Imagine a monster or hybrid partner of your choice who struggles with the fact that you're naturally quiet in bed, but the moment it has been a long day and you finally get to lay down, the pillows cool, blankets exactly how you like them, they hear the most sinfully pleased and pleasured sounds to have ever left you.
Only now as you're laying smiling and content in bed, they are glaring and huffing with jealousy.
Jealous that laying in bed can get you moaning and sighing like that but they can't, they're glaring at your blanket and mattress like they are some interloper to your relationship and not simply inanimate objects.
Oh, the plans they are making to get those same noises out of you, all without the exhaustion of a long days end to pull them from your lips.
50 ways to leave your lover. (6k followers celebration fic!)
(michael 'robby' robinavitch x ex-wife!reader)
The four times Robby tries to win you back after your divorce, and the one time he finally manages to lock it all down.
warnings: 18+, mdni! explicit sexual content, ex-husband!robby, robby's done some work pre-sabbatical in this universe, doesn't follow pitt s2 timelines, age gap (34/52), robby sleeps with his medical student (what's new?) oral (f receiving), protected sex, ditching dates for your ex-husband w/c: 5k
main masterlist // robby masterlist
Number one. Eighteen months post-divorce. The Abbot-Mohan wedding.
Stupid Jack Abbot.
Were it not his wedding day today, you'd seriously consider wringing his neck. The only thing stopping you is the prospect of widowing Samira after three hours of marriage.
Your first encounter had been right at the front door, where Robby and Jack were positioned to greet the guests.
This, you were prepared for.
Jack's his best friend. There was no way he wasn't going to be at this wedding. So, you plaster a smile across your face, and put on the show of a lifetime.
Jack's easy. You've always liked him. He was Best Man at your own wedding to Robby.
It becomes more of a struggle when your eyes land on the man you thought you'd be with for the rest of your life. "Michael," You nod curtly, decidedly not going in for the hug you had with Jack.
He holds a hand to his chest in faux-offence. "You wound me, sweetheart. I thought we put the animosity to bed with the divorce settlement."
There hadn't been much to settle. No children, and Robby let you keep the house. The only thing he let you give him was your engagement ring.
The sight of it made you sick. A reminder of all the ways you failed each other.
At the time, it felt like an attack - like he was trying to one-up you, prove that he could be the bigger person. Eighteen months on, you're endlessly glad you didn't have to try and find another place to live while your world was crumbling around you.
"You look good," he continues, and when your gaze meets his, you know he's being sincere.
"I should get inside," is your reply. "I promised Dana I'd grab seats for her and Benji."
And with that, your first interaction with Robby in twelve months comes to a close.
*****
Glancing quickly at the seating chart, your heart sinks when you see your name scrawled next to Michael Robinavitch. Normally Best Man is up beside the couple, but the Mohan-Abbots had opted for a sweetheart table.
Meaning you're doomed to four hours of your ex-husband's company. And what's worse: you're enjoying it.
Robby's always looked good in a tux, but the charm offensive is at its highest today - pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting, dealing out the compliments in spades, and refilling your glass each time it starts to get low.
"Remember ours?" He asks, voice quiet as he leans over to you during the first dance.
"Of course I do. We danced to Roy Orbison and then my heel snapped halfway through, so I had to go barefoot for the rest of the night."
"That was a good day," He muses, expression unreadable as he watches Jack and Samira. He looks almost... wistful?
"Yeah, it was. Pity they weren't all like that."
Against all the odds, COVID had been one of the better times for you and Robby. Freshly married, where the work had been absolute hell, you'd found solace in each other.
Things were good, until they weren't. Until Robby couldn't outrun his demons anymore, and then stopped trying entirely.
"Yeah, uhm, about that..." He says softly. "I wanted to apologise."
This you weren't expecting. Arching an eyebrow, you turn towards him. "For what?"
"For everything," Robby murmurs, his gaze finally dropping from Jack and Samira to his own hands. He swallows hard, his jaw tight as he traces the line of his thumb. "For checking out. Giving up on us."
Your hand tightens around your wine glass, as you search his expression - looking for the catch, the deflection. You find none. "It's in the past now, anyway." Your voice is barely above a whisper. "We just... weren't meant to be. And that's fine."
"Mhm," is his only response. As if unconvinced.
You're not even sure you've convinced yourself, much less him, and against your better judgement, he talks you into a dance.
Were it not a wedding, you're positive you'd be able to resist him. But when it feels like everybody around you is perfectly happy and coupled up, you find it incredibly easy to slip back into Robby's embrace.
You still have some sense.
Keeping his hand firmly on your waist, rather than slipping downwards to where it used to settle, you try and think of anything but the man in front of you.
The potential melanoma that you saw in clinic last week.
Not the wrinkle lines that crease at Robby's eyes.
Your shopping list for next week.
Not how warm he feels against you.
The fact that you're running out of Black Honey.
Not anything to do with Michael Robinavitch.
You tap out after a ballad, unable to take the proximity to him anymore, and excuse yourself to go mingle with Dana and Perlah.
The rest of the night is spent willing yourself not to look back over at him.
*****
"You know, it'll be us next," Robby says, voice low as he watches you say goodbye to Samira.
"By us, do you mean your ex-wife?" Jack asks, eyebrow arched. "Because I hate to break it to you, brother, but you've already done that. And it went up in fuckin' flames."
"It would be different this time," Robby shakes his head.
"Yeah? How?"
"You'll see." Robby pats Jack on the back, and gets to his feet, moving to intercept you as you make for the door. The stairs down from the venue are pretty steep, and he clocked your Louboutins during dinner.
He bought you that pair on your honeymoon. He wonders if you remember.
"Need a hand?"
He can see that you're about to decline, before taking a sample step, and letting out a sigh. "Yes, please."
Robby tries not to let the contact get to his head too quickly as he slips an arm through yours. He hadn't even realised until tonight just how much he's missed you.
Truly.
The days after he moved out of your shared house had been some of the worst of his entire life. After about six months of no-contact, he'd finally decided that he needed to get his life together, and move on with things.
Get back on the horse, as Jack put it.
Except now it's eighteen months on from the divorce, he's been on exactly zero dates, and all he can think about is winning you back.
"This is purely because I can't walk in these shoes," You warn. "Nothing more."
Robby's jolted from his daydream and back to reality. Right. You don't want him back at all.
He's gotta find a way to change that.
Number two. Nineteen months post-divorce. A persistence.
After Jack and Samira's wedding, you're not expecting to see Robby again until they start having kids and you're invited to the baby shower.
That doesn't appear to be the case when you watch his motorcycle pull into the parking lot of your clinic exactly one week later.
A notch appears between your brows immediately, but you're still in the middle of a consultation - you have a feeling that your patient wouldn't be too thrilled with you leaping up to investigate.
Instead, you assure her that her mole has not, in fact, grown three centimetres since you saw her last week. It takes multiple pictures and two rulers before she'll even consider that it may be stress-related.
By the time you're finished, the last person you want to deal with is your ex-husband.
At least it's a paeds clinic after lunch. The children tend to be much easier to handle, and usually have straight-forward presentations. Eczema, contact dermatitis, or psoriasis for the teens.
All things you can do in your sleep.
But first, lunch. And getting Michael Robinavitch to leave.
He's leaning over the desk at reception, one of his more charming smiles plastered across his face as he talks to Pippa at reception. âI was just wondering if you knew when she'd be finishâ oh, there she is. No need. Thanks for all your help.â
You've known Pippa for two years, and you've never once seen her crack a smile out in the lobby. She's practically grinning at Robby.
Uh oh.
This is bad.
Still scowling at him, you reach for the collar of his shirt and tug sharply, forcing him to fall into step behind you as you head for your office.
You don't need to air all your dirty laundry in the middle of your practice.
As soon as the door clicks shut, you're spinning on your heel. âWhat the hell are you doing here?â
Robby just shrugs. âYou said you work Fridays usually. Thought you might like some company for lunch.â
âYou know - ex-husbands don't usually just hang out with their ex-wives.â
âWhen have we ever been ordinary though?â He's exhaustingly chipper today - a far cry from his demeanour during the latter years of your marriage.
You take him in, trying to work out if this is all some big practical joke. After trying to tell yourself that the Abbot-Mohan wedding was a fluke, you grudgingly have to admit to yourself that Robby does look good.
He's got exactly the right amount of scruff going for him right now, he's lost the alcohol bloat, and he seems like there's less of the world's weight on his shoulders.
âI don't think this is a good idea.â
âLunch is always a good idea,â He replies easily. âThree meals a day, and all that.â
There's no way out of this. Once Robby sets his mind to something, he's going to get it. Sighing heavily, you reach for your bag and jacket. âOnly if you're paying.â
âAlways, sweetheart.â
You fight the urge to remind him that your salary exceeds his by about 40k a year these days, with all the private work.
Even when you were married, you were still the official breadwinner of the family. Skin pays more than emergencies.
âAnd don't call me sweetheart.â
You're expecting some kind of quip, or snarky remark, but he just nods, and offers you his hand. âGot it.â
âWe're not holding hands.â
Another nod, and he follows you out of the clinic and onto the street. You pretend to miss the looks exchanged between your staff.
A few of them know Robby already, and you're betting the ones that don't are wondering why you've been keeping him a secret.
âNoted. Hand-holding's more of a date two activity then?â
The expression on your face is nothing short of murderous. âThis is not a date. It's lunch.â
âWith somebody you've slept with many, many times before.â
Whatever illusions you'd managed to conjure of Robby after the wedding are completely shattered.
Because Michael Robinavitch is many things, but cool and suave are not amongst them. He's annoying and persistent, and a bad husband.
âI'm going back inside and ordering from Uber Eats-â
âNo, no, no - wait!â A hand curls round your wrist, and you think that there might be a hint of desperation in his tone. âM'sorry, shit - just, don't go.â
âWhy not?â Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you cross them both over your chest, and do your best to stare him down.
He swallows heavily, voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. âI miss you.â
"Robby," You sigh, but he cuts you off.
"We were in each other's lives for almost a decade - don't you think it's a little unnatural for that to have all disappeared? Surely we can be friends."
You have to bite back a scream. "If I remember correctly, it was you who didn't want to be friends."
"I didn't want us to break up in the first place!"
It slips out without thought, and you're suddenly regretting taking a lunch break at all. "I'm not doing this here," You start, but he beats you to the draw.
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He scratches the back of his neck, and glances around the sidewalk before his chin drops to his chest. "I've been doing the work. Going to therapy, no more alcohol, you name it. M'even taking some time off work to really get into it all."
The Robby you were married to would never have considered taking the blame for his actions.
"Can't undo the last decade, Michael," you reply softly.
"I know," he insists. "I know. Believe me. It's a well-discussed topic in therapy. I just... I'm trying to be better. And I want to try and make things right with you. One hundred percent platonically."
"You literally just called this a date," you deadpan.
He scoffs. "I didn't say I was perfect."
Number three. Twenty months post-divorce. Another man.
Apparently, you and Robby text now.
You're as surprised as anybody else, but in the time you've been separated, Robby's persistence appears to have intensified greatly.
Each Thursday, he meets you at the clinic for lunch, having bribed newly-qualified attending Frank to cover for him.
He offers to pick you up after nights out, which you accept more often than not (you hate getting Ubers when you're drunk).
Currently?
He's fixing your busted boiler.
You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't dropped it into a text because you knew that he would drop everything to come and fix it for you. Even with a sabbatical looming in just a week, his reply had been instantaneous.
Now, you're perched on the washing machine while you watch a sweaty Robby tinker around in the washroom.
He's already been warned that you have a date tonight, and therefore has to be finished by seven - complete honesty is the main policy of this tentatively developing friendship.
All you'd received in response had been a thumbs up.
That means he's furious.
Really, it had been a little mean on your part. But he doesn't have a claim to you anymore, and you need him to know that if he's going to still be in your life.
When you excuse yourself to the bathroom, you're not expecting your phone to be in Robby's hand when you return. "Roger from Hinge said he's going to be late tonight."
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Your phone vibrated. Thought it might have been an emergency."
You snatch it out of his grasp and scowl. "Why would an emergency text and not call?"
You both go to step at once, awkwardly colliding chest-to-chest. "Can I see a picture of him?"
"What? No!"
"Why not? Thought we were being honest."
It amazes you that Robby manages to somehow be the most serious man you've ever met, and also emulate a toddler with his petulance. You reach for your phone, and don't even notice Robby dipping his head.
His lips are on yours, and suddenly you're twenty-six again and making out with your attending for the first time after the worst shift of your life.
You'd already decided that Emergency Medicine was not for you, but that Michael Robinavitch absolutely was.
In your head, it was going to be a fling. Something sexy and secret for your final year of med school.
The wedding had been a surprise - you never thought that Robby was the type.
The 3 carat emerald cut bezel had told you otherwise. You'd never been able to build up the courage to ask him exactly how much money he spent on it.
The divorce had been an even bigger surprise.
Not to you, by the end. The last eighteen months of your seven-year-marriage had been decidedly less-than-stellar, to the point where couples counselling couldn't even make a dent.
After COVID and Pittfest, you didn't even recognise your husband anymore. You didn't recognise yourself.
While your mind might be surprised by the contact, your body certainly isn't, and you gasp into his mouth.
His hands are everywhere, hauling you closer to him, and you can feel your carefully-applied lipstick smudging across his cheek.
It's only after two minutes of kissing that you finally pull back, and surface to catch your breath. "Robby, I have to go - I have plans."
He's not quite so easily deterred, though. "Yeah, with a guy who looks just like me." You didn't even make it to showing Robby his photo, and yet he's right. Tall, dark, and broody - you've very clearly got a type. He leans in to kiss you again, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure when you melt into his touch. "You could have the real thing, baby. I'm right here."
That's the problem. Ever since you reconnected with him at Jack and Samira's wedding, it's like Robby has been everywhere.
He's practically inescapable.
He moves to suck a mark onto your collarbone, and you make the feeblest of attempts to push him off. "This is a bad idea."
"It's only a bad idea if we make it one," Robby hums, crowding you up against the kitchen counter, as you feel your willpower start to seep away. You have plans with Roger in thirty minutes.
But when Robby sinks to his knees in front of you, hiking one leg over his shoulder, you forget he even exists. âSay the word, and I will,â He mumbles.
There are many words that would end this right now.
Stop. No. Don't.
And yet, your lips can't seem to conjure any of them. You try and form each of the letters, but the only one that forms is an R.
Then an O.
Two B's.
And a Y.
He doesn't need to move your underwear to get you where you need to go. Kissing and nipping, licking and sucking - your grip on the doorframe tightens with every passing second.
Suddenly, you're struck with a vision of a morning with Robby, a week before you filed for divorce. A vision of what your future could be like if you let him in again.
The television hums in the background, something neither of you is watching. Dinner's been sitting in the oven on low for almost half an hour. The chicken is drying out.
You hear him sigh before he even rounds the corner into the kitchen.
"Hey." His voice is flat. Tired.
You look up from the sink. "Hey."
He drops his keys into the bowl by the door. Misses. Doesn't bother picking them up.
"Long day?"
"Mhm."
You wait for something more. Anything. But it doesn't come.
"You want me to plate up dinner?"
"If you want."
It's always 'if you want' these days. It's a Herculean effort to bite your tongue. "My brother called - asked if we wanted to come round next weekend."
"M'working." It's barely more than a grunt.
"You've worked the last six Saturdays - surely someone else could cover. Jack would cover. You could tell them no for once."
"I can't."
"You mean you won't."
"Stop!"
Your voice is the firmest it's been all night. Chest heaving, it's all you can manage to scramble away from Robby. He kneels where he is, hands hesitating where you were just a second ago.
"W-What's wrong? Did I do something?"
Your lip is trembling. âI don't think I can do this again. You hurt me so much, Michael. I-I mean, you're fucking leaving in a week-â
Robby's face falls.
âM'going on sabbatical, not leaving. I'm really trying to work the rest of my shit out. Let me do that, and then let me win you back. Please. I haven't done any of this solely to get you back. But I can't imagine being with anyone else.â
He folds his hands together.
"I spent a long time thinking providing was enough. That if I worked harder, put in more hours, kept the lights on, paid the mortgage..." He shrugs. "That was love."
"You stopped talking to me."
"I know."
"You stopped letting me in."
"I know."
Finally, you summon the courage to ask the million dollar question. "Would it be different this time? If we did it again?"
"Yes." He sounds so sure of his answer that you're almost envious.
But you're still not quite ready. "I hope you're not expecting me to sit at home for three months and wait for you."
"Never," he replies immediately, and you genuinely believe him. "I just want to be in the running again. And earn it. Properly."
Number four. Two years post-divorce. A date.
Robby. 22:01.
Just got back to town
What are you up to?
You hate your heart for doing a little flip as soon as it sees Robby's name flash on your phone.
Two years ago, the same sight made you sick to your stomach.
He had told you that he'd be in touch when he was finished with his sabbatical, but you assumed that meant you'd get a call a week after he was home. Not the same night.
Maybe Michael Robinavitch has had some character growth. Maybe he could be a good husband this time round-
No. You can't let yourself think like that.
You and Robby got divorced for a reason. Many reasons. More reasons than you got married in the first place.
He was married to his work, first and foremost. Never once did he stray, and he barely even glanced at the nurses and interns who would look at him with stars in their eyes, and yet you were still the other woman within your own marriage.
Then there were the self-destructive tendencies. The times when he'd hit the alcohol a little too hard after a long shift, and be almost unresponsive for hours as he slept it off.
Mostly, you think it was the refusal to try and help himself.
To try therapy. Properly. Not just a few meetings before calling it quits, but really making some efforts towards self-improvement. He couldn't do it for himself, and he wouldn't do it for you.
You couldn't handle the stress long-term. Of not knowing when he'd be home that night, or whether you were getting sweet, romantic Michael, or sour-faced Robby.
It had been the hardest decision of your life, serving him with divorce papers.
But it clearly all worked out for the better. You're both healthier apart, though happier is probably debatable. You like the peace that being single affords you.
So why are you considering letting him back in, after all the therapy and work to get over him?
"Is everything okay?" Mark's voice cuts through your spiral, and your gaze snaps up to him.
"Hm?"
"You get bad news or something? You've been staring at your phone for like two minutes."
Shit.
Your fingers start moving before you can consider your response. If Robby's matured so much, he'll be perfectly alright with this.
You. 22:04.
I'm on a date, actually
"Sorry, it was just work. Asking for a consult." Your smile is tight, and you're hoping he doesn't see through the very obvious lie.
If he does, he doesn't comment on it, and you return to your conversation about shares, or stocks, or something equally boring.
Robby had handled all the investment stuff while you were married, and now you pay someone to do it for you.
Finally, he heads up to the bar to get more drinks, and you slip your phone out again.
Robby. 22:05.
When will you be done?
I'll come and pick you up.
Miss my girl.
A text like that from anybody other than Robby would have earned an instant block. Unfortunately, despite his three months away, you're still not immune to the Robinavitch charm.
You never have been.
Besides - you'd already decided you weren't going to sleep with Mark tonight. He's a nice enough guy, but the deal had been sealed when you'd been discussing music, and he hadn't known who Patti Smith was. This man is not your soulmate. But going home alone would mean a date with your vibrator, and one orgasm at most.
Robby would double that, at least.
You. 22:21.
...Not your girl
But you can pick me up around 11.
You shoot him the address of the bar, and consider how you're definitely going to hell for this.
The rest of the date passes in half-time, so painfully slowly that you figure you must have a few new wrinkles than you did at the start. Finally, it's time to make your escape. To ease the impending blow, you throw down your half of the cheque in notes, along with a sizeable tip. "You know, I'm really sorry, but there actually was a work emergency. Thought it would be okay, but they need me in."
"A... dermatology emergency?"
"They're more common than you'd think - my colleague is coming to pick me up," You lie through your teeth. "But I had a really nice night."
Another lie.
You try to dart out so that Mark won't see you leave with Robby, but no luck. The motorcycle is pulled up to the curb with Robby leaning against it, a second helmet in his hands.
âI thought you were going to bring the car!â You hiss, throwing Mark an apologetic glance over your shoulder.
"Bike was what I was riding, and I missed my girl. Mark have a problem with that?"
"If he knew you were my ex, probably."
Maybe you and Robby do deserve each other. God, you're awful. Robby clips the helmet under your chin, and you pretend to not notice your date's gaze staring at you both while he waits for his car to be brought round.
"You ready?"
You nod, though you feel anything but. You've never liked the bike, much to Robby's chagrin. One of his favourite things is having you wrap your arms around his waist while he drives.
*****
Fuck, he knows you too well. It's almost unfair, that even after over a year of separation that he still knows you better than anybody in the world.
There are no pleasantries. No discussions. Just a beeline for the house, before clothes are discarded in a haphazard manner as you try and make it to the bedroom in one piece.
You don't quite make it there before Robby gives you orgasm number one. Torso on the top landing, he gets carried away on the staircase, leaving you totally seeing stars.
Thankfully, he's more than familiar with the house layout, and carries you the rest of the way.
âW-Wait - condom," You interrupt. Last thing you need is a baby to complicate matters. He reaches for the bedside table, complete muscle memory, but you shake your head. âDown one.â
He huffs a little, obviously put out at the change in what he still considers to be his home.
Of course, the fact that you have these at all makes his blood boil a little.
Not that you can't have seen other people.
You've been separated for almost two years, and were growing apart long before that, but god is he so glad to have you like this again. In the home that you both shared - on the bed that he paid for.
Like nothing ever went wrong.
Determined to put the memory of all other men to shame, Robby takes you around his cock, before giving you his fingers and tongue again. By the time you come down, you're more spent than he's ever seen you before.
You're barely awake as you curl into his side. "How was the trip?"
"Really great," he answers honestly. "Did me a lot of good, but I'm glad to be back. Missed you too much."
"Shouldn't be telling you this," you hum slightly, eyes fluttering closed. "But I missed you too."
Number five. Three years post-divorce. Forever.
âYou have some white coming in,â You hum, fingers carding through Robby's hair where his head rests in your lap. The windows are cracked open just enough to let a breeze in, and you can hear the faint sounds of a lawn mower down the street.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
You separate a few strands between your fingers, tilting his head toward the light. "Right here. My favourite old man."
Robby scoffs. "That feels excessive."
"Well, you did marry a woman eighteen years younger than you. Feels like something you brought on yourself."
You think back to the man who used to come home after twelve-hour shifts, kiss you on the forehead, tell you he was just tired, then carry the weight of the world around in silence until it crushed everything else.
This version of Robby still has bad days.
Still wakes up anxious sometimes. Annoyed. Still gets overwhelmed by work. Still occasionally retreats to the garage or the backyard for half an hour when his head gets too loud.
The difference is that he always comes back.
And he lets you help.
Sure, it had been a little embarrassing announcing that you were back with your ex-husband - especially after all the shit that had gone down between you both.
But Robby had been right.
There's no one else you could ever imagine being with.
Despite all this, you're still shocked when the next words fall from his lips. "Marry me."
"What?" Your fingers freeze mid-motion, and you try to gage from his upside-down expression whether he's joking or not. You don't think he is.
"Marry me. Again."
"Holy shit," You breathe, head spinning. "What? Are you joking?"
He sits up, turning to take your hands in his. "Deadly serious, sweetheart. I uh, didn't really know what the etiquette was for this kind of thing - I know you liked your first ring, but that felt sort of like bad karma. So I was thinking, if you say yes, we could go shopping for a new one together."
A few years ago, you would have been making the biggest mistake of your life. Now, you don't feel a shred of hesitation. "Yes."
His face breaks into a smile. "Yeah?"
You nod, lip between your teeth as you fight back tears. "Fuck it. Let's get married again."
You needed a job that would give you a little more independence. Alfie needed a new baker. As the attraction grows harder to ignore, youâre both left wondering whether some lines are worth crossing.
warning/tags: smut and fluff, minors DNI, Alfie is down bad, mentions of miscarriage, slowburn, Alfie is yearning and Ollie is done with him, pet names (angel, good girl, love) unprotected piv, mutual masturbation, oral (f!receiving), infidelity, creampie
Alfieâs bakery itself was not much to look at from the street, it was nothing but a modest front of brick and glass with the name painted in gold that had started to flake, but everyone knew it was only ever half the story. The real money never came from loaves. The real money came from the rum barrels tucked away, from the horses, and the shipments whose contents were merely whispers. The bakery was a convenience, a respectable face. Somewhere men could come and go without drawing the wrong kind of eyes.
Alfie sat behind his wooden desk, his bulk filled the chair like a man who had never learned the art of taking up less space than he was owed. His coat was open, his waistcoat strained across his middle, and the gold chain of his watch winked every time he moved his arm.Â
He was tapping one finger on an irregular rhythm against the wood. Ollie hovered near the door that led out of his office, nervous in the way he shouldnât be after working for Alfie for so long. âCome on, Alfie,â Ollie said, pitching his voice low so the hopefuls waiting beyond the door wouldnât hear the impatience in it. âEveryoneâs waiting. Some of them have been standing out there since before sunrise. Theyâre starting to look like they might riotâ
Alfie did not look up, instad he placed the glass of whisky heâd been holding on the desk. When he spoke, each syllable sounded chewed and considered. âOllie, my boy⊠I donât see why I need to bother with this. You see, I could put a donkey out there to bake the bread and I still wouldnât give a shit. The lads would still buy it because theyâre hungry and theyâre not particular and this is Camden, not the fucking Ritz.â
Ollie shifted his weight from one polished shoe to the other. âSo should I⊠just point? Pick someone? Thereâs a big bloke with big arms who looks like he could knead dough for twelve hours straight without blinking.â
Alfieâs head came up at last. âJust choose the one who looks the more competent,â he said, waving one large hand in a vague circle. âCompetent. You know the word? Means they wonât burn the place down or poison the customers or, god forbid, start getting ideas about unions. If they look like theyâve ever thought a complicated thought in their life, send them packing.â
Ollie hesitated, and the silence stretched. âBut we told everyone to bring something freshly baked,â he said carefully. âThat was the whole point, Alfie. So you could taste it. So itââ
âHoly fuck, Ollie.â Alfieâs voice rose without quite becoming a shout, it never needed to, the way he said it was enough. He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the desk. âYou know what? Tell them to come in. One by one. Go.â
Ollie went. He opened the office door and the murmur of voices from the shop floor swelled for a moment, the men shifting impatently, people who needed work and theyâd been forced to waste an entire morning in this shithole. It all cut off as Ollie cleared his throat and called the first name.
The man who entered Alfieâs office was broad across the shoulders and thick through the middle. He carried a cloth-wrapped bundle in both hands, stopped a respectful distance from the desk and waited.
Alfie regarded him in silence for a long moment. Then he made a small gesture with two fingers. âWell? Donât just stand there. Show us what youâve brought, my son.â
The man unwrapped the cloth with careful fingers. Inside lay a round loaf, still faintly warm. The smell that rose from it was good enough, of yeast and a hot oven. He set it on the table and Alfie tore a piece free with his fingers. He brought it to his nose first, sniffed once, then again with suspicion. Then he put it in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, his face remaining carefully blank for three full seconds. Then he twitched the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. He chewed once more, swallowed with effort, and set the remainder of the bread down.
âWhat,â he said, very quietly, âin the name of every living, suffering creature, is this supposed to be?â The man opened his mouth, but Alfie raised one finger, and the man closed it again. âI have eaten things in the trenches that had more dignity than this. I have eaten things that tried to eat me back and still managed to leave a better impression. Thisââ he poked the loaf with one finger ââthis is an insult to the very concept of bread. Worst thing I have ever put in my mouth, and I have put some deeply questionable things in my mouth in my time, let me tell you. Fuck off. Take your sad little brick and fuck off.â
The manâs face went from red to a blotchy purple. He snatched up the remaining bread, muttered something that might have been an apology or a curse, and retreated so quickly he nearly collided with the doorframe. Ollie ushered him out with the face of someone who had seen this particular performance from Alfie before, many times, and still found it freshly exhausting.
The door closed. The room settled back into its warm, yeasty quiet. Alfie wiped his fingers on a handkerchief that had seen better decades and muttered something under his breath about the decline of standards in the baking trades.
Ollie opened the door again.
âNext,â he called. You stepped through, and the change in the air was immediate, though neither Alfie nor Ollie could have said exactly why. The heat of the room seemed to pause as you carried your own cloth-wrapped offering, the warmth of it still seeping through the fabric into your hands.
Alfie looked up and whatever cutting remark or theatrical sigh he had been preparing died somewhere between his chest and his throat. His blue eyes, usually so quick to narrow in suspicion or amusement, widened by a fraction. He sat very still, watching something unexpected that had just walked into his kingdom.
You looked, to him, like something that did not belong in the back room of a Camden bakery that doubled as a front for darker enterprises. The light from the high window caught you just so, turning the edges of you luminous, almost lke a halo. An angel, he thought, with sudden clarity. He forgot, for several long heartbeats, that he was meant to be hiring a baker, he simply looked at you.
You could feel the heat of the place settling onto your skin, but you kept your shoulders straight, and your chin lifted just enough. âGood morning, Mr Solomons,â you said. âIâm here for the baker position.â
Alfieâs mouth twitched in something both softer and more dangerous than a smile. He sat back slowly in the chair, and regarded you as if you had just walked out of a different century entirely.
âAnd whatâs your name, love?â he asked. You told him and the sound of it hung there in the room for a moment. Alfie roamed his eyes over your face as if he were committing the shape of it to memory. âBeautiful name,â he said. âBeautiful.â The second time his voice came out quieter, like he was saying it almost to himself. He cleared his throat. âWell then, letâs see what youâve brought me. Donât just stand there looking like a painting, show us the goods.â
You stepped closer to the table and set the cloth-wrapped parcel down with care. You unwrapped it slowly, revealing the poppy seed cake beneath. The scent rose immediately, the sweetness of a cake baked that morning and no earlier. Alfie leaned forward, reaching out for it with one hand and tearing a piece free with surprising gentleness. He brought it first to his nose, sniffed once and then put it in his mouth.
The change in his face was almost immediate, the scowl that lived around his mouth eased, and his eyes half-closed for a moment. He chewed slowly, and when he swallowed, he looked at the remaining cake as if it was offensive to taste so good.
âFuck me,â he muttered. Then, louder, âThis⊠this tastes like the one my mother used to bake, the exact same. She used to make it on Fridays⊠havenât tasted anything close in years.â He looked up at you. âProper little miracle, this is.â
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Youâd been complimented for your baking a million times, but somehow this felt more personal than any other nice word youâd received. âIâm glad,â you said simply.
Alfie tore another piece, smaller this time, and ate it with the same thoughtfulness. He wiped his fingers on the handkerchief and sat back. âSo, why dâyou want the job, love? Pretty thing like you. Could be doing a hundred other things that donât involve getting flour up to the elbowsâ
You met his gaze and went with the most honest answer. âIâm seeking a little more independence.â
The word seemed to amuse him, he let out a sound, close to a laugh, that rumbled out of his chest. âIndependence?â He spread his hands, the heavy rings catching the light. âWell Iâm all about womenâs independence, ainât that right, Ollie?â He glanced toward the door where his assistant still hovered. âTell her, Ollie. Tell her how progressive I am. How I believe a woman should be free to earn her own coin and stand on her own two feet and not have to ask some useless bastard for permission every time she wants a new hat. Go on.â
Ollie cleared his throat, internally rolling his eyes with disdain. âYes, Alfie. Very progressive. Youâve said so. Many times.â
âSee?â Alfie turned back to you. âIndependence. Beautiful word. Almost as beautiful as your name. Almost.â He tilted his head, studying you. âYou married, love?â
You moved your right hand without conscious thought, brushed the simple band on your ring finger. You let your fingertips rest there a moment longer than necessary, making sure he saw it. âI am,â you said. âIs that a problem?â
Alfieâs gaze lingered on your hand. Specifically on the ring, not too big, not too shiny or flashy. And he saw the way you curled your fingers protectively around it. âNo,â he said slowly. âNot a problem. Happily married, are we?â
The lie came easier after being said so many times before. âYes.â
Alfie made a small sound in the back of his throat. He looked down at the cake again, tore another piece, and spoke around it, low enough that you couldnât hear. âWeâll see about that.â
He chewed, swallowed, and set the rest of the piece down with care. âIâm not gonna lie to you, love,â he said, louder now, businesslike again. âYour cake is excellent. Proper excellent. But look at you.â He gestured with one hand, encompassing all of you from the crown of your head to the hem of your skirt. âLook at those arms. You think you can knead bread for hours on end? Proper kneading. You think you can haul sacks of flour up from the cellar when the delivery comes? This is a working bakery.â
You straightened your shoulders, lifting your chin with the stubborn defiance that had carried you this far into the room. Ever the little fighter, determined not to let this opportunity slip away, you met Alfieâs gaze. âIâm stronger than I look.â
Alfie studied you for a long moment. âI donât want to discriminate on account of your sex, believe me,â he said at last. âI am a modern man. Progressive, like Ollie said. But weâve always had male bakers here. Big lads who can lift and carry and sweat without anyone batting an eye. A woman like youâŠâ He swept his gaze over you again, slower this time, lingering in ways that had nothing to do with assessing upper body strength. âA woman like you could be out front, smiling at the customers. But sadly all those positions are taken, and I donât see how putting you in the back is anything but a waste of something that looks like it belongs in a different sort of room entirely.â
You stepped closer to the table, close enough to smell the rum scent lingering in his clothes. âPlease, Mr Solomons. Iâll work harder than any of those men out there will. I can assure you of that. Harder, and better. I wonât complain, I wonât show up late, Iwonât drink on the job or pick fights. Give me the chance and Iâll prove it. Every single day.â
Alfie watched you, drumming his fingers once against the wood, then twice before he stilled. âYou know what,â he said slowly, lifting the corner of his mouth. âI like your attitude. Thereâs fire in you. Didnât expect that, not with the face of an angel."
Ollie raked his eyes over you with suspicion. His voice, when it came, was deliberately unfriendly. âDo you have any references from previous employers?â
You met his gaze without flinching. âNo. I havenât worked before. But Iâm very responsible, I learn quickly, and I brought the cake so you could judge the work for yourself.â
Ollie turned his head just enough to catch Alfieâs eye. The look he gave him was a silent donât even think about it. The kind of look that said this was a bad idea, that a woman with no references and a pretty face was more trouble than she was worth.
Alfie ignored the look completely. âAh, references,â he said, the word rolling out like it was something ridiculous. âWho needs references, Ollie? What am I supposed to do with a letter from some old bastard who thinks she knows how to bake? I donât need a prick telling me sheâs good. I can taste it in the cake. References.â He snorted. âReferences are for men who canât trust their own tongue. I trust mine. And my tongue is telling me this woman knows what sheâs doing. Sheâs hired.â
Ollie opened his mouth. âAlfieâŠâ
But Alfie was already looking at you again. âWelcome to the bakery, love. Try not to let Ollieâs worrying rub off on you. He means well⊠mostly.â
Behind you, Ollie made a strangled sound. âAlfie⊠thereâs like fifteen other people out there. Donât you want to talk to them first? The one with the big arms is still waiting. And thereâs a fellow who used to work at that place up inââ
Alfie did not even turn his head, his eyes remained on you. âShut up, Ollie.â The command was soft but absolute. âThe lady here is hired. End of discussion. Tell the rest of them to fuck off and find honest work elsewhere. Or dishonest work. I donât care. Just get them out of my bakery before I decide to start charging them rent for standing around.â
Ollie opened his mouth, but he thought anything he could say was simply pointless when his bossâs head was set around something, so he closed it, nodded once, and slipped out the door.Â
You stood very still in the suddenly quieter room, feeling your heart beating steady and hard against your ribs. âThank you so much, Mr Solomons,â you said with a wide smile adorning your face.
Alfie waved the gratitude away with one hand, though the look in his eyes said he was filing the sound of your voice saying his name somewhere private. âWe expect you here in the morning. Every day. Four a.m. sharp until two in the afternoon. Sixty shillings a week. How does that sound?â
Sixty⊠The number was generous, more than generous. You knew it, and he knew you knew it. âExcellent,â you said.
The door opened again, and Ollie, who had clearly been listening to the conversation, hovered on the threshold, looking like he'd aged five years in the last two minutes.
âAlfie,â he said carefully, âwe paid forty the last one. And he worked three hours more every day. Forty shillings and he was grateful for it.â
Alfie finally turned his head. The look he gave his assistant could have made some people piss themselves. âDidnât I tell you to shut up, Ollie? Or do I need to write it down? Big letters, so even a man like you could understand. The lady is hired. Sixty shillings. Four until two. And if I hear one more word about the previous arrangement or the previous baker or any other previous fucking thing, I will personally see to it that your next position involves a great deal more lifting and a great deal less talking. Clear?â
Ollie swallowed. âClear, Alfie.â
âGood.â Alfie turned back to you, and the irritation melted out of his face as if it had never been there, replaced by something softer. He gestured at the remaining cake with one thick finger. âTake the rest home with you, love. No, no, leave it. Iâll finish it myself and think of my mother and the way things used to taste before the world got bloody and full of people who canât bake for shit. Either way.â He sat back. âSix a.m. tomorrow. Donât be late. I hate lateness.â
You thanked him again, the words soft but sincere. âThank you, Mr Solomons. Truly. You wonât be disappointed, I promise you that.â With one last small nod, you turned toward the door, and stepped out, your heart still racing from the weight of the moment.Â
Minutes after you left, Alfie tore another piece of cake free, and ate it slowly, with his eyes half-lidded, tasting memories and not just the sugar and butter. Ollie closed the door with more force than necessary and turned. For a moment he simply stood there, then he folded his arms.
âProgressive, huh?â he said. The words were laced either an edge of accusation. âYouâre a progressive man?â
Alfie did not look up. Instead he chewed, swallowed, and reached for another piece of cake.
âI can be,â he said around the mouthful. âI contain multitudes, Ollie. Depths. A man can evolve, a man can look at the world as it is and decide, on a Tuesday afternoon, that perhaps the old ways are not the only ways. Women earning their own keep, women standing on their own two feet. Yes, I can be progressive. Watch me.â
Ollie took a step closer, making the floorboards complain under even his light weight. âSixty shillings. Youâve lost your mind.â
The piece of cake in Alfieâs hand was forgotten, crumbs clinging to his waistcoat. âDonât talk to me like that, you little shit. That woman was something special. I could see it in her eyes. I think itâs gonna be good to keep her around. UsefulâŠ. decorative, possibly both. And if I want to pay her sixty shillings a week, then that is my business. My bakery, my coin, and my progressive fucking principles.â
Ollie let out a short, incredulous breath. He glanced at the closed door as if the fifteen rejected men might still be pressed against it listening. âYou wanna know what I saw?â
Alfie waved his hand in a lazy and dismissive arc. âNah. Not really. I find that most of the time when people offer to share what they saw it turns out to be something tedious and moralising and ultimately none of their concern. Spare me the sermon, Ollie.â
Ollie did not spare him. âThat you want to sleep with the woman,â he said, each word precise. âThatâs why you gave her that ridiculous payment. Thatâs why you didnât even look at the others. Thatâs why youâre sitting there eating her cake like itâs a religious experience and talking about her eyes like sheâs the first pretty face that ever walked into this place. You want her. Plain and simple. And youâre dressing it up as noble intentions and womenâs independence so you donât have to admit that you just got his head turned by a married girl.â
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Alfie set the remaining piece of cake down with exaggerated care. He brushed the crumbs from his fingers one by one, and then he leaned forward. When he spoke, the voice that came out was wounded and theatrically offended.
âWhat?â He let the single word hang there. âYouâre saying,â he continued, âthat my noble intentions of employing a young woman in seek of her financial independence are merely the result of me wanting to get between her legs? That the sixty shillings, a fair wage, a progressive, right? Progressive wage, a wage that says âhere is a woman who will not be underpaid simply because the world has decided her labour is worth lessâ is somehow a bribe? A down payment on future fornication? That I, I, looked at that angel-faced creature and thought only of tumbling her into the nearest flat surface like some common beast in heat?â
âThatâs exactly what I saw,â Ollie said.
Alfieâs eyes were wide with manufactured horror. âYou got a sick mind, Ollie. Proper diseased. You disgust me. Truly. I am sitting here trying to do a good deed in a wicked world, and you reduce it to base carnality. I am wounded, I am wounded in my progressive soul. My mother, God rest her, would be spinning in her grave if she could hear the filth you just poured into this sacred place. I hope you can imagine the depths of my distress.â
Ollie opened his mouth, but Alfie raised one finger. âNo. Do not speak. Do not compound the obscenity by trying to justify it. I have hired a baker, a baker whose cake has temporarily restored my faith in the concept of home and family. That is all, if she happens to have a face that could make the sanest man go absolutely mad, that is incidental, purely incidental. And if I choose to pay her what she is worth instead of what the market has decided a woman is worth, that is called being a man of fucking principle. Principle. Look it up, itâs in the dictionary.â
He picked up the last piece of cake, bit into it and chewed with defiant pleasure, the poppy seeds cracked between his teeth. âNow, go and make sure those rejects have properly dispersed. I donât want them lingering here. And Ollie?â
Ollie, who had gone a mottled shade of angry red. âYes, Alfie?â
âIf you ever again suggest that my interest in that womanâs employment is anything other than pure and high-minded and deeply, almost spiritually progressiveâŠâ Alfie smiled then. âI will introduce you to a concept called unemployment. Clear?â
âClear, Alfie.â
âGood boy.â Alfie waved him off with the hand that still held the final crumb of cake. âFuck off and be useful. And by the way, her cake is indeed a religious experience, you should buy a slice tomorrow afternoon.â
Ollie fled, leaving Alfie sitting alone in the room. His eyes had gone distant, fixed on the place where you had stood only minutes before. He murmured to the empty room. âHappily married. Weâll fucking see.â
***
You woke before the sun had risen, dressing quickly and buttoning up your dress with steady fingers even though your pulse was not so steady. You pinned your hair back, simple and practical, nothing that would get in the way. The streets of Camden were quiet at that hour, you walked with your coat pulled tight and a cloth bag with your clean apron.
The bakery blinds were already open when you reached it, a yellow light spilling from the high windows onto the pavement. You pushed inside, and Ollie was waiting for you with an expression of lingering disapproval.
âYouâre early,â he said. âGood. Alfie hates lateness. Come on then. Iâll show you the lay of it before the real work starts.â
He took you through everything with efficiency, as if he had done this too many times and still found it tedious. The big brick ovens along the back wall, the flour sacks stacked in the cellar, the schedule chalked on a board. âDonât skimp, heâll know. The knives are sharp. If you cut yourself, try not to bleed into the dough, it puts the customers off. Apron on, hair up, sleeves rolled. Questions?â
Before you could open your mouth, Ollie was already turning around, leaving you to it with a muttered âDonât burn the place downâ and disappearing toward the front to deal with the early delivery men.
You tied your apron, rolled your sleeves, washed your hands in the stone sink, and then you began. The rye bread came first. You mixed by what felt right more than the measurements that were written on the board. Your hands knew the work, push, fold, turn, push again, until the dough stopped fighting and began to mold under your palms.Â
The first hours passed in a blur, feeling physical satisfaction of work that asked something real of your body. By the time the clock on the wall showed half past five, the bread loaves were rising in the ovens and the honey cakes were cooling on the racks. You had moved on to the next batch, your arms ached in the good way, and flour dusted your forearms and the front of your apron, with a streak of it that had somehow found your cheek.Â
You had just finished with the onion rolls for the afternoon orders, when the fine hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Someone was behind you, close enough to hear their breathing. You spun, feeling your heart slamming hard against your ribs, a sound catching in your throat before you could stop it.
Alfie stood there in the middle of the kitchen, filling the space between the benches. âCalm down, love,â he said. âItâs just little old me.â
You pressed a floury hand to your chest, trying to slow the frantic beat. âSorry, Mr Solomons. You scared me.â
He tilted his head, fighting back a smile. âAm I seriously that ugly? Proper frighten the pretty ladies, do I? Make small children cry at the mere sight of my face?â
A startled laugh escaped you before you could catch it. âNo. No, of course not. I just wasnât expecting you here. It took me by surprise.â
âAnd why is that?â He stepped closer, not enough to crowd, but enough that the heat of him mixed with the heat of the ovens. âI wanted to see how my newest employee is adapting on her first day. Call it quality control.â
You wiped your hands on your apron, leaving white streaks on it. âEverythingâs going well so far. The batches of bread are ready. The honey cakes are cooling. And now Iâm on the onion rolls for the afternoon orders. The doughâs almost ready for its second prove.â
Alfie breathed in deep, expanding his chest and half-closing his eyes for a moment. âWonderful. Fucking amazing. This place smells great. Youâve got the gift, love. I knew it the second I tasted that cake yesterday. My mother would have approved, and she didnât approve of much. Especially not me.â
You felt the flush rise again, part of it was pride, but the other something you couldnât quite name. âYou wonâtregret hiring me. I promised Iâd work harder than any of those men. I meant it.â
He waved one hand. âWeâll go on, love. Iâll let you work. Donât let the presence of management put you off your stroke.â He said it, and then he did not leave.
You turned back to the onion rolls dough because the alternative was to keep staring at him like a fool. You floured the bench, turned the dough out, and began to knead again. The muscles in your arms and shoulders felt the work even while every nerve ending remained painfully aware of the man standing three feet behind you. You could feel his eyes, the weight of them, how they tracked the movement of your hands, the line of your back, the stray curl that had escaped your pins and now clung to the damp skin of your neck.
Minutes stretched, finally you spoke without turning, keeping your voice carefully light. âAm I doing anything wrong? Or is this an evaluation of some sort?â
Alfieâs reply came thoughtful, the words rolled around his mouth. âJust observing how you handle things, love. The way you touch the dough. I am expanding my mind.â
You kept kneading, though your hands had gone a fraction less sure. âI just know youâre a busy man. I imagined you had more important things to do than watch someone make onion rolls at six in the morning.â
âNonsense.â The word was firm. He moved then, you heard the creak of the floorboards, and came to lean against the edge of the bench beside you, close enough that his coat brushed your skirt. âNothing more important than this. The bakery is the face we show the world. So yes, watching you work is important. Critical, even.â
There was a pause, you felt him studying your profile. âSo,â he said, quieter. âYou know about me, huh?â
You glanced sideways. âA little. I mean⊠everyone does.â
âAnd arenât you afraid?â
The question hung between you, but you kept working, pushing the dough into itself, feeling it grow silkier. âNo,â you said with honesty. âIâve heard the good things too.â
Alfie raised his eyebrows in what was a sceptical lift. âYeah? What good? Donât spare my blushes, love. I can take it, Iâve got a weak sense of shame.â
You hesitated only a moment. âI had a cousin who came back blind from the war. Last year he got a dog, a guide dog, trained, from that Blind Jew charity. Everyone knows it was thanks to one of your donations. He walks free now because of it.â
For a long moment the only sounds were the roar of the ovens and the rhythmic slap of the dough against wood. Alfie looked away, drumming his fingers once on the edge of the bench. âOh. That?â He made a dismissive gesture, but it lacked conviction. âThatâs nothing. Loose change. Donât go making me into a saint, love. Saints donât last long around here. Thatâs not goodness. Thatâs just⊠a clear conscience for five minutes.â
He fell silent. You kept kneading because your hands needed something to do. The dough was ready now, you shaped the rolls and set them in the oiled bowl, covered it with a clean cloth. Only then did you look at him fully, Alfie was watching you with an expression you had not seen on him before. Something that looked almost like hunger, though whether for the honey cakes cooling on the rack or for the woman who was standing in front of him was impossible for you to say.
âYouâre full of surprises, arenât you?â he murmured. âTurn up with a cake that tastes like my childhood. Refuse to be afraid and quote my better deeds back at me.â He dropped his eyes briefly to your left hand, then lifted again. âHappily married. Still sticking to that story, are we?â
You did not answer, and so Alfie pushed off the bench with a grunt. âRight. Iâve taken enough of your time, love. Carry on, make me proud, make the neighbourhood weep with joy at the quality of their morning loaf. And if anyone gives you trouble, the lads, the customers, Ollie with his little disapproving face, you come find me. Iâll sort it. Personally.â
Then he was gone, his heavy footsteps fading toward the back, where the real business was done, leaving you alone in the heat with flour on your cheek, dough under your nails, and the distinct certainty that nothing about this job was going to stay simple for very long.
***
A week later, Alfie was already half out of that chair of his office. The gold chain of his watch winkled as he checked the time, like he had somewhere far more important to be than his business meetings.
Ollie stood between him and the door like a particularly anxious gatepost. âYou canât go now,â he said. âThomas Shelby just arrived for the meeting, remember? You were gonna discuss the price of theââ
âShhh. Shhh. Shhh.â Alfie lifted his hand with the fingers spread in a theatrical gesture. âSave your words, Ollie. Husband them. I donât care. Tell Thomas Shelby to wait. Tell him Alfie is engaged in matters of critical importance. Tell him whatever pretty little lie floats through that head of yours. Just make him wait.â
Ollieâs face did something complicated, a grimace of disbelief. âAlfie, he came all the way from Birmingham. I canât just tell the man to wait.â
Alfie paused in the middle of buttoning his coat. He turned fully, and the smile that spread across his face was slow and deeply unimpressed. âOh, come on. Heâs not gonna slice your throat with his razor blade, not over a few minutes. Thomas Shelby is a busy man, same as me. He understands the concept of priorities. Entertain him, sing him a little song, do him some magic tricks. Pull a fucking rabbit out of your arse if you have to. Offer him a honey cake, the new girlâs honey cakes.â
Ollie took a step closer, lowering his voice even though the door was shut and the walls were solid. âYou canât go see her every day, Alfie. We need you here. We need you handling what needs to be handled. The little problems that turn into big problems if theyâre left unresolved. Not distracted. Not⊠whatever this is.â
Alfie went very still. His hat dangled from one hand, for a long moment the only sound was the distant sound of the men working outside.
Then Alfie laughed. A laugh edged with genuine delight at the absurdity of being lectured by his own assistant. âWell,â he said, spreading his hands. âI suppose I should just hand you the whole fucking business, shouldnât I? Keys, ledgers, the combination to the safe. Seeing as you know it all, Ollie. Seeing as youâve got the entire operation running so smoothly in that clever little head of yours that you can spare the time to tell me where I can and cannot point my own two feet.â
Ollie flushed, but he did not back down entirely. âWhatâs so special about her anyway? I get it, sheâs pretty. But thereâs a thousand other pretty women out there, and youâve never been like this before, not over any of them. Disappearing every chance you get, watching her kneading dough like it's a spectacle. Whatâs different?â
Alfie set the hat down on the desk with deliberate care. He planted both thick hands on the wood and leaned forward. His voice had softened into something quieter, almost as a confession. âOllie, my boy. You wouldnât recognise special if it walked up and hit you square in the face. That womanâŠâ He paused, searching for the words. âSheâs got something, let me tell you that. Not just the face, though the face is a fucking miracle, Iâll grant you. Itâs the eyes, the way she looks at you and doesnât flinch, the way she talks about independence, the way she baked a cake that tasted like my motherâs cake and then stood there and told me she wasnât afraid of me. Do you know how rare that is? In this life? A woman who looks at me and decides the rumours are less interesting than the man standing in front of her?â
He pushed off the desk and began to pace the short length of the office. âShe draws me in like a magnet. I go there for five minutes to check the ovens and an hour disappears. Sheâs not any woman Iâve seen, and I find I cannot stop tuning myself to it. Is that clear enough for you, Ollie? Or shall I draw a diagram? âAlfieâs inexplicable gravitational pull toward the new bakerâ would that help?â
Ollie dragged a hand down his face. âAlfie, we need you on planet Earth. Not on the moon.â
Alfie stopped pacing and turned, looking at Ollie with a smile that split his face, a ittle unhinged around the edges. âOh but I am on the moon, Ollie.â He spread his arms as if encompassing the absurdity of it. âSheâs got me swept away. Iâm walking around up here in the thin air of whatever delision this is, and I find I donât particularly want to come down.â
He snatched the hat back up, settled it on his head with a tug and moved toward the door, deciding the conversation was over. âKeep Thomas Shelby waiting,â he said over his shoulder. âGive him a drink. Give him a cake. Tell him Alfie will be along when Alfie is good and ready and not a moment before.â
He pulled the door open, Ollie made one last desperate sound. âAlfieââ
âEntertain him,â Alfie repeated, already halfway down the hall. âMagic tricks, Ollie. I have faith in you. Somewhere under all that anxiety is a man who can keep Tommy Shelby occupied for twenty minutes without losing a finger. Prove me right, or donât. Either way Iâll be back when Iâm back.â
A few minutes later, Alfie came through the kitchen door, he didnât announce himself with any of the theatrical booming that usually preceded him, he simply crossed the floor, snagging a sturdy wooden chair from against the wall, and setting it down beside your bench. Then he sat, making the chair protest under his weight.
âHow are you doing on this beautiful morning, love?â he asked, spreading his knees and tipping his head back slightly, breathing in the air.
You kept kneading, though every nerve had gone aware of the man now sitting close to you. âIâm doing good,â you said. âWhat about you?â
Alfie reached out without asking and snagged one of the still-warm beigels from the rack, turning it over in his fingers with the appreciation of a man examining a rare jewel. âBusiness is a shitshow,â he confided cheerfully. âTommy Shelbyâs in my office and Ollieâs having a nervous breakdown because I left him to play host. Everyone wants a piece of me. Butââ he tore a piece of the beigel free and pointed it at you like a teacher making a point âânow Iâm doing better. Dramatically better. The second I came through that door and the smell hit me, the entire shitshow receded. Funny how that works.â
You smiled and nodded at the beigel in his hand. âYou want to try it properly? Theyâre best when theyâre still warm. I made the dough last night so it could have a long prove.â
âIâd love to,â he said, and bit in. The sound he made was obscene in its sincerity, an appreciative groan that seemed to come from somewhere in his chest. He chewed slowly. âFuck me,â he murmured once he could speak again. âItâs amazing. Iâve never, and I mean never, met someone who cooked exactly like the food I tasted as a child.â He took another bite, larger this time, and spoke around it. âWhere did you learn to cook like this, love? Because this isnât ordinary talent.â
You pushed the dough away for a moment, wiping your hands on your apron. âFrom my nana. We used to spend the afternoons together baking when I was small. Sheâd pull out this little book, battered thing, every recipe had a little note in her handwriting. A touch that was just hers. A pinch more salt here, a longer prove there. I know all of them by heart nowâ
Alfie went still. âGod bless your nana,â he said quietly, what remained in his voice was completely sincere. âGod bless her hands and her little book and the afternoons she gave you. May her memory be a blessing. Because whatever she put into you⊠itâs still here. I can taste it. I can fucking feel it.â
A startled laugh escaped you, bright and sudden. It rang off the high ceiling, Alfie watched the sound leave your mouth, and something softened in his expression. âYouâve got the laugh of an angel,â he said. âCelestial. Makes a man want to say stupid things just to hear it again.â
Heat flooded your face so fast it was almost dizzying. You turned back to the dough with more force than necessary, kneading it hard. Your ears were burning, you could feel him watching your nervous smile and the way your hands had gone suddenly less certain.
He let the silence stretch just long enough to be merciful. âYouâd mentioned your cousin served. The one who came back blind. Did you have many family sent over to France, love?â
You kept your eyes on the dough. âMost of them,â you said. âAll my cousins. And my brother.â A breath. âHe didnât make it. They never found enough of him to bring home properly.â You swallowed and kept working. âMy husband luckily stayed in London. He managed a military warehouse here. That kept him out of the trenches.â
Alfie made a low sound of understanding and set the half-eaten beigel down on the edge of the bench with surprising care.
âRight,â he said. âGuess some lads were luckier. Didnât have to be sent over to drown in the mud and the gas. Lucky.â He studied you sideways. âAnyway, what does your husband do now?â
âHe works in a factory. Heâs a machine operator.â You didnât particularly enjoy talking about your husband with Alfie. You hated the way his questions about him, about your marriage, made something twist uncomfortably in your chest. Lying to Alfie felt heavier, somehow more difficult, than lying to anyone else.
Alfieâs eyebrows rose, he leaned in a fraction, making the chair creak under the shift of his weight. âAnd he doesnât make enough money that he has to send his wife out to work?â The question was mild, almost idle. But his eyes were anything but. âPretty young thing like you, hands made for miracles, spending her days covered in flour. Seems curious.â
You laughed againm, shorter this time, edged with the defensive spark he seemed to enjoy pulling out of you. âI told you. I just like being financially independent. Earning my own money, feeling like Iâm being productive. I donât like staying in the house doing nothing. Thisââ you gestured at the dough, the ovens, the cooling beigels, the entire room ââthis makes sense to me. And the money is mine, fairly earned.â
Alfie watched you for a long moment. âAnd you donât have children, do you?â
The question was careful. As if he already knew the answer and still needed to hear you say it. You met his eyes. âI donât,â you said.
âNo children,â he repeated softly, almost to himself. âIndependent, productive, laugh like an angel, and a husband who works long factory shifts. Interesting⊠the things a man learns when he bothers to sit down and eat a beigel with his newest baker on a beautiful morning.â
âŠ
The days began to blur in the best and worst of ways. Mornings belonged to the bakery, before the first light touched the windows, you were already floured to the elbows. And every day, without fail, Alfie appeared sometime before mid-morning, shrugged out of his coat, and dragged the same scarred chair to the exact same spot beside your bench, staying for two hours, sometimes three, as if the rest of his business could wait indefinitely on the pleasure of watching you work.
He talked. God, how he talked. His voice rolled out in long rivers while you pushed and folded and turned the dough. He told you about the horses, about the meetings with the Italians, about his mother. He asked questions too, about your grandmotherâs little book, about the brother you lost, and the shape of the life you claimed to have waiting at home. And every time you answered, every time you laughed or fell quiet or wiped flour from your cheek with the back of a wrist, something in the air between you got warmer.
Sometimes he fell silent for long stretches, tracking the roll of your shoulders with his eyes, the flex of your forearms, the way the dough yielded under your palms. Once, when a strand of hair escaped your pins and fell across your eyes, he reached out without thinking and tucked it behind your ear. His fingertips were warm, and they lingered half a second too long against the shell of your ear.
The bakery became the only place that felt real, because home was something else entirely. You returned each afternoon to the small flat, and the moment the door closed behind you, the warmth of the ovens and Alfieâs voice drained out of you. Your husband would already be there more often than not, home early from the factory.
âYouâre late again,â he would say, not looking up from the newspaper. âThird time this week. I had to get my own lunch. Again. What am I, a fucking orphan? Iâve got a wife, havenât I? Or did I imagine the whole wedding?â
The fights were never dramatic, because that would have required passion, and passion had left this marriage years ago, carried out with the tiny body you had lost and never properly buried. The fights were mean. Him listing every way your absence inconvenienced him, you answering too calmly at first, then with rising heat when he started in on how no decent woman left her husband to fend for himself so she could play at being a baker for some gangster.Â
âTheyâre talking,â he said one night. âDown the pub. About you and him, about how Solomonsâ new pet never goes home on time. About how heâs always down there watching her like a dog with a bone. You want to be one of his whores, is that it? That why youâre never here? That why the flatâs empty and my bellyâs empty and Iâve got to listen to every bastard with a mouth making jokes about my wifeâs extra duties?â
You stopped answering after a while, there was no point. The truth, that you were saving every shilling of the sixty he paid you, that the tin under the loose floorboard was growing heavier every week, that you were counting the days until you had enough for a room of your own and a clean break and a life that did not smell of his resentment, would only make it worse. So you let him talk himself hoarse, you washed the few dishes, and you lay on your side of the cold bed waiting for sleep that never came easy.
He had stopped touching you after the miscarriage. That was the cleanest way to say it. One day there had been a child,, hoped-for and already named, and then there had been blood and pain, and after that your husbandâs hands never found you in the dark again. He looked at you like you had failed at the one thing you were put on earth to do, like your body had betrayed him personally. The whores started sometime after that, you heard the whispers the way every wife in the neighbourhood heard them, the sideways glances at the market, a soft laughter that stopped when you passed, the occasional âfriendâ who felt obligated to tell you what everyone already knew. He did not even bother being careful anymore, some nights he came home smelling of cheap perfume and simply fell into bed with his back to you, as if daring you to care. You had cared, once. Now you only cared about the tin.
Every Friday Alfie pressed the weekâs wages into your palm, sixty shillings, always with an extra little something pressed on top. You thanked him, and every night you knelt on the floorboards, lifted the loose one, and added to the growing hoard. You calculated rent on a clean room somewhere far from this flat, you needed to leave so you could be happy again.
Happiness had become a place that existed only between the hours of four and two, in a warm room that smelled of bread, with a dangerous man who looked at you like you were something worth keeping.Â
At the bakery, Alfie grew bolder in small ways, placing a hand at the small of your back as he moved past you in the narrow space between benches. A quiet you look tired, love when the shadows under your eyes grew too dark to hide. A long look when you laughed at one of his more ridiculous stories. But at home the fights sharpened, your husband started waiting up and smelling your clothes for rum and the smell of manâs cologne. He started throwing the word whore around when the whisky loosened his tongue. âYouâre never here,â he snarled one night, blocking the bedroom door with his body. âI come home to a dark kitchen and an empty bed and the knowledge my wife is off playing house with a gangster. You think I donât know what men like him do with girls who need money? You think I donât hear what they say?â
One rainy morning, in the office, Alfie was once again sitting behind his desk with a faraway look in his eyes. He looked like a man wrestling with something far more complicated than the usual calculations of business negotiations. Ollie hovered near the door, holding papers in hand, his expression already pinched with the particular exhaustion that came from trying to keep Alfie on task.
âAlfie,â he ventured carefully. âThe Italians. The proposal. We were supposed to be thinking aboutââ
âShh. Shhh.â Alfie lifted one large hand without looking up. The gesture was absent, almost gentle. âOllie, my boy. What do you think about silk stockings?â
The silence that followed was so complete you could have heard the bat of a flyâs wings. Ollie blinked. âExcuse me?â
âSilk stockings,â Alfie repeated, slower this time. âFor a womanâs legs. You know the ones. The kind that make a man forget his own name. What do you think?â
Ollieâs face went through several stages of disbelief. âTheyâre⊠pretty?â
Alfie finally looked up. âNo, you idiot. I meant if itâd make a good gift. For my angel. Something delicate, something that says I see you. Silk stockings, proper ones, not the cheap rubbish.â
Ollie rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they did not fall out of his head. He dropped the papers onto the desk with a slap. âAlfie. You were supposed to be thinking about the business proposal the Italians made us, not stockingsâ.Â
âIâve been thinking about her legs,â Alfie confessed, almost dreamily. â And I keep picturing them in silk, in dark silk. I think theyâd look prettier. I think the entire world would look prettier if those particular legs were sheathed in something worthy of them.â
Ollie made a strangled sound. âHow have you been thinking about her legs? Youâve never seen that womanâs legs, not once. Sheâs buttoned up to the chin half the time. Youâve seen her hands and her face and the occasional flash of wrist when she rolls her sleeves. That is the full inventory, not even her ankles.â
Alfie waved the objection away. âAh, Ollie boy. I donât need to see them to know theyâre beautiful. I can imagine them. Iâve got a very vivid imagination when properly motivated, and that woman motivates me. She walks past and my brain helpfully supplies the rest. Itâs become a proper problem, I close my eyes and there they are. I open them and Iâm still thinking about them. Itâs affecting my concentration, my sleep, my ability to give a single shit about Italian proposals.â
âYouâre not her husband. You canât just buy her stockings. Sheâd think it's scandalous.â
Alfie leaned back in the chair. âYes,â he said thoughtfully. âYouâre right. Sheâd think it's scandalous. Canât have that. Canât have my angel thinking old Alfie just wants to get between her legs.â He reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulled out a thick roll of notes, and tossed it across the desk to Ollie. âRight, change of plan. Go out and get me a perfume bottle. An expensive one, something that smells like vanilla. None of that chemical rubbish, and donât come back until you have it.â
Ollie stared at the money as if it might bite him. âAlfie. Youâre not expecting me to go out and buy perfume. Thatâs not my job. Iâm your assistant, not your bloody personal shopper. I handle the books, and the meetingsââ
Alfieâs voice dropped into that particular register that brooked no argument. âYour job, Ollie, is to do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. Today that happens to be buying perfume. Expensive perfume, for a woman who deserves something that smells like heaven. Now go. Go, boy. Before I start thinking about what else might look good wrapped around her ankles.â
Ollie opened his mouth, and closed it. He snatched the money, knowing he had long ago accepted that working for Alfie required a flexible definition of dignity. âVanilla,â he muttered. âRight. Iâll be back in an hour.â
Alfie waved him off without looking, already rising from the chair. He reached behind the desk and picked up the bouquet he had bought earlier that morning. He walked to the front of the building where the bakery was.Â
You looked up as he entered the kitchen. The small smile that always appeared when he walked in, the one you tried and failed to hide. Alfie crossed the floor without hesitation, holding the flowers out in front of him like an offering. He stopped beside you and presented the bouquet with a small courtly bow.
âBeautiful flowers,â he said, âfor a beautiful woman. Seemed only right, the worldâs been grey enough lately, figured you deserved a bit of colour to brighten up.â
You stared at the flowers. They were stunning, but your hands, still dusted white, hovered uncertainly above them. âThanks, Alfie. These are beautiful. But I⊠I canât have them.â
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes like he was preparing arguments. âOf course you can. Theyâre flowers, love. Not a proposal of marriage. Just flowers for the woman who makes this place smell like my childhood and my future all at once. Take them, theyâre yours.â
You reached out despite yourself, brushing the red petals with your fingers. âI canât show up home with these,â you said quietly. âA married woman canât come home with flowers another man gifted her. Itâs already bad enough as it is.â
The last part slipped out before you could catch it, an admission you had kept locked behind your teeth for weeks. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, and quickly your hands returned to the dough.
Alfie didnât move, he simply stood there. âWhat do you mean âbad enough,â huh?â he asked. âIs your husband the jealous type? The kind who sits at home imagining all sorts of things that arenât happening just because his wife has the audacity to earn her own coin?â
You kept your eyes on the dough, pushing it harder than necessary, as if you were trying to escape the conversation. âItâs nothing⊠Itâs just⊠he thinks I spend too much time here. And heâs heard what some people say. Gossips, maybe from the ladies at the front⊠that you spend too much time with me back here. In the back⊠alone.â
Alfie let out a short laugh, he set the bouquet down on the edge of the bench and leaned in closer. âSo heâs an insecure little cunt with an inferiority complex who thinks his wife would cheat on him just because thereâs a man close to her,â he said flatly. âA man who canât keep his own house in order so he points the finger at the bakery instead. Pathetic, truly. Some men are born with small minds and even smaller pricks and they spend their whole lives trying to make the world feel as cramped as they do.â
âAlfie. Thatâs not nice to say.â His sincerity caught you off guard, it left you feeling even more embarrassed. He was hitting dangerously close to home, unearthing truths you had buried beneath layers of practiced smiles and half-spoken excuses.Â
He waved a handd. âNice has very little to do with the truth, love. Iâve met a thousand men like him. They talk loud and wonder why their wives start looking for doors. Tell me the truth.â His voice dropped, softer now but no less serious. âDoes he ever hurt you more than with words? Does he dare put a hand on you? Because if he does, if that sorry bastard has ever laid so much as a finger on you in anger, you tell me right now. Iâll rearrange his face personally, until not even his mother could recognize him.â
You shook your head quickly, too quickly, making the loose curl of hair bounce against your temple. âNo. No, itâs not like that. We just fight a lot. He yells and says things⊠ugly things. About me being here, about you, about how a proper wife should be home making his lunch instead of⊠whatever he imagines Iâm doing back here with you.â
Alfie felt his jaw tighten, he reached out without thinking and brushed a streak of flour from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. âHe yells at you? What does he tell you? Donât spare me the details, love. Iâve heard worse, Iâve said worse. But never to a woman like you.â
You hesitated, but eventually the words came out in pieces, quiet and ashamed. âHe tells me that people whisper about us being here for hours⊠that Iâm making him look like a fool. A fool who has a whore for a wife.â
Alfie listened without interrupting. His expression darkened with every word you said. When you fell silent, he let the quiet stretch for a long moment. âA man yelling at his wife such things,â he said at last, almost wistfully. âIâve always thought it should be the other way around. A man making his wife scream, and not in anger exactly.â
Your face burned scarlet, making you turn back to the dough with fierce concentration, kneading as if your life depended on it. âWeâre just going through⊠a rough patch,â you managed. âThatâs all. Marriages have them. Itâll pass.â
Alfie made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. âRough patch my arse. That man doesnât love you if he treats you like that. If he can look at this face, sculpted by god himself on one of his better days, and this smile that lights up the whole fucking room, and still chooses to yell?â He shook his head. âNo, thatâs not love. You deserve better, love. You deserve someone who sees you and thinks the sun rose just to have something to compete with.â
You swallowed hard. âItâs not appropriate that I talk of these matters anyway,â you said. âTheyâre private. Between a husband and wife. I shouldnât be⊠burdening you with them.â
Alfie stepped closer. The space between you shrank until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, until the scent of him wrapped around you. âLove, you see Iâve grown quite fond of you. More than fond, proper attached. And I can see the little sadness you try so hard to hide in your eyes, the way it flickers when you think no oneâs looking. And it makes me think that you deserve a man who can make you scream with joy. Whoâd never let you shed a single tear unless it was from laughing too hard or feeling so much pleasure so hard you forget your own name. A man who would burn the world down before he let it dim that light in you.â
The bakery kitchen felt suddenly too small. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it over the ovens. You wiped your hands on your apron, and forced your voice steady. âThanks. But like I said⊠my husband and I are going through a rough patch. Things will get better.â
Alfie studied you for a long moment, the way your fingers twisted in the edge of your apron like they needed something to hold onto. He didnât look convinced. The moment stretched until a knock sounded on the door that led from the kitchen to the back.
âAlfie,â Ollieâs voice came through the wood, full of exasperation and something close to panic. âSabini is here for the meeting. Heâs waiting, and heâs not the patient sort. You know how he gets.â
Alfie did not turn immediately, he simply let out a theatrical sigh. âEntertain him, Ollie,â he called back. âMagic tricks, remember?â
You could hear Ollieâs muffled groan through the door. âWould you stop playing house and come handle business like you did before all of this nonsense? The whole bloody business is waiting back there while you sit down here watching her knead dough.â
Alfie snapped his head toward the door. His expression darkened in an instant. âOllie,â he said, dropping his voice to a low and dangerous register, âIâm gonna start shooting at the door, so youâd better not be standing there in the next ten seconds. Count with me, my boy. Ten⊠nineâŠâ
Footsteps retreated rapidly down the corridor, and the knock did not come again. You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, it broke some of the tension, though not all of it. âI think Ollieâs not particularly fond of me. Every time he sees us back here he looks like heâs swallowed a lemon.â
Alfie turned back to you, the storm in his face clearing as quickly. âHe just thinks Iâll give his job to you,â he said, twitching the corner of his mouth into a crooked smile. âPoor Ollie. Loyal as a dog and twice as anxious. He sees you here and he imagines youâre gonna take his place. Canât blame the lad, really. You do have that effect.â
You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the blood still warming your cheeks from the earlier conversation. âTell Ollie he has nothing to worry about. I wouldnât take his job. Iâm happy here. With the dough, with the ovens. WithâŠâ You hesitated, then finished softly, âWith the way things are in this room.â
Alfie reached out and brushed another stray streak of flour from your cheek, his thumb lingered there this time, tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that felt at odds with the man who had just threatened to shoot through a door. âI should give you a rise,â he said thoughtfully. âIâve been thinking about it.â
You blinked, feeling surprised. âWhy? Iâve only been working here a month.â
âA month is enough,â he replied. âMore than enough. The sales in the bakery have doubled. People are talking, the best bread in Camden, they say. Itâs all thanks to you, love. You walked in here and you changed the whole bloody atmosphere.â
You smiled then, a real one, shy but genuine. Alfie went very still, dropping his gaze to your mouth, then lifted again, looking hungrier.
âGod,â he murmured, almost to himself. âThat smile again. That fucking smile that makes a man think things he should have no right to be thinking about. Things that end with my hands in places theyâve got no business going.â
He stepped closer, and suddenly the space between you vanished. His body pressed forward until you could feel the heat of him through your clothes. Alfie lifted his hand, cupping the side of your face with surprising tenderness, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.
âIâve been driving myself insane ever since you walked into my life,â he said with devastating honesty. âTell me you feel the pull between us too. Tell me Iâm not the only one losing my mind. Tell meââ
Before you could answer, before you could even draw breath, Alfie grabbed you. He slid his large hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in with undeniable strength. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, pressing your body tight against his solid bulk. The kiss was hungry, full of desperation. He devoured your mouth like a man who had been starving for weeks, sweeping his tongue in with heat, his lips claiming yours with a groan that vibrated through his chest and into yours.Â
The taste of him, of rum and desire, flooded your senses. His body was unyielding, holding you flush against him, splaying one hand across your lower back as if afraid you might vanish. For one dizzying moment you melted into it. Into the warmth, the strength, the way his mouth moved like he had been dreaming of this exact kiss since the day you first brought him that poppy-seed cake.
Then reality crashed back. You pulled away, gasping, pressing your hands against his chest. Your lips felt swollen, and your heart hammered wildly. âI canât do this, Alfie,â you whispered, though your voice was shaky. âIâm married. Iâm still married⊠and this is wrong.â
Alfie did not release you immediately, he rested his forehead against yours, still holding you close with his arm around your waist. âYour mouth,â he murmured, tracing your lower lip again with his thumb, âis better than I even thought about. Softer, sweeter, like it was made for this. A glorious experience, love. A fucking revelation. I could spend the rest of my days kissing you and still die wondering how I ever lived without it.â
The words sent another rush of heat through you. But you stepped back, putting the bench between you once more, though it felt like far too little distance. âPlease stop saying these things,â you said, barely above a whisper. You touched your lips instinctively, as if you could wipe away the evidence of what had just happened. âI canât⊠we canât.â
Before either of you could say more, the knock came again, sharper this time, more insistent. Ollieâs voice filtered through the door. âAlfie. Sabiniâs getting impatient. And heâs brought men. You need to come up. Now.â
Alfie let out a frustrated growl. He straightened, adjusting his waistcoat with hands that still trembled slightly from the force of the kiss. âI wonât stop thinking about this,â he said quietly. âNot for a second. Not while Iâm back there dealing with Sabini and his bullshit. Not tonight when Iâm alone in bed. Not ever, love. Youâve ruined me for anything less.â
He turned toward the door, pausing once to glance back at you, at your swollen lips and the way your hands had returned to your apron like an anchor. Then he was gone, leaving the kitchen suddenly too quiet, but far too full of the ghost of his mouth on yours and the flowers still sitting on the bench.
The walk home from the bakery felt longer than usual that evening. Your feet moved on autopilot along the familiar route, but your mind was miles away, or rather, still back in the bakery kitchen, pressed against Alfieâs solid chest with his mouth claiming yours like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
The kiss replayed in relentless detail. The way his large hand had cupped the back of your neck, the heat of his body pulling you flush against him. The taste of him, the groan that had vibrated from his chest into yours. For those few stolen seconds you had felt wanted. Not only wanted, but desired and seen. Not as a convenience or a disappointment or a body that had failed at its one expected duty, but as something precious, something worth devouring.Â
You had been lying to yourself for weeks, you realised now, as your key turned in the lock of the small flat. Hiding how good it felt to have a man look at you the way Alfie did, like you were the centre of the room, the reason he lingered for hours watching your hands move through dough. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel wanted and cherished in even the smallest ways. Your husbandâs touch had vanished years ago, as if your body had become a reminder of failure rather than a source of comfort or pleasure. But Alfie made you feel like a woman again, like someone worth the risk of a hard kiss in the back of a bakery while the world waited.
God, you felt the pull between you too whenever he stepped close. The way your skin remembered his fingertips on your cheek, the way your laugh came easier around him. But you were still married. The ring on your finger was a fact. You needed to focus on saving, on getting your own place and redoing your life from the ground up. Love, or whatever intoxicating thing this was with Alfie, could wait until you were free. Until you stood on your own two feet without needing to explain yourself to anyone.
The flat was quiet when you stepped inside, you set your bag down and rolled up your sleeves, moving through the familiar evening tasks. You tidied the small kitchen, filled the basin with cold water and began washing the clothes that had piled up.Â
That was when you saw them. Lipstick stains on the collar of one of his shirts. A cheap red that did not belong to you. Another smear lower down, near the buttons, as if someone had pressed his lips there, lingering for a moment. You stared at them for a long moment, the cold water dripping from your hands onto the floor. You were used to this, the whispers, the late nights, the way he came home reeking of other women and still had the nerve to accuse you of the same.Â
You wrung the shirt out with more force than necessary, watching the water run pinkish-red down the drain. Why, you wondered, were you still loyal to him when he had never once been loyal to you? Why did you cling to the vows when he treated them like suggestions? And still you stayed, still you washed his shirts with another womanâs lipstick on them.
You finished the laundry in silence, hung the clothes to dry and prepared a simple supper you knew he would barely touch. Night fell fully, after changing into your nightdress, you slipped into bed, the sheets felt cool and lonely on your side. Sleep came in fits, haunted by the ghost of Alfieâs mouth on yours and the memory of how safe and alive you had felt in his arms.Â
Hours passed before the door finally opened. Your husband stumbled in later than usual, the familiar scent of cheap perfume clinging to him. He did not look at you, he never did anymore on nights like this. He simply shed his coat, kicked off his boots, and fell into bed on his side with his back to you, the smell of another woman filling the small space between you.
You lay there in the dark, staring at the crack in the ceiling. The question turned over and over in your mind. Why were you refusing Alfieâs advances when your husband had never refused any whore?
The kiss burned in your memory again, the way Alfie had held you like you were something precious, the way he had looked at you afterward, like the entire world could burn and he would still choose your mouth. He saw you, wanted you, made you feel desired in a way your husband had not in years. And yet here you were, loyal to a marriage that had become nothing but a cage of resentment.
***
Alfie sat alone in his office long before the first grey light touched the rooftops. Sleep had become impossible, the bedroom had felt like a trap where every shadow still carried the ghost of your mouth against his.
The office door opened, and Ollie stepped in, holding papers under one arm, already mid-sentence.
âAlfieââ
Alfie had his fingers steepled under his chin, with an almost beatific smile spreading across his face. The smile was wide enough to show even his teeth at the back. âShut up, Ollie.â The words came out soft, almost dreamy, without the usual bite. Alfie did not open his eyes. âIâm thinking.â
Ollie stopped and stared at the expression on his bossâs face. Working for Alfie, Ollie had grown accustomed to most of his eccentricities, but this was a face heâd never seen before. âThinking about what? Why are you smiling like that? Is it because of what Sabini said yesterday about the docks, orââ
Alfie opened his eyes, they were slightly unfocused, as if he were still somewhere else entirely. He raised one hand in a grand gesture that took in the entire room. âWhat? Sabini? No. God, no. Iâm smiling because of something much deeper, my dear Ollie. Iâm smiling because today the birds are singing a better melody, because the sun rays are warmer in this miserable city. Because the air is fresher and the flowers are brighter. Iâm smiling, Ollie, because yesterday I tasted the sweetest lips I have ever had the privilege of putting my mouth on.â
He stood, in two heavy steps he was around the desk and had one arm draped around Ollieâs thin shoulders, pulling the younger man into a half-embrace. âI had an epiphany yesterday,â Alfie continued. âProper revelation. Sheâs the woman of my life. Sheâs the one. The absolute, undeniable, end-of-the-fucking-story one. I looked at her and I thought, Alfie Solomons, you bastard, youâve been wandering around this earth collecting debts and breaking bones and all this time the actual point of the whole exercise was this woman.â
Ollie stood rigid under the arm, holding the papers crushed against his chest. âWhat? Wait⊠what lips? Did you⊠did you kiss her?â
Alfie released him only far enough to place both hands on Ollieâs shoulders and look him dead in the eyes. The smile had not faded, if anything it had grown wider. âIt wasnât a kiss, Ollie. Letâs not diminish the thing with ordinary language. It was a revelation, a fucking sacrament. It was the moment the universe stopped pretending it was indifferent and decided to hand me something worth keeping.â
Ollie blinked rapidly. âI donât understand. You kissed her or not?â
âOkay, fantastic. Congratulations. But we still need to sort theââ
Alfie waved the interruption away, already pacing again. âAnd I fear itâs not enough. One kiss only made me thirstier. That woman has me bewitched, Ollie. A touch of her lips and I canât stop until Iâve had the whole thing. Do you think she wants me too? The same way I do? With the same stupid, helpless, all-consuming hunger?â
Ollie looked like he'd been asked to solve an equation in a language he did not speak. âHow am I supposed to know?â
âWell, go ask her,â Alfie said, then immediately held up both hands. âWait, no. Donât go. I need to give her time to think. She pushed me yesterday when we kissed. Of course she didnât mean it like that. It wasnât a âget away from me you ugly bastardâ push. It was a nice one, a little reluctant. She feels it, I know she does.â
Ollie pinched the bridge of his nose. âMaybe she pushed you because sheâs a married woman. Out of all the women in London, you chose a married one.â
Alfie stopped pacing. He turned, and for a moment the theatrical light in his eyes dimmed into something colder. âWhat if we kill her husband?â
Ollie considered it with weary professionalism, like he'd heard worse suggestions. âWell⊠I guess weâve killed men for less.â
Alfie nodded slowly, as if filing the option away for later. Then the softer expression returned. He stepped closer again. âOllie, be honest with me. Am I worthy of her? Look at me and tell me the truth. This face, this body, tese hands that have done things I donât always like remembering. Am I the sort of man a woman like that could look at and think, yes, him, Iâll take him if it means being looked at the way he looks at me?â
Ollie hesitated, he glanced at the door as if calculating the distance to escape, then sighed. ââŠSure. Why wouldnât she like you too?â
Alfieâs face lit up again. âI knew it. Yes. I knew it by the way she kissed me. She feels like I do.â He clapped his hands together once. âIâm gonna write her a letter. Telling her how I feel. And then youâll go down there and give it to her, personally. Watch her face when she reads it and report back.â
Ollie rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they stayed in his head. He turned toward the door, already defeated, already calculating how many more hours of this madness he would have to endure before the day improved.
âTell me when youâre done,â he muttered with his hand on the doorknob. âAnd try not to propose marriage in the first paragraph.â
Alfie sat at his desk for nearly an hour. The ink blotched on places where emotion had made him press too hard. When he finished, he read it twice, folded it with care, and sealed it simply with a drop of wax from the candle on his desk. He called for Ollie without raising his voice much above a murmur. The younger man appeared in the doorway looking like he had already aged another year.
âTake this down to her,â Alfie said, holding out the folded letter between two fingers. âPersonally. Give it to her when sheâs alone and watch her face while she reads it. Then come back and tell me everything. I want to know if she smiled, if she touched her lips, or if she criedâ
Ollie took the letter like it might explode. âYouâre really doing this.â
âIâm really doing this,â Alfie confirmed, the smile from earlier still lingering at the corners of his mouth. âNow go.â
Ollie walked though the hallway with the air of a man marching to his own execution. The bakery was in full swing when he pushed open the door to the back kitchen area. You were at the central bench with your sleeves rolled high and your hair pinned back with a few rebellious hairs escaping to cling to your damp temples.
Ollie stopped a few feet away, holding the letter between thumb and forefinger. âAlfie got this for you,â he said with disapproval. There was no warmth in it, just the weary resentment of someone who had watched his carefully ordered world tilt toward chaos because of you
You looked up, wiping your hands on your apron. âWhat is it?â
âA letter,â Ollie said as he extended it toward you. âObviously. From him.â
You took the letter. The paper was thick, good quality, still faintly warm from Alfieâs hands. Your name was written across the front in his bold script. Your fingers trembled slightly as you broke the seal.
Ollie lingered for a moment, watching you, then muttered something under his breath about âplaying houseâ and retreated to the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He did not leave entirely, he was waiting to see your reaction, only to report back with the precision Alfie would demand.
My dearest angel,
Or should I call you love? Because that is what you have become to me in these short weeks⊠love. Not the cheap or easy kind, but the one thatâs real. The kind that makes a man sit in his office with his eyes closed and smile like a fool because the world suddenly feels worth inhabiting again.
I kissed you yesterday. I have not stopped thinking about it since. Your mouth, God help me, was softer than I had any right to imagine. It tasted like the best parts of my childhood and all the things I never knew I was missing until you walked into my bakery. When I pulled you close I felt the whole of Camden disappear, none of it mattered. Only you. Only the way you fit against me for that brief and perfect moment before your conscience reminded you of the ring on your finger.
I have kissed women before. I will not insult either of us by pretending otherwise. But I have never kissed a woman and felt the entire architecture of my life rearrange itself around the simple fact of her existence. That is what you did to me in the space of one kiss. One glorious, incomplete, far-too-short kiss.
I know you are married. I know it and I hate it. I have thought: this woman deserves a man who sees her as the miracle she is. A man who would burn the world down before he let anyone dim that light in her eyes.
You feel it too. I know you do. Tell me I am not imagining it. Tell me that when I kissed you, you kissed me back for more than just a moment. Tell me that the push was not because you wanted me gone, but because you were afraid of how much you wanted me to stay.
I am not a good man. I have done things that would make angels weep. But for you I could try to be better, or at least better at the things that matter. Take your time. Think. I will not rush you, but know this: every morning when I come down to that little kingdom you have made of my bakery, I will be hoping. Hoping that one day you will look at me and decide that the ring on your finger is not worth more than the way I look at you.
Until then, I remain yours in every way that matters,
Alfie
You read it twice. Then a third time, more slowly, tracing the ink with your fingers as if you could feel the heat of his hand through the paper. Your heart was beating too hard, you could feel it in your throat, in the tips of your fingers, in the space just beneath your ribs
You felt wanted. Properly, fiercely, unapologetically wanted. Not as a convenience, not as a body that had failed to produce a child, not as a wife who was expected to make dinner and warm a bed while her husband chased other women. Alfie looked at you and saw something rare, something worth the risk.
Ollie cleared his throat from the doorway, his arms still crossed. âWell? Are you going to stand there staring at it until the bread burns, or should I tell him youâve gone speechless like every other woman who reads one of his letters?â
You folded the letter carefully, pressing it against your chest for a moment as if you could press the words into your skin. When you finally looked up, your voice came out softer than you intended, almost shy.
âTell him this is really⊠thoughtful,â you said, still prssing the letter gently against your chest, as if you could press the sincerity of his words into your skin. âAnd I will think about it. Tell him that. I need time. But⊠itâs thoughtful. I liked it.â
Ollie nodded once, though his expression suggested he would rather be doing almost anything else. âRight. Thoughtful. Iâll pass it along.â He turned on his heel without another word, the door swinging shut behind him with a click.
Upstairs, Alfie was not waiting patiently. He paced the length of his office like a caged animal. The letter had been a risk, an honest outpouring that left him more exposed than he had been in years, and the waiting was torture. When the door finally opened and Ollie stepped through, Alfie was already at the threshold, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders with both hands before he could even cross the room properly.
âWell?â Alfie demanded, searching Ollieâs face with ferocious intensity. âWhat did she say? Did she like it? Did she cry? Did she smile? Did she press it to her chest like it was something precious? Tell me everything, Ollie. Every single detail. Leave nothing out.â
Ollie pried himself free with a long-suffering sigh, smoothing his jacket where Alfieâs grip had wrinkled it. âI do not appreciate being an errand boy between the two of you,â he said with irritation. âI handle the books, the meetings. I do not handle love letters. This is beneath me. This isââ
âShut up, Ollie,â Alfie interrupted as he began pacing again. The energy rolling off him was almost tangible. âTell me what she said. Exactly. Word for word if you can manage it. I need to know. I need to know if Iâve scared her off.â
Ollie exhaled through his nose with resignation. He leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms once more. âShe said it was really⊠thoughtful. And that she will think about it. She needs time, thatâs it. She looked a bit overwhelmed. And yes, she pessed the letter to her chest and read it more than once. But she didnât cry, not that I saw. So I wouldnât get too excited if I were you.â
Alfie stopped pacing, he turned slowly, the wide smile from earlier creeping back across his face. âThoughtful,â he repeated, tasting the word. âShe said it was thoughtful. Not terrifying, not inappropriate. Not âhow dare you, you mad cunt.â Thoughtful, thatâs something, Ollie. Thatâs more than something, thatâs a crack in the wall Sheâs thinking about it. She pressed it to her chest, my words against her heart. Sheâs going to think about it.â
He dropped heavily into his chair, and steepled his fingers under his chin. âOne kiss and sheâs thinking. God, Ollie. That woman. Sheâs got me by the throat and she doesnât even know it. Iâll give her time. A day, maybe two. Then Iâll find another way to remind her that thereâs a man who looks at her like she hung the moon and who would rather die than make her shed a tear of sadness.â
Ollie pushed off the desk, heading for the door. âJust⊠try not to burn the place down while youâre mooning over her. Or get us all killed, some of us still have work to do.â
Alfie waved him off without looking, already reaching for another sheet of paper, already composing the next message in his head.
Two days later, the frantic rhythm of preparation before Shabbat had you working longer than usual. The trays slid in and out of the heat as the front of the shop bustled with last minute customers seeking the last fresh loaves before the sun dipped.
By the time the light outside began to soften, your shoulders ached, your feet burned, and your mind was a tangled mess of the memory of the kiss you'd shared with Alfie days ago. The words written in his love letter still echoed in your mind, but Alfie had not come down since you both kissed, not once. The absence had felt louder than his presence ever did, it left space that made you wonder whether he regretted the press of his mouth on yours, or whether he was simply trying to forget the way you had pulled away.
You untied your apron, folded it neatly, and reached for your coat, ready to step back into the grey streets. But the door to the back room opened.
Alfieâs eyes found you immediately. âHow are you doing, love?â he asked as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a click. âAfter... everything that happened between us.â
You busied your hands with the last of the trays, avoiding his gaze. âIâm fine,â you said quietly. âAbout to go home.â
Alfie crossed the room slowly and stopped close, leaning one hip against the bench where you had stood kneading only minutes before. The flowers from three days ago were still there, slightly wilted now but stubbornly bright. He picked one up, turning the stem between his fingers as if it held answers.
âThe kiss,â he said, slow enough to taste every syllable. âI donât regret it for one second. Not one. Your lips, love⊠theyâve been the only thing Iâve been thinking about. They consumed me. The softness, the way they gave under mine like theyâd been waiting. Like they knew exactly where they belonged. Iâve sat in my office all day and all I could see was your mouth, all I could taste was you. Tell me youâve thought about it too, donât lie to me, and for fuckâs sake donât lie to yourself. I felt the hunger in your mouth. You were starving for it, same as me.â
Your heart slammed against your ribs, you turned away, folding the apron again though it was already neat. âAlfie, we need to pretend that didnât happen. We have to. Iâm married. This⊠this canât go anywhere. Itâs wrong.â
He let out a rough sound, like a growl of laughter. âPretend? Oh, love, thatâs a good one. Tell me youâve thought about it too. I saw it in your eyes when you pulled away, I felt it in the way your hands pressed against my chest but didnât pushh, not really, not like you meant it. Your husband, does he let you starve like that? Does he have this pretty thing all for himself, this woman who bakes like an angel and laughs like heaven, and still lets you go hungry?â
The words hit too close, you remembered the lipstick stains, the empty bed, the nights he chose other beds. Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. âAlfie⊠this⊠we shouldnât.â
He moved then, faster than you thought a man his size could. Wrapping one arm around your waist, he pulled you close against the solid heat of his body. He slid his other hand into your hair, tilting your head as his mouth found the side of your neck. The kiss there was hot, open-mouthed, grazing your skin with his teeth just enough to make you gasp. He held you pressed tight, devouring the curve of your throat.
âTell me the truth,â he murmured against your skin. âStop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself. I can see the sadness in a womanâs eyes, love, I can feel the hunger in her mouth. A woman whoâs not happy at home, whoâs not satisfied. Who lies awake wondering why the man who vowed to cherish her treats her like an afterthought. He makes you deeply unhappy, I see it. Every day I see it, and it makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down until someone treats you the way you deserve.â
The memory of the shirts flooded back, the cheap red lipstick, the cloying perfume on his clothes the other night. The words slipped out before you could stop them. âItâs not just the fights,â you whispered. âHe⊠he stopped loving me after I lost our baby. Stopped looking at me, stopped touching me. Like it was my fault, like my body had failed him and that was the end of it.â
Alfie stilled against your neck, then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his large hand cupped your face with surprising tenderness. The dark with lust eyes were soft now, almost pained. âIâm so sorry, love,â he said, gentler than you had ever heard him. âYou didnât deserve that, not one bit of it. No woman deserves a man so weak he lets her suffer alone in her grief and then blames her for her own sorrow. A real man wouldâve held you through it. Wouldâve crried the weight with you instead of turning away like a coward. You lost a child, and you carried that pain. He left you to carry it alone, thatâs not a husband.â
The tears pricked at your eyes, you tried to blink them back, but one escaped anyway, tracing down your cheek. Alfie brushed it away with his thumb. âI know he sees other women,â you continued, barely above a whisper. âThatâs why I took the job, thatâs why Iâm saving every shilling. To leave, to have something of my own. To stand on my own feet without him.â
Alfie tightened around you in an act of protectiveness. âWhy be loyal to someone who doesnât respect you?â he asked. âWhy tie yourself to someone who treats his vows like theyâre optional, who comes home reeking of other women and still has the nerve to call you unfaithful for standing in here? Loyalty is a two-way street, love. And heâs been walking the wrong way for years. You deserve better, you deserve someone who sees the miracle in you every single day. Who would rather burn than let you carry that sadness alone.â
He kissed you then. Not the hard, devouring kiss from days ago, but something slower. His mouth claimed yours with hunger, tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth for him. He kept one hand at the small of your back, pressing you tight against the warmth of his body, while the other cradled your face like you were something fragile and infinitely precious. For long, dizzying moments there was only Alfie, only the heat of him, only the way he kissed you like he had been waiting lifetimes for exactly this.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing raggedly. âTell me you feel it too,â he whispered. âTell me Iâm not the only one going mad in here.â
âYouâre not.â
Alfieâs hands moved then, sliding one palm down your back, tracing the curve of your spine through the fabric of your dress, pressing you tighter against him. The other hand roamed lower, cupping the swell of your hip, digging his fingers in with just enough pressure to make you gasp. His mouth found yours again, not so gentle this time, but hungry, as if he could drink down every hidden longing you had buried for years. He kissed you like he owned you, like every inch of your body had been waiting for his claim. His hands explored without shame, brushing the undersides of your breasts through the layers of cloth, then down again to grip your thighs, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
âFuck, love,â he growled against your mouth. âIf I told you all the things Iâve thought about you⊠all the filthy, depraved little fantasies that have kept me awake at night since the day you walked in here⊠youâd probably slap me across the face and call me a degenerate. A proper degenerate. But God help me, I canât stop. Canât stop imagining these hands of yours wrapped around me. Canât stop seeing you bent over this bench, moaning my name while I show you what a real man can do.â
He grabbed you then, effortlessly lifting you with a grunt of effort and setting you on the edge of the wide wooden bench. You parted your legs instinctively as he stepped between them, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Your legs followed, locking around his hips, digging your heels into the back of his thighs as if your body had decided for you. He was hard already, you could feel the line of his erection pressing against you through his trousers, insistent and hot. Alfie groaned at the contact, rolling his hips forward, grinding against your core in a slow motion that made you whimper into his mouth.
âLook at you,â he murmured, pulling back just enough to look down at the way your body had opened for him. He ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher and stroking the sensitive skin just above your stockings. âYour bodyâs been starving for this, love. Starving for a man who sees it, who wants it. Whoâs been mad thinking about how soft youâd feel under him and how wet youâd get just from a kiss like that.â
âI want you,â you whispered, the words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your voice was shaky with all the need you felt from years of denial. âSo much, Alfie. God, I want you.â
A triumphant sound rumbled in his chest. âI know, angel. I know you do.â He tightened his hands on your hips, holding you in place as he rocked against you again, the friction sending sparks up your spine. âAnd Iâm gonna show you how a real man treats a woman, how Iâd treat you every single day if you were mine. Slow when you need slow, hard when you need hard. Iâd worship this body until you forgot every cold night that bastard ever gave youâ
His fingers found the buttons of your dress, the simple row running down the front. With a growl of impatience he ripped them open, the delicate fabric giving way with a series of sharp pops that echoed in the kitchen. The cool air kissed your skin as he pushed the dress off your shoulders, tugging it down your arms until it pooled around your waist. You sat there in your brassiere and knickers, the garters and stockings still clipped neatly in place, the lace and silk suddenly feeling far too exposed under his gaze. Alfie stepped back just enough to look at you fully, his eyes raking over every inch.
âFuck me,â he breathed the words. His hands returned, running all over your body with hunger, sliding his palms up your sides, hooking his thumbs under the edges of your brassiere to trace the swell of your breasts, then down over the curve of your waist and hips. He cupped your breasts through the thin fabric, squeezing them gently, circling your nipples until they hardened under his touch. âYouâre even more delightful than any image my imagination ever created. Such a beautiful creature, so fucking appealing. Soft where you should be soft, strong where youâve had to be strong. Look at you, like you were made to drive a man mad. Youâve got my cock so fucking hard it hurts, love. Proper aching for you. Been aching since the first day.â
He leaned in again, his mouth finding your neck, then lower, kissing along your collarbone, nipping at the tops of your breasts as his hands continued their exploration. Alfie slipped one hand between your legs, cupping you through the thin knickers, feeling the heat and dampness there with a groan of pure satisfaction. His fingers stroked you slowly, pressing the fabric against your most sensitive spot until your hips jerked against his hand.Â
As if he couldnât wait another second, Alfie hooked his fingers into the fabric of your brassiere. With a growl, he pulled it down, freeing your breasts to the air. âFuck, look at these,â he murmured, cupping them immediately, lifting and squeezing them with just the right pressure, circling the sensitive peaks with his thumbs. âPerfect. Fucking perfect. Been dreaming about these tits since the first time I saw you. So soft, made for my mouth.â
He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard enough to make you arch against him with a sharp cry. His tongue swirled, licked, teased in wet circles that sent sparks down to your core. He massaged the other breast with his hand, rolling the nipple between fingers, pinching just enough to border on pain before soothing it with his palm. All the while his other hand stayed between your legs, cupping your cunt and pressing the heel of his palm against your clit in grinding circles that matched the rhythm of his mouth.Â
You rocked against his hand desperately, grinding down on the pressure, chasing the friction as your hips rolled in needy little movements. Alfie groaned around your nipple before he switched sides, sucking the other breast deep into his mouth while he kept working you, cupping and stroking, feeling the growing wetness soak through the fabric.
âTell me,â he rasped against your skin. âTell me how much you want me, love. Say it. I want to hear it from that pretty mouth while youâre grinding on my hand.â
The words spilled out of you, breathless between soft moans. âI want you so much, Alfie⊠everything aches for you. My whole body⊠itâs been so long⊠I need you. Please.â
A satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. He released your nipple with a wet pop, looking up at you with glittering eyes. âThatâs my good girl. I know, angel. I know you do. And Iâm gonna soothe that ache, every bit of it. When Iâm done with you, the only thing thatâs gonna hurt is gonna be your throat from screaming my name.â
Hie moved his hands lower, tracing the tops of your stockings, hooking his fingers under the clips of your garters one by one, undoing them with care. The silk whispered against your skin as he rolled the stockings down, peeling them off like he was unwrapping something precious. His palms followed, stroking every inch of newly bared skin, your calves, knees, and the soft insides of your thighs, as if he could not get enough of touching you.
âYouâre a vision,â he murmured with awe. âSuch a beautiful creature. So soft and ready for me. Look at you, all laid out for me like a feast Iâve been waiting my whole fucking life to taste.â
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your knickers and slid them down your legs, baring your cunt completely. The air hit your slick and dripping folds, making you shiver. Alfie stared, transfixed, as he traced the seam of your pussy with one finger, gathering the wetness that had already coated your thighs.
âFuck me, youâre soaked,â he groaned. âSo wet and slick and dripping for me already. This pretty little cunt is weeping for attention, love. Been neglected for far too long.â He looked up at you, his eyes were a dark shade of blue now, full of lust. âYou want me to eat this cunt, donât you? Want my mouth on you?â
You nodded frantically, twitching your hips toward his hand. âYes⊠pleaseâŠâ
He smiled. âAsk me nice, angel. Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.â
A whine escaped your throat, the need was louder than the embarrassment. âC-could you⊠could you eat my cunt, Alfie? Please?â
âWith pleasure,â he dropped to his knees on the wooden floor in front of the bench, a man of his size and power willingly kneeling for you. He gripped your thighs and spread them wide, opening you completely to his gaze.Â
His breath ghosted over your exposed pussy, making you tremble. âKeep them open like this,â he ordered in a commanding tone. âWide for me. Scream if you need to, pull my hair, wrap your legs around my neck and ride my face. But donât you dare close these thighs. I want all of you, every drop. Understood?â
You nodded breathlessly, bracing your arms behind you on the bench as you watched him. He started slow, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your knees, then higher along your thighs, his beard scraping deliciously against the sensitive skin. He kissed your mound, lips brushing the soft curls there, then lower, feather-light kisses along your outer lips, teasing and tasting the slick that had gathered there.Â
Then, he finally dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in a long and broad stroke from your entrance to your clit that made your back arch and a broken moan tear from your throat.
âFuck, you taste like heaven,â he groaned against your core. âSweet and wet. Been starving for this too, havenât you, love? This pretty cunt hasnât been properly worshipped in years. But Iâm here now. Gonna take my time, gonna lick every inch until youâre shaking.â
He sealed his mouth over your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, flicking his tongue in circles. Alfie ate your cunt like a madman, ravenous, unrelenting, completely lost in the taste of you. He sealed his mouth over your dripping folds with wet sounds that filled the quiet kitchen, thrusting his tongue deep inside you before dragging it back up to circle your swollen clit with firm strokes. He sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue, then lapping slowly as if he could not get enough of your taste.Â
He used his large hands to grip your thighs with bruising strength, digging his fingers into the soft flesh to keep them spread wide open for him. No matter how much you trembled or tried to close them instinctively from the overwhelming sensation, he held you firmly in place, refusing to let you hide even an inch of yourself from his mouth. âThatâs it,â he growled against your pussy, the words sounding muffled. âKeep these pretty thighs open for me, love. Iâm not done feasting, not by a long fucking shot.â
You were moaning openly now, shameless sounds spilling from your lips as your hands fisted in his hair. âAlfieâ oh God, donât stop⊠please donât stopâŠâ The words came out broken and desperate, it was years of denial pouring out of you in a flood.Â
As you bucked his hips against his face, chasing the pressure of his tongue, you looked down, and the sight nearly undid you completely, Alfie on his knees between your spread legs, his eyes half-lidded with lust, his beard glistening with your wetness, and his mouth buried in your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He looked up at that exact moment, locking his gaze with yours while his tongue continued its devastating work, sucking hard on your clit. The eye contact was intimate, you saw the raw hunger there, the possession, and it made your walls clench around nothing.
The intensity pushed you over the edge of control, and you started grinding slowly on his face, rolling your hips in needy circles, using his mouth, his tongue, his beard for friction. The coarse hair tickled and scraped deliciously against your sensitive folds and inner thighs. With a broken cry, you let yourself fall back onto the wooden bench, spreading your arms out above your head, arching as you gave yourself over completely.Â
Alfie groaned in approval, sliding his hands under you, grabbing your ass with both palms to squeeze the soft flesh, kneading it as he lifted your hips higher, bringing your dripping pussy even closer to his face. He held you there like an offering, devouring you with ferocity.
You were whimpering louder now, the sounds turning into high cries that echoed off the walls. âAlfieâ fuckâ Iâm so close⊠donât stop, please donât stopâŠâ Your thighs shook violently around his head as the orgasm built, ready to explode. Every nerve in your body felt alight, years of neglect and loneliness unraveling under the assault of his mouth.
He growled and moaned into your cunt, the vibrations pushing you right to the edge. âCum for me, angel,â he rasped against your folds. âCum on my tongue like the starving girl you are. Give it to me, let me taste how much youâve needed this.â
The orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was intense, shattering, the first one you had experienced in years. Your whole body seized, your back bowing off the bench as the pleasure crashed through you in waves. Your cunt clenched around nothing, gushing wetly against his mouth as he continued licking and sucking you through every pulse and aftershock, drinking down every drop like a man dying of thirst.Â
Alfie held you through it all, his grip on your ass firm, never letting your hips drop, never stopping the soothing laps of his tongue as the pleasure finally began to ebb. He kissed your swollen folds gently, murmuring praises against your skin between soft licks. âThatâs my good girl⊠fucking beautiful when you cum for me. Look at you shaking and dripping and mine. First of many, love. Iâm nowhere near done with you yet.â
You lay there on the bench, with your chest heaving and your body limping and trembling, as Alfie continued to kneel between your spread thighs, pressing worshipful kisses to your inner thighs and mound.Â
Alfie finally rose, towering over you. He wiped his glistening beard with the back of his hand, looking down at your spent form spread out on the bench.Â
âEating this cunt is a biblical experience, love. Proper fucking revelation. I thought nothing in this godforsaken world tasted better than those cakes you bake. But this?â He dragged two thick fingers through your slick folds, gathering your wetness and his saliva, then brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean with an obscene groan. âThis cunt is better. Sweeter, wetter, more addictive. I could die wondering how I ever lived without the taste of you on my tongue.â
You were still catching your breath, but something wild and long-denied had broken loose inside you. You sat up, grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Your fingers worked frantically at the buttons, popping them open one by one until the fabric parted to reveal the broad, hairy expanse of his chest. You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and ran your hands all over him, tracing the muscle of his shoulders, the softness of his belly, the hair that covered his chest and trailed down toward his waistband.Â
Alfie chuckled against your mouth, the sound amused and utterly pleased. âLook at you,â he murmured, nipping at your lower lip. âSomeoneâs in a rush, huh? Greedy little thing. One taste and youâre ready to devour the rest of me. I like that, fucking like that.â
You kissed him harder, tangling your tongues together in a kiss that grew messy and desperate. While your mouths moved together, you dropped your fingers lower, fumbling with his belt. The leather gave way, and you popped the button of his trousers, tugging the zipper down and shoving both trousers and underwear down his thighs in one eager motion.
Alfieâs cock sprang free, thick, and already leaking at the flushed tip. It was substantial, veined and hard, with a thatch of dark hair at the base that made your mouth water. You stared for a moment, as it bobbed heavily between you.
Alfie watched you looking, and a slow smile spread across his face. âYou like what you see, love?â he asked. âGo on, donât be shy. Give it a stroke, feel what you do to me.â
Your wrapped a hand around his shaft without hesitation. He was hot and smoothl, pulsing in your grip. You stroked him slowly at first, up and down, swirling your thumb over the leaking head on every pass to spread the wetness. Alfie groaned, tipping his head back for a moment, half-closing his eyes in pleasure as he let you work him. He rocked his hips gently into your fist, fucking your hand with lazy thrusts while he simply enjoyed the feeling.
âThatâs it,â he murmured. âGood girl. Look at that pretty hand wrapped around my cock.â
While you continued stroking him, finding a steady rhythm that made his breath hitch, Alfie moved his hand back between your legs. His fingertips gathered the slick mixture of your juices and his saliva that still coated your pussy, and then he slid two fingers deep inside you. He curled them, stroking that spot inside while he circled your clit in lazy spirals with the pad of his thumb. He opened you slowly, scissoring his fingers to stretch you.Â
Your hand continued to pump his cock while his fingers fucked you open. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed again, sliding your tongues together. Your strokes on his cock grew faster and tighter, making Alfie groan into the kiss and jerk his hips.
âFuck, you feel good,â he rasped against your lips, breaking the kiss to look down at where your hand worked him and where his fingers disappeared inside your cunt. âSo tight and wet. This pretty little hole is sucking my fingers in like she knows exactly who it belongs to now. Gonna make you feel so full when I finally give you this cock, gonna ruin you for anyone else.â
Then, with a growl, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. At the same time, he closed his other hand firmly around your wrist, stopping the movement of your hand on his throbbing length. You looked up at him with your lips parted in a moan, and your eyes dark with need. Alfie held your gaze, his own eyes overwhelmed with lust.
âDo you want my cock inside you, love? Because all of this, my mouth, my fingers, thatâs been foreplay. Beautiful, filthy foreplay. But if I put my cock inside this pretty little cunt⊠things wonât go back the way they were. Youâll be all mine. Once Iâm buried deep, thereâs no pretending. No going back to that cold bed and that useless husband. Youâll be mine. Say it, tell me you understand what youâre asking for.â
The words hung in the warm kitchen air. Your heart hammered wildly at the thought of belonging to Alfie. Years of loneliness and a body that had been ignored rose up in a desperate wave. You nodded frantically. âI want you,â you whispered, then louder, more desperate. âSo much, Alfie. Please⊠Please fuck me. I need you inside me.â
A satisfied smile spread across his face. âLook at you,â he murmured, brushing your swollen lower lip. âYouâre so beautiful when you beg. Youâve got the face of an angel and the voice of one too, itâs fucking celestial. Begging for my cock like the dirty girl you are.â
He stepped closer, until his thick cock was nudging against your slick entrance. âWrap your legs around my waist, love. Hold me tight, I want to feel you clinging to me when I finally sink into this heaven between your thighs.â
You obeyed instantly, locking your legs around his hips, digging your heels into the back of his thighs and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The position left you completely open to him, your cunt pressed right against the head of his cock. Alfie gripped the base of his shaft with one hand, the other arm banded tight around your lower back, holding you steady.
âLook at me,â he commanded. âRight here. I want to see that first second when I get inside you. Want to watch your face when this cock stretches you open and fills that hungry little hole for the first time.â
You locked eyes with his, and then Alfie pushed forward. The thick head of his cock breached your entrance, stretching you slowly and inexorably. You gasped sharply at the burn and the fullness, your walls fluttering around the invasion as he sank deeper inch by inch. He was thick, so thick, and long, filling you in a way you had never been filled before.Â
Crescent marks painted his shoulders when you dug your nails into it. You let your body adjust, clenching and relaxing around him. Alfie groaned deeply but his eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure as he pushed forward, until he was buried to the hilt, with his heavy balls pressed against you.
âFuck⊠so tight,â he growled, holding perfectly still for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him inside you. âThis cunt is gripping me like it never wants to let go, like it knows exactly who it belongs to now.â
Then he began to move, holding you tight against him with an arm around your waist and the other braced on the bench as he thrust deep, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in with a powerful snap of his hips. Each thrust was deliberately hitting your g-spot, making stars explode behind your eyelids.
âAlfie! Oh God, yes, deeperââ you gasped, digging your nails harder into his arms, leaving red trails down his skin. You tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper with every thrust.
He kissed you hard, using his tongue to fuck your mouth in the same rhythm as his cock pounded into your cunt. The bench creaked beneath you as he fucked you with increasing force, snapping forward, making the length of him drag against every nerve inside you. His balls were sapping against your ass with every deep thrust, and the hair at the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit.
âThatâs it, angel,â he moaned between kisses. âMoan for me, let me hear how good it feels to finally have a real man inside you. This tight cunt was made for this cock⊠made for me. Gonna fuck you until you forget every lonely night, until the only name you remember is mine.â
Alfie watched your face the entire time, drinking in every expression, the way your lips parted on a cry, the way your eyes fluttered half-closed in ecstasy. âBeautiful,â he growled, slamming deep and grinding his hips in a circle. âFucking beautiful when youâre taking my cock like this. Look at you, all spread open and dripping for me. My angel.â
The pleasure built again, faster this time, coiling in your belly as Alfieâs rhythm grew punishing. You couldnât help the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him with every stroke, the grip of your cunt pulsing and rippling along his length as the pleasure increased. The sensation of being so full, so stretched, so completely claimed by him was overwhelming
Alfie cursed, his hips stuttering for a moment as your cunt clenched particularly hard around him. âFuckâ! stop doing that with your cunt, love,â his voice came out rough with the effort of holding back. âSqueezing me like that⊠youâre gonna make me cum too soon. This tight, greedy little hole is trying to pull the life out of me. Slow down, angel, or I wonât last.â
âI canât help it,â you whimpered high and broken, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusts desperately. âIt feels too good⊠I think Iâm gonna cum again, Alfieâ oh God, Iâm so closeâŠâ
A satisfied chuckle rumbled out of him, turning into another deep groan as your walls fluttered around his cock once more. âYouâre gonna make me cum, angel,â he growled. âGonna pull it right out of me with this perfect cunt. But not yet⊠not until I feel you fall apart around me again.â
His hand found your clit with unerring accuracy, and he rubbed circles over the bundle of nerves, never slowing the pounding rhythm of his cock driving into you. The dual stimulation was devastating, the pressure on your clit was pushing you straight toward the edge again.Â
Alfie leaned in and kissed you hard, swallowing every cry and whimper as he drove you higher. âCum for me again, love,â he rubbed faster. âLet me feel this pretty cunt pulse and flutter around me. Squeeze my cock while you fall apart. Thatâs it, good girl, cum on my cock like you were born for it.â
The orgasm crashed over, even more intense than the first. Your whole body seized as the pleasure ripped through you in shattering pulses. Your cunt clenched hard around his thick cock, fluttering and pulsing rhythmically, milking him with squeezes as you came with a loud scream of his name. Slick gushed around his cock, coating his balls and dripping down onto the bench beneath you.
âFuck yes! Thatâs my angel.â Alfieâs voice was strained as he felt you cum apart around him. He kept thrusting through it, fucking you through every pulse. âSo beautiful when you cum for me. Squeezing me so tight⊠gonna make me fill this pussy. Iâm gonna finish inside you, love. Gonna pump every drop deep into this greedy cunt. Mark you from the inside so you remember who you belong to now. Gonna fill you up until youâre dripping with me for days.â
His thrusts grew more erratic as he chased his own release. His cock swelled even thicker inside you, until with a final and powerful snap of his hips, Alfie came. He flood you with thick ropes of cum as he emptied himself completely. He kept thrusting through it, making sure every drop stayed buried inside you, filling you until you felt impossibly full.
He collapsed forward, stroking with his hand up and down your back, tracing patterns along your spine, then sliding around to caress your sides, your ribs, the curve of your waist. His other arm held you securely against his chest, keeping you pressed close as if he feared you might slip away.Â
âDoes your throat hurt, love?â he asked quietly, a gravelled murmur against your skin.
You let out a breathless laugh, the sound hoarse from all your moaning. âA little,â you admitted, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of him. âBut itâs a good hurt.â
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you where you were still joined. âThatâs a good sign, angel. A cunt filled and dripping with my cum, and a throat sore from screaming my name. Thatâs how a woman should be, love. Thoroughly loved, thoroughly pleasured, thoroughly claimed. Thatâs how it would be every single day if you were mine, Iâd wake you up with my mouth between your thighs. Iâd make you cum until you couldnât remember your own name. Youâd go to sleep every night with my cock still inside you and my cum leaking down your thighs. Loved, cherished, worshipped like you deserve.â
You tightened your arms around his shoulders. Meanwhile, Alfiâes hands continued their slow exploration, sliding down to cup your ass gently, then back up to trace your sides and the curve of your breasts where they pressed against his chest. âYour cunt was a holy experience,â he murmured after a long, contented silence. âI saw God for a moment there, love. Nothing in this world, nothing has ever felt like being buried inside you. Iâm not sure I can live without it now, Iâm not sure I can live without you. Ever since you walked into this place with that cake and that smile that lit up the whole room⊠youâve ruined me, angel. Ruined me for anything less, I look at you and the rest of the world feels grey and small and pointless.â
When you lifted your head, you saw his eyes, your own still hazy with pleasure. âMaybe you wonât have to,â you whispered.
âYouâre not going back to that cunt of a husband youâve got,â he said. âNot after this, not after the way you came for me, not after I felt this perfect cunt. Youâre done with that life, love. I wonât allow it.â
A tired, but genuine smile painted your face, and you rested your forehead against his. âWith this Fridayâs payment⊠I saved enough to rent my own place. Iâve been putting every shilling I could away.â
Alfieâs expression softened further, something almost tender breaking through. He kissed you slowly. âSmart girl, saving and planning. Iâm gonna make sure youâre okay. More than okay. Youâll have that place, youâll have safety. And youâll have me, whenever you want me, however you want me.â
You stayed wrapped around him, with your legs locked at his waist and your arms around his neck, your face tucked into the warm curve of his shoulder. Then came the sound of footsteps in the hallway.
âAlfie?â Ollieâs voice echoed down the corridor, with that typical frustration and an edge of exhaustion. âIâve been looking everywhere for you. Please donât tell me youâre still in there watching her kneaââ
The door to the back room swung open and Ollie stopped cold in the doorway, his words dying in his throat. His eyes widened, taking in the scene before him: you on the bench, with your dress bunched around your waist, brassiere pulled down and breasts exposed and marked with the evidence of Alfieâs mouth. Alfie still buried between your spread thighs, his trousers around his ankles and his shirt open, the two of you flushed and unmistakably tangled.
Alfie reacted instantly, wrapping one arm around your back and pulling you against his chest to shield your bare breasts from view, while his other hand tugged the front of your dress up as best he could. âJesus fuck, Ollie!â he barked with exasperation. âDidnât your mother teach you how to knock? Get the fuck away from here. Now. Before I decide your eyes need a permanent reminder of what happens when you walk in on things that arenât your business.â
Ollieâs face went a mortified red, he spun on his heel so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet, muttering something that sounded like a urse. The door slammed shut behind him with a bang, and you heard his footsteps retreating rapidly down the hallway.
The silence that followed was broken only by your sudden, breathless laugh. Alfieâs chest rumbled with a chuckle that turned into full laughter. âPoor Ollie,â you gasped between giggles.Â
âServe him right,â Alfie said, still laughing. âWalking in like he owns the place. Shouldâve knocked.â
You stayed like that for a few more minutes, wrapped around each other. But eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Alfie pulled back just enough to look at you, as he slowly eased his softening cock out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling the warm trickle of his cum leaking down your thighs.Â
âCome here, love,â he murmured, helping you down from the bench on shaky legs. âLet me take care of you.â
He dressed you with surprising gentleness. First he slid your knickers back up your legs, settling them into place and smoothing the fabric over your still sensitive cunt. Then he adjusted your garters and rolled your stockings back up your thighs, clipping them neatly. He helped you back into your brassiere, cupping your breasts as he did so, brushing your nipples one last time before covering them. Finally, he buttoned what remained of your dress, straightening the fabric and brushing flour from your shoulders and hair with tender strokes.
âThere,â he said quietly, stepping back to look at you. âPresentable again. Though I much prefer you the other way.â
You smiled, still a little dazed, and leaned into him. Alfie wrapped his arms around you once more, holding you close. âThis Sunday,â he said after a long silence, âyouâre gonna bring in the money youâve got saved and a bag with your belongings. Iâm gonna help you find your next place to live. Something far away from that useless bastard. You wonât have to do it alone, love. Not anymore.â
You nodded against his chest. âThis Sunday,â you agreed softly.
For the first time in years you are not bracing yourself for the walk home, thinking of a cold bed, and an even colder husband. You think of the mornings still to come, waking up without dread and walking the streets knowing the ring on your finger is gone, and the weight it carried is gone with it.
A/N: Omg guys, I think itâs finally up for good!! After getting flagged like 10 times, I think I finally figured out what the issue was. I swear Iâve been so stressed over this whole thing. So if you enjoyed it, Iâd absolutely love it if you could help me out with a reblog. It would mean a lot to me and help the fic reach more people after everything itâs been through.
This fic actually started out as something much angstier. My original idea was that Alfie and reader met because she worked as a seamstress and heâd bring her clothes to be repaired. Readerâs marriage was also supposed to be a lot darker. I even had about a page of it written in google docs.
But then, while looking for pictures on pinterest, I came across a photo of a bakery and suddenly thought, wait⊠wouldnât it be adorable if reader worked as a baker and Alfie was completely gone for her?đ So I scrapped everything Iâd written and started over from scratch. This time, I decided not to make it quite so dark and instead added a bit more humor and lightheartedness to it.
Hehehehe<3<3<3 I loved this, and I love the way that you write Alfie. I love darker stories but I really enjoyed this fluffier version of the story. I think it cured a part of me lmao
It was also fun seeing the dynamic between Alfie and Ollie, and the way that you depicted him as being slightly delirious lol but shoutout to Ollie because he was right, the reader was literally married, surely there was no way to make something happen between them, but ig if thereâs a will thereâs a way
two hot đ¶ïž ones in a row, but I need the deets. đ«Ș i need Edward to fully blow my back out đ«Š
how about somewhat angry and bent over a table đââïžđ€
Edward Kenway x fem!Reader; 18+
...it's unlike anything, when you're loving me...
The sun hangs low over the old cove, painting the ramshackle village in shades of blood and gold. Some of the anglers come to the manor and tell you the Jackdawâs sails are on the horizon, rounding the headland. Any other time, you would be on the docks, waiting for her return, to see Edward Kenway at the helm and welcome him home.
But the news only stokes the bitter fury already simmering in the pits of your belly. He left without you ereyesterday, slipping away at dawn with nary a wordâwithout the decency to wake you first or kiss you goodbyeâtaking your charts and correspondences about that damned Dutch fluyt out of Aruba.
When the door of the great room creaks open, Edward steps inâsea spray still damp on his cheeks, a little half-smirk curling at his lips. âDove,â he begins, hands already raised in surrender as you start toward him, âbefore you flay me aliveâŠâ
You donât give him a chance to finish. The crack of your open hand against his cheek echoes through the empty manor. Edward's head jerks to the sideâhalf-smile vanishing as a bright flush blooms against his sun- and wind-burned skin. He doesnât move. Suppose I deserved that.
âYou left me like some common tavern wench!â you snarl, clenched fist landing against his chest. The impact thuds against hard muscle, but he barely rocks back. âI wanted that ship, Edward,â you tell him, fists and voice shaking. âWe were to take her together. Why?â He catches your hand on the next strike, fingers locking around your wrist.
The answer should be easy enough to say. When it's only my neck in the noose, I can live with the odds, he thinks, but no treasure is worth gambling your life. You yank against his grip, chest heaving. And heâs too much of a proud dastard to speak true and plain about matters of the heart. Edward pulls you close, looking down his crooked nose at youâa dark heat sparking in his clear blue eyes. âBecause Iâm a selfish pirate,â he grits out, âwhoâd rather see you alive and furious than in a watery grave on account of soured information.â
His words only feed the fire. You twist free of his hold and shove him, hard. Back toward the oak table strewn with maps and empty rum bottlesâand Edward lets you. âAlive and furious, am I?â you hiss, pressing against his shoulders again. The back of his legs hit wood, and the gleam in his eyes borders on dangerous. âYou arrogant bastard.â
Your fingers curl around the belt of his pistol holdersâthe flintlocks and his cutlasses left on the foyer tableâhauling him closer instead of pushing him away. Surging forward, you press your mouth against his. Edwardâs breath catches, surprised for half a heartbeat, then he groans low in his throat and answers with equal fire, lips parting, tongue sliding against yours. Itâs salt, rum, and pent-up fury.
And when you feel that smirk of his trying to return against your mouth, you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw a sharp hiss from him.
âChrist,â Edward breathesâthe sting in his lip and cheek only spurring him on. His hands curl around your waist, fingertips pressing into your flesh through wool and linen. The faint metallic twinge of blood where you broke skin taints the kiss, and the sound he makes is half pain, half raw want.
Edward spins you around. The great room tilts, maps and bottles scattering as he bends you over the table. Empty rum bottles clink togetherâone rolls off the edge and shatters. He presses in behind you, chest to your back, one broad, careworn hand splayed between your shoulders, pinning you down.
âStay furious.â His voice is heady and rough at your ear, breath hot against your neck as he presses your feet apart with his boot. âI like you like this.â Edward rolls his hips into your backside, letting you feel what your rage has done to himâhalf-hard cock straining through the linen of his breeches.
His free hand drags your skirts up, bunching the fabric at your hips. The cool evening air nips at your bare thighsâa shiver creeps down your spine. âEdward,â you warn; thereâs unheard-of malice in his name. But he doesnât take heed; instead, his palm smooths over the curve of your backside, possessive, then slips between your thighs.
A low, approving hum rumbles through his chest when he finds you slick and wanting. Edwardâs callous and scarred fingers stroke through your folds, pausing for a trice to rub tight circles at your clit, teasing. You push back against him with a frustrated noise, but he only presses you harder into the table, lips brushing the shell of your ear. âYouâll take what I give you, Dove,â he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive spot just below itâthe same way you bit his lip, a sweet sting for a sweet sting. âMayhap then youâll forgive me for keeping you safe.â
Two fingers sink into your cunt, deep and sure, curling them just right. Your wretched moan breaks against the wood, hips pressing back into his hand as he begins a slow rhythm. Damn him. The table creaks under your combined weights. Maps and letters stick to your sweaty palms. Damn him for what he does to you. But all you can focus on is the slick, obscene sounds of Edwardâs fingers working between your thighs and the heat of his body pinning you in placeâhelpless against his strength.
You arch into his hand, clenching around his fingers as he pumps them deeperârelentlessly against the place he knows makes stars burst behind your eyes. God, youâre so close, and all you can do is curse him. âEdwardâŠdamn you,â you gasp.
He laughs, low, wicked, withdrawing his fingersâbuckles fall open and fabric rustlesâfingers replaced with the blunt, weeping head of his cock. The thick, scorching length of him slides through your soaked cunt, teasing your clit until youâre nigh close to trembling and begging for him when youâre supposed to be angry.
âSay it again,â he growls, guiding himself into you. A slow press to let you feel every inch and vein. âTell me how much you hate me while Iâm buried inside you.â You donât get the chance. He thrusts forward in a fluid stroke, sheathing himself to the hiltâyour walls fluttering around him, welcoming. Edward curses, forehead dropping to your shoulder to savor the tight heat of you. Then he starts moving in earnestâthe edge of the table biting into your hips with every thrust.
âVainglorious prick,â you finally gasp, finding your voice, pushing back to meet the rolls of his hips. You tighten around him on purpose, vicious, and the groan he lets out is like ravaged sin. âFuckâthinking you get to decide for meââ the words fracture into a moan as he grinds deep, hips circling. Thereâs nothing gentle about it. He fucks you hard and deep, like heâs trying to fuck all the fury out of you. The table jolts forward with the force of it.
The hand pressing between your shoulders slides up your spine and neck, fingers twisting into your hair. He tugs your head back, just enough to expose your throat. âYou can do better than that, Dove.â Edwardâs teeth sink into the curve of your neck. He bites down hard, sucking a dark mark into your skin while his cock slides back into youâover and over.
âGod, Edward, fuck.â Your moan turns into a desperate sob of pleasure, hips rocking back to meet every thrust. Pressure coils in your belly, legs trembling, toes curling against the floorboards. Edward feels itâhe angles his hips, driving into you even harder.
You cry out as he drives into you again and again, the table groaning beneath your braced arms, and thenâŠEdward pulls out with a rough curse. Selfish pirate that he is, he wants to see your face when he makes you fall apart. He twists you around, back hitting the edge of the table before he lifts you onto it, scattering another bottle to the floor. Your skirts bunch uselessly around your waist, legs parting as he steps between themârough hand gripping your thigh to hitch it high around his hip as he slots himself between your spread legs, cock sinking back into your cunt in one smooth, claiming thrust.
A broken noise tears from your throat, your hands flying up to clutch at his chest and shoulders, twisting into the linen and leather of his robesâby Jove, you want to get to his bare skin.
âLook at me.â One hand braces on the table beside your hip, the other curls around the back of your neck, forcing your gaze to his. Those clear blue eyes are dark with lust, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat on his brow. âHate me all you likeâ âa ruined smile crosses his lipsâ âyour body knows what it desires.â Him. Edward James Kenway.
You should strike him again for that. Instead, you twist your fingers into his golden hair and pullâhard enough to make him bare his teeth in a hiss, nostrils flaringâand drag his mouth to yours. The kiss is messyâall teeth and tongue clashing as he pounds into you. You nip his already swollen lower lip again, tasting blood, and Edward groans into your mouth, hips stuttering before he redoubles his pace, spreading your thighs wider.
You lock your ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper, fingernails raking down his scalp as you kiss him, scarcely letting him breathe. The pressure coils tighter, hotter, in your stomach, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock. One hand slides between your joined bodies, calloused thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. âCome on, Dove,â Edward rasps, teeth sinking into your shoulder. âLet me feel you. Come for me.â
It does you in, hearing him say that. You shatter around him with a keening cry, heels pressing into the curve of his back, thighs squeezing him, trying to hold him in place. But Edwardâs rhythm grows erratic, desperate, fucking you through your own release as he chases his own. His forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and wild as they lock onto your faceâlips parted in silent throes, eyes hazy, a furrow in your brow as you whisper his name like a prayer.
Edward follows. With a guttural groan, he buries himself in your cunt and stays there, hips jerking as he spills his seed deep inside youâleaving you both panting and trembling. He grinds against you as if he canât get close enough.
For a moment, the only sounds in the great room are your ragged breaths, gull song, and the rowdy merriment from the dockside tavern. Edward stays buried deep in your cunt, arms braced on either side of your head as he leans over you, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along the bite marks he left on your neck and shoulder. You clinch around him, deliberately, feeling his spend slide down your thigh, and it earns you a hissed curse and a twitch of his spent cock.
But the heat in his eyes has burned down to something softer. His thumb brushes a lock of hair from your sweat-damp cheek. âRather have you cursing me every day for the rest of my life than lose you over a pitiful chest of gold,â Edward says quietly, voice still gruff. âIf that makes me a selfish, vainglorious prickâ âhe leans down and kisses you, slower this time, tender, even with the sting of his broken lipâ âthen so be it.â
And how can you fault him for that? Your arms slide around him, drifting up his back. You tug on the ends of his hair, lightly, and loosen the leather thong holding back his ponytail, letting his golden locks fall loose and messy. Edward pulls back, looking properly ruined, just like you.
âNow, are you still planning to flay me aliveâ âa sated smirk tugs at his bitten lip as he rests his forehead against yoursâ âor can I carry you to bed and make it up to you proper?â His hips give a lazy, teasing roll, still half-hard inside you. You wonât object to that. âIâve got all night to earn your forgiveness, Dove.â
[Edward taglist: @awondrouslove / @certifiedlittleshit / @chonkercatto / @dontwannabeanamericanidiot / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @fridrssvardagi / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @hnybnny / @itseivwhore / @jadynchronicle / @maddiethecanadianassassin / @morganamayne / @mossywossy14 / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rainsought / @slytherinmates / @stevie75 / @thatrandomfeministgamer / @theoriginalannoyingbird / @theexaustedmermaid / @vymyn ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if youâd like to be added to my Edward taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 9.8k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, torture, abuse, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion
a/n: this chapter marks the start of the final act where things begin to unravel hehe
Your motherâs tone was strained as she peered across the table at your boyfriend. It was clear that she was at least trying her best to be polite, while your father could barely bring himself to look at the man.Â
It had been several weeks since the incident at Satoruâs cabin, and in that time the nature of your relationship with Sukuna had changed, and subsequently so had your relationship with your parents.Â
When youâd first arrived back in town after escaping Mahitoâs clutches, youâd gone straight to your parents to tell them what had happened and to ask for them to contact the Higurumas to help you through the legal process. If youâd been more mentally stable at the time perhaps you wouldâve gone to them alone, playing along with your fatherâs request to not bring Sukuna to the house.Â
But youâd been in no fit state to do anything alone, so Sukuna had tagged along that evening to support you, revealing himself to your mother for the first time as your boyfriend.Â
To say that first meeting had been rocky was something of an understatement.
Her judgement of the man was evident and only further heightened by your fatherâs obvious disapproval. If you hadnât been in such a state of distress you were certain that both of them wouldâve outright voiced how disappointed they were in you. Perhaps they wouldâve even asked Sukuna to leave.
But neither of them spoke out actively against him that day - not when he was the only thing you seemed to be clinging to, desperate not to be parted from him for a second.Â
They could understand that he was your saviour - that you needed him, and even begrudgingly accepted it when you all but moved into his apartment in the weeks that followed, spending every night with him in the one place you felt safe and comfortable. It wasnât like they were happy about it - you knew that, but they werenât about to stand in the way of their traumatised daughter and her wants.Â
Sukuna was the one thing keeping you going, and your parents knew that.Â
Even if he was far from ideal in their minds.Â
Your mother, no matter her opinion on a person, had always been the type to try to keep things civil and polite, which was how you and Sukuna had ended up invited for dinner at your childhood home, in which your mother was trying her best to extend an olive branch and keep an open mind about your boyfriend.Â
It had already been an awkward affair, and you were desperate to leave, but Sukuna seemed unfettered, smiling politely at your motherâs largely condescending questions.Â
âNo, I didnât go to college. My family wasn't very well off and even with scholarships it wouldâve been hard for me. I might go back to school in a few years once I have some savings, but it was always a better option for me to earn.â His arm came to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in an act that no doubt had your father seething. âIâm set on finding a good career though. I want to be able to provide.âÂ
Your mother gave him a polite smile before diverting her attention back down to her plate, while your father rolled his eyes. It was clear that neither of them particularly liked the idea of him thinking long term about your relationship. In the few times sheâd caught you alone since finding out about Sukuna, your mother had not so subtly reminded you that Hiromi was still single and willing to date, pairing it with the suggestion that a change of scenery might be good for you.Â
So far youâd politely turned her down, but the whole thing was starting to grate on your nerves. Sukuna was who youâd chosen - heâd protected you through the worst of times and was continuing to care for you now, even when you were depressed and traumatised. There wasnât anyone else you wanted - it was only him.Â
It had always been him and always would be.Â
âDo you think youâll be coming back to work soon, sweetheart?â Your dad asked, shifting his attention to you.Â
Since the incident youâd found it difficult to even get out of bed most days, your mind laden with thoughts of Mahito and what mightâve happened if Sukuna hadnât arrived. And when you werenât thinking about that, you were picturing Shokoâs lifeless body laid out on the floor. The idea of holding it together for a whole day of work seemed impossible.Â
Your father had been understanding enough to allow Sukuna to take a couple of weeks off after everything first went down, aware that he didnât want you left alone in such a distraught state, but Sukuna had been back on site for weeks now, while you still moped around at home. Your phone and Sukunaâs gun were never far from your grip whenever you were alone, constantly on edge that youâd hear the rattling of a window or the slow unlatching of the door, leading you to another terrible fate.Â
âI- I donât know.âÂ
Youâd been waiting to return back to your normal self, to bounce back to the way you were before. But you felt like a vital part of you had been stolen, never to be returned. It was so similar to how youâd felt after Ryuâs death, and yet so different too. With Ryu, it had been like getting carried away by a stream, constantly trying to get your head above rushing water to take a breath.Â
This felt more still - like you were drifting steadily to the bottom of a calm lake without the capability to kick back up to the surface. There was a numbness to the pain that settled within you through each passing day, like pieces of your heart were slowly being peeled away and cast aside. The piece that Sukuna held in his hands felt like the only one that was safe, protected by the one person who brought you comfort.Â
âIt's fine for me to look after her.â Sukuna cut in before your dad could respond. âShe doesnât need to work.â
The man pressed his lips into a thin line, collecting himself before making any rash response to Sukunaâs words. Heâd hardly eaten any of his meal, clearly discomforted by the whole situation of having a dinner party with someone he didnât approve of, someone who he knew had laid hands all over his daughter.Â
âShe should work. Sheâs more qualified than you are, it would be silly to let years of education go to waste.âÂ
âI donât doubt her skill.â Sukuna bit back, âI simply care for her wellbeing. When she feels better she can decide what she wants to do, Iâll support her whether it brings us millions of dollars or makes us nothing.âÂ
âThatâs admirable, donât you think, honey?â Your mother tried her best to disarm the tension, casting a glance at your father who seemed utterly unconvinced.Â
You kept quiet, uninterested in pushing your way into the conversation. Dinner hadnât seemed like the best idea, even if you could see your motherâs intent. Your father would never accept Sukuna no matter how good a person he was to you - his low social standing already sealed that deal, making this whole meeting a waste of everyoneâs time.Â
It was better if you simply kept the two halves of your life apart. There was no point in causing strife or trying to convince your dad of anything when he was already deadset in his beliefs. He wanted you to marry someone wealthy like Hiromi, someone who could take care of you financially without working on a construction site.Â
Someone with soft, uncalloused hands.Â
Someone who would never think to cover themselves in tattoos.Â
Sukuna would never be that, so heâd never be accepted. If anything, his heroic act of saving you from Mahito had only further concreted him as someone unpleasant in your fatherâs eyes - the type of man who was strong and scrappy enough to kill another.Â
That his actions were in defence of you didnât seem to matter.Â
And for that reason you were done trying to argue.Â
Youâd only agreed to the dinner invitation because Sukuna had urged you to, emphasising the importance in him building a relationship with your family if you were going to be together. But ultimately, he was on his own on that front, because you could see no way in which dinner would end with anything but more animosity between both parties.Â
So youâd let them talk things out, excusing yourself to the bathroom to free yourself of conversation you had no interest in hearing.Â
Well, that and because youâd been beset with the sudden urge to vomit.Â
For the last few days your stomach had been odd. Youâd been waking up each morning feeling nauseous, leaving you sprinting to the toilet and throwing up until your stomach was emptied of its bile. Throughout the day the dizziness would decrease, but you found yourself disinterested in most foods, that wave of sickness passing through you at the hint of various scents.Â
At first youâd convinced yourself it was a bug, but as youâd excused yourself from the table, suddenly nauseous after lifting a piece of broccoli to your mouth, you began to wonder if that was all it was.Â
Youâd stood there, in your parents downstairs toilet, peering at yourself in the mirror. The sound of Sukuna making strained conversation echoed through the wooden door and you paid it little mind, letting words drift into mere noise while you studied your reflection. It was hard to recognise the person staring back at you, with your sunken eyes and chapped lips serving as a constant reminder of the difficult few weeks youâd had.Â
But those werenât the changes you were focussed on.Â
Prodding at your cheeks, you became certain that you were putting on weight, your face a little rounder than you were used to it being. In addition, acne had begun to spring up across your forehead and chin, symptoms that were usually only present when you were on your period.Â
Now that you were considering it, you couldnât remember the last time youâd been on your period.Â
It hadnât been cause for concern, because the contraceptive pill had occasionally caused inconsistency with your cycle, meaning a missed period or spotting wasnât unusual. That paired with how much stress youâd been under, it came as no surprise that you hadnât been bleeding as usual.Â
That combined with the nausea though? And the subtle changes to your face? That was a concern.Â
You hadnât realised how long youâd been in there pondering the facts until there was a quiet knock on the door.Â
âIs everything okay honey?â Your mother called out.
âYeah, all good.âÂ
âCan I come in?âÂ
Swallowing, you dried tears that had appeared on your face, not quite sure when youâd started crying. You pulled open the door and let her step in. If she noticed the redness of your cheeks she said nothing, simply pulling the door shut behind her to get some privacy.Â
âYouâve been in here a while,â she commented. You turned back to the mirror, watching her through the reflection as she sat down on the edge of the bath, eyes meeting yours. âAre you sure youâre okay? Weâre not upsetting you are we? I know dad can be difficult.âÂ
Shrugging, you shook your head. âIt's what I expected. It's fine.â It wasnât fine, you loved Sukuna and you wanted others to see what you could see - you hated that a dinner with your parents felt like torture all because you dad didnât approve, but asking him to change his ways would be like asking the sun to stop shining, so there was no point in lamenting.Â
âIt's not fine. Iâll speak to him. I know we were both shocked when you brought Sukuna here, but if he makes you happy Iâll do nothing to chase him away.âÂ
âYou donât like him though, do you?â You asked, staring at her bitterly through the mirror. Your hand had subconsciously moved up to your stomach, and a fresh wave of nausea forced its way through you, leaving you swaying on your feet.Â
âIâŠâ She hesitated. âI was surprised, but I donât know him well enough to dislike him.â It was a diplomatic answer, and you did all you could to avoid rolling your eyes. âBut what I think doesnât matter. Do you like him, sweetheart? Do you think heâs good for you?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
That was the easiest answer youâd ever given.
âThen thatâs all that matters to me, and it's all that should matter to you dad,â she said. âI just donât want you to drift away from us because of this. It would break my heart for you to go off and have children with him only for us to never see them because we canât play nice. If that boy treats you well, then your dad will just have to accept it.âÂ
You nodded, only half listening. What she was saying was nice, you appreciated the sentiment, finding it pleasant to have someone on your side for once. However, you were too focused on the shifting feeling in your stomach to be truly grateful for what she was saying. You just wanted to be left alone, uninterested in having a conversation about your current state with your mother.Â
A basic acceptance of Sukuna being in your life was probably already a big enough adjustment for her.Â
Adding a potential pregnancy into the mix could ruin everything.Â
Especially when you had no idea how you were meant to feel about it.Â
âAnyway,â she continued at your silence. âIâll leave you be - I donât want to abandon Sukuna to your father for too long. Donât hide away all night, I think it's better if your dad sees the two of you together looking all happy - itâll soften him up.â
You offered her a smile as she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder before heading back to the dinner table, the quiet sound of conversation continuing while you remained still, hands grasping the edge of the basin, wondering if the small portion of food youâd eaten was going to rise up from your stomach.Â
There was no point in panicking until you were certain of what you suspected, and for now you almost wanted to bury your head in the sand. Even though you loved Sukuna, this didnât feel like the right time for this - you were still picking through so much trauma and you couldnât imagine doing that with a baby at your hip.Â
Besides, you werenât particularly certain how Sukuna would take the news.Â
Heâd always been open about wanting children with you one day, but you assumed that was a statement for the future, once the two of you were in a better position. There was no space in Sukunaâs apartment to raise a child - youâd have to drastically change both of your lives if you were going to make space for an extra addition.Â
Panic swelled within you, and you braced yourself harder against the sink, your head spinning.Â
It wasnât something you had the time or space to consider. You had too much on your mind to really think about it. For all you knew, you could be getting ahead of yourself - what if you were just ill? What if everything was a coincidence? Worrying before taking a pregnancy test was foolish.Â
Youâd wait until Sukuna was at work and buy one at the drug store, and until then youâd give it no further thought.Â
â
On the way to the drug store the following day, you ran into Yuki. It was a chance meeting - she was stepping out of the coffee shop next door, brown eyes widening as they met yours. Conversation between the two of you had been limited, mainly on your part. You could find little energy to spend time with anyone who wasnât Sukuna, and seeing Yuki had unpleasant memories rushing through your mind.Â
That same feeling seemed to present itself in her, as she winced at the sight of you, quickly attempting to replace the expression with an uneasy smile.Â
She looked similar to you - her eyes were sunken and exhausted, and sheâd lost some weight since youâd last seen her. She was usually a muscular girl, the epitome of health, and to see her looking so skinny made your heart sink.Â
âHey. Long time no see,â she said. Her tone was lacking any enthusiasm, but you knew not to take it personally. If her last few weeks had been anything like yours, she simply didnât have the energy to spare.Â
âHey,â you responded bashfully. âSorry Iâve been bad at replying to your textsâŠâ
âDonât sweat it. I get it.â She chewed on her lower lip, swaying awkwardly on her feet. âDo you wanna come to my place? I could really do with talking to you.â The reluctance in your eyes mustâve been evident, because she was quick to continue speaking. âNothing sinister. I just miss you.âÂ
Glancing at the drug store, you nodded. âSure, I just need to grab something first if thatâs okay?â
âYeah of course.âÂ
Much to your dismay, she followed you as you stepped into the store. Youâd assumed sheâd wait for you outside, but you shouldâve known that luck never tended to favour you in such a manner. Agonising in your head, you wondered if you should buy something other than a pregnancy test to avoid any questions from Yuki, but in the end you decided that would be embarrassingly cowardly.Â
Both of you were adults. If you needed a pregnancy test, you needed a pregnancy test. There was no scandal to be had.Â
You picked one up from the shelves casually, casting a sideways glance at your friend as you did so. Something akin to disappointment flickered in her eyes for a moment, but she managed to conceal it well. She offered no words of judgement, trailing behind you as you went to pay, and failing to mention it on the short walk back to her place.Â
It had been a long time since you were last at her house, but it felt comforting to be there all the same. Yuki had always had a great eye for decor, and her living room was filled with tasteful colours and low lighting which gave it a lovely cozy feeling. It was sweet to see Chosoâs things scattered with Yukiâs across the room, making it clear that the space belonged to the both of them.Â
Soon, youâd have to speak to Sukuna about moving into his place properly - or perhaps having the two of you move into a new place entirely. It would be nice to have something that belonged to the two of you, rather than feeling like you were intruding on a space that belonged only to him. You wanted more than a single drawer in his home.Â
âCan I get you anything? Water? Green tea?â She asked, as you settled down on one of the sofas, sinking back against the pillow.
âIâm okay.â You still werenât over your wave of sickness that morning, and didnât want to consume anything that would make it worse. Yuki nodded, and sat down across from you, an awkwardness settling over the room as the two of you sat there in silence.Â
After weeks apart, you werenât clear on what to say to Yuki. You didnât know if you should discuss what had happened at Satoruâs lakehouse, or if you should ask about the trauma that followed. Both matters were touchy subjects of discussion. But equally, it felt hard to discuss anything else. Sukuna was off the table, and so was Shoko. It felt like youâd have to dance around so many topics that it was easier not to speak at all.Â
While considering your next words, you found yourself remembering that youâd been invited to Yukiâs house, leaving the burden of conversation on her shoulders not yours. That had you relaxing a little, watching your friend struggle with the same conflict in her own mind.Â
She took a long sip of coffee before speaking, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. âIâm sorry, for what I did back at Satoruâs place. I shouldnât have- sorry.âÂ
You tilted your head, struggling to compute what she was saying. In your mind she had nothing to apologise for - youâd all been in a terrifying situation brought on by a couple of psychopaths. Unless sheâd outright invited them into the house, there was no apology needed.
But the deep guilt in her eyes was stark, like it had been eating away at her for a long time.Â
âI know youâre mad at me. I think you hate me, donât you? Thatâs why youâve been avoiding me. I get it, I picked you to be hurt by Mahito, I probably deserve to be hated.â
Your memory of that evening was largely spotty, and youâd blocked out much of what had happened to you. At Yukiâs words, the memory of Mahito forcing her to inflict injury onto you or Shoko came rushing back to you. It wasnât something youâd held against her - she didnât truly have a choice in the matter. If she hadnât chosen a name Mahito wouldâve killed you all.Â
What else was she meant to do but pick you? Especially with Shoko in the state sheâd been in.Â
âIâm not mad at you, Yuki. You didnât do anything wrong,â you said softly. âI havenât been avoiding you either, I just havenât had energy for anyone but Sukuna. I can barely drag myself from bed in the morning.â
âRight,â she mumbled, clutching her coffee cup a little harder. âBut I deserve hatred. I watched him cut you up and did nothing. Shoko was more of a saviour to you than I was - all I could do was cry and watch it happen.âÂ
âAnd youâre alive. So that was probably the right thing to do.â Shokoâs actions had been foolish. Youâd had no way of knowing it at the time, but if sheâd just held on a little longer perhaps sheâd still be alive. The boys couldâve rescued all three of you.Â
Yuki nodded, brows furrowing as tears pricked at her eyes. You were only just noticing how bloodshot they were, like sheâd been crying so regularly that the white was permanently tinged with red.Â
It was sad to see someone like her reduced to tears.Â
âShoko. Oh god,â she sniffled. âI canât stop seeing her when I close my eyes. I was angry at her when she died, so fucking angry over the fact sheâd slept with Choso all those years ago. What kind of a wicked person am I to have felt that way about her in her final moments? It was such an unimportant thing and I was seething at her just before her heart stopped. Iâm so fucking selfish.âÂ
You rose to your feet, crossing the gap between the two of you and taking a seat at her side. Your arm looped around her shoulder, and you pulled her close to you as she cried, struggling to hear her ramblings while she wept into your shirt. It was a dynamic youâd never experienced before, unaccustomed to comforting Yuki, but you did your best all the same.Â
âStop, Yuki. Thereâs no point in guilt. Sheâs gone and thereâs nothing we couldâve done - we were both just trying to live.âÂ
She said nothing, and you let her cry for a while longer, stroking your hand through her long blonde hair. It felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had sat together in any amount of harmony for more than five minutes. Ever since Sukuna had come into your life things had been tense and uncomfortable - for once you felt like the two of you were on common ground, just like you had been throughout your teenage years.Â
Even if this particular common ground was something you wished you didnât have to share.Â
Slowly, Yuki drew back from you, drying her tears with her sleeve. She took a deep breath as she stared over at you, cogs working away in her brain, like she had much more to divulge but she wasnât quite sure how to approach the topic.Â
âDid he rape you? Mahito?â She asked, abandoning any tact and coming straight out with the question. Your heart picked up in fear at the mere mention of the word, unwilling to consider how close youâd actually come to that fate.Â
âNo. Sukuna found me first.âÂ
She let out a laugh which sounded almost bitter, dropping her voice as she spoke. âRight, of course he did.â Before you could question what she meant by that, she was speaking once more. âI was raped, did you know that? Did your boyfriend tell you that?âÂ
Reeling, you shuffled back from her a little, caught off guard by her fresh burst of spiteful energy. Her statement had come so suddenly that you were struggling to get your head around it, your mind still on her guilt and sorrow for Shoko, struggling to understand how anything had to do with Sukuna.Â
âWhat?â You stumbled over the word. âI d-didnât know. Oh Yuki-âÂ
âStop. It happened, thereâs nothing to be done about that. Iâm glad it didnât happen to you, but were you aware that it didnât need to happen to me either?âÂ
Still struggling to follow, you tilted your head in question. âO-of course it didnât need to happen. Those guys were awful, they should have never-âÂ
She sighed, cutting you off. âOf course you donât know. Why would he have told you? It would ruin his image, wouldnât it?âÂ
âWhat?â You asked, dumbfounded and eager for Yuki to just get to the point already. Your head was starting to spin and you didnât want to focus too hard on anything. If she wanted you to reach a conclusion on your own she'd have to accept that you were in no physical condition to do so at that moment.Â
âSukuna saw me. He saw me in a room with that man, skulked about in the hallway watching while Jogo hit me, while he climbed on top of me. He couldâve stopped it, couldâve burst in and helped but he didnât. He disappeared off to look for you and left me to my fate. It was five minutes until Choso found me, five minutes that Iâll never forget.âÂ
Conflict warred in your heart, leaving you uncertain on how to react. Sukuna had told you Yuki was safe - heâd lied. To leave someone to their fate at the hands of a psychopath was despicable behaviour, and exactly the type of thing that Yuki warned you about when it came to him.Â
But at the same time you couldnât help but believe heâd lied for a good reason. His first priority had always been you, and if heâd felt that intervening with Yukiâs situation would leave you to a dire fate, it didnât surprise you to hear heâd make a harsh decision.Â
It didnât make you feel okay about it, but you could understand his thinking. The couple of minutes heâd have taken to save Yuki mightâve been minutes in which youâd be raped or killed, and he was unwilling to risk that.Â
Heâd made a hard decision out of love for you. Heâd known Choso was coming for Yuki, but no one else was coming for you except him.Â
Besides, a nasty part of you questioned Yukiâs statement regardless. It had been a stressful night for all involved, and who was to say that she truly saw what she thought she saw. For this to be the first time sheâd mentioned it felt odd, and sheâd admitted to wanting to sabotage your relationship once already. You were deeply sorry for what had happened to her, but you couldnât understand why Sukuna needed to take the blame.
The person deserving of blame was rotting in a prison cell. There was no more to be discussed.Â
Your thought process mustâve reflected into your eyes, because Yukiâs face contorted into an expression of sheer horror. âOh my god, you donât believe me. Why the fuck would I lie? He looked at me and walked away. Your sweet boyfriend left me to be raped.â
âYuki, Iâm sorry. Iâm really sorry that happened to you. But Iâm not going to disparage Sukuna without at least talking to him first. We were all in a stressful situation and everyone made mistakes - you yourself said you made mistakes - it's not fair to assume something that hasnât even been discussed.âÂ
She shook her head. âYouâre unbelievable. What will it take to convince you that heâs rotten?âÂ
You scoffed. ââTo convince meâ,â you echoed flatly, âand you wonder why I didnât instantly believe you. All you ever do is try to drive a wedge between us. If Sukuna had stepped in and saved you - if Iâd been raped because of that, you wouldâve used that as an excuse to prove he was rotten.âÂ
Yuki parted her lips to protest, but the words died on her tongue. She knew that to be true - no matter the situation she would always use it as an opportunity to twist it around on him. She knew it.Â
âPlease, Yuki, Iâll speak to him about it. I feel terrible about what happened to you but you have to stop attacking my boyfriend at every turn. I already lost Shoko, I donât want to lose you too.âÂ
She shook her head, shoulders dropping in defeat, a look of sheer disbelief marring her face. âGod, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesnât he? It's embarrassing. I feel like Iâm watching you get chipped away and I canât stop it no matter what I do.â
âPerhaps you couldâve tried being kind to me,â you said, voice trembling a little. âFor the last few months youâve done nothing but treat me like Iâm stupid, so Iâm sorry if I seem difficult, or distant. I donât want to fight with you, I havenât even said that I donât believe you, but you only ever see what you want.âÂ
Yuki bit her lip, shaking her head. âIâm sorry for that. I just couldnât see another way, and now it's too late, isnât it? His claws are in you. I suppose his kid is too, huh?â She asked, gesturing to your bag, where a pregnancy test sat within.Â
You said nothing, tears prickling at your eyes. You didnât want to deal with any of this, you simply wanted to go home and curl up in a cocoon and forget everything youâd heard from Yuki that morning. You wanted Sukuna to wrap himself around you and play with your hair, and you wanted to stay there for all of time, until everything disappeared but you and him.Â
âAre you just gonna keep it?â She asked quietly, the plea in her tone not going amiss.
âI donât know,â you answered coolly, getting to your feet and pulling your bag over your shoulder. Youâd gain nothing from staying there longer beyond Yuki taking more shots at your lover, and it would do little to sway your opinion. Youâd speak to him about it once he was home later that evening.Â
But you knew it would change little.Â
If Yuki and Sukuna were the only witnesses to the situation, they would exchange barbs and differing views until the end of time.Â
And ultimately youâd have to side with the person you were in love with.Â
Heading towards the door, you paused at the threshold, casting a look back at your friend. She was staring at you, sadness and anger blending together in her chestnut eyes.
âFor the record, Yuki, if the situation was reversed and Choso saw me in peril and walked away knowing that you werenât safe either and wanted to get to you first, I would forgive him. People prioritise those they love, and you can call that fucked up all you want, but its human nature. I mean, you chose me for Mahito to cut open. Weâre all ugly in an ugly situation.âÂ
You didnât let her speak again, slamming the door behind you and exiting onto the street beyond.Â
â
The rest of your day had been spent obsessively cleaning Sukunaâs apartment. It was an activity that was long overdue, because things had been piling up over the past few weeks with you in a lethargic state. It would be nice for Sukuna to come home to a clean place, as a thank you for looking after you so well while youâd been incapable of anything.Â
Besides, cleaning was an activity that allowed you to take your mind off things.Â
Between the unpleasantness of the conversation youâd had with Yuki, and the positive pregnancy test sitting in the bathroom trash, you could really do with letting your mind go blank at least until Sukuna came home.Â
Once he was there to share your problems and concerns with, things would be better. Issues always seemed smaller when voiced, and Sukuna always knew the right thing to say or do. Spending the afternoon laying in bed fretting would do you no good.Â
Starting in the kitchen, youâd been thorough in working your way through Sukunaâs apartment - scrubbing the floors, dusting the bookshelves, wiping the insides of the windows. By the time you made it into the bathroom, your final obstacle for the day, it was growing dark outside.
Sukuna had said heâd be back late that evening. It was the birthday of one of the guys on the construction crew, and heâd been invited out for drinks after work. You were certain it wouldnât be long until he made it home, never eager on spending too much time with his coworkers, so you picked up your pace as you set to making the bathroom sparkle.Â
It had been easy, mindless work much like everything else that afternoon until you ran a mop across the floor and knocked a tile loose.Â
Initially, youâd thought nothing of it, putting the mop aside for a moment and moving to put the tile back in its place below the sink. Your hand faltered at the realisation that there was a hollowed out space beneath the misplaced tile, with a small plastic bag hidden within.Â
If you were wise, perhaps you wouldâve left it alone. Maybe you wouldâve assumed that it had been left there by a previous occupant of the apartment, or maybe by the tilers who had originally fitted the bathroom. But curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself reaching into the hole and withdrawing the plastic bag from its position.Â
What you held was a neatly packed thing, containing a mobile phone, car keys and a wallet. None of the items looked recognisable to you - Sukunaâs phone was black and, as of recently, had a Hello Kitty charm youâd given him dangling from it, meanwhile this phone was silver and bare. Not to mention, the blue wallet looked nothing like Sukunaâs usual leather one.Â
You werenât sure what you were expecting as you pulled the items from their bag, wondering if Sukuna even knew of their existence. Perhaps some criminal had lived here before him and had stowed away a spare phone and ID to use for illegal dealings. You placed the phone and keys on the counter, turning your attention immediately to the wallet.Â
For some reason it felt familiar to you, with the insignia of some heavy metal band printed across the front.
There was no time for you to ponder on where youâd seen it before - no need for you to connect the dots on your own, not when your fingers were already prying open the wallet, gaze falling upon a gut-wrenchingly familiar face staring at you from the ID hidden within.
Hajime Kashimo.Â
All the air in your lungs disappeared, and you found yourself frozen. No thoughts came to your mind, all you could do was stare blankly at the item in your hand, unwilling to draw any conclusions about what its presence in your boyfriendâs floor meant. Slowly, your eyes moved to the phone, suddenly realising how familiar it was to you - as was the lightning bolt keychain hanging from the set of keys.Â
Why would anything of Kashimoâs be in Sukunaâs apartment?Â
They hadnât known each other.Â
Your body moved on its own, reaching for the phone and flipping it open, dismayed to find that it was dead, offering no further explanation as to what was going on. Slowly you put it down, sinking to your knees, gaze still fixed on that image of Kashimo staring up at you.Â
There had to be an explanation for this - some reason for Sukuna to possess these items, something that would make everything make sense. There had to be. And yet, there was some part of you that told you to exert caution, to think lucidly about what youâd just found, to consider the facts of the last time youâd seen Kashimo.Â
Satoru had told you about the manâs infidelity, and Sukuna had comforted you afterwards. Youâd largely considered that moment to be the catalyst for your relationship to bloom. Kashimo had been normal with you for the rest of the reunion, only showing his true colours via text after heâd left.Â
From a phone that was now in possession of your boyfriend.Â
Since then, you had heard nothing from Kashimo, aware only of a snippet of a rumor from a university acquaintance that he had moved out of the city and left his band in the lurch. Gone off to Hollywood, apparently, not unlike Yorozu.Â
Anxiety pushed its way into your chest as your brain connected the last few dots. Sukuna had seemed so comfortable in his execution of Mahito, so controlled in the way he guided your hand, like heâd done it many times before.Â
Maybe he had done it before.Â
Perhaps heâd framed Kashimo of something despicable and disposed of him before you could ever verify the truth.Â
No, no, no.Â
You wouldnât believe it. You couldnât. Sukuna had been nothing but loving towards you, always looking out for your best interests, offering you comfort and protection in your darkest times. He couldnât have killed him, or if he did there wouldâve been a good reason for it.Â
That you were certain of.Â
Earlier that day youâd told Yuki that you wouldnât condemn Sukuna without hearing him out first, and in that moment you were jumping to all kinds of conclusions. There was an explanation - of course there was an explanation, you just needed to ask for it.Â
Trying to contain the tremor in your hands, you packed the items back into the bag and returned them to their position, sliding the tile back to where it had been before. Letting out a shuddering breath, you tried your best to calm yourself at the click of the front door, your heart rate spiking at the sound of Sukunaâs voice calling out for you.Â
It was okay. There would be a reasonable explanation for everything. You didnât need to act strange with the man you loved and you certainly didnât need to be fearful of him.Â
You knew that.
Stepping out of the bathroom, you put on a gentle smile of greeting, your worries easing ever so slightly beneath his crimson gaze. He stared at you with such love and reverence, his expression holding a softness which pushed your anxieties straight to the back of your head.Â
âRough day, baby?â He asked, crossing the gap between you. A hand came up to stroke your face before pulling you close, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. The contact had your gut tightening with pleasure, and you wondered how you could ever doubt someone you adored so much.Â
There was an explanation. There had to be an explanation.
A mix of nausea and exhaustion washed over you at the thought of confronting him about it that evening. Between your talk with Yuki and the knowledge that a child was growing within you, you were limited on mental bandwidth, and couldnât face another shock that evening.Â
You wanted to get your thoughts in order first about everything - the kid, Yukiâs claim, Kashimoâs belongings - wanted to pretend that everything was okay for the evening before you did anything rash.Â
All your questions would still be there in the morning, and maybe answers would be more obvious in the light of day. You couldnât deny that you were exhausted, not thinking straight in the way that usually would. You just needed time to think. Perhaps the next day youâd awaken and realise your findings had been nothing more than a nightmare. Youâd had no shortage of those after all.
âJust tired,â you lied as you pulled back from his kiss. The words came out shaky, and Sukunaâs eyes narrowed. He knew you well enough to sniff out a lie with little effort.Â
âDid something happen?â He asked, his voice dropping low. âYou look like youâve been crying.â You werenât really aware that you had been. A few tears had dripped down your cheeks at the sight of the positive pregnancy test, still unsure what to think of the outcome, but that was hours ago. You supposed the day had worn on your face more than youâd realised.Â
âNo, just struggling with the usual stuff,â you confessed.Â
âRight.â His thumb brushed your face tenderly, red eyes darting around the room. âYou cleaned up.â It was embarrassing to admit how deeply you read into that observation, scanning for any hint of concern in his voice, but you found none. On the contrary, he seemed pleased with you.Â
âI just thought it would be nice.âÂ
âThank you, baby.â He planted a kiss on top of your head, giving you a tight squeeze. You were reminded just how strong he was, suddenly aware of how impossible it would be to overpower him if he ever decided to use that strength against you. A shiver passed through you at the thought.Â
It didnât matter. Because there was an explanation for everything. Heâd never hurt you. Never.
âWhat do you want for dinner? We can order from that pizza place you like? Watch an episode of The Sopranos?â He pulled back to look at you, the charming smile you loved so much plastered on his handsome face.
You wanted to say yes, but the thought of sitting with him quietly while all your thoughts were swirling around in your head was far from ideal. You needed to go to sleep, fearful that prolonged time at his side would give away what you knew and put you in a position of having to deal with things before you were ready.Â
Besides, the idea of watching Tony Soprano kill so ruthlessly on screen while you grappled with the question of whether your boyfriend had done the same didnât sound like your idea of a good time.Â
âI think Iâm just gonna go to bed. Iâve got a really bad headache and I donât want to make it any worse.â Sukunaâs face fell, and your own chest ached at the disappointment in his eyes. Heâd been waiting all day to come home and spend time with you - heâd confessed that was what kept him going at work.Â
Just like heâd been your shining light through all the trauma, you were his shining light too - the one thing that really mattered to him. And here you were pushing him away over something you were certain could be explained.Â
That wasnât fair.Â
But for some reason, you couldnât bring yourself to ask him about it either to clear the confusion up, hairs standing on the back of your neck when you considered broaching the topic.Â
It was just a result of your exhaustion. That was all.Â
âOkay, baby. Have you taken anything for the pain?.â His hand brushed soothingly against your forehead, and guilt knotted itself together in your stomach. How could you believe this man guilty of any wrongdoing when he was always so tender to you?Â
Did it even matter if he was guilty? He was all you really had, the singular thing keeping you sane after everything that had happened. It was likely your overactive imagination jumping to conclusions anyway, that was the issue here, not Sukuna. Not the man who loved you so much heâd do absolutely anything for your sake.Â
âI havenât.âÂ
âIâll get you some painkillers, you go and lie down.â Another dizzy spell overcame you as you made your way to the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorframe as all the thoughts of the day rushed at you. You didnât want to be at odds with Sukuna over anything. You wanted to curl up against his side and drift off knowing you were safe.Â
Because you were safe with him. Heâd saved you from Mahito. And now your brain was trying to convince you that something was wrong? You were always sabotaging yourself - how could you be sure that Kashimoâs belongings had even been under those floorboards? You hadnât exactly been able to trust your mind lately.Â
What if youâd hallucinated up an issue? What then?Â
The pregnancy had come as a massive shock to you, perhaps your brain was trying to come up with excuses as to why it wouldnât work.Â
Somewhere within you, there was an awareness that line of thinking was delusional. Likewise, there was an awareness that there was no mistake in the meaning behind Sukuna owning things that had belonged to Kashimo. You knew, somewhere in the distant recesses of your mind, that Kashimo was dead.Â
That Sukuna had done it.Â
And with that flickered a question about what else he had done, a thought promptly swept away by the currents of your mind before you could cling to it. Because acceptance didnât come easy, not when you loved the person responsible.Â
You couldnât let yourself believe it, forcing a smile and accepting your own poor mental state as an explanation for what youâd seen.Â
Sukuna stepped into the bedroom, painkillers in hand along with a glass of water which he handed over to you. There was something odd in his expression, like he had a question to ask you. Slowly he sat down on the bed, reaching out for your hand and holding it tightly within his.Â
âHave you got something to tell me?âÂ
For all the delusion youâd fed yourself, your blood still ran cold. Had you put the tile back incorrectly? Did he know what you knew? Sweat gathered on your brow, tongue frozen in your mouth when you tried to speak, unsure how to best formulate a question or an explanation.Â
He wouldnât hurt you, would he? No, you doubted it. He was too possessive of you.Â
Before you could put any words together, he spoke once more. âI saw the test in the trash.âÂ
Oh. Youâd been so frazzled upon knocking the tile aside that you hadnât finished your full clean of the bathroom, and had forgotten to empty the wastebin, leaving your positive test there for anyone to see. You hadnât formulated a plan on how you were going to share the news with him, but you hadnât wanted him to find out like this.
Before you could stop them, tears sprung to your eyes, all the emotion of the day overwhelming you. There was too much going on for you to process it. With the Kashimo discovery and Yukiâs harsh words youâd had no time to think about your opinion on the pregnancy, and now you were being directly confronted on it.Â
Why couldnât you just catch a break for once?
Sukunaâs eyes widened in panic, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. âHey, donât cry. It's okay baby, come here.âÂ
It wasnât okay, nothing was okay.
But you leant into his embrace all the same, wetting his hoodie with your tears in a display which had become all too common between the two of you. He didnât push you for anything more, expecting no explanation, simply stroking your hair affectionately. You could feel his heart thudding excitedly beneath his ribs and once again a strange guilt prickled at you.
âDo youâŠâ He trailed off. âDo you not want this? The baby?âÂ
A pang of hurt went straight through your heart at the dejected nature of his tone. It was clear that he was thrilled, that seeing the test lying in the trash had been something positive for him.Â
And there you were moping and doubting.Â
âI donât know,â you said honestly. âI feel like Iâm just being overwhelmed lately. I donât have time to even consider what I really think about the baby.â You pulled back from him slightly, letting him dab your tears with his fingers.
âWhat else is on your mind? Maybe I can help?âÂ
âNothing.â The statement came out too quickly, and in a higher pitch than you wouldâve liked. Sukuna seemed suspicious of the response for a moment, before letting it go with a sigh. Youâd been fairly odd lately anyway, and considering what heâd just discovered, who could blame you for being a bit off? âIâm just- I donât know, depressed from everything.âÂ
He nodded, biting on his lower lip. âWell, it's not like you have to make a decision now, you canât be far along. If you donât want it weâll deal with that.â There was a sadness in his voice that told you that wasnât what he wanted to do, and pity began to gnaw away at your stomach. âTo be clear, Iâd like you to keep it, but it's your choice baby. I know how hard these months have been. Iâll love you no matter what.âÂ
A soft kiss was pressed into your hair, sending a flush across your cheeks. Of course heâd love you no matter what, heâd made that clear on more than one occasion. Could you love him no matter what? If your suspicions about Kashimo bore fruit? If Yukiâs claim was true?Â
How would you implode if you walked away from him? What would you have then, in a life where youâd steadily been falling apart at the seams with nothing but him to hold you together?Â
The anxiety built up within you again, and despite wanting to lay the matter to rest for a while, you simply couldnât. You had to ask him.Â
âSukuna.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âWould you kill for me?âÂ
âYeah.â He said it without hesitation. There was no dramatic flair to his response, nothing to suggest that what he said was false bravado like most boyfriends might display to their partners. It was a simple confirmation, one that you knew to be true as his red eyes met yours. âYou know I would. Youâve seen it.âÂ
He was right. Even if your hand had been on the trigger that evening with Mahito, it had been Sukuna who was in control - his hand caressing your carefully, guiding you into an action you never wouldâve managed on your own.Â
It wasnât a first kill. You shouldâve been more aware of that the moment it happened. Sukuna had been painfully calm.Â
âRight,â your voice went quiet.
Sukunaâs fingers came to graze your chin, holding you to meet his gaze properly. There was no hate or anger in those red eyes - you never encountered anything but love there, a love that made your stomach flip with desire whenever you saw it, a love that you weren't sure could be displaced by anything even if you wanted it to be.Â
âWhy do you ask, baby?â His nose brushed against yours, and again you found yourself tongue-tied beneath the intensity of your presence. You knew you should've come out and said what you saw, but fear stopped you. Because the moment those words spilt from your mouth, everything was going to change, you knew that.
And you werenât sure it was a change you wanted.Â
âI- um- I donât know. Just wondering.â You squeaked, cursing yourself as you backed down.
There was something amused in his expression, watching you carefully, not unlike a cat observing a mouse caught beneath its paws. âIâd kill anyone who caused you harm, anyone who tried to steal away your happiness. I killed Mahito to protect you, and Iâd do it again. Youâre the only person who matters to me. Is that a problem?â
It was a problem, but his words tugged on your heartstrings all the same. There was something romantic about a man who would do anything for you. If you hadn't been with a man like Sukuna, who knows where youâd be. Perhaps your brains wouldâve been splattered across the floor at Mahitoâs feet.Â
âI donât know,â you said. âI donât know if it's a problem. It depends.âÂ
âOn?âÂ
âHow far you would go.â Sukunaâs eyes glimmered with interest. He brought his lips to your neck, kissing away at the exposed skin, almost as if he was testing whether youâd push him away. You didnât, you werenât sure that you could, your heart fluttering desperately beneath his touch, telling you to forget the conversation and move on.Â
You were having such a good time, why open a can of worms when things had been fine?Â
âI would go as far as necessary to keep you safe. Thatâs all,â he murmured against your skin. âNow, is there something specific you want to ask? Or is this nothing more than a thought experiment?âÂ
Again you tried to build your courage, but found you had none to give. In your frazzled condition you werenât certain you were capable of providing objectivity on anything. You needed to regroup - to think carefully about what Sukuna had said and re-examine the evidence youâd found. You needed to look at Kashimo's phone. You needed to consider whether Sukunaâs presence at your side trumped morality.Â
After all, you were a killer too. What if Sukuna had his reasons for the situation with Kashimo, like youâd had your reasons with Mahito? There was always an angle to consider, and in the midst of a panic on the day youâd found out you were pregnant, was neither the time nor the place.Â
âIt was just a thought,â you spoke softly, leaning into the fluttering kisses spreading down against your shoulder, his fingers pushing your shirt down to give him better access to his soft skin, sucking marks on top of the purple bruises that already existed there.Â
He hummed, but you werenât confident he believed you, a shock of something strange in his deep red eyes. âOf course, baby.â His hands slid beneath your shirt, sliding up the bare skin of your sides, earning a shiver from you. His touch was still as pleasant as ever, still something you yearned desperately for.Â
And despite him being the cause of much of your anxiety that evening, he also seemed like the only solution - the one person who could allay all your worries with his mere presence, touching you with an affection that you could receive from nobody but him. The very reason that you would jump to no conclusions or decisions.Â
You loved him.Â
You needed him.Â
It was as simple as that.Â
âWant me to leave you alone for a bit?â He whispered huskily against your ear. âYou said you wanted to sleep.â
It probably wouldâve been best for you to agree - to nod along and leave him to have his dinner alone while you drifted off beneath his soft sheets. But you couldnât bring yourself to send him away any more than you could bring yourself to condemn him for evidence that lay plain before your eyes.Â
âI want you here, if thatâs okay?âÂ
The look on his face could only be described as pure euphoria, like youâd just handed him an award you werenât aware you were giving out. He was always thrilled to be with you, but this was something else, like a balance of power had just shifted and you werenât sharp enough to understand how.Â
âOf course. Iâd do anything for you, baby.âÂ
That night, you spent hours tangled in his sheets just as usual. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping you pinned beneath him, his lips set to work on every inch of your tired body while he filled you up over and over again with long, intimate strokes. This was Sukuna at his very sweetest, making love to you in a manner that proved his devotion.Â
There was no roughness about it, nothing kinky like youâd grown accustomed to with him.Â
This was deeply loving, and it was all about you. There was something in his movements that was sending you a message, as if he was thanking you or perhaps opening up to you on a whole different level of trust that youâd never held with each other before.Â
âYouâre mine, youâll always be mine, wonât you baby? Iâll never let anyone else have you.â Heâd mumbled in your ear, just one of many possessive statements breathed out between desperate moans of pleasure. And youâd agreed, lost in the throes of passion, consumed by him just like you always were.Â
Because you really were his.Â
You didnât want anything to change that.Â
It would be nice to be able to slip back into the ignorance youâd held that morning, before youâd spoken to Yuki or cleaned the damn apartment. It really was bliss, to not have concern and anxiety eating away at your chest, leading you to question everything you held sacred in your life.Â
If only you could banish it all away.Â
Because in your soul, deep in there, you knew now that Sukuna was rotten.Â
On some level youâd known it for a while. Yuki and your parents had made no mistake in their assessments, and youâd brushed it aside all the same. You were drawn inexplicably to the man even through all his failings. If youâd had any sense you wouldâve run far from him the moment heâd broken in through your window. But you didnât, and there you were, tangled up so intimately with a man who had likely murdered your ex-boyfriend.Â
Tangled with him and whispering words of love and affection against his shoulder, tangled with him and letting his hands run over your stomach where your baby grew, tangled with him and letting him do whatever he liked with you - just as you always had.Â
Because even as the rot he carried with him festered, visible to your eyes in a way it never had been before, you still werenât sure you could bear to part with him.Â
a/n: sukuna actually crazy for the impact he's had on reader's mental over several years (since ryu) to the point where she's even hesitating after finding that stuff in his bathroom :(
stay with the murderous boyfriend and pretend everything's fine vs confront him and lose everything you love (and possibly your life) our girl is going THROUGH it :(
hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 10.7k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, torture, abuse, trauma and ptsd, suicidal ideation, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, sexual assault/attempted rape (not by sukuna)
a/n: this chapter is very dark so please heed the above tags - as a major warning, this chapter includes attempted sexual assault
masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter
Your hands were bound firmly behind your back, rope biting uncomfortably into your skin and leaving you squirming desperately in an attempt to loosen them and ease the discomfort. It didnât help that your knees were aching beneath you, exhausted from the prolonged kneeling position that youâd been forced into.Â
The three of you were lined up on the floor, in varying states of coping within the new situation youâd been thrust into. Yuki was the calmest of the three of you, refusing to cry or even offer the slightest reaction to the intruders who stood over her, sitting silently no matter what they tried to say to her. Even when Mahito had slapped her across the face sheâd remained stoic, offering them nothing.Â
Although you could hardly compare to Yukiâs mental strength, you were just about managing to hold yourself together too, keeping calm thanks to the steady belief that Sukuna would find you and help you through this.Â
You really believed it, you had to believe it.Â
Shoko was the biggest mess of the three of you, sobbing unwaveringly while her whole body trembled. You couldn't blame her - for some reason sheâd become the sadistic focus of the other man, known as Jogo. If he wanted to inflict terror upon the three of you, it was always Shoko who found herself at the receiving end of his wrath, and as such her throat was terribly bruised along with her right eye, where heâd struck her hard across the face.Â
You were the only one who hadnât been hit, at least not yet, but you werenât sure it could be counted as a blessing. Mahito seemed to have taken a liking to you in a way that he didnât extend to the other two, always reaching out for you and playing with your hair, stroking your face, running his fingers along the bare skin of your thigh. It made you sick, and each time you tried to draw away he would pull you back firmly with a wide smile, like it was all part of some game.Â
At first, you werenât sure what their actual plan was, for the two intruders had broken in and tied you up, only to sit back and smoke weed for a while, leaving the three of you shivering and incapacitated, waiting for whatever was coming next. You supposed that was probably all part of the game - a ploy to send your imagination running wild with thoughts of what they might do to you.Â
But once they were done smoking their joints, their game had really started.Â
âOkay, you.â Mahito was pointing his gun at Yuki, staring down at her easily. âWhatâs a secret that youâve been keeping from these two?â This was the third or fourth question of that manner that the men had levied that evening, seemingly finding joy in causing strife between you all and lashing out with violence when you tried to lie or refused to answer.Â
It was a little sickening to think that youâd been playing truth or dare earlier that afternoon, and now you were being forced to play it at gunpoint. It wouldnât have surprised you to find out that Mahito had been skulking around the whole time, listening in on your interactions with your friends and building this encounter based on it.Â
âI donât have any,â she said firmly, grunting as Mahito slapped her once more.
âWrong answer.â He clicked the safety off the gun. âCome on, lie again or try to back out and Iâll pull the trigger. Itâs only her that I need in working condition.â He jerked his head in your direction. âThere must be something, maybe you fucked her boyfriend or something?âÂ
Yuki sneered at the implication, but the hatred dissipated the moment she remembered her situation. Her dislike for Sukuna seemed rather petty and insignificant in the face of this new violence.Â
âFine.â Yuki turned to you with an earnest stare. âI tried to get Sukuna to break up with you when I first found out you were dating. Sorry, I know you want us to get along, but I hate the guy. I canât pinpoint exactly what it is about him, but heâs bad news and I donât want to watch him ruin your life with his bullshit. Sue me.âÂ
Mahito watched the exchange carefully, eyes lightening up with a cruel glee, only to pout when you offered no dramatic reaction. Even if you hadnât known the details, it didnât surprise you that Yuki had tried to intervene - youâd been sure theyâd shared some terse words that morning youâd all gone out for brunch, the tension at the table upon your return from the bathroom had been palpable.Â
âIt's okay, I get it,â you said evenly, more than willing to let it go. Yuki had your best interests at heart, and she wasnât wrong to be skeptical over some of Sukunaâs more possessive qualities considering the break-in stunt - even if you generally found his nature more charming than concerning.Â
âHow boring. Thatâs all?â Mahito asked, switching his focus to you. âShe tried to break up your relationship and it's just okay? Get mad about it!â You glared up at him, unsure how he could be so dense as to believe that youâd turn on your friends in this situation. It was pointless to get mad at Yuki right now, all that mattered was living through the evening unharmed.Â
âThatâs all,â you mumbled, drawing a sigh from the blue haired man.Â
âOkay, then how about you, sweetheart?â He asked, edging closer and caressing your face with the barrel of the gun. You flinched at the cold touch of the metal, trying to stay calm in the face of it. You were worried that panicking would just annoy the intruders and cause them to put an end to you early.Â
Or perhaps theyâd cause harm to one of your friends in a bid as punishment for freaking out. You didnât want to be the cause of anyoneâs suffering.Â
âWhatâs a secret youâve been hiding? Share it with the class.âÂ
Just like Yuki, you found yourself unsure as to what you might say, for there werenât really any secrets youâd been keeping from the both of them. But in a bid to get things over with sooner, you turned to Yuki with a heavy sigh. âSukuna broke into my house a few weeks ago to have sex with me in the middle of the night to fulfill some kink of his. I didnât tell you because I thought youâd go crazy about it.âÂ
âWhat the fuck?â She asked, suddenly enraged as if forgetting the situation for just a moment. âHe broke into your house? Thatâs so fucked up, why would you keep dating him after that?.âÂ
âWe talked it out,â you responded quickly. âHe just got carried away and he thought Iâd be into it too. He said it wonât happen again.âÂ
âRight, because heâs so fucking honest all the time.âÂ
âHeâs good to me,â you argued.Â
âReally? Because what you just described makes it sound like he raped you.âÂ
Immediately you were rearing back, your eyes wide in disgust, like Yuki had poured cold water over you. The words were unpleasant, a sickening feeling twisting within you to hear her describe it in such a manner. Youâd never viewed Sukunaâs actions in such a way. Sure, heâd crossed a line in that instance, but sex with him had never been anything other than a pleasure. It was always something that you wanted, and if you ever told him to stop you had the utmost confidence that he would stop.Â
Yuki disliking him was one thing, but to cast such incorrect judgement over your dynamic had a spark of hatred igniting itself in your chest.Â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying, at all. God, not everything is black and white, Sukuna isnât the root of all evil, and Iâm so sick of you treating me like a baby all the time. Let me make my own decisions and you can bitch about me to Shoko in private when you donât agree with them,â you spat.Â
âOh, is that what you do about me?â She asked. âTalk about me behind my back rather than to my face?âÂ
âSometimes, yeah. When you're being like this.â Your words hung heavy in the room, and Yuki fell silent, shaking her head and diverting her brown eyes to the ground.
Mahito burst out laughing.Â
âYes! Thatâs the kind of thing I was talking about!â He waved the gun at Shoko. âNow you!â
Shoko seemed a little bewildered. Of the three of you she was flagging the most, struggling to keep her eyes open. It was clear that there was significant damage to her neck, and even as she hesitated to find an answer, Jogo was striding over and putting his cigarette out on her shoulder, pulling a fearful yelp from her lips.Â
âStop it.â Yuki hissed, only to be ignored by both men, who continued to urge Shoko on for an answer, rubbing the gun up against her temple.Â
âCome on, quickly now. Donât want us to put a bullet in your skull, do you?â Jogo asked.Â
Shoko shook her head fearfully, biting down on her lip for a moment before taking a shuddering breath. âI slept with Choso a few months before you guys got together.â She confessed, keeping her gaze forward, seemingly terrified of casting a glance at Yuki.
You couldnât keep the shock from your face, because you hadnât known that. And based on the sheer guilt in Shokoâs eyes, you were certain this was the first time sheâd told anybody.
âIt- it was back when I didnât know what I wanted and I was still exploring things. Me and him hooked up at a party. I knew that you liked him but I was drunk and things just kind of happened. Sorry Yuki. I shouldâve told you.âÂ
âOooh, now thatâs spicy!â Mahito exclaimed, glancing over at your blonde friend. You werenât sure at first that sheâd even registered it, seemingly processing too many things at once, as if sheâd reached some sort of saturation point. But after a few seconds she breathed out a deep sigh and looked at Shoko.Â
âIt was before we were dating?âÂ
Shoko nodded earnestly, eyes still fixed in front of her.Â
âThatâs fine. Itâs just- why didnât you tell me? Why didnât Cho tell me?âÂ
Shrugging, Shoko stumbled over her words, clearly struggling to formulate a coherent answer. âI donât know. I guess I just felt like youâd be mad at me? Youâd told me you were crushing on him and I still- fuck- sorry.â She trailed off.Â
There was more silence, before Yuki shrugged, turning her head away from the both of you. âSure, whatever.âÂ
âGirls and their drama huh?â Mahito cut through the silence. âWhy canât you all just get along like me and Jogo here? Always bitching about each otherâs boyfriends, it's sad.â You stared at him blankly, eager to point out how sexist such a statement was, but unwilling to risk your life for such a correction.Â
Right now, all three of you needed to get it together. Sure, the eveningâs revelations had been far from ideal, but it didnât matter. You could squabble about that stuff once you were safe - none of it mattered if you were going to die tonight either way.Â
Twisting your hands in your bindings, you observed the area. You were still in the living room, where the two of them had come barrelling in through the window. If you were able to free yourself you could leap out the way theyâd come in, or alternately make a run for the internal door and hope you could lose them in the maze of corridors that made up Satoruâs house.Â
Unfortunately, you werenât convinced that all three of you would be able to break free at the same time, and you werenât about to sacrifice the others for the sake of your own freedom. It wasnât fair.Â
But still, there had to be some way out.Â
âCome on, Yuki, is it?â Mahito asked, crouching before her. âDonât you wanna hurt these girls for what theyâve done? Tell me which one youâre angrier at, and Iâll inflict a wound on them to make sure they donât forget it.âÂ
Shoko whimpered, and immediately you were sitting bolt upright, breathing quickly as Yuki said nothing, her eyes still trained on the floor.Â
âPick one, or Iâll shoot them both in the head.âÂ
Panic flickered in Yukiâs brown eyes, the threat leading to her swiftly raising her head, glancing between the two of you. Shoko had started sobbing, Jogoâs arm wrapped threateningly around her shoulders, his hand stroking the side of her face with a cruel affection. You were calmer on the surface, eyes staring at her pleadingly, hands trembling a little behind your back.Â
Yuki spoke your name softly, guilt and hurt present in her expression before she dropped her head again, hiding beneath a mane of blonde hair.Â
You couldnât say that you really blamed her. With the state that Shoko was in, and the pain that had already been inflicted upon her, Yuki would be wrong to suggest that she should be on the receiving end of any more suffering. But that didnât mean that you werenât terrified for yourself, quivering as Mahito approached you, drawing a blade from his pocket.Â
As he drew closer, you flinched back, trying to escape from his grasp. You were no match for his speed or strength, letting out a cry of fear as he took a seat on the floor, pulling you forcefully into his lap. âShhhh. Calm down,â he hummed, his lips pressing against your hair in an action meant to comfort you. It filled you with nothing but revulsion, tears bubbling up in your eyes as he pressed the knife up against your arm.Â
âWhat should I cut into her, Yuki?â He asked. âIâm quite the artist, you know?âÂ
Yuki said nothing, refusing to look at you. Tears were dripping down onto the floor beneath her, tremors wracking her body. For all of Yukiâs strength and confidence, it had amounted to nothing. She was just as scared as the rest of you, held at bay by a singular gun, unwilling to act like a hero and have her life stolen from her.Â
âNo ideas?â Mahito asked with a pout. âI suppose I could write whore since you clearly are one. Enjoying your boyfriend breaking in to fuck you? Thatâs depraved. Bet youâll like what Iâm going to do to you later.â A sob escaped you, fresh horror making itself known in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to vomit.Â
âPlease, donât.â You rasped.Â
âNo? Too bad you donât get a say in the matter, sweetheart. We came here for some fun, youâre not depriving us of it just because youâre a stick in the mud.â He paused, giving you a look over. âNow, where should I cut you - any preferences on this matter, Yuki? Youâre the one doing this to her.âÂ
âStop it.â She mumbled weakly, her face still averted to what was happening before her eyes. âJust leave them both alone.âÂ
âNo, no, no.â Mahito waved his blade haphazardly, before showing her the gun holstered in the top of his jeans, momentarily stowed away to allow him more control with his knife. âI told you already, it's the knife, or I shoot them both in the head. Thereâs no other option. So understand that you are doing this to her, and watch it happen like an adult.â
Mahito snapped his fingers at Jogo, who seemed reluctant to release Shoko from his hold. Clearly he was subservient in this little dynamic that they had going though, because he moved over to Yuki and wrenched her head back with a fistful of hair, forcing her eyes to meet your wide, frightened ones.Â
âMmm, where to put itâŠâ Mahito mused, your body jolting as his fingers found the hem of your shirt, pushing it upwards and trailing the knife up your stomach until it reached the bottom of your bra. âHow about here?â He asked, tapping the space between your two breasts. âThen, anyone who fucks you will be able to see what you are plain and simple. You like that idea, Yuki?âÂ
She shook her head vigorously, more tears streaming down her cheeks. The apology in her eyes was clear, and you found yourself sobbing too. You wanted to be in Sukunaâs arms, wanted to cling to him for all eternity, safely cocooned within his grip where nothing bad could ever happen to you.Â
But Sukuna wasnât there, and there was no one else who would come to your rescue.Â
âStay still.â Mahito cooed, âif you move about Iâll make a mess and then you might really be in trouble. You donât want me cutting too deep by mistake.âÂ
A pained cry ripped from your lips as Mahito made his first incision in the valley between your breasts, a long line of a âWâ cut into your sensitive skin, blood beading and dripping down onto the band of your bra. You and Sukuna had done knife play before, and it was nothing like this. With Sukuna, you felt safe, certain that he knew your limits - the knife would prick but never truly cut.Â
This was something different, something revolting.Â
You retreated within yourself, and somewhere in the distance you could hear your own voice begging him to stop. Perhaps you could hear Shoko and Yukiâs too, all pleading tearfully while Mahito added another line to his creation, your body jolting painfully with the careful movements of the knife.Â
Whether or not you were thankful that he only made it through two lines of the first letter before something happened, you werenât quite sure. Because a big part of you wouldâve chosen to have the word whore branded permanently on your chest over what transpired in those next few seconds.Â
Somehow, in the short time that Jogo had been preoccupied with Yuki, Shoko had wrenched her hands free of her bindings. And while the two men were distracted with you, she took her chance and made a bolt for the door leading further into the house.Â
Sheâd stumbled when leaping to her feet, and the moment sheâd set off at a run, her feet had caught on the rug below, sending her careening onto her hands and knees for a second before recovering.Â
It was too many mistakes to make.Â
Mahitoâs knife clattered to the floor, grazing your thigh with a cut as it fell past you. His pistol was in his hand in an instant, a shot firing before you had time to prepare for it, leaving a disgustingly loud ringing sound in your ears, muffling much of what followed. Mahito still held you, and the two men were arguing about something incomprehensible, but all you could do was stare at the blood stain on the white door, eyes wide in horror.Â
There was a body laying beneath it, one that had finally stopped quivering. This wasnât the first time youâd seen a body, not even the first time youâd seen one covered in blood at the sign of a violent death, but that didnât leave you any better equipped to cope. You emptied your stomach on the floor beside you, barely hearing Mahitoâs complaints about how disgusting that was.Â
It wasnât something you could help.Â
Desperate panic built within you, and you found yourself looking to Yuki, who seemed to be in the midst of a panic attack. Her breaths were coming out ragged, sobbing aloud in a way youâd never heard from her before, a look of pitiful defeat present in her usually lovely chestnut eyes.Â
âWhy- why are you doing this?â You sobbed, surprised at the sound of your own voice. âShe didnât deserve that, y-you were cutting into my skin like you wanted, you didnât need to-â you cut yourself off, not knowing what more to say.Â
You thought you might throw up again.Â
Mahito grinned, wiping a tear from your cheek. âIt gets real boring out here, sweetheart. What better entertainment is there than playing with a bunch of pretty girls until they break? Killing is entertainment, and she was too panicky to be useful for much else.âÂ
Noticing the horror in your expression, his grin only spread further.Â
âNot all things need any deep profound meaning, you know. I love the blood and the suffering! Thereâs little more to it.âÂ
There was nothing for you to say, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stared at Shokoâs lifeless body spread across the floor. Her blood was seeping out and staining the wood beneath her, her life gone in a single instant, one which you and Yuki had been powerless to prevent. You felt pathetic, your hands flexing in their bindings, regretting agreeing to go along to Satoruâs holiday home, wishing youâd had a nice quiet weekend in Sukunaâs apartment like your boyfriend had wanted.Â
âYou good to keep an eye on that one, Jogo? I donât wanna wait much longer. The punishment games arenât as fun when thereâs only two.â Mahitoâs gaze was fixed on you with deep lust, his fingers crawling up the length of your arm.Â
âSure, whatever. Iâll watch her while you have your fun, then weâll do the usual.âÂ
âGreat!â Mahito stood up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.Â
You couldnât find it in you to struggle, your mind practically shutting down as Mahito stepped over Shokoâs body to head out into the corridor, like she was nothing more than an obstacle in his path.Â
Like she hadnât been someone you loved.
â
Sukuna had been beset with the chilling feeling that something was wrong.Â
It had started just after theyâd left the butchers, when heâd shot you a quick text to ask if you wanted anything from the liquor store. Usually, you were quick to reply to him, very rarely leaving your phone on silent, so when a few minutes passed by without you even reading his message, a hint of concern ignited within him.Â
Heâd tried calling you then, since the rest of the boys had already bought what they wanted, and Sukuna didnât want to leave without knowing if he should pick you something up, but the phone rang out, going straight to voicemail, and that really worried him.Â
Now, to his credit, he did try his best to reason with himself that everything was probably fine. You were likely just caught up chatting with the girls about one thing or another, perhaps youâd left your phone upstairs, or maybe you were watching some movie with the volume turned up so high that you didnât hear the ringing of your cutesy mobile.Â
But he couldnât quite shake the anxiety from his chest.Â
He cursed himself for even attempting to cast his worries aside once the boys made it back from their walk to find the house eerily silent. The window of the living room was smashed inwards, leaving shards of glass all over the wooden floor, and the menu screen for the Ferris Bueller DVD was drenching the whole room in bright white.Â
âWhat- what the fuck?â Satoru hissed.Â
The four of them were frozen outside, staring in through the window at the empty room. In the artificial light, Sukuna could just about make out blood staining the sofa, and more flooding the floor behind it. Amongst that partially obscured pool, he could make out what looked like a hand peeking out from behind the couch, and his heart dropped.Â
He didnât wait to consult with the others in their state of shock, and gave little thought to the fact that whoever had done this might still be in the house. Instead he made straight for the window, heart pounding in his chest as he leapt gracefully through the gap, vision shaky but still fixed on that small hand partially shrouded in darkness.Â
It couldnât be you. It couldnât be.Â
It wasnât.Â
Rounding the side of the couch, he stopped in his tracks at the site of Shoko. She was cold, motionless, her brown eyes still open. Blood was dripping from a gunshot wound straight through her skull, leaving her brown hair sticky and matted. There was still a flush to her cheeks, suggesting that whatever had transpired hadnât taken place all that long ago.Â
This wasnât the first dead body Sukuna had seen - in that area he would consider himself more than experienced. Heâd disemboweled Ryu, had smashed Yorozuâs head in with a hammer, had gone so far as to actively torture Kashimo before finally disposing of him - and yet, none of that had made him feel sick like the sight before him.
Shoko had been a good friend of yours. She was a person who Sukuna liked - a good influence on you, someone that would always leave you happy after youâd gone to hang out with her.Â
She didnât deserve what had happened to her.Â
But more to the point, whoever had done this to Shoko currently had you, and that thought made him want to vomit.Â
He had to find you.Â
There was the sound of glass crunching, and Sukuna glanced over at the boys making their way in behind him. They all looked freaked out, and Satoruâs eyes widened in horror as he finally reached Sukunaâs side, letting out a strangled yelp of horror. âShoko! Oh fuck.â He was down on his knees in an instant, pouring over her as if he might find a pulse if he tried hard enough. âQuick, someone call an ambulance! Suguru - take my phone, oh shit.âÂ
Suguru was already dialing 911, whilst Choso was standing with hunched shoulders, his expression riddled with terror. It was clear he was going through the same spectrum of emotions that Sukuna was, full of pity for Shoko but focussed on the fate of his own girlfriend who was absent from the room.Â
âYuki-â he mumbled. âIâve gotta find Yuki.âÂ
âDo you have a gun?â Sukuna asked Satoru, his voice eerily calm. Internally he was panicking, seething at the idea of someone hurting you, but he wasnât the type to get frazzled, especially not when he had so many executions on his hands already.Â
âWhat-âÂ
âThese fuckers are probably still here. Do you have a gun here?âÂ
Satoru nodded. âThereâs a cabinet in the kitchen. Iâll show you.â He slowly rose from his position beside Shoko, letting Suguru watch over her while he spoke with the police, asking for immediate support along with an ambulance - not that medical help would do much for Shoko at that point.Â
Hurrying into the kitchen, they avoided making too much noise, eager to have the advantage of surprise over any perpetrators. Internally, Sukuna was screaming. He wanted to go on a rampage around the house - tear doors off their hinges and scream at the top of his lungs. But he wasnât stupid, any warning given to the person or people who had done this could lead to your death.Â
He would be nothing but calm and careful.Â
It wasnât clear if the same could be said for Choso, who was visibly shaking while Satoru unlocked the gun rack. Sukuna wasnât sure the boy had any capability of keeping it together, and heâd be damned if his friendâs weak heart led to your demise somehow. Fortunately, Satoru seemed to be more locked in to the task at hand, breathing easily as he handed Sukuna a pistol, keeping the hunting rifle to himself.Â
Satoru, despite his kind and friendly demeanor, had always been the type of man who could do whatever was needed when the time came. Heâd been there for Sukuna in plenty of fights throughout high school and had lied their way out of being arrested when theyâd been caught with drugs on more than one occasion.Â
He was the best person to have on hand in a situation like this, outside of Sukuna himself.Â
Later, he was sure the boy would be a total mess, but that was fine. All Sukuna needed was for him to be strong in the moment.Â
âIâll cover the top two floors, you two deal with the bottom two.â Sukuna whispered after a quick check that the pistol was loaded. âIf you find them, donât hesitate to shoot. They deserve the same respect they gave Shoko.âÂ
Depending on the condition he found you in, heâd probably give the cause a fate even worse than death, but there was no need to recommend that outcome to his friends. They could decide how they wanted to deal with the situation on their own.Â
âYou gonna be okay by yourself?" Satoru asked.Â
Sukuna wanted to laugh at how vastly Satoru was underestimating him, but he was too anxious and enraged to waste any more time. âYeah. Let's get to it.âÂ
Hurrying up the stairs, he found it hard to balance speed with silence, wincing each time a step would creak beneath his feet. The stairs were situated at the back of the house, with connected flights moving directly up from the first floor to the fourth. He was on the landing of the second floor when he heard a muffled scream from down the hall, pausing him in his tracks.Â
The cry was followed by some begging and sobbing, in a voice which belonged to Yuki. Shortly after, there was the gruff sound of a man speaking and a harsh slap. He faltered in his decision, one foot already on the stairs to continue upwards. Heâd assigned this floor to Choso and Satoru, who were still checking out the floor below, and if he was being completely honest, he couldnât care less about Yukiâs fate.Â
What gave him pause was the idea that you might be in there with her, and that had him reversing back down the stairs and along the hallway to a partially opened door, light flooding out into the darkness Sukuna nestled within. Gun in hand, the safety already off, he peered round the door, catching sight of Yuki sitting on the bed, her face bruised and bloodied.Â
He watched silently as the large man standing over her struck her for a second time, blood dripping from her cracked lips. There was no defiance in her eyes, none of that fiery hatred Sukuna was often subject to. She had been reduced to a woman overcome with terror, her clothes sticking to her skin, tears rolling down her cheeks.Â
If he was a better person, he probably wouldâve stepped in and helped - raised his gun to the manâs head in a swift movement and pulled the trigger. But you werenât there in that room with her, and heâd waste no time aiding a woman he hated when the one he loved was still in peril.Â
Choso could save his own damn girlfriend.Â
So he backed away slowly, hoping the floor didnât creak beneath him, before making for the floors above.Â
It didnât take him long to find you after that, your sobs and whimpers flooding the area as he stumbled up onto the fourth floor, which housed the master bedroom Satoru had been staying in. You werenât begging coherently like Yuki had been, your words a mess of desperate pleas and cries.Â
Heart soaring, he found immense comfort in the knowledge that you were alive, your body still warm and moving in a way that Shokoâs never would again.Â
But any happiness was quickly replaced by sheer rage at the reality you were currently living. Because at that moment you were alone in a bedroom with some creep whoâd carelessly murdered your friend - completely victim to some psychoâs will.Â
Sukuna was no longer thinking, acting on impulse as he pushed open the door silently. There was no bright light like the room Yuki had been in, the bedroom instead illuminated by a softer lamp, as if the attacker had wanted to set the mood. He could hear blood pumping in his ears as he rounded the corner, allowing him full vision of Satoruâs bedroom.Â
You were there on the bed, laying down atop silk sheets which had clearly been disrupted in a struggle upon them. Even now you were wriggling, trying to pull at the fabric beneath you, letting out soft, anxious cries of fear.Â
It was an image that heâd seen hundreds of times - you, laying there with a flushed face, your shirt discarded elsewhere. Usually it was a pleasant image, one that he was always happy to see, knowing that youâd be beneath him, all happy and breathy in his arms.Â
But this was the most unpleasant scene heâd ever witnessed.
Because he wasnât the one laying on top of you. Instead, you were pinned down by that freak from the gas station, a wide smile stretched upon his pale lips as he grappled with you beneath him, easily warding off your attempts to push him away.Â
Just like you, the man was in a state of partial nudity, his shirt thrown on the floor beside yours, and Sukuna found fleeting relief in the realisation that he wasnât too late. You still had your comfy shorts on, keeping you from further defilement, and you were fighting hard for that dignity to remain intact.Â
The man had clearly hit you in an attempt to get you to what he wanted, a dark bruise rising around your left eye, and as Sukunaâs gaze drifted down your form he took note of a glistening red mark between your breasts - blood trailing from it down onto your stomach.Â
âCome on baby, stop fighting me. I told you we were gonna have a good time, stop being a bitch-âÂ
You kicked at him as hard as you could, your feet barely doing any damage as he pinned you back down, a pale hand locking around your throat firmly, pulling a strangled whimper from your lips.Â
âWhat did I just fucking tell you? Play nice and maybe youâll actually enjoy-â Â
The gun went off with no active decision on Sukunaâs part, his hands acting all on their own.Â
He was experienced with a gun - he knew how to shoot to kill just as well as he knew how to shoot to maim, and it was the latter that his body chose in that moment. He wanted the man off you, but he didnât want him dead - not yet, because that would be far too lenient a punishment for a man who had laid his hands on you in such a manner.Â
Letting out a shocked cry, more sobs wracked your body as your attacker fell to the side, blood spraying over your trembling form. You wriggled away in an instant, escaping the heavy weight sitting atop you, and curling in on yourself towards the head of the bed. It was as if you hadnât even seen Sukuna, hadnât really comprehended what had happened, capable of doing nothing beyond consoling yourself.Â
Sukuna wanted to go to you immediately, yearned to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything was going to be okay.Â
But he needed to deal with your attacker first.Â
The man was shaking and gasping for air, a hand reaching up to cover the wound Sukuna had inflicted upon him. A knife had clattered to the floor at his side, and Sukuna was quick to grab it, tossing it out of his reach.Â
He also took stock of a gun laid out on the bedside table next to where you were curled up, rolling his eyes at how painfully stupid this man must be to have parted with his weapon. Perhaps heâd been arrogant enough to think that he didnât need it when faced with a much weaker opponent like you, but Sukuna never wouldâve made such a blunder when it came to his own kills.Â
It was always sensible to anticipate that something could go wrong.Â
âPiece of shit,â Sukuna hissed, hitting the man full force across the face, certain that his strike had landed twice as hard as the one this man had inflicted upon you. He cried out in agony, blood spurting from his wound as he wrenched his hand away, bringing it up to cradle his aching face.Â
But that wasnât enough for Sukuna, nothing would ever be enough.Â
âThink you can touch my girlfriend, huh? Youâre fucking with the wrong guy.â With a sickening crack, Sukuna stamped on the manâs leg, bringing his foot down over and over again until he was certain that the bone would be too mangled to ever repair.Â
He took pleasure in the way the man screamed, begging pathetically for Sukuna to stop. It fell upon deaf ears, because Sukuna had caused immense suffering for far lesser crimes than the one this man had committed. This was a person he deserved the full force of his rage.Â
âNow, stay there.â Sukuna said cooly, cutting through the manâs cries. âIâll deal with you when Iâm good and ready.â
He turned his attention then to you, heart panging at just how small youâd made yourself in the corner of the bed, your knees pulled up against your chest.Â
âBaby,â he spoke softly, approaching you with care. He hated how you flinched when his hand brushed against your skin, and found his bloodlust for the man on the floor flaring up anew. âItâs me, youâre okay.âÂ
Taking a seat on the bed, he wrapped his arms around your trembling body and maneuvered you into his lap. You said nothing, but seemed to understand what was happening all the same, your fingers instinctively curling into his t-shirt as you burrowed yourself closely against him.Â
There he held you for a little while, focussing on your sniffling, completely ignoring the man groaning at his feet. Sukunaâs fingers combed through your hair, rocking you gently, cooing against your head with loving words of affection and comfort. âIâve got you, Iâve got you.â He whispered over and over again like a mantra, not just for your benefit but for his own too.Â
He hated to think how close heâd been to losing you. If heâd been just a bit later you couldâve been dead, discarded after that freak was done having his fun with you. The thought made his skin crawl and he held you tighter still.Â
âIâm sorry,â you mumbled against his chest, leaving Sukuna perplexed, staring down at you as you raised your face up to meet his gaze. âI couldnât stop him from touching me.âÂ
Sukunaâs face twisted in distaste for a moment before he forced himself to correct his expression, not wanting to make you feel worse. He hated that youâd said that, hated that you were acting like this was somehow your fault when it was his. He shouldâve never left you alone - it was on him to protect you.
It was on that creep to not touch you in the first place.Â
And yet guilt filled your teary eyes, like youâd somehow wronged Sukuna by failing to escape from something traumatic.Â
You really frustrated him sometimes.Â
âDonât apologise,â he said, trying to keep the edge from his voice. âYou didnât do anything wrong.â His thumb wiped the tears from your cheeks carefully, taking a moment to inspect your face properly now you were looking up at him.Â
A purple bruise blossomed around one of your eyes, spreading out onto your cheek, and there was equally unpleasant bruising on your neck, as though your attacker had tried choking you in a vicious manner more than once. The observation that bothered him the most were the perfect lines cut in the valley between your breasts, where dried blood was smudged around the wounds.Â
âIâm sorry I wasnât here. I shouldâve been here.âÂ
You said nothing, huddling yourself against him once more, fingers moving to his arm and holding so tight he was certain youâd leave bruises on him. He wasnât sure what was going through your mind at that moment - you seemed almost out of it, too shellshocked to articulate how you were feeling, seemingly unaware of the man wailing and clutching his leg mere feet away from you.Â
He was holding himself back from quizzing you on exactly what had happened, curious as to whether you knew about Shoko, whether youâd seen it happen. He wanted to know how far that creep had gone with you, just what punishment heâd dished out so that Sukuna could ensure he suffered appropriately.Â
Although, if he was gonna do anything he needed to do it soon. Suguru had called the police and Sukuna needed to make sure this man was dead before they arrived. He didnât want the fucker to go through the justice system - if he got a good enough lawyer heâd get some cushy deal and be out in a couple of years, and that was unacceptable.Â
Sukuna would kill him before that. Any death would be written off as self-defence, all things considered. Heâd broken into a house, killed a woman and sexually assaulted another - Sukuna was free to use reasonable force, which in this case was a bullet through the head. Â
âWhy do bad things keep happening to me?â You asked in a small voice, one that twisted unpleasantly at Sukunaâs heart. âMy bad luck killed ShokoâŠand Yuki, oh, Yuki!â For a moment you seemed to snap out of the haze, sitting up in a panic. âSukuna! Thereâs another guy - heâs got Yuki, you have to help her, please-âÂ
âChosoâs got it,â he said evenly.Â
He wasnât sure if it was a lie, it mightâve been, but heâd heard no gunshots so he was opting to believe that Yuki was fine. He certainly wasnât going to leave your side to go and help her, not when you were in such a tumultuous state. If he had it his way, heâd curl himself around you protectively and hold you like that for hours, until your terrified shivering finally stopped.Â
You needed him far more than Yuki did.Â
âIs she okay? She didnât- they didnât hurt her, did they?âÂ
Yuki looked hardly worse for wear than you did when heâd seen her, and he was certain the woman was probably tougher than you regardless. He wasnât particularly concerned with her state and you shouldnât be either.Â
He loved how kind you were, it was something he admired about you, but it grated on his nerves sometimes. Here you were, sobbing in his arms after an assault, and you were still all worried about someone else.Â
You could really do with acting a little more selfishly.Â
âSheâs okay. I didnât see her properly, I was too busy looking for you.âÂ
Sniffling once more, you lowered your head in shame, releasing your grip on Sukuna and bringing your hands up to your face. âI cursed them. I cursed them with my bad luck. Maybe I shouldâve been the one who got shot instead.âÂ
There was an unpleasant part of Sukuna that wanted to slap you. He didnât want to hear you say such things about yourself, didnât want to entertain the thought that youâd be comfortable with your own death. You were his, he wasnât going to let you slip through his fingers because of perceived bad luck.Â
But he held himself together, aware that right now you needed comfort rather than reprimand. You werenât thinking straight, clearly falling apart at the seams. Taking a deep breath, he leant down and kissed you on the forehead, before planting a few more gentle kisses all over your face.Â
âDonât say that, please. I donât think you know how broken Iâd be.â You looked shocked at the sincerity in his voice, fresh guilt flickering in your eyes leading you to avert your gaze in shame.Â
âSorry,â you mumbled. Sukuna supposed it was probably best to leave that conversation there, keeping his stern gaze on you for a few moments longer but not pressing the issue. Heâd disregard it as a slip of the tongue, something heâd come back to later if he needed to.Â
âItâs all going to be fine baby,â he promised. âThe police are all the way. Stop worrying and just let me take care of you.âÂ
Heâd assumed that youâd sink back into his arms, but after a few deep breaths you seemed almost reinvigorated, as if youâd shaken off the original paralysing shock and guilt and had transitioned into a new phase of panic.
âItâs not going to be fine, Shokoâs not going to be fine! Fuck- Shoko! I need to be with her.â
You wriggled in his arms before escaping from his grip, bare feet hitting the rug as you made for the door. Sukuna reached out to grab your wrist, eager to placate you and pull you back into his arms. He didnât want you to go downstairs to see your friend in the state that she was in, he wanted to keep you close and safe.Â
âBaby, wait.âÂ
You stumbled to a halt before Sukuna could grab you, your eyes wide and fearful as you peered down at Mahito rolling about on the ground, blocking the path to the door. It was like you were only just remembering he was there, half convinced Sukuna had killed him with that gunshot.Â
Sukuna watched you, his desire to keep you in his lap giving way to curiosity as to what you might do next.Â
You werenât a person with a great tendency to hatred. Sure, youâd disliked people such as Yorozu and Uro, but heâd never really seen you lash out at anyone. But right now your face was a picture of disgust. His hand reached slowly for the pistol, eager to have a method of maiming the bastard should he try anything, but he wanted you to have your moment first.Â
âYou.â Your voice was trembling. âYou killed her.âÂ
The man didnât acknowledge you, too lost in a haze of pain. Blood was dripping from his mouth, a couple of teeth missing from the force with which Sukuna had struck him.Â
âYou fucking killed her.â You raised your voice louder now, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. You seemed almost aggravated that his attention wasnât on you, and Sukuna figured he should be a good boyfriend and step in to fix that.Â
He rose from his place on the bed and stood over the man, planting a foot hard on his shattered leg, peering down at him maliciously. His screaming grew louder, but Sukunaâs voice cut through it. âHey, my girlâs talking to you. Listen to what she has to say or Iâll smash up the other leg.âÂ
His cries simmered down to a whimper, heterochromatic eyes turning to you. There was no glee on the manâs face anymore, none of the pathetic power heâd lorded over you just before Sukuna had arrived.Â
All that was left was fear.Â
âI hate you. Iâll always hate you. Youâre the lowest person on this Earth. How dare you believe that you have a right to live while she lies dead,â your voice was surprisingly calm, and Sukuna found himself admiring how well you were holding it together.Â
Perhaps heâd underestimated you.
You took a step closer to the man, crouching down in front of him, covering your breasts with your arms, as if suddenly aware of how exposed you still were.Â
âShe was studying to be a doctor, you know,â you said gently. âShe spent her time helping people, doing good for the world. Now thereâs one less good person on this earth, and more horrible men like you infecting it. You donât deserve to be alive. I hope you suffer and you rot, and part of me wishes that I could ensure that by my own hands.âÂ
Sukuna took a deep breath, steeling his mind and trying to take himself away from what was unfolding before him, because he wasnât sure what heâd do if he didnât force a mental step back. To see you threaten someone so firmly, standing with such confidence over a person heâd battered and bruised, it was painfully attractive to him.Â
His lust for you was high at the best of times, but to see you in a domain that heâd always considered as his and to find that you fit in just fine? Yeah, he liked that.Â
âYou know what they say-â the man rasped. âKill a killer and the number of murderers in the world remains the same.âÂ
Sukuna bit back a laugh, amused at the statement because if he executed the guy, the number of murderers in the world really wouldnât change. But you seemed mildly swayed, gaze filled with uncertainty.Â
âBesides,â he huffed, seeming to forget Sukuna was there. âAre you really gonna act all big and tough now? Just- just a minute ago you were crying under me - fuckinâ begging for it. You probably g- get off to the violence - I know you like it when your boyfriendâs rough-â
There was another sickening crack as Sukuna stamped down on his other leg. He wasnât sure how the man was aware of such things, but he wouldnât have it discussed in such a crude manner either way. What went on between the two of you was sacred and he wouldnât have it marred by the words of this freak.Â
Heâd expected you to yelp and rear back. Instead you stared up at him blankly, unphased by his actions. He wasnât sure what to make of it, caught off guard by the resolve in your eyes, hidden behind layers of blood and exhaustion. You had no space for mercy towards this man, and Sukuna found himself with an idea.Â
âDo you want to kill him, baby?âÂ
Horror registered in your expression for half a second, like you were shocked heâd suggest such a thing, only for something akin to interest to replace it when Sukuna held out the pistol to you, fingers brushing yours as he let the weight fall into your hands.Â
âThis fucker killed Shoko, he laid his hands on you, he wouldâve killed you too once heâd had enough. He wouldâve killed me if he had the chance, wouldâve fucking slaughtered all of us. Sure, the police will arrest him, but one day heâll be back out on the streets and then what? Didnât your buddy Hiromi have some client who escaped from prison? Do you wanna take a chance on this asshole managing that?âÂ
âNo,â you whispered, more tears staining your cheeks, fidgeting with the gun, as if it didnât feel right in your hands. Sukuna took a step away from the man, circling behind you. His chest pressed against your back, and he gently steadied the gun within your grip, encasing your hands within his larger ones.Â
âHeâs probably done this before, probably ruined and killed some other group of poor girls. Do you wanna give him the chance to do this to someone else? To do this to you again? We both know the justice system is fucked.âÂ
âHe deserves to die,â you murmured, hands clutching the gun tighter.Â
âEven death is a mercy for this bastard.âÂ
Whether you were in your right mind, Sukuna wasnât really sure, but he also didnât want to pass up the opportunity youâd presented him. This was a bonding opportunity for the two of you, something that would bring you closer, keep you tied to each other in a manner so intimate that youâd never feel the same connection with anyone else.Â
He wanted that, wanted you to pull the trigger.Â
And he knew that somewhere within you, it was what you wanted too. You hated this man, he could feel the fear and anger rolling off you in waves. He deserved death, and giving that to him was all you could think about, held back only by morals that told you killing was wrong no matter the circumstance.Â
Sukuna wanted to break through that assumption.Â
He wanted to corrupt you, at least a little - wanted you to be able to see things from his point of view. You were his soulmate, it was only natural to let each other in on the interests you held dear, and dishing out justice and punishment was immensely dear to Sukuna.Â
âWe can do it together,â he whispered.Â
Tentatively, your finger pressed against the trigger, guided by Sukunaâs steady hands. He did most of the work, purring compliments against your ear as he aimed the gun at the man who had transitioned from taunting to begging, spouting pathetic words which fell upon deaf ears.Â
âI can do it for you, if youâd like, but it's up to you. He killed Shoko, donât you owe it to her to make sure he faces the same fate?âÂ
âI do,â you whispered. Your hands started to tremble, and Sukuna kept them steady.Â
âBreathe with me, baby.âÂ
You nodded, taking a deep breath, your eyes examining the pathetic form of Mahito for one last time before Sukuna pressed down on the finger positioned against the trigger. You didnât yelp or jump as the gun fired, watching on in morbid fascination at the hole blooming with blood on the side of the manâs head, the light in his eyes immediately dissipating.Â
There were no tears from you, no immediate regret, just silence as you let the gun clatter to the ground. Sukuna gave you a tight squeeze, keeping you there in his arms and drinking in the sweet smell of iron which permeated the room.Â
It had been a terrible day for him and a worse one for you.
But there, with a dead man lying at your feet and your warm body in his arms, he wasnât sure that heâd ever felt happier.Â
âÂ
Things had passed in a blur after you and Sukuna had left Mahito in that room.Â
The police had arrived and taken accounts, grimly explaining that this wasnât the first time something similar had happened in the area. Apparently, Mahito and Jogo had been busy with scenes like this one over the last few years, and on this occasion their luck had finally run out.Â
Jogo was still alive. Choso and Satoru hadnât opted to use the gun, pulling the man off of Yuki and beating him until he was unconscious, tying him up and leaving him there in the bedroom for the police to deal with. You tried not to think too much about the blood seeping from Mahito upstairs, not completely sure youâd made the right decision - but with Sukunaâs comforting arm never lifting from your body you decided to allow yourself to be reassured.Â
Sukuna took the blame anyway when the officers arrived, telling them heâd shot the man to defend you when heâd arrived on the scene, easily explaining that Mahito had a gun to your head and he wasnât sure what else he couldâve done. Neither of them seemed bothered by his decision, with one of them even clapping him on the shoulder and commending him for his bravery in defending you.Â
It's what they wouldâve done.Â
Of course, they mentioned thereâd still be an investigation - it was part of due process and necessary for corroborating what had happened and putting Jogo away, but they told Sukuna not to worry too much about any repercussions for his actions.Â
And that had been exactly how it went down over the few weeks that followed.Â
There had been a quickly moving investigation, and your family had Hiromi come down to help with everything. Sukunaâs actions were deemed as necessary self-defense after a short stint of questioning over Mahitoâs leg wounds, which Sukuna claimed had been inflicted after the death in a lapse of rightful anger.Â
Whether that was believed or not, you werenât sure, but there was a lot of sympathy towards all of you after what youâd gone through, which meant any suspicions towards the heroes that had saved you were swiftly dropped.Â
Both you and Yuki were a mess after everything that had happened. When youâd first come downstairs to see Shokoâs body, already covered up with a sheet by the medics and police whoâd arrived on the scene, youâd broken down anew and allowed Sukuna to cradle you as the reality of what had happened settled in.Â
The whole thing felt like some nightmare - something that would happen to characters in a horror movie rather than to you. It was even worse than what had been done to Ryu, because at least you didnât have to see the event happen firsthand with your ex. To watch the light disappear from Shokoâs eyes was something that would haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
Youâd felt no such pain seeing the same happen to Mahito, a sick sense of pleasure coiling within you at that spark dying within him.Â
It was what heâd deserved.Â
Yuki had looked worse for wear than you - her face and body were littered with bruises and cuts, and her eyes were red from crying. It was an odd look to see on her, unaccustomed to Yuki being anything but strong and steady. Once Sukuna had released you from his grasp, the two of you had clung to each other for a while, unsure if you were sobbing in relief from being alive or in sorrow for your loss.Â
Maybe it was both.Â
At the very least, you were glad Yuki was alive.Â
Neither of you discussed what had happened to you when youâd been separated - it wasnât something youâd speak about to anyone other than Sukuna, and you were certain your friend felt similarly. According to Sukuna, sheâd been found by the boys before you had, so you hoped she hadnât suffered any further than what youâd experienced.Â
You didnât have much chance to speak with her anyway, or any of the others for that matter, in the weeks that followed. Outside of dealings with the police to get everything wrapped up, you seldom even ventured outside. Yuki would text you occasionally, as would Satoru, checking in on how you were coping, but you had no desire to do anything or speak with anyone.Â
All you could do was curl yourself up in blankets on Sukuna's bed and let him comfort you.Â
It was foolish, the speed at which youâd fallen apart all over again. Youâd worked so hard to pull yourself together after Ryuâs death - had faced so many mental challenges and overcome them all with the belief that there was more to life than horror and suffering. But right now you were struggling to see that light in any capacity.Â
The only glimmer of hope came from Sukuna.Â
He was the only thing keeping you going, the only thing you had to cling on to.
Through it all, his presence was unfaltering, his hands steadying you when youâd awaken screaming from a nightmare, distracting you with caring words and a touch that chased away the slimy memory of Mahitoâs hands on your skin.Â
âDo you think that I was an evil person in another life?â Youâd asked him on one nightmare-riddled evening, tears dripping down your cheeks.Â
The clock read 3am, and you could only just make Sukuna out in the light of the streetlamp not fully shut out by his blinds. It had been a couple of weeks since the event and your most recent nightmare had been worse than most.Â
It had been you, completely stripped bare beneath Mahito, his touch searing into your skin. Instead of being in the bedroom, youâd been lying on the couch, your teary eyes meeting Shokoâs empty brown ones as you gave up beneath your attacker. Youâd awoken not long after Shoko had opened her mouth to speak, black blood pouring from her mouth with a whole mess of spiders and cockroaches following, her voice cracked and deep as sheâd said, âthis is your fault.âÂ
Sukuna was rubbing his eyes, hair sticking up cutely. He was clearly trying to pick apart your statement, still half asleep and trying to recover from the panic that had gripped him when youâd awoken him with a scream.Â
âWere you an evil person in another life?â He repeated your question slowly, like he was sure heâd misheard you. You werenât sure if he was amused by these night terrors of yours - it was impacting his sleep as much as it was impacting yours, and you feared heâd grow tired of you acting like someone so broken.Â
Not that you seemed to be able to help it.Â
âYeahâŠlike- I donât knowâŠâ You shrugged as you trailed off, wiping your cheeks. The shadows beneath his eyes betrayed his exhaustion, and you pulled away from him, laying back down on the bed. It was best to let him go to sleep, if you still wanted to discuss the matter in the morning you could.Â
It was wrong to rely on him too heavily.
There was silence for a moment before Sukuna laid back down beside you, sliding an arm beneath you and pulling you firmly into his grip. Your heart picked up as your face met his chest, basking in his familiar warmth as his hands soothed along your back and hair.Â
âI donât think you were ever an evil person. Youâre good to a fault - sometimes it's even a little annoying.â If you were in a better mood maybe you wouldâve sat up and pouted at him, but instead you remained quiet, hanging off his every word. âYouâre gonna be okay, baby. Iâm here and Iâll stay here for as long as you still want me. Evil if you were evil or whatever it is youâre worried about.âÂ
âYou shouldnât,â you mumbled quietly. Sukuna froze beside you, his hands stilling as his heartrate picked up a little.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âYou shouldnât stay here. Someoneâll shoot you in the head or disembowel you one day.âÂ
âI told you before, I wonât let that happen,â Sukuna said firmly, grip tightening around you. You wanted to believe him, you really did, but you just werenât sure you could anymore. Ryu never wouldâve expected what happened to him, Shoko wouldnât have expected her fate, it just happened.Â
Not to come across as self-important, but you just had the sinking feeling that somehow it was your fault too. To witness two immensely violent tragedies on top of various other bits of bad luck, it just felt like you were being divinely punished. The last thing you wanted was for Sukuna to fall afoul of a similar fate.Â
He deserved more than that.Â
âHow can you be so sure?â You peered up at him in the dim light, meeting his eyes. There was something in them which felt reluctant, like a few thoughts were flitting through his head and he couldnât quite reach a conclusion on what he wished to divulge. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, stroking your hair once more.Â
âI canât be sure, I suppose. Nothing in life is sure. But you, this life I have with you, is all that really matters to me. I would climb back up from the pits of hell before I let anyone take that away from me. Believe me.âÂ
âBut-âÂ
âAnd, if some fucker did get me, even if we could say for sure that it was due to you being cursed or afflicted with bad luck or whatever, it wouldnât make a difference. I would still choose to be with you even if I knew the life would be short, even if I knew Iâd meet a horrible fate. If you made me choose between a long life without you, or a short life at your side, I would always choose the latter.âÂ
You lay there in silence, heart pounding in your ears, struggling to truly comprehend the weight of his words. Sukunaâs love for you was no secret, but perhaps the depth of it was greater than youâd ever truly understood.Â
There was no question that heâd die for you. Considering Mahitoâs state you already knew that heâd kill for you. He wouldnât be pushed away by some foul omen you felt hung over your head, he wouldnât leave you alone to spiral in the darkness like the fate youâd resigned yourself to after Ryuâs demise.Â
He was there, and his hands were on you.
And you were certain there was nothing that could part the two of you.Â
next chapter
a/n: tune in next time to find out the thing that could maybe part the two of them :)
sorry for how horrible I was to reader (and everyone) in this chapter :(
hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 11.5k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, semi-public sex, toxicity, arguing, horror, reference to past unhealthy sexual encounters
a/n: sorry for the delay I hope you enjoy sukuna doing his best :)
masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter
Your foot was tapping nervously at the floor, your lower lip practically chewed raw with anxiety. Youâd been staring at the door for a good half an hour, fear building with each tick of the clock, awaiting the tell-tale sound of someone stepping into the trailer.Â
It had been two days since youâd last seen or even talked to Sukuna, two days since heâd shown up in your room in the middle of the night. You knew heâd be dropping by shortly, coming to meet you for lunch just like he always would - assuming that he wasnât too enraged with your silence.Â
And you really werenât sure what you were meant to say to him.Â
Yes, on one hand youâd been turned on by what heâd done. There was a sick part of you that loved it when he was dominant and forceful, a part of you that enjoyed a hint of fear when he fucked you.Â
But you couldnât help but feel that his actions from the other night had crossed a line you werenât comfortable crossing.Â
After what had happened to Ryu all those years ago, it was insensitive of Sukuna to think that breaking into your house wouldnât inspire a new level of concern within you. Because if he could break in, then anyone could. And that had you feeling completely unsafe in your own home.
You couldnât really understand why heâd thought it was a good idea in the first place. Perhaps it was on you for not setting clearer boundaries - considering how many kinky things the two of you had been exploring over the past few weeks, it was possible heâd just gotten carried away.Â
Although, even with that excuse he shouldâve known better.Â
You were fine with him tying you up, or spanking you, or even waking you up with his cock already buried inside of you - but you didnât want him breaking into your house again. No matter what.Â
And you also didnât want him trying to fuck you with your family or family-friends listening in while it happened, because as hot as youâd found it in the moment, youâd woken up the next morning in total mortification - forced to sit across from Hiromi and realise that he was actively avoiding your gaze, a slight flush on his pale cheeks.Â
So yeah, you were kind of mad at Sukuna.Â
But you also didnât love the idea of confronting him, so youâd taken the very childish option of icing him out until he came to you.Â
And come he did, pushing through the door right on schedule, his face an almost comedic mix of joy and stormy frustration. It was clear that on one hand heâd been missing you, and finally seeing you was making his day, but he was also desperately angry at your silence - an outcome that you were prepared for, but it did little to quell your fear as he approached.Â
âHey, baby. Broken cell phone?â He asked, his voice cold.Â
You paused, wondering if it would be wise to run with that excuse in an attempt to temper his frustration at least a little. But the rage dancing in his crimson eyes told you that he already knew your phone wasnât broken, and all lying would do is aggravate him further.Â
âNo.â You took a deep breath.Â
âRight, right. Okay, then what the fuck?â His hands were flat on your desk, allowing him to lean over the barrier separating the two of you. He was staring down at you evenly, looking at you with an expression that youâd never seen him wear - heâd usually regard you with such affection and reverence that youâd never had the chance to see him enraged.Â
âI- uh- Iâve been busy.â It was a weak response and you both knew it. You needed to be honest with him and there you were running at the first sign of confrontation. The incredulous look in his eyes made it clear that he was less than happy with your answer.Â
âBusy doing what?â He hissed. âFucking that old friend of yours?âÂ
âWhat?â You asked, genuinely caught off guard.Â
âYou heard me. You disappeared off after he arrived.âÂ
Lashes fluttering, you sat back in your chair, revulsion coursing through you at the mere insinuation that youâd ever be disloyal to him. âYou- youâve got to be joking right now. He left the morning after you-â you hesitated, voice dropping in the off chance that your father was listening in from outside. âAfter you broke inâŠâÂ
Sukuna seemed unmoved, painted nails digging in against the wood of the desk. âAnd Iâm just supposed to just take your word for it? After youâve ignored me for days?â
âI wasnât- Iâd never-â you scrambled to find your words, completely blindsided by the situation. Youâd expected him to be frustrated with you, but you hadnât expected a whole array of accusations to be thrown your way for something youâd never even dream of doing. âW-why would you think that?âÂ
âWell, it's not like this would be the first time youâve cheated,â he said easily, the statement dripping with casual cruelty, leaving your mouth agape.
The horror of those words hit you immediately, a nasty twisting feeling making itself known in your gut. He was right, of course, it wouldn't be the first time youâd cheated, but to throw the worst night of your life in your face when he was the person youâd been cheating with was just sickening. Youâd never cheat again - youâd regretted your actions for years afterwards, only recently finding the ability to forgive yourself.Â
How dare he use it against you?Â
Instinct told you to scream at him, to yell and tell him that you were done, ordering him out of the trailer immediately. But logic reminded you that youâd regret that decision the moment the door closed behind him, because despite this current bump, your relationship with Sukuna had been filled with a happiness your life had been lacking for years, and you werenât going to throw it away over a heat of the moment utterance driven by jealousy.Â
Neither logic nor instinct had full control of your actions in that moment anyway, because before you could say anything you burst into tears, leaving Sukuna all wide-eyed and panicked as he stared down at you. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, and rather than saying anything you drew your knees up to your chest, curling in on yourself as if it would make the whole situation go away.Â
Youâd caused this by virtue of ignoring him. If youâd just told him the actual issue rather than giving him the silent treatment, he wouldnât be saying any of these things.Â
âIâd never do what I did to Ryu to anyone else. Never again. Especially not to y-you,â you mumbled into your arms, obscuring your face from his view. âI canât believe you think I would.âÂ
Sukuna was silent for a few moments, before you heard the sound of shuffling and the warmth of a hand atop your head, stroking your hair gently. You wondered if you should push him away, perhaps remind him that he was the source of your tears, but the touch felt so comforting and familiar that you found yourself leaning into it instead.Â
The lack of resistance seemed to embolden him, and he crouched down before you, muscular arms circling around your hunched form, drawing you close against his chest. âSorry baby, Iâm sorry,â he mumbled into your hair. âI didnât mean that. When you wouldnât talk to me I started jumping to all these conclusions- fuck- Iâm sorry.âÂ
âFuck you, Sukuna. I was avoiding you because I had an actual problem I was scared to approach and you instantly took it as me cheating.â
Your words were harsh, but you made no effort to withdraw, sinking deeper into the warmth of his arms, letting your tears wet his hoodie.Â
âI know, Iâm the worst. Iâm sorry baby.â For a few moments you were both silent, allowing his apology to sink in, the sheer panic in his voice winning you over at the realisation that he was genuinely upset at himself for making the accusation. His hands moved to dry your tears, and you let him do that too, because despite it all you loved him and his touch.Â
Was it really the worst thing to know that he was into you to the point of desperate jealousy? It was a sure sign that heâd never seek out someone else like Ryu and Kashimo had, proof that his loyalty to you was something insurmountable.Â
But that still didnât mean you were thrilled with him for this little display of jealousy.
And you were still yet to address the elephant in the room.
âThe reason I havenât been talking to you is because of what you did on Saturday night. It's got nothing to do with Hiromi,â you said, surprised at the way the words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them.Â
You felt him tense up, his hands ceasing their comforting movements.Â
âHuh?âÂ
Slowly you drew back, untangling yourself from his grip to allow you to look at him properly. The anger had largely dissipated from his face, clearly put at ease by your reaction to his cheating accusation, replaced by open curiosity. It was strange to you that he didnât immediately jump to an apology, or at the very least, have realisation dawn on his face at just what you were alluding to.Â
âSaturday.â You repeated yourself. âYou broke into my room in the middle of the night?â
Still he was staring at you blankly, as though he wasnât capable of understanding what point you were attempting to make. âYeah?â He ventured, when you failed to continue. âWe had great sex and then I left. Are you mad I didnât stay? I figured you wouldnât want me there in the morning with your parents around.âÂ
You genuinely werenât sure what to say.Â
âSukuna, Iâm mad because you broke into my house.âÂ
âOh.â He blinked a couple of times, âbut why? You seemed to like it at the time.âÂ
âI-â Once again you found yourself lost for words, scrambling to explain to him how conflicted you were on the whole matter, because you really had liked it, he wasnât wrong, you just didnât want to encourage his behaviour to that extent, and certainly didnât want him crossing even further boundaries. âI like this- us. I like being with you, it's justâŠthat was too much, okay?âÂ
He tilted his head a little, and your heart fluttered at the questioning expression on his pretty face. The sight was almost enough for you to forget how angry heâd been when heâd entered your office just moments ago.Â
âThe break-in, or the sex?âÂ
âI donât know, both in combination, I guess? I mean, it's fine to wake me up like that at your place when weâve been sleeping in the same bed, but I was genuinely scared, Sukuna. You couldâve been anyone. Before I knew it was you I thought I was gonna beâŠyou knowâŠâ
Sukuna hummed, carefully wringing his fingers together. âIâm sorry, it was probably too far,â he said carefully. âI thought, with all the weird shit weâd been doing lately, that youâd be into it too. You shouldâve told me at the time, I wouldâve listened.âÂ
Flushing, you recalled that youâd made very little effort to stop Sukuna from sinking into you that evening, mainly because once youâd known it was him, youâd been filled with a sick sense of lust obtained only when preceded by real danger. You hadnât been thinking clearly enough at the time to prevent anything, it was only when you awoke the next morning that you considered how fucked up the situation really was.Â
âIt's fine, just- please donât break into my house again?âÂ
âPromise.â He responded quickly, fingers reaching out to stroke your face. The thought that Yuki might be somewhat right about Sukuna fled your mind at the gentle touch, paired with the adoring look in his crimson eyes. Because even if what heâd done was batshit crazy, you were aware that it all came from a place of love, a desire to be with you and please you at all moments.Â
He leant in to kiss you, breath warm against your lips. You pushed him back slightly before he could do so, aware that there was one other thing you wanted to address before giving into his affections once more.Â
âAlso the jealousy from earlier. Donât do that shit again. Iâd never cheat on you, never, donât ever imply that I would. Do it again and Iâll leave, swear to god.â You tried to keep your voice even so that the threat was believable, but a tremor found its way into your tone regardless.Â
You werenât sure that was a promise you could keep, but you still wanted to dissuade him from ever doing it again. Even if he knew the threat to be false, at the very least it might make him think twice next time.You didnât want Sukuna to make a habit out of yelling at you. Youâd actually rather him break in through your window again over accusing you of cheating.
âI wonât.â He put his hands up defensively.Â
âPromise me. No alpha bullshit around other men either, Iâm loyal to you so thereâs no need to be possessive or snappy just because some guy spoke to me.âÂ
There was a wavering look in Sukunaâs eyes, something that you didnât quite like, but it disappeared quickly. âI promise.âÂ
âGood.âÂ
âGood.âÂ
The two of you remained in silence for a moment, almost as if assessing the other. You peered up at him from your position on the chair, waiting patiently to see what heâd do next, whether heâd sweep the matter under the rug and kiss you, or if heâd continue with further explanation. Equally, he seemed to be waiting for you to do something, looking down at you almost guiltily, like some scolded dog.Â
He gave into the pressure first, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his pink locks.Â
âI donât mean to be jealous, yâknow? I just-â he shrugged, chewing on his lip. âI just love you so much that sometimes it makes me kinda crazy. I start getting in my head that you donât feel the same, doing stupid shit like climbing the drainpipe outside your window just so I could see you.âÂ
His admission of love rattled around in your head, wiping clean the worries sitting in your mind. He hadnât said that aloud to you before, despite alluding to it on more than one occasion. He didnât even seem to realise heâd said it, still rambling on about how much your presence would set his mind ablaze with desire.Â
âI love you too,â you said easily, cutting him off. He locked comically shocked, mouth falling open dumbly, like his brain had short-circuited at your admission. You gave him no time to think of a response, your expression stern. âSo stop acting kind of crazy, please, because Iâm already so into you that youâre literally just wasting your own time.âÂ
Eyelashes fluttering, Sukunaâs mouth turned up into a grin. âYeah?âÂ
âYeah, assuming that youâve listened to everything Iâve just told you about how to keep me in love with you.â His expression was genuinely dreamy, a look of pure, unbridled pleasure brought on by words alone.Â
âYeah, yeah.â He waved his hand, as if heâd thoroughly put all of those matters behind him in light of this new revelation. âIâll be on my best behaviour.â This time he crashed his lips against yours without anything stopping him, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you up onto your feet, allowing him to deepen the kiss.Â
You realised that youâd missed the familiar brush of his tongue against yours, even if the absence had only been for a handful of days. Youâd become so accustomed to spending all your time with him that mere hours apart had you overcome with longing. It was like his hands were meant to be on your skin, built solely for you.Â
âStay at my place tonight,â he murmured as he pulled back, âIâve missed having you in my bed.âÂ
âSure, no sex though.âÂ
Sukuna frowned. âWhy? Period? You know that shit doesnât bother me.â That was true, Sukuna had gone as far as to eat you out on your last period, the lewd sight of his face covered in your blood seared into your mind. You were certain that no previous boyfriend of yours wouldâve ever done such a thing, and certainly not with the enthusiasm that Sukuna had displayed.Â
But your period wasnât the problem.Â
âMisplaced my birth control somewhere,â you said with a shrug. You couldnât figure out where or when you mustâve lost them - they were usually in your backpack to ensure you had them wherever youâd be staying for the night, but when youâd gone to take one a few days back you hadnât been able to locate the little box.Â
The chemist had been all out of stock of your usual brand when youâd gone to pick up some more, so you wouldnât have your new supply until the following morning. In the meantime it probably wasnât clever to have sex with Sukuna. It was part of why youâd been so mad about the break-in situation, because when youâd awoken the next morning it had dawned on you that you hadnât taken your pills in a couple of days.Â
Hurriedly getting hold of Plan B on a Sunday morning had not been your ideal use of time, especially when youâd been forced to make some stupid excuse up to your parents as to why you couldnât go out to breakfast with the Higurumaâs.Â
Either way, it wasnât fair to blame Sukuna for that. It wasnât like he had any way of knowing that you hadnât been taking them as usual.Â
âI can get you the morning after pill and we can still have sex?â Sukuna offered, nuzzling his nose against yours affectionately, hands sliding to rest on your hips.Â
Wrinkling your nose in distaste, you shook your head. Plan B was supposed to be an emergency solution, and you werenât keen on using it twice in one week. âWe can use a condom?â It was his turn to scrunch up his nose, for he was a man with great distaste for such things, but he relented regardless.Â
âIf it means I can touch you still, then sure.âÂ
Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you kissed him again, letting yourself sink against his warmth. You were glad that youâd been able to air things out for him, proud to be able to stand your ground. You cared about Sukuna and were eager to avoid silly things getting in the way all because you didnât have the courage to voice your wants and needs. Communication was the key to a healthy relationship after all.Â
Sukuna lifted you briefly before depositing you down atop the desk, putting the two of you at a better angle for kissing. He was tilting your face up softly with one hand, the other curled possessively around your waist. Your fingers clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his hoodie each time he nipped playfully at your soft lips.Â
If your time together that day hadnât been so fraught, perhaps you wouldâve been more on guard about not making out during lunch time. It was one thing to kiss or fuck in the office when you were certain that your father wasnât around - there were plenty of evenings that youâd let Sukuna take you over the desk, only doing so because the risk was low enough for you to accept it.Â
But that day, your dad was very much on site, and you knew it.Â
So you really shouldnât have been surprised when the door creaked open, leaving you and Sukuna breaking apart swiftly, but not swift enough to evade the sharp eyes of your dad standing at the trailerâs entrance.Â
Hopping down from the desk, you straightened out your clothes, finding no words to talk yourself out of this one. Sukuna didnât seem to share your concern, standing in the relaxed way that he always would, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He seemed to be assessing your dad quietly, unwilling to cower in embarrassment - he felt no shame about his love for you and wasn't willing to act like he did.Â
âHey- uh- Sukuna was just leaving.â Humiliation bubbled within you at the way both men looked at you like your words were the most foolish thing you couldâve possibly said. But there was understanding in Sukunaâs gaze, and he reached out to squeeze your hand before leaving.Â
âIâll drive you to my place later, so let me know when you're finishing up.â Your father seemed even less amused hearing that statement, but you supposed it didnât matter. Heâd seen what heâd seen, the cat was out of the bag, why should Sukuna strive to hide anything anymore? He gave your father an easy nod as he brushed past him, a confidence that seemed to immediately grate upon your dadâs nerves.Â
The man stayed silent as the door creaked shut behind Sukuna, his gaze turning to you, demanding an explanation. You played awkwardly with your hands, not quite sure what you were supposed to say.Â
âSo youâre not dating, huh?â He asked finally, recalling the conversation youâd had with him several weeks ago when heâd implored you not to pursue the man.Â
âThings changed?â You offered with a wince.Â
âRight.âÂ
The silence stretched out between the two of you, and you found yourself sitting back down on your chair, wondering if you should just get back to work immediately and pretend nothing had happened. You werenât exactly keen on facing a second lecture if you could possibly avoid it.Â
It wasnât like your fatherâs feelings on Sukuna would dissuade you from being with him anyway, so it saved you both time to skip out the droning and warnings.Â
âFigured youâd been dating someone, I was just hoping it wasnât him. Your mother really thought you and Hiromi might hit it off, you know? She's not going to like Sukuna.âÂ
You were already aware of that. Your mom was the type of woman averse to anyone having any sort of tattoo, which meant the lines engraved upon Sukunaâs face would no doubt send her spiraling.Â
âI know, but I like him.â You shrugged. âIsnât that all that matters?âÂ
Your father sighed, lumbering over to the desk. âHe unsettles some of the guys, you know. Beat another worker half to death in some silly dispute they had before you were around. What will you do if he turns that sort of rage towards you?âÂ
âHe wouldnât.â Your voice was certain, eager to come to your boyfriendâs defence. You knew that he was rough around the edges and no stranger to a fight, but you were also certain that he would never raise a harmful hand to you without your consent. If anything, it was comforting to know that he was tough in a fight, it meant he could protect you and himself.Â
Biting his lip, your dad nodded with the resignation of someone who didnât want to argue with a brick wall. âLook, youâre a big girl. You can date who you like, Iâve said my piece on it already. Just donât come crying to me if it all falls apart.âÂ
âI wonât,â you said defensively. You truly didnât think the relationship with Sukuna would fall apart, but even if it did you would absolutely not be going around telling the truth of the matter to everyone who wanted nothing more than to say âI told you soâ.
âDonât bring him around the house either. It's best not to upset your mother.â Shame coiled within you because Sukuna had already very much been in your house, and had done the exact things your father likely didnât want happening beneath his roof. Youâd keep that to yourself and hope to god that Hiromi hadnât snitched about the sounds heâd heard that night.Â
âI wonât. We only ever stay at his place.âÂ
âNone of this at work either.â He added, âI donât wanna see it, I donât even really wanna know about it. You wanna make out with him, you can do it in your own free time, somewhere far away from here.âÂ
âI get it,â you snapped. âAre you done? Iâve got work to do.âÂ
âYeah, you sure seemed busy when I came in. It definitely looked like he was just leaving.â The man rolled his eyes, putting the last two words in air quotes. You bit down on your lip, trying not to let anger bubble up within you.Â
You could never understand why your parents werenât capable of just accepting your happiness. You were clever enough to make your own choices without them weighing in on everything, and it wasnât like your father knew Sukuna like you did.Â
Very few people were privy to the side of him that heâd show to you.Â
Realising that your father wasnât quite ready to let things go just yet, you decided to give in. âOkay, if you want to talk about it, let's talk about it. What happens when we donât break up and I decide I want to marry him or something? What happens if I have his kid, hypothetically? You gonna tell me to keep him away from the house then? Ignore your grandchildren?â
âI really donât think itâll come to that, sweetheart. I think youâll realise what a grave mistake youâre making before then.â His voice was surprisingly calm, affection for you still glimmering in his eyes even as he put down the one you loved. He didnât see his words as an insult, he saw them as sage advice directed towards someone he loved to keep you from making a grave mistake.Â
âAnd if I donât?â You pushed.Â
âThen what Iâve said still applies, I suppose. Until you do realise.âÂ
He looked sad, reaching over the desk and clamping a gentle hand on your shoulder. At no point did he suggest that you were unwelcome at home, or that theyâd turn their backs on you should you stay with someone he had great distaste for. But he was making it abundantly clear that Sukuna would never be welcome. Â
Well, fuck him.Â
What the hell did he know? You were happy and Sukuna was good, and you werenât going to throw it away just because your parents didnât like him.Â
What a waste that would be.Â
â
Sukuna had decided not to kill Hiromi.Â
For once in his life, he figured it was best to let things go. There were a couple of things driving his decision - part of that was the difficulty in getting rid of the man without being caught. The guy was a big-shot lawyer from a rich family which meant the investigation into any death or disappearance would be crazy.
So on that front alone, it was already unwise to act.Â
That, of course, had never really stopped him before, which was where the secondary and more pressing reason came into play: you had asked him to stop his general craziness and accept that you loved him.Â
And honestly? You were right.Â
Why would he waste time chasing some childhood friend of yours who youâd plainly shown disinterest in? That was time that he could spend with you, showing you just how much he appreciated you, how much he loved you. Hiromi was no one, just some guy your family knew who meant very little to you in reality.Â
Sukuna meant everything to you, and as long as that rang true, he didnât need to worry about a thing.Â
Heâd promised you heâd be better, and he really wanted to try. Because heâd do anything for you. Sure, if someone posed a genuine threat he would be forced to do something - he would never be the type of guy who would sit idle and allow you to be swept out from under him, but he would stop taking issue with the smallest things.Â
Heâd control his jealousy, at least as much as he could. Like youâd said, what was there to be jealous about when youâd made it clear you were hopelessly devoted to him?Â
On top of that, heâd taken everything else youâd said seriously too.Â
He wouldnât be breaking into your house again, as much as heâd longed to. There was no room for error now, he didnât want to create distance between you for foolish things like that. You were in his arms willingly right now and he wanted things to stay that way - any amount of breaking in or stalking could cause issues for him.Â
So for now, he was trying. Trying to be calmer. Trying to trust you.Â
You were his, youâd said it yourself. He didnât need to stress.Â
Several weeks passed by without issue, and once again Sukuna found himself in a pattern of domestic bliss. Youâd practically moved into his apartment, spending far more nights there than at your own home. Heâd been irritated to find out that he was unwelcome in your house, comforting you as youâd ranted and cried about your fatherâs displeasure in your choice of partner.Â
But at the same time, he didnât have it in him to claim he was surprised. Heâd seen the way your father had been looking at him ever since the two of you had started to grow close. The man saw him as a threat - the type of person who would steal his precious daughter away forever and keep her from the control that had been exerted over her for a lifetime.Â
It didnât matter. Youâd made it clear that you were happy with Sukuna and were largely uninterested in your parents' approval, and if that was enough for you, then it was enough for him too. Fuck them, theyâd been pushed to the back of his mind where he could easily ignore their existence all together.Â
Why bother being down when you were so soft and happy in his arms? When each night was spent cooking together, watching some crappy movie with his arms circled around you, before falling into bed, limbs tangled so intimately? He had no room in his life for strife or annoyance, not when he had his goddess curled up in his lap at all times.Â
Of course, there had been certain bumps over the weeks. Your father had attempted to find ways to fire him, but he was part of a strong union who were united in keeping his job secure. Likewise, heâd run into a few issues with Yuki. Sheâd gotten better at playing nice in front of you, which meant heâd been seeing the woman more often than heâd have liked, and that meant enduring her constant scrutiny, which he could live without.Â
But outside of all that, nothing could truly knock him off cloud nine, not when you were always staring up at him like heâd hung the stars, clinging to him so sweetly, as if you could no longer think of a life without him at your side.Â
It was a warm sunny weekend when things were really tested.Â
You and Sukuna had piled into the back of Satoruâs seven-seater, taking up the two extra seats positioned right at the back. Satoru and his friend Suguru were up front, with Yuki, Choso and Shoko in the centre. You were heading up to Satoruâs family lake house, an hour north of town, with plans of having a nice chilled out weekend as a group.Â
There wasnât much space for you and Sukuna in the car, leaving you all pressed up against each other, but he certainly didnât mind. If anything, heâd chosen this fate because of the cozy situation it would leave you in - his thigh pressing up against yours, fingers dancing along the bare skin of your legs revealed by the cutesy miniskirt youâd decided on that morning.Â
Thereâd been a jovial atmosphere on the way, terrible music interspersed by chatting and arguments. Neither of you could hear much from your position in the back, words echoing towards you as nothing more than noise, and for the most part the two of you were forgotten, left to your own quiet conversation. Although, Sukuna had little to say, instead allowing his hand to crawl up your leg once he was certain the others were distracted, subtly tracing the outline of our panties.Â
You'd squirmed and shot him a look, but the longing in your eyes didnât go amiss, serving to embolden him as he slipped a hand beneath the fabric, fingers making contact with your wet folds. Heâd grinned at the sight of your thighs squeezing together, your eyes widening, watching the others carefully, clearly fearful that Satoru might catch you in the rearview mirror.Â
Sukuna knew that his friend wasnât eagle-eyed enough for such a thing, but he leant closer to you all the same, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear. âIâll stop if you want me to. Although I get the sense that isnât what you want.â He watched you bite down on your lip at the sensation of his finger easing into you, your body freezing up at his side.Â
âDonât stop,â you mumbled under your breath, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. His grin widened, and he settled back in the seat beside you, keeping his gaze forward to avoid the arousal of any suspicion. All the same, his hand remained beneath your skirt, fingers deftly exploring you. He watched you from the corner of his eyes, finding great enjoyment in the way you wriggled, doing your utmost best to keep a straight face.Â
It hadnât taken him long to make you cum.Â
To be honest, he was certain that youâd found release even quicker than usual. Perhaps it was the lewd idea of doing this with an audience so nearby, right on the precipice of being discovered. It was amusing to him that something like this was acceptable to you, hot even, while his break-in had been the cause of strife between the two of you.Â
Sometimes he found it hard to understand where your lines were drawn.Â
But heâd found that as long as he asked before acting, he couldnât really go wrong. If he felt even a hint of uncertainty on your feelings towards a matter, he would hesitate and seek explicit consent first. He didnât want to fuck things up with you, not when heâd come this far. Two murders were not insignificant, and theyâd be for nothing if you decided to leave him because you didnât like how he was acting.Â
And in that situation heâd be forced to bring you to his side against your will and that was the last thing he wanted. He didnât yearn to break you, he wanted you at his side willingly, wanted you happy of your own volition.Â
But heâd do it if he had to.Â
Pulling his fingers from you, grinning at the way your chest was heaving, he subtly licked your juices from his skin. You shot him another incredulous look, and there was a part of him that wanted to urge you to reach out and slide your hand into his cargos and jerk him off, but before he could voice the desire against your ear, Satoru pulled into a gas station.Â
âOkay, weâre about ten minutes away! I need to fill up, but Iâd suggest you guys go in and grab some snacks for the afternoon and then a few of us can walk into town later in the evening to get the meat for the barbeque.âÂ
Everyone jumped out of the car, with you and Sukuna shimmying past the seat that Yuki had moved forward for the two of you to clamber over. She let you pass with little issue, even going so far as to grab your arm to stabilise you as you leapt down. To Sukuna she gave a disapproving look, and even moved to shove the chair back into his path before he could escape, only ceasing her actions at the realisation you were watching her.Â
Sukuna wondered if youâd told Yuki about the night heâd snuck into your house, or about his jealous outburst that followed. He assumed not, considering that her disdain for him seemed to always remain at a consistent level. If sheâd known about that he had no doubt that sheâd be treating him with a great deal more vitriol.Â
It pleased him that you didnât seem to trust her enough to confide about Sukunaâs doings anymore - that made things easier for him. He got the sense that lately youâd been turning to Shoko to discuss things on your mind, and that was largely unproblematic from his point of view, because she wasnât a meddler.Â
The less Yuki knew, the better.
The group made their way into the shop, picking through aisles of candy and various other junk food. The store was a little odd for most gas stations, because it seemed to stock a little bit of everything. There was a fair portion of it dedicated to stocking various fishing gear on account of the many lakes in the surrounding forest, along with random articles of clothing, a basket full of halloween masks and goods despite the season, and a whole rack of guns.Â
It wasnât the most calming location, and the man at the counter was also highly unsettling.Â
Youâd gone up to pay for a spread of sweets to keep you occupied throughout the afternoon, and Sukuna found himself wishing that heâd left you outside with the car. The man ringing up your goods seemed to be a little older than you, with long blue hair and nasty scars running across his pale skin.Â
His eyes were mismatched and he smiled in a way that seemed unnatural. Sukuna noticed the way the man seemed to leer at you as you leant over to fumble for cash in your purse, his eyes going straight to your breasts. Sukuna considered going for one of the guns on display and putting a bullet right through the guyâs skull, but considering the rack was likely locked and the guns were likely unloaded, that would be a foolish decision.Â
Not to mention, you wouldnât like that.Â
âYou new in town, sweetheart?â He asked, as he started bagging up your stuff.
Sukuna caught the flicker of anxiousness in your eyes at the question, your tone a little nervous as you responded non-commitally. âJust visiting.âÂ
âOh yeah, where are you guys staying? Me and some friends can hook you up for a good time if youâre interested? Pretty girl like you probably likes to smoke, right?â Again, there was a panicked glimmer in your eyes, and you looked to Sukuna for help.Â
âNone of your fuckinâ business.â Sukuna spat, his gaze even as he stared down at the man. For the first time, the cashier seemed to acknowledge him, appraising him with those cold, mismatched eyes. Sukuna couldnât quite tell what conclusion he came to, but he was quick to raise his hands defensively.Â
âHey, I didnât mean anything by it! Just offering to help if you guys were looking for drugs. Lots of groups like yours pass through and look to buy, can you blame a guy for drumming up business?âÂ
Sukuna said nothing, staring him down for a few more seconds before reaching out and taking your hand. You barely managed to grip the handle of your plastic bag before Sukuna was dragging you from the store and back to the relative safety of the car.Â
Part of him was bracing himself to face your ire, unsure if his actions would count as excessive jealousy in your eyes, but as you settled back down in the back seats, you let out a shuddering breath, a shiver running through you from head to toe. âThanks, there was something off about that guy.âÂ
âNo kidding.â He huffed. âHate to think how he wouldâve been if you were just here in a group of girls.â He hated how often he felt terrified of fates that could befall you in public, more than aware of how terrible men could be. The thought that you could one day disappear because some freak at a gas station liked the look of you made him sick.
You hummed thoughtfully, before offering him a smile, as if shaking off the weirdness of the interaction. âWell, Iâm sure Yuki wouldâve scared him off somehow.âÂ
âOh, Iâm sure.â As much as he hated her, he did hold a begrudging respect for the woman. He was certain she could hold her own, and to some extent it calmed him to know that she could protect you in his stead.Â
With everyone back in their seats, and the car piled high with junk food, you set off once more in high spirits, winding up secluded forest roads until the lake and Satoruâs fancy holiday home emerged into view.Â
It was a lovely wooden lodge built right on the waterside. It had a dock with a couple of row boats moored up, an electric gate across the driveway, and a massive garden that seemed to be perfectly groomed - no doubt by a groundskeeper that Satoruâs family could afford because they were simply that rich.Â
Sukuna had always found it hard to comprehend his friendâs wealth throughout childhood - growing up in the conditions he had made it unthinkable for him that one family could have so much. He was lucky if his parents bought him new shoes when his were falling apart, meanwhile Satoru would always have a closet filled to the brim with sneakers heâd never wear.Â
There was a lovely time during their teenage years when Satoru and Sukuna had been relatively close in size, allowing them to share clothes with one another. For a few months, Sukuna had felt good about himself, wearing things that actually looked and smelled nice, completely absent of holes.Â
His parents had never cared about him enough to consider the impact that being so poor had on his life back then. When you get a reputation it's hard to shake it off, because kids are cruel. Much of Sukunaâs toughness, his scrappy strength in a fight, was born out of necessity - a defence mechanism to deal with anyone who would sneer down at him because his clothes were old and fit poorly.Â
Heâd make sure that the children heâd have with you would never be left wanting. Heâd give you and them the life of luxury you deserved. If there was one thing heâd learnt from his shitty parents, it was how he wouldnât be.Â
âSo pretty!â You exclaimed, staring out of the window in awe while Satoru parked up. âIt's so quiet out here, I bet thereâs no one for miles!âÂ
âThereâs a few houses half a mile down the road,â Satoru called out, glancing at you in the rearview mirror, âbut no one should be bothering us. The nearest town is about a mile away, it's a nice walk along the riverfront and through the forest.âÂ
The group unpacked the car and allowed Satoru to give a tour around the house. The place was like a maze, with four stories, ten bedrooms, three living rooms, two kitchens, a cinema room and a home gym in the basement. It was far more impressive than Satoruâs family home, which his father had apparently purchased when theyâd been less wealthy.Â
Allegedly, most of his dadâs time was now spent in a penthouse they owned in the city, and he mainly kept the house in town for sentimental value. Sukuna imagined that Satoru had begged his father not to sell it out of fear of losing the bedroom heâd grown up in. Satoru was a big baby when it came to things like that, hence the fact he was still living in said bedroom, despite having more than enough money to get his own place.Â
Satoru led the two of you to one of the bigger bedrooms, where you dropped your bags and got changed for an afternoon out on the deck. You were wearing a skimpy red bikini, which Sukuna was eager to tear from your body the moment you changed into it. You were so gorgeous, the swimwear accentuating the curves of your form perfectly.Â
He didnât love the idea of the others seeing you like that, but once more he fought to quell the jealousy rising up within him. You were only interested in him, you loved him, if the others saw you like that and thought you looked hot, he should be smug rather than angry, because you were all his.Â
Besides, before leaving the bedroom he kissed you hard enough to remind you exactly who you belonged to, ensuring that your mind would be fixed solely on him and what heâd do to you once you were alone together later that evening.Â
Heading out, the group spent the afternoon in total harmony. Even Yuki seemed to lighten up despite Sukunaâs presence, giggling away as she leapt in the lake. Sukuna felt at ease with you there by his side, a big smile on your face as he dunked you beneath the water, complaining playfully as you splashed him back. Satoru located an inflatable ball in some closet, leading to a drawn out game of knocking that about between each other until the sun began to dip beneath the trees and everyone came to realise how cold the water was.Â
Once youâd all emerged, wrapped up in fluffy towels and laying out on the deck chairs, someone had suggested a quick game of truth and dare while everyone was drying - a fun way to pass the time before the boys went out to grab meat for the barbeque.Â
Youâd protested weakly with a groan, pointing out that you hadnât played a game like that since you were in high school, claiming it to be a bit childish. But the inebriated giggles and pleading coming from both Satoru and Shoko had ultimately drawn you and everyone else into their nostalgic game.Â
It had started off simple. Stupid truths like who did you like in high school? And which teacher was the hottest? Sukuna had been asked the high school crush one, wrapping his arm around you easily to a chorus of fake vomiting because his response was too corny for them to take seriously.Â
Even if none of them doubted the truth of his answer.Â
The dares were equally juvenile, telling each other to jump back in the lake now that darkness had descended, or ordering someone to streak across the deck naked. Satoru did the latter with little care for his own dignity, boasting with pride at his willingness to do whatever he was told to.Â
At one point though, Satoru was dared by Suguru to kiss one of the girls. His blue-eyed friend had looked first to you, pink tongue darting out and wetting his lips as he made a move in your direction. The look that Sukuna gave him clearly had him rethinking that decision, sending him slinking back swiftly beneath that crimson glare.Â
It seemed that was his limit - unwilling to risk life and limb for a dare.Â
He of all people knew Sukuna well enough to know that his head wouldâve been removed from his shoulders had he made a move on you. Instead, he offered Shoko an awkward peck on the lips, laughing away like he hadnât felt the weight of Sukunaâs hatred in that moment.Â
Everyone had, and he knew it by the way that Yuki scowled at him. No more physical dares were sent your way, Sukunaâs protectiveness of you rolling off him in waves. He didnât care what they thought, didnât care if you thought him to be jealous - he wouldnât let someone else touch you even for a stupid game.Â
That was where he drew the line.Â
If you noticed, or took issue with it, you said nothing.Â
The game continued on with little else really of note, with the exception of when the turn came to you and you meekly uttered out âTruth.â It was clear that you were tired, leaning your head against Sukunaâs shoulder, sleepy from an afternoon moving about in the water and only partaking in the game at the behest of the others.Â
As such you hadnât answered dare once, unwilling to move from your comfortable position, and that made Sukuna happy. He didnât want the loss of your weight or warmth against him.Â
In a way, he even liked this game for the fact that it allowed him to learn certain truths about you that he hadnât heard before. There was nothing really new or particularly important, but he enjoyed the insight into certain tidbits from your past, understanding how youâd felt in certain stages in life which he hadnât been privy to.Â
Satoru was the one to ask that final truth, thinking for a few seconds before asking. âHow many guys have you slept with?â Sukuna had rolled his eyes at the question, because it was a boring one to ask and offered no further insight into you for anyone. It was obvious that the answer was only three - him, Kashimo and Ryu.Â
But when you paused before answering, as if tallying up a count in your head, anxiety started to swell in Sukunaâs chest.Â
âUh- I think around twenty? There were a lot of one-night stands so I might be counting wrongâŠâÂ
Satoru whistled - it voiced shock that rippled around the group. Even Shoko and Yuki seemed a little taken aback by the number, although perhaps not to the same extent that the boys were. âDamn, didnât think you were that type of girl!â Satoru exclaimed.Â
Neither did Sukuna.Â
You were fidgeting beside him, glancing up at him quickly before back down at your hands curled in your lap. âIâm not. That first year at university, after Ryu, I fell apart a bit. Tried to drown it in partying and drinking and guys, I guess. It's not a good memory for me, andâŠâ You wavered. âAnd after I woke up in the bed of one of my professors I realised I needed help. I got therapy and stopped all that, and felt like I was able to be myself again.âÂ
That familiar flicker of jealousy ignited within Sukuna, half-determined to track down each of those men and give them what they deserved for ever touching you, but as you reached out for his hand, giving it a light squeeze, the thought vanished. You were hunched forwards a little, shame present on your angelic features, it was clear that youâd been nervous to share such a thing.Â
You were afraid of what heâd think of you for it.Â
Who could blame you for going off the rails during a period where you were at your lowest? He didnât like the revelation that he was one of twenty guys to have you, but it wasnât like he could undo the past. He had enough self-awareness to know that heâd indirectly caused the situation by his own hands.Â
If he hadn't killed Ryu, you wouldnât have been left in total distress, and then you wouldnât have been interested in one night stands. So Sukuna was forced to live with the fallout of his own actions.Â
He still wouldnât change them.Â
âShit, sorry.â Satoru mumbled, clearly feeling like heâd inadvertently dragged the vibes down. You waved him off with a smile and the game moved on, but Sukuna couldnât focus on what anyone was saying, pulling you closer to his side, letting your trembling body calm a little beneath his grip.Â
âIâm not mad.â He whispered in your ear, quiet enough to ensure that no one else could hear. âBut I wish youâd told me sooner.âÂ
You nodded, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. âI shouldâve, Iâm sorry, I just didnât know how to bring it up. Weâre always having such a nice time, and I never want to ruin the mood.â He hummed softly, fingers tracing lightly against your side, making contact with your skin as they slid beneath your crop t-shirt.Â
âI get it. But Iâm glad I know now.âÂ
âI wish Iâd been with you that whole time.â Your voice was near imperceptible now, leaving Sukuna straining his ears to hear you. âSome of those guysâŠuh- I donât know, I guess some nights I was more drunk than I shouldâve been and I couldnât even remember things the next day. I regret almost all of it. It's so stupid when I couldâve been safe and happy with you.âÂ
He hummed, thinking carefully about his words because the last thing he wanted was to come across as spiteful, even if that was what he felt. Of course youâd been stupid, heâd been waiting for you with open arms for years and youâd been too foolish to realise what was best for you. But right now you needed his comfort and understanding, and he would offer you nothing less.Â
âAt least youâre here now, you made it out before things got any worse, and now you donât have to be with any guy who isnât me. And Iâll always keep you safe and happy, I can promise that.âÂ
âAnd if what happened to Ryu happens to you? If I lose you too?â You mumbled, pressing yourself closer to him, a shiver running through you, betraying what he could only imagine was your greatest fear
âI really donât think thatâs likely, baby,â he mumbled, trying not to dwell on the irony of it all. âYouâve already seen enough suffering for a lifetime.âÂ
â
âWe should watch 10 Things I Hate About You, that movie slaps.â Shoko was sorting through the collection of DVDs housed in the TV unit, pulling ones that she liked aside and collecting them into a little pile. The boys had headed into town to collect meat for the barbeque, leaving just the girls in the house. Once youâd all showered and put on some warmer clothes to combat the evening chill, youâd gathered in the largest of the living rooms to watch a movie while you waited for the others to return.Â
You really hoped they wouldnât take too long, your stomach was growling and you didnât want to gorge yourself on more candy - your teeth were starting to hurt from an influx of sugar. Besides, youâd drunk enough wine that you really needed something solid to soak it all up in your stomach.Â
âI watched it recently,â Yuki said, âHow about a horror movie instead?âÂ
âWhile weâre in a secluded cabin? No way.â You were firm in your position that you wouldnât be watching some terrifying teen slasher, especially not when Sukuna wasnât at your side for you to bury your face against when the scary parts came on.Â
âHow about John Tucker Must Die? Oh wait! Ferris Bueller?â
âI love Ferris Bueller, let's watch that!â You exclaimed, much to Yukiâs chagrin. She wasnât really one for fun teen movies, leaning more towards thrillers and horror whenever she could. Youâd always found it ironic how similar her movie taste was to Sukunaâs - not that youâd ever mention such a thing to her, certain that sheâd very much not be pleased to hear it.Â
To some extent, you felt that they could get along great in another life. Unfortunately, it seemed like they were deadset on butting heads in this one.Â
As the movie started and Shoko turned off the lights, the three of you settled down on the couch together. You were squished in the middle, gripping your wine glass as you got thoroughly engrossed in the scene playing out before you. You couldnât help but be impressed by the immense size of the TV screen - Satoruâs family really were loaded. Heâd said that later heâd put something on in the home cinema, which apparently made for even more impressive viewing.Â
It had only been a couple of minutes when Yuki called out your name, nudging your arm gently, attracting the attention of both you and Shoko. âYou never mentioned that stuff you were talking about earlier - the one night stands.âÂ
âOh, didnât I?â You were certain that in your time away you had given them brief updates, mentioning that youâd gone home with guys. At the very least they shouldâve been aware that your body count was higher than the three Sukuna had believed it to be. But you supposed you neglected to give the full account, never making things seem as bad as they had been.Â
And theyâd been bad, really fucking bad.Â
If you could go back now and take that whole year of university back, you would. Sleeping with any of those guys was a mistake.Â
God, how you wished youâd just been brave and gone to Sukuna from the start. Even with all his flaws, you knew he was the one for you. Sure, he could be a little crazy sometimes, but it was because he loved you unwaveringly, and you loved him in turn. The last few weeks had been pure bliss, bliss that you couldâve been living in for years if youâd just pulled yourself together quicker.Â
The way youâd self-destructed back then had been idiotic, and borderline dangerous.Â
You couldâve ended up with any number of STIs, couldâve been tortured and killed by some sadist who saw nothing more than an easy target. You were lucky to have suffered nothing more than a few blacked out nights and memory loss.Â
It was shame that had kept you from confiding in Sukuna before that game of truth and dare, fear that he might not see you in the same way, viewing you as broken goods. It was a foolish concern, because Sukuna had never done anything but worship the ground that you walked upon - his devotion to you couldnât be rivaled by anyone.Â
âNo, you didnât,â Yuki said, finally. âIâm sorry that happened, we shouldâve been there for you.âÂ
You shrugged. âIt's hard to be there for someone whoâs hiding that anythingâs wrong.âÂ
âStill,â Shoko cut in, âIâd hope that if you ever found yourself in a spiral again, youâd tell us. We wouldnât judge you.âÂ
Yuki hesitated before agreeing, a soft guilt flickering in her chestnut eyes. Sheâd already judged you for your decisions - had been harsh regarding your relationship with Sukuna, when she shouldâve approached things in a different way. Not that you really wanted her to feel guilty, you could understand that she was protective of you.Â
She just wanted to make sure you were safe and happy. Again, she and Sukuna were oddly aligned in their interests.Â
âYou would tell us, wouldnât you?â Yuki asked. âIf you were spiraling?âÂ
Nodding silently, you considered the truth of your response. In reality, it depended what situation you found yourself in - context was important. Just like with your parents, if things went stale with Sukuna, you werenât sure you could go to Yuki, not without feeling that crushing condescension of a person who had warned you of something youâd chosen to ignore.Â
That was the worst case scenario though, because if you had it your way, Sukuna would be the man youâd marry. And you had no reason to believe that he wanted anything but that.Â
âIf Sukuna hurt you, you would tell us, right?â She pushed.
She wasnât slick with her statement, Yuki was intentionally opening a door, trying to feel you out and see if you had something to confess. You felt Shoko shift at your side, her brown eyes fixed on the TV, clearly not eager to be involved with Yukiâs line of questioning.Â
Sheâd never voiced any real issue with Sukuna, instead opting to keep the peace and be happy for you. It was why youâd confided in her and not Yuki about Sukunaâs break in and jealousy from a few weeks ago, seeking neutral advice.Â
Obviously, sheâd mentioned that it was a red flag, but allowed you to voice the other side of things - everything that was keeping you tied to him and the promises heâd made to you afterwards. She could understand why you still loved him, why he still deserved a chance, even if she had gently warned you to be firmer on any repeat behaviour.Â
And you would be.Â
But if youâd told Yuki anything about what Sukuna had done, she would no doubt have flown into an outrage, heading off on the warpath and demanding you dump him immediately. You wouldnât have put it past her to confront him herself, which was the last thing you wanted when you were desperately trying to strike harmony between the two of them.Â
The worst case scenario would be to have to choose between them.Â
Especially because at this point you would have to choose Sukuna. He had become so integral to your life that you didnât want to be without him, wished to watch your relationship play out until you were old and grey.Â
âI would tell you,â you said, careful not to betray falsity in your tone. âBut right now things are good, like really, really good.â You smiled at her gently, noticing the way her shoulders slumped in disappointment. You were no stranger to the fact that she was waiting for things to blow up, but she was going to be waiting a hell of a long time.Â
âGreat. Thatâs just great,â she mumbled, her attention turning back to the movie.Â
It left a cold feeling in the pit of your stomach, a longing to reach out to your best friend and tell her everything just like you used to. But things werenât the same now, and there were secrets you had to keep. So you squashed the feeling into a tiny little cube and filed it away somewhere deep within you, turning your attention back to the happenings on the screen.Â
If you hadnât been watching the movie, if youâd been doing something else that night, like chatting or playing cards, you wondered if what happened next wouldâve gone differently.Â
To you, it had felt like the distraction of that massive screen and the immersion of the surround sound system had kept the three of you from noticing that something was amiss.Â
Without the sound of Ferris Bueller, maybe you wouldâve heard the shuffling on the patio outside. Without the blinding light burning your retinas in that dark room, maybe you wouldâve seen the shadows flickering in the window.Â
But instead, the three of you were left blissfully oblivious, huddled up on the sofa in your comfy clothes, thinking about nothing more than how deeply excited you were for the boys to return with the food.Â
A purposeful tap on the window made you all jump, and for a second Yuki got angry, calling out to knock it off, instantly assuming that it was one of the guys messing with you. Most likely she believed it to be Sukuna, since he ranked at the bottom of her likability ranking. But as the three of you turned to the window, you froze at the sight before you.Â
A man was standing there, hands pressed against the glass. He was wearing a Scream mask, staring straight at you. Movement in the corner of your eye brought your attention to a second man, this one wearing the classic Jason Voorhees mask from Friday the 13th. A scream ripped from your lips as you jumped up in terror, backing towards the door of the living room, eager to retreat further into the safety of the house.Â
Yuki found her nerve quicker than you or Shoko, standing her ground. âHa-Ha, very funny guys. Weâre hungry, so quit fooling around and get the barbeque started.â Towards the end of her sentence, her voice started to waver, clearly losing confidence in her assertion as her statement was met with no reaction.Â
There was a moment of silence in which Shoko grabbed your hand, edging you both closer to the door. But before you could truly make a run for it, the man in the Jason mask lunged at the window, crashing through the glass with ease. You let out another scream, legs pushing you forward, only to freeze at the sound of a shout and a gun shot.Â
The one on the Scream mask had climbed in through the window, following his friend, who was picking himself up off the floor, swiping glass from his jacket. The Scream guy had the gun, holding the pistol down at his side now that heâd employed it to make a point. It seemed like heâd fired it out into the trees, not towards any of you, using it only to prove that he had it.Â
âStay still girls, sit back down.â He gestured towards the sofa, and as if in a daze, you all followed his order. Even Yuki, with a defiant expression on her face, had no interest in facing down a gun. âAre your boyfriends here?â He asked.Â
None of you said anything, peering back at him and shivering desperately.Â
The guy in the Jason mask stepped forward and grabbed Shoko by the neck, squeezing hard enough to bruise. She yelped, struggling in his grip, her hands coming up to scrape at his hand to no avail.Â
âWhen youâre asked something, you answer,â he hissed, facing you and Yuki as he spoke before dropping Shoko back down on the couch, leaving her gasping for breath, purple already blooming across her pale skin. âNow answer his question.âÂ
âNo. Theyâre not here,â you murmured.Â
âGood, good.â The Scream guy had a surprisingly chipper voice, and he crouched down in front of you at your answer. âThen I guess Iâll take this off. It only really works for the initial scare. I wanna see you properly, not through these stupid eyeholes.âÂ
He pulled the mask from his head, letting it fall to the ground. Your breath hitched fearfully, and you found yourself scrambling back, seeking solace between Yuki and Shoko, hoping that somehow youâd be safe if you just stuck together. The man before you was familiar, with his long, greasy blue hair, his scarred face and mismatched eyes.Â
The chill that youâd felt encountering him in the gas station had been nothing compared to the sheer terror that you felt now, with him crouched before you, gun in hand, staring you down like you were something to be consumed.Â
And this time there was no Sukuna to protect you.Â
It was just you, Yuki and Shoko. And you were certain that these men had known that before making a move on the estate. Perhaps your fate had been decided the moment you stepped into that gas station, eyes following you all afternoon until a window of opportunity arrived.Â
The other man removed his mask. He looked like an older guy, with his head largely absent of hair save for some unpleasant wisps. He only had one singular red eye, the other obscured by an eye-patch, and his skin was so pale that it took on an almost blueish hue. He was leering down at Shoko, whose breathing had picked up significantly, her hands raising to comfort her aching neck.Â
âHow do you want to do this Mahito?â He asked, looking over to the man crouched before you.Â
âMmm, letâs take things slow for now. We got some time so let's have some fun! To be clear, this oneâs mine for later though.â His fingers traced against your cheek, a sickening feeling compared to how it felt to have Sukunaâs hands on you. You wanted to throw up, wanted to cut this manâs fingers straight from his hand.Â
But right now he had a gun, and you had no chance of overpowering him.Â
âYeah, yeah. I know. Let me grab the bag, we should really tie them up first.â The man headed back out through the broken window, leaving the three of you alone with Mahito. He watched over you vigilantly, gun firm in his grip, almost challenging you to try anything.Â
You didnât realise you were crying until his thumb caught your tears, shushing you affectionately, like he was capable of bringing comfort to you. It made your heart seize with thoughts of Sukuna, tears falling more openly as you longed for him, wishing that he was there at your side. He would know what to do, heâd tear Mahito to pieces.Â
Heâd promised to keep you safe.Â
âThere, there.â Mahito hummed. âNo need to cry sweetheart, I told you back at the shop, weâre just gonna show you a good time.âÂ
His smile made your stomach lurch.Â
If there was a god, you prayed he would make Sukuna return swiftly, lead him straight to you and keep you from harmâs way.Â
Because the last thing you wanted was to find out this manâs definition of a good time.Â
next chapter
a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger, I'm very excited to write the next chapter! please make sure you heed the tags at the start of next one because it will contain potentially triggering content
hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 11.5k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, piv, domination, blow job, somnophilia (kind of? he wakes her up to have sex), sukuna breaks into her house
a/n: back with more deranged bf sukuna!
masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter
It was a warm morning, just over six weeks after the first time Sukuna had brought you back to his house. Golden sunlight was streaming in through the narrow gaps of his cheap blinds, casting an angelic glow over your soft body.Â
He was pretty sure he was in heaven.Â
He felt that way all the time now, because youâd spent the last month and a half practically glued to his side, just like heâd always wanted. Most evenings you were over at his place, tangled up in his sheets, letting him fulfill every fantasy that heâd had over the many years that heâd longed for you. Then youâd stay over, curled up in his arms, and every morning heâd wake up to the beautiful sight of you at his side, your face buried into his chest.Â
It was everything heâd ever desired.Â
On that particular morning, you were fulfilling his desires to an even greater extent than usual, kneeling between his thighs with your plump lips wrapped firmly around his cock.Â
His back was resting against the headboard, crimson eyes still a little hazy with sleep as he gazed down at you, etching the sight before him into his brain. You looked so cute, so intensely focussed on pleasing him, your fingers digging into his tattooed thighs while you struggled to keep your balance.Â
One of his hands was curled into your hair, not quite dictating your movements - because he loved letting you please him in whichever manner you wished, but there as a reminder to not pull back, to keep your mouth on him until he was satisfied.Â
âThatâs it, baby,â he hummed, ruffling your hair. âJust like I taught you.âÂ
The first time youâd sucked his cock you hadnât been all that good at it. It was a fact that had pleased him, because it suggested that you hadnât had a whole lot of practice with other people. Ryu and Kashimo clearly hadnât received such a service from you, which meant that he was special, worth more than either of your previous flings.Â
Naturally, heâd helped you improve over the last few weeks with a stern but guiding hand, and now you were practically a pro, servicing him in the exact manner that heâd like. Your tongue was dragging along the bottom of his cock, your hand stroking the portion that you couldnât quite fit into your mouth.Â
âLook at me,â he commanded in a husky tone. Your eyes fluttered open, tears gathering in the corners as you stared up at him. It was a truly angelic sight - your glossy lips spread wide to accommodate him, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. âSuch a pretty thing, huh?âÂ
You hummed in affirmation, refusing to let up on the task at hand - he felt a surge of pride at your diligence, demonstrating just how well heâd taught you to please him. He should really reward you later, perhaps that night heâd eat you out until you were crying, offer you something different from the usual punishments heâd been giving you lately.Â
Although, he wasnât quite sure that you knew the difference between a reward and a punishment, based on how intentionally bratty you tended to be with him in the bedroom - something heâd been thrilled to discover. You werenât concealing your masochism from him very well, always whining in sheer pleasure whenever heâd bend you over his knee.Â
It suited him just fine, considering that he was undoubtedly a sadist.Â
But right now you were being good, probably because you were a little tired, sleep still lining your pretty eyes. You were bobbing your head with confidence, doing your best to keep eye contact, flicking your tongue against his shaft in just the way he liked.Â
Fuck, you were perfect.Â
He groaned out your name as he came, tugging your hair to ensure that you stayed in place while he drained himself into your mouth. He was almost certain that you wouldnât have made an attempt to pull away regardless, but it always turned him on to exert any amount of control over you.Â
It turned you on too. He could see it in your eyes. There was no denying that you loved it when he was in charge.
Swallowing his seed, you pulled back and swiped a hand across your lips to clean yourself off. You shot him an innocent little smile that made his heart flip, because he could never understand how someone so cute was equally capable of being so sexy.Â
âLook at you,â he hummed, an easy grin spreading across his face. He wanted to keep you right there in his bed, looking exactly like that, for all eternity.Â
âDid it feel good, Kuna?â You asked, cheeks all flushed, eager for his approval.Â
âMmm. Really good, baby.â You practically beamed at him, and the sight had his cock hardening once more. âCome here.â He patted his thighs, hoping that youâd climb on top of him and ride him for a while - that was the one thing that could make his perfect morning even better.Â
Unfortunately, you shook your head at him. âNo - weâve gotta leave soon. Later, though.âÂ
Sukuna suppressed the urge to groan, because he really wasnât looking forward to that morningâs outing. The past few weeks had been bliss largely because no one else had been made aware of your relationship - youâd kept the whole thing completely under wraps, mainly because youâd wanted to see how seriously things progressed before sharing the news.Â
Heâd understood that sentiment, even though heâd already been certain that the two of you were going to stay together forever. It wasnât the worst thing to delay being on the receiving end of scrutiny from your friends.
But today was the day that he finally had to face Yuki. Youâd broken the news to her via text a couple of days ago, and now you were going out on some double date with her and Choso. Apparently, sheâd wanted to meet you alone first, but youâd essentially used Sukuna as a human shield, hoping that by making the two of them spend some time together, they might realise that they could get along.Â
As if that was ever going to happen.Â
If his love for you was an unstoppable force, Yukiâs hatred for him was an immovable object. Not that heâd ever truly let that get in the way. If she wanted to despise him, so be it, he couldnât care less about her opinion so long as he had you at his side.Â
Satoru had told him that the best thing to do was just play nice, and then if Yuki was unpleasant to him, she was the one that came off looking bad. That was easy enough to achieve, but it still didnât mean he was looking forward to it.Â
Heâd much rather spend the day doing something alone with you - that was all he ever really wanted.Â
Leaning forward, you planted a gentle kiss on his lips, sending his heart racing. He wasnât sure that heâd ever really get used to you kissing him so freely, and on more than one occasion heâd pinched himself because he found it hard to believe that you were truly his now.Â
âIâm gonna quickly hop in the shower.âÂ
âWant me to join?â He asked hopefully, pouting when you shook your head incredulously.Â
âI said quickly, Kuna.âÂ
âI can be quick.âÂ
âNot quick enough,â you said with a breathy laugh, before pushing your way into the bathroom. He smiled at the sound of you humming a soft tune under your breath on the other side of the door, the noise partially drowned out as you turned on the water.Â
Over the last few weeks the two of you had already fallen into a number of comfortable domestic patterns like this one. For some reason, the idea of lying in bed while you were naked in the next room just going about your day, filled his heart with warmth. It had an intimacy to it that heâd never experienced with anyone else.Â
He never wanted to experience it with anyone else.Â
Part of him even wanted to drift off back to sleep listening to the sweet sound of your musical tune in the background, but the time that you spent in the shower was important to him for more reasons than simply basking in domestic bliss.Â
Sitting up on his bed, he reached over to where your phone was sitting on the side cabinet, flipping it open and checking through your texts. He just needed to make sure that you were on the right track, needed to ensure that no one was poisoning you against him behind his back. It was only fair that he checked - you were his, after all.Â
There were a handful of texts from Yuki that he hadnât seen before, various vile messages about him, all followed by diplomatic responses from you in which you tried to convince her that he really wasnât that bad.Â
It was heart-warming, the level to which youâd defend him to someone youâd known since childhood. You really were into him.Â
You had no idea how much of a service you were doing your friend just in the simple act of standing up for him, because if he saw so much as a hint of you being swayed by Yukiâs antagonistic ramblings, sheâd be joining Kashimo at the bottom of the river.Â
Outside of Yuki, you didn't receive many texts. Heâd seen most of them in his last snooping session and there were very few new ones - just a few from Shoko and from your mother. He was glad to see that there were no messages from any of Kashimoâs friends - particularly his bandmates whom Sukuna was concerned that you mightâve known to some extent.
He was certain that heâd covered his bases well enough on that front though. Heâd had a blast using Kashimoâs phone to carefully destroy every single one of the boyâs social ties. He wanted to ensure that no one would care enough to start asking questions about where he was.Â
Not that anyone would be able to find him now anyway - even if someone managed to dredge up his body from the river, it would be impossible to identify him. Sukuna had mutilated him beyond recognition, unwilling to show mercy to any man who had laid his hands onto you - they werenât worthy of kind or respectable deaths.Â
He was the only one that deserved to feel the touch of your soft skin.Â
Reading through the messages from Shoko, he found nothing of interest. She was much less averse to him than Yuki was, sending you a simple congratulations and moving the conversation on to her current medical school woes. He was glad that you had at least one friend who had some sense to her.Â
The only texts that really concerned him came from your mother.Â
Your parents didnât know about him, he was sure of that, even if you hadnât outright discussed it. He could see it in the way that you grew nervous whenever your father would see you hanging out together at work, as if you were ready to pick a fight. He assumed that theyâd said something about not tolerating a guy like him.Â
He kind of understood it - if he had a daughter and she came home with some massive guy covered head to toe in tattoos, he probably wouldnât trust the dude either.
But regardless, the messages pissed him off.Â
[Mom]: Hey sweetie! Remember the Higurumas are coming for dinner on saturday so your dad wants you to be at home for the evening
[Mom]: Apparently Hiromi is newly single! đ
[Mom]: I hope youâre doing okay, I feel like Iâve barely seen you recently! I know it's not cool to be living with your parents but youâre always welcome hereÂ
[Mom]: Give Yuki my love đ
He squinted at the message for a while, a little angry because youâd replied with a cheery âokay, see you then!â text yesterday evening, after heâd gone to sleep, which suggested that you didnât want him to know and hadnât been planning on telling him.Â
Why wouldnât you want to tell him? Who the hell was Hiromi? Youâd definitely never mentioned him before, was he some childhood crush or something? Were you keeping this quiet because you wanted to see the guy before making a judgement on whether he was more desirable to you than Sukuna was?Â
What the fuck?
Youâd spent the last six weeks happier than ever and now you were entertaining your parents trying to set you up with some random guy? That was just bullshit. You should be averse to so much as even glancing in another guyâs direction now that he was around.Â
Regardless, he did his best to simmer down his anger, carefully placing your phone back on the nightstand and acting all nonchalant when you finally emerged from the bathroom. For a few seconds, he genuinely forgot that he was angry at all, because the sight of you wrapped up in a towel did wonders distracting him. It was difficult to be mad at you when you were giving him some sultry look, moisture still dripping from your soft curves.Â
âNot getting ready yet, Kuna?â You asked innocently, bending over to dig through the drawer heâd cleaned out for you, looking for an outfit to throw on for your breakfast date. He watched you carefully, wetting his lips at the sight, mesmerised by the way your thighs peeked out from beneath the white towel.Â
âJust zoning out,â he responded, shifting atop the sheets until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, closer to where you were slowly pulling on clothes. His initial rage over your phone had dissipated - he was certain that nothing was your fault, it was your conniving parents trying to separate you from him, that was all.Â
You were into him. In fact, he was pretty damn sure that you loved him, even if you hadnât said it yet. Yeah, you were blameless, there was a reasonable explanation for everything.Â
âHey, do you wanna go somewhere this weekend?â He posed the question casually, eager to observe your reaction. If you tried hiding things from him then there was an issue, if not then he could calm down and admit that he overreacted.
You scrunched your face up in disappointment. âI canât, sorry. Got some stupid family thing.â There was no anxiety in your response, not even a fleeting moment where you considered lying to him, and that put him at ease.Â
It was nice to know that your first instinct wasnât to hide anything from him.Â
âA family thing?â He pressed a little harder, because while he appreciated you telling him anything at all, he wanted to see how transparent youâd be about the situation, about this guy that your mother clearly wanted to set you up with.Â
âYeah, one of my dadâs old school buddies is coming to stay for the night with his wife and son. We used to go on holidays and stuff with them when I was a kid but I havenât seen them in years, they moved to the city when I was like twelve.âÂ
âOh, youâve gotta deal with some annoying kid for the evening then?â He wasnât sure how casual that question was, but he had to get you talking about this Hiromi guy, and that seemed like an innocuous way to do it.Â
You giggled. âNo, their son is our age. Heâs like a lawyer or something. Iâm sure itâll be a painfully boring and refined dinner party.âÂ
Sukuna hummed, relatively satisfied with your truthful answer but far from happy about the situation itself.Â
If the guy was a lawyer it was no wonder that your parents wanted to set you up with him. He hoped this Hiromi wasnât charming or handsome, because the idea of you fawning over the guy made him feel sick. He also hoped that your parents wouldnât push things beyond a single family dinner, because then heâd be forced to take drastic action and no one wanted that.Â
It was supposed to be easier to keep his hands clean now that he actually had you.Â
âCan I come along?â He said it in a joking tone, but he was half serious. If youâd have said yes he wouldâve taken the opportunity and run with it.Â
You were quick to shake your head. âSorry Kuna, I need to ease my parents into finding out that weâre dating. I think my dad would throw a fit if I showed up to a special dinner with you in tow. Iâll introduce you another time. Promise.âÂ
âSure.â He smiled at you, letting you plant a sweet kiss on his lips before ushering him to hurry up and get ready. He did everything he could to stop the disappointment from showing on his face - he couldnât let you know how deeply your rejection had wounded his pride.Â
The promise had felt hollow to him - perhaps you werenât ever really planning on introducing him to your parents as your boyfriend. Were you embarrassed to be with him? It was easy for you to act loyal when you were at his side, but just how would you act with some handsome lawyer thrust into your path?
Sukuna would certainly be keeping an eye on the situation, because as much as he loved you, where his possession of you was concerned he would be leaving absolutely no room for doubt. He needed to be certain that you were his at all times, whether in his presence or elsewhere.Â
âYou gonna play nice with Yuki today?â You asked, peering down at him with what he imagined was supposed to be a stern look. Youâd clearly moved on from the conversation about your parents, dismissing the whole thing as unimportant.Â
Whatever, heâd come back to it after heâd made it through the breakfast from hell. Â
âI always play nice.âÂ
âSure you do,â you mocked. He didnât appreciate the shit-eating grin that you sported, because heâd gone out of his way to appear good around you and despised the implication that he wasnât.Â
Even if it was just a joke.Â
âI do.â He responded, with a pout, reaching for your wrist and tugging you down onto his lap. You let out a little yelp of surprise, giggling as he peppered kisses over your face. âJust you wait and see baby, Iâm sure me and Yuki will be best friends by lunchtime.âÂ
â
âYou guys sure seem happy together!â Choso chirped, blissfully unaware of the tension gripping the table. âWe can go on double dates all the time now!âÂ
âWeâll see,â Yuki muttered.Â
The four of you were cramped into a booth at the back of Dougâs, waiting for your orders to arrive. Sukunaâs arm was draped possessively over your shoulder, a challenging smirk fixed on his face as he stared down at Yuki, practically goading her on to say something untoward. Her expression was stony, clear displeasure flickering in her brown eyes.
Sure, it would upset you if your best friend started squabbling with him, and he didnât like to see you upset, but he did like the way it would make Yuki look unreasonable, and likely push you further into his arms.Â
For all of that womanâs attempts, there wasnât a chance in hell that Sukuna was going to let her succeed in keeping you apart.Â
âIâd like that!â You offered Choso a smile. Sukuna could tell that it was forced, because you were fully aware of the tension sparking in the air around you. Your body was a little tensed up in his grip, and your eyes kept moving to Yuki, like you were afraid that she was going to explode.Â
It was as if you couldnât date who you liked without fear of her attacking you for it.Â
God, talk about controlling.Â
âSo, how long has this been going on?â Yuki asked, gesturing between the two of you. She made little effort to hide the distaste in her tone, and Sukuna could feel you shrinking down beside him, like you wanted to disappear beneath her scrutiny.Â
âAlmost two months,â you mumbled.Â
âMm-hmm. Great.âÂ
âI always figured you guys would get together one day,â Choso said, âSukuna could never stop talking about you in high school - me and Satoru got real sick of hearing your name.â
Sukuna probably shouldâve been embarrassed at his friend's words, but he wasnât. Heâd never let himself feel bad for being into you. These days everyone liked to play things so cool and it was frankly pathetic - if there was something he wanted, why shouldnât he go for it with all the enthusiasm in the world?Â
Satoru kept trying to play it cool with girls and it was the reason that heâd been haplessly chasing after crushes with no success for years. Sukuna had everything that he wanted with you because he was a shameless go-getter. It was undoubtedly the best way to live your life.Â
âWell, youâre gonna get even more sick of it,â he said casually, giving you a firm squeeze. Yuki looked like she was about to throw up.Â
âThatâs so sappy,â you mumbled, but he could see the smile playing on your lips. Oh you loved him, he knew that you did, your pulse was likely racing right now, all flustered by the smallest of actions.
How cute.
âI guess this is why youâve been too busy to hang out lately?â Yuki asked, all of her focus directed towards you. She didnât flinch, keeping her eyes on your face even as the waiter came by to put your food on the table.Â
Sukuna really wanted to tell her to mind her own fucking business, wanted to step up and defend you from someone who had no right to judge you in the severe manner that she was. But he knew that probably wouldnât play out for him in the way that he wanted, and the last thing he needed was you getting genuinely mad at him.Â
âSorry, yeah. I know you donât um-â you paused, glancing between your boyfriend and best friend nervously. âI know you donât exactly approve but I didnât want to keep hiding it from you. We never keep secrets from each other.â There was a slight tremor in your voice, like you were terrified that Yuki was going to go off at you.Â
But your tone seemed to catch her off guard, eyebrows raising as her expression softened significantly.Â
âSo- so Iâm here telling you about it and hoping that maybe you can give him the benefit of the doubt. Please.â That softness was absent as she glanced back at Sukuna. It was almost like he could see the thoughts racing through her mind, questioning just what heâd done to make you desire him with such intensity.Â
But as she switched her attention back to you, her shoulders dropped ever so slightly, that defensive stature of hers beginning to mellow. The gentle quality of her gaze had jealousy churning up in his stomach, hitting him with a gut-wrenching question about the nature of Yukiâs feelings towards you.Â
She didnât love you, right? Not like he did. And yet, he found himself unsure, wondering if Yukiâs protective actions went beyond mere friendship - it would explain a lot about why she was so adverse to him.Â
Either way, she was not getting in his way.Â
âI like him a lot, Yuki,â you continued, huddling yourself closer to him. âI also like you a lot and I donât want you to make me choose - it's not fair. Iâm not saying that you two have to be friends, but Iâm asking if you can at least be in the same space without looking like youâre going to kill each other? For me?â
âFine by me,â Sukuna said with a shrug, taking a long sip of coffee and pretending not to notice the way that Yuki gritted her teeth. She hated that he was so civil, she hated that he was clearly winning this exchange with his poise and grace that she was so clearly lacking.Â
If it ever did come to choosing, Sukuna was certain that youâd choose him over your raging bestie.Â
Yuki sighed, biting down on her lip. You reached out across the table to her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. âPlease?â It pissed him off that you had to beg her for anything, she should be begging to be your friend, and yet here you were lowering yourself to stay in her good books?Â
That was just fucked up.Â
Why did you need anyone other than him anyway?
âOkay, fine,â Yuki said finally. You lit up beside him, a bright smile spreading across your pretty face as you gave Yukiâs hand another quick squeeze before pulling back.Â
âThank you!âÂ
âBut,â she continued, looking at Sukuna once more, âyou hurt her in any way and I will hunt you down. Let that be a promise.âÂ
âOh how scary. Sure.â The grin never left his face. Wouldnât that be a treat? The thought of Yuki showing up to his apartment ready to throw down had his blood pumping - no one could fault him for killing her if sheâd literally started it. She had no idea what he was capable of.Â
âPerfect!â Your voice was still wavering slightly, but Sukuna could hear the effort you were putting into sounding chipper. âSo let's move on and treat this less like an interrogation and more like a double date, yeah? Uh- Choso! Howâs the band stuff going?âÂ
Choso, who seemed largely unbothered by the altercation that had just gone down, perked up at the mention of his name, launching into a tirade about how the band was being pulled in three directions because everyone wanted to play different music. Apparently they were also suffering from mixed levels of commitment, since neither Suguru nor Toji were interested in taking their band anywhere further than Tojiâs garage.Â
The rest of the morning passed by mainly like that, involving easy discussions about various things, never touching on the matter of relationships. Even Yuki seemed to loosen up after a while, giving up on glaring at Sukuna and instead telling you all about what sheâd been up to over the last few weeks, filling you in on all the gossip.Â
It was nice, almost serene, and Sukuna was starting to think that he might escape this whole thing unscathed.Â
Unfortunately, he found himself relaxing a little too soon, because the second that you announced that you needed to head to the toilet, he saw that malicious glimmer reappear in Yukiâs eyes.Â
All sheâd been waiting for was for you to disappear off for a second so that she could finally have her pound of flesh.
Sukuna was certain that if he was a different man, someone more like poor Kashimo, heâd be quaking in his boots at the idea of being left alone with Yuki, especially with the way she was glowering at him.Â
And he really was alone, because the second the bathroom door swung closed behind you, Yuki essentially told Choso to go take a hike for a couple of minutes. Choso, ever the soft-hearted boyfriend, made no effort to come to Sukunaâs defence, shrugging in a way that told him he was on his own.Â
Fortunately, Sukuna wasnât the type of guy who was going to be intimidated by anyone.Â
âAlright let's cut to the chase. That shit with Kashimo, howâd you do it?â She was leaning forward across the table, brown eyes sharp with displeasure.Â
His lips quirked up ever so slightly, staring her down. âWhat shit with Kashimo? I knew the guy for five minutes.âÂ
âDonât give me that. He was nice, harmless - all that shit that Satoru said doesnât fit together right. She might be willing to swallow whatever bullshit you feed her, but Iâm not that stupid.âÂ
âNot very nice of you to suggest that my girlfriend is stupid.âÂ
âI didnât-â Yuki took a deep breath. âStop evading the fucking question.âÂ
âI genuinely donât know what you expect me to say. Satoru said the guy had a whole Myspace profile of weird posts, plus once he was called out he started berating her because of it. How do you figure I orchestrated that?âÂ
When laid out in that manner any accusation truly did seem ridiculous. Unless Yuki had any hard evidence, of which she certainly had none, there was no chance in hell that she was convincing you that anything to do with Kashimo was his fault.Â
âI donât know, I just know that something isnât right,â she hissed. âI know that youâre a conniving bastard, and I know that youâre always at the scene of the crime when anything goes down. That shit strikes me as odd.âÂ
She wasnât wrong. He would be impressed by her intuition if it wasnât aimed at him. But again, she had no evidence, so it meant absolutely nothing. Not when he was making you so very happy.Â
âGod, you're miserable. Canât bear to see your friend have a good thing huh?â He leant forward, resting his face against his hand, completely relaxed. He wasnât about to get all stressed out like Yuki was - heâd be the reasonable one, just on the off chance that you made a reappearance at the table.Â
âWhat? No-âÂ
âYouâre not really a girlâs girl are you, Yuki? What is it? Youâre jealous of how much attention she gets? Oh! Maybe you had a crush on me back in school and youâre angry that I chose her over you.âÂ
âIâd rather gouge my own eyes out than go anywhere near you,â she spat, âI only care about making sure that sheâs okay, and honestly, I get the sense that somehow youâre going to fuck up her entire life. If you actually cared about her youâd do the honorable thing and leave her alone.â
As if he was going to fuck up your life. Being with him was your one singular path to happiness, that should be clear enough by now. Tragedy had struck every time you tried being with someone else, he was the only person who wasnât going to fuck up your life.Â
âI donât think Iâll be doing that, but thanks for the suggestion,â he said with a shrug.
âGreat, then I guess Iâll just make her see you for what you are and sheâll dump you.âÂ
Not likely. Sukuna would produce a literal pile of corpses before he ever let you go. No matter what, he was going to have you at his side for eternity. He grinned easily at Yuki, raising his eyebrows in challenge.
âYou know, youâre starting to creep me out a little. If I didnât know better Iâd say youâre obsessed with my girlfriend. Is that the case, Yuki? Are you just dating Choso because you know sheâs not into you like that? Donât tell me youâre jealous of me.âÂ
âShut up. Youâre not stupid, you know thatâs not it. I care about my friend and I think that youâre rotten to the core, and I donât want to see you corrupting her. Sheâs had it hard, she doesnât need you making it worse.âÂ
Sukuna tilted his head, once again feeling genuinely perplexed because he would do anything to make your life better, but clearly Yuki was incapable of seeing the vision. âIt's funny, she seems pretty happy with me - at least, the way that she sobs out my name each night sure makes it look that way.âÂ
âDisgusting.âÂ
Sukunaâs grin didnât falter, overjoyed with just how antagonistic Yuki was towards him, emboldened by the fact that she didnât have the skill to approach the topic with finesse, crashing around like a bull in a china shop. Sheâd never win you over that way, not with how good things had been going with Sukuna, her vitriol would fall on deaf ears.Â
Ultimately, he was just better at games like this. Heâd sunk his claws into you slowly, always there to whisper the right things in your ear when you needed to hear them, Yuki didnât have the skill to undo his work.Â
âShe seems to like it. So, what are you gonna do Yuki? How do you plan to expose me? Just gonna keep ranting on about how awful I am? Even after she specifically asked us to try and play nice? Seems like a good way to lose a friend.âÂ
Yukiâs gaze darkened ever so slightly, her jaw ticking with frustration. She knew that he was right, the evidence was right there in front of her just by the virtue of you keeping Sukuna a secret from her for weeks. When it came down to it, you picked him with little hesitation, even knowing that sheâd disapprove.
Any attempt to drive him away from you would end in catastrophic failure on her part.Â
âShe will see you for what you are eventually - one way or another, I know it. Youâre like a fucking vulture, always waiting in the perfect position whenever tragedy strikes her, and one day sheâll realise.â Yuki paused for a moment, before her face lit up with malice. âDoes it hurt you? To know that the only time sheâs interested in you is when sheâs broken?âÂ
That felt like a slap in the face, but Sukuna recuperated quickly because he wasnât about to let Yuki know that sheâd found a sore spot.Â
Besides, that wasnât the truth of the matter - the reality was that you were a naturally naive person, someone who needed somebody else to make the hard decisions for you. Neither Ryu nor Kashimo were right for you, and you knew it. You just werenât strong enough to pull the trigger yourself and thatâs what Sukuna was there for - to help you make the right choices.Â
Right now you were far from broken, you were the happiest heâd ever seen you. And you loved him all the same.Â
âDoes it hurt you to know that nothing you say to or about me matters?â He fired back. âSheâs mine now, so you can give up on the protective friend act. Worry about your own relationship - Choso might get bored if you spend all your energy obsessing over your best friendâs boyfriend.âÂ
âIâm not-âÂ
âIs everything okay over here?â His heart picked up at the sound of your lovely voice, silencing whatever response Yuki was about to throw his way. You looked concerned as you slid into the booth, clearly aware of the tension that had returned in your absence.Â
âAll good.â He hummed, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you close to his side. âYuki was just giving me the best friend talk, yâknow?âÂ
âYeah.â She agreed airily, taking a long sip of her coffee as if to avoid further elaboration.Â
Sukuna gazed down at you, taking in your radiant appearance. The air felt lighter now that you were back at his side, unmarred by Yukiâs negative attitude. You offered him a soft smile, and he found his breath stolen from him at the realisation that your turtleneck jumper had slipped down a little, revealing the purple markings heâd left on your neck the night before.Â
He admired you for a moment longer, eager to reach out and leave more marks of his affection on your soft skin, but Yukiâs pointed cough reminded him that you werenât alone, and she was fully aware of what he was looking at.Â
âYour- um- your neck.â Yuki said quietly, undisguised disgust in her eyes at the sight.
âOh, thanks,â you mumbled, pulling the collar up, a soft blush lining your cheeks.Â
âSure.â Yuki sighed heavily, defeat lining her expression before she pushed it away, giving you her best smile. âI need to head out. Youâre coming to Shokoâs place on Sunday evening right?âÂ
âOf course! Iâll see you then.âÂ
You seemed cautiously optimistic in the face of Yukiâs less combative attitude, as if you were choosing to believe that she could grow to like Sukuna.
Sukuna had less faith.
âYeah.â She stood up, her gaze flicking down to Sukuna, any warmth in her expression fleeing the moment that her attention turned to him. âSukuna. This has been a pleasure. Let's do this again soon.âÂ
Sukuna raised a hand in farewell, his laid-back demeanour fooling you with ease. He wouldnât be dragged into some catty battle in which he took shots at Yuki right under your nose - that was the way that he could lose. And right now he was winning where their battle of wills was concerned.Â
She looked like a bitch and he looked like the perfect boyfriend.Â
And everything was fine as long as it stayed that way.Â
â
A few days later, Sukuna had forgotten all about that awkward brunch with Yuki, because he was caught up with a larger, more concerning issue in the form of your family dinner.Â
Heâd always known that he was going to snoop in some capacity - parking up not far from your house, wearing a cap and sunglasses, and waiting for an unfamiliar car to show up in the driveway. The Higurumas appeared at around 7.30, stepping out of a fucking Mercedes, which was just the first of many tells that the family was loaded.Â
Both men - father and son, were dressed in suits that likely cost them more than his yearly rent, and the woman, Mrs Higuruma, he supposed, was wearing her sunday best which no doubt had an equally extravagant price tag.Â
Sukuna was only really interested in one of them, his focus instantly going to who he assumed must be Hiromi. The man was undoubtedly attractive, with a strong nose and tired eyes, and while Sukuna knew that the guy didnât hold a candle to him in the looks department, he felt a tiny flicker of uncertainty regarding what you might see in the man.Â
After all, Hiromi was attractive and wealthy, while Sukuna was just attractive.Â
Luckily, lawyer-types tended to be about as interesting as mud, and if there was anything that Sukuna wasnât, it was boring. That had him convincing himself that there was nothing to worry about, but the furrow in his brow didnât falter as the group disappeared into your house, out of his line of sight.Â
He needed to get closer - there was no way he could deal with the tension of not knowing what was going on inside. What if your parents proposed some ridiculous arranged marriage or something? What if you were giggling at the guyâs jokes? He couldnât just sit there and think about all the worst case scenarios, he needed to know.
Sukuna wished that heâd had the chance to set up bugs in your house. Cameras wouldâve been even better, although potentially too obvious, but having nothing at all was a nightmare for the current situation he was in.Â
His lack of preparation meant that he eventually found himself crouched in the bushes outside your dining room window, trying to follow the conversation drifting out from inside. He was fortunate that the window was cracked open a touch, because otherwise heâd be able to hear absolutely nothing.Â
The sun was just starting to set as you all sat down for dinner, and Sukuna was grateful for the fading light making it much harder for your neighbours or any passersby to notice him. The last thing he needed was to get caught - what would you think of him then?
For a while, he couldnât hear your voice at all, spending a few minutes getting to grips with each of the different tones flowing into his ears. Your father was easy to identify, and by extension, so were the two Higuruma men. Having never heard your mother speak, it was hard to differentiate between her and Hiromiâs mother, but he decided it didnât matter.Â
You didnât make an appearance until the table was laid and your mother was calling up to your bedroom, demanding your presence at the table. The soft sound of your greeting sounded like music to his ears, but he didnât appreciate the accompanied rustling that suggested you were offering out embraces.Â
He hoped you werenât hugging Hiromi, even if it was just an innocent hello after years of not seeing each other. You shouldnât be touching anyone who wasnât him, he shouldnât have to spell that out to you, it should be obvious.Â
But beyond the initial greetings he heard nothing that raised alarm. In fact, you were shockingly quiet throughout most of the dinner, sitting there in silence while you let your parents do most of the talking. It seemed like you were there out of obligation more than anything else, and as far as Sukuna could tell, you and Hiromi hardly spoke a word to each other.Â
Before heâd realised it, two hours had passed by and he had nothing to show for his time hidden in that bush outside your window. Heâd learnt a whole lot about Mr Higurumaâs law firm, but absolutely nothing pertaining to you.Â
On one hand, he was relieved that there was nothing openly untoward going on. All of the stress that heâd felt about you hiding things was completely unnecessary - it really was nothing more than a family dinner. But on the other hand, he was more than a little bit pissed that he was wasting an evening doing this shit when it couldâve been spent with you.Â
He was your boyfriend, your soulmate, he had every right to be up there in that dining room sitting at your side. He was your family really, wasnât he? Sure, you werenât married yet, but you would be one day, he was certain of that.Â
And yet, for some reason he was stuck creeping around, his knees in total agony from the exertion of being frozen in one position for hours.Â
It fucking sucked. He should go home and lick his wounds.
But for some reason, he still couldnât persuade himself to give it up. There was still an inkling in the back of his mind that there was something wrong. It wasnât because he didnât trust you, no youâd never done anything wrong in your whole life, but you were easily swayed by bad influences, and there was something about Hiromi that concerned him.Â
So he remained concealed outside your house, listening for something, ears tuned as you switched from dinner into a game of cards. He still refused to move even as Hiromi excused himself to take a call and your parents called it a night, showing the Higurumaâs up to the guest room and leaving you all alone at the table.Â
Hearing the gentle sound of plates being stacked, he risked a peek over the edge of the window, watching as you cleared up the table, taking on that role as the perfect daughter. He didnât like the idea of you having to get your hands dirty in any capacity - if he was there heâd do it for you, but there you were taking on the labour when everyone else had already left.Â
If Hiromi was really a gentleman he wouldâve taken on the responsibility. What a jerk.Â
As you left the dining room with the plates in hand, Sukuna followed your movements, creeping around to the kitchen and settling down next to the patio doors leading inside. His heart was thumping in his ribcage as he observed you through the glass. You looked so pretty, leaning over the basin as you scrubbed a plate clean, humming in the way that you always would.
He was half considering tapping on the door to get your attention. He missed you and was eager to have your eyes on him - maybe youâd let him in and the two of you could make out for a bit with the added thrill of your parents potentially finding out.Â
That idea was immensely attractive to him.Â
But he decided it was best not to. He didnât want you taking things the wrong way and realising that heâd been snooping around.Â
Ultimately, he ended up being glad that heâd trusted his gut, because less than a minute later Hiromi swept into the room, looking more exhausted than he had when Sukuna had seen him step out of the car earlier that evening.Â
âEverything okay?â You asked, offering the man a smile that made Sukuna feel unsteady. âEveryone else has gone to bed.â
âMostly.â He let out a heavy sigh. âIâve got this client who I couldnât help, they ended up putting him away for life on murder charges. I just got a call telling me that heâd managed to escape holding, so thatâs not ideal.âÂ
You blinked up at him, your wide eyes sparkling with worry. âOh my god, you donât think heâd come looking for you, do you?âÂ
âI donât know,â Hiromi said, running a hand through his hair. âI hope not? I hope I can at least talk him down if he does try to find me. I really didnât feel like he was a bad guy, I think he was framed, but you shouldâve seen the way he looked at me when they sentenced him.âÂ
âShit. It's gotta be stressful.â You switched off the water, paying him full attention.
âItâs what Iâve chosen to do, so I wonât complain.â He pulled out one of the stools at the breakfast bar, resting his elbows on the counter as he peered over at you. âIâŠheard about that business with your boyfriend in high school. Iâm sorry, that mustâve been awful.âÂ
You waved your hand, taking a deep breath. âIt was a long time ago now, I found ways to cope.â He hummed, and Sukuna found himself fidgeting, wondering just what Hiromiâs plan was. It seemed like he was trying to appeal to you - have a nice heart to heart and get you to open up.Â
Like you owed him anything.Â
âGood. Thereâs a lot of sick people out there. Hopefully whoever did it got pinned for some other crime and is rotting in a cell right now. Usually people like that canât stop themselves from committing atrocities over and over again.âÂ
Your face twitched, as if you were trying to smile but couldnât quite find the strength to do it. You looked deeply uncomfortable and Sukuna wasnât surprised - did Hiromi really think that telling you the killer would strike again was a good way of comforting someone? It likely just struck unnecessary fear into your mind.Â
âI doubt they caught them,â you said, and Hiromi tilted his head in question. âIts just a feeling, but I bet theyâre still just living their lives, pretending theyâre human like us.â
âPerhaps. But I like to think that the truth always comes out one way or another.âÂ
If that was Hiromiâs attempt at being comforting, it wasnât particularly effective.Â
âSo, how have things been?â You asked, very clearly changing the subject. âMissing murder suspect aside, of course.âÂ
Hiromi let out a low laugh. âIâve been good. Itâs nice living in the city but I miss being here all the time, it was nice when we used to hang out.â Sukuna frowned, not liking where this was going. âWe used to be inseparable back in the day and now Iâm looking at someone I barely recognise - it's strange what the years can do.âÂ
Giggling, you nodded in agreement. âYouâre telling me! Iâm still picturing the kid that was always covered in mud, but here you are all grown up and wearing designer suits. I never couldâve seen that coming! I think it suits you though, the lawyer thing, you always liked standing up for people.âÂ
Sukuna felt sick. He was peering round the door, certain that the darkness was concealing him well enough. You looked far too happy, laughing with an ease that should be reserved only for him.Â
It wasnât right.Â
âYeah I like it. How about you? Enjoying working for your dad?â Again, you gave him that half smile, the one that betrayed your true feelings whenever you tried to lie.Â
âI guess?â You sighed. âIt isnât where I imagined Iâd be but what can you do? The job market is impossible these days.â Sukunaâs nails were digging hard into his palms because he had no idea that you were eager to find a better job. Ideally, once you married him, you wouldnât work at all. You could live happily in his apartment and heâd take care of you.Â
It was pointless for you to aspire to some silly little job when he could keep you happy instead.Â
âMaybe I could find you something at the firm if you were interested? Iâm not sure how much you care about law, but I could see about an admin role? At least it would get your name out there and give you the chance to move out of town? I think Iâd be tearing my hair out if I had to live with my parents.âÂ
âUhh, I donât know. I just moved back here, it's kinda complicatedâŠâ You trailed off.Â
âWhat about it is complicated?âÂ
âItâs just, Iâve been dating someone and I feel like it would ruin things if I moved away again. I doubt he wants to move.â Sukuna felt relief flood him. You were such a good girl, always thinking about him, he really wasnât sure what heâd been so worried about. You really were his sweet, loyal little angel.
âOh really? I couldâve sworn your mom said you were single earlier.âÂ
âI havenât exactly told them yet. We havenât been dating all that long.âÂ
Hiromi hummed, tapping his fingers on the marble counter, as if thinking carefully about what he wanted to say next. âI donât mean this in an unpleasant way, but if you havenât told your parents yet is it really all that serious? Isnât it better to grab a job opportunity rather than bet everything on a guy youâve only been seeing for a few weeks? I feel like you shouldnât be making life decisions based on a fling.âÂ
Sukuna wanted to crash through the patio doors and strangle Hiromi. It wouldnât be difficult since he was a fairly wiry man, clearly not the type who made it down to the gym often. Sukuna doubted that there was a single callus on the lawyerâs fingers, he certainly hadnât seen a day of genuine labour in his life.Â
Killing him would be easy.
âI hear you, but thereâs more to it than that.â Your lovely voice was enough to keep Sukuna frozen, barely clinging to his self control as he hung on every word that fell from your soft lips. âIâve liked him for a long time but there were always things getting in the way. Now it feels like the circumstances are finally right and I know Iâd regret turning away from that.âÂ
It was clear that Hiromi wasnât convinced. âI mean, if it is something real, surely heâd understand you wanting to find a better career than being the secretary at a construction company, right?âÂ
âYeah, maybe.âÂ
âLook, you donât have to commit to anything, but Iâll ask around the firm and talk with some partners we have. If I find anything thatâll suit you, Iâll let you know. Just give it some thought - you were always smarter than me so Iâd hate to see you getting stuck here just for some guy.âÂ
âThanks.âÂ
Sukuna couldnât tell if your response was genuine or born from politeness alone. Either way, he didnât like the way that youâd essentially accepted the offer - he was far more important than any stuffy corporate job, you should know that.Â
âJust speaking from experience. I gave up on a few opportunities when I was dating my ex, and I really regret not taking them now. I donât want the same to happen to you.âÂ
âYeah, I was sorry to hear about that,â you said, leaning on the counter across from him. âMy mom mentioned things got pretty unpleasant.âÂ
âThatâs one way of putting it.â Hiromi snorted.Â
Sukuna hated the way that he was leaning closer to you. It looked casual enough, but the gentle expression on Hiromiâs face wasnât unlike the one heâd sport when looking at you. He knew enough about love and obsession to be anxious about this manâs intentions.
âYâknow, I think my healthiest relationship was our fake marriage from when we were kids,â he continued.
You were giggling again. âUnfortunately it only lasted as long as it took me to eat the candy ring off my finger. Oh, and then Yuki ordered us to get divorced so she could marry you instead. Healthy stuff.âÂ
As the two of you launched into reminiscing, Sukuna slid down the wall, sitting on the ground just to the side of the patio door. His expression was furious. To some extent, he knew that he was being ridiculous - all you were doing was discussing some stupid little family game youâd played as kids.Â
But there was something about Hiromi here and now that was setting him on edge. The man wanted you to move to the city, wanted you to disregard your boyfriend - and to then suggest that his only healthy relationship was with you even if it was pretend, made it clear exactly where Hiromi's intentions lay.Â
He was trying to flirt with you.Â
It was clear as day.Â
And Sukunaâs blood was positively boiling.Â
â
It was late at night when Sukuna finally made his move, certain that everyone in your house had finally fallen asleep. This wasnât his first time breaking in, and he was almost certain that it wouldnât be the last.Â
This was his first time entering when people were actually in the house though, for all of his previous tresspasses had been for snooping purposes when your family were off somewhere else. Regardless, his time inside meant that he was well acquainted with various entry routes and the places where the floor might squeak.Â
He was sure it would be fine.Â
Easily scaling the drainpipe, he found himself on a roomy ledge connecting two windows above. The one on the left led into your room, which was dark save for the gentle glow of fairy lights that you liked to leave on while you slept. Sukuna found it endearing that even when youâd stay at his house youâd insist that some sort of light stay on, claiming that you couldnât sleep if it was pitch black.Â
Youâd said that the sudden fear of the dark had started shortly after Ryuâs death, which was strange to him, because it had been a decidedly light evening the night that heâd killed your boyfriend.Â
The window on the right led to the smaller of two guest rooms, where Sukuna was certain that Hiromi was staying. It usually served as your fatherâs home office, but it had a pull out sofa bed situated in there for nights like this one. That window was the one that Sukuna edged his way towards, careful to keep his steps silent as he approached.Â
Sliding the window up silently, he slipped in with practiced ease, dropping down onto the soft carpet below. It took half a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, but he swiftly located Hiromiâs figure, curled up on the makeshift bed in the corner of the room. Creeping over to that breathing mound beneath the blankets, Sukuna slowly withdrew a knife from his jacket.Â
Heâd have to be quick about it. Heâd need to thrust the blade into Hiromiâs neck and silence him in the same instant lest he be discovered. If you found him there that would be game over forever. Even if he somehow managed to escape life imprisonment, the only option for your relationship to continue would be for him to take some pages from Misery and keep you captive.Â
Because youâd sure as hell never trust him again.Â
Just before he could plunge the knife down, a cold fear washed over him. What if you suspected it was him even without catching him in the act? Sure, he could kill Hiromi and flee, but to kill the man in your house sent a somewhat personal message. Ryu, could be disregarded as a random murder, but a second tragedy of a man close to you? And in your own home this time? That was a pattern.Â
Even if no evidence tied him to it, he was certain that someone more cynical like Yuki would start making assumptions, start pouring poison into your ear.Â
No, he couldnât do this. Not tonight. Not here. It was just too risky, your relationship wasnât secure enough yet to survive a severe jolt.Â
Lowering the knife didnât make him feel good, and there was a desperate, primal part of him that urged him to kill the man anyway, consequences be damned. He could murder Hiromi and then immediately steal you away before you could decide to turn your back on him. That was what it meant to belong to him.Â
But that would be a short term solution, and Sukuna had long since learned his lesson on that front.Â
Hiromi would perish. He deserved it just as much as Ryu did and certainly more than Kashimo did, but Sukuna would find another way to do it - one that didnât fit into an easily identifiable pattern.Â
He had to be certain that it would never come back to him.Â
And that meant waiting.
Once heâd made his decision and lowered his knife, he knew that the smartest choice would be to go home and pretend that heâd never step foot in your house. Pretend that he hadnât almost slaughtered your childhood friend while you slept soundly in the next room. But his blood was pumping and he was filled with more energy than usual.Â
If he couldnât kill his romantic rival he still wanted to exert dominance over him in some manner.Â
It was that desire that had him back on the ledge outside, making his way over to your room, taking far less care to be silent as he clambered in through your window. Despite never having been invited into your room, he knew the place well, and made a beeline for where you were curled up amongst your cutesy silk sheets.Â
You were laying face down, your arms wrapped tightly around a plushie. Your collection of soft toys rivalled even Satoruâs, all of them surrounding you as if they were keeping watch while you slept. Sukuna paid little attention to their beady eyes, his gaze fixed on your gorgeous figure.Â
Pulling the sheets back, he wasnât surprised that you didnât even stir. You were far from a light sleeper, and heâd often had to shake you awake in the mornings when youâd fail to register your alarm blaring at your side. You were wearing a sweet little night gown, one that he hadnât seen before, which was riding up your thighs. One of the thin straps had slipped down your shoulder, revealing the gentle curve of your breasts to him.Â
His heart was racing, cock hardening in his jeans. Even after six weeks of seeing you, of touching you, you still had an insane effect on him. He was certain that heâd never stop feeling this way, overcome with the obsession and desire that youâd always create within him.Â
Crawling on top of you, his hand was quick to fly to your mouth as he felt you stirring beneath him. He was grateful for his instincts, because you let out a quiet little yelp which was quickly muffled by his palm. For a second, you fought him, before his lips brushed softly against your ear. âStop, it's just me.âÂ
Immediately you froze, the tension in your body easing at the sound of his voice. It wasnât the first time that heâd woken you up like this, all needy with his length pressed up against your thigh - it was something that youâd discussed, one of the many kinky things youâd tried over the past few weeks.Â
However, this was the first time heâd done it in your house.Â
A place heâd had to break into.Â
He could imagine that would be disorienting for you.Â
âWhat- what are you doing here?â You whispered as he removed his hand. He wasnât sure if you were angry or turned on or a bit of both.Â
âMy bed was cold without you,â he mumbled, pressing wet kisses against your neck, one of his hands sliding beneath you to grope at the breast which had spilled free from the confines of your nightdress.Â
âThatâs not-â a soft groan slipped from you as he pinched a nipple, your whole body shivering at the sensation. âThatâs not an explanation. How did you get in?âÂ
âYour window was open. Figured it would be romantic to climb up here, look after you with your parents in the next room.â Your parents were technically down the hall, it was only Hiromi in the next room, but he wasnât supposed to know that.Â
âSukuna.â You groaned softly, making no effort to push him away as his other hand made its way up your thigh, pushing the nightdress higher and higher until cool air was brushing against your pussy. âThis is kind of fucked up.âÂ
âYeah. But you like that, donât you? Probably spent plenty of nights in this bed wishing Iâd climb into your room and take you like this. I bet you thought all about what it would be like to try and stay quiet on my cock with your parents right there in the other room.âÂ
âShut up.â He chuckled at your childish tone, the response telling him that he was right. Though, he couldâve figured that out already based on the way that you were grinding yourself against his hand, already desperately slick.Â
Heâd discovered in the past weeks just how depraved you were, and this just served as further proof. To be all needy after your boyfriend had broken in suggested that you were just as insane as he was.Â
You were just perfect for each other.Â
âWe shouldnât be doing this.â There was no conviction in your tone, none at all. This was all just part of the game and he knew it. The two of you had a safeword, it was satin, and you werenât saying it. Instead you were wriggling your hips back against him, desperate for more friction.Â
âOh Iâm sure,â he teased, leaning over you and capturing your lips in a messy kiss, one that you gladly returned. When he pulled away, your eyes were round with a sweet mix of anxiety and desire.Â
âBut what if someone actually hears? I donât want my parents to see- uhh- this.â Sukuna wasnât sure if what you actually meant was that you didnât want them to see him, but for now heâd let it go.Â
âIsnât that part of the fun? Doing something scandalous with the threat of discovery right there?â He felt the way you shivered, certain that his words had convinced you. As he spoke, he pushed a finger into you, a whine spilling from your lips. You were quick to smack your own hand across your mouth, face flooding red at the realistion that youâd be the one who would get you discovered at this rate.Â
Another finger sank into you, and you squirmed beneath him. âThe walls are so thin. My parents are a few rooms away so itâs fine, but Hiromi- a-ah- Hiromi is just on the other side of the wall-âÂ
It was as if you thought that would convince him that this was a bad idea - on the contrary, that was part of the reason that he was here on top of you right now. He loved the idea that the man would awaken to the sound of your headboard hitting the wall behind him, trying to fall asleep to the sound of your moaning from the next room.Â
That would show him not to flirt with you again.Â
âHiromi? Is that your childhood friend?â He asked innocently, as if he hadnât been watching your interactions with the man for hours now. You nodded and he regarded you with a smug smirk. âNo shame in him knowing who you belong to, huh?âÂ
The jealousy was dripping from his voice, but if you noticed you said nothing, too busy coming around his fingers, burying your face in the silk pillow as you groaned out his name. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him was just lovely, and as he pulled his fingers free of you, he brought them to your face and let you suck them clean.Â
Any protest of yours seemed to die with that first orgasm, your gaze heavy with lust, watching him while he shimmied off his jeans and boxers. Rubbing his hard cock up against your ass, he trailed precum along the exposed skin, taking note of the way that you twitched expectantly beneath him.Â
It was nice to know that you were always ready for him, always eager, even in the middle of the night. You were made for each other. Heâd always known it.Â
Slipping into you, he lowered himself down so that he was lying flat atop your body, in a perfect prone bone position. A light gasp ripped itself from your throat, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you at the sheer depth with which he was buried within you.Â
One of his hands snaked around your waist, while the other moved around your neck, his palm finding its place in front of your mouth, muffling your cries as he started to drill into you desperately, taking out all the frustration and adrenaline from that evening on you. All you could do was take it, and you were oh so good at that, sobbing his name into his hand and clamping down on him like a vice, squeezing his cock with each desperate thrust.
Being inside of you was his own personal slice of heaven, and even though heâd come into your room with the intent of laying claim to you with a romantic rival in the next room, he was quick to forget that was his real goal. He was too caught up in the lovely feeling of you, overwhelmed by your smell and the lovely sounds meant only for him.Â
Fuck Hiromi, youâd never want him. It was so clear that you only had eyes for Sukuna.Â
Regardless, Sukuna was certain that his original goal was still carried out. By the time the two of you reached your peak, the headboard was positively slamming against the wall behind it, and he was pretty sure that your muffled cries were still loud enough to rouse someone in the immediate vicinity.Â
Besides, the snores coming from next door had fallen woefully silent.Â
Good, he wanted that fucker to hear everything. Honestly he wanted Hiromi to see it. If he could have the guy tied up in a cuck chair, watching while Sukuna fucked your brains out, he absolutely would.Â
The only issue was that he wasnât sure how youâd take that.Â
His name came out as a desperate whine as you came, burying your face into his arm once he finally removed his palm from your mouth. Keeping his hips pressed flush against your ass, a contented sigh escaped him. This was one of his favourite positions, it always made him feel so close to you, almost like he was buried beneath your actual skin.Â
He stayed there for a few moments, letting his cum seep slowly into you before pulling out. Heâd been crushing you for at least five minutes now, and even though he knew you enjoyed the feeling, he wanted to give you the chance to breathe.Â
You were staring up at him all flushed, your chest rising and falling swiftly. Now that the lust had faded, you looked mildly panicked, chancing a glance towards your bedroom door as if it might open at any moment. âI really hope no one heard that.âÂ
âMmm. Iâm sure it's fine, baby,â he cooed, holding his arms out to you and pulling you into an embrace. There was no doubt in his mind that Hiromi had heard the whole thing, but it was pointless getting you all worked up about that.
This was between him and that fucking lawyer.Â
Besides, it's not like it would ever come back to bite you because in a few weeks Hiromi would be dead.Â
Sukuna just needed to figure out the logistics first.Â
The certainty in his tone seemed to soothe you, or perhaps you were just too tired to continue worrying, but either way you relaxed into his arms, letting him pull you close. It was just like every night that had come before, with you finding comfort in his arms no matter the circumstances.Â
He wouldnât stay over that night - heâd wait until you fell asleep before sneaking out once more. The only evidence that his visit was anything more than a wet dream would be the mess he left between your thighs.Â
And, at least temporarily, the memory etched into Hiromiâs mind.Â
next chapter
a/n: sukuna really fighting ghosts, hiromi doesn't even KNOW him
anyway next chapter we see reader getting mildly concerned about how clingy and jealous sukuna seems to be with her (she doesn't know the half of it đ)
hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 13.6k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, piv, face-sitting, cunnilingus, biting
a/n: there are brief spoilers for stephen king's misery in this chapter btw!!
masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter
âSo anyway, we argued back and forth for a bit over text and he had the gall to tell me that I was over-reacting, so I told him to fuck off and I havenât heard from him since.âÂ
You were sitting on the floor in Yukiâs room, waiting for your nail varnish to dry while you gave her the low-down of how things had gone with Kashimo after the party. Your plan had been to wait for a few days after the reunion before calling him and talking about everything youâd heard from Gojo, but Kashimo hadnât given you the chance.Â
The evening after the reunion, once heâd made it home to the city, heâd dropped you a text message asking why you were being so weird at the party. Things sort of just spiralled from there, with you bringing up what youâd heard and seen only for him to affirm all of those rumors in his responses.Â
He called you all kinds of names, made several attempts to turn things around on you, and ultimately told you that his behaviour was your own fault for not putting out more. All done via text - the bastard didnât even have the courage to ring you.
So, it was safe to say that you and Kashimo were done.
It felt wrong to admit to, but you were almost glad that things were definitively over with him. To some extent, youâd just been searching for a reason to end things, aware that you were never really going to feel that passion for him.Â
Not when your passion always seemed reserved for someone else.Â
You wished you hadnât had to deal with a load of vile name calling in the process, but youâd blocked his number and what was done, was done.Â
âShit, Iâm sorry. He seemed like a mostly good guy,â Yuki said, dragging the varnish brush slowly over her own nails, half focused on the task and half on you. She was the type of girl who liked to make a lot of eye-contact when speaking, and subsequently orange paint was getting all over her skin. Â
âMmm. Want me to do your nails for you?âÂ
âNah, youâll smudge yours. Iâll manage.â She waved you off. âSo youâre not speaking with him at all anymore?âÂ
âNo way. Weâre done, I really wasnât sure how into him I was anyway.âÂ
âI get that. It didnât look like the chemistry was really there.â
That made sense, considering that you spent the whole reunion speaking to Yuki and Shoko rather than paying Kashimo any attention. Oh, and there was also the fact that you couldnât take your eyes off Sukuna half the time that you were at the damn gathering.Â
Somehow, seeing Kashimo and Sukuna in the same place only made you more certain that youâd never really feel anything for the former. The way that Sukuna stirred your heart with a single look was unlike anything that anyone else had made you feel. Kashimo would certainly never manage it - even the nice version of him that youâd originally known.Â
âYeah, it is what it is.â You shrugged. âPlenty of fish in the sea, Iâll find someone else.âÂ
You were pretty certain that you wouldnât have to look very hard to find someone else - in fact, there was one fish in particular that was simply begging to be reeled in, but youâd keep him on the hook for a little longer. No point in making things too easy for him.Â
Lately, your reservations about Sukuna had been dwindling. Kashimo had been one of your main excuses, and now that was all out of the way. The other excuse had been Ryuâs ghost haunting you whenever youâd look at the pink-haired man, but with all the time youâd been spending with him lately, you found that the guilt bothered you less and less.Â
It had been four years since Ryuâs death, and heâd cheated on you in life. Why should you have to punish yourself forever just because of an unfortunate coincidence? Sukuna had made a very good point that Ryu wouldâve likely died whether youâd been faithful or not.Â
So why were you denying yourself happiness?Â
Youâd planned to break up with Ryu back then anyway, had planned to choose Sukuna before all hell broke loose. Now that time had moved on and things were calmer, it felt foolish to let a dead man stand in the way of things. Being with Sukuna was your choice alone, and the way that heâd comforted you outside the reunion had eroded away the last few shreds of doubt that youâd been hanging onto.
Not that you could tell Yuki any of that, because sheâd absolutely kill you.Â
âHonestly though, I almost thought that Gojo was lying - figured Sukuna had paid him to make Kashimo look bad or something,â Yuki said, âyâknow, because heâs a conniving little shit.â
To be honest, youâd initially had some of the same suspicions, but Gojo was far too specific for it all to be lies. Sukuna didnât know Kashimo well enough to provide Gojo with information about gigs and such - it had to be legitimate.Â
âSukuna definitely had no idea - he seemed so shocked when he found me crying. Besides, Kashimo's reaction over text said it all.â
Yukiâs eyes narrowed, and you cursed yourself for that idle slip of the tongue. As far as she was concerned youâd had very little to do with Sukuna recently. You hadnât even told her that the two of you worked together.Â
âWhen he found you crying?â She echoed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. âWas that at the reunion? Tell me that you walked away and didnât bother telling him anything.âÂ
Shrugging, you stared down at your shiny nails. âWe just chatted for a bit, it's not a big deal.â You must not have sold that line as well as you were hoping, based on the way that Yuki was staring at you with utter disbelief.Â
âIf it's not a big deal, whatâre you blushing for?âÂ
âIâm not.â You lied, feeling suddenly defensive. You werenât sure if it was better to deny any claims of association with Sukuna, or if you should just turn around and tell Yuki that you were a grown woman who could do what she liked.Â
Neither option was all that appealing.Â
âYou are. If all you did was chat, Iâm sure you wouldnât mind telling me what you were chatting about.â Yukiâs voice was cold, tinged with disappointment. There had been only a few times in your life where youâd been the subject of her ire, and you always hated it. It made you feel smaller than being disciplined by your actual parents.Â
Chewing on your lip, you wondered what would placate her most effectively for the time being, without it coming back to bite you in the ass one day. You certainly werenât going to mention the kiss, nor were you going to share just how much talk of a potential future relationship there had been.Â
However, it probably didnât serve you to omit the fact that Sukuna was working for your dad, and that your friendship had been steadily growing over the last few weeks. If you were to keep that information quiet, it was likely that it would come out down the line and then Yuki would be really mad at you for lying.Â
Better to face a little bit of her anger now rather than a lot of it later.Â
âHe was just comforting me,â you said finally. âHe ran into me when I was leaving the bathroom all teary-eyed, and I was frazzled so I told him about what had been happening. He listened and gave some words of reassurance while I calmed down, thatâs all.âÂ
Yuki didnât look convinced. âLet me guess - did he wrap an arm around you and tell you about how you deserve so much better? Did he tell you about how there are plenty of guys out there willing to give you everything you deserve? Oh, oh, did he tell you that heâd never treat you the way that Kashimo did?â
âNo,â you lied easily.Â
So what if he said and did all of those things? You had faith that he was being honest about it, and it wasnât like he had negative intentions for you. Heâd been waiting patiently for a chance with you for over four years - that was more dedication than either Ryu or Kashimo had shown.Â
He wasnât the villain that Yuki believed him to be.Â
But there was no convincing her of that fact, so it just felt easier to lie.Â
âHeâs been working for my dad,â you added. âWeâve had a few opportunities to talk since I got back into town. We havenât discussed the past at all and heâs been nothing but pleasant - I donât think thereâs any need for you to hate on him like you are, heâs just a guy.âÂ
Yuki was silent for a while, avoiding eye contact. It had you feeling antsy, because she was clearly thinking about what to make of your statement. A deep sigh wracked her body, and she took her time screwing on the lid of her nail polish before looking at you once more.Â
âIf thereâs nothing untoward going on, why are you only now telling me that youâve been working with him?âÂ
A valid point, but you tried not to appear flustered by her response. The best course of action here was to make it look like she was blowing things out of proportion and acting ridiculous - which she kind of was. Sukunaâs only crime was sleeping with you while you were in a relationship, and it wasnât like he coerced you into it - far from it.Â
Youâd wanted him as much as heâd wanted you.Â
âBecause I knew youâd freak out like you are right now. You act like heâs the damn antichrist.â
Yuki scoffed. âHe manipulated you into cheating on Ryu.âÂ
âHe didnât, and Iâm sick of pretending that he did. Iâm capable of making my own bad decisions and that night was one of them. I shouldnât have cheated, but it wasnât Sukunaâs fault. Iâm the one that was in a relationship, not him.âÂ
The roll of her eyes told you that Yuki didnât accept that excuse for even a second. âHe waited until you were most vulnerable to prey on you, and Iâm pretty sure that youâre smart enough to know it.âÂ
âNo, he-â you started to argue, only to catch yourself. There was no point in squabbling over this - Yuki had made up her mind about Sukuna long ago, and no argument would serve to change her mind. The only thing that would have an impact is seeing Sukunaâs positive treatment of you with her own eyes.
And that was something that sheâd potentially have to come to terms with one day.Â
âLook, let's just not talk about this, okay? I came over to hang out with you, let's not waste time talking about boys.âÂ
It was frustrating, because you could really do with talking about the Sukuna situation with someone impartial. You were attracted to him, youâd always known that, but it would be nice to have someone objectively tell you if giving things a go was a good idea. Youâd get no objectivity from Yuki, and that made discussing it a waste of time.Â
Perhaps you could talk it through with Shoko instead. Sheâd shown vitriol for Sukuna when in Yukiâs presence, but she wasnât the type to get amped up about anything really. It was likely that sheâd be able to give you a more honest opinion on how you should proceed.Â
âYouâre right.â There was something in her tone that told you that she didnât really want to cut the conversation short, only willing to concede for the sake of avoiding any damage to your friendship. It was clear that she was eager to bring you over to her side, unsatisfied at the idea of you defending him or spending time with him in any capacity.Â
It was fine for her to feel that way. She just needed to understand that it was your decision to make. Not hers.Â
âBefore we move on though - please tell me youâre not considering getting with him.âÂ
Yukiâs expression was pleading, the worried furrow of her brow painfully evident. For the last four years sheâd desperately tried to talk down the concept of Sukuna whenever heâd come up in conversation, along with running interference to ensure that the two of you never ran into one another whenever you were in town.Â
You imagined that she was seeing four years of hard work unravel before her eyes, and was desperate to cling on to some semblance of it.Â
It was likely that you were going to have to apologise to her for your actions in the coming weeks, if you went along with the desires that were currently building within you. But you could cross that bridge once you came to it.Â
For now, what she didnât know wouldnât hurt her.Â
âMe getting with Sukuna?â You asked, waving your hand flippantly. âOh no, definitely not!âÂ
â
âDouble cheeseburger, thatâs mine. Hereâs your chicken burger.â Sukuna was rummaging around in a paper bag that heâd picked up from Dougâs, distributing lunch out between the two of you. âOh, they ran out of the strawberry flavouring so I got you a chocolate milkshake instead, hope thatâs okay.âÂ
âThanks.â Your fingers brushed his as you took the plastic cup from him, sending a pleasant shiver through your hand. You took a sip before placing the milkshake down on the worldâs best dad coaster at your side, focusing your attention back on the ancient computer while Sukuna got started on his meal.
Your father was currently facing an audit, and that meant that you were working overtime to get his records in order. Subsequently, you couldnât head out for lunch like you usually would, which had led to Sukuna bringing lunch to you instead. He seemed perfectly content sitting across from you in that little trailer, quietly watching you work while he enjoyed his break from manual labour.Â
âCan I help?â He asked, after a period of silence, gesturing to the computer.
âNah. This thing just happens to be the slowest machine in the universe, so organising everything is taking ages. It doesnât help that my dad doesnât bother putting anything into folders - thereâs documents everywhere.âÂ
âMmm. I saw Satoruâs desktop the other day and it was chaos. Icons all over the screen and some random popups and shit.â Sukuna said.Â
âThis one isnât that bad. But I am gonna tell my dad to buy a new one - if Iâm going to work with the damn thing everyday, I need it to run faster than this.âÂ
A chime of a text sounded from your bag, and you glanced over at it but didnât bother to check. It was most likely just Yuki messaging with a plan for the weekend - one of Chosoâs siblings was getting married and she wanted you and Shoko to go dress shopping with her in the city. You were considering faking a cold, still on shaky ground with her after your conversation the other day.Â
So instead of reading her text and lamenting about it further, you turned your attention to your food, unwrapping the chicken burger and taking a big bite. You had to admit, it was nice to have Sukuna bringing you lunch - you probably wouldnât have eaten all day otherwise, too focussed on the task at hand.Â
âHeard from Kashimo again?â Sukuna asked, nodding his head in the direction of your bag.Â
You were almost surprised that he was asking - youâd figured that the second your ex was out of the picture, Sukuna would wipe the name from his mind. After all, you imagined that he saw Kashimo as nothing more than an obstacle that had now been thoroughly removed.Â
âNo, nothing. Wasnât expecting to though.â You said with a shrug.Â
âNo? You didnât think heâd come crawling back to beg?â
You scoffed in disbelief. âI told you what he said over text, right?âÂ
Sukuna hummed. âThe abridged version, I guess.âÂ
Your retelling of the story to Sukuna had been a little fragmented, since youâd been so enraged. The evening after the reunion, heâd called you to check that you were okay after your tearful day, only to get a full rant about the texts that Kashimo had sent you after the party. You probably didnât explain it well, but you were sure he got the gist.Â
Either way, you hadnât really talked about it since then. You had no interest in bringing it up, and you assumed that he saw it as something of a touchy subject.Â
âYou can read the texts if you want.â You rummaged in your bag, pulling out your pink flip phone, ignoring the message from Yuki and opening up the texts from Kashimo, before handing it over to Sukuna.Â
âCute.â He mused, inspecting the Hello Kitty charm hanging off the side of your cell before turning his attention to the messages.Â
âI mean- I canât believe that I ever thought he was a nice guy. It was all just some dumb act. I really need to thank Gojo for giving me a heads up, because who knows how long it wouldâve taken me to see this side of him otherwise. Imagine if Iâd moved in with the guy only to find out that he was acting like this behind my back.âÂ
Sukuna hummed, carefully reading through the messages, his brows furrowed in displeasure. âHe called you a whore? When he was the one sleeping with other people?â
âYeah.â You rolled your eyes. âCalled me a lot of other shit too. Guess he didnât like being rejected.â
âWhat a jerk. Want me to kill him for you?âÂ
You stared up at Sukuna, unimpressed by his amused expression.
âDonât even joke about that.âÂ
âSorry, poor taste.â His grin didnât drop, but you let it go easily.Â
You knew that heâd never really been broken up over Ryuâs death - heâd never actually liked the guy. Making morbid jokes didnât register in his mind in the same way that they did in yours, and the thought of Ryuâs death probably only came up for him when youâd bring it up.Â
Besides, it had been four years. When were you going to get less sensitive about it?Â
âSeriously though, I could track this guy down and give him a beating - if thatâs what you wanted?â Sukunaâs expression was painfully earnest, not unlike a dog waiting for their owner to give them a command.Â
Shaking your head, you offered him a soft smile. âHeâs really not worth all that. Besides, I donât want you beating anyone up.â
He shrugged. âYour choice. I would do it though.âÂ
âNoted.âÂ
You definitely believed him. Even though youâd never been witness to it, you heard all the rumors about fights heâd been in when you were back in school. Heâd even punched Ryu once, before the two of you had started dating - not that Ryu had ever been interested in discussing it, apparently humiliated by his loss.Â
Before Sukuna could make further promises of violence towards anyone who caused you strife, the door creaked open and your dad walked in. He was holding a paper cup from the nearby coffee van, but seemed to stop in his tracks at the sight of Sukuna and the food laid out on the table between you.Â
âI was coming in to bring you a coffee but it looks like someone beat me to it!âÂ
To be fair, while Sukuna had bought you lunch, he hadnât brought you a coffee, and you could really do with the caffeine. âIâd still like it! Thanks dad.â You smiled at him as he walked over, gratefully taking the warm cup from him and putting it down beside your half-drunk milkshake.Â
He straightened up, hesitating for a second as he glanced between you and Sukuna. It was obvious that heâd expected to find you alone in the trailer, certainly not having lunch with his most rough-around-the-edges employee. You tried your best to ignore his unease, going back to eating your meal and pretending that your dad wasnât fidgeting in your periphery.Â
You couldnât decide if his awkwardness was due to a dislike of Sukuna, or if he simply had something that he wanted to tell you in private.
âAre you done with that foundation, kid?â He asked, as Sukuna finished the final bite of his burger.
ââCourse.âÂ
âGood, good.âÂ
From what you could tell, Sukuna was an excellent worker, easily one of the most productive employees that your father had. It was likely a result of age - at twenty-two Sukuna was in the prime of his life where physical strength was concerned. The majority of your dadâs men were over twice that age.Â
The silence stretched out for a few seconds as your father continued to awkwardly linger. âEverything okay?â You asked, eager for him to spit out whatever was sitting on the tip of his tongue.Â
âYeah, Iâd really just dropped by to keep you company, but I guess I didnât need toâŠâÂ
Your brow furrowed at the slight distaste in his tone. You werenât sure if this was one of those typical overprotective father quirks - youâd never really seen him around guys that you liked before this interaction. Heâd never met Ryu, because youâd kept the relationship a secret, and when Kashimo came to visit, heâd seemed largely unbothered.Â
Probably because heâd seen how unbothered you were about the man.Â
But there was something about his demeanour which felt threatened, or perhaps irritated, by the fact that someone else was here taking up your time. Perhaps it was about that person specifically being Sukuna - you didnât really know anything about the nature of their working relationship.Â
âI should probably get back to work anyway!â Sukuna chirped with a smile, breaking through the awkwardness.Â
He tossed the burger packaging into the trash can at the side of the desk and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He looked a little out of place in the tiny trailer - far too big for the space when drawn up to his full height.Â
âWeâre still on for tomorrow, right?â Sukuna asked as he drifted in the direction of the door. âFor Misery at the drive-in?â
âYeah, of course.â The way that he smiled back at you made your heart flutter desperately. Heâd invited you over the phone a few days ago, and although he hadnât said it outright, there was no doubt in your mind that he viewed it as a date.Â
Youâd almost turned him down, almost reminded him of your chat at the reunion in which youâd made it clear that any conversation about the two of you would take place exclusively on your terms.Â
But the issue with that was the fact that you did want to go with him.Â
You were sick of delaying, sick of having dream after dream of Sukunaâs hands on you, sick of your heart practically jumping out of your chest whenever heâd come by to grab you for lunch. You liked him, youâd always liked him. Knowing that was true, what was the point in wasting more time on silly games?Â
The best way to find out if things would work was to try. If you kissed him properly and all you could think of was Ryuâs dead body, then you knew that it would never be possible. But if you kissed him and the horrible, soul-crushing guilt remained absent? Then you could have everything that your soul had been yearning for.
âPerfect, Iâll pick you up at eight.âÂ
You gave him a nod as he stepped out of the trailer, the door creaking and slamming shut behind him. Turning your attention to your dad, you caught the way that his brow was furrowed ever so slightly, a mix of curiosity and disappointment present on his weathered face.Â
âI didnât realise you guys were so close,â he said, waving his hand in the direction of the door. You supposed that made sense - the last time heâd seen the two of you interact was when Sukuna had been in here with his injured hand, and youâd shown an overall reluctance to even talk to the man.Â
You shrugged, before moving to clean up the table a little bit, anything to avoid eye contact. âWeâre friends.âÂ
âYou know him well?âÂ
âWell enough,â you answered. âHeâs the only person here even remotely near my age, so heâs kinda the only choice for someone to talk to.â That was a partial lie - because while there really werenât any other employees in your age bracket, you would still be hanging out with Sukuna even if that wasn't the case.Â
âYou arenât dating him, are you?âÂ
Balking at the straightforwardness of that question, you were quick to shake your head. âNo, weâre just friends. God, dad, I only just broke up with Kashimo, what do you think Iâm like?âÂ
He put his hands up defensively, clearly a little embarrassed by your response. âSorry, sorry. I just had to ask. It's just- with him bringing you lunch, and going to drive-ins, it kinda seemed that way.â
Youâd long since learned how to play the guilt game with your parents - youâd used it to hide your relationship with Ryu and get your way in other areas of life for years, so instead of accepting his apology, you pushed your advantage. You didnât want him asking about Sukuna again anytime soon.Â
âWell it isnât. It's been so hard for me moving back to town, living with my parents again like some kind of failure, all on top of my boyfriend cheating on me. Sukuna is one of the few people whoâs actually been a good friend to me. Besides, Iâm going to the drive-in with him and several other friends, you donât need to be so suspicious.âÂ
âI hear you-âÂ
âPlus, Iâm a grown-up! You donât get to come in here and dictate anything to me that isnât work related. I canât believe that you still donât trust me to make good decisions, it makes me so upset.â You were sure that the look on your face was sufficiently frustrated, because this exact act had been working on your dad for at least fifteen years at this point
âSorry, honey,â he said, looking dejected. âI was just being nosey. Thereâs nothing wrong with being his friend - heâs a good worker. But I was just hoping you werenât dating a guy like him - you deserve better than spending your life in some shitty little apartment with a guy who can barely make ends meet.â
His tone was soft, disarming. It was clear that he was trying to make amends for upsetting you, inadvertently making you more annoyed in the process, because there was no reason to be so prejudiced against Sukuna for his financial situation or for anything else. Heâd always been kind to you, and in your mind that mattered more than having a nice house and a fancy corporate job.Â
âI think it's wrong that you speak about your employees like that,â you said. âHe canât make ends meet because you pay him minimum wage.âÂ
âLook, it's not just the money.â
Of course he glazed over that part.Â
âI just donât want any daughter of mine marrying some guy with face tattoos. It's unsavory - gives off the wrong sort of impression.âÂ
You could kind of understand the sentiment, but Ryu didnât have face tattoos and he cheated on you. Kashimo certainly didnât have face tattoos and he also cheated on you. You were pretty sure that outward appearance did little to dictate a personâs quality.
But your dad was old-fashioned, so that was unlikely to move him, and therefore not an argument worth making - especially not when you were in the process of trying to convince him that you werenât interested in dating Sukuna.Â
So you just held your tongue and rolled your eyes, deciding that you were done having this conversation. Just like with Yuki, if something happened with Sukuna, you could cross that bridge when you came to it, but you wouldnât be having the argument now.Â
âWell then,â you said softly, giving your father a pointed smile, âarenât you lucky Iâm not dating him?âÂ
â
Sukuna came to pick you up for your date at 8pm.Â
You were already waiting outside for him, not eager for him to encounter either of your parents. Even if you were certain that your dad felt sufficiently awkward to not cause any further strife, you didnât want to take the risk.Â
Especially considering that youâd lied and said others were coming - when they clearly werenât.Â
Sukuna had openly looked you up and down as you hopped into his truck, doing little to conceal the desire glimmering in his crimson eyes. Youâd be lying if you said you hadnât dressed up specially for him, meticulously planning your outfit to ensure that he took notice of the way it hugged your body.Â
âYou look pretty,â he purred. âMaking me feel underdressed.âÂ
He was dressed pretty casually, wearing a grey Bullet for my Valentine hoodie and loose fitting black jeans. He looked incredibly good all the same, just as he always seemed to, no matter what he was wearing. Part of you pondered what it would be like to wear that hoodie, fantasising over the idea of him putting it on you if you got cold later in the night.Â
It probably smelt great - just like he always did.Â
You shrugged. âI just wanted to dress up for once.â The line was innocent, but the way you fluttered your lashes at him was not. He offered you a grin, shaking his head just a little before starting the car, driving you over to the drive-in on the edge of town.Â
It was a nice little spot, albeit slowly dying now that so many people had flat screen TVs to rely on and an extensive collection of DVDs all in the comfort of their homes. Either way, you had great memories of swinging by as a kid, McDonalds Happy Meal clutched in your hands as you watched whatever family-friendly movie they were putting on that weekend.Â
For some reason it was always your dad that used to take you - your mother would never go. You assumed that she used those precious two hours a week to get some alone time while your dad was watching you, considering that she did the majority of the child related labour.Â
As youâd grown older, youâd started going along to the drive-in with friends, watching a number of classic teen movies like Grease and The Breakfast Club. The second that Yuki had gotten a car youâd all piled into it to come to the run-down place, enjoying that taste of freedom that youâd never had before, laughing at the sight of poor teens who were still tethered to their parents.Â
You hadnât been there since Ryuâs death. After that situation you hadnât felt like doing anything in town, living in a total state of isolation until you went off to university, completely overwhelmed with the idea of how to deal with anything.Â
Since youâd come back to town, you felt like youâd almost been reborn. You no longer lived in fear of doing things and going places, and could look at everything with a comfortably nostalgic view rather than one riddled with guilt and anxiety. Perhaps all youâd needed was time.Â
To an extent, you wondered if some amount of your calmer mental state was due to Sukunaâs presence. So much of your fear and guilt had been centered around him, and perhaps your avoidance of the man had built those feelings up into a storm disproportionate to reality.Â
Spending time with him could almost be seen as exposure therapy - a way of facing that fear and guilt youâd been running from and letting it all go. It was a practice in accepting your faults and choosing your own happiness.Â
âSo whatâs this movie? Misery?â You asked as you parked up. There werenât a massive amount of cars in the lot, maybe only a dozen others. It was likely that the drive-in wouldnât keep running for many more years with the lack of patronage.Â
âYeah, based on the Stephen King book, yâknow?â Sukunaâs voice was a little muffled as he reached behind him between your two seats, rummaging about in his bag for something. The action brought him in closer proximity to you, and your heart picked up slightly at the light scent of his cologne. âHere, brought you some M&Ms.â
You scrambled to catch the bag of candy as he tossed it over to you. âOh. I havenât read any Stephen King.â Somehow that felt like a crime to confess to considering how popular he was with so many people when you were in high school. Youâd been assigned to read Salemâs Lot for one of your classes, but had ultimately just asked Shoko to give you a summary.Â
Back then youâd been too invested in your fresh relationship with Ryu to focus on anything else, and that included reading.Â
âWell, Misery is pretty good. I think youâll enjoy it.â He leant back in his chair and popped an M&M in his mouth. âWe should watch The Shining sometime, that oneâs really good.âÂ
âNo way. Too scary.âÂ
âAw, if you get scared I can comfort you.âÂ
âOr we could just not watch the scary movie in the first place.â Horror movies had never really been your thing. Youâd only agreed to watch Misery because Sukuna had explained that it was supposed to be more of a psychological thriller, but you knew that wasnât the case with The Shining.
Sukuna hummed, gazing down at you with an amused glint in his eyes. âDonât you think it's fun to be a little scared sometimes though? Gets the blood pumping.âÂ
While that statement might ring true for others, it certainly didnât resonate with you.Â
âI think Iâve had enough real fear to not want to be frightened by movies. I feel like youâre forgetting I saw my boyfriend with his guts all ripped out. I donât need to watch shit like Scream when I literally had to live it.â
To some extent, the situation with Ryu had been more harrowing than the events in Scream, since they never caught the guy who did it to him. The police had concluded that it was some nasty drug related matter, since Ryu had cocaine on him, but you werenât so sure. Some nights you wondered if the culprit was still living in your sleepy little town, going about their day like nothing ever happened.Â
âMmm. Point taken. What kind of movies do you like then?â He asked, keen to move the conversation away from Ryu.Â
âRomance, I guess?â You werenât really sure that you had a specific preference outside of disliking horror, but most of what youâd watched lately was romance. âI really like 10 things I hate about you.âÂ
âHavenât seen it. Youâll have to show me sometime.âÂ
You giggled at the thought of Sukuna sitting down and watching a teen romance movie, but nodded anyway - mainly because you liked the idea of being huddled up next to him while watching Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles fall in love on screen. You wanted him to kiss you like the two of them kissed in that paintball field.Â
âSure, sometime.âÂ
The two of you fell quiet as the movie started, your attention dedicated to the screen in front of you. Sukuna was right to describe it as not really a horror, but he had neglected to point out how chilling a story it was. You felt all the fear of that poor man kept captive against his will by someone so insanely obsessed with him, your heart lurching anytime he failed to obey her ridiculous desires.Â
During the scene where his legs were smashed by his captor, you found yourself covering your eyes, keen not to see the mess that sheâd make of the poor man. Sukuna took that opportunity to wrap an arm around you, pulling you to his side and holding you there. His hand traced softly over the skin of your upper arm, comforting you. You stayed like that for the rest of the movie, enjoying the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours, his breath soft against the top of your head.Â
You let out a breath of relief as the movie finally drew to a close, happy that the poor protagonist managed to escape the clutches of his captor, but deeply saddened by the way that the experience had messed with him mentally. In a way, you could relate - you understood what it felt like to have a traumatic experience colour your future.Â
Sukuna didnât let you go immediately, keeping you close as the credits rolled. Likewise, you made no effort to move away, even as cars started to vacate the lot.Â
âWhat did you think?â He asked.Â
âThat lady was insane.âÂ
âI feel like she was just misguided,â Sukuna said with a laugh. âSure, she needs therapy and stuff, but what she was doing was almost romantic.âÂ
You sat up then, staring at him in utter disbelief. The woman had held a celebrity author hostage in her house claiming to be his biggest fan, claiming to love him, only to smash up his legs and ensure that he could never be truly free of her. You werenât quite sure where he was reading romance from that.Â
âWanna elaborate?â You asked, keen to see if Sukuna was just genuinely media illiterate.Â
âObviously not in a good way. I mean more that her drive felt almost romantic - to love someone so much to be driven to such insanity, it mustâve felt intense. I feel almost bad for her yâknow? All she really wants is his attention but she canât have it. Itâs sad.âÂ
You scrunched up your nose. âI guess. But she isnât entitled to him. Sheâs a psycho.âÂ
âNot arguing against that, baby.âÂ
The pet name didnât go unnoticed, and you felt a blush crawling up your neck. Sukuna still hadnât released you, drawing slow circles against your shoulder. It had your heart fluttering desperately, your stomach filled with butterflies. You tried not to focus on it too much, eager not to show just how much of an effect he was having on you.Â
Mainly because you liked this game with him, to some extent. Even though you did want him, you were also enjoying having the upper hand, knowing that he was doing everything he could in his power to gain your affection.Â
âSo, if I hadnât agreed to this date, would you have gone all Annie Wilkes on me? Kidnapped me and kept me strapped to a bed in your apartment?â You asked jokingly, staring up at him.Â
âNah,â he said with a laugh, âbut if I did, I definitely wouldâve treated you way better than she treated him. I wouldnât be breaking your legs, Iâd be treating you like a princess. I feel like thatâs where she went wrong - she shouldâve been softer on him and then he wouldâve wanted to stay. It isnât that hard.âÂ
You giggled. âI feel like youâre just describing a relationship - captivity aside, obviously. But I donât think what you're saying wouldâve worked for Annie, because he wouldâve left and never come back. Which, you know, is good for him but not for her.âÂ
âI think she was just looking too short term.â Sukuna said with a sigh, giving you a soft squeeze. âShe shouldâve let him go and given him some time, kept in contact and stuff and maybe things wouldâve blossomed. She was too hell bent on that instant gratification and it fucked everything up for her.âÂ
You hummed, and for a moment the two of you sat in silence, reflecting on the movie. You were certain that Sukuna wasnât the type of guy to give into obsession like the woman in the movie. Likewise, you were certain that he wasnât the type of guy who would ever hurt you or restrict your freedoms.Â
But his final line felt like it related more directly to what had transpired between the two of you over the last few years.Â
âIs that how you feel about us? About what happened four years ago?âÂ
He tilted his head in question, peering down at you. You couldnât help the way that your stomach flipped under the scrutiny of those crimson irises, still a little nervous under his gaze, just like youâd always been.Â
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âThat we were too fixated on instant gratification and it fucked everything up?âÂ
He barked out a laugh. âI wasnât insinuating anything by it, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess that applies to us.â Softly, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing along the length of your jaw. You bit down on your lip slightly, drawing in a breath. âFortunately, nothing between us is as dire as broken legs or captivity, so I think we can recover.âÂ
You blinked as he leant in closer to you, lips slightly parted. His breath fanned over your face as he searched your eyes, clearly trying to get a read on you. Your mind was going haywire, your body freezing in place beneath his touch.Â
âAt least, if thatâs what you want? I donât wanna jump the gun and spend four more years on your avoidance list.âÂ
You snorted, eyelashes fluttering as you peered back at him. Your voice came out as a whisper, and barely audibly you said, âIt is what I want.âÂ
He wasted no time after that admission, pulling you in close and crashing his lips into yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. His lips felt surprisingly soft, almost tender against yours. There was none of the roughness that youâd felt the first time the two of you had slept together, instead it was pure, unbridled passion.Â
His tongue traced your lips carefully, requesting entry that you gave him easily. Your fingers found their way into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. The centre console between the two of you was an annoyance, creating a space that neither of you wanted. Sukuna was quick to resolve the issue, breaking the kiss for just a moment to drag you into his lap.Â
His lips were back on yours immediately, like he was making up for lost time, desperate for you like a man in the desert searching for water. It wasnât like you were much better, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pressed against you, dizzy with how hard he was kissing you. You hadnât been kissed like that in a long time.Â
Not since Sukuna had you in that bathroom all those years ago.Â
It was a while before you parted for air, your forehead pressed against his, both of you breathing heavily. It was nice and warm in his lap, with one of his hands curled around your waist, the other caressing the skin of your thigh where your dress had ridden up a little. You could feel the evidence of his arousal through his jeans.Â
Although, that evidence felt unnecessary, as the longing in his expression said it all. He was looking at you like youâd single-handedly placed all the stars in the night sky - like you were something truly worthy of his unwavering reverence.Â
He was looking at you like he couldnât quite believe how lucky he was.Â
And it made your heart race, because despite your two relationships, despite all your forays into one night stands during your first year at university, no one had ever looked at you like Sukuna was now, with an affection so overwhelming that you werenât quite sure what to make of it.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this,â he murmured, planting a few kisses on your face, his fingers rubbing circles into your skin.Â
âI have some idea,â you said with a giggle, reflecting on the many nights that youâd spent fantasising about him over the past four years.Â
âNo,â he said sternly. âYou really donât.â The way that he looked at you told you that there was more desperation from his side than there was from yours, and you decided that you might as well take his word for it. Your mother had always said that it was ideal to find a man who was even more into you than you were into him.Â
Your breath hitched as he slid his hand higher up your thigh, a pulse of desire going straight to your core at the idea of stripping off right here in his car. You could fuck in the front seat, let him fill you up as you sat so nicely on his lap.Â
However, your last sexual experience with Sukuna had been in some impromptu awkward location, and youâd promised yourself that if you were ever going to do it again, youâd do things properly - in a place where you could take your time, free from any prying eyes. The front seat of his car certainly didnât fit the bill - especially not with a few other cars still dotted about the lot.Â
It was almost as if Sukuna read your mind.Â
âSo, do you want me to drop you home, orâŠâÂ
The statement hung heavy in the air and he grinned at you, intentionally trailing off and letting you fill in the gaps. He wanted you back at his apartment, wanted you to keep doing this with him and more. There was a reasonable part of you that thought you should turn him down - this was a first date, just a test, you should go on a few more before making any rash decisions. Not to mention, youâd barely broken up with Kashimo two weeks ago.
And yet, you found yourself completely unmoved by any logical argument that you presented to yourself. You wanted to go to Sukunaâs place, wanted him to touch you even more than he currently was.
It wasnât like this was some first date with a guy you barely knew - youâd known him for seven or eight years now, knew him well enough to be sure that this was what you wanted. So why should you waste any time?Â
You went on this date with him because you were ready to admit that you wanted him. Why bother with hesitation now? Besides, it wasnât like the two of you hadnât had sex before - now that you werenât in a relationship, there was absolutely nothing stopping you from doing it again.Â
Sometimes itâs best to throw caution to the wind.Â
âLetâs go back to your place.âÂ
â
Sukuna lived on the east side of town in a relatively run-down area. It was the type of place that your parents had always warned you against visiting throughout your teenage years, mainly because it was known to be a hotbed for drug-related activity, and they didnât want you caught up in such affairs.Â
You felt safe enough with Sukuna at your side. Heâd lived in the area his whole life, and was more than intimidating enough to scare off anyone who might have unsavory intent. You wished that your dad paid him better so that he could move to a nicer place somewhere else though - it wasnât a good neighbourhood to be in.Â
He pulled up outside his building, shutting off his truck and turning his attention to you. There was a desperately giddy look in his eyes, one that had you feeling more than a little flattered because you couldnât quite comprehend the fact that he was so excited to be doing this.
Wasting no time, he led you inside, his hand tangled with yours, pulling you along up the stairs and into his home. It was a surprisingly neat little space, one that Sukuna had clearly taken good care of despite its sub-optimal location. Youâd half feared that heâd have one of those average male living-space type apartments, with no furniture except a camping chair, a TV and a floor mattress.Â
On the contrary, it was decorated nicely, with hints of his personality shining through in the furniture and other carefully selected decor. He released your hand for a moment to turn on some lamps, illuminating the room. A little side-tracked by your new environment, Sukuna hovered semi-impatiently as you thoroughly assessed the place.Â
You felt like Sukuna was someone that you knew relatively well, but that didnât decrease your interest in snooping - there was a lot to be learned about someone based on the way that they had their living space set up. The main thing that drew your attention was how many bookcases he had lining the walls, filled to the brim with a mix of books and DVDs.Â
The fact that he was an avid reader didnât really come as a surprise to you, since he always seemed knowledgeable whenever literature came up, but you were surprised by how many beautiful versions of books that he had, with so many of them clearly being collectorâs editions. They mustâve been a priority to him, considering his fairly limited cashflow.Â
Scanning the titles, it seemed like most of the books were horrors or thrillers, with a few sci-fi novels mixed in. That fit in with your general assessment of Sukunaâs likes - you couldnât really imagine him reading some flowery romance or epic fantasy, heâd always seemed much more interested in the gritty stuff.Â
âNice collection.âÂ
âThanks,â he responded, lip quirking upwards ever so slightly. If this were any other day or time, you were certain that heâd take his time talking you through the books that he owned, telling you all about them, no doubt recommending you some, just like he had when youâd been discussing Stephen King earlier that evening.Â
Right now though, there was obviously something more pressing on his mind.
A slightly devious scheme that popped into your head was to play with him for a little while before giving him what he wanted - you figured that you could drag out the conversation about books or some other feature of his decor, really test his patience to the limit to see how long it would take him to snap. You doubted he wanted to wait long now that he was right on the precipice.Â
But he was so impatient that he didnât even give you a chance to put your plan into action, because one moment you were considering the best question to ask about Bram Stokerâs Dracula, and the next he was grabbing you and smashing his lips into yours once more. You gasped against him and he took that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, picking up right where youâd left off in the car.Â
Refusing to break the kiss, he walked you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap as he sat down. The two of you made out for a little while, his hands roaming over your body, running tenderly along the skin of your thigh, beginning to play with the edge of the fabric, pushing it up your legs ever so slightly.Â
It was then that you pulled away, a sly grin on your lips, still eager to tease him in some capacity. âWoah, straight to it with no conversation first?â You asked, with a cutesy tilt of your head.Â
His face was a picture of disbelief and frustration, biting down on his lip softly as he stared up at you. The need in his crimson eyes was palpable, but he showed you restraint all the same.Â
âWhat exactly would you like to talk about, baby?â He asked, in a clipped tone.Â
He was painfully hard beneath you, and his fingers were digging into your thighs. You wouldâve liked to have kept your act going a little longer, delay his gratification for at least ten minutes or so to really test his patience, but the desperation on his face was so cute that you couldnât help but giggle at his question.
Besides, your own desire was bubbling in your gut, and you werenât sure how much idle conversation you could hold without it turning into torture for you rather than him.Â
âIâm just fucking with you,â you whispered with an airy laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more. He gave in for a second before pulling back, a devious glint in his eye.Â
âYeah? Think itâs funny to make me wait longer? Have your fun baby, Iâll put you in your place in due time.â You squealed with delight as he manhandled you down onto the couch, pinning you beneath his weight. His body felt warm on top of yours, skin tingling in his grip. It was the way youâd felt all those years ago, the first time heâd touched you.Â
How could you have allowed your guilt to part you from this feeling for so long?Â
Soft whines escaped your lips as he kissed down your neck, leaving a hot, wet trail of bites that he sucked so lovingly into your skin. You knew that he had a thing for leaving a mark - heâd done it all those years ago too, sucking a purple hickey onto your shoulder, claiming you as his own despite the fact that youâd belonged to another man.Â
This time, there was no reason for you to stop him. There was no Ryu, no Kashimo, nothing to stand in the way of you letting Sukuna have exactly what he wanted. There was nothing standing in the way of you getting what you wanted. Because you did want it, you had for years.Â
All of those nights picturing Sukuna on top of you like this werenât some sort of mistake, they betrayed your deepest desires. Had Sukuna spent the last four years experiencing the same thing? Spending long nights imagining you beneath him, squirming in his grip?Â
Perhaps heâd been imagining it for even longer than that.Â
Either way, it felt foolish that youâd likely spent hundreds of nights in separate locations imagining being with the other. You and your foolish guilt towards a man who had shown you little to no respect. You shouldâve never let Ryu come between you and Sukuna, shouldâve never run after that terrifying night.Â
If youâd simply had the courage to face Sukuna back then, maybe you wouldnât have lost four years to your self-imposed suffering.Â
A shiver ran through you at the feeling of Sukuna sliding the straps of your dress carefully down your arms. It wasnât like heâd never seen you naked before, but youâd both been drunk that night in the bathroom. It felt different to be all exposed before him like this, completely sober, your nipples perky from all the attention heâd been giving you.Â
Swallowing nervously, you watched him drag his gaze over your torso, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. âArenât you just an angel? Even prettier than I remembered.â The praise had your cheeks warm, your mind searching for the last time a compliment had been given to you so freely when having sex.Â
It was probably the last time Sukuna had been with you. Ryu had never done anything to make you feel special, and Kashimo had largely kept quiet the handful of times you had been together. With Sukuna, the words seemed to come easily, like praising you was the most natural thing in the world for him.Â
Throwing your head back, your fingers sunk into Sukunaâs biceps as he made his way down to your breasts, lips brushing against the sensitive skin until his mouth reached one of your nipples. His tongue was warm as it flicked against that hardened bud, teasing you for a few moments before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.Â
The feeling went straight to your core, and you writhed beneath him in pleasure. One of his hands moved to your other breast, his thumb toying with the nipple, leaving you overwhelmed with the dual sensation. âFuck, Sukuna-âÂ
âFeel good?â He asked, pulling back with a pop. He looked beautiful, looking up at you in the way that he was. You couldnât understand why someone as handsome as him had been so deadset on your affection - four years was a long time to wait for anyone, and yet here he was, gazing up at you as if you were worth everything.Â
âReally good.âÂ
He huffed, shimmying your dress further down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in its wake. âAll your resistance, for what? Could've been making you feel good for years, dumbass.âÂ
You made an attempt to bite back, to point out that it hadnât been quite that simple, because how were you meant to understand what the right path was after seeing your boyfriend murdered in cold blood?Â
How could you have known that the man youâd been unfaithful with was the right person to seek comfort in after everything?Â
It wasnât like there was a handbook for that.Â
Sukuna didnât give you enough time to formulate that into words before his hands reached the top of your panties, sliding his fingers beneath them with little hesitation. You jolted ever so slightly at the sensation of his warmth against your sensitive skin, flushing at the way he grinned as his fingers discovered the slick between your thighs.Â
âAnd here I thought I was the desperate one.âÂ
âShut up,â you mumbled. It was clear that he paid you no mind, suddenly attentive, as if heâd just had an epiphany.Â
âDo you always wear these?â He asked, his hand pulling back and moving to trail along the pink, lacy panties you were wearing. They were the nicest pair that you had, and they werenât particularly comfortable. Generally, you wouldnât wear that at all, apart from for something like this.Â
Sukuna cottoned on too quickly for your liking, practically beaming down at you.Â
âDonât tell me, youâd planned for us to do this tonight? Here I was, thinking that you were playing things all innocent, that you were genuine when you told me that this was just a test-run of a date.â His fingers toyed with the fabric a little more, watching your reaction carefully. âI guess you were just teasing me, huh? You always knew you were gonna come back here.âÂ
You shrugged as nonchalantly as you could. âI wasnât sure, I just figured it was better to be safe than sorry on the outfit front.âÂ
âMmm, sure.â It was clear that he didnât believe you for even a moment. âThese are so cute, I almost donât wanna take them off you.âÂ
His fingers had moved slowly to your clit, rubbing softly over the top of the fabric. You wished that he'd go back to what he was doing before, eager to remove the thin layer of fabric separating you.Â
âGonna have to take them off though,â he continued, âI want full access when you sit on my face.â Your heart stuttered for a second at his words, not quite sure that youâd heard him correctly.Â
âWhat?â You asked, dumbly.
âI want you to sit on my face,â he repeated, easily, as if it were obvious. You blinked at him, a little taken aback by the request. That wasnât something youâd done before - Ryu hadnât been all that interested in giving oral sex if he could avoid it, and everything youâd done with Kashimo had sat firmly on the tame side of things.Â
âThatâs- I- I think Iâd be too embarrassed,â you choked out, cheeks flushing red. It was one thing to have sex with him - you were even comfortable with him giving you oral, but to do it in a manner like that felt insanely vulnerable, especially to do with a man that you hadnât slept with in four years.Â
He didnât seem deterred by your statement, his face still lit up with that giddy, elated expression which had barely faltered since youâd kissed in his truck. âYou know, if youâre gonna be with me, weâre gonna do far more embarrassing things together than just that.âÂ
Heart fluttering at the implication, you let your mind wander to what those things might be. Sukuna had always been the type of person who gave off the impression that he knew what he was doing when it came to sex - his penchant for one night stands had been the reason youâd never believed that heâd really wanted you before youâd gotten together with Ryu.
You were pretty certain that he had an expansive list of favoured kinks, and the idea of him trying them out with you made you shiver. It wasnât like youâd ever ventured far out of vanilla with past partners, but Sukuna seemed like heâd be unsatisfied with basic sex alone.
âCome on, baby. Wanna see you up close.â The lust in his tone had your thighs quivering, and despite the embarrassment of it all, you offered him a little nod. You wanted him to make you feel good, wanted to feel that tongue piercing of his pressed up against you.Â
You watched him lay back on the sofa, discarding his shirt and gesturing you over to him. His body was still as well-sculpted as you remembered, with sharp black lines cascading down his clearly-defined abs. He was the type of guy that youâd expect to see in a magazine, not working on some dingy construction site.Â
Trailing your eyes down his form, you couldnât tear your gaze away from the pink happy trail rising from his jeans, following it down to the prominent bulge practically begging to be freed from his trousers. Tentatively, your hand reached for it, squeezing gently through the cloth, pulling a restrained moan from Sukunaâs mouth.Â
His reaction gave you an unprecedented surge of confidence.Â
âIf Iâm going to sit on your face, perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone.â Your smile was sultry as you addressed him, wetting your lips slowly and giving him yet another squeeze to ensure that he caught your meaning. Youâd expected him to jump at the idea, thrilled at the thought of you taking him in your mouth while he ate you out.Â
Instead, his hand darted out and gripped your wrist, pulling your hand away from his still covered cock. You tilted your head in question, eyes wide with surprise at just how tightly he was gripping you. âNo. I wonât last. If Iâm gonna cum I want to do it inside you.âÂ
Most guys would feel embarrassed to admit to such a thing, but evidently not Sukuna. He didnât care that you were aware of just how intense his desire was for you, on the contrary, he wanted you to know. You had to admit that it was flattering, knowing that he wouldnât be able to control himself if you started touching him.Â
You werenât used to being in a situation where a guy wanted to focus on your pleasure first, before even thinking about chasing his own. Although, going by the enthusiasm in Sukunaâs eyes as you slowly got yourself into position above him, it seemed like he was deriving great pleasure simply from serving you.Â
His hands ran slowly along your thighs, caressing your skin and tugging you down to sit upon his face. You felt a little nervous, shivering at the sensation of his hot breath against your exposed pussy. You werenât sure what to do with yourself, having never been in this position before, uncertain on what to do with your hands as Sukuna licked a broad stripe up your slick folds.Â
âOh!â You let out a little squeak, legs trembling. Your hands flew to his hair, finding solace in the pink strands, no doubt tugging on his scalp as he set to work lavishing you with attention. Youâd been eaten out before, Sukuna had done it to you all those years ago, kneeling between your thighs while you leant up against the sink. But this felt different - more intimate and special than it had before.Â
The mix of embarrassment at being so vulnerable and the intensity of Sukunaâs optimal position had you fidgeting desperately, your body jolting ever so slightly at every pass of his wide tongue, leaving no part of you untouched. One of his hands released its grip on your thigh to move to your clit, rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves in tandem with his tongueâs careful ministrations.Â
The way that he flicked his tongue so precisely told you that he knew exactly what he was doing, understood how to touch you to elicit the strongest reaction. More slick was dripping from you, lapped up enthusiastically by his mouth, and you found yourself whining desperately at the sensation of that round piercing skimming your folds, contrasting against the soft texture of his tongue.Â
âSo sweet.â He murmured against your pussy, the vibration sending a pleasurable jolt right up your spine. You could feel the pressure building in your gut as he continued to lap at you, giving you no respite, feasting like a man starved. How long had he been waiting for this? Did he look at pictures of you when he was alone at night and imagine you sitting on him like this?Â
If it was possible, the thought turned you on more than you already were.Â
You could feel yourself growing close, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach growing to near unbearable levels, your vision growing a little blurry as you chanced a look down at him. The sight took your breath away - his eyes were heavy-lidded, watching you unfold on top of him while his tongue continued its onslaught, a heavenly expression on his face.Â
You found yourself choking out his name, a little overcome by the evidence of his desire.Â
It had you coming unexpectedly, letting out a soft little moan as you released on his face, causing a surge of embarrassment and pleasure to meld together in one overwhelming ball of sensation. Ultimately, the pleasure won out, because unconsciously you found yourself grinding down against his face, moving your hips with a desperate vigor to chase more of what he was giving you.Â
If it was suffocating to him, he did nothing to try and stop you. Instead, he seemed to revel in your active participation, the movement of his tongue never faltering, letting you ride out your orgasm to completion. You couldnât quite believe how eager he was, memories of Ryuâs general disinterest with eating you out flashing through your mind. Sukuna didnât have to be asked to provide you with pleasure - he wanted to provide it.Â
When he finally released you, bruises left in his wake from his grip on your thighs, your head was spinning. A sheen of sweat had summoned itself on your forehead, your pussy tingling from the overstimulation. You couldnât find it in yourself to move on your own, your legs acting like they were made of jelly.Â
It didnât matter, because Sukuna was more than happy to lift you, depositing you down onto his couch for a second. He shot you an impish grin as he stood up, undoing his belt and shedding his jeans. âStill with me, baby?â He asked, taking note of your dazed expression.Â
You were pretty sure you nodded, but you were too preoccupied to give him a proper answer, all of your attention focused on his hands, which were slowly dragging his boxers down his muscular thighs.Â
The first time youâd done this, you hadnât really gotten a good look at him - between the alcohol and the fact that he had you positioned facing the mirror, youâd only had the chance to feel his size rather than witness it. Now that you were staring at him, you found yourself swallowing nervously at the sight, wondering just how youâd taken that before.Â
âAw, donât look so worried, baby,â he purred. His hand was stroking the shaft idly, red eyes heavy-lidded as he fixed them on you. âIâll let you have it nice and slow. Nothing but the best for my princess.âÂ
No words came to your mind, you found yourself staring at him dumbly, lips parted as he settled down on the couch beside you, his thighs spread. He was watching you with a smile, patting his leg invitingly, encouraging you over.Â
âCome here.âÂ
On shaky legs, you shuffled yourself over, letting Sukunaâs hands grip your hips and help lift you back into his lap. A soft whine fell from your lips at the feeling of his cock pressing up against you. He let out a low laugh at the way that you instinctively ground yourself against him, your body needy even after everything heâd already given you.Â
âArenât you just the sweetest thing?â He hummed, watching your movements carefully. âYou really want it, huh?â Gripping his cock, he responded to your movements in kind, rubbing the tip up against your entrance, smearing the pre-cum through your folds.Â
âA-ah, condom.â You just about managed to regain clarity of mind to remember that little detail. Even though you were on birth control pills, you were intelligent enough to know that it wasnât wise to fuck anyone without one if they hadnât been tested for STDs and the like.Â
Even if it was Sukuna.Â
The flicker of irritation in his eyes was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by a more pleasant look of total innocence. âI donât have one,â he said easily. âI can just get you the morning after pill if youâre worried.âÂ
You shook your head. âI take contraception, it's more about- ummâŠâ
âI havenât fucked anoyone since I was with you.âÂ
You blinked at him a few times, struggling to comprehend that statement and instantly wondering if he was lying to you. The claim seemed unlikely, considering how much he got around before heâd slept with you for the first time, but his expression was unexpectedly earnest.Â
And heâd been nothing but honest with you up to now.Â
âIn four years?â
âYouâre the only one I want.â He was chewing on his lip, waiting to see how youâd react - if youâd believe him. The two of you hadnât used a condom last time, youâd been so frazzled by everything going on that it had completely slipped your mind - if he really hadnât been with anyone since then, it didnât matter if you used one now.Â
âYouâre not just saying that so you can still fuck me tonight, are you?âÂ
âCome on, baby. Canât you see how devoted I am to you?â He started pressing soft kisses along your neck, peppering the bruises heâd already left on your skin. âAfter Iâd had you for the first time, there was no way I was ever gonna touch another woman again.âÂ
You werenât sure what to make of that, once again caught off guard by how strong his affection for you was. You hadnât assumed that heâd put his sex life on hold in the hopes that youâd one day come back, but now all of his neediness made sense. Not being touched for four years mustâve been tough for a guy like him.Â
Who were you to keep him waiting any longer?Â
Sliding your hand down between the two of you, your fingers found his cock, feeling it twitch in your grip. He relaxed a little, clearly relieved that you were proceeding, eagerly watching you line up the tip with your pussy. His hands came to settle on your hips once more, gently guiding you as you eased yourself down onto his cock.Â
Containing a whimper, your nails dug hard into his shoulders. He felt bigger than you remembered, your body no longer assisted by the effects of alcohol to numb the pain like the first time youâd done this. âThatâs it, good girl,â he murmured, bringing one hand up to your hair in a gentle caress.Â
Leaning forward, he kissed you some more, his lips moving along your neck, up to your chin and finally capturing your lips, distracting you from the intensity of the stretch as he bottomed out within you.Â
The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, losing yourself in the feeling of his lips on yours, the soft feeling of his chest pressed tight against your breasts. The pain slowly began to give way to pleasure, turning into a delightful feeling of closeness with the man youâd been more desperate for than you liked to admit.Â
You were the one to move your hips first, lifting yourself experimentally, finding joy in the way that his cock dragged against your walls, before dropping yourself down once more with a soft whine against his lips. He took that as a sign of your comfort, repositioning his hands on your hipsÂ
Considering the position, youâd assumed that youâd be doing most of the work. Youâd thought that Sukuna had chosen it intentionally, eager to make you please him after all the pleasure heâd gifted you with his tongue. But instead of sitting back and watching you ride him, he made it clear that he was still very much in control of the situation.Â
His grip on you was firm, taking care of moving you up and down his shaft like you weighed nothing to him. All you had to do was hang onto his shoulders. Pulling away from his lips, overwhelmed by the new, intense feeling of him thrusting into you, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, whining each time he brought his hips up to meet yours.Â
The feeling was heavenly, better than anything youâd experienced before. It felt like you were moulded just for this, made for him to fit inside you so snugly, like you were always meant to be together.Â
âFuck, been waiting so long for this-â The way that he groaned was insanely sexy, filling you with a sense of pride. Based on gossip that youâd heard before doing anything with Sukuna, girls heâd been with had claimed that he was quiet during sex, that he opted for positions where he wouldnât be looking at their faces.Â
And yet here he was, all vocal for you, gazing at you with round eyes.Â
It was definitely an ego boost.Â
âYouâre so hot, I wanna have you like this all the time, shit- Iâm not gonna last long.âÂ
A mewl of agreement escaped you. You were already so sensitive from him eating you out, your pussy squeezing needily around him with each stroke of his thick cock. You were pretty sure that youâd never cum this fast in your life, not without external stimulation at least. And yet, Sukunaâs cock felt good enough to get you there all on its own.
âPlease, Sukuna-â you whined against his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his skin at one particularly deep thrust, keeping yourself from wailing out his name. You couldnât think of anything but how good he felt buried inside you, desperate to do this over and over again.Â
But Sukuna was reaching his limit, and your little love bite was what tipped him over the edge.Â
Your name left his lips in a soft groan, his grip on your hips tightening as he filled you up. The last time youâd done this, youâd asked him to pull out, but no such thought had crossed your mind this time around. The sensation of warmth flooding inside you all while he kept up his rhythm was too much for you.Â
âCum for me, pretty girl,â he rasped against your ear. One of his hands shifted down from your hip and pressed softly against your clit, the feather light touch sending you right to your peak along with him. Your vision turned white as your orgasm washed over you, your thighs tensing against his, milking his cock for all it was worth.Â
Riding out your high, you slowly came to still on top of him, gaping for breath against his shoulder. He recovered faster than you did - one of his hands was already steadily tracing your back, the other stroking your hair comfortingly. He was softening ever so slightly inside of you, but you werenât eager to pull away just yet.Â
The intimacy of being connected like you were just felt too pleasant.Â
Sukuna seemed to feel the same, making no effort to rush any further movement, enjoying the sound of the two of you breathing softly, clinging tightly to the other. Youâd never felt so safe in someone's arms after making love, had never wanted to stay tangled up like this. Sukuna was special - he always had been, youâd just been too scared to admit it.Â
Youâd wanted him to hold you four years ago, and unfortunate events had dictated otherwise. This time, youâd let nothing tear you apart.Â
âDoing okay?â He asked, brushing hair out of your face and tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.Â
âMmm, just a little tired.â You felt downright exhausted, and even though you knew that you should probably go home to prevent any suspicion coming from your fatherâs direction, the last thing you wanted was to be parted from Sukunaâs comforting grip.Â
âLet's get you to bed then.âÂ
He didnât wait for your answer before standing up, keeping you wrapped around him as he walked over to what you assumed was the bedroom, pushing the door open and depositing you gently on the bed. It was only then that he pulled out of your warmth, dragging a soft whimper from you at the cold emptiness he left behind.Â
You remembered zoning out for a while after that, while Sukuna went through the process of tenderly cleaning you up with a warm cloth before bundling you up beneath the duvet on his comfortable bed. He went to the bathroom for a while to get himself cleaned up before joining you, huddling his body up close against yours.Â
âAre you gonna avoid me for another four years now?â He asked quietly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Even if it was a joke, you were almost certain that there was some level of fear hiding within him that had prompted him to ask the question. You didnât know how heâd react if he woke up in the morning to find your side of the bed cold and empty.Â
âNo, not after that.âÂ
âOh, so you wouldâve done it if the sex was bad?âÂ
âMaybe.â You let out a giggle, gazing up at him with amusement.Â
He rolled his eyes but there was no malice behind it, a lazy grin lighting up his tattooed face. âI guess Iâll have to make sure I always please you then.âÂ
âI guess so!â You chirped, as if Sukuna was capable of anything less than that. It was apparent that you were not seeing him at the top of his game right now with how needy he was for release, and you could only imagine the type of things he would do once you were having sex all the time.Â
He huffed humorously against your ear, tightening his grip on you. He had one arm resting beneath your head while the other snaked firmly around your waist, pulling your face into his chest. It was hard to think about anything but him with the way that his scent was overpowering your nose.Â
You could get used to being pressed up against him like that.Â
Things just felt right with you there, snuggled up in his arms. His body felt so warm against yours, curled around you in a deeply protective grip, like he was ready to fend off the world to keep you there at his side. You were relatively certain that heâd have to do no such thing, but you liked the sentiment regardless.Â
Youâd been wrong in your judgement, in your decision to wallow in guilt after Ryuâs death. You hadnât felt this happy in years, since long before you were ever even with Ryu. Sukuna was the person you were meant to be with, this was exactly where youâd been destined to be.Â
Everything that had happened, it had all been for a reason. All the horrible things that youâd gone through had been the worldâs way of helping you along to this moment, leading you into the arms of the person you were meant to be with.Â
And as you drifted off in the arms of the man who had loved you for years, you felt like youâd found a place of peace, a place where youâd be safe from the horrors that youâd encountered throughout your life.Â
Youâd drifted off too quickly, too soundly, to see the glint of victory in Sukunaâs eyes, to feel the way that his nails dug so possessively into your delicate skin. For now, he had what heâd always wanted - his object of affection tangled up so intimately with him.Â
All he needed to do was ensure that he kept you there.Â
And he wouldnât be taking any chances.Â
next chapter
a/n: isn't he so fine!? I'm sure he'll be a totally normal boyfriend!! there's no way that he'd immediately start crossing boundries and acting insanely possessive haha!!
(we'll be going back to sukuna's pov for the next chapter where he will immediately start crossing boundries and acting possessive đ)
hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 11.2k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!
a/n: hope you all enjoy some sukuna pov hehe
masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter
Sukuna couldnât pinpoint the moment heâd fallen in love with you.Â
Heâd always thought you were cute, ever since your teacher had sat the two of you together in a Physics class over seven years ago now. But he wasnât sure exactly when his feelings had shifted from sheâs kinda cute, to outright obsession.Â
At some point before heâd disemboweled Ryu - he was certain of that.
Probably long before then.Â
He was aware that heâd really fucked things up with you in high school - mainly because he hadnât quite comprehended the idea that someone else would stake a claim on you before he could find the chance to do so himself.Â
In his mind, his affection for you had been obvious, and yet, Ryu still decided to get in the way.Â
He couldnât really blame you for basking in the attention that Ryu provided you with back then - not when heâd overheard you explain your reasoning to your friends. You hadnât believed that Sukuna was serious, had thought that he was just playing with your heart with the intention of one day breaking it.Â
Like heâd ever do such a thing.Â
So youâd settled for the next best thing, someone who was clear about their intentions, someone who had offered you more than noncommittal flirting. And while Sukuna understood that, he was by no means willing to sit idly by and let Ryu have you.Â
Heâd spent weeks planning it out - picking the perfect night, the perfect weapon, the perfect words to say as Ryu bled out on the floor. Heâd pictured himself as the caring friend, a shoulder to cry on when you discovered your boyfriend laying dead in the garage.Â
What actually transpired that night wasnât really what heâd planned.Â
Heâd killed Ryu just as heâd intended to, but after heâd cleaned himself up and gone to find you amongst all the bodies at that party, he discovered you in a state of total despair. Apparently your boyfriend, the boyfriend that was lying dead in the garage, had cheated on you.Â
With Yorozu no less.Â
Your distressed state changed things. You were already clinging to him, more malleable than he was used to you being, clearly a little drunk and sobbing about how you werenât good enough. It wasnât an opportunity that he could pass up, forgetting the murder heâd committed in favor of placating you, purring all the right words in your ear until you were putty in his hands.Â
He had you in that bathroom without a single thought to how it might complicate the discovery that would be coming your way later in the night. It was short-sighted, he understood that now - a little more patience couldâve earned him four years of bliss with you.
Instead, he had to suffer you avoiding him like the plague all because of your misplaced guilt. If only you could understand that you didnât technically cheat on your boyfriend, since he was already dead by the time Sukuna sunk into you.Â
Not that he could ever tell you that.Â
Heâd killed Yorozu for the part that she played in the whole mess. If she hadn't thrown a spanner in the works, Sukunaâs plan wouldâve played out just as heâd intended, and you wouldnât be so anxious and cautious around him like you were now. That woman always seemed to find a way to make Sukunaâs life difficult, and he didnât want to risk any more hiccups when it came to you.Â
Besides, heâd seen the way Yorozu spoke to you, youâd probably be happy if she simply disappeared from the world. He did you a favour. The same was true of Ryuâs death - you deserved better than someone who would cheat on you. Sukuna would worship the very ground that you walked on - why couldnât you understand that already?
But as frustrating as it was, he knew that he just needed to be patient.Â
Now that you were back in town he wasnât going to pass up his chance. Even through all your guilt and your weak protests about some boyfriend back in the city, there was nothing that would stand in his way this time.Â
You were always meant to be his, and he knew that you wanted it just as much as he did - you just werenât quite ready to admit to it yet. But that was okay, Sukuna was more than happy to help nudge you in the right direction.Â
First and foremost, he needed to make sure that something was done about that boyfriend of yours or heâd get nowhere - not now you were so touchy about the idea of cheating.Â
The day after Tojiâs party, Sukuna found himself at the door of the office trailer on the construction site, knocking on it softly and waiting until he heard your soft voice calling out for him to enter.Â
It was fortunate that he had such a clear line of access to you, able to apologise face to face rather than waiting for things to be on your terms. He was sure that youâd chalked it up to pure luck that he happened to work for your father, but there was no luck involved - heâd chosen that job out of desperation, hoping that it might one day open an avenue to you.
He just hadnât anticipated how excellent an avenue that would be.
Likewise, he imagined that it looked like pure chance that heâd cut his hand on some glass the day before, happening to run into you in some kind of meet cute scenario that neither of you couldâve foreseen. Unfortunately, that was all artificial too. Once heâd found out that you were working in the office, heâd cut across his palm with a knife to give himself a reason to go in there and see you.Â
It had all worked out great, considering how tenderly youâd held his hand in yours, patching him up like some kind of cute little nurse.Â
Heâd almost thought things would be easy after that. Heâd heard the tremor in your voice, seen the flush on your cheeks, and had figured that youâd succumb to him immediately. But the way youâd reacted at Tojiâs party had really put a damper on things.Â
Hitting him with an outright rejection all because of fucking Ryu and this new guy was not what heâd been anticipating.
He bet that those damn friends of yours had something to do with it. Yuki had always hated him, taking steps to make sure that he got nowhere near you as long as she was around. He was itching to ensure that she meet the same fate as Ryu, but he was smarter than that - he couldnât go killing people that you knew indiscriminately or youâd start to suspect something.
Unless Yuki became an insurmountable barrier to the success of your relationship heâd let her live.Â
Besides, it was probably better that he avoid putting you in a position where youâd become overwhelmed with grief and trauma - that just wasnât conducive to a healthy relationship.Â
Dealing with your emotional state after Ryuâs death was hard enough as it was.Â
Pushing his way into the trailer, he picked up on the way your eyes widened in surprise for a second before you took control over your expression. You looked cute, propped up on a comfy swivel chair, wearing some oversized baggy hoodie that he wished was his. The idea of you wearing his clothes sent him into overdrive.Â
There were dark shadows under your eyes, unsurprising considering how late it was by the time you ditched him in the garden the night before.Â
âCut yourself on some more glass?â You asked cautiously.Â
He wasnât quite sure if you knew that heâd been lying about the nature of yesterdayâs incident. He didnât think so - youâd always struck him as mostly naive, opting to see the good in people and believe that they were generally telling the truth. It was a feature that he admired about you, a worldview that differed so significantly to his cynical mindset.Â
âNot yet. Maybe later though.âÂ
He wasnât going to shut down the opportunity to have you bandage him up again if he could get away with it.Â
You pursed your lips. âWhy are you here then?âÂ
âI wanted to apologise.â He had to bite down on his lip a little to stop himself from grinning at the way that your eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting him to say anything akin to that. To really sell his words, he ran a hand through his hair, almost bashfully, acting all embarrassed to be showing up and saying such things.Â
He wasnât embarrassed - he wasnât even really sorry, but you didnât need to know that.Â
âYou were right, what we did that night was wrong. It shouldnât have happened, not like that at least. Ryu deserved more respect - I just liked- like you so much, and I got carried away, both then and last night. Sorry.âÂ
The majority of what he was saying was a lie, outside of the part where he said that he liked you. It was what you wanted to hear though - if he was going to disarm you he had to placate you first, tell you all the sweet things that would bring him back into your good graces. He certainly couldnât go around telling you the truth, which was that he had no interest in showing Ryu any respect - before or after his death.Â
In fact, knowing that Ryu was dead in that garage, picked apart by Sukunaâs own hands, had probably turned him on even more than usual on that fateful night.Â
Maybe one day youâd be receptive to hearing such a thing, after heâd corrected certain flaws in your manner of thinking, but that was a long way off. He needed to take it one step at a time and eventually heâd get everything heâd ever wanted.Â
âOh. Uh- thanks, I appreciate that.âÂ
You were fidgeting with your hands, eyes darting about as if you were too nervous to look at him properly. It was annoying, because heâd spent so much time in high school working on your relationship, building your confidence up until you finally slept with him. Now here you were back at square one, avoiding eye contact with him just like you had when youâd first met.Â
âWe should start over,â he said, placing a hand down on your desk, encouraging you to acknowledge him. âLet me take you to lunch today.âÂ
âI donât know-âÂ
âAs friends. Iâll pay, as an apology for last night.âÂ
You glanced up at him then, an almost defensive look in your pretty eyes. Heâd come on too strongly yesterday and it had really put your guard up around him. It was his own fault - he shouldâve taken a more lowkey approach, but knowing you were back in town after years apart had him acting a bit crazy.Â
âJust as friends?â You confirmed, the words coming out slow.Â
âYeah. Iâll get you those pancakes that you like at Dougâs and you can tell me all about that little boyfriend of yours.âÂ
â
Kashimo was mind-numbingly boring.Â
Youâd been talking about your boyfriend, if he could even be called that, for about five minutes now, and there wasnât a single thing about him that convinced Sukuna he was even remotely deserving of your time.Â
Sitting across from you in a comfy booth at the back of the diner just felt right, and from the way that you were speaking about Kashimo, he couldnât really imagine that man is his position right now, gazing at you affectionately as you scoffed down your pancakes. There was no way your new boyfriend would appreciate it, appreciate you, in the way that Sukuna did.Â
The only reason that he hadnât voiced that opinion aloud was because he wanted you to keep talking. This was the most heâd heard you speak in a long time without your tone affected by an edge of caution, and he was enjoying hearing the angelic timbre of your voice - even if he was less than moved by the content itself.
From what he could figure, you werenât really that interested in Kashimo yourself. Heâd heard you speak more excitedly about Ryu than you currently were about this university fling of yours. It all sounded very safe and nice - the usual story of meeting in some elective class, with him asking you out on a couple of dates, which you of course said yes to because youâd never been very good at saying no.Â
It wasnât like things got more exciting from there. He took you on the classic dates to independent coffee shops and artsy cinemas, trying to impress you and trick you into believing that he was some deep, free thinker - as if every other university boy wasnât doing the exact same thing.Â
There was no passion in your voice, nothing that moved Sukuna to believe that Kashimo was a genuine threat in the way Ryu had been. As far as he could tell, you were only dragging the whole thing out because it was comfortable, and perhaps out of fear of having to turn the boy down.Â
Sad really, how unwilling you were to chase after your own happiness when it was right there in front of you - content to settle for mediocrity just to make some irrelevant person happy. That was another trait of yours that he desperately needed to correct one day.Â
âSo, what do you actually like about him?â Sukuna asked, interrupting your spiel about some music charity that Kashimo was currently working for.
Heâd noticed that you were talking a lot about Kashimoâs jobs and hobbies, and saying very little about your actual relationship. Your descriptions of Kashimo sounded more like you were reading off a wikipedia page rather than dating the guy.
You blinked a couple of times, as if caught off guard by his question. âOh- uh- well, heâs really nice. Like, such a genuinely kind person.âÂ
Sukuna frowned. âNice? Come on, thatâs the first thing you thought of? Thereâs gotta be something more than that, right? Is he good in bed or something?â
âIâm not gonna talk about that,â you said defensively, cheeks warming. To Sukuna, that response was a pretty conclusive no - if he was something special then youâd probably be willing to discuss it. âI mean, I admire how creative he is. Heâs the lead singer in a band and heâs really good. Plus I like how dedicated he is to his work and stuffâŠâ
It wasnât convincing, he was pretty sure that you werenât even that convinced. You still hadnât mentioned anything about how he made you feel, or the things he did for you. Everything just felt impersonal.
âRight. So are you guys gonna get serious then?â He asked, enjoying the way that you grew noticeably frazzled, taking a long sip from your cup of coffee to buy yourself some time before responding.Â
âI donât know. We live so far apart now, and heâs always busy with stuff, weâre not even uh- super official so, yeah⊠I donât know.âÂ
Sukuna grinned, glad that youâd finally come clean about the status of your relationship, or perhaps situationship, just as heâd suspected it to be from the start. That made things simpler, how hard would it be to break you up with someone that wasnât even really your boyfriend?Â
âIt kinda sounds like heâs stringing you along.âÂ
You giggled softly and shook your head. âMore like Iâm stringing him along. He asked me to move in with him when I left town but- yeah, I donât know. After everything with Ryu, and some other stuff, I just donât feel like Iâm ready for something that serious.âÂ
Sukuna hummed. He suspected that the âother stuffâ that you referred to had something to do with him. It wasnât like you were doing a good job of hiding your desire for him, putting up something of a fight whenever heâd approach you but ultimately faltering under the smallest amount of pressure. He knew that you still wanted him, held back only by your own morals and guilt.Â
There was a reason that you still agreed to go out to lunch with him, and it wasnât really because you just wanted to be friends. You were no better at resisting him than he was at resisting you - you were just better at pretending.Â
âThatâs fair enough. Itâs smart to take some time to think about what you want, no point rushing into anything.âÂ
Unless you were rushing into his arms, of course.Â
âExactly,â you said with a smile, turning your focus back to the plate in front of you and scooping up the final few mouthfuls of pancake, smearing syrup over the corner of your mouth in the process.
Sukuna couldnât help but think how sweet you looked. Heâd love to lean over the table and lick the mess from your face, taste the sugariness of the syrup paired with your enticing lip gloss. Though he assumed you probably wouldnât appreciate such an action, not right now, at least. Instead, he pointed to the corner of his own lips, alerting you to the presence of the sticky substance.Â
Your tongue darted out to clean it, failing miserably. Rather than allowing you a second attempt, Sukuna picked up his napkin and reached over to you, softly dabbing up the liquid. You froze beneath his touch, watching him cautiously, your shoulders only relaxing when he pulled back without further incident.Â
âThere you go,â he said with a smile.
âThanks.â It was a shy, bashful response, leaving your cheeks ever so slightly flushed. A heavy silence hung in the air between you for a few seconds before Sukuna decided to fill it with more of his bullshit apology, now that you were done with all the Kashimo talk.Â
âI really am sorry, you know. For what happened that night with Ryu, and for coming on too strong lately. I get that you have a boyfriend, and still feel guilty about what we did. I respect that you canât just move on and pretend like nothing happened.âÂ
You offered him a small smile, nodding along at his apology. âIt was just- that was the worst night of my life, you know? I canât look at you and not think about it.âÂ
âI know, I get it.âÂ
âMaybe one day, maybe after a bit more time, but right now I still find it hard to live with myself.âÂ
The sad little smile marring your pretty face didnât sit well with him. You were such a good, kind person, always worrying about how your actions affected others. It wasnât like you were responsible for Ryuâs death - no one was, with the exception of Sukuna alone. Besides, Ryu had cheated on you first, you deserved to get your own back for that.Â
âIâm not saying this just to get my way, but you know that it wasnât your fault, right?âÂ
âI know that, I just-âÂ
âI get that you canât really see it, I just wish that a horrible coincidence wasnât the thing that stoppedâŠthis.â He gestured vaguely between the two of you, mirroring the sad nature of your smile.Â
âMe too.â He barely heard you, your voice a whisper. He watched the way your fingers twitched nervously, as if contemplating whether you should be having this conversation with him at all.Â
âTo be honest, Iâm just still kind of angry with myself. I wish Iâd told you how I felt before Ryu did. Or at least, I wish we hadnât had sex that night, maybe that way I wouldnât be tainted for you? I know youâre with Kashimo now, and Iâll respect that, but Iâd be lying if I said that I didnât wish we could be together.âÂ
He was putting on his best âIâm so sad and Iâm so sorryâ face and hoping that youâd eat it up. You were the type of girl who had infinite empathy for those around her, the kind of girl who would cry when an animal died in a movie. He was sure that youâd be easily moved by his sorrowful expression.Â
âSometimes I wish that too,â you said honestly, eyes flitting between him and the table. âEverything just ended up getting too fucked up - maybe we just werenât meant to be.âÂ
âMaybe,â he hummed in agreement, despite his brain screaming about how you were dead wrong on that front. âBut who knows what life holds. I think that if we were meant to be, one day weâll find a way to each other. Just like how we stumbled across each other again working for your dad, nothing is certain.âÂ
Boldly, he reached out across the table, his fingers grazing the back of your hand. You didnât pull away, eyes dropping down to his fingers but making no further acknowledgement of the action as you raised your head once more, staring evenly back at him.Â
âYeah. Maybe.âÂ
He wished he could read your mind, eager to pick apart what you were thinking. Were you moved by his desire to be with you? How much pushing would it take for you to give in? Youâd literally said that sometimes you wished you were with him too, how hard would it be to get you to take the leap?Â
Once again the silence felt heavy, gazes focussed on each other. You were fixing him with an odd sort of look, lips parted like you wanted to say something but couldnât quite get the words out. He wondered if there was a part of you calculating what would happen if you were to throw caution to the wind and give him what he wanted.
He certainly hoped so.Â
But you seemed to realise your mistake before you could quite get there, swiftly scrambling to fill the silence, pulling your hand away gently and turning the conversation back around to Kashimo, as if that would obscure your flustered reaction to his touch. âMy- my boyfriend is coming to visit in a few weeks.âÂ
Sukunaâs gaze darkened in annoyance for half a second, frustrated to be shut out again, only to quickly conceal it. He needed to stop viewing this as a short term game - if he started getting angry that you werenât being more receptive more quickly, heâd be at risk of getting shut out completely. He couldnât act like some needy incel, he needed to act like your genuine friend and wait until the perfect opportunity arose to pull you to his side.Â
Besides, Kashimoâs presence could be a good thing - he could use it as an opportunity to sabotage your relationship, to make that man look bad and make himself look good. If push came to shove, he could use it as an opportunity to deal with Kashimo in the same manner that he dealt with Ryu.Â
âOh yeah? You should introduce us.â He offered, as if he hadnât been telling you how much he wanted to be with you just moments prior.Â
You bit down on your lip, folding your hands carefully beneath the table, firmly out of his reach, as if recovering from the spell youâd temporarily been under. âI- um- donât know if thatâs a good idea.âÂ
âAw, come on.â He leaned forward, propping his chin up on his hand. âWeâre starting fresh, remember? I wonât mention any shit from the past, weâre just friends. I can be perfectly civil with him, just like I always was with Ryu.âÂ
That wasnât a lie - heâd be outwardly friendly and he wouldnât outright mention your past entanglements because it wouldnât serve him well to do so.Â
Should you let him meet Kashimo? Probably not, because he was certainly going to venture out of his way to twist the situation in his favour, but youâd absolutely never know that. Youâd always been far too trusting.Â
As far as youâd see any interaction between them, Sukuna would be the perfect friend, displaying kindness and interest with absolutely no ulterior motives at all. Heâd been good at acting that way with Ryu, and he was certain heâd find Kashimo just as easy.Â
People really werenât all that complex.Â
âHeâs coming just in time for the reunion, so youâll probably see him anyway,â you said with resignation, as if youâd spent the previous few seconds considering all the ways that the meeting could fall apart.Â
Sukuna practically beamed. âGreat. Canât wait to meet him.âÂ
â
In the weeks leading up to Kashimoâs visit, Sukuna made sure to utilise his time to the fullest extent, preparing for what he knew would be his best shot at effectively drawing you to his side.Â
Part one of his plan went off without a hitch, as it involved maximising the time spent with you over those weeks. That had been pretty easy considering your shared employment - heâd eat lunch with you every day without fail, be it in your office trailer or out at Dougâs. At first youâd shown something of a reluctance towards those daily meetings, but it only took around a week for you to come around.Â
Youâd always been at least a little fickle where he was involved - he just needed to push the tiniest amount for you to be all pliable, even if you desperately wanted to pretend that wasnât the case.Â
So by the time Kashimo arrived, you and Sukuna seemed to be the best of friends. Youâd opened up to him significantly, giggling freely at his jokes, openly seeking him out for your lunchtime hangouts, and even letting slip vital information surrounding your true reservations about your relationship.Â
It was ideal for him, it felt almost like how youâd act with him back in high school - back when youâd go running to him to complain whenever Ryu would upset you, as if he wasnât supposed to take that as a sign of how much happier youâd be with him.Â
Youâd confided that you werenât passionate about Kashimo - you were sitting on the fence, wondering if youâd ever feel genuine love for him beyond simple comfort. Words that came as music to Sukunaâs ears - even if he was sure to hide how happy it made him.Â
In his time with you heâd done an excellent job of playing friend, and with the exception of your first lunch together, he didnât bring up his love for you again. He needed it to look like he had your best interest at heart whether it involved him or not. Otherwise it would be hard for him to seem genuine when all his scheming came to fruition at that stupid reunion.Â
So, dealing with you he had down - he was proud of it, it felt like he was halfway to success. However, the second aspect of his plan, which had little to do with you, was a little trickier to pull off in the way he was hoping.Â
His original idea had been to dig up dirt on Kashimo, figuring that most people had at least some skeletons in their closet - Sukuna certainly did after all, though likely in a more literal sense than most.Â
Subsequently, heâd gone online and stalked the guy to the greatest extent possible, which was minimal, because Kashimo had one of those stupid private Myspace profiles where only friends were able to see your stuff. That was annoying, and led to Sukuna making a fake account, with some stolen picture of a hot girl.Â
Kashimo accepted the friend request from âherâ, which meant Sukuna had access to his posts and photos, but was dismayed to find nothing sinister at all. He supposed he shouldnât be surprised, considering that Kashimo had you as a friend on the platform - if he was up to anything weird, he probably wouldnât be sharing it in such a public place.Â
That led Sukuna to make an attempt at chatting with Kashimo online, figuring that he could send a few flirty messages and have the man gagging for the fake woman that heâd so painstakingly created - spending an ungodly amount of time curating her profile to make her seem so real and interesting, all artsy like the type of girls heâd imagine Kashimo to be ideally into.Â
And yet, that asshole shut things down instantly, replying to messages with cool responses, even pushing back with an âI have a girlfriendâ message when Sukuna started to come on too strong. Unlike you, Kashimo seemed steady in his affection for you, already loyal to a fault, which was really fucking annoying.Â
Since the guy wasnât engaging with anything obviously shady, and was unwilling to be pushed to cheat, which wouldâve provided clear evidence of the manâs rotten nature for him to share with you, Sukuna decided that he needed to take matters into his own hands.Â
If Kashimo wasnât going to do it himself, Sukuna would do it for him.Â
Wasnât he fortunate to have a friend that was so good with photoshop?Â
âAlright.â Satoru said, flicking through the pictures on his computer screen, scrutinising each incriminating image of Kashimo that heâd so painstakingly edited. He was sitting cross-legged on his swivel chair, while Sukuna lounged on his bed, waiting for him to finish up before passing judgement on his creations. âThisâll probably work.âÂ
Sukuna sat up, peering over Satoruâs shoulder at the screen, grin widening with each image that he observed. Satoru had really put his graphic design degree to good use, because Sukuna totally bought that the images were real. So many of them were awful for Kashimo, displaying him engaging in all manners of debauchery: snorting coke, getting in fights, touching girls who certainly werenât you.Â
Perfect.Â
This was one of those rare times where he was actually grateful that he had Satoru as a friend, and he was equally grateful that the man had such a low moral compass for most things. Some friends would stop their buddies from trying to sabotage the relationship of a girl they liked - not Satoru though.Â
Heâd known for years how much Sukuna was into you, and was more than happy to help the relationship along for the sake of the boy heâd been friends with since birth.Â
Obviously, Satoru didnât know everything. The murders were something that Sukuna would be keeping to himself, since he wasnât sure that his friend would be as willing to abide by that. But what he didnât know wouldnât hurt him.Â
âSo, whatâre we doing with the pictures now?â Satoru asked, twisting around to look up at Sukuna.
That part of his plan wasnât really in place yet. He knew that he wanted to dig up dirt on Kashimo, or in this case - invent it, but he wasnât sure how to go about presenting it all to you without him looking bad. You couldnât see him as having any nefarious intent or the whole thing would collapse.Â
âI guess I just show them to her after the reunion? Tell her Kashimo confided in me or some shit. Tell her he added me as a friend on that private Myspace weâre making for him, I donât know.âÂ
Satoru frowned. âNo, no, no - it canât be you telling her dude, do you think sheâs stupid? She knows that youâre into her and she also knows that youâre kinda a jerk. If you show up with a load of printed images of her boyfriend sheâll smell bullshit from a mile away.â
He had a point.Â
âThen what? I play the long game? Pretend to make friends with the dude and then bring out the photos when she wouldnât be expecting it?âÂ
Satoru hummed, scratching his chin as he stared up at the ceiling. For a moment, Sukuna thought heâd zoned out entirely, gaze fixed on the plastic stars that had decorated his room since childhood. Sukuna had spent many a sleepover staring at those stars, wishing that he lived in a house as nice as Satoruâs.Â
âWhat if I tell her?â Satoru suggested.Â
âHuh?âÂ
Sukuna didnât love the idea of Satoru talking to you. Despite the fact that the two of them had been best friends their entire life, it didnât prevent jealousy from taking root where you were involved. He knew that Satoru was handsome and charming, knew that girls tended to like him. Sukuna didnât want you falling for that trap off the back of Satoru revealing your boyfriend to be rotten.
Satoru rolled his eyes, well aware of Sukunaâs tendency to be possessive. âIts more real if it comes from someone other than you. She can hear it from me and then go running into your arms for comfort later, and you can be all clueless. Isnât that your ideal scenario?âÂ
It was.Â
âI can go up to her, and talk about how I think Iâve seen her boyfriend before. I can ask her if he was at- what gig was it that we saw on the website for his charity? Green Clover? I can ask if he went to a Green Clover gig lately and when she says yes, I can act all weird until she asks me whatâs up.â
âAct weird?â Sukuna asked.Â
âYeah, I can act like I just realised something that I feel a bit awkward to say, then when she pushes, I can spill that I saw him doing some unsavory things, and that I have him on a private Myspace account where he posts all of his partying stuff. Oh! On the fake Myspace profile we created, let's make some phoney emails from escorts and stuff!âÂ
âSure.â Sukuna liked that idea. He wasnât great at this side of things - he barely bothered with technology himself, and couldnât profess to understand it. His flip phone was mainly used for the sake of texting you and his friends, he wasnât bothered with all the new online shit like Myspace - making a fake account to befriend Kashimo had been pushing the extent of his skills. If Satoru hadnât been willing to help, perhaps he just wouldâve jumped straight to dealing with Kashimo the old fashioned way, which probably wouldâve backfired significantly.Â
All this build up was necessary. Your view on the man needed to be shifted before anything unfortunate could befall him.Â
âCool, Iâll start on that now. Man, this is so fun, I wanna build more fake profiles. Maybe your girl will get another boyfriend after this one and weâll get to do this all over again!â Satoruâs voice was cheerful, and it was fortunate for his mood that his blue eyes were fixed on the screen again and not on Sukuna, who was positively glowering at that statement.Â
âDonât even joke about that shit,â he snarled.Â
âYeah, yeah.â Satoru dismissed him with a wave. âYou guys are destined or whatever, Iâve heard it all before. Let me focus. Once Iâve done this we can go over all the details to make sure thereâs no holes in the story.âÂ
Sukuna nodded, laying back down on the bed, shoving several of Satoruâs plushed animals to the side. He couldnât understand why the man had so many, he was in his twenties for fuckâs sake, did he really need thirty teddy bears to cling to at night?Â
âOne thing Iâm concerned about,â Satoru said after a bit of silence, âwhat if, after I tell her, she straight up confronts Kashimo and he denies everything?â
Sukuna shrugged. âYou say heâs just lying to save his skin. Weâve got proof after all.âÂ
âNot really though.âÂ
âIâm not worried about that part.â Sukuna said honestly. âShe hates attention, so I donât think sheâd confront him at the reunion, plus she said he had to head home right after. Besides, sheâs the type of girl who likes to think things through - especially after everything with Ryu - it's more likely that sheâll shut down and give it some thought before confronting him at a later date. She might want to wait until after sheâs had a chance to see your evidence too.âÂ
Satoru hummed. âThat doesnât solve the issue though, does it? Sheâll still confront him eventually.âÂ
A smile curved up on Sukunaâs lips, one that Satoru didnât quite catch, his focus still fixed on the glow of the computer screen.Â
âYou just work on getting these fakes right. Let me worry about the rest.âÂ
â
The reunion was being held in the gymnasium of the high school, all set up with dozens of big tables, with a massive banner in school colours reading âwelcome back, class of 2003â. It didnât look unlike various school dances that Sukuna had attended during his time as a student, albeit there were bottles of wine on the table at this particular function, and the attendees all looked significantly more grown up than they had back then.Â
He supposed heâd probably changed too - although heâd always been big, and heâd gotten the first of his many tattoos at sixteen, so perhaps his transformation hadnât been as significant as other peopleâs.Â
The room was already filled with people, some sitting at tables while others mingled around the room, holding glasses of wine or bottles of beer. Heâd arrived fashionably late, not the least bit eager to be one of the first ones at the event, only really attending at all because he knew that you would be here.Â
He couldnât care less about most of these people, didnât even know half of them - a reunion was something that he was wholly uninterested in. He couldnât give less of a shit if Kusakabe was married now, or if Nanami had started up his own business in the city - the only person who mattered was you.Â
It was easy enough to spot you as he pushed through the sea of people. You were sitting at a table towards the edge of the room, with Shoko and Yuki to the right of you. The three of you were giggling about something or other, and he felt his heart pick up with joy at the sight of you. Your smile was so radiant - he loved the way that it lit up your whole face, crinkling the corners of your eyes.Â
If only you could smile at him like that everyday. Waking up to that sight each morning would probably send him straight up to heaven.Â
You were his angel.Â
Thoughts of your beauty almost had him forgetting his current situation, only brought back down to earth as he scanned over to your right, all of his joy quickly dissipating at the sight of the man sitting beside you.Â
Heâd spent enough time stalking the guy and forging imagery to recognise Kashimo on sight, with those shiny cerulean eyes of his and obnoxiously dyed hair styled in a stupid half bun. He looked even more ridiculous in person than he did in his pictures - what you saw in the guy was absolutely beyond him.Â
Much to his chagrin, Kashimo seemed to be chatting away to Choso, who was supposed to be Sukunaâs friend. He was going to keep that betrayal tucked away in the back of his mind for the future, but he supposed Choso probably didnât have much choice - Yuki had no doubt encouraged him to play nice, and the boy had no backbone when it came to her.Â
She really was the worst.Â
Either way, there was no point in contemplating things. He was prepared for all this - of course he was going to see you and Kashimo together, that was normal, youâd come here together, he just needed some time for the reunion to get rolling, then Satoru would swoop in and kick things into motion.Â
But first, he needed to make himself as friendly as possible.Â
âGot space for me here?â His crimson eyes were fixed on you as he approached the table. âYou guys are the first people Iâve seen that I actually know, I mean, did these people even go to our high school?â He jabbed a thumb in the general direction of the other tables.Â
âIâm certain you have other friends you can sit with.â Yuki deadpanned, her expression less than pleased with his presence. Heâd anticipated such a response, so he ignored her entirely, keeping his gaze set on you.Â
You wouldnât cast him aside, not after all the time youâd been spending together over the last few weeks. You were friends, and what kind of person would turn away a friend? Definitely not a kind soul like you.Â
âOf course you can sit with us.â You chirped with a smile, gesturing to the empty seat next to Choso. âWe were just talking about that time that Gojo got really drunk before a school dance and then got up on the stage and confessed his love to Shoko.âÂ
âHumiliating.â Shoko said, covering her eyes, âI still get nightmares about it.â
âI think Satoru does too.â Sukuna said with a laugh.Â
He could remember that night well - him and Satoru had drunk a shit ton of absinthe before the dance, and unlike Sukuna, Satoru had no skill at all in holding his liquor. Shoko had tried to help get him in a car and safely home, only for him to escape her grip and tell her that he loved her.Â
He couldnât remember anything the next day, and considering that heâd been dating some other girl at the time, she wasnât best pleased at hearing her boyfriend profess his love for someone else.Â
It was really funny though. Even Satoru could laugh about it now that the humiliation had worn off a little.Â
âOh, Sukuna, this is Kashimo by the way,â you said as the laughter died down. âKashimo, this is Sukuna, heâs an old friend of mine.âÂ
âHey man,â Sukuna said politely, holding a hand out for Kashimo to shake. He ensured that his grip was strong, almost testing the other manâs strength and finding him to be inferior, just as Sukuna had expected.Â
âDamn, youâre pretty bulky. Do you live at the gym?â Kashimo asked, pulling his hand back and shaking it ever so slightly, as if trying to hide the extent to which the handshake had bruised him.Â
âSomething like that. Working construction keeps me strong.âÂ
âOh, do you guys work together?â Kashimo asked, glancing between the two of you.Â
âKinda.â You shrugged non-comittally. âI mostly work alone because Iâm inside the office all day while heâs out doing the actual work.âÂ
Sukuna sucked on his lower lip, very interested in the way that youâd effectively just lied. Considering that Sukuna was in your trailer every day without fail, your response didnât make a whole lot of sense - it was clear that you didnât want Kashimo to know how close the two of you actually were.Â
That was fine. It just reassured him that you definitely still had feelings for him. If you had nothing to hide, youâd be more upfront about your friendship.Â
âWhat do you do Kashimo? Something creative? Youâve got that cool look about you,â
Kashimo practically beamed at the praise, completely disarmed as he launched into a whole spiel about his music charity thing, which Sukuna had no interest in listening to because heâd already heard it all from you. Not to mention, he could probably recite that manâs whole life story after all the internet stalking he and Satoru had engaged in.Â
Some people were just so easy to play - give them the smallest compliment and they were really ready to believe that someone had their best interest at heart. Thank god for fools like him making Sukunaâs life so much easier.Â
Largely zoning out Kashimoâs words while he droned on and on, Sukunaâs gaze flickered momentarily over to you, satisfied at the realisation that you were already staring at him with wide eyes. It was almost like you were seeing him for the first time, comparing him to the man at your side and finding yourself captivated by your old flame.Â
He offered you a smug smile, meant only for you, appearing and disappearing in the span of a couple of seconds. He then turned his attention back to Kashimo, and proceeded to slip into his role. Until Satoru came to drop his bombshell, Sukuna would be nothing less than perfect.Â
It was after food had been served out on the tables that the part of the plan heâd been awaiting finally fell into place.Â
Sukuna had headed away from the table for a while, under the guise of wanting to speak with Toji, but really because he wanted to give Satoru a window to speak with you without him being there.Â
Theyâd discussed it beforehand - Satoru was to wait for Sukuna to leave the table and that was his cue to go and deliver the news to you.Â
Away from Kashimo, of course.Â
And his blue-eyed friend seemed to play the role perfectly, heading up to your table and engaging in excitable small talk just like he always would, making all the girls laugh raucously. He spent almost five minutes building rapport at the table, before turning to you and saying something with a serious expression, having you follow him over to a more secluded part of the room.Â
From there, you were out of Sukunaâs line of vision, and he just had to hope that Satoru would deliver the message like he was supposed to. He should really have more faith in the man, but he felt jittery about the idea of anything going wrong. Heâd already destroyed one chance with you and it had cost him four years of time at your side.Â
He didnât want to fuck this chance up.Â
âHey, who's the hot guy at your table?âÂ
Heâd been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he hadnât noticed Uro sidling up to him, swirling wine in her glass. Her eyes were fixed on Kashimo, who was still locked in conversation with Choso.
Shrugging, he mumbled an answer about how Kashimo was your boyfriend, uninterested in really engaging in conversation with someone as annoying as Uro.
âReally? Heâs so hot, better looking than Ryu. How does she even get these guys?â
Sukuna was moments away from telling her to fuck off, potentially proceeded by a long rant about how Uro couldnât even begin to compare to your level of beauty, but he held himself back as a sudden thought popped into his head.Â
How would you feel if you came back from your harrowing conversation with Satoru, only to see your boyfriend chatting with Uro?Â
He shrugged. âDunno. Iâve heard this guy is rich as fuck too. Apparently he gets into all the best clubs in the city. Heâs a real catch. I feel like heâs probably on the fence about their relationship too right now.âÂ
Shooting a sidelong glance at Uro, he caught the way that her eyes practically lit up at his words. It was an insane reaction since she was currently dating Toji, who was only two metres away, but sheâd always been a shameless little golddigger.Â
She ran a hand through her long pink hair, pulling a compact mirror from her purse and quickly applying a new layer of lip gloss before making off in the direction of the table, swinging her hips seductively as she walked. Sukuna wanted to roll his eyes at the corniness of the display, but he wasnât going to deny that Uro was effectively doing him a favour, so he wouldnât ridicule her too much.Â
Taking another sip of his drink, he watched the scene play out. Uro pulled out a chair next to Kashimo, giggling and leaning in close as she introduced herself. Her body language couldnât be more obvious, but Kashimo seemed to indulge her all the same, clearly giving her the same speech that heâd given Sukuna, as if she was there with friendly intent.Â
You clearly didnât take it that way, because as you stumbled back into Sukunaâs field of vision, your expression already stormy, you stumbled to a halt mere paces away from your table, lips parting in shock at the sight.Â
Uro had moved on to touching Kashimoâs shoulder when she laughed, and that happened to be the position they were in when you saw them. Sukuna watched the hurt and betrayal cross your pretty face, eyes shimmering with tears as you turned away silently, walking off down the hall and abandoning Kashimo to his conversation.Â
Perfect.Â
Things literally couldnât have been working out any more perfectly than they were.Â
He gave it a couple of minutes to not make things look obvious before heading down the hallway after you, pushing through the double doors and into the dark corridor beyond, heading to where the toilets were located. He hoped that was where you were, it would be annoying if youâd just up and left, but he supposed he could always drop by your house in that case.Â
About ten minutes elapsed before he started to get fidgety, wondering if he should go and look for your car outside. Fortunately, the bathroom door swung open before he could make the decision to leave.Â
You stumbled out into the hallway, your eyes and cheeks red from crying, eyes widening in surprise as you practically stumbled into him, steadied by his hands gently gripping your shoulders.Â
âYou okay?â He asked, eyes taking in your disheveled form. You still looked beautiful, even with your dress all crumpled, your make-up smeared every so slightly.Â
âYep. Peachy!â You said with a shuddering breath, fresh tears gathering at the corner of your eyes.Â
âHey, hey, whatâs wrong?â He asked, hands soothing your shoulders softly, playing the perfect role of concerned friend as if he didnât already know everything you were about to tell him.Â
âIt's nothing, just stupid stuff. I think Iâm just gonna go home. I just realised that high school actually sucked for me so I donât know why I thought it would be fun to be reminded of it.âÂ
Sukuna tilted his head sympathetically, thumbs rubbing circles into your soft skin. âIs this about Uro?âÂ
You barked out a humourless laugh. âSo you saw then? I bet everyone did.âÂ
âYeah, sheâs pretty shameless.âÂ
âIt wasnât like he was stopping it either,â you shot back, lip wobbling ever so slightly. âIâm not really surprised after everything I heard from Gojo earlier, but I feel like I just got overloaded with information and its fucking me up. I feel like Iâm sixteen again finding out that Ryu fucked Yorozu.âÂ
âEverything you heard from Gojo?â He pressed, his face a practiced picture of confusion.Â
You shook your head. âDonât get me started. Turns out Kashimo wasnât really who I thought he was, so now I just feel like a big idiot.â He could feel you shaking beneath his grip, completely blindsided by everything that was happening so quickly.Â
He hummed, pretending to think that over, before dropping a hand down to your wrist. âCome on, let's get you some fresh air. Sounds like you need it.â He softly tugged you down the corridor, and you followed with little resistance, letting him keep your wrist firmly in his grip as he led you out the back of the school.Â
The two of you ended up on the field out the back of the building, and Sukuna dragged you over to a bench, sitting you down and making it clear that you had his rapt attention.Â
âTell me what happened, I feel like everythingâs a bit too fragmented for me to piece together.âÂ
âGojo knows Kashimo. He met him at one of those gigs that Kashimo runs. He said he saw him doing drugs and publicly touching other women.â You took a deep breath. âI know we arenât exclusive, I chose that, but Kashimo was always telling me that he wanted to be exclusive, that I was the only one he was seeing. He always said he never did any of that partying stuff too. Guess it was all lies.âÂ
Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, red eyes fixed on the field before him as he contemplated what to say next. He figured that to really put himself in your good graces, he might as well take a gamble.Â
âAre you sure? Maybe Satoru was talking about someone else.âÂ
You shook your head, offering Sukuna a little smile as thanks for his optimism. âI donât see why Gojo would bother to lie about it. It's not like Kashimo is easily mistaken for someone else, and this happened at a gig for one of the bands that Kashimo manages - thereâs no mistaking it. Satoru said he could show me some private Myspace profile Kashimo has, but to be honest, Iâm not sure I even want to see.âÂ
Your lack of interest would spell a serious waste of several hours of Sukuna and Satoruâs time, but he supposed he could live with that.Â
âSeeing Uro all over him kinda just affirmed everything Gojo had to say. I was on the fence about him anyway, so this is just a sign I guess.âÂ
âMmm.â Sukuna started down at the daisies surrounding his feet, giving you the space to continue if you wished to. When you offered him nothing but silence, he opted to fill it. âIf you were on the fence anyway, why do you seem so upset?âÂ
His question was tender, expression soft as he gazed into your teary eyes. Instinctively one of his hands found its way to your cheek, carefully wiping away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. You let him do it, taking another deep shuddering breath.Â
âIt's not really about Kashimo, I guess.âÂ
âThen whatâs it about?âÂ
You shrugged. âI donât know. I just- I feel like this is how it always goes for me. Guys who seem nice make me think I can trust them, only for the rug to be pulled out from under me. Ryu seemed lovely until he fucked Yorozu, Kashimo seemed perfect until I found out he was doing all this shit behind my back. Do I just have a terrible judge of character?âÂ
âMaybe.â He hummed, a soft smile spreading over his face at the way you pouted up at him, clearly not in the mood for jokes. âMen tend to be pigs.âÂ
âYou included?â You asked.Â
Oh, definitely.
âI mean, I took the chance to sleep with you the second things went wrong with Ryu, so yeah, I guess it includes me. Iâd never pull any of the shit they pulled with you though, I can guarantee that.âÂ
You nodded thoughtfully, eyes glancing down at your hands in your lap. Sukunaâs hand was still gently caressing your face, stilling tears in their path. He wasnât sure why you hadnât pulled back yet, but heâd gladly push his luck as far as it would go.Â
âIf Uro so much as looked at me Iâd tell her to fuck off. Yorozu too. Any woman, actually.âÂ
You huffed softly. âI believe that.âÂ
âYeah?â Heâd almost thought that youâd hit back and call him just as bad as everyone else that youâd dated. He was arguably worse - not in his treatment of you of course, but fundamentally as a human being.Â
âYeah, I saw how you treated Yorozu back in high school. You never gave her the time of day.âÂ
He scrunched up his nose. âObviously not. Sheâs annoying as hell. Iâm glad she disappeared.âÂ
âMe too.âÂ
That caught him off guard, because heâd always thought that you were just too kind to really admit to such a thing out loud. Apparently not. That was a good sign, it meant that one day, in the distant, distant future, you might be receptive to hearing about all heâd done to have you at his side.Â
âHonestly, I wish Uro would just disappear too,â you added.Â
âNever say never. Maybe sheâll fuck off to be a star too.âÂ
âMaybe.â You said with a soft giggle.Â
If only you knew how willing Sukuna was to make such a thing happen if you really wanted it. For now he was keen to keep Uro alive, because she could certainly serve a purpose just like she had today, but perhaps one day, when he could be more honest with you about his actions, he could kill her for you as a big profession of love.Â
Wouldnât that be romantic?Â
âIâm being serious though, you know. Iâd never do anything but treat you with the reverence you deserve.â Slowly he pulled his hand back from your face, before sliding his arm around your shoulders. It was a cautious action, allowing you ample time to shuffle away. But you stayed perfectly still - just like all the other times heâs reached for you.Â
Your lips parted in surprise, a soft smile gracing your features as you nodded, leaning into his side ever so slightly. âNoted.âÂ
âI know youâve got all these reservations about us - the guilt and all that shit. But twice now your choices have failed you. Perhaps it's time to start doing the opposite of what you believe the best path to be.âÂ
He wasnât sure what to think of the way that you giggled.
âYou really want me huh?â You wiped tears from your cheeks as you gazed up at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. âSpouting all this deep thought nonsense just to try and make me give you a chance.âÂ
He smirked down at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He couldâve backed down, argued that everything he was saying was genuine, but you didnât seem unhappy, so he figured it was best to go along with the flow.Â
âYeah, you got me. But I donât think youâre opposed to it. I can see it in the way you look at me when you think Iâm not watching.âÂ
The way that you bit on your lower lip was painfully sexy. You made no effort to deny his words, and that might as well have been an admission of love in his eyes.Â
âYouâre so infuriating,â you said.
âSo Iâve heard.â
âAnd incredibly persistent.âÂ
âSome would see that as a positive,â he pointed out with a smile. You seemed more at ease now, your tears having stopped entirely. You shook your head with amusement, his heart fluttering in his chest at the action.Â
âLook, Iâm not having this conversation right now, outside of some stupid reunion where Iâve just found out my boyfriend has been lying to me for months.âÂ
âSo youâre saying youâd be willing to have this conversation another time?âÂ
You rolled your eyes, shooting him an incredulous look. âYou have really selective hearing.âÂ
âThatâs not a no.âÂ
You snorted. âYouâre right, it's not. I just need some time, gotta deal with this Kashimo thing, and figure out if I could even forgive myself for what we did all those years again. Then maybe we can have this conversation.âÂ
âMmm, so you do really like me, huh?âÂ
Letting out a deep sigh, you slipped out from under his arm and stood up, stretching a little. âIf Ryu hadnât died that nightâŠI donât know. Things might be different - I guess they still could be. Of course I like you, Iâve always liked you.âÂ
âMe too-âÂ
âBut, like I said, thatâs a conversation for another time. Iâve been running from those feelings for four years and Iâm not going to jump into your arms the same night that I find out my boyfriendâs been fucking me over. Be patient and maybe good things will come your way.âÂ
His eyes were shiny with joy, staring up at you eagerly. He sort of enjoyed the way that you were tugging at his leash, laying down the law with him. It was the most youâd ever given him outside of that night that Ryu died.Â
He was fucking ecstatic.Â
âFor now, Iâm gonna go back inside, Iâm gonna tell Kashimo I feel ill and get the fuck out of here. Then Iâm gonna berate him over text message and tell him weâre done.â The initial shock of the situation seemed to have worn off for you, tearful expression giving way for something more hardened.Â
Youâd grown up a lot from the girl whoâd crumbled upon finding out about Ryuâs cheating.Â
âAnd youâre gonna wipe that stupid smirk off your face and go back in there, and youâre gonna act like none of this happened. When Iâm ready to talk to you about what I feel for you, Iâm gonna let you know. Is that acceptable?âÂ
He was really struggling to wipe the grin off his face, such an action wasnât inherently in his nature. But he did give you an affirmative nod - heâd take a few moments before rejoining the reunion to try and stop himself from looking too excited.Â
It wouldnât do to have Kashimo suspecting anything.Â
âWhatever you want, sweetheart,â he purred.
You stared down at him for a moment, nibbling on your lip for a second before leaning down and planting a quick kiss on his lips. It happened so fast that he hardly had time to register it, failing to kiss you back in any capacity. That was probably for the best, because if heâd had time to do anything, he wouldâve pulled you into his lap and kept you there.Â
Before he could speak, you were gone, stalking back towards the doors to the school, a slight blush warming your cheeks. He was practically frozen, basking in the feeling of affection that overcame him at the contact, savouring the taste of your lipgloss.Â
He needed more of that.
And soon heâd get it.Â
â
The rest of the reunion passed without issue. You disappeared off home, and Kashimo stayed for about half an hour before calling it quits himself.Â
Sukuna couldnât quite decide if Kashimo sensed something amiss with your behaviour when you stopped by his table to say goodbye. He didnât think that it really mattered. As far as he was concerned, his gambit had paid off and his position with you was finalised. You were going to break up with Kashimo and everything would work out in Sukunaâs favour.Â
And to make sure there was no chance of anything getting in his way, Sukuna had some matters to take into his own hands.Â
He needed to make sure that you and Kashimo had no opportunity to talk about the accusations, and that meant dealing with Kashimo, before he could start asking questions around the specifics of why he was being broken up with.Â
Heâd be more careful than he was with Ryu, heâd learned from that experience. You couldnât find out that Kashimo was dead - this time Sukuna was going to make sure that the man disappeared. You already believed that he was a piece of shit whoâd been cheating behind your back, it wouldnât be too far a reach for you to believe heâd simply gotten tired of you and ghosted.Â
It would be even easier for you to believe if Kashimo were to send you a shitty text from his phone.Â
Yeah, Sukuna would do this in a much better manner than he did with Ryu. There was no space for sloppiness this time around.Â
âCar trouble?âÂ
Sukuna had pulled his car up next to Kashimo's, leaning out the window as he observed the blue-haired man. Your boyfriend was pulled over just outside of town, the hood of his car open, with him bent over it with a look of defeat creasing his brow.Â
A flicker of relief registered in his blue eyes at the sight of Sukuna, grinning at him from his own perfectly functioning truck.
âYeah, somethingâs fried. Donât know what. I only took this thing to the garage recently, canât believe it's breaking down on me already.âÂ
âI can take a look, Iâm pretty good with cars,â Sukuna said with a friendly smile.Â
âThat would be a big help.âÂ
Sukuna shut off his truck and leapt out, rounding the car to take a look at the engine. He wasnât really looking at it, since he was already well aware of what the issue was, having caused it himself. It was easy to sneak into the carpark during the reunion when no one was around, giving him ample opportunity to fuck with Kashimoâs shitty little car.Â
âAlternatorâs clearly fucked,â he said finally. âI could hit it with a hammer and you might get a few more miles out of her, but youâre gonna need to get that shit replaced as soon as possible.â
âThink it would manage seventy miles?â Kashimo asked, sounding defeated.Â
âDoubtful.â
âShit.âÂ
âMy dadâs got a garage though, I could go and see if he can help out? I should even be able to get you the friends and family discount, although heâs a stingy asshole so weâll have to see what mood heâs in.â Sukuna stepped back, slamming the hood of the car closed and walking back to his own truck.Â
So far this was going exactly as heâd hoped - part of him had been worried that the alternator would hang on for longer than he ideally wanted, and heâd have to follow the fucker halfway home. Running into him out on the highway would be much harder to explain than meeting him just outside of town.
It seemed like it was his lucky day.Â
âHop in, you might as well come with me rather than hanging out around here. Thereâs weird folk about.â He had to bite down on his lower lip to not chuckle at the irony of his statement, since Kashimo would be far safer if he remained in his car.Â
Kashimo gave him a grateful smile, clearly sensing nothing amiss. He rummaged around in his car for a few moments and grabbed his backpack before jumping into the passenger side of Sukunaâs truck. âThanks man, I owe you one. Youâre a good guy, can see why my girl gets along with you.âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
He started up the engine, taking a glance over his shoulder before doing a U-Turn and heading back towards town. He imagined that most people would feel stressed if they were in his position, going back and forth in their minds about whether they should go through with their plan. Perhaps their hearts would be thumping, blood rushing in their ears.Â
Sukuna felt none of that. He was completely calm, his heart rate steady, his mind clear. Now that he had Kashimo in his car he felt secure, because he knew with certainty that he could carry out the next bit with flawless efficiency.Â
Heâd done it before - more than once. In this sort of field, that practically made someone a professional.Â
All heâd felt when heâd killed Ryu was satisfaction. The same when he bashed Yorozuâs head in. Heâd feel no more remorse over Kashimo. Heâd do anything if it meant that he could be at your side, with all potential threats thoroughly eliminated.Â
Could anyone really blame him for doing such a thing? He was in love.
âYeah, not many people would bother helping some guy they barely know - Iâm just the new boyfriend of your buddy, it's not like you have any obligation!â Kashimo said fondly. Sukuna had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at how thickly the man was laying on the praise. âYouâre a pretty cool dude, yâknow?âÂ
Sukuna chuckled, eyes locked on the road ahead of him.Â
âDonât sweat it. Iâm really just doing her a favour.âÂ
next chapter
a/n: reader be folding for him so easily :(
hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 8.3k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!
a/n: I've been sitting on the plan for this for a while and I'm so excited to get into it! Hope you enjoy!
masterlist | ao3 | next chapter
During your final year of high school, your boyfriend died at a party.Â
They never caught the guy who did it - he was long gone by the time Ryuâs body was discovered, mutilated in the garage of the poor party host.Â
Heâd been practically ripped apart, torn to pieces by someone with deeply malicious intent. There was no explanation for the act, no note, no leads. Just the assumption, that either your boyfriend was caught up with something nasty that heâd never thought to divulge or, there was someone immensely sick living in your little town.Â
It haunted you for a long time afterwards.Â
Youâd been the one to discover him - you and one other party-goer. The vision of him, his guts strewn about the place, ribs pulled out one by one, was something that would never leave your mind. Even now, four years later, youâd still occasionally see the image when you closed your eyes.Â
An unshifting feeling of guilt had followed you ever since that night, deep sorrow for the acts that youâd committed. You could never quite forgive yourself for the fact that, instead of being at his side throughout that party, youâd been holed up in the bathroom, letting another man fuck you over the sink.Â
If youâd been faithful, maybe heâd still be alive.Â
Thereâd been plenty of effort on your part to bury that thought via various different methods. Youâd gone off to university, where youâd partied, gotten insanely drunk and fucked your fair share of guys in an attempt to drown your sorrows through hedonism. When that only seemed to make things worse, youâd isolated yourself from your peers, turned to support groups and therapy, hoping that you could let the whole thing go.Â
And to be fair to the tenacity of your therapist, while your guilt hadnât disappeared, it had shrivelled up considerably in that time.Â
Enough that your heart no longer palpitated whenever you were back in your hometown - a blessing, considering that it looked like youâd be staying there for the foreseeable future.Â
Youâd tried to get a job out in the city, but with the dire state of the employment market, you found yourself coming up empty handed. You couldnât afford to stay in the little apartment that youâd rented out throughout university, leaving you no choice but to return to your childhood home.Â
There, at least you could be employed and earn a little bit of money for your future. Your father owned a construction business, and with various expansion efforts taking place on the outskirts of town, his company had been growing in size significantly. It meant that he was keen to have someone manage the more admin heavy tasks that he was struggling to keep up with.Â
While it wasnât your calling, it sounded like fairly easy work and it would keep your dad happy. Besides, there was a part of you that was excited to move back to your hometown. Most of the people youâd known from school were still around, either in a similar situation to you, or having never attempted to leave in the first place.Â
Considering that youâd never really clicked with anyone at university, bar one guy that you were currently engaged in some sort of situationship with, you were excited to be back with people that youâd known for years.Â
Perhaps that would dispel some of the loneliness youâd been feeling. After years of guilt and isolation, it was time to start moving on.Â
âEverything going okay, sweetie? Need anything?â Your dad popped his head around the door of the trailer that served as his office. Youâd been rapping your fingers on the wooden desk, staring blankly at the computer before you, waiting patiently for excel to start up. The machine looked like it had been made in the 80s, and it certainly operated like it.Â
âIâll be all good once this thing cooperates.â You responded with a smile.Â
âBe nice to it and itâll be nice to you!â He chuckled, as if the ancient technology was sentient in any manner. You nodded along all the same, knowing that he was being genuine. He wasnât the most tech literate man, and honestly believed that these things could smell your fear.Â
A ridiculous, but endearing quality of his.Â
âI showed you how to make an accident report, right?â He continued, expression turning a little more serious. âOne of my guys has hurt his hand. Nothing serious but we gotta write it up - think you can handle that, sweetie?âÂ
You shrugged. How hard could it really be? All you had to do was open up a word template and fill out the questions accordingly before filing it away - any seven year old with two IT lessons under their belt could figure it out.Â
âSure. What was the accident?âÂ
âIâll just send him in to explain, he should really be off the clock for today anyway.â Your father gave you a thankful smile before heading back out the door. It swung shut with a heavy creak, and you fidgeted with a pen for a few moments, staring at the digital clock on the desk as you waited for the worker to arrive.Â
You hoped that they were a quick talker - it was already 4pm, and you were meant to clock out at 5. Ideally you didnât want to be here any later than absolutely necessary.Â
The door creaked open once more, and you barely raised your head. You didnât have much interest in your fatherâs employees, most of them were on the older side, and had been working for your dad since you were a little girl. There was a limited amount of good work in town, and your dad offered one of the few places where a man could find steady employment.Â
Naively, youâd assumed that it would be one of those men entering the office. A pleasant old guy who had worked here long enough to remember you coming along for âbring your daughter to workâ days.Â
Nothing couldâve prepared you for the deep, familiar voice that sent tingles crawling up your spine.Â
âWell, well. Isnât this a nice surprise.âÂ
You blinked a couple of times as you looked up, voice failing you at the sight of the man towering over your desk. Heâd grown even taller since the last time youâd seen him, if that was even possible. His pink hair was a little longer, still pushed back from his forehead as it always was. More tattoos had appeared on his tanned skin, the ones lining his face just as striking as ever.Â
The soft, involuntary gasp that fell from your lips was a little embarrassing, especially considering the way that his grin widened at the sound, sharp canines on display. His red eyes were alight with that same intensity that had always burned within them, that alluring gaze that always felt like it was stripping you down to nothing.Â
âShouldâve told me you were back in town,â he said, eyes dragging slowly up your figure, as if assessing all manner of ways youâd changed in the years since heâd last seen you.Â
âI- Iâve only just got back, a few days ago.âÂ
It wasnât a lie, you really only had been there a couple of days. That wasnât exactly the reason that you hadnât reached out though. Youâd been avoiding him ever since the murder four years ago, guilt curling in your stomach at the mere thought of him. Heâd been the one with you in the bathroom at that party, hands gripping your hips, buried to the hilt inside you.Â
While your poor boyfriend bled out in the garage below, Sukuna had been whispering filthy things in your ear, holding you like you belonged to him.Â
It was a mistake that you could never take back - a moment of lust, of frustration with your boyfriend, clouding your judgement into a single, awful decision.
âYou working here now?â He asked with a tilt of his head, pulling out the chair opposite the desk and sitting down. His tongue swiped across his lip for a moment, the silver of his piercing glinting in the golden light streaming through the window.Â
You could still recall the feeling of that little metal ball against your pussy, sobbing softly as he teased it against your clit, fingers digging hard into your thighs, holding you still for him. You hated to admit that for every night youâd spent picturing your ex-boyfriendâs lifeless body, there was a night spent replaying that evening with Sukuna.Â
How pathetic.Â
âSomething like that, yeah.â Your tone was cautious, not sure what to make of all this. You hadnât expected Sukuna to be working for your dad, had almost expected him to have gotten out of town by now. Despite appearances, he was a smart guy - it wasnât like some construction job in a dead end town was all he was capable of.Â
âGuess weâll be seeing a lot of each other then.âÂ
The statement hung heavy in the air, his eyes fixed on yours. It felt like a test, to see if youâd squirm beneath his statement that almost certainly held double meaning. This was how heâd spoken to you back in high school, greeting you with teasing lines that would never fail to make your heart race, to further your attraction for him.Â
He knew exactly what he was doing.Â
Even now, your cheeks reddened ever so slightly, gaze dropping down to the desk in an attempt to escape the intensity of his eye contact.Â
âI guess so.âÂ
You fell silent, not sure how to continue. It felt awkward, almost scary to be in his proximity again. There was still so much tension between the two of you, things left unsaid after that evening together. Youâd slipped from his grip, lost in a sea of guilt, unwilling to face that night. The few times that Sukuna had reached out via text, youâd ghosted him.
He was a reminder of your sin, one that you wanted to wash away, no matter how much you ached for a repeat of how it felt to have his body pressed against yours.Â
It seemed like he was finding your reaction amusing, elation drawn across his handsome face. With the silence stretching on, he leant forward, planting his elbows on the desk. Your skin prickled as he drew closer, almost able to feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. âSo, arenât you meant to be writing an injury report for me or something, sweetheart?âÂ
Your mouth opened and then closed again, unsure as to whether you should object to the nickname. One one hand you were currently in some sort of relationship, even if it was a little fraught, and therefore shouldnât abide by men calling you sweet names. On the other hand, you couldnât deny the way that it built pressure in your gut, to hear the word drawled out in his deep voice.Â
âOh, uh- yeah, one sec.âÂ
You scrambled to pull up the report, goosebumps rising on your skin at the acute awareness of how closely he was watching you, a soft little smile curving his lips. The air in the room felt too close, charged by his presence. Trying your best to ignore it, you focussed on the document, filling in the parts that you already knew - the basic things like his name and date of birth.Â
It was only then that you turned back to him, heart stuttering at the sight of his smug expression. âWhat- whatâs the nature of your injury?â You asked, after clearing your throat, reading the question word for word off the document.Â
Slowly, he turned his hand over, revealing his palm to you. You flinched back in surprise at the sight of a deep cut ravaging his tanned skin, blood still trickling from the open wound. He didnât seem bothered by it, more amused by your shocked reaction.Â
âFuck. my dad said it was nothing, thatâs deep!âÂ
Sukuna pursed his lips before shrugging. âThereâs been worse. Some old dudeâs arm got chopped off two weeks ago.âÂ
âStill, we need to clean that up.â You urged, the tense atmosphere lightening a little now that youâd broken the initial barrier of awkwardness. Report forgotten for the moment, you rummaged around in the desk drawers until you found what you were looking for, pulling out a first aid kit.Â
He sat still, watching you eagerly as you looked through the kit, pulling out cleansing wipes and a roll of bandages. You didnât hesitate to reach for his hand, his fingers warm beneath yours while you held him still. You made quick work of wiping up the blood, before wrapping a bandage firmly around his damaged palm.Â
Youâd have to lecture your father later about taking better care of his employees. If you hadnât been there what wouldâve happened to Sukuna? Would he have just gone back to work as normal?Â
What happened to the guy who lost his arm?
âHow did this even happen?â You asked, exasperated.Â
âAw, you worried about me?â His palm was still outstretched on the table, even though youâd long since retracted your own hand.Â
âIâm worried about everyone working here if this kind of thing is normal.âÂ
His grin didnât waver, telling you that in his mind, it was the former. Regardless, he offered you the answer youâd been seeking. âJust some glass buried in the dirt, I didnât see it before I was sticking my hand in there.âÂ
Your gaze flicked back down to his hand, brow a little furrowed. You werenât sure why heâd be doing that in the first place, and his hands were miraculously clean for someone who had been digging around in the mud, but you figured it was best not to pick him up on it. It wasnât like you really understood the processes surrounding what went on around the worksite.Â
âYou should be more careful.âÂ
âWhen Iâve got a nice little angel in here ready to patch me up when things go wrong? Nah, I think Iâll be more reckless.â He sported a boyish grin, one that you were all too familiar with. It had been reflected in the mirror the last time youâd seen him, when heâd been all up in your guts.Â
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way his smile made your heart pound. It was wrong - you didn't deserve anything with Sukuna - that was your atonement for the cheating, for the betrayal of your boyfriend all those years ago.Â
Moving back to the computer, you typed out a quick description of the wound, followed by Sukunaâs short explanation of how it had happened. You then detailed the first aid that had been administered, before sending the document over to the printer to create two copies. Sukuna stayed silent through all of it, crimson eyes just watching as you headed over to collect the freshly printed reports.Â
You could feel the way that his eyes lingered on your ass as you walked, making little effort to hide his continuing desire for you. It was as though you hadnât been gone for four years, like Sukuna had been keeping you in the front of his mind this whole time.Â
It was embarrassing how giddy the idea made you feel.Â
âTojiâs having a party at his place tonight, you should come,â Sukuna said.Â
Biting down on your lip, you hesitated. Partying had stopped being your scene a long time ago - after your first year at university youâd mostly just stayed holed up in your room. Parties came with too many reminders of what had happened to Ryu all those years ago, and you found that it was easier to avoid them altogether.Â
Besides, you werenât sure that hanging around with Sukuna was the best course of action for you. Your history considered.
Sensing your hesitation, he continued. âIt would be nice to catch up under better circumstances. Yâknow, when Iâm not bleeding out and all.â He held up his hand with a charming smile, and you couldnât help but giggle.Â
âI think youâll be fine,â you said. âIâm a great doctor.âÂ
âYou are.â He agreed. âI think a really great doctor would come and check up on their patient later, to make sure the wound hasnât reopened.âÂ
It was a smooth line, that had always been the way that he operated. You were well aware of what he was doing - wise to the gentle, enticing, flirting that was so characteristically him. But it would be wrong to give in, even if you wanted to. Anything between you and Sukuna would always be marred by that fateful night.
Besides, you had your situationship to consider - even if Kashimo wasnât technically your boyfriend, he still deserved some level of respect.Â
The rejection, the lie about being busy, had been sitting on the tip of your tongue when the creaky door to the trailer opened. Your dad stepped in with a kind smile, glancing between the two of you. âEverything all good in here?âÂ
âY-yep!â You stuttered over your words, cursing yourself. You hadnât wanted your dad to sense any tension between the two of you, but the way that you fumbled as you handed Sukuna his copy of the accident report had your dad frowning.Â
You werenât generally a flustered girl, usually very calm and collected. The flush that decorated your cheeks paired with Sukunaâs amused gaze clearly had some cogs turning in his head.Â
âOh, do you guys know each other? You must be around the same age.âÂ
âWe went to school together,â Sukuna said, easily. âItâs nice to see each other actually, we haven't had the chance in the last few years.âÂ
You nodded along, hoping that Sukuna wouldnât divulge any further information than that. Your dad certainly didnât need to know the intimacy with which youâd known each other. In fact, you were rather confident that your dad would hate the idea of you bringing home a guy like Sukuna. Heâd always been eager for you to find a nice man with a good job.Â
âI was just inviting her along to a party actually. Loads of people she knew from school will be around, I bet theyâd love to see her.âÂ
Sukuna smirked at you as he spoke, like heâd picked up on your hesitation and had known exactly how to counter your uncertainty. To an outsider it all looked so innocent, just an old friend looking to encourage you to reconnect. To your father, there would be no hidden intentions behind the invite, no history to consider.Â
âOh isnât that nice!â Your father exclaimed with a bright smile, taking Sukunaâs bait easily. âYou should definitely go, sweetie.âÂ
Heâd been worried about your apparent isolation throughout most of your university years, and didnât want you moping around in your room now that you were back in town. To him, this probably sounded like the perfect opportunity to reconnect.Â
And you supposed it probably was.Â
You just needed to make sure that you didnât do something youâd regret.Â
â
Toji lived in a nice house in the suburbs.Â
It didnât really surprise you since his family had always been wealthy. They ran some sort of agriculture related business and had made millions from it. All of the Zenin kids went on to work there, no need to worry about university or getting their foot in the door somewhere - Naobito would take care of them all.Â
It had been Naobitoâs house that Ryuâs murder had taken place in all those years ago, during a party that Naoya had been throwing. Apparently theyâd sold up after that, moving into a new place across town. Naobito had been very publicly enraged about how the murder had damaged the value of their old house - a place that, for all intents and purposes, had previously been a lovely place to live.Â
Tojiâs house was smaller than either of the Zenin mansions were, but still larger than most houses in town. The sound of music was blaring from within, a handful of people hanging around on the lawn, smoking and chatting. You didnât recognise any of them, but Toji was a few years older than you, so you wouldnât be surprised if they were classmates from his own school year.Â
Taking a deep breath, you made your way up the fancy driveway and through the front door, trying not to think too much about the last time youâd attended a party just like this one. It wasnât like the same thing would happen again, it was narcissistic to believe that the murder had anything to do with you in the first place.Â
Even if your guilt wanted you to believe it.Â
Inside, you discovered a scene that wasnât too unlike the parties youâd attended in high school - although, there was a lot less hiding where drinking alcohol was concerned. Some terrible skater anthems were blasting, seemingly courtesy of Tojiâs buddy Choso, who had a DJ rig set up in one corner. Everyone was dancing and mingling, and you felt a mild panic wash through your body at the overwhelming number of people.Â
Especially because most faces seemed unfamiliar to you.Â
The fear dissipated at the sound of a familiar voice, a gleeful shriek of your name followed by the weight of being tackled into a bearhug. âI canât believe youâre actually back!â Your senses were overwhelmed by the smell of some rosy smelling perfume and the light blonde hair of your attacker falling in the way of your eyes.Â
Yuki felt like she was squeezing the life out of you, making up for years of limited contact with a single hug that had you gasping by the time she finally released you. âHey,â you said with a smile, eyeing her up. She looked gorgeous in a halterneck burgundy dress, her hair flowing freely around her shoulders.Â
Sheâd been one of your best friends in high school. The two of you had always been joined at the hip, along with Shoko, who was currently catching up to Yuki, trying not to spill her drink as she hurried over to you. âHey girl!!â She was much more careful with the hug that followed, only wrapping one arm around you, aware that her plastic cup was too full to take the risk of hugging you properly.Â
âDidnât think weâd be seeing you until Saturday!â Yuki said with a smile.Â
She and Shoko were the two people that youâd actively told about your return to town. While youâd drifted apart over the last four years, all off at your respective universities, youâd still called them every now and then to catch up, keeping each other updated with important life matters with regular texts.Â
Yuki had moved back to town permanently after university. Sheâd landed one of those cushy corporate jobs that lets you work from home four days a week, in which your main job is responding to emails for an obscene amount of money. She could certainly afford to live in the city, but she and Choso had been dating for about a year now, and he had no interest in leaving town.Â
Shoko was still going through medical school, attending a university a mere ten miles from your little town. Her mother had been sick when she was first going through the application process, and had therefore opted to select a school nearby. It meant that she could live at home, be with her mom, and save a load of money in the process.Â
It would be nice to have your little group back together, and youâd all planned to go and get your nails done together on Saturday, treat yourselves to a nice girlâs day out. You were certainly long overdue one - there was so much that you needed to bring them up to speed on.Â
âYeah, I thought you werenât big on parties these days?â Shoko enquired.Â
âIâm not, but I figured it would be nice to pop along and see some familiar faces.âÂ
You really hoped they didnât ask you who had actually invited you to the party. They both knew what had happened with Sukuna four years ago. They were part of an elite, private group that was aware of the truth. That group consisted only of the two of them, and your therapist. And, you supposed, anyone Sukuna might have told.Â
In their eyes Sukuna was bad news - they believed heâd manipulated you into sleeping with him and cheating on Ryu when you were in an emotionally volatile state. They werenât technically wrong, but it didnât account for how badly youâd also wanted Sukuna, how little heâd actually had to try to get you bent over in that bathroom.Â
Youâd fantasized about Sukuna long before that night.
Either way, like true friends, they never accepted that any of the blame lay with you, and piled everything on Sukuna - and partially on Ryu for the part that he played in the situation, since heâd cheated on you first. Although blaming the latter was harder to justify considering the depressing end that heâd met.Â
It was easiest to just blame Sukuna. And for that reason, theyâd been on Sukuna watch for a long time, ensuring that the two of you wouldnât cross paths, warning you not to respond to him when youâd tell them about texts heâd sent to your phone.Â
Theyâd definitely be angry if they knew youâd come here because of him.Â
âLet me get you a drink,â Shoko said, âIâm pretty good at cocktails, you used to like mojitos right? I can make you one.âÂ
âOh, itâs fine, I can-âÂ
âNo, no, you guys head out to the garden, Iâll do it!âÂ
Shoko scuttled off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving her drink in your hands while she went to make you a fresh one. You stared after her, a little perplexed by her insistence since you werenât sure sheâd ever gone to get a drink for you at a party before. For one panicked moment you wondered if the two of them thought you needed babysitting for your first home town party in years.Â
Yuki caught your confusion before your theories could evolve any further. âUtahime is in the kitchen, Shoko is down bad for her. Sheâs just looking for an excuse to go back in there.âÂ
âOh right!â You giggled softly. Shoko generally kept things like crushes close to her chest, and was likely doing everything she could to deny having any feelings towards your former classmate, but Yuki had always been far too astute to have such secrets kept from her.Â
âAnyway, most of the people we know are out in the garden.â Yuki grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd of bodies in the direction of the patio doors at the back of the house. âNo idea who most of the people at this party are though! I think they work for Toji or something.âÂ
Making your way outside, you were greeted with a beautifully manicured garden, set up with a lovely firepit in the middle, surrounded by an array of benches, crates and camping chairs for people to sit on. You couldnât picture Toji labouring away outside, so you could only imagine that he had a gardener to keep things in such pristine shape.Â
Yuki led you over to the firepit, waving at various people that youâd known from school, parading you around like a trophy. You supposed that your presence was a novelty, since youâd been absent from any such gathering for a long time.Â
As she brought you around to the far side of the pit, you caught the eye of Sukuna, sitting in between Toji and Gojo. His gaze locked onto you immediately, a small smirk playing on his lips as he gave you a nod, raising his beer ever so slightly in greeting. Yuki gave you no window to respond, her grip on your hand firm as she ushered you past the man.Â
She didnât want you to acknowledge his presence.Â
Even as Gojo stopped you with a bright smile, gushing over how long it had been, Yuki inserted herself in front of Sukuna, effectively shutting down any chance at conversation, giving you a few minutes to fill in Gojo on the last few years of your life before interrupting and dragging you away, claiming that she âdeserved more of your time than any stupid boy.âÂ
The two of you eventually found a seat on a crate a little further around the circle to where Sukuna was situated, next to Mei and Manami, who both seemed thrilled to see you. They hadnât been your closest friends by any stretch of the imagination, but theyâd both been in lots of your classes, and had shown plenty of support when Ryu died.Â
As such, you found yourself getting caught up in conversation with them for a while, attention only waning when Yuki started gossiping to Mei about some guy that they worked with, your mind starting to tune out the conversation, eyes drifting in the direction that you knew they shouldnât.Â
Sukuna was already staring at you when you looked over at him, red eyes lighting up in amusement at your lack of resistance to his presence. Unnerved by being caught, you were quick to glance away, reminding yourself that your current kind of boyfriend, kind of friends-with-benefits, probably wouldnât approve of you looking at or thinking about Sukuna in the way that you did.Â
Youâd made the mistake with Ryu, you wouldnât make it with Kashimo.
In a bid to avoid Sukunaâs gaze, your eyes drifted over to his left, where Toji was spread out on a camping chair, lounging in it like it was a throne. Heâd always been the type of person that commanded a heavy atmosphere, confident in himself despite all his failings. He and Sukuna had much in common on that front, though youâd always found Sukuna much more palatable.Â
There was an intelligence to Sukuna that you couldnât really see in Toji. You were certain that he was street smart, but his conversations tended to hold little weight. If you werenât interested in discussing gambling or sex, he wasnât interested in you.Â
Sitting pretty on his lap was Takako Uro, twirling her vibrant pink hair and slapping his shoulder as she giggled at some joke. The sound might as well have been nails dragging down a chalkboard as far as you were concerned, for she was decidedly not your favourite person.Â
She and her best friend, Yorozu, hadnât been all that nice to you during high school, deciding for some reason that you were a decent target of ridicule. You were aware that jealousy had a big part to play in that, since Yorozu had always been down bad for Sukuna, who would never care to spare her a glance but seemed to have all the time in the world for you.Â
It led to plenty of instances of bullying - spreading rumors about you, leaving nasty notes in your locker, hiding your normal clothes after gym. For the most part you ignored it, rose above it even. You had good friends, and you knew that Uro and Yorozu would never take it too far for fear of how Yuki would deal with them if you were to tell your friend about their actions.Â
That didnât stop Yorozu from sleeping from Ryu though, bragging about how heâd had her over the desk in an empty classroom, while you were still dating him. Sheâd said it loud enough for you to hear, turning to grin at you as she smashed your first relationship to pieces. Revenge for garnering interest from a man who wanted nothing to do with her.
That incident was why youâd been so angry at Ryu that night that heâd died, why youâd been so pliable to Sukunaâs advances in a manner that you wouldnât usually be.Â
You supposed that in a way, you got the better of Yorozu in the end. She mightâve fucked your boyfriend, but all it did was drive you into the arms of the true object of her affection. Not very clever of her really.Â
âUgh, gross,â Yuki said, wrinkling her nose as she followed your gaze, just in time to catch Toji sticking his tongue down Uroâs throat. âThought sheâd be less insufferable without her other half but somehow sheâs worse now.âÂ
Your brows furrowed in confusion and you glanced up at her. âWithout her other half?âÂ
âYorozu.âÂ
You shot her a blank look that told her you understood who sheâd meant, but lacked the context to understand Yorozuâs absence.Â
âOh you donât know?â Yuki asked, a little surprised, as if you were missing out on common knowledge. âShe skipped town after high school. Ran away in the middle of the night, just left some dumb note for her parents about how she was gonna go be a star. No oneâs heard from her since.âÂ
âOh.â
You werenât sure what else to say, mainly because you were trying to stop a massive grin from creeping across your face.
âUro was devastated, all this crying and screaming about how Yorozu wouldnât just ditch her like that. Doesnât seem all that surprising to me though,â she said with a shrug. âYorozuâs always been a bitch.âÂ
You laughed softly, trying not to look too overjoyed that you wouldnât have to worry about running into her ever again. It was a little spiteful, but a big part of you hoped that she never managed to become a star. In your mind sheâd ended up in some nasty crack den somewhere before she even made it halfway to Hollywood.Â
Although, considering how panicky most people in the town had been following Ryuâs death, you were surprised that a simple note had been a valid enough explanation. âDid her parents not search for her?âÂ
âNah, Uro kicked up a whole fuss reporting her as a missing person and the police got involved, but Yorozuâs parents basically shot it all down. Apparently, sheâd spouted off about this plan non-stop, so they told Uro to just let it go. Police didnât find any signs of foul play.âÂ
You hummed, eyes flicking back over to Sukuna for a moment, breath knocked from your lungs at the intensity with which his red eyes were fixed on you, crimson irises glowing in the light of the fire. You wondered if he was relieved that Yorozu was gone - sheâd always stuck to him like glue no matter how hard he pushed her away.Â
The ugly thought jumped into your mind that youâd actually be happy if Yorozu had met the same fate as Ryu. She wasnât the worst person to be wiped from the world. Not that youâd ever say such a thing aloud.Â
Considering some of the things Sukuna had said to her, you wouldnât be surprised if he felt the same.Â
âAnyway, good riddance. Things have been nicer without her around,â Yuki said easily, taking a long sip of her drink.Â
âYeah.â Your response was absent-minded, thoughts already drifting back to Sukuna - transfixed by the way that his thighs were spread so easily on the bench that he occupied, tattooed biceps on display in that blank tank that clung to him so perfectly. You should really stop staring, stop inviting any opportunity for interaction, but your body had always been a traitor when it came to him.Â
Youâd hoped that your friends would draw your attention back to them. Shoko and Utahime had joined you, sitting together on their own bench and giggling away at something that Mei had said. Surrounded by people, it was harder to get caught up in that magnetic pull that Sukuna seemed to command over you.Â
And yet, as there was a call to play Spin the Bottle inside, one that your friends all jumped at, you found yourself declining. You had a boyfriend - that was the excuse that you gave, claiming that he wouldnât like you kissing some other guy, and youâd rather stay out here in the fresh air anyway.Â
Theyâd tried to convince you for a few minutes before conceding, leaving you sitting on the crate, drink in hand, left practically alone. Almost everyone that had been sitting around the fire had gone inside, leaving only a handful of people dotted around. Most of them were strangers to you.Â
Except for one.Â
He wasted no time sidling up to you, taking a seat next to you on your little crate without so much as asking if it was okay.Â
âLooking kinda lonely over here.â His voice was deep, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand came to rest on the crate behind you, no doubt under the guise of maintaining balance, but you could feel the slight brush of his skin against your back.Â
You shrugged as nonchalantly as you could, pretending your heart wasnât racing. âIâm doing just fine.âÂ
âYeah? It's funny, the way you were looking at me made it seem like you wanted me to come over.âÂ
You opened your mouth to bite back, to say that you wanted no such thing, but it would be a lie. You did want him to come over, you wanted him next to you, craved his attention. Even though you knew you shouldnât, knew that anything with him would be built on bloodied foundations, it didnât stop the desire.Â
If you were more religious, you mightâve considered Sukuna to be the devil himself - a manifestation of all your deepest temptations, built solely from sin. As such, you really shouldnât keep giving into him.Â
And you were trying your best, really.Â
âYou look good.â The compliment was easy, straightforward. It shouldnât have made you flush as deeply as you did.Â
For a second, you almost forgot yourself, the response of so do you lingering on the tip of your tongue, only for you to force it back down your throat.Â
Instead, you did the responsible thing. âI- uh- have a boyfriend.âÂ
The glimmer in his eyes dulled a little, smile faltering for such a miniscule second that you werenât even sure it had happened at all. âA boyfriend?âÂ
Boyfriend wasnât really the right word, not from your side of things at least, but you were certain that if you referred to Kashimo as a situationship, Sukuna would disregard it as a whole. As far as he was concerned, if there was no actual relationship then you were fair game. In the case of Ryu, even that hadnât stopped his advances.Â
Though heâd at least been more subtle, more careful, waiting for the perfect moment.Â
âYeah, a boyfriend,â the words felt foreign in your mouth, too heavy, your heart unmoving for Kashimo in the way that it should be. Half of you even considered calling the whole thing quits and crawling onto Sukunaâs lap there and then.Â
But that wouldnât be fair - not when Kashimo had been there for you unwaveringly. He was a good guy, the type of guy whoâd take you out on cute little dates, supported you when your anxiety popped up from time to time, understood your trauma from Ryuâs death. Heâd been patient around stuff like sex, taking things slow, always listening to whatever you wanted.Â
He was a good guy.Â
You knew that he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were the one standing in the way of any serious commitment. That had been the case with any man youâd met in the last four years, and youâd convinced yourself that it was a trauma response, that you were afraid of what had happened to Ryu happening to any other boyfriend you had.Â
In the depth of your soul you knew that wasnât really the case.Â
The reality was, you compared every man that you met to Sukuna, and always found that they came up short. They didnât ignite that fiery lust within your chest, didnât fuck you like he did, didnât make you feel giddy like he did.Â
âYou sound enthralled by him.â Sukuna said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.Â
âI- it's steady.â The defence was pathetic and you both knew it.Â
It was steady, it was nice, safe. He was the type of guy who had a good job, who you could bring home to meet your parents without fear of what they might think.Â
Even if Sukuna did work for your dad, if you were to bring him home, you were certain your parents would hate it. They didnât want you with someone like him, someone tough and volatile, someone who pushed you to cheat on your boyfriend.
They wanted you to be with someone like Kashimo. He was the exact type of guy that you shouldâve wanted for yourself.Â
And yet there you were, right at Sukunaâs side, not quite shutting him down despite having plenty of reasons to.Â
âSounds like he isnât keeping you interested. Iâm sure you wouldnât run into that problem if you were with me,â Sukuna purred, a confident grin stretching across his handsome face.
Your eyes widened at how straightforward he was with his words, willing to lay out his intentions on the line. It was as though heâd spent a great deal of time considering what heâd missed out on all those years ago, and didnât want to lose it again.Â
And you had to fight the impulse to nod your head and agree, because you were certain that you wouldnât run into that problem if you were with him. But unfortunately that wasnât all that dictated a relationship. And what kept you from Sukuna wasnât really Kashimo - you were just using your current situationship as a convenient excuse.Â
âNo.â You said with a shake of the head, turning him down despite the way your heart was hammering in your chest. âWe killed someone, Sukuna. We donât get to be together.âÂ
He rolled his eyes, clearly displeased by your dramatic wording. âWe didnât kill anyone. Ryu wouldâve died whether we were fucking in that bathroom or not. Trust me.âÂ
It was probably true, youâd always known in your heart that it was probably true. Your therapist had made it abundantly clear to you that you should not be held responsible for his death. Youâd already punished yourself plenty, that was what sheâd said, at some point you had to forgive yourself.Â
And yet it felt impossible to fully push that feeling off your chest.Â
âI betrayed his trust. I donât get to ride off into the sunset with the man I was cheating with while heâs laying six feet underground. Thatâs my punishment.âÂ
Sukuna was staring at you like you were stupid, red eyes narrowed in disappointment. âPunishment from who? At this point youâre just punishing yourself, and me.â The hand he had positioned behind you moved, wrapping around your waist carefully. It was a test, to see if youâd push him away.Â
You didnât.Â
âHe was a piece of shit, he cheated on you, baby. Gonna live in regret because of a guy like that? Not sure why you were even dating him. You couldâve been with me the whole time.âÂ
You nibbled on your lip, unhappy to hear such words coming from his mouth, trying to break down your walls. He said it like it had ever been that simple. You hadnât understood the depth of Sukunaâs feelings before youâd gotten together with Ryu, and had assumed that all heâd really wanted was to play with you like he played with other girls.Â
What Ryu had shown you was something real, tangible. Heâd been straight forward in his affection, asked you to be his girlfriend without any doubt surrounding where you stood with him. It wasnât the confusion that you felt with Sukuna, never quite sure if you were the object of his affection or his prey.Â
âMaybe you shouldâve learned how to use your words back then.âÂ
He grinned at you. âI really think that wouldâve taken away some of the fun.âÂ
You rolled your eyes in disbelief. You certainly didnât consider what had gone down between the two of you fun. Youâd spent plenty of high school wondering, fantasising about Sukuna, wondering if his flirting was something legitimate. It had stressed you out to the point where your heart would go into overdrive whenever youâd see him, never quite sure where you stood.Â
When Ryu had asked you out, after experiencing nothing but vague flirting from Sukuna, youâd figured youâd take the opportunity. Everyone else you knew had done stuff with guys and you didnât want to be left behind, didnât want to be played with by a guy who wasnât really interested.Â
Even having sex in the bathroom of that party wasnât really fun, no matter how good it had felt. It was too corrupted by feelings of guilt for you to look back upon it fondly. Because even with your continuing lust for Sukuna, the emotion was never simple, always caught up with this big ball of insecurity and shame.Â
He was staring at you, pressing on when you offered no response, not even a hint of a smile at his comment. âIâm using my words now,â he said with a sigh. âI missed you, I want you. Is that straightforward enough for you?âÂ
He leaned in closer to you, breath warm against your face. His arm tightened around your waist, and you could feel heat building between your thighs, memories of the feeling of his big hands gripping your hips all those years ago flooding your mind.Â
âWe can go inside and I can show you just how much I missed you, make you forget about all of that Ryu shit - help you remember that before that fucker died, you were thinking about breaking up with him and dating me.âÂ
That was true. Youâd told him that the first time youâd fucked. Your fingers had been white with how tightly you were gripping the sink, breaths coming out in ragged gasps as you whined Sukunaâs name. Between thrusts youâd mumbled about how good he made you feel, how much bigger he was than Ryu, how you wished he was your boyfriend instead.Â
Of course, with the discovery that followed, your priorities had changed - youâd grown too disgusted with yourself to follow through on any of that, keeping yourself as far away from Sukuna as you could to stop yourself from facing how awful you were.Â
You still felt awful. But it was harder to shut him down when he was right next to you, his scent heavy in your nostrils. It was unfair how good he always smelt, how familiar. It had the power to draw you closer to him, eager to be wrapped in his scent.Â
He mustâve felt you lean into him ever so slightly, because he took it as permission, free hand moving to your chin and tilting it up ever so slightly. Your skin tingled under his fingers, eyes widening as you met his gaze.Â
âSuch a pretty girl.âÂ
He leaned in, and for a moment you let him, his lips grazing yours before you found the sense to push him away. You werenât sure if it was your ongoing guilt from the situation with Ryu or if it was out of loyalty to Kashimo, but you knew that doing anything with Sukuna wasnât right.Â
Not right now.Â
âI have a boyfriend.â You reminded him finally, shuffling away from his arm. His face fell at being thwarted by that line for the second time that night.Â
âIts not like that stopped you before.âÂ
Your mouth opened in shock, staring at him in disbelief. Even if he was right, the audacity to state that so plainly made you feel sick. How could he not feel bad about what had transpired? Could he not see how guilt-ridden you were over that one mistake?Â
âThat was the worst thing Iâve ever done,â you said, bitterly. âIf I could go back and undo it, I would.â
You didnât divulge the fact that you mightâve done some other things differently too - mightâve chosen Sukuna over your boyfriend in the first place, broken up with the guy when you first felt things getting stale. Youâd strung him along because you were too scared to hurt his feelings, fucked Sukuna because youâd wanted him for months and couldnât ignore you impulses any longer.Â
It wasnât surprising that Ryu had fucked Yorozu when youâd been so distant with him ahead of the incident, your mind too fixed on someone else.Â
Because you were awful.Â
Every choice youâd chosen had been the wrong one, and you werenât going to let history repeat itself. Any chance for love with Sukuna had been thoroughly fucked up by the events of that fateful night, it would always be corrupted by it.Â
If you chose him, youâd be living with your sin, affirming it to be correct. That just wasnât possible.Â
âYeah?â He asked with a purr, seemingly unphased. âBecause youâre looking at me like youâd crumble and let me fuck you in the bathroom again if I so much as touched you.âÂ
Your mouth opened to reject his words, to tell him that he was dead wrong. But that flutter of butterflies made itself known in your stomach and you knew that you were about thirty seconds of convincing away from folding.Â
It was pathetic, you were so pathetic.Â
You needed to leave.Â
âFuck you,â you just about managed to hiss, the weight of your words completely lost. You both knew there was no spite behind it, both knew that he was right. He hadnât gotten what heâd wanted in high school, hadnât had the chance to pull you into his grip.Â
He wasnât the type of man to fail twice.Â
It was just a matter of time.Â
next chapter
a/n: hope you enjoyed this first chapter! this one is very much a set up for the juicy stuff that's coming, I can't wait to share the next few chapters with you all because sukuna is both needy and unhinged (and you'll be getting his pov next chapter!)
thank you for the support, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
SUMMARY: Jack is that stage in life where a day off can never really be a day off. He always finds something that needs fixing, and as his wife, youâve grown accustomed to that. You donât expect him to be so clumsy at it, and you donât expect to get hurt helping him when the doctor becomes the patient.
NOTES: Injuries (laceration on the arm, fractured ankle), household accidents, mentions of blood, medical setting, established marriage, very sweet and selfless Jack, hurt/comfort vibes.
REQUESTED BY: @dillydallyy
NAVIGATION | PITT MASTERLIST | KO-FI
The rhythmic, heavy thud of the mallet against wood had been echoing through the house for the better part of an hour. Jack was upstairs on the landing, finally tackling the squeaky floorboard that had been driving you mad for weeks. You were down in the kitchen, enjoying the quiet weekend and waiting for the kettle to boil so you could bring him a cup of tea.
The comforting routine shattered in an instant. A sudden, metallic crunch echoed down the stairs, followed by a heavy thud and a sharp, choked gasp of pure agony. The silence that immediately followed was heavy and terrifying.
"Jack?" you called out, your heart leaping into your throat. There was no answer, just the sound of low, ragged breathing. Dropping the mug onto the counter, you bolted up the stairs, your socks slipping slightly on the carpet as you rounded the corner to the landing.
Jack had collapsed against the wall, his face entirely drained of colour and slick with a sudden, cold sweat. His eyes were clamped shut, and his right hand was wrapped desperately around his left forearm. Dark, thick blood was already spilling through his fingers, pooling rapidly on the pale timber he had just been prying up.
"Fuck, Jack," you breathed, dropping to your knees beside him. The sheer volume of blood made your stomach drop, your hands hovering over him, trembling violently. You had seen him in his hospital scrubs a thousand times, completely unshakable in the face of trauma, but seeing him as the patient completely paralysed you.
Jack opened his eyes, the pupils blown wide with shock and pain. Even as his breathing hitched, the seasoned emergency doctor in him fought through the agony. He looked at your shaking hands and forced his voice to remain steady, though it came out as a strained, gravelly rasp.
"Hey, hey, look at me, sweetheart," Jack whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as a fresh wave of pain hit him. "Don't look at the floor. Look at me. I need you to be my hands right now, okay? I slipped with the chisel. Itâs deep."
"What do I do? Tell me what to do," you pleaded, your voice cracking as you tried to anchor yourself to his gaze.
"Go to the bathroom. Grab the first aid kit from the cabinet, and grab a clean towel," he instructed, his breath hitching as he shifted his weight. "Move fast, honey. Go on."
You scrambled to your feet, your socks skidding on the hallway runner as you burst into the bathroom. You grabbed the heavy medical kit and yanked a towel off the shelf, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Within seconds, you were back on the floor beside him, unfolding the towel with trembling fingers.
"Okay, I'm here. I have it," you said, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Good girl," Jack murmured, his head leaning back against the wallpaper. "I need you to open the kit and get the thickest trauma dressing in there. If not, the towel will do. You need to apply direct pressure right over my hand. Don't be gentle, sweetheart. You have to push down hard."
You nodded, swallowing down the rising panic. You folded the towel into a thick pad and placed it directly over his bleeding arm. As Jack slowly pulled his own crimson-stained hand away, the sight of the jagged, deep laceration made your vision swim, but you didn't hesitate. You placed both hands on the towel and leaned your entire body weight into his arm.
Jack let out a sharp, agonised groan, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans as his body went rigid.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, tears finally blurring your vision.
"Don't be sorry," he panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder now, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "You're doing perfectly. Keep holding it like that. We need to stem the flow before I can try to stand up."
For a few minutes, the landing was silent save for the sound of your combined, ragged breathing. You kept every ounce of your weight pressed onto his arm, feeling the warm pulse of his blood beneath the heavy fabric. Slowly, the bright red seeping through the white towel seemed to slow down, the direct pressure doing its job.
"Is it stopping?" you whispered, looking down at his pale face.
"It's slowing," Jack managed, offering a weak, strained version of his usual reassuring smile. "You're amazing, you know that? My brilliant girl. Now, we need to tie it off tight. Use the roller bandage from the kit. Wrap it over the towel, as tight as you can manage."
Working with one hand while keeping pressure with the other, you managed to fish out the heavy bandage. Under his quiet, patient whispers, you wrapped the fabric securely around his arm, pulling it taut until Jack gave a tight nod of approval.
"Thatâs it. Thatâs got it for now," Jack breathed, leaning back against the wall with a sigh of sheer exhaustion. His face was still ghostly pale, but the immediate, terrifying torrent of blood had been contained. "Now, can you grab your phone? We need to get the crew out here."
"It's on the top step," you said, turning your head to look at the mobile device resting just a few feet away near the banister.
You started to shift your weight to stand up, your muscles stiff from the tension. But as you moved, your foot found the slick, wet patch of blood that had splattered onto the edge of the exposed, loose floorboards. Before you could even register the lack of friction, your foot shot out from under you.
"Whoaâ!" you cried out, your hands flailing for a grip that wasn't there.
Your momentum carried you sideways, right over the lip of the top step. With a sharp gasp of terror, you tumbled awkwardly down the first half-flight of stairs, your body bouncing painfully against the carpeted steps before you landed with a dull, heavy thud against the wall of the half-landing.
A searing, white-hot pain immediately exploded in your left ankle, so intense that it stole the air right out of your lungs. You lay there on your side, pinned to the floor by the sudden, throbbing agony, clutching your leg as tears stung your eyes.
"Honey? Sweetheart, talk to me!" Jackâs voice echoed down the stairwell, completely stripped of its professional calm. It was pure, unadulterated panic. "Are you alright? Answer me!"
"My ankle," you gasped out, your voice small and choked with pain. "Jack, I can't move it. It hurts so bad."
From the top of the stairs, you heard a heavy drag and a grunt of pain as Jack, completely disregarding his own severe injury, began crawling toward the edge of the landing. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with horror as he saw you curled into a ball on the landing below.
"Don't move, honey. Just stay completely still," Jack commanded, his voice thick with emotion as he held his bandaged arm tightly against his chest. "I'm coming down to you."
"Stay there, Jack, don't move!" you cried out, looking up at him through a blur of tears. The sight of him dragging himself toward the edge of the stairs, his face entirely grey and his newly wrapped bandage already showing a fresh blossom of crimson, was almost worse than the white-hot agony radiating from your ankle.
"I'm not leaving you down there, sweetheart," Jack panted, his voice strained as he carefully manoeuvred his weight onto his good arm, slowly lowering himself down the first step. Every movement was a battle against shock, his breath catching sharply in his throat with each hitch of his body. "Just keep breathing. Nice, deep breaths for me."
It took him what felt like an eternity, but Jack finally managed to slide down the half-flight of stairs, collapsing heavily onto the landing beside you. He let out a ragged groan, leaning his back against the wall and immediately reaching out with his uninjured right hand to cup your face. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch warm and desperate.
"Look at me, honey. Let me see you," he murmured, his eyes scanning your face, looking for any signs of a head injury before his gaze drifted down to your left leg. "Where does it hurt the most? Is it just the ankle?"
"Yeah," you choked out, squeezing his hand tightly. "I just slipped on the... on the blood, Jack. I tried to grab the phone and my foot just went. It snapped so loud."
"Okay, okay, let me have a look. I'm going to be very gentle, I promise," he whispered, leaning forward slightly. With practiced, tender precision, his steady fingers gently hovered over your ankle, barely brushing the skin. Even that tiny movement made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulder.
"I know, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, his brow furrowed in deep concern as he assessed the rapidly swelling, distorted joint. "Itâs a nasty sprain, possibly a fracture. We need to get that elevated and iced, but first, we need to actually call the ambulance. Where's the phone?"
You pointed a shaking finger up toward the top step where your mobile was still resting, completely out of reach for both of you.
Jack let out a dry, breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Plan B. My phone is in my back pocket. Do you think you can reach it? My left arm is completely useless right now."
Carefully shifting your weight while trying not to jar your leg, you slid your hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone. Your fingers were still trembling so hard you almost dropped it, but you managed to unlock the screen and hand it over to him.
Jack didn't dial the standard emergency number; instead, he tapped in a direct line straight to the local ambulance dispatch handling the Pittâs intake area. He pressed the speaker button, setting the phone down on the carpet between you. Within two rings, a familiar, crisp voice boomed through the speaker.
"Ambulance dispatch, what is the nature of the emergency?"
"Hey, it's Jack Abbot," Jack said, leaning his head back against the wall, his voice dropping into that calm, authoritative tone he used when directing a chaotic trauma bay. "Listen, I need a crew at my house. We've got a bit of a situation here."
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by the sound of furious typing. "Jack? Dude, whatâs gone on? Youâre supposed to be off until Monday."
"Yeah, well, the world had other plans," Jack grunted, wincing as he shifted his bandaged arm. "I've managed to put a chisel through my left forearm. Deep laceration, heavy bleeding, but we've got a pressure dressing on it now. My wife just slipped on the landing trying to help me and has taken a tumble down the stairs. Suspected fractured left ankle, severe pain, non-weight bearing."
"Jesus, Jack, you don't do things by halves, do you?" he replied, his voice a mix of professional urgency and fond disbelief. "Alright, Iâve got a unit just three minutes away from your street. Itâs Mac and Sally. They're en route now. Keep that pressure on your arm, and keep your wife still."
"Thanks. Tell them the front door is unlocked," Jack said before hanging up. He turned his attention back to you, his expression softening instantly as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Hear that? Three minutes, honey. You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you."
"I was trying to help you, and I just made it worse," you whispered, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "Now you're stuck on the floor because of me."
"Don't you dare worry about that," Jack chided gently, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you as close to his side as he could manage without hurting either of your injuries. He pressed a firm, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "You stopped the bleeding, sweetheart. You saved me from a massive haemorrhage. If anyone is to blame, itâs me and my DIY projects."
A few minutes later, the heavy thud of the front door swinging open echoed from downstairs, followed by the hurried footsteps of two paramedics moving into the hallway.
"Jack? Where are you, buddy?" a loud, cheerful voice called out from the bottom of the stairs.
"Up on the half-landing, Mac!" Jack shouted back, his voice cracking slightly with the effort. "Mind your step as you come up, itâs a bit of a disaster."
Two paramedics, loaded down with trauma bags and an extraction chair, rounded the corner and stopped dead in their tracks. Mac, a burly man with a thick beard, stared at the two of you huddled together on the small landing. Jack pale and blood-stained, and you clutching a ballooning ankle.
Sally, his partner, let out a loud, astonished bark of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh, you have got to be joking. Jack, what on earth have you done to your poor wife?"
"I didn't do anything to her, she was trying to rescue me!" Jack protested, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he winced as Mac knelt down beside him.
"Hm, likely story, doc," Mac teased, his hands already moving efficiently to check the pulse in Jackâs wrist below the bloody bandage. "Honestly, Jack, we leave you unsupervised for one weekend."
While Mac focused on Jack, Sally slid gracefully onto the floor next to you, opening her kit with a reassuring smile. "Alright, let's have a look at this leg. Jackâs a terrible patient, so you're my priority right now."
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of efficient, careful movement. Sally administered a dose of medication for your pain, which finally took the sharp, agonizing edge off your ankle, while Mac reinforced Jackâs dressing and got him a dose of something strong.
Despite their teasing, the paramedics were incredibly gentle, carefully loading you both onto separate carrying chairs to navigate the rest of the stairs. Jack refused to be loaded into the ambulance first, stubbornly waiting until you were securely inside so he could have his stretcher positioned right next to yours. The entire drive to the hospital, his hand never left yours, his thumb rhythmically stroking the back of your knuckles as he murmured sweet, groggy assurances that everything was going to be fine.
The moment the ambulance doors burst open at the Pitt, the familiar, sterile smell of antiseptic and the hum of bleeping monitors washed over you. But the usual professional quiet of the admissions bay was shattered the instant Mac and Sally wheeled your matching gurneys through the automatic sliding doors.
"Heads up, team, we've got a double intake!" Mac called out at the top of his lungs, a massive, mischievous grin on his face. "Your best doctor has managed to incapacitate the entire Abbot household."
The reaction was instantaneous. Langdon, who had been charting at the central desk, dropped his pen entirely, his jaw hitting the floor. "What the... Dr Abbot?"
Dana emerged from Bay 4, a clipboard tucked under her arm, but stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes darting from Jackâs heavily bandaged, blood-stained arm to your elevated, ballooning ankle. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. The hell did you do to this lovely lady, Jack?"
Within seconds, a small crowd of familiar faces converged on the two stretchers. Mel hurried over from the staff room, a half-eaten sandwich still in her hand, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and absolute amusement. "Oh my⊠are you okay? Well clearly not but⊠what happened?â
"I slipped on his blood!" you called out, the pain medication making you laugh weakly as the stretchers were wheeled side-by-side into the major trauma bays.
Robby walked out of the resuscitation unit, snapping off a pair of surgical gloves, his expression instantly melting into a look of profound, theatrical despair. He walked over to the foot of Jackâs bed, crossing his arms. "Abbot. I leave you in charge of your own home for twenty-four hours, and you bring your lovely wife into my ER on a stretcher? Explain yourself."
"It was a loose floorboard, Robby," Jack groaned, the morphine making his voice deep and slightly slurred, though he still managed to shoot a mean glare. "The chisel slipped. She was brilliant, actually. Total natural."
"And then she fell down the stairs because you're a terrible husband," Trinity chimed in, leaning against the doorframe of the bay with a massive smirk on her face. She looked over at you, giving you a sympathetic wink. "Don't worry, beautiful, we'll make sure his stitches hurt extra bad for making you go through this."
Samira pushed through the crowd, carrying a fresh bag of IV fluids and a splinting kit. She looked at the two of you, shaking her head in fond disbelief as she began setting up near your bed. "Right, let's get a look at this ankle, shall we?"
Despite the relentless teasing and the chorus of laughter echoing through the department, the underlying warmth and care from the staff were palpable. The curtains between your bays were pulled completely back, creating one large room so Jack could keep his eyes on you. Even as Samira gently examined your leg and Langdon began prepping Jackâs arm for a neat row of sutures, Jack kept his right hand stretched across the gap between the gurneys, his fingers hooked securely around yours.
"You're in good hands, sweetheart," Jack whispered, completely ignoring Trinity and Robby, who were currently debating which one of them got to write âDIY FAILâ on his medical chart. He squeezed your hand tightly, his eyes soft with devotion. "They're going to fix us both up, and I promise you, I am never touching a tool again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Abbot," Langdon chuckled, pouring sterile saline over Jackâs forearm to clear away the dried blood. He winced on Jack's behalf as the true depth of the laceration was revealed. "Though looking at this, you won't be holding a chisel or a scalpel for at least a few weeks. You've sliced right down. You're lucky you missed the important stuff."
"I told you, she stopped the bleeding," Jack said, his voice thick with pride despite the sharp intake of breath he let out as Langdon administered the local anaesthetic around the edges of the wound. He kept his eyes locked onto yours, his grip on your fingers tightening as the needle did its work. "She was incredible, Langdon. Didn't even faint."
Over on your side of the bay, Samira was carefully wrapping a temporary fiberglass splint around your rapidly bruising ankle, having just come back from reviewing the digital X-rays that Robby had rushed through the scanner. "Well, your brilliant wife has a nasty grade-three sprain and a tiny fracture. No surgery needed, thank goodness, but you're going to be on crutches and a boot for a while."
"Hear that, honey?" Jack murmured, a look of profound relief washing over his pale features as the morphine and the local numbing agent finally took the edge off his pain. "No surgery. You're going to be just fine."
"I'm more worried about you," you admitted, your voice still a little breathless from the lingering adrenaline and the effects of the medication. "You look like you've been through hell."
Dana walked back into the bay, holding a selection of takeaway menus, placing them on the bedside table between your gurneys. "Right, since you two managed to completely ruin your Saturday, the department is buying dinner. Santos wants pizza, Mel wants Thai, so you two get the deciding vote. Consider it a consolation prize for having the most embarrassing admissions of the year."
"Pizza," Jack grunted without hesitation, earning a loud cheer from Santos, who was still lingering near the desk. Jack looked back at you, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. "We'll get the one you like, sweetheart."
As Langdon methodically began placing neat sutures into Jackâs arm, the initial chaotic energy of the department began to settle back into its usual professional rhythm. Robby and Dana headed back to the central desk to handle a new influx of patients from the waiting room, leaving the curtains open just enough for the staff to keep an eye on their favorite patient duo.
By the time Jackâs arm was neatly bandaged and your leg was securely immobilized in a heavy boot, the evening sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, warm shadows across the trauma bay. A delivery driver had dropped off three massive boxes of pizza, and Samira had kindly brought over two cups of tea, served in the mismatched mugs from the staff room.
Jack managed to shift his gurney a fraction closer to yours, his right arm slung comfortably over the metal guardrail so he could remain completely connected to you. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to both of you, the quiet hum of the hospital a strangely comforting background noise compared to the terror on the stairs just hours earlier.
"I really am sorry, honey," Jack whispered, his voice soft and entirely devoid of the bravado he had shown in front of his colleagues. He leaned his head against the side of his pillow, looking at you with an expression of pure, unfiltered devotion. "I wanted to fix that stupid floorboard so you wouldn't trip on it, and I ended up putting you in a cast instead."
"We're a matching set now," you teased gently, reaching over to squeeze his uninjured hand, gesturing to his heavily wrapped arm and your massive black boot. "Besides, you heard the crew. We really don't do things by halves."
Jack let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound warm and familiar as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your skin. "No, I suppose we don't. But from now on, we are hiring a professional for absolutely everything. Next weekend, you and I are staying on the couch."
summary: working at the hospital morgue didn't exactly endear you to the emergency room staff, especially when you're always cracking jokes. you think Jack might be warming up to you, but are quickly proven wrong when he berates you in front of the department after an ill-timed joke.
tags/warnings: sfw just a steamy kiss, big time angst, morgue technician!reader, socially awkward reader, discussions of death and grief (seriously, a lot of talk about death and grieving), mean Jack :(, age gap (not specified, but i wrote her as being between 28-30), mean girl nurses, medical inaccuracies probably
wc: 8.9k
a/n: baby's first request!!! feeling very nervy about this one as its my first time writing angst so please be kind <3 it turned into much more of a meditation on death than i expected but i hope you enjoy the jack angst!! also please go read @nightpitt's take on this request!!! it was incredible <3 (and in the future please don't send me requests that you've sent to multiple other authors, it makes me uncomfy)
credits: gif credits to @vanillarot <3
Majorie Deacons, 83. Survived by her husband, Harold, of 62 years, her three childrenâMary, Thomas, and Stevenâand 10 grandchildren. Worked as a paralegal for 48 years before retiring to the Poconos with Harold. Moved back to Pittsburgh when she got sick. Died from sepsis as a result of her cancer-weakened immune system. Â
That was all you knew of the woman laying in front of you, her skin pale and body unnaturally still. You thought about her life as you removed her engagement and wedding ring, the crucifix pendant around her neck, the diamond bracelet around her frail wristâall logged securely for the family to pick up at their convenience.Â
You thought about her life, about the 83 years she spent on this earth. Where did she grow up? Was Harold her high-school sweetheart, or did they meet in college, or a bar? Did they travel? What sights did they see, how many sunsets did they share? Did she remember exactly where she was when Kennedy was assassinated, like most older folks did? Did she like red lipstick or pink? When did her hair turn whiteâdid she hate it or did she embrace it?Â
Did she feel welcomed by death, or did she fight it kicking and screaming?Â
83 years, such a long life and yet still not long enough for the people who loved her.Â
You spent a lot of time grieving people youâd never met before as a morgue technician. It was a tough jobâone spent with people on the worst days of their lives. Sure, you werenât the one responsible for saving livesâdidnât have a relationship with the patient while they were livingâbut sometimes you thought maybe it was worse in a way. You learned about these people from their families, from the people so deeply grieving their loved one that often all you felt was gut-wrenching sadness for the hole that now lived in these peopleâs hearts. You didnât get the benefit of seeing them interact with their loved ones, didnât get to know their personality or see their quirks. All you experienced was the grief their loss wrought, not the joy their life had created.Â
You liked being there for people, though. Death is not something Americans are accustomed to talking about openly, the aftermath of losing a loved one often impersonal and shrouded in mystery. Especially at the hospital, it often felt more clinical than anything else, with procedure and policy often taking center stage over the deceased. Â
You liked bringing a sense of humanity to the process; liked to have the families reminisce about their loved ones, liked getting to know them through the people who cherished them the most despite the deep ache it sometimes left in your chest.Â
You learned about Marjorie upstairs, from the family as you collected the body, and youâre looking forward to learning more about her when the family comes to collect her effects. You found that getting people to talk about the person they lost made it easier to discuss funeral and transport arrangements. You didnât want them to feel like they were just another box to check off your to-do list.Â
A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.Â
âHey, we got another one upstairs. Transportâs been taking forever tonight,â Elise, your boss, said, rolling her eyes. âThey have one job: get the body from point A to point B. What gives?âÂ
You shrugged, sighing as you finished cataloging all of Marjorie's effects. âIâll be back soon,â you said, squeezing her hand gently before making your way to the elevators, up to the emergency department.Â
Transport was supposed to, well, transport the body. But they were often backed up for one reason or another, and delays in moving the body meant a valuable room remained occupied when it could otherwise be used for another patient. So, more often than not, Elise sent you up to grab the body and bring it back down for processing. It was faster that way, and often gave the family some peace knowing that their loved one wasnât just sitting in the emergency room.Â
You didnât mind, exactly. As much as you enjoyed the quiet and solitude of the mortuary, you liked peaking your head up in the ED and seeing the hustle and bustle there, the way it teemed with life as well as death, even at night. Â
And it didnât hurt that the senior night shift attending was perhaps the most handsome man youâd ever laid eyes on. Youâd had a crush on him since you met him, your introduction being maybe one of the most embarrassing moments of your life.Â
It was your first time up in the emergency department, the incessant beeping and constant chatter a stark difference to the quiet morgueâif people were talking down there, something was seriously wrong.Â
Youâd been taken on a brief tour by the charge nurse, Lena, who gave you a rundown of the transport procedure. You met a few of the residents, Dr. Ellis and Dr. Crus, and a handful of nurses, all of whom seemed nice enough. Â
But you almost stopped dead in your tracks when you met the kind hazel eyes of the graying, curly-haired man standing at the nurses station.Â
âAnd this is Dr. Abbot, senior night shift attending. Youâll need his or Dr. Shenâs signature whenever you transport a body,â Lena introduced you, âDr. Abbot, this is the new morgue technician. She graciously offered to help with transport.âÂ
You held your hand out, brain nearly turning to mush when he shook it. His palm was rough, calloused from many years of working with his hands, and unbelievably warm. His hand also dwarfed yours, which sent a tingle down your spine.Â
âNew morgue technician?â he asked, âWell, no offense, but I hope we donât see you too much around here,â he joked with an easy smile on his face. Â
âI guess that remains to be seen,â you said, and followed it up with a âba dum tssâ sound effect and finger guns. Yes, you really did that.Â
The joke didnât land; they never did. Jack cocked his head to the side, an almost-smile gracing his lips, and shot you an inquisitive look, like he was trying to figure you out.Â
His intense stare made your cheeks heat and your tummy swirl. You werenât sure if you were aroused or uncomfortable, or some combination of both. Â
You couldnât get out of there sooner.Â
It felt like you could never get your foot out of your mouth when Jack Abbot was around. And so the cycle began: get called up to retrieve a body, make an ill-timed joke, embarrass the hell out of yourself, and return back to the safety of the morgue as quickly as possible.Â
You never made jokes in front of patients or families; you knew that it was something strictly reserved for your peers, people you thought understood the challenges you all face in healthcareâand deathcare.Â
You werenât sure why it seemed physically impossible for you not to use humor as a defense mechanism. Part of it was the nature of your jobâgallows humor was a coping mechanism you latched onto and couldnât seem to shake off. It was the same way some people laughed when they were nervous or panickedâa reaction to pent up emotions and stress that manifested as humor instead of as tears.Â
But youâd also always been like this, trying to diffuse uncomfortable situations with humor instead of meeting them head on, or making a joke at your own expense before someone else could. It hurt less that way, if you could subvert something painful into something lighthearted.
Youâd always been admonished for it, by your parents, friends, partners. Had been told that it was inappropriate and that you were too crass, too loud, too much. Which was probably true. It confused you, though, how some people did bond over humor, in the occasional callousness of it, when you were criticized for it. That was something youâd never been able to work out, how it was always wrong when you did it; why youâd never been able to bond with people the same way others did. Well, there was a reason you worked the night shift at a morgue, after all.Â
You pushed those thoughts away and instead tried to talk yourself up as you stood in the elevator, willing yourself not to be weird.Â
âHey, Lena, heard you got another customer for me?â you grinned at her, leaning against the nurses station.Â
âSure do, sweets. Her name is Cary West,â she replied with a soft smile. Lena, at least, seemed to like you. Beggars couldnât be choosers.Â
She pointed you to the correct room, where Mateo was cleaning up the body. You stood silently as he finished, taking a moment to honor the person they were and the people theyâre leaving behind. These moments always felt weirdâliminal, in a way. No longer a patient, but not yet ready for the funeral homeâthey were entrusted in your care in the meantime.Â
There was no family in the room, which wasnât abnormal for night shift. Folks had gone home, to sleep or cry or do whatever else one does to process the grief. You always hope youâll meet the family of the deceased, but youâre not holding on hope on this one. It was 4am, the family would likely be back during the day to take care of funeral arrangements and Ms. West would be long gone by then. Still, though, you thought about her life, her wants, her dreamsâtried to insert some humanity where it had been lost. Â
âSorry you had to come back up so soon, I know you just got down there with Ms. Deacons,â Mateo said quietly, pulling the sheet over her head.Â
âOh no worries, I donât mind. It's not like sheâs gonna talk my ear off.âÂ
He just shook his head at your joke, unimpressed and unamused.Â
âLooks like Dr. Abbot is at the nurses station. Câmon, and weâll get the transfer paperwork signed,â he said, holding the door open for you to push the gurney through.Â
Dr. Abbot looked worn out. His eyes were tired, and the kind smile he usually sported was replaced by a slight frown and a furrow between his brows. His shoulders were drawn up tight, the tension built up there almost looking painful. It must have been a rough night.Â
You greeted him with a soft smile, and handed over the clipboard for his signature, which he promptly filled out.Â
He handed you the clipboard before turning his attention back to the gurney. His jaw was clenched tight, a pained look on his face as he squeezed Ms. Westâs hand peeking out from the blanket.Â
âTreat her well for us, please,â he said, voice hoarse.Â
âAlways do, I wouldnât want to know what the reaper-cussions would be if I didnât,â you joked before you could think better of it, cringing internally at your lack of tact.Â
There was a split second of silence, the tension simmering hotly before fully boiling over.Â
âJesus fucking christ, can you be serious for one fucking second? This is a hospital, not a fucking comedy club. There are people grieving here. You need to learn to be an adult and keep your fucknig mouth shut,â he boomed, his face red and chest heaving.Â
He was looming over you now as he spit out, âget the fuck out of my ED.âÂ
Your ears were ringing. You werenât sure if the department had actually fallen silent or if youâd just temporarily lost the ability to hear.
You couldnât breathe, oxygen not flowing properly into your lungs. It felt like youâd been punched in the gut, all the air sucked out and replaced with lead. Â
âS-sorry,â you stuttered out, cheeks burning and throat closing in on itself. Tears were building up quickly in your eyes, but you werenât going to cry in front of these people; you werenât going to give them the satisfaction.Â
You gripped the edge of the gurney and pushed ahead, desperate to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. No one stopped you, no one offered any apologies or sympathies, just watched your humiliated form disappear into the elevator.Â
The minute the elevator doors closed the tears fell, the hot trails burning your face as you tried to conceal your sobs.Â
âIâm s-sorry, Ms. West, I shouldnât be crying like this. I donât really have much to be upset about in comparison,â you apologized to the corpse, feeling guilty for being so upset when you were literally transporting a dead woman.Â
You managed to calm yourself down before you reached the morgue. You didnât want to explain what happened to Elise, didnât want to recount every embarrassing detail that was already replaying in your head.Â
You soothed yourself with routine, with the repetitive motions of logging personal effects, filling out reports, and contacting the funeral home to make arrangements.Â
By the time 7AM rolled around, you were more than ready to get the hell out of there.
The sun is blinding against your puffy eyes. The past two days were a blur, mostly spent crying and replaying the incident over and over. You called out of work, citing a stomach bug. Which wasnât all that untrueâthe thought of encountering anyone in the hospital did make you feel violently ill.Â
You had already put in for a transfer to day shift, feigning some excuse about your school schedule changing. You couldnât wait to finish your studies and officially become a mortician. Youâd leave the hospital and start your own business, helping people through the grieving and burial process in your own way.Â
And maybe youâd never have to see Jack Abbot ever again. The thought was as relieving as it was devastating, because you liked him. And you were starting to think maybe he liked you tooâat least as a friend or acquaintance.Â
It was a slow night, which you were thankful for. It meant there werenât any bodies in the morgueâthat there werenât any deaths so far tonight. So you werenât too bent out of shape when you got shipped up to the ED to collect a body.Â
You found Dr. Abbot quickly, signed the necessary paperwork, and wheeled the body out to central.Â
âThanks for picking up, I donât know what the hellâs going on with transpo tonight,â he said.
âDonât worry about it, weâre actually empty right now. Thereâs no body there,â you said, a cheeky grin crossing your lips.Â
And Jack laughed. A full-on, deep-throated laugh. It was one of the most beautiful sounds youâd ever heard. Your chest swelled with pride, and all you could think about was making him do it again.Â
He shook his head at you, smile still lingering on his face, âwhat makes a girl like you want to work night shift at the morgue?â Â
âGirl like me?â you asked coyly, raising your eyebrow at him.Â
He assessed you, eyes flitting over your face, âyeah, young, smart⊠pretty.â
You flushed at that, your body getting all warm and tingly, âwell, Iâm not a mourning person, for one,â you joked, earning another laugh from Jack.Â
âI, uh, Iâm in school for mortuary science,â you continued, giving him a real answer, âI want to be a mortician when Iâm done.âÂ
âThatâs⊠admirable,â he said, âyou donât get the glory of saving lives but you do get all the dirty work. Good for you.âÂ
Jackâs attention made you feel like you were on fireâlike a white hot ball of flame that would spread given the littlest bit of ammunition. His stare was brazen, unapologeticâyou couldnât look away if you tried.Â
You cleared your throat, breaking some of the tension, âI guess I should probably get him downstairs,â you said, gesturing to the gurney in front of you.Â
âIâll walk you to the elevator,â Jack said, moving to stand by your side. He rested his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the elevators. The touch was electrifyingâyou could feel the warmth radiating from him through the layers of scrubs. He was close enough now that you could smell the warm amber of his cologne mixed with his own musky scent. You felt dizzy, and all you wanted to do was press yourself against him, to nestle yourself in the crook of his neck and inhale.Â
He pressed the button for the elevator when you arrived and helped you wheel the gurney in.Â
âIt was good seeinâ you, pretty girl,â he said, and just as the elevator doors were closing, he winked at you.Â
You were surprised you didnât turn into a puddle right then and there.Â
Your chest twisted at the memory. Maybe thatâs why his words hurt so muchâwhy theyâd sunk into the marrow of your bones, confirming that he thought as lowly of you as you already thought of yourself. Heâd given you hope, shown you kindness where no one else in the ED had.Â
It was stupid, anyway. Thinking that a man like Jack Abbot could feel anything other than disdain for someone like you. Of course the hot, older, accomplished attending wouldnât want anything to do with the awkward morgue technician.Â
Every time you thought about it, your heart ached, a dull pang ringing through your chest and reverberating through your body. Tears pooled in your eyes at the mere thought of the incident. It felt like you were back in high school, asking Alex Williams to the school dance just to have him laugh in your face and say he wasnât going to go with a freak.Â
You couldnât dwell on it, though. You had a job to do, bills to pay. You could only hope that day shift was better, or that you could whip yourself into shape and keep your comments to yourself.
âJesus, why is the body in north 2 still there?â Jack asked, eyes trained on the board ahead of him. Wait times were astronomical and chairs was full to the brimâthe sooner they moved the deceased out, the sooner they could move a new patient in.Â
âNot sure, I called transpo an hour ago, but you know how concerned they are with being timely,â Lena responded.Â
âWhat about the morgue? Why havenât they sent anyone to collect the body?âÂ
Lena looked at him over the top of her glasses, an unimpressed look on her face.Â
âOh, you mean that sweet girl who helps us out by transporting bodies when transpo is dicking around? The one you screamed at in front of the entire department? Gosh, I canât think of a reason sheâs not chomping at the bit to come up here,â she deadpanned, fixing Jack with a glare. âLast I heard she switched to day shift. Said she had some personal schedule conflicts, but I think we both know thatâs not true.â  Â
Jack winced, guilt coursing through him. He hadnât meant to make such a scene, to be so cruel. It had just been such a monumentally horrible day, his chest wound so tight and hackles raised that your little joke set him off. It was stupid, too, because Jack had easily made far worse jokes at far more inappropriate times.Â
It could have easily been anyone else that he snapped at, would have been, if you werenât there. But you were, and so you bore the brunt of his wrath.Â
Heâd be lying if he said he hadnât been replaying the look on your face, the way it crumpled and tears welled up in your pretty eyes. He remembered how your breath hitched, how you shrunk in on yourself and ran away as fast as you could.Â
It made his chest ache to think about. He wanted to find you, to apologize, but he thought he might just make it worse. And selfishly, he wasnât sure he was ready for the conversation that would ensue. He assumed heâd see you up here at some point, where he could take you aside and beg for forgivenessâhe didnât think youâd rearrange your entire work schedule just to avoid seeing him.Â
He wasnât sure why he acted so indifferently toward you. Or rather, he didâhe just didnât want to acknowledge the way you made him feel. You made him feel giddyâmade his face warm and his heart race, like a teenage boy flirting with a pretty girl for the first time. He briefly tried flirting with you, but he was pretty sure you were oblivious to itâeither that or you didnât feel the same. He was hoping for the former. Â
He hadnât felt this way about someone since he started dating his wife. Frankly, it made him uncomfortable to think about, made him feel like he was betraying her in some way. He knew that wasnât true, knew that his wife would want him to be happy, but he just couldnât shake the feeling.Â
Heâd been talking about it with his therapist, trying to cope with these feelingsâtrying to get up the courage to ask you out.
And the kicker was he was going to, he was getting bolder, complimenting you and finding any excuse to, respectfully, put his hands on you. And now heâs fucked it all up.Â
âShit,â he muttered, scrubbing his hands down his face. Â
âYeah, shit. I suggest you take your ass down there and apologize. Properly.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, Iâll handle it,â he said absent-mindedly, already wracking his brain for the right words to say to you.
The change to day shift was brutal. Your body wasnât used to waking up when you were supposed to be going to bed, and vice versa. You were also working less hours to accommodate your school schedule, which was the reason you were on night shift to begin with. But you took it in stride the best you could. Lemonade out of lemons, and all that.Â
Youâd been up to the ED a couple times since the incident, feeling as awkward as ever even though most of them werenât on shift when Dr. Abbot berated you. You covered day shift a few times, so you werenât completely unfamiliar with the staff. Dr. Robby seemed nice enough, though you never stuck around long enough to build rapport. It was in and out from now on, speaking as little as you could before you retreated back to the morgue.Â
You wished you could flat out refuse to go up there, but you didnât want to punish innocent people just waiting for a bed. The sooner you got the bodies to the morgue, the sooner someone else could be seen by a doctor.Â
Right now, though, you were sat at your desk, filling out log reports and finishing up paperwork before you inevitably got another body. It was monotonous work, yes, but calming in a way. The mindless action gave your brain a break between decedentsâgave you a chance to mourn the person and compartmentalize it away before it ate away at you.Â
You faintly heard the door at the end of the hall open and close, and assumed Elise was taking her lunch break.Â
That is, until you heard a painfully familiar voice call out, âHello? Anybody in here?âÂ
Oh no, why is he here? Attendings rarely visited the morgueâusually only if there was a particularly complex cause of death that they wanted to further examine. But there were no such cases right now, the only bodies currently in custody being a run of the mill STEMI and a GSW to the headâboth pretty self-explanatory.Â
And the night shift hadnât started yet, the clock reading 5:34pm. Thereâs no plausible reason for Jack Abbot to be down here right now.Â
His steps were getting louderâhe was almost at your office now.Â
You panicked. That is the only explanation you have for scrambling up from your desk and darting into the small storage closet to your left. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side, out of view of the frosted glass window. Was this the mature course of action? Absolutely not. But you werenât sure you could handle seeing him right now. You hadnât seen him since the incident, had done everything in your power to avoid any and all interactions.Â
He called out again, and you could see his silhouette standing in the doorway of your office.Â
Eyes closed, you took deep breaths to try and calm your rapidly beating heart. Hopefully heâd see the empty room and take his leave quickly. Â
It was quiet, and for a moment you thought heâd left untilâknock knock.Â
âI could be crazy, but Iâm pretty sure I heard someone stumble into this closet and slam the door shut,â he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.Â
You didnât answer, hoping maybe you could convince him he was crazy.Â
The doorknob rattled, and you instinctively grabbed it, pulling it with all the force you could muster to keep it closed. You werenât sure whyâsurely he was much stronger than you and could rip the door open if he really wanted to. And god, why was thinking about how strong he was making you flustered? Â
Itâs not that you were scared of him, you were just⊠woefully unprepared for this conversation. Despite ruminating over the incident itself, you hadnât actually pictured a scenario where youâd ever speak to him again. Hadnât had time to go over it a million times in your head, coming up with the best comeback and constructing the perfect barb to lodge in his soft underbelly, the way heâd done to you.Â
He sighed, resting his forehead against the glass. âLook, I just wanted to apologize for the other day, if youâll give me the chance.âÂ
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, considering. Youâre not sure that an apology will do much for you, not sure that itâll quell the pit in your stomach thatâs opened and doesnât show any sign of closing.Â
You nodded to yourself anyway, letting out a quiet, âgo ahead.âÂ
He chucked lightly, âface-to-face, if you donât mind.âÂ
Damn him, you groaned internally. Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door. Jack stood opposite you, hands tucked into the pockets of his scrubs. You crossed your arms and fixed your gaze on your scuffed up shoes, the thought of looking him in the eye daunting and exciting at the same time. Â
He let out a deep breath, âIâm really sorry for how I acted the other night. It was an exceptionally shitty night, and it wasnât your fault but I took it out on you when I shouldnât have.âÂ
You nodded, appreciated the effort it took to come down here and apologize. It did little to soothe your bruised heart, though. There was still a painful twinge in your chest, his words having already wormed their way into your brain and confirmed every worst thought you had about yourself.Â
âThank you, Dr. Abbot, apology accepted,â you said curtly, moving past him to get back to your desk.Â
He stopped you, his hand resting on the bare skin just above your elbow. Goosebumps prickled against your skin from the roughness of his palm. You hated how your body craved more, how you wanted him to slide his hand up to your neck, tilt your head back and kiss you. Traitor.Â
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, âthat woman that night, the one you picked up, she died of ovarian cancer,â he said. He looked conflicted, eyes flinty and mouth twisted to the side like he was warring with himself as he bit out the next words, âthatâs howâmy wifeâshe died of ovarian cancer.âÂ
Oh. You didnât know that, didnât even know he had a wife. Your eyes drifted to his left hand and saw the slightly lighter patch of skin there. Your heart ached and your defenses softened just a tad at the revelation. You could only imagine what it would feel like to lose a patient in the same manner you lost the person closest to you, could imagine the ugly emotions it would pull out of you. It didnât make what he said okay, but you understood the circumstances that led him to say it.Â
âAnd before that we had a kid who died from drowning, and a couple close calls, and a bunch of Dr. Google bullshit. And your joke was just⊠the straw that broke the camelâs back. But I shouldnât have taken it out on you, not like that and not in front of everybody. That wasnât fair to you, and Iâm truly sorry,â he said, and you could feel the sincerity dripping from his words. His eyes were soft and pleading as he looked at you, and once again you found yourself unable to look away.Â
âIâm sorry, I didnât know thatâabout your wife,â you said softly, not wanting to make it any more painful than it already was, âand Iâm sorry about the joke. I know itâs not appropriate, and Iâve been trying to stop, but you know how hard it is to quit unhealthy coping mechanisms,â a small smile lifting the corner of your lips.Â
He shook his head, âplease donât, you have nothing to apologize for. Gallows humor is how we all get by; I canât tell you how many off-color jokes Iâve told in my day. It was really the pot calling the kettle black, if I'm being honest,â he said, âIf it wasnât you who set me off, it wouldâve been Ellis or Shen, or some other unsuspecting person. I promise you it had so much more to do with me than it did with you.âÂ
You nodded, accepting his explanation. You felt a little lighter, a little less burdened by his words.   Â
âIâd like to make it up to you, if youâll let me,â he said, âmaybe coffee or dinner, if youâre up for it?âÂ
You shook your head, âThatâs really not necessary, Dr. Abbot. I meant it, I accept your apology, you donât have to do anything else.âÂ
He nodded at that, looking a little deflated but otherwise satisfied that youâd accepted his apology.Â
Jack felt the need to make it up to you anyway.Â
It started with coffee after his shift ended. The first time, he brought you the most insane coffee order youâd ever seenâa mocha cappuccino with 5 extra shots of espresso, pistachio syrup, vanilla cold foam, caramel AND white mocha drizzle, and salted caramel toppingâa monstrosity borne from a recommendation from the woman ahead of him in line. Youâre not sure how you didnât immediately get cavities in all of your teeth.Â
You couldnât lie, though, the fact that he made the effort to go out and get coffee after his 12 hour shift was endearing, and once you gave him your coffee order, he got it right each and every time.Â
It became routine over the next month for Jack to bring you coffee, and even though you didnât have much time to talk in the morning, you began looking forward to the 10-15 minutes of conversation you shared with him each morning. You never discussed what this was, if it meant anything or if it was just a kind gesture between friends. You certainly hoped it meant something, but you werenât going to get your hopes up.Â
You were catching up on paperwork when his text came through.Â
Jack: Canât make it for coffee this morning, sweetheart, how about I bring you lunch later?Â
Your cheeks heated at the pet name. He hadnât called you that before, and you hoped you werenât reading into it.Â
You: sounds great, see you later :)Â
You spend the morning counting down the minutes until Jack showed up. It only slightly hindered your progress on your paperwork, your mind only occasionally wandering off to think about his pretty pink lips.
Itâs noon before you know it, and someoneâs rapping their knuckles on the door frame to your office.Â
âKnock, knock,â Jack said, shooting you a smile as he walked over to your desk. He set down a truly alarming amount of food. You laughed as he took out container after container, the sack resembling a clown car more than a fast food bag.Â
âI wasnât sure what you liked, so I got a variety,â he said, a little bashfully, âyou can take home whateverâs left for dinner or lunch tomorrow.âÂ
You selected what you wanted from the smorgasbord he presented you with, and settled into the chair next to him.Â
It was a little awkward at first. Most of the conversations youâd had with him up to this point were pretty surface level. Even your coffee chats were light-hearted affairs that didnât really go deeper than what you did over the weekend.Â
But Jack didnât let it stay awkward for long, as if he knew that once you started talking, heâd be hard-pressed to get you to stop.Â
âSo, I realized that despite our coffee talks, I donât really know that much about you. How long have you been a mortuary tech?âÂ
âAbout a year and a half. I got the job after I started school for mortuary science. Before that I taught for a little bit, but I didnât really like it and I donât think I was much good at it. I was a bartender for a long time too.âÂ
âSo what made you make the jump to mortuary school?â
âI studied anthropology in college and death culture always really fascinated me, especially the way different cultures deal with grief and the burial process. America is so sanitized, so averse to looking at death straight on. We think death needs to be palatable, that the deceased need to look exactly as they did in life to avoid accepting the fact that our bodies are fundamentally different after deathâthat they are on their way to being absorbed back into the earth.
âI think the way we treat people in death is just as important as how we treat them in life. To some people, that person on the table is just an assemblage of bones and flesh, but to others that was a friend, a mother or daughter, father or son. And I figured as a mortician, Iâd be in a position to offer families the kind of support that helps them work through their grief, not just hide it behind pretty floral arrangements.âÂ
You felt a little shy at the rapt expression on Jackâs face. He was giving you his undivided attention, listening intently to every word that came out of your mouth. Youâre not sure any man has ever listened to you as attentively as he was now. Yes, the bar was in hell, but it didnât make it any less hot. Â
âSorry, that was a lot, I didnât mean to info dump on you,â you said sheepishly.Â
He shook his head, âPlease info dump, I could listen to you talk all day,â he said honestly, âdo you want to continue working at the hospital when youâre done or do you want to start your own practice?âÂ
âI donât think Iâll stay here. I mean, I like helping people through the immediate grief, but I think I just want to help grieving families lay their loved ones to rest in a way that honors the life they lived. I donât care about selling fancy caskets or high-dollar cemetery plots, I just want to narrow it down to what really matters to preserving and celebrating the individual that was lost.â  Â
Jack nodded, âI donât remember a lot about planning my wifeâs funeralâRobby helped a lot with thatâbut I do remember it being really⊠almost commercial, in a way? Like, âdo you want cedar or oak for the coffin? Do you want the casket lined in silk or velvet?ââ he said, laughing bitterly, âlike it was a fashion show or something, not the vessel my wife was going to be buried in. I couldnât give less of a fuck what the damn thing was lined in.âÂ
You laid your hand on top of his, giving it a comforting squeeze as he continued. It made your heart swell that he felt comfortable enough to talk about his wife with you.Â
âI mean, they were very compassionate, but it always felt like a businessâwhich I get, weâre a capitalist society, but thatâs not exactly what you want to feel when youâre burying someone,â Â
You nodded, âthatâs probably the thing that bothers me the most about this industry. Sometimes it seems like profit is the priority, and the real, hurting people come second.âÂ
Jack just looked at you with soft eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you. He turned your hand over in his, tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb.
âI think youâre going to be an amazing mortician,â he said, without an ounce of amusement or teasing, just pure honesty. âI think youâre exactly the kind of person that people want around them when they're going through the worst days of their lives.â Â
You couldnât help the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was the kindest thing someone had said to you about your career path, except maybe Elise. And it was nice to shed happy tears over something Jack Abbot said instead of embarrassed ones.Â
You talked long after your lunch break was over, but Elise was out and you didnât have any pressing work to get to at the moment, so you figured there was no harm, no foul.Â
But eventually he had to leave to get ready for his shift, and you did have work to do, though youâd gladly forsake it for a few more minutes with him.Â
You got up to dispose of your trash and walked him to the door.Â
âLunch was really nice,â he murmured, resting his hand on your arm, right above your elbow.Â
Your breath hitched at the contact and goosebumps prickled up and down your arms. You gaze was locked on his, unable to look away, âyeah, I really enjoyed it,â you said breathily, your heart already racing.Â
He moved closer, settling his hands on your waist, and backed you up slowly until the back of your knees hit your desk.Â
You leaned back against your desk, widening your stance to allow Jack to step between your legs. His body was warm against you, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly.Â
âIs this okay, sweetheart?â he asked, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. You could feel his breath against your lips, so close but still so far away.Â
You nodded, a pathetic mewl leaving your lips without permission. It was embarrassing how badly you wanted to kiss this man. Â
He pressed closer, his lips just barely grazing yours, his nose slightly bumping your cheek. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as you moved to close the miniscule distance between your lipsâ
CLANG!Â
The door down the hall slammed shut, and hurried footsteps approached your office. Â
You nearly jumped out of your skin and stumbled back onto the desk, out of Jackâs grasp. He seemed just as shocked, his hand clutching his chest in surprise.Â
A second later Elise came rushing into the room, saying something about a mass casualty event and how you needed to make as much room down here as you could to prepare for the inevitable. You nodded, turning to Jack to apologize, but he beat you to it.Â
âShit, I gotta go, sweetheart, theyâre probably gonna call all-hands-on-deck,â he said, a genuinely mournful look on his face.Â
âYeah, of course. I hope itâs not too bad,â you said, equally as disappointed, but understanding. Duty calls. Â
He wrapped you up in a tight hug, your cheek resting against his firm chest. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to savor his embrace for a moment before he had to go.
âWeâll finish this later, yeah?â he asked against your hair, his hand rubbing circles on your back.Â
You smiled against his chest and nodded, âyes, please.âÂ
He pulled away and planted a chaste kiss to your cheek before heading out.Â
âWhat was that all about?â Elise questioned, raising her eyebrows at you. Â
You didnât say anythingâyour hot cheeks and dopey grin were worth a thousand words.
You were called up to the ED several times, each time worse than the last by the looks of the staff. It still felt a little awkward being in the emergency department. Even though most of the people here werenât on shift when Jack yelled at you, it still felt like the department went still when you walked in, people stopping and staring like you were some sideshow circus freak.Â
You were back up here collecting yet another soul, waiting for someone to sign off on the transfer. It seemed like things had calmed down, the worst of it over now. You were lost in thought at the nurses station, picking at the skin around your nails anxiously.Â
You hoped Jack would be the one to come over and sign the paperworkâhoped youâd catch another glimpse of him before your shift was over. All you could think about all day was that almost-kiss you shared with him. You couldnât help the smile that made its way onto your face every time you thought about it, which meant you basically had a permanent grin affixed to your face.Â
Youâre only pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of hushed voices to your left. You glanced over and saw two nurses you didnât recognize taking a break and engaging in some friendly workplace gossip. Or so you thought.Â
ââso happy about?â a nurse whispered incredulously.Â
âProbably daydreaming about Dr. Abbot,â another said, her tone most likely accompanied by an eye roll. Â
âGod, when is she going to get a grip? Her fawning over him is not cute.âÂ
âYeah, I think he just doesnât know how to let her down⊠I mean when he yelled at her she changed her whole schedule, he probably feels guilty.âÂ
âTrue. Maybe sheâll realize how embarrassing it is to be so down bad for a man she has no chance with.âÂ
You stopped listening after that, crestfallen and heartbroken all over again. The illusion of the past month shattered and the feelings from before came roaring back full force.Â
Your chest twisted painfullyâlike someone had grabbed ahold of your heart and squeezed, the squishy flesh bulging between their fingers. Your throat ached, tears surely not far behind.Â
You knew you shouldnât put too much stock in what these two random nurses were saying. You knew that they likely had no idea what they were talking about, that they were just mean girls blowing off steam and you seemed to be the target of itâlike always.Â
But there was the little gremlin in the back of your brain, the one that told you everything they said was true. That Jack just felt guilty, that he was making himself feel better for the way he treated you. Insecurity wrapped itself around you like a vise, squeezing around you like a boa constrictor, until it was the only thing you could feel.Â
And that almost-kiss? Well, he was a man, after all. Maybe he was just overcome with the physical urge to kiss you, get in your pants if he could. But he wasnât that kind of man, was he? You didnât want to think so, but all rational thought was obscured by the hurt blooming in your chest that you couldnât be sure.Â
You startled at the hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Dr. Robby standing there, brows furrowed in concern. Squeaking out an apology, you handed him the transfer paperwork.Â
âI called your name three times, you okay?â he asked, flipping through the pages and signing where appropriate.Â
âFine,â you smiled, not trusting your voice not to break.Â
He looked skeptical, but didnât push.Â
âAlright, all done. Hopefully thatâll be it, at least from the mass cas,â he said, handing back the paperwork. âWe have a trauma counsellor available if you need to talk to someone,â he said before backing away to move onto the next patient.Â
You chuckled at that. Of course he thought you were troubled by the amount of death that occurred today. But no, here you were, post mass casualty, and you were more concerned about a man than you were about the people that had died tonight. How fucked up were you?Â
Jack showed up with coffee the next morning like usual, setting the paper cup down on your desk, âhere you go, sweetheart.âÂ
âThank you,â you said without looking up from your paperwork. You tasted acid in your throat, the words from the nurses station echoing in your head in an ugly cacophony. Youâd memorized them by heart over the past 12 hours, twisting and turning in bed as they invaded your mind against your will.Â
He just doesnât know how to let her down.
He probably feels guilty.
Her fawning over him is not cute.
You cleared your throat, âyou really donât have to do this anymore, you know,â you said nonchalantly, like it wasnât tearing your heart out to say.Â
He was quiet for a moment. âI know⊠I do it because I want to, because I like spending time with you,â he said, head cocked and brow furrowed. Â
âSure,â you muttered under your breath.Â
âWhat was that?âÂ
You sighed and set your pen down, shifting your full attention to him, âIâm just saying you donât have to prostrate yourself in front of me because you feel guilty, Jack. Youâve done your penance, if thatâs all this is. Youâre forgiven, no hard feelings.âÂ
Your throat was tight, but your voice didnât waver. You blinked back tears furiously as he stared at you, mouth agape. He looked a little more disheveled than usual, his eyes tired and the lines on his face a little more pronounced, like heâd been frowning all night. Obviously, he worked like 16 hours last night. You felt another wave of guilt rush over youâhe was wasting his much needed rest time to come placate you.Â
He crossed his arms, shaking his head in confusion, âWhat the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?âÂ
You stood up and started behind your desk, feeling restless and hurt and foolish.Â
âYou justâyou donât have to hang around me because you feel bad or something,â you said, âyouâve more than apologized. I just wish you didnât make me feel likeâlikeâŠâ you trailed off, ragged breaths tearing through your chest. It was getting harder to force the words out, tears falling down your cheeks in earnest now.Â
âLike what?âÂ
âLike this means something!â you choked out. God, you felt so silly. Aw, is someone upset that their crush doesnât like them back?Â
He looked at you in disbelief, âIt does mean something,â he said, rounding your desk and stopping in front of youâeffectively ceasing your pacing.Â
âPlease donât lie to me,â you hiccuped, your bottom lip trembling violently, âI know Iâm too much, I know no one at the Pitt likes meâyou donât have to pretend you do.â You fixed your gaze to the floorâyou didnât think you could handle the pitying look that was undoubtedly in his eyes.Â
âHey, hey, look at me,â he said, cupping your face between his large hands. You tried to wiggle away, but his grip was unwaveringâhe wasnât going to let you look away from him. He brushed away your tears, âI donât know what ideas youâve gotten into that pretty little head of yours, but if you think Iâm anything but smitten with you, youâre dead wrong.âÂ
You laughed weakly, âwhoâs making bad jokes now?âÂ
He didnât take the bait, didnât let you deflect from the topic at hand. He pinned you with his eyes, his gaze steady as he delivered his next words.Â
âIâm serious. I need you to know that Iâm being honest with you when I say this: Iâve been scared for a long time to make a move on you, and Iâm not letting anythingânot even youâget in the way now, okay?
âIâve liked you for a while now, pretty girl. Youâre the best part of my day, the only thing keepinâ me going some days. I love your smile, your laugh, the way your face lights up when you talk about something youâre passionate about. I love the way you care about people, alive and dead, and I love your jokes, even if they can be a little off color.Â
âAnd I canât tell you how much I regret how I treated you. The only silver lining is that it kicked my ass into gear, made me realize Iâve been an idiot for waiting so long to make you mine. Youâre not too much, and even if you were, Iâd want moreâI want everything youâre willing to give me.âÂ
You almost couldnât comprehend the words coming out of his mouth, but he was nothing but sincere. His eyes pleaded with you to believe him, to give him a chanceâand you desperately wanted to.Â
âYou mean that?â you asked, gnawing at your lip anxiously. You didnât want to get your hopes up just to have them crushed again.Â
âWith all my heart,â he said, grabbing your hand and placing it over his heart. It was racing just as fast as yours was. âThis is how I feel every time I see you, sweetheart. Feel like I should be hooked up to a monitor sometimes,â he joked.Â
âIâŠI like you too. I have since the day I met you. But Iâm scared,â you swallowed thickly, voice small as you finished, âI donât want to get hurt.âÂ
âI know, sweetheart, I am too. Itâs been a long time since Iâve done thisâhavenât since my wifeâand I donât want to fuck it up. Weâre in this together, as long as youâll have me,âÂ
âI want you,â you whispered, placing your hand on the side of his neck tentatively.Â
He grabbed your waist and backed you up against your desk, replicating your previous position from yesterday.Â
âCan I kiss you now, sweetheart? Havenât been able to stop thinking about it since we were interrupted,â he asked, thumb stroking your cheek.Â
You nodded, âme either,â you said, heart pounding as he leaned in.Â
His lips were soft when they met yours. It was tentativeâjust a slow, gentle press of his lips against yours, like he was trying to maintain some level of decorum.
He started to pull back, and you whined at the loss of contact. You fisted your hands in his scrub top and pulled him back in, your mouths meeting in an uncoordinated mash of teeth. He chuckled against you, âgreedy girl,â he murmured, steadying your head in his hands and deepening the kiss.Â
He tamped down your eagerness but didnât erase any of the heat building between youâjust kept you right where he wanted you. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you readily opened your mouth for him, desperate to taste him. He licked into your mouth, tongue hot as it tangled with yours. You were greedy, sucking and lapping and nipping at his tongue and lips, getting messy with it and thoroughly forgetting where you were and how inappropriate a setting this was.Â
You were like horny teenagers, hands grabbing at whatever bits of flesh they could reach, tangling in each otherâs hair, and moaning louder than was appropriate.Â
When you finally pulled back, you were both gasping for air, chests heaving against each other. Jack rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. You didnât want to waste another moment not kissing him, though, so you began peppering his face with kissesâto his nose, cheeks, chin, wherever you could reach.Â
He laughed at the onslaught, craning his head to the side to give you access to his neck, which you happily latched onto, âyouâre insatiable, arenât you?âÂ
âI guess youâll have to find out,â you replied as you pulled away, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at him.Â
He shook his head fondly at you, âNow, as much as Iâd like to do very, very inappropriate things to you right now, I came here this morning planning to ask you out to dinner. Would you allow me to ask you out properly now, sweetheart? Let me be a gentleman?â he asked, thumbs stroking your jaw.Â
You nodded, still dizzy from his kissâstill reeling from the fact that Jack actually liked you.Â
âWould you please make me the happiest man in the world, and accompany me to dinner at Altius tomorrow night at 7?âÂ
âIâd love to,â you grinned, pulling him in for another kiss.Â
âAnd after, we'll see just how insatiable you are.âÂ
A/N: shoutout to my fellow anthropology majors lol glad that my degree is coming in handy for something cause its certainly not a job
The Parasite | serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, youâve finally found the one for you. heâs handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himselfâ sukunaâs perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: ik i said this would be for kinktober but this is taking over my brain lol. thisâll be a one shot! lmk if youâd like to be tagged
one: better than i ever even knew | do it for the thrill of the rush
Reader dressed in a provocative dress for a mission. Edward just has his hand over his mouth, unable to speak while his eyes are way too expressive looking her over with the only pirate thought being:
"Plunder that Booty."
it is, indeed, a full fledged Edward spiral. this man has me in a chokehold. hope you enjoy this one! â„ïžđŽââ ïž
Edward Kenway x fem!Reader; 18+
...so come and tell me what my kiss tastes like...
The door creaks shut behind you, muffling the raucous laughter and clinking tankards from the tavern below as Edward Kenway slips into the room. Heâs been out most of the afternoon, eavesdropping on conversations between guards and merchants along Kingstonâs streets, seeking confirmation this grand scheme youâve cooked up will work out and not end with a trip to the gallows.Â
You adjust the neckline and bodice of your dress a final time. The maroon taffeta and white linen sit tight against your flesh, cut low to draw the eye of men and ladies alike, cinched at the waist, and slit high enough on one thigh to promise trouble. Taking in a slow breath, you steel your resolve and nervesâAnne always does this routine better than you.Â
Turning from the mirror, you face Edward, oddly nervous, truth be told. A cutlass or pistol in hand would be more comfortable than this. His blue eyes flit from the map and letters on the corner table to you, pupils darkening instantly with lust, and everything else stops.Â
âThis should distract them, right?â You ask, hands smoothing along the front of your bodice laces and stomacher.Â
His throat goes dry, breath catching at the sight of you. Heâs always been quick with a rogue smile or clever remark, eager to bestow compliments too, but Edward only lifts a hand to his mouth. A poor attempt to muffle the guttural sound that escapes him as his stare drags shamelessly down your body: the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the bare skin of your thigh. Suddenly, those documents and charts in the governorâs storehouse donât seem all that relevant anymoreâa prize worthy of plundering is standing right in front of him.Â
âEdward?â Itâs teasing, how you say his name like thatâall innocent and the like, as though youâre not dressed like Sin itself and all but beckoning him to take you here and now.Â
He drags his hand down his face, jaw still clenched tight, a flush creeping up his neck. âJaysus,â he starts, voice rough. âThey'll empty their purses and thank you for robbing them.â
âThatâs the gist of it,â you say, stepping closer, hips swaying just enough to test him. âWhile theyâre gawking, you slip in and...â
Edward doesnât let you finish. He closes the distance in a long stride, hands catching your waist to pull you flush against him. The heat of him engulfs youâsolid muscle, salt, and cloth and leather. You tilt your chin to look up at him, lips twisting upward, and before you can think to say anything or take another breath, his lips are on yours. Itâs as if he is a starving man when his tongue brushes yoursâtasting your kissâthe second your lips part for him.
One hand slides up your back, curling at the nape of your neck to tilt your head how he wants. The other drifts lower, palming the curve of your hip, and lower still, until he grips your backside with a low, appreciative groan that reverberates in his chest.Â
You melt into him with little restraint, fingers curling into the lapels of his coat, and curse him for the heat pooling low in your belly as he walks you backward. Your bare shoulders scrape against the rough, wooden wall, but Edward presses closer, his thigh sliding between yoursâthe hard line of his body leaving little doubt about how much he wants you.
âEdward,â you gasp, breaking from his kiss, heart racing. His mouth trails along your jaw and down your throatâlips searing your skinâbeard scraping along your collarbone. Your hands slip into his golden locks, and instinct takes over when you tug at the roots, hard enough to make him groanâthe hold he has at the back of your neck tightening. A cold shiver creeps down your spine as Edward nips at your breastbone, soothing the aftermath with his tongue.Â
âChrist, Dove,â he mutters against the swell of your bosom. âYouâre ruining me.â And have you ever seen him so needy and disheveled before? His hand squeezes your rear again, thigh pressing harder between your legs, knowing you want, need, the pressure and friction.Â
Damn him. Another kiss and errant touch, and heâll ruin you too. You whimperâa delightful soundâand it stirs Edwardâs blood, fanning the flames hotter. The plan. You need to protest, tell him this has to wait, but all you can do is chase his mouth for another kissâslow and open-mouthed.Â
For too long, the plan ceases to exist. He could have you like this all night, and youâd not complain, not when his mouth and hands are roaming your body, and heâs whispering filthy praises and promises between kisses. Bet youâre already wet for me, arenât you, love? Edward asks, voice rough at your ear. Iâll have to carry you to the Jackdaw once Iâm through with you. A promise youâll hold him to.Â
You gather what remains of your wits when his fingers tug at the laces of your bodice. Breathing hard, you place both hands on his chest and push against him, gentle but firmly. âEdward,â you chide. âThe documents.â
He makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a growl, forehead dropping to rest against yours with ragged breath and half-lidded lusty eyes. âBugger them,â Edward mutters, stealing another quick kiss that nearly undoes your resolve. âWeâve all night toââ
âNo.â You smile despite the flush on your cheeks and the way your legs feel shaky. Cupping his face in both hands, you force him to meet your eyes. âWe need those documents. The guards change shift in less than an hour. I distract them with⊠this,â you gesture at your scandalous dress, âyou get inside, grab the papers, and weâll be gone before anyoneâs the wiser.â
Edwardâs jaw clenchesâfighting every urge and instinct he has. He has half a mind to bend you over the rickety bed, hike up your skirts, and take you. A short round. His hands are still on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles over the dark silk. âAnd after?â he asks, voice low and dangerous.
You lean in, brushing your lips against his in a teasing, feather-light kiss. A dangerous thing to do when he wants you so badly. âAfter,â you promise, nipping at his bottom lip, âthereâll be plenty of time for plundering.â
Blue eyes flash with wicked delight, and a rogue grin splits his lips. âNever enough time with you, love,â he says, gaze raking over you once moreâsavoring the sight. Heâll let the image and thought serve as motivation to do the job clean and quick.
Before you can step away, Edward catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up as he leans in. This kiss is slower than the frenzied ones before. His lips move against yours with the same heated intent, though, tongue teasing just enough to draw another soft sound from your throat. For another blissful second, the plan fades again.
He pulls away, like it pains him to do so, and lets his forehead rest against yours for a heartbeat. Then Edward groans, adjusting himself and his coat, before catching your hand. He brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles. âJustâŠâ Another kiss to the inside of your wrist. âBe careful. If any bastard gets handsy, I might forget the whole bloody mission and run him through.â
âI can handle myself,â you reassure him, hiking up your skirt to show the small dagger tied to the outside of your thighâhidden from view even with the slit. Still, warmth blooms in your chest at his stubborn protectiveness. âAnd youâll be there to watch my back.â
âAnd your front,â Edward winks, âsides, and everything in between too, if I have my way.â Rolling your eyes fondly, you give him a shove toward the door. He stops at the threshold, looking back at you one last time. âLater, love,â he says, raising the white hood of his robes, âI intend to plunder every inch of you âtil the only name you remember is mine own.â
He slips away after that, leaving you hot and breathless, and even more determined to see this mission finished quicklyâthe sooner itâs done, the sooner Captain Edward Kenway can make good on every filthy promise.
[Edward taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @chonkercatto / @dontwannabeanamericanidiot / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @fridrssvardagi / @hereforreadandwrite / @hc-geralt-23 / @hnybnny / @itseivwhore / @jadynchronicle / @maddiethecanadianassassin / @morganamayne / @mossywossy14 / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rainsought / @slytherinmates / @thatrandomfeministgamer / @theoriginalannoyingbird / @theexaustedmermaid / @vymyn ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if youâd like to be added to my Edward taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!
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