My Lads Archive

25

[lexlibrary]

every once in awhile life starts to feel like im tying up loose ends, that no one would come looking if i simply disappeared and it scares me sometimes because of how easily that could happen

[yenayaps]

controller | sukuna x f!reader

eighteen: that's slander!

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff. pls visit master list to view the rest of the tags

a/n: 3.4k words!!! enjoy <3

masterlist

“Going back to working in the office so I could get to know you better.”

“...he still found out what time my flight was supposed to land and waited for me at baggage claims.”

“I like it when she comes home and tells me all about her day.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel seen?”

“Mhm. You make me feel heard too.”

Wasuke slowly closes the laptop and takes a deep breath, something his doctor had just recently taught him. Apparently it helps with relaxation— he clearly needs his license to practice medicine taken away, taking a deep breath isn’t doing shit for him. 

“He deserves to be castrated.” He mumbles to himself, the words were barely audible to his two assistants. They have no idea what to say right now— not that they should say anything, Wasuke would probably just start yelling again. Right now they just have to endure the silence, taking the moment to brace themselves for what Wasuke could possibly say next. 

Akio never saw the laptop screen, only because he wanted to maintain a safe distance from his boss, but he recognized your voice instantly. Your abrupt resignation made sense now. The newer assistant recognized you as well since you were the one that trained her— you didn’t resign because you found a better job, it was because you wanted to marry Sukuna (her thoughts at least). 

Her opinion on the matter is neutral. You were kind to her during that 1 ½ week period of training, she also doesn’t know the story between you, Sukuna, and Yorozu. She could care less about rich people’s problems, they always seem to be messy. 

The one thing she and Akio knew though, was that Wasuke clearly loved you like a daughter. He never had to say it outloud, they just knew from the obvious favoritism. They couldn’t even be mad about it either, you made Wasuke’s most difficult requests happen. The word “no” was more of a suggestion to you than it was a definitive answer— and for that, he respected you. If he had a daughter, he’d want her to be just like you. 

You technically are his daughter now, by law at least, but this was betrayal. The amount of times you’ve sat there and listened to him complain about his son, sharing personal details of his details, fuck— he couldn’t even count. He doesn’t even know what to think right now. 

He wants to think Sukuna paid you to marry him, but this was fucking real. He saw it with his own two eyes— the stories, the laughter, the soft tone in his son’s voice that he’s never heard before. It all happened right under his nose. You and Sukuna looked him in the eyes for months and lied. 

He takes one last deep breath, then leans back in his chair. “Forget all of your tasks for today— both of you, go find Jin. If he’s not here by the end of the day, the both of you are fired.”

—

“I just don’t understand what he’s blowing up my phone for?!” Jin continues to ramble on. He’s been freaking out since he got to the penthouse– pacing back and forth, asking questions that Sukuna wouldn’t know the answers to. “A-and it’s not like I can turn it off, I have a son! What if there was an emergency and Yuji’s nanny couldn’t reach me?!”

This whole time Sukuna’s been doing his best trying to calm down the sensitive one out of the two. But he eventually reaches his own breaking point, Jin’s panic attack is gonna make him have one too– something about twins being able to feel each other's emotions. “Okay can you just relax, just rela– JIN! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, NOW.” 

“I CAN’T, I FUCKING CAN’T— HE’S GONNA HAVE BOTH OF OUR HEADS ON A STICK– AND MY ONLY FAULT IN ALL OF THIS IS LOOKING LIKE YOU.” Jin yells back. 

“No he’s NOT. SIT.” Sukuna continues to argue with him and shoves his brother back down on the couch. Before either are able to get another word in, Jin’s phone rings again for what seems like the hundredth time in that hour alone. “Answer it.” Sukuna nudges at him. 

Jin looks at him in disbelief. “What? No!” 

“What do you mean no? Answer it, put that shit on speaker too.”

“Why the hell would I do that?!” Jin argues back, but Sukuna doesn’t care to argue anymore and just grabs the phone from his brother. “No– NO. Don’t you answer it, don’t you fucking dare!”

He answers it. 

It’s nothing but dead silence from both sides, waiting for the other to say something first. Sukuna gently kicks Jin’s foot while mouthing something you couldn’t quite make out, you just know it was a threat. 

Jin wipes some sweat off of his brow and clears his throat before finally saying something. “Hello?”

“HELLO? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HELLO? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU ALL FUCKING MORNING AND ALL I GET IS A HELLO?!” Their father yells from the other side. “You fucking asshole– WHERE IS HE?!”

“Who?!” Jin decides to just play stupid, figuring he could get away with it if he threw Yuji under the bus well enough. Thank god he has a son for that.

“Your fucking brother! Who else could I be talking about?!” 

“How would I know?” Jin responds calmly, lying to the best of his ability. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. And by the way, I spent the morning with Yuji! You know I don’t like being on my phone in general when I’m with him.” He says rather defensively. There’s a part of him that feels proud for coming up with that one on the spot, no wonder why Sukuna lies a lot, this is fun. 

Wasuke lets out a sigh– here comes mama bear Jin, gentle parent of the year. “Whatever. Why haven’t you talked to your brother in weeks?” He begins to grill him. 

Sukuna taps Jin on the shoulder and shows him what he typed out on his notes app. He ends up repeating it to their father. “He’s been kind of MIA lately, he hasn’t texted or called me back in a week.” Sukuna smacks him and mouths another thing to him. “...Seems like he’s been kind of depressed lately.” 

Wasuke bodaciously laughs, “So he’s depressed? I see. And then what? Going off and marrying my old assistant is the fucking CURE?!”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Jin waves off his fathers sarcasm as if it were a silly guess. “I don’t even know if he is depressed… just a feeling, you know?”

“You and your fucking feelings.” Wasuke grumbles. 

“What?” He asks innocently.

“Nothing.” Wasuke’s gonna have a stroke if he keeps this stupid conversation up. “Just– if you hear from that asshole, tell him to answer my calls. Better yet, tell him to come see me in person. I don’t have time for these phone games he’s been playing with me.”

The phone games he’s referring to is Sukuna picking up the call and then hanging up the moment his father starts to say something. Sometimes he’ll pick up a second time just so his father can hear his laughter, then he’ll hang up again and turn his phone off for an hour or so. You’ve tried to tell him to knock it off and that it’ll only anger his father more, but there’s only so much you can do to control the man. 

“Okay!” Jin chirps out. “Will do.” 

“And bring Yuji in when you get a chance, I miss my grandson.”

“Sure.” He won’t, not for a while at least. He read something about children being able to feel and absorb negativity. He hangs up and immediately shoots his brother a glare for making him go through that. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Sukuna responds boyishly. “You should be thanking me right now. The longer you would’ve avoided him, the more guilty you would’ve looked!”

“I know that but I wasn’t ready!”

“You weren’t ready to be a father either, but look at you now.” Sukuna wisely says, trying to hold his laughter back.

“Oh fuck you.” 

Sukuna throws his arms out, “Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re– god you’re such an asshole sometimes.” Jin huffs out. “Whatever, I'm out of here. I’ve had enough stress for the day.”

“Yeah? Gonna go do some breathing exercises?” Sukuna continues to tease him, but that’s when you draw the lines and lightly pinch his butt. Now he’s the one glaring at you. “What the fuck was that for?!” 

“He came to you for emotional support and now you’re making fun of him! Stop it.” You scold him. 

“Yeah.” Jin cuts in as he puts his jacket back on. “I’m hoping you can finally learn about empathy and what it means from her.” 

“Please,” Sukuna chuckles. “If anything she’s gotten crazier from being with me… amongst other things if y’know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” Jin deadpans. “I don’t wanna know either. Goodbye.”

—

“A lucky girl you are.” Hiromi adds as he finalizes the draft to the postnup Sukuna wanted to work on tonight. He was still a little annoyed that Sukuna made him work on a Sunday, but the buttery steak and crispy fries made up for it.

That doesn’t mean he’s not charging him though, he knows his worth. 

“Oh also, are you sure you still want to work at the firm? I don’t mind of course, but this is a conflict of interest now. One of you will probably need my services anyways with how much the announcement’s blown up.” He pops a fry in his mouth right after he adds that last part in. 

You kind of wish he didn’t, it definitely made you feel more concerned over what the public was saying about you. You like working for him, but he has a point. “I’ll think about it.”

Sukuna’s too busy shoving food into his face to guess where this conversation was going. All he heard was “lucky girl” and “announcement”. He doesn’t actually start paying attention until a certain someone gets mentioned.

“Still can’t believe Yorozu did that interview.” Hiromi continues. 

You appreciate him trying to sympathize with you, though you’d appreciate it more if you actually knew what the fuck he was talking about. You slowly look over at Sukuna, who’s doing a terrible job at acting normal. He continues to cut at his steak, even though he’s already sliced through it. 

“Right? I can’t believe she said all that stuff about me.” You vaguely respond, hoping he’d talk more about it since Sukuna won’t. 

“I try not to use such words when talking about women, but what a little bitch!” Hiromi shakes his head in disappointment before pointing the fork at Sukuna, “You must be even more relieved now that you didn’t end up stuck with her. Woulda sucked the life force out of you… and not in a good way.”

“Haha… yeah.” Sukuna finally responds and tries to change the subject. “Whatever, not like anybody gives a fuck about her opinion.”

“Except for the dumbasses that are taking her side.” The lawyer takes a sip from his whiskey. Sukuna considers kicking his shin under the table but refrains from doing so. The greedy bastard isn’t above suing a long time and very loyal client over something as simple as that. 

Plus with the way things are going, he needs Hiromi’s connections more than ever with the slander campaign Yorozu’s running. 

“Nobody gives a fuck about them either.” Sukuna continues to downplay the whole situation while still avoiding your gaze. He doesn’t even know why he feels so nervous right now, it’s you who told him to keep you off the internet. 

“Hopefully something settles her spirit soon, she looked like a clown during the interview.” You act like you know what you’re talking about. Sukuna’s silently praying to god that you’d shut up and eat your food, he knows exactly what you’re to do right now. Smart, but you’re making this so much worse than it already is. “I keep forgetting that one thing she said about me.”

“Oh, that you used to hook with Sukuna during your lunch breaks?”

“No, not that.” You begin to hum. 

Hiromi continues to think about what could be a forgettable yet important detail. “Oh! That you two were friends throughout all of it.”

You almost cringe from how ridiculous it sounds. “That’s it! Yeah– the longest I’ve ever been in a room with her was an hour, and that was during a company event.”

“She’s insane for thinking she’d be able to lie about that and get away with it,” he chuckles and takes another sip of his drink. “She needs to– how do the kids say it? Grippy sock vacation?”

“Yeah.” You respond and so does Sukuna at the same time, surprisingly.

“She needs to go on a grippy sock vacation.” Hiromi laughs, as if he came up with the saying himself, so blissfully unaware of the tension between the newlyweds in front of him. 

He stays for another hour or so, just talking about random things with the two of you. Aside from learning that Sukuna didn’t bother to tell you that Yorozu got in front of a camera and told multiple lies about you, the dinner still ended up being fun. Sukuna wished it’d last forever. There was a part of him that almost forgot about the way you looked like you wanted to strangle him, but he quickly remembered it after the lawyer fully closed the door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you begin to lay it on him. 

“You know what? No.” He immediately shuts you down and crosses his arms– he’s determined to defend himself tonight. 

“That little bitch spewed lies about me and you’re telling me no?!” You continue to argue with him and he stands his ground. 

“I am.” He sounds somewhat unsure of himself. “I was protecting you! You told me to not mention anything I saw and that interview is included.”

“But this is different, it’s slander!”

“It is! I’m already in touch with a couple lawyers that specialize in cases like that. I was waiting until I found the perfect one before telling you.” He swears.

He wonders if he should’ve kept that information to himself too because you looked like you were about to faint. “It’s that bad that you had to contact lawyers?”

He looks at you for a bit before even responding, yet even then his only response was a regretful nod. He watches you pull your phone out and his immediate thought is ripping it out of your hands, but he fights the urge. He deserves a trophy for the amount of restraint he’s shown tonight. 

“You do not wanna watch that interview.” He warns you.

“I kind of have to at this point if there’s a possibility of me going to court over this.” You mutter without looking up from your phone.

Usually he respects your stubbornness, at times he even thinks it’s cute. Not today. He knows you well enough to know how you’d react and for those next 10 minutes he had to watch the light slowly drain from your eyes until they were nothing but dull and lifeless orbs. He almost wants to be mad at you for how you just voluntarily hurt yourself like that, but it ends up getting overtaken by the hatred he feels for Yorozu and her whole entire family. 

He swears that if his children end up going to school with hers one day, he’d probably add bonuses to their allowance for each time they came home with proof that they bullied her children. Hell, maybe he’d even throw a competition between them, nothing better than a little sibling rivalry. Whoever makes her kid drop out of school gets to go on a ski trip with dad.

He shakes the thought away as he watches your eyes start well. He can think about ruining the next 5 generations of that family after he gets you together. 

The shit Yorozu said was insane, she made it look believable too from the way she cried during certain parts.

There was lying about you two hooking up in his office, which surprisingly never happened, along with claiming that you two were friends. That can’t be proven, but she used your absence on social media to her advantage, claiming you had some phobia against getting your photo taken, that you’ve always been insecure– it’s why she’s not surprised you took Sukuna away from her.

And so much more– that you were an opportunist, that you didn’t mind whoring yourself out to him, that you’d do anything to get to the top even if it meant that Sukuna abused you and ordered you around behind closed doors. 

He laughed a little too hard at that last part. 

“Everyone believes her.” You sniffle as you begin scrolling through all of the comments. 

“Not everyone.” He murmurs, now grabbing the phone out of your hand to search for a comment that defended you. 

It takes a while, but he finally finds one and reads it outloud. “Shut the fuck up, you brain dead slore. I can imagine your dumb ass sitting in a dark room while typing out all the lies you practiced preaching prior to this low quality interview. I can imagine the light on your screen accentuating all the facial features that people occasionally compliment you on, out of pity. You are so desperate for dick that I bet you break vibrators and dildos on a weekly basis. And if they don’t break, they’ll eventually erode since your PH is lower than fucking battery acid. I bet people get uncomfortable around you whenever you ask about how you look, because they're forced to say the opposite of what they’re thinking. They probably breathe through their mouths when you're around because your breath stinks too, raggedy bitch. ”

Sukuna doesn’t read that last sentence out loud that states they were going to make her life a living hell for messing with his friends. He definitely didn’t read that persons complimentary close either, that says, “I hope you get struck by fucking lightning, Satoru Gojo.”

You can count on him to publicly shit on someone like that without receiving any sort of punishment from his family because he’s an only child, lucky bastard. He’ll send him a text a little later though to thank him, he needed that laugh. 

“That was.. Harsh.” You all but say while holding back your own laughter.

“See? I told you.” He smiles and force closes the app, before locking your phone and setting it down on the counter. “We’ll deal with her soon, don’t think I’ll let her get away with this.”

“Thank you.” You lean your head against his chest as he slowly rubs your arm. “What about your dad?”

“What about him?” He sounds happier than usual when the topic of his father gets brought up, mainly because he can’t get Satoru’s comment out of his head. He wants to have it framed in his bathroom or something for morning motivation. 

“You can’t avoid him forever. He’s been calling you for a week straight now.” You remind him. 

“I know.” He groans. He was hoping Wasuke would somewhat calm down, but it doesn’t seem like his temper will be changing anytime soon and is trying to accept that it’ll be another fucking fight between them. “I’ll probably visit him next weekend or something. Better if I surprise him, I don’t wanna give him a chance to hire security again.” 

“You think he’ll do that again?” You brush the little scar on his lip, luckily it’s faint enough to not notice unless you're up close and personal with him. 

“I dunno.” He shrugs and leans into your hand until you’re cupping his cheek. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Me neither. Want me to bake cookies that you could bring? To soften him up a little.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He almost scoffs, “You really think freshly baked cookies will make him less of a dick?”

“Obviously,” you snap at him for making your idea seem stupid. “Why else would I bring that up?”

Once again his mouth gets the best of him and now he’s left trying to gauge how annoyed you are, all so he could quickly get out of the hole he dug himself into. Abusing you behind closed doors– his fuckin’ ass. 

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” He backtracks and even lets out an obviously forced laugh. “He’s always been a fan of chocolate chip cookies.” He lies. 

“He likes red bean cookies.”

next

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed this filler-type chapter to move the story along 😭

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

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn’t for us! (part 6)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 6k (okay no THIS one is the shortest i've written to date yet it's gotta be)

summary: suguru doesn't know how to bridge the gap between you and him. haibara helps.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, everyone in this is so traumatized and mentally ill get these teenagers some therapy and hugs!, how is this chapter suguru's pov but satoru is still yearner of the year?, suguru being absolutely depressed as fuck, reader is also definitely depressed as fuck and autistic, idk what else this is just a yap session

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust

author note: if satoru gets a chapter, it's only fair that suguru gets one. this is kinda more of an interlude (though @theskyisbrighthere says 6k is too long). i just didn't wanna go from the breakup in last chapter to everyone suddenly talking again y'know?

chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 5.3, AO3

[DROPOUT]

It’s been four months and five days (18 weeks, 127 days, 3048 hours, 182880 minutes, 10972800 seconds) since that night.

Geto Suguru turns eighteen (216 months, 939 weeks, 6574 days, 157776 hours, 9466560 minutes, 567993600 seconds) today.

For the first time in nearly twelve years (144 months, 626 weeks, 4383 days, 105192 hours, 6311520 minutes, 378691200 seconds), he doesn’t hear your voice wish him a happy birthday.

Because you two haven’t exchanged words in exactly three weeks (21 days, 504 hours, 30240 minutes, 1814400 seconds).

Not that he’s counting.

Suguru pulls back the curtain to stare outside the window of his three-bedroom apartment. Nanako and Mimiko are sprawled out on their bellies, hunched over their sketchbooks, plucking from their boxes of crayons every now and then, staring intently at the trunk of the tree they’re under before coloring whatever it is that they see there. At the picnic table, Nanami and you are seated with sketchbooks of your own.

You don’t draw.

She doesn’t do that anymore, Satoru had whispered when he was sticking around after dropping the twins off from their weekly art session. He’d had his own sketchbook, flipping through it while he stared morosely at his terrible drawings. I draw and hope she will, too, but she doesn’t. She’ll work on something official, so the girls don’t get self-conscious, but she stops when they’re not looking anymore.

The park is right across the street. You always sit at that spot. After the first weekly art session, Nanako had informed him that you told her the shade offered by the tree is best for drawing because sunlight against white paper strains the eyes. He knows you actually just sit there so that Suguru doesn’t get anxious by the girls getting out of his sight.

You look gaunt.

Good to know you’re putting some weight back on along with the girls, Shoko had remarked when she brought the twins back from their appointment at the doctor. Just after he and the twins moved in, not even a month after they were saved, Shoko insisted on handling their medical care instead of Suguru. Having someone with medical knowledge, preparing to go to medical school, speak with the pediatrician got them healthier more effectively and much faster. Wish someone else around me would do the same. And he knew that she meant you.

You haven’t slept.

You rest your cheek against your palm and Suguru knows you’re going to fall asleep right there at the table. It happens almost every time that you’ve got another person with you for the day. He thinks that everyone around you has started to try to come with you for that specific purpose—because it’s one of the few times that you can sleep. You have perpetual bags under your eyes. He’s seen you knock back two cans of those awful American energy drinks in less than an hour.

On his worst days, he hates looking at you.

Just before it’s time for the girls to come home on those particular days, he’ll send you a clipped text saying that the door is open because he can’t stomach even looking at you. He’ll be overwhelmed with disgust over just how pathetic you’re looking, as if you’re doing it on purpose to make him feel guiltier. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, he’ll aggressively think as he watches you through the window. You forced him to live. You got everything your cruel little heart desired. Aren’t you supposed to be happy now? What right do you have to wither away like this?

Those days are few and far between now. It’s hard to think hard about much when he’s so busy. Between enrolling and preparing the twins for kindergarten, getting them to therapy appointments, and studying and attending night classes because he officially dropped out yet wants a degree still, he doesn’t have time to be mad anymore. That’s for the best. He’s learning that Nanako and Mimiko are extremely sensitive to his moods.

Suguru has been thinking about you a lot more lately, trying to untangle the complicated knots in that string that binds you two together in his heart. Even at his angriest, when the thread was surely fraying, it never totally snapped. He doesn’t think that he will ever stop loving you and, sometimes, that made him angrier. Cruelly, he thought to himself that you were the last curse he ever swallowed. It makes him guilty now, but he tried to convince himself that you were the same rot festering in his stomach. He knows better now.

The real curse is Suguru himself.

He became a vengeful spirit tethered to you. So many times, you tried to run, and he kept pulling you back in. He buried himself inside you—literally, at one point. Desperately, he clung to you, the purest thing left in the world, and it just infected you. He became the rot on your tongue. Like a smoker, you became addicted to the poison. Suguru finally realized he was killing you and tried to exorcise your curse.

Suguru has never had agency over his life—he understands that now. You always understood that, too, and always supported him however you could. This was supposed to be his final choice, and you took that away from him. Knowingly. Happily. All you had to do was tell the truth. Why couldn’t you just be angry at him for the right reasons? Justice demanded blood for blood. Why couldn’t you accept that?

There had been no remorse on your face, either. You’re wasting away right now because you miss him. Not because you regret how much you upset him. And, fuck, if he doesn’t miss you just as goddamn much. Sometimes, he aches so much that it keeps him up at night.

But Suguru doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

And he shouldn’t.

He can’t.

You’re not good for each other anymore. Suguru’s hatred and resentment poisoned the well. He’s reminded of it every single time that he goes to class, seeing the cursed spirits skittering along the halls or clinging to the other adult students. Being surrounded by all those pathetic non-sorcerers…it never fails to remind him of that bitterness he holds towards you. Maybe you don’t feel that for him right now, but you will. It’s only a matter of time. He deserves it, too.

Soon, he convinces himself whenever he watches you now. Soon, your grief will turn to rage and that heat will cauterize your wounds. It won’t hurt as much to be separated from him. Your mind will clear. You’ll see that things are better without him in your life.

For so long, you wilted in the shadow that Suguru cast over you. Once upon a time, it was a shadow meant to protect you. It was because he loves you. But a shadow is a shadow, and you suffered for it. You’re in the sunlight now. It’s a shock to your system, but you’ll grow to love it.

Right before Suguru closes the curtains, he watches you slip on a pair of sunglasses.

***

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door. Suguru already knows it’s Satoru because he’s been aware of that massive amount of cursed energy steadily growing closer as he walks toward the apartment. That’s also how Suguru knows that Satoru is upset. If he knocks on the door like a normal person, there’s something really bothering him. Otherwise, he’d simply just pop up in the middle of the kitchen and start helping himself to snacks. Satoru uses walking as time to think and try to process what he’s feeling.

Satoru immediately goes for the couch, curling up at one end silently. Suguru is worried. Satoru didn’t even greet him or raid the cabinets for sweets. There’s also the late hour. Satoru hardly ever sleeps himself, of course, but he respects that other people need it. Actually, he tends to use spending the night with you or Suguru as time to catch up on missed sleep. So, why isn’t Satoru with you right now?

“Want to talk about it?” Suguru hesitantly asks.

“Doubt you want to,” Satoru mutters. “It’s about her.”

Suguru slowly sits down at the other end of the couch. Satoru has been surprisingly considerate of the rift between Suguru and you. He tries to bring you up as little as possible around Suguru and vice versa. Suguru thinks that Satoru is being patient in hopes that things will eventually heal if he stops rubbing salt in the wound. Or he doesn’t know how to put the broken pieces of you two back together so he’s just doing damage control.

“It’s okay. I know it must’ve been bad if you’re here.” Satoru has been patient with Suguru. It’s only fair that Suguru start giving back. “What happened?”

Satoru crosses his legs, tugging at the cuffs of his pants. “You’re gonna feel guilty.”

“I always feel that way, Satoru,” Suguru bluntly admits and shrugs when Satoru cringes. He’s accepted that this is now going to always be a part of him. No matter what emotion there at the forefront of his mind currently is, there will always be a layer of shame and guilt simmering underneath. It’s fouler than the taste of a curse, but he’s…adjusting. “Go ahead. I want to be your shoulder to lean on.”

Satoru’s face twists in bitterness. He doesn’t speak, at first, and stares at Suguru blankly instead. “You guys are too nice to me,” he says cryptically before quickly moving on. “We got into a fight.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m worried about her, man. Seriously worried.” He sighs in aggravation. “It’s different than it was after Haibara. It was like she was a zombie.” He bites his lip. “Now, she stretches herself thin. Pushes and pushes and I know she’s at her breaking point. She won’t let anyone touch her and she’s wearing sunglasses more than me. I…I thought she was doing better, but I don’t think she’s eating at all anymore. She doesn’t let me spend the night because she wakes up from nightmares puking her guts out. Oh, but that’s if she even sleeps at all. If she’s not forcing herself to go in public with the girls, she’s on missions or working on her technique.” All his worries spill out in a rush. “It’s what she was doing tonight. I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried talking to her about it, like she’d do with anyone else, but she snapped. It’s all she does if I worry about her. So…I blew up…and then she blew up…” There are actual tears in his eyes. Suguru can’t help but reach out and take his hand, sympathetic. “She’s never yelled at me before.”

Yeah, Suguru understands how awful that felt for Satoru. The sting of it went deeper with Suguru because of that shared history, having the knowledge that you have never yelled at another person. Raised your voice when arguing with your parents, maybe, but never shouting.

That day, in the showers, the crack in your voice had splintered him. He’s still never told Satoru about it. Another shameful act that hurt you. It was purposeful, too. He knew it’d hurt you and he’d wanted that until you started to back yourself into a corner, covering yourself, sobbing and trying to hide away like a wounded animal. That look on your face haunts him. Just as much as that night in September.

“I don’t know what to do, Suguru,” Satoru confesses hoarsely. “I can’t…I don’t know how to beat this…”

“Because this isn’t a fight, Satoru,” Suguru gently corrects him. “Emotions are too complex for you to box them up as a villain to be defeated. Listen to your own right now. It’s hard to make sense of the mess of them, right?” Satoru nods miserably. “Now, try to imagine how much bigger it is for her.” Satoru hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees, and covering his face with his hands. “You ran from her after your argument. It’s what she’s doing right now. It’s what she’s always done.”

“Can’t you just help her?” Satoru asks, voice muffled by his palms.

“I…” This is the first time that Satoru has confronted him about Suguru breaking his silence. “I always chased after her. I thought it was being a good friend, but I just made her dependent on me. She has to learn to live without me.”

Satoru raises his head, staring at Suguru with those eyes. They’ve never been so unnerving as they are now. “So, you want her to be reliant on me instead?” He shakes his head. “That’s bullshit, Suguru. No, you’re not choosing now, when she needs you the most, to cut your imaginary umbilical cord or whatever. Why won’t you just talk to her?”

“I’ve tried. Last week was the first birthday I’ve ever had without her since I was six. But I can’t pretend that everything is the same as it was. The words keep getting stuck in my throat. That was supposed to be my choice. My final choice. And I remember how she stood there, not an ounce of regret on her face, as she took it away from me.”

Satoru laughs bitterly. “You’re really something else, Suguru. Just a selfish piece of shit.” Suguru’s temper flares and he returns Satoru’s glare. “You can’t beg to be punished and then decide it’s not the right way. And you wanna talk about choices getting made for other people? You did it first. You just wouldn’t leave it be. You had to confess, knowing it was putting your life in her hands.”

“Call me a piece of shit all you want, but at least I’m not blind. What are those Six Eyes worth if you can’t see the truth? She had to say the words. That’s it. It was my own life. I hung the axe over my own head. You two keep acting like I was putting the axe in her hands.”

“I didn’t put a bullet through Amanai’s skull, but I still feel pretty fucking responsible for her death,” Satoru snarls before snapping his mouth shut so fast that his teeth clack together. He sits there, silently, fists on his knees clenched so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

“I do, too,” Suguru agrees softly.

“Right. Like I said, you’re being selfish, then. Objectively, it wasn’t our fault. We got beat. He took his prize. We didn’t even know her but for three days. But we still feel guilty about it. You understand that. You feel that. But you suddenly forget all about that when you want Sketch to throw you under the bus?”

“It wasn’t about feelings. It was about justice. Amanai got hers. You blew a hole in Zen’in Toji.”

Then, all the emotion on Satoru’s face vanishes. It reminds Suguru too much of when he found Satoru, surrounded by all those clapping monkeys who celebrated the death of a teenage girl. “Justice,” he repeats flatly. “Who decides what true justice is? Is it the higher-ups? Because if we’re going by those standards, I should tell them about what she did.”

Suguru presses a thumb to the center of his forehead, frustrated. “You’re being purposely obtuse. You know it’s different. She’s not a threat to non-sorcerers.”

Satoru scoffs. “Don’t play dumb. Higher-ups don’t give a shit about the non-sorcerers. They never have. You know that. It’s always been about tradition and control with them. Sensei told us, right? Special Grade isn’t something to be proud of, no matter how much money higher-ups throw at us. It’s something to fear. We could demolish cities without breaking a sweat. And Sketch is one of us now.”

Gentle heart aside, there’s another obvious flaw in Satoru’s logic. “Her technique only works on those with cursed energy. And she doesn’t have enough cursed energy herself to control that many people.”

“Either you’re being the obtuse one now or you’re being super naïve.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you control the king, you don’t need to worry about the grunts. I don’t think I need to remind you that the two strongest people in the world are in love with her,” Satoru says slowly, as if Suguru isn’t painfully aware. “She’s a threat. I know you don’t wanna think about her that way, but she is. The only reason she isn’t an active one is because she’s scared of herself, bogged down by what other people tell her she is, and stupidly kind. If I was the good little weapon that I was raised to be…no. If I was smart, I’d kill her.”

“Stop,” Suguru demands harshly.

He hates that Satoru is right. Suguru doesn’t want to face the reality. You’ve always been his lighthouse, shining bright in the darkness plaguing his life. He doesn’t want to admit that his selfishness and carelessness is the reason your light dimmed. He doesn’t want you to be so hurt that you poison your own well, but you were. You are. You’re still hurting.

“I will. I’ll stop now because it’s you that’s asking, Suguru. If it’s you and her, I’ll listen,” Satoru whispers. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but that night…I’ve never felt as weak as I did then. Not even when there was a blade in my neck. And it wasn’t because of only her. You had been in pain for so long and I didn’t do anything about it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Suguru pleads. He scoots over on the couch, putting his hand on Satoru’s knee. “I wouldn’t have talked about it.” Satoru flinches and Suguru mentally curses himself. That came out wrong. “Not because I don’t trust you. I just…how could I put another burden on your shoulders? You’re the strongest and you’re already carrying the world on your shoulders.”

“But I’m not,” Satoru protests. “I’m not the strongest. Not without you and Sketch. Don’t you get that?” He subtly rocks back and forth. His nervous habit, though Suguru rarely sees it. “You know jujutsu is all about balance. Something big is coming. Big enough that four Special Grade sorcerers were born around the same time. And they’ve said that ever since I was born, curses have been exploding in numbers. So…so, I want to think that you and Sketch were supposed to be born. I think we were meant to meet. Because we keep each other balanced.”

Suguru looks away, corners of his eyes stinging with tears. “You don’t need me.”

“I was never going to have a purpose without you two. I was only ever going to be a tool. And more would come after me. This system has to change. I see that now. I’m going to foster strong allies and we’re going to burn it all down before we build it back up. It might take a long time, but I swear that I’m going to make things better for you both.”

Kind, Suguru thinks as he tilts to the side, letting his forehead fall against Satoru’s shoulder. So, so kind. Through blurred vision, he watches his tears fall on Satoru’s shirt, the fabric darkening as it soaks them in. Can’t you see that I don’t deserve this much kindness? Satoru’s hesitant hand touches the top of Suguru’s head., petting him as he starts quietly sobbing. You’re breaking my heart.

Stop, Suguru’s heart weeps. He can’t open his mouth to speak. The words are lodged inside his throat. Just stop. Please. You, of all people, should be mad at me. Why can’t you curse me? It hurts. This all hurts. Anger would be so much easier to deal with than this gentleness. Oh. So, this is what they mean by killing with kindness, he thinks blearily. I guess this truly is the most fitting punishment for me.

***

A week before the start of what would’ve been his fourth year, Suguru is staring at his scowling reflection in the window of a konbini. He’s not sure what pisses him off more—that this torrential downpour seemed to come out of nowhere or the that the konbini is out of stock for umbrellas. They were probably all bought out because everyone else knew this was coming. You would’ve known this was coming. Suguru’s never had to look at the weather because he just shared an umbrella with you.

You, who always carried an umbrella ever since that day in kindergarten. Suguru hadn’t talked to you yet, but he remembers because it was the first time his mother made her distaste of you known. She’d muttered under how breath about how unruly a child you were after your feet got soaked in your too-tight school shoes and you had a breakdown. Everyone in class started to make fun of you after that.

You’ve never gone anywhere without an umbrella after that day. It’s why you carry a little backpack instead of a purse. Why you have an extra pair of socks along with the umbrella. Why you dance gracefully to avoid puddles that could potentially soak through your shoes.

It's been almost six months and after all the rainy days, Suguru still reaches for a backpack that isn’t there anymore. Good thing I watched the weather this morning, he waits to hear but those words never come. Not anymore.

You haven’t been to the apartment in two weeks.

Suguru is so fucking irritated.

Everything has gone wrong today. As soon as he woke up to Satoru’s text saying that there’d be no art today, he knew it’d be a terrible fucking day. It took everything in him to not send you a nasty, passive aggressive text after calming down two little heartbroken girls. Stupidly, Suguru thought that Shoko would be on his side when he demanded what you were so busy with the last two weeks when she showed up to babysit while he was at night classes.

She wasn’t.

(“Why do you care?”

“Because she doesn’t have to deal with the fallout. I do.”

“That’s on you, then. You know we’re about to start the year. You’re their guardian. You should’ve been preparing them to see her less.”

“She can’t just walk into their lives and then leave without a word.”

“She can, actually. She’s been doing it to everyone. The only time anyone’s heard her speak in the last two weeks is Nanami on a mission. You’re not special, Geto. This is her being dependent. That’s what you wanted, right? I don’t know what else you want from her.”)

Suguru had been so pissed off that he forgot his cigarettes. He’d been late to class because he needed to smoke before he forced himself to sit in a small room full of non-sorcerers. His teeth were gritted the entire time the teacher reprimanded him for his tardiness and his thoughts murderous. The auxiliary manager at the back of the class meant to watch over him was the only thing keeping him from tormenting someone with a curse.

Fuck, he hates rainy days.

“Geto?”

Suguru blinks away from his darkening thoughts. “Nanami?” His brows knit in confusion. “What are you doing here?” Nanami, deadpan, holds up the onigiri and drink between them as an obvious answer, but that’s not what Suguru was asking. “No. Why are you here? In this area?”

“I was meeting with enrollment at your night school. I told them I’m going to stick it out for my third year and apologized for wasting their time.” Nanami glances over Suguru’s shoulder, at the cashier. “I’m going to checkout now. Is it alright if I walk with you to your apartment? I won’t be long, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Suguru is still reeling over the fact that Nanami, straitlaced Nanami, was thinking about dropping out. “Uh…sure…”

“Would you like some tea?” Suguru asks as they’re toeing off their shoes in the genkan.

Shoko was there to meet them at the door, took one look at Nanami, and left without a word. It was suspicious. Had Suguru thinking that this was some kind of setup. Then, he decided that it didn’t matter if it was. Suguru will hear Nanami out. He respects his former junior too much to turn him away. Also, despite all his awkwardness, he’s been kind to the girls and tries to teach them sensible lessons.

“No. Like I said, I won’t take up too much of your time. Thank you, though.”

Nanami waits at the table while Suguru makes himself a cup of tea to warm up. He offers Nanami some of his clothes because their big bodies couldn’t totally fit under the umbrella they shared, but Nanami turns that down, too. Those will just get wet on his way back to campus. So, Suguru goes to change. He pokes his head in Nanako’s room, not surprised at all to see Mimiko curled up with her.

Once Suguru is seated across from him, sipping at his tea, Nanami stiffly explains his purpose. “I’m here to invite you to the cherry blossom viewing party. It’s three days from now, in our usual place. It goes without saying that Nanako and Mimiko are invited. The new student is going to be with us, too.”

Suguru tilts his head to the side, curious. “I appreciate you coming in person, but…why couldn’t Satoru just text me?”

“Senpai will be there. I’m here to ask you to stop being childish and talk to her.”

It’s so unlike Nanami to be defensive of anyone that it pulls a laugh of disbelief out of Suguru. “Childish?” Suguru repeats incredulously. Then, he remembers Shoko. “Did Shoko put you up to this? Satoru?”

“No. They don’t know I’m inviting you.”

Suguru tries to tamper down his annoyance. It’s not Nanami’s fault. He only knows the surface level of what happened that night, given the same half-truths as Yaga. You were hurt, Suguru felt so guilty that he tried to take the blame, but the higher-ups cleared him after their official investigation, and Suguru dropped out because he couldn’t handle the mental stress anymore. In the fallout of that night, Suguru and you stopped talking.

Out of all the upperclassmen, Nanami respects you the most. It’s why you’re the only one he calls senpai. Nanami is only trying to help you. Suguru can respect that. So, he doesn’t snap. He tries to be patient and carefully explain, “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have all the details—”

“I do. Gojo told me what happened. Everything.” Suguru sets the cup down with more force than necessary. Nanami wears that same indifference. “Gojo didn’t tell me because he wanted me to stand in on her behalf. It was to help me understand why she’s been so…overbearing, to put it bluntly.”

“Overbearing?”

“I’m never alone. She requested to be my partner. I haven’t killed a cursed spirit in months because she’s forced them to destroy themselves by the time we make it to the scene. Gojo gave me his MP3 player to pretend to listen to music on the train or bus because, otherwise, she won’t use hers whether it’s a bad day for her or not. She asks if I’ve eaten or if I want to talk and dodges the questions when I ask the same.” Nanami takes a deep breath. It’s…a lot like how you were with him and Satoru after their failed escort mission. “I…just want her to stop. I want her to take care of herself. And…I snapped at her. I told her to leave me alone and…I think that’s why she hasn’t been talking much. So…I’m here to ask for your help. I think you’re the only person that can help her now.”

Suguru rubs his aching temple. “I’m the reason she’s in the shape she is.”

Nanami stares at Suguru in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Minutes pass and his gaze gets icier and icier. “Have you forgotten about Haibara?”

Suguru flinches with his whole body. The blood drains from his face, along with any lingering anger. “No. Of course not,” he says, quietly yet sincerely.

“And have you forgotten that she was there, too?”

“No.” It’s a half-truth.

When Nanami mentioned Haibara, Suguru immediately reprimanded himself for being so hostile so quickly when it’s only been over six months since Haibara’s death. But…fuck, Suguru is a selfish bastard. Somehow, his mind separated you from that day, assuming that his crime against you had somehow buried the trauma of Haibara’s death. But that’s not how trauma works.

The worst thing is that Suguru has always known that. Putting aside that the brutality of swallowing curses and witnessing the worst of the world that weighed him down until he snapped, there’s also his childhood. Did he magically forget the last beating when his father came with a new one? No. Suguru remembers them all.

Trauma piles up—more weight added to the crushing weight trying to bury you in the ground.

“I can’t know for sure, but I think she’s getting worse the closer we get to the start of the year. I’m going to be the only one in my class. She blames herself for that. She blames herself for it all. I’ve tried telling her that it’s not her fault, that she almost killed herself with the strain of her technique so there was nothing else she could’ve done, but she doesn’t believe that. She’s kind enough to not call me a hypocrite, at least. Because she says the same thing to me, and I don’t believe her. Neither of us can forgive ourselves.”

Suguru’s expression softens. “Haibara wouldn’t blame either of you.”

“Haibara is dead,” Nanami snaps back harshly. “And you’re angry that she saved your life.”

Suguru, cowed, fumbles for a response to that. He weakly tries with, “It’s more than that—”

“It’s not. You wanted to die for what you did.” Nanami’s mouth thins. “I have to be honest—I lost all respect for you when Gojo told me the truth. It’s for the best that you quit sorcery. This kind of work isn’t suited for cowards.”

“Takes one to know one.” Suguru can’t resist making the dig.

“I know. More times than I can count, I wish that it was me in his place, but it wasn’t, and we were all left behind to pick up the pieces. I have to live, knowing what it was like to get my friend’s blood in my eyes. Why can’t you do the same? That’s why I say you’re being childish. You think the world revolves around you, that no one else can understand how you feel when you’ve been surrounded by people who do know. One of those people, someone I know you cherish, was right there the whole time and you pushed her away.” Nanami takes a deep breath, steadying himself after his emotional outburst. “I want to do something kind for her as thanks before I leave sorcery behind at the end of the year, so please come to the party.”

Numbly, Suguru asks, “Have you told her?”

“No. Don’t tell her, please. I’m trying to figure out how to do it in my own way. I’m…stalling, but…I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Suguru laughs bitterly. “Nanami, I almost killed her and she’s not disappointed in me. You’ll be fine.”

“Logically, I know that’s true.” Nanami pauses. “I don’t want to admit it, but it’s my guilt that’s making me hesitate. I’m leaving her alone with the burden of Haibara’s final words.”

Suguru straightens. “Final words?”

Nanami, kindly, doesn’t ask the obvious she didn’t tell you? Suguru doesn’t need reminders that his relationship with you has been fractured for a very long time. Instead, Nanami nods. “Yes.” His voice cracks with emotion. “He looked right at us as he cursed us.”

Emotions get lodged in Suguru’s throat. He doesn’t want to know this, not really, but he feels as if there’s an obligation for him to know, so he asks, “What did he say?”

***

You take it from here.

It truly is a curse. The words have been on Suguru’s mind for the last three days. And you…you’ve been doomed to an obligation to Haibara. Suguru knew that Haibara wouldn’t be the type of person to say that maliciously. Even in the end, he wanted to be an encouragement. It was his way to tell you and Nanami not to dwell on his death, not to let it drag you down and keep you from fighting the good fight. It had the opposite effect with Nanami.

All your behavior in those two weeks between his death and Suguru hurting you makes sense now. Just like the bits and pieces he’s picked up from Shoko and Satoru over the months do, too. You’re desperately trying to do as Haibara asked, even if it burns you up in the process.

Suguru doesn’t think he’ll ever stop having nightmares about that night. He’ll never stop scrubbing under his nails a little harder, never stop feeling the phantom pain of your blood on his hands. But…you’re still here. You’re alive. Shoko made it in time. The same can’t be said for Haibara. A dead boy’s blood is on your hands, and he can’t imagine how maddening that must be for you, a person that never forgot the embarrassment of melting down in front of your elementary school classmates.

During second year, Suguru had gone with you to Kyoto’s campus. You’d needed to do some research, and Kyoto is practically the capital of jujutsu. The computers in their library were much nicer than those at the Tokyo branch because Kyoto’s always had a higher number of students. You and Suguru had done more playing on them than research—marveling over how much faster and efficient they were.

My brain is a Tokyo computer, you’d remarked when you’d gone back to your own campus. You wanted to know what it’s like, right, Suguru? This might be the best way I’ve ever explained it. Everyone else’s brain is a Kyoto computer. Mine is like this one here. You’d touched the monitor with that look on your face—the one where you’re frustrated being born the way you are. I’m just on a completely different operating system. Slow. Things hard to process. Buggy. Fickle…

The thing about your metaphor…Suguru has learned to operate it alongside you. He can never truly know what it’s like to be that system, but he’s learned the language, he thinks. He knows what conditions you work best in, that there are days where you’re more likely to stutter, that too much information can crash you completely. That’s happened. You’re broken. He abandoned you, leaving you behind with people who haven’t had enough time to navigate your crashing systems.

Suguru is out on the balcony, smoking, while the girls get their backpacks ready.

You take it from here.

That night, when Suguru snapped, it’d been Haibara’s face on his mind more than anyone else. He’d felt so righteous when he was summoning his curses. He was going to avenge Haibara. Non-sorcerers would never know about Haibara’s sacrifice and that just hadn’t felt fair. Blood for blood, that’s what he believed justice demanded. How many lives had Haibara saved while the non-sorcerers sat back, blissfully unaware?

Suguru hadn’t stopped to think that everyone was going to forget Haibara’s name—non-sorcerer and sorcerer.

Non-sorcerers breed curses, that’s true, but they aren’t the only problem. How can the problem of non-sorcerers be dealt with if jujutsu society is so inept, corrupt, and mismanaged? Sorcerers, specifically higher-ups and traditionalists, are as equally responsible for the things that sickened Suguru to his breaking point. Sorcerers hide in the shadows because they’re forced to do that. Children are sent to die by other sorcerers. Had Nanako and Mimiko been born into a sorcerer clan, there’s no way for him to know that they wouldn’t be treated the same or worse. It’s all broken. The whole system needs to go.

Sorry, Haibara, Suguru apologizes while staring up at the shifting clouds. It took me a while to get there, but I get it now. He snuffs out his cigarette. I get it.

If he’d gone through with slaughtering the village that night, he would’ve stained Haibara’s memory. Haibara knew he’d be another nameless casualty in this war. He didn’t care. The darkness of the world swallowed him whole, but he refused to stop shining until the very end. Saving people was the only thing he ever cared about. He died a hero. It should stay that way.

But there should never be another Haibara.

Suguru doesn’t know how he’ll fit into Satoru’s plan, but he’s going to help. Somehow. Because he wants to protect the future, too. If Satoru wants to make them strong enough to not break, then Suguru wants to remind them of their humanity. No one else should reduce themselves down to machine or weapon. They need to know that if they’re going to die then they’ll do it while being remembered.

It’s going to be a marathon game, there’s going to be more pain, but Haibara passed on the baton, so it’s time for Suguru to get running.

[lexlibrary]

My kdrama husband i love him sm it hurts i cant not edit him to this song

No AI used. All voice lines can be found in-game.

[comatosebunny09-deactivated2025]

serve & protect [ prologue ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve stood dutifully by his side for years. seen him at his worst, not once letting that side of him deter you. can you blame him for craving more than your loyalty? — cw: royalty au, king sylus, femme reader, knight/bodyguard reader, mutual pining, brief mention of injury, marking, tension, jealousy, kind of a slow burn, will get steamier — notes: a reimagining of something i wrote a few years ago. heavily inspired by final fantasy xv & the beast within (2024) movie. tysm for reading! — now playing: waltz no.2 - cihat aşkın 

You would feel bad for badgering him if he wasn’t prone to disappearing like this. 

Prone to shirking off his duties like an entire kingdom didn’t rely on his guidance. 

You sigh for the umpteenth time amid the night-blooming jasmines. Fingers tighten around the strapped leather grip of your sword, fastened to your hip. Your feet move on autopilot, carrying you through the garden on a path you’re all too familiar with, the grass shining with dew and crunching beneath your feet. 

Your shift just began after a grueling week of training. Yet, you’ve already been tasked by his royal advisor with locating your charge before even shrugging into your coat. You’ve become something of a glorified babysitter these days, practically telling your liege when to eat.

If not for his advisor threatening to lop your head off—he could very well try—you would leave the king be. He hasn’t found much reprieve these days, what with neighboring countries pushing for peace treaties, reformation efforts to rebuild the outlying cities, and distant kingdoms shoving their daughters at him for marriage, amongst a slew of other issues.

It isn’t uncommon for your charge to slip away when the weight of the world is too much to shoulder. For him to retire to his private garden to catch his breath. He’ll never admit it aloud, but shouldering an entire kingdom on his own deepens the violet bags hanging beneath his eyes. The sleepless nights. The impending anxiety stewing in his gut.

Only you know of the secret passageways that lead to his most favored spots in the garden, where his servants get lost trying to navigate the network of rose bushes arranged like a labyrinth to keep them out.

It’s often your responsibility to fetch him since you work more intimately with him than anyone else. You know His Majesty’s habits like they were mapped on the back of your hand. You wouldn’t have it any other way; it’s nice to be the only person allowed into these private quadrants of his life.

A shock of white stains your peripheral, peacefully nestled between swaying hydrangeas. 

You near him, noting that he’s propped up on an ironwood bench. His head is lowered and crooked to one side, arms folded over a broad chest, lips slightly parted. A book rests open and forgotten on his thigh, legs crossed. You tamp down a smile when you realize he’s fast asleep.

“Your Majesty,” you beckon with a hidden fondness as your steps slow to a stop before him.

He doesn’t stir. Of course, you don’t expect him to. When sleep claims him, it’s hard to free him from its ivy-like crawl.

You kneel dutifully, bowing your head, your sword scrawling a thick line in the dirt. You caution his name again, the sound of your voice competing with that of the breeze threading through the leaves. 

Still nothing. Just the steady rhythm of his breaths and distant morning birds singing their symphony around you.

With a sigh, you incline your head to look up. And what a mistake that proves to be, traitorous butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He’s a beautiful contradiction amid the soft stir of pastel flowers. A dark cutout of regality, slumbering like a dragon guarding its treasure. 

His hair is reminiscent of a thick blanket of snow, piling itself amongst the treetops. He wears summer skin in the midst of spring. Stretched taut over a pretty Roman nose, angular features, full lips. He’s ethereal, limned in the sun’s amber glow, a sight that could bring the end of days or sink ships to the bottom of the sea. Thick, furled lashes dance with dreams beneath furrowed brows. A gruff sound escapes his mouth as he lightly stirs before falling still again.

Even in sleep, he maintains the intensity with which he’s known to rule.

A quaint smile touches your lips. You quell an impulse to soothe the divot between his brows with your thumb. To smooth out the hard press of his lips together. A well-timed gust of wind kicks in, rustling the velvet-soft hair framing his face.

Your fingers twitch with an impulse to touch. To tuck those unruly locks behind his ear. You instead curl them into a loose fist on the ground, quietly chiding yourself for allowing such thoughts to trickle in. 

He is your charge—your king. Affectionate gestures like that are forbidden. A conflict of interest, no matter how harmless they may seem. 

Besides, you’re unworthy of touching him. There’s dirt caked beneath your nails and an ever-present film of grime adorning your cheeks. He should have someone of equal stature smiling at his side. A pretty, glittering doll in flowery dresses, well-versed in the tongue of nobility. In the art of being poised and prim.

You’re a mere servant. A shield to be used at his disposal, your hands battle-worn and skin sun-kissed. You threw away all hope for love when you took an oath, binding your life to his and pledging your unyielding fealty to him. 

He handpicked you to serve as his personal bodyguard, a decision you still grapple with several years later. Many seasoned knights served in the royal guard longer than you’ve held a sword. You would never do anything to jeopardize his trust, to betray his kindness. 

The affection that unfurls like lotus petals in your chest for him is deep-rooted. However, they result from serving under him for so long and nothing more.

At least…

That’s what you tell yourself whenever his gaze lingers a little too long, pilfering the air from your lungs. 

Or when his dexterous fingers brush over your wrist under the guise of reaching for something in front of you. 

When he presses a warm and possessive hand at the small of your back whenever you tour the citadel’s grounds with him, or he requests your input on something at his desk. 

When he flashes a rare quirk of lips that’s boyish and dimpled and disarming when he thinks no one else is the wiser.

You clear your throat, remembering yourself. Your voice is more assertive this time, dispelling the nebulous haze of your musings. 

“Your Majesty, please. You have to get up.” The urge to stroke his cheek returns. You squeeze your thigh to curb it.

As if the Gods grant you mercy, that does the trick. 

His lashes flutter, and his voice is thick and raspy, rolling like thunder over the horizon. You watch him blink away the bleariness, the scarlet wash of his irises causing your heart to pull. 

Your king studies you as if making out the colors and texture of your face. You try not to shiver under his scrutiny, instead looking away as warmth inhabits your face. You’ve always found his eyes to be one of his most devastating features. They could easily glean through the mist of your mind, your guise, reading you like the yellowed pages of a book, even without tapping into the power residing in his right eye.

Heat permeates through the thickness of your uniform when, after setting his book aside, he suddenly pitches himself forward, elbows digging into the pockets of his knees. He rests his chin atop his folded together fingers, and you don’t need to fully look at him to see the smirk crooking his lips. The scent of unfettered energy and stripped sandalwood rolls off his skin, curling around your senses, threatening to root your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

The air between you is rife with tension. So thick, you can cleave through it with your blade. Your king watches you amusedly, and you do everything within your power to resist the bewitching pull of his gaze. The comfort and strength he exudes.

When he speaks, you nearly jump fifty feet out of your skin. His voice is as devastating as his eyes, puddling in your stomach, turning your brain to smog.

“I knew you were there all along. That’s why I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I was merely resting them.”

You scoff despite the anxiety scorching your innards. Closing your eyes, you retort under your breath, though loud enough for him to hear, “Sure, Majesty. You were resting your eyes while snoring with drool running down your chin.”

Your charge releases an indignant sound from the back of his throat, reeling back to touch his face, mortified. Your shoulders shake with your quiet laughter, and you hide the round tug of your lips behind your fist.

“Funny,” he says, and he gives you a look. One he’s used to silence an entire court of hecklers, its sharpness boding danger.

You clear your throat, donning that straight-faced mask you’ve grown so accustomed to wearing. You’re friends—childhood companions—yet you know when to shift from candid to serious.  

Recalling why you were initially sent to fetch him, you stand to full height, brushing the dust off your hands on your thighs before standing at attention. Your king raises a brow as if sensing something on your mind. 

“At ease,” he orders, his voice devoid of its usual sternness as he leans back against the bench, a long arm draped along the bench’s headrest. 

You get a good look at the veins peering through the cuffed sleeve of his button-up, spilling down his forearm to puddle at the back of his hand. You swallow against the barbs forming in your throat, your mouth growing dry.

“Speak freely.”

You nod, your hands clasped together at the small of your back. “You have a brunch date with the Queen of Universum today, sir.”

He blinks as if this information is news to him before recollection forms between his brows. His Majesty scowls, drumming his fingers on the bench’s rim impatiently. “Of course. Another noble here to throw their daughter at my feet.”

Your shoulders slightly drop at the dejection in his tone. You wish people weren’t so insistent that he take a wife. His father ruled just fine without one following the death of his mother. Still, having been around His Majesty so long, you understand why it’s imperative he marry soon. 

Your shoulder pulses dully, serving as your reminder. 

You try to ignore how the thought of some pretty noble wrapped around his arm makes you bristle, green-eyed feelings stewing in your belly. It would never be you—never could be you. You’re content with being his handler, watching him mutter obscenities over paperwork from your position at his door.

“How does that make you feel?” His Majesty suddenly asks, a teasing edge to his voice.

You blink, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

His chuckle is rich and endearing, and you unconsciously step back when he stands, swaddling you in his warmth and imposing aura. Stuffing a hand into his pocket, he pokes your forehead, and you go cross-eyed looking at it.

“Yes, you. How does it make you feel, knowing that so many women would kill to take my name?”

He’s trying to get a rise out of you. Trying to weasel something out of you you’ve tucked in the deepest regions of your mind. You don’t humor him; instead, you give him a haughty look, your chin defiantly jutting forward. 

“I think anyone willing to marry you is clinically insane.”

He laughs at your brazenness, full-bodied and soothing. Dimples crater his cheeks, and the softness washing over his eyes causes a smile to twitch your lips. Without warning, idle fingers scorch your skin through the fabric of your jacket, easing down your arm, past the crook of your elbow, further still…

You’re breathless as His Majesty coaxes a hand from behind your back, and you watch with slightly parted lips and through the wispy sweep of your lashes as he draws it to his mouth. His eyes drill into the hulls of your soul whilst his molten lips brush your knuckles. He kisses them with such tenderness, such reverence, as if you’re an idol forged from glass, meant to be preserved in a museum.

The sound of your pulse pounding like a war drum blots out every bit of noise around. Your throat thickens, tongue bolted to the roof of your mouth. 

“Good morning, by the way,” he drawls, his warm breath ghosting your skin, limber fingers scorching your hand to the bone. 

You snatch away quicker than you mean to. Smooth your hand down your thigh before pinching yourself, studying the blades of grass licking at your boots. You wish you hadn’t caught sight of the fleeting pain in his expression. Wish you hadn’t been the cause of it.

“W-We should get going, sir,” you divert, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice.

He pushes out a weighted breath, stuffing the hand once curled around yours into his opposing pocket. “Lead on, then, dear friend.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heel towards the patchwork of greenery you emerged from.

He follows wordlessly, closely, a towering presence at your back, footfalls weighted in the grass, swallowing up the sound of your smaller ones. 

You try to no avail to quell your thundering heart. To ignore how your knuckles throb where his lips imprinted themselves on the rough stretch of skin. 

You wince, inwardly warring with yourself, praying that His Majesty keeps his hands to himself long enough to get through his meal with the Queen. 

You could only dream he would behave.

His Majesty is as infuriating as he is handsome.

[yenayaps]

DOES ANYBODY HAVE ANY GOJO LONG-FIC RECS THAT’LL RIP MY HEART OUT AND STOMP ON IT

asking for @lexlibrary and myself 🙂‍↕️

[lexlibrary]

made cringe valentine's day cards for the boys

[yenayaps]

Controller | sukuna x f!reader

sixteen: sweet little lies

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff

a/n: 3.7k words, enjoiiiiiii

masterlist

Jin decided to bring a surprise when coming over for dinner and it came in the form of a smaller and much cuter version of him and Sukuna. He’s a little cuddler, so of course his father carried him in— arms wrapped around his neck, his cheek squished against Jin’s.

“Hi Sukuna!” Yuji beams, managing to hurt his uncle's feelings in record time. 

Sukuna immediately starts to say something but his words just get caught in his throat. Who the fuck does this kid think he is?

“What did you just call me?” He responds sharply. 

“Sukuna!” 

It hurts just as much as it did the first time. 

“No.” He quickly objects. “Who taught you that?” 

“It’s Unckuna’s name…” Yuji simply explains, wondering why it's such a big deal, it’s literally his fucking name.

“You don’t call Uncle by his real name.” He begins to talk about himself in third person as well. “It’s either Uncle or Uncle Sukuna. Got it?” 

“Why?” 

He begins to feel frustration build up in his chest, does he really have to explain why? 

“Because I said s—“ 

“Because it hurts your uncle's feelings. Do you want to make him sad?” Jin cuts him off, giving the three year old a way better reason than what his brother came up with. Sukuna immediately glares at him for it, even more annoyed at putting the image of him being sad in the kids head.

“No.” Yuji shakes his head. “I’m sorry Uncko.”

The sincerity makes Sukuna immediately drop the death stare. 

“It’s okay Yuj.” He immediately forgives him, the boys got him wrapped around his little finger.

You were too caught up in their little interaction and the cuteness of it all to realize Yuji wasn’t even supposed to be here right now. But with the way Jin introduces him to you, you realize he’s found a way to bring him around without Wasuke realizing it, in case Yuji does let the detail slip. 

“And this is my friend, you can just call her Auntie.” Jin says to his son— it’s better that he has a secret lady friend instead of his brother. “Wanna tell her your name?”

“I’m Yuji!” 

“It’s nice to meet you Yuji!” You smile as you greet the boy back. 

All he does is giggle in return— excited to meet a new friend.

Sukuna was right, the kid totally was obsessed with him. It didn’t take long until he basically demanded that his uncle carry him instead, making some weird noise that wasn't quite a scream whenever he tried to put him down. 

You never expected Jin to have such a lively, energetic child either. He keeps his same gentle tone while Yuji’s volume is cranked all the way up. It’s probably just nature's way of leveling things out.

It makes you wonder what kind of children Sukuna would have— if he ends up wanting any. You know that he was more than willing to have one for the sake of securing his inheritance, but you wonder what’s his stance on it now. 

Being an uncle is so much more different than being an actual parent. He’s incredibly sweet as one, but he’s also able to give Yuji back at the end of the day. As a parent, there’s no coming home and forgetting about the world after a long day of work— there will be a screaming child right next to you that will somehow find a way to remind you just how terrifying the world is, and that it’ll tear them apart if you don’t teach them better ways to regulate their emotions.

He can barely self regulate on his own during traffic, sometimes you can’t believe how his initial thought was to have a literal child in order to secure his inheritance. 

“Dad said you missed your suit fitting last week.” Jin mentions, finally deciding to bring up the topic of family now that Yuji’s fast asleep in Sukuna’s arms. 

“I did.” He mutters, recalling the text he received from his father that was a lot less aggressive than usual. “I said I was sick and he just let it go.”

“He didn’t believe you.” Jin reveals and it doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone, Sukuna never gets sick. “He hasn’t mentioned the dinner you two had at the Aizawa’s, but I think he still feels bad over everything.”

“Clearly not bad enough if he rescheduled the fitting the moment I texted him saying I was sick.” He scoffs, brushing off the possibility that he could feel any remorse for him. “I got a confirmation text from the store literally 5 minutes after sending it.”

“He probably had his assistant do it for him.” Jin threw the possibility out there. 

“Alright, cut the shit.” Sukuna nearly groans at the way his brother’s trying to come to their fathers defense. “What exactly are you getting at right now— you were more than happy to help out before, are you getting cold feet or something?”

“No I–” Jin takes a deep breath before sharing his thoughts. “I guess I just feel bad looking at everything from his perspective, that’s all. He actually thinks this is what’s best for you and now I’m shutting him out in a way too.”

“Well aren’t you a little empath.” Sukuna responds sarcastically. 

It’s kind of fucking hard to see it from his perspective right now when the old man’s making it his lifes mission to marry him off to some family. 

Jin ignores the rude remark and takes a sip of his wine. He thinks about bringing up the subject of you two getting married right now, but abandons the thought after realizing neither of you brought it up tonight. It’s pretty obvious you haven’t made up your mind yet, you’d be sporting a diamond ring on your finger by now if you had.

“Do you think you’d try to go back to normal with him once this is all over?” He asks instead. 

Sukuna tilts his head and rests his cheek on top of Yuji’s head as he thinks about it— his mind’s been too occupied with coming up with an exit plan that he never considered what his relationship would be like with his father in the end. 

“That’s up to him.” He says in a much gentler tone. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to wake the kid up or if the question struck a chord or two within him. “Yeah– it’s up to him. I’m not working for him anymore.” 

His love or approval that is, but he didn’t need to clarify that to either of you, you both understood exactly what he meant by that. This is something he’s willing to forgive, but only if he apologizes and means it. 

Even then, he’s still not entirely sure if it’ll ever completely go back to normal. He’d be married to you, which would be an issue within itself in Wasuke’s eyes. Not because of your background or social standing, but because you spent months lying to his fathers face. Listening to him complain about family-related issues at work, then going straight to the cause of a lot of those issue’s penthouse right after.

And if you decide in the end that you don’t want to marry him, then the possibility of the two reconciling would be zero to none.

Why?

Because then he’d have to take what’s his by force. 

Do you really think Wasuke would just let Sukuna turn himself over to the feds, revealing the countless occasions he’s committed cybercrime? Bribery? Espionage? 

That’s just to name a few. Hell— he’d be down to make up random crimes at that point too, just to tarnish the reputation his father’s trying so badly to save. It would never actually happen though, Wasuke would allow Sukuna to add blackmailing his very own father to that list before letting him go off to prison. 

You already know it’s a route he’s willing to take too— you were the one who begged him not to do it, purely out of fear that his father would try to call him out of his bluff, which would make him want to do it, just to prove a point. 

It’s just years lost on Sukuna’s end and a relationship completely tarnished, if it hasn’t been already. 

—-

“So?” His voice is lower than usual, mainly from how tired he was. 

It’s 11:30 at night and Satoru finally called with an update. Jin left around 9:00 pm and you went to bed shortly after, which made him take the call outside on the balcony. He finds himself slowly pacing back and forth, periodically off of it—expecting to see that same car again.

“We were able to track down the owner. Do you happen to know a Jo Masayuki?” Satoru asks.

“The fuck? No.” He’s never heard that name in his life.

“I figured. The car was stolen 6 months ago.” 

Some seconds go by before Sukuna all but grumbles back, “fuck.” 

He’s usually several steps ahead of everyone, he can’t help but feel like he’s losing his touch right now. He takes another look at the street down below, genuinely hoping the car shows up again. At least then he’d be able to go down there and rip out whoever's in it— pop them in the mouth, throw a couple threats their way, then send them off.

“Don't try to beat yourself up over it though.” Satoru tries to make his friend feel better, knowing exactly what he’s thinking right now. “We have connections with the surrounding police stations and one of the guys threw the possibility of it being stolen out there. He ended up looking through old reports and found it.”

“So you have no clue on who was actually in the car?” Sukuna sighs and asks, not even trying to hide his irritation at this point.

“Nope.” He pops the p. “You got yourself a smooth operator. Mmm— actually, no— not that smooth since they couldn’t get into your phone.” 

“Gotta upgrade the system tomorrow too.” He reminds himself, trying his best to push down the emotions that are starting to bubble up.

He’s being watched.

“You alright there?” Satoru sounds slightly concerned as he asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

I’m gonna crawl outta my fucking skin. 

“I’m sure I’ll figure out who it is once I tweak Orpheus a little bit.” He adds, in an attempt to sound more convincing.

He’ll make it his life’s mission if he has to, there’s no way he’s just going to let someone get away with this. There’s no way he’ll let whoever it is get to him first either. 

Why do you think he bugged all of Itadori & Co. during his first week of working there? To stay ahead. 

He knows who’s planning on quitting, he knows who’s giving information about his family to the media, he knows who’s loyal to the company and who isn’t.

It’s selfish, invasive, and you’re lucky he hasn’t thought of taking it a step further by revealing some of the nasty secrets he’s heard over the years. It’s not something you could come at him for either, he’s not oblivious to how fucked up it is. He accepted that part of him a long time ago.

So yes, when he can’t press a couple buttons and easily find the answers he’s looking for, it's a problem. 

A big fuckin’ problem.

“Want me to send out a couple guys to watch over the building?” Satoru offers. 

“Nah.” Sukuna easily declines, protecting himself is not an issue— it’s the other person that would need help. “Can you send some over to Romi Law though?” 

“You think they found out about your girl already?” 

“Maybe.” He hates to say it, even just the thought of it leaves him feeling unsettled. “Better safe than sorry though.” 

“Good point. Send me her schedule and I’ll have some people keep an eye on the place while she’s there.” 

“Alright, thanks.” He says, starting to wonder if he’s even going to tell you about this.

“Yeah no problem.” Satoru says, more than happy to help when he can. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Talk to you later. Bye.”

And right when he hangs up, he hears the sliding doors open. He wishes you were asleep right now, but he’s glad you came out right at the end of the call.

“What are you doing out here?” You nearly stumble out, barely awake.

“Just got off the phone with Satoru.” He says, you’re still looking at him weird. “Don’t look at me like that— look.” 

He shows you his call history.

“Fuck sorry,” you rub your eyes, clearly still half asleep. 

“We need to get you back to bed.” He says, tilting your chin up and kissing your cheek. “You get jealous when you're sleepy.”

“Not jealous.” You lean into his chest and mumble.

“Yeah, okay.” He responds sarcastically.

He laid awake for a bit wondering what he was going to do. 

He knows you do the typical 9 to 5, but he’s still going to ask Higurama for your schedule, along with any other events you may attend.

It’s also better that you don’t know about this. You’re already going to deal with enough once the world finds out you two got married, might as well let you enjoy the rest of this time.

“Hey Kuna?” You whisper, pulling him out of his thoughts. He thought you were asleep by now. 

“Hm?” His voice gets so deep and raspy at the end of the day. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” You cuddle up to him more as you ask. 

He rubs your back in response. “Of course I am.” 

It’s you he’s worried about. 

“Did you ever figure out who was in that car earlier today?” 

“I have a lead on someone.” He kisses your forehead as he lies to you, convincing himself it's for the best. “It’s no one serious— nothing to worry about.” 

“That’s good.” You yawn and nuzzle your face further into the crook of his neck. 

You were about to say something else but begin to doze off and he lets you. The last thing he needed right now was you asking more questions that he has no answer to. 

He was just as lost as you, it’s a thought that continues to keep him up for the rest of the night. 

—

Aside from showering and sleeping in his bed, Sukuna hasn’t left his home office since that night— doing whatever work that needed to be done for the company, then spending the rest of his time programming and testing, then troubleshooting and testing again.

It’s Wednesday and his 5th day at whatever he’s doing. He always leaves the door to his office cracked open, so each day you’ve come home from work, you’re met with the distant sounds of aggressive typing and Sukuna grumbling profanities to himself.

You decide to get dressed out of the tight work clothes and into shorts and a tank top before greeting the man. On your way to him, you stop by the kitchen to grab a protein bar, this last weekend showed you he will literally forget to eat if you don’t remind him. You've been texting him at lunch time the last 3 days too, reminding him to take a break. 

“Kuna?” You lightly knock on the door, gently calling his name. 

He doesn’t stop typing when he turns his head to look at you. He briefly checks you out before turning back to one of the multiple monitors he has on, not even offering you a hi or hello. You don’t let yourself get offended though, he begins to type way faster as you enter the dark room, showing that he’s trying to finish up whatever he’s working on before giving his full attention to you.

Which doesn’t take too long, by the time you set the protein bar down on his desk, he’s already pulling you into his lap to straddle him and peppering kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed you,” He mutters into the crook of your neck, before placing his lips on there too. 

“Missed you too.” You say, carding your fingers through his hair. “Were you here all day again?”

“Mhm,” he places another kiss just under your jaw. “Took a lil break when you told me to though.” 

“Good,” you whisper in a low voice, trying to not sound too affected by the sudden affection– he grinds you against him and it pulls a whimper out of you. 

“You want me to take another one?” He murmurs, smiling against your ear. 

“I dunno, you look pretty busy to me.” You respond rather stubbornly. He knows you don’t actually mean it, but still smacks your ass for it. 

His lips brush against yours. “I’ll always make time for you– you know that already.”

The intimate moment you two were having ends up getting interrupted, making the man lean his head against your chest and dramatically groan out in frustration. 

His phones ringing and the fact that it’s an unknown caller immediately sets off alarms in his head. Could it be the person he’s trying to look for right now? Or is it just another telemarketer? He doesn’t waste anymore time and quickly reaches for it.

“Hello?”

“Hi Suku–” 

The person on the other line didn’t even get a chance to finish that sentence before he hung up after realizing who that agitating voice belonged to.

You give him a weird yet confused look. You didn’t hear what the person said, but it for sure sounded like a woman. “Who was that?”

“Yorozu— she got a new phone just so she could call me.” He mutters and shakes his head in disbelief before going back to block her, again.

“It’s not that surprising, your cake tasting’s coming up in a week.” You say, trying to make sense of it, even though it’s hard. No amount of money could ever make you stay with someone who treated you the same way he treats her.

“I still can’t believe they want to go through with this after all the shit I’ve said to them.” He says, leaning back in the chair, drawing little circles on your hips with his thumbs.

Sukuna doesn’t even try to make sense of it anymore. It’s simple, they want more money, the easiest way to do it is to take Wasuke’s offer. They’re like Yuji’s mother, but worse because they’re already wealthy. 

You find yourself at a loss for words right now, not exactly sure where to take the conversation from here. You know he wants nothing to do with her– with anyone else for that matter– yet the thought of her going as far as to buying another phone to call him leaves you more than annoyed for him. 

When he blocked her, he drew a line, that was him setting a boundary. She didn’t respect that, it’s like she feels entitled to his attention even though he’s never given it to her before. Even if she’s never done anything crazy, at least to your knowledge, she’s just as bad as everyone else in your eyes. 

Instead of going ‘Hey, lets stop this. He looks really uncomfortable right now’, she buys a new fucking phone. 

“You look so mad right now.” He chuckles as your gaze suddenly meets his. 

His eyes soften whenever you take the time to truly see him. The features that you thought were so sharp all of a sudden start to round out, you’d never know about all the pain he’s ever felt or inflicted onto others with the way he is now.  

But at the end of the day, he’s no better than any of them— you fell in love with the worst one of them all. It makes you wonder how you look in his eyes as you come to terms with it, and that it’s also something you’re okay with. 

“What you’d be getting in return will make initial chaos worth it.”

He is the chaos.

“He will make you happy.”

Or destroy me completely.

“Getting cold feet?”

Not at all.

“My mind hasn’t changed.” You softly tell him. 

It shifts the mood. The once playful smirk that was on his face was replaced by a more serious expression, the reaction someone would have to any life changing news. You can’t tell what he’s thinking about, but you can tell he’s thinking about more than just one thing. 

“No?” He stills, asking in a tone almost as soft as yours.

“No.” You assure him, “Not once.”

You can’t make out the expression he had on his face either when he had you get off his lap. He looked like he was out of it, in a trance, as he excused himself from the room— swearing he’ll be back, just stay there.

“Come out here.” He says after a couple minutes.

You notice the small black box in his hand as you walk closer towards him. You also can’t help but notice that he was way more confident when presenting the earrings he got you on Christmas than he is now. He’s nervous, looking everywhere but into your eyes.

“I– uhm,” he slightly falters, trying to find the right words to say to you. “I think I’ll always feel bad about this being something we couldn’t do at our own pace, that it couldn’t all just unfold naturally. But I–“ he sighs, kicking himself over the shit he’s said so far. 

That’s the last thing anyone should be saying when proposing, even if none of this comes as a surprise to you. 

He gives himself a moment to relax before continuing. “I just need you to know that I take this, us, seriously. I want this to work, I want you to be happy.”

He opens the box, but you can’t see what’s inside since it’s facing him, though you already know what it is. 

“I also felt bad that I couldn't surprise you with some fancy proposal, but I was hoping I could surprise you with this.” He gets down on one knee and presents to you a diamond ring— it’s pretty, you could tell he had you in mind rather than just going out and buying the flashiest one he could get his hands on. “Last chance or till death do us part— are you sure you want to marry me?”

You always imagined yourself getting proposed to at a beach or at some fancy restaurant, maybe even something more elaborate, like seeing ‘will you marry me?’ spelled out using a bunch of tea lights. You also imagined having someone profess their undying love for you, saying something dramatic like they couldn’t live without you. Something more traditional.

This was barely a proposal. If anything, it was more of an apology.

Yet you find yourself more emotional than you ever imagined yourself to be at a moment like this– he’s promising he’ll do his best for you and it’s more sincere than being told ‘I love you’. 

“Yes.” You nod, wiping away a tear that started to run down your cheek. “I’m sure.”

Even after being reassured that this was something you wanted to do for him, he still found himself having a hard time believing it. But out of respect for you, he decided it wasn’t something he was going to keep torturing himself over. 

So instead, he stands back up at full height and helps put the ring on your finger. It fits– obviously. He had brought all of the rings you owned to the jewelers, where they sat there trying to figure out what the size of your ring finger was. 

He pulls you into his chest right after with a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” He says, stroking the back of your hair as he continues to repeat those words to you in relief.

next

a/n: this is the kind of ring I had in mind. still expensive, but pretty and delicate looking. its something others will obviously notice, but it doesn't scream "HEY LOOK AT ME IM SAUUUUR FUCKING RICH"

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[soli-floris]

UH ! AHEM ! taps mic... happy february !! this is @rose-tinted-kalopsia by the way.. HFJWMFN HEAR ME OUT !!!!!! I SWEAR IT'S ME !!!!! 😭😭😭

long story short, tumblr complications ... and my main (previously @roxierosies-main) was mistakenly terminated, so i ended up losing access to all my side blogs for the time being 😭💔 i haven't heard back from support yet, but i am expecting it to take a while (like... a month or maybe two...) to restore :( and like. i still really wanted to be able to write and find somewhere to archive and share them (and continue lnds shitposting lmfao) wjdnsnfhs SO...!!!! now we have this blog 🤲

why solifloris? HONESTLY im taking this opportunity to rebrand a lil hehe. so once i do get my blogs back, i'll be switching url's and rebranding as solifloris for real !!! :3

so what's on this blog? WELL !!!!!!! a while back i promised a valentine's event (l&ds centric ; event linked here) (<- will edit the link when i get the post up lmao 😭) and i def don't want to go back on that promise...... so that's what you'll find here in the meantime! 🥰🥰 BUUUUUTT if in the case (though hopefully not 😭) it takes more than two months to restore or i don't hear back from support.. at all.... THEN i'll be using this as my new writing blog, and keeping @rose-tinted-kalopsia as an archive for my existing works! 🤲

what about your ongoing series? i knoww 😭 i still have "youtiful" and "to you who shines the brightest (i'll give you everything)" ongoing, so this does mean that in two months' time if i don't get my account back, these are the first i'll be reposting here so i can continue them!!!

we're going to hope i still get my blogs back, and soonest ... but for now 🤧 this is where you'll find me !! and i SWEAR it's me guys, my mutuals can vouch for this, i promise 😭🤲

TL;DR—

this is a temporary/backup writing blog bc i'm currently locked out! 💖

prev writing blog (in the process of retrieving access to): @rose-tinted-kalopsia

new main (you'll follow/like/ask notifs from): @sunmerberrie

navigation links (from @rose-tinted-kalopsia): pinned post / rules / masterlist / fandom+character list / request guide / taglist / ao3

++ signal boosting @hunters-association , and also generally to anyone hehe i'd appreciate the reblog to spread the word hehe thaaankkk youuu!!! 💖

[yenayaps]

controller | sukuna x f!reader

fifteen: i can save us

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff

a/n: 6.7k words. no warnings this chapter, just enjoy an intro to a new character and some filthy smut at the end (convincing myself that we can see some of readers character growth through it?)

masterlist

He never once believed that he actually killed her, which slightly made you feel better about everything. You two stayed up until 1 am talking about his childhood, the good and the bad. The bad being his mother, who makes yours look like a fucking saint— words you thought you’d never say. 

Yours just never cared. She never thought about you too much, was never worried. His mother was so bothered by him that it seemed like the thought of him actually consumed her and drove her mad. 

He agreed, but he’s almost glad to have done that to his tormentor, even if he didn’t have to do anything at all. He knew she had deep seated problems long before her death, it was never something that made him sit down and wonder what was wrong with him. 

She was just a bitch, his words exactly. 

He’ll always feel more than that though, but he didn’t need to tell you for you to understand. 

He woke up later than usual this morning, probably thanks to everything he got off his chest the night before. He feels lighter, less conflicted. 

He also smells pancakes and it leaves him wondering if he should tell you more sob stories. 

You’re too focused on flipping a pancake to notice him walking into the kitchen. The first one just had to break on you mid-flip and you were determined to not fuck this one up. 

It ends up looking worse than the first one though from how Sukuna came up behind you and smacked your ass— he thinks it's the funniest thing ever, no good deed will ever go unpunished.

“You can flip your own pancakes then if you think this is so funny,” you hiss back, shoving the bowl full of batter towards him. 

“No, no. You can do it.” He innocently throws his hands up and insists. “You were doing so good babe, don’t stop now.”

“You’re gonna mess with me again!” You whine out. There’s nothing about him that says he won’t either. 

“I won’t–” He grabs your face and plants a kiss just under your temple. “Promise.”

You look at him reluctantly for a few more seconds before going back to what you were doing, meanwhile he goes back to watching you with an amused look on his face. 

He’s loving the special treatment and makes it known when he asks you to pour the syrup and sprinkle the powdered sugar on the pancakes for him. And you do— because last night is fresh on your mind, and the bruise on the side of his lip makes him look like he’s pouting. 

He’s eating it up— not just his breakfast but the princess treatment. 

“Will you cut them for me too?” He asks, seeing just how much he can get out of this. 

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask back in disbelief. 

He looks away, trying his best not to laugh. Guess this is as far as he can go with you. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he chuckles. “Thanks for making me breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile at him. At least he’s in a way better mood this morning. “How’s your lip feeling?”

“Fine– I guess.” He can feel that there's something there, but it’s one of those things he forgets about. “Definitely not gonna heal by the time Monday rolls around though.”

“I know.” You take his chin to get a closer look at it. “Wanna see if I can cover it with makeup?”

“No. I think I’m just gonna go back to working from home, the last thing I wanna see is his face right now.” He says, referring to his dad. “I won’t have to see Yorozu if she drops by unannounced either, I don’t know how much of her I can take.” 

“You sure he’ll be okay with that?” You begin to poke at the last of your food with the fork. 

“I don’t know. He probably won’t say much since he’d know why.” He admits. “I don’t even care at this point.”

“I wouldn’t either… have you come up with anything yet? Over the whole Yorozu thing?”

He shakes his head. “I thought I’d be able to scare them off but that’s not fuckin’ working.”

You hum in response, trying to not look too disappointed. You spent this whole time hoping he wouldn’t suck you into it but he’s running out (legal) solutions. He’s set to have a suit fitting a few weeks from now and you’d rather not have him go to that for your own selfish reasons. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You hesitantly ask. 

The question takes him by surprise, that’s the last thing he was expecting to come out of your mouth this morning. 

Ever, actually. 

It was the last thing you were expecting to say either, but last night changed everything. He spent his whole childhood being stuck in a home with a woman that did nothing but take from him, the last thing you wanted was for him to find himself in another situation similar to that. Who knew what Yorozu was like behind closed doors.

Sukuna snaps out of it after hearing a knock at the door. Annoyed at the fact that someone just had to interrupt you two, when things were finally starting to up for him. 

“Hold that thought, okay?” He says, as if you’d change your mind if he took too long to answer it. 

You nod and he tries his best not to fucking bolt out of his seat, hoping it’s just some delivery guy that needs a signature. 

He isn’t gone for too long. You were barely able to hear who it was and what they wanted, but it was obvious that Sukuna ended up letting them in when the talking continued after he closed the door. 

Your heart slowly drops as they get closer, the other voice becomes more clear and way too familiar. 

“Morning!” His brother smiles as he greets you, the same way he usually does when you two are at the fucking office. 

You frantically turn to Sukuna, who’s way too casual about all of this right now.

“Oh don’t worry, Jin’s known for a while now.” He says, it fails to make you feel better.

“You told him?!”

“No, I figured it out myself.” Jin innocently cuts in. “I saw you two sneaking off together at our dads birthday.”

You continue to look at him in disbelief, “And you didn’t say anything?”

“What was there to say? It wasn’t my place to say anything.” He shrugs, taking a seat with the two of you at the table. “You two looked happy, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

You turn to Sukuna, who’s back to peacefully eating his food. “How do you know your dad doesn’t know either?”

Jin answers for him. “He’d kill him if he ever found out. You’re probably his favorite out of all the assistants he’s had throughout the years.”

Sukuna nods in agreement as he finishes chewing his food. “You know she’s willing to help now?”

“Well that’s... good. You were really rude to the Aizawa’s last night by the way.” He doesn’t fail to mention.

He just got back from his dad’s house and came straight here after finding out what he did to Sukuna.

“No shit.” Sukuna murmurs. “That was the whole fuckin’ point. Where’s Yuji by the way?” 

“Left him with the babysitter. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him with dad and he’d probably cry if he saw you like this.”

“No shit.” Sukuna repeats himself, this time he says it in amusement. “You really don’t trust him with dad now?”

Jin takes a second to answer that, he didn’t realize it was a trust thing at first but he guesses it is. 

“Leaving Yuji with him after hearing all of that just feels wrong. But anyways–” He was quick to change the subject and turned to you, “what's the plan now?”

You shrug, “No idea. I was hoping Sukuna had a couple things in mind.”

“I do, let's give Yuji a cousin.” Sukuna says without fail.

You don't miss the way Jin has no objections to that and slightly scoff at him.

“What? Yuji would have a friend to play with!” He defends himself, using the little three year old as a shield. “Plus you’d be set for life.”

These two are more similar than you thought, at least when it comes to the reason as to why you should have a child, something that sounds way too simple coming from them.

“I’m not doing that.” You sigh, “Anything else? We could just come out and tell him about us.”

“No, ‘cause then he’d just get mad about the fact that Sukuna was able to get his hands on his assistant. He’s only doing all of this because he never listens to him.” Jin says. 

“Good point,” you say– still coming up with different ideas. You turn back to Sukuna who clearly doesn’t care about anything other than his food right now, letting you and his brother take the reins. “What if we just got married instead?”

“Are you serio–” He doesn’t get a chance to finish that question before he begins to choke on his food— violently. Even Jin looks shook from the suggestion, which is crazy given how they were totally fine with the whole baby idea. 

“Nevermind.” You chirp out, trying your best not to look that offended over the failed suggestion. With the ideas they were throwing out, you didn’t think yours would be that off, but you’re clearly mistaken. 

You grab both the plates on the table and get up to put them in the sink. You overhear Sukuna start to tease his brother from the distance, saying “told you fuckin’ loves me”. You don’t have to be there to know Jins just rolling his eyes right now.

He keeps going but you block it out, up until you go back to the table where he’s proudly telling his brother how you want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

You cut him off, “At least with this option, I could always divorce you.”

“Great– she’s already talking about divorcing me.” He mumbles, Jin starts to laugh from it all. 

“That could actually work,” Jin says. “All my dad wants is for him to settle down. He only chose the Aizawa’s because they knew they’d say yes despite Sukuna’s… temper.”

Sukuna turns back to you in all seriousness, “Are you sure this is something you’re actually down for?

“I mean— yeah?” You began to nervously pick at your cuticles. You didn’t realize how much your life would change if you went through with it. “Working at the company doesn’t even feel right anymore. I can start looking for a new job now and then we could go to the courthouse once I leave the company.”

He’s grinning. “Or we could go to Vegas to have one of those trashy Elvis weddings.”

“Whatever you want, Kuna.” You giggle.

“Oh wow, it’s time to pick up my son.” Jin boredly says, he’d stay for the cute moment but he doesn’t trust his brother to keep it that way. “Glad we were able to finally find a solution. Oh— I know someone who's looking for a marketing manager right now. They’d probably pay you more than what you’re making right now too.”

“Seriously?!” You nearly jump from excitement. You were starting to dread the fact that you’d be job hunting again with how bad your luck was last time. 

“Absolutely.” Jin smiles, happy to help make the transition easier for you. He feels bad about going behind his dad’s back like this, but enough is enough. “I’ll give him a call, the job's pretty much yours.”

“Great! Thank you so much.” You say, excitement barely contained. 

“No problem. See you on Monday.” He waves you off while Sukuna trails behind him to let him out.

“Look at you being the problem child for once,” Sukuna chuckles as they walk down the hall. 

“Yeah— thought I’d finally catch up to you,” he sighs before looking back at him. “Couldn’t just stand there and do nothing this time around.” 

He smirks at the statement. “Are you gonna fucking cry right now?” 

“No.” Jin looks away, because he was actually about to. 

“Your lip just quivered.”

“Fuck off.”

Sukuna clears his throat, trying to not laugh at the twin that was always more emotional.

“I appreciate it.” He says, sounding more genuine this time. “Try not to beat yourself up too much though, we were young.”

“I’ll try.” Jin murmurs before clearing his throat, “Alright– I’ll keep you updated on anything new with dad. See you soon.”

“See ya.” He says back rather warmly, before shutting the door and locking it. “Alright my little wife, show yourself.”

“You’re too much.” You say, popping your head out of the kitchen. 

“You know you like it.” He gives you a dopey smile, clearly on cloud nine right now. “C’mere.”

You do as he says for once and end up getting pulled into his embrace. He squeezes you tight enough to where you think he’s gonna crush you but you just let him, this is probably the first time he’s felt like he could breathe in a month. 

“I want you to take a little bit more time to think about this, okay?” He says, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. 

“How much time are we talking?” You ask, not too fazed by his request. You honestly appreciate it more than anything. 

“Like a month.” He says in return. “It’s you who’ll be going through the most changes— your face will probably be all over some article after word gets out that we got married, you’ll probably get some lash back too since it was Yorozu I’m supposed to marry.”

“I didn’t even think about that.” You groan. “I’m still leaving the company though.”

“You should.” He chuckles, “I’ll even teach you how to negotiate your pay. Bleed those fuckers dry.”

“I don’t even care, just as long as I don’t get a pay cut.”

“Nope. That mindset ends today.” He kisses you, then picks you up bridal style. “No wife of mine is gonna settle for less.”

“Says the one who wants me to take the time to think about it,” you giggle as he leads you back to the room. 

“Yeah– I’m also gonna spend all that time making sure you still want to say yes.” He kicks the door open and throws you on the bed. “Starting now.”

—

You were out of the office a little over two weeks later.

It was abrupt, Wasuke seemed distraught, but it was for the best. Your reason for leaving was simple— you found an opportunity where you’d be able to put your degree to use and couldn’t find it in yourself to pass it up. 

Wasuke wishes you never saw the job opening, but he understands. It’s the only way people move up in the world. He was able to find a new assistant just a week later and you spent your last week at the company training her. 

You wish his new assistant the best of luck, she was going to need it from how grouchy he was towards her. You weren’t sure if that was just him throwing a little fit since you were leaving or if he just didn’t care to show her the same kindness as he did with you. 

This wasn’t going to be the last he sees of you, but you sort of hope that day never comes— who knows how he’ll react.

The job Jin helped you get was at Romi Law, owned by one of the countries most powerful lawyers, Mr. Higurama. He only takes on high profile cases and lives by the saying “just because you did it doesn’t mean you're guilty”. 

He’s insane, but you’re used to being around people like that by now.

He’s also Sukuna’s lawyer, something you’ve quickly come to find out when he came by for a surprise visit on your third day of working there.

Conflict of interest? Absolutely. Does the man who keeps criminals out of prison care though? Not at all. 

He was actually pleasantly surprised to find out that you were Sukuna’s girlfriend— even though he swore he was already engaged to someone else. That’s when Sukuna broke down the whole situation to him. 

Not a lot of things shock Higurama, but his father threatening to take him out of the will if he didn’t marry Yorozu managed to catch him by surprise. It was too airtight to even try challenging it in court, no wonder why he never called him for help. 

“Wait, why didn’t he have you marry her instead?”

“He doesn't know about us. She was also his personal assistant before this.” Sukuna answers yet another one of Higurama’s questions.

Higurama doesn't look surprised by that at all.

“Wait, you didn’t know that?” You cut in.

“How was I supposed to know?” Higurama throws his arms out. “All Jin said was that you were the best person for the job.”

“You asked me to send you my resume.”

“Didn’t feel like reading it. I figured I’d just take Jin’s word for it. But hey, you’re doing great!”

His treatment towards you hasn’t changed, he was never overly professional to begin with. Your only job was to keep getting his name out there— billboards, website ads, the sides of fucking buses. 

He wanted the entire world to know that with him by your side, you could get away with murder. You’re not surprised Sukuna chose him as his lawyer. 

Sukuna on the other hand has been living his best life working from home again. 

You were worried his dad would grow suspicious of him switching back to wfh around the same time you put in your two weeks, but apparently his dad would never jump to conclusions after just one coincidence. He hasn’t said anything to Jin either, which is a good sign. 

You wonder how much work he’s actually getting done with how much time he’s put into setting up his new home office. He’s like a little boy on Christmas with everything he’s gotten for it and makes sure to send you pictures of everything he’s gotten for it so far. 

He seems happier with the extra time to himself and tries to bring you a coffee or some sort of treat almost daily. It’s nice not having to hide so much, it doesn’t even feel like you two are hiding at all at this point. You both still try to avoid going out in public though, just in case the wrong person spots you two, but you’re still able to go out a couple towns away— places where you wouldn’t find his father or Yorozu’s family. 

Places like dimly lit bars and restaurants, night markets, any place with that type of atmosphere. 

“It’s Friday,” Higurama nearly sings out as he strolls into your office. “Got any fun plans with your rich boyfriend tonight?” He playfully asks.

“We’re staying in tonight.” You ignore the rich boyfriend part of his comment, he’s been having way too much fun with that. The other day he asked if you two could take him for drinks since Sukuna’s got it like that. “Jin might be coming over tonight for dinner, just depends on the childcare situation.”

“Why doesn’t he just bring his kid?”

“We’re scared he might say something about his uncle having a lady friend that’s not Yorozu in front of Wasuke.” 

He rubs his chin, “I see. So you’re not meeting him until you two go off and get hitched then.”

“Exactly,” you nod. 

“And that’ll be in…” He waits for you to finish the sentence for him. 

“No idea.” You say in all honesty. “Soon– maybe. I’m still thinking about it I guess.” 

Sukuna hasn’t brought up the whole marriage thing since you suggested it and it’s been a month already. You’re assuming he’s just waiting for you to come to him with a final answer.

“Getting cold feet?” He crosses his arms and sits back. 

Sometimes you forget that he’s your boss with how lax he is around you. He’s probably the nosiest person you’ve ever met too with how many questions he asks. But he’s also a lawyer, you know he’ll take it to the grave if you ask. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you pause for a second trying to find the right words to say. “I guess I’m just scared of the inevitable backlash. Yorozu’s family already made it known that she’s engaged to him, she literally just posted about starting the process to find a dress this week. Everyone’s going to see me as a homewrecker and we’ll have to come out with some statement that doesn’t throw his dad under the bus. Even after that, people will try to find out every single thing they can about me because of who I married.”

“You’re right, they would.” He agrees. “They’d still want to know more about you just because of who you married— he’s kind of an enigma. It’ll happen with or without a scandal.”

He’s not fucking helping.

Another thing you worry about is your parents crawling back to you after the news eventually reaches them. They’d most likely come asking for money. That’s what you guys fought over during christmas, they wanted you to be the one to take care of them after retirement, after coming to the conclusion that you’d be making the most out of all your siblings by then.

“I think what you’d be getting in return will make initial chaos worth it.” He continues. “And I’m not talking about the money either. I’ve known him since he was 18, never in a million years would I have ever thought that he’d take time out of his precious day to bring someone a coffee and ask if they liked it– he does it almost everyday. I understand that you two are only doing this because it’s a way better option than getting married to… whatever her face is, but he will make you happy.”

You end up smiling from his words. “Thanks Mr. Higurama. You’re actually really good at giving advice, you know that?”

Oh he knows. He brings killers hope for a living. 

“I try.” He tries to sound as humble as possible. “Oh and also– don’t worry about your standing here if or when that time comes, I won’t hesitate to defend you in a public statement.”

“Thank you, that’s really k–”

“That just means more publicity for the firm.” He concludes. 

“I’m sure.” You say indefinitely, at all a loss for words over how morally corrupt this guy is. 

You can tell he’s already daydreaming about the extra attention it’ll bring to the firm. The last thing he cares about is others painting the firm in a bad light. Not like it’ll stop others from reaching out after committing a crime. 

“Anyways,” he sits up and adjusts his suit jacket. “Why don’t you go home early today? Get your weekend started.” 

“If you insist.” You say and immediately begin gathering your things.

He can’t help but think about how most would try to question it at first, even if it’s just a simple “really?”. You don’t even bother trying to hide how excited you are to leave this place. 

“Have a good weekend!” You’re carrying all your belongings before he realizes it. “See you on Monday.”

“Yeah– see you.” He lightly nods and waves, wondering if this is learned behavior from a certain pink-haired menace. 

Probably.

He can’t complain too much though, he was the one who offered. He’s just used to his employees showing a bit more… humility? Agh– whatever. You’d be more of an equal to him and all the other lawyers after getting married wealthwise. It’d probably bother him more if you were as timid as some of the other employees here.

You decided to give Sukuna a call the moment you got into your car. At the last ring, he finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m headed back. Higurama let me off early.” 

“It’s only 2:00?” He says, you don’t really know what to make of his reaction. You were expecting him to sound a bit happier to hear the news. 

“It is 2:00.” You confirm. “...Is there a problem with that?”

There’s a bit of a pause before he answers that question. 

“A little.” He admits, letting out a small curse right after. “Go back to your apartment for now and wait until I say it’s okay to come over.”

His instructions make your stomach immediately drop. 

“Why?” 

“Someone’s fucking following me.” He tries not to sound too pissed about it, it wasn’t your fault. “I didn’t wanna scare you but someone tried hacking into both of my phones two days ago and now there’s some unmarked car parked outside of the building. I’m looking at it right now, they think I’m fuckin’ stupid.”

“Do you think your dad hired someone?”

“No, he already knows that wouldn’t work on me. It’s not Yorozu’s family either, I already ruled them out this morning.”

“Is there anyone else who’d gain something from this?”

Great question. 

“Yes.” He admits rather grudgingly. “That list is way too long to go through right now.”

“What the fuck?" You huff out, leaning your forehead against the steering wheel.

“I know.” He nearly groans. ”I’m sorry, just go home for now. They could be keeping score of all the license plates of every car that enters the garage for all I know. I’ll call you when it’s gone.”

“Alright. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” 

He gently laughs at that, “I’ll try not to.”

“Kuna.” You barely scold him.

“I’m just kidding." You don’t believe him. “Text me when you get home so I know you made it back in one piece.”

“I will.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt so you could leave. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later, bye.” 

He waits for you to hang up before calling Satoru next— still eyeing the car down on the street, even though there’s already live footage of it plastered on the laptop that's right next to him. He’s glad he got the windows tinted a couple months ago, they probably would’ve been able to see him with a good pair of binoculars. 

“Hello~” Satoru sings out after the second ring. 

“Hey.” He responds in a more serious tone, cutting straight to the chase. “Someone’s watching me and my systems not catching who it is or where the car’s even from. Can you have your grandpa look into it?”

“Yeah. I’m actually having dinner with him tonight, let me see if he’s able to invite some other people who can help out too.”

“Thanks. I’ll send you all the photos I got of it right now.”

“No problem. How long has this been happening?”

“Just started today. Someone tried hacking into my shit the other day though but they couldn’t get through.”

“Christ– Yeah, I’ll see if we can help.” Trying to look into a person like Sukuna is something that just doesn’t happen— unless you're an idiot or extremely determined. He’s gonna go with the latter, an idiot would’ve been caught by now. 

Sukuna's seriously considering shooting at the driver side mirror or something, but someone will definitely call the cops. He’s not sure if he wants to make it known that he’s aware of the fact that he’s being watched right now either. 

“Want me to send a couple guys out there to follow the car?” Satoru asks. 

“Tempting, but nah.” He quickly declines. “I’m sure they’ll pop up again soon.”

“Alright.” His friend sighs in disappointment, he’s someone that usually goes straight to violence. So is Sukuna, but if it’s something he’d rather wait out, then it’s probably for a good reason. “Send over the photos and I’ll call you right after we look into it.”

“I’ll do that right now. Later.” 

“Later.” He says before ending the call first. 

All of the photos were sent less than a minute after the call ended. Something’s off, he wasn’t wasting any time with this. He’s glad Satoru caught on to that too. Knowing him, he’s probably on the phone with his grandpa right now trying to see if he could meet with him earlier. 

He spent the next hour watching and waiting, hoping to see if he could catch anything but the whoevers inside of the car was just as patient as he is. All they do is leave after that hour, but it does nothing to soothe his nerves that feel like they’re going to fizzle out at any second. 

After a month of peace, something else just had to pop up. He can’t catch a fucking break. He rubs his eyes one last time and curses out into his empty home. It was loud enough that he felt and heard the walls momentarily shake. 

His downstairs neighbours probably felt that too. They also must be pretty tired of him, too bad they couldn’t access this floor to complain about it. 

He sends you a text letting you know it was safe to come over before throwing his phone on the bed and getting in the shower. Hoping the hot water does something for him so he’s not in a completely bad mood before you get here. 

—

You get there around 15 minutes after he lets you know it’s alright to come over. His text was way shorter than that though, and way more demanding, all he said was “come on”. It was safe to assume he never figured out who was in that car and you braced yourself for whatever mood he was in at the moment. 

You were met with a quiet and tidy space. You quickly scan the room for anything broken, he had a habit of throwing anything that looked breakable at the wall. It only happens when he reaches a boiling point, which his father and Yorozu have able to bring him to more times than you’d like to admit. But thankfully there were no signs of that, the only thing that stood out was the faint sound of his shower that was on.

You make your way to the bathroom to find him sitting on the stone bench that was at one end of the shower, with his face in his hands, and all the shower heads facing him. The shower head that was the furthest away was on full blast, working overtime to just barely reach him.

The sight was ridiculous.

You decide to take your clothes off and join him, because why not. He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even realize you’re there until you’re readjusting the shower heads, putting them back in their original positions. You like the water hot, but not to the point where your skin might melt off, so you adjust the temperature as well. 

The fastest way to make him forget about anything is to strip down and that’s why the thought to complain about the unwarranted change fails to even form in his head. Not everything is that complicated with him.

“Hey.” He smiles, basically greeting your tits since his eyes never look up from them. 

At the end of the day, he is who he is.

“Hey.” You greet him back, trying your best to take him seriously as he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer to him. “Missed me?”

He slowly nods and looks up at you, “Of course I did.” His voice is a little raspier than usual. 

He pulls you down by the back of your neck to meet his lips. The first kiss is gentle, always the longest. His lips are so soft and deceivingly sweet, they always leave you wondering how the half the words that come out of them are anything but. 

Soon he’s wanting more, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip until you let him– just like how you let him prop one leg up on the bench so he can run two fingers across your folds. He uses them to collect your slick, smearing it all over before plunging them inside of you. The sudden intrusion pulls a gasp out of you and he just hums in response.

He loves seeing you struggle, especially when it’s just from his hands.

There is no adjustment period, he goes straight to attacking the spots that make you weak. He thrusts and curls them into you while rubbing little circles on your clit. 

Relentless. His goal’s always the same, it's to see how fast he can break you down until you’re nothing but a crying, overstimulated mess. Your legs begin to shake and you try to keep yourself up by holding on to his shoulders. The multiple shower heads that are running do nothing to muffle the lewd sounds he’s able to create each time he shoves and curls his fingers back into you. 

“I’ve done this a million times, don’t tell me your legs are already givin’ out on you.” He begins to tease you. 

He sees how you’re struggling to come up with a response and makes you struggle even more by going faster. You dig your nails into his skin, your moans become more and more strangled as he keeps up the pace, not stopping until he gets what he wants out of you. He leans his head down and latches on to your nipple, lapping and sucking at it, making you slowly lose your mind. 

“Oh my god, oh my god– oh my fucking god!” You cry out, calling out his name right after.

He hums back in response, the vibration only adds to everything he's making you feel right now. He pulls back, not failing to make a popping sound while he does it. 

“Gonna cum already?” He asks in amusement, already knowing the answer from how tight you’re gripping around him. 

You nod frantically, feeling the pressure begin to build up while he continues to work you open with a smile on his face. “Yes– fuuck yes. Oh fuck, right there Kuna,” you begin to babble out in labored breaths. 

“Here?” His thrusts become shallow– deeper than ever, still rubbing fast circles over your clit. 

“Mhm.” You respond in a higher pitch and your face scrunches up from how close you are. 

“Lemme see it baby,” he begins to talk you through it. “C’mon, just give it to me already.”

“Fuck– fuuuck.”

“Thaat’s it, you’re almost there.” He mutters. 

He pulls his fingers out and hits a particular spot going back in, making your vision almost go completely white as you gush all over him. 

“Fuuck– good girl,” you can hear him praise you through the light ringing in your ears. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He makes you gasp as he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you and has a taste for himself– sweet as always. He tries to give you minute to cool down, but he’s so fucking hard right now it hurts. 

“Come here, sit down.” 

You hear him, but the words don’t process in your head— you just follow his lead. You don’t even realize you're straddling him until he’s running his tip through your folds. He gets it nice and wet before nudging at your entrance. 

He lets out a low groan when you begin to lower yourself, planting both hands at your hips to keep you steady. He looks down and watches you take him, slowly working yourself open on his thick cock. 

“Try and take it in one go for me.” He murmurs, already starting to lose himself from the grip you have around him

“Just one? That’s too much.” You nearly pout at the thought.

“Fuck– please?” He rasps out, more than ready to beg for it. “I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You reluctantly agree, too fucked out to know any better. 

He squeezes your hips even tighter right after, waiting for you to go. You finally muster up the courage after several seconds and nod, but it’s more for yourself than anything. 

Your hips are slammed all the way down before you know it, reminding you of just how fucking big he is— not that you ever needed one. The sudden fullness has you almost gasping for air, you can feel everything right now.

“God I fuckin’ love you.” He groans into the crook of your neck, clearly in a heaven of his own right now. 

He doesn’t give you the chance to adjust to him before he starts bouncing you on his cock.

It’s not even something you think about, the way he nips and sucks on your neck distracts you from the stretch. You don’t even catch what he whispers in your ear, you just know that even that feels good.

This is what he’s good at, flooding all of your senses until your mind turns to mush. 

Pretty soon he’s slamming your hips down, over and over again. He’s praising you for how good you’re fucking him, yet you question just how much of the work your doing. Even when he’s underneath you, he still consumes you. 

After a while, he notices how shaky your legs were getting and was kind enough to give you a break. 

So he lays you down on the bench. 

“You must be tired, huh?” He asks rather lovingly, slotting himself in between your legs. 

Out of breath, you nod. He’s pinning your knees to your chest. 

“I’ll take care of you.” He leans down and mutters in your ear before he starts to fuck the shit out of you. 

The sound of loud, consistent slaps cut through the air while you took every single inch he gave you. He’s drilling into you and doesn’t bother hiding his own moans, feeling way too good to even care about that right now. You’re underneath him crying and squealing and begging for more.

He’s hitting every single spot that drives you insane and you’re a hot fucking mess because of it. You feel everything— every inch and every vein, pulling the most lewd reactions from you. The pressure builds up as he aggressively works an orgasm out of you.

“I’m gonna– nghh– fuck!! You’re gonna make me fucking cum!” You managed to get out between strangled moans. 

“Gonna cum all over me?” He's slamming into you harder. “Fuuck yeah– show me. Show me how good I make you feel. Nobody else could fuck you this good, huh?”

“No– nobody else, Kuna. Just you,” you practically gasp out, bracing yourself for the orgasm that’s gonna rip through you. “Oh my fu– ohmygod— so close Kuna, m’so fucking close.”

He lets go of your legs and presses his palm down onto your lower stomach. He slows down but still gives you the deepest strokes— rolling his hips into you, hitting the spots that make you weak. It doesn’t take long before you’re finally gushing around him.

He has you falling apart and crying out in name in choked moans— telling him how much you love his cock and begging him to cum inside of you, again. 

You don’t even remember all the other shit you said, but you already know they were just as unholy as everything else. You’re glad you don’t remember either. 

The person he turns you into sometimes is just disappointing at this point, especially after how you still wanted more after getting out of the shower. 

And who is he to say no? 

He made that last round brutal, only because you two had dinner in a couple hours— he had to wear you out. He ended up giving you the filthiest backshots, all while making you watch yourself take them in the mirror. The sight was degrading, he snapped his hips so hard against your ass that the sounds echoed throughout the room. 

At one point you grew a little too quiet. He looked at the mirror to find you biting the blanket. Even then, you still fucking loved it.

And it worked. You passed out the moment he got off of you, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He cleaned you up and let you sleep for another hour, before waking you up so you had time to get ready.

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[yenayaps]

controller | sukuna x f!reader

fourteen: the sun pt. 2

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff

chapter warnings: graphic depictions of violence, profanity, mentions of blood and violence, narcissistic parental abuse, death/loss of a parent, toxic family dynamics

a/n: 2.6k words. part two of the skeletons hidden in the Itadori family's closet!! we get to sukuna from his fathers eyes

masterlist

“Are you happy now?”

It was different this time around, he didn't fight back or show any signs of possible retaliation. Just a genuine question— the most sincerity he’s shown all night. 

He has the same expression he’s always made ever since he was a child whenever he patiently waits for an answer to his question. 

Every time he makes this face, all he sees is the little boy he used to be.  

That sweet face that never matched the rest of his body, covered in little nicks and scrapes from playing too much. Back when the only pain he’s ever experienced is from falling and scraping his knees— he’d be holding back tears while insisting he was fine because he wanted to keep playing. This was a version of him that didn’t think the type of pain others can feel in their hearts is real— but he’ll soon be proven wrong.

He'll also come to find that it’s the only type of pain he couldn’t handle. 

He could never forget how stubborn and mischievous he was, but with that came with so many beautiful qualities that he developed on his own so early on. Sukuna is loyal, caring, and protective— a natural born leader that’s filled with more love than most people would know what to do with. 

He was perfect. To be able to say he was his father, to be the one entrusted to protect his heart— it was an honor. 

She knew all about the hopes and dreams he had for him and ripped them to shreds.

There’s been many times throughout the years where that little boy pops and visits him again, reminding him of how far he’s come in life.

His life has taken a different turn, away from the path he wanted to put him on, but he’s made it work. 

No longer that cute little boy anymore, he grew up to be a handsome man. No one knows where the height comes from, but sometime during the growth spurt, he realized people would naturally respect him even more if he was buff too. So not only is he handsome, but he is big and tall— the number one thing people have to say about him is that he’s larger than life, he couldn’t agree more. 

He drives fast cars, has an obscene amount of women on speed dial, spends way too much money, and makes even more of it. He is a cocky bastard, but rightfully so. He might be working for daddy’s company, but he’s paved his own way. 

He kept a few of the qualities he had as a child. Not only is he loyal to the company, he’s viciously protective of it too. A quality he’s grown to love about him is how smart he is, brilliant even. He wishes people would praise him more for the nerd he isn’t afraid to be— a C.S major, graduated at the top of his classes, and went on to get a masters degree. He even completed it early. 

Now he’s the head of cybersecurity, with a great eye for talent. The people who work in his department are just as loyal and protective over the company as he is. He may not be the nicest manager, and will only tolerate getting called out for it when he wins his annual asshole of the year award, but he makes sure they get paid well. 

And when he does take it a step too far, he’s not afraid to sit them down and remind them of their worth, even going as far as to giving them extra PTO or a bigger bonus at the end of the year to make up for it. 

Over the years, he’s picked up new qualities and has done many things that he isn't too proud of. 

He’s grown up to be a hot head with violent tendencies— not afraid to show you the monster he’s capable of becoming if you try your luck with him. 

He constantly feels the need to let people know just how smart his son is. Not just because it’s something he likes about him, but because he will also use it to his advantage to get out of the trouble he starts. 

In other words: tread carefully with him.

He can unlock peoples car doors with his phone, he knows how to build robots, ai systems, and explosives, can hack into smart home systems, he’s well aware of most laws, has the ability to find identification numbers and credit card numbers— he knows how to hurt you in ways that won’t require him to be around you.

If he could give you one warning about his son, it’s to not worry about his fighting skills or strength— it’s his mind that’s the true weapon. 

Don’t ever think he’s bluffing either, he will make an example out of you for fun. 

And to think that he had such high hopes for the kid at one point. Now he sounds like he’s some James Bond villain whenever he describes him all these years later. 

He has nobody to blame but himself

But even then he’ll always be the little boy he’s always loved so much. It’s what made it easy for him to turn a blind eye to most of the things he’s done, he’s even learned to love the bad side of him— knowing it was only formed out of necessity. That side of him was proof that he protected himself, it’s the only thing that numbs the pain of knowing he couldn’t do it himself. 

Yet here they are. 

Her death was supposed to be his release, he promised himself he’d never hurt him because of it, but he failed. 

Again. 

It was never his fault, she forced him to be this way. His late wife had cursed him too, ever since she died he’s been struggling trying to fix him and nothing works. 

That little wretch even found ways to mess up Jin too. Don’t let his gentleness fool you, he doesn’t trust others. Hell, he doesn’t even like most people. The only thing that comes to mind when meeting new people is wondering just how bad they are behind closed doors— that’s not fucking normal. That relationship would’ve been severed the moment Yuji was born, without a doubt. 

For as long as he lives, her soul will never rest. The love others have for her will never be greater than his hatred, for that she will never find peace. It’s the only thing that makes him feel better about not finishing her off himself the moment he heard those words come out of her mouth. 

“You killed yourself.” Is what he should’ve told her that day, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. The damage was already done, she wasn’t even there anymore anyways.

Did that make you happy?

No. I have to live with this now too.

The words get caught in his throat and fizzle out when he opens his mouth to speak. If only Sukuna could take a step into his mind and see for himself what doing that to him made him feel. But that was just as impossible as explaining himself at this moment.

Not that it’d make a difference. Forgiveness isn’t what he wants, he wants a reset button. His son wouldn’t have half the pain he carries in his heart if he were granted just one do over.

Wasuke takes a deep breath, feeling the anger settle into something closer to grief. “Why does it take striking you to get you to take me seriously?”

He took a moment to think about it before completely letting it go. His father wasn’t actually asking him that, it was just his own fucked up way of apologizing. They’ve reached a dead end, there was nothing else to say. 

Sukuna doesn’t know how to explain how he feels. Then there’s the man who never thought to teach him, because he doesn’t know how he feels more than half the time. 

They both lose, it’s what makes it easier for them to say nothing more and to walk away from each other. 

—

The ride back was extra quiet, he ended up taking the long way home in order to clear his thoughts. Not that he even needed to, you’d probably be asleep by then anyways. He pulls into the parking garage and passes by all of the other cars he owns. 

He used to feel so proud whenever he saw them, now he’s wondering if they were even worth it. The thought pops up again when he steps into his home, the only thing that’s keeping it from feeling empty right now is the girl most likely fast asleep in his bed— unaware of the night he’s had, and even more unaware of the thoughts that haunt him half the time. 

“You’re back?” He hears you ask from a distance— not surprised you ended up waiting for him. 

“Yeah.”

He walks into his bedroom and is met with the sight of you curled up and patiently waiting for him to lay down. The first thing you notice is the bruise on the side of his lip, but he walks straight into the closet before you even get the chance to say anything. 

Even when he emerges from it, out of the suit and in a pair of sweats, he doesn't say anything. He just gets in bed and lays down on top of you before letting a long sigh that screams I’m finally home.

You give him a moment to relax before asking the question he’s been dreading since he locked eyes with you. 

“What happened to you?” 

What hasn’t fucking happened to him at this point. 

“Can we not talk about that right now?” He murmurs back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

Had you seen him like this in the earlier stages of seeing each other, you’d think he was mad at you and take it as a sign to go home. This is all just exhaustion, he doesn’t have it in himself to show you how glad he is to be back at home with you, but you know he’s relieved from the way his breathing begins to soften. You can even feel his body start to relax against yours.

He’s never looked this defeated before and the guilt from earlier slowly spread. It’s you who should’ve said sorry to him for how short you were being over text, it probably added to his stress. You begin to trace his back, at a loss for words because it’s not like you’d say no and make him break down his entire evening that clearly didn’t go well. 

He talked about wanting to come back sooner— instead he came home more than an hour later than expected, with puffy eyes and a blank stare. He was so quiet, yet everything about him screamed for help.

“Can I ice it for you?” You ask, trying to find some sort of way to make him feel better, if that was even possible right now.

He takes a moment to think about it, not sure if he actually wants something cold on his face right now. But he figures he wouldn’t look as bad in the morning if he took you up on that offer. “Yeah.” He gruffly says, yet not bothering to move an inch. He’s dead weight right now and for a second you think he only said that just to get you to shut up. 

He eventually gets up after you let him know that he’s too heavy to move, in the nicest way possible, something he’s not quite used to from you. You’re usually more blunt than this, now you’re treating him like he could break from just a slight change in your tone.

He hates it when people feel sorry for him, but he hates it a little less when it’s coming from you. It’s why he gets off of you without further protest so you can run to the freezer. If he wasn’t in such a bad mood, he’d laugh at the sound of your feet hurriedly making their way to the kitchen.

He would’ve moved for you sooner if he knew he’d get to continue laying his head on your chest— one hand holding the ice pack next to his lip and carding your fingers through his hair with the other. 

Anyone in the world could do this for him, but it would never feel the same. 

He finds comfort in your silence. You don’t bother trying to fill it, let alone pry for information. 

Your touch is gentle and consistent— as if anything other than that would ruin his small moment of peace, holding on to that last bit of sanity for him.

And somehow, ice feels less cold when you're the one who’s holding it. 

None of it feels forced. You’re calm, even the beat of your heart is gentle against him. He doubts you think twice about it. This is probably just who you are underneath the hard shell that he’s just barely cracked until now.

He spent his whole life believing there wasn’t anybody capable of putting someone like him back together. 

You make it look easy.

Without even knowing it, you took a bad memory and turned it into something he could let go of, rather than shoving it down, along with all the other shitty ones he’s forced to live with. 

There’s nothing he could offer you right now aside from just simply existing, but you still continue to play with his hair in silence, because that was never on your mind to begin with.

Innocently enough, thinking of all the things you could gain for him hasn’t crossed your mind. You pushed him away enough in the beginning for him to know that. 

Most people would assume that the only thing keeping you two together is lust— that this is something that’s purely transactional. Just a man who gets whatever he wants and a woman using that to her advantage. 

They wouldn’t know that your attention was something he had to work for, and that it got to a point where he was more than ready to just beg for it. Your affection was never something that he could just buy, he had to earn this.

The thrill from sneaking around together doesn’t last long either. You eventually run out of easy, shallow topics to talk about— leaving you with no other choice but to dig deeper, then being forced to decide if their baggage is the kind you’d be willing to accept. 

Everyone gets to that point, you two just got there faster and realized you wanted to keep going. Even after explaining all of that, they still probably wouldn’t understand how much this all means to him. You probably wouldn’t understand the extent of it either.

He’d be alright with that, what you do for him is more than enough.

“Do you remember that one time I talked about my mom?” He finally speaks up.

“A little. You said you two weren’t very close.” You recall the conversation. You could tell he didn’t mean to bring it up at the time from how fast he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I usually say that.”

“Okay,” You say rather tentatively, giving him the space to maybe finish that sentence. He never does. “I’m guessing you’re missing her right now?”

“Not quite.” He held back a little laugh, before clearing his throat. He doesn’t get that very often. “Wanna know how I killed her?”

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

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

[yenayaps]

controller | sukuna x f!reader

thirteen: the sun pt. 1

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff

chapter warnings: graphic depictions of violence, profanity, mentions of blood and violence, narcissistic parental abuse, terminal illness, death/loss of a parent, slight mention of body obsession, toxic family dynamics

a/n: 5.6k words. 1 month time skip! this may be a hard chapter for some of those that have dealt with abuse/lost a parent, so please read the chapter warnings!!! <33

masterlist

Mrs. Itadori was someone you’d stop and stare at whenever she walked into the room, the person you’d fixate on when watching people cross the street, the first face you looked at when looking at a group photo.

She was beautiful, very aware of it too. You’d assume that with the brief description alone, that she’d be too in your face, maybe even intimidating. But it was different with her. People would say she was warm and welcoming, her smooth voice drew anyone in.

A light in this world.

She was perfect— even her exits were graceful. No one ever realized that she was also the type of person who’d leave the room whenever someone attempted to take that away from her, dim her down.

The shift in her would be slight, but he caught on to it after a while. Her eyes would darken, she’d avoid looking at them to keep herself from making a face— like they didn’t belong there.

He chalked it up to insecurities at first, he wouldn’t have blamed her. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much pressure it was trying to keep up with some of the other wives in the circle.

He kept it to himself. 

Then one day he realized it wasn’t just with women, which made him completely forget about it. It was probably just a clash in personality types. It was whatever— not like he exactly picked her out, this is arranged. Not every weird quirk of hers is going to be written down, she might not even be aware of it.

She was more than enough for him— they got along well, shared the same interests, had the same family values. 

He was surprised that she even agreed to the arrangement at first, he was sure she could always go for someone better looking than him. 

But he wasn’t complaining. He’ll always appreciate someone who didn’t go for just looks, it showed that she had a good spirit. Not like he’d actually know, he never asked why. Just a fleeting thought that he didn’t hold on to for long.

But if he asked her, she’d probably still lie. It’s a strange answer, he’d most likely be offended anyways. There was no point in hurting his feelings. 

She grew to love him. He was kind to her, took care of her, was easy to get along with. 

He was someone that made her feel good about herself.

Someone that blended into the background.

Then she eventually gave birth to two, healthy twin boys. 

They were beautiful, the talk of the neighbourhood for the longest time too. 

They took after their father the most, but she came in and refined them, almost as if she took his genes to the next level. 

He looks at his boys and thinks of them as the highest versions of himself. He wants them to surpass him. He was someone who’d gladly step aside for them.

She’s relieved they’re not girls.

He noticed being a mother of twins added to the certain kind of attention that she enjoyed. 

The kind of attention where others noticed and recognized exactly what it was that made her stand out from the rest. The compliments were so specific and she held them close to her heart.

Which he thought was fine. She probably just needed it, she felt off after having them. But he didn’t get it.

She’s probably one of the most petite women he knew. 

Sure! 

She had children, of course some parts of her body changed, but he’s not even trying to be flattering when he says it.

“Honey, you’re smaller than what you were before having the boys. I really don’t see what you’re talking about.”

She just nods in response, there’s no point in trying to explain it to him. He wouldn’t notice the difference, nobody looks at people like him in the first place, it’s why she married him.

It was never the same for her after that. At one point, she was able to look at anybody and they were already looking back at her. 

But of course, she can’t bring that up. She’d be seen as selfish, vain, that her priorities were backwards and to go take care of her fucking kids. 

There’s nothing wrong with wanting people to acknowledge me! I’m still a person.

Yet she’d never say that outloud, because some smartass would respond with something stupid like Yeah! So are we!

You probably already know how she’d respond to a statement like that. 

You might also already know how she’d respond to another mother talking about how difficult having just one baby is. 

It was only the days she took the twins out where she’d actually be approached for once— curious strangers wanting to see her boys, complimenting the full heads of fluffy pink hair and their chubby cheeks. 

Always the same discussion too, slipping in the fact that they’re a handful… but she makes it work! 

Then mentioning how much her back hurt carrying them, because she realized it leads to them saying, “I forgot to mention how good you look by the way!”

She really did enjoy it, motherhood and all. 

Her babies are sweet. Sukuna’s more energetic, so she’d usually put him in the walker. He was lucky he lived in such a big home, he had more than enough space to go crazy. 

Jin was more calm, he did not care for the walker. He was more content staying in one spot, playing with blocks or something. 

Sukuna also recently just learned that if he yelled loud enough, his mother would magically appear, then bring him back to his brother, where they’d spend the rest of their day basically attached to each other. 

Even as they got older, they stuck by each others sides. By the time they were 4, their personalities were loud and clear.

Well— maybe not Jin; he’s quiet, calm and shy. You can see it in his mannerisms, he walks slowly for no other reason than he’s just not in a rush. He has a gentle voice– sometimes people can’t hear him because of it, so he gets over his alleged shyness and speaks louder. 

And after a while, he’ll realize he’s not actually shy, he's just not a big fan of people. He won’t have too many friends because of that, but it doesn’t bother him. That just means he has more love to give— it’s something that’ll save others in ways he’d never know.

Then there’s Sukuna— who may not be as quiet and shy as his brother, but he could be calm when you needed him to be. He is outgoing, he’s never had trouble meeting new people or going to new places, he’d be the first to wave and smile at others. He’s confident, walks around with a care in the world, holding his head up high. He’ll grow up to realize most people don’t like that and he won’t care. 

People will try to break him down along the way. It’ll work at first, but then he’ll realize they were never going to like him either way, and goes back to being himself— each time he does this, he comes back angrier with less patience. It’s a constant cycle, but he’d do it as many times as it takes.

He was similar to his mother— always the first one to be seen, except he would never have to work for it in the way she did. It's just who he was. It was blatant and in your face— like the fucking sun. 

And Wasuke will never see that slight shift in her after coming to the realization.

—

There are many things Sukuna is proud of. 

One of them is being a hard worker— meeting deadlines well before their due dates, keeping an eye out for potential threats towards the company, being the team leader everyone needs him to be— not to mention the never ending amount of unofficial work he does for his father. 

He’s great at, well, all of it. 

There was actually one point in time where his father “jokingly” asked him if he’d ever be interested in taking over once he eventually steps down and retires. The only reason why he knew Wasuke was taking it into serious consideration is because he’d find a way to wiggle it into a conversation once a week for a good 3 months. 

He eventually had to sit his old man down and tell him “fuck no”, word for word. He had to admit it to himself though, it had to be the nicest indirect compliment he’d ever received. One that told him he was competent and good enough to pass on the torch to.

But he’ll continue to say it again and again, as many times as he needs to— that was Jin’s fate, not his. 

As for his own fate? 

Sell all of his shares and retire at the same time his father does. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life working. He might not have a rags to riches story like him, but he’s sacrificed more than enough for the family and company, whether others would like to admit it or not. 

Another thing he’s proud of is that he’s a great son, brother, and friend. 

Yeah, there maybe be some issues here and there, maybe even some fights— but one thing will always stand clear, fuck with his people and he’ll make the devil look like a saint. 

But what happens when one of his people try to fuck with him? 

He has no fucking idea, it’s never happened before. Out of all the people he knew, it just had to be one of the very few people he truly respected— Wasuke Itadori. 

Jin would never do this to him. Hell— not even Satoru would pull this shit, and that says a lot.

And no, he still doesn’t know how to get out of this and he’s reminded each time the clock ticks away, mocking him, calling him a pushover.

And that brings him to another thing he was proud of, he’s never hit a woman before, ever. 

That’s definitely not something he should be proud of, but Yorozu tests him every time she’s within his vicinity. 

He deserves an award for every time he’s had to listen to her nasally voice. Bringing up the most random, irrelevant topics, all to try to get to know him better, completely unaware of the fact that he hates small talk. It’s something he makes clear to people when first meeting them.

Even if she did start to ask him deeper questions, he’d never take the extra time and energy to answer them. He’d rather tell the tabloids before telling her anything personal about him.

He deserves a round of applause for the restraint he’s shown each time she throws her arms around him whenever she sees him— something you’ve unfortunately had to see way too many times at work this month. 

If only his family knew how much harder his life gets when you are forced to see that shit, you'll ignore him for a day or two, as if it was his fault— it’s fucking not. It’s her that comes into the office, attempting to mark her territory. 

As if she were some ratty dog that miraculously got adopted and he’s the unlucky fire hydrant that she’s just been dying to reach— dousing him in piss that contains more than enough radioactive material to give the Elephant's Foot a run for its money.

And of course you’re sugary sweet with her, because you’re a traitor. 

You’re nice to everyone.

Then you clock out and revert back to the little demon that ignores him— punishing him for things out of his control and he has to spend the rest of the day trying to make it up to you. 

The person you really should be punishing is his father, but you won’t, because that’s your boss– who’s your own ticket to a better life. Having him as a reference will open any door you want in this country. But, that’s only after being able to say that you worked for him and made him happy… for over a year. 

This alleged wedding would be happening before you reach that milestone— over his dead body.

He honestly thought that he’d calm down over everything and have a better head on his shoulders by now, but the inner turmoil has consistently stayed the same. 

It’s just as bad as ever. 

There’ve been many days where he truly felt he’d finally snap, all of which have gotten triggered by you being a fucking brat for not trusting him. 

It’s not over Yorozu either. It definitely annoys you when she touches him, but you’re not worried about him sleeping with her.

At all. 

When you first met her at the small work event she decided to crash, he did what he thought was the right thing to do and pulled you aside— reminding you that there was nothing to worry about. 

He should’ve just kept his mouth shut that day. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever hear you laugh that loud ever again. That was it for you, the joke of the century, there’s nothing he could ever say to top that. 

Now what’s actually caused an argument or two is your lack of trust in the fact that he could get out of the arrangement. It drives him up the wall, everyone around him suffers because of it.

He wishes you’d be more jealous and territorial over him, at least then he could talk shit about her.

He can get extra creative with the insults, he’d be able to make you laugh just as hard as you did that one time— your heart would be filled to the brim with validation. But he’s given you enough validation, that much is clear from how you look at her more like an endangered bug rather than the woman who won’t call off the arrangement.

He’s convinced he could fill her hair products with nair, admit to it, and it still wouldn’t be enough to make her call it off.

He’s constantly fighting the urge to go on a rampage, expose all of his secrets— ones that make sleeping with his dad’s assistant look like a walk in the fucking park. 

Sometimes he thinks that prison might just be a better route than the one he’s currently being forced to take at the moment. Then he gets brought back down to reality from something as simple as eating breakfast with you, or pouring himself a glass of top shelf tequila— neither he’d get to experience if he took everyone down with him. 

“Hey Sukuna?”

He could just stuff you in a car and drive far, far away from here. 

But he doubts you’d like that— your reaction is what would make the justice system view it as abduction, rather than some spontaneous act between two lovers.

“Sukuna?”

What if he switched your birth control out with placebos? Shoko could probably help him with that if he paid her enough. The kid would be cute too.

No— stop.

He told himself he wouldn’t get you involved. You wouldn’t want to get involved, even if he asked. 

Good on you for being able to put your foot down though, not a lot of people can do that. Even if this is probably one of the worst times to practice setting boundaries— it’s literally the easiest way to stop this madness. 

Not to mention you’d be set for fucking life?

It’s okay, he understands. 

Including you in– any way– would increase the chances of you maybe needing to lean on him in one way or another. It would just set off warning signals in that paranoid little brain of yours— most likely learned from your family. 

But he wouldn’t know, you don’t talk about them.

Some weird complex you have.

But you’ll open up about them… eventually.

It’d be easier for you to talk about your childhood trauma’s though if you just gave Yuji a fucking cousin, then you’d have access to the best thera—

“Sukuna.” 

For fucks sake. 

“What?” 

“Will you pass the green beans, please?” Hideo immediately softens his tone after finally getting his attention, caught off guard from the way he went straight to glaring daggers at him after dozing off for god knows how long.

He thought he was high at first, but his ability to go from 0 to satan’s favorite fucking demon makes him think he’s painfully sober right now.

“Eat my shit.” He says, not sparing the man from his wrath. The steak he’s cutting into is too well done for his liking. If it were actually good, he might’ve considered responding to him with a simple “fuck off”. 

He wouldn’t.

Something else would’ve managed to piss him off, like Yorozu’s face.

“Sukuna!” Wasuke slams his fist down. “I’m so sorry, he’s usually not like thi–”

“Yes I am.” He was quick to cut him off.

It would usually be paired with a smirk, but not this time. This steak’s gonna fuck up his teeth and he’s pretty sure he could find a way to sue this family into oblivion for it.

He turns his attention back to his “fiancés” father, “You have arms, reach for them yourself, pops.”

Wasuke’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. He just gets worse. “I apologize once again, Hideo. He’s–”

“No, no— it’s okay.” He assures him, “We all have our bad days, Sukuna’s not immune to them.” 

“Yeah! It’s alright, Itadori-san,” Yorozu attempts to back him up. Like father, like daughter– spineless. “I’m sure it’s been a long week for him.”

“The men are speaking.” Sukuna immediately shuts her down, trying his best not to cackle at the impeccable Zen’in impersonation. 

He doesn’t know what’s funnier, that fact that he found a way to mock that clan while telling her to shut up or imagining how you’d react to that. 

You’d probably throw your food at him, plate included, if he ever spoke to you like that— like the perfect little princess you are.

He starts to cut at the rough steak again, scratching up the ceramic plate without making it too obvious. Watching everyone clench their teeth from the sound brings him some satisfaction, but it’ll never be enough to ease the anger he feels towards everyone at this table. 

“I’m actually having a great day.” He eventually adds after letting the surprise Zen’in special take a minute or two to marinate deep into their souls. Making sure to flash her mother a smile before popping another slice of beef in his mouth. 

There’s no way in hell this isn’t some form of revenge towards the Aizawa’s from his dad’s end. The only thing that comes to mind when he looks at this family is how this is the stupidest decision his father has ever made, unless this was some hitting-two-birds-with-one-stone situation. 

It would still be fucked up, but at least he’d be somewhat impressed. He’d feel better about being sacrificed in the name of revenge, rather than being married off as punishment for stomping on a potential sex offender's face.

If it’s not some weird revenge thing, then it had to be the fact that this is probably the only family that would be willing to put up with him.

He just openly disrespected the patriarch of the family and none of them had the balls to say anything— not the parents, not Yorozu, and not even her sister, who’s apparently one of the city’s most aggressive lawyers.

He’s not concerned for Yorozu’s wellbeing in the slightest, but it’s amusing how her family is willing to put up with this, just so they could slightly climb up the social ladder— him aggressively showing signs of marital abuse this early on, that is. 

But then again, she won’t back out from the arrangement, she’s allowing him to treat them like trash at this point. 

Like clockwork, he finds himself comparing her to you, the girl who barged into his office and cussed him out for bothering her too much. You’d make him suffer if he gave you just a fraction of the treatment he gives her.

He really shouldn’t find it as attractive as he does, but he does. If anybody were to ask if he needed help, it’d be an immediate, clear and concise “no”. 

He loves it here. 

He’d even go as far as to say he’d rather have you fight him every day for the rest of his life than go another day having to pretend he’s actually going to marry this bitch. At least with you, he’d actually want to please you, make you happy.

His phone begins to buzz— speak of the devil. 

You usually get hungry around this time and he can already feel the attitude radiating from whatever passive aggressive text you just sent him. 

He should be on his way back right now— with the take out he promised you if you stayed at his penthouse and waited for him to get back.

But this family hired the world’s most incompetent chef– just so they could have something to prove, and what exactly are they trying to prove right now? 

No idea. 

Not only is he late, but they also fed him one of the worst meals he’s ever eaten in his entire life. All of which could’ve been avoided if they didn’t think they were too good for restaurants.

“Put your phone away.” His father demands through gritted teeth, clearly done with his antics for tonight.

Like he gives a fuck. 

“Fuck off.” He calmly says as he begins to read your text. 

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: i already ordered take out. ill probably be asleep by the time you get back too, so gn

| Sukuna Itadori: im almost done. can you wait 30 more minutes for me?

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: no im tired.

Great, he lets out a sigh. 

But he gets it, he’d probably act way worse if your positions were switched. He’s genuinely surprised at how much discipline you have in front of others, especially when this wench visits the office unannounced.

The rest of the dinner was quiet and like the last two he was forced to attend, Sukuna didn't bother saying goodbye either. 

Another no-no in Wasuke’s eyes. You’re supposed to shake the host's hand and thank them for having you, at the very least— something he’s drilled into both his son’s heads. 

Sukuna was the first one out of the two that perfected dining etiquette, but he obviously needs to remind him of again. 

Except he’s done more than enough talking, the last 26 years have been nothing but verbal warnings. 

So he starts this one off by smashing his fist on to the side of the boy's mouth. 

A boy— no man would ever act that way at dinner, let alone someone else’s home. 

“Quit fucking embarrassing me.” He says in a low tone, pointing his finger at him as if he were still a child.

He scoffs and shakes his head in response to the familiar taste of copper beginning to pool up in his mouth. Definitely not the first time Wasuke’s punched him in the face, can’t say he was caught off guard either.

He’s slow, doesn’t usually come marching up to him like that either. What always catches him off guard though is how strong his father is, safe to say he got the abnormal strength from him. 

But watching him take a step back from seeing the inevitable aftermath proves his mind wasn’t as strong as his body. 

He’s the last person that would ever file a police report or fight back, he knows he could keep going. 

But he’s talking about his father right now, the same man who had multiple guards practically jump him for having a normal human reaction to having life changing news dropped on him suddenly. 

He doesn’t get his hands dirty. He doesn’t want to see the aftermath either, especially if it’s from his own doing.

The adrenaline always kicks in the moment his brain recognizes pain, he can’t feel his face— allowing him to stare his old man down as he clicks his jaw back in place.

He wants him to know he didn’t just bust a lip.

It’s quick, takes zero effort— the only person it hurts is the man who did it to him. But sometimes he wonders what would happen if he showed some pain for once. 

You used to cup my cheeks and squish them together.

I wish I could go back and show him this– us, right now—what our future together ended up looking like.

Paying thousands of dollars to have armed guards beat on the same body you spent years trying to protect, hoping to god I don’t break.

When did that stop being a fear of yours?

Some of the many thoughts he’d like to share with him, but he genuinely couldn't. 

The words don’t come up. It’s more of a bunch of jumbled thoughts, filled with flashbacks and how he feels. 

Jin was the one who knew how to organize them and say them in the correct order, calmly letting you know what he needed you to hear.

But he’s the good twin, he’ll never know what it’s like to be labeled as the bad one, just because he yelled and laughed a little louder. He’s sure he’d have just as hard of a time trying to explain how it felt having parents that made him bleed.

She made him feel loved, gave him a sense of importance— the perfect goodbye gift for someone like him, he’d never abuse it. 

He probably would’ve spoken at the funeral too if she had left him the same gift, but who knows if that’d be enough. Those who knew her, knew that Sukuna never gave her a break.

Then there was Jin, who knocked over her favorite vase once. 

She freaked out and checked his feet for any cuts despite having shoes on, then had him do breathing exercises because he was freaking out, thinking she was going to beat his ass. 

If he did that shit, she’d actually beat his ass. Then call her friends for emotional support, because there’s always something with him. 

He’d have to listen to them feed her endless amounts of compliments, saying how lucky he was to have a mother like her, all while he had to carefully pick shards of porcelain off his feet because he didn’t have shoes on.

And if she caught him cleaning his wounds, he’d get yelled at all over again, finding a way to make his shredded up feet look like a reasonable consequence for running around the house or something. 

He was glad it was Jin who did that, she would have never done any further investigation and realized the stand was loose. 

Now take that story and multiple it by like 5, then by 12, then by 11. 

Now imagine your friend calling you that many times in the span of around 10-12 years, and you believe her every single time because you didn’t know her biggest talent is twisting the narrative. 

On top of that, your brothers shy and quiet— his existence alone made every single over-exaggerated story believable. 

Then after some time, you have your own solidified opinion of the kid because you’ve heard enough horror stories from your poor friend. You don’t hate him because it’s just wrong to feel that way about a child, but you really don’t like them. 

You don’t get why can’t they just be fucking normal for once.

They didn’t see him as her child anymore, they saw him as her burden.

Don’t you get tired of getting yelled at?!

Just listen to your mother!

You only have one mother, you need to treat her better!

She’d act exhausted every time she had company over and they’d already know why. So, they’d give her a break and scold him for her, reminding him of all the things he should be grateful for, including her. 

He never even bothered to ask them what he did wrong, because they'd insist he already knew— same answer she always gave him. She had them trained well and they didn’t even know it.

He spent those last 4 years filling his entire week up with sports and extracurriculars just to avoid her. Life would be easier, then break would hit, and she’d get on his case for staying in his room too much. 

So he’d stay out of the house completely, at one point he practically lived at Satoru’s because his parents were never home. Things would be good, then one night he came home and was bombarded with questions. 

“So what? You’d rather be a part of their family?”

“Is that your new family now?”

“You wish they were your parents instead, don’t you?”

Then later he’d overhear her crying to her friends over how she was always so worried for him and his safety. Jin doesn’t stay out that long! What is she doing wrong?!

He’s spent so many years just sitting down and trying to remember the last time she actually told her she loved him. 

When he was 14, she became terminally ill. He doesn’t know why his psyche couldn’t have held on for just a couple more months, but he doesn’t blame himself.

The concoction of pain meds rolled in and she started telling him that the years of stress he put her through is what made her get sick. 

He’s the reason why she’s dying.

3 days was all it took. He could only describe it as suffering from burnout, but towards just one specific person. After years of trying and failing and trying and failing, his brain finally pulled the plug for him. It didn’t even feel like he was avoiding her, he just didn’t care anymore, he had finally begun to live his life as she was already gone. 

His dad couldn’t blame him. He was just now finding out about the way she’d treat him when he wasn’t home.

As much as it hurt Jin, he understood too. He spent his entire life trying to take the blame for the things Sukuna would get in trouble for and she’d just find another reason to get mad at him.

His dad and brother thought getting him to say his final goodbyes would be like pulling teeth, but he went down the moment they asked. 

It’s something they spend the next decade talking about, wondering if that’s something they should’ve even done.

Even in her last days, it was clear that Sukuna wasn’t someone she was worried about.

He was just her daily form of entertainment, using him as a free punching bag stimulated some sick part in her brain. She had no use for him anymore.

All she did in those last moments with him was beg him to promise her that he’d take care of Jin— watch over him, protect him. 

Deep down, he was hoping that she’d drop the act. She didn’t have to do anything crazy like admit she enjoyed hurting him all these years. Or that the sympathy her friends offered her for pretty much having him made her feel good. 

Just talk to him the way she’d talk to Jin! 

There’s people out there that actually believe he fucking killed her, all because she wanted them to feel sorry for her and believe that she was just a person that tried her best, up until the very end.

She didn’t even have to treat him like Jin, she could just treat him like the son she sacrificed in order to gain all the love and respect she received throughout the years. 

That’s what he was anyways! Doesn’t he deserve a thank you for that? 

He suffered his whole life just so more people would cry for her— so more people would remember her. 

Can’t she just treat him like the person that helped make it all happen?

But she wouldn’t do any of that for him. 

She spoke to him as if the years of struggle she went through were actually real. As if giving him her forgiveness was the final task that would unlock the gates of heaven for her. 

He took a couple peeks into the room that they put her in, the doors were always open so he could hear the conversations that go on in there. She seemed like she’d miss them, the goodbyes sounded painful. 

He got the complete opposite, she couldn’t wait to get away from him. He saw it in her eyes, that excitement and longing people had when they were finally going back home. 

He drowned out the sound of her voice after that— waiting for her to finish taking away the last bit of love he had for her. 

The story they shared together ended with his own mother truly believing that he had slowly killed her. 

He wonders how hard she tried to make those last moments as ruthless as possible for him.

She tried to hand him a lifetime full of pain on a silver platter by refusing to give him any sort of closure. She wanted him to live the rest of his life having unanswered questions, constantly haunted by the thought of her.

It would explain why she asked him to take care of Jin in those final moments with her, she never had anything to say to him. It was a final fuck you, a reminder that he’d never compared to him in her eyes. 

She wanted him to hate his own brother so badly, that would never happen. 

He's the only person in this world he’s ever truly felt loved by, it’ll always make up for the missing pieces his parents took from him throughout the years.

And to think this shits still happening. There’s no fuckin’ point in hitting him if he’s just gonna instantly regret it. 

He spits some out onto the polished driveway before finally murmuring a response. 

“Are you happy now?”

next

a/n: sukuna said y'all thought I was bad?? HERE'S MY MOM!!

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

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

[lexlibrary]

Finally decided to post my edits as contribution to the LnDs community. If you liked it, consider supporting me here on twitter too where i've joined the official caleb contest 💕

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 5.2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 10.4k (relatively mild if i do say so myself)

summary: "suguru won't hurt me."

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, canon-typical violence, the blood and gore associated with jjk, introducing the shitty and creepy zen'in clan, it's ANGST, like hurt/no comfort level here

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary

author note: PREMATURE DEATH ARC BABY, this is gonna fucking HURT. also i've got a cute lil' banner that i made that i'm trying to use to create a story masterpost but old lady is having issues formatting on shitty tumblr. stay tuned for new looks hopefully.

chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, AO3

[YEAR THREE]

[PART TWO]

“You look tired, Senpai.”

The voice that breaks the silence of dawn is such a shock that the speed in which you snap your head up and to the side puts a crick in your neck. “Yu?” You subtly clutch at your neck, digging your fingers into the sore spot but feigning rubbing it as to not insult him because you expected Kento to be here, not him. “What has you up so early? You don’t train until a little later, don’t you?”

He blinks owlishly. “You really pay attention to the small things, it’s amazing.”

“Oh. Just like drawing and cursed spirits are my thing, I know martial arts are yours. You’re my friend and I try to remember the things they love.”

Yu perks up, grinning brightly. The morning light is still soft, but you could use your sunglasses right about now when it comes to Yu’s thousand-watt smile. “We’re friends, Senpai?”

“I’d like to think so. You let me use your given name.” You hesitate, suddenly struck by self-consciousness. “Am I wrong?”

“No! I mean, if you consider me a friend then I consider you one, too! I just didn’t want to assume. Who doesn’t dream of being friends with their cool upperclassmen?”

You chuckle softly. “Isn’t Suguru the cool one?”

“You’re cool, too!” You raise a skeptical brow. He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, Geto is cooler, but you’re the nicest! Don’t tell Ieiri, though, please!” You won’t betray your junior like that, but Shoko definitely would probably appreciate that assessment. “I’d love to be casual enough with everyone to be on given name basis.”

“You definitely could. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko don’t care about that kind of thing. If they were easily offended, they wouldn’t stick around people as rude as Satoru and I are,” you explain with a little smile.

He drops down next to you on the bench, looking thoughtful. “Maybe when Nanamin and I graduate, I’ll feel comfortable enough to be that familiar with them.” He sighs too loudly to not be dramatic. “I was worried about taking over for Nanamin on this because I know they can look down on people with no sorcery in their family, but I don’t know why I was. I swear that your power works on humans, too. You’re so calming, y’know?”

It was meant to be a joke, you know, but there’s still a brief moment of pure panic. You haven’t been doing that, have you? It’s a question you ask yourself before quickly answering with a resolute no. Definitely not. Just trying to sense someone’s emotions, as unintentional as it was with Satoru, had you struggling. Controlling someone against their will had you on the verge of death with a brain bleed. You’re terrified by how fast your technique is evolving, yes, but it’s not there. Nowhere near there. You doubt it will ever be to the point where you’re passively influencing people.

“I just want to do my best to help,” you confess. Even if it feels like you’re not doing much of that these days.

“So do I!” Yu declares so enthusiastically and loudly that it echoes. He winces at his own volume and flushes. “Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, but you wave it off. You’re used to loud voices because of Satoru. “But y’know, you ignored me when I said that you look really tired.”

Well, you didn’t mean to, but you’re uncomfortable that he’s bringing it back up. “Don’t worry about me. I haven’t been sleeping the greatest, but I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, are you sure about that?” Suddenly, he becomes uncharacteristically serious. “I know this is hard work. We see the worst of the world. You and me, we understand that our friends can get lost in all that darkness, so we try to stay bright for them. But we can’t do that if we don’t take care of ourselves.” He smiles, then. Softly and fondly. “My mom understood that when I said I wanted to enroll in school here. She wants to hear about my day, no matter how bad what I see is. She wants to help me carry the burden.”

“It’s hard to believe there are non-sorcerer parents who believe in cursed spirits,” you mumble more to yourself than him. “You have an amazing mother, Yu. I’m jealous.”

He preens, as he should. “My dad listens, too!” He blinks, laughs nervously, and then tries to humble himself quickly after. “It took them a while to accept it, though. But when both your children can see these invisible things, it becomes a little harder to deny. I think they still were kinda in denial until Sensei came and confirmed it all.”

“Still…the fact that they’re willing to hear the details…”

“My mom told me that she tells herself that it’s like I’m going to school to become a medical examiner. Eh, my dad was a real delinquent in high school before he got his act together. He was in a gang. It’s not as bad as what I see, but he can handle the nastier things that I can’t hold in anymore.”

As the manager pulls up to the curb, here to pick you both up for the trip to the Zen’in compound, Yu passes you one of the three onigiri he brought with him. He stands up, interrupting your incoming protest, and grins down at you. “Don’t worry! I know you forget to eat in the mornings a lot, so I made an extra! Just like I know you’re tired but won’t lean on my shoulder unless I say it’s okay!”

One day, you hope that you can meet Yu’s parents, only to tell them how great a job they did in raising a son.

As you’ve come to learn about these long-established clans, they meet you with open hostility. To them, you are not only an outsider, but an extension of headquarters’ will. Despite the fact that there is a Kamo and Zen’in on the council, they are bound by Tengen’s authority. Gakuganji confirmed, after reprimanding you on your manners with the Kamo, that Tengen was the one who wanted to test your abilities. At some point, when you’re done with the Zen’in, he’ll want to meet with you. It’s a terrifying prospect.

Anyway, the leader of the Zen’in clan is not the higher-up that you’d been speaking with. The man that briefly shows his face to you and Yu is graying, has an insanely weirdly styled mustache, and holds a gourd while stinking of alcohol. He passes out as soon as he sprawls out across from you two. Yu is the one to go try and find someone to talk to since the leader—Naobito, the manager told you—is snoring away.

Two people soon walk into the room, followed by Yu. You’ve never seen Yu have to force a smile before, but there’s a first time for everything. You’ve always been under the belief that Yu is an excellent judge of character, so when he finds it hard to like someone, your hackles are immediately raised. Then again, the horror stories that you’ve heard about this clan, you didn’t really need Yu’s opinion, anyway.

A middle-aged man briefly glances at Naobito with a disgusted curl of the lip before turning his terrifying gaze on you. The sclera of his eyes is pitch black. You refuse to even try to make eye contact. They’d probably appreciate that, anyway, since they think a woman’s place is beneath a man. The other person with him is someone that’s actually close to your age. His hair is dyed blonde at the top of his head while his roots are a dark, dark green.

“I am Zen’in Ogi, younger brother of Naobito,” the older man introduces with no small amount of loathing. “Naoya—”

The one that’s your age—Naoya—hasn’t stopped moving toward you. When he’s directly in front of you, he tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing you. “You should smile more.”

You tilt to the side, focusing on Ogi. “Thank you for hosting us.”

“Oi.” Naoya nudges you with his tabi. It takes everything in you not to lash out or flinch away. You know a bully when you see one and they revel in seeing that their antics are affecting their target. “I’m next in line for head of the clan, y’know. You should be talking to me about this stuff.”

“You’re not of age yet.” You are a child, you’re silently saying. This is an assumption, of course, but Satoru did mention there being someone in the Zen’in clan that bothers him at the annual Big Three meetup. It’s supposedly to keep the peace, but it’s just a way to show off the next generation’s strength, Satoru says. A pissing contest. “You’re more than welcome to sit and listen as I speak with Mister Ogi.”

“You don’t need to be such a bitch,” Naoya scolds haughtily. “Especially when I’ll be the one escorting you around.”

You haven’t looked away from Ogi. You watch his cheek twitch, as if he’s holding back from laughing. Clan dynamics are just so…odd. To enjoy the embarrassment of another simply because you’re not next in line. Maybe you should’ve simply smiled and played along because Ogi will probably stick Naoya with you to keep up the flustering of his nephew.

Trying to dodge a day with this spoiled brat, you politely inform Ogi, “I would be more than happy to wait if you’re both too busy.”

“Seeing as Naobito is…indisposed—” is that what they’re calling being blackout drunk? “We have nothing pressing anymore, so Naoya can see to you. It would do him good to revisit our cursed object collection seeing as it’ll be his to worry about when he’s clan head.” Ogi pulls something out of his yukata. A key. “Naoya, keep them away from the Disciplinary Pit. You’re responsible for their safety. We can’t have any incidents potentially impacting our seat at headquarters.”

Naoya scoffs unhappily.

It might be the only time that you’ll ever agree with this brat.

Zen’in Naoya is insistent on pestering you.

To your great misfortune, no one educated Naoya on the purpose of your visit. So, he uses that as an opening to throw question after question at you while peppering in his annoying commentary. As much as you care for Yu, if he asks to go to lunch after this, you might actually cry. You’ve been here a little over an hour and have a headache. You’re teetering on the verge of losing your temper and getting yourself in trouble.

“Why are a couple of students here, anyway?”

“To examine the seals of your cursed objects and strengthen them if they’re too weak.”

“What? Are you training to be one of those managers or whatever?” Naoya laughs obnoxiously. “Gross.”

“I’m a sorcerer,” you correct.

“One of the strongest at school!” Yu adds on your behalf.

Naoya, in front of you both as he leads you across the compound, glances over his shoulder to eye you skeptically. If their clan looks down so harshly on women, it wouldn’t be that far a stretch to assume that he doesn’t think your capable of strength. “What kind of technique do you have?”

“Pacification and control, to an extent,” you answer.

He raises a brow. “Like that Geto guy that got assigned Special Grade with Gojo?”

The mention of Satoru and Suguru makes you bristle, of course. It’s a protective instinct, you guess. “No. I can hide myself from cursed spirits. I keep them calm. If they’re weak enough, I can suggest things to them.” Before he can ask, you go ahead and answer what you expect his next question will be. “Headquarters considers me an expert on cursed spirits. They thought it would be beneficial for me to also learn about seals. I’m here on their orders.”

“Sounds like you’re a knockoff of that Geto kid, then.”

The jab has you gritting your teeth.

You have to admit, that’s a new insult. People have accused you of holding him back, being an annoying burr in his side that just won’t leave. No one has ever said that you’re a weaker version of him, though. You’re not sure why it’s slowly starting to get under your skin. Maybe it’s an insult to your usefulness—something that you’re already incredibly insecure about. And you hate that you’re genuinely thinking about this now.

“Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Naoya is, blessedly, silent for the rest of the trek. You reach the end of the dark staircase that you assumed was to take you underground. It’s a large stone chamber with tile flooring. As soon as you step fully into the room, a massive wave of cursed energy washes over you. Yu freezes, breath hitching, eyes widening. It’s not that intimidating, is it? There’s quite the number of spirits somewhere down here, yes, but they’re all Grade 2 or lower.

You’re honestly more irritated than anything by the sheer arrogance and stupidity of this clan. “You have cursed objects…near all these cursed spirits?” The chamber diverges. Ahead, there is a giant room that has ropes across the opening. Ropes, you note, that have weak seals attached to them.

Naoya waves you off. “They won’t break through that seal.”

“Having cursed objects so close only makes them more agitated,” you educate, though you know that he’s probably already aware of that fact. “The more agitated they are, the more they batter against that barrier and weaken it. Why do you even have spirits on your compound?”

He sticks a finger in his ear, as if your nagging is nothing but an itch in his ear. “Didn’t you hear my uncle? It’s a pit for training and discipline. We like agitating them, obviously. That makes the pit more effective.”

The Kamo and Gojo had their own collection of spirits. Most people from the clans aren’t like Satoru. Homeschooling in Japan isn’t allowed until high school, so there’s a special private school that’s in the know of jujutsu and works with the headquarters and the government. That school in Kyoto is where most children of the clans go until high school where they head back to their clans to be trained intensely.

Still, the spirits that the Kamo and Gojo had weren’t nearly as strong. Satoru said that the people in his clan go out in the field to find the strong spirits because they understand that there are vulnerable people on their compounds. How they feel about those vulnerable people might horrify you, but they aren’t actively putting the lives of everyone in their compounds in danger every single second like the Zen’in clan is.

What the hell is wrong with these people?

“I’ll be reinforcing those seals, too,” you force out through gritted teeth.

Naoya simply shrugs before heading in the opposite direction of the pit where there’s a hall. At the end of it is a massive door, a bunch of seals lining the door that’s locked with a basic chain and padlock. Is jujutsu society built on nothing but a crumbling infrastructure? Are they all so arrogant and complacent that they assume it’ll all be fine until it’s just not anymore? Then again, why wouldn’t they be when they have bodies to throw at their problems?

What are you even doing here anymore?

Increasingly more and more, you wonder what would’ve happened to you if you stayed behind in the village. Who knows how long you’d be under the thumb of your overprotective yet distant mother and bitter father. You’d fumble your way through some job in the town or a nearby one, too poor for college and probably getting talked out of it by your mother, anyway. Which would be a better life? It seems like both paths leads to you being a simple cog in a broken machine.

“Here, Senpai,” Yu whispers as he passes you the cage with the fly heads. “I think it might be better for me to wait outside.”

“No.” You glare at Naoya. “It’s safer to be in here.”

Naoya rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. Besides, if you were a competent sorcerer, you could easily handle all those spirits by yourself.”

“Would you like to keep watch, then?”

He sniffs. “No thanks. I want to see what you can do.”

“I work better in silence.”

Naoya smiles beatifically. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Seeing as this is his home, there’s nothing you can do about his presence. This is seriously throwing off the routine you’ve created with this assignment which only aggravates you further. But you move your focus to watching the fly heads, gauging their reactions as you walk amongst the shelves, holding the cage to each object. You’re even irritated with the fly heads, impatient at their slow reaction times when you already know which seals are weakest.

Naoya, shockingly, is relatively quiet. But, because he’s insistent on being a pest, he hangs over your shoulder. Yu is a good friend, knowing how you work, and stands back by the door. There aren’t many objects that require a fresh seal—less than the Kamo and Gojo which is as much credit as you’ll give this clan. If you had to guess as to why that is, they have more people in their clan so there are more people to assign this task. After all, this is a super traditional clan that believes in…sowing their oats as much as humanly possible.

The biggest task today will be that rope along the pit. If you’re honest, you want to be stubborn and ignore it. You don’t want to fuel this barbaric practice. If you don’t, though, the seal will continue to degrade. Your pettiness could cost many lives if these spirits ever escaped. You could leave it to the clan. Write a scathing review of what you saw. You doubt the higher-ups will do much about it, though. The Zen’in would probably call it an exercise and just let it break.

“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?” Naoya drawls as you’re scribbling some notes for your final report to hand in to the higher-ups. You ignore him because he’ll give you his advice whether you want it or not. Some people just love the sound of their own voice. “If you want a man, you need to smile more.” You pointedly deepen your frown. Yu hides his laugh behind a cough. Naoya flushes in chagrin. “What’s your problem with me, huh? I’m trying to give you advice.”

“Marriage is not a priority for me. I’m too young for that.”

“Oh, c’mon. Marriage is the only thing normal girls are thinking about for all their lives.”

“Yes, because sorcerers are such normal people.” You can’t help the sarcasm now. Your patience has finally been pushed to the limit. “So, again, that is not a priority for me right now or in the foreseeable future.”

He hums. “Maybe you should think harder about it. You never know when an offer for marriage might come your way. You’re sort of plain, sure, and you definitely have no pedigree. Still, you have a decent ability. Like I said, Geto Suguru knockoff. Our clan is always looking for fresh talent to be passed along to the next generation when it comes to women.”

The thought of marrying into this clan makes you gag. You do it right in front of Naoya’s face, unable to control yourself, and he sputters in outrage. Yu immediately leaps into action, putting himself between you and Naoya.

With his back to you, he faces Naoya with squared shoulders and a voice that’s low and dangerous. “Stop criticizing my senpai.”

Naoya’s feet spread slightly, as if preparing to take a battle stance. “Oh? What are you gonna do about it, peasant?” Peasant? A lame insult. Are you in the Heian era or what? “You look like you’ve got nothing going on in that head of yours, so let me lay it out for you and your senpai in simple terms. It’s the highest honor to even be a consideration in the running of the next Zen’in clan head’s wife.”

Him? Naoya was suggesting a proposal from him? Oh, you feel nauseous. You feel so disturbed that the fly heads fluttering around in the cage come to a dead stop and watch you intently, having been unintentionally put under your influence. Right. So, you should calm down. Seems like an enormous task at the moment. Just a little longer, you desperately remind yourself. You’ll say your piece to Naoya and move on.

You gently nudge Yu out of the way so that Naoya can see the radiance and superiority in your smile. Suguru would be proud if he saw it. “I was under the impression that the jujutsu world prized strength above all else. Was that wrong?” You tilt your head, mocking in your curiosity. “There would be more honor in being Gojo Satoru’s whore than there would ever be in becoming the wife of a Zen’in.”

It has the desired effect. You imagine that heads and heirs of the Kamo and Zen’in clans have quite the complex when it comes to Satoru who, for all intents and purposes, carries the Gojo clan on his back. One could argue the entire jujutsu world, but that’s a conversation for another time.

Naoya, with his face red and twisted into an ugly snarl and ears practically blowing steam, is interrupted before he can start throwing a temper tantrum.

A scream.

No, two of them.

Both you and Yu are on the move immediately, leaving behind Naoya’s shouted, “Oi!”

There are children down here. Two little girls from the sound of it. You can hear them begging for their father. Even worse, they must be non-sorcerer children because you only feel the muted presence of all those cursed spirits in the pit, Yu, Naoya, and someone else. It’s that man, Ogi. Thank goodness that someone has a heart or some sense, at least. He must be coming to get the children that ran down here. You’ll still rush to help, of course. You can calm the spirits down—

As you break away from the hallway, the horror of what you see sends you to a screeching halt. Yu gasps, visibly shaken and outraged at the same time. Because, ahead of you, is Ogi, yes. But he is not helping the two little girls who slipped down here, no, no. He has each one tucked under his arm, overpowering the twin girls’ frantic struggles to get away from the fucking pit with cursed spirits. They’re screaming and begging for their father…to stop from doing what he’s about to do.

“Stop!” Yu screeches, angrier than you have ever seen him before. Then, ruder than you’ve ever heard him be, he goes on to ask, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you senile geezer?!”

Ogi doesn’t hesitate. Not even a bit. As soon as he’s at the top of the staircase that leads down to the pit, he roughly tosses both the twins down it, right into the belly of the beast. You move, as deadly serious at the older man, dead set on getting those little girls out of there. Ogi turns to face you, hand reaching for the handle of his katana.

“Stand down,” he barks. “These are my children, and I’ll punish them as I see fit.” He actually takes a stance. Prepared to cut you and Yu down to continue this cruel abuse disguised as parenting. “Strangers will not be allowed to interfere in clan business. The higher-ups won’t protect you.”

You think when you heard my children, that’s when you snapped. It’s a moment of immense pressure in your skull, of ringing in your ears, of blood slipping down from your nose across the cupid’s bow of your top lip. Maybe the reason that you don’t pass out immediately is because it’s only to make Ogi misstep when he swings his katana at you. It smacks against the tile, the sound reverberating, and you sidestep him to rush into the pit.

It’s too late.

Or maybe you spent too much mental energy on making Ogi stop that you don’t have enough time to reattune your focus to quell the cursed spirits in the pit. The weaker spirits hesitate, but there’s one—Grade 2, bordering on Grade 1. It raises an arm, claws poised to slash. Only one of the girls reacts, throwing herself in front of her sister that’s looking around wildly because she must not be able to see the spirits that her sister has barely enough cursed energy to do.

Again, it’s too late to stop the blow, but you make it in time to be the one to take it. You leap at the girls, blanketing their small bodies with yours just as the claws come down. It burns. It burns. And the only reason that you’re conscious, that you’re alive is because Yu was right behind you and managed to knock the spirit off balance enough to weaken the blow.

Your body, uncaring of limits when it’s now on the brink of death, finds the energy to send a surge of cursed energy throughout the room. Every single spirit, even the one with blood dripping from its claws, is lulled to stillness by your pacification. Kill yourself, your body screams.

“Cover…” Your nails scrape against the tile before you clench your fists. “Cover…your…your ears,” you shakily demand of the girl that can see the cursed spirits.

Children shouldn’t have to hear the gore that’s about to ensue.

Slowly, you float back to consciousness while wondering when you even passed out.

You’re kind of surprised that you’re even awake right now. Because you’re sprawled out on your belly on a futon, naked down to your waist but not all that exposed since bandages are wrapped all around your upper torso. Your stomach and breasts are sore, an indication that you’ve been in this position for a long time now. Still, as uncaring about your comfort as they were, the Zen’in didn’t let you die.

Ha. So much for that old man’s warning that you wouldn’t be protected.

Then again, maybe the Zen’in don’t want to deal with the rage of Gojo Satoru.

Speaking of rage…

“Suguru,” you hoarsely call out to the dark presence that you sense looming in the corner of the room. Just a tilt to the side has pain racing across your body, so you can’t turn to see where he’s at, but you feel him. His cursed energy is burning. “Stop with that. You’ll scare everyone.”

“It’s the least they deserve,” Suguru spits.

With how furious he feels and sounds, you expect him to stay where he is. Brooding. But he doesn’t. You hear the shift of fabric before the soft padding of his feet against the tatami. He does look the picture of rage with his eyes, burning bright. His jaw is clenched, along with his fists that he puts on his thighs when he kneels down next to you. If someone other than you were here, it might be intimidating.

It is you, though, and it’s all undermined with Tamamo-no-Mae floating behind him. Her cursed energy is familiar, almost like a comfort now. He’s had her since that field trip to Osorezan. When one of her fox tails flops down from underneath her jūnihitoe, she strokes your cheek with it, and you giggle. And, like always, fox hair gets in your mouth.

“Put her away. Her toes gross me out,” you breathe out, trying to bring some levity to the situation before you start trying to spit out the fox hair without moving your hand. You think it’ll hurt too much to move your arms. “I can’t believe you pulled out a Special Grade for the Zen’in.”

“I don’t trust them.” Finally, his expression softens when his gaze drops down to you. He reaches down to put his hand on the side of your face. “How are you?”

“Hurts,” you admit.

“I know,” he croons sympathetically as he strokes your cheek. “Of all the times for Shoko to be away,” he sighs. “She won’t be here until the day after tomorrow. Satoru threatened to end the mission early, but Shoko talked him out of it. She spoke with the Zen’in that treated you. If you had a brain bleed, you’d already be dead. I sent her some photos of your back, too. You’ll be okay to wait. There’s just going to be scarring.”

“As if I care about that,” you mumble tiredly as your eyes slip close. “Can we go home?”

“Of course.” Suguru hunches over to press a kiss against your forehead. You don’t have it in you to be shy. “I’ll try not to have the spirit move you too much, but I’m sorry in advanced if it hurts you.”

“‘s okay. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Rest now.”

Somehow, you manage not to cry from the pain, but it’s a definite struggle. The worst part is when you arrive at the barrier around campus and Suguru has to carry you in his arms from there. Thankfully, the barrier is right at the top of the staircase, so you’re not jostled as much on the back of a manta ray as you would’ve been if Suguru carried you all the way up them. By the time he makes it to your room, though, your stitches have re-opened.

“You’re going to take a shower with me?” Now you have a little more mental energy to feel flustered.

Suguru is kneeled down in front of you, having carried you to the locker room where he’s now slipping your shoes off. “I know you. The blood dried on your back is bothering you, isn’t it? You’re not going to be able to sleep with it on your skin.” You look away, trying not to pout because he’s totally right and you kind of hate it. Above all else, it makes you feel special, but you also hate it. “We’ve had sex before,” he reminds you. “If you’re really uncomfortable with it then we can wait for Shoko.”

“No, I don’t want to wait for her.” Your cheeks puff out, so, yeah, you’re definitely pouting now. “I…us showering together…it doesn’t bother me that much. It’s just…I hate putting you out. You…you don’t have to dote on me like…this…” You motion to where his hands are curled around the waistband of your leggings. Despite your protest, you still lift your hips up to let him slide your leggings off. “I bet you didn’t do this with Satoru.”

“I did take care of him as much as he’d let me, actually.” Oh. “And I washed his back, too.” Suguru chuckles softly. “In all our years together, has it ever crossed your mind that I like taking care of you?”

No, honestly. That thought has never crossed your mind. “Help me undress,” you mumble embarrassedly. “Jeez, you didn’t need to lay it on so thick. I get it, I get it.”

“It’s cute when you get all shy,” he teases. “You act exactly like Satoru did.”

“Guess you have a type then,” you grouse.

He laughs at that. An actual laugh. And his face is soft, welcoming. “I guess I do, don’t I?”

Suguru had the hindsight to put you in his blazer before you left the Zen’in compound. It’s easy to take off without aggravating your stitches further. But there’s no stopping the sting of the water hitting the slashes across your back. Suguru rubs your shoulder soothingly as you try to force your body to relax. Everything is sore. The antiseptic meant to numb the area that the Zen’in medic was magnanimous enough to give you has faded. You duck your head, focusing on the water at your feet that slowly bleeds to pink to try and forget the pain.

Gently, Suguru starts to wash your back, exactly like he said he would. There’s no getting around the fact that the cloth will brush against your tender stitches. You grit your teeth in preparation and clutch at his hand still on your shoulder. As he gets to work, he starts up a conversation because he understands that keeping your mind off things will help.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“Yu didn’t say?”

“No. Sensei pulled him in to talk with Gakuganji and some of the Zen’in. I think they went back to school ahead of us. The clans can pretend they’re better than the rest of us, but they still answer to headquarters. So, there might be some trouble for the Zen’in since you were technically there on orders.”

“Good.” He hums in question at your scathing remark. “They have a pit, you know. It’s filled with cursed spirits. The one that hurt me was nearly a Grade 1. They call it the Disciplinary Pit. I knew they were traditional but that…that’s barbaric.” The other hand that isn’t clutching Suguru is balled into a fist at your side. “And what was that old bastard going to do? He was going to throw children in there. They couldn’t have been more than…I don’t know. Six? And…and they were non-sorcerers!”

Suguru’s hand stops suddenly. The one gripping your shoulder goes unbearably tight. Against your back, you feel the other curl into a ball. “Non-sorcerers did this to you?”

Your brows furrow. Putting the pain aside, you look over your shoulder, utterly confused about where he got that idea from. “Did you space out just now or…?” Why does he look almost as angry as he did in the Zen’in compound? “Are you okay?” Why do you feel so…uneasy right now? “I said that old man—”

“Were those his children?”

“Yes? I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though. Did you not hear me when I said the pit was full of cursed spirits?”

“I heard, but…” He takes a deep breath, exhales, in that way he does when he’s trying to quell his temper. “Are you sure you didn’t overreact? I doubt he would’ve let them get hurt. You’re making it sound like he was just disciplining his children—”

“Overreacting,” you repeat blankly.

He sighs your name, irritated again. “Stop it. I can already tell you’re taking it the wrong way. We know how you are—”

Slowly, you force Suguru’s hand away from your shoulder, continuing to stare at him like he’s grown another head. He may as well have. You turn around, hoping that he’ll backtrack in the time it takes you to face him, but he seems to mentally double down because he squares his jaw when your eyes meet his. There’s…an energy festering around him. You don’t like it. It’s so angry.

But you are as equally angry, so you don’t try to appease him. You don’t try to calm things down. Instead, you lash out, seeking to antagonize. “Am I speaking a different language right now?”

Suguru picks up on your hostility, his own hackles raising once again. “You acted rashly. You almost died…and for what? Did you even ask what they did?”

This conversation has been slipping under your skin, touching a nerve that makes it hard to ignore. You don’t understand why until you unthinkingly snap, “Should I have asked your parents what you did before I went to the teachers about your bruises?”

He barks out a laugh. Dark. Nasty. Bitter. “Maybe you should have. Maybe then my arm wouldn’t have gotten broken because of you.”

The words are worse than a gut punch. Worse than how it felt when that curse’s claws sunk into your skin. You knew. In the back of your mind, logically, you knew that the social worker was called because of you and the broken arm he showed up at school with was because of you, too. But…the hurt of him saying that is so visceral.

Still, you must not look hurt enough because Suguru keeps going. “Are you ever going to stop and think before trying to help someone? Haven’t you hurt enough people?”

Dread, ice cold, rushes through your veins, dousing the fire of anger. You’re panicked by the things welling up inside the center of your chest. You blurt, “Leave.”

Suguru shakes his head. He sighs, the edge leaving his features. How dare he look so sympathetic. Like…like he pities you for not having figured this truth out sooner. Just more salt rubbed on this wound he dealt. For a moment, you’re reminded of your mother and the pity she has for her simple daughter. This is not your Suguru. Not anymore. You don’t know who this is and that scares you.

He reaches out a hand, whispering your name, but you flinch away.

“Leave!”  

The order is screeched so loud that your voice cracks. It’s a volume that you didn’t think yourself capable of, let alone Suguru having heard out of you before. The noise startles him, and he jerks away. The two of you stare at each other, confused about the strangers you’ve become. You’re both shaken.

Suguru tries again, blinking the confusion away as he repeats your name and reaches out.

Trying to hide away from him, you try to cover yourself while backing away. You latch onto that demand because it’s all you can do. “Leave!” You don’t want him to see you collapse in on yourself. He won’t bring you peace. He’ll only make it worse. You scream again, “Leave!”

Scream and scream and scream…

Until, finally, looking like a wounded animal, he leaves.

It takes a long, long time for you to leave the shower room.

As unsanitary as it is, you’d sat down, butt ass naked, in the middle of the showers, sobbing and trying to calm yourself down. If you could, you’d have curled up right there and gone to sleep, but you gain enough comprehension back to know that would be a stupid idea as your emotions subside.

Still sensitive, still raw, you walk out to the locker room and see your clothes on the bench. The clothes that Suguru picked out for you. Along with the fresh bandages that he was planning to help you with. You’ll have to do that yourself now. Somehow. It pisses you off. Even when you throw the clothes to the floor in anger, you realize that you’re more upset at yourself than him. It isn’t his fault that you’re so helpless.

Halfway to your room, in nothing but your towel, you sense Yu’s cursed energy growing closer. You only have enough time to finish waddling to your room, slam the door behind you, and put on panties and shorts before he’s knocking on your door. The sound has you gritting your teeth in annoyance.

“Senpai,” he calls out through the door. His voice is alarmed. “Senpai, there’s blood on the floor!”

Damn it. “I just pulled at the stitches. It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“But…aren’t those stitches on your back? Can you reach them?”

“I’ll manage,” you snarl loudly.

On the other side of the door, there’s a pause. Your anger is getting misplaced. If you don’t calm down, you might lose a friend today. Maybe more than one. Who the fuck knows where you and Suguru stand right now. Fuck, you want to dig your teeth into something and tear. You should not be around another person anymore today.

“Okay! I’m coming in, so please cover up!” Yu warns. The doorknob rattles once before he realizes, “Um. Right. You might not be decent and probably need time to get dressed. Let me know when you’re ready. I won’t leave until you do!”

Oh, well, it seems that his stubbornness has knocked your temper loose. Or you accept that you’re too exhausted to wait him out, so there’s also no use in staying mad. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself. You grab the chair from your desk, spin it around the opposite way, and sit with your chest against the backrest. You keep your damp towel pressed tight to your chest.

“Go ahead,” you call out to him tiredly.

“Thank you!”

“Why are you thanking me?” You tilt your head forward, knocking it against the edge of the chair. “Sorry for making you clean up my mess.” From the position of your head, you can see the splotches of red on your towel. “Literally,” you add under your breath because you know Yu’s going to offer to clean up all the blood.

Yu shuffles forward. Hearing the clutter coming from the direction of your desk means he’s gathering up the first-aid kit. “How many times have you patched me and Nanamin up? Isn’t it time for me to return the favor?”

“I’m the senpai here.”

“What did we talk about this morning?”

Right. Take care of yourself. Lean on others. Yu doesn’t understand that if you lean too much on someone else, you quickly become a burden. No. You can’t let your mind go there right now. “Didn’t you take care of me enough when you saved my life today?”

“Eh? What are you talking about? I distracted it long enough for you to finish them off. All of them. That geezer’s reaction when they all killed themselves was funny, now that I know you’re safe and can think about it.” You both share a laugh at that asshole, Ogi’s, expense. “They’re sending you on a mission with us,” he admits after a minute of silence.

“Punishment for overstepping?”

Yu doesn’t say it is, but it is. You know how these things go. “Purely research!” Yu tries to soften the blow. “We’ll make sure you don’t lift a finger! You won’t even have to think that hard! We can make it a vacation.” Yeah, right. You’re pretty sure if an auxiliary manager saw you having fun with Yu and Kento, you’d be sent away again on another mission for the penalty of simply enjoying life. “And if you don’t feel like shopping for souvenirs, I’ll do it for you. We won’t tell anyone.”

“Sure, Yu. That sounds good.”

Yu’s voice is so unbearably soft when he whispers, “You need rest, too, Senpai.” His kindness brings tears to your eyes. You’re glad that your head is down so that you can’t embarrass yourself any further today. “I’ll make sure you get some. Just leave it to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Emotion clogs up your throat, but you manage a weak, “Thank you.”

***

[06:55] You didn’t see me before you left.

[06:56] You saw Satoru. Not me.

[06:58] Never mind. I get why.

[07:32] I went too far. I was cruel. I don’t blame you for that. Never have. You were the only person that tried to help me. I’ll never forget that. I’ll always be grateful. What I said was me looking for things to say to hurt you. I almost lost you and didn’t know how to deal with that. It didn’t seem like you cared about your own life. I lashed out.

[09:13] I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress. I can’t eat or sleep. It’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ll say it as much as you need me to. I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re all I have left.

[11:29] Squid. Please. Say something. Anything. I’m sorry.

[13:10] I know you’re angry. But I’m worried. No one has heard from you. Haibara won’t answer. Neither will Nanami.

[13:11] Just a simple reply. A frowny face. Anything at all. Let me know you’re seeing this.

[14:04] Squid?

[14:05[ Please.

[16:43] Are you safe?

[16:44] Is what I’m hearing true?

[16:45] Be safe. Please. Be safe.

[16:46] I’m on the way.

***

It’s a disgustingly humid September night, technically, but right now, you’re cold.

And all you wanted was to be like them.

Foolishly, you told yourself that if they could take a mission three weeks after they faced death, why couldn’t you? It’s not like you almost died. The two weeks that Sensei pushed for you to have off were generous enough. Besides, you understand it now, how much of a hindrance you actually were when you fought to keep them out of the field.

You need this.

You can’t stand to be alone with your mind.

But you weren’t ready. Just the sight of the small, dilapidated shrine has blood splattering across your memories. You break out into a cold sweat. There’s a war inside your mind. This isn’t like two weeks ago—that’s what you try to remind yourself. Push through it. A shrine doesn’t automatically equal an ubusunagami spirit. Where is Suguru? You’re sick to your stomach. Why did you split up? Have you learned nothing? Are you going to be too late to save a life again?

Stop, you plead to your body. You clench your trembling fists. You have to do this. The world has to spin on. It doesn’t care about a stupid girl who made the wrong call and killed a boy. This work is both your punishment and atonement. You’ll let them keep tugging at the leash around your neck until it’s a noose because that’s what you deserve.

The oppressive weight of the Grade 1’s cursed energy that’s been haunting these woods shifts. With nothing but the moon and some flashlights, it’s easy to follow after the explosion of blue light. You’re dazed over the fact that you missed everything that happened. Was there even a fluctuation? A fight? Is Suguru just that strong that he can absorb a Grade 1 in the dead of night like it’s nothing?

As you break into the clearing where he is, you ask, “You took care of it?” Like the answer isn’t obviously sliding down his throat, glowing eerily through the delicate skin of his neck. “Why didn’t you come find me? I wasn’t far.”

Suguru glances away after it’s swallowed. Not even a wince anymore. “It’s fine.”

This irritates you. Another little thing tonight that he’s done. Reminding you incessantly that you could stay behind with the auxiliary manager, trying to force food down your throat when you’re clearly not hungry, touching the small of your back to guide you, hovering. Now, he does this.

The only reason that you keep your mouth shut is because you know he cares. He’s a good person, like everyone else. They don’t blame you and treat you like glass, like you’re a victim. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to breathe. You tell yourself it’s the humidity making your chest tight.

With the other hand, you wave your sketchbook. “Are you serious? It was Grade 1. I’m supposed to record that.”

“I’ll let you sketch it later.”

“It’s pointless now,” you mutter. “Don’t even bother.”

Suguru scoffs. “Okay. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Recording them doesn’t only mean drawing pretty pictures. I’m supposed to observe their behavior.”

“You can.”

“You know it isn’t the same when they’re under your control.”

Suguru reaches up to press a thumb to his forehead, meaning he’s getting irritated with you. You resist the urge to do the same, instead tapping your foot impatiently. “It’s your first mission back,” he tries to reason. “I’m sure they’ll be understanding. But if they try to hold imperfect notes against you, I’ll take the blame.”

“I don’t want them to take it easy on me!”

He shakes his head, dismissive. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m not broken.”

“Everything about this goddamn system is broken!” Suguru shouts, making you reel back. The two of you watch each other warily. He shakes his head again, squeezes his eyes shut, takes deep breaths. “Let’s…just go. We’ll deal with this later,” he mutters irritably. “Let’s meet with the contact in the village and use their phone to call the manager.”

“Fine.”

Three wide brown eyes stare at you in terror.

There should be four, but one is swollen shut.

That face is too tiny to be so battered.

Suguru speaks where you cannot. “What is this?”

A man and woman were at the door, frantic and desperate to know where you and Suguru had been. Before you’d even had the chance to explain that their problem was taken care of, they practically shoved you and Suguru toward a shed. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say throughout their panicked and angry babbling. You think there was something about some murderers.

From behind you, your contact in the village answers, “What, you ask? These two are responsible for the latest incidents, right?”

Suguru is back to pressing a thumb to his forehead. Emotions are rising. Yours definitely are. Anger is putting a tremble in your hands again and your head is throbbing. You’re trying to find your voice past the lump in your throat. What the fuck is this? Does no one fucking visit these places before sending a sorcerer out?! A sorcerer wasn’t the only person needed here! A goddamn police officer was!

“No, they’re not,” Suguru answers more calmly than you can.

The man insists, “These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers!”

Something about the girls shifting, huddling closer to each other, finally snaps you into action. Full of rage, you shove past the woman to grab the set of keys that you saw near the door. “If you psychos even gave us the chance to talk, you’d know that we got rid of the problem already!”

The couple starts to sputter in outrage, seeing your clear plan to release these girls. Suguru remains unmoving, big body enough of a deterrent to keep the non-sorcerers from lashing out. So, the woman claws at your wrist. “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two!”

One of the little girls, the one with dirty blonde hair, tries to protest, “That’s because she—”

“Shut up, you monsters!” Out of the corner of your eye, the shadows shift unnaturally. In the flickering of the flame, it’s not too noticeable. Suguru’s shadow raises a hand, pointing, and from the end of that finger comes a little spirit. “Your parents were just as bad,” the woman continues to rave. “I knew we should have killed you when you two were babies!”

It’s okay, Suguru commands the little spirit to whisper. He’s trying to reassure the little girls, to let them know that you’re all one in the same, that they’ll be safe with you. Adrenaline is rushing through your veins. There is a primal instinct to get these girls out of this place. You are all in danger here.

Blocking the entrance of the cell with your body, with every fiber of your being, you swear to the couple, “If you ever try to hurt these children again, I will kill you.” If Suguru will be gentle, then you will flash your teeth. It’s enough to send the man and woman stumbling back. “We’re leaving. If you try to stop us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

No response. They just book it.

As soon as they’re out the door, you’re a flurry of movement. You tear off your hoodie and snatch Suguru’s blazer from where it’d slipped out of his grasp from the shock. You collapse to your knees in front of the girls, resisting the urge to touch them and check for injuries before you introduce yourself.

“We’re like you,” you explain as gently as you can when you feel so frantic. “We see them. We see you. I’m going to protect you with my life, okay? Are you cold?” They nod fervently. “Put these on. Let me help. Can you walk?” Throughout the process of wrapping them up in something warm, they manage weak affirmations. “Good. Okay. I know the things you’ve been seeing are scary, but Suguru can control them. If you see any of them, don’t be afraid. You never have to be afraid when he’s around.” You look over your shoulder briefly, hoping that directly speaking to him will pull him out of the trance. “Right? Suguru?”

Suguru stares at you blankly, unseeing. Inside him, though, his cursed energy is a frenzy. So big, so uncontrollable that it bleeds out. It’s sharp, like needles pinning down the wings of an insect. You are aggressively thrown back to that day where Satoru rose from the dead, godlike in his power, and how small it made you feel. Prey under the heavy gaze of a predator.

“Suguru is going to protect us all,” you tell yourself and them. High emotions have you sensitive to the cursed energies of others, so that’s why you can feel him so viscerally. It’s scary. You’ve never felt rage like this before—from you or him. It’s the same for you, but you can’t sit here and stew in this. These girls come first now. “Take my hands,” you instruct them as you hold your hands out. “Don’t let go.”

The makeshift prison is, thankfully, on the edge of the village. It wouldn’t be good to parade through the streets. Locking these children up was a collective decision. The faster you can get the fuck out, the better. If you can make it through the woods, to the main road, you can get a signal there, you think. No. No, you’ll just ride the manta ray. You’ll explain everything as soon as you get to Sensei.

“You’re safe now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” You didn’t realize you were rambling, unconsciously trying to distract them from their fear with your chatter. “There’s a school. Full of people just like us. You’ll get to meet them. There’s my best friend, Shoko. She’ll make you feel better. Her power is to heal. Better than any regular doctor. And there’s our best friend. His name is Satoru. He’s super strong. Just like Suguru. He loves Digimon. He’s got lots of plushies to share with you.”

All these emotions have you feel like you could crawl out of your skin. And Suguru still hasn’t said anything. He’s mechanical in his movements, staying at the back of your little group. As you guide the group, you can pinpoint the opening of rifts, sense the cursed spirits that crawl out. Good. Yes. More protection. Who knows how those monsters are acting right now. They could be rallying the village.

“We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll never be in a place like that ever again. I swear, you’re going to be in a place that’s full of love and understanding. Not everyone is like those terrible, terrible people—”

The more protective of the two is the blonde, based solely off that she went with you first. Voice shaking, but trying so hard to be brave, she asks, “They’re not?”

“They are.”

There’s this…snap. So brutal a turn that it hits you like whiplash.

Around you, there is such a sudden stillness that it feels like the very world has its breath held. There’s no veil. But nature senses a storm on the horizon. The eeriness of it is like ice slithering down your spine. You’ve unknowingly come to a stop, slowly turning around to face Suguru. Over his shoulder, a wider rift is opening, and as you stare into the inky darkness, many glowing eyes stare back.

The ground shakes when the Grade 1 clumbers out of the rift. It has to be the one from earlier. The foliage and trees growing on its back are distinct. Along with those eyes. And fangs so long and big that they stick out of the spirit’s mouth. It looms tall, but it doesn’t make you feel near as small as Suguru is right now.

“There are good people,” you protest quietly.

“There are good sorcerers,” he corrects just as lowly. “And where do they end up? In the ground.” Carefully, you nudge the girls further behind you before you step away. This is not a conversation that they need to hear. “When will it be our turn?” Close enough, you see the desperation in his eyes. “How long before it’s your body on a slab?”

“Death is a part of life.” Your fingers seek his out, threading together, trying to comfort him. “And we decided to risk that death coming earlier than everyone else when we left home. We chose to put our lives on the line.”

“But who are we doing this for?!” Suguru yanks his hands away, stretching his arms out, gesturing toward everything. “Animals like these?!”

“There are more good people in this world than bad.”

“If that’s the case, why do curses exist?”

“Suguru, that’s just how things are. It’s the way nature made us.”

“No. Nature made sorcerers better. They made us stronger. Why do we have to put our lives on the line like this for stinking monkeys that keep throwing their shit at us? We hide ourselves away from them, working in the shadows, always being so careful to not disturb their peace of mind, and for what? Is it so they can lock little girls in cages because they’re too scared of the unknown? Or so they can beat me like my fucking father did or constantly belittle and demean you like your parents did all for the sin of not being what they call normal? We don’t deserve this!”

“I know we don’t. No one does.” How can you explain this to him? You understand what he’s saying. Down in your bones, you know where this resentment is coming from. “But while there exists extreme cruelty, there also exists overwhelming kindness. It can’t be all bad. We found happiness, didn’t we?”

“We found it with sorcerers. If we lived in a world where no non-sorcerer existed, there wouldn’t be all this pain!”

“But…that world doesn’t exist. It can’t.”

“Why not?”

You give a sharp, hysterical laugh. “Because you’d have to kill every non-sorcerer living, that’s why. That’s not possible.”

He tilts his head, almost condescending when he sneers, “It’s not?” The cursed spirit behind him gives a rumbling growl, reminding you of its presence, of its threat. Your already racing heart pounds faster as you comprehend his meaning. Surely, he doesn’t mean…

“Suguru, let’s go home,” you plead.

“No.” No? “There is no home for me now. We’ll never be safe or happy until this world is clean. I understand what my true path is now. I know what I need to do now…and I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way.”

The precipice that your world has been standing on the edge of for the last year finally tilts.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Right now, you’re the only person that can stand close enough to drag him back from the edge. I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way, he threatens, and right now, you believe that. But not me, you know. Therefore, it must be you that saves him. Because he’s falling. He’s going somewhere that you won’t be able to follow. You’re going to lose him. This would be rebirth and this would be death.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Cursed spirits seem to explode out of him. Too many to count. You know them all. The blossoming promise of an army that the higher-ups were always afraid he could weaponize.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

That Grade 1 shifts. Its maw, hungry for blood, opens wide. It raises an arm, claws sharp and poised at the ready. You know that when it moves, it’s over. The other spirits will follow. This Grade 1 is an extension of Suguru. This is his rage, his loneliness, his agony.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Eyes, cold and hard as the amethyst they so resemble, stare dead ahead with steel-like resolve. Slowly, he starts to turn his back on you. You have to stop him. You have to keep talking to him. And you reach out a hand to grab at his bicep. Your mouth is in the shape of his mouth. You think…you think that you might say something that sounds like stop.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Just as your body instinctually knows that you don’t need to pacify his spirits, that he won’t hurt you…his body knows not to hurt you, either…

Suguru won’t hurt me.

…right?

Suguru won’t—

Blood colors your vision. Pain doesn’t even register in your brain. One second, you’re upright, and in the next, the ground is rising up to meet you. Even the resounding thud that your body gives as it slams down does triggers nothing. Sprawled out in the lush green grass, it only really feels numb to you.

No, all your erratic thoughts can seem to focus on is how disgusting this feels. Wet, sticky heat is quickly soaking your white shirt, weighing it down against your skin, making you feel trapped. You might be gasping for air that you can’t seem to get enough of.

Suguru…hurt…

Thoughts are getting scattered in your brain now. The world narrows in, black hedging in at the corner of your vision. You want it off. The shirt. The blood. You stupidly reach a hand up to wipe away the blood. Gore is all you find. Open gaping wounds that start at the crook of your neck and go…you don’t know how far down. You don’t have the strength left to follow the path.

Suguru…hurt…

Oh. There is he above you now. Thank goodness, you think when you see the panic so clear on his face. Emotion…there’s all those emotions that’d been missing. Nothing cold anymore. Thank goodness. His mouth moves. Says your name, maybe. You can’t hear him. You can’t feel it when he presses his hands somewhere on your body, either. Putting pressure on it must not be working. There’s a lot of blood dripping from his hands when he scrambles to pull out his cell phone. Ah. Yeah, your vision is starting to blur. You give up trying to read his lips.

It's a pretty night, all things considered. For as much as you two hated it, it’s beautiful in the countryside. Easier to see the moon and stars. You always tried to reject that reality. After you left for Tokyo, you thought that was it, that you left that all behind for good, that you wouldn’t die in the backwoods.

Guess you were wrong about that.

[peachylynnie]

ace

word count: 1.7k synopsis: in which sylus defies all logic and odds, just for you. contains: part 2 of blackjack, sylus x fem!reader (non mc, first time meeting), slightly obsessive sylus, alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of weapons and violence, and gambling (know the rules of blackjack). a/n: in blackjack, you want to get as close as you can to 21 without going over. to bust means to go over 21. to stay means to stay with the cards you have. you can tap for more cards or wave to stay. a natural (best outcome) means you immediately get 21 with your initial cards. but, you don't have to get to 21 to win. so long as the dealer has a worse hand than you, you win. essentially, it's a game against the dealer, not the people you play with. reblogs & comments are appreciated. previous chapter | lads masterlist | next chapter

sylus has never lost in blackjack before.

he's mastered every gambling card game for the sake of business deals and corrupt clients. and yet, here you are, spitting at his mastery as you flip another twenty, forcing him to either stay at his nineteen or risk a bust. and sylus never stays or busts in blackjack.

while your hands question almost every statistic and probability out there, your expression is what truly does it for him. even though you've only been winning, you haven't shown a trace of happiness or any other emotion normally present at a poker table. there's nothing when your opponents raise their bets, nothing when you win their bets, and infuriatingly nothing when your silver-haired opponent leans on the table and gazes at you hungrily after you take his chips for the umpteenth time tonight.

chuckling to himself, sylus can't help but think, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours? what will it take for you to look at him with half the interest he's looking at you with right now?

"because the lounge closes in less than thirty minutes," you gesture to the clock, snapping the silver-haired man out of his thoughts. "this will be the final round."

you hand a deck of cards to sylus, signaling him to shuffle. he takes it from you, trying not to shudder when his finger grazes yours.

sherman and his lackey groan upon checking how many chips they have left. "and here i thought blackjack was the easiest game against the house," the former complains as he lights a cigar.

"perhaps," the latter starts carefully, "we can wager something different this round." he shares a knowing look with his boss before turning to sylus. "what do you think, mr. sylus?"

sylus sighs as he finishes shuffling the deck. that idiot messed up his shuffle. great, now he looks like an idiot to you. "what would you like to wager?" he huffs as he places the deck in front of you.

"the deal, sylus," sherman snaps. "if i win, we have a deal."

sylus laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. seems like the imbecile finally decided to drop his friendly act. "and what will your little employee wager?" he asks with faux curiosity.

"that depends on the lady in front of us, mr. sylus," the man in question answers before licking his lips at you. "say, miss dealer. if i win, how about you accompany mr. sherman and me back to a hotel nearby? we promise you'll be thoroughly compensated."

the head of onychinus stands up swiftly, his hands curling into fists. he should have seen this coming. the knowing look sherman and his lackey shared earlier wasn't just a shot at trapping him into a deal; it was an attempt at you and who knows what nauseating desires. before he can pummel the two men into the ground, you speak.

"i'm afraid that won't be possible, gentlemen," you pick up a chip and flip it between your knuckles. "the main objective of blackjack is to beat the dealer, not to win exclusively." your eyes never leave the chip. "for example, what will happen to your wagers if only i win?" you place the chip down. "in other words, multiple wagers are useless in blackjack due to its main objective."

sylus smirks as he sits down, pride blooming in his chest. not only were you good at blackjack, but you were also good at navigating your way in and out of technicalities. oh, he's definitely buying you a drink after this. you earned it. besides, he's curious to know what a talented little lamb like you is doing in the n109 zone. maybe a drink or two will soften you up and lay your mind bare.

"what would you suggest, miss dealer?" sherman questions angrily, his eye twitching. "you're impossible to beat, and unfortunately," he chucks a gun onto the table, "i'm not walking away without a deal."

sylus tenses. you don't flinch.

"change the main objective," you eloquently respond as you reach for the deck of cards sylus shuffled. "the three of you will play against each other, and whoever gains a blackjack or the hand closest to it will have their wager fulfilled." you fingers never slip as you pass out the cards. "while a tie may be possible, the likelihood will be drastically reduced, as you will no longer be playing to beat me." your braid your fingers and rest them against your stomach, your eyes unwavering. "you will be playing to win."

while sherman and his lackey mull over your proposal, sylus takes a sip from his glass, his eyes glued to you. what could you possibly gain from this? no bets you can profit from have been placed. not to mention your choice to stay out of this round just cost you your chance to prevent sherman and his lackey from fulfilling their profane desires. his brows furrow, no longer enjoying the feeling nor taste of fizz on his tongue. this entire night you've only led him in circles, forcing him to deal with your unpredictable actions and signature indifference. does he hate this? fuck no. your antics give him a sense of desire, a drive—something he's been severely lacking for a while.

but, sylus' patience is wearing thin. he swears if he can't get you to look at him with anything but that damned emptiness, he's going to force his way into your eyes until they are filled to the brim with nothing but him, him, him.

"mr. sylus?" sherman's lackey snaps him out of his thoughts. "your wager?"

"ah," sylus places his glass down, ignoring the cracks forming on it from how tightly he was gripping it. "if i win-"

he pauses, noticing something.

"miss dealer, why did you give yourself cards? i thought you weren't playing," he inquires with a tilt of his head.

"i gave myself cards to stay true to the dealing rules of blackjack," you answer calmly, extending your arm towards sherman's cards to begin the game. "don't worry, mr. sylus. i won't be playing this round, only dealing. my cards are facedown, after all."

sylus inhales sharply. you said his name. you said his name for the first time. and fuck, did it feel so good to hear it on your tongue.

"stay or hit, mr. sherman?" you option the man. he has an ace of spades and a seven of hearts, giving him eighteen. the man takes another puff of smoke before tapping the table. "a hit," you confirm before flipping a four of clubs. the man curses loudly, sputtering on his cigar. "too high," you declare as you immediately move on to his lackey.

"stay or hit?" you repeat. the lackey has an ace of hearts and an eight of clubs, giving him nineteen. the man sighs before waving a hand. "stay," you confirm before turning to sylus.

you still upon seeing his cards. a ten of diamonds and a nine of spades, bringing him to tie with sherman's lackey. so much for the likelihood of a tie being dramatically reduced. you exhale before asking, "stay or hit?"

"hm," sylus hums. he could technically stay and walk away with a tie. sherman won't be selling him fake protocores since he lost, and his lackey won't get his way with you since he tied. besides, hitting would be risky since the chances of getting a two are barely one percent, and the chances of getting an ace are either four or two percent, depending on what you have.

sylus tilts his head, realizing something.

"miss dealer, may i look at your cards?"

"i don't see why not," you say after a few seconds, ignoring sherman and his lackey's complaints.

"thank you, miss dealer," he purrs, reaching for your cards. "you won't regret it."

you don't say anything. you just cross your arms and lean against the table, resuming your unconcerned demeanor.

sylus grins after flipping your cards. an ace of diamonds and a ten of diamonds. you had a fucking blackjack. for the nth time of the night, you drew another natural. there's no way he's letting you go after this, not after you reduced his chances of getting an ace from four to two percent.

at this point, you've already realized why sylus wanted to see your cards. he was trying to gauge his chances of getting an ace, but since you had the third one from the deck, his chances were now fatally low. not to mention, his chances of getting a two were also low, meaning staying was the best option. you reach for his cards, hoping to clean up and get the fuck out of the n109 zone because you know from the depraved looks he's been giving you, prolonging your stay would be dangerous.

but what you don't know is the type of person sylus is. he's the type of person to spit in the face of fate, probabilities, and every distinct concept known to dictate humanity. people don't call him a "relentless conqueror" for nothing. unfortunately for you, this man has found something he relentlessly wants to conquer: your fucking attention. he makes that very clear when he taps the table.

and god, is he glad he decided to hit because you finally reacted to him.

your once-indifferent eyes were now faltering with uncertainty. your once-crossed arms were now hanging loosely at your sides. your once-relaxed voice was now quivering as you asked, "i'm sorry, a hit?"

sylus runs a finger upon his lips, trying to control his manic grin. oh, you looked utterly confused, and he was all for it. never has he seen such a beautiful and enticing sight: you, pushed to the absolute brink with your eyes bewitchingly transfixed on him, trying to figure out why the hell he would hit when his chances of winning are painstakingly low.

"yes, sweetie." your brows furrow when he calls you that. "a hit," he confirms with a teasing smile.

you stare at him (yes, keep looking at him like that; fill your eyes with him and him only) for a few more seconds before reaching for a card. people just really like to gamble, you reason. there's no way an ace can come out of this. however, your lips can't help but part when you flip over the card.

an ace of clubs.

he won.

[yenayaps]

Me and The Devil | modern day sorcerer!sukuna x sorcerer!reader

summary: when you first meet him, you have no idea what his technique is. all you know is that he's this big, beefy guy covered in tattoos—an absolute unit. he's the cockiest out of all of special grade sorcerers though, so it has to be something good. based off this blurb

content & warnings: AFAB reader, graphic depictions of violence, profanity, explicit smut, sukuna abuses his curse technique (he transforms into his true form self mid-fuck), p in v sex, hair pulling, creampie

w/c: 5.6k

a/n: i think this just might be my most annoying sukuna yet LOL. anyways, this was just an idea i had, based in a world where gege either has a heart or just doesn't exist. enjoy sukuna being a little slut!!

The jujutsu world sucked, but transferring from the Kyoto branch to the Tokyo branch made it suck a little less. Now that you think about it, all of the special grade sorcerers are based in Tokyo. 

Two of them are actually teachers—Gojo and Geto. 

It wasn’t an easy road getting here though, Gakuganji was not happy when you turned in the transfer papers, and made it known during those last two weeks through the missions you were assigned.

You were a grade 1, so you obviously had the ability to take on tougher cases when need be, but he made your life a living hell by giving you missions back to back– from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm, you worked. 

You’d think an old man who’s covered in piercings and listens to black sabbath would be chill, but he’s a petty bitch, just like the rest of the highers up. 

Even the students here are nicer and it’s probably because Principal Yaga was actually a good person, which is rare in this industry. It makes your life easier with the upcoming promotions. You offered to take a couple students under your wing, in turn you will be recommending them. 

You say taking them under your wing lightly. In reality, you’re just making them do your missions for you. If they for any reason need help– which they shouldn’t– then you’ll step in to exorcise the curse yourself.

“Ready to go Megumi?” You ask as he walks up to you. You were taking him with you to a mission that was out of town, it was around 2 hours away via train ride. 

“Yeah.” He gruffly responds, as angsty as ever. You have no idea how he’s gotten along with Gojo all these years, they’re the complete opposites. Not that you’re complaining, he’s a smart kid, he won’t be asking you any dumb questions on the trip there. 

“Wait!” You both hear someone call out from a good distance. From the way they yelped it out, you can only guess it’s Ijichi. 

You both stop and turn around. “We were ju–”

Megumi cuts you off, “WHAT?!” He yells at the man who’s already struggling to catch up, the scowl on his face continuing to grow. He’s spent a majority of his childhood having to wait on his benefactor that was voluntarily late for everything—in turn, he hates wasting time.

You had to hold back a laugh, he didn’t have to be that rude. You’re guessing it's learned behavior from Gojo. Ijichi runs a little faster, you have no idea how he’d let a teenager just bully him like that, but you guess it’s from the years of a certain sorcerer breaking down his spirit. 

“I just received some new information about the mission you’re headed to.” He says, out of breath, trying his best not to keel over.

“Is it being given to someone else?” You ask. 

“Kind of.” He says as he stands upright, heart rate finally settled. “One of the curses is actually special grade– we decided that you two could stay on it, just as long as a special grade sorcerer went with you. That way, Megumi can have two recommendations and get that promotion.” 

“Well that's good. Who’s going with us then.”

“The only special grade sorcerer available right now is Sukun–”

“Oh great.” You scoff. 

“Is.. there a problem with that?” Ijichi nearly squeaks out, he’s not used to getting an attitude from you, you’re usually nice to him.

“No.” You sigh, not sounding very convincing to him or the younger sorcerer. “When is he coming?”

“He said he was on his way, he’ll be here in about 15 to 20 minutes. He also said to meet him at the front of the school.”

“Kay.” You cross your arms and turn to walk towards the stairs at the entrance. “Let’s go Megumi.” You order the kid.

Usually he’d show some sort of pushback from being told around like that, but nothing scared him more than a woman in a bad mood, so he quietly followed behind you.

Sukuna is the last person you wanted to go on this mission with. You had hoped Yuki would’ve been the one to come along– luck has never been on your side though. Truth be told, you didn’t even know he was a sorcerer, let alone a special grade when you first met him.

It may have been a little prejudiced of you to immediately brush off the fact that he could’ve been a part of the jujutsu world based on the way he dressed, but can anyone blame you? He dresses like a bum– not even bothering to wear normal clothes, let alone jujutsu uniforms! Every single time you’ve seen him, he’s in a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

On top of that, he’s an arrogant asshole, he thinks he’s the shit, as if he was gods gift to earth. You still don’t even know what his technique is, everyone just says he’s “a beast”, whatever the hell that means. 

You would ask, but the last thing you want is to have a conversation with him, it’ll probably just end with him asking you what your bra size is, because he’s a fucking pervert. And you fully believe that from all the encounters you’ve had with him so far– the last one being just downright embarrassing.

The worst part about it was you didn’t even do anything. You had just gotten back from a full day of exorcising curses, turning in your paperwork, more than ready to go home afterwards. You were exhausted, yet you still had to wait for Principal Yaga to finish up an interview he was having with a potential new student. 

So there you were in the common area, staring off into space, because you were tired– then you hear the voice that you’ve grown to feel agitation towards whenever it infiltrates your ears. 

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” 

You almost immediately snap out of it. “Huh?” 

“I said my eyes are up here,” Sukuna points at them as he repeats himself. “You’ve been staring at my ass for the past five minutes– a lil’ perverted don’t you think?”

“No I wasn’t.” You grimace at his accusation. 

For someone like Sukuna, any sort of reaction makes him want to tease you even more. “What were you staring at then?”

“I wasn’t staring at anything, I just dozed off.” You try to explain yourself. He believes you, but he’s bored and you’re fun to pick on. 

He nods as if he understands your struggles, then continues to add to them. “You took one look at it and started daydreaming, huh? How flattering” 

“Nobody’s staring at your fucking ass!” You snap at him and he looks rather pleased with himself. Geto just laughs, knowing damn well that it just encourages him to keep going.

Your heart drops when he starts walking towards you, grinning like an idiot. “Nope.” You say out loud, getting up from your seat. 

“Whad’ya mean no? C'mere.” He chuckles, getting closer. “I know you want some of this.” He says, holding his arms out, shamelessly offering himself to you. 

“You’re so fucking delusional, Sukuna.” You scoff, starting to walk away from him. “Stay away from me.” 

That all happened a month ago, and is still fresh in your memory. You’ve been dreading the thought of seeing him again, and now you’re supposed to spend the entire day with him. You really hated being a sorcerer sometimes.

At the 17 minute mark, he pulls up in a black BMW. It does not surprise you one bit, he makes a shit ton of money. 

Without a word, you and Megumi get in. You were hoping he’d sit in the front seat, but he for some reason decides to actually be respectful towards adults today, and sits in the back. There’s already a smile on his face when you open the door. It’s not sincere, it’s antagonizing and you want to smack it off of him.  

“Always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.” He drawls out, ignoring the teen in the back. 

“Wish I could say the same,” you mumble back, buckling your seatbelt.

Megumi apprehensively looks back and forth between you two from the backseat. The tension between you both is a thousand times worse than the tension between Gojo and Utahime.

“Still butthurt over last time?” He asks, picking up where he left off last time in terms of annoying the shit out of you. 

“What happened last time?” Megumi cuts in. For once you wish he’d mind his business and go on his phone. Nobara was right, he is a little gossiper. 

“I caught her st–”

“Nothing, Megumi.” You stop the man from finishing that sentence. You reach in your bag and take out a small pack of rice crackers and hand them to him, Gojo said they were his favorite snack. “Here, it’s gonna be a long ride, just relax until then.”

“Got any more for me?” Sukuna asks. 

You ignore his question and answer with a question that was actually relevant. “You have the address right?”

“Of course.” He says, pulling it up on the gps. 

“Great.” You let out a sigh, allowing your body to relax despite how much the special grade asshole triggers your fight or flight response. Thank god for earphones, you popped them in before he could find another way to mentally torture you. 

The only brightside to having him drive you both to the site is that it took 45 minutes instead of 2 hours, freeing up a couple hours of your day. In this line of work, there’s nothing you appreciate more than extra time. 

“Alright, we're here.” You hear Sukuna announce through the earbuds, prompting you to take them out.

You look out the window to look at the old, abandoned hospital. You had your work cut out for you today, not only is there a special grade curse in there, but it’s riddled with weaker ones ranging between grades 1-3.

The three of you step out of the car and scan the outside of the building, it’s one of the more eerie places sorcerers get sent to in terms of missions. You think about your younger, first-year self and how terrified she would’ve been of this place— thank god you’re not that girl anymore. 

Sukuna takes the initiative to cast a veil before leading you two to the closest place you could get to hell on earth. He’s not fazed by it, he walks into the eroded building without a care in the world, he’s taken missions like this a million times by now. 

Megumi knows the drill by now– weaker curses attack first, so you and Sukuna stand back while you watch him exorcise all of them one by one. He tries to start small talk with you, to which you pretend not to hear him. When he raises his voice in order for you to hear him, you tell him you’re trying to watch Megumi because you are his temporary guardian for the day. 

It’s whatever, he’ll get his chance to bother you again, eventually. 

30 minutes in, you’re fighting alongside Megumi because the stronger curses had finally started to reveal themselves. All while Sukuna continues to stay back and “observe”. Apparently he’s “reserving his energy” for when the big one pops up, but truth be told, he thinks he’s way too good to fight the more menial curses, leaving you and the boy to it. 

Neither of you were injured or showing signs of struggles anyways, he tells himself that you both had it all under control. 

Curses stop popping up… eventually. Both you and Megumi looked battered– clothes dirtied, a couple bruises here and there, out of breath because at one point they literally wouldn’t stop coming at you. 

And then there’s Sukuna– completely unscathed. Now that you think about it, the curses completely avoided him, you wonder why. 

“It’s here but it doesn’t wanna show itself.” He says, referring to the last one. “Guess I’m just gonna have to pull it out of hiding.” 

At this point, the three of you were in the back of the building, it allows Sukuna to completely flatten the place with just a flick of the wrist. You were about to finally ask what his technique was, but you don’t get the chance because an absolute behemoth of a curse pops up. 

The thing is huge, you have no idea how it was able to hide within the old hospital, it was about ¼ the size of what the building used to be before Sukuna demolished it. 

“Step back.” He looks over his shoulder and grins, “I got this.” He says, lazily walking up to the thing. 

You don't miss the way the curse takes a step back, as if it were reluctant to fight him. It made you think of when the curses from earlier were avoiding him and going straight to you and Megumi. It brings you to the realization that they were all afraid of him, including this one.

“Why is he taking his shirt off?” You ask Megumi, who’s not fazed one bit by Sukuna’s rather bizarre action.

“Just wait.” Megumi mumbles, studying the man intently—trying to see if he can learn something from him. Meanwhile there’s you, who is also studying Sukuna, but your attention’s more so on how godly his physique is. 

As if he couldn’t be anymore striking looks wise– his chest and back were even more defined than you’d imagined them to be, both adorned with tattoos. He even has nipple piercings. Some people just had it all, and Sukuna was unfortunately one of them.

Your attention’s taken off of his nipple piercings when he gets into a defensive stance and does some weird hand sign—something similar to Megumi whenever he summons his shikigami. The ground beneath him begins to thrum, flames start to spark all around him.

So his technique’s been fire this whole time? You think he's going to lay out his domain, but it's something much more interesting.

His body changes– taking on a monstrous form. A second pair of arms emerge from the flames, an extra pair of eyes burned through his face. He looks like something that came straight out of hell, but why's he kinda…

“Holy fuck.” You mumble under your breath. No wonder why he dresses the way he does, it finally clicks.

“Yeah.” The teen agrees with you. There’s a reason why he didn’t protest like he usually would when Ijichi said Sukuna was coming along, getting a front row seat to watch him fighting was rare. “He’s the only one that rivals Gojo-sensei.”

You notice his bottom eye glancing at you right before charging at the curse, you swore the curse let out a little yelp too. You almost felt sorry for the thing, it literally tried to run from him, but barely got the chance to turn around before Sukuna stuck all four of his hands into it and ripped it in half.

It was gruesome, you never want to hear the noise it made ever again– but that was a lot to ask for in your line of work. 

In the end, it took him 2.5 seconds to exorcise it– you don’t know if you should be impressed or annoyed. You all could’ve been out of here a long time ago had he helped from the beginning.

You continue to watch him, he’s just staring at his blood stained arms and hands before he burns them off– cleaning himself with fire. Once he was done with that, he comes striding back with the usual smug look on his face. 

“You enjoy the show?” He asks. 

Megumi immediately says yes, like a fucking fan. A part of you almost feels betrayed since he doesn’t realize how much time was wasted from him not helping earlier. 

You scoff. “If it was that easy for you, why couldn’t you just help us out earlier?!” You immediately grill him and he just snickers like a fucking asshole. 

“It’s a group mission, sweetheart.” He reminds you as he walks up, still in his monstrous form. “You two handle the curses in your grade, I handle the one in mine.” He flashes a smile, even his teeth are sharper. 

He’s breathtaking.

Not that you’d ever admit that.

“Whatever. You can turn back now.” You avert your eyes from him as you let him know. Why is it getting hot all of the sudden?

“What's the rush for?” He teasingly asks. “Does this form make you nervous? Don’t worry sweetheart, I don’t bite.”

“I’m sure you do with those chompers.” You mumble in return, still refusing to directly look at him. 

“Ooof. You wound me baby.” He says, rubbing his ridiculously chiseled chest as he takes a step closer towards you, well aware of how overwhelming his presence can be in this form.

“Okay ew.” Megumi cuts in, he's had enough of whatever the hell this is. “Can you two wait until I’m not here before you start fucking flirting with each other?”

“We weren’t fl–”

Sukuna cuts you off, “Sure thing.” 

Megumi mumbles something under his breath about how disgusting you two are, you don't really catch it though. You were more focused on calming down, which was hard because you could feel Sukuna still looking at you as if he were going to tear you apart next.

His eyes linger on you a little longer before taking his attention off of you completely. 

Where did his t-shirt even go?

He flung it to the side, it couldn’t have gone too far. It takes him a couple minutes before he finally finds it– turning back into his original form and putting it back on.

The car ride back was filled with Megumi asking him a bunch of questions while he gladly answered them. You had your ear phones in again, pretending like you weren’t listening, but you were, in hopes of maybe learning something.

To your surprise, you actually do. Your curse technique was air manipulation, you’re pretty sure you can come up with your own version of cleave if you amplified it.

You grudgingly admit to yourself that time really does fly when one’s having fun, because before you knew it, he had pulled up in front of the staircase that led to the school. Megumi was quick to get out, because let’s face it, he is still 15 and more than ready to relax and play video games– or do whatever he likes to do in his free time.

You’re also more than ready to relax, but Sukuna locks the doors right when you reach for the handle. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I was thinking,” he leans over the console. “You and I started off on the wrong foot.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You brows knit together.

“No ones,” he so innocently says. “I just never knew that you’d take first impressions that seriously.”

“You made fun of me for a whole 20 minutes after finding out what my technique was.” You remind him. 

He clicks his tongue in response, completely gaslighting you over what had happened. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You started calling me Aang and The Last Airbender!” You yell and he bursts out laughing because he still finds it funny. “It’s not fucking funny Sukuna that was my first week of working here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry–” He holds his hands up in defense. “I couldn’t fuckin’ help it, it was too easy.” He continues to laugh, not showing an ounce of regret. 

“And then you continue to straight up harass me every time you see me!” You continue, hoping he’d get why you’re not the biggest fan of his. 

“I don’t harass you,” he continues to deny, what he would consider, accusations from you. “You just held a grudge from that day and never gave me another chance after that.”

“Yeah, because you’re a dick. You wouldn’t even help out during the mission.”

“Let me make it up to you then. How about let’s go grab some drinks or something while I’m still in town, I’ll even pay.” He offers, acting almost as if he were doing you a favor. 

“You wanna grab drinks?”

“Mhm.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly,” he nods. “You catch on pretty quick.”

You try your best not to laugh in his face, he really doesn’t even try to hide how arrogant he is. You’re about to say no, you really should say no, but then you remember the nipple piercings and the way his back muscles flexed when walking up to the curse earlier.

“I’ll think about it.”

You still hated him for the way he treated you during your previous encounters, but there was nothing wrong with leaving the door open.

—

When you said you’d “think about it”, Sukuna already knew you weren’t going to be reaching out to him anytime soon. 

Which is why he didn’t immediately return the bracelet that you dropped at the curse site. He saw it glimmering in the rubble and immediately knew that was going to be his golden ticket to your heart… and other parts of you. 

He waited 3 days, for no reason other than to let the thought of him simmer in your mind, maybe hate him a little less. But he was leaving for another overseas mission in 3 days, he’ll be gone for two weeks– surely you’d want your bracelet back before then, right?

He pulls out his phone and dials the number he harassed Ijichi for, watching the bracelet dangle from his hold as he patiently waits for you to pick up. He also got a peak of your schedule this week (thanks Ijichi), you shouldn’t be busy at all right now. 

After the third ring, you finally pick up. “Hello?”

“Yo, it’s Sukuna. You left your bracelet in my car.” He cuts to chase, slightly twisting the truth while he does so.

“Oh… thanks?” You say apprehensively, thanking him felt weird. “You can just drop it off at the school tomorrow.” 

“No need, I'm outside your house.” He shamelessly reveals and your heart drops to your ass. 

“Wh– how do you know where I live? How did you even get my number?” You frantically ask. He imagines you panicking over his surprise visit and it brings him a sick sense of satisfaction. 

Another unhinged sentence flows out of his mouth as if it were normal, “You really think Ijichi would say no to me if I asked for your information?” He chuckles. You can hear him shut the car door through the phone. “Gonna let me in or what?”

“Fine.” You huff out before hanging up the phone, there was no point in staying on the phone with him if you were going to see him in a second. You hop off the couch and take a deep breath.

It’s just Sukuna, no reason to be nervous, you hate him, remember? You wipe your hands against your shorts– no clue as to why they clammed up all the sudden– before turning the door knob. 

You nearly startle out of your skin, he is standing way too close to the fucking door and he is so much taller than you remember. Even as he slouches against the doorframe, he is still towering over you, you can also smell the Dior Sauvage radiating off his skin. Even when he does nothing, he's still entirely too much for you. 

“Fuckin’ finally–” He groans and lets himself in. “It’s hot as fuck out there.” He states the obvious, you’ve had the AC blasting all day. You watch him in disbelief as he makes himself comfortable in your home, going straight to your fridge to see if there is anything for him to drink. 

He’s worse than Gojo. You guess that’s just a quirk that comes with being a Special Grade Sorcerer– they demand space rather than worry about taking up too much of it. 

He pulls out a beer, “Can I have this?”

“Surprised you’re asking when you didn’t even ask if you can look in the fridge.” 

“Good point.” He says before effortlessly popping the cap off the bottle using his teeth, you continue to stare at him in disbelief. “Gawkin’ at me again.” He points out and takes a sip of his (your) beer. 

“Sorry, I don’t know how to exactly act when a coworker, who’s barely a coworker, barges into my home and raids my fridge.” You nearly pout as you cross your arms. 

He smiles and takes one more sip before setting it down. “So sensitive.” 

You roll your eyes at his lack of care. “Can I have my bracelet back now?”

“Oh– yeah.” He acts as if he almost forgot, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out the dainty gold chain that has a pink butterfly on it. “The clasp was broken, so I fixed it.”

“Really?” You take it from him and inspect it. Looks like he actually did, the clasp was slightly darker than the rest of the chain, no one would notice though. “Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He looks way too proud of himself. “Consider it my apology for that one time.”

“It wasn’t just one time.” You kindly remind him.

“No need to bring up all the other times,” he uses the same fake-pleasant tone as you. He takes the bracelet from you and clasps it around your wrist. 

“Such a gentleman, Sukuna.”

“I’m a feminist too.” He adds, flashing that million dollar smile of his.

“Okay, cut the shit.” You stop him from saying anything else. “What do you want?”

—

“Taking me so fucking good baby– y’know how long I’ve wanted to see you like this?”

You’re not exactly sure what it was that he said that got you in this position, or if it was even words themselves that led to this. 

Maybe it was the way he looked at you. 

Or the way he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you in, slipping his tongue in your mouth the moment his lips touched yours.

All you know is he promised you’d enjoy yourself somewhere along the way and now he has you in the world's meanest arch— ass hiked up nice and high, pulling you back to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. He digs his nails into your hips while you grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as he delivers the backshots he promised.

You thought he’d be one of those guys that would try to stay quiet in bed, he’s not. He lets out the most deep and sinful moans each time you tighten around his unbelievably thick cock, he tells you how much of a good girl you are, he chants your name like it’s a fucking prayer. 

“Kuna– w-wait,” you whine out.

“What’s wrong?” He asks mockingly. He grabs you by your hair and pulls you up, not letting up on his harsh thrusts. “Want me to stop?” 

“N-no, I–” You falter, not knowing exactly what it is that you actually want. He wraps his free hand around your neck and pounds into you even harder.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” He mutters in you ear, you can feel him smirking against you. “Just be a good girl and let go for me, yeah?”

You pathetically nod because anything else would’ve come out as a strangled moan– all that can be heard right now is harsh slaps and wet squelches while he continues to drive his cock into you. You’re pretty sure you came for the 4th time just a couple seconds ago and he thinks so too, drawing a chuckle out of him. 

He knew you’d like his dick. 

“Gonna let me cum in you? Fuuuck—want me to fill you up?” He groans, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you shamelessly beg in between moans. “Fuck yes– give it to me, fill me up Kuna.”

“Fuck– alright,” he sputters out with a smile, shaking his head– not expecting you to start begging like that, at all. 

He lets go of your hair and wraps both arms around your waist, doubling over while keeping up the sloppy pace. His breath tickles against your ear as his groans become needier, whinier. He tries his best not to bite down when he buries his face into the crook of your neck– not quite sure if you’re into that kinda shit. 

Maybe next time. 

“Fuck!” He slams a hand down onto the bed, holding you both up while he starts pumping you full of his cum. 

It so much, it’s begins to seep out of you before he’s even done cumming and he keeps fucking you well after the fact– making your toes curl, crying out his name as he overstimulates you both.

He doesn’t come to a full stop and takes his time to come down from his high, slowly rocking back and forth inside you. 

“You good?” He softly murmurs in your ear, slowly pulling out of you– keeping in mind that you might be a little sensitive right now.

“Yeah.” You sigh, trying to catch your breath, collapsing face down on the bed. 

He chuckles, “Don’t tap out just yet– m' not done with ya.” 

“What do you mea–” Your questions cut off from a familiar thrumming noise, making your words get caught in your throat. 

You reluctantly turn around to find him in his… other form, with a smug grin on his face. You swear you feel a part of your soul leave your body when the mouth appears on his stomach. “Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.” He laughs at the visible shock on your face. “Lookin’ at me like I’m some kinda monster.”

He makes you wrap your hands around his neck while one pair of his arms holds on to your waist. The other pair grab the backs of your knees and push them up to your chest. You didn’t think he could reach inside of you any deeper, but he does as he continues to fuck you without a care in the world. 

You feel everything, every inch, every vein. 

The grip he has your waist and legs is strong while he uses you like his own personal fuck toy, continuously slamming you down on all 10 inches of him. While you’re a crying mess, he’s in absolute heaven– moaning your name, not shutting up over how good you feel wrapped around him. 

The whole thing’s just insane, he drops your body down on to his length when he fucks up into you, the tongue on his stomach laps at your clit. You were a fool to think he was nasty before—having him use your body like this, giving you inescapable pleasure, just feels downright sinful. 

It almost feels wrong, but the thought slowly gets swept away each time his fat tip slides against your sweet spot, each time that hot, wet tongue swipes against your clit. 

He loves the way you clench around him when his extra tongue flicks harshly against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you stare at it in disbelief– nothing but concern on your face, yet your moans say otherwise. 

“Feelin’ good baby?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” you frantically nod, you couldn’t even hide it if you tried. “Is this even l-legal?”

“I have no idea.” He laughs through the loud slaps and wet squelches that filled the room. 

He fucks you for hours, in multiple positions.

Positions you didn’t even know were possible, but he made happen with the extra limbs he had. 

Sukuna’s just as ruthless in bed as he is in a battle, he was ripping you apart like he did with that curse, just in a different way. 

You don’t even remember passing out, let alone what time you fell asleep. The last thing you remember was him praising you for squirting on him for the nth time– he wore you the fuck out, broke you in like a brand new pair of shoes. 

Your usual alarm goes off at 6:00 am, like it does on every work day. You let out a sigh and shove your face in the pillow, trying to drown out the noise of the repetitive beeping. It’s become easy to ignore after all these years. 

What’s hard to ignore is the foreign grumbling you hear right next to you, making your head pop up and eyes shoot open. 

You’re immediately met with a messy head of pink hair, sprawled over your bed– taking up more than half of it, as if it were his. The blankets are just barely covering him, you can see his ass crack peeking through the sheets.

“Turn that shit off.” He boyishly complains with a fucking frown on his face. 

You immediately get up, reach over his body, and slam the alarm clock off. “Get up.” You snap at him. 

He apprehensively opens one eye, trying to gauge how annoyed you are at him for spending the night. You can’t possibly be mad at him for this, he was tired too!

“That’s no way to treat a guest.” He says in return, pulling you in to lay on top of him and closing his eyes again. 

“It is when the said guest overstays their welcome.” You hiss back, trying to get up but the hold he has on you is just too strong. 

“So mean.” He complains. “Thought I fucked the attitude outta’ ya last night.”

You groan at his laxness, saying something along the lines of how fucking irritating he was. He doesn’t seem to care and even goes as far as to almost falling asleep again, but you keep him from doing so by slapping his chest. 

“Let go, I have work in two hours!” You began to whine at the big brute of a man. 

“I doubt you can even walk right now.” He stubbornly responds.

“Yes I can.”

“Alright.” He lets go of you. “Let’s see it then.”

You already struggle to push yourself off of him and he catches you by your arm when you almost fall off the bed. “Told you so.”

“Last night was such a fucking mistake.” You began to say to yourself, it sounded like a whimper to Sukuna and he snickers to himself.

“Fuckin’ drama queen.” He continues to laugh and shakes his head. “How about this– I’ll heal you and help you out with your missions today.”

“You know how to use RCT?” You ask, interest now peaked.

“Of course I do.” He scoffs. “Fuck I look like to you?”

You hold back on saying something mean, because you’d really like to get healed right now without having to tell Shoko how you ended up like this. “Alright, fine. But just a heads up, Inumaki’s going to be with me for the day.”

He groans into the pillow, obviously not happy with that piece of information. “Do you have an iPad?”

“...No. Why?”

“I don’t understand anything that kid fuckin’ says.” He complains. 

“You’ll be fine.” You pat his shoulder. “Now get up and heal me already. We have a long day ahead of us.”

notes: fun fact! i was listening to the kyoto x im god mashup while writing this. i had so much fun making this version of him. i feel like if he had been born in the same era as the rest and was (somewhat) nurtured as a child, he’d have so much fun with his life LOL. just completely unserious, making fun of people all the time, and just overall living his best, slutty life.

anyways, i may or may not turn this into a series 🫣 idk, we’ll see. i’d have to drop one of my current ones though.

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

[yenayaps]

controller | sukuna x f!reader

twelve: make it work

Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem? Just don’t say you weren’t warned about him.

genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), jin and sukuna are twins, smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff

warnings: check master list for warnings!

a/n: 2.6k words, enjoy the continuation of sukuna's meltdown <33

masterlist

“Open the door— open the FUCKING DOOR.” He yells out your name, pounding at the door so hard you’re sure he’ll break it off its hinges. “I’m not fucking leaving until you open up and fucking talk to me!”

“How could you do that to me?!” He continues to yell. His voice is raspier than ever, yet his vocal cords aren’t giving out just yet. “I trusted you– YOU WERE SOMEONE I FUCKING TRUSTED– And you couldn’t even give me a simple heads up saying, hey your dads arranging a MARRIAGE for you, that’s a big fuckin’ deal don’t you think?!” He slams his bruised fist on the door again. 

“Answer the fucking door you coward.” His voice slightly cracks, still incessantly knocking. He doesn’t even know why he’s still doing it, slowly starting to doubt that you'll open it for him, but the action somehow grounds him. It keeps him from taking it a step further like actually breaking in. 

“You BITCH.” He spat out, “You fucking bitch— I gave you so much of me. Fuck the presents, the dates, the sex— I was good to you, I was fucking PATIENT with you and what do I get in return?! I get left IN THE FUCKING DARK, ABOUT MY OWN FUCKING LIFE. You’re a bitch, and a fucking coward.” He kicks the door one last time, hard. “I better not see you again.”

He grudgingly turns around and walks off, down the hall and away from the apartment he’s slept at more times than he could count now. He thinks of all of his belongings that are still behind that door and wonders if they’re even worth trying to get back. You won’t even text him back, let alone face him, what makes him think he’d get his shit back?

Whatever, you can fucking keep it all. He turns the corner and sees two cops walking towards him. Of course you or one your neighbors called the fucking cops, wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been called over his actions. It won't be the last either.

One of them opened their mouths to speak, “Excuse me, Sir. We were called over a comp–”

“Don’t fucking talk me.” Sukuna cuts him off while continuing to walk out, treating the two as if they were just a minor inconvenience. A waste of his time to even think about. 

The other one finally spoke up, after taking a while to decide if he was going to take the disrespect or not. By the time he says something, Sukuna was already at the exit, slamming the door shut before the guy even got a chance to finish his sentence. 

A waste of his time. All of this. He should’ve just gone straight home, he doesn’t know why he gave you the benefit of the doubt. You were the one who wanted to keep him a secret, he was stupid to think you had a good reason as to why you ignored him all day. 

A coward– he was wrong about you. You were different, just not the good kind– avoidant, disloyal, weak.

This is why he hates getting close to people. 

His drive back home wasn’t too long, you only lived 10 minutes away from him. One of the perks he liked about the building is that he didn’t have to pass through a lobby to get to his penthouse, the last thing he wanted was to deal with people right now. He swears he’ll blow a gasket if someone so much as looks in his direction. 

The first thing he sees when he steps into his home is the little line up of your house slippers and makes a mental note to throw them in the fire pit on his balcony sometime this week. He doesn’t even know why he allowed you to keep so much of your stuff here. Speaking of all of your stuff, he suddenly remembers you have an entire section of belongings in his closet, that he will also be burning, because fuck you. 

The longer he looks at these damn slippers, the angrier he gets. He’s not waiting to start up the fire pit. 

Fuck that.

He grabs all of 4 pairs and makes his way to the balcony. The sliding doors basically blast open from the man's brute force and chucks all of them off from the top floor of the building before letting out yet another frustrated yell. You could only imagine how much it pierced through the night’s stillness. It's a monday, most people are in bed by now. He should be getting ready for bed right around now too, with you, but he's not because his fucking life's falling apart.

Once he thinks he’s done, and that he’s gotten the rest of his frustration from the day out, he turns on his heel to walk back into his presumably empty home, only to find you standing behind him in complete and utter disbelief. 

“Did you just… throw my things off the balcony?” You murmur as you ask, trying your best not to start crying again—that’s all you’ve been doing since you got off work and let yourself into his penthouse. 

You had eventually fallen asleep, only to get ripped out of it from how hard Sukuna slammed his door shut after finally getting home. You were quickly met with the sight of him having a meltdown and your bunny slippers getting the short end of the stick.

“Yeah.” He nods and admits, taking a deep sigh of relief right after. He remembers all the shit he thought he said to you just 20 minutes ago and immediately starts to feel bad, promising himself that he will most definitely be taking that to the grave. “I thought you fucking left me.”

You can tell he’s been screaming and yelling more than talking from how raspy his voice is. You can also tell he’s angry. Some of it being towards you, but it doesn’t stop you from taking a few steps forward and wrapping your arms around him– leaning your head against his racing heart.

He’s still in his suit that’s no longer in it’s usual pristine condition, it’s creased in places he hates having creases in, like the sleeves and collar; there’s a few blood splatters scattered through the grey fabric. No matter how gruesome it sounds, you really hope that it’s not just his and mixed with others.

Wasuke had warned you that things would get bad, if only he knew you already fully expected Sukuna to come home in this shape– battered, chest rapidly rising and collapsing from the sudden news that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

If only Wasuke knew he would be coming home to you in this condition.

You were too much of a coward to tell Sukuna, give him a chance to beat his father to the news and risk revealing that you are so much more closer to him than anyone else would have guessed.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve said something.” You nearly whisper, doing your best to push down the lump in your throat. You’d be a little more comfortable apologizing if he weren’t so tense right now. He doesn’t say anything back, he doesn’t even try to hold you back for a minute, it’s like he’s trying to process everything right now. 

And he is, having you randomly pop up changes the situation– not entirely, but he feels like he has a winning chance at the cards that have been given to him right now. 

“You’re a fuckin’ pain in the ass, you know that? You could’ve at least texted me after work.” He wraps his arms around you. Usually you’d complain about being suffocated, but you don’t mind the feeling right now, especially after the day you’ve had. “Don’t be sorry. This is between him and I.” He says, repeating his own father's words.

“Are you actually engaged now?”

“I guess so.” He hates to admit. “He’s had this planned out for 2 months now.”

“Guess we have to end things then.” You say, ripping off the bandaid, trying to not sound as hurt as you are.

“We’re not doing anything except getting in bed and going to sleep.” He chuckles. The last thing he wants to see is you being sad, but he can’t help but think it’s a little nice to see you torn up over him, even if it is just a fraction of how he reacted. “You’re mine. And so is that goddamn will.”

“Are you saying you want me to be the side chick in your marriage?” You immediately grimace at his words and begin to push yourself away from him– he doesn’t budge. 

He continues to hold you close. “I’m not marrying her.” 

“Then what do you mean by the will is yours?” You say, mocking his words, still annoyed over the thought of being the other woman even though it was you that jumped to that conclusion. “He’ll take you off of it if you don’t.”

“I’ll find a way to get out of this.” He swears, “I gave him so much of my life, let him work me like a dog. I earned that money, it’s mine. I’ll come up with something, okay?”

“Promise?”

He cups your face and tilts it up to look at him, “I promise. I’m not marrying her, I’m staying with you, and I will get that 120 mil.” He declares– you try your best to hold back your laughter on that last part, he acts like he’d be poor without it.

“Okay.” You nod, leaning in to kiss him. You can taste a hint of copper from whenever he got punched in the mouth– it was your cue to usher him back inside so you can patch him up. He looks awful. 

You were quick to get him to sit on the couch and didn’t miss the way he slightly flinched– not a good sign given how high of a pain tolerance he has. You offer to take him to the E.R, but to no one's surprise, he declines. He didn’t feel like coming up with an excuse to the doctor or nurse as to how he ended up like this. If anything he’ll just go see Shoko, Satoru’s friend who’s conveniently a doctor. 

“You know.. I could just get you pregnant. That’d be the quickest way to end this all.” He says. It makes you wonder if he has a fucking concussion. He smiles at the way your body physically stutters at the suggestion. “Just kidding.”

“No you’re not.” You mumble, shaking your head in disappointment while continuing to blot antiseptic on the wound by his temple. He laughs at your awkward reaction, but you’re able to shut him up by pressing the soaked cotton into his wound a tad bit harder. “Any other ideas?”

“I do. I should probably keep them to myself though, I don’t think any of them are legal.” He says, and you can tell he’s dead serious. 

“Good idea.” You reach for a bandaid and take it out of the wrapper. “The last thing I’d want is to testify against you.” You say as you gently cover the wound. You brush his hair back as you continue to examine him, you’ve never seen him look this tired before, not even after his weekend long benders that he drags you along with. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his eyes always slightly dilate when he looks at you, it’s really sweet. 

“Are you okay?”

“No.” He answers honestly and leaves it at that. Someone he loved threw a curveball at him. He wants nothing more than for this to all end– to wake up in the morning and have everything go back to normal with his dad. But he’s trying to look at the positives, for once in his life. “I think I’d be worse off if you weren’t here though.” 

“Glad I could be here for you then.” You continue to card your fingers through his hair, something that’s always calmed him in the short duration you’ve been together. You look at the clock to see that it’s 10:00 pm, “Let’s go to bed.”

—

Sukuna’s plan so far is business as usual– you really didn’t think he’d be able to stick to it, given how angry he was last night, but he miraculously does. He’s even somewhat nice to Myra, but seeing how visibly scared she is at the 180 his personality took shows he’s done enough damage to the girl. 

Oh well, maybe one day he'll redeem himself. 

Wasuke’s quieter than usual, at first you think that he might be regretting his decision regarding his son’s entire future, but quickly swipe the thought away after seeing what the inside of his office looks like. 

He’s not sad, he’s pissed– he was so tired from the night before that he completely forgot Sukuna put multiple holes in the walls. He even fucked up one of his custom made chairs, it looks like something more fitting for an octopus rather than a human with how mangled it is. 

It makes him regret having the little intervention in here, instead of a padded room in an insane asylum, where he sometimes thinks his son should really take a trip to once in a while.

“Can you call Javier and tell him to direct the Aizawa’s to Sukuna’s office instead of mine?” He asks, picking up a broken picture frame that held a photo of the twins as kids. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Itadori.” You respond in your usual professional tone, which is honestly a lot more harder than you thought it’d be. It’s not that you’re angry with Wasuke, you get where he’s coming from, but you never thought he’d go this far to get Sukuna’s behavior under wraps. 

“And tell Javier to reach out to you when they get here, I don’t need that boy suddenly running off in the event that he accidentally calls him.” He adds.

“Got it.”

Nothing gets past his son though, for reasons only known to Sukuna. He doesn’t think he’d ever tell you about how he has the office bugged either, probably another thing he’ll be taking to the grave. 

He continues to do his work up until Orpheus alerts him over the Eyesora’s arrival and begins to mentally prepare himself for the highschool reunion from hell.

He really meant it when he said he was disgusted by Yorozu, she went from biting other kids (including him) in elementary school to giving out handjobs to literally anyone who asked behind the bleachers in highschool. 

No, he has no idea what happened to her after graduation. He always hoped he’d never find out either, but like what Jin said, luck has never been on his side. 

He’s seen her around here and there during a night out—most of them being at one of Suguru’s many nightclubs. Unfortunately she’s rich as fuck with connections too, meaning she gets to be in the vip area as well. He never actually sticks around much longer after her arrival, Satoru doesn’t like her either, so they both get the hell out of there before she could curse them with her presence. 

He gets stopped from going further down his trip to memory lane when his phone suddenly pings. 

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: the family ur getting sold off to is visiting you and your dad soon. can’t you just like punch her in the face or something to put a stop to everything??

| Sukuna Itadori: …

| Sukuna Itadori: that’s the craziest shit i’ve ever heard you say

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: you said you’d punch any girl in the face for me on new years 😔

| Sukuna Itadori: yeah and look where that got us

| Sukuna Itadori: wait… are you jealous?? 

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: Read at 10:24 A.M

| Sukuna Itadori: ur jealous as FUCK rn 

| Anger Issues🥰⛓️‍💥💦🤌🏼: don’t pmo kuna

| Sukuna Itadori: don’t be jealous girl this dick is YOURS 🤭

“Sir, the Aizawa’s are headed up now.” Orpheus lets him know, ruining the fun he was having with you. 

“Great.” He groans, putting his phone away. The fact that his life has come to this is just un-fucking-believable.

He still has no idea how he's going to get himself out of this, which just makes it all the worse. It’s usually so easy fixing his "mistakes", but this one has to do with his actual family, so it’s not like he can harm them.

But he has six months, he’ll figure it out… eventually.

next

a/n: reader: that dick IS mine <3

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

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