A week later, with your ankle healed, you stopped by the station with three containers of brownies.
"Well, look who it is. We really need to stop meeting like this."
You rolled your eyes but a smile still tugged on your lips at the dark haired fireman. "Hello to you too, chief."
"It's Toji, by the way." The man grinned and gestured at the containers you were holding. "Those better be for me. Never got the chance to try them last time. Sukuna wouldn't give them up."
You tried to ignore the weird flutter at the thought of that petty fireman refusing to share your brownies even when he himself didn't like them.
"This one's for you and the rest of your crew." You smiled politely as you handed him one of the containers.
Toji looked utterly pleased by that. He took the container and tucked it under his arm. "Nah, I'm taking this one home. My girlfriend's going to love these."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You have a girlfriend." You stated in disbelief.
The fireman chuckled. "What's with the surprise look? You think any girl can resist this?" He shot you a near feral grin.
But you gave him a deadpan look. "Jee, I wonder who the lucky lady is."
"My home room teacher..."
You blinked at the soft, disgruntled grumbling voice behind Toji and tilted your head to see a pouting kid with spiky black hair sitting on a plastic chair.
... You didn't notice him when you came here.
"Uh...?"
"Kid's just mad he caught me sweet talking her after school today."
The kid scowled. "Dad, gross."
"You have a kid." You stated in disbelief yet again.
"Yeah. Megumi." His lips curled up in a sultry smirk. "Me being a dad makes me more attractive, doesn't it?"
You were about to open your mouth and tell him off until—
"Brownies!!"
"Brat! Get back here!"
You whirled around to see a little pink haired boy, hands covered in soot and dust, wearing a large fireman's hat on his head, running towards you at top speed while Sukuna was right behind him. As usual, his baggy jacket is gone, showing his tight compression shirt underneath. He shot you a glare and pointed at the kid.
"Do not let him near those containers until he's washed his damn hands!" Sukuna ordered strictly.
You quickly lifted the containers high up right before the boy could reach for them. You smiled sweetly at him.
"You heard your uncle, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first."
But the boy was practically vibrating in excitement. "You're the brownie lady! Uncle talks about you a lot! He kept telling me that you'll bring more brownies cuz he rescued you from a tree! So I come here eeeevery day now! Also! Also! Uncle said you'd marry him one day! When you marry him, can I call you auntie? Can I call you auntie right now?!"
"Brat!"
That's when he scrambled away to wash his hands. "Sorry, uncle! One second, auntie!" You just stood there, a bit mortified at the word vomit the kid did.
Toji merely snorted. "Well... this is my cue. Got some paperwork with my name on it." He patted Sukuna's shoulder, a smirk on his face as he walked away. "Have fun."
Sukuna shot the man a glare but composed himself when you walked over. "So... That's your nephew." You said.
Sukuna grumbled, hands on his hips. "Yuuji. A little menace, by the way."
You smiled. "He's really something—"
And suddenly Yuuji bounced back to you again. "Auntie, auntie! What do you think about my hat?!" He asked excitedly, eyes twinkling as he looked up at you, still wearing that big fireman hat on his head.
You have to admit, he looked absolutely adorable.
You bend down to smile at him. "It suits you, Yuuji."
Yuuji beamed. "Right?! I'm gonna be a fireman one day like uncle!"
But Sukuna rolled his eyes and looked at him in exasperation. "And yet you forgot the one rule I taught you: Wash your damn hands. You're a bad fireman if you can't keep yourself clean."
"Sorry, uncle. Won't happen again!"
Then Sukuna grinned mischievously. "Better not or I'm telling your dad you love me more than him."
You watched the poor kid's eyes widen in utter betrayal. "No! I won't forget. I promise, uncle!" Yuuji exclaimed.
"Good." Sukuna nodded.
You shook your head and glared at the fireman. "That's very mean of you." Sukuna simply shot you a playful smirk. You rolled your eyes and turned to Yuuji with a smile. "You'll make an excellent fireman one day. Don't listen to your mean uncle."
Yuuji grinned and puffed his chest out proudly. "Thanks, auntie! I'm gonna rescue sooo many people from burning buildings and ex.. extinq... extincqish—"
"Extinguish." Megumi said in a bored tone.
"Yeah! I'll do that to all the fires!" Yuuji beamed at his friend. "Megumi is so smart!"
Megumi frowned, looking flustered.
You smiled warmly. You loved how hopeful and energetic this boy was and the fact that he looked up to his uncle... You kind of understood why. Even if you did have some really lousy encounters with Sukuna, the man did rescue people for a living. He was basically the closest thing to a superhero for him.
"Here." You handed him a container of brownies. The kid lit up like Santa had given him a lifetime supply of presents.
"Brownies! Megumi, let's eat!"
You stood back up as you watched Yuuji go over to where Megumi was.
"Oi! I'd better not find you two near the sliding pole again!" Sukuna shouted as both the boys ran off together after that. You sighed and turned to Sukuna, holding out the last container to him. "Here."
The fireman raised his eyebrow before a smirk curled on his lips. "Oh? I never mentioned making something for me as part of the deal."
You shrugged, refusing to look at him. "Yeah, well—I know you asked me to make something only for Yuuji but you did rescue me so... it's only fair I make a batch for you." You mumbled, suddenly feeling a little shy. "Also they're sugar free."
"My, my. How thoughtful of you."
Sukuna took the container, opening it and wasting no time to take a large bite from a brownie. You felt butterflies dancing in your stomach when you noticed the way his eyes lit up.
But you tried to play it cool. "Let me guess... Going to your nephew again?"
"Nah, they're perfect, princess." He said in a low voice, licking his lips.
Curse your heart for jumping at that.
His lips tugged into a smile as he closed the container. "Gonna savour these when I get home."
But then it quickly turned into a smirk when you looked away, arms crossed and your cheeks tinted pink. "Uh... Great. Glad you liked it." You sniffed.
You heard him chuckle and lean closer.
And suddenly there was a hand underneath your chin, turning you to face him.
"W-What are you—"
"You know, now I feel like I owe you for feeding me something this delicious." He hummed, enjoying the way you were squirming. "It's only natural I spoil the girl who went out of her way to make these for me. What do you say, princess? You and me. Tomorrow night. I'll be sure to clean up properly." He winked.
You realized what he was asking and looked at him incredulously. You snorted, eyeing him in amusement. "Are you asking me out?"
"I was only a matter of time before I did." He leaned closer. "Was getting tired beating around the bush. Don't deny the fact that you weren't as well."
You pulled away from him and stepped back, willing your heart to calm down. "Ugh, you're unbelievable."
Sukuna laughed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't know the half of it."
You huffed, making a show of thinking about it. You fumbled with your bracelet, biting your lip before speaking up. "Hm... I'll accept but only if you take me to some nice and fancy place, with some good wine and a great view of the city." You listed your demands and then smiled up at him sweetly.
And Sukuna grinned, his red eyes gleaming with a mixture of hunger and challenge.
"Oh, don't worry, princess. I'll spoil you real good."
✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?
✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, more tags to be added.
✦ ── a/n: this is going to be my 1k followers special but i've already got a solid outline and plenty written. i believe this will end up being a multi-chapter fic. can't wait to release this, so check below the threshold for a teaser ;D
archive ─ playlist
part one // ???
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art by outdmilk on twt
teaser 𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss–a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.
Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look.
It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that–the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.
You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.
“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”
You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”
He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a finger over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”
You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.
“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”
Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot at the sight. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.
“Uh, it’s alright. I-I can walk–”
“Quit your rambling and get on.”
You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.
Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.
You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.
As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.
You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.
Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.
Simon Riley prided himself on being a one-man ship, never letting anyone get too close—never allowing himself to be influenced by ‘good-for-nothing shit’.
Well, that was until Price dismissed him due to being medically unfit.
Despite the harsh fights he put up against the decision and endless objections, he was inevitably ‘thrown to the curb’.
Everyone but him saw it was for his own good—the longer he stayed part of military, the more his psyche deteriorated. His eyes were just as soulless as a sunken ship, his core buried away beneath the sand.
He kept himself perpetually busy: going to the gym—laundry—fixing his outdated car—applying for jobs—drinking, eventually managing to convince himself he’d never feel fulfilled without the military.
He avoided small talk at all costs, content with the fact his neighbours preferred their own company.
However, that was before you disturbed his peace.
Always offering sweet smiles alongside your baked goods and never expecting anything in return. You got under his skin in the worst way possible.
He began doing anything in his power to avoid you—yet, somehow, you were always there. The scent of your perfume always lingered in his mind, your mail ending up on his doorstep—even your tiny menace of a cat escaping into his garden!
So, how did he end up here?
You were curled up against his bare chest, small breaths slipping through your parted lips as Simon brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.
Somehow, the very face he used to curse, was the very face he now admired—with a purity he never imagined himself to be capable of.
He gazed upon the gorgeous cerulean blue ring adorning your finger, the precise one he put there.
Over the years, he had healed, accepted help (albeit reluctantly)—he learned to embrace life. And, slowly, the changes to himself became obvious: he gained a soft layer of fat over his muscles due to your homely meals (he could never deny you); he drank less; he steadily had less PTSD episodes and learnt new skills.
Eventually, he let himself to close his eyes while cradling you close—just as you loved him to do.
AN: This is my first fic i’ve posted here, any tips are appreciated! (1.3k word count :p)
The silence of the night pierces through your eardrums, only intensifying the anxious sweat seeping from your skin. God, you wish you could go back in time. Maybe things could’ve gone differently—maybe you would’ve still had something—anything—ahead of you.
Still, you continue to soundlessly pad through the garden—one you’d have considered to be serene and peaceful in any other situation. The grass is damp beneath you, the moisture seeping into your poor woollen socks.
Would you have such luck to see each hopeful plan come to fruition? Such luck that you’d see it through to the end?
Your conscience weighs heavy on your shoulders, finding a place alongside your under-packed bag to slowly chip away at your determination. This silly, selfish scheme could put the kingdom in danger—meddling with important affairs. Couldn’t you have sucked it up? Stayed prim and proper despite the inescapable fate you were wrongly given?
Gritting your teeth, you shake your head. No. This decision was never made with your feelings in mind. Only the kingdom’s gain.
Crunch.
Not a second slips by before you whip your head around, trying to locate the faint sound of rustling. Was it a guard? Did your father find out?
A tense moment passes before a small owl tumbles out from within the dense tree you were previously staring daggers into, taking flight, soaring over the estate walls and into the black, endless void of the sky.
Following the bird’s path with your eyes, the strict, towering walls surrounding you swallow your view. You’ll soon be allowed to see the beauties and treasures of the ordinary markets and fields, just as the bird of prey has—no longer simply being a pampered pet to parade around. You’ll breach the countless barriers that once held your freedom hostage.
Clenching and unclenching your hands in an anxious gesture, you glance sideways—toward your next part of the plan. You carefully sneak toward the oversized oak tree, bracing yourself for what’s ahead.
Firmly, you plant your left foot on the side of the tree, wrapping your other limbs around the trunk. Pushing upwards, you grab the nearest branch, clinging on for dear life.
After managing to clamber onto the first branch, you steadied yourself before taking a small hop over to the next branch. You repeatedly haul yourself onto the higher branches, ascending to a terrifying height.
Crouching to a low level, you eye the impossibly imposing wall, getting a privileged peek overtop. You shuffle toward the tip of the branch, inching closer to the barricade—clearly constructed to keep girls like you in, not protect what it claimed to guard. Gazing downward, you offer a silent prayer to any god willing to listen—not end up as a gory pancake splattered on the fancy cobblestone path below.
Estimating the distance between you and the edge of the wall, you stiffen your posture, pausing.
It’ll all work out, right?
It shouldn’t go wrong, a toddler could jump such a distance, yet, the thought that just one mistake could rip your soul from your body had goosebumps prickling your skin.
Although, it’s not as if you had many options: risk death for freedom or lock your soul away in a tightly-bound, gilded cage.
If you wanted to slip away into your new life, you had to take the leap down—you had to trust yourself.
Keeping your gaze trained and focused, you contract your calf muscles, steeling your nerves and anxiety to halt.
You lurch forward, collapsing like a baby bird onto the tough, unforgiving, stone. You hiss at the stinging pain from the small scrapes now littering your hand and knees, yet, your attention is quickly swept away—drawn to the longing tug in your heart, willing you to continue.
Sinking your teeth into your plump lower lip, you push yourself back upright, stumbling as you struggle to find your footing. You close the small distance between you and the castle’s tower, softly treading down the spiralled stairwell.
You easily reach the bottom, swiftly creeping out into the fresh air. You scamper down the wide, polished marble stairs and dive into the well-looked-after forest, huddling behind some shrubbery.
You had begun your new life.
With one hand, you clutch your bag with a great grip, the other you use to smooth out the foreign clothes draped over your limbs, wide-legged pants and a loose-fitting shirt. You lift your hand from your cheap rags to comb through your short, boyish wig, praying your disguise would hold up.
Finally, you move, inching closer to the overwhelmingly large pirate ship, scanning your surroundings.
It felt like a miracle, everything had slotted perfectly together. You had heard, after eavesdropping on nobles and maids nonstop, that the kingdoms privateers were looking for a new crew member as of recent.
As soon as morning settled over the town, you had rushed to the docks, hoping to be one of the first, if not one of the only volunteers. Truthfully, you wouldn’t stand a chance if you had competition—your limited knowledge and skills set you back—giving yourself little advantage.
You skitter up the small, crooked staircase, lightly stepping on board. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you swivel your head around, scanning the deck for the ship’s captain.
“Ahem.”
You whip your head upwards just to be met with the sight of a hulking man; dark tattoos decorating his skin; pink hair flourishing from his scalp. His attire only amplified his menacing aura: he wore a deep red waistcoat overtop a cream coloured shirt, the arms rolled high to flaunt his delicious biceps. As your eyes traveled lower, the view only got better—broad, black trousers enhancing his hard, muscled thighs; heavy boots, that could probably crush you, adorned his feet.
“Sir—” You clear your throat and deepen your voice, overthinking your vocabulary choices before you’ve even made them, glazing your words with confidence as you spoke again, “‘M here to volunteer for work on the ship.”
A beat passes, your heart hammers in your chest to an almost audible level as you not-so-patiently waiting for a response, watching him cock a thick brow at you.
“That so, brat?” He rumbles out in a gravelly tone that had you squirming. “What do you have to contribute ‘en?”
Roughly fidgeting with a small fold of fabric from your shirt, aiming to clear your mind as you preparing to hold a conversation with the overgrown hunk of man.
“Hard work—dedication to the most disgusting work.” You hum.
He scoffs, giving you an incredulous look as he clicks his tongue.
“Y’Sure a boy like you can handle that work? Don’t need another useless mouth to feed if you ain’t gonna do a proper job.”
“I’ll prove myself—“ Swallowing thickly, you swing your arms just slightly. “Just one chance.”
His narrowed his eyes cause you to flinch, his piercing gaze shooting through your very core.
…
“Be ‘ere tomorrow morning at 5 o’clock sharp. We’re goin’ out on a week-long voyage, prepare y’self, one chance, remember?”
You nod, stiffening your posture despite the mind-numbing sensation of relief seeping into your bones. You have to act like another simple volunteer.
“Thank you—” exhaling softly, you continue, “I’ll be here.”
Breathing out, you shuffle down the narrow stairs, feeling his weighty gaze finally stray from your form. Rolling your shoulders backwards, you double-check your surroundings before legging it into the dense forest, producing as little noise as possible.
Feeling the dry concrete beneath you transform into spongy mud, you slow your pace, visibly relaxing as you stumble toward the umpteenth tree you’ve seen.
Panting, you reach the tree and slide your back down the rough bark coating the trunk, collapsing against the ground, sitting amidst the mire. You clutch your backpack to your chest as if it was precious—the only thing you now possess from the life that was yours just a mere day ago. Squeezing your eyes shut, a loud ringing echoes through your skull—the rough sounds from the hefty soldiers taunting you.
Just stay hidden until early morning.
You couldn’t risk a guard recognising you through your disguise.
(Comment if you want to be added to the taglist for this series :p)
MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader
Chapter 4 - (Chapter 6)
Finally reunited again, Simon attacked you as soon as you met. Will this be the breaking point for you or can you work through it and help you both.
~ 8,8k words
Content (might contain spoilers): biting, blood, attack, hybrid AU, mentions of torture, medical inaccuracies
A.N: I'm sorry it took so long. I'm pretty slow with updates. I hope you enjoy it. Although I am currently at the I hate it stage but I decided that I should consider it as good enough as it is. Enjoy. Also I suck at spelling so feel free to point out mistakes.
It’s absurd how the seconds stretch until they feel like minutes. The pain is excruciating but you can’t look away from Simon’s face. Your arm feels like it’s on fire, the stinging and burning sensation racing through it until you think you can’t bear it anymore and yet you have the mind to think about it. Instead of instinctively slapping at Simon or kicking him you stare. Is it normal to think this rationally in a moment like this?
It’s like your frozen in time. Neither of you moving, his vicious fangs embedded in your arm. His face is still scrunched up in a threatening display but you catch the flickering hint of fear glinting in his eyes. It makes you want to comfort him and you think you might be stupid, wanting to comfort a hybrid that’s hurting you.
Steps slowly draw closer and when you look to the side you catch sight of Nate’s lower body. He’s carefully, stealthily coming closer. In his hand that’s resting at his side he holds a syringe, thumb ready to empty the liquid into Simon.
It’s most likely filled with a sedative and instinctively you throw your free arm out and over Simon’s neck protectively. He flinches at the sudden movement , driving his teeth deeper into your arm and you wince at the way the movement rips at your flesh. A new wave of pain crashes through you and you can’t hold back a slight groan. Nate steadily creeps closer and Simon’s eyes widen with growing awareness at what’s about to happen.
“No.” You try to command Nate but it comes out like more of a pained wheeze. Still he stops sedative at the ready.
Simon’s eyebrows furrow his eyes flickering between yours, confused. He does not yield his hold on your arm and you breathe deeply through the pain. You wish it would just stop hurting.
“I need to sedate him, he’s dangerous.” Nate says resolutely.
“No!” You manage a bit louder. It might be only a feeling that makes you stop him but if Simon gets sedated right now it will only make things worse. Sure it will save you from this moment but you won’t be able to process it and work through it. It will be just like Phillip. Well maybe not exactly like it since Simon’s isn’t mauling you right now. He’s only nibbling on you. You almost make yourself crack up into hysterical giggles with that thought. His teeth hurt just as much as Phillips did. They’re just as sharp. But they’re not moving.
Forcefully removing Simon from you won’t truly help, you’re sure of it. Simon will freak when he wakes back up and you’ll be left with this memory of him. Attacking you, biting you. Even though his fangs are still sunken into your flesh the old scar in your shoulder throbs and you feel like laughing. Maybe you’re slowly going crazy from the pain. It seems to be everywhere.
Your head hurts where it cracked against the floor but you concentrate on Simon’s shallow breath. The way he holds your arm in his teeth. He’s not actively biting deeper and you consciously relax your body under him. Maybe it’s abnormal the way you assess the situation, thinking it through instead of fighting the large hybrid. But you can’t help but be thankful for it.
“It’s okay, Simon.” You say gently and watch his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. His growling stutters and maybe you imagine it but a hint of a whine builds up in his throat. He’s aware of you. You’re not sure why he hasn’t let go yet, but you’re determined to get this under control. With your current pain level you can still talk and think so maybe there’s a way for you to do this right, to do right by him.
“I know. I should have known better than to rush towards you. I don’t like that either. Forgive me for scaring you.” You continue on just following your instinct. Simon’s face betrays his surprise.
He huffs through his nose and looks at you almost pleadingly. What he’s pleading for, you don’t know. The aggression is gone but the fear in his eyes hurts almost as much as his bite.
“I know. I know. You didn’t mean it.” You’re not even sure what you’re saying but you don’t stop talking to him. His saliva pools on your skin, hot and sticky, or maybe it’s just your blood.
When his breaths get quicker and you decide to be more daring. Speaking helps but it’s not enough. The sight of the large hybrid evidently distressed breaks your heart. He’s growing more distressed by the second.
You need to try something. Anything. Slowly you move the arm that you protectively threw around his neck until you can lower your hand onto the back of his head. Burying your fingers in his hair carefully. It’s just a gentle brush of your fingers through his hair but a sudden wail tears from his chest like you hit him.
Once again it sinks his teeth deeper into your arm and you grit your own teeth against the pain. This has to work. You don’t know what to do if it doesn’t work and the pain is slowly fraying your nerves.
“I know. Shhh. It’s okay. You didn’t mean to, did you? I just spooked you. Nothing bad is going to happen. I won’t let them sedate you. I’m here now, Simon. Like you asked. Like you wanted.”
Once again you card your fingers through his hair, only a whisper of a touch until you reach the base of his left ear. He howls like he’s being ripped apart. Your eyes fill with tears. Maybe you should stop. Are you actually hurting him? But he shouldn’t have a wound on the back of his head. Your touch shouldn’t hurt him.
His eyes are wide and frightful but his jaw slackened lightly. Not hurting him then. Good, you have to continue.
“You can let go, Simon. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe. You’re okay. I won’t even look if you don’t want me to.” The things you say barely make sense but you can’t stop, not when the hold he has on your arm loosens some more until his teeth are merely resting against your bloody skin. You’re not delusional enough to think he won’t bite down again at the sign of any threat so you keep holding still under him.
The base of his ear is unbelievable soft under your fingers as you rub it and he pants harshly against your arm an entire war happening behind his eyes. Another broken whine raises in his throat and you smile up at him. It’s wobbly and not really all that convincing but a smile non the less.
“No one will look at you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. We’re okay. I promise. It’s okay. You can let go. Nothing will happen.”
You swallow down the pain and nerves addressing Nate. “Right? You won’t sedate him. It’s okay. He’s okay.”
You cannot see Nate's face from your position but he shuffles a few steps back, clearing his throat. “Yeah uhm. Sure?”
Simon’s eyes search yours and ever so slowly he widens his jaw, his wet and warm tongue laving over the bite mark once, his breath cool against the wet skin when he whimpers. Some of the tightness in your chest dissipates as the pain lessens just the tiniest bit.
“There you go. You’re doing so well, Simon. You can relax. Will you let me sit up?”
He takes in your expression, scanning your face for something and you patiently wait. Slowly he pulls his head back until your arm is safe from his teeth. Then he closes his mouth warily. You match his pace and as he slowly retreats from over you, you push yourself up, wincing when you put your weight on your arm.
Finally you’re sitting in front of him, cross legged and he watches you for a long moment. He’s subtly shaking and you attempt to smile at him again but all it does it make the tears spill over. Still you push through even if you can’t see his expression properly through the blur. Smiling almost hurts.
“Well done, Simon.”
The sight or the words make something snap and he lunges forward. You violently flinch, throwing your arms up again freezing when you suddenly have a lap full of malinois hybrid. His big arms are wrapped tightly around your middle and his face is pressed into your stomach while he half lays on you, his shaking growing stronger.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He’s shivering so hard your entire body is rocking with it. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Your arms are still raised while he falls apart against you and you lower them slowly until you touch him. One hand presses on his back, which makes him in turn jump and bury his face harder against your stomach. The other hand finds his head again, petting him. He speaks through pained whimpers. “Forgive me. Sorry.”
You don’t know how long you sit there on the floor, your arm bleeding freely, soaking his shirt and your pants with your blood but at some point he stops shaking, stops apologizing through whimpers and simply holds onto you quietly. You don’t stop petting him through it all.
Nate is already looking at you when you look up at him. His eyes are wide, stressed and his tongue doesn’t stop tasting the air of the room. Your tears have run dry and your mouth curves up into a real smile.
“You’re insane.” He softly remarks into the quiet of the room but it doesn’t sound like an insult.
You blink at him slowly, protectively tightening your arms around Simon, drawing him in closer. He stiffens at that and then relaxes again. He’s awake, just not speaking anymore.
“Can you bring me something for my wounds?” You ask Nate and he looks at you long and hard in disapproval.
“You should go see a medical professional about it.” He advises and Simon curls more tightly around you his arms pressing him closer until his hold is almost painful. A second later he starts to extract himself from you, like he realizes what he just did but you hold him tight and he goes lax in your lap again.
“I’ll take care of the worst myself. I’ll see someone about it later.”
Nate shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone with him not when…”
“I’m fine. You’ll be quick, right?” You interrupt gently. He nods but seems unconvinced. “Go Nate, or do you want me to lose more blood?” You ask with an almost teasing tone and he shakes his head again but begins moving.
“You’re insane.” He repeats and then he’s gone.
Your back starts cramping from sitting in your position for so long. Tenderly you stoke Simon’s hair. “Hey, big guy. Do you think we can move to the wall? Sitting like this is a little straining.”
He loosens his grip and it’s entirely ridiculous how you two scoot over the floor without changing the position you’re in until your back rests against the wall. You sigh with relief, relaxing some and your back stops screaming. That only making the uncomfortable pulsing of the wound in your arm more prominent.
Thank god that you have all the vaccines for dog hybrid bites. Courtesy of working with them and having been bitten not too long ago. Simon raises his head and you hold your breath. Somehow you expected him to cry but there’s no sign of it on his face. It’s dry and expressionless. He looks at your face, then your arm and slowly sits back up, examining it.
That’s how Nate finds you. He’s wary as he steps closer eying Simon like he’ll attack him any second and extends his hand with the little first aid kit towards you. You take it. Before you go to open it, Simon’s hand covers yours and you recoil like he bit you again, looking at him in shock.
His face is unreadable. “Let me?” He says it like a question and you nod mutely, watching him as his big hands open the kit and he gets started on cleaning the wounds.
Your heart jumps at every touch even though his movements are slow and steady. His big hands are surprisingly gentle as he takes care of the bite mark he put on you with practiced ease. Looking to Nate in bewilderment you catch him with his sight locked on Simon attentively. His tongue darts out every now and then but decidedly less hectic than before.
When he catches your stare he presses his lips together and you notice he’s still holding the syringe. Quietly you look at his face and then pointedly at the sedative and shake your head. He sighs audibly and Simon tenses again, like he’s bracing for something, even though he seems concentrated on wrapping your wounds.
You relax some more when Nate caps the needle. Simon raises your arm inspecting the stark white wrapping and the lets go, scooting back a bit and out of your personal space. Once again you’re locked into a staring match. Nate silently watches you two.
Soon enough the silence gets unbearable, uncomfortable and finally you need to say something, anything or you’ll implode.
“Hi.”
Simon’s expression settles back into a frown. Not in a talking mood it seems. Somehow that makes you grin. It brings you back to when he first woke up in the hospital.
“I just arrived. I wanted to see you as soon as possible and Nate was kind enough to take me to you.”
You give Nate a blinding smile and the snake hybrid shakes his head again. “You’re either insane or a saint.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment. Anyway, Simon, are you ready to move into our rooms with me? We have two rooms next to each other.” You offer and Nate takes half a step forward. Simon tracks the other hybrids movements out of the corners of his eyes.
“Now hold on. That’s nice and all but not happening. At least not today. I have to report the biting. If this was just about your relationship I wouldn’t object but we can’t move Simon into a populated wing if we don’t know for sure he won’t be a danger to everyone.”
You can’t exactly argue with that, even if you’d like to. It makes sense and you just arrived. Maybe you missed something about Simon’s behavior that could be a threat. Even if you don’t think he is. He is pretty much exactly as you remember him. Although you have to admit to yourself that there’s some lingering fear at being in Simon’s presence, that wasn’t there before. You push it back down.
His attack was maybe a bit extreme but once again not the actions of a savage. If your judgement isn’t completely off, then it was simply an instinctive reaction to feeling threatened.
“Alright, I understand. Then…” You look around the barely furnished room. It reminds you a lot of ‘the cell’ at Rehybrid except it has an actual bed, a desk and chair and a door that leads to what you’d assume is a bathroom. Although the bare furniture is bolted into place as you notice.
“Simon.” You address the hybrid and his ears twitch in your direction. “Would you like me to stay the night here or go back to my room and come back tomorrow?”
You can see Nate open his mouth and level him with a flat stare which makes him promptly snap it shut. Simon cocks his head at you.
“He has a medical examination really early tomorrow, it’s more convenient if you…” Nate starts after all but Simon’s sudden and vicious growl makes him shut up.
You jerk around to look at the malinois hybrid. His expression is all threat again and aimed at Nate, his ears drawn back and fear clogs your throat. Maybe he is more aggressive than you thought. Maybe you’re a stupid softy and shouldn’t trust your judgement too much.
But except for the earlier attack he was relatively docile up to now. And his aggression isn’t aimed at you which makes it easier to judge with a level head.
Something isn’t right. He wouldn’t react like that for no reason.
“As his handler, I’d like to be present for that.” You state and Simon’s head whips back around to you his growl dying down his ears perking back up.
Nate sighs and drags his hands over his face. “Alright.” He glances between you and Simon and his face relaxes. “It’s getting late and I just want to go to bed. I’m getting irritated at all this because I’m so tired so stay or go back to your room but I need to sleep soon or I’ll pass out on you two or get mad and I don’t want that.”
You search his face and suddenly it hits you how obviously exhausted Nate looks. With everything that happened you didn’t pay any close attention to him. Sheepishly you look down and then at Simon again. It’s his call to make so you await his answer.
You two lock eyes for what feels like an eternity and finally you get to hear his rumbled reply.
“Stay.”
You nod your heart suddenly speeding up again but it’s not fear this time and you address Nate. “I’m staying here. Don’t worry about my stuff, I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Just go to bed Nate. I’ll be fine.”
The snake hybrid clearly has more on his mind but he doesn’t voice any of it, studying Simon and you who are still on the ground. A big yawn makes him finally leave for good but not before giving you his number so you can call in case anything happens.
The door clicks shut behind him and you’re alone with Simon.
Well, that was some reunion. You sigh deeply and let your body relax. Now that it’s just you two some of your nervousness returns and you have to remind yourself that Simon apologized for attacking you earlier. He also bandaged your wounds for you and had a breakdown in your lap so the chances of him attacking you to prove something are slim to none.
You’re glad you stopped Nate from sedating him. But even if everything went well in the end it doesn’t mean that your wounds aren’t rubbed raw. Now you try to hold all the ugly feelings that try to resurface down with rationality.
“Will you tell me what the growling was for when Nate mentioned tomorrow? What happened? Why did I get requested?” You find yourself asking. Skirting around the topic isn’t your thing and you need to know if you want a chance to do your job well.
Simon clears his throat and finally you can look him over calmly and actually take note of how his wounds look. The cuts on his face are mostly healed, leaving thin pink scars behind some still have a bit of crusting. You can’t exactly see the other wounds right now but his fingers aren’t in a cast anymore. Now they’re only taped together in a way that prevents him from using them too much and separately from each other.
“I trust you.” Simon says and that simple sentence slams into you like a sledgehammer. It makes you swallow against your tight throat and you blink a few times.
“What happened?” You ask again after collecting yourself and he huffs.
“Nothing.”
You raise one eyebrow unimpressed. “Oh really. Nothing has your hackles raised like that?”
He bares his teeth in frustration, gritting them and the sight has you leaning away from him slightly. He notices and lowers his lips looking at the floor.
“Nothing that warrants a reaction like mine.” He continues and you hum.
When he doesn’t go on further you gently encourage: “Listen Simon. I’m here for you. I came here to help you to be on your team. But if you want me to be able to do that you have to explain things to me so I know how to protect you best.”
He barks an unamused harsh laugh at that and you watch him as he stops and crumbles into himself, quieting down. “I should not need protection. I’m a soldier.”
Slowly, carefully you inch closer to his seated form. “I’m not talking about your strength. You’ve been MIA for months Simon. Whatever happened, you’re allowed to be affected by it. You’re allowed to be hurt and need help. It doesn’t make you weak or any less of a soldier to need help getting back on your feet. But I won’t know how to do that if you don’t speak to me.”
He looks back up and something in his face softens. He nervously licks his lips and begins forcing out words. “I was cuffed for the transport. As soon as I was here they wanted to do a medical exam. I was overwhelmed. I refused. They sedated me. But I was awake, I guess it only sedated my body not my mind. I was unable to move as they poked and prodded me, examined me. No one talked to me.” He shudders.
His explanation is short but it chokes you up and makes you clench your fist in anger at the same time. These fools. Fucking idiots and assholes. You start shaking and Simon looks at you concerned, notices your unshed tears and shakes his head.
“I don’t want your pity.” He almost snarls and if you weren’t so angry you’d flinch but your rage overshadows any other emotion, fills you to your fingertips until you don’t know where to put it anymore.
“I’m not pitying you.” You bite out and then breathe deeply to calm down. No need to raise your voice at him. “I’m angry.”
Simon jerks back, away from you and you quickly go on. “Angry at them! Your reaction is completely justified. I.... fuck I’m so mad I want to punch someone.”
That gets an actual laugh out of Simon and it startles you right out of your angry state. Genuine amusement dances in his light brown eyes and you can’t help but smile back. He has a nice laugh. It’s rough and very him.
“Do you even know how to throw a proper punch?” He teases and you lift your chin in mock offense.
“Of course I do.” You say your head held high. Simon chuckles warmly at that and you can’t help but grin at him. Some of the earlier heaviness finally lifting from the room.
A comfortable quiet settles over you two after that. The amusement lingers for a moment.
“I’m coming with you tomorrow. Just give me a sign if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll make sure they take it slow. I won’t let them touch you without your permission.” You say. It’s a promise.
“I didn’t mean to bite you.” Another hidden apology.
You look down at your neatly wrapped arm. It makes sense for him to be able to do basic first aid but you’re still surprised at how well and quick he did it. You shrug, your hand gently stroking over the bandages.
“I know that now. It’s not like it’s the first time either. I’ve had worse.”
A small growl builds in his chest but this time you manage to keep the fear back. It’s just a reaction to what you said. Not you. “What do you mean you’ve had worse?”
Instinctively your hand comes up to your shoulder pressing against the permanently scarred skin. Somehow that’s the scar you always go for as if it’s the only one Phillip left on you.
“Nothing important. You’re just not the first hybrid who bit me.” You try to keep it vague and you can see his eyes narrow but he doesn’t push. You’re not sure whether you’re relieved or disappointed.
Pointedly you look around the room taking in the little furniture. A small smirk settles on your lips as you look at Simon. “There is only one bed.”
Immediately a louder growl starts up in his chest and your smile vanishes. Okay that is definitely aimed at you and fear sinks it’s claws into your neck. “Hey, hey. I was only teasing. I will sleep on the floor. Don’t worry.”
He swallows down the threatening noise and looks to the side almost like he’s embarrassed by his own reaction. “No. You can have the bed.”
You shake your head and scoff. “Yeah right. I’ll take the bed when you’re the one still healing.”
His eyebrows furrow and you realize that that seems to be the expression he wears most of the time. He licks his lips his ears flickering up and down as if he doesn’t know what to express.
“We could share.” He says it so self assured you wouldn’t think he’s nervous about it if it wasn’t for his ears and his earlier growl.
“Only if you’re comfortable.” Your voice leaves no room for arguments.
He’s quiet for a long time mulling it over, frowning at the bed, and you almost tell him that you’ll sleep on the floor either way. When you open your mouth he grits out: “Don’t touch me.”
His tone is aggressive and not even a real answer but you simply nod. “I won’t. We can build a barrier out of the blanket, that way I can’t accidentally knock into you in the night. But only if you want that. I have no problem with sleeping on the floor.”
He doesn’t answer but he gets up and tugs the blanket off the bed. Silently he waits next to it and you guess that’s your sign to get in and sleep next to the wall. You’re not sure how you feel about the prospect of being caged between Simon’s large form and the wall but that’s probably the reason why Simon won’t slip in first.
You take off your shoes and crawl onto the mattress. The bed is obviously not meant for two so you press as close to the wall as you can. Simon puts one knee on the bed and then proceeds to spread the blanket over you in a surprisingly gentle gesture. Then he piles the rest next to you so it acts as a barrier.
For a moment he just looks at his work, then he grumbles something to himself, turns down the lights and gets in next to you. You note that he doesn’t turn the light off completely but that’s just fine by you. You prefer being able to see him and his intentions.
The quiet is tense but you don’t know what to say anymore so you just lay there staring at the ceiling and wait for sleep to claim you. It doesn’t help that your inner clock thinks it’s early evening.
Finally you can’t keep laying still like that and turn onto your side, craning your neck to look at Simon’s profile over the blanket barrier he build. His eyes are closed but you’re pretty sure he’s not asleep. His chest raises and falls too quickly for that and you watch the rhythm for a moment until it registers that he gave you the blanket.
“I’m not cold. You can have the blanket.” You whisper in case you’re wrong and he is asleep after all.
His eyes open and he keeps them on the ceiling. “Don’t need it. I run hot.”
You nod to yourself and tuck your knees in close so you don’t accidentally brush against him. Head relaxing back against the pillow so you’re left staring at the blanket. It takes forever but finally you do succumb to sleep.
You wake in the middle of the night with a gasp, sitting upright. You’re glad the light is on so you can see everything and your hand finds your painfully throbbing shoulder. It seems to have it’s own heartbeat and it’s beating in tandem with the new bite wound on your arm.
Guilty you look down at Simon’s stretched out form to find his golden eyes already fixed on you. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
He shakes his head and continues to watch as you press your hand to your chest and do your breathing exercise to calm back down. You don’t like that he sees you like this. Not when he signed for you to be his handler. You’re supposed to be his rock and have authority. Can he even take you serious when he gets to see you struggle like this?
Nothing on his face gives away what he thinks as you slowly find back to your own body. You check the barrier between you two and find it intact. You can’t help the sigh of relief that you let out at that and you catch the slightest movement of Simon’s ears.
Happy to escape his scrutinizing gaze you lay back down and once again you’re left staring at the blankets. How you wish you could reach out and touch him, reassure yourself and him but he asked you not to so you tuck your hands in close to your chest and close your eyes.
Movement of the fabric has you opening them again. You turn your head and see Simon peek over the barrier. He offers no comment but carefully arranges the blanket back over your body. In your panicked state you had thrown it off you. Again without so much as brushing his fingers against you. Once he’s satisfied that you’re covered properly he lays back down and you find yourself snuggling more into the blanket, pressing just the tiniest bit closer to the barrier. If you concentrate enough you can imagine that his warmth seeps through the thick fabric and settles around you.
You wake in the morning to a strange pressure against your front. It’s comforting but confusing because the blanket barrier shouldn’t be this unyielding. Your open eyes and don’t see anything besides the pristine white of the cover for a moment until your realize that you can see Simon’s shoulder rise and fall mere centimeters from you.
Now you’re wide awake, your breath hitching. The blanket is still firmly in place between the two of you and no part of you touches but Simon is curled up on his side too, pressed against the blanket just like you and although it separates you two you can feel his chest rising and falling against it. You can feel his legs against yours through it and for a second you think about getting up and putting as much distance between you and his sleeping form as possible.
A moment later you almost laugh at yourself while heat spreads through your cheeks. You crane your neck trying to see if Simon’s head peeks over the top of the barrier. It does.
Your eyes lock and you exhale on a rush. He’s awake.
Neither of you move and you can hear you blood rushing in your ears at his proximity. You’re sure if it weren’t for the thick cover between you you’d die of a heart attack. How his closeness can be stifling and comforting at once is a mystery to you but you don’t move either. Maybe it’s because you’re frozen in fear.
But the beat of your heart doesn’t spell out fear.
“Good morning.” You whisper. Instead of an answer the pressure against your front increases for a moment, then he rolls away from you and sits up, rubbing his palms over his tired face.
You find yourself doing the same and checking the time. It’s ridiculous how early you woke up but Simon’s already on his feet, tension in the harsh lines of his body and stretches for a moment his ears pressing flat against his head at his big yawn and you can’t help but smile. Definitely cute despite his size.
He catches your expression and seems confused. Instead of offering an explanation you fondly shake your head and get up too. Both of you silently wash up in the bathroom. It’s comfortable and you find only the faintest traces of yesterdays fear left in you. Somehow Simon manages to put you at ease, despite his attack.
It’s not long before Nate appears. He opens the door slowly and peeks inside. Once he sees you the relief is visible on his face and he steps in fully.
“Thank god, I was worried I’d find you in shreds.”
The way he says it so earnestly makes you giggle and Simon’s almost always present frown deepens. “It’s time for Simon to go to the doctor’s.”
Simon’s entire demeanor changes and he backs up against a corner. His lips peel back and Nate’s expression turns sad.
He opens the door wider and two more men step in. Apparently they also work at the center. One holds a muzzle the other one a collar and a leash and Nate once again has a sedative in hand. Your eyes widen and you step in front of Simon, very aware of him snarling behind you. Putting yourself between him and the men is probably stupid especially since you can’t see what he’ll do next but you can’t have them adding to his stress.
You raise your hands placatingly. “Gentlemen, please. This is hardly necessary.”
One of the guys scoffs. “Tell that to him. He’s not allowed out of this room without leash and muzzle but he won’t put it on. There is no other way. I sure as hell won’t suffer another attack from him. And we don’t have the time for discussions.”
Now it’s your turn to frown almost scowling at them. “Surely you can spare a few more minutes if it’s for the sake of one of the hybrids who’s supposed to heal here?” You say, some venom seeping into your tone.
You’re aware that you’re new here and hardly endearing yourself to your presumed co-workers but you’re here for Simon. Not for them. They roll their eyes but stay back and you mull over your options.
“Leave the leash and muzzle here and out. All of you.” You say in a commanding voice that you’re pretty sure you have no right to wield. Yet they listen and you catch Nate taste the air and nod at you a slight smile on his lips.
When the door closes you turn on your heels and meet Simon’s angry expression.
“You don’t want the leash and muzzle?” You question, voice soft once again.
He shakes his head his canines still exposed and you remember how they ripped at your flesh. The phantom pain shoots through your entire body this time and you square your shoulders. It’s time to be his handler. You don’t have the luxury of wallowing in self pity.
“I’m afraid there is no way around it at this point in time.” He straightens up further and his growl redoubles.
You raise your hands. “Simon listen to me.” He’s staring through you, he’s probably not really listening, trapped somewhere in his racing thoughts so you raise your voice slightly. “Simon!”
He starts, his ears coming forward for a moment before he goes back to his aggressive stance.
“I do not want them to hurt you. But I need you to let the doctor check up on you. I promise I will not let anything bad happen. I promise I will protect you. But if you want anything to go differently than before you’ll have to take the muzzle and leash.” You explain. You hate that there is no other way. You just arrived, you have no idea how necessary the check up is and you can’t refuse on his behalf when you don’t know whether he’s healed enough.
He considers you, hatred in his eyes and you try not to let it burn you. It’s such a heavy contrast to the way he looked at you earlier when he peeked at your over the cover. It’s such a difference to when you’re alone in a safe little bubble you two get to design by yourselves.
You exhale heavily and take the leash and muzzle in hand before turning back to Simon. He eyes the two devices like they’re meant to torture him.
You hold up the muzzle, showing it to him and he physically steps back. Instead of going after him, you open the muzzle at the back. “Look. This is how you get it open. It’s designed so you can take it off yourself. No one can force you to keep it on. It’s meant as a helpful device to keep you from hurting others in a stressful moment because often the biting happens on instinct and hybrids regret it afterwards.”
His eyes flicker down to your bandaged arm and then fixate back on the muzzle.
“I won’t even need to touch you to put it on. You can do it yourself.” You continue in the softest voice you can muster. Then you show him the leash. He doesn’t retreat further but the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.
You show him how the collar can be opened and closed. “You can also put this on yourself. I will not let anyone else hold the leash.”
It’s kind of pointless, you know he doesn’t want you to hold the leash just as much as he doesn’t want the men in front of the door to hold it. But at least you’ll hold it softly.
You hold the leather leash up. “I will not yank on it or choke you with it. I will only hold it so we’re connected and I can keep you from getting hurt. I will lead you with a gentle hand and never towards harm.”
Silence falls over the room and you realize that he stopped growling during your explanation. You said what you could, now it is up to him. You can feel your pulse thrum in your neck a silent plea. Please trust me. Let me lead you. Let me show you it can be different than what you experienced so far.
You offer it all to him in your outstretched hands and wait. There is nothing else you can do besides ask him to comply. Sure you’re the authority but only if Simon wants you to be. You hope he remembers that he signed the handler-hybrid papers first. You hope he remembers that he said he trusts you.
His legs carry him towards you and your breath hitches. There’s sweat on his forehead and you stay still as a statue while he takes the muzzle. Carefully he opens and closes the latch a few times, making sure it’s easy to operate. Then he slips it over his face locks and unlocks it at least five more times before he fastens it. His chest heaves with harsh pants as he takes the leash from your hands next and you lower them slowly so you don’t spook him.
Once again he tests the buckle and then fastens the collar around his neck. You notice that he left plenty of room which is technically not how he’s supposed to wear it but you decide not to address it.
His eyes find you but they’re slightly unfocused and you speak to him again. “Well done, Simon. Thank you.”
He jerks back at your words his eyes wide and his panting stops. You’re not sure whether it’s the praise or the fact you expressed gratitude but you leave it at that.
Slowly you hold out your hand, waiting for him to place the leash in your hold instead of taking it up yourself. It looks comically thin in his large palm as he grabs the end and clenches his fist around it. Patiently you wait giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile.
Tensing up even more he places the end in your hand and plants his feet as if he expects you to jerk him forward. Loosely you curl your own fist around the leather and let your arm rest relaxed against your side. The grin you gift him with feels silly with how bright it is but you’re incredibly proud of the big hybrid.
“Follow me.” You softly command testing how he’ll react to you expecting him to follow your words without making it a request. To your surprise he easily falls into step, walking towards the door and waits patiently when you open it.
You stay in front of him and address the men in the corridor who stare at the both of you like you suddenly grew multiple heads. “Do not touch him and stay in front of us, leading the way.”
Nate recovers first, grinning widely and in his slightly reptilian face it looks almost evil. “I knew it.” He hisses delighted and turns to lead the way, the two other guys following behind not even arguing with you at this point.
Simon walks behind you and you turn to him without halting your footsteps. “Come here. Next to me.”
His long legs eat the distance and he walks along beside you, the leash hanging loosely between you. Simon’s face is set into a frown and there’s still sweat beading at his hairline but his breathing is at a frequency that doesn’t worry you and you hum in satisfaction. The ear closest to you swivels towards the sound for a second.
It doesn’t take long until you’re in the doctors office and it makes you feel slightly ridiculous that you have two grown men in addition to Nate accompany you. The doctor gapes at you and Simon, eyes comically wide while looking between you two and the way the large hybrid follows your lead.
She stands up gives you a curt hello and snaps on latex gloves. “Let’s get this over with.”
You frown at her tone and as soon as she stands up Simon starts growling, like a ferocious beast, backing up a bit. The doctor sighs and nods at the men who accompanied you. “Sedate him.”
You straighten up. “Don’t!” You command. The men look between you and the doctor unsure who to listen to. Narrowing you eyes you take a small step in front of Simon. “There is no need to sedate him.”
She clicks her tongue at you and rests her weight on one leg, pushing out her hip. “You’re his new handler? You arrived when? Yesterday? I know how to treat my patients now step aside and let us do our damn job.”
Her tone almost makes you want to cower, not one for confrontation, but you remind yourself why you’re here. “I do not mean to disrespect but I brought him here of his own free will without any need for sedation so I’d really appreciate it if we could work together to make sure my charge is comfortable during the examination.”
She almost scoffs at you and takes a step closer, Simon flinches and you hold out your hand, stopping her from taking another step. Way to go. It’s your first day and you’re already pissing of personnel you’re supposed to work with. But you cannot let it slide, not with the way Simon reacts. After what he told you, you’re certain that there is a reason for it.
“You’re the one who isn’t working with me. So step aside and let me do my job. A job you know nothing about.” Her tone is sharp, biting and it makes your hand itch to slap the arrogance out of her.
You square your shoulders and gather all the leftover confidence you can find in your body. “No. Not when my charge is uncomfortable. Are there any other doctors at this center or do we have to find one who doesn’t work here?” You calmly answer and her mouth drops open.
Something flashes in her eyes and before she can respond Nate steps forward placatingly lifting his hands. “Hey now. It’s a perfectly reasonable and normal request. Yes there are other doctors. We’ll ask for someone else.”
The Doctor grits her teeth in displeasure but doesn’t argue against Nate and you raise your brows. Interesting. Nate seems to be in a position of authority. Breed wise he’d be supposed to be a companion hybrid. But he evidently works here and holds a higher position than some humans.
His hand finds your shoulder and squeezes briefly. Then he escorts the doctor out of the room, telling you he’ll be back soon with someone else.
The door closes behind the two of them and you’re left with Simon and the other two guys. You exhale heavily, your shoulders dropping and turn to Simon. His shirt is soaked with sweat on his chest but now that the doctor left he seems to slowly come back to himself.
Honey coloured eyes regard you as you ask him if he’s okay. The nod is slow but enough to reassure you and you don’t have to wait for long until the door opens again and Nate steps in with a middle-aged man. His hair is black and brushed back, some stray grays at his temples but his face is so kind it immediately puts you at ease.
“Welcome. You must be his new handler. I’m glad you could make it. Please take a seat. I’m Doctor Graham.”
You stay on your feet but give him a friendly smile and a nod. Mentally you pat your back for standing your ground because Simon’s staying quiet, seemingly not as stressed by him. “Yes. I’m happy I can be here. What’s the plan for today's exam?”
At that word Simon shifts on his feet. You wish you could put a reassuring hand on his shoulder but he doesn’t want you to touch him, so you don’t.
“I need to check his wounds for inflammation and their status of healing.”
You nod and the doctor gestures at the examination table. You look at Simon and try to seem as reassuring as possible. “Go on, sit down.”
It surprises you anew when he listens and parks himself on the table. The doctor blinks owlishly at the scene and something akin to gratification spreads in your chest. Look at this, look at what a well behaved hybrid he is and look how wrong you all judged him, you think grimly.
“Please take your shirt off, Simon.” The doc asks and to your surprise Simon looks at you his head slightly tilted.
The weight of his questioning gaze almost makes you crumble to your knees. It’s like he’s testing you. You think back to the hospital. How distressed showing skin made him and you look at Nate and the other two men in the room.
“Doctor Graham, I apologize for the trouble but could you be so kind as to send our audience away. I do not think it is necessary to let them witness the examination.”
The Doc startles in surprise looks around the room and then does as you say. Finally it’s just the three of you and you nod at Simon. “Can you take it off?”
He swallows audibly and slowly his hands go to the hem of his shirt. The hesitation makes you nervous and you wish you could prevent him from having to do this. Before he begins undressing you turn to the Doctor again.
“I’m sorry but is there another way we can do this? I’d like to keep him from harm. Is there a way for this to work without us watching him?” You pray the doctor won’t brush you off. Hopefully your continuous questions and wishes don’t annoy him.
He smiles, crow feet growing more prominent around his eyes and he thinks. Simon’s frozen with his hands on his shirt. It doesn’t look like you’re making an enemy here so you continue.
“If the wounds have been okay up to now maybe he could check them following your instructions without us watching and he can tell you what you need to know?”
Both the Doctor and Simon’s gaze weigh on you and you wish you could shrivel up and disappear but you promised Simon to protect him and you intend to follow through with it.
Doctor Graham looks over a file, scanning the information. You hold your breath and then the older man nods slowly. “Yes, that could work. But he’d have to speak to me for that.”
“Simon?”
His nostrils flare and he nods. “Yes.”
Once again the doctors blanks, then he seems to remember where he is and turns around with his chair. You step closer to Simon and let go of the leash. “I’ll be right here. Just do as the Doc says. No one will look at you.” You quietly instruct well aware that the Doctor can hear you anyway in the dead silent room.
You turn around and the sound of fabric rustling makes you clench your fist. You watch the doctor look at a chart. “Do you have any wounds that feel tender or hot?”
“No.”
He nods and writes something down then he proceeds to lead Simon through the process of checking every wound even instructing him how to check his ribs and fingers. Somehow they manage with Simon’s one word answers and you find yourself slowly relaxing.
Doctor Graham is professional but warm and it makes you feel like crying. It’s absurd how kindness makes your eyes wet but the female doctors harshness didn’t. Once Simon is dressed again you turn back around and give him an approving nod.
Doctor Graham looks up. “I need to rewrap your fingers, Simon.” He calmly states. You expect Simon to grow agitated but he simply nods, holding out his fingers.
The process makes him flinch whenever the doctor touches him but it barely takes a minute until it’s done. Expectantly you hold out the hand for Simon’s leash again and he drops the end into your palm so you can grab it again. You wait for the Doctors dismissal, instead he kindly smiles at you and points at the examination table.
“Your turn. Let me take a look at your arm.”
Bewildered you look at your neatly wrapped arm, having completely forgotten about it. Something about that makes you laugh quietly and you let go of Simon’s leash again. The big hybrid parks himself against a wall and watches as the Doctor unwraps your arm.
The bite looks angry, the wounds deceptively small but the skin and flesh are black and blue, bruised all over and tender to the touch. You can feel Simon’s eyes on the wound like a physical touch while the practiced hands of the doctor check the wound, put some ointment on it and rewrap it.
It’s honestly not surprising when he tells you that your bones probably took some damage too, although not enough to break and that you should take it easy on that arm for a while.
Finally you’re all done and Simon comes up to you, handing you the leash. Before you go, you address the Doctor once more. “Thank you so much for being so accommodating, doctor. And I’m sorry if I caused any trouble by asking for you.” You don’t know how to explain further without going on a tangent but his lips quirk up and he nods.
“It’s not a problem. We’re here to help. And please, just call me Graham without the doctor. We’re coworkers now.” His hand is warm as it engulfs yours when you say goodbye.
Nate is still waiting outside and before you know it you’re back in Simon’s little room. You let go of the leash and beam up at him. “You did so well Simon. I’m really proud of you.”
Before you can add anything he’s already ripped the muzzle off his head and unbuckled the collar letting it all drop to the floor. He takes a few steps back and shudders. You watch him concerned but he seems to calm down soon enough and once Nate deems it safe he turns to you.
“The handler management wants to talk to you. I reported the attack and initially they wanted to keep him locked up here but I took the liberties of telling them about this morning too and they want to talk to you before making their decision. We can’t keep him here forever and expect him to make any progress.”
-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine
trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader
summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.
warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training
a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.
The rumors had spread like wildfire.
The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.
They thought they'd washed their hands clean.
They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.
But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.
Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.
Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.
And then you appeared.
"Hi,"
The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.
"What?" he rasped.
You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.
"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.
Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.
You looked truly pitiable.
But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.
He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.
He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.
"We're both dying,"
You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.
You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.
Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.
The boy hummed in return.
With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.
Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.
Sweet.
Fruit.
His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.
"Eat," you simply said.
He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."
Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.
"What are you—"
Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.
Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.
His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.
"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.
You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.
"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.
Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.
He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.
Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.
He grunted, "Sukuna."
You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.
And surprisingly, he did the same thing.
He repeated it.
This became your routine.
You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.
Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.
You hardly ate yourself.
No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.
"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"
"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."
"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"
Sukuna could say the same about them.
Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.
Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.
A little girl, with more bones than meat.
Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?
Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.
Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.
He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.
Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.
"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.
—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.
But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.
But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.
That must've been his nerves, he figured.
You were annoying him, he figured.
You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.
And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.
"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."
"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."
The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.
A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."
You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"
Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.
"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."
You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"
He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.
"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.
You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.
Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.
"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.
You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"
"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."
"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.
"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."
You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."
He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."
"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."
His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."
He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.
You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."
His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"
You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."
For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.
But he didn't.
Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.
You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."
Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.
But for now, you weren't alone.
Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.
Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.
Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.
But you hadn't. Didn't.
And that caused him to grow over the years.
He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.
What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.
Definitely for no other reason, though.
Nope.
Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.
Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.
Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.
Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.
Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.
And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.
So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.
You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.
The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.
"The girl's still out there!"
"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"
"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"
Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.
"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.
You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"
He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."
And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.
From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.
You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.
Always bloodied.
It was never his blood.
His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.
You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.
He never flinched. Never winced.
You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.
This was your routine now.
You decided you didn't like it.
You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.
It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.
The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.
You knew what they were.
You didn't need to ask.
Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.
You knew that.
He knew you knew.
At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.
He was scared.
Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.
But you didn't.
You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.
You didn't support what he was doing.
But you would never stop him.
For the world had done the same to him.
Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.
Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…
You would never abandon him.
So you stayed.
Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.
Because that's what you'd always done.
And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.
No matter how bloody he was.
No matter how much darker he seemed.
He always came back.
To you.
After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.
He'd proven himself.
It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.
Sukuna found an estate on a whim.
It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.
He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.
He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.
Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.
He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.
"Brat," he muttered under his breath.
You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.
The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.
Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.
But there were some who didn't fight.
Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.
Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.
"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."
And they did.
One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.
By the time he finished, the estate was his.
Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.
Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.
Because that's what you had always done.
There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.
Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.
But also… not not that.
It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.
The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.
From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.
When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.
Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.
He definitely didn't admire that.
But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.
"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.
You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."
"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.
It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.
Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)
There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.
You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...
But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.
You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?
It irritated him.
"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."
You didn't respond.
He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.
You looked sad.
Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.
"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.
You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.
Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.
So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.
Yes. Yes, that was the answer.
Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'
So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.
Literally.
"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.
You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.
"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"
Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.
"Stop being so damn stupid—!"
Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.
"..Oh."
He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.
Which pissed him off even more.
"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."
You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"
"What?"
Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."
He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."
But you didn't.
And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.
And that terrified him.
He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.
So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.
It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.
The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.
This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.
No.
This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.
A pair.
You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.
He didn't care.
He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.
You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.
But then he saw it.
The way your expression shifted.
You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.
Your frown deepened.
And that's when Sukuna realized.
This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.
He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.
"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"
You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."
He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."
You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"
But you weren't mad.
Just pouty.
And he found that absolutely hilarious.
Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.
So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.
And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.
"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.
You blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."
Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."
Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"
"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."
You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."
He rolled his eyes.
"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."
He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."
"To me, you are."
"..."
Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.
But there was this constant urge to have more.
You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.
That's why you started training. A lot.
Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.
And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.
His praise.
Your guilty pleasure.
You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.
And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.
Take eating, for example.
Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.
Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.
Nope.
Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.
Sukuna was confused.
Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.
Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?
As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.
"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"
You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"
Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."
"Bullshit," he said flatly.
You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.
Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are."
You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.
"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.
And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.
"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."
Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.
"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."
Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.
"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."
A small grin tugged at your lips.
"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.
Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.
When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.
You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.
You were you.
A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.
If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.
One day, another letter arrived.
It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,
The Crow.
The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.
Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."
You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"
He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."
The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.
"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."
You knew it, and so did he.
But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.
"I'm going."
Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."
You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."
"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."
"Then come with me,"
He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.
"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."
Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."
"So I've heard."
The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.
The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.
What confused them most was him.
Why was he here? Only you were invited.
The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.
"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."
"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"
The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"
"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"
The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."
The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"
"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.
But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.
"Let me handle this," you said softly.
His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.
You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.
You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.
One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.
"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.
Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.
Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."
The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.
Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.
But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.
You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?
Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."
Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."
You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"
"I do not pout."
"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.
Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"
"That's irrelevant," he muttered.
You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"
Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.
He hated this.
Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.
He stayed silent, letting you work.
When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.
And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.
They were beautiful.
They promised you they smelled even better.
Who were you to decline?
But beauty has a cost.
The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.
The trouble began not long after.
At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.
Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.
Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.
And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.
Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.
He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.
Instead, he sent servants.
The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.
"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.
The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.
Useless.
A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.
One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.
By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.
Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."
The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?
Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.
"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."
The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.
And so, Sukuna waited.
What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?
Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.
Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.
You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.
And then it dawned on you.
They were aphrodisiacs.
You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.
One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?
Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?
Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?
You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.
The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.
What had you done to deserve this?
You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.
And that would mean the death of the villagers.
You didn't want that, either.
But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.
You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.
What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.
The one placed in the bed you shared with him.
You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.
And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?
You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.
You felt like you were in heat.
You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.
"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"
To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.
What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.
He wanted to touch you.
To demolish you himself.
"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"
"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.
He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.
And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.
His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.
He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,
"Tell me what you desire, my dove."
"You."
No hesitation.
Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.
"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."
His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.
"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"
He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.
"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."
That's when you felt it.
Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.
Exactly where his maw was located at.
He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.
Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.
His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.
And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.
You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.
It was eating you.
Literally.
You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.
He pinched them.
And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.
And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.
His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..
"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"
Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.
"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."
You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.
He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.
But you giggled, actually giggled at him.
"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"
"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."
"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"
"..."
He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.
You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.
And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.
Using your hands to cover what's his.
"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.
You obeyed.
And there he was.
There they were.
Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.
He was right. You would wither trying to take him.
"Excited already?"
Oh, yeah.
How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.
"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.
"So desperate, my dove. Tch."
Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.
Fuck.
It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.
And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.
You could cum on spot for what he said next;
"Good girl. F-fuck."
Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).
You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.
Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.
He was so perfect.
During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.
"G-get off— woman."
But you didn't.
You couldn't.
And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.
With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.
You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.
"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.
Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..
His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.
"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"
You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.
"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."
Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.
"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.
"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"
He hummed, his tongue retreating.
"I suppose you can't, no."
"Huh?— Ah—!"
He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.
He was big.
He hurt.
But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.
The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.
"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"
Ever?
You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.
His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.
You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.
He'd summoned mouths over his hands.
Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.
"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"
"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.
"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"
You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.
Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.
Shit.
"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.
He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."
"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.
"'Kunaaaaaa-"
"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."
His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.
"..this time?.."
He tilted his head.
"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"
Oh but you did.
Whoops.
Blushing, you looked away.
"I- I don't want to be a concubine."
"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."
Silence.
Oh. Wait. That meant?..
"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"
"Yeah."
He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."
Silence.
"Sukuna?"
"Brat."
"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."
And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?
"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."
To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.
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