't leave his side either 😭 Thank you so much for reading the new chapter! I am so glad that I finally had time to post it. I missed our fave hockey player so much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet. In Chapter 09, we will see Reader accepting her feelings + there will be jealous!Reader and jealous!Sukuna. And we will finally also see Sukuna's POV ;)

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 06

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male + female receiving), cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

Being fuckbuddies with Sukuna is surprisingly easy. As flustered as you sometimes get when you think about what the two of you do, all that shyness leaves you the moment you are in Sukuna's arms. The moment your clothes are off and you start touching each other, all shame is forgotten. Your sexy little arrangement opens a whole new world to you. You aren't very experienced when it comes to sex, but Sukuna is the perfect person to show you new things.

Of course, there are also people who don't see it that way. Nobara doesn't get tired of rolling her eyes at you anytime she sees you with your phone in hand, assuming you are texting Sukuna and making plans to see him.

"When I said you should maybe fuck him, I meant once! Not whatever it is, the two of you are doing now. You should be careful. Sukuna is a fuckboy. You are just another notch on his bedpost!"

"I told you, I don't want him to be my boyfriend! I am not interested in a relationship either. Sukuna is a fun pasttime. That's all. Maybe I want him to be just a notch on my bedpost, too!"

You know Nobara is just worried about you, and maybe her warnings are valid, but you refuse to listen to her. Your past experiences with relationships left you not wanting to ever fall in love again. What Sukuna offers you sounds safer. No feelings, just casual sex with the hottest guy you have ever met.

You're in Sukuna's bed, your gaze feasting on his gorgeous body. A body he works hard for in the gym every single day. Firm muscles and sexy tattoos. And you are allowed to touch this beautiful body as much as you like.

You trail kisses down Sukuna's broad chest, following his tattoos with your tongue, and his large hand tangles in your hair, rewarding you with his sexy low moans and whispered encouragements in his sexy, velvety voice. You slow down when you are insecure about your skills in the bedroom, but Sukuna is surprisingly patient with you. Sweet even.

There is no pressure, no shame. You start to suck his cock tentatively, smiling sheepishly at him, apologizing for being bad at blow jobs, and instead of getting mad at you, Sukuna cups your cheek and caresses it with his thumb while he grins at you,

"You're doing great, princess, and I can teach you the rest."

And suddenly, it's easy. Sukuna smirks at you and places a large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair while he guides you gently up and down his thick cock, telling you what to do, teaching you how to blow him right. Reassuring you that it feels good when you just French kiss his cock and use your hand for the part you cannot fit in your mouth.

Sukuna is a good teacher, making you feel like you are doing a good job because of the sexy praise his low, raspy voice whispers to you,

"Fuck yeah, just like that, princess. Just make out with my cock. You're doing so good. So sweet for me."

You moan around Sukuna's thick cockhead, feeling your own arousal coat the insides of your thighs, so turned on from what you are doing to Sukuna. It makes you suck even more devotedly on Sukuna's fat cock, licking the throbbing vein on the underside and suckling sweetly on his mushroom tip.

You feel him twitch in your mouth, and for a second, you worry if you will be able to swallow his cum without coughing, but then Sukuna's heavy-lidded maroon gaze meets yours, and a lazy smirk lifts his lips,

"I wanna cum on your face. Be a good girl for me, and just lick my tip until I bust all over your pretty face."

You moan and do as Sukuna says, kissing his tip and licking it, flicking your tongue against it in little kitten licks as if you are licking up milk from a bowl, all the while keeping eye contact with Sukuna. Shameless and naughty, feeling so turned on that you think you may cum too just from making Sukuna cum with your mouth.

And he does cum so beautifully for you. His tattooed thighs tense up, and his cock twitches as a low growl falls from Sukuna's lips. You moan when his swollen mushroom head shoots hot thick ropes of cum all over your face. And Sukuna licks his lips when he looks at you with that sexy, fucked-out expression on his beautiful tattooed face, his gaze following his cum that drips down your chin.

"You did so good. So sweet to me and my dick. Come here, princess."

Sukuna pulls you up into his arms, grinning as he cups your chin with one large hand and then his mouth opens, and he licks a stripe up your cheek, licking his own cum off your face, making your pussy clench around nothing.

You moan, your hands caressing Sukuna's broad chest, digging your nails into his buff pecs as he licks you clean. It is so obscene, so naughty, so fucking sexy. So different from everything you experienced before him. It's you who captures Sukuna's lips in a kiss, craving more, craving his taste. And Sukuna grins against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth, feeding you his cum, letting you lick it off his tongue.

It's a feverish, sloppy kiss, tasting like sex, and it makes your head spin and moan loudly against Sukuna's lips. You press needily against Sukuna's broad figure, trying to climb on him, throwing one leg over his waist, rubbing your wet needy clit against his abs.

He grins against your lips, pulling away only to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you closer to him, closer to his beautiful tattooed face. You gasp softly when you realize what Sukuna is about to do.

"Don't be shy, princess, just sit on my face. It's your turn now."

You moan breathlessly when Sukuna's strong hands pull you on his face, making your naked dripping-wet pussy brush against his warm mouth, sending sparks of desire through your whole body. You whimper, body shaking from the strain of keeping yourself upright, but Sukuna makes a disapproving noise,

"Come on, sit on me for real. I can take it, princess. Sit."

And he grabs your hips tightly, pulling you down, his lips instantly closing around your swollen clit and sucking on it, making a desperate horny cry tumble from your lips as the pleasure shoots through you.

Even if you still wanted to stay upright, you couldn't do it anymore. You are boneless in Sukuna's grip, lost in pleasure, letting Sukuna take care of you, letting him pamper your pussy with his soft, warm mouth.

You rest your whole weight on him, thighs spreading even further, shamelessly and needy, bucking your hips and rubbing your wet pussy eagerly against his hot lips and velvety tongue, crying out in pleasure when Sukuna's tongue pushes into you, fucking you slowly while his long fingers knead your ass and keep you in place right there on his beautiful tattooed face.

He eats you out until you are a trembling, sobbing mess, crying out anytime Sukuna's soft lips suckle on your clit or when he fucks you with those slow teasing flicks of his tongue.

You feel the pressure inside you build, the knot in your belly so close to snapping, and you tense up, trying to get away from Sukuna's mouth because the pleasure is too much, and you are scared of losing control. But Sukuna's strong hands hold you in place, pulling you back down.

"Just let go for me, princess. I came on your face. Now it's your turn. Make a mess on me."

Sukuna's lips close around your puffy clit again, and you mewl loudly. It's the combination of his words and the way his lips make out with your clit that sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you cum on Sukuna's face, hard and wild and very wet. Your juices drip from his lips even as he keeps eating you, making you cry and scream and bang your fists against the wall behind his bed right beneath the Tigers flag hanging there, while you cum and cum and cum until you feel dizzy.

You feel light-headed when you finally manage to get up from Sukuna's bed. It still feels surreal to see the resident hockey star walking around naked in his room, picking up your clothes from his bedroom floor and placing them on the bed for you. But it's not as awkward anymore. It's almost nice. Sukuna talks casually about the away game the Tigers will play this weekend, and you nod and make some agreeing noises from time to time while you get dressed next to him.

You leave Sukuna's room, making a joking comment about the chaos Yuuji once again left in the living area, and Sukuna asks you if you will meet for lunch tomorrow. You nod and grab your jacket from the back of the couch, about to say good night to Sukuna when the apartment door swings open, banging loudly into the wall, making you jump.

Yuuji and Todo march inside, loud and excited, swinging baseball bats in their strong arms, and Yuuji announces loudly,

"Yo we got the bats, Kuna! Megumi just wants us to bring them back before morning. Let's go!"

His eyes land on you standing next to his brother, and he smiles sheepishly, but his voice still holds the same excitement when he greets you. Todo bumps into Yuuji, making him stumble further into the room, and Todo's gaze wanders from you to Sukuna and back again, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze as if he is trying to figure something out.

You smile a bit awkwardly at the two hockey players, but Yuuji has already proceeded with his agenda. He throws a baseball bat at Sukuna, who catches it with one hand, twirling it around his long tattooed fingers. A broad, devilish smirk spreads over his face, and you get a tingly feeling in your stomach.

"Good job. Let's teach them not to fuck with Curses."

You look at him in alarm. At the mad grin on his tattooed face and the baseball bat, he's slinging over his broad shoulder.

"Um, what is this about?"

Yuuji and Todo both start talking at the same time, but you can make out the words,

"Rival team." "Revenge" and "Tonight."

Your eyes widen, and you stare in dawning horror at the baseball bat that's now resting on Sukuna's shoulder. Sukuna catches your gaze, and he throws his head back, laughing loudly,

"Your face, princess! Don't worry, we aren't going to kill someone. We will just smash that stupid ice sculpture they have. They deserve it after the shit they pulled on us."

"B... but where is that sculpture, and aren't you going to get into trouble for smashing it?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk growing broader, clearly enjoying himself.

"It's in their arena, of course. We'll pick the lock, get in, and smash that ugly-ass bear. It's no big deal. It's just a revenge prank."

You stare at him incredulously,

"That's burglary and property damage!"

But Sukuna just grins even more, looking like the damn Cheshire Cat with that dirty, smug smirk on his beautiful face. His voice drops to a teasing drawl,

"Aww, are you worried about me getting into trouble? You're so cute, princess. But this is hockey code. We will just teach them a lesson."

He twirls the baseball bat elegantly around his long fingers as his gaze snaps to his linemates.

"Alright, Curses. Let's go. Let's fuck them up. I want to make those losers cry."

He looks far too happy about what they plan to do. As if it isn't a completely reckless and dumb idea! Your heart is beating up to your throat as you give Sukuna a stern look,

"This is fucking stupid! You can't do that!"

Sukuna cocks his head, raising an eyebrow,

"Well, watch me, princess."

He puts a large hand on your shoulder and steers you out the door even while you complain loudly. But he just smirks while you try to reason with him all the way down the staircase.

You exit the dorm, and Sukuna leads your little group to his car. Yuuji and Todo climb into the back, all excited chatter and broad grins, the baseball bats firmly in their large hands. And you huff and put your hands on your hips, stepping between Sukuna and the car, not caring how ridiculously you must look, so much shorter and smaller than the huge, strong hockey player with the bad boy look and the face tattoos. You tilt your head back to glare up at his tattooed face,

"Stop it, Sukuna. This is so fucking dumb! I don't understand why Fushiguro, of all people, would support something like that!"

Sukuna laughs softly, shaking his head and smirking at you,

"Good thing Fushiguro has a weakness for my brother. I bet it only took one smile and a whiny "Megumiiii" from Yuuji, and our baseball star handed him the key to the Wolves' equipment rack. But now tell me, why do you care so much, huh princess?"

His smirk is so smug that you feel like shaking him, but you just sigh and glare at him,

"Yeah, okay, I admit it! I don't want you to get into trouble! Are you happy now?"

The look that spreads over Sukuna's face is far too pleased. He steps closer to you, tall, muscular body towering over you while he grins at you,

"Very happy. But as I said, I won't get into trouble. Now get out of the way, princess, and let me take my revenge. They started it by cutting the shoelaces on our skates."

You roll your eyes,

"They cut your shoelaces? And now you go and break in and destroy their expensive ice sculpture mascot or whatever it is? Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"Well, I always avenge things threefold. How would they learn their place otherwise? Noone fucks with me or my team."

And with that said, Sukuna puts his hands on your waist and just lifts you up, and places you down a few steps away from his car, slipping past you before you can do anything. You complain loudly, but Sukuna is already lounging in the driver's seat with that boyish smirk, winking provocatively at you with a "Good night, princess."

You don't know what has gotten into you, but you react impulsively and jog around the car, yanking open the passenger door and plopping down on the passenger seat, and this time, it is Sukuna who can't do anything to prevent it.

His gaze snaps to you, and you grin victoriously at him, almost laughing at the thunderstruck expression on Sukuna's tattooed face.

"What are you doing, princess? Get out of my car."

You cross your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head, grinning smugly at him.

"Forget it. I am not getting out of this car. If you want to go to your little illegal prank, you have to take me with you!"

Sukuna looks at you for a long moment, and then his lips twitch as if he is trying hard to hold back laughter. Your tummy does a flip at the mischievous expression on Sukuna's face, slowly realizing that maybe what you did wasn't the smartest thing either. Maybe you shouldn't have picked a dance with the devil.

But it's too late. Sukuna smirks at you, the tip of his tongue playing with the pointy tip of one of his canines, a devilish, excited sparkle filling his maroon eyes,

"Okay, have it your way, brat."

And with that, Sukuna starts his car, flooring the gas pedal immediately, making you squeal loudly when you get pressed into your seat. Loud music blares from the car audio, and in the backseat, Yuuji and Todo chime a Tigers cheer, pumping each other up as if they are about to get on the ice, only contributing even more to the adrenaline-inducing atmosphere in the car.

You scramble to grab your seat belt and fasten it with sweaty fingers while you hear Sukuna's loud laughter. You wrap your hand around the grab handle, staring wide-eyed at the nightly street before you. Sukuna drives fast and recklessly, and to your horror, you see him take his hands off the steering wheel, steering with one knee so he can light a cigarette while driving.

"Sukuna!"

He smirks but puts a large hand lazily on the steering wheel, slowly drumming his fingers on it,

"Relax, princess. I am not going to crash my car and kill us all. I know what I am doing."

You roll your eyes at him when he turns his head to grin at you.

"You are such an idiot, Sukuna. I am going to kill you if this lands us in jail or in the ditch!"

But Sukuna just smirks even more broadly and brings his cigarette to his lips to take a deep drag and then blow the smoke in your face. But you have the feeling that the car isn't driving as fast anymore.

You sigh dramatically and hug yourself, snuggling into the car seat, watching the dark road ahead, refusing to look at Sukuna. Your lips twitch when you hear Yuuji and Todo sing along to the song playing on the stereo, one doing pretty well, the other hitting not a single note.

And after a while, your gaze strays again to the boy next to you.

Sukuna's long tattooed fingers, with the accurately applied black nail polish, tap the steering wheel in sync with the beat of the music. His other hand is resting on the open car window. Occasionally, he brings it to his lips to take a slow drag from his half-smoked cigarette. His lips move silently to the lyrics of the songs, his eyes trained on the road before him.

You have to admit that after the initial panic, you now feel pretty safe and relaxed here in Sukuna's car. He is actually a good driver, even though you will never tell him. And he looks very cool driving a car, so calm and confident, making your gaze stay glued to him. To his beautiful side profile with the angular jaw and the filigree tattoos, and those sultry lips wrapping so attractively around his cigarette.

You catch yourself almost enjoying the car drive, breathing in the cool night air and Sukuna's cigarette smoke, letting both calm you down.

But the relative calm is gone the moment Sukuna parks the car on the side of the road near the Bears' hockey arena. Your pulse is racing again, adrenaline filling your veins.

Sukuna turns to his linemates with a jerk of his chin.

"Okay, get your baseball bats and then smash that fucking thing!"

His maroon gaze lands on you,

"Slip into the driver's seat, princess."

You blink at him, caught off guard,

"What?"

"You'll be our getaway driver. The moment you see us coming back, you start the car."

He says it nonchalantly as if it is the most natural thing to demand.

"What the fuck, Sukuna?"

"You said you don't want us to get into trouble. So this is how you can help us avoid trouble. You will get our asses out of here, princess."

He flashes you one of his most charming grins and then exits the car, leaving you sitting there with your mouth opening and closing. But Sukuna points adamantly to the now vacant driver's seat.

You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, but you have to admit that Sukuna has a point. The last thing you want is to get caught because the boys take too long to start the car after returning from their stupid prank.

And so you take a deep breath and do as Sukuna says and climb into the driver's seat, squealing when you lose balance because Sukuna is so much taller than you, and his seat is practically in the back of the car, making you ask yourself how Yuuji even had space in the back. You curse and grab the steering wheel, pulling yourself and the seat further to the front so you can reach the gas pedal, while Sukuna watches you with a far too amused expression on his face.

You finally sit properly in the driver's seat, giving Sukuna a glare and a thumbs up, and he smirks at you,

"That's my lucky charm, helping me even on hockey duties outside the rink."

"Just go, and please try not to get caught!"

You watch the three hockey players jog toward their rivals' arena. All three of them are dressed completely in black with the hoods of their sweaters pulled up, their tall, broad figures blending with the darkness around them. They really look like a bunch of criminals with their baseball bats in their hands.

Fuck, how did I get myself into this?

You sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest of the car seat, breathing deeply in and out in an attempt to calm your nerves. The car smells like cigarette smoke and Sukuna's cologne, which is not really helping you calm down but instead makes your stomach flutter even more.

You nervously pick on your nails as you let your restless gaze wander through Sukuna's car. Black leather seats, which are worn but clean. An empty energy drink sits in the middle console next to a cigarette pack. Some protein bars peek out of the door pockets. Your gaze lands on the rearview mirror, and you spot a scented Hello Kitty head dangling from it. You stare at the cat's face for several long seconds, and suddenly, your lips twitch, and you giggle, pressing a hand over your mouth, unable to stop anymore.

Your nerves are on high alert the whole time while you wait in the car, your heart jumping to your throat anytime you hear the slightest noise while the occasional hysterical giggle escapes your mouth.

The minutes seem like hours as you nervously watch the darkness before you. And then you finally spot a movement in the darkness. You gasp and sit up straight, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you squint your eyes.

Three tall, broad figures appear, running like madmen. You scramble to turn the key in the ignition, breath coming out in excited little huffs as the engine starts with a low hum right when the three boys reach the car.

They yank open the car doors, laughing and yelling. Yuuji and Todo pile into the back while Sukuna sprints around the car and lets himself fall onto the passenger seat, a wild grin on his tattooed face, eyes brimming with the same expression he has after scoring a goal,

"Drive, princess!"

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You press your foot down on the gas pedal, speeding down the road, eager to get away from the crime scene as fast as possible.

The music blares out of the speakers again, and the boys hoot with laughter and high-five each other, turning the car into some after-game celebration party, chaotic and loud, and your veins sing with adrenaline, making you drive even faster, and you can't help but feel a small grin tug at your lips.

You drive through the town, feeling like everyone must know that you have three players from the rival team in the car, and they just wrecked the local hockey team's ice sculpture.

You stop at a red light, heart pumping wildly in your chest, giving the woman in the car next to you a nervous little smile as she looks over at the black car with the loud music and the hockey boys, but your attention gets stolen by the pink-haired boy next to you.

Sukuna's large hand grabs your chin, making you turn your head to him, and he grins broadly at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and pride, and he leans closer, licking the side of your face, making you screech loudly. He laughs against your skin before he presses a loud smacking kiss on your cheek, which makes Yuuji and Todo in the back cheer and whistle loudly.

Sukuna pulls away again, laughing that sexy low laugh,

"Great job, partner in crime."

And finally, you can't hold back anymore and burst out laughing loudly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes,

"You are fucking crazy, Sukuna. All of you are crazy!"

And Sukuna smirks and cocks his head,

"But you like it."

The traffic light turns green at that moment, and you start driving again, finally feeling at ease. You can't help but grin broadly and turn the music up louder as you cruise through the town with a car full of hockey players. You have no idea when your hand ended up on Sukuna's thigh, but it stays there almost the whole drive back to campus.

Once you are back on your campus and have parked the car in front of Sukuna's dorm, the four of you get out of the car, and Yuuji and Todo give you high-fives and big grins. Todo nods appreciatively at you,

"You are a first-class getaway driver! I had my doubts about you when I saw you earlier, but my man Sukuna has shown me today that he has top-tier taste in women!"

You blink at Todo, not really knowing how to react, and end up just laughing and clapping his burly back before Yuuji grins at you and pulls you in a quick half-hug,

"That was amazing! Thank you for getting us away from there! Do you know that Sukuna usually never lets anyone drive his car? He punched me once when I took it to drive to the cinema."

"Yeah, because I know that you are a horrible driver."

Sukuna gives his twin a light smack on the back of his head, and you laugh, feeling bubbly from all the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You can't stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you look at Sukuna. He watches you with his cat-like eyes, a lazy smirk on his tattooed face, looking far too pleased, but you can't be mad at him. Not when you feel so light-headed from your little adventure.

Yuuji and Todo bid their good nights, quickly leaving to return the baseball bats before someone notices they are missing. And you smile at Sukuna and tell him that you will walk back to your dorm now, too. Sukuna takes a step closer to you.

"I'll walk you home, princess. There are too many bad boys on the street at this time of night."

"You mean, like you?"

He just grins and falls in step beside you. You don't say it, but it tugs strangely at your heart that Sukuna refuses to let you walk alone at this hour of the night.

Sukuna lights a cigarette and then reaches out to put a strong arm around your shoulder and pull you against his side, making you smile and lean against him.

He teases you the whole way to your dorm about how worried you were and how your face had looked so stern and shocked when you tried to stop them from their plan. And you complain playfully about it, telling Sukuna that he and his linemates need a watchdog or some restraints to keep them out of trouble.

You finally stop in front of your dorm, and you pull away from Sukuna, letting his arm slowly glide down your shoulder. You instantly feel cold when Sukuna's warmth is gone, making you wrap your arms around yourself, but it isn't the same.

Sukuna grins at you while his cigarette dangles from the corner of his lips. And then he reaches out to put a large hand on your hair and ruffle it, maroon eyes sparkling teasingly in the light of the streetlamp, just waiting for the loud squeal of complaint he knows will come.

His large hand is still in your hair, but it cups the back of your head now, keeping you in place as Sukuna leans down. And then you feel his lips press a kiss to your forehead. A gesture that makes your eyelashes flutter because it's so uncharacteristically tender for a guy like Sukuna.

But the moment is over before you can really grasp it, and Sukuna pulls away, flashing you another boyish smirk before he turns around to walk back to his dorm. A tall, broad figure clad entirely in black with pastel pink hair and a little cloud of cigarette smoke billowing behind him.

And you stare after him with a wildly pounding heart, thinking that you haven't felt this alive in a long time.

It's Saturday evening, and you are bored, slowly sipping the drink in your hand while trying to pretend you are listening to the conversation going on in front of you. If things had gone your way, you would be in bed now, snuggled comfortably into Sukuna's soft, white hoodie, reading a book or watching a show. But Nobara was very adamant about going to this party in Maki's dorm.

"I am not walking in there on my own like some loser! You will come with me!"

And then she added, with a sneaky little grin,

"I heard that the hockey team will come too after they return from their away game."

You sighed and complained, but in the end, you played along and let Nobara drag you here.

But now you regret it. You aren't in a party mood tonight, and you don't know anyone except Nobara and Maki, who are busy making heart eyes at each other, making you feel like the third wheel.

A commotion at the door makes you turn your head, and you see several hockey players entering the apartment, getting high fives and claps on their backs for their win today. You can't help but crane your neck, waiting for pink hair and a smug smirk. But Sukuna is nowhere to be seen.

Your shoulders slump. You don't even know why you feel disappointed that he isn't here yet or maybe won't come at all. But somehow, the thought of having him here and being able to joke around with him had, for a second, been able to lift your mood. Maybe this boring party would have been enjoyable with Sukuna by your side.

You are about to leave for the kitchen to get another drink when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, grinning when you see the text message.

Sukuna 🏒👑: Are you at the party, princess?

You: Yeah, I am here. Are you coming, too?

Sukuna 🏒👑: I'm already here.

You: I didn't see you. Where are you?

Sukuna 🏒👑: Come find me ;)

You chuckle softly to yourself as you lift your head to scan the room again. You excuse yourself from Nobara and Maki, deciding to wander around a bit and look for Sukuna.

Suddenly, the party doesn't seem so bad anymore. Your steps feel lighter, and you smile at the strangers you walk past. Your little tour through the apartment isn't successful, though. It's a mystery to you how a big guy like Sukuna is able to hide from you in this relatively small apartment. But then your gaze lands on the door that leads to the backyard.

Cold night air blows in your face as you stroll into the dimly lit backyard. And finally, you spot the pink hair you were looking for. Sukuna is leaning against a tree, a cigarette between his lips, smoking and looking bored.

You can't help but smile as you hurry over to him.

"Hey! What are you doing out here on your own?"

Sukuna huffs and rolls his pretty eyes,

"It's a boring ass party, plus I can't stand most people in there."

You raise an eyebrow at him, and his smirk grows bigger as he ruffles your hair and adds,

"With the exception of you, of course."

You laugh softly and shake his large hand off, smoothing down your hair as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face and ask him,

"How was your game?"

"We won. Showed those fucking Bears what hockey is."

"Congrats! But how did they react to their smashed ice sculpture?"

You can't keep the slight worry out of your voice, but Sukuna laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement,

"They held a memorial event for it before the game started."

You chuckle, too.

"Do they know you guys did it?"

Sukuna shrugs, his smirk widening,

"I sure hope so. I would be insulted if they didn't."

He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, tilting back his head and slowly blowing the smoke out as he looks up at the night sky.

He looks beautiful, even though he has such an intimidating appearance with his face tattoos and his tall, broad figure.

Tonight, Sukuna isn't breaking into his rival team's hockey arena, but he still looks like someone who is up to no good with all his tattoos and his all-black clothes, a tight black t-shirt that shows off his firm pecs, and impressive biceps, and black cargo pants combined with combat boots. He looks like someone who would usually make you switch street sides if you saw him walking towards you at night.

But you know Sukuna now. You know that he is actually pretty nice if he wants to be. It's fun to be around him, and sometimes even peaceful, like tonight. Sukuna is definitely the only one you want to have by your side at this stupid party.

As if he heard your thoughts, Sukuna's gaze lazily wanders over your face, and he smirks softly.

"I'm not in the mood for that shitty party. Wanna leave?"

You answer him with a broad smile and a nod,

"Okay, let's go."

Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette into the grass and jerks his head towards the fence behind him,

"We'll take that way, princess. Don't wanna run into my teammates."

And before you can point out that you are too unathletic and not tall enough to believe in your fence-climbing skills, Sukuna has already grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

Sukuna's hand is warm and strong and so much bigger than yours. Your pussy involuntarily clenches at the feel, making you silently curse yourself for having such a strong reaction to Sukuna's touch. But you don't have time to think about it because Sukuna's large hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weigh nothing, just sending more flutters through your pussy and stomach.

He helps you climb over the fence and follows you a second later, climbing gracefully over it and landing safely on his feet on the other side as if it were nothing.

He jerks his chin in the direction of the main street.

"Let's get some coffee. I'm tired as fuck after the game."

You sit across from Sukuna, slowly stirring your coffee, snickering at the locker room gossip he shares with you. He shows you videos on his phone, barking with laughter when he presents to you The Bears reacting to their smashed ice sculpture.

You're the only guests in the small coffee shop on campus at this hour of the night. The lights are dimmed, and the barista has disappeared into the back of the shop. It's a peaceful, solemn atmosphere as if you and Sukuna have entered a parallel universe in which only the two of you exist.

And somehow, Sukuna seems different tonight, too. Softer. His playful smirk has softened into a genuine smile, and there's this unguarded, almost affectionate look in his eyes. Something you only caught glimpses of when he looks at his brother. But tonight, you get to see this look on Sukuna's face, too.

It makes you feel like you are invited to something special, where the Ice King lets his mask slip and allows a glance at the boy beneath the rough and arrogant attitude.

And suddenly, it hits you. Sukuna is your friend.

He allows you at his table in the dining hall and escapes from boring parties with you to sip coffee in the middle of the night. He lets you drive his car and allows you in his room and somehow decided he enjoys spending time with you, not just for sex, but for mundane things like having lunch together, or drinking coffee at midnight, or watching videos on his phone.

Sukuna let you in.

A smile spreads over your face, and you reach out to touch Sukuna's arm. Your touch is gentle, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his wrist. Sukuna cocks his head, looking curiously at you, but he doesn't comment on it and just shows you the next video of his game against The Bears.

The two of you leave the coffeeshop together a while later, and Sukuna elbows you gently,

"Wanna come over to my place? I haven't gotten my victory fuck yet."

And you laugh and hit his tattooed biceps playfully, even as you agree with a soft nod and a big grin before you loop your arm around Sukuna's and lean onto him while you walk back to his dorm.

You spend the next thirty minutes under Sukuna, getting railed into his bed, your fingernails leaving scratches on his muscular back, while he pounds into you with those delicious, hard, deep thrusts.

He rolls off you afterward but doesn't get up, and neither do you. You just stay there lying next to each other, your shoulders touching, watching more videos on Sukuna's phone.

Until your phone beeps and you see a message from Nobara,

"Where are you?"

"Don't worry, I am okay. I left the party. Sorry, forgot to text you."

"It's okay, but you didn't answer the question? Where are you? Omg, wait, are you with the curse?"

You laugh, and Sukuna raises an eyebrow. You show him the text, and he huffs, a large tattooed hand darting out to quickly grab the phone out of your hand. Before you can even react, Sukuna has already typed a reply:

"She's in his bed, actually."

You scream and try to pluck your phone from Sukuna's large hand, wrestling with him for it on his bed until you end up in his lap, straddling him, both of you laughing breathlessly.

Sukuna grins up at you and lets the phone drop onto his pillow and instead grabs your hips with both hands, flipping you over on your back, making you squeal and giggle while his lips trail kisses down your neck, and your hands tangle in his soft, pink hair. He pushes your legs apart, lowering his tall, buff body on yours, his half-hard cock rubbing against your tummy, and your body instantly reacts to him too. Your legs wrap around Sukuna's hips, pulling him closer, your hips lifting, welcoming his hardening cock between your wet pussy lips, telling him wordlessly to take you a second time.

Yes, Sukuna is your friend. Your friend, who also gives you damn good dick.

PLEASE, THEY ARE SO SWEET 😭😭

I wanted to show the friendship aspect of the whole fuckbuddies thing in this chapter, and I hope you liked it! I am a sucker for friends to lovers, and I am screaming into my hand when I imagine Sukuna letting Reader in and letting her see behind his mask!!

I want to say thank you to all of you who read this story and leave sweet feedback in the comments and tags or send me nice asks! I realized once again this week that writing a multi-chapter fic is super stressful BUT also so beautiful because I can experience this whole process with all of you 💗 It's such a nice feeling that we are experiencing this story and the developing romance together. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This is really what fandom is about for me.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

If you commented on the masterpost, I will add you to the taglist, btw. I will reblog the story several times with the different taglists. Thank you so much for being invested in this fic 💗

In Chapter 7 Reader will get a private ice skating lesson with Hockey Player!Sukuna.

Hi! I couldn’t find anything on your pinned regarding if you take requests, so feel free to ignore this is you don’t.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed lately about the lack of love towards us mid-size girlies in fanfics in general. Its hard to feel wanted sometimes if you’re not thin enough or curvy enough. Would mind writing a fic with any member of the CoD 141 that just appreciates their mid-size girl? Thank you 💞

simon riley with midsize!reader (I'm so sorry this took so long, but I love this request)

simon riley loves a girl with a bit of weight on her. he'd never understand how you could be so insecure about how your body looked (if you were), especially when you just looked so perfect to him.

your body was a perfect balance in his eyes, plush thighs and tummy that he could bury his face in after he arrived home to you.

when you first asked him to leave the room so you could change, he just gave you a blank stare. he just loved to stare at you (he has a staring problem).

you just look so delectable, he could just eat you up (he does).

but aren't your thighs too big? no, better to crush his head when he's lapping at your sopping pussy.

but aren't you not curvy enough? who needs curves anyways? his eyes are glued to your ass or tits regardless

but your tummy isn't flat? who wants a flat stomach anyways? you have organs, lovie, and he'll gladly rearrange them.

but you're not thin enough? he doesn't care, it just means you're well taken care of, and that's all he wants. more to love, anyways darling.

he can still throw you around without breaking a sweat, toss you over his shoulder with a sharp slap to your ass.

he'll happily fuck you in front of the tall mirror in your bedroom, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you. his breath kissing your ear, his voice breathy and deep as he mumbles praises.

his hand is laced through your hair, forcing your eyes to the mirror, his other hand around your neck, fingers creeping up to hold your jaw. red marks and bruises forming all along your neck, trailing down your skin with no pattern. chest bitten and glistening from saliva around your perky buds.

he'd fuck you slow, every praise about your body, your appearance punctuated with a sharp thrust of his cock buried in your weeping pussy. the soft slap of his hips against your ass, your skin rippling from impact, reddening.

come on, lovie, you don't get to come until you're saying positive things. you want to come, don't you?

Brooklyn Baby - G.S.

Synopsis. Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rock star! AU, fwb-to-lovers, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), Suguru is sinfully sexy and in l*ve with you, Satoru is a menace, pet names (darling, my girl), Suguru has tattoos and piercings, swearing.

Word count. 3.2k (DAMN I got carried away)

A/N. Happy Valentine’s day! *throws somewhat-fluffy smut at you and leaves* 

Art by @_3aem on X.

Also, wild west! AU longfic with someone dropping on Sunday night (EST), keep your eyes peeled yeehaw.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

You did. Your fans did. Hell, you’ve even caught your overworked band manager sneaking a few too many glances. 

And, you conclude, the groupies currently batting their lashes at him definitely did. 

You watch as they swarm to him during open rehearsal, giggling at his pretty smiles. 

Whatever, part of the job anyway.

It’s not like you two were dating. Yeah, a few fucks here and there throughout the years - but what’s one to do when on the road and in such close proximity with a guy that’s practically walking sex? 

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances? 

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow. 

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous. 

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him. 

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears. 

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson. 

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles. 

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room. 

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. 

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously. 

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.” 

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over. 

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers. 

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings. 

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity. 

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers. 

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist. 

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly. 

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close. 

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones. 

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs. 

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases. 

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him. 

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive. 

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display. 

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you. 

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers? 

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside. 

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today. 

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief. 

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off. 

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out. 

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock. 

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.” 

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.” 

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for. 

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds. 

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt. 

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size. 

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans. 

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder. 

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings. 

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base. 

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe. 

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart. 

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear. 

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.” 

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band. 

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world. 

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else. 

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point. 

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer. 

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips. 

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted. 

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his. 

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail. 

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes. 

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-” 

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time. 

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice. 

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces. 

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights. 

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. 

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

Plagiarism not authorized.

Unspoken Bond one-shot | husband!sukuna x wife!reader

Summary: Sukuna gets into a motorcycle accident and forgets who you are.

Genre: modern au, 18+, established relationship, memory-loss, fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Fic warnings: ooc, profanity, sexually suggestive language

a/n: tysm to @univocalbaby for the idea!!!!

It’s the eighth day Sukuna’s been in the hospital following his motorcycle accident. You were thankful he lived through it and only broke a leg, but he’s unfortunately suffering from short term memory loss according to the doctor. 

You haven’t been around him while he’s been awake yet. The only time he really was awake was when he briefly came to consciousness shortly after he arrived at the hospital. 

You aren’t 100% clear on what had happened because you were going through every single emotion when the doctor was telling you, but apparently he woke up confused and tried to fight everyone that was on staff that night.. which led to them sedating him.

Multiple times. 

Bless his heart, he probably deserved it given the fact that there’s been hospital security sitting outside the room 24/7 after that incident occurred. You only hoped the next time he woke up, he’d be a little calmer, more open to hearing out the nurses and doctors around him rather than trying to pummel them, again.

You’ve stayed by his side for the most part, only leaving the hospital room for an hour or two at a time to go shower or take a walk. You’ve also gone to his favorite bakery to grab his favorite donuts every morning in hopes that he’d wake up to something freshly made, although he has yet to do so. 

You’re starting to think they gave him a horse tranquilizer, and just by looking at your big brute of a husband, you completely understand.

Luckily, the staff had no problem taking the sweets off your hands at the end of each night, you’re sure it also softened them up towards him as well. 

Turns out the patient from hell on floor 27 has a sweet wife, so he can’t be that bad, right?

It’s currently 11:27 am and you decide to tidy up his room a bit. Some of the flowers that were first sent to him have begun to die, so you do away with those. You also try to clear up the counters and floor as much as you can. 

Sukuna was quite the clean freak, even though he’s never complained or gotten mad at you for random clutter around the house, you just decide to clean up because you know it’ll bring him some clarity when he eventually does wake up. 

Right when you finish, you hear a grouchy little ‘ahem’ from across the room and you can’t help but hold back laughter when you turn around to look at your husband who’s obviously been awake and watching you for quite some time now. 

You don’t know if you’re just happy to see him awake or if it’s from the way he’s glaring absolute daggers at you, unable to move because one of his leg’s in a cast and propped up in a sling that’s hanging from the ceiling. 

He clearly doesn’t remember who you are and you’re genuinely curious to see where it’ll go from here because he was a bit of an asshole when you first met him.

“You’re awake,” you offer him a smile as you walk up to him and you can tell Sukuna is trying so fucking hard to not stare at your chest, because you are a stranger to him at the moment.

“And who are you?” He huffs out, most likely offended that you didn’t notice he was awake until he made it known.

“Your wife,” you say– the moment you tell him that his eyes briefly scroll down because he really couldn’t help himself.

“Real cute, sweetheart,” he waves you off and looks out the window. “I don’t have one.” 

“Yes, you do.” You giggle at how quick he was to dismiss your claims. It reminded you a lot of how snippy he was with you before you started dating– when he tried to convince himself and others around him that he didn’t like you even though he did.

“No, I don’t,” he sounds so sure of himself as he crosses his arms and leans back to look at you, a little smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

You can tell he’s trying to flex his muscles in front of you– funny how the car accident wiped away his memory, but not his arrogance. 

But you can’t complain too much, you married this asshole. 

You also know him well enough to know the little smirk on his face could only lead to one thing, which is just ridiculous since he had just woken up. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” his voice was seducingly low as he began to basically undress you with his eyes. 

“Oh yeah?” You raised your brows. “What is it that I'm trying to do then?” You consider crossing your arms as well but you already know that would be the final straw to him zeroing in your cleavage. 

“You’re just another volunteer trying to fuck a patient,” he sneered and you nearly choke on air because he never fails to remind you how much of an idiot he can be sometimes. “Last time I checked, that’s against HIPAA.” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever checked HIPAA at all, because that would not be the case here,” you groaned, shaking your head. 

“And now you’re calling me stupid, you are never stepping foot in this hospital again.” He promises.

“I never called you that— what are you doing Kuna?” 

He reached for the red button next to his bed and pressed it while holding eye contact with you, menacingly. “Nurse! There’s a little volunteer girl in my room that’s sexually harassing me.” 

You stood there in absolute disbelief over how quick he was to snitch on you and it made you realize just how good you had it when he did remember he was married to you. 

“You’re quite bold, you know that?” He says, smiling as he rests his head on the palm of his hand. “If you had just been a little nicer after getting caught, I would’ve given you my number. You’re actually pretty fuckin’ hot.” He concludes.

“Yeah? You probably don’t even remember it,” you spat back and you’re pretty sure he didn't, judging by the way he scoffed at you and looked back out the window. 

He’s probably trying to remember it right now, but to no avail. 

“Mr. Ryomen? Is everything okay?” A nurse hurriedly rushed into the room shortly after he tattled on you. 

“That’s her,” he points his finger at you. “Take that box away from her and get her out of here.”  

“Mr. Ryomen!” The nurses hissed at him, remembering how he brutalized one of her colleagues when he first got here. “Do not speak about your wife like that, she has been worried sick since you got here!”

You completely stopped trying to explain yourself once she came to your defense, thank god you decided to give the staff the donuts rather than just throwing them away. Sukuna also quickly realized how badly he had fucked up because not only were you his hot wife, but now you were also mad at him. 

To his surprise, you ended up staying after the doctor explained everything that’s happened to him— which might as well be a punishment in itself since you barely spoke to him after that.

And it’s awkward seeing him trying to talk to you because he knows how much of an asshole he was being and he was honestly as nervous as he was when he was on his first date with you.

He did, however, “accidentally” drop the tv remote on the ground— making you grab it for him because he was looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, ultimately breaking the ice between you two because you felt bad for ignoring him.

You didn’t hand the remote back to him though and instead scooted your chair closer to his bed so you could lean your head against it. “Do you even like the show you’re watching right now?” 

“Not really,” he shyly admits before clearing his throat. “Will you put on something I like? Please?” 

“Of course,” you giggled and the sweetness in your voice made his chest flutter. 

“What’s in the box you brought?” He nodded towards the counter in the corner of the room.

“Your favorite donuts,” you gave him a smile, remembering how he had tried to have them confiscated from you before kicking you out of the room all together. “I’ll give you one if you can actually remember what your favorite flavor is.” 

“Not fucking fair,” he nearly lunged out of the hospital bed but was stopped by the cast on his leg. “Hand over the fucking box.”

“Nope. You never even apologized for trying to kick me out.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” He says rather boyishly and glares at you for having the audacity to smile at his suffering. 

You thought it was funny, what a sick woman you were.

You get up from your seat to grab the box in the corner of the hospital room. Before you sat back down on the chair, he had already scooted over as much as possible and patted the side of the bed so you’d sit with him instead. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he murmurs to himself the moment you opened the box in front of him. 

“What? These are your favorite!” You remind him, even though he really wouldn’t know until he actually tried one. 

“Mine or yours?” He picks one up and looks at the pink, sprinkled donut with disgust. “You’re messing with me.” 

“Am not,” you rip a bite-sized piece off the donut and try to feed him, but he just stares at you– looking extremely skeptical. “C’mon just try it, I wouldn’t bring you anything you wouldn’t like.” 

He quickly gives in because he honestly can’t say no to you. 

And instead of admitting you were right and that he did like it, he instead asked you to feed him the rest because he remembered he was your husband and it was okay to ask you to do that. You were happy to do so of course, especially with him going back to his soft self. 

For a moment, he couldn’t believe how easy it was for you to just.. take care of him. 

Wiping the glaze from the side of his mouth, asking him how his stomach was feeling, rubbing his arm as he told you that he was feeling fine, you looking happy with the fact that he was feeling fine. 

He doesn’t remember much about his life right now, but there was something deep down that knew what he had with you was something he’s spent his life searching for. 

The fact that he just woke up one day to this was a shock to say at the least. 

“How long have we been married?” He felt bad for asking, but wanted to know more about you. 

“It’ll be 4 years 6 months from now. And we’ve been together for a total of 5 years.” you tell him and watch the wheels turn in his head. 

“Wait– we got married that soon?!” He was baffled as he asked you to clarify. 

“Yes we did,” you giggled at his reaction, it was how everyone else reacted. “You were the one who insisted. You got me this big rock too to make it even more convincing,” you remind him as you showed him the ring he proposed to you with. 

He took your hand and inspected the ring. He didn’t remember how much he spent on it and honestly didn’t ever want to know because it was fucking huge. 

“Your hands are soft,” he absent-mindedly mumbles to himself as he starts to rub your knuckles with his thumb. “Tell me more about us.” 

And you do, for the next 4 hours. 

30 minutes into the story telling, he got you to fully lay down with him on the hospital bed with your head on his chest, caressing your back because it honestly just felt natural for him to do so. 

And about an hour in, he’s fully comfortable with you– laughing at all the fucked up stories you had of him that a normal person really shouldn’t be laughing at. But he was anything but normal.

After the 4 hours, he starts to fucking flirt with you because that also came naturally to him. You tell him he’s disgusting and make fun of his broken leg. 

Your eyes then roll in the back of your head after he cheekily tells you that his leg was very much broken, “but this dick isn’t”. 

And his memory might be gone for now, but neither of you were worried in the slightest. The chemistry was always there. You say you’ve known each other for five years, but after just spending five hours with you, he feels as if he’s known you his whole life. 

Even if he were to never regain his memory again, you two weren’t going anywhere– your souls knew who they belonged to at the end of the day and that’s all that really mattered.

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

Unckuna/reader (he's very dear to my heart), mostly uncle nephew banter tbh, i needa get dividers lowkey, very short lil drabble

-

Sukuna thinks he's lost his mind.

He means it figuratively, obviously. But at this point he's sure he should've physically lost it already.

His nephew- of which he is currently babysitting- is currently on his couch, not a care in the world, half empty family sized bag of chips that was unopened not too long ago (fatface), kicking his feet like an adolescent boy in love, greasy fingers on the remote, and scrolling through youtube shorts on the tv???

Oh and worst of all he forgot to mention, the brat is wearing shoes.

The fact that he's even related to this thing makes him want to kill everyone else in the room and then himself.

"Itadori Yuji..." Sukuna seethes, it takes everything in him to not rip the brat's skeleton right out of his skin. He thinks it would be easy, if only a certain three people would let him (a shame, truly).

Yuji spares him a glance (the disrespect).

"Oh whats up unc"

"And what do you think you're doing?" The older of the two walks over and blocks the view of the tv, glaring down with his hands on his hips.

Yuji stares for a moment before opening his stupid food hole (as Sukuna describes it), "Have you ever seen that one meme, no one looks good from below? Well you're the version where they-"

Sukuna promptly picks him up by his foot, shaking him as a few chip bits fall off Yuji's shirt, "I literally just cleaned the house you freeloading fiend. Have you seen what a mess you've made?"

"You clean the house everyday you freak. Now put me down! I swear I was gonna clean up afterwards anyways." Yuji attempts to wiggle his way out of Sukuna's grip, he gets nowhere (predictably).

"Brat. You don't even know where the vacuum is, were you planning on picking them up one by one?"

"Ugh you're such a housewife, if I didn't know any better I'd assume you- MMM"

The sound of the code being put into the front door quickly stops Sukuna who shoves his free hand into Yuji's face, effectively shutting him up as well.

Sukuna grins when he sees you walk in, holding Yuji as if he were a first place catch for the annual bass fishing competition.

The sight makes you pause and contemplate your life decisions.

"Sukuna... put Yuji down, all the blood's rushing to his head."

Yuji is dropped immediately.

"OWWWWWWWW"

Your eyes trail around the living space and then back to the two children, "Does someone want to explain what's happening? And why there are shoe tracks in my house?" You make eye contact with your husband (who practically regresses 15 years in age when your nephew is around), he looks at you then uses his middle finger to point at Yuji.

Said boy, still recovering on the floor, whines, "Mann why can't I have a cool wine aunt and normal uncle?"

"Yuji if I were a wine aunt I wouldn't even be your aunt. Now are you gonna clean up this mess or should I make you?"

"On it! Whatever you say ma'am!" Yuji scrambles away after saluting and then pops back up from the hallway, realizing something crucial.

"Where are the cleaning supplies again?"

You sigh.

.

Yuji's finished with cleaning when he joins (intrudes, in Sukuna's words) you and his uncle on the couch, another episode of criminal minds running in the background.

You've changed from your work clothes into something more comfortable, snuggled into Sukuna's side as you start, "You know, if Spencer existed in real life I'd consider leaving you for him."

The tattooed man can only cringe in disgust at your behavior, "We're literally married, woman. You would leave me for that??"

He gives you and the tv an incredulous look. You can only giggle at his reaction, "You're like a child sometimes." His disapproval worsens, and you consider continuing to tease him but go with your better judgement (before he decides not to cook dinner, even though he always does anyways).

"I'm sorry hubby, forgive me?" Sukuna scoffs but accepts the affection anyways, he always does.

Yuji's voice interrupts the moment, "Ew you guys are so nasty (his parents are way worse), but speaking of children... when am I gonna get a cousin?"

The young boy can only watch as you two glance at each other then back at him, casually dropping an "Oh, Soon" then moving on completely. It takes him a second to process.

"WHAT."

-

unckuna my love

reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated :]

thank you for reading, have a blessed week

not fully proofread or edited

you manage to make college!sukuna take yuuji trick or treating

college!sukuna masterlist

You barely put your foot inside the apartment when you hear sniffling coming from the kitchen.

“Please ‘Kuna, I can’t go alone,” Yuuji mumbles, moving a single piece of spaghetti around his plate.

Sukuna huffs, standing up from the table. "Can't you just go with that kid you invited over the other day? Meg... Meg something?"

"No! I already told you I can't, like 3 times!" Yuuji starts, getting progressively more frustrated.

"Don't throw a fucking tantrum, Yuuji, you know I hate that shit," the older grits out, cleaning his plate.

"But-"

"Hello...?" you say, peeking inside. Two sets of eyes fix on you, and silence engulfs the three of you for what feels like the longest three seconds ever. "Y'all are weird," you whisper, getting inside and going to the fridge. Yuuji waves at you, trying to be polite even if you can see he's on the brink of tears, before the two brothers in the room with you resume their conversation.

"Brat, I'm not coming. I have assignments," Sukuna sighs. He doesn't turn around, he knows Yuuji is pouting and he might or might not have lied. Well, not completely: he does have to turn in two different projects for his economics class, but he's almost finished. He did say he would take a double shift the night Yuuji is asking him about though. They're tight on money, but it's not like he wants to admit that to his little brother. Is this what guilt feels like?

The little pink haired boy sniffles, then nods. "It's okay," he slurs out, cleaning after himself in silence. For the next 5 minutes, you can hear a pin drop from how silent it is. Sukuna keeps on washing dishes, Yuuji keeps on cleaning the table.

You're still standing by the fridge, trying to mind your own business, but seeing the whole scene makes the hair on your nape stand up. The two siblings would have the same stoic and unmoving face if it wasn't for Yuuji's lip trembling imperceptibly from time to time.

"I'm going to my room. Sorry for having bothered you, 'Kuna," the little one says, opening the door to the kitchen softly, and closing it even softer. Sukuna inhales strongly, putting his hands on the counter in front of him and closing his eyes. You feel like if you breathe harder than what a mosquito does, he'll crash out.

He pats his pockets repeatedly, searching for something. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and turns around to reach for the lighter you keep in the first drawer, when your voice startles him. Seeing him startled startles you too. He's never startled. What is going on?

"I thought you quit."

"Mind your own fucking business," he snarls, snatching open the drawer.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" you reply, matching his rudeness.

"Can you shut the fuck up? Damn," he continues, glaring at you, taking one big drag of the pressed tobacco between his fingers.

"No, I'd like to eat a normal dinner with both of you today, so are you going to tell me what is going on or do I have to ask your crying nine year old little brother?" you hiss out, snatching the cigarette he just lit and tossing it in the sink, still wet from when he washed his dishes, effectively turning it off.

He's on you in a second. "Don't piss me off, woman," he says, trapping you between the sink and his body. He's towering over you, and he has to bend down to look at you properly. "Stay out of it," he says, menacingly. You gulp, but you're not finished. And most importantly, you know him. You've been living together for forever, or maybe it feels like it because you're always together, either for Yuuji or because... wait, why are you always together?

"I'll stop when I feel like it, Sukuna," you say, getting closer to his face. Your voice is clear, your nose an inch from his own. You look into each other's eyes so intensely that if you had the power to shoot lasers he'd be blind by now. You're about to speak up again, when he headbutts you. Hard.

"Ouch!" you yelp, punching him in the arm as hard as you can. He just traps your fist in his, squeezing until you wince, then lets go, smirking.

"Don't play with me, girl," he says while getting off of you. You pout, rubbing the spot he hit on your forehead.

"Asshole," you mumble.

"Mh? What'd you say?"

"Nothing, sir," you respond mockingly, assuming the position of a soldier. "You know what, I'm going to report you to the police for domestic violence," you continue, still pouting.

He throws you a single cube of ice. You raise an eyebrow.

"That's all we have, make it work. I ain't got the money for court," he shrugs.

Something clicks in your brain. You know he sees it. You see it from the way his eyes widen waiting for you. "Is this what this was about?"

He sighs, then sits on the floor across from your figure, which is still standing by the sink. You raise the ice cube on your forehead. This feels nice.

"Yuu asked me to accompany him trick or treating on Halloween."

You wait, but he's not looking at you anymore. He seems distant.

"Oookaaay, and...?" you push. He sighs again. His hand repeatedly passes through his pink locks.

"I picked up a double shift for Halloween like... last week. I can't lose the money right now, or I won't have enough for rent on the 1st," he grits out, keeping his head low. You hum. You throw the melted ice cube in the sink near the cigarette. The image makes you smile. It looks like you two.

You get down on the floor too, the tip of your sock clad feet grazing his.

"You could've asked me, you know," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. He scoffs.

"Baby, I know you're whipped, but I didn't think you wanted to be a sugar mommy at twentytwo," he says smirking. You try kicking him, but he just gets out of the way, snickering. "I'm not asking a girl for money, that's fucking humiliating."

"I'm serious, idiot. If you didn't want the money I could've taken Yuuji for you, it's not like it's the first time," you tell him, rolling your eyes. "He tried to be strong for you at the end, I know you know," you add, delicately this time, Tentatively. He stares at you and sighs for what feels like the hundredth time. He grabs your foot again and manspreads, just to position your calf on his thigh. This position feels incredibly intimate, and you try not to stiffen. You two have never been the cuddly type of roommates, but he looks like he could use a little bit of physical contact.

"It wouldn't be the same. He wants me there because all of the other kids are with their families, even if he doesn't want to tell me so. Satoru texted me about it this morning. He's taking the two brats he basically adopted too," he rambles. Sukuna is not one to open up, so you just let him talk, absorbing everything like a sponge.

"Couldn't you like... move the appointments up by a few hours?" you ask.

"I could, but I still have two fucking assignments for Halloween. If I don't turn them in I'm fucked, and I need the scholarship," he grits out. His thumb caresses your exposed ankle mindlessly. Shivers run up the entirety of your leg.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your mind.

"But what if you had an amazing roommate who oh so happened to love your brother so dearly that could turn said assignments in for you if it meant to see him happy?" you say, looking at him expectantly.

"I can't ask you that, come on," he rolls his eyes. You jump up, almost falling over him in the process. "I'm not doing that for free."

"I knew you were a bitch," he growls. You just whistle, going toward the door. He squeezes his eyes hard, before opening them, jumping up too and grabbing your wrist before you can exit the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

You grin.

That's how you find yourself holding a badly sponged muscled up Tarzan-Yuuji's little hand while going from door to door, your cute yellow Jane dress on.

"Might have given you a concussion the other day, doll," Sukuna, dressed as a monkey, grumbles next to you. You laugh, and he throws you a mean glare.

Yuuji leaves your side and runs up to his friends, screaming "Trick or treat!" with them, beaming. He looks back at you from time to time, smiling, offering you something every time the people he rings the doorbell of give him more than one candy.

You suddenly feel an arm drape over your shoulders roughly, before getting slammed into a hairy side.

"Thank you, y'know," Sukuna mumbles near your ear, pressing your head in a way where you're not able to see his expression. Then, he pushes you away. "Not for the fucking costume, that's for sure," he adds, disgusted, scratching his neck and arm at the same time. You just stand there, mouth gaping a little, in front of him.

"Cat got your tongue, sugar mama?" He tells you after a while, grinning.

You scowl, fake mad, before chuckling. "Who knew you were capable of saying thank you?"

"Don't get used to it."

Church Grim | Chapter 2

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader werewolf au

Content: angst, mention of death, suicidal ideation, hurt/comfort, werewolf Simon. No use of y/n.

Words: 4,161

Black Eyed Dog series masterlist

You dream of the howling, the wolves running through your property, they hunt, and stalk. They stalk you, following, chasing, tearing you apart, but it's not you, you're only watching them. Then, they're gone, and it's just you on your property, walking around aimlessly. It feels eerie, but somehow right, like you're meant to be in this cemetery. 

A fog rolling in to consume you whole.

All night long you dream of dying, the paranoia affecting the hippocampus. You dream of saying goodbye to loved ones, preparing yourself for it all. It's restless sleep, keeps you up the majority of the night. You have dreams like this often.

The morning comes too soon, and too cold. You try to huddle more under your blankets, try to forget about the cold, but it lingers all around you, seeping into your bones and reminding you of every way you've ever hurt your knees before.

It bites like it has the right.

Pushing the blankets off of you you're met with more of the cold of the early morning flooding over you, making a shiver surge through you, gooseflesh bubbling up on your skin with prickles of pain.

Opening one of your boxes you pull out a sweatshirt, putting it on over your pajama shirt, you slip some socks onto your feet before folding your arms and shuffling your way down the stairs to the thermostat, you could have sworn you made sure to adjust it before going to bed, but maybe you never turned it on.

Checking it over, the temperature should be in the mid sixties. But there was no way your house was that warm, turning the old dial you brought it closer to seventy, waiting and listening for the furnace to kick on. Nothing happened, nothing changed.

Folding your arms you cupped the sides of your chest, trying to heat your hands up as you made your way to the utilities closet, trying to ignore how the cold hardwood seeped in through your socks like they weren't even there, creeping into your very bones.

You were so sick of being cold all the time.

Opening the closet door you pulled the string to the light bulb, inspecting the furnace for an on switch or obvious issue, but you couldn't see any issues, not that you'd know what you were looking for either way. You knew nothing about furnaces.

Sighing, you turned off the light and made your way to your kitchen, putting the kettle on the gas stove, grabbing out a mug to make some tea.

You'd probably have to call someone, but that would be expensive, and you hadn't budgeted something like that out, you could dip more into your savings but you really preferred not to do that.

They were wearing thin from paying the movers as is, and you didn't like to dip below a certain amount, you needed ample savings in case you had a medical emergency, or really just anything medical related. Why did healthcare have to be so damn expensive? 

It was cheaper to die than it was to live.

You had a fireplace in the living room, you'd use that to heat the house until you figured something out, maybe there was a youtube video or something that could help you fix it. You had tools, maybe you could figure it out yourself.

It would really only be a problem at night and in the early morning, but you could just layer more blankets on your bed, see if you could find a space heater in town.

As you waited for the kettle to whistle you went upstairs to get dressed, wearing something warm, something to keep the bitter wisps of autumn at bay. 

You made it back down stairs, coming back right in time to pour your tea, the whistle of the kettle screaming in the kitchen.

After breakfast you made yourself busy, working more on unpacking and setting up the internet, setting up your curtains. It warmed you up moving and working hard. Despite everything in your life, all the pain you felt in your body, you did like to work hard, you liked to use your body and prove to yourself that you could do hard things. It felt good to exert yourself. Until it didn't.

The house warmed up more too, the morning chill dissipating into afternoon warmth, the sunlight bleeding in through the windows and making the stained glass above the doorways glow, beautiful patterns being reflected onto the walls and your belongings, the multitude of things you still needed to sort out, it made the mess almost into a work of art.

You forgot to eat lunch, too focused on unpacking. It made you dizzy by the time dinner rolled around, the hunger setting in all at once, eating away at you like you were about to drop dead. Still you pushed through, scrounging something up from the groceries you'd picked up the night before, you'd go back into town tomorrow for more things.

The sun was setting now, a chill coming in with the change from day to night.

Stepping outside you walked around to the side of the house, pulling some wood from a pile left by the previous owners, picking out the driest logs you could you hauled them back inside, their rough weight pinching and bruising your forearms through your sweatshirt, but at least you wouldn't freeze.

Lighting fires always came naturally, whether it was with wood or words, you were good at lighting that spark, stoking the embers. You struggled to admit fault, a large character flaw you tried not to let show. Sarcasm meant to cut, words meant to bite.

There was so much unkindness in your life you had regret for.

Relationships you have severed with your willingness to let things burn.

You hated it. Hated how you'd add fuel instead of trying to calm things down. Though there was only so much trying you could do before you had to let some bridges burn. Some paths weren't worth going down again, even still you had guilt over the hurt you've caused.

Maybe you'd receive forgiveness when your obituary arrives in the mail for them.

Maybe they'd stop holding it all against you then.

Blowing on the sparks you gave them oxygen to feed on the kindling, catching and spreading over the old logs, the heat washing over you, heating your face and hands.

Sitting back on your couch you watched the fire, listening to the crackles as it burned, letting its light fill your living room. You'd done enough for the day, you could sit and rest here a while. It would be okay to just take a minute.

You knew you couldn't have the fire all night, so you would have it until your house got decently warmed up.

Getting up you closed all the curtains in the house, taking all measures to preserve the warmth inside, closing your curtains at night was a good habit anyways, even when you didn't have immediate neighbors.

There was just something about looking out into the dark of the night that set you off, never sure of what might be staring back. What might be seeing you as you look out, unable to see it. Somehow the thought of nothing being able to see you as you looked out was just as perturbing.

You'd heard stories about why you should shut your curtains at night, your grandma ever one for folklore and superstitions.

Though truthfully you typically kept most of your curtains closed anyways, day or night, unless you were in a more cheery mood or if it was what you would consider a beautiful day outside they'd stay shut, at least the one in your room, you tried to open the one in the living room every day.

Sometimes you felt your grandma passed down more supernatural stories than stories about her own life, her own experiences. You knew her from tales of things that most people didn't believe in, and you'd see her in them for the rest of your life, unable to find her in anything else.

You should have asked more questions, learned who she was outside of all her spooky stories and warnings. Now you'll never know more about her. Who gave her the necklace, where she's worked, all the places she's lived, how she knows so much folklore from every part of the world, and why she wanted to pass the knowledge down to you. 

There was so much you'd never know.

If only the dead could talk, you'd never leave her grave.

Once everything was locked up and all the curtains were shut for the night you went upstairs to get changed into some pajamas, the ones you wore last night would probably be too cold tonight.

Sorting through your boxes of clothes you searched for something that would work, pulling out a white nightgown you'd gotten from your grandma's things after her death, it was thicker, two layers in the body, though one was probably more so like a slip, it had long sleeves, and buttons that brought the neckline up to your collarbone, not necessarily made for the cold but it would help trap your body heat around you like another blanket. That's all you needed.

You paired it with some fleece lined leggings that matched your skin tone as close as cloth could, you typically wore them in the winter, under skirts or dresses, paired them with tights a lot, just another layer of warmth. Tonight they were serving as pajama pants to keep you from freezing to death.

Tomorrow you'd have to sort through more boxes and try to find your winter pajama pants, but you weren't in the mood for a wild goose chase tonight.

Coming back downstairs you settled back by the fire, adding another log.

You felt a little other worldly sitting here, like a ghost. Haunting your own home, a home that had so many people live in it before you, filling it with love and laughter, lives that were hopefully filled with more joy than sorrows. These walls knew love, you knew that from the way the house had settled. The swing on the porch. 

You hadn't thought you'd be the ghost here. The one still out of place.

You've always haunted every place you've been, you weren't someone who lit up a room, more like an eerie dark corner. It felt like anywhere you went whisperings followed you, pitied looks, oftentimes though you were ignored entirely. Like you didn't even exist.

You missed your grandma, she had always listened to you. She would come and pick you up from your childhood home anytime you'd asked to spend the night, you practically lived with her when you were young. Anything to avoid home.

Tugging on the silver chain around your neck you looked down at the locket, running your thumb over the dream catcher, feeling the grooves of the silver with your skin. You used to crawl up onto her lap just to play with her necklace, sit with her and look at it for hours.

You should have gone before her. Then you wouldn't have to be sitting here without her.

You should have died before a lot of things happened in your life. Maybe it would have been better for you if you hadn't lived at all.

Life was tiring, exhausting. It had a way of beating you down, one thing after another. It was always one thing after another.

Taking a deep breath you leaned back more into the couch, closing your eyes.

Sometimes, when things were quiet, peaceful, you could relax like this, feel almost like you were floating, you could just let yourself drift for a while, shut off your brain. Be nothing for a moment. Feel like you weren't here, living in your body of years.

You liked the idea of being nothing, laying down and decomposing back into the earth, leaving your body behind, really becoming a ghost, wandering around with a sunken face. You'd make a better ghost than a person anyways.

You saw beauty in death few others did. Your relationship with it was enough to drive some away.

You were being left behind by living, breathing people for a fascination you couldn't shake out of you.

It wasn't a good way to live, but it's not like you were living anyways, you were just waiting.

Sitting up you poked at the dying coals, putting out the fire before making your way up to bed, it got much colder with each step you took away from the living room, your own bedroom was untouched by the warmth the fire had.

Climbing in under your pile of blankets you laid yourself down to sleep.

You weren't sure how long you'd laid there, feeling the cold slowly seeping into you, robbing you of the warmth you'd gained. You weren't even sure if you'd fallen asleep at all before you heard it.

It was the howling again. The calling. Right outside.

Getting up from your bed you pulled back the curtains, looking out the window down at your front yard, the light from the almost full moon lighting it up enough to see things, your warm breath was fogging up the glass, almost canceling out the usefulness of the moon, but what you saw was unmistakable, a giant black dog stared back up at you, it's tapetum lucidum reflecting up at you.

It wasn't a dog though, it was much too big, too big to be a wolf either.

Staring down at the creature your mind searched for a reason it'd be here, calling to you, like a guide.

A guide.

You remembered a piece of folklore and history your grandmother had told you about, church grims, black dogs in graveyards meant to stay and lead the others buried there to the other side.

Maybe you'd died in your sleep, frozen to death. Maybe that's why you were still so unbelievably cold, you'd heard ghosts were cold. Chilled without their hearts pumping in them, or the blanket of skin over their bones, muscle and fat like a comforter.

Had you really died in your sleep? Or were you just seeing what was to be in your future? Why did you feel peace with this? Weren't you supposed to be scared? Staring down at the call to the other side.

Stepping away from the window you felt compelled, compelled to meet the dog closer. To follow it, to be with it.

It was to be your guide.

Something that knew your name, something that would remember your name as it took you.

You were in a daze, slipping on your socks and boots, though you supposed a ghost wouldn't have much use for them, even still it was a habit.

Opening the door you stepped out, your boots meeting the wood of the porch, the dog watched you, its eyes so dark they looked black, inky voids taking you in, taking in your every move, its head lowering as it watched you. 

You took slow steps to the end of your porch, resting your hand on the post, standing on the edge before the steps. Still the dog watched you, no more reflections in it's eyes to shine back at you, even with the moonlight overhead you saw nothing in them.

There was a breeze in the air, bringing the chill of autumn into you, pushing your nightgown, swirling it around your legs. "Lead me?" Your voice is soft, you're not even sure what you're asking. 

Asking a church grim to take you.

Dogs have been mankind's best friends for centuries, the church grim were made from man's fear of being without comfort and companionship, giving the job to a beloved animal, one who would stand their loyal post and help along all those who needed it.

You needed it. Desperately. 

You carefully stepped down the two steps, standing before the dog, it was bigger than it looked from upstairs, level with your shoulders.

It turned away from you, slowly walking, letting you keep pace with it, your hand gently went to its soft fur, resting on its back to keep from falling behind. It was warm, very warm. A juxtaposition to the cold night air sinking into the rest of you.

You were able to keep an easy pace with the dog, its head would turn to look back at you every once in a while, checking up on you.

It was leading you through your property, taking you towards the cemetery. You were getting colder, leaning into the dog more you sought their warmth. 

Were church grims supposed to be warm? It would make sense, warmth was often associated with comfort, a hot meal, soup, cider, tea, fresh baked cookies. The arms of a loved one. This was meant to be a final comfort before moving on, something welcoming.

"Was it you I heard last night?" You'd never been shepherded like this, never had something nice to follow. Something you've really wanted to follow.

The dog glanced at you, seeming to decide on a spot it wanted you they stopped, blocking your way with its body.

You stood with the dog, eventually sitting down in the overgrown grass, sitting among the tombstones, the dog sat beside you, watching over the rest of the cemetery. You took the opportunity to look over the dog, your cold hands petting his warm fur.

Leaning into the dog you sought more of his heat, soaking up his excesses, he looked down at you as you snuggled into him, taking in your actions, he made no actions to move away.

"I've always liked cemeteries, my hometown had a nice one, it was old. There was a statue in it, a woman weeping. I would go drive through just to see her, there was no name on the statue, no story to the grave. I've always wondered about her, why she's weeping." You weren't sure why you were talking about this, you weren't sure the grim could even understand you, but this was nice. The most mellow comfort you've felt in a long time.

"When I die I want a statue, something people would take interest in, maybe something people can see themselves in, let my grave become something people can connect to. It doesn't have to have my name on it, but maybe I'd like it to, I want someone to be able to know me even after all is said and done. I want to be seen. I don't care if they ever met me, I want someone to know me." You looked up at the moon, it was at the end of the waxing gibbous phase, the full moon would land over the weekend.

Looking over to the dog you took in his face, his ears, his eyes, they were such a dark brown they looked black, black pools you could fall into, drift into oblivion. Maybe they were black, otherworldly. 

Scooting in front of him you knelt before him, gently cupping the dog's face, bringing it closer to you, rubbing your thumbs over his soft fur, his eyes never leaving yours. "What's it like to be buried? Are you there? With your body? Does your soul stay with it? Experience each bit of dirt falling over you, solidifying your eternal resting place. Is it peaceful?" 

You resist the urge to bring your forehead to his, to connect them. To hold him like a dear friend. He wasn't yours, you were just here with him, sharing this moment. 

Leaning back you sat back on the ground, releasing him. "I suppose it doesn't really matter either way, we all end up dead and deposited somewhere, no matter how your remains are dealt with." Absentmindedly you pull on the chain around your neck, holding your locket in your hand, rubbing your cold thumb over the warm silver, heated from your body, your core. 

The grim looked down at your necklace, staring at it, ears back as his eyes narrowed at it. studying the glinting metal in your hand. Seemingly curious about it.

Moving back beside him you leaned into him, still holding the silver locket. It was becoming a habit to hold it, to feel it. Almost a compulsion. A need. It gave your hands something to do, something to feel. 

The dog still watched your hands, watching you, looking down at you as you leaned into him. You were shivering by now, body tensing as it soaked in the cold. Your hands and feet took the worst of it, though your nose and ears weren't fairing much better.

You've always hated feeling cold, but a part of you also liked it, the serene, quiet misery. 

The grim pushed at your head with his snout, pushing at you until you were laying down, moving in beside you, partially on you. A heated blanket over you. 

Dropping your necklace you let it fall back onto your chest, using your hands to instead pet him, running your hand over his head, smoothing it over his forehead and down his neck. You'd never pet a dog so soft, so pleasant. 

You'd only had one other animal accept you this quickly once in your life, you missed that dog every time you thought of them. 

You couldn't imagine how loved this church grim was in life, how much he must have meant to his people, to everyone else in his life. You didn't know how long he's been here, what kind of dog or breed he was before he came back as this, this huge black wolf. 

You wondered how playful and loving he must have been in his youth. He must have died old, he had that wise and gentle attitude old dogs had. 

"I hope you've been loved. Your whole life, I hope you never had to question whether you were or not. I hope you were treated with kindness, I hope you had good things in your life." You let out a deep shaky breath, relaxing in the cold overgrown grass. 

The wildflowers were going dormant, giving up on keeping their flowers, dying back for the colder weather all around you, around the graves. The dead and dying at peace with one another.

The cold didn't sink into you as badly with him on you like this, his head on your abdomen, your hands in his thick coat, his soft eyes looking up at you. 

This was what peace was, this was all you needed, something to keep the all consuming cold at bay and a quiet company. It was all you've ever asked for, begged for. Company. 

You didn't want to be alone all the time anymore, you didn't want to have to make do, fill in your touch deficit with an added blanket on your bed, replacing what you needed from a person with a little more weight on top of you. A pillow beside you that you could throw your leg over, sleep between your two pillows, pretend you were sleeping on the arm of someone you love.

But you had no one to love. So you tried to love yourself, love your solitude. And in many ways you did, but now without any form of support, whenever you'd start to sink, start to slip, you'd sink alone. 

Drown under a ragged sea, one you didn't volunteer to be sailing. One you'd seemingly never find land on. Misery until the end. Could true peace be found in the same place as misery? Could you have both happiness and joy at the same time as misery? Or were you made of what you felt most? 

Were you as miserable to be around as you were miserable in your life? Is that why when the diagnosis comes around everyone around you stops coming too?

You were drifting, eyes slowly closing, but tonight, right now, you weren't sinking alone. You had something with you. 

If this was all real you'd be dead in the morning, if you haven't already frozen to death you would with the morning frost, it would cover your body, stick to your skin, freeze your hair, stopping your tired heart. 

Fitting you'd die in the cold. Something that's always surrounded you, even with all the warm hospital blankets, heating packs, warm air, it's always lingered. Always slipped in. 

You don't remember what came next, but in the morning you woke up in your bed, still cold. A comfort missing from your heart, as if all that happened last night was a dream. 

Reaching for the chain around your neck you didn't find it there, in a surge of panic you looked all around you, patting your sheets, letting out a sigh of relief when you found it on your nightstand, a cloth underneath it. You don't remember taking it off, but you must have. 

None of last night must have been real. A vivid dream, like the night before.

You had no comfort in the night, no guide. Nothing was going to lead you to peace. Only in dreams would you ever catch glimpses of that.

Boxer!Sukuna who makes you kiss his gloves before every match for good luck.

-•-

His team had left the locker room and it was just the two of you now. You were sitting on a bench while he organized his bag. “I didn’t know you got so many freebies from your sponsorships.” In your hand, was a brand new boxing shoe that he received from UnderArmor for a sports shoot campaign.

“Eh, they’re not really what I need in the actual matches but I use them during training cause I don’t wanna waste ‘em.” He mumbled. He seemed to be more on edge than usual. During his last match, he lost by a landslide, having a sour taste in his mouth from the experience. He blamed you because you weren’t there to kiss his glove prior to the match.

You turn to look at him staring down at his gloves.

“Sukuna.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. No smiles, just a deadpan expression. You walked towards him and held his face in your hands. You could tell he was nervous about the fight even though he had won so many before.

“Honey, what’s on your mind?” Your voice was sincere and comforting for him. “What if I’m in a slump? My last match was so bad. I’ve never lost like that. What if I’m on a losing streak now?”

You get on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Sukuna, you’ve worked hard have you not?” He nods. “And you feel like you’ve trained well this time.” He nods again. “Then why are you so worried? Is it because you were distracted last time?”

He sighs and wraps his arms around you, burying his head in your neck in the process. “Look, I don’t know if you think it’s weird but when I see you outside the ring, I feel like I have a reason to win. It drives me to fight better. I had a really shitty day last time and when I didn’t see you I just didn’t feel like giving my all.”

Your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces after seeing your husband sulk. “I just felt burnt out. I was hoping that once I saw you then I’d feel better.”

You hugged him tighter and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sukuna, I promise I’ll never do that again.” You start rubbing your hand up and down his back in hopes to calm him down right before his match.

“Kiss my gloves for me?” He asks as he pulls away. You nod. He takes his boxing gloves out and places them in your hands. You leave a delicate kiss on each of them, your gloss leaving a small sparkly stain. He takes them from your hand and kisses them on the same spots as you did, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” He says as he strokes your head.

You show him a teethy grin and nod.

“And you’re mine.” Your reply made him smash his lips to yours. “I’ll be sure to win now that you’re here.” He mumbled against your lips.

-•-

No thoughts. Just boxer!sukuna

The Red Lord (Chapter 2 of 2)

On the hills above your village stands a magnificent but supposedly cursed castle where the mysterious Red Lord lives. Lord Sukuna is a man of breathtaking beauty. Too beautiful. Rumors claim that there is something wrong with him. But what happens when an accident makes you end up in the care of that mysterious man? Will you uncover the truth about him?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Vampire AU, gothic fairytale, smut, fluff Word Count: 8k Warnings: 18+, Sukuna is a vampire, blood, mentions of murder and death, mentions of past domestic violence and abuse (NOT from Sukuna! But Reader's father, brother, and the man she was promised to didn't treat her well), smut, virginity loss, fingering, oral, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

As much as the evening in the rose garden and the tender kisses distracted you, you can't stop thinking about the villagers' accusations. Their words play over and over in your head.

Three men were killed.

But what do you know about what has happened down in the village? No one mentioned any names of the victims. For all you know, it could be anyone. There is no evidence that it is connected to you. So why should you presume that the victims were the three men that had wronged you? And why should you assume Lord Sukuna had anything to do with that?

The burn marks on his hand? A foolish mind could interpret them as proof that Lord Sukuna is a vampire. You remember how he didn't fully step into the sunlight but stopped in the doorway. Only his left hand must have come into direct touch with the sunlight. But isn't this a bit far-fetched?

Maybe Lord Sukuna just burned himself on candle wax. That's a far more likely explanation.

It would be convenient to wrap yourself in sweet ignorance and pretend everything is fine.

But you can't ignore the voice of reason screaming at you that all those coincidences are very suspicious indeed. The part about Sukuna being a vampire is still too wild for you to allow it. But what about those mysterious deaths that have occurred?

You have to acknowledge that there could be a connection to you.

Three men posed a threat to you. Three men were killed.

You catch yourself watching Lord Sukuna more closely. Wondering if those strong hands that are so carefully handing you a crystal glass filled to the brim with red wine could be the hands of a murderer. Wondering if those glittering diamond eyes and the confident and handsome smile are hiding his true monstrous nature beneath a beautiful mask.

Is the man who took you in a monster after all?

But the thing is, you find that you don't care either way. Because isn't it all a question of perspective? When is a monster an actual monster? Generally speaking, you don't condone murder, of course. But is it still murder if it was done out of the wish to protect someone? You don't think so.

So that leads to a conviction: Even if Lord Sukuna is the one who killed those men who you assume were your father, brother, and future husband, that doesn't make him a monster in your eyes. To everyone else in your village, he might be. But to you, he is the brave man who ensured that the men harming you would never lay a hand on you again. So you could say Lord Sukuna is your hero. Your knight who slayed the dragon.

You don't mind that he has some strange habits or that the way he speaks is a bit odd sometimes, old-fashioned. It is probably because he never really comes into contact with other people. Lord Sukuna lives here alone with only a loyal servant at his proposal.

He seems to be a lonely man in self-inflicted isolation. You tell yourself you would feel guilty at the thought of saying farewell to him, and so you decide you will stay a while longer even though all your injuries have long healed.

And wouldn't you miss him too? Wouldn't you miss the inspiring book discussions the two of you hold? Or the way Sukuna's face lights up when he laughs at a joke you made? When he looks so devastatingly beautiful in the candlelight, it almost makes you cry?

Wouldn't you miss the sweet kisses he shares with you? Stolen kisses in the rose garden at night. Gentle and sweet, but with an ever-growing passion on Lord Sukuna's and your part. The lingering touches when you pass him in the doorway. A brush of his hand against yours in passing by. A strong arm that sneaks around your waist to guide you down the stairs. A smile and an intense look out of those gorgeous eyes that make the fluttery feeling in your stomach and chest intensify.

You would miss all of those things.

And so you stay. Even after that incident in the village and Lord Sukuna's possible connection to it, you stay.

The doubt remains, though. As crazy as you tell yourself it is to believe in such foolish tales as vampires, there are so many weird things about this place and about Sukuna that it's hard to ignore them.

But one particular incident makes you spin out of control.

Lord Sukuna brings you roses all the time. He puts them on your dinner plate or hands them to you with a smile and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Those roses from his garden are magnificent, red, and flawless. They never have any thorns.

Lord Sukuna told you that he asked Uraume to cut off the thorns so you won't hurt yourself on them. You always assumed he was just caring and thoughtful.

But then, one night, a single little thorn is left on a rose, and you prick yourself on it.

"Ouch!"

You gasp and lift your hand, inspecting the small cut, where a big drop of blood already wells up.

Lord Sukuna makes a strangled sound next to you. His eyes seem even redder suddenly, glimmering in an unnatural bright scarlet red as they stare at the thick drop of blood on your fingertip.

Before you can do anything, he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. You can only watch in astonishment, and dawning horror as Sukuna's soft tongue flicks over your finger, licking up that drop of blood.

Your gaze meets his, and you can see a hunger in it that you have never seen before. So intense that it looks almost feral.

Those bright red eyes widen suddenly, and Lord Sukuna drops your hand and hastily takes a step back. Before you can process what is happening, he has already fled the room, and the dark wooden door falls shut behind him with a loud bang.

It's that incident with the rose that keeps you up for hours this night.

You have never seen Lord Sukuna like this. He usually is so calm and in control. So it seems strange to see him so distraught. The way his eyes were burning with hunger. Glowing red like never before. The way he had licked the blood off your finger. His hurried escape afterward. As if he wanted to hide something from you. Or as if he was scared, he did something bad...or would do something bad if he stayed near you.

You sit up with a gasp. Your head is spinning. It is time, you realize. Time to acknowledge those thoughts that have been haunting you for weeks.

What if vampires exist after all? What if you are living with one at the moment?

Suddenly you're filled with an unbearable restlessness, driven by the need to finally discover the truth.

Is there any base for those suspicions? Or are you just getting carried away by crazy thoughts and fantasies? You know what you need. Cold hard facts! More knowledge about this topic!

Only one floor beneath you is the vastest collection of books you have ever seen. So if there is a likely place to find more information about vampires, it will be there!

You are out of bed in seconds, not even bothering to put on shoes or wrap a cape around your shoulders to keep you warm. You just grab a candle holder and leave your room barefooted, only dressed in your thin nightdress.

The luxurious plush carpets feel soft under your feet as you rush through the long corridors and down the flight of stairs. The heavy wooden door closes softly behind you after you enter the spacious library.

You should start your search in the mythological section and then continue to go through the science section and look for medical encyclopedias.

You are so focused on your mission to find a book that will contain the information you seek that you don't see him until his low velvety voice drifts through the dimly lit room.

"Can't sleep, sweetheart?"

You almost drop the candle, your heart jumping to your throat as your head whips around to stare at the big red armchair Lord Sukuna is sitting on.

"L...Lord Sukuna! I am sorry for disturbing you!"

A lazy smirk spreads over his beautiful face, red eyes sparkling in amusement as he cocks his head and watches you curiously,

"Don't worry, darling. You can come here at any time of the day or night. This is your castle too. And I, for one, understand the nightly craving for information and the fantastic world books can offer us. I come here almost every night to read. Can I help you? Are you looking for anything specific?"

His glittering gaze holds yours for a long moment before slowly traveling down your body. Suddenly you become aware of the way you are dressed. Only standing in front of him in your thin nightdress that slips off your shoulders, sitting low on your breasts. Delicate white silk that is too thin for walking around at night at this time of year. 

Your nipples are stiff peaks because of the chilly temperatures, clearly visible through the thin material of your nightdress. You are sure that the snug fit of the dress does nothing to hide your body from Lord Sukuna's gaze.

Your free hand self-consciously tugs on one of the lacy straps, trying to pull it up over your shoulder.

"I... no, I am not looking for anything in particular. I just... I just need something to calm me down, I think. So I can find rest afterward."

The smirk on Lord Sukuna's pretty face turns even bigger, even more dazzling in its beauty. There is something in his eyes and in his voice, a certain sparkle, a specific timbre, that seems almost hypnotic, making you slowly walk towards him when he says,

"Then I have something for you, my dear. Come to me."

You are breathing too fast when you stop in front of the red armchair where Lord Sukuna is lounging, still in the formal and luxurious clothes he has been wearing the whole day. He took off his fine red velvet frock coat and draped it over the backrest of the armchair, allowing you a good look at his muscular figure in the red silk vest and white dress shirt he's wearing beneath it. His thighs in his red silk pants are spread slightly.

He looks gorgeous. Majestic, like a King sitting on his throne. A beautiful and powerful King. A man of such beauty that it makes your head spin.

He smiles at you, mouth opening wide enough to reveal his straight white teeth with the canines that are slightly too long, slightly too pointed.

"Let me read to you, my love. I am sure it will help you feel better. Come, sit."

Your mouth feels dry as you follow the movement of his elegant hand as he pats his muscular thigh, indicating unmistakenly where you should sit.

It's a scandalous offer. Highly inappropriate. Your heart is beating so fast, and you gulp hard. A decent woman would decline politely. It's what has been drummed into you ever since you were a young girl.

But you have left this old life behind. It's not like you haven't done worse things than sit on a man's lap. After all, you have shared many kisses with Lord Sukuna during the last few weeks.

Since he is here, you can't follow through with your plan of doing research anyways. So it won't hurt to spend a little time with him. Wouldn't it be suspicious if you turned down his offer?

And he is so beautiful, so tempting. You have never felt desire stir in your core when interacting with a man before. But Lord Sukuna makes something deep inside you feel so hot.

Before you can think too much about it, you quickly walk over to him and slip onto his lap.

After all, who is here to judge you? Who is here to call you a whore for sitting on a man's lap who isn't your husband? It feels oddly freeing to do this. To let go of all the guilt and strict rules forced upon you, which made you feel like a prisoner in an invisible cage.

Lord Sukuna's strong arms encircle you instantly. He takes the candle holder from you and puts it on the table beside his chair, and then those firm hands land on your waist, always holding you so securely in his arms, always making you feel so taken care of, so safe.

But tonight you aren't wearing several layers of clothes. Tonight there is only a thin layer of silk between your skin and Lord Sukuna's fingers. You can feel their coldness seep through the flimsy fabric, making goosebumps appear on your naked arms.

"Good girl. You don't have to be afraid."

He whispers, his voice as seductive as a caress.

"I am not afraid."

It's true. You aren't scared of him. Even though you came down here to research the possibility of him not being human. But as strange as it seems, you feel safe with Lord Sukuna.

Instinctively you snuggle into his arms, leaning against his broad chest, breathing in the luxurious and tantalizing smell of his perfume. A shy smile spreads over your face as you lift your head to look at him, caught in his spell, mesmerized by his beauty and strength.

He smiles back at you, and his strong hands tighten their hold on you, long fingers sprawling over your waist, thumbs caressing your sides gently. And you catch yourself craving more of his caresses, more of his touch, his kisses, his affection.

Your left hand lands on his firm chest, feeling his muscles even through the layers of expensive clothing. If there is a heartbeat underneath those clothes, you cannot feel it. But you find that you don't care.

You don't care if there is something unusual about Lord Sukuna. You don't care if he might not be human. If being this close to him feels so good even though it is supposed to be wrong, you are very willing to do the supposedly bad thing.

You are willing to let him taint you. To let him steal your innocence. You don't need it anymore. You left all that behind when you left your future husband, your cruel father, and your brother. It feels like for the first time you are truly alive. Truly living for yourself. Truly allowed to be yourself. To feel and to want and to desire.

And you desire him.

You want Sukuna, want to feel more of his muscular body, his firm but gentle touch, his kisses that are so sweet and addictive as if you ran right into one of those absinthe taverns your chaperon always warned you about.

He picks up the book he had been reading when you entered the library, opening it to the page he was currently on. There's a soft smile on his face as he begins to read to you,

"No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be." 

You feel comfortable in his arms, resting your head on his broad shoulder and letting his low sultry voice lull you into a state of blissful drowsiness.

His long fingers are still sprawled over your waist, caressing you lightly through your thin nightdress.

You sigh and open your eyes to watch him. To bask in the beauty of his handsome face, the angular jawline, the high cheekbones. His sparkling jewel eyes focused on the page before him, his full lips moving so gracefully as he reads to you with that seductive voice that makes your heart flutter.

It doesn't take long for you to become bold and cup his beautiful cheek, distracting him from reading, and his pretty glittering gaze lands on you, raising an elegant eyebrow curiously.

His lips lift in a smile right before you cover them with yours.

The book falls from his hand, tumbling down and landing on the thick plush carpet with a soft thud.

But neither you nor Sukuna cares about that. Instead, his hand grabs the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips move against yours, mouth opening to deepen the kiss. You sigh softly when his tongue brushes against yours when he lets you explore his mouth, licking and kissing, groaning when the tip of your tongue comes in contact with the sharp point of one of his canines.

Your breath comes out in soft huffs when the lord's cold lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin, making your hips buck involuntarily when his mouth closes over your pulse point, and he starts sucking.

Your fingers find Sukuna's soft reddish-pink hair, running through it, marveling at the way it feels like silk. You cannot get enough of the tingling sensation of his lips on your skin. A gasp fills the dimly lit library when Lord Sukuna's mouth travels further down your neck, leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulders.

You let your head fall back, giving him better access, leaning back in his strong arms that hold you so safely.

His mouth travels to the low neckline of your silky nightdress, making you shudder in anticipation when Sukuna's kisses caress the curves of your breasts.

You press your chest against his mouth, eager for more. The thought of his lips on your body sends a surge of longing through you. You want more of him, want to give yourself to him in any way he wants.

And then Sukuna pulls the neckline of your nightdress down, freeing your breasts, and making them spill out against his beautiful face.

You whimper needily when his soft lips close around one of your stiff peaks, kissing it lovingly and gently pulling it into his silky mouth. He is suckling on it and flicking his velvety tongue over it in tender caresses that make your whole body tremble with desire.

You never thought this was how it feels to be with a man. All those tales about how it is a disgusting thing that no woman enjoys and only has to do for her husband to please him made you believe it would be bad. But what Lord Sukuna is doing to your body feels so good. Better than anything you ever could imagine in your wildest dreams.

Heat is throbbing between your legs, and you spread them unconsciously, opening them only to feel a wetness between them that you have never felt there before. So slick and hot, throbbing with such intense craving, it makes you gasp and squirm against Lord Sukuna's muscular thigh.

He laughs softly, where his face is buried between your breasts, loving them with soft kisses and licks. And then he pulls away only to capture your lips with his a moment later, meeting you again in a deep passionate kiss.

You kiss him back feverishly, naked breasts pressing against his chest, moaning at the feeling of his silk vest brushing over your sensitive flesh.

One of Lord Sukuna's large, firm hands slips under your nightdress, caressing your knee and slowly traveling upwards. He is so cold, like marble. But his hand stays on your thigh long enough to warm up against your skin until it feels like a human hand should feel.

Your pulse is racing, your head spinning as you let yourself get lost in Sukuna's sweet passionate kiss and the feeling of his strong body against you. You can feel a hardness press against your thigh where you are sitting on his lap, making you feel dizzy with need at the thought of what that means. He is affected by this too. He desires you just as you desire him. It's exhilarating.

And then Sukuna's now warm hand slips further under your nightdress, long fingers caressing your inner thighs, making more wetness coat your womanhood as your thighs begin to tremble.

You gasp loudly when that strong but gentle hand finally reaches your hot wet cunt. 

Your initial reaction is shame. Not because you don't desire his touch but because you are ashamed of how wet you are down there.

You don't know much about the act of sexual intercourse. But what you know so far made you believe firmly that men don't want to touch women down there. That they only use your cunt to bring pleasure to themselves, to sink their manhood deep into it and take what they need.

You try to close your legs, pushing Lord Sukuna's hand away as your face feels hot with shame. 

Sukuna stops, his hand lingering gently between your thighs, fingertips only a breath away from your throbbing heat. You feel his lips on your neck again, showering it with more tender kisses, and then his low voice murmurs soothingly against your skin,

"Don't be shy, my love. Please let me touch you. I want to make you feel good, want to spoil you, my pretty little dove."

"B... but isn't this dirty? You don't have to do this..."

He laughs softly against your skin, the vibrations of his laughter sending shock waves through your body, making pleasure pool even more between your legs.

"I want to touch you, darling. It's the biggest blessing you could grant me to let me touch you like this. May I?"

And you let out a shaky breath and nod, whispering,

"Y...yes, please touch me."

A sob escapes your mouth when his fingers slip back between your thighs, brushing gently over your wet folds, and then your hips buck as those loving fingers rub over a very sensitive part.

He is tender as his fingers travel lovingly over your cunt, gently spreading your lips down there and gathering your creamy wetness on his long fingers, rubbing it all over your folds while soft moans fall from your lips.

His fingers find that place again that makes you cry out in pleasure. He caresses slow loving circles around your swollen nub, making you moan and spread your legs for him, abandoning all earlier shame.

Suddenly you are bold. You want to do more. You want him to do everything a husband is supposed to do to you on your wedding night. You want him to claim you, to make you his, and push his manhood deep into your waiting cunt. No one else but Lord Sukuna should be gifted with your virginity.

"Please take me, Sukuna. I want to be yours, all yours."

There's a fire in his eyes, and his voice sounds rough, full of need as he flicks his thumb over your nub again, making you moan his name as he answers you,

"Then I'll make you mine, sweetheart."

He lifts you as if you are a mere feather. Carrying you over to his large wooden desk and carefully sets you back on your feet, letting you lean against the desk, your back to him. You are breathing heavily, your body brimming with pleasure and nervousness.

Before your nerves get the better of you, Sukuna's strong hands grab the thin fabric of your night dress, his fingers twisting in it, and then he rips the dress off your body in one powerful motion.

The dress slips to the floor, leaving you completely naked in front of The Red Lord. You gulp hard, knowing that his hungry gaze must be traveling over your bare skin right now.

"You are so beautiful, my love. And all mine."

A gentle kiss is pressed to the back of your neck, making you shudder with need, and then you hear the rustling of clothes.

You can't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder, wanting to see him. He is already naked.

He looks like an angel, so glorious and breathtakingly beautiful. Firm defined muscles everywhere, strong arms, and a broad chest. And even down there, he is gorgeous. His cock is thick and long, already erect, resting heavily against the defined muscles of his abdomen.

A dazzling smile blooms on his handsome face when he catches you looking at him. And then he is with you again, stepping behind you, so close that his tall body brushes against your back.

You tremble lightly as his strong hands land on your hips, holding you as he begins to kiss your neck once again. You sigh, relaxing against him, feeling your cunt pulse with arousal, craving him so much that you fear you will pass out.

But Sukuna is there to take care of you, strong and firm behind you, one hand on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts, massaging it gently, playing with your stiff nipple. And he presses his body against you, his thick cock pushing between your thighs.

He rubs his stiff hard length against you, letting it glide through your wet folds by rolling his hips in a tender slow rhythm. Letting you feel all of him, coating his long, girthy cock with your cream, making it slippery and warm the longer he stays between your legs. You cry out shakily when his gorgeous cock does what his fingers did earlier, massaging your swollen bud.

You are panting loudly by now, your body brimming with pleasure and your face feeling hot as you lean back against Lord Sukuna's broad chest and let him spoil you with his lips and his hands, and his cock.

You're trembling helplessly in his strong arms when the pleasure heightens, and suddenly you get drowned by it, crying out loudly as his cockhead kisses your swollen wet pearl in a way that makes pleasure explode in the little bud. You cling desperately to Sukuna's muscular arms as your body convulses and your cunt twitches and pulses hotly over his thick length.

You have never felt something like this before. It must be what the women in those steamy novels were experiencing with their lovers. And finally, you understand the fascination, the craving to want to feel this again and again.

Lord Sukuna's voice comes out in a low groan when he kisses your neck, and his strong hands caress your breasts with gentle touches. Allowing you to experience that high until the last wave ebbs off.

You turn around in his strong embrace, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him deeply, unashamed now that you feel this bliss. 

You press your naked body against him, whimpering with need when Lord Sukuna pushes your back against the desk, and then he lifts you with a fast, fluid motion, making you sit on the desk with your legs spread for him. You can feel your slick coating the wooden desk beneath you, spreading your heat and arousal over it. But you don't care.

Lord Sukuna's gorgeous cock is back between your folds, caressing you again down there, renewing your arousal. But this time, he leaves your bud after a few strokes and instead settles his thick cockhead at your wet entrance. You tremble for a moment in a mix of arousal and fear. Will it hurt when he takes you? He is so big. 

His cockhead is kissing your tight heat gently, stretching you open around his thick tip for the first time. Your first man, your first lover.

You gasp loudly when Sukuna pushes deeper into your virgin cunt, truly claiming you now. Taking your virginity with a gentle but powerful snap of his hips.

You hiss as a stinging pain makes your legs jerk, but Lord Sukuna stops immediately, long elegant fingers caressing your sides soothingly, and he murmurs against your neck,

"The pain will be over quickly, my love. I will be careful. I'll take good care of you, my sweet girl. You feel so good around me. So warm and wet."

His fingers grab your chin, tilt your face up to him, and he kisses you sweetly as his other hand wanders between your legs to caress those sweet slow circles around your nub again, making your cunt tighten around him as new pleasure surges through you. 

He rocks his hips again, pushing his thick girth into your slick cunt, and your initial pain lessens and gets replaced by a wonderful feeling of being full.

You wrap your arms around him, caressing his muscular back and lifting your hips to welcome him, to let him know you crave him, let him know that he can take you. And he does.

Sukuna groans loudly. His long eyelashes flutter prettily as he moves his hips, thrusting his manhood deep into you and finding a delicious pace that makes you gasp anytime he rams his thick girth back into you, filling you completely.

You discover there is a specific spot deep inside you that makes your body jerk and your hips stutter anytime Lord Sukuna's manhood kisses it. It only takes a short while until your nails dig into Sukuna's back, and you writhe in pleasure against him, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks as the bliss you feel gets more intense with every thrust of his gorgeous thick cock.

But you aren't the only one who gets increasingly lost in the pleasure your lovemaking causes. Loud moans fall from Sukuna's lips, whispered endearments and needy grunts, and then his teeth graze over your neck, and he growls. A sound that sends a shiver down your spine. But not in fear but in excitement.

You cling to him desperately, meeting his powerful deep thrusts, and you catch yourself whimpering,

"Please, take anything you need from me. I want to be yours."

Your mind is hazy with lust, but at the same time, you know full well what you are trying to say. What you are offering to him.

This man in your arms might not be human, and you are fine with it. You want him to show his true self. Need him to do it now that you are as close to him as you can be. Now that you are one with him, filled by his thick cock, your cunt twitching needily around him.

His low voice sounds strained, as if it takes all his strength to hold back.

"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart. I can't..."

"I know it, Sukuna. Please...just claim me in every way. I need you to..."

The rest of your words get drowned out by the feral-sounding growl coming from Sukuna. His hands tighten on your waist, and the next thing you know, a sharp pain explodes on your neck.

He did it! He really bit you!

His sharp canines are buried in your neck, drawing blood.

You cry out, but at the same time, intense pleasure washes over you, making your body jerk and your cunt clench needily around Sukuna's manhood.

The pain is gone in a second. Instead, pleasure engulfs you.

You whimper needily, feeling your lover's fangs buried in your flesh. He is sucking at the wound, making your blood spill out, which he drinks hungrily.

You gasp his name, full of longing, and feel something warm trickle down your chest and between your breasts which bounce with every powerful snap of Sukuna's hips.

His mouth leaves your neck to follow that warmth. You realize it is a small rivulet of blood that Sukuna licks up thoroughly, red eyes burning into yours as he looks up at you, tongue flicking over your breasts, licking them clean, moaning at the taste of your life essence in his mouth.

"So sweet, my love. You taste so sweet."

He takes you with even more vigor now, hard deep thrusts that make both of you gasp and moan loudly. A frantic mating, like two animals in heat.

You cry his name when the pressure in your core snaps, and you feel this heavenly bliss wash over you again. The only thing you can do is cling to Sukuna's tall, muscular body sobbing from pleasure while you are coming undone on his gorgeous cock.

His thrusts become faster and harder, making you gasp loudly at the sheer strength he possesses. And then his gorgeous eyes fall shut, and his lips open in a low moan, showing his teeth with the canines that are much longer than usual, looking like a feral beast's fangs, long and sharp with some blood still sticking to them.

You cannot stop looking at him. Sukuna is always stunning, of course, but especially now, at the peak of his pleasure. When his cock is buried to the hilt in your wet cunt as he cums deep inside you. Pulsing his seed into you while your blood is still on his teeth.

You are truly his in every way now.

You are breathing heavily when Sukuna's gaze meets yours, and he captures your lips in a tender kiss before pulling away.

You can't help but look down between your legs, watching in curious fascination as Sukuna pulls out of you. His long thick cock slowly slips out of your stretched cunt, glistening with wetness, coated in your creamy arousal and the evidence of your virginity that he took tonight. Traces of blood paint a filigree pattern on his gorgeous length.

Sukuna moans loudly at the sight, a sound that sends more arousal through you. You want to slip down from the desk, but Sukuna stops you with his hands on your hips. He shakes his head, and before you can ask what he wants, he already sinks to his knees between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs further apart, exposing all of you to him. His beautiful face disappears between your thighs.

His mouth is soft and tender on your leaking wet heat. He licks and kisses it so gently and lovingly that it makes you cry as your fingers run through his silky hair, lost in the pleasure he gives you.

Sukuna is moaning against your heat as if it brings him just as much joy as it brings you. It's only then that you realize what he is doing. Licking all your virgin blood out of you, tasting the sweetest treat you could offer him.

He kisses a third high out of you, making you whimper weakly as your body shudders and your hips buck as your desire peaks and your cunt twitches against his beautiful face and soft mouth. And Sukuna drinks your pleasure eagerly. Licks your essence out of you as if it is his favorite food.

When he pulls away, you see a faint red stain on his lips. But Sukuna's tongue darts out immediately to lick it up, and his eyes close in pleasure when he gets more of your taste.

As grotesque as it looks, it somehow sends a spark of pride through you. This gorgeous man claimed you in every way. He took your virginity and drank your blood. He made you his like no other man ever could.

A decent maiden shouldn't find this appealing. But you are far from decent nowadays and also not a maiden anymore. The proof of it is still lingering there on Lord Sukuna's tongue.

You don't need to find books about the topic of vampires anymore. You are pretty sure now. All the evidence leads to one assumption: The lord of this castle, the man who kissed you, caressed you and made you his, is a vampire.

And yet you don't leave. You don't even consider it. Because as strange as it may sound, you are happy here in this castle and with The Red Lord.

With Sukuna. Your lover.

He is sweet. He is alluring. He makes you crave him every day. Crave his kiss and his touch and the comfort of his strength and protectiveness.

Love was something you never thought would be possible in your life. A life that had been planned by other people.

Your chaperone had advised you to stop daydreaming about foolish notions like romance. She told you love is something for books or theater plays, but it has no place in everyday life. A woman is supposed to marry a man who her family sees as beneficial, not someone she picks herself and who she loves. She had constantly lectured you that marriage wasn't about love. It was about obedience, learning how to serve your husband, and make his life more comfortable. The sooner you understood this, the sooner you'd be happy.

But that thought never made you happy. The opposite was the case. It made you despair.

But now you feel your chest fill with warmth anytime you think about Sukuna. Your heart beats faster when he is near you. You feel happiness fill you when he smiles at you.

Lord Sukuna is different from how everyone told you a man would be.

He is gentle and respectful. A passionate lover in the bedroom who always makes sure that you find completion and enjoy what he is doing to you. Oh, and how you enjoy it. His kisses and touches are addictive, making you tumble into a hazy blissfulness that sends your head spinning.

But it's not just that carnal aspect that draws you so much to Sukuna. It's the way he treats you in every other aspect too. The respectfulness, the care, the humor. It's the shared interests the two of you have. It's the tenderness that this powerful man allows you to see.

He asks you to keep him company in his library. Invites you to read to him, and in turn, he reads to you. He recites love poems and dark gothic tales in his velvety low voice while his strong arms wrap around you in a loving embrace.

He lets you help him pick new roses for his garden, names them after you, and watches you with pride in those beautiful glittering jewel eyes when you tell him you want to water them yourself from now on.

He plays the piano for you, making tears well up in your eyes at how beautiful and delicate the sounds of his music are. How tragic and heart-wrenching those songs sound. The melodies carry a tale of centuries of loneliness to your ears.

When you ask him with a choked-up voice who composed those pieces since you have never heard them before, he smiles and tells you he is the one who did.

"I had a lot of time to do those things, my angel. But I didn't make music for a long time since it didn't bring me joy to perform for an empty room. I'm truly blessed I can play for you now, darling."

He visits you in your room almost every night. Comes to your bed and wraps you in his strong embrace. His body is so solid and heavy on top of you, but his touch is loving and tender, and he always takes the utmost care of you. He makes love to your whole body, kisses you, and caresses you in all the right places, sets your senses on fire as you gasp his name and come undone on his gorgeous manhood over and over again.

He feels cold to the touch, but his skin grows warmer when he lies with you. That may be why he likes to stay for hours in your bed. And after a few weeks, he doesn't bother getting up again but stays the whole night, wrapping his tall, muscular body around you and holding you to his firm chest.

You have never slept that peacefully before.

You have long accepted that your lover must be a vampire. And yet, Sukuna never admits it. He apologized to you after that passionate night in the library. Apologized for losing control and biting you. Claimed that it was a stupid accident and he never meant to actually drink your blood.

"I am deeply sorry, my love. It was in the heat of pleasure, and I wanted to claim you as mine, give you a little bite mark. But I misjudged my strength. It won't happen again."

You try to reassure him, try to make him see that it is fine. But Sukuna changes the topic anytime you try to confront him. He smiles his most charming smile and ignores your attempts to discuss the matter, distracting you with a new book or a new idea for the rose garden, or, if nothing else works, he just kisses you until you shut up.

You try to come to terms with the fact that you might never be able to get him to confess the truth. But it bugs you. You stare at the beautiful man in your arms, wanting to know everything about him and wanting him to see that you love him the way he is and that he doesn't have to hide from you. 

But how can you achieve that?

And then fate offers you a chance you didn't expect. One of your excursions through the castle leads you to a dusty room in the highest tower, and you stumble upon an old battered box that contains things from a former inhabitant, apparently. Some necklaces and old letters, lacey handkerchiefs, and a pearl ring. But you only have eyes for one thing:

A golden hand mirror.

Your heart is hammering in your chest when you hear the door of your bedroom open and the soft footsteps of the man you love as he makes his way over to where you are sitting with your back to him at your desk.

With shaky hands, you lift the small hand mirror and angle it in a way that lets you see yourself and the room behind you.

Your breath catches in your throat. You see your own face very clearly, but where the reflection of Sukuna should be is nothing.

You turn around in your chair, staring at him with wide eyes. His gaze meets yours. A shadow flickers over his beautiful face, and there is a deep sadness in his gorgeous red jewel eyes.

"So you found out after all."

He sounds defeated. His usually so sultry voice is full of regret as he continues softly,

"You can leave anytime you want, my love. I will arrange everything for safe travel and ensure you find a good place to live and never have to worry about money."

You blink at him, tears gathering in your eyes. It breaks your heart to see him like this, to see the sadness in his eyes.

You drop the mirror, and before Sukuna can utter another word, you get up from your desk so fast that you knock your chair over and send the mirror flying.

But you don't care about the chair or the mirror. You fling yourself at Sukuna. Wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly, pressing your body against his and burying your face in his firm chest as you cling tightly to him.

"No! I don't want to go! I want to stay with you!"

You lift your head to look at him, seeing the surprise flash over his flawless features, the way his pretty eyes widen, and he blinks as if he can't understand what is happening. A tentative cold hand cups the back of your head and gently pets your hair.

"But... aren't you scared of me now, darling?"

He says it as if he can't believe you are still here. That he can't believe you are touching him, holding him, when he expected you to scream and run.

You smile softly at him and shake your head.

"No, I am not scared. What difference does it make what you are, Sukuna? That was what I was trying to make you see. That's why I was so adamant about finding out the truth. I know many people call your kind monsters, but I haven't encountered a single monster since I came to this castle. I only met a very kind man who took me in when I was injured and who took care of me and protected me from the people who wanted to bring harm to me. You aren't a monster to me, Sukuna. The only monsters I have met so far have all been human."

The sadness in his eyes gets replaced by a tenderness that makes your heart clench. Lord Sukuna's hand tightens in your hair, bringing you closer to him. He leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

His low velvety voice is full of wonder when he says,

"You never cease to amaze me, my love."

You laugh softly as you tighten your arms around him, feeling relief wash over you.

"I love you, Sukuna. Can I please stay with you?"

You can see the warmth in his eyes and the wonderous joy on his handsome features as he smiles at you and laughs softly.

"Of course, you can stay. I will be delighted if you stay forever. I love you too, darling."

The months pass, but here in the castle, time doesn't seem to exist. Not when every day spent with Sukuna is so full of joy. And now that he doesn't have to hide his true self anymore, you are blessed with learning about the life of an immortal.

You love the long evenings you and Sukuna spend cuddling together on the large red settee in the library, naked under a warm blanket, letting your hands and lips explore Sukuna's gorgeous body while he tells you tales about his life. About all the different cultures and traditions he encountered in all the centuries he spent on this earth.

There is no heartbeat thrumming under your palms when you press them against your lover's chiseled chest. There is no pulse when you brush heated kisses over his neck. But there is so much warmth inside you when you are this close to him. And a matching warmth is in his gorgeous eyes when he cups your face and smiles at you.

"One day, I will show you all of this. We can go anywhere you like, my love. People get suspicious if I stay in one place too long. So we will have to keep moving. But you can pick our next destination."

You smile at the implications of Sukuna's words. 

Three days ago, he got on one knee in front of you in the middle of the rose garden, holding out a beautiful gold ring with a ruby as red as his eyes in its center. Now that ring sparkles on your finger.

It's a promise. A promise that you will be Sukuna's companion through countless lifetimes. His beloved bride, who he will turn into one of his kind so the two of you can be together for eternity.

Lovers until the end of time itself.

Thank you so much for reading part two of my Sukuna vampire story! I am happy but, at the same time, a bit sad to leave Lord Sukuna and his gothic castle behind now. It was so comforting to disappear into this world. I hope this story could offer you comfort too!

Thank you so much for all the love I received for this short series! It means a lot to me to see that you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think about the second part. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

The book Sukuna reads to Reader in his library is "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, a new novel that had just been released, and of course, Sukuna had to get his hands on it to check how Mr. Stoker portrayed someone of Sukuna's kind :) 

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 3]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, love-triangle, angst, slow-burn, eventual smut, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, uraume, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 10.7k words

notes: who are y'all rooting for !! this is by far one of my fav chapters to write, i <3 softkuna. thank u all for the love so far!

masterlist

sukuna glared at the invitation yuuji had shoved in his face, barely glancing at the cheerful font before tossing it onto his desk. "join us with your family to ring in the new year!" it read, the kind of saccharine bullshit that made his skin crawl.

"nii-chan, look! it specifically says your family, so we can call choso too, right?" yuuji’s excitement was palpable, but sukuna just rolled his eyes.

“your brother is too busy slogging his ass off at that shitty desk job of his to come for this party.” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if to physically ward off the impending festive spirit.

“liar! even salarymen get holidays, you know?” yuuji countered, undeterred by sukuna's dismissive tone.

sukuna let out a low growl of frustration. he was seriously considering skipping out on this stupid event. the idea of seeing you again — especially after that christmas party disaster — made his stomach twist uncomfortably. he didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness, the way the sounds of your discomfort felt like daggers in his chest after he stormed off that night. he could just pop in, pay his dues, and leave, right? simple.

"oh, can we bring uraume too, nii-chan!?" yuuji piped up, his enthusiasm infectious, and sukuna felt a reluctant tug at the corners of his mouth. he didn't want to admit how much he appreciated their company, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

“fine. but stop messing up my office, dammit!” he snapped, irritation bubbling up, but he knew deep down it was more about masking his own unease than anything. why did he even care? why was he letting this stupid event get to him? as the thought crossed his mind, sukuna let out a frustrated sigh, knowing he was going to have to confront the lingering tension between you and him eventually.

“did i dress up too much?” choso asked, adjusting his collar nervously as he glanced at his reflection in the car window.

“nah, choso, you look great!” yuuji replied, giving his brother an encouraging thumbs-up.

“you look like an overstuffed turkey,” sukuna deadpanned, barely suppressing a smirk as he leaned back in his seat.

choso shot sukuna an annoyed glare, but yuuji just chuckled. “you should be more supportive, nii-chan. it’s new year’s! everyone’s dressing up.”

“supportive? this is a party, not a damn fashion show,” sukuna retorted, rolling his eyes as he scanned the road ahead.

“oh, come on! let him shine a little,” yuuji said, nudging choso with his elbow. “it’s about time you showed off those muscles!”

“what muscles?” sukuna muttered under his breath, then added louder, “if he’s gonna strut around like a peacock, i’m gonna need to see some actual muscles.”

“you’re just jealous because you can’t pull off this look,” choso shot back, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

“jealous? please,” sukuna scoffed, though the truth was he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dressed up for anything. “i’d rather wear a potato sack than look like a wannabe model.”

the banter continued as they pulled up to your sprawling penthouse. sukuna’s eyebrows raised at the sight, unimpressed, yet unable to hide the flicker of intrigue. “showoff,” he muttered, his usual demeanor creeping back in.

yuuji and choso, on the other hand, were practically gaping. the fairylights adorned every single tree lining the pavement, twinkling like stars against the night sky, and the house itself radiated warmth and welcome despite its massive size.

“wow, look at all the lights!” yuuji exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “it’s like a winter wonderland!”

“it’s too much,” sukuna grumbled, though he couldn’t deny the inviting atmosphere. it made something twist uncomfortably in his chest — a comfort he usually only felt around his brothers. eugh, what was he even thinking? he shook his head, trying to dispel the odd warmth that threatened to settle within him.

“you’re just grumpy because you didn’t bring a date,” choso teased, and sukuna glared at him.

“shut up,” he barked, even as yuuji laughed beside him.

“this is going to be fun! let’s go!” yuuji said, throwing open the car door and stepping out. choso followed suit, glancing back at sukuna, who was still seated in his seat, arms crossed.

“you coming or what?” yuuji called, bouncing on his heels, a wide grin plastered across his face.

sukuna rolled his eyes but finally pushed himself out of the car, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “fine. but if anyone asks, i’nm here for the free booze.”

“now that’s the spirit!” yuuji laughed as they made their way toward your house, the laughter and banter of the brothers echoing into the night.

yuuji burst through the door, practically bouncing off the walls as he called out your name like a lost puppy on a mission. you turned at the sound, a grin spreading across your face as you spotted him weaving through the crowd. “hey, champ! glad you could make it!” you laughed as he rushed over, pulling you into one of his characteristic hugs. wow, he was definitely growing taller than you at this rate.

“sorry, too weird?” he asked sheepishly, stepping back but keeping his hands on your shoulders, eyes wide with that usual enthusiasm.

“nah, kid, you’re good,” you replied, your smile warm and reassuring, just as the moment was punctuated by the approach of choso, who stepped up to join you both.

“and you are —” you started, but choso interrupted.

“choso. choso kamo, i’m —”

“yuuji’s brother, yes. i’ve heard many things about you,” you said with a smile that lit up your features. it was contagious, and choso couldn’t help but mirror it, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“yea? all good things, i hope…” choso replied, sounding a bit shy but pleased by your recognition.

“only the best,” you assured him, your voice warm and inviting. “yuuji here is like a little sunshine; i can only imagine where he gets it from.”

“ah, that’s definitely him,” choso laughed, relaxing in your presence.

as sukuna watched from a distance, his pace slowed, an odd sensation swirling in his chest. he felt like an outsider, observing something he wasn’t sure he should be a part of. his brothers — fucking choso of all people — were laughing and joking with you, and seeing their smiles brightened by your presence stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite articulate.

was it envy? concern? or maybe something more complicated? he’d always been the one to shoulder the weight of responsibility, to keep his brothers grounded. but now, here they were, so easily comfortable with you, and he felt that weird feeling settle deeper in his gut.

“you’re really good with them,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he continued to observe. he didn’t want to admit how nice it was to see choso and yuuji at ease, their laughter ringing out in the crowded room. it made something ache inside him, a longing for connection he rarely let himself indulge in.

sukuna’s gaze flickered between you and his brothers, his heart tightening at the sight of the warmth you brought into their lives. he hated how much he wanted to step closer, to be part of that moment, yet he stayed rooted to his spot, silently watching over the happiness that somehow felt fleeting.

suguru approached the three of you with a casual wave, a smirk dancing on his lips as he motioned for you to take care of “pinkie pie over there.” sukuna stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the interaction with a sulky expression that resembled a lost puppy. you rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face at the sight of sukuna’s irritation.

“come on, let’s give you lads a look around,” suguru said, guiding the brothers away with a friendly pat on choso’s shoulder. “y/n, you got this!”

as they walked off, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. sukuna was still standing there, eyes flickering toward you, and it made your heart race in a way that was entirely unexpected. 

sukuna leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he tried to ignore the growing tension inside him. he had been fine, standing there by himself, watching yuuji and choso blend into the crowd. but then you had to walk up to him and now his entire focus had shifted to the way you moved through the room.

he cursed under his breath, catching himself in the act of staring. what the hell was wrong with him? you looked… good. too good. but he wasn’t supposed to care about that, right? this was just business, just another event to make an appearance. yet here he was, feeling like a damn teenager, suddenly hyper-aware of your every step.

“you look like you’re enjoying the party about as much as i am,” you said, stopping in front of him, a casual smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah, well, these things aren’t really my scene,” sukuna replied, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, but the way his voice came out a little rougher than usual betrayed him. “too many people.”

“you and me both,” you chuckled lightly, leaning slightly closer. “but it’s your brother’s first time at one of these, so… worth it?”

he glanced over at yuuji, who was grinning like an idiot while choso awkwardly nodded along to whatever suguru was saying. sukuna huffed, feeling a mix of exasperation and something else — pride? — bubbling up. “tch, guess it’s worth it if they’re having a good time.”

you smiled, a real one this time, not just the polite one you’d been wearing most of the evening. “you care more than you let on, don’t you?”

his jaw clenched at that, a sharp retort forming in his head, but it never made it out. instead, he found himself caught between wanting to shrug it off and actually admitting that, yeah, maybe he did care about his brothers more than he’d ever say out loud. not that he’d ever admit it to you, of all people.

“don’t get the wrong idea,” sukuna muttered, looking away from you and back at the crowd. “i’m just making sure they don't do anything stupid.”

“right,” you said, but the teasing lilt in your voice told him you weren’t buying his half-hearted excuse.

there was a beat of silence between the two of you, the sounds of the party fading into the background. sukuna’s mind was racing, torn between his usual self-assuredness and this uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling that crept up whenever you were too close. it was irritating as hell, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

“you know,” you said, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to play the tough guy all the time.”

sukuna scoffed, but there was no real venom behind it. “and you don’t have to pretend like you know me, woman.”

you shrugged, unfazed. “i don’t have to. i just see more than you think.”

those words hit harder than he’d like to admit, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure if he hated or appreciated the fact that you always managed to get under his skin. either way, he couldn’t shake off the strange warmth that lingered as you stood there, as if you saw something in him that no one else ever bothered to look for.

damn it, he needed to get a grip.

you approached sukuna again later in the evening, holding two glasses in hand. without a word, you offered him one, and he raised an eyebrow.

“what’s this?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the glass and your face.

“ryomen,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “thought it’d be fitting for the host of the year’s most successful wine to have a taste.”

he took the glass from you, swirling the liquid inside with a thoughtful look. “serving my shit at your own party? i’m flattered.”

“thought i’d give it another shot,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice.

sukuna raised the glass to his lips, taking a long sip before pulling it away, his expression unreadable. after a moment, he smirked, that familiar edge of cockiness settling back in. “still tastes like it did when i first made it,” he remarked, his eyes flickering with something almost nostalgic.

“oh yeah?” you prompted, leaning in just enough to show your interest.

“yeah,” he grunted, leaning back a bit. “when i made it for the first time, i didn’t know shit about winemaking. but i figured, hell, people want to get drunk and have a good time, and wine’s as good as any poison, right? so i made it work. took a few tries, but once i got the formula down, it was easy to see the market. people would pay anything for something that makes them feel good for a few hours.”

he paused, his gaze sharp as he turned to look at you directly. “it was a no-brainer to get into the alcohol business. easy target. high demand. good profit margins. all it takes is a bottle or two and people are hooked. but,” sukuna’s smirk widened into something more challenging, “i gotta wonder — did you get into the wine business because of me?”

your breath caught at the question. sukuna’s eyes were locked on yours, almost daring you to respond. your fingers tightened around your glass as you tried to come up with a response. did you? the truth wasn’t simple. you had your reasons, but did sukuna really influence your decision to enter this world?

“what?” he prompted, leaning in slightly. “cat got your tongue? don’t tell me you’re scared to admit it, woman.”

before you could decide whether or not to tell him, your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “y/n,” she called, approaching with a stiff, formal expression on her face. “i see you’re keeping… interesting company tonight.”

your entire body stiffened as she neared, and sukuna, ever the perceptive one, noticed the change in your posture. he turned slightly, eyeing your mother with a lazy grin, but there was a sharpness behind it.

“ah, just in time,” sukuna drawled, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he glanced back at you. “your daughter was just about to explain the story behind persephone. i’m curious, myself.”

your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her tone clipped. “there’s no need to involve yourself in family matters, mr. ryomen.”

but sukuna, ever the provocateur, wasn’t having it. “family matters, huh? sounds serious.” he looked back at you, that smirk still playing on his lips. “come on, tell me. i’m dying to know. what’s the real story behind persephone? why’d you start the business?”

your mother’s face paled, and you felt your stomach twist. this wasn’t how you wanted this to go, not here, not in front of sukuna, of all people. but your mother’s presence, her cold, expectant gaze, left you little room to maneuver. and sukuna? he was watching you like a hawk, waiting to see how you’d handle the situation.

you opened your mouth, but before you could speak, your mother’s voice came out, low and cutting. “she didn’t want anything to do with alcohol after… after what happened.”

your heart dropped, and you shot her a look, silently begging her to stop. but it was too late. she continued, her voice tight with barely concealed frustration. “y/n struggled for years — depression, alcoholism. it nearly destroyed her. the only reason persephone even exists is because she decided to take control and make something positive out of it. but this partnership?” her eyes flicked to sukuna with a glare, “this is the last thing she needs.”

the silence that followed was deafening. sukuna’s expression shifted, the cocky grin fading as he looked at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. the weight of the secret was out now, laid bare for him to see.

“so,” sukuna finally said, his voice quieter than before, though no less sharp. “that’s what this is, huh? your way of turning things around?”

you swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze as the truth hung between the three of you like a heavy cloud.

“she’s worked hard to get where she is,” your mother added, her voice colder than ever. “i don’t want to see her dragged back into old habits.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched, and for the first time tonight, he didn’t have a quick, cutting response. instead, he just looked at you — really looked at you — and for a brief moment, you couldn’t tell if he was angry, impressed, or something else entirely.

the silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words, until sukuna finally spoke, his voice rough but lacking its usual edge. “guess that explains a lot.”

sukuna stormed away from the scene, his footsteps heavy as he made his way through the crowded penthouse, ignoring the curious glances thrown his way. he couldn’t shake the twisted knot of emotions that was curling up tighter in his chest. anger, confusion, frustration — all of it swirling in a chaotic mess inside his head.

it all clicked as he pushed open the glass door to one of your balconies, stepping out into the cool night air. the city lights spread out below him, the noise of the party muffled now that he was outside. the space was quiet, peaceful even, but sukuna was anything but.

he gripped the railing, his fingers clenching hard around the cold metal as his thoughts raced. “fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, the realization hitting him harder than he wanted to admit.

you puked at the christmas party because of his wine — because you drank ryomen.

it made sense now. the way you’d looked, the panic in your eyes when you’d tasted it, the way you tried to hold it together before you ran out. he’d been so wrapped up in his own damn ego, so sure that you were just putting on some kind of show, that he hadn’t even considered why. but now? now it was obvious.

you had a history with alcohol. a bad one.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound rough in the still night air. “should’ve fucking known,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if that would help clear the mess in his head. he replayed the conversation with your mother, her sharp words cutting through him like knives. she hadn’t pulled any punches. the way she spoke about your past — your struggles — it all made sense now.

he leaned forward, elbows resting on the balcony railing as he stared out at the city. why the hell hadn’t you said anything? why hadn’t you told him you had a history like that? his mind was racing, trying to piece everything together. the christmas party, the way you had avoided drinking since then, how stiff and tense you’d become every time the topic of alcohol came up. he hadn’t paid attention. he hadn’t wanted to pay attention.

“shit,” he muttered again, the weight of it all sinking in.

for once, sukuna didn’t feel like he had the upper hand. he didn’t feel like the one in control. and that pissed him off. not at you — no, he couldn’t pin this on you. this was on him. on how blind he’d been to the signs.

he gripped the railing harder, his jaw tightening as he tried to shake off the feeling that had settled deep in his gut. guilt, maybe? that’s what it felt like. the fact that he’d been so proud of the wine, so fucking smug about ryomen’s success, and the whole time, it had been a trigger for you. a reminder of the darkest part of your life.

what the hell was he supposed to do with that?

he scoffed, shaking his head. emotions like this weren’t his strong suit. he wasn’t built to deal with feelings — especially not this complicated mess. he was sukuna, the one who bulldozed through shit without looking back. but this... this was different.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, staring out into the distance, his thoughts still tangled.

the wine, your past, the way you had puked at the party, it all started to blur together in his mind. for the first time, he couldn’t just shove it aside. it stuck with him, gnawing at him in a way he didn’t like. he wasn’t used to caring, wasn’t used to giving a shit about anyone else’s problems. but somehow, without even trying, you’d managed to wedge yourself into his thoughts.

you found sukuna on the balcony, his broad back facing you as he stared out into the city. the night was still, a cool breeze brushing against your skin as you stepped forward, your footsteps soft against the stone. you didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you.

he must have heard you, because without turning around, sukuna spoke, his voice low, rough. “didn’t realize i hurt you like this,” he said, his tone gruff, like he was trying to push the words out. “i’m sorry.”

his apology caught you off guard. sukuna didn’t do apologies. that much you knew. but here he was, standing on your balcony, admitting that he might’ve fucked up. your gaze softened as you took a step closer.

“you don’t need to apologize for my alcoholism,” you said, your voice steady but gentle. “and besides, this is just your way of saying your wine is good, isn’t it?”

that earned a slight turn of his head, and he glanced back at you, eyes narrowing in a mixture of amusement and something else — something harder to place. “oh yeah?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “that what this is?”

you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “yeah.”

sukuna shifted, turning to face you fully now, his eyes locking onto yours. the tension between you two was there, thick in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… something else. something unspoken.

for a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you, his usual sharpness softening around the edges. then, with a strange sort of hesitation — one that didn’t fit the man you knew — he spoke again. “sukuna.” he paused, his gaze lingering on your face. “call me sukuna, not…ryomen. we’re business partners, no?”

you raised a brow, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “business partners?” you echoed, tilting your head slightly as you looked up at him. “this about being professional all of a sudden?”

he let out a low scoff, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the railing, his expression guarded. “something like that,” he muttered, deflecting, his eyes flicking away for a brief second.

you could see it, though. that small crack in his usual armor. something vulnerable hiding behind his sharp words and the cocky attitude he wore like a shield. he wasn’t good at this — at being soft — and it showed in the way he deflected, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes now.

“sukuna, huh?” you repeated, letting the name roll off your tongue. it felt strange, calling him that. intimate, almost. but not in a way that felt wrong. more like… like it made sense.

his eyes flicked back to you, a quick glance before he looked away again, jaw tightening. he wasn’t used to this — wasn’t used to you looking at him like that. like you could see past the rough edges, past the walls he always had up.

“don’t make a big deal outta it,” he muttered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone.

you smiled, taking another step closer, until you were standing beside him. “i won’t,” you said softly, your gaze steady on him. “but, for what it’s worth… it’s nice seeing this side of you.”

he let out a sharp breath, rolling his eyes, though you noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, clearly trying to shake off whatever soft moment this was turning into.

but you could see through it. through him. the way his fingers clenched slightly on the railing, the way his eyes darted back to you every few seconds. he was trying to put the walls back up, but you’d already seen what was behind them.

you leaned on the railing next to him, the cool metal pressing into your arms. “you can run away from it all you want,” you said, your tone lighter now, almost teasing. “but i think you care more than you’re willing to admit.”

he shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “don’t push your luck.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head as you looked out at the view. “i won’t,” you said, echoing his earlier words. the silence between you two wasn’t awkward. if anything, it felt… comfortable. a kind of understanding lingering in the air.

sukuna, though, was struggling with it. the softness, the quiet, the way you were just there, not asking anything from him, not demanding anything. it was throwing him off, making him feel things he didn’t want to deal with.

“i’m not good at this,” he muttered suddenly, his voice low, like he wasn’t even sure he wanted you to hear it.

you glanced at him, surprised by the admission. “what, standing on balconies?”

he huffed, a short laugh escaping him despite himself. “nah. this… whatever the hell this is.”

“you mean being human?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

he shot you a look, but it was softer now, less guarded. “something like that,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, before adding under his breath, “pain in the ass.”

you grinned, looking out at the city again. “yeah, well, you’re not too bad at it. when you’re not being an ass.”

he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “don’t push it.”

the soft clinking of the balcony door sliding open interrupted the rare, quiet moment between you and sukuna. suguru stood at the threshold, arms crossed over his chest, a sharp smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the scene. you could see the glint of something… off in his eyes, but he kept it under wraps with that same calm, calculated demeanor.

“am i interrupting something?” suguru’s voice was low, mocking, his usual easy confidence underlined by something harder tonight.

you straightened up from where you were leaning on the railing, your posture stiffening a little. sukuna shot suguru a sideways glance, his expression unreadable but clearly unbothered by the tension that suguru's snark added to the air. you, on the other hand, could sense that suguru wasn’t exactly happy about walking in on you and sukuna having what could almost pass as a… normal conversation.

“nothing worth interrupting,” sukuna replied flatly, his voice steady, almost dismissive. his gaze lingered on suguru for just a beat longer, sharp and assessing.

suguru’s eyes flicked to you, holding your gaze for a second before his usual composure returned, though you could still feel that tightness beneath the surface. “right. well, it seems like your boy yuuji ‘stomach bug’ itadori has had a bit too much fun tonight,” suguru said, his tone drier now, almost amused. “choso’s in the bathroom with him. the kid’s fighting for his life in there after inhaling half the appetizers.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, exasperation slipping into your voice. yuuji’s appetite almost always did get him into trouble. you rubbed your temples, already feeling the stress of being a host stacking up.

sukuna’s eyes flicked to you, a brow raised. “kid can’t even handle a few snacks without keeling over?” he scoffed, though there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“yeah, well, yuuji’s got the stomach of a vacuum, apparently,” suguru added, amusement flashing briefly in his dark eyes. but the tension between you and him lingered, unspoken.

“great,” you muttered, already feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “i’ll go check on him in a minute.”

sukuna was already moving, pushing off the railing and stepping toward the door. “i’ll grab something for the kid,” he grumbled, clearly not wanting to stick around any longer than necessary. “nearest pharmacy should have something for his dumb ass.”

you hesitated for a second before speaking up, feeling a bit of responsibility as the host. “i’ll come with you,” you offered, voice steady but casual. “you know, in case you get lost or something.”

sukuna shot you a look, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at his lips. “you think i need help finding a pharmacy?”

“just trying to be a good host, sukuna,” you replied, your tone light but pointed, echoing his earlier words.

“fine. whatever.” sukuna shrugged, starting to head toward the door before stopping, turning back to glance at you. 

“you have a merc?” he asked, almost incredulously.

you blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “you don’t?” you shot back, raising a brow.

sukuna scoffed, shaking his head as if the mere idea was laughable. “nah, too flashy for my taste.”

“well, lucky for you, my merc isn’t just for show. it’ll get us to the pharmacy and back in record time,” you said, already moving to grab your keys.

suguru stood back, arms still crossed as he watched the exchange with thinly veiled irritation, though he didn’t say anything. it was clear he had more on his mind, but whatever it was, he’d hold it until later. right now, all he could do was let out a low chuckle as you and sukuna headed for the door. “don’t have too much fun playing chauffeur,” he muttered under his breath, though only you seemed to catch the edge to his tone.

you shot suguru a quick glance, sensing the unspoken frustration simmering beneath his usual cool facade. something to deal with later. for now, you had a sick yuuji to worry about — and a silent car ride with sukuna ahead of you.

as you and sukuna stepped out into the night air, you could feel the lingering tension from earlier slowly ease away. sukuna didn’t say much as you unlocked the car, and you didn’t push him to talk, but you could feel his gaze on you every so often, as if he was still trying to figure out where the hell this night was going.

the hum of your mercedes’ engine filled the silence between you and sukuna, a heavy contrast to the noise and chaos you’d just left behind at your place. the roads were mostly empty, your headlights casting long shadows on the quiet streets as you drove to the nearest pharmacy. you hadn’t realized how tense the atmosphere would feel, stuck in such close proximity with sukuna, the ryomen sukuna, in the small space of your car. it felt surreal.

beside you, sukuna sat with one elbow resting against the door, his gaze drifting out the window, though you could tell he wasn’t paying much attention to the passing scenery. he seemed... uneasy? maybe? you couldn’t quite place it. you thought about saying something to break the silence, but nothing came to mind. and then —

the click of your aux being connected startled you slightly, the car's speakers coming to life as sukuna fiddled with your stereo. before you could even react, the heavy beat of megan thee stallion’s “body” came through the speakers, the bass hitting hard in the confined space of your car.

you blinked in surprise. "you listen to megan thee stallion?" you asked, glancing over at sukuna, a brow raised in mild disbelief.

sukuna didn't miss a beat, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back into the seat. "you don’t?" he shot back, his tone laced with mock surprise. you could hear the teasing undertone in his voice, poking fun at your earlier comment about him not having a merc.

you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. ryomen sukuna, of all people, playing megan thee stallion in your car while his younger brother was quite literally fighting for his life back in your house’s bathroom. it was almost too much. the absurdity of it made you feel... lighter, more at ease, as if the heaviness of the night had been momentarily lifted by the unexpected normalcy of it all.

“god, this feels weird,” you muttered under your breath, half to yourself. sukuna, of course, caught it.

“what? can’t handle good music in your life?” he asked, smirk growing as the track hit the chorus, the catchy, almost hypnotic beat making it impossible not to tap along to the rhythm.

“body-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody…” megan’s voice filled the car, and you couldn’t help but chuckle again, glancing out at the road ahead to distract yourself from the growing flush on your cheeks.

you were hyper-aware of everything in that moment — the thumping bass vibrating through the car, the subtle scent of sukuna’s cologne that lingered in the air between you, and the fact that his sharp eyes, despite being focused on nothing in particular, kept flicking to your side of the car every so often.

and that damn blush on your cheeks? yeah, he noticed. out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance at your face again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if he was trying to figure out why the hell you looked so... flustered. but sukuna, ever the unbothered one, just brushed it off. probably makeup or the cold weather — that's what he told himself.

still, it was there, nagging at the back of his mind. why the hell were you blushing?

you pulled up to the pharmacy, the neon lights illuminating the quiet parking lot. as the car came to a stop, you reached for the keys to turn off the engine, the last echoes of the track fading into the background.

“well, this is it,” you said, exhaling softly as you undid your seatbelt.

sukuna didn't say much as he got out, but there was something lingering in the air between you two, something unsaid but thick with meaning. it was as if, in the quiet moments of the drive, with only music and occasional banter to fill the space, you both had somehow settled into an oddly comfortable rhythm — one that neither of you were fully ready to acknowledge.

you stepped inside the pharmacy together, and while sukuna kept his usual stoic expression, you could tell he was still thinking about the ridiculousness of the situation. you could feel his presence beside you as you made your way to the over-the-counter meds, his large frame moving with that same predatory grace, always aware, always watching.

“you get something for yuuji, i’ll grab the other stuff,” sukuna said, his tone more serious now as he focused on the task at hand. business mode was back on.

you nodded, grateful for the distraction as you grabbed the necessary meds off the shelf. but even as you busied yourself, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and sukuna tonight — something small, but noticeable.

as you stood in the pharmacy aisle, browsing through the meds you needed for yuuji, your phone buzzed in your pocket. without even glancing at the screen, you knew who it was. sugu🤍, the contact name flashing up, paired with that familiar picture of the two of you sitting in your mom's garden, smiling like there wasn't a care in the world.

you swipe to answer, holding the phone to your ear, balancing the medicine in your other hand. “hey, sugu.”

“where are you?” his voice was clipped, almost tense. great, you thought, he was definitely not in a good mood.

“sugu, i just left. i’m getting the medicines for yuuji.” you answered matter-of-factly, tossing another box of meds into your basket.

“did you really have to go with pinkie pie? or, fuck that, did he have to come with you?” his voice had that edge to it, laced with frustration. you could picture the way his jaw was probably clenched right now, his expression tight.

you sighed, rolling your eyes at his tone. “suguru, his own brother is sick, at my house. i need to be a good host.” you emphasized the last bit, hoping to get him to back off a little.

“i could have just gone to get it, you know.” he grumbled, like it was the most obvious solution to the whole situation.

you paused in the middle of the aisle, hand resting on a shelf as you narrowed your eyes slightly at his words. “you didn’t offer to,” you pointed out flatly.

there was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment, you wondered if the line had disconnected. you glanced down at your phone screen just to check, but no — he was still there. the silence was heavy, lingering between the two of you.

“suguru?” you prompted after a beat, tilting your head as if he could see your expression.

he sighed, his tone losing some of its sharpness. “whatever. just... come back home to me soon.” the words slipped out of him in a way that sounded... a little too possessive, even for him.

you raised a brow, caught off guard. “to you soon?” you echoed, a teasing lilt in your voice, the phrase sticking with you because it was such a... suguru thing to say.

there was another pause, but this time it felt deliberate, like he didn’t know whether he wanted to double down or just brush it off. eventually, though, he muttered, “yeah, see you.” and the line disconnected.

you blinked, staring down at the phone for a moment, the abrupt end of the call still making you smile a little. it wasn’t like suguru to be this weirdly possessive, and honestly? it made you giggle. you knew he was being protective more than anything — he always was when it came to you, especially when sukuna was involved — but the way he framed that parting sentence? come back home to me? god, it was so suguru, in the most ridiculous way possible.

while you were at the other end of the pharmacy, dealing with suguru’s call, sukuna’s phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. he glanced down, eyebrow raising when he saw the name flash on the screen — uraume. no fancy emoji, no photo, just their name. typical.

sighing, he picked up the call, already half-expecting some snide comment. “what now?” he grumbled into the phone.

uraume’s voice came through, dry as ever. “so, you finally took my word of advice, huh?”

sukuna narrowed his eyes. “fuck you talking about?”

“going with y/n as she gets medicines for the young master,” they responded, a slight note of smugness in their tone that sukuna immediately hated.

“for the record,” he began, tone already defensive, “she offered to come with me, not the other way around.” his words came out a bit harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. the whole situation was making him more agitated than he cared to admit.

uraume, of course, didn’t buy it for a second, though they let it slide. there was a pause before they spoke again, more business-like this time. “how is yuuji holding up, and choso?”

“the young master is what the kids today would call ‘hard coping,’ and choso... well, he’s about to faint from concern,” uraume reported, their tone as matter-of-fact as ever.

sukuna groaned inwardly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “of course he is,” he muttered under his breath. “just keep them put. i’m on my way back.”

“understood,” uraume said, and with that, the call disconnected.

pocketing his phone, sukuna glanced around, spotting you further down the aisle, finishing up your conversation with suguru and grabbing the last of the meds. he took a deep breath, collecting himself as he walked toward you, ready to leave the pharmacy and get back to the chaos waiting for him at your place.

meanwhile, you glanced around the pharmacy, searching for sukuna. basket in hand, you walked through the aisles, your footsteps echoing softly in the near-empty store. you spotted him standing by the entrance, his eyes scanning the shelves as he absentmindedly tapped his foot, probably waiting for you to finish up.

“got the stuff,” you called out, walking up to him, shaking the basket lightly.

“finally,” sukuna muttered, glancing over at you before eyeing the basket. “you get everything for the little shit?”

“yeah, all set.” you nodded, handing him the basket to carry, which he did without complaint. he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

as the two of you walked to the register, you couldn't help but think back to the call with suguru. despite the awkwardness, there was an underlying comfort there, a reminder of how close the two of you were. and now, with sukuna silently walking beside you, the tension of the night felt... almost forgotten.

"you sure your brother's gonna make it through the night?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

sukuna scoffed. "he's stronger than he looks. stomach bug won't kill him."

“still can’t believe you let him eat that much.”

“not my problem if he doesn’t know how to handle himself.”

you both shared a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the weight of everything else faded into the background, leaving just the simple, strange normalcy of the moment between you.

by the time you and sukuna stepped back into your penthouse, the clock read 11:47 pm — barely making it before the new year hit. rushing past the decorations and muffled party sounds, you both headed straight for the bathroom where suguru was hovering near yuuji, looking a mix of exasperated and slightly grossed out.

yuuji was still slumped on the toilet, groaning dramatically. “i can’t believe i spent the new year on a toilet seat,” he whined.

suguru, arms crossed, shot back sarcastically, “hey, it’s better than spending it with people you don’t like.”

yuuji’s head shot up. “what was that?”

“ugh, just forget it. here, take your medicine before you puke again,” suguru muttered, stuffing the medicine into yuuji’s hand, wrinkling his nose as he tried to avoid breathing in too much of the bathroom’s unfortunate aroma.

yuuji gave suguru a slightly offended look, then turned to ask, “is my brother okay?”

suguru, always the sarcastic one, smirked. “yeah, he’s a little further away from passing out now. congrats.”

yuuji pouted, clearly defensive. “hey! don’t make fun of my bro like that!” he whined, clutching the medicine as if it would defend choso’s honor. despite the tone of the conversation, there was no real bite in suguru’s voice, and yuuji seemed too tired to actually be mad.

while the bickering continued, the volume of their voices increasing from the bathroom seat to the door, you took this as your cue to find your mother and say goodbye. she had made it abundantly clear that she was ready to spend the rest of her night with her gardening club friends, but there was one last thing you had to address.

“mom, i’ve got the medicines for yuuji, and suguru’s taking care of everything now,” you started, but you could see from the way she pursed her lips that there was something else on her mind.

“hmph,” she began, clearly still irked. “you disappeared from the party because you were off with him, weren’t you?” her voice dropped a notch at the mention of sukuna.

you sighed, exasperated, and quickly explained the situation. “mom, yuuji was sick, and sukuna came with me to get the medicine. it’s not like i was off gallivanting somewhere.”

her expression softened, but not without one last snarky remark. “well, i suppose i can’t fault you for helping that poor boy. yuuji’s sweet… innocent, handsome boy... i still don’t know how he’s related to that devil,” she muttered under her breath, glancing toward where sukuna stood.

you rolled your eyes, not even wanting to get into it with her right now. “yeah, yeah. okay, mom. happy new year,” you said, wrapping her in a quick hug before she left to join her gardening friends. you could still hear her grumbling under her breath about sukuna as she walked out.

with your mom gone, you let out a sigh and turned back to the chaos in your bathroom — suguru still bickering with yuuji, and sukuna silently standing by, clearly done with the night.

what a way to ring in the new year.

by 11:53 pm, the house was buzzing with energy, and everyone seemed more than ready for the new year. the countdown flickered across the massive tv in your living room, adding to the rising anticipation. despite yuuji’s earlier bathroom ordeal, the energy was contagious, and no one wanted to miss out.

“how can i get unsick in five minutes, no borax no glue?” yuuji whined dramatically from inside the bathroom, his voice practically echoing off the tiles as he leaned pathetically against the sink.

“you take the damn medicine, that’s what!” suguru yelled from the hallway, his patience clearly wearing thin after dealing with yuuji’s theatrics for the past hour.

“i’m tryingggg!” yuuji sobbed, fomo hitting him hard as the minutes ticked down. every second felt like torture, and the idea of missing the countdown was clearly not sitting well with him.

meanwhile, sukuna, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, shot a sharp glare toward the bathroom. his voice, low and threatening, cut through the noise. “brat! if you don’t get your ass out here in the next two minutes, i’ll wrestle that stomach bug out of your gut myself!”

there was a heavy silence, one that made your heart race a little, wondering if yuuji had finally succumbed to his illness or if sukuna’s threat had genuinely scared him into silence. but before you could even open your mouth to check, yuuji emerged, wiping his face and grinning like he hadn’t spent half the evening locked in the bathroom.

you blinked. “yuuji… you okay?”

“yup!” he chirped, bouncing on his feet like he had never been sick at all. turns out, a threat from sukuna was all it took to chase away whatever stomach bug had plagued him.

the whole group barely had time to process yuuji’s miraculous recovery before you all rushed outside to your backyard, practically dragging choso along with you. choso, who had been hovering anxiously around yuuji, was reluctant at first but was quickly yanked into the excitement as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

the air was electric as you stepped out, everyone gathering just in time for the fireworks. the backyard was packed with friends and neighbors, all of you craning your necks toward the sky as the final moments of the year slipped away. there was something about standing there, shoulder to shoulder with everyone — yuuji looking more alive than ever, choso finally smiling, suguru muttering something sarcastic under his breath, and even sukuna standing there, his usual scowl softened just slightly — that made the moment feel... perfect.

the countdown echoed through the crowd as everyone began shouting.

“ten! nine! eight!”

you felt your heart race, glancing at the faces around you. suguru caught your eye and gave you a small smirk. yuuji was practically vibrating with excitement, and even sukuna looked somewhat engaged, his sharp eyes flicking to the fireworks as they started to light up the sky.

“three! two! one!”

the sky exploded in color, fireworks bursting overhead as the new year officially began. everyone cheered, and for a moment, it felt like all the tension of the night melted away. choso clapped a hand on yuuji’s back, and suguru leaned into you with a knowing smile.

and sukuna, standing just a little further back, cast one last glance at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

he stood back, watching as the scene in front of him unfolded. you were leaning into suguru, laughing at something he’d said, and nearby, yuuji and choso were lost in their own conversation, chuckling about something ridiculous, no doubt. the fireworks lit up the sky, but it felt like sukuna was watching it from another world entirely, standing just a little further behind, isolated despite being surrounded by people. it made him feel... weird.

it wasn’t a feeling he was used to — this odd tug in his chest. his brothers, people he cared about, seemed so at ease, so connected to something he was still struggling to grasp. he couldn’t even focus properly, caught up in the sight of you fitting so comfortably into their dynamic. it was infuriating in a way, how natural you looked with them. his jaw tightened, fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to shake off the unfamiliar sensation.

he didn’t even register uraume standing next to him until they spoke quietly, their voice cutting through his thoughts.

“you know, a life like that is right within your reach. you don’t need to deny yourself.”

sukuna’s head snapped towards them, but uraume’s face remained neutral, as if they hadn’t just dropped that bombshell. their words echoed in his mind. what the hell did they mean by that? were they talking about him finding some kind of happiness? a life where his brothers were content with people who weren’t just him? the thought sat heavy in his chest, uncomfortable.

it annoyed him, really, how accurate it was. it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed yuuji and choso building connections with others, and yeah, it pissed him off sometimes. but this was different — there was something about tonight, about you being so easily part of their circle, that made it feel more... real. like it was happening with or without him.

sukuna clicked his tongue, frustrated, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “don’t talk like you know everything,” he muttered, though the usual bite in his voice was missing. uraume, as always, wasn’t fazed, their calm demeanor steady as ever.

they walked a few steps ahead, glancing back at him, waiting for him to follow.

sukuna lingered for a second, his eyes trailing back to the four of you standing there, almost glowing under the light of the fireworks. his brothers were laughing, carefree, and there you were, comfortably settled between them, like this was just the way things were supposed to be.

"damn idiots," sukuna grumbled under his breath, but there was no heat behind the words. just something else, something more difficult to name. maybe uraume was right. maybe there was a part of him that wanted to be a part of that life. but fuck if he was going to admit it.

he let out a low sigh before finally stepping forward, walking with uraume to join the group. the moment felt... off-balance, like he was being dragged into something he wasn’t ready to face. but for tonight, just for a little while, he could handle it. he could stand beside them and pretend that this strange feeling — whatever it was — didn’t bother him.

almost like he was embracing this new normal.

though in the back of his mind, sukuna couldn’t shake the thought. how long could he keep pretending it didn’t matter?

as the fireworks burst overhead, casting brilliant colors across the sky, suguru leaned into you, his voice low and soft as he murmured, “you know i love you, right?”

you’d heard him say it before — plenty of times, in fact — but something about the way he said it now felt… different. it carried a weight that made you pause for a second, caught off guard. the fireworks’ loud cracks drowned out the silence that followed, and though you tried to brush it off, chalking it up to the adrenaline and excitement of the moment, you couldn’t ignore the subtle shift in tone.

“yeah, i do,” you responded with a smile, keeping your voice light, hoping to mask the brief flicker of confusion in your chest.

suguru’s words, though innocent enough, didn’t go unnoticed by sukuna. standing just a few steps behind, he overheard the exchange, and something in him tightened. it was subtle at first — just a prick of annoyance he could easily brush off. after all, what right did he have to feel any type of way about it? suguru had always been close to you, and this wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that. but tonight… yeah, tonight it felt different. and he hated it.

screw this, sukuna thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake off the feeling. but the way suguru leaned into you, his words hanging in the air, stuck with him more than he wanted to admit. it wasn't jealousy — at least, that’s what he told himself. nah, couldn’t be. but something about seeing you and suguru in that moment, wrapped up in your little world, made sukuna feel… off.

he gritted his teeth, glancing away like the fireworks had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the scene, overanalyzing every little detail. was there something more to it? was he just imagining things?

sukuna let out a low grunt, frustrated by how much it was getting to him. why the hell do i even care? he thought, biting the inside of his cheek. this wasn’t his place. you and suguru were whatever you were, and he had no claim to anything. yet, that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t go away. the thought of you being so close to suguru while he stood on the sidelines — like some fucking spectator — was driving him nuts.

he stole another glance at you, watching as you smiled at suguru like it was the most natural thing in the world. sukuna felt his chest tighten, a mix of frustration and something else — something he didn’t want to name — swelling inside him.

damn it. snap out of it, he scolded himself, trying to shake off the unfamiliar sensation. but it was too late. the seed had already been planted, and as much as he wanted to pretend it didn’t bother him, it did.

uraume’s eyes, sharp as ever, didn’t miss the brief flicker of something in sukuna’s expression as he watched you and suguru. the way his jaw tensed, the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long before he tried to look away — it wasn’t hard to figure out what was running through his mind. uraume knew sukuna better than anyone, and in that split second, they could see the cracks in his usual stone-cold demeanor.

“you’ll never tell her, will you?” uraume’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the noise of the fireworks like a knife.

sukuna stiffened at the comment, his eyes narrowing. fuck off, he wanted to snap, but instead, he muttered under his breath, “don’t.”

it was a warning, short and sharp. his voice carried a bite, but uraume didn’t flinch. they knew him well enough to know that sukuna was deflecting, pushing back the only way he knew how. the truth was there, hanging between them in the silence that followed.

“you can’t keep pretending you don’t care,” uraume continued, their tone casual, like they were discussing something trivial. but sukuna felt the weight of it. “but it’ll eat you up. sooner or later.”

“i said drop it.” sukuna’s voice was firmer this time, but beneath it, there was a hint of something else — something almost vulnerable. and that pissed him off even more.

uraume gave a soft huff, not one to push any further when sukuna was like this. but they knew. they always knew. sukuna’s feelings were something he’d never admit to himself, let alone to you. no, he’d rather let that shit fester inside him than confront it.

sukuna turned away from the scene, focusing on the fireworks as they lit up the sky. but even the bursts of color couldn’t drown out the knot in his chest or the frustration gnawing at him. uraume was right — he’d never tell you. because what the hell would that even change? nothing good, that’s for damn sure.

besides, you seemed happy enough. with suguru, with your whole life. what good would his mess of feelings do in that picture? he scoffed under his breath. none.

“you really are an idiot sometimes,” uraume commented dryly, sensing his internal struggle. but they didn’t press the issue, stepping back and letting sukuna stew in his own thoughts.

sukuna clenched his fists, shoving them into his pockets as he let out a frustrated sigh. this is bullshit.

as you and suguru stood by the door, thanking everyone for coming, you were ready to start the cleanup on your own, but choso, yuuji, and uraume had other plans. despite your and suguru's protests, uraume's no-nonsense logic, combined with yuuji’s almost puppy-like excitement to "help out," completely overrode your resistance. even choso had already started clearing up trash, his quiet nature making him surprisingly efficient at it.

suguru sighed, hands on his hips, clearly not thrilled but accepting it. you exchanged a small smile with him before joining the effort, figuring it was pointless to argue. after all, with everyone pitching in, it made things faster — and more fun, apparently, as yuuji and choso somehow turned even picking up trash into some weird competition.

sukuna, on the other hand, stood in the middle of it all, awkward as hell. his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his eyes darted around, unsure of where to even begin. domestic shit wasn’t his thing, never had been. and seeing everyone else laughing and bonding over something as mundane as cleaning up only made him feel more out of place.

“are you just gonna stand there, or help!?” suguru snapped from across the room, glaring at sukuna as he adjusted a pile of empty cups in his arms.

you rolled your eyes, letting out a small laugh as you turned to sukuna, who looked like a cat that just got sprayed with water. “come on,” you said, motioning him toward the kitchen. “you can help me with the dishes.”

he muttered something under his breath but followed you anyway, his steps heavy. when you reached the sink, you handed him a towel and motioned toward the rack where you'd be passing the freshly washed dishes. “dry them,” you instructed with a teasing smile. “i’m not trusting you with washing.”

“yeah? don’t think i can handle it?” sukuna shot back, a small smirk playing on his lips, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone, like he was grateful you were making this easier for him.

you chuckled. “nope, not risking it.”

as you cleaned the dishes, sukuna stood next to you, drying each plate, occasionally glancing sideways at you, the quiet between you both strangely…comfortable. he could hear yuuji and choso laughing in the other room, could see uraume silently stacking empty bottles into neat rows. so fucking normal, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief.

this wasn’t the kind of scene he was used to — this warmth, this casual domesticity. shit, he wasn’t even sure how to act around it. but here he was, drying dishes in your kitchen, a part of this weird, unfamiliar normalcy.

after a few minutes, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “this really how you spend your time? doing dishes and shit?”

you gave him a look, amused. “well, someone’s gotta clean up after parties. unless you think the dishes do themselves?”

“would be easier if they did.” he smirked again, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to enjoy this as much as he was.

suguru passed by the kitchen, glaring at sukuna like he was trying to figure out how he got out of the heavy lifting. “i still can’t believe you’re just standing there drying dishes while we’re out here busting our asses,” he muttered, though there was more of a joking edge than real anger behind his words.

“hey, drying’s a critical part of the process,” you shot back, defending sukuna with a grin.

sukuna snorted. “yeah, listen to the boss.”

“you’re lucky she’s got your back,” suguru muttered, shaking his head and walking away. you could hear him barking orders to yuuji and choso again, much to yuuji’s loud complaints.

you both worked in silence again, a strange but not unwelcome rhythm falling between you. sukuna, surprisingly, didn’t hate it. didn’t hate the simplicity of just…helping.

in a loop of thoughts he wasn’t ready to face. his hands moved mechanically, drying the plates you passed him, but his mind was somewhere else — swirling around the feeling that was creeping up on him, a feeling he didn’t expect to find in this place.

he didn't want this to end. but what was "this?" was it the business partnership, the reason you’d both ended up in each other’s orbit in the first place? the unspoken understanding you both shared, despite how wildly different your worlds were? or was it this — this bubble of normalcy that he never thought he'd want, where you, his brothers, uraume, and even that bastard sugur all coexisted in a way he knew he couldn't provide on his own? or maybe it was just this moment — the quiet domesticity of standing next to you in a kitchen, washing dishes, as if this was something the two of you did all the time.

"I don't want this to end," sukuna muttered, his voice low, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you glanced up at him, surprised by the sudden admission. “you like dish drying that much?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

he shot you a look, his usual smirk tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "you know what i mean, woman."

you set the dish you were scrubbing back in the sink, the playful smile on your face softening. "i suppose i do," you said quietly, your voice reflecting the undercurrent between you both — one neither of you had fully addressed but had always lingered just below the surface.

the hum of the water filled the silence that followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. there was something grounding in it, like the two of you were sharing a moment neither of you knew how to name, but neither of you wanted to break.

sukuna sighed inwardly, hands gripping the dish towel a little tighter. what the hell am i doing? he thought, his mind betraying him as the realization hit him harder than he expected. he didn’t know how to handle this. this warmth. this…want.

but he couldn’t deny it either. whatever this was, he wasn’t ready for it to slip through his fingers.

“it’s not just about this, you know,” he added, a little softer this time, almost hesitant. “this whole damn thing... with you, with them.” he gestured vaguely toward the other room, where yuuji and choso’s muffled laughter could still be heard through the living room. “i don’t know what the hell it is, but...”

you paused, hands in the soapy water as you turned to him, really seeing him for a moment. sukuna, the ever-powerful, ever-confident ryomen sukuna, was struggling. not with business — but with the simple idea of wanting something more.

you raised an eyebrow, giving him an out, a chance to laugh it off. "what? feeling a little domestic, sukuna?"

he gave a low growl, though there was no real heat behind it. “watch it, or you’ll be drying these yourself.”

you chuckled, but the gravity of the moment wasn’t lost on you either. you weren’t ready for this to end, either. there was something comforting about it — the ease, the surprising peace of just… being here with him.

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Un-evil

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

This is filthy. Short and downright filthy.

Crossposted on AO3.

Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3

Word count: 2k

Summary: Simon f*cks you stupid. He's not sorry, and neither are you.

18+ (Can't stress this enough)

CW: smut. that's it. that's the plot. it's just PWP. it's got a little fluff at the end, but it's smut.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Pain should be something evil, shouldn’t it? Yet you’re mostly positive that Simon’s hands aren’t evil – at least, not when they land on you.

But it's hard to prove your words right when he has his fingers curled into a tight fist around a handful of your hair. It's difficult, if anyone were to see, to convince them that he isn't trying to split you in half, by the way he has you curve your back in an impossible angle.

However, you’d gladly give a Ted talk about how un-evil he is being.

Naturally, the image might not seem the most innocent, so you’d have to work tirelessly to sound convincing. On all fours on the mattress of his own bedroom, with your feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Curled toes and stiff calves. Head so thrown back that your eyes are locked to the ceiling – or, well, they would be.

If they hadn’t been rolling back for the past – what? Night? What time is it, exactly?

In truth, the only thing you’re seeing is the back of your eyelids. Luckily the ceiling ain’t all that to look at.

Your throat is so tight and coiled that your breaths come out ragged and – bloody fucking hell – almost pained. And again, there is a bit of pain. A pinch of it. 

It would be a lot, with your hair being pulled and your back forced into an arch, but the pleasure is just so overwhelming you feel nothing else. The sting of your scalp and the ache of your spine only enhance what’s happening at the other end of you. 

How good he’s fucking you.

It’s deranged, honestly. 

Someone must be thinking a bleeding homicide is occurring in the Ghost’s quarters. You'd love to have some containment, acting a little more prude even if he's pounding his cock right into you something fierce. Maybe mewl and moan and be all breathy and shy. 

But your neck is so thrown back that the groans coming out of you are mostly punched out by the man himself each time he thrusts in and simultaneously pulls back at your hair to slam you against himself.

On the other hand, his grunts are muffled by the fabric of his stupid balaclava. 

Before the whole ordeal started, you told him you wouldn’t fuck him if he wore that thing.

“Not even sure you wash it, L.T.” You’d said, smirking and sounding so proud of having something to mock him for – because he's always so bloody perfect on the field, isn't he.

But he’d shut your mouth spare minutes later, when he’d throw you on your back on his bed, making you feel like you weighed a pound and few spare coins. Lifted his mask up to his nose. Snatched your khakis and knickers off all at once.

And ate you out with such fervor and insistence you were almost positive you’d stopped breathing for a while during the whole meal.

Then, he’d taken off the mask, wiped his mouth with it after you’d soaked it with your orgasm, and put it back on.

“Washed it now.”

Smug cunt.

But now pride and ego and whatnot feel like fickle things, much like your aching back, burning throat, and the impending cramps in your calves.

Now, as your mind squabbles in a puddle of itself, almost disassociating, Simon must notice it. And oh, he doesn’t like that in the slightest. Where are you going, with your pretty little head, when all your blood should be pumping down to where he needs you warm and wet.

“Come back ‘ere,” he grunts, bending forward and pulling your head further back at the same time. He hooks one arm around your front so that he can keep you up when he notices you're all loose and flaccid.

Palm flat to your chest, he presses you flush against his own.

His eyes are hooded and heavy as they lock with yours. Your face is so flushed and sweaty you must look on the brink of collapse, and he can’t deny it has him a little worried.

“Good?” He asks gruffly, and although concerned, his onslaught on your pussy is relentless.

You smile, all teeth. Your lips have drool smeared all over. Your eyes are glossy and heavy. He's been pounding into you for the past hour, you came into his mouth once and on his cock at least twice. The sounds he's punching out of your lips are raunchy and downright pornographic.

It makes something weird and warm swim in his chest.

Fucking hell.

“Words, love.” It’s a demand, but it’s not said unkindly. He’s more than alright with the idea of fucking you stupid, but not so much with the thought of fucking you into a blackout.

And when you don’t respond and get lost in your body again, eyes rolling back once more, he harshly tugs at your hair. “Sergeant.”

Tears are prickling the corners of your eyes when you open them. However, the contrast is striking, with the wheezing moan that concomitantly leaves your lips. 

You fucking like it, don’t you? Dirty slag.

A discovery, you are. Truly.

He loves it. 

“Solid,” you stutter. Your voice is raspy and wet. "Sir."

He loves that too. 

And admittedly finds it almost humorous, how he can make you unravel like that. You came to his door that night, all commanding as if you had any right over him, saying the two of you should stop dancing around each other and get it over with. That you’re adults and that if he was going to use the regulations excuse you were going to blow a gasket because everything you lot do on the field is against the so-called rules, hence a shagwould be the least of you two’s problems.

He hadn’t even had time to rebut. You were so right it hurt his pride. So, he fucked all that arrogance out of you.

And God, did it feel good. You felt good.

You were right, after all. He won't tell you, though. Doesn't need to chub up your ego any further, it's already fighting for space with his own.

He hums at your response. Leaves the hold around your torso and you flop forward like a wet rag, face first in the sheets.

Simon grabs your hair to lift you up, delighted to hear your ecstatic laugh as your head is yanked back once again. 

He growls, “Good fuckin' girl."

And he rams into you again, using the grip on your hair as leverage. Your groans are guttural and fierce, so loud that even he is a little worried someone might eavesdrop on some of them. 

Of course, this is no time for worries and concerns, all sublimated by the scorching heat between your legs. Warmest fucking place he’s ever been in. 

‘S a lot to say, he thinks, since he’s been through hell and back already.

However, he does feel a little merciful. Sure, you’re heavenly in this position, completely at his service, but it’s been a while and you must be aching. You're going to wake up, later, with the worst back pain of your life and a few cracking joints. 

Right, not that he cares. But you’re already a pain to deal with when you’re all healthy and cracking jokes and smiling like you give two shits about him, he can’t imagine how whiny you must be when you’re knackered and it's because of him.

He bends forward, then, chest to your back, and curls his free arm around your belly. Fingers sneakily reach down and trace your pussy. Palm cupping your mons while his ring and middle finger outline your lips. For just a second, he settles at the base of his cock, feeling how the shaft plunges so easily right inside of you. The stretch of your hole sucking him in. How wet you are – Christ.

Like this, he has his mouth next to your ear, but he’s not pounding into you with the same fierceness he’s used until now. And your voice has dulled, probably because he’s relented the grip in your hair, letting your head loll forward.

He looks at you through the haze of sex, trying to push through the mist of bliss you’ve shrouded him in. And your face is different. Your eyes are wide, staring blankly ahead, lips parted to take in sharp breaths. 

He panics for a moment, but it quickly melts away when he pushes in a little deeper and you keel over with a groan. He must be hitting something new, something different. 

Something good.

Which is why he hits it again. And again. And you keen and moan, fisting the sheets and punching the mattress. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, look at ya.” He rumbles with a chuckle you can feel rippling in his chest against your back.

In the meantime, because he is so un-evil, the hand he had on your pussy finally finds purchase on your clit. He can feel how raw it must be. How stiff and puffy it is under the rough pads of his fingers.

Your breath hitches the moment he starts rubbing it. Doesn’t bother to be gentle with it, because he’s found out you like it when he barks and bites. 

He’s proven right because the tears that were prickling your eyes before are now flowing freely down your cheeks. Your lips tug at the corners and you wheeze, one hand of yours grasping at the forearm of the same hand giving you bliss. Cheek to the mattress.

You dig your nails into his flesh – scar-thickened skin covered in black ink. 

You’re squirming under his weight, with your arse up and back in a pretty arch, as he works you inside and out with hands and cock all the same.

The groan you let out now truly sounds as if you're in pain. Your free hand lifts to grip the fabric of his balaclava on top of his head, as if you were trying to find purchase on his hair but found cotton instead.

“Oi,” he grunts, sounding uncharacteristically worried, but doesn’t stop until you say so.

And thank Christ he doesn’t, because mere seconds later your cunt clenches so tight around him it threatens to chop his dick off. You go ramrod stiff under him. Throat tight and allowing only the passage of mewls that pitch upward. 

Three fingers swipe side to side over your clit. He pounds into you once, twice – again, again, again, until he’s pushed out of you.

“Jesus –“ 

You’re splashing on his cock, a thick stream spraying directly on his sheets. Muffled sounds of water hitting fabric. You’re so fucking silent he bets you’ve stopped breathing as you came, because not even a second later you’re catching your breath with a guttural groan that goes straight to his dick.

He’s dumbfounded and burning, but thankfully has still enough brainpower to realize he has to fuck you through it – and so he does just that. Puts it back in and lays fully above you, flattening your front to the bed. Your thighs are quivering, and your pussy is still clenching rhythmically around him. He thrusts in more and feels tinier splashes gushing out of you each time he pulls out.

Fuck, you’re so wet he barely feels any friction. 

A whine escapes you at the intrusion, but you obediently lay your cheek on the mattress, exhausted, and catch your breath, looking over your shoulder up to him. 

You’re flushed and so pretty. Looking like an angel and not like the devil that you are, who’s just squirted over his bedsheets.

You deserve a little reward for the show you put on for him because he's surely not going to forget how your cunt fluttered around nothing when it gushed on his bed. It's going to stay imprinted in his forebrain and he's going to relive it whenever his hand won't feel like enough.

He snatches the balaclava off his head and tosses it on the floor. He sees your eyes soften at the sight of the disfigured man underneath, but he won’t have any of that – this is just sex. Just fucking sex.

Before he can have his head wander to unwanted (kinder) places, he roughly grabs your jaw and keeps fucking you raw. His lips slam onto yours in a kiss that sizzles with lust and resentment – because you can’t bring feelings into this, and he will forever hate you if you dare.

“Fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts in your face, as he ruts into you, now propped on his forearms. “Think you can do tha’ again?”

You huff. Probably not.

“Depends how – fuck – good y’ are.” As if he didn’t just wring you dry. 

He chuckles darkly, and bites down your shoulder, making you hiss. “Smartarse. Don’t you dare, now.”

“Dare what, L.T.” 

Oh, you little devil. 

“Stop with the lieutenant shite.” He chides.

You snake a hand in his palm and intertwine your fingers with his. He clenches his fist to tighten the hold because he's a weak, weak man.

“What should I call you, then?” You ask through heaving breaths, “Ain’t calling you Ghost, surely.”

He leans down and kisses your cheek.

You know my name, bird.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He grunts, and surrenders. “Simon will do.”

He feels your cheek lift under the pressure of your smile, right against his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Simon will do.”

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 11 I know it's been forever. I finished my exam and then fell into an energy coma and did not get anything done. Sorry if this chaper is kinda disappointing but I'm trying to find my flow again with this; I gave it my best shot. These two still make me go insane. As always if I messed up readers description please tell me. I am merely a self indulgend human who is prone to mistakes. Part 10 | COD Masterlist | (Part 12)

Simon’s pretty sure he’s beet red under his helmet. Now that he’s making his way through traffic with your arms wrapped around him the previous interaction is catching up to him and he can’t believe he had the audacity to touch you like that.

Then again, you hadn’t objected. Maybe you’d just been too polite to shove his hand off. But you had grabbed it, held it too, maybe that moment hadn’t been as one sided as he feared (who is he kidding, why would an angel like you willingly touch a sinner like him).

He tries to shake the thoughts off, just being thankful that he got those precious moments forever seared into his memory.

Suddenly your arms are gone from around him and he almost gets worried until he realizes that you merely spread them to the side, wriggling your fingers trying to feel the wind. Before he can stop himself one of his hands finds your thigh and he gently grabs onto you, making sure you’re still there. His heart is beating so loudly he can feel it echo through his body, surely you can feel it through the thick gloves and pants, drumming against your skin, spelling his devotion in Morse code.

The fact that you don’t seem bothered by it in the least tilts the picture he had of you in his mind sideways. You’re wary, shy and scared without your dog, but not uncomfortable with casual physical touch and he’s incredibly thankful for it.

Simon’s not sure since when he’s someone who wants to casually touch others (he doesn’t, he only wants to touch you, he wants you to touch him too, wants you to wrap your hands around his throat and make him yours) but he wants to touch you. Preferably all day, every day.

He can feel himself short-circuit when your arms wrap around him again and your hands slowly stroke up and down his chest and stomach. Hopefully you can’t feel the way his heart tries to squeeze its way through his ribs to fall into your perfect hands.

Once again his chest swells with a warm thick feeling and he wants to tear his ribs open, carve out his heart and make a home for you in its stead. He wants to chain you to him so he won’t have to spend another second without you (okay, fucking weirdo, he should really get a grip on his thoughts).

It’s the best ride of his life with you pressed close to him and every now and then spreading your arms. He can even pretend you’re wrapping your arms around him out of want and not necessity. Maybe he can remember the feeling the next time he wakes up alone from a nightmare.

He thinks of your mutt, who gets to wake up to you every morning. Simon would sleep in a dog bed too if it meant he could be close to you like that.

The ride is over far too soon when he parks a few streets away from the venue. Immediately he holds out his hand for you to get off and you take it, putting your other hand onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself while you get off with ease.

You take of the helmet and gear. Simon can’t help but appreciate the view of you stripping something off, even if it is only the outermost layer. Immediately he admonishes himself for the path his thoughts take but he really can’t help it when you wriggle out of the gear and hand it to him to put it back in the cases.

“Ready?”, he asks you and your excited grin is almost infectious. Now that you’re near the concert hall you’re all restless buzzing energy. Most of it excitement but he can sense an underlying nervousness too.

Simon is sure that Wraith could have calmed you down in seconds. For a moment he almost misses the mutt, if only for how comfortable he makes you. Then he shakes it off. He’s here and he’ll take better care of you than the mutt. He’ll show you that there’s nothing to fear with him at your side.

Slowly he places one of his hands on your shoulder and your body stills. His eyes zero in on the way it looks so fucking big against you and he swallows dryly. Your eyes find his and he tries to reassure you through his body language alone, squeezing your shoulder to ground you.

You take a few deep breaths and then your hand comes up, reaching for his. He nearly chokes on his own saliva when instead of brushing him off, you take his hand in yours and bring it down so you can comfortably hold it.

“So we don’t get separated.”, you say softly while slight pink dusts your cheeks.

Oh.

Simon is so utterly fucked.

It takes all his willpower to just gently squeeze your hand instead of sweeping you off your feet so he can kiss you breathless and slip his tongue between your perfect lips, taste if you’re as sweet as you look (oh god, he should stop fantasizing about kissing you or he’s going to lose his mind).

He nods, like a normal person and manages answer without stumbling over his words. “Of course.”

It’s a throwback to the way you strolled through the park, but this time you initiated the contact and Simon might be floating instead of walking.

As you approach the concert hall more and more people join your direction and your eyes widen as you take in the crowds. Now you’re looking around a lot, scanning those closest to you as if you expect danger any moment now. It reminds Simon of a little meerkat on the lookout and he probably should not find it as endearing as he does.

He takes a deep breath and when he exhales a bit of calmness settles over him. It’s almost like a mission, when he thinks about it. Get you safely into the building, let you enjoy yourself and safely get you back. Stuff like that he can handle. Stuff like that he’s done before. Stressful situations are where he –

You step closer to him, your other arm coming up as well and now you’re damn near hugging his arm. Simon almost stumbles over his own feet but he catches himself and looks at your overwhelmed expression.

He extracts his arm from your almost hug and instead puts it around you, effectively pulling you into his side. He holds his breath for a second, afraid that any unnecessary movement may spook you (breathing is unnecessary when it comes to your comfort).

Instead of pulling away you seem to slightly relax and he continues leading you into the hall. When you enter you crane your neck to look around and then your eyes settle on Simon.

“I’ve never been to an event this big!”, you shout over the deafening sound of thousands of people having their own private conversations.

“Get ready to have your mind blown. Been to one of their concerts before. They’re bloody brilliant, sweetheart.”, he shouts back and once again you giddily hop in place a bit. This time he gets to feel the movement against his side and he fights himself to not crush you against him in his intense need to hold you closer.

He looks around, satisfied that he managed to herd you to the front row directly before the stage. After all you deserve nothing but the best experience and any regret he could have had for the people behind him that might have a slightly obstructed view, dies the second you beam up at him.

“Thank you, Simon.” You nearly squeal and he knows his eyes crinkle with the way he smiles so wide.

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

His own excitement is growing, not just at your anticipation but because he can’t wait for the music to start. His gaze is embarrassingly soft as he looks down at you, next to him and he fights the need to place his hand on your hips and pull you closer.

At least he knows that the hall will get so crowded that more physical contact between you two is inevitable and Simon will soak that up like a sponge that’s been dry for years.

incubus!sukuna, part two. part one here

you wake up sweaty, the sheets clinging to your skin. there’s an unfamiliar pressure on your hips, and you almost feel stuck. when you open your eyes, there are four staring back at you in the dark.

instinctively, you open your mouth to scream, but sukuna is faster than you. one of his large hands is covering your face before you can even blink, muffling your scream completely.

he leans into you, close enough that you can smell faint wisps of smoke coming from him.

“you remember me.” it’s a statement, not a question. “let me have you like this.” outside of your head, he thinks.

he watches as you glance at the clock across the room. 3:56. you close your hand into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm before raising it to your face and counting all five fingers. you look back at the clock. still 3:56.

you’re awake.

the pressure on your hips—his hands holding you down—goes away as he shifts positions, lifting you into his lap. suddenly, you feel overly exposed in the tank top and underwear you wore to bed. his double erection presses into your side, twin promises of what’s to come.

just like in your dreams, he makes the first move with little hesitation, pulling your underwear off you in one swift movement. you follow his lead, tugging your tank over your head and tossing it to the floor.

you’re already wet enough for him to slip three of his thick fingers inside you without prepping you first. he chuckles to himself as he watches the way your pussy greedily sucks his fingers in. you squirm a bit, trying to subtly push yourself down on his hand, hoping for more.

he pauses. “what? this not enough for you?”

the stern tone of his voice makes your legs tense, bringing them together. sukuna tuts, “don’t run away now, you just said you wanted more.” he pushes your legs back open, wider than they were before.

you purse your lips. “technically, i didn’t say that.”

he stares down at you, unfamiliar with this kind of back-talk from a human. he expects attitude from succubi, always too impish and bratty, but human women? they’ve always been willing and pliant.

you tuck your lips between your teeth and stare back, eyes twinkling.

you aren’t expecting the large smile that breaks across his face, making you feel like a rabbit staring into the maw of a lion.

you’re suddenly on your back, head resting against your pillow. sukuna hovers over you and pulls his fingers out of your cunt, and he looks you in the eyes as he licks them clean. you don’t break eye contact, which only seems to rile him up further.

“you’re a bold one,” he mumbles, pushing your legs up until your knees are nearly to your ears.

you groan at the position, momentarily wishing you’d been stretching more regularly. but you don’t have any time to dwell on it before sukuna presses the fat tip of one of his dicks against your slit.

your breath hitches as he sinks himself all the way in, pushing your legs further back to get deeper.

“oh my god.”

somehow, he feels bigger in real life. your jaw drops at the rude entry, and you watch sukuna’s lips stretch into a sly smile.

he pulls out completely, only to thrust back into you, his tip kissing your cervix. he continues at a steady speed, driving you closer and closer to an orgasm with every movement.

when you come, you swear you see stars. your toes and fingers and ears are tingling, skin prickling all over. your cunt spasms around sukuna’s monstrous cock, clenching and releasing like she’s trying to milk him. you’re so focused on trying to ride it out that you hardly register when sukuna lines up his second dick with your entrance.

you scream when you feel it—sukuna’s twin cocks stretching you open more than you even knew was possible.

he gives you a moment to take it in, whispering for you to breathe as he waits for you to relax around him. one of his hands envelops yours, pinning it to the bedsheets.

the moment you adjust, he goes back to his previous pace, only marginally slower.

the feeling is overwhelming, being so totally stuffed. it only gets worse when he starts thumbing your clit. immediately, your mind goes blank, short-circuiting in response to the devastating amount of pleasure.

you're subjected to more orgasms in quick succession, each one sending shockwaves throughout your body. sukuna keeps going, looking increasingly satisfied every time you come.

the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes start to fall down your temples. a string of “please, please, please, please” spills from your lips, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for, too fucked out to be coherent.

you’re vaguely aware of the praises he starts showering you with. something about how you’re his favorite, and how your pussy sucks him in the best, how he’ll never fuck another, blah blah blah. his hips buck at a sloppier pace than before.

you feel his cocks pulse inside you, and for the first time since he’s started visiting you, he comes.

you’re not expecting to feel so empty when he finally pulls out of you. he uses his fingers to stuff his cum as far up as it’ll go, but it leaks out anyways, trickling towards your ass. he lets go of you, letting you lay down your legs and stretch them out on the bed.

in your cum-drunk haze, you latch onto sukuna's hand, tucking it beneath your head and mumbling thank you’s into his skin as you curl up under the sheets. as you begin to drift into unconsciousness, you feel him wrapping you up in his arms, cradling you. a single thought cuts through the fog in your brain: this is new.

you think hear him tell you you’re welcome just before falling asleep.

reblog for a kiss ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

Lowkeyartist!Sukuna & reader expecting their 2nd child?? 😇

lowkeyartist!sukuna who wouldn’t tell everyone about the new addition to his family just yet, he’d just let them speculate.

He has a daughter now, 2 years younger than his son. Your son was a carbon copy of sukuna, similar face and same hair colour, so ofc his princess came out looking like her mom - and he has no complaints at that.

I feel like when you’re pregnant and during postpartum, Sukuna won’t post at all. He would kick back from mainstream and his account, declining any offers given to him and any artists that would want to use his samples. He did the same for when you first got pregnant, but because of how high his numbers in following has gotten he’s taking a bigger step and not interacting with anything at all until he is content with how his family is growing.

It’s not particularly a reveal, but a slight teaser if you will when everyone starts to know that his family has gained a new member.

His new video, after almost 2 years of being absent, is him and his guitar in his room. You’re not in the video, but people don’t suspect about it anymore because they just assume you’re with his son. His piece is soft and mellowed down than his usual, but people guess because of the new foot print on his guitar base. Yours and your son’s hand print have been on that guitar for a while, so everyone knows that guitar through and through, so it’s no surprise everyone starts congratulating him on his new baby when they see her little pink footprint on it too.

The only insight he gives to the public about his baby girl is a short story post.

ryomensukuna: It’s a girl, she looks just like her mama. Her mother had a good birth. She’s a healthy 8 month baby who’s getting as big as her brother by the way her mother spoils her. Thank you for the support - RS

who’s your (baby) daddy. [4] 

╰┈➤ After being dumped by your boyfriend of 3 years, you decide to switch things up and go on your own version of a “hot girl summer”—subsequently finding yourself with a surprise that would arrive in 9 months time. The catch? You have absolutely no idea which of the men you slept with is your baby’s daddy.

𖨆♡𖨆 nanami x reader, gojou x reader, toji x reader, sukuna x reader

# tattoo artist sukuna, talks of pregnancy, semi-public sex, mentions of blood, reader gets a tattoo, mentions of food, fem!reader, pregnant!reader, ieiri is a girlboss, gojo is actually sweet in this, soft!sukuna

‗ ❍ masterlist  

If you thought your already wacky life could not get anymore crazier, that was nothing compared to the shitshow that waited for you one fine Monday.

Nothing was out of the blue; it had been two weeks since that altercation in the OBGYN room and you decided that even if Gojo would walk out, at least you still had your job and burgeoning career to support you.

… or not. 

“You’re fired.”

For the longest second, you did not speak, swivelling your head to the side to check if there were cameras spotlighting you; whether there was a man in a chicken suit standing in the corner waiting to jump out and yell you’ve been pranked!

But, there were no cameras—not even a goofy dude in a chicken suit—just the strict-faced new HR and Mia’s pinched expression. 

You gazed at her in aghast, crying, “Huh? You can’t just fire me for being pregnant!” 

The woman with slicked-red lips pouted those obviously fake plumpers at you in an attempt to seem sympathetic yet righteous at the same time. “It’s not because you’re pregnant, Y/N. That whistleblower piece put us in hot water and we have to cut our losses.”

Turning your gaze to your boss, you gesture wildly for her to butt in. “Mia—!” 

“Y/N is one of the best and she’s right—she’s pregnant. What would other companies say when they hear how badly we treated someone who has been with us from the very start?” Despite your boss’ furrowed brow and solid argument, Miss I-Have-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass did not seem too pleased.

“I understand that Y/N has been with us for a long time, but trouble is trouble and she is plenty of it.” 

Knowing that not even your boss could fight off regional HR if they chose to take action, you stood up, albeit with some difficulty with your four-month baby bump. Sure, you may not have been the model employee; you often stole sachets of coffee from the pantry, occasionally threw up in your waste paper basket because you were too tired to walk to the toilet and even once used Mia’s face spray liberally to cool down your neck in a flash of maternal hormones, but you were an asset.

You were an asset to this company. 

Or at least, that was what you had deluded yourself into thinking. Hands cradling your palms, you fixed her with a determined glare. “Look whatever-your-name is—”

“It’s Kuragi-san.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered dismissively. “If being a mother has taught me one thing, it’s that integrity and the truth is very, very important.” You swallowed at the thought of your future now that you were jobless, but the anger forced you to spill out the words you might not otherwise have had the courage to say. 

“And if I were to be working for an organisation that does not value the truth—as painful and dangerous as it can be sometimes—then you can keep destroying this once grand company with your narrow-minded, and frankly, cowardly ways.”

You spun on your heel, passing Mia who gave you a high-five. The clacks of your low heels resounded through the halls, and you almost missed how the other staff—from the junior reporters to even the office girls—drew their heads back into the cubicles, chagrined at having been found eavesdropping on your bombastic statement.

But after the high of standing up to Kuwagari or whatever-the-fuck her name was subsided, you found yourself on the roadside curb next to your car, pregnant, jobless and carrying a small box filled with the sparse office mementos you had collected from your decade at Tokyo Today. The building loomed over you, its shadow keeping you cool from the striking sun and you allowed yourself to exhale—to truly absorb the fact that you had done it now. 

Did I make a mistake? 

There was nothing for you to do but to accept and acknowledge that it was your own doing that led you here today. You palmed your rotund belly, whispering to it softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I thought I could make it better for you but I went and messed it up.”

Okay, new goal in life: no matter what, you were still going to provide for your baby by any means necessary. You still had some savings in your bank and if all else failed, you supposed your parents would rather you home (albeit pregnant and unemployed), than if you were off searching for fast money in clubs and bars to feed your daughter. 

The thought alone scared you and for the first time in your life, you came to terms with just how small of a speck of your life was in the great fabric of things. In some ways, you were still that little girl looking both ways before she crossed the street; always ready for the first sign of danger so she could run away and hide. 

No. Nope. This was not happening. You would rather trade your left kidney than to be caught crying in front of a company that booted you out heartlessly. Mia had already texted you and left you some numbers that you could call; connections that were searching for a business writer, but you had left her on read to lick your wounds in peace. 

Perhaps you would return her messages tomorrow. With any luck, maybe you would sleep past the morning so you would not have to wake up for breakfast—one meal of the day saved from your sheer laziness. 

You staggered into your old car and locked the doors, starting the engine and sinking back into the worn leather seats. 

This was it. It was time to say goodbye. You glanced up at the place you had paved your career for a good ten years and sighed. Since your pride was already in shambles and you had no one to share your sudden sadness with, you dialled the first number that came to mind. 

“Hey, mama,” Gojo’s voice chirped from the other end and you never expected that simple greeting to lift your spirits. 

“Hey,” you muttered, tapping your steering wheel with one finger. “Something happened.”

“Damn. Are you going into labour already?”

You scoffed, biting down the urge to grin widely. “Really funny, Satoru.”

“What can I say—I strive to be the best at everything, including cheering you up. So, what’s up?”

Trying hard not to burst into tears, you cursed your raging hormones when wetness trickled down your cheeks, expelling a quick laugh and swiping at your eyes. “I just got fired.”

There was a crackle of silence over the line. “Fired? Why?” 

“Apparently we’re getting sued… and I was the cause of it.” 

You could imagine cerulean blue eyes lowering and perhaps, his peachy lips would be turned down into a frown. Part of you expected him to mutter some form of half-assed condolences, and not say: 

“Stay put, okay?” 

“Satoru—”

“I’m coming for you. You’re still at the building?” 

You gripped the phone tighter, unable to believe the extent of his kindness. “Mhm hmm.”

“Okay, be there in a flash.”

He stayed true to his word. Gojo arrived in all his glory; a sleek white Aston Martin, neatly pressed suit and shades lowered to hide the twinkle in his eye. He took your keys and tossed it to a familiar woman who smiled at you in greeting. 

“Utahime-san, please take Y/N’s car and drive it back to her residence. I’ll take her from here.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was no room for you to gawk at the grandness of the car before Satoru was ushering you in, taking care to brace his palm on your head so you wouldn’t accidentally collide with the low beam. 

“This is… wow.” Your murmurs caught his attention and you glanced at him to find a smirk on his face. 

“I couldn’t just leave my baby mama all alone now, could I?”

“You’re too nice, Gojo.” 

The despondency in your tone was apparent enough for him to detect. He switched gears and the car tore down the street, towards the highway. Gojo had even made sure you wore a seatbelt and despite his hellish speed, he was surprisingly good on the road. 

“Say, what about we take a day off? Let’s go to this place I know and get ice cream.”

You perked up at that suggestion—or rather, your cravings did and you nodded enthusiastically. 

“That sounds perfect.”

He made small talk with you while he drove you to this little parlour in Odaiba, the Rainbow Bridge never looking this bright until you were sat next to Satoru who made you laugh at every little thing he said because he was too damn charismatic for his own good. Slowly, the dark mood you had on from your sudden change lifted and you followed him, arm-in-arm, into a tiny, spotless café where the owner called out to him in a friendly greeting.

Apparently, the wealthy and famous CEO of Gojo Holdings was a regular in this humble little shop, and the owner didn’t even hesitate to remark on how beautiful the two of you looked as a couple—a statement that Satoru did not deny. 

Buying your favourite flavour of that sweet treat, he sat down next to you with his own bowl—chocolate and macadamia nuts with a healthy drizzle of cherry sauce. It was a good choice and he was kind enough to let you sneak a few spoons, sensing it was your cravings that caused this lapse of manners and not your usual shy self. 

“So, what’re you gonna do now?” Satoru had this habit of licking his spoon between every mouthful of ice cream and you had to stop yourself from chortling at how that habit reminded you of a little boy. Unbidden, you wondered if your baby girl would inherit his love for sweets as well—if she was truly his flesh and blood. 

“I guess I'll live off my savings for a bit. Mia is talking to some publishing companies to see if they would have me. Let’s hope they love sloppy seconds.”

“Mmm, I like sloppy seconds.”

The innuendo hit you a second too late and you pretended to be cross with him. “You’re gross.”

He didn’t find any offence in your quick retort and hummed. “Was I the first one you slept with?” 

You hesitated and dropped your gaze to the sundae cup. There was a part of you that had already buried the idea that it could be Nanami’s baby—your ovulation had not begun when you slept with him for the last time… but Gojo did not need to know the full details.

“Yes.”

“So, she must be mine.”

You fought back a smile and busied yourself with another spoon full of ice cream before speaking. “Y’know, you’re taking this very well for someone who just found out your baby mama slept with two other guys.” 

“Ah. Crazier things have happened.” 

That admission got your eyes widening and you giggled. “Really? Tell me.”

He divulged you with every mind-boggling tale he had in his arsenal—from a psychotic ex-girlfriend who once spiked his drink with Viagra, to his parents’ divorce, the messy custody battle for him, his father’s new girlfriend that was Japan’s first Playboy bunny and his mother’s penchant at sneaking disses at her ex-husband whenever she was interviewed by a lifestyle magazine for her interior designing prowess—Gojo was giving you a front row seat to the mess behind the class.

“Damn. Are you sure you’re not living in a K-drama?” 

He gestured to your belly with a wide grin. “At this point—can we say we’re not?” 

Satoru definitely had a point. “Touché.” 

After dessert, he took you for a walk in Odaiba, pointing out a few cafes that he loved to frequent and even making plans for the both of you to try it whenever he could find a sliver of free time like today. You were coming to discover that Satoru was an impulsive man and had the filter of a seven year old boy who could not control his tongue. That was evident when he hung his long limbs over the metal railing that overlooked the sea, the warm tones of sunset drenching his handsome features and lighting up the blue in his eyes when he grinned at you. 

“I like you, Y/N. If you need anything, just let me know, kay? I know this is hard for you and I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

Whether from the hormones or the stress of the day, you found your eyes smarting and you dropped your gaze to the gently crashing waves under the floorboards of the bridge, nodding. 

“Thank you, Satoru. I’m glad you’re here.”

“No worries.” To your mortification, he got down onto one knee and pressed his face into your belly—in the middle of broad daylight without caring that passers-by glanced at this six-foot-three man making kissy noises into your stomach.

“Satoru,” you giggled, and attempted to bat his face away. “Tickles!” 

“There’s that pretty smile,” Gojo said and straightened to touch your swollen belly with his larger palm. “Let’s get you and the pretty baby home, okay? Mama definitely needs her rest after a long day.” 

In her life as an OBGYN practitioner, Ieiri had thought she’d seen everything. 

From women who were ecstatic at the idea of being mothers, to those who were shocked at the idea of conceiving a life into this world when they weren’t ready, and everything else in between. She had seen fathers who had been there every step of the way for the love of their lives, and sadly, mothers who had to pave the way for their family all alone.

But, she had never seen a case like yours in all her years of experience. 

There were some days when the other staff members in the OB GYN department would inquire about the deeper circles under her eyes, the longer smoke breaks, but she couldn’t break patient confidentiality with you and disclose the details of your pregnancy. 

Besides, she was also your friend to boot and did not want to betray your trust in any way that was deemed inappropriate.

However, that became hard to do when she felt the presence of someone approaching her. She looked up from her haze of smoke and nearly choked on those nicotine wafts when she recognized who it was. 

“Kento?”

Before her, stoic and tall, was your ex-boyfriend. The young doctor lowered her cigarette and forced herself to smile—though with how taken aback she was at the sight of Nanami himself in the flesh, she was pretty sure it came across as a grimace instead. 

“Shoko. I’m so sorry to have snuck up on you like this but I’ve been trying to call Y/N and I haven’t heard back from her. She called me about a few months ago but hung up. Is she okay?”

You hadn’t divulged any of this with her and Ieiri was not sure how to respond. She chose a neutral route and diverged the topic back to him. 

“Hmm. Aren’t you supposed to be in Malaysia by now?” 

It was to her immense surprise when she heard his next words. 

“I cancelled it.” 

Shoko stared at him, the cigarette in her hand forgotten. Though she had never been close to Nanami Kento, your best friend could not deny that it was the happiest she had ever seen you when you were dating someone. Ieiri had even once jokingly called you a scumbag magnet—if there was a bum within a five mile radius, it was almost a given that you would’ve fallen head over heels for him. 

But, Kento was different. He was stoic, aloof and according to you—a genuinely good man who you could envision marrying. That was until he chose his career over you. 

Why would he turn down this opportunity of a lifetime? Shoko was familiar with how the Masamichi group was  expanding into Southeast Asia because of a bigger demographic and a plethora of opportunities; it would be a chance for Kento to purchase his house on the beach and retire early from the success of this expansion. 

So, why was he still here? 

Ieiri got her answer not even a second later. 

“I’m worried about Y/N. I… I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

The guilt she felt on your behalf pervaded through her chest and Ieiri coughed lightly, finally putting out her cigarette. Your life was already a mess with the potential of three baby daddies and the new issue of you losing your job. You didn’t need Kento coming back in the fray to give you more stress.

So, Ieiri decided that it was her duty as your friend and a decent doctor to break the news to him. 

“Nanami, there’s something you should know about Y/N…” 

He had straightened, broad shoulders going rigid. “Is she hurt?”

Far from it. Ieiri decided it was better to rip the band aid off than dance around the issue forever and she took a deep breath. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

For a long minute, the blonde man did not speak. The hard expression he wore fractured at the edges as he absorbed this information. But, he was first and foremost a logical man—emotions would come later, and he had to uncover if this was the reason why you were avoiding him—with the possibility that you were carrying his child being the biggest cause of your radio silence.

“And I’m the father?”  

A flash of something like pity flitted across Ieiri’s pretty features. 

“I should let you know… she kind of had a wild few weeks and…”

Kento interjected before she could finish. “Is she fine?” 

“Yes. Well—no.” Ieiri took another deep inhale. “Y/N is pregnant and we don’t know who the father is because… she slept with three other men after your breakup.”

The breeze picked up, carding through her brown locks and his lighter ones. For a few minutes, Nanami did not speak. 

“Kento?” 

As if a spell had been broken, he snapped awake from his trance and jerkily bobbed his head. 

“It’s getting late and I’ve taken up too much of your break.”

“Kento—”

He spun around, all sharp edges and muffled emotions scattered across his angular and striking features. 

“Give Y/N my best.”

She stopped him before he could leave, needing to know what was his current headspace. Ieiri would be a huge liar if she did not admit that the reason for her curiosity was because she wanted to assuage the guilt at being the bearer of bad news. 

“What’ll you do now? Are you going to talk to her?” 

But he did not answer, ducking his head down so she could not see his reaction. Eclipsing his weary thoughts for his own morose rumination. 

“Goodbye, Ieiri.”

[A few months ago]

Once you had gotten over the sting of being creamed by your fling’s bitter ex, you came to the realisation that if life wanted to fuck you over, you may as well have fun with it. 

“A tattoo?” Ieiri was in disbelief the moment that request flew past your lips. 

Grinning, you nodded. “Yup! One on my hip.”

Beside her, Getou who was sipping on his matcha latte quietly gave a snort. “You almost cried when you had your cartilage pierced; are you sure you can handle a tattoo?”

You levelled him with a look. Dressed in his designer polo shirt and crisp pants, one would think that Suguru Getou was not the type for something as improper as tattoos. But, the dragon design around his neck begged to differ and even if you had wanted to dismiss his words, he had a ton of experience when it came to needles—more than you, obviously. 

“I think I could.”

The silence that spanned across the coffee table where all three of you had met for an impromptu brunch was riddled with disbelief. 

“Are you sure it’s professional?” Ieiri broached the topic, knowing how corporates, especially publishing ones, could be particular with the sight of ink on their employees skin. It was up there with dyed hair—who could take a business reporter seriously if they had hot pink locks? 

You pouted and it didn’t take long for your best friend to sense that there was nothing she could say to change your mind. “I’m not getting a big ass one on my face like those rappers,” you mumbled defensively. “It’s just a tiny one on my hip.”

That was apparently enough of a reason for Suguru to grab both you and Ieiri downtown to his favourite tattoo parlour. The smell of lavender and antiseptic reminded you of a hospital if it existed in another dimension. All around you, inked men and women waltzed around the premise, calling out a greeting to the tall Getou heir, friendliness in their words reminding you how you this was his turf and you were in safe hands. 

Well, almost. From across the room, you caught the eye of a sullen looking, pink-haired man. Recoiling slightly, you held a macabre fascination for the tribal-like swirls around his face, and neck. As if sensing your stare, he lifted his brown eyes, and stunned you into silence. Fuck—he’s hot. 

A hand on your back made you startle and Getou’s crescent-eyed smile carved itself into your periphery. “Sukuna—hey! Long time no see.” 

Like a switch had been flipped, the scary looking man trailed his intimidating stare from you to your friend, easing up with a genial smile. “Yo, Sugu. Been a long time. How’s that new one healing up?”

Much to your consternation, Getou lifted the hem of his black t-shirt, giving the entire shop a peek of his washboard abs and deep ‘V’, along with the tiger tattoo scrawled across his hip bone. “Perfectly, man. You knocked it out the board, as usual.” Chuckling amicably, he gestured towards you. “But, that’s not why I’m here—my friend is getting her first tattoo.”

You tried hard not to shrink back when Sukuna’s gaze met you again. This time, a teasing smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Oh, she’s your friend? Thought she was lost for a bit.” 

Before you could open your mouth to sarcastically retort that you weren’t, Sukuna gestured to an unattended room down the hallway. “My schedule is pretty free today—I’ll take her on.” 

Getou nodded enthusiastically. “Alright! You’ll be fine, Y/N. Sukuna here is the best at what he does. You’ll love your tattoo.” Like a proud father handing his reluctant toddler off at a daycare, the raven-haired man nudged you towards the tattoo artist, beaming brightly. “Ieiri and I will be next door having a massage. You call me once you’re done, okay?” 

You tried not to whine through gritted teeth for Getou to follow you into the room, watching helplessly as he spun around on his heel and left you alone, Shoko following behind and giving you a big thumbs up. 

Traitors, you thought murderously. They were supposed to be here for you, possibly even holding your hand in the tattoo room as you cussed your heart out, but they had left you on your own to fend for yourself. And your growing anxiety around the statuesque tattoo artist. There was a twitch in your left eye which was exacerbated the moment Sukuna scoffed.

“You're gonna stand around all day? Come on.”

You mirrored his scoff, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Are you always this rude to your clients? I could write a really bad review and affect your business.” 

For a second, your audacity sent him into a disquiet, and then, Sukuna chuckled. “Sure. I can play nice for a bit.” Cocking his head closer, he assumed an air of playful sobriety that was seriously off-putting with the ink on his face. “I apologise for my behaviour, miss. Please follow along with the sterilisation process.”

You opened your mouth to retort, wanting to ruthlessly mouth off until the smug smile from his face was gone when he ambled down the hallway. While getting a tattoo has always been what you wanted, could you bear getting it from such a rude man that brought out the inner Karen in you? 

Suguru did say this place was the best around Tokyo and he is paying for my tattoo… 

Ugh. Fine. You made up your mind and trailed behind the behemoth of a man, careful to set your purse down and sit daintily on the bench as you adjusted the hem of your knee-length skirt.

“It’s good you came prepared in a skirt,” Sukuna commented, shaking you from your reverie and tossing you a disarming grin. “Gives me easier access to work on you.” 

Your face felt way too warm for such a casual remark and you dropped your gaze from his piercing one, twisting your fingers together. “Just don’t fuck it up, okay? Or else I will literally bring my lawyer on your ass.”

That was a lie—you didn’t have a lawyer. But, what this smug asshole didn’t know would not hurt him. Sukuna lifted a brow and remained mum. He nodded towards a tray of tools. “I’m going to sterilise this first. You can go ahead and remove your blouse and hang it up there.” He gestured towards the coat rack. 

While the idea of stripping in front of an attractive man scared you, it was nothing in comparison to the idea that he would be evading your personal space. Literally touching your skin with his black-gloved hands. Feeling you tremble underneath him.

Fucking Toji. It was because of him you were still like a bitch in heat, ready to latch onto any available cock in sight. 

As if you were a bloodhound, you tried to keep calm when the scent of his rich, aquatic cologne hit you, your shoulders tensing when he sat on the metal stool next to the bench and tapped on the headrest. “Lie back down for me?” 

Doing your best to comply, you twisted your torso slightly, the makeshift blanket almost falling down to reveal the rise of your cotton-clad breasts. Sukuna must’ve been unaffected by your near nudity because he didn’t even react when your bare waist came into view. Probably used to seeing tits in his face all the time. 

Those rubbery palms touched your hip, smoothing a cool liquid over your skin that stung slightly. “Okay, I’m starting the needle.”

There was a whir in the background and you flinched when his palm tensed around your hip bone, nearly bolting out of the chair when the point of the needle touched your skin. 

Sukuna jerked and stopped the machine pen, shooting you a glare. “Hey, quit it. You gotta relax for me, okay? I could’ve tore through your skin with the—”

“I hate needles.” 

The admission fell between both of you like a pin dropping sharply from the edge of a table. Pinging and fracturing around with incredulous silence.

Sukuna gave you a look. “Then what the fuck are you doing in a tattoo shop?” 

Unbidden, tears glossed in your eyes, and Sukuna set down the metallic tool, sighing. “Let me take a wild guess—your ex-boyfriend dumped you so you want to get inked as a sign of your freedom when in fact, you’re still grieving over the relationship, right?” The corners of his lips twitched. “You’re not exactly hard to read.” 

You sniffled pathetically, never imagining in a hundred of years that you would be close to bursting to tears in the middle of a tattoo parlour. 

Evidently, Sukuna may seem like he had a grasp on the situation, but he was just as clueless as you were and had rightfully offended you.

The air was thick with tension, uncuttable and gooey with some unnamed emotion. 

Sukuna decided not to say anything else and pass you a tissue, switching off the running machine with a soft sigh. “If you’re not paying me for a tattoo, at least make it worth my time by entertaining me.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms across his very broad, very sexy chest, and lifted a brow, a ghost of a smirk ready to tug up in the corners of his lips. 

“Go on, tell me your sob story. Might even throw in a complimentary spa voucher if you move me real good.” 

That’s it. You snapped your mouth shut and hopped down from the bench, throwing off the blanket with a sharp swish of your wrist. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” There was a familiar steel in your tone which you often used on errant reporters and underlings that had the power to make anyone cower. 

But, for Sukuna, all you succeeded in doing was making him confused. 

“So, you don’t want my listening ear?” 

You could no longer hold back the vitriol ready to spill from the tip of your tongue. 

“Look here, mister. Yeah, sure, you may be the best tattoo artist in this district and a good friend of Suguru, but I won’t tolerate your rudeness, especially when it comes to commenting on my life.”

The flinty edge in your gaze shocked him. “So, you can keep all your wisecrack jokes to yourself and I will see myself out. If you want me to bill you for the consulting fee, you know who to ask.” 

As you were about to tug on your shirt, you heard him click his tongue. 

“Hey—I’m sorry.” 

You froze, about to jam one arm into a sleeve when his rueful apology reached your ears. 

A heavy sigh resounded, and you turned around to face him, blouse still askew over your head. “Well, you’re not forgiven.” 

Sukuna’s lips twitched again, and he helped you tug down your shirt. 

Unbidden, the tips of his fingers grazed your exposed abdomen, and you couldn’t hide a shiver at his calloused touch. 

Face still stuffed halfway into your shirt, you were helpless to stop Sukuna from trailing his touch down to your stomach which was now exploding into a million butterflies. 

“Sukuna—”

“Do you ever shut up?” He murmured, and as quick as his touch came, it disappeared from your body. The tattooist showed you a fleck of stray ink staining his index finger. “Accidentally spilled some on ya. Sorry about that.”

He nodded towards the exit. “You can wait for Suguru to be done outside in the lobby. I won’t charge you for anything today.”

His sudden niceness threw you off, and you narrowed your eyes. 

“You’re strange.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, his amusement contagious. “Rich coming from someone afraid of needles in a tattoo shop.” 

Sukuna rubbed his hands, huffing. “Well. Get out of here. I have another customer.” 

But, the masochist in you pinned you down to the leather seat, stubbornly warring with yourself to get this through. 

“Do it.” 

Sukuna cocked a brow. “What?” 

“I’m ready to be tattooed.” 

In answer, he sank back down, pulling out his gun—whether emboldened or amused by your sudden resolution, you had no idea.

“Okay. Take off your shirt. We’re doing this, and—”

He gave you a look, one which froze you in place.

“—no backing out of this. Or, I’ll take your entire your deposit. Deal?” 

After what seemed like hours, your fresh tattoo was ready. 

Your clawed grip on the leather couch had left indents, and you were positive your molars were grinded into a pulp from how hard you had clenched your teeth.

“There,” Sukuna hummed, wiping away the dots of blood with a sterilised cloth, his smile small and a little proud. 

“You did so well for me. I’m proud of you.” 

Unbidden, his words cracked something in your mind, and the tears overflowed. It was mortifying to be like this—crying your heart out in front of an incredibly attractive man who had no idea how to handle your switching emotions. 

Embarrassed, you tried to play off your sudden outburst with a nervous giggle.

You expected him to kick you out—weirded by your reactions—not sigh and sit down next to you, his gloves in hand.

“Do you wanna talk about your relationship?” 

Mutely, you shook your head. 

“Do you want a drink?”

The mention of alcohol made you perk up and you nodded.

Sukuna exited through the curtains and returned a minute later with bottles of beer—one for him and one for you. You both clinked in morose cheers and drank in silence; the alcohol taking away the edge of pain from both your throbbing tattoo and your broken heart. 

“You’re better off without him,” your tattooist said after a moment. “The dude, I mean. Fuck him. You’re pretty—you’ll find someone good soon.”

Cracking a watery smile, you chuckled. “You think?” 

“I know.” His smile was confident and his charm irresistible. “A good girl like you will make a great one for any guy.” 

Good girl. 

Oh. 

Heat slicked down your spine, curdling somewhere in between your thighs. Sukuna watched the effects of his words play across your face—calculating the exact point when you were weak enough for him to make his move.

It was when your mouth fell slightly open, eyes darting over his face tattoos to fully drink in his own vermillion eyes, did he lean forward and kiss you.

You drank him in, no longer shy or subdued—turned flirty and lethal from the coasting hormones the pain elicited and the strong beer. His kisses rained like warm dew drops down your neck, your shoulders, and in between your exposed cleavage.

Sukuna hitched you up higher on the seat, knocking the beer bottles over. They shattered to the floor, and someone yelped in the room next door.

“Sorry,” he grunted, frantically groping under your skirt to pull your panties off. “Kicked something over.” 

He slapped his other palm over your mouth, pushing two fingers into your slick hole. Sukuna finger-fucked you fast and hard, the muted squelching of your pussy creaming all around his black gloved fingers effortlessly.

You whined and squirmed, eyes rolling back into your skull. Unable to take the searing pleasure.

Sukuna didn’t let up. He was ruthless—making you cum quietly in the back of his shop. Those warm and slightly chapped lips latched onto your pulse point, kissing down your shoulders as you convulsed and twitched in his arms.

Not giving you a moment to catch a breath, Sukuna unsheathed his cock from behind his acid wash jeans. You whined softly, impatiently pushing up his shirt to expose his washboard abs. 

Sukuna took the hint, ripping off his shirt and yours.

The air between both your lips tasted like ripe honey, and you lapped at his lower lip, swallowing his scratchy moan.

His voice alone could turn you on—and knowing the effect he had on you, Sukuna cooed, like an owner speaking down to his pet as he propped you onto your hands and knees. 

“Hold the chair tightly,” his whisper was hot against the sensitive shell of ear. “And don’t make a sound, you understand? One single moan and I will stop everything.”

As he spoke, he rutted the tip of his cock in between your thighs, and you were glad you wore a simple skirt today. It made it easier for him to pull down the crotch of your panties to the side. 

Sukuna slipped his entire prick inside of you without much prep, and your entire body tensed—your previous release helping to ease him all the way to the hilt. 

His hands were clawed on your hips, using them as an anchor to jackhammer your willing cunt.

Too fast—this is too much.

“Too much,” you murmured, wincing when he pried his entire length from your creamy depths only to sink back into you unceremoniously. “‘Kuna—”

“You can do it.”

The sensation of a rubber covered finger tapping and rubbing on your clit added another layer of debauchery to this unexpected tryst. A mewl ripped past your clenched teeth, and true to his word, Sukuna stopped all movement.

“‘Kuna,” you mumbled, peeking over your shoulder with wide, teary eyes.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

The tips of his pink hair were slick with sweat; falling right into his face, giving him a shadowy intrigue which shot straight into your neglected pussy. 

“I told you I would stop.” Without waiting for your reply, Sukuna sank his teeth into the tip of his gloved middle finger, yanking off the rubber in one smooth move. He repeated the motion with the other hand while you were spread legged and dripping onto his chair, waiting for him to move. “And you didn’t listen.”

Clinically, almost cruelly, he buried two fingers into your gaping hole, curving them upward. This time, he took a moment to inspect your folds and squeezing cunt, his face almost close to your ass.

“Hmm.” 

It was dehumanising to have a stranger do this to you, but you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. 

“A pretty pussy,” he mumbled, and withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching and empty again. 

Sukuna leaned forward, the heat of his body seeping into your bare thighs. “One more time, darling. And this time, be good for me, okay?” 

Nodding, you arched your back and he laughed at your eagerness. At how you presented yourself to him like an offering on a silver platter. 

“Slut,” he rasped, taking control of your body once again and bullying his cock into your tight heat. “Such a fucking eager little fuckdoll.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from moaning. There was only a curtain to separate both of you; anyone could walk in and see your tattoo artist balls deep into your creaming pussy.

Sukuna’s free hand had reached under your shirt, expertly tugging your bra cups down to pinch and roll your nipples.

The fact you were both still halfway dressed made you burn with both embarrassment and lust. Nothing else was heard around the room except for the soft squelches of your pussy taking his cock and his heavy breathing growing even denser.

Sukuna’s hips stuttered, and you could tell he was close. He bucked and undulated against you, a choked moan that almost sounded like pain caressing your neck.

“‘Kuna—” your whine was cut short by his rough hand tugging your face to his, lips crashing onto yours.

A dark sort of emotion overtook you, and for one split second, you were no longer the heartbroken girl trying to find meaning in life. Sukuna’s touches made you feel alive; brimming with vitality and hope.

Warm spurts filled you up and you gasped into his mouth, feeling him filling you up like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. 

When you both could finally speak, Sukuna gently withdrew himself and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him, exhausted to the bone.

“Keep the deposit,” he rasped in his low, deep voice; chest rumbling underneath your cheek. “The tattoo’s on me.”

After the disastrous week that was the result of your unfair dismissal at work and the revelation that Gojo Satoru wanted to be in your life not just as your baby’s daddy, but as a friend, things seemed to look up. 

Granted, your bank account was slowly dwindling by the day, and the food in your fridge was becoming just as sparse as your finances; you didn’t have anything much to do in the day but read up on business news and take baths—but all the hardships made you work even harder, determined to make a better life for your baby. 

Shoko had heard of your predicament and called you up for a wine night—or in your pitiful case—a sparkling wine night and teasingly asked you, “Why don’t you get Gojo to pay your bills?” 

“I’m not a sugar baby, Ieiri,” you had grumbled and she snorted, looking resplendent in her floral summer dress while you felt like a whale beside her. 

Stupid pregnancy belly. Your clothes were becoming too tight around your hips, and squeezing into your jeans made you feel like your thighs had turned into pieces of meat being squished into a sausage skin. 

Whoever said that women were the most attractive during their pregnancy obviously missed the mark by about a whole mile. 

“Money is money, Y/N. Besides, you can always use the excuse that you need it for the baby.” 

You had shot her a look over your sadly non-alcoholic glass of despair and frowned. “Are you teaching me how to swindle money from a CEO?”

“I’m teaching you how to be in your bag, Y/N,” she corrected with a smirk.

That was a few nights ago, and the idea still replayed in your mind. However, you recalled Gojo’s happy smiles and how he was genuinely ecstatic to be having a child and you reasoned her suggestion did not seem so farfetched. 

Winter was steadily approaching as seen from the snatches of cold air circulating around the apartment, and with it, Gojo’s increasing busyness. You had not heard from the white-haired CEO for almost a whole week and you were growing antsy. Your phone was resolutely silent as well, your messages to Toji and Sukuna going unread since that disastrous day in the OBGYN room. Trying hard not to let the winter blues and the chill of those two men get to you, you decided to take yourself out on a date. 

Bulging belly apparent under your sweater, you winced at the tenderness of your breasts and massaged them gently while you tried to bend over and lace your boots. Deciding that you did a good job, you huffed, dragging your puffy coat over your frame. Appraising yourself in the mirror, you had to bite down on a laugh at how much you looked like an inflated Michelin man. A part of you was saddened that you could no longer dress up in babydoll dresses and sleek winter coats; since becoming a mom, practicality had very much taken over fashion. 

The streets were bustling and you stayed closer to the walls, people giving you way once they noticed your swollen stomach and reddened face. How did all these Hallmark movies make pregnancy seem almost effortless? All those actresses had dewy skin, perfectly rotund bellies and a doting husband near them at all times—none of which you had with you right now. 

The cafe you wanted to visit was too crowded and you huffed, taking out your phone and deciding to move to a different location. But before you could waddle away in disappointment, a harsh wind picked up and snatched your loosely tied scarf, the red material shimmering from your grasp as you exhaled out an exasperated, “Ugh—seriously?”

Moving as fast as your swollen legs could carry you, you rushed to grab the evasive material, nearly twisting on a patch of ice and tangling in your undone boot laces. For one split second, gravity seemed to elude you and you cried out, terrified beyond belief, the one warning flashing in your mind: my baby!

But before you could careen down to the ground, a strong arm caught you. 

“Y/N!” 

You gasped and held onto the defined bicep for your dear life, the blood rushing through your ears loud enough to stifle the presence next to you. 

“You’re alright—you’re alright, love.” 

That voice…

Glancing up with teary eyes, you were stunned by who had caught you. 

“S-Sukuna?” 

He was dressed warmly in a cashmere sweater and a woolly black scarf, tribal tattoos on his face and neck standing out like a stain on his tanned skin; incredibly handsome under the slate-grey skies. The wind ruffled his rosy hair and you noticed he had a greasy box in one hand, the other still wound around your waist. 

Cognizant that he was still holding onto you, he reluctantly let you go. There was no mirth in his light brown eyes when he appraised you, apparently exasperated at your disposition. “Be more careful next time,” he clicked his tongue and took in your dishevelled state. “Jesus, who dressed you? A toddler?”  

Before you could protest, he set the box down on a shop’s window ledge and got onto one knee, lacing your boots tightly, straightening your collar and even adjusting some buttons of your coat that were askew. His brisk assistance left you with a light dusting of pink on your cheeks and you ducked your gaze down when he tried to meet your eye. 

A layer of awkwardness hovered between both of you and Sukuna eventually cleared his throat, picking up the box once more. 

“I heard about how you got fired. I was about to head over to your apartment. Um, I got you some pizza.”

He mumbled everything under his breath, as if he were embarrassed of admitting something simple as helping someone who was not himself. 

You blinked—once, twice—before finding your voice. “Oh. Thank you.” 

Sukuna shifted from one foot to the other, still unable to meet your eyes. “Um—do you wanna head back? I think it might get cold.” 

“Sure.” 

It was a short walk back to your apartment and even when you felt fine, you were surprised when he roughly tugged his scarf from his neck to sloppily wrap it around your bare neck. The smell of his musk and rich cologne pricked your nostrils and you hid your blushing cheeks in the folds of the soft material. 

He cleared his throat, attempting to make conversation. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been better.” In a quieter voice, you asked, “How did you know I was fired?” 

“Gojo told me. Fucking hell—that HR was ruthless. You sure you don’t want to sue her? Firing a pregnant woman is a discrimination.” 

Somehow, hearing Sukuna getting angry on your behalf made the warmth on your cheeks deepen. Hiding your quiet pleasure at how nice he was being for a change, you tittered. “I’m done with that line. I might just open a flower shop.”

“A flower shop? That’s so girly.”

Your apartment appeared and he helped you to unlock the front door, careful to usher you in first. Catching your breath, you responded to his jab a few seconds too late, your lagging pregnancy brain striking again. 

“Ooh, look at me, I’m a big, muscular, tattooed man who hates flowers. Real charming, Sukuna.”

Biting down a smile at how indignant you sounded, Sukuna settled himself on your couch, taking a gander at your space. You sat down next to him with two plates and two cups of Coke, sending him a mock glare. 

“No, no. I meant that as a compliment.” 

The pizza smelled heavenly and you indulged in two slices, the grease easing the disappointment of losing your favourite scarf. If he noticed the empty room you were slowly cleaning out to make space for your baby’s nursery, he didn’t say anything. 

You were coming to discover that Sukuna was more of an action-based person; preferring to speak with his carefully crafted gestures compared to flowery words. In that sense, he was different from Gojo, and you welcomed the change. 

For instance, Sukuna’s hesitation was apparent when he placed his palm on your belly, the warmth permeating through the thick material of your sweater. It was quiet except for both of your in-sync breathing. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows and exacerbating the silence within the walls. You didn’t break the heady solitude apart, content to bask in his affections and attention when those dark brown eyes flashed in wonder, cradling your bump with his larger hands. 

You shifted your feet into a lotus sitting position and winced. Sukuna noticed your lapsing gesture and gave you a quizzical look. 

“My knees are swollen.”

You didn’t expect what he did next. Gently grasping your ankles, he unfurled your legs and set them on his lap, removing your socks and massaging your feet. An unrestrained groan of relief slipped from your mouth and he chuckled in low tones. 

“Shit—that feels good.”

He hummed, not wanting to break that blissful look on your face so he stayed quiet, pressing his knuckles into the arch of first your right foot then left foot to ease the tension . 

Completely lost in the pleasurable relief, you almost didn’t feel the wetness seep through your panties, the quick twist of your womb. It was only when your abdomen started clenching harder that your eyes flew wide open and you squeaked. 

“Sukuna—um, I think—oh shit.”

He stopped his ministries instantly, tribal tattoos crinkling as he frowned. “What’s the matter?” 

In answer, you whimpered, and pointed to your soiled jeans. 

His dark eyes widened. “Did you piss yourself?” 

Your glare was marred with pain when you shook your head, resisting the urge to sock him right in his handsome face. “No, you dumbass—”

Breaking off, you clenched your teeth, doubling over with a gasp.

His reaction was immediate. “Oh. No. Are you—?”

Sukuna’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around you, hustling you out of the apartment and into the cold.

You nearly screamed at him to get you back into your warm apartment, but from his pinpricked pupils and heavy breathing, Sukuna wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Frantic vermillion eyes darted around the snow-flooded street. Shops were closing and many people were hiding from the flurry of snow falling from the sky. 

The entire world was shutting into itself to brace against a snowstorm and your baby had decided this was the perfect time to arrive.

You grunted in pain, fisting the front of his winter coat. "'Kuna, I wanna go back in. I—"

"You need a hospital," he urged, the panic in his voice unshakable.

The look on your face was brimming with pain, cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“My water broke,” you muttered, as if it wasn’t obvious what you were going through. “‘K-Kuna… help me.” 

Snapping back into action, Sukuna hopped up, holding onto you carefully as he made a few calls. But, with every single rejected dial tone, his panic was increasing.

“Shit,” he cursed, calling another hospital in a different district. 

Of all days when his potential baby mama had to pop, it would be when he didn’t have his bike with him. 

It was stuck in a workshop, the radiator frozen after these unprecedented winter nights. Sukuna was starting to grow desperate.

Another sharp gasp of pain from you rattled his chest, and he tried the ambulance one more time. 

Finally, someone answered.

“Hello?” He rushed without preamble. “My girlfriend is about to give birth. We need an ambulance down Kosai Street, stat.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the operator sounded regretful. “The snow is piling up and our ambulances were already deployed to other cases.”

He heard the meaning loud and clear: you’re not important enough to waste resources on. 

The tattoo artist sneered, teeth bared at the stupid woman’s simpering. 

“Fuck, no,” he snarled. “This is important, too! We have no mode of transportation and—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she repeated again, this time more firmly. “We just received word of a huge accident down the Shibuya intersection and I’m afraid we have to respond immediately. Please allow us two hours to reach you and in the meantime, keep your girlfriend warm and out of the weather.”

The dial tone echoed down the line, and Sukuna thought he had hallucinated the whole conversation.

But, before he could go on a rant about how terrible and unfunded government hospitals are becoming in this country, you grabbed his arm, wincing in pain.

“Call Satoru,” you said in a strangled voice. “Call him and he’ll come. T-take my phone from my pocket.”

Sukuna did as you asked, putting his ego aside to call up the white-haired motherfucker. 

However, just as he was about to press the button, a soft voice interrupted the both of you.

“Do you need a lift?”

Haloed by his car lights, a tall, blonde man strode towards them, his hands in his pockets and a look of solemn worry on his face.

Sukuna didn’t know the guy, but evidently you did when he heard your soft and pained gasp.

“K-Kento?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He sounded formal, though the look in his eyes was steeped with regret. 

Something about how you said his name made the other man think this Kento guy was special to you.

But, he had no time to ask if this was the same ex who had landed you in this pickle with three other men; your legs had given out and you were sinking into the snow with an agonised cry.

Using all his strength, Sukuna hauled you into his arms, ignoring your shriek of surprise.

Looking this Kento stranger in the eye, he nodded towards the humming car. 

“Thanks. You came just in time. Y/N needs a hospital.”

Kento’s eyes never left your prone form in his arms, and Sukuna was starting to feel like he had unwittingly landed in the middle of something entirely too intimate.

The both of you were locked in a silent staring competition, and the tattoo artist had just about enough of this unspeakable tension.

“Oi,” he barked, loud enough to startle Kento’s attention back to him. 

“Are we just gonna fucking stare around? Y/N’s about to pop out her baby. We have to get to the hospital—now.”

— reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost, or claim as your own

❥ KATSUKI BAKUGOU X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: a/b/o dynamics (alpha Katsuki/omega reader), knotting, age-gap (Katsuki is in his grumpy 40s, you're in college), he calls you "kid", fucking in a pool, some mention of sex toys, degradation, creampie

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God, he’s too fucking old for this shit. Too god damn tired of the animal that kicks against his ribs whenever the slick smell of a willing cunt passes his nose. 

“ ‘m sorry,” you whisper, rolling your hips to suck his cock deeper in your drooling pussy. He grinds his molars at the too-tight feeling. 

“Fucking brat,” he hisses and clamps his hands to your doughy ass, jerking you up and down his cock. “Knew you were trouble. Fucking told you to stay away from me.” 

Katsuki knew he would end up fucking the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed college girl the day you moved in next door. He tried to stop it, he really did, showing you his teeth and growling any time the sweet stink of your omega scent greeted him. 

Yet he’s the one who couldn’t help himself. Humid summer air brought your pathetic smell right to him, had him peeking over the fence that separated his house from yours like a fucking perv.

The sight of you in your little pool, desperate to cool your too-hot skin, bikini bottoms floating next to you as you shoved a dildo into your aching hole was his breaking point. 

And now here you are, stuffed full of throbbing, thick alpha cock. Because you begged him, all fat tears and plump pouts as your heat clawed at your insides. 

He might be too old for this, but he’ll never get tired of how fucking stupid omegas get for dick. 

“The t-toys just weren’t…weren’t good enough.” 

You’re pinned between him and the pool wall, lips of your cunt dragging along his length over and over again as you try to find release. 

Copious amounts of slick gush from you, making his thrusting easier. Pearly strings of your cream float around the pool, lost to splash of him fucking into you. 

But even still, he’s so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggles against your gummy walls. You hiss, not from pain, but from relief, so happy to be full that no amount of stretching will detract from your pleasure.

“You’re fucking pitiful.” 

Shame briefly shines in your blown-out eyes, a bit of humanity peeking through the haze of animal instincts. Shit. This is why he hates this, why he’s tried to avoid all the breeding nonsense. Omegas are so emotionally squishy. 

Not that he’s any better. One pout from you as you locked eyes with him across the yard made him jump a fucking fence and plunge his cock into your weeping hole at two in the afternoon. 

“Just can’t help it, can you, kid?” 

Red eyes trace over the body he’s been trying so hard not to imagine. The triangle fabric of your swimsuit is peeled away from your tits, your nipples puffy from how hard you were tugging on them before he got his hands on you. 

A little mhmmmm-mhmmmm sounds from lips pressed too tightly together, your head lolling back as you keep bucking against him with your eager, exposed pussy. 

You’re a mess, all swollen and gooey and desperate. 

“Such a dumb omega,” he groans and wraps his arms around your back, pressing your soft body all the way against his, “fucking yourself out in the open. Wanted me to find you? Wanted the old man next door to fuck you stupid.”

“N-no,” you lie so easily. “Too hot, was too hot and couldn’t get off and—”

“Bullshit. You started splashin’ around out here just praying I’d catch your scent.” 

“C-can’t help it, pr-promise. You just always smell so fucking good, alpha.”

Makes sense now why you always seem to be out on a walk when he gets home from work, and why you always seem to need something from him. He was a nice neighbor and gave you his number when you moved in all on your own, a little omega lost in a big college town. You would message him for help around your place at least once a week—changing light bulbs, fixing a leaky faucet, even opening a goddamn jar a few nights ago. 

He told you several times to stop bothering him, yet you never could catch the hint that fooling around with an alpha was going to get you bitten. 

Relentlessly he pounds his hips, the buoyancy of the water making it effortless to hold you and fuck in deep. His thighs barely feel any strain, his back muscles rolling like a true predator as he starts to use his arms to pull you up and down. 

Katsuki slides his fat cock until it’s barely in your pussy, mushroom tip caught by the suctioning ring of muscle inside of you. Then he bottoms out, balls connecting with your ass under the water with a muted thump. 

“God, fuck, that’s good, so good,” you’re fucking loud, “feel so fucking good in my pussy.” 

“Christ, you wanna let the whole neighborhood knowing I’m fucking you?”

​​The fuck-drunk little smile on your face tells him that maybe you do. 

And he thought he was the perv. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he whispers furiously, kissing you with so much force it makes your back arch in his strangle hold. 

A thick hand wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there possessively as his tongue forces its way between your lips. You unconsciously moan, your own tongue meeting his, but he presses it down, not wanting it in the way. You give in, letting him encircle your tongue with his own so he can taste you. He pulls back to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth roughly dragging against it.

“Like feeling my cock spread you apart, hm? Maybe I’ll get you a dildo my size for next time you wanna put on a little show.” 

You purr and it makes him want to scratch you to pieces. 

The burning stretch of your omega cunt is bliss. The smell of sex and chlorine sting his nose, make him lose it a bit and press so hard inside of you that his cock nearly meets the resistance of your cervix. Not that you seem to mind it—your nails are sinking into his wet shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you in the heat of a summer afternoon. 

When Katsuki shifts his hips down, heavy cock sliding out of your tight hole, you bare your teeth and growl at a man nearly double your age.  

“Easy, tiger,” he tuts and drops you in the warming water, “turn around and let me hit it from the back.”

He loves that your instincts are to obey.

You turn your back to him with an indignant little huff, bending over the edge of the pool and waiting. Katsuki locks his arms around your thighs, pushing up and letting the water do the work. Your legs float open easily, spreading wide as he spears his way back into your slutty hole. 

“Ever been knotted before, kid?”

Looking over your shoulder, you shake your head, hiccuping as he works his shaft in and out of you. 

“Please, please, ah, knot me. Wa-wanna know what it feels like.”

He’s toying with an ancient fire, he knows that. One fat knot from an alpha and you might be begging to move in with him, but it’s worth it. Your pussy feels too goddamn good and he’s too worked up not to plug you full. 

Katsuki works you into an absolute frenzy, waves of water splashing onto the edges of the pool as you mewl and focus on how effortlessly he fucks you. Your walls meld to him, each thrust hasty and claiming, scented sweat steaming from the heat of your body and the blistering of the sun. His dick curves just perfectly inside you, cockhead purposefully brushing against the most sensitive, spongy spots within your depths. 

“Surprised none of your stupid boyfriends knotted this tight cunt before.”

“Wouldn’t,” your fingers are gripping the edge of the pool for dear life, like you’re gonna drown any second, “wouldn’t let them.” 

“And you’re gonna let me? Just a slut for older men?” 

“Slut for you,” you correct him with a bounce of your ass against his pelvis, “love a big, strong alpha.” 

He rolls his eyes at the shameless flattery, yet still the ego inside him flares to life. 

“Young, stupid omegas always think they can get whatever they want,” he growls, all while keeping a rough pace inside your body, watching how the water parts for the two of you grinding into one another. 

You give him a knowing gaze over your shoulder, sultry and coy. 

You are getting exactly what you want. All you had to do was get his attention, pry at his most basic instincts and now here he is losing his mind over the tight squeeze of your omega cunt. 

Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.

But he’ll fuck you stupid, he’s sure of that. 

“I’m too old for silly games, kid. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He proves his point by pawing at your belly under the water, pressing in until you can both feel how deep he is in your guts. The realization makes you whine, pushing hard back against him. 

“You think I’m just some toy to use during your heat?” Katsuki tuts, licking at one of his canines. “Just wait until I knot this stupid cunt and you beg me to keep coming back.”

A symphony of sex is ringing in your backyard, sounds of primal grunts, shrill little screams, balls slapping against your ass, water gurgling and splashing.

Any animal nearby knows what’s happening, that nature is running its course and you’re both nothing but senseless bodies looking for the simplest relief.

Katsuki slides the hand on your stomach lower, pinching your aching clit before he starts swirling it under the pads of experienced fingers. You start thrashing, cunt sucking so tightly he’s sure you’re hurting with the need to cum. 

“Pleasepleaseplease oh god please!” 

You shatter and his pride nearly bursts with you. Your cunt clenches, so pleased to cum around a thick alpha cock. You babble absolute nonsense, beg for his knot and a string of thanks yous and pleases and alpha alpha alpha dripping from your mouth into the wake of the pool.

The way your pussy squeezes him tells him you’ve been looking for this orgasm for hours, walls so swollen and pulsing. You must’ve been fucking yourself with useless toys since morning and finally got desperate enough to make a scene and get him to fuck you the way you needed. 

“Poor thing,” he coos, watching your cream float to the surface of the water. 

You’re totally mindless now as he continues to fuck you, body sloshing in the pool as he manhandles you to take what he wants. 

“Don’t even know if you can handle a knot, kid. You’re too tight.” 

That stirs you, makes you flatten your hands against the edge of the pool and push back to meet his rhythm. Over and over, you keep up with him, so fucking fraught to finally feel an alpha swell in your guts.

“Please don’t stop, please. Need to feel it, been in heat for d-days.”

“Oh omega, have you been fucking yourself silly with all the wrong toys, hm? Been stuffing yourself all alone in your room? Should’ve, ah, just asked me to come fix it.”

“You told me to stop b-bothering you…” 

“You’ll annoy me when your sink’s leakin’ but not when your pussy is? So fucking stupid.”

Only he’s starting to go dumb at the wrap of your cunt around him. The beast in his belly is raging, alpha instincts boiling in the summer sun. 

“C’mon, slut, milk my cock,” he pants and slams into you, lost in the way the water reflects around your curves and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He swears your body listens, some reflexive instinct that has your pussy clamping around his shaft until he can feel the veins of his cock squishing into your walls. 

The orgasmic build starts rushing up his spine, inflating the base of his cock inch by inch. 

“Holy shit, fuck~” you whimper at the first stretch of his knot. “Kat–Katsuki, ‘m so fucking full!” 

Finally he bursts, knot bulging into your gumminess until you’re plugged with him. His cum spills into your tight channel, filling you whole. 

Your sweet, stupid omega brain can barely comprehend the stretch. Another orgasm wrecks your body, has you falling face first into the pool. Katsuki scrambles to grab you, hoist you up and into his arms as you gasp and crest and cum all over him again. 

He can’t help but chuckle, easily maneuvering his back to the pool’s edge. He lets you calm down in his hold, your head falling against his shoulder as you try to breathe. 

“Get what you wanted, brat?” 

Katsuki pats your bloated belly, making you squeal as he rubs the heel of his hand against his knot. 

You nod dumbly, eyes closing to focus on the feel of him. He smirks realizing you’ll never forget him, your first knot. Omegas really are so emotional. 

Yet he’s taunted by the stupid bikini bottoms still floating in the water, mocking just how easy it was for you to boil him down to his base instincts. 

He’s too old for this shit. Especially as you start grinding down against his knot, cooing, reminding him you’ll be fucking him until your heat decides it’s done with him. 

birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire

miss pretty

{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}

summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his life— meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete goo— was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around… and for the better.

warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.

word count: 11.4k

authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and i’ve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333

katsuki bakugo hated messes.

“oi!” he grunted, his son’s little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. “you better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.”

“kaaayyy!” his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.

“and wash your hands too. ask your teacher.”

“mhm!” he chirped.

“and don’t be a brat. pay attention.”

“yup yup!”

and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirely— raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that he’s a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed… but he just hated mess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years old— katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.

that was of course, until he met you.

katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.

the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“can i help—”

“where the fuck is room twenty four.”

her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.

“e—excuse me?—”

he rolled his eyes.

“room twenty four.” he pushed. “where is it?”

“sir— if you need me to help you i’d like you to wait in line until—”

“hah?! absolutely not.” he spat. “if i wait in that fucking line my son’s gonna be late why can’t you just tell me—”

“uh sir if you could—”

katsuki’s son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.

“—sir please no foul language there are children around—”

“i don’t give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!—”

“oh! that’s my class!”

katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.

“is he one of my kids?” you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.

“oh—” he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. “i mean— if your class is twenty four—“

“it is!” you beamed, nudging your head. “i’ll show you where!”

“hiii miiiissss!” his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.

“hi honey!” you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. “what’s your name?”

“milo!”

“nice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?”

“yeaaahh!” he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.

katsuki’s eyes widened.

“milo!” he snapped lowly. “what’d i tell ya? you can’t grab her hand like that you have to ask—”

“oh it’s alright!” you dismissed, smiling. “i don’t mind it at all! the other kids do it too.”

milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.

“is he yours?” you asked kindly, tilting your head.

“who else would he be…” he grumbled.

“i guess you’re right!” you giggled. “he looks just like you.”

katsuki’s eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.

“here we are—”

“ooo! ooo!” milo hopped up and down. “miss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!”

he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadn’t even officially started yet.

“the hell you asking me for? ask your tea—”

“miss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!—”

“of course my love! go! go have fun.” you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.

“oi!” katsuki barked. “put them away when you’re done!”

he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the ‘abc’ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.

“he’s so cuteee.” you grinned. “i’m glad he’s not afraid being it’s his first day.”

“oh fuck no.” he mumbled. “milo doesn’t care. the little runt doesn’t have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askin’ sometimes.”

he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.

“but i guess he gets that from me.” he finished off.

you nodded. “but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

he pursed his lips.

“in my experience, not really.”

you hummed.

“i think it’s definitely a good thing… i’d rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.”

katsuki looked at you, properly this time.

“what’s a kindergarten teacher afraid of?”

you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.

“parents.”

he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.

inappropriate inappropriate inappropriate—

“i don’t know how you do it..” he spoke lowly.

“do what?”

“take care of little shits all day.”

you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

“i don’t take care of them! i teach them.” you quipped cutely. “they’re small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge… and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.”

pure.

katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesn’t think he’s ever met or surrounded himself around someone who’s directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.

and his cheeks flared up for some reason.

“oh!” you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. “it’s almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!”

katsuki swallowed and nodded.

“milo!”

he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.

“don’t give her a hard time alright?” he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. “listen. listen and learn and be the best one in there.”

“kaaayyy!”

“and you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know how—”

“beat the crap out of them!” he cheered loudly and katsuki’s hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.

the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.

“he’s joking! he’s joking… fuck.”

you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.

“no you’re absolutely right!” you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. “treat others the way you want to be treated, so if someone’s being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!”

katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.

“okay, go.” milo ran off. “and don’t let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!”

“byeee daaaddd!”

you could tell that behind his harsh exterior— the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight you’ve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.

“don’t worry!” you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. “i’ll watch him especially… okay? to ease the nerves.”

he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.

“um…” he mumbled. “katsuki.”

you tilted your head. “katsuki?”

“it’s my name idiot.”

“oh!” you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. “nice to meet you katsuki! i’ll see you after school then with milo?”

he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something he’d never heard before in his life or was used to at all.

“…ya gonna tell me yours or what?”

“sorry!” you sputtered, laughing nervously. “sorry it just— flew! you know—”

you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.

“y/n!”

katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.

“i’ll see you katsuki!”

out of all of the kids you’ve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.

the little man was like your personal assistant— a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didn’t, ‘yelling’ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever he’d catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that you’d missed throughout the day.

all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.

“thanks for helping me out today, milo!” you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. “you made my job a lot easier!”

“really?!” he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.

and you noticed then milo’s lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didn’t fill him up— all so considerate and careful…

“wow!” you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “your lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?”

“nuh uh!” he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. “my dad did!”

you faltered.

“katsuki made this?”

“who’s katsuki miss?” he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.

you giggled. “nothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?”

you went to stand, but milo’s hand shot out and caught your wrist.

“can you— can you eat lunch with me?” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. “please.. i always eat with my dad but he’s not here…”

your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.

“of course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?”

“yaaaayyyy!” he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.

you knew you shouldn’t use a little kid to pry… but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.

and you wanted to be respectful in case he was… since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadn’t seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.

but he didn’t have a ring on his finger…

“milo?” you spoke up softly.

he smiled big. “yes miss!”

“does your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?”

he shook his head. “just my dad! i don’t have a mom.”

your shoulders deflated.

he didn’t have a mom… at all?

you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. “that’s alright! i’m sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?”

“yeah!” he gasped excitedly. “yesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!— and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!”

“oh my goodness!” you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. “man, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!”

his little eyes snapped to yours.

“i’ll tell him!”

your brows furrowed confusedly. “wha—”

“to make you lunch! i’ll tell my dad to make you lunch!”

your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. “oh no my love! that’s totally okay don’t worry about me silly—”

“i’ll tell him i’ll tell him i’ll tell him!—”

“milo it’s okay! i’m a big girl.” you grinned. “i’m supposed to make my own lunches.”

milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.

“…will you at least let me share some of mine?”

you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.

“of course sweetie! whatever you wa—”

milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.

“milo this is too much i can’t—”

“eat it! eat it! eait it!—”

by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take home— a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.

and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.

“milo!” you tapped his shoulder gently. “your daddy’s over there!”

“DAAADDD!!”

milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.

“were you a brat?” he grunted.

“nope!”

“did any kids mess with you?”

“nope!”

“did you leave a mess?”

“nope!”

you giggled, and katsuki’s eyes snapped in your direction.

“how was he?”

“he did so good!” you gushed, patting milo’s back as he grinned. “was my little helper and everything! didn’t leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else… he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.”

“yeah! yeah! see dad?” milo poked his dads cheek. “i didn’t lie!”

“never said you lied you little runt.” he scowled. “…but good job.”

“thanks!”

katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.

“did he actually do all of that?” he spoke up.

“oh yes!” you quickly nodded. “i’ve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!”

you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.

“you teach him well katsuki.”

he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.

“damn right i do.”

you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didn’t have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.

“hey i don’t mean to um..” you timidly began. “i don’t mean to pry but—”

katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.

“nothing! nothing nevermind—”

“spit it out.”

“no it’s alright! sorry i—”

he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.

“milo… milo mentioned that he didn’t have a mommy? i was just— wondering if that was true…”

“tch—” he shook his head. “that’s what you were afraid of askin’ me?”

“i told you i’m scared of parents…” you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.

“it’s just me and him.” he answered. “his mom’s never been a part of our lives.”

your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.

“don’t do that.”

you jumped and looked at katsuki.

“do— do what—”

“look all sad and shit.”

he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.

“it’s fine.” he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. “it doesn’t bother him. at least i don’t think it does.”

“no!” you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. “it doesn’t! and milo speaks so highly of you… especially the lunches you make him.”

his brows furrowed. “his lunch?”

“yeah!” you nodded excitedly. “you prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in half…”

he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.

“do you use molds?” you asked politely. “to shape out the bear?”

“fuck no.” he scoffed. “i do it myself.”

your eyes flew open.

“what?! so that’s really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blasts—”

“jesus christ how much did that kid tell you?”

your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.

“sorry!” you giggled. “i just was thinking— that his lunch was really cute and thoughtful…” you took your hand away from your face. “i’m really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.”

katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.

but it wasn’t suffocating in a bad way, not at all.

and… maybe he did want you to pull him in.

“dad dad dad!”

milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.

“there’s a dead lizard in the slide!”

“a dead lizard?” you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.

katsuki didn’t know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.

a bit.

“yeah miss! it was big and gross.” he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. “but i buried him!”

his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.

“don’t tell me you touched that thing milo.”

“i did!” he giggled.

“oh my fucking god—” katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.

“it’s a prank! some other girl in my class did… but i helped with the dirt!”

you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.

“say bye to your teacher ya little runt. and you’re still taking a shower when you get home!”

“but i don’t wanna take a showeerrr!” milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.

“bye my love!” you hugged him tight as he giggled. “i’ll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.”

“kaayyyy!”

you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.

katsuki choked on his spit.

“oi!” he barked. “you can’t just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!—”

“it’s okay don’t worry!” you smiled kindly. “he’s just being sweet is all! i don’t mind.”

“you sure?” he pushed, milo snickering. “i—”

you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning kats!”

and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took milo’s hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.

“and then we learned the days of the week! oh!— and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!”

“that’s good milo.” he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.

“did you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.”

“i did! i did share with her.” he grinned. “she liked my lunch!”

“good.” katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. “that’s good that you always share. especially with her.”

“yup yup! she’s preeettyyy.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.

“that she is.”

katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.

even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leaving— them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they weren’t supposed to, as per policy.

but not katsuki.

katsuki didn’t give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four… wanting to see you— his son’s pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasn’t, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that he’d gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your own— always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasn’t around.

and even katsuki himself— you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasn’t a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.

he had never experienced honest help like that… he’d never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single day…

and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.

“oh! miss y/n!”

“yes honey?” you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.

milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.

your brows furrowed, taking it from him.

“what’s this milo?”

“it’s from my dad!”

you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.

from katsuki?

“your— your dad?”

“mhm!”

you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.

“for me?” you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. “my love— are you sure this isn’t for you? i think your dad cut these up for you—”

“nope! for you!” he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. “he told me not to eat it and to give it to you.”

he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.

“i hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!”

“i— i love them milo.. thank you!”

you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.

he didn’t have to do this at all… yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.

and your heart nearly fucking gave out.

after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.

“hi kats!”

“hey.” he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, milo’s arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.

“i wanted to um—” you peered up at him. “i um—”

his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.

your bottom lip was trembling.

you hurriedly wiped your eyes.

“i wanted to thank you—” hic! “f—for the star shaped fruit this morning—”

“why are you crying dumbass?” he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.

“because it was so nice!” you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. “and— and you put honey over it too! you didn’t have to do any of that for me!”

“tch—”

he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.

“it’s just fruit y/n—”

“but it’s not.” you wiped your eyes again. “not to me anyways…”

katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for once— how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.

“crybaby…” he grumbled. “i’m glad you liked it though.”

“i did kats.. a lot. thank you.” you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. “i’m sorry i cried.”

what a pretty sweet girl…

he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.

was it okay if he… asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?

katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didn’t alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off… that he’d be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since it’d be too awkward to.

but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.

“listen uh—” he cleared his throat, face growing hot. “i was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me… sometime.”

you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.

“forget it.” he snapped. “forget it i didn’t say shit—”

“no! no no—” you quickly shook your head. “no it’s okay i would!”

he stopped.

“you would?”

“of course!” you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. “i’d love to have dinner with you…”

his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.

“a—alright uh…” he sighed. “i’d prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i don’t really have anyone to watch milo—”

you shook your head again, brows pinched. “oh no kats— we don’t have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? or— or my place?”

“my place.” he replied. “and i’ll cook.”

he cooks?!

“okay!” you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over milo’s sleepy head gently. “sounds good!”

katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldn’t believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.

and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were coming— pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.

especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!

“milo!” katsuki called. “come ‘ere!”

his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. “what!”

“be good today, ya hear me?” he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautéed vegetables in his frying pan. “please milo. don’t try to be funny and do somethin’ to scare y/n off.”

milo gave him a look.

“scare miss y/n off? dad you’re gonna scare her off not me!” he giggled. “silly.”

“yeah..” he grunted. “you’re probably right but i’m just sayin’. i’m thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.”

“ohhh yeeeeah!” he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. “i did do that!”

“see what i mean?” katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. “you better not do that with y/n please.”

“i won’t!” he grinned. “not when she’s about to be my new mommy!”

katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“the hell you just say?”

“what!” milo tilted his head. “that y/n is gonna be my new mommy?”

his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.

“oh you little runt please don’t say that in front of her, alright?”

he pouted. “why not?”

“you’ll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!”

“boooo!” milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. “whatever.”

“oi!”

“what!”

katsuki’s doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.

“missss preettyyyy!!—”

“milo get your ass back here!—”

katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“i’m sorry—”

“hiii misss y/nnn!” milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. “i’m so exciteeeddd!—”

“hi my love!” you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. “how are you? you excited to hang out with meee?”

“yes! yes!” he vigorously nodded. “i wanna show you all my race cars!”

“oh i can’t wait to seeee!” you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.

“hi kats!”

“the little brat is hogging—”

milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.

you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little man’s back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.

and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.

katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what you’d think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that he’d even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonight’s dinner.

“i’m sorry i’m behind…” he grumbled and waved his hand around. “had to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckin’ mud this morning.”

“oh you don’t have to apologize for that kats!” you looked at him worriedly. “you don’t have to apologize for anything i totally understand…”

you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. “i’m just happy to spend time with the both of you.”

katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.

“miss preettyyyy!” milo whined. “when can i show you my race cars?!”

katsuki scowled and you laughed.

“now honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?”

“yayayay!!” milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.

milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rug— telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places they’d gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.

and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldn’t, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up milo’s booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the table—

and gourmet fucking dishes at that.

you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months you’d gotten to know him, but you didn’t know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.

“kats…” you murmured. “what do you do for a living.”

“i told you idiot.” he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down milo’s mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. “i’m a cook.”

“yeah but what kind? where?”

“why?” he gruffed. “does it look like shit?”

“no!” you giggled. “absolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“duh.” he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. “i’m an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.”

your jaw dropped. “the city?! you’re so cool kats! oh my goodness!”

his face flushed.

“my dad says his boss is a piece of—”

“don’t say it!” katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.

“milo i told ya not to cuss until you’re ten—”

“ten?!” you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. “as long as he cusses with you and not at you… i think it should be fine!”

katsuki stopped.

you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.

“miss pretty!” milo called.

“yes my love?”

“do you have a boyfriend?”

katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.

“i don’t!” you grinned. “why milo?”

“because i want you to be my new—”

“milo if ya shut your mouth right now i’ll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.”

his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.

“his new what?” you tilted your head cutely, katsuki’s heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.

he shrugged. “the fuck should i know?”

“but i wanna know!” you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.

he swallowed.

“do you want dessert?”

you gasped. “oh my god yes! i do!”

“then i suggest you shut your mouth too.”

you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.

katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.

“dad!” milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.

“what’d you make for dessert!”

“mochi.”

“yaaaayyyyy!” he cheered happily. “can i eat it with y/n in the living room?”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “the living room?”

“yeah!” milo exclaimed. “so i can keep showing her my race cars!”

he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. “alright… but don’t make a mess i just cleaned—”

you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and milo’s choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.

his living room was a mess… but he didn’t mind.

katsuki didn’t mind the mess.

your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kids— paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.

but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?

katsuki didn’t fucking care.

because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite children’s books you got from his little shelf in his room— ‘the very hungry caterpillar,’ one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever you’d make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.

and katsuki felt warm… that’s all he ever felt when he was around you.

is this what it was like to be a family?

“oh my goodness i almost forgot!” you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. “i brought something for you honey!”

milo gasped and sat up. “really?! what?!”

you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.

“woah..” his son whispered. “what is it?”

you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.

the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.

and all katsuki could do was stare at you.

stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.

about him.

and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.

you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.

“i’m sorry i made such a mess in your living room..” you whispered bashfully. “i promise i’ll pick everything up before i leave.”

he shook his head. “don’t worry about it i can pick up. it’s fine.”

you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.

“was it hard raising milo on your own kats?” you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.

“it was at first.” he mumbled. “but i got used to doin’ it on my own.”

you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he would’ve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.

“you did an exceptional job, okay?” you began. “you should know that... milo is such an honest kid… and he’s so precious too.”

katsuki’s eyes softened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.

“he is.” he grunted softly. “don’t know how his mom didn’t see that.”

you faltered and sat up with him.

“what do you mean?”

katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.

“ah… milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.” he mumbled. “didn’t love her or anythin’, i barely knew her but still told her i’d support her and the baby obviously.”

you nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“i was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born… but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the mornin’ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.”

you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.

“are you— are you serious?”

katsuki nodded.

“she wouldn’t answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.” he shook his head bitterly. “but i didn’t give a shit about me i’ll raise him i don’t care. it was never about me.

he looked at you. “it was about milo. i didn’t want him to know that his ‘mom’ left him behind like that, and i didn’t want him to think it was his fault or anythin’… shits ridiculous.”

katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. “still don’t know how she could ever do something like that.”

the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.

“you’re crying?”

you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.

“that’s so cruel.” you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. “you didn’t deserve that at all kats… milo didn’t deserve that you both should’ve had such a good mommy and— and a good support system—”

katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

“you cry over everything y/n.”

“s—” hic! “—sorry—”

he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.

more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.

“oi…”

katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“don’t cry baby…”

baby?!

you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.

“stop it idiot.” he mumbled. “it’s fine. it happened years ago n’ milo and i have always been alright on our own.”

…but he wanted you now.

now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time… and katsuki wanted you so. bad.

“i know..” you hiccuped. “and i’m really glad but i just wish you had someone.”

you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. “m’sorry i cried all over your shirt—”

“don’t give a fuck.”

you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.

you were always crying for him.

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.

“thanks for comin’ today.”

you smiled brightly and nodded.

“of course kats! how could i not?” you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. “i want you to know that i wanna be there for you and milo…”

he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.

“whether— whether you wanna keep seeing me or not—” you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. “which i hope you do! but— but if not that’s totally fine i just want to be there for you both…”

how were you so pure? so thoughtful?

“why the hell wouldn’t i wanna keep seeing you?” he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. “i’d be stupid as fuck not to…”

you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasn’t used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.

and you were so pretty.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

he slowly leaned closer.

“would you be mad if i made a move on you—”

“of course not—”

katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.

you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.

katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.

your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.

“k—kats—” you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.

he grunted.

“milo—” you pointed. “he’s waking up—”

“the fucks that gotta do with us—”

“kats!”

he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.

“the little runt is fine—” he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.

“nooo!” you whined and giggled softly. “now i’m scared he’s gonna wake up…”

he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.

katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around you— feeling so safe and looked after.

and you hadn’t expected to sleep over… but you just didn’t wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didn’t want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and milo’s soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topics— ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.

since then, katsuki didn’t wanna let you out of his sight.

as if he wasn’t already involved enough with milo’s school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that weren’t selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.

the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.

and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.

except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldn’t get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever you’d open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.

you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsuki’s house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at milo’s sporadic comments or katsuki’s barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsuki— the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.

and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didn’t know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappy— the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.

“make sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? it’s hot today and i don’t want you to tire yourself out milo.”

the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitats— the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.

katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.

“single file line please my loves!” you called, hand by your mouth. “and don’t seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can see—”

“oi!” katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. “the fuck do you think you’re doing!—”

“kats!” you breathed out a shocked laugh. “you’re gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like that—”

“shit! sorry— i’m sorry baby hold on—”

katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.

“do that again and see what happens brat.” he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.

“okay okay—” you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.

“no more running alright?” you placed your hands on your hips. “don’t we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!”

“yeeeeaaaahhhh!!” the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.

“lemme help ya with one line baby—” katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.

“no! no! i wanna hold miss y/n’s hand!”

katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “what’s so bad about me hah?”

“you’re ugly! miss y/n is pretty!”

the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.

you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.

“what honey?” you tilted your head.

“none of your business.”

you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.

the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they ‘listened’ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsuki’s muscles looked under his t-shirt.

“any questions sweetheart?”

“huh?” your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. “oh! no not at all! thank you ma’am!”

“alrighty then! just please make sure to tell your students—”

suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like she’d seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry—” you guiltily apologized. “my kids will settle down they’re just excited is all…”

the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.

“oh god..” you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.

“milo?” you called softly, walking up to him.

your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.

“oh no!” you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. “what’s wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?”

you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.

“i can’t draw!” he sniffled. “and the koi fishies keep moving…”

your shoulders relaxed in relief.

“that’s okay!” you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. “as long as we’re patient with the fishies, they’ll swim back and you can draw them again!”

you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.

“there!” milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.

“and now we wait!” you grinned up at him. “the fishy will come back around and you’ll be able to draw it again.”

“kayyy!!”

“and you can draw milo. i’ve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!”

he giggled. “i do miss pretty!”

you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.

“now you try honey—”

“i love you.”

you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.

you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.

“i’m not— i’m not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethin’ dumb but i do.”

“kats—”

“and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits n’ shit… and i always thought you kinda just knew…”

milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.

“you’re so patient baby. the way you are with me… the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i can’t live without it at this point…” he spoke genuinely. “your fuckin’ fault.”

you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.

“come here.”

you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.

“do you love me too or what.” he frowned. “cause if not this is shitty and embarrassing—”

“no i do!” you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. “i do kats you know that… i love you. so much.”

he smiled and pecked your lips. “good, miss pretty.”

katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something he’d be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.

because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?

“oh my god that dumbass kid is climbin’ the fence again— oi!”

katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.

“miss pretty!” milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. “i drew it! do you like it?!”

“wow milo!” you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. “this is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!”

“thank youuu!” he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.

you tilted your head. “do you wanna tell me something else?”

“yeaaahhh.” he dragged. “please love my dad… i know he’s mean but— but he doesn’t mean it!”

your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.

“and love me too… because i want you to be my new mommy…”

you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.

“i do love your dad honey… and you. the both of you i love so so much.”

he beamed. “really?!”

you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “and i thought i was already your mommy milo!”

the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.

“YAAAYYY!” he yelled. “miss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!”

ever since you came into katsuki’s life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.

because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of place— it was warm now… happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.

the three of you were a little family.

and katsuki didn’t know why he hated messes so much in the first place.

because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boys’ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough ones— your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasn’t just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of milo’s small hands were occupied now instead of just one.

katsuki’s life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.

and katsuki bakugo loved messes.

so as long as they were from you.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @umemiaa @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @blu3-l0v3r @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever

𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑˚ ༘ [SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X FEM! READER]

MINORS do NOT interact.

Warning(s): self-deprecating thoughts, reader is very unhinged, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, SELF-HARM, bad coping mechanism, MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS, mental breakdown, ANGST, SMUT, loss of virginity, bar fight, injuries, mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, situationship, jealousy, stalking, OBSESSION, really bad daddy issues, unprotected sex, reader is a love and touch-starved naive virgin, reader is very unhinged, ghost is a bit of an asshole, use of (Y/N), CHILD-NEGLECT, family issues, mother-daughter issues, heavily inspired by the "Black Swan" (2010), BIASED OMNISCIENT NARRATOR, things about ballet that are (probably) inaccurate, title inspired by A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.

For each chapter of the work that I will post, I will not add any warnings except trigger warnings. So if you are not old enough, THIS IS A FINAL WARNING NOT TO CONTINUE READING MY STORIES.

Genre: romance, ANGST, slow-burn. ballerina! reader.

Blurb:

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably… have something at my place.” There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do. It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension. “Tea.”

"A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing," as your mother once said. And yet, you, a soulless ballerina, happen to cross paths with a mysterious man under the rainy sky of London. A meeting that binds you to a self-destructive dance in the hope that he loves you as much as you love him.

However, Simon Riley is still Simon Riley; and his rotten heart left no room for someone like you.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Epilogue

AO3 | talk | HEADCANONS

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nineteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The cool paste feels tingly on your skin as you rub it against your bruised stomach, wincing. Christ. Maybe Ghost was right to think he might break you. Beneath the mottled patchwork, another kind of pain stirs— your muscles are growing. Firm and tight. The only soft parts of you left are your breasts and your ass. Gently applying the paste to a nasty purple one on your left cheek, you curiously pinch the sore flesh between your fingers. Scratch that. Even your ass is firming up. 

Arnica has healing properties. Yesterday, you found a patch of it with Blue and created a salve with some water. You already applied some last night before bed. Whether or not it’s helping probably doesn't mean much when new ones are about to be added; still, the placebo effect brings some comfort.

You're still massaging your backside when the bathroom door groans beneath a heavy fist. 

"Hurry up. Grab your bow."

“Shit.” You startle, almost dropping the salve. "Uh, coming.”

Chucking on a clean shirt and your old pair of jeans, you pad out of the bathroom, ignoring the cry of your joints. Ghost is outside waiting for you. Wait— bow? Confusion delivers an uptick to your pulse; you never bring your bow to train.

“What’s going on?”

"The air," he replies in a flat tone.

The stale smell offers enough explanation. You cringe. "Should we split up?"

He shakes his head and nods towards the direction the gentle breeze is rolling in. "No need. It's coming from this way."

In the violet wash of morning, you trail beside him over tall grasses and scattered groundhog burrows as the air leads the way, luring you opposite the clearing where you train. There haven't been any Greys since the one you burned together. For the past few weeks, you'd almost forgotten about their existence— a pleasant naivety for once. 

Neither of you bothers with much small talk. He asks if you're sore, probably noticing how stiff you are, and you answer honestly. That's it.

You keep your attention strictly on the wood bow molded into your palm and the slight rustling of leaves all around you, scanning for signs of anything astray. You don't look at Ghost, even when you feel his eyes flicker to the side of your head. Staring at him for even a second longer than necessary rouses something in your gut that was once easy to label as fear; now you don't know what to call it.

He is wearing thicker clothes today, the intimidating vest stocked with ammo glued to his chest. You'd gotten used to his more casual wardrobe of gym shorts and hoodies. They make him look... softer, almost. A little less like a death omen. Though, you sincerely doubt there are any soft parts of Ghost left under all that gear, given the rigid planes you felt beneath your hands when you—

"There."

You snap your gaze in the direction Ghost is pointing at.

At first, you don't see anything.

Then, squinting, you make out a red color far too metallic to naturally sprout among the conifers. 

An arrow is urgently slotted on the bowstring as the two of you head towards it, your brows tightly knitted. You've been this way a few times and never saw a— is that a red car?— before. Closing in, your suspicions are confirmed when a stroke of sunlight bounces off the metal bumper. The patchy sedan is tucked within a bush, tail-end sticking out, with half-flat tires resting on corroded rims. Shadows of movement dance behind the tinted windows, too disjointed to be natural.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath, boots scuffing over a long-faded gravel pathway that is now shrouded in weeds. The car must've been following it before winding up in the bush— the occupants no longer human enough to drive.

"They... they must have just turned while they were driving," you think aloud. "When did this even get here?"

"Maybe during the night," Ghost mutters.

He paces forward and swings open the passenger door. A string of moans is released as a Grey lurches within the confinements of the seatbelt, but he quickly silences it with a bullet to the forehead, causing it to flop sideways out of the car. Maybe just a day ago, it was a young man. His hair is fully intact and he's wearing a blue shirt with the Chelsea Football Club logo on the back.

"I wonder why they were driving this way to begin with," you say quietly, stomach rolling.

In the driver's seat is the slumped-over corpse of an older man, having died from so many bite wounds before the infection could take hold. The early stages of decomposition smell almost worse than the infection and you have to breathe through your mouth as you head for the back door. 

"There's another here I think."

You're ready to shoot and put whoever it once was out of their misery when you pry open the door, but the sight of a small body wriggling around makes you freeze. Curled up against the faded leather is an infected boy, no older than eight or nine. His eyes are all white except for the outer rim where a few vessels are still filled with red blood. Your fingertips dig fiercely into the frame of the door as you stare down at him; his soft brown hair, his small hands, his Minecraft shirt. He whimpers and tries to claw at you, mouth hung open in mindless hunger.

The feeling that washes over you is hot and cold at the same time. It's not the first or last time you've seen an infected child, so you don't know why the sight traps you for a few heartbeats.

A voice emerges beside you. "It's not a kid anymore."

You almost forgot Ghost was there. Your teeth clench. "Yeah, I know."

You feel his eyes burning into you. Your fingers tighten and untighten around the arrow's stem as you aim. 

"Hone it, Twix— the anger."

The tension in your jaw releases at the same time as your arrow snaps forward, cutting through the boy's skull and driving his limp body down to the car floor.

“You good?”

You forcefully swallow and look away, giving Ghost a short nod. "Guess that's all of them."

He slowly nods in agreement, studying you, but all he says is, "For now."

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Seen stranger things over the years,” he says. “It seems like they were headed somewhere, maybe needed a new place to settle, and one of them got bit. Infected the others.”

You nod, thinking it over. “What about the car?"

"No fuel left, so it's pretty useless." Rifle still in his grip, he moves around to the hood and props it open. "Might have some parts I can use, though."

While he scavenges for gears that aren't rusted beyond functionality, you take a look at their belongings. There is an empty bottle of whiskey in the cupholder. In the boy's lap is a stuffed tiger that you assume was once white, but now it's a worn of grey. You carefully shift his corpse and take it.

"I have a friend who might be able to care of this for you."

In the trunk, at least, you find some tripwire. 

Dragging the two adult bodies back to the trench for burning is your 'strength' training for the day. Since they haven't decomposed much yet, they're heavy; you go back and forth, taking one at a time. Ghost carries the small one over his shoulder. After the flames snuff out the smell of rot, he relieves you, claiming he has other shit to take care of—more traps to set with the newfound tripwire.

"Hey. Would you like this?" you ask Blue when she's up, handing her the tiger. 

"I'm kinda too old for dolls, Twix." She must see the expression on your face because she shakes her head and disappears into her room for a minute before coming out with a teddy bear. "My mom gave me this one when I was a baby and it just sits on my bed by itself, but now it can have a friend."

You smile and nod. "Yeah, okay."

The day is spent playing board games with her. When she notices how sore you are, she offers an exclusive massage from Grim, who hops over your back and legs as you relax face-down on the couch. However, even with the honorary treatment, the aching lingers. 

"Auntie, I'm over here!"

In a violet-tinted field, you search for the voice.

It's barren and hazy, with no hard edges or places for a little boy to hide; so why is it so hard to find him? You call his name. You wander around, aimless, until you catch a familiar whiff of baked cinnamon and fresh laundry. This way. He's this way. You start running fervently. When a small hand tugs at yours, you whip around and try to grab him, but the soft touch dissolves through your fingers like ash. 

When you wake up, there's a hand on your back and blood on your tongue, evidence that you'd bitten through it during your sleep. The taste is quickly replaced with bile as you launch up, grabbing the sleeve of someone's shirt.

"Oh no, you don't."

The hand moves to your hair, wrapping it around in a fistful before forcing your head to tilt down. A bucket is tucked beneath your chin. You vomit into it, the cool metal rim hissing against your fingertips. Again and again. When it's all out, your throat feels like sandpaper. 

"Done?"

The dark room surrounds you; the perfect place to hide what you know must be a ghastly look on your face. Awareness creeps in, and you're not thrilled by the fact that you've thrown up in front of him twice now. Without looking up at the white skull you know is there, you nod.

Wordlessly, he takes out a cigarette and lighter. You hear a deep inhale. See the dull glow of the flame. Then, he passes it to you and leaves.

"You look like shit today."

You can't even be offended, fully aware of the purple painted beneath your eyes. One look at you quirks his brow up in that annoying mannerism of his.

You offer a tight-lipped simper, mumbling. "At least I can always count on you for brutal honesty."

"Good trait to look for in an ally." He throws the gauze at you and you begin wrapping up. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact you nearly ruined another shirt of mine last night."

You tie off the gauze and glance up. "Look, I'm s—" you stop yourself, "I mean, I'm not sorry, because you wanted my box open so now it's open. You already knew the potential consequences."

"Try opening it without emptying your stomach next time."

You flash him a look. "I think I miss when you pretended I didn't exist."

"And I miss getting a full night of sleep."

"Can we just get started? I'm ready."

Ghost keeps his eyes on you as he motions a fisted hand. "As you wish."

When the familiar dance begins, and adrenaline ripples up your spine, you realize that you missed this yesterday. The rest felt good, but this— the thrill of seeing Ghost start to get as worked up as you, the sweat stains on his shirt matching your own... it is something you itch for these days. 

You get a few hits in that have your ego swelling. But then— the rough night catches up with you after half an hour of wordless sparring. Your breathing grows labored, while his is barely winded.

"Tired yet?" he asks.

"No," you say, but he calls you out immediately.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminds you. A few more swings have your lungs burning as you dodge until one finally catches up with you, and whatever healing your homemade salve has done is erased by a fresh layer of pain. 

As you clutch your side, he changes the subject. "Are you going to tell me what it was about then?"

"What what was about?"

"Whatever was making you whimper in your sleep."

Your face twists. "I wasn't 'whimpering'."

"Fine, then. Crying," he corrects plainly.

You sigh through your nose, averting your gaze only for a moment, then focusing back on him before he can strike you again. His words hang in the air, ignored, as you jab an elbow toward his ribs. He grabs you by the knob of it and pulls you unnecessarily close to his chest. When you try to wriggle free by placing a hand on his chest, he fists your hair, which has slipped out of a bun into a haphazard ponytail, and tugs hard enough to force your eyes up to his.

His gaze is demanding but his voice is light— a mere breath over your forehead. "Tell me why someone who has seen plenty of infected kids by now seemed so bothered by the one she saw yesterday. He reminded you of someone, didn't he?"

The mention of it makes you snap. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to act like you know anything about me."

"I know enough. You are easy to read."

So that feeling you get when he looks at you isn't just in your head; he truly can see through. Your nails dig into your palm. "There's no need to read me. We're not friends. We're just... allies, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he repeats thoughtfully, tasting the words. "You talk like a teenager."

"Compared to you I might as well be," you retort.

"Jesus." He chuffs out an exhale, eyes flickering down for a moment before returning up to yours, narrowing. "Let's not change the subject here." 

"Fine. Take this stupid Halloween mask off," you lift the hand on his chest up to the hem of his balaclava, feeling how weighted the fabric is with sweat. "And I will tell you all about it."

His jaw flexes before he gently guides your hand away. "Tempting offer, but I'll pass."

You refuse to acknowledge the tinge of embarrassment at his dismissal and inch back as far as the hand on your hair will allow. The close proximity, or harsh sun, is making it hard to breathe. "Well, it's not fair for you to ask me shit about my life when you don't even let me see your face."

"I never claimed to be fair." 

"I promise I won't vomit no matter how ugly you are. I've seen worse things out here."

His hand tightens. "I think I miss when you were scared of me. Less mouthy back then."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"No?" He flips you around so your back is against him, one hand settling on the toned curve of your hip. His voice lowers to your ear. "Maybe I need to fix that."

An unwelcomed shiver courses through you. He lets go. A wristbone nudges against your spine, shoving you forward. Irritation simmers in your veins when his remark finally registers, and you whirl around, readying your stance. 

"If you even think about threatening me after I explicitly asked you not to, then I would suggest sleeping with a knife tonight."

"Who's threatening who, Twix?" He gives a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm sure I could handle you in my sleep, anyway."

He's egging you on; you know it. And yet, you stubbornly take the bait. His knee— the right one. That's where you got him last time that made him falter. Maybe an old injury. But when you swing a boot at it, he expects your attempt, knocking you away by the ankle. 

"Ah. Eager to get me beneath you again?"

Pink sears your cheeks as you wipe a trickle of sweat from your forehead. "I'm eager to humble you for once."

"Might need to keep your dinner down to do that."

You grit your teeth. So maybe he did allow it last time. The realization darts your eyes to his wide stance, searching for an idea. Without second-guessing yourself, you kick at the other knee. He must find your second attempt amusing because he easily predicts it, but before he can catch your leg, you snap it back and drop yourself to the ground.

The brief distraction allows the second of time needed to fit yourself between his legs. You're slim enough to push through, kicking at the inside of both knees once you're on the other side. His legs buckle, and you reach up to pull his arm, finishing the job.

Once he's down, you scramble to get on top, not caring if your boot kicks his face in the process. You grab both of his wrists and bring them above his head, but it's impossible to wrap your fingers all the way around them. Instead, you lace them through his fingers, breathing hard in his face as your breasts meld against the solid heat of him.

"Did you allow that?" 

His voice is rougher than you've ever heard it. "No."

Your lips furl. "Good."

A dark gleam passes through his dilated pupils that makes your head fuzzy. You let go of his hands. Immediately, they gravitate to your hips again, thumbs fiercely pressing into the sliver of skin exposed from where your shirt rides up. You don't move even an inch, frozen in place as you stare down at where he grips you against him. That feeling in your gut deepens and spreads. It is hard to pinpoint—so insane and foreign yet familiar at the same time—but one thing is certain: it begins and ends where his rough skin touches yours.

Before you can figure anything else out, a scream shatters the air, and Ghost rips you off of him in one swift movement. 

Houndtooth | ⇦ Chapter 9 / 10

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut

18+ mdni - cw: physical violence, references to SA - 7.2k words

𝐈𝐗. 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 / 𝐗. 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

an: I combined chaps 9/10 as 9 was only 2k-ish words long. Want to get all the Ao3 chaps up here quickly :)

You smell that sour iron, metallic and hot, miasma oozing from the pool of blood on the floor before you. Or is it your own blood you can scent? Coating your teeth, sticky on your lips? 

It doesn’t ache, though, the split in your gums, nor the chip in your tooth. Roaring adrenaline still floods every nerve ending. Too many abhorrent sensations overwhelm you. Too many storming thoughts torment you. 

You can still see the sneering grin of that American commander, his cocksure laughter and cloying drawl that convinced you he thought he was charming you. And how quickly that smile sunk into a cruel satisfaction when you spat a hunk of acrid saliva onto his cheek. You had given him an excuse. Fuelled his retaliation. 

You can still feel the wrenching of your babydoll’s silk seams, cutting into your flesh as it was yanked from you. Can still hear the shrill zip of the satin being torn into shards. Still feel the shiver down your spine at your exposure, at the rapacious sneering of your tormentors.

Still feel the fingertips on your skin. Their dents in your flesh. Their intentions in their wake. 

Still feel the searing agony in your scalp. Your skin being separated from skull as you were hung by your hair, the sound of it crackling as its connecting tissues began to split. 

Still feel the knuckles on your cheekbone. Your tongue between your teeth. Can hear the ringing in your ears, the throbbing of your shaken brain.

You ruminate on the cold hard edges of that gun, the weight of its possibilities in your palms - the possibilities you had quickly forsaken, handing off your last resort to your only hope. You can still hear the thunder of that gunshot, the two times it had been unloaded into your worse aggressors by your reticent captor. Was he protecting you as a person or as a possession? 

You reminisce on the sickly sweet satisfaction that doused you as you watched, in awestruck, shock-ridden silence, your hunter hurling fist after hurling first into the smug head of your torturer. 

You can still see his face. The skin beneath the skull. It had inexplicably surprised you that he had a face at all, that he was a man and not some hideous beast. You had imagined him with fangs, you imagined those honey-brown eyes peered through a coat of slick fur, that his tongue was forked behind those pointed teeth. But now you know for certain that he is human, his face lingering behind your eyelids as plainly and brightly as it was first revealed to you. 

He had softer eyes than you had expected, than the slit in his mask exposed; they were weary and heavy, dark with both greasepaint and a potently resentful exhaustion. His nose was sturdy, thick at the bridge, perhaps once broken by a fist and healed slightly crooked. His lips were full and pale, marred by a pink scar from a split lip. And other scars littered his pale freckled skin, slices and welts, carving through a tawny shadow of overgrown stubble that coated his jaw, through thick but fair brows that permanently furrowed above his eyes. 

He may have been once a good looking man, in his youth, before whatever hatred he’s laden with began to seep through and stain him. You saw his face and thus suddenly a glimpse of his distant humanity, however cryptic and transient it may be. You saw his face and now fabricate a past, a reason - there must be a reason, that he has become such a laconic, violent creature. He must have been entirely human, once. 

You wonder if he thinks the same thing of you. That you’ve been just as stained by the pessimistic hatred that pumps through your thinning vessels, dark and coagulated. Made ugly by it. Made into a creature much the same, running on base instinct alone. Maybe that’s why he seems to hold such visceral disdain for you. Why his eyes are always so heavy with contempt when they stick to you for too long. 

But his unmasked expression was novel. As if the bitterness in his eyes gained a new, a different meaning in the context of the rest of his features. Told a different story, when you could see the curl of his vaguely concerned brows, the jutting of his angered jaw, sour and furious after beating the sadistic American cunt to near-death. 

No, instead, he looked… sorry. Sorry that you had to bear witness to his face, his behaviour, had to see him at all. Sorry that you seemed to draw hope from it. 

But you did, anyway. You hope that if he looks human, he might act human. That it was sympathy in his poignant glare and not pity. 

You know you’re concussed. You know the feeling well; the throbbing, the ache, the vertigo. So you fight the dragging urge to sleep, so heavy on your shoulders that you couldn’t bring yourself to stand even if you tried. You haven’t left your spot on the floor, back gritting against the cold wall, knees against your chest. The blood on the floor can’t reach you, here. 

You fear your nudity. You fear exposing yourself any further than you are already by moving from your cocoon. Might there be cameras in here? Who could unlock your door and step in to leer at you? You’re not foolish enough to forget that no amount of clothing deters a predator with his sights on you. But you know how they use your bareness as an excuse. 

So when shadows of boots peer through the crack under your cell door, and precede the heavy clatter of keys in the lock, you only tighten the knot your body is in. 

It’s your hunter. 

Riley, you remind yourself.

His mask is still on. He locks the door behind him, his back to you still. 

You take a short breath, bracing to speak - but you spot his arm full, with what you’re not yet sure, and bite your tongue. He turns finally, hesitantly, squinting eyes almost fighting their immediate focus on you.

Seems he bears gifts. In one vascular hand he holds an unbranded plastic water bottle, almost dwarfed in his straining grip, in the other a large chunk of black cloth. 

You tilt your head back to follow him apprehensively as he approaches you, as he wordlessly hands you the fabric item first. 

You mustn’t respond in time, because with a frustrated shake he jabs it at you. “Fuck’s sake, take it.” 

Snatching it from him petulantly, you unravel it to reveal a hooded sweatshirt. Thick, black, vastly too big for you. Which is likely on purpose, given he hasn’t brought you trousers to pair with it. Still, you find yourself grateful. Only reminded of the bitter cold in your cell when an alternative warmth is presented to you. 

You do your best to stay tucked-in as you pull it over your head; though you don’t doubt some amount of nipple slipped out from behind your knees, as you struggled to find the neckhole in the tent of black fleece. You grit your teeth, suppose he’s already seen it all. 

The hoodie smells of dust and tobacco, like it might have sat in storage for months without a wash since the last person wore it. Once you adjust it over yourself, long enough to cover everything, you feel the tight snarl in the pit of your stomach loosen, if only slightly. Concealed, finally.

“Thanks,” you mutter, as he then hands you the bottle of water. You take it with fury and tear off the royal blue cap, swilling it with sincere desperation, teeth clamping into the ridges of the screw top. The water is stale, tainted with the ghosts of ammonia and salt - but it could be toilet water, for all you care, you’d been completely unaware of your thirst until the first drop touched your tongue. 

He crosses his arms, again, the disgruntled mammoth, ever impatient with you. 

“You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you.” 

Whatever threat he may have been trying to convey was lost in his tone, hoarse and bizarrely sincere. A solemn reminder. 

“If I don’t spy for you?” 

He curtly nods. 

“You told me already,” you murmur, surprising yourself with the defeat in your voice. “You’ll kill me.” 

His chest swells with a laboured sigh, near a grunt. 

“If you’ve got a deathwish, you should’ve put that gun in your mouth and pulled the trigger,” he retorts, monotonous yet severe. “Because it’ll be a long time before you get the bullet you want.” 

You pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your wrists, tucking in your palms, a nervous habit. Your hands are cold. Fingers are blue. “What do you mean.” 

“You had a go of it already. You don’t need me to remind you.” 

Your stare drifts through him, blurred and dizzy. You still taste the blood.

Exhaustion trumps your better judgement, obfuscates your ability to consider your words too carefully. “Then why don’t you just shoot me. You keep saying you will. You haven’t yet.” 

“I don’t like wasting bullets,” he grouses, “and I don’t like being wrong.” 

“Wrong about what?” 

He seems to hesitate before he speaks. Breathes irefully, like you’re the one pestering him. “I was certain you’d be useful. And I convinced my boss to take you instead of assassinating you in your bathroom.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” you grumble. 

He chuffs. “You don’t want to die, Mia. You’d have fuckin’ shot yourself. And you didn’t.” 

He was right. 

You had only briefly considered it, in reality; imagined the cold tip of its mouth on your temple, imagined your fingertip caressing the stiff trigger. You considered the torment that might have lay ahead of you, the dogs that might salivate at the sight of you, might chase you, might catch you in their teeth. 

You even envisioned holding the gun outward, pointing it at your masked captor, tugging that trigger as many times as the weapon would allow you to. Firing holes through his thick, heaving body, watching how many it took to bring him down. 

But even as that pistol sat heavy in your hands, you couldn’t help but fantasise about the faint chance of  going home. A possibility that would be quashed no matter where you sent the bullet. 

You couldn’t help but daydream about walking down the cobbles of your hometown even though you had no great fondness for it, about sitting on a café chair in the morning sunlight on one of three days a year it didn’t rain, about wearing your old wellies and trudging through the grass, petting old ewes.

And you weren’t going to die for your fucking husband, nor his sadistic coconspirators. 

Spotting your silence, perhaps sniffing out your lapse in conviction, he once again makes his offer. “Like I said, quid pro quo,” he repeats, voice low and dry, you can hear his confidence in his chest. “You help me, I help you.” 

“How,” you spit. “How will you help me.” 

“You get the intel we need, and we’ll get you on a plane home. You’d have a clean slate. New name, new address. Mia Zakhaev will’ve never existed.”

You snort at that. She never did. 

“You’d be sending a corpse home,” you growl, feeling the terror creeping up the back of your throat. “If there’s one left. There probably won’t be once they find me out. And that’s only assuming your fucking men don’t get to me first.”  

“My men won’t touch you,” he says coarsely. “You’d have protections as an informant.”  

“Yeah? Well I don’t have many fucking protections from the men that you want me to spy on,” you bark, voice breaking, your sudden loudness makes you dizzy. Your sore eyes swell, their supply of tears seemingly replenished by the water he had provided you. 

“You wouldn’t-” he starts, but your tired, terrified anger lurches from your throat and viciously interrupts him. 

“You have - you have no idea what these animals do. What I’ve seen them do.”

You hear him spitefully suck his teeth. “I know exactly what they do.” 

Taking a moment to breathe, to gather yourself, your eyes finally shudder up to meet his. “Then you know I won’t last an hour with them.” 

“You wouldn’t be sent in alone,” he rumbles, taking an irate pause. “You’d have protection.” 

“Can’t say I feel any safer around your men,” you retort through a croak. 

“Not them,” he grits amidst a reluctant sigh. “Me.” 

Despite what Ghost believed to be an inborn skill in reading people, your expression continues to elude him. Is it disappointment in your glistening eyes? Terror? Or is it relief? Hope? 

You swiftly look at the floor again, perhaps at the pool of blood Ghost nonchalantly stands in. Not the first time he’d trail red footprints. Not even the first time within the walls of this very compound.

It must be confusing for you, having him condemn you and then help you. Harbouring a hatred for him almost as potent as your awareness that he’s your only option. But it won’t be as confusing for you, as it is for him. He felt sick and bitter as he handed you that sweatshirt, one he had quietly dug from an empty storage room, had carried to you in the dark so that he wouldn’t be seen doing you a favour. 

Earlier this very night he would have left you naked and bloody. He wouldn’t have intervened whatever creative technique Graves had to make a spy of you. Graves wouldn’t have needed to touch you at all - he would have done it himself. 

That’s how disgusted by you he was. When he knew you as a conniving, vapid sadist. As a warlord’s avaricious consort. As a slithery creature complicit in the suffering inflicted by your kind. 

But at every step, you seem to have confuted him. 

Perhaps you’re that good of a liar. A talented actress. You would have to have been quite the thespian, to fulfil the role of Victor Zakhaev’s loving wife. And Ghost can see your attempts to decipher him, to write a script based on your readings so that you might have him play the part that would serve you. 

It’s what he’d expect. From you, and from anybody. Honesty has been a rarity in his sordid life, something so elusive he struggles to believe that anyone truly has the capacity for it. Even himself. 

“If I do this,” you breathe, hesitating. You glare directly downward, sucking on your words as you fail to spill them out. “If I do it, and they catch me, will you - will you get me out?” 

He sucks in a wary gulp of air. “I can try.” 

Your glower shifts to him, dark and tired, peered up from under your stiff brows. “And if they don’t, when can I go home?” 

“Once you get the intel we need.” 

Quiet, reluctant, you seem to despair every word you release. “And you promise I can go home? I can just - disappear? Like none of this ever happened?” 

He nods stiffly. “Like I said. Clean slate.” 

You shiver. 

“Okay,” you murmur, “I’ll… I’ll do it.” 

~

The lieutenant had decided to let you sleep. 

He hadn’t said such a thing, of course, it wasn’t a favour that he had offered you. After you had obligated yourself to their scheme, he nodded curtly and left without another word. You weren’t sure, at the time, whether he had let you be out of some charitable sympathy. But, despite the effort, you hadn’t carefully deconstructed his actions nor his words, like you would have in a more alert, more conscious state. 

After every physical and psychological torment that had been inflicted on you in the ten hours since your abduction, your mind had atrophied into grey milk. Runny, formless, utterly incapable of amassing a single thought or sensible decision. And despite your wounds, visible and otherwise, you fell into a hollow, dreamless sleep the second your feeble body made its way to the deteriorated mattress. You lay as close to the wall as possible, facing it in the hopes you could cast away the savagery that stained the floor behind you. 

Your sleep had functioned more as a system failure than a recuperation, and so, as you wake up, you feel as though you had not slept at all. Despite being damp with sweat and panic, your skin pricks in the dry cold of your cell. You have no indication of how much time had passed, how long you had slept, what time it is - your cell has no windows, after all. The sun might have risen and set already, or it might still be the same unending night. With a painful, irrepressible yawn, grinding your bruised jawbone against your skull, you wonder if only a single hour had gone by in your slumber. 

There’s a throbbing in your head, radiating and sharp; the forceful ache thumps out from the swollen bruise on your temple and bounces off the back of your skull. You feel your heart racing behind your ribs, pathetic little beats, it seems as if it barely pumps your blood an inch at each twitch. Anxiety, you’re sure, instant panic at the reminder of your imprisonment once you open your eyes; but you know that fluttering as a different omen, one foretelling a self-inflicted sickness. 

You hadn’t taken an oxycontin since the evening of your abduction. Four hours before your hunter had broken into your home, sadistically assassinated each of your sentries, and stolen you from your sanctuary. Unable to know for sure how long it had been since then, you suppose at least twenty hours. Perhaps more, perhaps less. 

Your oxycodone, though not prescribed, is controlled-release, long-acting - which has spared you, at least, a quick descent into withdrawal immediately after your abduction. But its arrival is inevitable, however prolonged it may be. They must have something in the compound, you think, you pray. If they’re soldiers, like they say - there must be analgesics, maybe some codeine, or surely some vicodin. You could ask the Lieutenant, maybe, you are in pain, after all. Or you could ask, beg, the Captain, the one who pretends to be so caring and so noble - an injured, beaten woman, surely he would not stand to see you in such agony? 

But just as the flustered panic sets in, there’s a loud, pounding knock on your cell door. Thud, thud, thud. You jump, shooting upright from where you lay flat on your creaking bed, and before you are given the opportunity to speak or dispute, the door is unlocked and thrown open. Three men file in, you dread, three of them - soldiers, in grey and black. You spot the union jack patches on their bulky vests, and find yourself feeling some inkling of relief - not the Americans that had brutalised you - though you recognise none of them. 

They waste no time, organised and hasty, two of them march towards you and the other stands guard by the door. You squeak in terror, backing up to the wall on instinct - they offer no comfort, no patience as they take you by your arms and pull you uncaringly from the bed. You’re tossed and spun, hands tugged behind your back and cuffed with another cable tie as if you present any danger to them. 

“C’mon,” one grunts, the only word spoken to you. His tone just barely encouraging, like he is instructing lumbering livestock to file obediently through his gate. 

Hyperventilating, you try to look over your shoulder - before, once again, a black cotton bag is pulled over your head. Blinded and incapacitated, they are swift to twist you and yank you, dragging you by your arms; you stumble over bare feet and feel the stickiness of undried blood on your soles. 

“Where are you taking me,” you whimper, not expecting an answer but disputing all the same. They won’t hurt you now, right? You are doing what they wanted. You agreed to their terms. What more can they take from you? 

“A meeting,” one says stiffly, the one on your right. Your feet do their best to take steps as they cart you out of the cell, presumably down the maze of hallways. You hear the echoes of their boots in the labyrinthine cement tunnels. 

Your instinct is to ask, with who? But, you can guess, can’t you. If not the Lieutenant, then the Captain, who you suppose had orchestrated the scheme in the first place. Though you begrudge their needless brutality, you follow their physical instruction without further complaint. 

They’re not the American soldiers in black, you remind yourself - so surely, you pray, they aren’t taking you to the Commander for some form of comeuppance. His business with you was unfinished, you suspect, there is no way he is done with you. 

But your violent escorts come to a halt, and you hear them knock on a door right in front of you. There’s murmuring emanating from behind it, the dull thuds of boots approach before the sound of it opening.

A grunt, a sigh, you hear the ire in the man’s breath, whoever it is. “Right. Bring ‘er in.” 

The Scotsman. You don’t have much of a read on this one, you recall, besides the salivating, dog-like hunger that oozes from him. Though it is less potent, now, you suppose you must appear far less appealing in a dusty, poorly fitting sweatshirt, than in your priceless silk lingerie. 

You’re shoved unceremoniously into the room, almost tripping over your feet before a firm hand lands on your shoulder. Far from a gentlemanly gesture, he then pulls you by your bicep, pushing you downwards until your ass lands in a cold, seemingly plastic, chair. You hear the door shut behind you. 

Before you can speak, the sack is pulled roughly from your head, yanking a few of your hairs with it, and the stark brightness of the room forces you to squint. 

“Jesus,” the Scotsman scoffs, as he sees you, before going to sit in another chair. “Graves is a fucken’ animal.” 

As your eyes adjust to the light, your glare shoots around the room - there are four of them, around a table, you have been seated at the head. You recognise three, the Captain, the Scotsman, and unsurprisingly, the Lieutenant. The fourth, you guess, must be the sergeant - the one you had heard on the helicopter, but who you have not yet seen. He looks somewhat less jaded than the others, and disturbed by the sight of you. A grimace of shame dents in his brow when you meet his eye, and he turns his head to look at some paper on the table. 

There’s a window in the room, and while you had just earlier been wishing for one, you now scorn the daylight that glows from behind it. A reminder of the outside world, you feel it glaring in at you, taunting you with freedom. You wonder how many storeys high the building is. You can’t see any trees. The grey sky obfuscates the time of day - it could be morning, or afternoon, for all you can tell. 

“How the fuck is this gunna work if she looks like that?” The Scotsman gripes, gesturing at you with his thumb.

Leaning back cavalierly in his seat, with his arms crossed, Lieutenant Riley snorts spitefully. “Ask the Cap.” 

The Captain stands, then, at the other end of the table, he leans on his knuckles against the synthetic wooden surface. “D’ya sleep alright, Mia?” He asks suddenly, directly to you, as though casting silence on the others. 

There’s an itch under your left ear, it makes your eye twitch, and you cannot scratch it. Vexed, tired, you simply scowl. “No.” 

He seems to find humour in that, huffing as if quietly laughing. “Of course not,” he admits with a sigh, “you poor thing. I’m sorry about all of this, I truly am.” 

You spot the Lieutenant scowling at him, eyes lidded darkly, he radiates a fury that you can taste from where you sit. You decide not to answer, not yet, you wait in uncomfortable silence for the Captain to get to the point. 

“I was told you’ve considered helping us,” he says, a cautiousness in his throat. “S’that right?” 

You swallow. “I was told I could go home,” you answer quietly.

“And you will,” he nods sincerely, “if you do what we tell you to do. If you get us what we need.” 

“What do you need,” you ask, shuffling in your seat, doing your best to only subtly stretch your shoulders - they ache from where they are pulled behind your back, you feel your cold fingertips swell. 

He laughs, then, a self-deprecating chortle, as he sits himself back in his seat and tugs himself forward. “Ah, well - of course, that would be helpful to know, wouldn’t it?” 

His casual amusement unsettles you deeply, you glare at him in anxious anticipation. “It would,” you croak. 

“We’ve asked you about Makarov, haven’t we,” he explains. “I don’t think you were honest with me about how well you know him, eh? Not according to Riley, here. Sounds like you’ve had a few run-ins with him, have you?” 

You say nothing. 

“Well, love, he’s who we’re after - if you hadn’t guessed already. Your husband was, let’s say, one on a long list. We would like to apprehend him, definitely, but you see - he’s like a virus, this man. He has infected plenty of other men with his ideas. If we take him out, well, it’ll be hard for us to figure out who else his plans may have spread to. He wouldn’t be as lovely and cooperative as you have been.” 

You feel the knit form in your brow, viciously upset by his comment. Cooperative? As if you had a fucking choice in any of it. As if you could have defied them any more than you had already tried to. As if you’d be gifted the option of a swift execution if you failed to comply. 

“So,” he continues nonchalantly, “ideally, we’d like to get as much information from him as we can while he’s in his natural habitat, so to speak. We want to know what he is planning, and who else is involved, so we can intercept it this time.” 

This time. You find yourself stuck on that. How many other times have there been? What else have they done? What else had your husband helped commit? You suck deep a careful breath in the subsequent silence, he evidently waits for you to offer some input. 

“You think he would tell me anything?” You mutter doubtfully,  “that he’d tell me anything about this plan?” 

“Well, love,” he grunts, “for your sake, I hope he does.” 

“You won’t ask him directly,” the Scotsman suddenly speaks. You didn’t expect him to participate much in the scheming, he seems to you as thick as a plank. “That’d be a bit obvious.” 

“Couldn’t we bug the place?” The Sergeant asks, speaking up for the first time since you had entered the room. 

“They’ll have RF detectors,” Riley remarks bluntly, shaking his head. “At least.”

“So, you…” you hesitate, thinking aloud, “you want me to eavesdrop?”

“Assuming they talk about anything of value,” the Captain agrees. “But you’ll prompt them where necessary, won’t you?” 

“You know them, Mia,” the Scotsman interjects, again, and you begin to question your first assumption about his stupidity. “So, if you think there is a better way, a… safer way to get the intel we want, then say so. We want to help you, help us.” 

You stare at him, doubt on your tongue. You know, in the pit of you, that if your cover is blown, they will leave you to die - simply another failed scheme, and they will move on to the next one. But he is right, in that, of course, you want to find the safest way to fulfil their ploy and guarantee your freedom. Desperately. Your eyes flit between the four men before you, who shoot glances at each other before looking at you expectantly, as if you might have some suggestion. 

And in the silence it dawns on you quickly the fact that you will soon have to face them again. Have to be seen by, have to walk amongst, have to talk to the very men you had denied your fear of for as long as you had known them. Then, when you were a wife, they feigned respect, they kept their tasteful distance. Now, you’d be a widow, a ripe fruit hanging from a low branch. That in itself sends painful pricks down the nape of your neck, but the thought of having to question them about their clandestine crimes, even daring to speak to them - you know, with conviction, that it will be your death sentence. 

“I can’t ask him,” you utter, shaking your head twitchily. “There’s no- they will know, straight away, if I ask them anything about it. Even if I just - even if I express interest in what they are talking about, they will know. And if they don’t think I’m a rat, they will still think I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. As a wife - a widow. They’ll say it’s not my place.” 

“I’m sure it’s not abnormal for their wives to ask innocent questions,” The Captain shrugs, artificial support in his tone, as if he is providing you some reassurance. “They’ll be more receptive after a few drinks.” 

“Are you stupid?” You anxiously blurt, immediately regretting your sudden insult, but quietly relishing in the minor outburst of long-craved aggression. He simply looks surprised, almost amused, like he thinks it was cute. “You’ve been spying on these men for - for so long, and you don’t know anything about them, do you?” 

“That’s what we’ve got you for,” the Scotsman retorts.

“They won’t just give me a scolding, a slap on the wrist, if I displease them - if I disobey them - do you think they are forgiving?” You assert eagerly, angrily. “My friend Sasha, she raised her voice at her husband in front of the rest, and so he poured boiling water on her face. I went to her funeral two months ago. One of them beat his nineteen-year-old girlfriend to death for denting his car. They held Alena’s hand to a stove after she smacked her husband, they had to cut her hand off. She was lucky. And Vladimir-”

You stop yourself, stumbling on your tongue. You sweat with stress and hot terror as you remember each horror you had to witness or hear of, each of them long buried and desperately ignored so that you could bear to live in your bubble of fragile safety among the monsters that had enacted them.

“Vladimir what?” Riley queries rigidly. 

Glaring at him, you shift uneasily in your seat, your brow knots in worry as you struggle to let loose the words. “He’s the… he’s the worst of them.” 

“What’d he do?” 

“He-” you bite off with a groan, frustrated with your frightened inability to even describe what kind of a man, what kind of a beast, he is; you feel your heart shrivel at the thought of him. “He hurts, he kills, anyone. Anyone. If he wants, if he decides to.” 

They remain silent. Expectant. You involuntarily elaborate, as your sore eyes begin to well. 

“I - I saw him murder one of my maids, in my home. He was a guest, in my home, and he pulled her by the hair into the kitchen and slit her throat - and he never explained why, he just left her body there and went back to dinner. Nobody even asked him why… God forbid I asked him, or even showed that I was upset by it, he would’ve… he… I couldn’t ask. I couldn’t. I knew what, I knew what he’d do. Because, h-he - there’s nobody he won’t hurt. Even, last year, he tried to sleep with Vasiliev’s wife, and s-she rebuffed him - so he had her put in acid. He put her in acid. He put her in while she was awake and then left her in the barrel on her driveway.”

A disturbed quiet settles in the room, as you suck down a wet and quivering breath. You contort your shoulder to wipe the errant tears that had dribbled down your cheek. The four of them seem to take the moment to consider, a thick air of disgust and guilt seeps from each of them. The Scotsman rubs his eyebrow, the Sergeant holds his hands to his forehead, the Captain drums his knuckles against the table in disquieted thought. 

The Lieutenant, though, had not turned his eyes from you. He keeps his thick arms crossed, glower low and sharp through the hole in his mask. 

“Did he ever threaten you?” He asks severely, voice hoarse. Despite emphasising you, evidently asking about you specifically, no concern for you could be gleaned from his tone. If any concern, at all, merely a worry that such a thing might in some way affect his mission. You wonder if he had deduced from your terror that Vladimir might have turned his sights on you. Clever man. 

Worriedly biting your tongue, you sniff back the frightened tears that threaten their persistence. “Not explicitly,” you mumble. “But he - he would remind me of her. He’d remind me of what he did to her, if I didn’t do what he wanted.” 

“What did he want?” The Captain questions, leaning on his elbows, interlocking his fingers as though still plotting something unspoken. 

You scowl at him, red eyes laser in his direction. “If you’re asking whether he wanted to fuck me too, then no - he didn’t.” 

“No?” He queries gently, frowning in apparent doubt. 

“No,” you spit, tearful, “he didn’t. And he wouldn’t have tried. Victor was protective.” 

“I bet,” the Scotsman chuffs, and your lips curl in disgust. 

“So he didn’t hurt you, then, I take it?” Asks the Captain. 

Your eyes shoot briefly to Riley, the man still scowling behind his mask, he bounces his leg as though irritated. “Why does it matter,” you bite. 

“Because if he’s going to throw you in acid the second we send you back, then it won’t be a very successful mission, will it?” The Captain explains, condescension dripping from his tone. 

You shut your eyes for a short moment, frustration and fear thundering in your temples, you take the second to breathe deeply. “No, he didn’t hurt me.” 

“He must have liked you then.” 

You weakly shake your head. “He doesn’t like anyone who isn’t useful to him.” 

The Captain again drums the wooden surface with the tips of his fingers. “Well, you could make yourself useful to him,” he suggests wryly, “couldn’t you.” 

You grimace, sniff, glaring at him like he had smacked you. Another fucking use - such an apparently short list of uses you serve, and yet all of these dogs seem find you useful for one thing or another. You know what he is implying. 

“I just told you what he did to the last woman he thought might be useful.” You snap with sore venom. 

“Then what do you suggest, Mia,” the Scotsman asks bluntly. 

You inhale deeply, warily, staring at the centre of the table as you do your best to separate your terror from the reality of your situation. 

“I can eavesdrop,” you hesitantly insist, “they think I don’t speak Russian very well, so I can listen. I’m - I’m sure that they’ll have a lot to talk about after… after Victor’s death. But - they’re going to have questions. They’ll ask where I have been, where I was. Where his body is. They’ll ask about, about everything. I’ll n-need a story.” 

“Don’t you worry about that,” the Captain asserts, “we’ll sort one out.”  

You swallow, you wonder if they can see you shaking, now that your tentative future encroaches on you so violently. “How?” 

He seems to mull over his words before he replies, perhaps deciding whether you are even allowed to be privy to his plan.

“We’ll plant you back at your estate. Zakhaev, too. It’ll look like a botched assassination.” 

The tears threaten their swell, at his mention - at the thought of having to lay eyes on your husband’s cold body. You see his face erupting from the inside out, then, in an instant; you see the crater left by the bullet that tore through from the back of his skull, the pieces of brain and bone and meat that hung in strands from the hole, having turned black and dry in the hours since his murder. You wonder if they had left his corpse there, buckled over and dripping, still tied to that seat, festering under the fluorescent light. 

And you imagine having to step around the frigid bodies of your guards, the pools of blood that will stain every floor, of every room in your home - having to avoid getting it on your feet, and further staining the carpet with your footprints. Nausea churns in your fragile stomach, your skin shivers as you sip in quick and shallow breaths.

“Mia,” he grits, as though getting sick of your panic. 

He grounds you though, somehow, bitterly reminding you of your circumstances, of the deal you made, of the things you will need to do to go home. 

So you nod, hastily, once again using your shoulder to try and wipe off the stream of salty tears that dripped from your chin. “Okay,” you relent, shaking, “Okay. I can - there’s someone I can call to, to make it believable. But it… it’ll take time to clean out the house, for the, for the funeral, so-”

“We won’t have time for that,” Riley interjects, tone dull and irate. “Was he Orthodox? Is there a church? Cathedral? A place to hold it instead of the mansion?” 

Your husband was not a religious man. Not outwardly so, anyway. You suppose you can’t fathom committing the crimes that he had while still worshipping a supposedly benevolent God. 

“They wouldn’t - I don’t think they’d expect to hold the funeral at a church.” 

“Why’s that.” 

“When - when someone like Victor, someone important dies… it’s more of a business meeting, than a funeral. When his father was killed, they didn’t even have someone there to give a sermon.”  

The Lieutenant grunts in frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. 

“I could have them come to the estate in Kastovia,” you suggest sheepishly, now so surreally disconnected from your situation that it has begun to feel to you like you’re discussing the plot to a film. 

He scoffs at that, Riley, with an air of spiteful disgust. “Another one?” 

“It was - it was a gift, from Victor. He’d send me there when h-he had business I wasn’t allowed to be home for,” you ponder, barely murmuring. “It would make sense for me to go there after, after everything.” 

“Fine.” He retorts flatly. “Kastovia it is.” 

“Right, then,” the Captain muses, evidently enthused, satisfied with how the strategy has so far unfolded. “The Lieutenant will act as one of your hired guards. He’ll keep a close eye on you. And he speaks plenty of Russian, don’t you Riley, so he’ll fit right on in.” 

“No, he-” you interject dryly, but insistently, “...his Russian is bad. If he talks, they’ll know.” 

The Scotsman snorts at that, chuckling and shooting a mocking glance in the Lieutenant’s direction. Riley falls briefly silent, and it leaves you fretting viciously - had you angered him? Will he take that out on you later? You’ll be stuck with him. Only him. Nobody to hold him accountable, and nowhere to run. 

“She’s right,” he instead dismisses, through a grumble, and you let out a small breath of relief. “They’ll pick up on my accent. She’s not even Russian, and she did.” 

The Captain grunts in irritation, rocking his head back with a sigh. “Then, Christ, make up a story about your tongue being cut out. Fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter, they won’t ask about it. I’m sure you’ve gone through plenty of bodyguards in your day, eh, Mia?” 

You nod restlessly. 

“Good,” the Captain barks, smacking the table with a satisfied hand. “Perfect. Let’s get you ready to go then, eh?” 

You feel your chest close on your ribs, your blood floods to your feet and renders you sick and dizzy. “Now?” You croak, barely, staring vacantly in his direction. 

“Not backing out, are you, love?” He questions, the casual friendliness in his tone belying a clear threat, you can see it in his piercing stare. 

You shake your head desperately, hyperventilating, you swallow dry. “No, no I’m - I’m just, I don’t think I’m ready-”

“‘Course you are,” he encourages you, and you watch as the Scotsman stands, black sack in his fist, he steps uncaringly towards you. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get you home. You just need to be brave, yeah?” 

You whimper, let loose a wet sob, as the sack is crudely tugged over your head, and you are plunged into the violent unknown once more. 

Ghost stays seated, leaning back deep in his chair, sourly thankful that Price had brought the ‘meeting’, as he called it, to a hasty end. He couldn’t stand to see the man feign charity and empathy for a moment longer, watching him leer at you while pretending to be a voice of comfort. Asking how you slept - who the fuck does he think he is? He was the one that had endorsed your beating, after all, he seemed to have no qualms about it then. The fucking hypocrite.  

He watches in resentful silence as Soap grabs you by your arms, his thick hands gripping you wrenchingly tight as he shuffles you through the door. He listens to you whine and cry quietly, to yourself, looks at your bruised and trembling legs as they stumble over each other on your way out of the room. In the lull, he rocks his head back in exasperated fury, glaring at the panelled ceiling and releasing a loud and hoarse sigh from this throat. 

“Not gonna lie,” Gaz grunts, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and plucking out a crumpled box of Richmond cigarettes, “I’m starting to feel bad for her.” 

Ghost scoffs. “Want a cookie, sergeant?” 

“Piss off,” comes Gaz’s quick retort, as he lights the cigarette he holds in the corner of his lips. “Just ‘cause you’re a sociopath doesn’t mean we all are.” 

“Remember what she is, yeah?” Price remarks dully, scooping up the folders and sat phone he had previously left spread across the table. 

“Yeah, yeah, Cap, she’s just a hooker,” Gaz mocked, groaning, “you’re not as chivalrous as you think you are, eh?” 

“God’s sake, Gaz,” Price grouses, lips twisting in a disapproving curl under his dense moustache. “Nothing to do with that. She’s a fuckin’ oligarch and she’s a terrorist. Don’t forget that.”

“Don’t you get the vibe she had nothing to do with any of it?” Gaz asks, cynicism in his tone. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ghost cuts in, flat and hostile. “She married a warlord. Whatever happens to her now is her own fault.” 

Gaz snorts, shooting a scornful glance at Ghost before turning to the Captain. “You really gonna let this guy take the mission alone with her?” He asks derisively. 

“Ghost has the right attitude,” Price dismisses. “You feel guilty, you get attached, the whole fuckin’ mission shits the bed.” 

“If you think she’s a terrorist, why’d you offer to send her back to England, eh?” Gaz interrogates, punctuating his doubt with a drag of his cigarette. 

Ghost looks down at his hands as they knot into a single fist, and Price releases an awkward huff; an indignant silence between them seems to answer Gaz’s question. 

“You’re not serious,” he spits, agog at the realisation, “are you fucking serious?” 

“She’s a war criminal, as far as we know,” Price says, close to a murmur. “It’d be a threat to national security.” 

“Jesus,” Gaz vents, rubbing his jaw with tense fingers. “You’re both sick.” 

Ghost involuntarily clenches his jaw, gritting teeth. He didn’t consider himself as lying when he told you that they could get you a passport and send you home. If you succeed, if you prove your loyalty - he is sure that would convince Price that you are worthy of rescue. 

Rescue, he curses at himself - as if you need rescue. As he said, he reminds himself, you made your bed and now you are lying in it. You’re so good at it, clever girl, at twisting their impressions of you, at wringing pity from them by fluttering your eyes and letting loose your sparkling tears. Your bruises must hurt, he’s sure, but they must only help you, now - you can brandish them and whimper like a beaten puppy, you can whine and beg for comfort and protection. 

He tells himself, demands himself, not to fall for it. You had already swindled him once, tricking him into bringing you water and clothes by sitting naked and shaking on the floor of your cell. You just looked so wounded, so defeated, so desperate… 

“You keep her hopes up, won’t you, Simon?” Price orders apathetically. 

Ghost nods silently, running his tongue along his teeth. 

“And if she gets herself caught - leave her with ‘em. Get yourself out of there, they’ll take care of her.” 

There’s a sordid silence as Ghost glowers jadedly out of the window, watching the dark clouds of an encroaching snowstorm roll closer across the low-lying sky. 

He huffs. “Yes sir.” 

I don’t usually post up here 😅 but I’m having trouble finding a fanfic that I was reading. It was a Sukuna x reader and reader got into a car accident and lost her memory and Sukuna is helping her remember day by day. It was on Ao3, if anyone can find it thank you so much🙏