{ Do reblog some NSFW stories] ~ About Blog Owners. ~ ~ Only reblog stories and fanart. Don’t write any of the stories you see on here. ~ ~ This blog is normally used like a bookmark. Which explains how messy it is. ~ ~
(Realised this hasn’t been updated in awhile. Age updated and new info added.)
This blog is run by two different people. We’re decided not to use names.
We do not write any of the stories that you see on here. We only reblog fanfiction and fanart.
Everyone is welcome here.
It’s an open and safe place.
We like to try and include everyone.
New info: 🦚 is still around but not at must as 🐹 due to now working.
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🦚
Age: 26.
Pronounces: Them/They.
Sexuality: Pansexual.
Favourite Colour: Green.
🐹
Age: 26.
Pronounce: She/Them/They.
Sexuality: Bisexual.
Favourite Colour: Blue.
(Note: 🐹 is Autistic. May come off as a little blunt, or overly emotional. 🐹 doesn’t alway’s think before writing a review.)
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Anime’s we both like.
Haikyuu. Attack on Titan. My Hero Academia. Demon Slayer. Jujutsu Kaisen. Tokyo Revengers. Black Clover. Tokyo Ghoul. Sk8 the Infinity. Naruto. Violet Evergarden. The Millionaire Detective. The Way of the Househusband. Noragami. High-Rise Invasion. A Silent Voice. Your Name. Howl’s Moving Castle. Kakuriyo - Bed & Breakfast for Spirits.
Show/Movies we like.
Marvel. DC. Star Wars. Star Trek. Jurassic Park. Criminal Minds. FBI/Most Wanted. Prodigal Son. The Resident. Teen Wolf. ShadowHunters.
you left him before. can you leave him again with a baby on the way?
synopsis: divorcing a stubborn dickhead like Ryomen Sukuna was probably the most difficult thing you ever had to do. but what were you supposed to do when your husband had practically become a stranger considering most days he spent more time at work than he did at home? and when he was home, half the time he'd rather sleep on the couch than in your bed? you didn't hate him. but you didn't love him anymore either. maybe you would have moved on. but when one last night together ends up with more than just a memory after you get two little lines on a pregnancy test, you discover you might not be able to get rid of him after all.
pairing: ex-husband!sukuna x pregnant!reader (also featuring best friend!geto)
content: mdni, fliuff + angst, divorced-to-remarried, complicated relationships, messy feelings, accidental pregnancy, so much regret, misunderstandings, breaking up and making up, gruff and grumpy sukuna who misses his wife, soft geto trying to steal her from him
a/n: lovely art by @winterrbluess !! part of my community event <3
Suguru was the one making a mistake now.
You were sure of it.
"Don't act like you've always dreamed of being a step-dad," you sarcastically murmured, downplaying his offer as he lightly scoffed.
"Don't act like I wouldn't do it for you," he retorted.
"I don't expect you to," you huffed at your best friend.
Why the hell would he want to spend the next eighteen years tied down to a kid that was half a man he hated? Why would he choose you when he could have anyone?
"You don't get it," he exhaled, and before you could process what he was getting at, he was stepping closer - bridging the distance as you stilled.
"I don't get what?" You blinked, throat closing at his sheer proximity. Barely believing what was happening even when it was right in front of you, not even two inches from your face as he leaned down.
"I like you," he bluntly said.
You knew what he meant.
But part of you wanted to play dumb. To pretend you had no fucking clue - and cling to the life you were used to. The one where up was still up and he was still your best friend and you weren't fucking pregnant with your ex-husband's baby.
"Say something," he spoke slowly, with the same gentleness he always reserved for you. His thumb drifting across your cheekbone as his nose nearly brushed against yours.
"I don't know what to say," you half-whispered, your stare shifting from his lips to his eyes then back down to his lips - wondering what the hell had just left them.
Why now?
Why not, well, fifteen fucking years ago?
Before you got married or after your breakup?
"If you want time to think about it," he started, but your mouth was parting before he finished.
"You're not just doing this to piss Kuna off, are you?" You asked, brows scrunching together as you swallowed hard.
Suguru was petty. You'd known that as long as you'd known him. You were pretty fucking positive he'd been behind a handful of Sukuna's clients leaving post-divorce, not that you ever confronted him about it. He had casually mentioned it off-hand, muttering that he had deserved it, and you didn't have the guts to ask.
He scoffed, dark eyes squinting as he shook his head, all offended at the notion. "I wanted you before he did."
"You can't-"
"No, I only stayed silent because I wanted you to be happy," he interrupted, refusing to accept your refusal of his pretty proclamation. "I should've said something."
You weren't sure you would've believed him back then.
He'd always seemed perfectly happy to be in his position. Always warm and welcoming to have you lean on him whether you were laughing or crying, an arm slung around your shoulder or a hand casually squeezing your own - never groping or grabbing.
Just there when you needed it.
"You don't have to feel the same way," he added, but you felt like there was some unspoken yet hanging in the air. "But you needed to know the truth."
Truth, huh?
Funny how fickle that seemed to be lately. How hard it was to find even when it was staring you right in the face.
Sukuna had told you before that Suguru liked you. Swore up-and-down the first few years you started dating that your best friend had a secret crush on you, glaring at him at parties and during double dates no matter how many times you scolded him and told him to stop being ridiculous.
You might apologize if you didn't think he'd beat his ass for it.
"So when you say you want this-" You started, trying to make all of it make some modicum of sense in your head as you stared at the face you'd seen a million times, and never once nearly as serious as he was right now.
"I want you," he breathed. "And whatever comes with it."
A baby. An ex-husband.
Common sense said this wasn't going to end well.
But it also told you that you needed to tell Sukuna that you were pregnant with his kid, and you were still having a difficult time convincing yourself that was the right move either.
"I haven't figured out what I want," you muttered. You weren't even fucking close.
You'd never let yourself see Suguru as anything other than platonic. And despite a faint flicker of disappointment that in all these years of knowing him, he had spent it fantasizing about getting out of the friend zone, it would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about it a few times since your divorce. Considered in stolen moments what your life might have turned out like if you'd gone for someone like him instead of Sukuna.
Unfortunately, your treacherous heart still harbored a few feelings that you didn't want to acknowledge. Ones that floated back up and planted themselves firmly in the forefront of your mind as you listened to your best friend confess to you everything Sukuna already knew and you ignored.
"I know," Suguru exhaled, but there was a glint of hope in his eyes as he brushed your hair back and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I'll be here when you do."
God, you didn't know how it could get more confusing.
Until you went to work the next morning and discovered Sukuna standing in front of your building, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hands.
"What are you-"
Your breath got stuck in your throat, unable to finish asking the quesiton on your tongue as he stepped forward.
"I, uh, didn't know where else to find you," he awkwardly grunted, holding out the bag like it was some olive branch you were supposed to accept.
You eyed it suspiciously, folding your arms across your chest with a sigh, "You do realize how creepy that sounds, right?"
"I just want to talk," he swore, as if he wasn't surely missing some uber-important meeting with fresh investors. You'd been running late this morning too, sleeping through your first alarm clock and stumbling across your place to get showered and dressed, your brain unhelpfully replaying your conversation with Suguru throughout most of it.
You were tired of talking.
It didn't even take a full hour for you to find an excuse to leave his place after his confession, mumbling that you were tired and wanted to turn in early.
Technically, it wasn't a total lie.
You'd crashed within minutes of coming home.
And even after nearly fourteen hours of sleep, you were still feeling foggy. Exhaustion creeping into your bones, burrowing there as you mourned the days where you could down an energy drink or two to chase it away.
"I'm really not in the mood," you muttered, shaking your head as your stomach unhelpfully rumbled.
He cocked his head to the side, jiggling the bag as you reluctantly snatched it from him.
"Is this a bribe?" You sarcastically asked, pushing out your bottom lip.
"If it means you'll stay," he spoke, all gruff and gravelly.
You sorta wanted to slap him.
To scoff and ask why he thought this would work when you stayed for so fucking long and things only changed after you left.
"Sukuna," you dryly said his name, trying to hold yourself together as your stomach made another faint noise. Opening your mouth to speek as you peeked inside the bag he brought. "What do you want from me?"
"A thousandth chance?"
You nearly laughed, but the scent of the treat he brought you sent a sharp wave of nausea straight through you, and before you could stop yourself, you were gagging.
"Are you okay? What-"
You puked on his loafers.
But despite his curse, he was holding your hair back, muttering an awkward apology for bringing the wrong thing as you retched up your decaf coffee all over his fancy Italian shoes.
It hurt.
Throat burning as it came back up, fast shudders rolling through you as his free hand started to awkwardly rub your shoulder blades.
And once you were finished, he didn't even act disgusted, just tilting your face back up as you wiped the corner of your mouth, glancing around embarrassed as you prayed none of your coworkers were coming in or noticed.
"Do you need me to drive you to the doctor? Urgent Care?" He started to ask, his thumb brushing away a few tears that had slipped out. Concern etched into his serious stare, his ring glinting unhelpfully in the sunlight as you let out a shaky sigh.
In the Jujutsu Empire, it is considered taboo among the upper class to indulge in something so animal as seeking out one's soulmate.
You, the third daughter of a grand duke and the bearer of a secret soulmark, have your life suddenly uprooted in order to become the bride of the crown prince, Satoru Gojo, a notorious bachelor who couldn't care less about getting married after it was long ago guaranteed his soulmate would never be an option.
wc: 8.5k, Chapter 5 of 6
previous masterlist
general cw for this fic: angst (happy ending), hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, child abuse, yandere, dacryphilia, breeding kink, lactation kink, not abo but i am stealing some themes, possessive behavior, voyeurism, praise kink (but he's kinda mean about it), bondage, dubious consent, sex pollen, drugging
minors do not interact
IF YOU WANT ME
Each decides to take fate into their own hands, unwilling to let it drift on by.
Satoru held the tiny paper crane in his hands, fingers smoothing out the creases in the crumpled wing. The inked script used to enchant the crane had begun to fade, degraded from excessive handling. He had taken to keeping it in the top drawer of his desk, an attempt to prevent himself from further wearing down the ancient paper. It wasn't like there was any shortage of folded birds; the collection Satoru had amassed far exceeded the available space in his drawer, but he was particularly attached to this one.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
It was while wandering through the garden that Satoru first found it, a songbird that fluttered weakly on the garden path before transforming into a paper crane. A quick survey of the garden yielded a whole flock of them, their magic either actively failing or having already petered out.
It hadn't taken him long to figure out where the cranes were coming from. They were all folded using pages torn from books shelved in his childhood bedroom, the birds brought to life by spells scrawled in the margins of fairytale adventures. The entire batch of them had nearly the exact same set of instructions—they were enchanted to search the garden for specific items before returning to you. Satoru had already known that you were something of an amateur sorcerer, one with a particular interest in potions and tinctures. Given the fact that you were free to wander the garden as you liked, it only stood to reason that you were trying to brew something without raising suspicion.
Satoru didn't have to do much investigating to figure out what sort of potion you were concocting either. You had apparently been determined to gather the necessary ingredients, which had resulted in everything you sought being represented at least three times over, if not more. It was a little endearing, the way that your desperation was represented by the sheer volume of deconstructed paper cranes on his desk.
The thought of you working so hard was almost cute enough to overcome the dread he felt when he realized why you were doing so. It was just as Satoru was beginning to spiral into more sinister theories that Yuta burst through the office door.
The young knight looked panicked. His breathing was heavy, as if he had just run across the grounds without stopping.
"I just heard from Advisor Kento—what she's been doing with the birds—" Yuta gasped. "A mark, your highness—she's marked—"
Satoru jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the stacks of books on herbalism that were strewn across his desk. His knight's words didn't actually register so much as the emotion behind them, their importance only sinking in as Satoru grabbed Yuta's shoulders.
"What did you say?" Satoru asked. "Explain it properly, I don't want to misunderstand."
"Your wife—she bears a soulmark." Yuta said. "I didn't—I thought better of mentioning it, but a few weeks ago—I had not ever seen sign of it before, but—two weeks ago I went to her chambers—and there was—around her throat—"
Yuta kept talking, but Satoru had already long since stopped listening. The dark swirl of emotion that had perturbed him all morning dissipated, replaced by a white-hot rage that cut clean through all the turbid uncertainty.
"Why did you go to my wife's chambers?" Satoru asked, each word he spoke tight and terse. "I thought I had been clear that you were to leave all duties pertaining to her rooms to the other knights."
The crown prince took more satisfaction than he should have in seeing the fear on Yuta's face. The knight's eyes grew wide, his mouth falling open as he realized his mistake.
"The—everyone else was caught up in the meeting about keeping a better eye on her, and then we were investigating the breach on outer perimeter." Yuta explained. "When we realized she had been left by herself all morning—well, I was nearby, so—"
Even Satoru felt the pressure in the room increase, the weight of his anger blanketing the space.
"So—you deliberately went against my orders and visited my wife's bedchambers when no one else was around?" Satoru raised a brow, his jaw clenching as the idea bloomed in his mind.
It might have been because Satoru was already so unsettled by the sort of potion you were brewing, but Yuta's disclosure brought about an entirely different fear. Using such a potion on Satoru was one thing, but the thought of you using it to seduce someone else made acid creep up his throat.
"Your highness, I thought we had both agreed that—"
"I don't care who she's most comfortable with out of the lot of you, I don't want anyone who is lacking their counterpart skulking around my wife." Satoru snapped.
Satoru felt bad almost instantly after the words left his mouth. Yuta's face fell, his already distressed expression morphing into something distinctly devastated.
Like almost all the people working in the palace, Yuta bore a soulmark. However, unlike most of Satoru's staff, the negotiations to secure Yuta's soulmate had fallen through. There was a small number of people employed at the palace with dead or unreachable soulmates, although none were in such a tragic situation as Yuta Okkotsu. Yuta's soulmate had been cursed, and her precise whereabouts were unknown. The people who supposedly possessed that cursed woman were a rebel group on the outskirts of the kingdom, and they had been using her as a bargaining chip for the last several years.
Satoru's habit of collecting matched pairs of soulmates was anything but conventional, but the most notable aspect of his practice was that he made exceptions. The idea behind his unusual strategy was that by employing soulmates, he was able to ensure those individuals were bound by their duty to both the empire and their partner, but Satoru still regularly took in people with a soulmate who was out of reach for one reason or another. However, that tendency to pity those who lacked their counterpart had come back to bite the crown prince, as he was now experiencing severe bouts of jealousy whenever those unpaired people were anywhere near his once-unwanted wife.
It was unfortunate that you were so attached to the only knight who happened to be available, although hindsight made it easy for Satoru to see how Yuta was the person who was most likely to be open to bonding with you in the first place. All of his knights had expressed some degree of sympathy for your plight, but it was Yuta who felt most strongly against the way Satoru had handled you.
That explained why Yuta hadn't come running immediately upon discovering that you were marked.
It also created a pit in Satoru's stomach, a feeling that he couldn't quite place among all of the unfamiliar emotions that had cropped up with your arrival.
Satoru took in a deep breath.
"I want you to debrief with Advisor Kento." Satoru instructed, squeezing his eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I assume you will have little trouble continuing to feign ignorance after that, but if I hear of you going against my orders again, you will find yourself reassigned to the outskirts of the empire."
"Of—of course, your highness." Yuta said hurriedly, making for the exit with palpable relief.
Before you arrived at the palace, Satoru would never have questioned the loyalty of any of his knights. His feeling had been that a person with a soulmate simply wouldn't be interested in a random woman.
At least, that was what he had thought until Satoru was suddenly interested in that woman.
The feeling of attraction had been foreign to Satoru, and therefore he had struggled to identify precisely why you made him so severely uncomfortable. The only emotion Satoru had to compare it to was the unyielding devotion he felt toward his late soulmate, and even that feeling had eventually been eclipsed by the severity of his fascination with you.
If it weren't for the fact that Satoru was deeply familiar with the business of love magics, he might have suspected that you were already dosing him, but there was absolutely no evidence that you had done such a thing. Despite his surety, Satoru had still spent the greater part of his day researching what other potions you might possibly be attempting to create…only to have all of that work prove your actions more damning.
At best, you were trying to catch someone's eye. At worst, you were creating something highly illegal with intent to use it for nefarious purposes.
As you were married to the crown prince of the empire, your actions were condemnable either way. Trying to seduce someone who wasn't Satoru was highly suspicious, as was making an attempt to garner your husband's favor through such underhanded means.
As Satoru considered the circumstances, a small part of him became hopeful that it was all some enormous misunderstanding. Yours was a highly risky endeavor, and there was no telling what your actual intent was in creating such a potion. For Satoru to stir up trouble before any actual crime was committed would only cause strife and inevitably delay his coronation. You were just one woman, and he already had some idea as to what you were up to.
It would be most wise to monitor the situation and make sense of your motives before ultimately deciding how you should be handled.
Kento, perhaps predictably, looked at Satoru as if he were an idiot upon hearing that plan.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
Satoru sighed, worrying the paper crane's wing between his fingers.
He hated to admit that Kento may have been right about the plan being flawed, although the crown prince couldn't bring himself to regret it. After all, things had turned out quite well considering all of the possible outcomes.
The apothecary had returned the report on the residuals from the vials he found on your person, revealing them to have contained exactly what you professed: attraction brew.
The way that the potion's effects ended up manifesting really bothered Satoru. That magic spoke of something stronger than should have been possible for such a brew, and the thought of you being in such a state around anyone else made him absolutely livid.
Satoru might have found reason to be angry with you, but the report also detailed an alteration to the potion that intrigued him. The brew was designed to only work on specific parties—namely you and Satoru. If ingested by anyone else, the magic would be rendered inert, even if one of you was already affected.
Satoru was somewhat impressed with your ability to create something so complicated, but he was more impressed by how thorough you had been in ensuring that the potion had such strict exclusions. The knowledge that you were intent on the magic only working on yourself and Satoru soothed the possessive little beast that had been picking at his thoughts.
Satoru had been left with a number of questions, but he was having trouble focusing on any of them. Where he should have been thinking about why such simple magic had gone awry, instead he found himself wondering why you had been so careful in creation, but so sloppy in administration. He wondered what your true motivation was, and if you would ever be willing to disclose it after he had humiliated you so thoroughly.
Satoru wondered how you were feeling, and how soon he could make an excuse to see you again.
Leaning back in his chair, Satoru groaned. Despite the severe magical effects, the lab report indicated low likelihood of prolonged impact, meaning that you should only be suffering the effects of what he had done to you. He picked up the report, creasing one end and tearing a strip off to render the sheet more square. With practiced motions, he began folding, following the pattern he had unfolded and re-folded countless times over.
There was an old legend, one that his mother used to recount, a story about a woman who folded paper birds in exchange for a wish.
All his life, Satoru had only ever thought about making one, very specific wish, one that he knew would never be able to come true. Now, he was beginning to consider what might happen if he wished for something within his grasp.
While you believed that you were well within your rights to feel sorry for yourself, you were actively deciding to view the tea time incident as a step forward.
The outcome, while undoubtedly demoralizing, was evidence that things between you and Satoru had changed. If things had been the same as they were at the start, you would have been swiftly imprisoned, if not executed outright for your actions. Being able to waltz around the palace with all of your usual freedoms after attempting to drug the future emperor was no small accomplishment.
At least, that's what you were telling yourself.
There had been a part of you that genuinely believed being unbound would be as simple as getting Satoru to slowly give into the urge to be with you. Your delusions were partially informed by the stereotypical depiction of soulmates, but you suspected that your naive hope had largely been driven by the strength of the magical pull you felt between you and Satoru.
That magical ache, soothed by your brief union, had started to affect you again by morning. The need had been unbearable when you woke up, but it had faded into a more manageable longing by the time the afternoon had rolled around.
Of course, that longing then twisted into a sickeningly pitiful hope when you learned you would still be sharing your evening meal with the crown prince.
After being left alone all day, you believed that you lost the opportunity to be close to Satoru. That assumption had been part of the reason you felt so poorly. The thought of your casual interaction with Satoru being reduced was enough to make you rethink your plans entirely.
The fanciful, romantic part of you feared losing the little progress you had made. You might have even been able to convince yourself that you were content with the scraps of normalcy you had been afforded…were it not for the slight possibility that you might lose everything once Satoru was properly crowned.
"—although if you really can't stomach the red meat, we may be able to procure something else."
You looked up, tearing your eyes away from your plate for the first time since the meal began.
Satoru was staring at you, his expression betraying a level of concern that you were sure he would have preferred to conceal. Your husband had been trying to behave as if things were no different between you than they had been the day before, and he had actually been moderately successful.
It was you that was struggling to pretend that nothing had happened.
"I'm sorry—there's nothing wrong with the food." You said. "My mind is just elsewhere today, I'm a bit distracted."
The corner of Satoru's lips twitched upward, a brief twinkle in his eyes the only real sign that he was actively working to maintain his composure.
"I see." Satoru said, turning his eyes back to his plate. "Though I do wonder what could be preoccupying my wife to the point that she would neglect both her meal and conversation."
The bravery that his words stoked had been an ember in your throat, a coal that flared to life as you sucked in a breath to speak.
"I want to apologize, your highness." You blurted. "I—"
"Ah—" Satoru cut you off. "I fear that if you feel you have something worth apologizing for, then I may never be able to sincerely make up for my own missteps."
"Missteps?" You repeated incredulously.
You blinked, a long-suppressed irritation roaring to life. It felt as if a spark had ignited between you, the room buzzing with a strange energy as your eyes met. In an impressive display of bravery, Satoru dismissed all the staff in the room, leaving the two of you alone for the second time in just under a day.
Satoru finally turned his full attention toward you as the last door closed.
"You were saying?" He prompted.
If you'd had another day or two to let your emotions settle, you might have backed down. You might have seen the benefit of handling the situation with grace and simply apologized as intended. You might have even taken Satoru's meager apology in stride and remembered that you would be able to get something more sincere out of him later.
Unfortunately, you had woken up alone after a very emotional evening, and that being the case, you didn't see the harm in making any of that Satoru's problem.
"Missteps…" You mused. "Did you have a particular misstep in mind, your highness? Or were you hoping that I would just assume you were referring to whatever it is that I'm most upset about?"
For just a brief moment, surprise flashed across Satoru's face. His eyes widened, his mouth opening as if to speak before he seemed to remember himself. He studied you, his piercing gaze trailing down to your lips before he met your eyes again. The silence between you seemed to stretch on forever, a vacuum that threatened to snuff out your blaze of indignant anger.
You didn't dare look away, pushing down the urge to poke at your food in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension you were feeling.
After what felt like an eternity, Satoru finally broke. He quirked a brow, his signature smirk slowly growing as he relaxed in his chair.
"Did you want me to start with my very first misstep, or would you prefer I begin with the things that make me feel the most ashamed?" He asked.
It almost didn't feel real. Here you had expected pushback, but it seemed that the infamously obstinate Satoru Gojo was totally content to yield.
"Satoru—you and I both know that we'll be here all night if we went through every way you have wronged me." You sighed.
"You're right." Satoru agreed. "And the food is already getting cold."
What was perhaps more surprising than being allowed the chance to berate Satoru for wronging you, was the opportunity to back down. Truthfully, you weren't sure if you were ready for Satoru to apologize, simply because you didn't think you were prepared to forgive him for the bulk of what he had done.
"We can table the matter, if you would like." Satoru offered. "Until we find a more appropriate moment."
You felt the tension in your shoulders dissolve as you let out a sight of relief. The ability to straddle between allowing Satoru to know you were upset with him, but not yet be forced to face the actual confrontation was perhaps the most favorable outcome possible.
"Don't think this means you're forgiven." You said, stabbing your fork into one of your little, golden brown potatoes.
"I would find it concerning if I was." Satoru hummed. "Trust that I will be diligent in considering all of the ways I can earn that forgiveness in the interim."
The sly look Satoru shot you sent lightning through you, heat creeping up your neck as you were overcome by vivid memories of riding his thigh the evening prior. You had already been dwelling on the experience because of the severe shame you felt, but now that Satoru was insinuating he would repeat the experience, you were reliving the moment in an entirely different way.
"Your methods could use a little work." You smiled coyly. "Although, I wouldn't consider it entirely selfish if you wanted to set aside some time for us to have tea again."
If it weren't for the way that the conversation was affecting you, you might have convinced yourself that your words didn't actually affect Satoru. It was subtle, but you could see his pupils dilate, his nostrils twitching as his grip on his glass tightened.
"Tea would be nice." Satoru agreed. His tone was surprisingly even for the visible effect your suggestion had on him. "I'll be pouring my own drink next time, though."
You looked away, your cheeks burning.
"Not that I don't enjoy a little milk in my tea on occasion." Satoru added, using a finger to slowly tilt your chin upward.
Dazed, you looked up at him, unsure exactly when he had gotten out of his chair.
Satoru brushed his thumb over your lips, catching the bottom one slightly and gently tugging it down. There was a strange look in his eye, one that was becoming increasingly familiar, a hint of barely contained lust that made you want to rub your thighs together. You were getting better at reading him. The crown prince's once hazy, muted emotions now felt interpretable, your own reaction to the soulmate magic adding much-needed context to his behavior.
Satoru gasped softly as you parted your lips, your teeth grazing the pad of his thumb before you softly bit down. You watched his eyes glaze over, guilty arousal welling up in them as you glanced down to find him visibly hard. Smiling, you pulled back, returning your attention to your meal, and doing your best to pretend you weren't just as undone by the experience as your husband.
˖｡⋆˚༺❤︎༻˚⋆｡˖
While the rest of that evening had progressed as usual, the brief, flirtatious banter with Satoru had left you plagued with visions of what could have been.
To say that you were enamored by the thought of taking things between you further was an understatement. While you had walked into the dining hall determined to retain your dignity, you had left wishing that you had been afforded a proper excuse to lose it.
Angry as you were with Satoru and your circumstances, that feeling was often overshadowed by the more pressing need to connect with your soulmate. While you would have liked to say that said desire was purely driven by your longing to be unbound, it was more and more the result of how good it felt to be around Satoru.
He was funny, when he wasn't being irritating, charming when he wasn't pushing bravado, and most notably, he was caring and fiercely loyal to his people. For all parts of Satoru that someone might find unbearable, there were equally as many that made him worth spending time around.
After the tea time incident, you had expected your encounters with your husband to be extremely limited, but it seemed to be the opposite. Satoru sometimes joined you on your walks through the gardens, and you had found yourself invited to enter his office no matter the hour. Of course, you had suspected the nature of the underlying invitation, but it had still shocked you the first time that the crown prince laid you down across his desk and brought you to orgasm on top of a pile of paperwork.
It wasn't always physical, though, which really only made the artificial distance between you that much more difficult to cope with. It had become hard for you to tell the difference between your need for connection, your desire to become unbound, and the pull of the magic binding you. You were sure that the most efficient method of getting Satoru to confront his own feelings would be to make him cross the boundaries that he had set for himself. It made you feel despicable to consistently test his will, but you had to remind yourself it was ultimately for both of your benefits.
It was clear that the lengths Satoru went to deny himself happiness had already affected him quite severely. The social and political impact of his stubbornness was apparent, even to you as a distant observer. While he was certainly strong enough to mostly overcome it unscathed, that sort of pressure undoubtedly wore him down. In many ways, Satoru was regularly engaging in an abstract form of self-flagellation as a method of devotion to his soulmate.
It both flattered and angered you that he would do such a thing to himself on your behalf. While you were careful to never broach the subject of soulmates with your husband, you sometimes fantasized about berating him for hindering himself in what was essentially your memory.
The feelings you had surrounding Satoru's enamorment with the concept of his soulmate were complicated. On one hand, that sort of blind devotion was profoundly romantic. On the other, he was offering that devotion selfishly.
In many ways, Satoru's feelings were about his soulmate, about his loss.
That was just your interpretation, though. The raw truth of the matter remained unclear. Satoru was fairly guarded when it came to his feelings, and he clearly preferred to take control of you and your feelings before so much as scratching the surface of his own. For all you knew, Satoru held some grand philosophy or plan far beyond your current understanding.
Regardless of what was really going on, it was still apparent that the crown prince's behavior had become more erratic with your introduction to the palace, and Satoru was absolutely interested in being around you.
You just needed to make him understand that he felt that way because he was meant to be around you.
You might have known how visiting Satoru in his office would end, but that didn't stop you from making your way there anyway.
It had started so innocently, your eager hands reaching only to rub out the knots in your husband's tense shoulders, but you had quickly thereafter found yourself seated in his lap. Soon Satoru's own hands had begun to wander, and by the time you had thought better of it, things had already gone the way they often did.
Satoru was being more cruel than usual that day.
"If you think you're the first woman to try and get an heir out of me, then you're far more naive than you let on."
Rationally, you knew that Satoru was just trying to get a rise out of you, but the implication that he had been intimate with another woman made your heart drop. Your muscles locked up, your stomach churning as you were overcome by a powerful wave of nausea. That idea was one you had spent a great deal of effort keeping out of your thoughts. Once you had realized that Satoru was your soulmate, the mere reminder of his rumored, promiscuous past had been enough to put you into a spiral. Disgust and betrayal rolled through you, choking you with the tears you seemed to always be repressing when things got intense.
Escaping suddenly became your number one priority. The thought of breaking down over Satoru taunting you was simply too much to handle.
Your hands grabbed at Satoru's in an attempt to pull them off of you, but it was already far too late. You could tell from the way that Satoru's movements stuttered that he had taken full notice of how your body responded to his words. His arms tightened around you, pulling you further back into his lap. He took advantage of your escape attempt, grinding his hips up into yours while you fought to unseat yourself.
"Oh, darling—does that make you jealous?" Satoru smirked. "Do you hate the idea of me sending another woman off satisfied if unsuccessful?"
"Let go of me, you lecherous bastard—" You hissed, thrashing in Satoru's hold. "If you think I'm going to listen to you recount your trysts with other women while you toy with me—"
Your protest was abruptly cut off as Satoru decided that was the perfect moment to finally push his fingers inside you. You could feel the satisfaction rumbling in his chest, his appreciation for the way you were already spasming around his fingers soothing the sting of your bitter insecurity.
"My jealous wife—who would have thought you would end up so possessive of your 'lecherous bastard' of a husband." Satoru teased, resting his chin on your shoulder. He pressed his nose into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply as your head lolled to the side to give him better access.
He crooked his fingers, pressing against the spot inside you that made your vision white out. You keened, rolling your hips in time with his fingers, relishing the way you could feel the hardness of him against your ass. There was a thick satisfaction thrumming between you, Satoru's lips smiling against your pulse as the friction built into a hot, mind-numbing pleasure.
"For a woman who views me with such contempt, you certainly still seem to enjoy what I can do for you." He purred.
"It's all you've been good for—" You retorted.
You felt Satoru's huff of amusement against your skin. "How fortunate that I could be good for something."
The most interesting aspect of your relationship with Satoru was the way he seemed to enjoy your pushback. Considering his role in the empire and his history as a leader, you had actually expected him to be an authoritarian husband who would demand total compliance and submission, only to be surprised by his enthusiasm for your blatant disrespect. Displays of defiance were most often treated as an invitation to play than actual slights.
However, there were indeed lines that were better left uncrossed.
"Difficult as you are, you're fortunate that I come to you at all, your highness." You sneered.
Satoru scoffed, adjusting the arm that he was using to hold you in place. He slid his hand up, dragging it over your breast before resting it gently on your throat. Using a finger, he tilted your head back and licked a stripe up the side of your neck.
"Are you implying that it isn't me you want?" He muttered. "I find it hard to believe, given that for all your complaints, you still keep showing up bare beneath your skirts and dripping down your thighs. For all your protesting, you certainly never seem keen to avoid me."
Satoru didn't give you the chance to bring up his own obvious preparations. Luxury wines and desserts, foreign dresses with sinful slits in the skirts, beautiful jewelry that he claimed could be worn all on its own…and those were just the things Satoru had procured. A sudden increase in time to lounge after meals, 'spontaneous' encounters in the gardens, and the feeling of being watched when no one was around—it was in your husband's constant presence that you found the most optimism for the future.
Although, that blossoming affinity didn't seem to matter much when it came to these moments of intimacy.
Teeth grazed against your pulse as Satoru started working his fingers inside you, his thumb rhythmically brushing against your clit. You could feel every part of yourself tightening up, your body going rigid against Satoru's as he worked to pull your orgasm out of you.
"You're unbearable." You gritted out, panting as you tried to find the strength to not outright beg him to strip you down and fuck you.
"Oh, really now?"
You couldn't be sure if Satoru's proficiency was due to natural chemistry, or if it was skill honed during the many hours he had already spent practicing. Either way, the efficiency with which Satoru brought you to your peak was honestly frightening. Your mind spun, the dregs of your anger draining away as your orgasm washed over you. Your mouth fell open, your words dissolving into desperate little sounds as you tried to cope with the climax Satoru was dragging you through.
"There we go—cum on my fingers like the dutiful wife you are—show me just how unbearable you find me." Satoru cooed.
You wished you could have bitten back, that your tongue was unbound so that you could properly taunt Satoru about what you knew he wanted from you. Whether or not you would have had the willpower to deny him was irrelevant—you just wanted your husband to be the one who was begging for once.
It made you feel pathetic. So very often, you were the one to initiate these bouts of intimacy. It was your underlying suggestion that someone might eventually expect a child after the coronation that had gotten his hands on you that day. You were sure that your persistent pursuit of him was what gave Satoru the wrong idea about your intentions, although you were learning it was impossible to know what your husband was actually thinking.
It also made you furious because Satoru was right.
You did want him. Quite badly, actually.
You wanted him to bend you over his desk, flip your skirts up, and take you right then and there. You wanted to feel him bully his cock all the way inside you while you whined and shook and cried beneath him. You wanted to hear the satisfaction rumbling in his chest while he pressed soothing kisses into the crook of your neck before he took you with beastly enthusiasm.
The fantasies were nothing new. You had been tormented by them for weeks, plagued by visions of mind-blowing makeup sex that would somehow undo all the months of hurt you had endured at the hands of Satoru Gojo. You were fairly sure you would never really be so spineless as to outright forgive your husband for everything that he had done…but it was nice to imagine the ways he might try to convince you.
While you did frequently think about your soulmate pleasing you until you might consider gracing him with the absolution of his guilt, your more recent daydreams had taken on a more dramatic, emotional flavor.
You wanted to see that infallible man fall to his knees and cry tears of ecstasy when you allowed him to press his mouth to your cunt. You wanted him to have an earth-shattering realization about what a puerile fool he had been while you ground your hips against his face. You wanted to hear Satoru whimper about how good it felt to finally have you wrapped around him, to confess how much he had been thinking about having you, and to beg to be allowed to warm your bed for the rest of your lives.
Perhaps you were more like your soulmate than you had initially believed.
And none of that even began to cover what you wanted from him emotionally.
You sniffled, a traitorous tear leaking from your eye. Satoru noticed far too quickly, the control he was exerting over you loosening instantly as his focus shifted.
"Oh, darling—" Satoru tutted. "Don't cry, don't cry—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Then you shouldn't have been such an ass—" You snapped.
Despite the harshness of your words, you didn't try to leave Satoru's arms again, instead melting into him as he transitioned from pleasuring you to soothing you.
"I'm sorry—I've been rough with you today, haven't I?" Satoru sighed. "I've just been so busy with preparations for the coronation—but I shouldn't take that stress out on you."
You rolled your eyes, unable to express how you might have offered to let him use you for such a thing were you elevated as his soulmate and not his plaything.
"Talk to me—" Satoru urged. "I hate when you stay quiet. I would rather you scold me than keep it inside to fester."
You paused, trying to decide how vulnerable you wanted to be with a man who was still so reluctant to do the same for you.
"I don't want to hear about the women you've had." You muttered.
Satoru froze for a moment, the fingers caressing your cheek stuttering before he snorted, shaking the both of you with his barely-contained laughter.
"You really are a jealous little thing, aren't you?" Satoru snickered. "Alright, you won't hear about anyone else. I won't create any more petty stories to rile you up."
"Create? Wait—have you really never—?" You trailed off, unsure if you wanted to know the truth if what you were assuming was a more comfortable lie.
"You can feel pride in being the only woman alive to ever interest me." There was a bitter edge to Satoru's tone, one that you struggled to feel upset about under the circumstances.
While Satoru's ire for you as the woman who stood to take his cherished soulmate's place perturbed you, the realization that he felt so strongly about it because you were the only one to accomplish such a feat did not escape you.
You understood him, in a way.
Satoru was correct: you were quite jealous. You had become increasingly possessive of him, and you were quick to become irritable when something stood in the way of you spending time with him.
Soulmate magic was unique to most other forms of innate magic, and it was largely undocumented due to the taboo nature of predestined partners. Most people were quite private about their bonds, and so public knowledge of soulmate magic was largely based on the most exciting and prolific accounts available. You and Satoru's pull toward one another was particularly animal, although you speculated that might have been due to your lack of consistent coupling.
You had never heard of a mature bond being treated in the way yours and Satoru's had. Most people who found their soulmate either committed themselves to their fates, or did as much as possible to avoid them. Lingering around one's soulmate without properly allowing the magic to flow was practically unheard of, and you were beginning to suspect it was because doing so was largely unbearable.
Growing up, you had always felt that public sentiment regarding soulmates was absolutely baseless. People had free will, and you truly believed that the magic binding two people could be overcome with average effort.
Experiencing the magic for yourself had given you a new perspective.
It was possibly more severe for you because of your being bound, but the constant pull was making you absolutely insane.
When all of this began, there was no world in which you would have considered groveling for Satoru Gojo's favor. Now, it took absolutely everything in your power to not do even more foolish things than that. The magic had driven you to lie, drug him, and waltz around like a common whore in hopes that your husband would let a confession slip whilst buried to the hilt inside you.
Each time you tried and failed to become more intimate with Satoru, your ideas of what was an acceptable method to try next grew more outlandish. It was beginning to make you quite anxious, filling you with a looming fear that you really never would escape this hellish limbo.
The fact that the coronation was just days away didn't help.
Now that you were approaching that deadline, being unbound was the only thing on your mind. You were making a significant effort to encounter your husband, utilizing every avenue you could think of outside of blatantly trying to make him believe you were seeking company elsewhere. However, as the date of the coronation drew nearer, actively trying to make Satoru jealous was becoming an increasingly attractive option…even though it would doubtlessly lead to more conflict.
It seemed that outside of physical contact, conflict was actually the only language that Satoru spoke fluently. While he was undoubtedly a leader, your husband was also a fighter, a legendary warrior with more battlefield experience than the average knight serving him lived to see. The wars that had ravaged the outer rim of the empire had been what molded the crown prince into the man he was. There was no discounting the effect that such an experience would have had on a person, even one so strong as Satoru Gojo.
While it would have been nice to be an exception to Satoru's harsher qualities, you knew it would never be so simple as him setting aside the only ways he knew how to interact with others.
You had been thinking a lot more about what it was like to be Satoru Gojo. It couldn't have been easy as the only heir to the empire, and you were sure that his sensitivity regarding his 'lost' soulmate was anything but baseless. The difference in your upbringing was profound, and the more you considered it, the more you empathized with Satoru's decisions.
Not that you thought any of them were justified, but you were certainly becoming more able to see things from his perspective.
You spent a significant amount of your time daydreaming about what would happen the moment that you were unbound. Where at first you thought almost exclusively about what it might be like to properly berate Satoru, more and more often you found yourself imagining how nice it would be to speak plainly about why things had happened the way that they did between you.
It was tough to wrestle with the concept. On one hand, Satoru was only being so difficult because of his ironclad devotion to his soulmate. On the other hand, he was subjecting you to undue torment, all whilst being ignorant that the aforementioned beloved soulmate was you. Most often, you were stuck somewhere between wanting to comfort your husband and wanting to wring his neck.
The idea that it could be worse lingered in the back of your mind. Neither of you could control the world or roles that you had been born into. Satoru clearly felt conflicted about his treatment of you, but he was unwilling to compromise on whatever private oath he had taken to remain faithful to his fated love. From what you had gleaned, it was almost too intense, something more akin to worship than real, romantic love. You might have considered him mad if you weren't experiencing something similar.
The way things were going, you really would both go insane before you could succeed in being unbound.
It was like he was there, but just out of reach. Every moment you spent together was blissful agony, a reminder of the happiness you could have dangling right before you. There were times when Satoru seemed to forget himself, brief flashes of the future which he was unknowingly depriving himself of. Your tongue caught often these days, driving a wedge between you where emotion should have flown freely.
While most of the time you forced yourself to focus on your goal, sometimes you doubted your ability to overcome the challenges before you. Satoru was a stubborn person, and most of your attempts to control the situation between you and your husband ended with you being forced into submission, albeit more and more gently each time. It was almost nice, the way that Satoru had begun to lovingly offer you a consolation prize.
You sighed, resting your head against Satoru's chest as he began busying himself with preparations for the coronation again.
Maybe being the mad emperor and his pitiable empress consort wouldn't be all that bad.
The coronation was an overly formal affair, a ceremony more stuffy than your wedding by far. The event wasn't even focused on you, but you were still forced into an uncomfortable gown and made to stand solemnly while Satoru received the title for which he had uprooted your entire life.
You didn't bother paying attention. There wasn't any reason to do so. You knew that Suguru was somewhere in the crowd, so you kept your gaze trained on the back wall out of the fear that you would get emotional if you spotted him. The feelings you had regarding your father's involvement in your predicament waxed and waned day to day, but you felt particularly down about your still being bound despite all of your efforts.
Your relationship with Satoru had already changed dramatically enough that you no longer feared what he might do with you after the coronation, but your outlook was rapidly souring. Your husband hadn't brought up the 'after' in quite a while. Though you didn't think that his becoming the emperor would have any positive effect on your marriage, there was still a small part of you that was hoping for a miracle.
The plan had been to endure the coronation, make a noticeable appearance at the subsequent celebration, and then disappear deep into the recesses of the palace library to wait the rest of the event out.
However, before you could even so much as slip away to aimlessly stand somewhere visible, Satoru grabbed your hand.
"I hope you don't think you'll be able to escape my company this evening." Satoru muttered, never once dropping his big, performative smile. "Go straight to your chambers from here—I'll come retrieve you once things die down a little."
⊹༺✦༻⊹
It was a perfect day outside. The remnants of summer heat were finally fading, and the chill of fall was no more than an idea on the gentle breeze. The palace grounds were more quiet than they had been that morning, the bulk of the excitement concentrated in the areas designated for celebration. Even as you followed Satoru further and further away from the commotion, you could still smell the hot spiced mead that was being served to the guests, although that too began to fade as you were led to the gardens.
You wished you'd had the chance to sneak a few swigs of the stuff before being spirited away by Satoru, but you barely had the time to tuck your insurance away somewhere accessible before your husband knocked on your door. Satoru had been quick to remove most of his ceremonial attire, though he had taken the time to tuck his linen tunic into his breeches more neatly than usual. The traditional, imperial crown that he had been given during the coronation was gone, exchanged for a comparatively simple diadem. The silvery circlet kept catching your eye, the swirling pattern disturbingly reminiscent of the glamoured mark the was woven around your neck.
Satoru didn't pull ahead when you failed to match his lengthy stride, keeping pace with you despite how slowly you were walking. He led you through the gardens to the outer grounds, bringing you much further than you had ever wandered. He was unusually quiet, which made you nervous, although you were still a little grateful for the silence after all the commotion. You walked for quite a ways, approaching a field that seemed to have been recently harvested before Satoru stopped.
"Tch—" He tutted. "There were flowers here just days ago."
"Flowers?" You quirked a brow, looking around at the empty field.
"Yes—" Satoru sighed. "I thought you would like to see them, given your interests."
"My interests?" You asked. "Surely you don't mean—Satoru, the flowers that a potion-maker cares most for are desiccated. I've no real interest in flowers that aren't dead."
"Really?" Satoru furrowed his brow. "But that time in the garden…you said—"
"I said whatever I thought might get my future husband's attention." You laughed.
"Oh." Satoru frowned. "I suppose—well, I've never been very good at any of this, have I?"
"You…have certainly improved." You said slowly.
Satoru looked down, an unfamiliar expression painting his face. You had seen him look somewhat bashful before, although he had never appeared quite so genuinely ashamed.
"You know—I never did get around to apologizing for the way I treated you at the start." Satoru said.
"It's rare for our time together to veer toward serious conversation." You shrugged.
"I suppose that's true." Satoru smirked. "My darling has more pressing needs than the words of a foolish prince."
"A foolish emperor." You reminded him.
"Ah—right." Satoru said, rolling his shoulders back. "That title felt much more important before I obtained it. Now that I hold it, it seems the least important thing I've ever possessed."
Something about the conversation felt odd. Satoru was usually quite confident when he spoke to you, but here you felt he was lacking that steadfast surety. It seemed like Satoru wanted to have a serious conversation, but you couldn't think of what sort of discussion might require this setting. The unfamiliar environment was making you nervous, and—
Satoru grabbed your hand suddenly.
"I saw reason to wait until everything felt perfect to do this—but I don't think that time will come, and I cannot bear to wait any longer."
Satoru dropped to his knees, his pretty eyes wet as he blinked up at you. You couldn't help the way you flinched, the sudden movement filling you with uncertainty. There was no controlling the surprise on your face, the sight of Satoru Gojo on his knees enough to empty your head of the anxious thoughts that had been swirling through it.
"I cannot undo all of the horrible things I have already done to you." Satoru said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. "Nor can I change the way I have harmed our relationship by delaying a proper apology."
"Satoru—" You felt your heart in your throat, emotions that you had spent months suppressing welling up inside you.
"Wait—please, let me say this, darling." Satoru said. "It was wrong of me to take out my feelings about what I have lost on you. I'm ashamed to have tortured you deliberately, and even more remorseful of the fact that I brought my impressionable vassals into it."
You were shaking. The only thing keeping you from collapsing was the knowledge that this would end if you didn't manage to keep yourself together.
"I know I don't deserve to kneel before you and beg to profess these feelings. I cannot expect your forgiveness, and I won't ask that my admitting this mean more to you than the fact that I have finally gotten around to doing it."
Satoru bowed low, his diadem tumbling from his head as his face nearly met the dirt.
"I denied my feelings from the moment they took root, and I actively sought to destroy them as they bloomed." Satoru's voice cracked. "But I see now that no one can choose their destiny, and to try would only hurt those I care for."
"Satoru—" You said. "Look at me."
Satoru slowly raised his head, his fingers curling into the dry earth as he looked up at you. You could feel magic dancing in the air, the brand of your soulmark growing hot as Satoru's eyes met yours.
"I think about you all the time." He admitted. "You're always on my mind, and I can't stop thinking of a future where things are different between us. I would never ask you to look past the things that I have done, but I have this feeling—this hope—that despite our circumstances, to be happy together is our destiny. I know I'm not the right person for you, I know that you would prefer someone else, and I'm ashamed to say I'm still selfish enough to ask that you'll choose me anyway."
You couldn't believe what was happening. For all the planning and scheming you had done to reach this moment, the fantasy actually manifesting in front of you was so unbelievable that you were almost convinced it couldn't be real.
"I'm in love with you."
Acknowledging the wrong he has done, he asks her to stay.
In the Jujutsu Empire, it is considered taboo among the upper class to indulge in something so animal as seeking out one's soulmate.
You, the third daughter of a grand duke and the bearer of a secret soulmark, have your life suddenly uprooted in order to become the bride of the crown prince, Satoru Gojo, a notorious bachelor who couldn't care less about getting married after it was long ago guaranteed his soulmate would never be an option.
wc: 11.2k, Chapter 4 of 6
previous masterlist
general cw for this fic: angst (happy ending), hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, child abuse, yandere, dacryphilia, breeding kink, lactation kink, not abo but i am stealing some themes, possessive behavior, voyeurism, praise kink (but he's kinda mean about it), bondage, dubious consent, sex pollen, drugging
૮꒰˶ - ˕ -꒱აangst + smut + plot sprinkle…that's it. that's the chapter.
be prepared for reader to have a magically modified body (temporary) also if you don't have pubic hair, you do now (my gift to you :3c)
minors do not interact
ALWAYS ON MY MIND
Caught, paralyzed by the thoughts that never leave their minds.
It wasn't until the next morning that the emotional weight of your plight began to fully settle over you. You had always imagined that finding your soulmate would be cause for celebration.
The only thing you felt was despair.
It felt less a blessing and more the curse some people claimed having a soulmate to be. How were you supposed to move forward when the person who was supposed to be your perfect match wanted nothing to do with you?
Before you realized the truth, you had felt alone in your suffering, but it had been tolerable. In your solitude, you had still felt the distant support of your family behind you, but it now seemed impossible to believe that they were really there for you.
You had felt betrayal when Suguru first told you of your arranged marriage, but that feeling was nothing compared to this.
Surely your father had known what you would endure at the hands of Satoru Gojo, had known you would come to understand the truth of the events he had set in motion.
That you would come to realize he had abandoned you.
That you would eventually come to know he had meticulously planned for something that would result in your misery.
It felt like your father had placed you directly in the maw of a dragon, like he had sent you here to suffer and die. Objectively speaking, you were left here all on your own, without any real ability to defend yourself.
Somewhere beneath all the anger, you hoped that there was some greater plan beyond your comprehension, that your father's schemes were more complicated than throwing you into the fire and hoping you came out unscathed.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
By the time you were feeling like you could get up and face the day, you had already convinced yourself that the risk of being caught was worth the potential reward.
Communication with your family had been sparse since you arrived at the palace. It was your suspicion than any letters you sent through conventional methods were intercepted and examined, and it was likely just the same for anything sent to you.
However, as a sorcerer, you had ways of getting around such invasive scrutiny.
It would have been an understatement to say that you considered yourself to be closer with your father than your sisters. Nanako and Mimiko were twins, after all. They had each other. While the strength of your relationship with Suguru was the basis for your overwhelming sense of betrayal, it also lent the method of your stealthily communicating that emotion.
The margins on the thin pages of the texts you had been plundering for paper didn't have a lot of blank space to write on, but you wouldn't need much room to make your point anyway. Clutching your nub of graphite, you carefully wound the words around the existing blocks of text.
Father,
Ultimately, there are so many things about marriage that you never told me...it is so much harder than I ever expected. Really, I suppose it isn't entirely your fault, as you yourself never bothered to wed. I regret not seeking your advice on making a family out of what one finds. Out of everyone, you are the person that knows the most about that. Unfortunately I'll have to solve my own problems. Supposedly it builds character.
All the best,
Your Daughter Dearest
It was less than a secret code, and more of a collection of clues cobbled together that Suguru wouldn't have any trouble interpreting. The fact that you addressed him as 'Father' and not 'Daddy Dearest' alone would alert him that you were upset, even if he managed to miss how your letter quite literally spelled out that you were furious.
You could only hope he understood what you were asking for.
You carefully creased the page that would serve as the crane-shaped envelope for your message. It was good that you had the foresight to save some of the blank pages from the books in your chambers for something like this—there would be no risk of your magical bird erring from its intended path.
The crane sprung to life as soon as set it down, stretching its wings before zipping out the window.
Watching it fly away, you felt a nervous anticipation creep in. Having sent many such birds into the garden, you didn't think anyone who noticed would think much of one more. What you were really scared of was not receiving a reply, or worse, receiving confirmation that you were on your own.
Despite the war between your creeping insecurity and the rational thoughts that barely kept it at bay, it was hard to not wonder if you had only been adopted to fulfill this role. Upsetting as it was to consider, there was still a chance that Suguru had only become your guardian because of who you were to the crown prince.
You shook your head.
No. You wouldn't allow yourself to wander down that line of thought. Suguru was still you father. Surely he wouldn't have put all of that effort into raising you just to send you off for slaughter.
It was late morning by the time you were finished sending your letter, and Nobara still had not come for you. However, because of your wards, you could feel that someone was lingering outside. You figured that it was either Maki or Mai, since Nobara was always quicker to get your day moving by force.
You sighed as you sat up, finally tired of sulking over your circumstances. Not bothering to throw anything over the slip you had ended up sleeping in, you trudged over to the door, hoping that no one would be able to tell you had been up all night crying.
"Good morni—" You trailed off.
Yuta was standing before you, hand poised to knock on the door you had just opened, his small, blue soulmark glittering before you, his dark, tired eyes wide with shock that likely reflected your own.
It wasn't really how close he was that surprised you, nor was it the fact that Yuta never came to retrieve you in the morning.
It was the sudden realization that you had forgotten your glamour.
You flinched.
Hard.
Hard enough that Yuta flinched in response.
The two of you stood there for a moment after that, both frozen, both completely silent.
Yuta broke free of the spell first, averting his eyes as he spoke.
"I apologize for intruding, my lady—but his highness has requested that you be prepared to attend a meal with him this evening."
By the time you had actually processed the words, Yuta was already walking away as quickly as his legs would carry him.
You stood alone in that open doorway for a few beats longer before finally having the sense to slam the door closed and lock it behind you.
Not like it really mattered. You had already exposed the one thing you really needed to hide.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
You were used to answering the door in your excessively modest nightgown, accustomed to the safety and comfort of your strategic garb. There had been a number of times that your clothes had saved your secret from being exposed, although now it was clear that you had just set yourself up to become dangerously complacent.
The experience had shaken you more than anything else that had happened to you at the palace, including realizing that your soulmate was already your husband.
On top of all of it, your soulmark was burning. You couldn't decide whether it was psychosomatic or a sign that your body was fighting the magic binding it—not that you were actually in the position to properly consider much of anything.
A thousand thoughts were trying to occupy the forefront of your mind all at once, fear and hope becoming enmeshed as you attempted to hold onto any one idea and anchor yourself in the moment.
Maybe he didn't see it.
After Yuta's surprise appearance that morning, no one had come by your quarters at all, which was definitely unusual.
Maybe he was just embarrassed because you were under-dressed.
You were fairly sure that you were going to wear a hole in the floor from how much you were pacing.
Maybe he left so quickly because he had important knight duties to handle.
The way things were going, it was likely that your heart would give out before anything else managed to get you.
Maybe those important knight duties didn't involve alerting Satoru that you had a soulmark.
You hadn't been able to calm yourself down, your mind filled with all the possibilities of what might happen to you.
There were no good outcomes. Being bound, you couldn't possibly explain yourself. You couldn't even acknowledge the mark. If you were questioned, there was a solid chance that you would be rendered totally unable to speak. Being totally resistant to interrogation would probably cause more problems, and you were struggling to imagine that resulting in a favorable outcome.
In the most ironic, worst-case scenario, your soulmate might even personally end you.
All because of a stupid mistake.
By the time that you were considering climbing out your window and risking a grand escape, Nobara was at your door with Maki and Mai, armed with a rack of new dresses and more jewelry than you had ever seen at one time.
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It was far from the first time that you had been forcibly dressed up by your ladies-in-waiting; however, it was the first time that you had been asked to give your opinion.
It felt like a trap at first, like you were being afforded some semblance of control so that it could be ripped away from you at the last moment. You were even asked which soap you would prefer they use while they scrubbed you down. However, by the time that you had actually gotten to the point where you were deciding on the final details of your outfit, you realized that there was something distinctly different about the way you were being handled.
Though it was extremely stilted and unbelievably awkward, Nobara, Maki, and Mai were all trying to make conversation with you. Previously, all attempts at casual communication had been initiated by you, and the exchange always ended remarkably quickly.
They apologized for leaving you alone all morning, explaining that there had been an important meeting that ran long. They asked how your day had been and why you hadn't touched the meal left outside your door. They even teased you for doing so, citing your constant requests to eat alone in your room.
If it weren't for all of the recent events, you wouldn't have been sure what to make of it.
Actually, you still weren't entirely sure what any of it meant, but you were sure it was the result of something that had happened within the last day.
It made you uneasy, but was somewhat comforting at the same time. You doubted that they would be going this far if you were in serious trouble. Not only that—you didn't think that these women would have it in them to do something like that. Sure, they were a little rougher around the edges than you would expect for people who were likely born into nobility, but you weren't exactly conventional yourself. By the time that you were headed toward the dining hall, you found that you were actually smiling.
That smile, however, disappeared when you walked through the doors and found that the crown prince was already seated at the table.
Satoru looked exactly the same as he always did, but in your eyes, he was a different man entirely. Knowing what you did, everything about him felt different. Recalling previous interactions between you both infuriated and allured you, the anger you felt for being mistreated melting into the understanding that in Satoru's twisted mind it was only happening in your honor. It could have been flattering if it weren't for the way it had worked out.
The crown prince lounged in his chair, appearing every bit the confident, capable ruler that he was.
That was, until he spotted you.
Your husband perked up a bit on meeting your eye, sitting noticeably straighter in his chair before averting his gaze and acting like he hadn't done anything at all.
It was almost funny. If it weren't for all of your anxieties, you might have even laughed.
Reassurance was too strong a word for what you were feeling, but it did make you feel better to have evidence that your soulmate felt something about you.
What was the likelihood that Satoru would care about how he came off if he had just been alerted that you had a soulmark?
You made your way over to your seat, trying just as hard as your husband to appear normal. Adjusting your cloth napkin for the tenth time, you finally mustered the courage to peek over at your husband, only to find that he was already looking directly at you.
You couldn't help the way you froze up, not when you were under such an intense gaze.
Mercifully, someone arrived with food just in time to save you. A glass of mulled wine and a full plate was set in front of you—a hot and fragrant pile of seasoned vegetables and a small, roasted bird.
Any other time, you wouldn't have thought much of it, but the little bird you had sent off that morning was still on your mind. Paranoia crept in, all of your rationalizations swiftly disappearing as you stared at the meal in front of you.
What if this was all some kind of weird, elaborate test?
"Is the food not to your liking?" Satoru's voice pulled you out of your spiral. You looked up to see that he hadn't touched his plate either, a small frown on his face.
"N-no, it's fine—" You stuttered. "I just—"
"It's no trouble." Satoru asserted. He waved a young woman over, who quickly snatched your plate up and disappeared. "I'm told that there is a fine cut of venison in the kitchen. Unless you would prefer to have dessert first?"
You blinked. Satoru's offer had thrown you completely off-balance, not that you had been doing well to begin with.
"No, I can wait." You shook your head.
"I should have considered your preferences. You favor birds, yes?" Satoru asked. He looked at you with genuine curiosity, which only made you more nervous.
"They're a fine animal as any." You said, glancing around the room.
You spotted Yuta, who had appeared near the door that led to the hallway. He gave you a small smile, looking the most at-ease of any of you. Oddly enough, despite the encounter you'd had that morning, Yuta's presence made you feel better.
Satoru hummed in acknowledgement before falling silent, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
More quickly than should have been possible, a new plate was brought out for you. Just as Satoru had said, it was a prime cut of venison, along with the same mix of vegetables that you had received earlier.
You dug in, partially because you wanted to avoid Satoru having this plate stolen away, but mostly because you were ravenous.
Satoru seemed satisfied, finally tucking in to his own meal as you took your first bite.
Having missed your usual morning fare and unused to having company for meals, you ended up so invested in your food that you almost forgot your husband was even there.
That being the case, you nearly choked on your wine when Satoru spoke up.
"I apologize if I frightened you yesterday. I didn't intend to make you fall like that." Satoru said it without looking up from his plate, his eyes trained on the thick vegetable he was cutting. "It was just a surprise to find someone lurking in the shadows. You hide your presence well."
Somehow, Satoru addressing the incident where you fell face-first into him was infinitely more mortifying than anything else he could have potentially brought up. You felt your face flush, your cheeks burning as you tried to gracefully swallow your mouthful of alcohol.
"There is no need for you to apologize, your highness." You said carefully, looking between Satoru and the exit. Of all the possible reasons for this meal with Satoru, an apology was the last one you would have considered.
"So—you don't accept my apology, then?" Satoru asked, a small smile playing at his lips.
"What? No, I—I accept." You said quickly. "I apologize as well, I did not mean to surprise you the way that I did."
"Ah—that's a relief." Satoru sighed. "Although, I do wonder what you were doing watching me so secretively…"
You only realized his intent when he threw you a sly glance.
Satoru was teasing you.
You felt yourself relax, something you hadn't truly done since coming to the palace.
"Do you prefer an audience, your highness?"
Satoru's smile grew wide.
"No." He said. "I prefer a more intimate experience."
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You returned to your room that evening fully satisfied and thoroughly confused. While you weren't about to complain about Satoru's pivot in behavior, it still left you feeling unsure. The hope that he had realized that you were his soulmate grew, withered, died, and reseeded itself over and over again. You had already accepted that none of this would be simple, but the lack of control was already getting to you. It wasn't even possible for you to properly hint at being Satoru's soulmate, and you didn't trust that Satoru would ever bring it up on his own if he figured it out.
Regardless, something had definitely changed.
Angry as you were at everyone and everything, it was still a relief to see such noticeable differences. It didn't seem like you were in any danger, at least for the moment.
Laying in your bed, staring up at the gossamer canopy above you, you fiddled with the sapphire star on your necklace and dared to imagine something radical.
No one could choose their fate, not you, not your father, not the future emperor. That much was undoubtedly true. Given the circumstances of Satoru's birth, your own mysterious adoption, and the sudden union between you, it was clear that Suguru was meddling with things beyond any one man's control. The obstacles before you far outweighed the support you could receive, and there was a chance that everything you did would amount to nothing but misery. You were currently bound and even if you got the confession you needed, there would still be opposition at every turn—
But maybe, just maybe, it was still possible for you to be happy with Satoru one day.
Meals with Satoru became a regular thing. He wasn't always talkative, at least not with you. Satoru was a chattier person than you had thought, his mouth thoroughly occupied with either his food or conversation.
It was surprising to see the extent of the crown prince's relationships with his staff. It wasn't just the knights; Satoru seemed to know your ladies-in-waiting as if they were his. Even the jester, a young man named Yuji, seemed to have a personal relationship with your husband.
It made you envious. Satoru was your soulmate, so seeing him get along so well with other people while you were left to just exist in the room stoked a kind of anger different to the others you held about your situation. You wanted to have that kind of casual correspondence with your husband, but he was consistently content to leave your conversations at polite and shallow.
The vague flirtation from your first meal together was notably absent, as if Satoru had gotten all of it out of his system in one go, leaving you yearning for a crumb of attention.
Crazy didn't cover the thoughts you were beginning to have. You could feel the magic between you, and Satoru's tepid attitude toward you made you question yourself constantly. It was all you could do to not blatantly come on to him, an increasingly attractive option even in a room full of people.
That was another thing—there were never fewer than three additional people in the room with you and Satoru at any one time. It was impossible to not feel like you were under constant observation, and the thought of being rejected in front of so many witnesses kept you from trying anything.
It wasn't all bad though. You were slowly learning more about Satoru, and you were sure it was the same for him. Despite your horrific start with the man, you were starting to really enjoy his presence, though you sometimes questioned if you weren't just convincing yourself of that because you knew he was your soulmate.
It was two weeks after you learned the truth that Suguru's response finally came.
The little, black bird nearly hit your window, swerving and slowing down with an impressive inside loop before landing on the windowsill. It beeped impatiently, feathers puffing up as it glared at you.
You opened the window, and the bird instantly transformed into a paper crane, nearly toppling over and falling down into the bushes far below.
Even though you practically had to risk falling out the window to catch the thing, it still made you smile. Suguru never was very good at the complex incantations that instructed the enchanted birds. As much as the man thought ahead, he was the sort of planner who trusted all the pawns on his chessboard to act exactly as he expected, without any additional input on his part. The paper cranes were just that—paper. They only imitated having a mind of their own. It was easy to forget that they needed clear, complete instructions on what their duties were.
The little ones that you sent to fetch you things from the garden were bound to have strange quirks, given that they were folded from pages of books. The words on the page sometimes confused them, and occasionally they never made it back to you, doomed to wander until the magic imbued in them fizzled out some weeks later.
To your father's credit, he couldn't exactly send you information that could easily be interpreted should someone happen to intercept the bird.
You opened the origami crane, unfolding it carefully just in case there was something important and delicate inside.
The bird had been folded out of a sealed, black envelope, a clever trick that separated the bird's mind from the letter contents. Doubtlessly, the inside of the envelope itself was covered in invisible, enchanted, citrus scrawl, information for the bird on who you were and how to get to you. Tucked within the envelope were two, thin pieces of parchment. One was covered front to back in your Suguru's handwriting, a seemingly-innocuous letter from father to daughter updating you on family affairs and mundane life events at the estate. The other was a carbon transfer of a familiar stone inscription.
The stone was one of many that were laid into the walls of Suguru's private study. Where to the untrained eye, those stones appeared to be nothing more than inspired decor, a sorcerer would recognize them as an aesthetic spin on job aids. It wasn't anything close to the thorough, detailed recipes you preferred, but much like Suguru's paper bird, you would need to just work with what you had.
Your care was rewarded. The last thing inside of the envelope were two, tiny, crystal vials, each just barely large enough to hold a minuscule dose of potion.
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It smelled amazing in your bedroom, a combination of delicate magical notes and the potent scent of melting sugar.
Memory and the fragments of information Suguru provided served you better than you had expected.
Leaning over the stolen ice cream dish, you carefully stirred the mixture it held, watching the magic spark before finally stabilizing and becoming inert. The dish had been difficult to procure, but after a couple weeks of diligently dawdling after your meals, you had managed to swipe it.
The potion probably wasn't perfect. You couldn't measure efficacy because you didn't have any way to test it, and the overall potency was entirely dependent on a combination of factors you could control, like preparation and brew method, and factors you couldn't, like ingredient quality and vessel reactions. Reducing the potion to such a small volume could have strange effects, too.
You sighed, loading the potion into your two vials anyway.
Truthfully, it would be a miracle if your potion of attraction worked properly at all. The plan you had concocted would necessitate you dosing Satoru on more than one occasion. If he suddenly decided to avoid you, then all you effort would be for nothing. It would be the same if your potion wasn't effective enough.
You hadn't been able to bring yourself to finish reading Suguru's note, although from what little you had been able to stomach, he hadn't addressed your anger with him or the predicament you were dealing with. Rationally, it made sense. It would be too damning if his letter was intercepted, but it was hard to not wonder if your feelings simply didn't matter to him.
Rolling your shoulders back, you decided that the building anger you felt was yet another problem that could be handled later. You would see Suguru in a few months at Satoru's coronation, and when you did, you would be sure to give your father a piece of your mind.
You had imagined that securing an appropriate moment to discretely drug your husband would be the most difficult part of the entire endeavor, but an opportunity presented itself only days after your potion was ready.
"Let's go for a walk, Nobara." You sighed, preparing yourself for yet another aimless tour through the endless halls.
"We don't have time." Nobara said. "You have an appointment this afternoon, my lady."
You lifted your head from the desk, unable to wipe the surprise from your face. The last thing you had been required to attend that wasn't a scheduled meal had been your wedding. Other than that, you had been left almost entirely to your own devices.
"What's happening this afternoon?" You asked.
"His highness wishes to discuss your role for the upcoming coronation."
Ah.
You had been somewhat on edge ever since you realized Satoru was your soulmate, and the coronation had become one of your biggest fears. While the event was still a few months away, the opportunities that you would have to spend time with Satoru would only dwindle. It was miraculous that you were still having regular meals together considering how much busier he seemed to be. Small as it was, there was a chance that you could end up divorced, dead, or in serious peril before you could be properly unbound.
The magic binding you was old—the spell might even come undone if your husband jokingly stated that he tolerated you.
That was wishful thinking, of course. Your father was thorough in his work, and the way you were bound was no exception. You vividly remembered the intensive work that Suguru had put into the process of binding you. Nothing short of a proper declaration of love would suffice, of that much you were certain. Sure, until a few weeks ago Satoru had looked at you like you were something that he had scraped off the bottom of his shoe...but everyone had to start somewhere.
Okay, maybe you were feigning optimism for the sake of your mental health. It wasn't like you were totally delusional—you were still trying to take your destiny into your own hands.
It might have been a little extreme to utilize such an underhanded method as slipping your soulmate a potion of attraction, but in your defense, the magical pull was beginning to drive you insane. You were dreaming about Satoru, your subconscious filling your head with fantasies that would make a whore blush.
If Satoru was experiencing even a fraction of what you were feeling, you might not even need to bother with the potion for long at all. In all likelihood, the man just needed a little push in the right direction, one that you were perfectly willing and able to provide.
The morning seemed to drag. You were totally preoccupied, your mind filled with ideas about how you could possibly enact your devious plan.
You had learned that Satoru had a serious sweet tooth. His tastes were so consistent that you were able to plan for using his empty ice cream bowl as a makeshift cauldron. The easiest method of administration would be to ensure that you were both served tea at your meeting. You could helpfully offer to add sugar to Satoru's cup after your own, and then it would be simple to dose his drink via a little sleight of hand.
Were you particularly stealthy? No—but that was a problem for future you. Current you was ready to not be plagued by visions of Satoru Gojo bending you over every surface you saw. The magic binding you didn't care that you weren't capable of explaining why you wanted him to do such a thing, and you were willing to try whatever might work so that you didn't literally beg the man to take you without any additional context.
It took an immense amount of self control to not jump up and run when it was time for you to meet Satoru.
Of course, Satoru wasn't actually present when you arrived.
The room was unfamiliar to you, though that could be said of many of the rooms in the palace. It was located near Satoru's office, was well-decorated, and contained lots of seating. You were led to a pair of luxurious chairs, which were situated around a high tea table with an oversized top. There was already a spread of bite-sized treats waiting for you, a tiered dessert display piled with more pastries than would ever be reasonable for just two people to enjoy.
This was likely a place that the crown prince used to entertain company. One wall faced the exterior, the big windows letting in lots of natural light. There were a few sets of doors along the other walls, probably for ease of access for staff.
Speaking of staff, an unusual amount of them were present. You recognized some of the knights posted near the entrance, but there were even more people present inside the room. Some of them were occupying themselves with random tasks, probably making a point of looking busy so that you wouldn't bother them.
Sinking into the fluffy cushions of your chair, you fidgeted with the fabric of your skirts. The dress you decided on had a significantly lower neckline than anything you typically dared to wear, but you figured that showing more skin than usual might have some benefits. It was a little uncomfortably snug in the bosom, but it made for a mostly tasteful view of your chest.
Fortunately, Satoru appeared before you could begin to properly regret your choice of attire.
"Hopefully you weren't waiting for long." Satoru said, sitting down across from you like it was something the two of you did all the time.
"It wasn't long at all." You said. "Although I usually take my tea a little earlier in the day."
Satoru raised a brow.
"I didn't know you took tea at all."
You pushed down your irritation with a smile.
How many noble ladies didn't take tea? Wasn't tea time the backbone of a lady's social life?
"Well, we've only known one another for a short while." You said. "I would imagine there a many things you don't know about me."
The magic binding you flared at your statement, the simple implication that you held secrets enough to tighten your throat. Thankfully, the feeling passed quickly…not that it mattered. Satoru quickly arranged for someone to prepare tea, talking to fill silence while it steeped. He mostly spoke about his morning, which had apparently consisted of making Advisor Kento's life harder.
You husband was keen on chatting with you that day, which struck you as odd, but still provided ample opportunity for you do what needed to be done. You nodded mindlessly as he spoke, not bothering to focus on the unimportant details. He didn't bat an eye when you reached out to pour tea into both of your waiting cups, probably totally used to being served by someone else. The tiny vial in your palm was already unsealed, so you had to remain conscious of the way you moved your hand, but it went better than you could have expected. You didn't even have to go out of your way to sneak the potion in with the sugar—you were able to let the potion drip into the cup as you slid it over toward Satoru.
You watched him sweeten his cup with satisfaction, proud of yourself for managing something that had felt impossible earlier that day. Dosing your tea with similar care, you had already drained half of your cup by the time Satoru was finally getting around to his own.
You couldn't help the way your eyes flicked to Satoru when you saw him lift his cup, the way the tension in your shoulders melted when he finally took a sip before he continued chattering.
Maybe that was your mistake—letting your guard down around Satoru Gojo. The shift was sudden, but not unexpected. You had been waiting for something to happen, after all.
You had just hoped that whatever happened would be more favorable.
"Everyone out. Now." Satoru said it so calmly that you almost didn't realize that something had gone wrong. You were already rising to your feet when he finally turned those furious blue eyes to yours and addressed you. "Except for my darling wife, of course."
You sat back down, hands falling into your lap.
The staff, knowing Satoru as well as they did, understood the situation much better than you had. They were gone in the blink of an eye, and as the doors closed, you began to realize that you were in serious trouble.
Even without considering that he literally had the most authority in the empire, Satoru had always had the aura of a powerful person. It was in his size, his residual magical energy, the very way he carried himself—all of it hinted at the fact that he was an extremely strong individual. Perhaps even the strongest.
Right then, as Satoru sat across the tea table from you, lounging casually in his cushioned chair, you found that you had never truly understood just how devastatingly indomitable the man before you was.
It probably took an immense amount of concentration and energy for Satoru to continuously suppress his massive presence, something that you had not appreciated until you were practically flattened against your chair because of it.
You couldn't even lift your head. You could barely breathe, caught between the extreme shift in pressure and an injection of primal fear brought about by the sudden comprehension that the man before you was exactly the monster you had once built him up to be.
Just as suddenly it had come, the gravity of Satoru's might waned, leaving you wide-eyed and breathless.
"Ah—sorry." Satoru's lips pulled into a smile, cruel and beautiful. "I don't usually slip like that."
"It's—it's no trouble, your highness." Your own smile was weak, your eyes darting toward the closed exits around you. "If it can't be helped, then—"
Satoru cut you off.
"Are you not going to finish your tea?" He raised a brow, nodding his head toward your cup, that terrifying smile never fading.
It was only because a tiny part of you had been expecting it that you didn't immediately start panicking. If Satoru didn't outright know, he definitely suspected that you were up to something. You had come into this with an understanding of the risk you were taking, and had at least briefly considered what you might do or say to evade potential consequences.
You couldn't help but notice Satoru's own cooling tea remained untouched.
Each mouthful was its own battle, the silent tension between you growing as you drank.
You weren't able to stop the way your hands shook as you reached for Satoru's tea cup, It was a miracle you didn't spill any as you raised it to your lips, a greater wonder still that you managed to actually swallow each mouthful.
When you were finished, you set the empty cup down beside you own, peeking sheepishly at Satoru through your lashes. He wasn't openly acting like someone who was angry, which only served to make you more nervous.
"Did you enjoy it?" Satoru asked.
You nodded, too afraid to admit you thought it was too sweet.
Was it even worth it to keep playing this game with Satoru? He certainly seemed to be reveling in it. Maybe you would be able to make it through this relatively unscathed if you kept him appropriately amused.
"That's good." Satoru said. "I enjoyed watching you drink it."
The way he said it sent a tingle up your spine.
Actually, your reaction might not have had anything to do with the way that he said it. You were already starting to feel the effects from your own few drops of the potion, and you had just ingested its counterpart dose.
In all your consideration, you had never expected for something like this to happen. If this were a normal potion of attraction, you probably could have tanked the effects and focused on handling Satoru.
But no—you just had to be clever and brew something specific to you and Satoru. You had let your weird jealousy over your soulmate get to you, and had ensured that the potion would be unique to your coupling.
When it came to soulmates, a potion like the one you had brewed was tricky business. Most of the information about such magic was either anecdotal or purely theoretical. It wasn't easy to come across people who would be willing to subject themselves to testing such magic. Finding soulmates that were both ignorant and not immediately attracted to one another beyond what the average brew could produce…
Well, that was another challenge entirely.
It was definitely something you should have thought about more when formulating both your plan and the potion, but you were too caught up in your own feelings to think any of it through properly.
Those feelings were unbearably prominent at the moment, a growing heat that spread across your skin. It pooled in your belly, the arousal you had been fending off for the last few weeks finally overcoming you. You were starting to sweat a little, your clothes feeling uncomfortable and itchy. The chair you were sitting in felt too soft, the open space in the room too vulnerable.
Satoru was watching you intently, eyes trailing over your quickening breath, the evidence of your imminent nervous breakdown.
"Your highness, please—" You said. "I don't feel well."
"I would be surprised if you did feel well." Satoru sighed, seemingly annoyed that his fun was coming to a predictable end. "I don't doubt a double dose of desire is difficult to endure."
Satoru's words almost didn't register properly.
Satoru didn't say attraction or allure. He said desire.
Satoru thought you had tried to give him love potion, which was a much more egregious crime than a paltry few drops of attraction.
The fact that you weren't already being sent to some desolate dungeon was proof enough that your punishment would be anything but conventional.
"I didn't—it wasn't—your highness, I swear to you—"
"Did you really think I had never tasted love potion?" Satoru's eyes darkened. "You underestimate what I went through before we married."
"Your highness, it was nothing more than an attraction brew! The root bulb of a daffodil and—"
"So, you admit to your crime." Satoru scoffed. "I had thought you might try a little harder to deny it."
This wasn't getting you anywhere. Until recently, Satoru had been on his own crusade against you, and you had just given him something real to latch on to. Anything you said was a confession, anything you did was evidence to support his delusions.
"I'm—I'm sorry, your highness." You swallowed. "I just—I didn't mean any harm. It was foolish of me to go about things this way."
Satoru's eyes flicked to the empty tea cups on the the table.
"You're sorry." He repeated slowly.
"Yes, I—"
"Then you'll make it up to me." Satoru cut you off, a sinister air settling over him.
You frowned, your addled mind trying to make sense of what Satoru intended.
"I've been forced to send the jester away because of your antics. If you're sorry, you'll entertain me in his stead." Satoru explained.
There was something in the way he said it, a hidden promise that you both frightened and aroused you.
"…okay."
Satoru didn't waste any time. Something changed in him the moment you agreed. It was as if he was relieved you were going along with his plan to 'forgive you'.
You weren't stupid enough to believe that meant he would be nice, but what choice did you really have?
"Stand." He instructed.
You did as you were told instantly, not because you wanted to, but because your body moved for you. If you had been in your right mind, you might have wanted to record your experience for later analysis.
Satoru smiled.
"Lift your skirts."
You felt the sting of shame painting your already warm cheeks. You bent down anyway, gathering your skirts in your hands and lifting them high.
The quiet sound of appreciation Satoru made on finding you bare beneath your dress was surprising enough to bring your racing thoughts to a full stop. A distant part of you, the foolish, fanciful part that wanted your soulmate's approval, preened as you took in the look on Satoru's face.
Perhaps this would all be easier than you thought.
Satoru looked like a child in a sweets shop, his eyes alight as they rolled over the soft, naked flesh of your thighs. Those eyes caught fast on the patch of coarse hair between them, a place that was rapidly becoming the focus of your attention as well.
"Touch it." Satoru said suddenly.
"What?"
"Between your legs." Satoru elaborated, meeting your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, the blue rim of his iris barely visible. "Use your fingers to touch yourself. I want you to show me the state of you."
Clutching your skirts as best you could with one hand, you used the other to tentatively touch yourself. Even though it was utterly humiliating to do this in front of Satoru, it still felt unbelievably good. The ache that had been building between your legs was almost instantly soothed by the pressure of your fingers.
What you found between your legs was an absolute mess. Hot and dripping wet, your fingers slid through the slickness there, your touch imperceptible in terms of friction. You almost instantly forgot yourself, lost in exploring that pleasurable relief from the potion's effects.
It was then that you remembered one of the hazards of potions of attraction. In addition to the risk of excessive arousal, when it came to potions brewed with specific parties in mine, temporary, fantastical effects were the most reported phenomenon. There were many stories of the manifestations of fantasy, hidden desires that came to life through uncontrolled magic.
You had thought that the compounding tightness in your chest was because you were dancing around bound topics, but glancing down, you realized that your discomfort was the result of the potion. The bodice of your dress was beginning to struggle, your breasts noticeably more swollen than they had been mere minutes prior. Satoru was openly ogling your regrettably low neckline, his eyes following the subtle bounce that came with each breath.
"That's enough." Satoru's voice broke through your thoughts. "Let me see your hand."
You blinked, your eyes focusing back on Satoru.
A brief flash of embarrassment came over you, the thought that you should have been more ashamed to have been touching yourself so eagerly, but it was quickly replaced by the disappointment of being forced to stop.
The needy ache from before had come back with a vengeance. At that point, you weren't planning to do as Satoru asked in hopes that he would be merciful. You were going to comply because you wanted to get through this and back to the privacy of your room as quickly as possible. It was only by virtue of your blessed necklace that your glamour had not been compromised, and you weren't sure if you would be able to even bring yourself to care for much longer.
You held your hand up, startling as Satoru snatched your wrist to bring it closer to his face. He inspected your fingers closely before sniffing them and putting them directly into his mouth.
The little sound you made was born of a mix of astonishment and arousal, the sight and sensation of Satoru sucking on your fingers sending a jolt of want through you. For a brief moment, you forgot every pretense you had been struggling to maintain, overcome by the soft, wet heat of Satoru's mouth. The feeling of his tongue licking between your fingers went straight to your cunt, a visceral sensation that made it impossible to not think about how he would be good with his mouth.
Your hand was likely more than clean by the time Satoru was done, although it seemed like neither of you felt ready to stop.
Satoru pulled your hand from his mouth, your fingers sliding out with a little pop, your husband's tongue still curled around the digits until the last possible moment. You were finding immense satisfaction in seeing the way that Satoru's eyes had glazed over. He was losing himself just as much as you were, despite the fact that he couldn't have gotten even a tenth of the dose you had received.
His stability really only showed in the quickness with which he recovered. Where you were left reeling from one moment to the next, Satoru was able to sober himself just enough to keep making things harder on you.
"Haa—my stubborn, sorcerer wife…what should I do?" Satoru mused. "She's so set on fulfilling her duty that she's willing to resort to cheap tricks."
You didn't dare offer the solution that was on your mind, mostly because you were beginning to fear you might not survive it.
Your lack of consideration for Satoru's temperament was possibly your biggest mistake thus far. You had underestimated your husband, quite severely actually.
That man was strong-willed beyond reason. It had been foolish to believe that he was immune to the soulmate magic that had been crushing you. Satoru might even have felt it more intensely than you were—he was just doing a better job at pretending.
You couldn't suppress the little giggle that bubbled up. It was just too funny.
For as much as you had been thinking about Satoru being your soulmate, you hadn't once thought about you being his. Now that you were considering it, you realized that in the strangest ways, you were a perfect match.
It was difficult to fathom that making anything easier.
Actually, it was rapidly becoming difficult for you to fathom much of anything. Your ability to hold an idea for longer than it took to pass through your mind had absconded almost entirely.
Satoru seemed plenty willing to think for you.
"Darling—pick your skirts back up." Satoru's saccharine smile dripped with the same, sickening sweetness that his tone did. He spread his long legs wider. "And sit here." Satoru said, patting his thigh. "Facing me."
You did as you were told, inching closer, your shoe squelching in the tea that was certainly getting around to staining the carpet. Standing apprehensively, straddling yourself over Satoru's leg, you were apparently going too slowly for the crown prince's liking. His hands came to your hips, pulling you down onto him. You cried out, the sudden contact between his strong thigh and your sensitive, bare cunt almost too much to handle.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
Satoru let out a heavy, shaking exhale, trying to center himself.
He could feel the heat emanating from between your legs through his pants, the wetness already beginning to seep into the fabric. In his eyes, you looked the picture of a perfect seductress. Your pretty lips were barely parted, your pupils blown wide under your watery, half-lidded eyes, your swollen bust heaving as you tried to steady your breathing, the soft flesh threatening to spill out entirely—
You looked like you were about to cry, which did nothing to help the growing ache in his balls. Satoru could feel his own quickening pulse, each beat of his heart unmistakable as his hard cock pulsed against his leg.
Satoru was eternally grateful for his decision to seat you on the leg opposite to which he was dressed. He was sure that he would have cum instantly if his poor cock had been subjected to the feeling of your own thigh against it.
As things were, he was already pushing the very limits of what he would be able to reasonably justify to himself later.
It would probably be fine if he didn't finish, right?
This was just him punishing you for your misdeeds. You needed to learn your lesson, and there was no better way to teach you the consequences of your actions than this.
Disturbingly comforting as that narrative was to Satoru, he knew it was unlikely to hold if he didn't start distracting himself soon.
Fingers curling into your hips, Satoru used his grip to grind your center against the hard muscle of his thigh, delighting in the unrestrained sounds of pleasure falling from your mouth. Losing himself in the rhythm, Satoru dragged you against him over and over again. He could hear the quiet, wet sounds of the arousal you were leaking onto his leg with each pass of your hips, barely audible over your uncontrolled panting.
"Oh, gods—" You gasped. "Satoru, please don't stop—!"
Before hearing those words, Satoru might have imagined it would be satisfying to tease you like this, to work you up before ultimately denying you release. He might have believed it would be possible to send you back to your rooms to suffer the consequences of your actions alone.
Before hearing those damning words, Satoru might have been convinced that he was able to stop himself from taking things too far.
Whatever grand plans he'd had of using this experience to reprimand you fell apart almost instantly. Satoru began chasing your orgasm with the same sort of fervor he had recently been chasing his own. All of his attention was honed on you, the magical power that he typically contained so precisely leaking out against his will. He was measuring your every reaction, gauging exactly how much you liked what he was doing to you and adjusting accordingly until you were teetering on the edge.
Satoru didn't know exactly what he expected from your climax, but it might have been pertinent to consider it before it was actually happening.
It was beautiful. All of it. From the broken sounds you made as Satoru tensed the muscles in his leg, to the way your eyes fluttered closed, to the flood of liquid that soaked his thigh—every single detail felt perfect.
And this was just the first time, when Satoru was still learning how your body worked, what you really needed in order to feel good for him—
Maybe he had ingested more of that potion than he thought.
Deep down, Satoru knew that was just a convenient excuse. To blame the potion would only help him justify this and absolve himself of his well-earned guilt. To pretend that he had not been fending off intrusive thoughts about this exact moment since his wedding night would do him little good.
And yet, Satoru couldn't bring himself to feel bad about what he was doing, at least not at the moment. He was far too enamored with watching you come back to your senses, completely enraptured by the pretty, little disaster you had become for him.
"Was that nice?" Satoru cooed. "Everything that you wanted?"
"It felt good—" You admitted.
"It felt good?" Satoru repeated, his heart fluttering at the inadvertent praise. "Then I'm sure you won't mind doing it again."
Satoru absolutely relished the look of anxious anticipation that passed over you, a delicious mix eagerness and fear. He almost felt bad—you were still a little out of it, and he wasn't planning to give you the chance to recover.
"Move you hips—I'm not going to do everything for you this time." He urged, hands still planted on your hips, ready to do the opposite of what he had just claimed should you not be up to the task.
To Satoru's delight, you were able to roll your hips, although your attempts were pitiful compared to what had come before. You managed to bring yourself to climax, but you were unlikely to be able to manage another with the way you were struggling.
"Come on, don't give up yet." Satoru purred. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Keep going, show me what you can do."
"It hurts—" You sniffled.
Satoru looked down, realizing that your bodice had become so tight that it was practically suffocating you.
He sighed.
It was really too bad that he was being forced to ruin such a pretty dress.
A quick rip of magic, and the fabric of your bodice fell away. The sight of you nearly did Satoru in. Whatever potion you had intended to make, it had clearly gone awry. Your chest looked painfully swollen, the skin tight over your suddenly very full breasts. Your nipples were pert, and to Satoru's surprise, they were leaking.
A thin stream of milk dripped from each breast, fat droplets falling onto his leg at a steady pace. Even the slightest movement seemed to encourage the flow. A brush against your skin was enough to elicit a small spray, which was accompanied by your little whimper of relief.
If Satoru weren't already damned before that, this would have certainly sealed his fate.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
By the time Satoru had torn open the front of your dress, you couldn't actually bring yourself to be upset. The allayment of no longer being constricted by your clothes was almost enough to make you thank him for it, but the tiny amount of residual pride you were still clinging to stopped you.
The look of awe on Satoru's face made you feel strange. It was difficult to concentrate on anything that wasn't directly related to relieving your symptoms, but it was impossible to ignore the muted satisfaction that Satoru's obvious arousal brought.
Satoru had been so restrained in his own physical indulgence up until that point that his sudden movement startled you.
One moment, you were still seated on your husband's thigh, and the next you were in his chair. The sudden change in position disoriented you, not that you had been present enough to comprehend much about your surroundings before that.
It was unfortunate that you were struggling to stay fully cognizant, because a part of you knew that you would want to properly reflect on the memory of the crown prince on his knees later.
It was a sight to behold, the positively feral desperation that Satoru exuded was almost as satisfying as the orgasms he had given you. The hunger in his eyes was validating in ways that his actions had not been. The claims that he had made that this was all part of a twisted attempt to punish you for your transgressions were instantly disproved by the obvious want written all over his face. It occurred to you then that Satoru was watching you watch him, that he was holding your gaze while looking so needy, and you began to wonder what he saw in your expression.
That curious thought was eradicated almost instantly as Satoru lunged forward, his mouth latching onto you. His lips closed around your nipple, enveloping you with wet heat. His tongue tested the peak of you, a satisfied hum leaving his throat. One hand came to your other breast, Satoru's touch surprisingly gentle for all his enthusiasm. You keened as he massaged the tender flesh, his fingers carefully coaxing a steady flow of milk out of you. It dripped between his fingers and down his hand, wetting the sleeve of his tunic.
He worked you like that for a moment, taking his time to not overwhelm you while he enjoyed himself. It was almost like he was teasing you, his ministrations only just enough to keep the discomfort you felt at bay. You whined, trying your best to not squirm as Satoru slowly drank from you.
You felt the shift in him before it happened, a spark of sadistic mischief that served as your only warning.
Satoru let go of you briefly as he pushed further forward, backing you against the cushions and ensuring you were unable to escape before he replaced his mouth and began to suck hard.
A strangled cry left your throat, your already overstimulated body unable to cope as you fell to pieces. Your hands tried to push Satoru away, only to be captured by an unseen force that left them stuck to the arms of the chair. A foreign pleasure overcame you, your back arching as waves of warmth radiated out from your chest.
Vaguely, you were aware that Satoru was groaning against you, his eager swallows interrupted by the sound.
And then he was kissing you, the sweet, rich taste of your own milk on his tongue as he pushed it into your mouth. He devoured you, lips sliding against yours with even more enthusiasm than he'd had for the rest of you. By the time Satoru pulled away, you were breathless, dizzy, and likely on the verge of passing out.
You blinked sluggishly at him, trying to assess the man before you.
Satoru grinned.
"You're cute when you're out of it."
⊹༺✦༻⊹
You collapsed against Satoru's chest, utterly spent after what was likely several hours of magically enhanced orgasms. It was amazing that what you had done could still be considered foreplay. What had just happened between you was by far the most intimate thing you had ever done in your life.
Tears streamed down your face, feelings that you had been forcing down making their way to the surface now that you were too exhausted to properly control yourself.
"My poor wife—" Satoru muttered, his hand gently caressing your damp cheek. "I've left you neglected, haven't I? Haven't been meeting your needs since you've come here to be mine—you'll have to forgive your irresponsible husband for not considering you."
You hated him. You hated how he picked you apart like it was nothing to him, like it was easy to dismantle every defense you had ever built for yourself, like your life was nothing more than a toy for him to play with. You hated the way he clearly liked you, the way he still refused to like you—the way that despite all of that, he had still managed to make you like him.
You hated that you wanted more.
This hurt. The incompleteness of it all was nearly unbearable, a feeling that caught in your throat and filled the cavity of your chest with heavy stones. Here you were, in your soulmate's arms, a thick wall as tall as the imperial palace between you. Apparently, Satoru was willing to touch you, please you, hold you like he cared…but he wouldn't let you in.
To you, this was chasing your destiny.
To your husband, this was managing his affairs.
Maybe this was all you would ever get.
Satoru must have thought you were pathetic for chasing after him so desperately.
You hadn't stopped when he tried to put you off the idea of him, hadn't flinched when he set you up to fail, hadn't wasted an opportunity to advance a relationship he didn't want. In his eyes, you had probably spent all of your time pandering for affection and favor that he was reluctant to give.
Another sob wracked you, the thought of Satoru only touching you so tenderly because he felt bad for you leaving you with a crushing feeling of despair.
To Satoru's credit, he seemed to have taken your breakdown as a sign that you couldn't handle any more. He held you, not as closely as you might have liked, but still close enough to bring you a modicum of comfort. You couldn't help but melt into him, satisfied even though you were a sniffling mess.
The potion's magic seemed to be waning, replaced by the more gentle attraction of the fate binding you. You wondered if Satoru felt it, if holding you like this might be enough to make a man like him question what he thought to be true. Maybe if you stayed here like this for long enough, he would begin to feel the soft, sad yearning interlacing your embrace.
Your shuddering breaths eventually began to even out. You had long since become lost in your thoughts, your exhausted mind giving in to the serenity that being held by your soulmate offered. The anger could wait. The agony could, too. You wanted to just enjoy this moment, to hold on to what you were being afforded for as long as you could have it.
˖｡⋆˚༺❤︎༻˚⋆｡˖
Satoru stayed with you until you were deep into sleep. He watched your chest rise and fall, a hypnotic rhythm that reassured the furious thing that beat its wings against the cage of his chest. Even though everything had been quiet for a while now, the euphoric buzz he caught had still yet to fade.
He had expected guilt to set in quickly, but all Satoru felt was satisfaction.
It was difficult to come to terms with, especially considering the absolute mess he had just made of everything. The plan had been to get to know you properly. Preferably at a slower, more respectful pace.
That was what the palace aviarist had suggested.
Okay, maybe Satoru shouldn't have taken the advice that a man who only dealt with birds gave him, but he didn't really know who else to ask.
Satoru had surrounded himself with people who bore soulmarks, people who didn't have to try at love. They wouldn't understand what Satoru was going through. Besides, his attraction to you was distressing enough without having to hear the opinions of people who knew very well how he felt about his late soulmate.
He looked down at you, taking in your swollen eyes and ruined dress.
In the moment, it had all felt so different.
Watching you lift your own skirts for him had made him feel powerful. Ripping open the front of your dress had been exciting. Seeing you brought to tears had turned him on.
No longer high on anger and arousal, it was much harder to stomach the sight.
You looked like a victim.
And truthfully, you were. Yes, you had tried to drug his afternoon tea with what was probably homebrew love potion, but everything that happened after that had been Satoru's fault. In fact, everything that had happened before that had been Satoru's fault, too. Furious as he had been with you, there was nothing you had done that he hadn't brought about.
That thought elicited more guilt than anything else had.
Your arrival, the wedding, the wedding night…all of those things only occurred because Satoru had made it so. Everything that you had done was a reaction to the situations that he put you in, and unlike Satoru, none of those things had been done with intent to harm.
It had only turned out this way because Satoru couldn't help but selfishly cling to the happiness that had been stolen from him. It certainly wasn't the first time he had turned down new chances to be happy, but in the past he had never gone to such incredible lengths to deny himself. That was probably why things had rebounded the way they did. He had forced himself into a corner, and then acted surprised when there was no easy way out.
Satoru swallowed hard, trying to force down the terrible feeling welling up inside him.
His soulmate wasn't alive, but the woman in front of him was.
He probably wouldn't ever be able to love you, but he could make the decision to no longer try so hard to hate you.
Assuring himself that you were well and truly asleep, Satoru leaned over you, his lips brushing your forehead before he spoke.
"I'm— I'm sorry that I can't give you my heart. That I can't give you all of me like I should. I'm sorry I can't control myself when it comes to you." He whispered, his words so quiet that he almost couldn't hear them himself. "I know it's not fair. I know you deserve a husband who will love you properly. I wish it could be me."
Satoru left you in your bed, letting Nobara know that you would need extra attention in the morning before heading to the aviary.
The lovebirds didn't screech at him anymore when he arrived, although one of them still eyed him with marked disdain. They both readily ate the food he put out that evening, his careful consistency finally beginning to pay off after many weeks of working diligently to gain their trust.
As he watched the birds enjoy their meal, Satoru wondered just how far his time with you that day had set him back.
In the Jujutsu Empire, it is considered taboo among the upper class to indulge in something so animal as seeking out one's soulmate.
You, the third daughter of a grand duke and the bearer of a secret soulmark, have your life suddenly uprooted in order to become the bride of the crown prince, Satoru Gojo, a notorious bachelor who couldn't care less about getting married after it was long ago guaranteed his soulmate would never be an option.
wc: 7.4k, Chapter 3 of 6
previous masterlist
general cw for this fic: angst (happy ending), hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, child abuse, yandere, dacryphilia, breeding kink, lactation kink, not abo but i am stealing some themes, possessive behavior, voyeurism, praise kink (but he's kinda mean about it), bondage, dubious consent
this one gets a lil freaky ૮`⎚⩊⎚´ა
minors do not interact
DESIRE LINES
Trapped in that room, a yearning neither understand.
Even though it felt as if your disastrous wedding night would never end, day still eventually broke. You slipped out of Satoru's bed the very moment you saw sunlight, padding over to the grand doors as quietly as possible. Despite your desire to escape without incident, you chanced a quick glance over your shoulder.
The view was devastating. Your husband hadn't moved a muscle. He was painted in the gentle morning light, a work of art in his own right. His tunic had been shed at some point during the night, the twisted duvet revealing some of his nude body. Satoru was a beautiful man, and truthfully it hurt your feelings a little to be scorned by him. While you didn't think of yourself as excessively vain, you still cared as much as any person about how attractive others perceived you to be. Your husband had not necessarily called you ugly outright, but it was still apparent that he didn't find you alluring.
All things considered, a damaged ego was a relatively small price to pay. Glancing toward the ceiling, you spotted the lovebirds perched over the doors. They were snuggled up close together, safe and sound.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, you opened the door to Satoru's chambers, and nearly undid all your efforts at making a stealthy exit by running square into Yuta and Megumi. You might have expected that there would be guards posted outside the room, but seeing such familiar faces instantly left you feeling embarrassed.
The two young knights took your sudden appearance in stride.
"My lady." Yuta said, bowing his head. "You're up early this morning."
There was a brief flash of emotion in his tired eyes as he took you in, an expression caught somewhere between pity and concern.
You willed your own face to remain neutral.
"Yes." You nodded. "I thought it might be nice to get an early start today."
"Ah—shall I see if Nobara is available to accompany you?" Yuta asked.
"That won't be necessary." You said with a tight smile. "I plan to study in my room this morning."
"I see." Yuta said, returning your smile. "Then Megumi can escort you back—"
"That's hardly necessary." You asserted. "I know the way from here."
Yuta and Megumi exchanged a look.
"…as you wish, my lady." Yuta acquiesced. "Please let us know if you need anything."
You didn't bother answering, turning away quickly so that neither of the knights could see your rapidly crumbling facade of composure.
The very last thing you wanted was for other people to recognize what you were going through and then feel something about it. The woman that you were now was a far cry from the woman you had been when you arrived at the palace. Where she would have done anything to have someone to lean on, you would rather suffer the embarrassment of what you were dealing with alone.
What right did any of them have to feel something about your suffering? Nothing could be done about what was happening to you, and it's not as if anyone would have stepped in anyway.
You were about halfway back to your quarters when you noticed you were being followed.
It was one of Megumi's rabbits. Completely harmless, but clearly deployed to keep an eye on you. You supposed you should feel grateful that you were still considered valuable enough to warrant surveillance.
You practically slammed the door to your room shut behind you, looking pointedly at the bunny that was poised to scamper inside. You caught it stomping its little, fluffy foot just before the door closed, its nose twitching in irritation.
Back against the door, you slid down to sit on the floor, hugging your knees as you finally felt safe to release the glamour you had been maintaining since yesterday morning.
While it might have been nice to cry and let some of your feelings out, you found that you didn't really have the energy. Yesterday had been exhausting, and the dramatic turn of events in Satoru's chambers had left you emotionally drained.
At least the most difficult part was done. You had survived your wedding and made it through your first night with your husband. Now, you just needed to avoid him continuously. It probably wouldn't be hard, especially considering Satoru had been making a similar effort ever since you arrived. With any luck, he would neglect you entirely.
If you really thought about it, this was the most desirable outcome for you in your arranged marriage. It was almost like being a forgotten concubine. No real responsibilities, no unwanted husband to pester you every night, no need to garner unattainable favor.
You smiled to yourself, thinking about how easy it would be to focus on your sorcery. The garden had plenty of resources, and you had heard that there was a greenhouse somewhere nearby as well.
That was probably where Satoru got the asphodel.
The memory of him burning those flowers for his mysterious, preferred partner replayed in your mind. You weren't jealous, though it was impossible to not feel a little envious. It made your soulmark ache, the thought of your own soulmate yearning for you making you a little melancholy.
Before the start of your tragic arranged marriage, you had only imagined your soulmate through the lens of one day meeting with them and living happily ever after. Now that it was an impossibility, you truly understood Satoru's act of mourning.
Even though you disliked the man, it still made a part of you want to comfort him. You weren't foolish enough to believe it would be a good idea to reveal just how much you understood what he was going through, not that doing so was possible in the first place.
After feeling sorry for yourself for a little while, you eventually managed to pull yourself to your feet.
It seemed like the staff had gotten the message that you wanted to be alone, something for which you were unreasonably thankful.
Finally taking the necklace your father had gifted you off, you felt like the weight of the previous day left you with it. You drew your own bath for the first time in what felt like forever, soaking in the enormous tub in an attempt to wash away the bad feelings still clinging to your skin. It was nice to not have anyone pulling you this way and that. You were fairly certain you wouldn't have been able to handle it after yesterday.
Nobara did come to your door to call you for breakfast, but you elected to skip it, claiming to be too sore and tired to leave your bed.
The day passed by quickly. You spent most of it reading over a new text you had brought with you on the use of common herbs in basic potions, annotating as you went so that you could utilize the information more easily later when you tried to put it into practice. Most of what you learned wasn't new to you, but it was always good to get a different sorcerer's perspective for methods on how potions should be brewed.
You were so invested in the uninterrupted study session that you didn't even realize the sun had set.
A sharp knock on your door pulled your nose from your book.
"My lady?" Nobara called.
Deciding it would be best to not cause them believe you were deliberately hiding yourself away, you made your way to the door, nearly forgetting to reinstate your glamour before opening it. You didn't miss the way Nobara's good eye quickly looked you over before she spoke.
"Your evening meal is ready." She explained.
"I'm not hungry." You replied.
Nobara's brow quirked in irritation. You had noticed that she had a temper, one that probably would have made her unfit to serve as any other noble woman's lady in waiting. To you, however, it was refreshing. It was nice to be around someone who wasn't constantly posturing, or at least someone who wasn't always succeeding at it.
"That may very well be true, my lady." Nobara sighed. "But his highness insists."
It shouldn't have shocked you to hear that as much as it did. It only made sense; Satoru couldn't have you wasting away before he had gotten his use out of you. Who would possibly volunteer to tolerate the crown prince long enough for him to become emperor if you died so quickly after you were wed?
"Is it possible to take my meal here?" You asked. "I would prefer to not be forced to dress just to eat alone."
Nobara pushed her way into the room.
"If my lady truly cannot be bothered, we can throw a dressing gown over—" Nobara eyed your thin slip. "—that. The lingering guests have all been sent home anyway."
You sighed. It was apparently too much to hope for the ability to quietly disappear into the background so soon after being introduced to the palace. You would just have to keep trying; the people around you would surely tire of attempting to keep up with what were ultimately unnecessary duties eventually.
After allowing Nobara to help you into the heavy, blue dressing gown, you followed her to the dining room, dragging your feet the entire way. Though you knew you needed to eat, it was hard to get excited for a meal that was guaranteed to be unappetizing. You practically had to choke down all of the meals served in the last few days before your wedding.
Walking into the room, you saw that Maki and Mai were posted where Megumi and Yuta usually stood. It was late; the two knights likely had duties more important than waiting around for you to show up to eat.
The food came quickly after you sat down, and you were absolutely astonished to find that you could actually smell it. Other than what you had eaten at your wedding, you hadn't been served hot food in at least a week and a half. It smelled good, too, an earthy mix of herbs and spices filling your nose as the meal was placed in front of you.
It was some kind of pot pie, the flaky, buttery crust a far cry from the burnt bread you had been receiving. You broke it open with your fork, a fragrant steam rising from the creamy mixture inside. It appeared to be a mix of roasted root vegetables in a rich, thick sauce, the smell of black pepper and garlic growing stronger as you brought a bite toward your mouth.
It was delicious. The taste of it was comforting—nothing too complex, but overwhelmingly hearty. It was hard to not devour it like some kind of starved animal, the fear that it would suddenly be stolen from you looming as you tried to maintain a civilized demeanor.
You actively worked to not think about the reason that you were suddenly receiving something palatable. Maybe skipping breakfast had made them think twice about what they were giving you, or perhaps they just felt bad enough for you to give you a break.
You didn't even notice someone dropping a second dish off, only realizing it as you polished off the pie. Beside you was a plate of thinly sliced, toasted bread with some kind of soft cheese and fruit preserves. Dessert was not something you had been served in your time at the palace, so your sweet tooth was more than deprived. The plate of bread, cheese, and fruit disappeared much more quickly than the main course, the tart sweetness still lingering on your tongue as you later laid back in your bed.
Full and satiated for the first time in weeks, you decided that you didn't care why you had gotten a good meal. They couldn't take it from you now, and you were smart enough to not believe that you should be expecting similar treatment in the future.
˖｡⋆˚༺❤︎༻˚⋆｡˖
When all was finally quiet much later that night, you threw a paper crane out your window, watching as it turned into a small bird and flew away.
The halls were predictably empty, though it wouldn't have mattered much under cover of darkness. It took little effort to spirit yourself through them to your destination. For good measure, you released another, louder bird to act as a distraction, which would hopefully draw the attention of anyone in the immediate area.
You hung the sachet from the handle of his door, figuring that he would easily happen upon it there.
It was merely a paltry show of appreciation for a good meal. Nothing more.
A week later, the improved meals still hadn't stopped. In fact, the quality of your food had only gotten better. The first morning, you had been a little shocked to find a fresh, hot breakfast waiting, but your amazement only grew as the meals quickly became increasingly elaborate.
The surprise quickly turned to confusion. Nobara still refused to let you eat your morning and evening meals in your room, although after you had made the request several times in a row, someone started to bring you a snack midday.
You had been taught well enough to never look a gift horse in the mouth, and so you simply carried on as you had planned. When you felt brave enough to wander the palace grounds, you took great care to avoid anywhere you thought that your husband might be. You didn't dare to venture into the gardens yet, still too scarred from the last time you had visited, but you had successfully bewitched a few more paper cranes to bring you sprigs of herbs and flowers.
As the next few weeks went on, being sequestered in your chambers started to drive you a little crazy. However, you were determined to keep up your hermit behavior until people slowly began to forget about you.
Your father always said that being mildly insane made for a better sorcerer anyway, something that you were finding to be true. The boredom was making you more productive when it came to creative problem solving, and there was actually a special sort of peace that came along with not being constantly distracted by frivolous things.
You were somewhat sad though. It had already been lonely for you in the palace, so cutting off the little social contact that you did have before isolating yourself amplified that feeling. You could tell that the staff noticed that you were hurting for company when you blabbered on about nothing during your meals.
That was probably why Yuta had been reassigned to your rotation of escorts. He had always been the most open to chatting with you. The young knight kept his distance, both physically and emotionally, but you had to admit it was still really nice to have the comfort of someone who was more gentle with you.
"Perhaps you should consider getting out more, my lady." Yuta suggested.
You were complaining about how stuffy your room had been getting with the summer heat, so it wasn't like Yuta was bringing it up out of nowhere, but something about the way he was speaking made you believe he had been waiting for an opportunity to speak on it.
"I don't know—" You sighed. "I would hate to take up your time with such unimportant affairs as following me around the gardens."
You thought that bringing up the gardens would deter Yuta, but it only encouraged him.
"You would like to see the gardens again?" Yuta asked. "That is something we could arrange—I can walk you to Nobara's quarters after you finish eating."
Nobara's quarters were halfway across the palace, though it felt like most places were with how enormous the grounds were. You knew the path well, and as you considered the offer, a wicked idea suddenly popped into your head.
After the incident with Satoru in the gardens, Yuta always took care to follow you at a significant distance. Between where you were currently and Nobara's quarters, there were several places where it would be easy to round a corner and disappear without raising the suspicion that you had intentionally lost your tail.
You wouldn't need long alone in the gardens—there were just a few plants that you were interested in acquiring without being actively observed.
You smiled, the perfect route already coming together in your mind.
"You know what? That sounds nice." You mused. "We can go find Nobara after this."
There was a quiet eagerness about Yuta as he followed behind you. He seemed pleased with himself after getting you to agree to a walk in the gardens. It made you wonder if your keepers had been instructed to ensure you were getting proper enrichment, or if he was simply kind enough to genuinely care about your well-being.
That almost made you feel a little guilty about planning to utilize him in another one of your schemes. You weren't planning something devious this time, though. You would just be making your way to the gardens a little faster than expected—it wasn't like you were going out of your way to run into Satoru again.
˖｡⋆˚༺❤︎༻˚⋆｡˖
You could hear Yuta calling for you as you slipped into an alcove, could hear his panicked footsteps as he broke into a run to try and catch up. The young knight had good instincts—he had actually turned the correct direction. Watching as his shadow blew past your hiding spot, you waited until you could no longer hear him before peeking out into the hall.
Once you confirmed that you were alone, you dashed in the opposite direction, sliding around the corner toward your temporary freedom. If you were quick, it would only take you a few minutes to reach a spot that would lead you outside, and the gardens wouldn't be far beyond that.
Your time locked away had apparently been detrimental to your mental map of the palace. When you hadn't found the area that you had expected to reach, you panicked and unlocked a window, clambering outside in hopes that you would have a better idea of where you were once you weren't within the palace halls anymore.
That turned out to be wishful thinking; however, as you were completely lost almost immediately after leaving the vicinity of your escape window.
It turned out that being lost outside the palace wasn't so bad, though. Yuta had been right about you needing to get out. Your mood improved significantly after spending just a little time in the sun, and though you would likely not be accomplishing your original goal, you didn't really feel disappointed. You could always visit the garden another day, and there were still plenty of books in your room that you could harvest pages from for paper cranes.
Allowing yourself to wander freely, you noticed an area nearby that you had never seen before. The scenery grew less ornamental as you neared it. There were still some trees around, but the shrubbery lining the walkways had become much smaller and more sparse. In some places, the ground was covered only in short grass or small rocks, and in the distance you could see tamped earth that must have been used for training of some kind.
Coming up near the outside of the palace, you noticed a network of covered walkways that lined its exterior. You took the first turn available in hopes that the cover would give you a little extra time to explore alone.
The space the walkways surrounded did appear to be intended for training. You noted several worn dummies in the courtyards, along with empty, wooden racks that were presumably meant to hold weapons. The huge, stone pillars the supported the ceiling of the walkways obscured your view of the outdoor space that they bordered, and so by the time you realized that you had happened upon an area that was in use, it was already far too late.
Impulsively, you decided to hide behind one of the pillars for a bit until the person training left, but apparently they were extremely diligent. From how things sounded, they were quite athletic, their vigorous exercise enough to make you feel tired just from listening.
Truly, you hadn't intended to look at all, but eventually the combined power of your curiosity and boredom grew too great. Peering around the pillar, a flash of steel caught your eye, and it was regrettably out of your hands from there.
Satoru was bare from the waist up, his tunic discarded on the ground near a waterskin. In daylight, you could make out more detail than you had been able to on the morning after your wedding. A body unlike any you had ever seen, strong and toned, the hard lines of him dripping with his exertion. He somehow looked bigger without his tunic, his stature and strength causing his intimidating form to seem even more impressive. Even from a distance, hidden in the shadow of a pillar, you could see the definition of the muscle on his body.
It was mesmerizing, not only the beauty of him, but the predatory efficiency of his form.
The sight of him hard at work was so distracting that you didn't notice it at first. An enormous scar, old and faded, spanning all the way around his middle. It was the sort of scar you had seen before, the kind that was left behind after the removal of a soulmark. When fresh, those scars still sparkled and shined with the remnants of the magical power that had stolen the mark away. Satoru's was old enough that it should have looked almost like a normal scar, but you tell from the tissue banding that it likely still ached as if it were new.
You were aware that it was common for people of higher status to have their marks removed, but you hadn't really thought about the state of Satoru's suspected soulmark. Before now, it had been a nebulous concept, unconfirmed speculation that you had never considered beyond its affect on you. Having put some serious effort into not thinking about that man and his theoretical soulmate, it was disappointing to suddenly have all of that work undone. Feeling envious of a dead person for being the object of Satoru's unrelenting devotion was the last thing you wanted to do, but regardless of how much you tried to suppress it, the feeling still lingered beneath the surface.
Knowing what you did, you felt like you were invading Satoru's privacy seeing him like this.
Still, you couldn't bring yourself to regret witnessing what you had stumbled upon, not when the sight was so strangely satisfying to behold.
You were determined to only watch for a moment, and then a moment longer, and before you knew it, Satoru was finishing up with his training.
Eyes still locked on him, you found yourself deeply ashamed by the fact that you were practically salivating over a man who couldn't stand you. Satoru tilted his head back to drink from his waterskin, stray liquid dripping down his chin and chest. Now that he was standing still, you could better make out the lines of his body. He was lean enough that the definition near his belt brought with it the suggestion of what might lie beneath, a line of thinking that you followed quite willingly despite the context of who you were fantasizing about.
It might have remained a harmless secret—had Satoru not suddenly turned your way.
You thought that the phenomenal speed at which you disappeared behind that pillar might have saved you, but in retrospect, your luck had likely run out the moment you decided to investigate the training grounds.
In turning to flee, you tripped, and fell directly into someone. Your arms flew out in an attempt to catch yourself, wrapping around the body of the person in front of you. Your knees hit the ground, your face colliding with the person's front as you fell. You could feel your face burning with your embarrassment, your body flooding with heat as you tried to will yourself to ignore the fact that your cheek was pressed directly into their loins.
You knew that it was Satoru without looking up into his face. Who else could it have been? Besides, after spending the better part of the last hour staring at him, you would have recognized even part of that body anywhere.
Time seemed to slow as you tried to will yourself out of existence. Both you and Satoru were frozen in place, likely because neither of you were entirely sure what to do.
Regrettably, because you did still need to breathe, you inhaled, the smell of musk filling your nose, something earthy, spicy, and distinctly sweet. It smelled like Satoru's bed, but stronger. It was an oddly pleasant scent, one that you had been unable to fully erase from your mind.
One that you would surely be unable to after this.
Pressing against your face, however, was something that caused your racing thoughts to abruptly come to a halt. You could feel it pulsing against your cheek, huge and hard and definitely not that way for you. He had just been working out; it was only natural for a man like him to have healthy blood flow to all parts of his body.
The fact that the state of him had nothing to do with you didn't seem to matter to your own body. Already traitorously aroused by peeping on his training, the still-fresh thoughts of what married couples were supposed to do with one another would have brought you to your knees—were you not already on them, of course.
It was only when your eyes met that scar at his middle that you truly understood.
If someone had given you the choice between staying right where you were or pulling away and looking up at your husband, you would have asked if the third option of being struck down by the gods was a possibility.
However, the gods had proven themselves to be anything but merciful when it came to your marriage, and eventually you were forced to turn your gaze toward Satoru's.
You met those beautiful blue eyes, devastation washing over you as your mind confirmed everything you were feeling.
You almost wished that he would have insulted you. That he would have made some crass implication about your duty as his wife or called you a desperate whore. That he would have pushed you to the ground and made you kiss his feet as an apology for leering at him the way you had been.
Anything would have been better than the nauseating look of shock and revulsion on Satoru's face as he finally stepped away from you, breaking the hold your arms still had on him.
The realization you were coming to was enough to choke you all on its own, but your bound tongue took care of any remaining possibility of expressing yourself. Gagging on every word you wanted to say, you blinked up at your husband with your mouth agape. He looked stunning from every angle, but in your infinite misfortune, your mind was already unhelpfully supplying a different, superior context of him above you.
Satoru opened his mouth to say something, but at that exact moment, Nobara came sailing around the corner, her heavy skirts fluttering around her ankles. She skidded to a halt when she saw the two of you, panicked disbelief painting her face as she took in the sight. Yuta appeared moments after, only narrowly avoiding slamming into Nobara as he came to a stop.
Yuta and Nobara must have known one another for a long while, because all it took was a single glance exchanged between them before they jumped into action. The two of them quickly inserted themselves between you, clearly trying to stop the imminent situation from developing any further.
"Your highness, Advisor Kento has been looking for you—" Yuta explained.
"My lady—" Nobara gasped, still catching her breath. "You cannot just run off like that!"
She grabbed you beneath your arms, hauling you to your feet before fretting over you in an overly dramatic way. Examining your dirtied dress, she kissed her teeth, acting you as if you were an errant child.
"Come, we'll need to get you into clean clothes—the wife of the crown prince can't be seen looking like a mess—" Nobara dragged you away as quickly as she could, scolding you until Satoru was well out of earshot.
The rest of your day was a blur, your attention turned completely inward as you realized the true nature of everything that had been laid out before you.
You were fairly sure that you were going to have to be restrained the next time you saw your father, otherwise you might end up strangling him. The fact that you had ended up here, in an arranged marriage with your soulmate, was an impossible coincidence. Knowing Suguru as well as you did, along with the little that you understood about his darker, more secretive work, it was easy to believe that he had been planning this for a very long time.
It was apparent that your father had ultimately bound you for your safety, but the fact that he had sent you into all of this without telling you a single thing was just plain reckless. At the very least, Suguru could have hinted that he was sending you into this kind of predicament.
You were standing before your mirror, fingers tracing the lines of you soulmark. You must have been frozen there for at least an hour, completely mesmerized as you grappled with the tumultuous mix of feelings that had bubbled up inside you.
Satoru Gojo was your soulmate.
Under any other circumstance, this would have been the best day of you life. Being so lucky as to actually marry one's soulmate was highly unusual for people like you, and that went doubly for Satoru. At the same time, it was extremely unfortunate. There was no way that things would ever be easy for the two of you, even if you somehow managed to be unbound. Peace and happiness were a pipe dream for soulmates of higher birth or status.
Any yet, as you touched the sparkling, silver lines of you soulmark, you dared to imagine that impossible life.
Having such a world-shattering realization made everything that had happened to you since coming to the palace look new. The devotion Satoru felt toward his soulmate and his resulting disdain toward you had been easy to understand. It was the behavior that didn't fit the pattern that had confused you. The intense, territorial jealousy, the strange protectiveness, the way he kept bringing up a smell that no one else had ever mentioned—all things that you had written off as the quirks of a powerful man who had always gotten his way before you came along.
Now, however, you had new context for all of it.
Your horrific introduction to the man, the systematic demoralization, the dreadful wedding and subsequent night together…all of that effort followed by the sudden, inexplicable changes in the way you were being treated made complete sense.
Whether or not Satoru had figured out what was going on was difficult to ascertain. Seasoned leader that he was, it was unlikely that he would be quick to reveal such sensitive information, even to the most relevant party. Combine that with the fact that he seemed to care a great deal about his soulmate, and it was possible that he could learn the truth and decide to never disclose it.
But something in your gut told you that Satoru didn't know.
If that were the case, then you truly had your work cut out for you. As you dwelt on the idea, you realized that your plans for surviving this palace would likely be unsustainable. Even if you were initially able to resist the temptation, able to prevent yourself from being drawn toward your soulmate, the magic that tied the two of you together would inevitably make it impossible.
Every individual's symptoms were different, but being bound as you were, yours were only destined to worsen as the soulmate magic fought the restrictions placed on you.
You could already feel the pull, a sensation that you hadn't understood before your epiphany. You had chalked it up to anxiety, assuming that the feeling of your throat tightening up had been related to the unpleasant things happening to you.
There was nothing to be done for it. You would just have to change up your strategy.
After all, how hard could it be to seduce your own soulmate?
Satoru was entirely convinced that he had gone mad.
He hadn't been able to focus all evening, his thoughts inevitably returning to what had happened earlier that day again and again. Being the sort of over-thinker that he was, Satoru had already twisted the memory into an elaborate fantasy.
In truth, it had been a brief moment, a few seconds of awkward contact, follow by an even more uncomfortable resolution facilitated by his knights.
In Satoru's recollection, however, everything was different.
The way Satoru remembered it, you hadn't stumbled to the ground, but instead dropped to your knees. You hadn't caught yourself using his body, but rather pulled him into your embrace. You hadn't accidentally fallen face-first into his erection, but willingly pressed your lips against him.
In Satoru's re-imagining, you hadn't looked up at him in humiliation and horror. You had looked at him with passionate, burning desire.
Each time Satoru banished the image from his mind, it came back stronger and more perverse.
Worse still, his scar hurt. It was almost as if his soulmate was punishing him from the beyond for his lack of fidelity. Though Satoru had been mostly free of serious episodes in recent years, the pain had flared back up as soon as you appeared, and the contact your bare skin had made with his scar that day had only caused the problem to become more severe.
And yet, Satoru couldn't stop.
Yes, Satoru was entirely convinced he had gone mad, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when what he was experiencing felt so. incredibly. good.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
On the night of Satoru's wedding, that dull ache in his scar had evolved into something more complicated. As much as he hated to admit it, the brief conflict that he had with his new wife had stuck with him. It was like he had taken that blade to his ribs rather than his hand, each breath making the blossoming ache grow.
The way you smelled was getting to him, too. It was unbelievable, a soft sweetness that followed you everywhere you went. Summertime strawberries and thick, sugary cream—each inhale fed the unfamiliar beast within him. It felt like magic, wild and alive, a snarling, writhing thing that clawed its way up his throat and burrowed into his brain. The feeling had set him on edge from the very first moment he noticed your scent, making him restless when he was usually able to make himself still.
Satoru didn't sleep at all that night, the time ticking by at an agonizingly slow pace. Lying awake there, he realized that he was angry, not at you, but at himself.
You hadn't asked to be involved in this marriage, and when you had made an effort in good faith, Satoru had only worked to make your life unbearable. As much as he acted like he wanted nothing to do with you, he had only grown more obsessed as time went on. He found himself checking in on you constantly, playing with the details of your life and telling himself that he would feel better once you were more miserable than he was.
Satoru understood that what he was doing was insane. It didn't make sense—he wasn't even this invested in his revenge on Suguru Geto. The fact that you had still been willing to fulfill your marital duties had set him off entirely. After a long day of being reminded that he was marrying a woman he could never love, having you merely insinuate that the two of you were obligated to consummate the marriage was enough to push Satoru over the edge he had been dancing on all evening.
He admired you, in a way. Even in the face of the highest power in the empire, you allowed yourself to bend appropriately, but you still refused to break. Satoru had taken you for a weak, soft woman, and while you did your best to play the part, you still consistently proved you were capable of so much more.
By the time morning had come, he was absolutely furious.
Satoru was going to personally see to having that dagger destroyed. He never wanted to see that damned blade again, especially not in your hands. Witnessing you ready to hurt yourself had done something to him. The moment replayed in his mind, fear gripping his heart each time he pictured your determined expression.
How he managed to control himself through the night, Satoru wasn't entirely sure.
There was a limit to every man's will, however, and after having spent the greater part of the night lying awake with a raging erection, Satoru Gojo had finally reached his. It wasn't a moment after you closed the door to the royal bedchambers behind you that Satoru rolled over and buried his face in the pillow you had been using.
Satoru had noticed your sweet scent from the very first moment that you had walked into his office. At first, he thought you were just wearing some kind of luxury perfume. Later, he had begun to suspect that your father had provided you with a potion of allure. Your claim that you weren't wearing anything had proved true. Satoru had gone through all of your things himself, so unless you kept the substance hidden on your person, that intoxicating smell was all you.
How could a person even smell like that? Normal people didn't smell like fresh powdered sugar and ripe fruit.
Each breath Satoru took did nothing to satisfy him, the urge to take in more of you only growing with each desperate inhale. Pressing his nose deeper, he wondered if it would be possible to have your personal pillow exchanged daily so that he could have this experience every morning.
Satoru hadn't even noticed that he was rocking his hips against the bed, his neglected cock leaking onto the rumpled sheets. He didn't think it was possible for him to get any harder, but huffing your sweet scent had proven him wrong almost instantly. It bordered on painful, his body demanding release that he was reluctant to give it.
Indulging in a single, strong roll of his hips quickly had him changing his mind. The feeling was simply irresistible, a wave of pleasure that washed over him before pulling him under entirely, sweeping away the logical thoughts that told him what he was doing was wrong.
Rejecting you so thoroughly only to engage in a private, perverted practice like this was frightening display of abberancy. It was only because he was already doing so many things that were unlike himself that Satoru was capable of justifying it.
Although, 'justifying' was an extremely loose description of what Satoru was doing. He was struggling to keep hold of any thought that wasn't based entirely in the moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Satoru knew that he would sincerely regret betraying his beloved, late soulmate, but that thought was eradicated each time he inhaled.
It wasn't long before Satoru had made a mess of the bed. He came with a deep growl, the sounds of his ecstasy muffled by the pillow smushed against his face. Distantly, Satoru realized he was imagining what it might be like to have part of you pressed against his face. The thought melted away like spun sugar, the burning pleasure of his lurid act overtaking his mind.
Recovering from his shameful tryst with the bedding, Satoru threw an arm over his face, groaning as he realized that he was still half-hard.
There was no denying it, not anymore. Despite everything, Satoru wanted you, wanted you in a way that he had never imagined he could ever want another person. If he weren't so violently aroused, he might have taken a moment to examine the turmoil brewing inside him.
However, as the future emperor, Satoru wasn't the sort of person who allowed himself to engage in such extravagant behavior as considering his own emotional needs.
Satoru got up shortly after, still wanting, but determined to make the whole event out to be a momentary lapse of reason. The bloody, sticky mess he had made of the sheets was tossed aside, better evidence of an act that had never occurred than he had expected to achieve. The lovebirds, which had been mercifully silent until he got out of bed, began shrieking at him as he moved around, compounding the guilt that Satoru already felt.
After a thorough, frustrating hour of searching, Satoru finally left his quarters to go about his day, the offending dagger nowhere to be found.
⊹༺✦༻⊹
All the work Satoru had put into abstaining from repeating his shameful actions was wasted after he found you spying on him during his training.
Rather than question any of it, Satoru had decided it was easier to accept that the whole affair had broken his already fractured mind. Why the thought of you watching him exert himself excited him, why he couldn't seem to rid the feeling of your touch from his skin, why he was always having to push the thought of you out of his head…
The answer was simple. Satoru was a worthless dog, a horny mutt who folded the moment a woman who managed to even remotely interest him was in his vicinity. All his contempt for you had evaporated, replaced by absolute self-loathing.
Satoru couldn't bring himself to hate you for it. The guilt was his alone. He had picked you for this, plucked you from your happy home and brought you to the palace in hopes of personally ensuring you and your family's destruction. He had tormented you, a powerless, innocent woman, and actively sought to make your life unbearable, all for his own pleasure.
Now, for a disturbingly similar reason, Satoru was bent over his bed, fucking his fist while he smothered himself with your dirty undergarments. He been content to steal whatever he could find from the laundry, but now he was wondering if it would be possible to acquire what you had been wearing that day.
Surely if something from an average day was this utterly decadent, then the smell from that day would be akin to ambrosia.
The thought of it alone was what finished him. Satoru bit his lower lip as he came, milking thick, hot ropes of cum as he pictured you on your knees before him. It was the best orgasm he'd ever had, and yet it only left him wanting.
It was dark out when he made his way back to the laundry, the few staff who remained in the area so late scattering as he approached. They knew better than to ask questions, though undoubtedly rumors were already spreading of his continued, unusual behavior. He had already heard a group of maids gossiping about his frequent visits to the aviary.
Satoru practically sniffed out exactly what he was searching for, your clothes calling to him as if they were enchanted. He hadn't even needed to use his power to find them as he had the first time, something that he might have found troubling if he had been able to bring himself to care.
It took another two rounds to slake his lust, though it was clear that the fix was temporary. As he laid in bed that night, for the first time in his life, Satoru hoped he dreamt of someone other than his soulmate.
That settled it. Complicated feelings aside, Satoru would need to do something about you.
A restless night, two bodies thrashing against the tides, entangled in desire lines.
After many years of dating you find out you're pregnant, and happy to tell your boyfriend but it seems like he isn't as happy.
Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, miscommunication, misunderstanding, harassment, sexual assault implied.
You and Satoru have been dating for 6 years, and for those years everything was doing perfectly; you barely argued, even when you were busy you would understand each other and leave space if needed.
The subject of marriage and parenthood was talked about from time to time, Satoru said he wanted to marry you, and be a father.
He never added 'with you' alongside 'be a father' which is something you never even noticed but came to think about after taking several pregnancy test.
The answer was clear, every test showed two lines, you were pregnant and you were happy, you were gonna have a baby with the man you loved so much, what's there to not be happy about?
If only it was the same for Satoru.
“I want to be a father”
Those words kept repeating in your mind as you watched Satoru analyze the pregnancy test for longer than he should.
The moment you showed him the pregnancy test his smile vanished in a blink of an eye.
“Is there something wrong” Your lower lip was trembling from holding back the tears and your words came out shaky. “No.. it's just that.. uhm I thought we were gonna wait until marriage you know?”
Your fingers started playing with each other to calm your racing heart, it wasn't your fault, wasn't it? It was an incident, you told him you weren't on the pill but had unprotected sex anyways.
“Yeah I didn't know I was pregnant but I kept feeling nauseous and took a few tests, we didn't use protection last time, remember?”
Satoru placed the test down on the table, taking a deep breath. “Yeah yeah, I remember.. of course I do”
You never cried harder in your life before, you didn't wanna listen to another word coming out of his mouth and left before the conversation could take a worse turn.
But be said he wanted to be a father, then why did he act that way.
Or maybe.. that's why he never said he wanted to be a father with you.
Because he didn't wanna live that life with you, he didn't wanna build a family with you.
The cold water runned down the faucet, the jet strong enough to spray drops on your shirt. You've been crying in front of the bathroom mirror for who knows how long, wetting your face over and over again until you were sure your skin was as dry as a desert.
Who could've known such a perfect relationship would've ended this way?
Now every single word that came out his mouth before today seemed fake to you, every 'I love you' seemed like a way to shut you up.
What are you gonna do now? You're pregnant and the man who was supposed to raise the baby with you doesn't want it.
There was a knock on Shoko's office door. “Come in” the door swung open, a tired looking Satoru stepping inside.
There was smoke floating in the room along with a heavy smell of alcohol. “What's wrong?” Shoko asked, not bothering to look at him while smoking her 16th cigarette of the day.
“Hey Shoko, I need to talk to you about something because I think I really fucked up this time.” by his words it didn't take Shoko long to realize the reason he was so unusually calm was because of you.
“Argument?”
“No, not really”
There was a moment of silence where Satoru just replayed the moment in his mind, the pregnancy test, your face, the moment you rushed away from him without letting him say another word.
“This morning she handed me a pregnancy test and it was positive, she looked so happy and was talking about how great we'd be as parents...”
Shoko put out the cigarette in the ashtray, blowing out one last smoke. “Mhm and you don't want a kid?”
“No no! I do want a child, I want a family and I want all of that with her!” He took a deep breath, two fingers massaging his nose bridge. “I don't know what got into me but at that moment I started thinking about what we are, you know, sorcerers and about everything that's happening, the curses and everything else, I made some lame excuse about waiting until marriage but I think that was her last straw.”
Shoko sighed, keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Yeah you're right, you fucked up but you should talk to her”
“I wanted to explain but she walked away without letting me speak” This situation was bad, really bad, just because of his stupid thoughts he might not only lose his future child but his future wife as well.
“I'm totally on her side, I mean think of it like you're her, you just found out you're pregnant, are happy about it and when you tell your loving boyfriend he looks disappointed and unhappy, she's having a harder time than you so I suggest you find a solution quickly”
It's been 2 weeks since the last time you spoke with Satoru, as soon as he left to Jujutsu Tech you packed up your things and drove away in search of a hotel, you hoped it was enough to make it clear you didn't wanna see him again.
It's true, you didn't really know why Satoru acted that way, if he really meant to act that way but you didn't wanna know, he should've had another reaction to such an important new. As much as you loved Satoru you weren't gonna give up your baby because he didn't want to have one.
If he wasn't gonna help you raise it then you will raise it on your own, it's been your dream since you were a teenager to have a child.
But pregnancy was harder than you thought, the constant nausea and craving were hell, and you were only two months pregnant.
The TV was on, with some cartoon on air you didn't recognize.
You were on your knees on the bathroom floor, vomiting again, for the 4th time this day.
As if this whole constant vomiting thing wasn't enough you were hungry, really hungry, you haven't eaten all day and along with the cravings it wasn't the ideal.
No matter how bad you were feeling you had to go to the convenience store, it was just a few blocks away but you could barely walk.
Your pregnancy was being brutal and of course to your unending unfortunate you could barely use your cursed techniques and anything related to that, in other words you were weak and defenseless.
You didn't even bother to turn off the TV or the lights, just exiting your hotel room and trying to even reach the store.
It was close to midnight, the air was fresh, almost too cold.
The convenience store's automatic doors opened as soon as you appreached them, the bright lights blinding you, it was quiet with just a few people around.
You wasted no time going to the sweets section, grabbing everything you pleased, after all you had the money to do that.
The cashier seemed as tired as you were but because of the exhausting work hours, still she forced a smile on her face.
“Thanks for shopping with us, have a great night.”
You just nodded, you really didn't want to talk, or maybe is because you knew you would vomit if you did.
What seemed like 5 minutes in the store apparently were 20, you really lost track of time.
You began walking back to the hotel room with the remaining forces you had and the ones you saved to eat the food.
You didn't feel his presence immediately but after only a few steps you noticed someone was following you, a man you didn't know.
The air you were trying to breath became thicker, you tried to move your legs faster but you couldn't.
Now you were in between the convenience store and your hotel room, right where nobody was and there was nothing but pitch black.
To him this was like a golden opportunity and like it was served to him in a silver plate he took advantage of it, suddenly grabbing your hand tightly and pinning you roughly against the wall in an alley way.
You tried to break free, to use your cursed technique or even just a bit of cursed energy but you couldn't, your body was too weak at the moment.
To make matters worse, he wasn't just a thief.
His hand lingered down to the waistband of your pants while his eyes stayed fixed on yours.
“L-let me go” Your voice was barely audible, his other hand grabbing your neck, making it almost impossible to breath.
His thumb made it's way inside the waistband, caressing your skin.
You couldn't help but shut your eyes close and let the tears run down your face..
BAMP!
The sudden loud noise and the absence of his hands on your body made you open your eyes again.
The guy was on the floor, in pain, holding his bleeding head.
“Are you okay?!” That familiar voice.. You turned to look at your side, Satoru was standing close, he wasn't wearing his blindfold; this time you could see his expression clear as glass, he was worried, worried to death.
You couldn't answer just yet, taking a moment to catch your breath and as expected vomit once again.
“Satoru..” His heart was pounding hard and fast seeing your conditions.
The same day you left he knew where you were, but thought it would be better to leave you space then he would settle everything, he decided to come clear things up today but then he saw you leave the hotel room and enter the convenience store.
The moment that filthy guy put his hands on you he was fuming, now that same guy is on the ground crying in pain with a bleeding head.
“I should get you checked, okay?” He grabbed you by the waist, holding you up and in a second you were in Jujutsu Tech infermery, Shoko was already waiting for the two of you.
Before coming to see you he gave her a quick call, knowing you would've definitely needed some medical help.
“Lay here, Shoko's gonna heal you” He layed you down on the bed, your baby bump was a little more visible than two weeks ago.
Shoko flashed you a quick smile before using her reverse cursed technique on you, healing the wounds that man did.
Under Shoko's care, the softness and warm of her hands made you fall asleep.
“Her body is weak at the moment, that's why she couldn't defend herself, I'm sure after waking up she'll be feeling better”
Shoko's words didn't even make it inside Satoru's head, his mind was flooded with thoughts about what couldn't have happened to you if he wasn't there in time.
“Don't blame yourself, she's safe now” She walked past him, patting his shoulder two times before exiting the room, leaving your sleeping body and him alone.
He was gonna wait, even if you slept for days he was gonna wait by your side and as soon as you wake up he would clear everything.
Hours passed, Satoru was still there, seated besides the bed.
The red marks left on your neck by the man were almost vanished by now.
Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the bright light of the room, it took about a minute to understand where you were.
You were so nauseous and exhausted before that you could barely remember what happened.
Your head turned as you heard your name being called, by a voice you clearly recognized.
“How are you feeling?” His face was just inches away from yours, blindfold off and his eyes couldn't leave you even if death was behind him.
“Uh.. I'm feeling better” Your voice was hesitant, you blocked him everywhere, left without saying a word. It's weird being in front of him again like this.
“Sorry if I caused trouble, I'll get going” You tried to stand up from the bed but Satoru immediately grabbed your wrist and layed you back.
“Going where? Don't you remember what happened? You were assaulted and you think I will let you go back, to what? A shitty hotel room where you can't even take full care of yourself?" His tone raised but you could see the panic in his bright blue eyes.
You sat up, pushing his hand away from your wrist. "I won't give up the baby, Satoru, if you aren't going to take care of it I will”
Oh right, he almost forgot why you left in the first place.
“What are you saying? You didn't even let me explain that day”
“Then why did you act like that, you looked and sounded disappointed to have a baby, you always said you wanted to be a father but not with me right? You just didn't want a baby with me!"
Satoru remained silent for a few seconds, there was no concrete explanation for his reaction.
“I- I was being a coward, okay? When you showed me the pregnancy test my mind stopped completely and started thinking about all the bad things that could happen to our baby and to you because of curses, us being sorcerers and instead of talking it out with you I reacted that way, I'm sorry.”
The room fell into a thick silence but that somewhat felt calm and what was needed.
Both your heartbeats filled the silent room.
Hearing his words made you feel less heavy, like you just let go of a weight on your shoulders you didn't know you had.
“So.. you were just worried? I-I thought you didn't want a baby with me...”
His hand reached your head, and pushed the hair on your face back behind your head then came down to your hand, holding it and interlacing your fingers.
“I always wanted to have a family with you, I'm sorry I made you think that, can we start again from where we left?”
You let out a giggle, something you haven't done in weeks.
Your fingers grip harder onto his as you layed your head on his shoulder.
you left him before. can you leave him again with a baby on the way?
synopsis: divorcing a stubborn dickhead like Ryomen Sukuna was probably the most difficult thing you ever had to do. but what were you supposed to do when your husband had practically become a stranger considering most days he spent more time at work than he did at home? and when he was home, half the time he'd rather sleep on the couch than in your bed? you didn't hate him. but you didn't love him anymore either. maybe you would have moved on. but when one last night together ends up with more than just a memory after you get two little lines on a pregnancy test, you discover you might not be able to get rid of him after all.
pairing: ex-husband!sukuna x pregnant!reader (also featuring best friend!geto)
content: mdni, smut and angst, some domestic fluff, divorced-to-remarried, complicated relationships, messy feelings, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy sex, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral sex, pining, so much regret, misunderstandings, breaking up and making up, gruff and grumpy sukuna who misses his wife, soft geto trying to steal her from him, more tags in individual chapters
a/n: lovely art by @winterrbluess !! part of my community event <3
୨ synopsis : you and frat!sukuna break up after going through a rough patch. determined on going no contact , you bury yourself in your work and try to go on , business as usual. that is , until sukuna can no longer ignore the growing ache in his heart ꪆ
୨ warnings / tags : college au : long awaited sukuna's pov : banter : yozoru's sukuna's ex : angst : fluff : reader is still his tutor : mentions of cheating : drinking : rina is reader's roommate , and is lightly inspired by chris from tatilb : tatilb themes : they're both whipped : reader is insecure : sukuna's vulnerable : no use of y/n : sukuna is yearner of the year : sukuna being sukuna : gojo and geto are comedic relief : rina is wingwoman of the year ꪆ
𓂃 . ❤︎ INSPIRED BY "BREAKUP" BY TIFFANY DAY
‹ ︎ ✦ WORD COUNT 13k
⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MASTERLIST ⟡ TAGLIST ⟡ GRAPHIC BY ME
AUTHOR'S NOTE ⟡ thank you for the support my loves , i appreciate you guys so much. this is just an excerpt / continuation from the last drabble , so there will be some easter eggs throughout the fic. keep in mind that the full one-shot is still otw !
You were gathering your things at the end of class when you heard footsteps behind you. You looked up and saw Yozoru, one of the star athletes at your school, glaring back at you. Due to her being in your graduating class, you knew she was one of Sukuna’s past girlfriends. She had her arms crossed and her eyes bored into you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Despite having several classes together in the past, she’d never acknowledged you before today…and just based on her expression alone, you could tell that what was about to happen was going to be anything but good.
You furrowed your brows, clearly confused, and she rolled her eyes. You weren’t liking her attitude at all. Everything about her demeanor screamed bad news, but it was as if your feet were planted to the ground. You couldn’t move, you could only watch in horror as she finally opened her mouth to speak.
“Whatever is going on with you and Suki, you might as well end it. You’re just another virgin loser throwing herself at him in hopes of getting lucky. It’s embarrassing.” She emphasized the last word like the thought of it alone made her physically ill. You were at a loss of words. You didn’t know where to unpack the word vomit that just left her mouth. Who the hell was “Suki” and why was she just calling you names unwarranted? He came to you for tutoring, not the other way around. And when did tutoring turn into throwing yourself at him? It was obviously by chance. Your head was spinning from the million things flying through your mind.
“We only just now started dating” you replied, voice shaky, “I don’t know why you felt the need to come at me like this. I haven’t done anything to you.”
“I’m doing you a favor by telling you you’re wasting your time.” She scoffed at your puzzled expression and shook her head. “He doesn’t date girls like you.”
What did “girls like you" mean? You weren’t very popular, but you weren’t actively seeking to be. “Please, just leave me alone.” You side stepped and scurried past her before she could assault you with her words again. Even though you knew she was probably being fueled by jealousy and possessiveness, you still felt uneasy. You weren’t sure when or how her and Sukuna had broken up—you weren’t that invested in everyone’s love lives—but you were pretty sure nothing warranted her confronting you. This was crazy and not at all what you had signed up for.
You finally reached your car and hurried in to lock the doors. Paranoia was one way to describe it, but you’d rather call it being smart. She seemed crazy, and like Rina had told you, she got away with everything because she was so good at her sport. She’s gotten out of cheating on exams, failing drug tests, and so on. It was insane how untouchable she was. You weren’t taking any chances. You took a deep breath and started the car. The drive home was silent. No music, no podcasts, nothing.
“I spend my hours thinkin' 'bout us and the way that things are”
You went over all the events that have brought you here. You couldn’t control that Sukuna ended up being one of the people you were tutoring. You could control how you interacted: focusing more on the actual content, not joking around and indulging in his shenanigans and so on, but you didn’t want to hold back. As much as you hated to admit it at the time, you had looked forward to your sessions. He made you laugh and he kept you on your toes. Each and every session was something new. You never knew what to expect with him. You could have controlled going on the date. Could have said no, could have ignored his texts altogether that night. But once again, you liked talking to him. Him asking you out was the best surprise ever, and you couldn't be more grateful for it. But, was it worth it? How you felt for him, was it worth Yozoru’s wrath?
“It's like I'm over-obsessing over someone I barely know. I convinced myself I think maybe I'd be better alone”
No it wasn’t, you decided. You had other things going for you, all these good things working towards your future. Unnecessary distractions would only make you lose sight of what matters most. Distancing yourself from him might be what’s best. Yozoru would get off your back and maybe then you’d be able to finally find peace of mind. As much as you ran this thought through your head—to the point of exhaustion—you didn’t believe yourself. Your head hurt so badly, the stress from this past week has been getting to you. If it weren’t for your applications already being turned in, you’d explode from the stress of all the pending tasks alone. With a heavy heart, you got in bed and slept off the headache.
The next couple of days, you kept your distance. Burying yourself in your studies was what you knew best. Doing so was anything but healthy, but it was all you’ve ever known. It robbed you of making and maintaining the relationships in your life, but it was a fair trade. Pouring yourself into your work only ever ended with you reaping the benefits anyway. It was your fault for thinking you could have your cake and eat it too.
Rina was in and out of the dorm as usual. You were yet to tell her about the run in with Yozoru. She’d definitely be on your side, but you weren’t sure what advice she’d give you. You knew deep down, you couldn’t ignore your boyfriend forever. He’d never admit it but, he could be pretty clingy behind closed doors. It didn’t help that he could always see right through you. Nothing could get past him.
That night, you came home to the sound of the sink running. You walked into the kitchen and saw Rina washing dishes.
“Rina?”
She turned around and beamed at you. “Oh my gosh hi, how are you?” She dried her hands with a rag and pulled you into a hug. She smelled nice, like a sweet cinnamon, which was fitting for her personality. You pulled away and smiled back at her. “I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m good, I just miss you. I cleaned up the dorm as my sorry for disappearing, I’ve been picking up a lot of shifts at work and school has been…well, you know.” She sighed.
“I understand. I’m glad to see you too. Thank you! You didn’t have to, that's so sweet.” You squeezed her arm lightly. Your eyes scanned the dorm. It was sparkling clean. You weren’t a total pig, but the place had definitely been overdue for some tidying up with you being distracted and all.
“Let me finish up here and we can catch up?”
You nodded and she turned back to the sink. You walked into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Your belongings were long forgotten on the floor. These past few days, you’d done every homework assignment available, including the ones due in a few weeks. You watched videos online to be able to understand the ones that went over content you haven’t covered yet in class. That’s how you kept busy: constantly searching for something to do.
You heard the sink turn off and Rina knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside.
“Okay, I’m all done. What’s new with you?”
You started off light, telling her about classes and other school related things. You were afraid of telling her about Yozoru. Saying what happened out loud made it more real, including the harsh things she had said to you.
“How’s your week been though? Tell me about it.” She handed you your favorite snack and took a sip of her water. Rina had always been genuine. Despite her spontaneous disappearances, she always made sure to catch up with you and check in to see if you were okay.
“Honestly, not the best. Yozoru kind of ruined it.”
Rina sat up. “Yozoru?!?”
“Yeah, she confronted me the other day in class.”
Rina choked on her water. “She did what?”
You took a deep breath and explained the incident to her. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and her mouth curved in a deep frown.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she said sympathetically. “She’s insane. Why is she pressing you? She’s acting as if Sukuna gives her the time of the day. He ignores her now and she hates it. Instead of thinking maybe, ‘Oh, I must be the problem,’ she bothers any girls he interacts with to cope with the fact that he doesn’t fuck with her anymore. It’s sick.”
You blinked in confusion “Wait, so she has no place to be bothering me over him?”
“None at all. They broke up ages ago because she was trying to homie hop back to Gojo. I guess Sukuna got tired of her being unfaithful. Are you okay though?”
Her question barely registered in your head. You were too focused on what she just dropped on you: Sukuna was cheated on? He never mentioned that to you. Was it on purpose? Withholding that information seemed pretty deliberate. Then again, maybe it was just a sensitive subject…
“I was a little shaken up at first, but I’m fine now,” you lied, “I can’t believe she cheated on him and expects him to still want her in his life.”
“The audacity of that woman. Honestly, Ryomen Sukuna is many things, but he is loyal. Yozoru’s infidelity was one-sided. Sukuna will break up with a girl out of the blue if it meant making sure she knew how he felt, when he felt it. He’s never been unfaithful, just blunt. And girls hate that,” Rina chuckled, “I don’t blame them, but I’d rather that than finding out my boyfriend is sleeping with someone else. Sukuna might be the last loyal frat guy left.”
“Or ever,” you joked.
You both laughed. The cheating scandals out of that fraternity house were insane. And when they mixed with the sorority girls? Hell on earth.
“Wait. Did I tell you about…” She complained to you about one of the classes she was taking that you took last semester. You nodded and gave your input here and there, but your mind was still stuck on all that happened. You’d made a point not to say what Yozoru had said verbatim, it was too humiliating. Sure, Rina probably knew, but you still felt embarrassed. There was some truth to what Yozoru was saying, and you didn't want to hear what Rina thought about it, afraid of your worst fear being confirmed.
“I think about it time to time, think about what it'll be. To be with somebody similar, somebody just like me. It doesn't make a lot of sense 'cause boy, you give me the world”
It was obvious to pretty much everyone how different you and Sukuna were, that was no secret. But did these differences, specifically your own, make having something together—or him—completely unattainable? All of this would be so much easier if you were dating someone more in your league. Someone as quiet and shy as you, who you could experience your firsts with together: first date, first kiss, first time having sex, and so on. Complications would be minimal compared to what you had going on with Sukuna. Though, what you had with Sukuna was good. Outside of all this craziness, he made you feel seen and loved. There were obstacles of course, but he constantly made an effort for you. Were you really that ungrateful to wish for someone else? You felt guilty for even entertaining that thought. You couldn’t decide what to feel. On one hand you were immensely grateful, but on the other hand, your mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. You just hoped that you were making the right decision.
You felt awful. You’d taken the distancing thing a little too far, and now he was demanding to see you. The notifications from him spamming your phone flooded your lockscreen.
sukuna: feels like i haven’t see you in forever
sukuna: yes i know our session is tmr, i don’t care
sukuna: wanna meet up ?
sukuna: if you say no, i’m leaving you a bad review on yelp
Yelp? You weren’t even on Yelp. You giggled and unlocked your phone.
you: i’m not on yelp, but thanks for the suggestion
sukuna: so she’s alive
Okay, now he was just being dramatic. You have been replying to his texts. Yes, you were dry and the responses were a little delayed, but you were replying.
you: someone’s a bit dramatic
sukuna: k.
you: wow, we’ve devolved from “ok” to “k.” monumental.
sukuna: Ok.
sukuna: is that better ?
sukuna: are you coming or not
You hesitated. You felt like a huge jerk, but if that’s what it took for you to not have a repeat of last night where you felt the insecurities eating you alive, even before the two of you could really start something, then so be it.
you: Can’t, sorry. I have to work on internship applications
sukuna: alright, then. good luck
You’d worked on and submitted them the day before yesterday, but he didn’t need to know that. You yawned and stretched before you laid your head on your desk. A wave of drowsiness hit you. You desperately needed to get your mind off of things. Drowning in schoolwork definitely wasn’t the way to do it. It was starting to drain you more. You glanced at your bed and contemplated going to sleep early tonight. It would help you relax and you’ve been sleeping so late since you were up working…
You got up from your desk and crawled into bed. The second your head hit the pillow, you knocked out.
The beeping sound right next to your ear was not a part of your imagination. You groaned softly and lifted your head up. You fumbled your hand around your nightstand until you grabbed your phone. The bright light blinded you and you winced. The time read 9:07. You rubbed your eyes and blinked at your phone. 9:07…?
Crap. You leapt from your bed and dashed to shower. Of course you slept through your alarm. You didn’t even get to finish reading for your lab procedure for your second class today. You’d fallen asleep in the middle of it yesterday. You dashed out of your dorm in record time and got to class with a minute to spare. The professor started the lecture promptly at 9:30 and you took a second to catch your breath. It felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. The adrenaline was still rushing through your blood. The professor droned on about last night’s reading, which you luckily completed before your nap turned into deep slumber, though there was definitely something you forgot to do you just couldn’t put your finger on it…
It wasn’t until you saw Yozoru, who had been shooting daggers your way, as you left the room once lecture was over that you realized. Once again, you had forgotten to prepare a study plan for you and Sukuna’s session. It was remarkable really. You pushed him out of your head so far back you forgot about the one and only that you couldn’t avoid. You groaned and checked your schedule. If you studied during lunch, you’d have time to get some of it done. You dragged your feet to your next class, which was lab, and prayed it would all work out.
It did end up working out, thank god, but barely. By the time of the session, your brain was fried and you just wanted to go home. On top of that, you had to make a point of not engaging with his usual shenanigans, despite you really wanting to. You took off your headphones and reminded yourself it was for your own good and sanity. You just hoped your efforts would be worth it.
The second Sukuna walked up to you, you knew something was off. His eyes narrowed at you suspiciously before he took a seat.
“How are you?”
You looked up from your notebook and blinked at him. “Um, good. What about you?”
“I’m okay. Could be better,” he replied flatly.
You frowned at your paper. You weren’t going to bite. Engaging would distract you from what really mattered: helping him with his statistics coursework. Aimless conversation was out of the picture for the two of you now. “Ready to start?” You asked him cheerfully.
He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Yeah sure,” he said in a monotone. Great. So he really was upset with you for not hanging out with him yesterday. If you told him upfront that you wanted space, you weren’t really sure how he’d take it. Knowing him, it would probably hurt his ego.
The two of you got to work. You were glad that you squeezed in some time to create the plan. The statistics class he was in was progressing to more difficult material. He struggled a bit, but halfway through he was starting to get the hang out of it.
“This isn’t as hard as I thought.” He scanned the page of practice problems that the two of you just completed together.
“Mhm,” you murmured in agreement.
“Maybe. You’re still speaking in riddles and this class is still a waste of my time.” You blinked at him in confusion. All you said was “mhm.” No, you were not falling for it, you refused.
“Okay! Next page,” you said cheerfully. Trying to ignore it wasn’t the best approach, but it was all you could muster. It killed you not to say something witty back, something that would take him a second to understand. You didn’t even get a chance to mourn your past sessions and appreciate them, you immediately got hit with whatever the hell this was.
“Nah, I wanna take a break.” Without waiting for a response from you, he got up from his seat abruptly and walked off.
You gaped at his empty chair for a few seconds before scrambling to follow after him. He made it halfway across the library by the time you caught up with him.
“I meant a solo break,” He said pointedly. You scoffed. He needed to cool it. He was starting to get on your nerves again.
“We’ve never taken breaks before so I just wanted to clarify,” you chirped. This was starting to put a strain on your resolve. There was no book, no class that could teach you how to handle a wounded ego. Even if there was, you were sure he was too big to tend.
He narrowed his eyes at you for the nth time today before sighing. “We’ve never done any of this before. What’s going on with you?” He put his hands up in surrender. “And I don't mean passing on seeing me yesterday. That’s valid, you have your own things. I mean the fact you didn’t have your lesson plan ready for today, the eyebags under your eyes, and the way you’re treating me like some fucking stranger.”
You were stunned. He just read you to filth in the middle of the library. You were unarmed, completely unprepared to be hit with that. Your brain could barely process what was said before he started again.
“I’ve tried my best to reach out and get to know you. I thought you wanted the same. It seemed like you did, but the way you’re treating me now is like I’m this huge asshole. If I did anything to offend you, please tell me. I’ll fix it, whatever it is, just please…it feels like I’m basically begging you to make fun of me. I kinda am since I miss joking around with you and you using your smart puns and your statistics nonsense on me, but I don’t even care at this point. The vibe is off. Can we go back to the way we were? The day at Pam’s, the party, the everything has been the highlight of my year. Don’t tell me that that was our peak.”
“Sukuna … slow down.” Your head was spinning. You took the chair nearest to you and sat down. His brows furrowed in concern and he sat next to you.
“Shit, sorry. That was a lot to dump on you at once.”
“It was,” you agreed. “How did you know I didn’t do my notes ahead of time?”
“Your handwriting gets super shitty when you don’t. Like our second session, when I saw you with your headphones on right before we were supposed to meet, your handwriting was straight ass compared to the first, third, and so on,” he said matter of factly. You glared at him and he grinned.
“Gee thanks,” you said sarcastically. You made a mental note to write a bit slower when you were in a rush to avoid sloppy notes.
“Anytime,” he said with a wink and you groaned.
“Are my eyebags really that bad?” You braced yourself for his answer.
He shot you a sympathetic look. “Do you want me to lie to make you feel better?”
“Wowww, okay. I’ll just die then I guess,” you deadpanned.
“If you die, who’s going to teach me the wonders of pastel pens?”
You glared at him once more and he laughed. “Seriously though. Get some sleep. You look like a fucking zombie,” he paused, “Respectfully.”
You gasped. “Oh. Oh okay. Noted. Also, saying respectfully at the end doesn’t automatically make it respectful,” you protested.
He stared at you. “Um, yes it does?
“No it doesn't."
“It cancels out,” he insisted, “PEMDAS.”
“PEM—,” you couldn't hold your laughter in, “PEMDAS?!”
“Why are you laughing?” He grumbled.
Your stomach burned as you laughed over how ridiculous he was. You were sure to have abs by the time you caught your breath, your abdomen was on fire.
“Holy shit,” you wheezed. “PEMDAS? Oh Ry, I think the alcohol is starting to seep into your brain and destroy your brain cells."
He scoffed, “Just say you don’t get it, it's okay.”
“You’re right, I don't. Because it’s wrong.”
“Wanna bet on it?”
Not this again. “Err…no?”
“Why not? You get so cute when you win them.”
There it was again. He was doing this on purpose, flustering you so you could get off track. It was the way he could counter your jokes by immediately stunning you into silence. Even though you were together, it still worked every single time. Your eyes glued to the floor to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Uh, I think break time is over,” you muttered, barely audible for him to hear.
He leaned in to hear you better. “Sorry, what was that?” Your heart stopped at how close he was. Memories flooded of the very first time he did this. You couldn’t even tell if he really couldn't hear you, or if he was trying to fluster you again. Honestly, it was probably a mix of both.
You got up from your seat and pushed it back in place. “Break time is over. We have another—” You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Five-ish minutes until our scheduled time is up. Let’s make the most of it!”
Sukuna groaned, but followed you back to your table. He completed two more problems before the session was up. Once it was time, you quickly packed your things up. You zipped up your bag hurried to get out when you heard a soft thud behind you. You turned around and saw Sukuna picking something up. You froze as you realized it was your planner that had your to do list.
“Oops, that’s my fault. Thank you,” you tried to take it from him but he inspected it.
“‘Work on internship applications.’ Huh, it’s dated three days ago. But I thought you told me you were working on them yesterday? That’s weird,” he wondered out loud. He placed the paper in your hand and grabbed his bag. He brushed past you without a word. No goodbye. No “see you next week” with his stupid smirk. Just silence. He had caught you in your very stupid lie, and now he was even more upset at you. You then realized you addressed all of his points except one: why you were treating him like a “stranger.” To be honest, you didn’t have a clear answer yourself. Yozoru definitely was why, but not for the reasons you wanted to admit. You dragged your feet back to your car and drove home.
To no one's surprise, Rina wasn't home. You laid on your bed and tried to unpack the nightmare session you just had. Were you being too prideful? Just coming clean about it would make it all easier. Sukuna could talk to Yozoru and tell her to leave you alone, then the two of you could move on like before. That sounded right, but it didn't feel right. Deep down, the seed that Yozoru planted was beginning to blossom. An ugly, dull flower of self-doubt. This flower couldn't be uprooted from telling her to back off. It was far too late. Her words had done enough damage, confirming the fears that had only lived in the deepest depths of your mind.
“I, I feel selfish
Don't deserve you
Do I even know what love is?
You wanted Sukuna badly. So badly, you considered acknowledging his third point. He didn't deserve to be in the dark, he didn't do anything other than be sweet to you. Now he had reason to believe he'd done something awful for you to pull away. That couldn't be further from the truth, but still...you couldn't bring yourself to tell him what was actually going on.
You wished Rina was here to give you some advice. She'd know exactly how to handle it and explain it to where you'd understand. Even without advice, she's always been a good listener and a shoulder to cry on. Lord knows what you've gotten yourself into now.
SUKUNA'S POV
If Sukuna took a shot every time you’ve sent him a mixed signal in the past twenty four hours, he’d be blackout drunk. Actually, he’d die from alcohol poisoning. He prided himself in being a good communicator—too good at times, girls hated how blunt he was when he wanted to call it quits—but it felt like all his efforts were falling short. You were pushing him away, completely out of the blue at that, and he couldn’t figure out why. “Why?” was the number one thing on his mind. He ran through every scenario in his head, everything he said to you and how you reacted. Did he go too far? Before today’s session, you hadn’t seen each other in a bit, and you weren’t upset with him a few days ago. What could possibly have changed in such a short amount of time?
Geto and Gojo dragged him to a party to “clear his head.”
“We all go through girl troubles, but it’s not the end of the world.” Gojo patted him on the back and handed him a shot. “Not much you can do now.”
“Even you know you’re smarter than that Gojo,” he replied and downed the glass. “I could go over to her place and talk to her so I can finally get to the bottom of this.”
“What happens if you don’t find out what’s going on? What if she pushes you away even further?” Geto pointed out. Sukuna glared at him and huffed. “Then at least I can say I tried and not have run away like a coward,” he gestured at Gojo who was stuffing his face with chips. He looked up and pouted at him. Geto shook his head in disbelief and turned to Sukuna.
“I’m confused. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where you are the one fighting for the relationship. It’s always been the other way around. Is she really that special? Be completely honest with yourself.”
“Obviously,” Sukuna replied, “Why else would I be worrying about all of this whilst being here?” He nodded to the lively party: people were dancing, some were playing beer pong in the living room, and others were scattered around in groups, chatting away. "She's worth it.” Sukuna meant it. When he walked into the library all those weeks ago, he had low expectations. The class wasn’t even that hard, he just couldn’t be bothered to care about it. The promise he made wasn’t a part of the plan at all. He was to only bring his grade up for the time being. He didn’t expect to promise to actually try and make good on it, but he was so glad he did.
Now he sat on the couch, watching other people have fun while he wallowed away. It was ironic really. Usually, the roles were reversed. Sukuna hardly let anyone in enough to care so much about them. If it didn’t work out, fine. He’d find someone else, like he always did. Though, he doubted he could find anyone like you.
“Bro come on.”
Sukuna glanced up and saw Geto approaching him. He looked slightly annoyed and he had his drink in hand. “Guess who’s here?”
Sukuna rolled his eyes. “If it’s not her, I don’t care,” he said bluntly. He was bored of Geto and Gojo’s antics. Shoving him towards another girl wasn’t going to fix the problem at hand.
“It’s a different her…” He trailed off to see if Sukuna would bite. He didn’t. He was extremely unimpressed by Thing 1 and Thing 2's attempts to distract him. He had a bored expression as he watched the football game on the TV screen in front of him.
“Yozoru?” Sukuna didn’t even blink. His eyes were glued on the screen in front of him. “Dude, she’s walking over here right now,” Gojo urged him, waving his hands in Sukuna’s face.
Sukuna barely even acknowledged Gojo. “Move your chubby hands,” he snarled. He really wanted to see which team would score the touchdown. He couldn’t if the idiot got in his way.
Gojo lowered his arms and slowly inched away from Sukuna. Him and Geto scurried off and Sukuna got a whiff of a rather strong floral perfume. He sighed deeply before glaring at the woman beside him.
“What do you want now?”
Her face broke into a grin. Sukuna exhaled, already agitated. He gave her what he wanted—attention—but he still felt as though he was about to suffer for it.
“Just saying hi, I can’t just say hello and be friendly?”
Sukuna rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen. “No.”
Yozoru frowned. She had him, then she lost him, like usual. Still, she needed to rub it in his face. “I met your new girlfriend the other day. She’s cute.”
Sukuna closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Yozoru and her damn games. Her timing couldn't be worse. Did she know the two of you were having issues? Or was she just rubbing it all in his face for the sake of it? Sukuna couldn’t tell, both were plausible reasons. Either way, finding out would give her the validation she was so desperately seeking, and he didn’t want to be the one to give it to her.
“You guys are so different though. I didn’t expect you to go after a girl so… sooo…”
As she struggled to find an adjective, Sukuna was on the edge of his seat. The team he was cheering for was this close to scoring and he was very invested. He silently cursed himself for not betting on a team earlier. It could have been an easy pay day.
Yozoru’s eyes lit up. “Timid, that’s the word. She’s like a little mouse, which is so different from anyone else you’ve been with,” she said, voice dripping with venom. She was back with the condescending tone she always used on him, and now, she was armed with Sukuna’s latest weakness: you.
Sukuna clenched his jaw. He didn’t like that she was insulting you, especially right in front of him, but what she wanted was a reaction. He vowed not to retort, even though she deserved it. His eyes followed the screen as one of the players in red dashed down the last couple yards to the opponent’s side. Come on, come on, Sukuna silently urged, Bring it home.
“And you’re emotionally invested for once. The roles are reversed. This time, you’re the one all in your feelings when she could care less.”
“Anddd…TOUCHDOWN!” The announcer yelled on the TV. The crowd painted in red went wild. The players jumped around and did a celebratory dance, but they no longer had Sukuna’s attention. It had now shifted to her.
“That must fucking suck, huh? The one time you put your heart on the line and actually give a fuck about the person you’re dating, you mean nothing to them.” Her words cut deep, severing whatever tenacity he had left into shreds. Now, fear settled as her words sunk in. Was that what it was? Did you just not care about him anymore? On a random day, you decided he wasn’t worth your time? He thought there was something there, something that was worth risking it all for. Did he have it wrong all this time?
The smirk returned to Yozoru’s face. It was working. Self doubt was closing in on Sukuna, he could no longer out run it. He couldn’t ignore the fact that everything he’s ever wanted was slipping from his fingers, and right before his eyes. The instant replay review played in the background as Sukuna unclenched his jaw and muttering, “Just fuck off Yozoru.”
She scoffed, “What? You’re mad because she’s just using you to get into parties? You really think your selfish ass is actually lovable?” She snickered and shook her head. “No, you’re clearly being used to raise her social status.”
What the actual fuck was her problem? Sukuna’s chest tightened and he glared at her. “Must take one to know one, huh?” His eyes bore into hers and she frowned. “Leave me and the people I care about alone, you parasite,” he spat out.
She blinked at him, slightly taken aback, “Whatever that means. Just know you have to confront the truth sooner or later.” She shot him one last look and walked off. Sukuna finally let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He knew better than anyone that she was just trying to get under his skin. She’s done it millions of times before, even trying to get in between him and Gojo in the past. As much as he tried to get her words out of his head, her strong perfume was still lingering in the air, so he got up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen.
Gojo and Geto looked up from their game of beer pong and looked at him expectantly. “Well? How did it go?” Gojo demanded.
“You look like you just shit your pants,” Geto noted.
Did he? Sukuna huffed and shook his head. “Shut up. She’s just trying to get at me. It’s nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders casually, but his heart wasn’t in it at all.
“She’s lame anyway. Wanna join us?” Geto raised an eyebrow at him.
Normally, he’d be so down to drink and goof off with them, but after Yozoru’s little stunt, his stomach was in knots. “Nah, I’m good. I think I’ma head out.”
Gojo and Geto exchanged a look before nodding. “Alright man, get home safe.” They patted each other on the back and Sukuna made his way out, away from the prying eyes of everyone at the party.
"Wake up! Gosh, you're a heavy sleeper."
You jolted awake and saw Rina staring back at you. She still had on going out clothes and her makeup was somehow still flawless. You didn’t even bother attempting to contain your jealousy.
"Hello stranger. I'm back bearing news." She turned on the big light and you groaned softly. "Turn it off please."
"Oh oops." She turned it back off and turned on the lamp on your nightstand. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. This better be good.
"Do you want the good news or bad news first?"
What was up with that question lately? Edging you with the illusion of choice wasn't going to make the news anymore digestible.
"Why don't you pick?" You yawned again and stretched. You wanted to go back to sleep. Couldn't the gossip wait?
"So Yozoru approached Sukuna at the party I was at. Obviously he wasn't having it. He ignored her until she had the audacity to bring up you. She basically bad-mouthed you and claimed you just wanted to social climb or some bullshit like that. And holy shit was Sukuna pissed." Her eyes were practically shining as she told the story.
You blinked at your roommate. You were baffled. Here you thought you'd hear about your favorite couple breaking up or something, but no. For some reason, you were being brought up at social events. And for what? You kept to yourself and didn't bother anyone.
"He said that it took one to know one and told her to leave him and the people he cared about alone, then he stormed off."
"Oh." was all you could say. He still cared about you despite you pushing him away lately. That was nice to hear, but guilt was starting to build up. You didn't deserve that loyalty, especially not from him with the way you’ve been treating him away lately.
"I know right. I can't really tell if that's the good news or the bad news actually,” she furrowed her brows as if she was deep in thought. “Anyway, he's here."
You went still. Now you were awake. "Here? As in....?"
"Yep. Told him you were asleep, he said he'd wait outside until you woke up. I stated the obvious and said that probably won't be until morning, and he asked if it was okay if he sat on our front porch..."
"Rina," you said carefully, "How long ago was this?"
"The argument at the party or him coming over to the dorm?"
"Both?!"
"Oh, hmmm. Maybe an hour or two ago?"
You scrambled out of bed and headed to the nearest mirror. You yanked off your bonnet and tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable. There was no drool or eye crust—thank god—but your damn eye bags...You scanned the counter for your concealer before you heard Rina behind you.
"You're seriously wasting time putting on makeup? If he can’t accept you at your worst, he doesn't deserve you at your best. You look fine. Now go. I know you, you're stalling,” she said sternly.
You frowned. Okay, so what if you were stalling? He did mention the eye bags earlier and he was right, they have gotten worse, you hadn’t been sleeping well as of late. Dedicating your blood, sweat, and tears to working came with costs.
"Did he say what he wanted to talk about? I'm scared." Even though he had told his ex to back off, you still felt uneasy about everything. You didn't feel worthy of his touch, his praise, his anything. The more you spiraled, the more you pulled away from him.
“I have zero clue. All I know is he asked for privacy, so I offered to drop by Jason’s while you talked. I’ll slip out the back door,”
You gaped at her. “You’re leaving me?!”
“Yes, it’s for your own good. This way, you can finally resolve whatever’s going on between you and be happy. The weird ass bitch has been dealt with now. And I don’t know, he seemed pretty angry when he came by, but sad too,” she squeezed your shoulder, “I think he misses you.”
Your heart ached at her words. You missed him too, how could you not? But that didn’t mean you were ready to confront the feelings that had been looming over you.
You slowly made your way from your bathroom into the living room. You turned on the light and held your breath. A few seconds later, you heard a light knock at your door. You took a deep breath before unlocking it. Your boyfriend stood there in a disheveled state. His hair was slightly mused and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern, eyes wide as he took you in.
"We need to talk," he said instantly, brushing past you as he walked in uninvited. You blinked at him and closed the door. He made his way into your room and sat on your bed like he's done hundreds of times, but this time was different. You could feel it.
You sat down beside him and stared at your feet. Moonlight poured in from your window, shining down on the two of you like a spotlight. Taking center stage was you, anxious out of your mind for what was to come, and Sukuna, who was silent despite coming all this way just to talk.
By the time he cleared his throat, you had convinced yourself it was over. Everything felt wrong: the awkward silence between you too and how far away he was from you. Sukuna always wanted to touch you somehow, by hugging you, holding your hand, and so on. Despite your nervousness surrounding it all, you didn't dare look up. You weren't sure if you could stomach the look that was probably crossing his face. A stricken expression, you were sure, that said everything that was on his mind without him even uttering a word.
"Whatever is going on, please just say it," he sighed and shifted on the bed. "I can't keep continuing like this." The soft creaking snapped you out of it and you snuck a glance at him. He was staring right back at you and your heart broke right there and then. Sukuna, your ever so arrogant boyfriend, looked so meek sitting there on your bed. He loved being in control, and he was anything but right now. The uncertainty that surrounded your relationship had seemingly crushed his ego and confidence. "I’ve been up all night, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong, but I can't. Help me understand," he swallowed hard, "Like you always do."
Your stomach lurched at his words. You felt sick. Help me understand, like you always do. Did he really have to make this harder than it needed to be? Reminding you of tutoring sessions that brought you together, and ultimately, here. Your eyes flew to the door like you were planning to get up and run if need be. Of course you were being ridiculous, but it felt like your dinner was what was to leave your mouth instead of an answer. You pressed your lips in a firm line and sighed.
"I've just been thinking a lot about things...How you and I differ and it's affected the way I view us." That was the best way you could put it. You didn't know how to put your newfound insecurity into words. It crept up on you before you saw it for what it really was.
From the corner of your eye, you saw him shake his head and scoff. "Yeah, we're pretty different, that was obvious when we first met. But we've always made it work, haven't we? What in the world could have possibly changed since then?" he asked, his tone strained. He was once again, using every ounce of patience left in his body, on you. Why? He never gave anyone the same grace. If you were anyone else, he'd sure have dismissed them out by now. Written them off without a second thought. The special treatment made you feel sick. You weren't some charity case…you hated the fact that it was what made you stand out from everyone else in his life. You finally pinpointed it: over time, it felt like the entire relationship was built on pity for you.
“Maybe we should break up, I don't wanna feel this way, It's not enough to stay with you in the dark”
"Maybe we've been wasting our time here," you heard yourself say, "Maybe it's all just a lost cause." You don't remember rehearsing that line over and over in your head like you typically did. It seems like you were on autopilot with the goal of ending the conversation as soon as possible. Even if you were too scared to be anything other than subtle.
The silence after your insinuation was gruesome. You fought the urge to sneak another look at him because you knew you would fold. Dealing with those thoughts every day was absolute torture. You felt stupid in your own skin. It wasn't enough to stay with him and suffer silently, nor was it worth sacrificing your sanity over.
"Alright, if that's how you feel then,” he finally said. You heard shuffling as he got up to go to the door. He paused, and you felt his eyes on you. Of course he just had to shoot you one last glance before leaving entirely.
“Maybe I'm the one to blame”
When you heard the front door slam shut, the ache in your chest was almost instant. The reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you. Were you really walking away over that? Like he said, the two of you always made it work. Well, not as of late but—
And him. He didn't even fight for you. If the roles were reversed, you'd have insisted on actually discussing things and having a productive conversation about each other's feelings. Four, maybe five sentences were exchanged between you two, all of it anything but productive. What did you just do?
Those five words rang in your head as you fumbled for your phone. He couldn't have gotten too far. Maybe if you just called him, he'd hear you out. You found your phone around where he was sitting and froze. You didn't see him go on it...but then again, you barely looked at him for longer than two seconds.
You opened it and immediately found his contact, or, his number. The contact was deleted and his number was blocked. The asshole did the rest of the hard work for you. You were speechless. Had he secretly wanted things to end too? Did he see the opportunity and ran with it, letting you do all the hard work? Whatever it was, you were stunned. You didn't unblock his number. You didn't call him and beg for him to turn around. Instead, you spent that night drowning in your own tears, reminiscing all the good times before it all went wrong.
At first, you didn’t cry. You were too numb to. That shocked you to your core. Wasn’t that the normal reaction to such a loss? After that night, you were back on autopilot: getting your school work done, tutoring other peers, going to interviews and so on. Life moves on, you reminded yourself, even when it feels like it shouldn’t.
If you said you didn’t miss him, you’d be lying. Texting and calling him was a part of your everyday routine. The day felt empty without it. You tried finding other things to distract yourself: mediating, starting a new show, listening to music. Each time, your mind somehow drifted to him and that night. You were trying to ignore it, but you couldn’t. Somehow, you found him in aspects of your everyday life: The toothpaste you used in the morning, how he teased you one day and said that he was shocked your toothpaste wasn’t also a vibrant pink. Anytime you saw someone do something stupid on the road, you were instantly reminded of Sukuna and his horrific road rage. Visiting that one corner at Pam’s shop made your heart break. The bowls and mugs you made on your second date? Stored in the very back of the kitchen cabinet. The playlist you played that first date was now deleted. Your pink bonnet? You swapped it out for a black one. It was the little things that made him cross your mind, and you hated it. No matter how hard you tried, he was inescapable.
When the day of your following session came, you weren’t sure if it was worth showing up. You doubted he would. But unlike him, you were obligated to. So you sucked up your pride and made your way to the library. You sat down at your usual spot and waited. Then waited some more. Your eyes flickered back and forth from the clock on the wall to the time on your phone as if you were convinced your mind was playing tricks on you. He actually flaked, as if it was your grade on the line, not his. It was laughable, and so him. When things proved to no longer serve him, he deemed them a waste of his time and discarded them. Turns out you were one of those things.
With fifteen minutes left of your now solo session, you packed your things up. You stopped by the front desk to check in with your manager, one of the upperclassmen.
“Hey Lia, do you know if a ‘Ryomen Sukuna’ no longer needs tutoring services?”
She tilted her head at you before her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to let you know he called at the last minute to pull out.”
You plastered a smile on your face. You were right. Again. And you really wished you weren't.
“I was checking to make sure, thanks!” You waved goodbye and headed out. Even though you were just doing your job, you still felt like an idiot. Why did you show up? What did you expect? He took your phone and blocked himself for you. If that didn’t scream “I want nothing to do with you,” you weren’t sure what did. Still, a fraction of your heart held hope he would have shown.
You had told Rina what happened that night the following morning. She hovered, constantly asking you if you were okay, bought you your favorite snacks and kleenex just in case. You didn’t cry, you haven’t and you had no plans to. She insisted that it was normal and okay to, but put the box back on her dresser anyway. The tears never came, even as finals and winter holiday approached. Rina was now hesitant of bringing up her boyfriend around you, but you encouraged her to.
“I’m happy for you, the stuff going on with me won’t ever stop that,” you reassured her. She was hesitant at first, but over time, she got comfortable with it again. Turns out her boyfriend was going back home with her to meet her parents. You hyped her up and assured her that it was going to go well. You ignored the icky feeling creeping up on you, sadness and a hint of jealousy that that wasn't you and Sukuna like the two of you had originally planned.
Now that you weren’t dating one of the most popular guys at your school, your social life was lack-luster. No parties—though Rina urged you to at least consider going to one—no dates, no football games, no nothing. It was quiet, too quiet. It’s pretty much exactly how it was like before you met Sukuna, but you were no longer the same. He changed you: he encouraged you to speak your mind and be yourself, pushed you to give things a chance and step out of your comfort zone. Emboldened you to believe you could share your time and energy with someone else. You hated change, especially when it had to do with the fundamental parts of what made you who you were. But, the change was only for the better. You were so happy then and you didn’t fully appreciate it then. You wished you had, because here you were.
Visiting home filled you with dread. You had told your parents about him when you first started dating. You remember it like yesterday. They were so excited for you:
“Mom, Dad, guess what?” You had grinned and wiggled your eyebrows at your phone. You loved being corny and cheesy with your parents. They had the romcom meet cute and have been married for over twenty five years. They were the literal definition of couple goals. So you getting your first boyfriend was a huge deal.
“What?” They asked in unison. You giggled at their expressions. They were so invested in what you had to say.
“I may or may not have a boyfriend…” You trailed off and snuck a look at your phone.
Your mom squealed and clapped her hands together. Your dad raised an eyebrow, but you didn’t miss the way his mouth curved into a smile.
“Is it the one you’ve been tutoring?”
“Yes actually,” you asked, surprised. Were you that predictable? And had you talked about him that much? Surely you hadn’t.
“I knew it, we haven't heard the end of him since the two of you met,” your dad chuckled. Oh. You stand corrected.
“It couldn’t have been that bad,” you said defensively. You swore you talked about other things too.
“It was,” they said in perfect unison again, and the three of you giggled.
Now, they were concerned with the way you were processing your first major breakup. With your mom being a psychologist, she was pestering you the most. The amount of Facebook videos she forwarded you about processing your emotions was bothersome. It would only get worse when it was actually time to visit.
Finals week was your Super Bowl. Instead of taking it on begrudgingly like you used to, during your first year of college, you gaslit yourself into loving it. You romanticized studying and hyped yourself up for the feeling of being free once you were finally over. Rina, on the other hand, was much different.
“I’m going to rip my hair out.” She said to you the second she shut the front door behind her.
You glanced up from your computer and gave her a sympathetic look. “Hello to you too, and no you got this.”
“No, I really don’t.” She dropped her textbook on the coffee table and a cloud of dust hit your face. You sneezed and waved the air in front of you frantically.
“Oops sorry. As you can tell from the dust, I haven’t touched my textbook in ages. It might be over,” she dragged her hands down her face.
“How have you been surviving this whole time?” You asked her carefully.
“She posts like small parts of the reading on Canvas for a need to know basis. She just told us today that for the final, we need to have a ‘broader understanding of the content to succeed.’ Does she want us to fail?”
“I’m sorry,” you squeezed her arm gently, “You still have time, there’s about a week left. I can try to help. What class is this again?”
“Organic chemistry…”
Yikes. You took orgo chem your first year and it fucked you over so bad. You still made it out with an A, but barely. Rina took one look at the hesitant expression in your face and shook her head, “See, even you know I’m fucked. It’s fine, thank you for the offer though. I know you have your own finals, plus you have to prepare your mentees for theirs.”
That was a fair point. Of course, you were well prepared to help them succeed and you were confident in your own abilities. As long as everything stayed as is, you were fine. With Sukuna dropping out of the tutoring program, your workload was significantly lighter. Your mind wandered to how he was preparing, if he was at all. He’d pinky promised to try, but you weren’t sure if the promise was still valid given the current circumstances.
“Wish me luck,” she sighed dramatically before taking her textbook and making her way to the room. She was smart, you believed in her, though her professor deserved jail time for leading everyone on like that.
You checked your email for the millionth time today. You too were paranoid of professors dropping random stuff on you related to finals without warning. Instead of an email for one of your courses, you had one in regard to tutoring. The subject line read: Addition to Tutoring Agenda
Hello, I hope all is well. I want to apologize in advance for the inconvenience. There's a student that was placed on academic probation this afternoon. It's listed as an emergency, as he's at a high risk for failing the course. His scores soared when the two of you worked together, but after he pulled out, they've since plummeted. I hope this isn't too huge of an ask. You're one of the best tutors in the program, I believe in you. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions!
Thank you,
Lia Herring
Student Leader of STEM Tutoring
You were speechless. There was no way this was your life. You were being forced strongly encouraged to re-admit your ex boyfriend into your tutoring lineup. Cut the fucking cameras. Your life was a joke.
You got up to tell Rina and she was upset for you.
"She can't just dump that on you, that's pure laziness on his fault! You have your own finals and your current mentee's finals to worry about already," She blinked rapidly, "Does she expect you to conduct some sort of miracle and magically make his dumbass pass?"
"I honestly don't know." You liked Lia, she was always sweet to you, and she was the one who told you about Pam's shop. You didn't want to lose your spot as one of the best in the program. Him being mandated to return to tutoring most likely meant that he was on severe academic probation. Which meant he was at risk of being kicked out. You wished a lot of things on Ryomen Sukuna, but you didn't want him to get kicked out of college. He wasn't dumb either, he just didn't care when it mattered.
"If it's too much for you to handle, don't be afraid to say no, " she said firmly. "And don't do it if you feel like you owe him. You don't owe that asshole shit, remember that."
You nodded, but the two of you knew you were going to accept it. Even if it wasn't him, you would have. That's just who you were. You exhaled slowly. Now it was time to face him, just a few weeks after it all went down. Were you ready? Absolutely not, but like you keep reminding yourself: Life goes on.
SUKUNA'S POV
"Did you know that the longer you stare at her Instagram page, the more likely it is she’ll post?" Geto said sarcastically.
Sukuna ignored him and refreshed it once more. Nothing. He knew you didn’t post on social media like that, but this was the only way for him to keep up with you from afar. He called out of tutoring with you and blocked his number on your phone. He knew you didn’t want anything to do with him, but that didn't automatically mean the feeling was mutual.
“This is kinda pathetic,” Gojo called over his shoulder. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were busying themselves with Mario Kart. They offered the controller to Sukuna numerous times, but he didn’t feel like getting up.
Sukuna wasn’t good at showing his affection through words. He never claimed to be. Showing it was always easier for him. He’d always believed they expressed more than any words could ever convey. So he gave it his all, gave you his all. Somehow, that wasn’t enough for you, and it killed him. Yozoru was right, the one time it mattered, really, truly giving himself to someone else, it didn’t count. He even tried words: showing up to your dorm in the middle of the night, urging you to say something, anything before he wrote you off for good. And you didn’t. So now he was here, instead of with you where he belonged.
“Dude, what the hell?” Gojo yelped. To no one’s surprise, he had just lost, again.
“Not my fault you’re awful at the game,” Geto rolled his eyes. He turned back and looked at Sukuna. “Are you done with your whining? I want an actual challenge. Gojo sucks ass.”
“I’ve literally been silent this entire time,” Sukuna countered.
These two have never been in love before, so they had the privilege of nagging him about moving on so quickly. To them, having someone was solely a benefit for them. Sex, status, you name it. Sukuna used to be like that too. He detached from relationships so easily that he would forget girl’s names at times. You changed him for the better. You humbled him so badly he had to sit with himself and realize he needed to improve. To be better for you.
He wanted to be the one to give you the world. He couldn’t do that with the way he’d been moving previously. The full one eighty he did for you didn’t go unnoticed either. Everyone around him pointed it out. It wasn’t until they met you that they understood. You had a big heart and you were genuine. You cared for Sukuna in a way no else had. They teased him and called him whipped, but when he asked them, “She’s great, who wouldn’t be?” they’d all murmured in agreement. You were beautiful, smart, and funny. He missed you so badly it physically hurt.
Blocking himself from your phone that night? A petty move for sure, but it would stop him from reaching out and folding. You had Sukuna in the palm of your hand and you didn’t even know it. If you called him up at a time like now, he’d be up and out the door to see you. He melted like putty at your touch. He knew how special it was for you. To you, anything physical was sacred. It was about sharing an actual connection with the person you loved. Sukuna cherished it. He missed you playing with his hair when you cuddled. Missed wrapping his arm around you when it started to grow colder. Missed peppering kisses down your neck and watching you squirm. Missed your warm hugs. Life felt so empty without you. He can’t believe he went so long without knowing what it was like to have loved you.
He pried his eyes away from the TV screen when he heard his phone ding. A notification, from mail? When did he turn those on?
Subject: Academic Probation Notice
Dear RYOMEN SUKUNA,
Your current academic performance indicates that you are at risk of failing INTRO TO STATISTICS.
Due to your current standing, you are required to resume tutoring sessions effective immediately. Continued tutoring attendance is mandatory through the remainder of the semester.
Please take immediate action to improve your academic standing. Failure to meet these requirements may result in further academic consequences.
This is an automated message. Please do not reply.
He tossed his phone to the side and groaned. Gojo and Geto looked up from the came and frowned at him.
"Don't spoil it for me," Gojo said mockingly, "She didn't post?"
"Shut up," Sukuna snarled.
Geto tilted his head at the pink haired man. "Wait what happened?"
Sukuna rubbed his neck and muttered something under his breath.
"I can't really hear you from over here, you gotta speak up man."
With a vexed exhale, Sukuna dropped the bomb. "I'm on academic probation, so I have to go back to tutoring." He dragged his hands down his face and look up and saw the horror on their faces.
"With her."
You were currently hiding in your car with no plans of leaving anytime soon, even though the scheduled time to tutor your returning student was soon. No matter how hard you tried to pretend, you knew it was going to hurt seeing him. You'd avoided going to places he was bound to be, so you hadn't seen him since that night. Your mom insisted that the first time was always hard and that it was normal. She advised you to take it easy and not to stress over it, and the best way to handle it is to just let it happen. You begged to differ. You were going to show him exactly how you felt about him.
When he walked up to the usual table, he took the seat across from you instead of beside you as usual. You almost laughed at his arrogance. Like it or not, the both of you were here because of his incompetence.
"I know this isn't the ideal situation for either of us, but I really need to pass."
You pressed your mouth in a thin line and nodded.
“So um, where should we start?” He asked awkwardly.
“I have no idea. It seems like all my efforts from those weeks helping you were thrown out the window,” you said flatly. “These test scores are awful. It might take a miracle for you to pass,” you echoed Rina from earlier. The two of you were screwed, royally.
“I got kind of distracted,” He shrugged. His nonchalance was bound to get on your nerves. Once again, his grade is on the line, not yours.
“Snap out of it then.” You let out a sigh of disgust and opened your previous notes. Looking back now, it was obvious how hard you were crushing. The pages were filled with notes with little doodles on the side. Some attempts to draw him, some hearts, some things you wanted to say but couldn’t find the courage to. Your parents were right. You were smitten. Key word "were."
“I’m trying,” he shot back.
You snorted. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
He fell silent and glared at his textbook in front of him. You wondered if that if he stared hard enough, would it burst into flames?
“I’m sorry if my efforts aren’t enough for you. I’ll try harder,” he hissed. You paused. Has the King of Kindness graced you with a double meaning? You sure hoped not. He was not ready to get into it with you, right here right now.
“Wonderful,” you said sarcastically. “Now tell me, how would you approach this problem?” You reached across the table and tapped your pencil at the problem he had open.
“Obviously I don't know or else I wouldn’t be here?” He replied, attempting and failing at keeping his tone level. His frustration was evident, but you didn’t care. Yours was too. In fact, you’d argue that you had more of a right to be considering how much of a major inconvenience he was being.
“Just try it,” you waved your hand dismissively, “Be sure to block any distractions and really focus your attention on what matters most,” you said coldly. His eyes met yours and it felt like time slowed. You held his gaze and you narrowed your eyes at him. Good, it seemed like the message was received. If he really wanted to do this, you were now ready to.
After a beat of silence, he swallowed hard. “Okay,” he muttered.
You watched for a couple of minutes as he struggled. He used things you’d gone over together, but it could only do so much to help his level of understanding.
After repeating the problem over and over, erasing his work and rewriting so much his hand hurt, he met your eyes once more. “I need help.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I could have told you that fifteen minutes ago.”
“That’s fair,” he said carefully, “I just wanted to make good on my promise.” He held your gaze and that’s when tears started to prickle in your eyes. You quickly looked away and busied yourself with organizing your already neat notes. You wanted the floor to open and swallow you whole. This could not be happening to you right now. Crying in front of him over of a stupid pinky promise made ages ago was pathetic at best. And yet, here you were.
You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. “To start off, you shouldn’t be doing this,” you tapped your pencil at his paper, “That just threw you off entirely.”
He erased all of his work and looked up at you eagerly. “How do I do it then?”
“When we have problems like this, we always make sure to…”
After the session, you took the long way to your car. You survived. Sure you were this close to screaming at him and bawling your eyes at simultaneously, but all in all, you survived.
Rina was waiting for you in the living room to hear how it went.
“Well?” She asked, voice full of hope. She supported you when you told her you’d still help him. You knew she definitely would have refused to, but you were appreciative of her.
“I was really rude, which is so unlike me,” you replied and put your bag down on the couch, “l almost cried too? It was him bringing up this promise we made at the very start that brought up memories and I don’t know I—” You tripped over your words as you tried to rationalize it all. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I’m angry and sad and I miss him, but also hate him?” You plopped down on the couch beside her.
“That’s completely fine. Feel how you feel, but don’t suppress it,” she gave you a side hug and you rested your head on her shoulder.
“I can’t believe I have to do that until his final next week.”
“You don’t have to,” she reminded you, “You’re doing him a favor you know.”
“I know,” you sighed, “but I guess I decided it was time to make good on my promise too.”
After coming to terms with how you felt, you decided you didn't have it in you to pretend to be nice to him. Each and every session, you were aloof, and in return, he was extremely patient. You watched him grit his teeth, mutter under his breath, and clench his jaw each time you dismissed him. And yet, he held his tongue. You guessed that even though he left, his pity for you still hadn't.
He didn't even tell you how his final went. You got an email informing you about his results: he passed the class with a B minus, just like you had originally hoped. Against your better judgement, you were so proud of him and considered congratulating him. But he didn't tell you the news himself, so that ultimately stopped you from reaching out.
Rina applauded you for a job well done. "You might be a wizard, holy shit. You passed your finals with flying colors, of course—"
"Of course," you echoed with a grin.
"—And also helped the other people you tutored succeed too. Not to mention you coming in clutch to save your evil ex boyfriend from expulsion. You're literally an angel sent from heaven." She clasped her hands together as if to pray. "Please thou' angel, I need fifty bands by Friday."
You giggled and shook your head. "You're ridiculous."
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Just taking advantage of rooming with the best."
"My services are limited to academics only."
Her eyes lit up. "Can you make my orgo chem professor mysteriously disappear?"
"Er...that sounds like a crime."
"So what? You'd totally mog everyone in prison with your mugshot," she exclaimed.
The two of you laughed at how silly she was being before turning back to packing. You'd won the championship, and now it was time to reap the benefits. You were excited to go back home and see everyone and Rina was excited for her parents to finally meet the guy she was absolutely smitten with. Winter holiday meant new beginnings too. The New Year was quickly approaching. You wanted to be able to say you were entering the New Year with high hopes, and expectations. That meant leaving any bad feelings in the past. Even though you were surrounded by so many blessings, your heart still called for the one thing it shouldn't.
Your parents picked you up from the airport and pulled you into a warm hug. You hadn’t realized how homesick you were until you were finally in their arms. Your heart swelled as they beamed at you.
“How’s my angel?” Your dad asked, squeezing your cheeks.
“Hey…” You swatted his hand away playfully and he laughed. “Don’t do that, we’re in public,” you whisper shouted. “I’m good I just missed you, how are you guys?”
They caught you up on everything you missed. Some petty beef going on between the neighbors on either side of them. Your dad’s thoughts on real Christmas trees. The two of them were considering getting a puppy. “Considering,” your mom emphasized, and side eyed your dad. It was all mundane really, but it was nice to talk to them face to face.
The feeling of being in your childhood room was so overwhelming. A rush of nostalgia hit you as you walked around and reminisced. Your mom was the biggest neat freak ever, so she made sure to clean it periodically and make it look nice for your visit. The holidays always made you remember your childhood and how excited you were for Santa. When you got older, and you found out the truth about the man in the North Pole, you just asked for more of your nerdy interests. You couldn’t bring most of your things with you to college, so you loved coming back home to them during break.
Your phone buzzed on the counter beside you. You glanced up and unlocked it to see a few texts from Rina.
rina: how was your flight?
you: it was alright, there was a crying baby though
you: didn't get a wink of sleep
rina: dang, i’m sorry
You bit your lip and sighed. You wanted to ask her about how her trip with her boyfriend was going, but it made you think of him. What was he up to? He didn’t really talk much about family. You wondered if he even went back home to visit during breaks like this. Back then, you brought visiting home with you since you wanted him to meet your parents. There was so much you got to know about him, yet so little in the grand scheme of things. What was he up to now, you wondered. And another thought crept in: Had he already moved on, just in time for the holidays?
SUKUNA'S POV
Sukuna hated being the bigger person. He found it pointless, letting the other person basically get away with doing whatever they wanted and taking it like a bitch. Each time you snapped at him, he froze and reminded himself you were hurt, and reasonably so. All things surrounding the breakup were hazy and there were definitely left over feelings. Hard ones at that.
"These test scores are awful. It might take a miracle for you to pass,”
“Snap out of it then.”
“I’m trying."
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
"Be sure to block any distractions and really focus your attention on what matters most."
Those last two hurt a lot. He knew what you were implying. He tried his hardest to communicate with you. And he wasn't proud of blocking you that night, at all. Did you hate him for it? Did you hate him in general? It sure seemed like it. Whatever it was, you were probably on your way home to see family, even though he was originally supposed to come along. Now, he was crashing at his knucklehead of a friend's apartment until winter holiday was over. They were playing Mario Kart again and he was stalking your Instagram once again. It hadn't changed since before the breakup, but he still stared. He rolled his eyes each time Gojo and Geto yelled at each other during the game. Was this really how it was going to be?
Before he could stop himself, he left Instagram and opened his messages.
sukuna: rina, can you do me a favor
The three dots popped up almost instantly.
rina: no, and you shouldn’t be contacting me. you know better
sukuna: please. i want to see her, just one last time. then i’ll never bother her ever again. i swear
rina: she’s out of town visiting family
sukuna: i know
The three dots stayed there for a while. Then, finally:
rina: what are you implying?
sukuna: you know damn well what i’m implying
sukuna: i know she’s the smarter one but c'mon
sukuna: oops. i mean dang well.
rina: okay, woah. humble yourself. drop the attitude if you want my help
It was his turn to take a bit to reply.
sukuna: got it
rina: if this blows up, it is all your fault, not mine.
rina: i’m only doing this because she’s in denial, not because you deserve it
Denial? What did that mean?
sukuna: i appreciate it, thanks
Rina forwarded the details of your itinerary. She instructed him to only reach out when you weren’t around your parents. He looked bad enough, he didn’t want to add stalker to the long list of names he was probably already being called. Sukuna complied, grateful for the advice. He knew he definitely didn’t deserve it. Nonetheless, it was time to catch a flight.
He got up and started to pack his things. Gojo and Geto watched him suspiciously from the couch.
“Am I that trash at the game that you’re packing up to leave?”
“No, but you’re that dumb,” Sukuna shot back.
Geto laughed at Gojo’s shocked expression and shook his head. “He’s right. How many classes did you end up passing this semester again?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Gojo turned back to the game, but Geto wasn’t done with him yet.
“It should if you don’t want to take summer classes. Ryomen, how many did you pass?”
“All.”
“Even the stats class? Weren’t you skippi—oh. The girl.” He gave Sukuna a knowing look. “Take notes,” he said and swatted Gojo.
“That would require studying, and I’m good. Where are you going anyway Ry?” Gojo questioned.
“None of your business,” Sukuna replied simply. He wasn’t in the mood to be talked down by these two. He was on a mission.
“Ryomen,” Geto paused and frowned at him, “Don’t tell me you’re…”
“He’s going to the girl? Isn’t she visiting home?” Gojo finally caught on. He chuckled at his friend and leaned back on the couch. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day. Ryomen Sukuna is chasing a girl halfway across the country. Miracles really do happen.”
Sukuna let out an exasperated sigh. “While I’m gone, do me a favor Gojo and get your head out of your ass. You’re starting to get on my nerves,” he paused and glanced at the screen, “And get better at Mario Kart before Geto flings the controller at your head.”
Gojo grinned at him. “Roger that.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes at his corny reply. “And Geto, call me if you need anything.”
“Got it,” Geto replied. Sukuna made his way to the door with his suitcase in hand and reached for the doorknob before Geto continued: “And good luck man.”
Sukuna lowered his hand and nodded. “Thanks.”
“This is some shit straight out of a romcom I'm not gonna lie, but you got this. You really like her to the point it’s kinda gross, so I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Gojo called from the couch.
Sukuna chuckled. “This is no romcom, this is real life. If she doesn’t want to see me then,” he shrugged, “At least I can say I tried.”
“Isn’t flying across the country to beg for her back more than trying?” Geto wondered out loud.
“I’m not begging,” Sukuna frowned.
Gojo and Geto gave him a look.
“Okay, whatever the technicalities are, it was worth the risk. It always has been.” And with that Sukuna stepped out and slammed the door behind him. He was ready to bite the bullet and stop mopping around. The fear of you rejecting him never left the back of his mind, but he still had meant what he said. You were a risk worth taking, and he’d make that same bet again, and again, and again.
When he takes you for granted & regrets Part II - Sukuna
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (Coming soon)
Summary - Sukuna spent years building the future he thought you deserved. You spent those same years quietly supporting him and his brothers, Choso and Yuji. Somewhere between success, sacrifice, and unspoken words, he forgot to cherish what he already had. By the time he realizes that home was never the penthouse or the company, you're already gone.
Tags - Yearning Sukuna, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Relationship Problems, Temporary Breakup, Happy Ending (Eventually), Protective Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Sukuna Has Feelings, Whipped Sukuna, No Cheating, Eventual Reconciliation, Choso & Yuji are Sukuna's younger brothers, non-sorcerers au, slight cursing, Taking Someone for Granted, Sukuna is down bad, Whipped Sukuna, Sukuna losing his mind with regret.
Word count - 5.5k
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It had been a few days since you left Sukuna. He had tried contacting you so many times that eventually, you had no choice but to block him. You had wanted to keep things civil, but he had left you with no other option. After that, he started reaching out through your mutual friends and even through his brothers, whom you had not blocked. Why? Because every time you even thought about blocking them, their little faces kept appearing in front of your eyes. Besides, you hadn't left Sukuna because of them. Even if things had not changed with Yuji and Choso, your decision would still have been the same. Whatever had happened, they were still just kids in your eyes. They could make mistakes too.
Yuji and Choso eventually called you together. They sounded nervous, hesitant, and so unusually down that you could tell they had probably spent a long time deciding whether they should even call. They apologized more times than you could count, but neither of them could bring themselves to ask you to come back. They couldn't be that shameless after hurting you so much, even if they hadn't meant to. More importantly, they knew they had no right to ask you for anything after everything that had happened. They just wanted to make sure you weren't going to disappear completely from their lives. This time, it was their turn to reach out first.
Yuji and Choso ended up talking for a long time the next day. They looked back at everything that had happened over the past few months and slowly began to understand just how much distance had appeared between all of you, how many little misunderstandings had piled up without anyone bothering to clear them, and how easily their own attempts at becoming more independent had made you feel like they no longer wanted you around. They still couldn't ask you to come back, even though both of them were dying to hear that you might. If you didn't want to stay with Sukuna anymore, what right did they have to ask you to return to a life that had already made you so unhappy? They could only tell you that they were sorry and that regardless of what happened between you and Sukuna, they still wanted you in their lives.
They were worried about Sukuna too.
He was not okay.
He looked like death itself, and his attitude had somehow become even worse than usual. He had been snapping at people constantly, glaring at anyone who dared to irritate him, and apparently coming dangerously close to making several people regret ever crossing his path. The company had become a place where everyone prayed they wouldn't be the person who happened to walk into Sukuna's office at the wrong time.
Because if looks could kill, Sukuna had probably murdered half the city by now.
After you left, Sukuna hadn't even thought about going to work. He spent hours driving around looking for you, calling every person he could think of, until Shoko finally snapped at him and forced him to stop acting like a lunatic. Somewhere in the middle of all that, he finally understood something he hadn't wanted to admit. Even if he found you right now, you weren't going to suddenly change your mind. You were hurt, and you had every right to be. He had made mistakes. Stupid ones. Ones he should have noticed long before you reached the point of leaving.
But accepting that didn't mean he was done.
He couldn't be.
Even if you never forgave him, even if you never wanted him back, he wasn't going to simply disappear and let you walk into someone else's arms because he was too proud to fight for you. He had never promised to be some saint who would gracefully let you go to someone better. If he had to become that better person himself, then somehow, he would. For now, though, he knew you needed space, even if giving it to you felt like slowly tearing something out of his chest.
So he forced himself to give you space.
You, on the other hand, were doing better.
It had only been a few days, but you had already started your new company and set up your new office. You had an official launch planned soon too, and for the first time in a long time, there was something ahead of you that felt entirely yours.
You had also hired an assistant who doubled as a bodyguard. Toji Fushiguro
He was a giant of a man who, surprisingly, was actually quite nice and loyal. Toji proved himself to be very diligent, and he also happened to have the ability to handle troublesome people with nothing more than one intimidating look, which was particularly useful considering you were a woman who occasionally had clients who seemed to forget how to behave professionally.
It was only later that you realized Toji's son, Megumi, was Yuji's best friend. Megumi was almost the complete opposite of his father. Quiet, soft-spoken, shy but firm when he needed to be, and apparently living in the same building as you. That was how you had met Toji in the first place, and once Megumi recognized you one day, he immediately told Yuji.
Which, of course, meant that the very next day, Sukuna was there.
You saw him while you were parking your car. He was standing a little distance away, looking at the entrance like he was debating whether he should actually go inside or turn around and leave before you could see him. He hadn't noticed you yet.
You hadn't seen him in a few weeks.
And he looked terrible.
"What are you doing here?"
Sukuna immediately spun around.
For a second, he looked almost startled to see you standing there. He opened his mouth as if he had prepared something to say, but nothing came out. His eyes simply stayed on you, taking in your face like he was trying to make sure you were actually standing there in front of him and not something his exhausted mind had imagined. You looked so beautiful.
His eyes were slightly red and teary.
"I'm sorry."
It was the same thing he had been saying for days now.
You stared at him.
"For exactly what, Sukuna?"
No Ryo. No nickname. No warmth.
You sounded like you were talking to a stranger.
"For making you feel like I don't love you," he said quietly. "For making you feel like you weren't family. For making you think you were not important."
A part of you had wanted to hear those words. Maybe months ago, they would have been enough. Now, they weren't.
"It would've changed things if you had told me this earlier," you said, your voice remaining calm despite the ache in your chest. "But it's too late now. I don't want to go back to that life anymore."
"Please don't say that."
His voice cracked slightly, and he took a step closer before stopping himself.
"I know I fucked up. I know I should've noticed. I should've talked to you instead of assuming you'd always be there."
You looked away for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
"Sukuna, I'm finally putting myself first."
He went quiet.
"My work. My dreams. My life. What you miss is the old me, the one who put everyone else first. I'm not going to do that anymore."
His jaw tightened.
“I will never ask you to do that, I just want the chance to be standing next to you again.”
His voice came out rough, almost broken, like the words scraped his throat on the way out. He didn’t move closer this time, but he also didn’t step back. Like he was afraid that if he gave you even a single inch of space, you would disappear again.
“I don’t care if you don’t want me in your life the way I was before,” he said, swallowing hard. “I don’t care if you hate me for a while. I don’t care if you never look at me the same again.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“But I’m not leaving you.”
A beat.
“I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want. I’ll shut up. I’ll give you space. I’ll do whatever the hell you need me to do so you can breathe again.”
His eyes flickered over your face, desperate, searching.
“But I’m not disappearing.”
A shaky breath left him.
“If I have to follow you from a distance just to make sure you’re okay, I will. If I have to wait outside your office every damn day just to know you got there safely, I will. If I have to watch you hate me from across the street just to catch a glimpse of your face, I’ll do it.”
His voice dropped lower, almost pleading now.
“I don’t care how pathetic it makes me look, I don’t care what anyone says. I already lost you once. I’m not doing it again just because I was too proud to stand where you can see me.”
He finally looked away for a second, jaw tight, like he was holding himself together by force alone.
“I just need you in my life somewhere,” he admitted quietly. “Even if it’s not the way I want. Even if it hurts.”
You swallowed.
“Do whatever you want,” you said quietly, your voice steady in a way it hadn’t been before. “Follow me, wait outside my office, stand across the street. None of it is my concern anymore.”
Sukuna’s breath hitched slightly. You met his eyes without hesitation.
“I’m not responsible for what you choose to do with your life, Sukuna. I’m not part of it anymore.”
A pause.
“And I don’t want to be.”
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. For the first time, something in Sukuna’s expression cracked in a way that wasn’t anger or frustration. It was a realization. Sharp, painful, undeniable.
You weren’t just setting boundaries. You had already left him behind.
Your words hurt him. You could see it. But this time, you didn't rush to soften them.
After that, you had started noticing Sukuna around sometimes. Not too much to bother you, but enough to make sure you knew he had not disappeared.
He never approached you. You would see him outside the café where you usually went, or how sometimes gifts would be delivered to you - flowers, a little treat from a place you liked, or coffee that was given to you in the cafe which was apparently on the house but you knew very well Sukuna had paid for. Sometimes you could even feel his stare from across the street before you actually spotted him. But he kept his distance. He had finally understood that you needed space, and as much as it clearly killed him to stay away, he respected it.
It wasn't just Sukuna either. Since Megumi lived right next door, Yuji was around too. He had a perfectly reasonable excuse to be there, but because you were out most of the time, you rarely actually bumped into him. You had also started getting along surprisingly well with Toji. He was easy enough to talk to once you got past the intimidating appearance, and every now and then he would complain about how difficult it was raising a teenager with Megumi's mood swings.
"I swear, he stares at me like I'm some hobo living off his money," Toji complained one afternoon, looking genuinely offended.
You let out a snort before you could stop yourself, naturally thinking about Yuji. "Yuji also became really quiet around me. He probably didn't like having me around much either."
Toji paused, staring at you like you had just said something completely ridiculous.
"Are you kidding me? Whenever Yuji was over, he wouldn't shut up about you. He was always talking about how amazing you were. Megumi actually started comparing me to you whenever I did something wrong, which, honestly, annoyed the hell out of me. Before I met you, I kind of hated this perfect lady who apparently could never do any wrong."
You froze. Yuji talked about you?
A small chuckle escaped your lips before you could stop it. It was strange how easy it sometimes was to tell everyone else how much someone meant to you, yet somehow impossible to say those same things to the person who actually needed to hear them.
Toji continued, completely unaware of the little realization happening in your head. "And I've noticed he's been coming over a lot more lately."
Your brows furrowed. "He has? I never see him."
Toji let out a loud laugh.
"Half the time he's over, he's looking through the peephole hoping he'll run into you. Then the second you actually come out, he panics and starts mumbling what to do and what to say until Megumi smacks him."
A weird warmth spread through your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely smiled.
"Teenagers, huh?"
"Exactly," Toji said, nodding as though the two of you had just reached some profound conclusion about life. Then he paused. "Also, I've got to go out for work tomorrow. Can you keep an eye on Megumi? Just make sure the kid doesn't burn the house down or something."
You rolled your eyes. "I'm pretty sure if that ever happens, it won't be Megumi's doing. It'll be yours. But sure, I'll keep an eye on him."
Toji gave an immature little "Hmph" in response, mostly because he knew very well you were right. Why was his kid more mature than he was? Isn’t he the older one!?
The next day was Saturday, and you found yourself standing outside Toji's door. Megumi was home since Toji was out for work, so you knocked before walking in when he opened the door. You had initially planned to order food, but after seeing the amount of groceries sitting around and slowly beginning to look like they were going to rot, the two of you decided it would be better to actually make something.
Yuji wasn't there that day. He had practice on Saturdays, you remembered.
You ended up getting close to Megumi surprisingly quickly. He already knew a lot about you because Yuji had apparently spent years talking about you, and Megumi knew his best friend well enough to understand that anyone Yuji spoke about with that much admiration couldn't be a bad person. He was also smart enough to stay away from the subject of why and how you had left Sukuna. He knew what had happened, or at least enough of it to understand that you had left, and he had seen Yuji cry in the days after it happened. He was emotionally mature enough to realize how the brothers' behavior must have looked from your side, but he also knew he didn't know the entire story and had no intention of prying.
The next day, you showed up again, this time carrying a book Megumi had mentioned liking when you were cooking together. He invited you inside almost immediately, mentioning that he had tried the new recipe you had suggested the day before. You noticed the slight hesitation in his voice, like he wasn't entirely sure you would actually say yes, so you agreed and sat down with him.
You ended up having tea and snacks while talking about the recipe, books, movies, and whatever else happened to come up. Megumi found it surprisingly easy to talk to you. You had similar tastes, and unlike most adults he knew, you didn't constantly try to force conversations or ask questions he didn't want to answer. You simply talked to him.
It was the next day when Megumi met Yuji and casually mentioned everything. He told him about the book, the recipe and the fact that you had exchanged numbers so you could recommend books and movies to each other because apparently you had almost identical taste.
Megumi paused when he noticed Yuji wasn't reacting. There was no smile. Just a completely straight face.
Yuji was jealous.
Not because he disliked Megumi. He just felt replaced. He realized how he had no right to ask for your time anymore. And somewhere deep down, the thought scared him. What happened if you moved on? What happened if you built your own family, one that didn't include him or Choso? He would never get those years back. He would never again wake up and find you sitting at the breakfast table, never get the chance to eat the food you made, and never see that family picture hanging above the fireplace.
He missed his family.
Megumi simply patted him on the back.
"You should come over more."
Yuji looked at him.
"She isn't mad at you." Yuji's expression remained miserable. "Disappointed, maybe. Hurt, definitely. But she doesn't hate you so much that she doesn't want to see your face."
That was apparently enough encouragement. Yuji started showing up more often. You would come back from work and somehow find him standing in the corridor for absolutely no reason.
"Yuji?"
He would immediately straighten.
"Oh! Hey! I was just... here."
You would stare at him.
"Why?"
“Just admiring this corridor?” It looked like he was asking you unsure whether that sounded believable enough. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
It was just just once but a lot more times. You came back from work? Guess who was walking just out at the very same time? Yuji. And every time he would smile and greet you like this was a very cute coincidence.
You had started noticing the pattern. Every time you came out of your apartment, Yuji seemed to mysteriously appear nearby. You had to force yourself not to laugh because you can imagine Megumi must have been losing his mind dealing with him, although you suspected he was just as weak to Yuji's ridiculous puppy-dog eyes as everyone else.
The moment Choso heard from Yuji that he was seeing you more often, his eyes brightened and he started following him around too. Megumi, who had been patient with them until then, was now completely done with these two idiots.
They would hide inside his apartment, staring through the peephole at your door, and the moment they thought your doorknob moved, both of them would straighten up and rush outside and then stare at you like they had suddenly been caught committing a crime. What was even worse was that they genuinely thought they were being subtle.
Megumi could only sigh. They were idiots. And you were a saint for putting up with all three clown brothers.
Because guess who the third person was now messaging his phone, offering to pay him a ridiculous amount of money if he would let him stay over? Sukuna.
Megumi blocked him.
One afternoon, you stepped outside to collect your order, fully expecting to see Yuji somewhere in the corridor like a lost cat. Instead, there were two of them.
Choso stood beside him in a large black hoodie, looking like a startled domestic cat that had suddenly realized it had nowhere to run.
You blinked at the two brothers.
Yuji immediately stepped forward. "We were just looking for my phone."
You slowly looked down. The phone in question was very clearly in his right hand.
Yuji continued explaining anyway, gesturing dramatically with the very same phone in his hand. He hadn't noticed it. Choso nodded along beside him until he followed your gaze and realized what Yuji was holding. And interrupted dumbly
“My phone! We are looking for my -” He paused as he looked down at his own hand.
He was holding his phone too. His face immediately turned bright red.
"There was… a third phone," he quickly tried to correct himself, only making the situation worse.
From inside the apartment, Megumi finally gave up.
"Give your single shared brain cell some rest. It will set itself on fire."
You finally burst out laughing. The two brothers looked at you, both of them suddenly looking happy despite being a little embarrassed.
You wiped the corner of your eye before asking, "Do you guys want to come in?"
Megumi immediately answered from behind them.
"No. I have work to do because Yuji has been disturbing me for days trying to get lessons on how to act nonchalant."
"That's not true!" Yuji protested.
Megumi smacked the back of his head.
"You don't have a single bone of nonchalance in your body. Just be honest."
And locked the door behind him.
Eventually, you let the two brothers come inside. They sat down and tried very hard to act normal, although they spent the first few minutes looking around your apartment like curious little puppies. Eventually, the awkwardness faded and you started talking properly. Most of the conversation was about you, your new company, and how well everything seemed to be going. They were genuinely impressed, and you could see how happy they were to hear you talk about your work again.
They stayed for a while before finally leaving.
And somehow after that your relationship with them slowly started getting better. They even started texting you more. Yuji and Choso desperately tried to watch movies and books Megumi liked so they could recommend them to you first.
Sukuna eventually found out about this improvement too. He didn't ask for details. He didn't need them. Knowing that Yuji and Choso were talking to you again was enough to make something inside his chest loosen slightly. At least his brothers hadn't lost you completely.
It was a start.
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A few days later, you happened to run into Sukuna at an event.
You were wearing a backless maroon dress, your hair left open, and there was a confidence in your smile that he hadn't seen in a long time. For a moment, Sukuna simply stared. You were so beautiful, it hurt a little to breathe.
He was immediately flustered, because it had been so long since he had seen you like this. Not tired. Not frustrated. Not sitting quietly beside him while he worked. He could see that old fire in your eyes again, the determination that had always been there before life with him and his brothers slowly consumed so much of your time.
You looked like yourself again.
And that realization left a bitter taste in his mouth - you were doing so much better without him while he was doing so much worse without you. He wondered if he should go to you, talk to you. He had barely taken a step when your eyes met his. For one second, neither of you looked away.
Then a woman appeared beside him.
One of those women.
She immediately latched onto his arm, smiling up at him as if the two of them had been in the middle of some private conversation. Her body pressed against his side, and her hand lingered on his arm.
Your expression changed instantly and you looked away.
Sukuna's eyes widened. He knew exactly how that must have looked.
"No."
The woman looked up at him, confused.
"What?"
He pulled his arm away.
"Get off."
Her smile disappeared.
"Sukuna, I was just—"
"I said get off."
His voice was cold enough to make her freeze. People nearby had started looking over, but he didn't care anymore. He had tolerated enough. Too many dinners. Too many business meetings. Too many women thinking they could behave however they wanted because he had once chosen to ignore it.
And for what? A deal? An investor? Truth to be told, his company could collapse tomorrow and still wouldn't matter. Not if you weren't in his life.
He looked at the woman with an expression that made it very clear exactly how much he hated her presence..
"You have the guts to hit on another woman's man but not enough to take a rejection?"
Her face flushed. People around also heard it. She did not have anything to say to defend herself
"You must really have very low standards throwing yourself on taken men”
She had never been disrespected before like this. She enjoyed having the power over others. But right Ryomen Sukuna, the handsome CEO who everyone had been talking about these days, was looking down at her like she was worse than filth.
In a flash of rage she threw the drink in her hand at him. The liquid splashed across his shirt. Sukuna simply looked down at himself before letting out a short, almost amused laugh.
“Are you done with your tantrum? Now do me a favor and never show me your face again."
She clenched her jaw, glared at him before turning around and storming away with tears of embarrassment forming in her eyes hearing the whispers and snickers directed at her.
He watched her leave without the slightest bit of regret. Honestly, why hadn't he done that sooner? So many fights between you had started because of women like her. He had always told himself it was easier to ignore them, easier to keep his temper under control, easier to tolerate a little bullshit for the sake of business.
But looking back now...It had never been worth making you feel like that.
You, of course, saw and heard the whole thing. While she was walking away she saw you and recognized you immediately.
You knew very well that sometimes another woman wasn't the problem. But you also knew how to deal with someone who deliberately crossed a line.
But you didn't say anything. You didn't need to. You simply looked at her with the sweetest smile you could manage.
Her jaw clenched and her eyes were filled with immense hatred as she walked away glaring at you.
You let out a quiet chuckle. It was almost funny. And as much as you hated to admit it, something inside you melted hearing Sukuna still say he was taken.
Sukuna had gone to the washroom to clean himself up. He will take care of the aftermath later, for now he just wants to find a chance to talk to you. As soon as he came back his eyes spotted you at a distance. He had been about to approach you when he paused.
You were talking to a man.
Toji.
Sukuna froze.
He hadn't really thought about it until that moment, but you were single now. And Toji Fushigiro was an attractive man. And single, who worked with you and also happened to be your neighbor. His fist clenched as his mind was filled with ugly thoughts. What if you move on with someone like Toji? Jealousy was not enough to describe how he was feeling.
You & Sukuna had both dated other people in high school. You met in college and had been each other's first serious relationship, and most of your firsts had been with each other as well.
Now...
You weren't his anymore.
He wasn't blind either. He could see the way people looked at you. You were successful, confident, beautiful, and now you were standing there completely free of him.
What if you liked someone else? What if you had already started seeing someone? What if you eventually kissed someone else, slept with someone else, fell in love with someone else?
He had no right to say anything. He could only hope to die and wish you come back to him.
Sukuna grabbed another drink.
Then another when he heard you laugh with Toji.
Every time the thought of you with someone else entered his head, he drank.
Eventually, the room started becoming a little too blurry, and he wandered away from the crowd without really knowing where he was going.
Then he spotted you outside, standing away in a secluded little corner talking on your phone.
He stared for a moment before walking towards you.
You had barely turned around when a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind.
You froze.
"...Sukuna?"
He rested his head against your shoulder.
"Hi."
The smell of alcohol immediately hit you.
You turned your head slightly.
"Are you drunk?"
"No."
You raised an eyebrow.
"You're definitely drunk."
He frowned against your shoulder.
"I'm not."
"You can barely stand."
"I can stand."
He paused.
"...Probably."
You sighed, trying to pry his arms away.
"Come on. You need to sit down."
"No."
"Sukuna."
"You're mean."
You stared at him.
"You're drunk."
He tightened his arms around you.
"I missed you."
The words came out so quietly that you stopped trying to pull away for a second.
"I know you don't want me," he continued, his voice becoming increasingly emotional. "I know. I know I fucked everything up. I know you're doing better without me."
His voice cracked.
"But I miss you."
You didn't say anything.
He turned his face slightly, looking at you with red, watery eyes.
"I miss you every fucking day."
His lower lip actually trembled.
You stared.
This was Sukuna.
The same man who would rather bite his own tongue off than admit he was upset.
Now he was standing there, drunk, clinging to you like a child who had lost his favorite person.
"I love you so much, always will," he mumbled.
Your chest tightened.
"I just thought I'd have more time."
His eyes filled again.
"I thought I could fix it later."
He sniffed.
"Apparently I'm an idiot."
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you.
He looked offended.
"Don't laugh."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He pouted.
Actually pouted.
You had to look away because you genuinely didn't know what to do with this version of him. Drunk Sukuna acted like a toddler - fragile, emotional, speaks his heart out and a total crybaby. You have dealt with this version of him before too and you know very well no word coming out of his mouth is a lie and that he will forget all about it the next day.
He buried his face against your shoulder again. His voice was muffled against you.
"I never cheated on you."
Your eyes widened slightly.
"I never even wanted anyone else."
He sniffed again.
"Never even thought about anyone else."
His arms tightened.
"Nobody else is you. I could never love anyone but just you."
You stood completely still.
He had spent months being unable to say the things you needed to hear, and now, when he was drunk enough to forget every wall he had ever built around himself, everything was spilling out.
"I was stupid," he whispered. "I thought if I worked hard enough, tolerated those stupid shits, and had my temper in control, you'd never have to worry about anything. I thought I was doing everything right."
His voice cracked again.
"But I messed up. I forgot you just wanted me."
You swallowed. He continued before you could say anything.
"I don't want another life. I don't want another woman. I don't want some business or whatever the hell else."
He sniffed; this time, you could feel your own shoulder getting slightly damp from his tears.
"I just want you."
Then his eyes closed. You stared at him for a moment before sighing.
"You're going to regret this tomorrow."
He mumbled something against your shoulder.
"What?"
"Please don’t like somebody else." He replied in a rushed vulnerable whisper like it would be a nightmare he could not survive.
You had absolutely no idea what to do with that.
Eventually, you had to get him out of there before anyone noticed the big, terrifying CEO of the company crying into your shoulder like a toddler.
With the help of his assistant who was looking for Sukuna, you somehow managed to get him into his car. He was still sniffling and mumbling the entire time, occasionally pouting whenever you told him to sit properly or moved away from him.
You asked his assistant to drive him home once he started slowly passing out in the back seat. As you watched him being taken away, you couldn't help but think about everything you had misunderstood.
He hadn't cheated.
He had simply become too good at hiding his irritation, too focused on building his company, too determined to prove he could give you the life he thought you deserved.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that...
He had taken you for granted.
But understanding why he had done it didn't magically erase what it had done to you.
Because who was to say it wouldn't happen again? Who was to say that if you went back, you wouldn't slowly disappear into his life all over again?
You didn't know.
And that was the part that scared you.
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Sorry for posting so late. There will be one more part with a bonus scene before we are done with this story.
I have another angsty story for Gojo next! It will have even more angst than this one.
Pt 1, Pt 2. Pt 3 (Coming soon)
Summary - Sukuna spent years building the future he thought you deserved. You spent those same years quietly supporting him and his brothers, Choso and Yuji. Somewhere between success, sacrifice, and unspoken words, he forgot to cherish what he already had. By the time he realizes that home was never the penthouse or the company, you're already gone.
Tags - Yearning Sukuna, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Relationship Problems, Temporary Breakup, Happy Ending (Eventually), Protective Sukuna, Soft Sukuna, Sukuna Has Feelings, Whipped Sukuna, No Cheating, Eventual Reconciliation, Choso & Yuji are Sukuna's younger brothers, non-sorcerers au, slight cursing, Taking Someone for Granted, Sukuna is down bad, Whipped Sukuna, Sukuna losing his mind with regret.
Word count - 6.6k
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You had been there for Sukuna since college. Back when everyone thought he was the biggest asshole on campus, until you realized just how much responsibility he was carrying all alone. Responsibility that was never supposed to be his in the first place. When you first approached him, he reminded you of a wild cat. Angry. Hissy. Ready to scratch anyone who came too close. But deep down... he never really wanted you to leave.
So you didn't.
Slowly, he began trusting you. He started opening up, little by little, and then one day he introduced you to his younger brothers. Choso and Yuji. You adored them instantly, and they welcomed you with tiny, shy smiles that completely melted your heart. Then eventually, with flushed cheeks and slightly trembling hands, Sukuna asked you to be his girl. All that time, you had been convinced you were the only one with a crush on him, so hearing those words felt almost unreal.
His parents had never cared about any of them and had left the three brothers to fend for themselves. Sukuna had been forced to grow up far too early, taking responsibility for Yuji and Choso while he was still just a kid himself. Even in college, he was juggling three jobs just to make ends meet while trying his best not to lose his scholarship. He never had much time back then, but somehow, no matter how exhausted he was, he never forgot about you.
You, on the other hand, came from a wealthy family. Sukuna was never the kind of person who would accept financial help, so you practically had to force him to move into your apartment just so he could stop wasting money on rent. It wasn't even yours to begin with. Your grandmother had gifted it to you. Once he finally gave in, it slowly stopped feeling like two people sharing a place. You felt like you had become a family.
You knew how important his work was to him so you helped him take care of his younger brothers, while also helping Sukuna get his business off the ground until he finally started attracting investors, business partners and greater opportunities. Then, slowly, the business began to grow. He had become someone people wanted to know and impress.
The more successful he became, the busier he got. You tried to understand it but then there were moments, when it felt like you were no longer a part of his world. Slowly the lack of time, efforts and assurance turned your relationship bitter. At one point you couldn't even remember the last time the two of you had laughed together or simply enjoyed each other's company. You guys barely even talked and when you did, they turned into fights. Constantly for months now.
He was always busy with work, meetings, and events, while more and more women kept throwing themselves at him. You understood he couldn't control that part, but it still pissed you off because he reacted like it was no big deal. Like you were overreacting. He used to get visibility irritated when some tried to hit on him before but now it was difficult to recognise him at times. Somewhere along the way, those frustrations slowly turned into suspicions. Were all those business trips really about work? Was there someone else? Did he still love you?
You watched the way women looked at him, with obvious desire in their eyes, not caring that you were standing right there beside him. And honestly you couldn't even blame them. Sukuna was attractive. Painfully so. Tall, handsome, successful, confident, and carrying himself with the kind of quiet authority that naturally drew people's attention the moment he walked into a room. It was almost impossible not to notice.
Some wore polite smiles. Others barely acknowledged your existence. But a few... a few looked at you with that same mocking smile, like they couldn't understand why someone like you was standing next to someone like him. Like you were some naïve little girl who had somehow ended up with a man completely out of her league.
And every single time it happened, a small part of you deep down had started wondering the same thing.
The doubts only seemed to grow stronger. Women - investors, business partners, assistants - kept messaging him, sometimes even late at night. Other times when he would step outside to answer a call, and you couldn't help overhearing a little, he didn't sound annoyed.
If anything, he sounded interested. Or maybe just amused. Like he was playing hard to get. He had changed a lot. And maybe his feelings changed.
It wasn't really his fault... was it?
You had helped him through some of the hardest years of his life. Maybe he stayed because he felt guilty about leaving you, even if deep down he wanted to. At first, the two of you fought all the time, but these past few weeks... even that had stopped. The silence between you had become cold, almost as if neither of you thought the relationship was worth fighting for anymore.
And then he forgot your anniversary. He never even realized it. Or if he did... he didn't seem guilty enough to bring it up.You never reminded him.What was the point? He would've probably shown up with some ridiculously expensive gift, thinking money could fix what had been broken for months. It couldn't.
You had spent years helping raise Sukuna's younger brothers, putting yourself and your own career second because you wanted to help all of them. You missed the girl you were back in college. The girl who was ambitious, who genuinely loved the work she did, who woke up excited for the future. Somewhere along the way, life became everyone else first and you somewhere at the very end. And now you were just tired.
But it was not just Sukuna who had changed. Even Yuji and Choso had.
Choso had always been the shy one. The kind of kid who practically hovered around you but hid behind you whenever someone new spoke to him. At first, you kept telling yourself that maybe he was just growing up. College changed people. He was probably busy trying to find his own friends and his own place in the world.
Yuji was easier to explain too. He was a teenager now. Teenagers changed. They stopped clinging to people and became more independent. That's what you kept telling yourself anyway. But no matter how many excuses you came up with, that strange feeling never really went away. Both of them had slowly become distant.
Yuji, who used to cling to your arm, scold Sukuna on your behalf whenever you two fought, and refuse to let you leave the house without hugging him first, had become someone who barely spoke more than three words to you. He still smiled politely whenever you crossed paths, but that was all they were now. Polite smiles. The kind you gave strangers.
Choso wasn't much different. He no longer hovered around you or quietly followed you into the kitchen just to keep you company while you cooked. Instead, it almost felt like he was avoiding you. At first, you thought maybe you were overthinking it. Then one afternoon, you overheard him talking to a few of his college friends. They were talking about you.
"I mean... she's lucky. Sukuna's loaded now. Must be nice living off all that money while he works day and night."
You paused and waited.
You knew Choso would say something. He knew better than anyone that you had been there long before Sukuna ever had money. So you waited for him to correct them. To defend you. Instead there was silence. Your heart sank. He didn't agree but he didn't disagree either. And somehow, that hurt just as much.
Did Choso think that too? Was that why he had been avoiding you? Not because he was shy anymore, but because he genuinely didn't like you? It suddenly hit you that maybe they had all changed. You had just refused to accept it. You had fed them, helped them with their homework, cleaned up after them, worried about them, celebrated their birthdays, and loved them like they were your own. But what were you to them now? Just some girl living off Sukuna's money? A nanny? A convenience?
You kept telling yourself Choso was just busy with college, trying to find his people, while Yuji was simply acting like every teenager did. Until one afternoon, when you came back from the supermarket. The three of them were sitting together in the living room, eating, laughing, and joking around. They hadn't noticed you standing at the front door yet, your arms full of grocery bags, but something inside you broke that day because, for the first time in months, you saw them laughing the way they used to.
Just...Not with you.
You stood there for a few seconds before finally stepping inside. The laughter stopped almost immediately. The room fell silent, and it felt like a stranger had just walked into a private conversation instead of coming home. Like you no longer belonged there. The only person who spoke was Sukuna.
"There's dinner for you in the oven."
You simply nodded before making your way straight to your bedroom.
You knew you had to talk to Sukuna. You had been putting it off for months, but this couldn't continue anymore. Except... he never came to your room that night. A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you lay down on the bed. When was the last time the two of you had even gone to sleep together peacefully? Most nights ended in arguments, while the rest ended with him staying in his office until he eventually fell asleep there instead.
As you stared at the ceiling, you remembered something Shoko had told you months ago when the two of you had met. You're doing wife duties while you're still just the girlfriend.It never ends well. Back then, you hadn't listened. Because back then they needed you.
But people changed, and maybe the biggest thing you had failed to realize was that you weren't actually family. You were just convenient. And now that they didn't need you anymore, you couldn't help but feel like a burden more than ever. Sleep never came that night. Sukuna and you barely even felt like you were in a relationship anymore. As difficult as it was to admit, maybe his feelings really had changed. His circle had grown. His world had grown. Deep down, he probably knew he'd be better off with someone else.
Just when you finally gathered the courage to talk to Sukuna, he walked into the bedroom.
"I have to leave now," he said, already reaching for his suitcase. "Business trip."
You simply nodded. He disappeared back out to finish packing when his phone, which he had left on the bed, lit up with a notification.
A woman's name..
She was just one of those women. One of the many who seemed to cling to Sukuna even more whenever you were around, acting as if they knew him better than you did. The conversation would always somehow drift towards business, investors, meetings, and deals, leaving you standing there feeling like an outsider in your own relationship. Then there were the little things. The way her hand always seemed to linger on his arm a little longer than necessary. The way she stood just a little too close. The smiles that almost felt intentional, like she was trying to send you a message without ever saying a word. But she wasn't the only one. There had been others. Too many for you to even remember their names.
‘Let's meet at the same hotel after the meeting.’
Before you could even process what you had read, Sukuna walked back into the room and immediately picked up his phone. It was quick. Almost instinctive. Like he was hiding something.
You didn't feel angry. You didn't even feel like asking him to explain. You had done that before. Every single time it ended the same way. Another fight. Another argument about how you were overthinking things. How you were reading too much into it. How you just needed to trust him.
But you did not trust him anymore. Not after everything had changed. You remembered how he used to get irritated whenever another woman openly flirted with him. Now, it almost felt like he enjoyed it. And you were tired of wondering. Tired of convincing yourself that nothing had changed when everything around you said otherwise.
There were plenty of women interested in him. Women with influence. Women with powerful connections. Women who naturally belonged in the world he had built for himself. You weren't insecure. At least, you didn't think you were. You were just trying to be realistic.
Sukuna had outgrown you. He deserved someone who matched him. Honestly, he might even be relieved when you finally left. That night, Sukuna left for his business trip. You started packing.
There wasn't much that was truly yours anymore. Most of what surrounded you had been bought by Sukuna. At first, they were gifts because he wanted to repay you for standing beside him during the hardest years of his life. Somewhere along the way, they slowly became apologies instead. Expensive gifts after every argument, after every forgotten promise, after every disappointment. You just hadn't realized it back then.
Your eyes drifted to the ring on your finger. A ruby. Your favorite stone.
He had given it to you after landing his first major client almost four years ago. It wasn't an engagement ring. It was a promise ring. A promise that the two of you would get married one day as soon as his business got more stable so you guys could plan a lavish wedding.
Did you even want that anymore? You couldn't honestly say yes. Because love wasn't supposed to make you feel this small. You slowly slipped it off your finger and gently placed the ring inside the bedside drawer.
The next morning, two large suitcases sat by the bedroom door. One held your clothes. The other was filled with your books, important documents, and work files. Two smaller suitcases carried your gadgets and all the little pieces of yourself that had quietly found their place around the penthouse over the years.
Maybe you weren't being as calm as you had convinced yourself you were about this. Maybe you were being just a little petty because you wanted to erase every little trace of you out of his life.
Your shampoo. Your bath bombs. Your soft pink towel. The stupid little decorations you had insisted on buying because they made the place feel warmer. Everything went into a box.
The things you couldn't take with you, you had removed from the apartment entirely. Your old desk. Your bookshelf. Your oversized chair where you spent countless nights working while Yuji and Choso did their homework beside you. Sukuna will get his life back. Without you. Without even the smallest fragments of you left behind. After all, it was only polite.
Before leaving, you decided to have breakfast one last time with Yuji and Choso. You let out a quiet chuckle when both of them seemed to be in a hurry to leave. It took them barely three minutes to finish eating before they were already grabbing their bags and heading towards the door. You simply watched them and had your breakfast.
The two brothers exchanged a confused glance as you didn't say much today. You usually asked them what they had planned, their friends or just about anything but today you were very quiet. They shrugged it off thinking you were just in one of your quieter moods today. They walked toward the door, mumbled their goodbyes and turned to leave.
But you didn't answer.
That made them pause. Yuji looked back first. You were staring at the family picture hanging on the wall. The one you had insisted on framing years ago. Back then, all you could see was your family.
Now all you saw was a family of three brothers and a woman who was about to become someone they used to know. Eventually, you would just become another stranger from their past. You weren't going to fool yourself into believing Yuji or Choso would want to keep in touch with you after this. They barely spoke to you anymore. Some days you didn't even see them because they stayed over at friends' houses. You only knew the names of a few friends because they occasionally came over.
"Y/n?"
Yuji's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked over at him as you replied. "Yeah?"
No smile.
"We're leaving."
"Okay."
Your face remained blank. No ‘Take care’, No ‘Don't do anything stupid’.
Nothing. Both of them frowned. It felt... strange.
Choso hesitated before quietly asking, "You okay? You seem distracted."
His eyes shifted towards the family picture you had been staring at. You finally gave them a small smile as you looked away.
"Yeah. I was just thinking it's time to change this old picture."
The two brothers simply nodded before leaving. It was unusual. But they were already running late. As soon as they left you got up and carried your suitcases down to the car. After one trip, you came back upstairs to check the penthouse one last time.
You looked around and there wasn't a single thing left that belonged to you anymore. The apartment looked exactly the way it had before you ever moved in.
Like a luxury hotel.
Only one thing remained. The family picture.
You walked over and carefully took it off the wall. As soon as it was in your hands, every bit of anger and frustration you had been holding back came rushing to the surface. Your fingers tightened around the frame as tears silently rolled down your cheeks. You remembered the day you had proudly hung it above the fireplace. You remembered Choso's shy smile and Yuji excitedly pointing at himself in the picture.
You couldn't take it with you. But you did not want to leave it here either. It didn't belong above that fireplace anymore. In a sudden burst of anger, you threw it onto the floor. The glass shattered across the room.
After a moment of satisfaction, you let out an exhausted groan.
Great. Now I have to clean it up.
Those idiots would probably end up cutting themselves trying to do it. Just then, your phone buzzed. A message from Sukuna.
‘Choso and Yuji will be staying at their friends' place and will return next week.’
You stared at the screen for a second before letting out a hollow laugh. They hadn't even bothered telling you when you just saw them now. But why are you even surprised anymore? You were not family to them, at least not anymore.
You threw the broken frame into the bin. And gave the photograph one final look, before you walked over to the stove.
And burned it.
Like it had never existed before you finally walked out of the penthouse. Away from the life you had built. And the life you had only convinced yourself was yours.
You had your own money. More than enough, actually. You had never actually stopped working. You still had your own assets and investments, and although you had slowed down over the years, you continued taking independent projects from home whenever you had the time. You had simply spent so much of that time giving everyone else their share of you that your own dreams had quietly been pushed aside.
That was going to change now.
A friend owned an apartment nearby and handed you the keys without hesitation. You moved in that very day. There wasn't much to organize since it came fully furnished, so by evening you found yourself shopping for an entirely new wardrobe. Professional clothes. Clothes that made you feel like yourself again. You signed up for a gym too. Not because you were unhappy with how you looked, but because you missed feeling strong.
Besides, working out had always been your way of clearing your head. It gave you a reason to eat better, stay active, and focus on yourself again. For the first time in months... You were excited. Everything felt new.
The following day, you sat down and mapped out the next six months of your life. Registering your company. Legal paperwork. Finance. Marketing. Every little detail had already been planned years ago back in college. Somewhere along the way, you had forgotten about that dream.
Now... It was finally beginning.
You slept well that night. You had already grown so used to sleeping alone these past few weeks that it didn't even feel strange anymore. There was a lot you were looking forward to.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday morning
Choso picked Yuji up before heading back to the penthouse together. The moment they stepped inside, both of them instinctively looked towards the dining table, expecting to see you already sitting there, probably waiting for them to finally wake up so breakfast could begin.
Instead the house was quiet. It felt strange.
"Maybe she went out," Yuji mumbled with a small shrug as he looked around for you, before making his way towards his room. Choso silently followed behind him.
As they walked upstairs, both of their eyes drifted towards the empty space above the fireplace. The family picture was still gone. A small frown settled on both their faces. The whole place looked weird without it.
After changing, the two brothers wandered back downstairs, grabbed a box of cereal, and sat across from each other at the dining table. Both were lost in their own thoughts before Choso finally spoke.
"...Did she message you over the weekend?"
Yuji looked up immediately. He didn't even need to ask who Choso was talking about.
"No." He frowned. "I honestly thought my phone was broken or something."
Choso slowly nodded, absentmindedly pushing the cereal around his bowl.
"I was expecting at least two calls," he admitted quietly. "She didn't even text."
Yuji stayed silent.
"...She didn't seem okay that day either," Choso continued after a moment. "Where is she so early anyway?"
Yuji shrugged. "Maybe she's with Sukuna?"
The two brothers looked at each other before nodding. That made the most sense. Anything else, didn't.
Just then, Sukuna finally returned from his business trip. He walked in carrying lunch. Your favorite. You had left his "Good morning" message on read earlier that day. It had felt more like a formality than anything else, especially since he had spent most of the weekend buried in work anyway. He figured you were still upset with him, so he had picked up your favorite food on the way home, hoping it might at least get you to talk to him.
The moment he stepped inside, his eyes instinctively searched the apartment. He expected to see you. Instead he found Yuji and Choso sitting silently at the dining table.
His brows furrowed.
"Where is she?" he asked as he placed the takeaway bags on the table before looking around the place.
Yuji looked just as confused.
"Isn't she with you?"
"I just got back from a work trip. How the hell could she be with me?"
Choso slowly looked up.
"...She hasn't been home since morning."
Sukuna's head snapped towards him.
"And you're telling me that just now?" His voice came out much harsher than he intended as he immediately pulled his phone out. "Did either of you at least call her?"
The two brothers exchanged guilty looks before quietly shaking their heads. They had both assumed you'd be back by now. Muttering a curse under his breath, Sukuna immediately called you.
You didn’t answer. He called again.This time the call disconnected, only for a message to appear a few seconds later.
‘I'm busy with some work.’
He stared at it for a second before quickly typing back.
‘Where are you? At least tell me when you'll be home.’
No reply. Another minute passed. Still nothing. Sukuna let out a frustrated sigh before slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"She's busy."
He gestured towards the food.
"I brought food. Eat."
The three of them sat down in silence. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere, Sukuna finally spoke.
"What did you two do over the weekend, brats?"
"Nothing much," Yuji answered quietly. "Just hung out with friends."
Normally he would've rambled for another five minutes after that. But today he spoke nothing else. Sukuna glanced towards Choso.
"And you?"
"...Same."
Another silence settled over the table before Choso quietly looked down at the pasta in front of him.
"...She makes this much better."
Yuji nodded in agreement. Sukuna rolled his eyes, already about to make some sarcastic remark, when his gaze drifted towards the fireplace.
He paused.
"...Where did that picture go?"
Yuji looked over. "Oh."
"She said it was getting old. She must have taken it down to replace it."
Sukuna frowned. Old? You loved that picture. You had always gone on about how it was your favorite one in the house. Now the wall looked very empty. For some reason, it bothered him more than it should have.
"When did she say that?"
Yuji thought for a second.
"...Thursday morning."
Choso quietly added. "That was the last time we talked to her."
Something heavy settled in Sukuna's chest.
"Did..." Yuji hesitated before asking quietly, "...did you guys fight?"
Choso glanced towards him before adding,
"...She didn't look okay that day."
Sukuna frowned.
"...You're telling me she didn't call either of you the entire weekend?"
Both brothers slowly shook their heads.
That wasn't like you. No matter how bad things got between the two of you, you never dragged Yuji or Choso into it. You always made sure they were okay, especially whenever they stayed somewhere else. You always checked if they had eaten, if they reached safely, if they needed anything.
So why...
"I'll fix it."
It came out more like a promise to himself than to anyone else. He stood up, phone already in his hand, sending you another message.
Call me when you're free
Then he sat back down, staring at the screen as if somehow that would make it ring faster. A few minutes later, it finally did. Sukuna answered the phone almost immediately.
"What do you want?"
He frowned at your detached tone. It was cold. Polite. Like he was talking to a stranger. He deserved that much. Honestly, at this point he wasn't even sure what exactly you were still mad about anymore. Somewhere along the way, every fight had blurred into the next until he couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
"Look..." he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, alright?"
"Okay."
The reply came so quickly it almost caught him off guard. No arguing. No sarcasm. No telling him to go to hell.
Just ‘Okay’ Somehow, that felt worse. He continued anyway.
"Please just come home so we can sort this out."
There was a long pause. Long enough for him to wonder whether the call had disconnected. Then he heard you sigh as you realised he still hadn't noticed it yet.
"Sukuna..."
Your voice was calm. Too calm.
"I'm not coming back."
He frowned.
"What do you mean?...Are you staying at Shoko's? Just tell me where you are."
He assumed just like every other time, you will still stay. Maybe not happily, but you always did. Even when you were furious. Somewhere deep down, he had always known why.
Yuji.
Choso.
No matter how angry you were with him, you never let it affect them. But this time was different. And he was yet to realise it.
"Sukuna..." You took a slow breath before saying the words that had been sitting on your chest for days.
"I moved out."
Silence. You could hear his breathing. Nothing else. It was almost like his brain had refused to process what you had just said.
"...What?"
"I moved out."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped, his voice suddenly rising. "I get that you're mad, but don't fucking joke like this."
You leaned your head back against your office chair, closing your eyes for a moment. You already knew he wasn't going to make this easy. Not because he loved you. Because you had become a habit. And habits were hard to break.
"I already moved out," you repeated quietly. "Three days ago."
Sukuna slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes wandered around the room. For the first time he actually looked.
Your desk. Gone.
The chair you always curled up in while reading. Gone.
Your books. Gone.
The little decorations you insisted made the room feel warmer. Gone.
It was so subtle that he hadn't noticed before. Now it looked like you had never lived there at all. His breathing became uneven. His hand started trembling as he stood up and walked towards the wardrobe. He pulled the door open.
Almost empty.
Only the expensive things he had bought you over the years were still hanging inside. His chest tightened painfully. Suddenly it felt too real.
"B-Baby..." His voice cracked for the first time. "Where are you?"
You stayed silent. He swallowed hard.
"Please." The word came out so quietly you almost didn't hear it.
"Think about Choso." Another pause. "...about Yuji."
Your voice remained calm. "They'll still have you... and that's enough. I know you'll all be alright."
Something inside Sukuna snapped. "NO!"
His voice echoed through the bedroom.
"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT!"
His breathing had become ragged.
"YOU DON'T GET TO JUST LEAVE AND TELL ME WE'LL BE OKAY WHEN YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WE WON'T!"
For the first time since the call had started, anger finally surged through you. How dare he. How dare he act like this now? Like none of this had been his fault? A quiet, bitter chuckle escaped your lips.
"You were doing just fine all this time," you replied softly. "Even when I wasn't."
He froze.
"So why pretend now?" Your voice cracked just slightly. "Why are you acting like we weren't already over?"
A tear slipped down his face before he even realized it was there. He knew things had gotten bad. He knew the two of you had been fighting more than either of you were smiling lately. Every misunderstanding seemed to turn into another argument, every conversation into another disappointment. But somewhere, somehow, he had convinced himself that no matter how ugly things got...
You would still be there. He had taken that for granted.
"But..." His voice broke. "You can't just leave. We are family. You don;t get to do this" He didn't even know what he was saying anymore. "We have to at least try. We can fix this." He shook his head desperately, like if he refused to accept it hard enough, everything would somehow go back to normal. "Please... just give me one more chance. I swear I'll -"
You had heard it before. You had done this dance before. It always ended the same way. A few days of trying. A few promises. Then work took over again, another misunderstanding happened, and before you knew it, you were right back where you started. Now you couldn't believe him anymore. Not even if a part of you wanted to.
"Check your bedside drawer," you said quietly. "I left you something."
Your voice was so calm that it scared him. With trembling hands, he walked over to the bedside table. Somewhere deep down he already knew as he slowly pulled the drawer open.
His breath caught. There it was. Your ruby ring.
The one he had spent months saving for after landing his first major client. He still remembered how nervous he had been handing it to you, promising that one day he'd replace it with a real engagement ring. He remembered how brightly you had smiled, teasing him that he had somehow managed to remember your favorite gemstone. Now it was lying alone inside the drawer.
Returned.
The promise had been returned with it. He understood exactly what you were trying to say. You didn't trust him anymore. You didn't believe in him anymore. You didn't believe in the relationship anymore. His trembling hand held onto the bed as another sob escaped him.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The man who hadn't cried when his parents abandoned them. The man who hadn't cried while working three jobs just to keep food on the table. The man who had built an entire company from nothing with his own hands. Was now crying so hard he could barely breathe.
You had left.
The one person who had stayed beside him when he had absolutely nothing. The one who never looked down on him. The one who made sure Yuji and Choso always smiled. The one who had somehow turned a tiny apartment into a home..
"You..." His voice came out as nothing more than a broken whisper. "...You can't just leave us."
Your eyes filled with tears again. "We don’t belong together anymore, Sukuna. And I've accepted it. You should too."
And before he could say another word, you ended the call.
"No... no..."
His hands shook violently as he called you back. Again and again. Straight to voicemail. He sent a message. No reply. His breathing became more frantic as he looked around the bedroom again.
It wasn't just your clothes. Everything that had belonged to you was gone. Even your favorite blanket. It suddenly looked like no one had ever lived there besides him. Like you had erased yourself from the apartment...And from his life.
A strangled sound escaped his throat before rage exploded through him. He grabbed the chair nearest to him and hurled it across the room. It slammed into the wall, knocking a lamp onto the floor where it shattered instantly. His breathing became heavier. His vision blurred with tears.
He ripped the curtains down with one violent pull before punching the wardrobe hard enough to leave a dent in the wood. Nothing mattered. None of it. Not the penthouse. Not the company. Not the money. None of it meant a damn thing if you weren't there to come home to.
The crashing downstairs was loud enough that Yuji and Choso came running.
"Sukuna!"
"What happened?"
The two brothers stopped dead in the doorway. The room looked like a disaster. Broken glass covered the floor. The chair lay on its side. The curtains had been ripped down.
Their older brother stood in the middle of it all, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face. Neither of them had ever seen him like this. Choso was the first to find his voice.
"...what’s wrong?"
Sukuna slowly turned around. His eyes were red. Broken. Empty.
"She left."
Neither of them moved.
"She's..." His voice cracked again. "...She's not coming back."
The room fell completely silent. Yuji felt the color drain from his face. Choso's heart dropped into his stomach.
What? Why?
Neither of them moved. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was Sukuna's uneven breathing.
"...When?" Yuji finally managed to ask. Sukuna stared blankly ahead.
"Thursday."
Both brothers froze.
"...Thursday?" Choso frowned.
Choso slowly sat down, trying to make sense of it all.
"She..." His voice caught in his throat. "She was saying goodbye."
The family picture. You were not making conversation. You were saying goodbye.
"No..." Yuji whispered, shaking his head. "No... she wouldn't just leave."
He immediately looked towards Sukuna. "You called her back, right?"
Sukuna nodded. "She won't answer."
"Text her."
"I did."
"Call her again then!"
"I HAVE!"
The words echoed through the room before Sukuna immediately looked away, dragging a trembling hand over his face. His voice had become hoarse.
"I don't know where she is."
That sentence hit the two brothers harder than anything else. After everything, he didn't even know where you were. This hadn't been some impulsive decision after another fight.
You had packed. Found another place to live. Taken everything that truly belonged to you. You hadn't left because of one argument. You had been leaving for months. He had simply been too blind to notice.
For years, he had convinced himself that everything he was doing was for you. Ever since college, the only thing on his mind had been becoming someone worthy of standing beside you. You came from a family that could give you almost anything, while he came from nothing. Somewhere along the way, he had convinced himself that if he just worked hard enough, earned enough, became successful enough, then one day he would finally be able to give you the life you deserved.
So he worked. And worked. And worked.
He tolerated investors he couldn't stand, business dinners he hated, and people he would've gladly thrown out if his company wasn't still growing. Every fake smile, every forced conversation, every handshake was another step towards the future he wanted to build with you.
He never as much as thought about anyone else, forget cheating. The women never mattered. Not one of them. They couldn't even compare to you.
To him, they were nothing more than another inconvenience that came with success. He had simply become better at hiding his irritation because losing his temper every time someone flirted with him wasn't an option anymore. The company was still growing. Investors watched everything. One wrong move, one public scene, and years of work could disappear overnight. So instead of barking back the way he used to, he learned to hide it behind subtle gestures, cold stares, short replies, and ending conversations as quickly as possible.
He thought he was protecting your future. Instead he had forgotten to protect your present. He had forgotten to cherish the person he was trying so desperately to build that future for.
The room remained silent.
However Sukuna hadn't been the only one who had changed.
As his company grew, so did the attention around Yuji and Choso. Former classmates who barely acknowledged them when they struggled suddenly wanted to be friends. Some wanted favors. Others simply wanted to be associated with Sukuna's name. There were arguments, fights, and people trying to use them because of who their brother had become. Sukuna quietly handled most of it before it ever reached you.
The brothers stopped coming to you with every little problem. Not because they stopped thinking of you as family. Because they did not want to bother you even more..
Years ago, they remember overhearing your parents arguing with you, telling you that you spent too much of your life taking care of three boys who weren't even your responsibility. Those words made them realise how much they owed to you.
And without meaning to, they started carrying things on their own. They stopped asking for help. Spent more time outside. Tried to solve their own problems. Tried to become someone you could be proud of instead of another responsibility you had to look after.
Neither of them realized that every small step they took towards becoming independent looked, from where you were standing, like another step away from you. And by the time any of them understood what had happened...
You were already gone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've been busy with this story for a while now. This one might have 1 or 2 more parts. Let me know your thoughts!
How many of you want to see Sukuna yearn for her so badly that he completely loses his mind after realizing what he's lost?
── ♡‧₊˚🍓⋆˚ ꒷꒦ 𝓐 𝕷ittle bit scandalous — but, baby, don't let them see it
˚₊‧꒰ა N. Kento x fem! Reader.ᐟ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
⋆˚꩜｡ summary: You hadn't assumed that the day Kento had packed his bags and left under the guise of having far too little time for you, and the strenuous working hours, that you'd ever see him again. But here he was, agonised and longing parted by the crowd in the vain art gallery. Even when your hands are entwined with Satoru's, why do you still feel the urge to be close to your ex-lover? | ⋆˚꩜｡ wc: 7.7K
⋆˚꩜｡ warnings/tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Infidelity, dysfunctional relationships, exes with unresolved feelings, religious metaphors, yearning final boss Nanami Kento, smut, eyefucking, sexual tension, wall sex, fingering, overstimulation, praise, a bit of nipple play, desperate sneaky link Kento :P
✮⋆🎧✮.ᐟ recommended listening: Into You, by Ariane Grande
“My l – love—” There was nothing restrained or dignified about how your lover’s (ex-lover? You were a bit too preoccupied to dish out the exact semantics of the title) voice broke in the crook of your neck.
Times exactly like these had you thanking the strength of his toned arms, currently wrapped around your waist to gently cradle you in his embrace, with your legs wrapped tightly around his torso, keeping you safe from the hard wall behind you.
You rocked back against him, using the strength of your legs to steer him deeper with every thrust, and Kento was just as easily swayed. You were his weakness, after all.
Litanies of your name left him in desperate whimpers, “Darling— oh. F-fuck — darling. Darling. Darling—”
Your body dragged along with him at every intrusion and escape, your face tucked on his shoulder. There was no correlation whatsoever in how he held you and how his pace was wrecking you so beautifully. Because both his arms carried you so softly, even when you were moaning out incoherent syllables of what was supposed to be his name.
So gentle, even at this moment of tempestuous lust. Why had you ever thought of leaving him?
There has got to be some explanation of how you ended up here, yes?
Well, the problem was you, for sure. It couldn't have been Satoru; that sounded far-fetched. The man had been nothing short of accommodating and weirdly sweet despite all his vexing mannerisms; he had accepted you, issues and doubts and all.
‘We can make it work, sweetheart,’ had been his go-to answer when any task you faltered in undertaking, as thoughts of calloused palms and blonde strands of hair clouded your clarity. Sometimes, you felt like Satoru kept you around for the sake of it, to keep the memory of your sister present, after they had broken up and she left to go west to never see him ever again. Maybe you were far too familiar for him to let go, and maybe he was far too distracting for you to let go of that false security of everything being right again.
Satoru had his faults, but you couldn’t deny that he was sweet, enthusiastic, and always gave in to your whims — heavens, he had been your plus one to this godforsaken art gallery exhibition in the first place. Even though you had bought the tickets months before to go with a different man- the man whose idea it was to go to an exhibition, the man for whom you had planned this day to its very last minute; very unfortunate that the split happened and splintered any chance for you to bring your workaholic ex-lover to the event you had wanted to go to for months.
But Satoru had gone with you, together.
Beyond the cameras at the gate, the exhibition was small, and sublime, serene even. The pieces were wonderful, and besides taking a few pictures or looking at the details of the auction, Satoru didn’t have much to say about the art pieces. Rather, his eyes were affixed on you. Baby Blues took in every detail of you, from your shoulders to your waist, head to toe; he was steadfast in his gaze and touch. Satoru’s arm was firm, pulling you close by his side, as if you were the main attraction of the event, and the people should have been looking at you rather than the work that the wall showcased.
The attention almost made you feel guilty, affronted at your own disregard and distraction. Admittedly, you were not staring at the paintings either. Not after the scent of cologne had crowded your senses, the one you were sure you had thrown out rather angrily from your penthouse that you now shared with Satoru. Your distraction led you to agitatedly whirl your head in the direction of the intoxicating scent, your senses enthralled — sight and smell, both — because you caught just a sliver of blonde hair in the crowd, before you lost the person.
“Something wrong, sweets?” Satoru asked, tucking your bangs behind your ear from the confines they had escaped.
You fought the urge to bat his hands away, the smooth skin of his palm still a surprise to you whenever they caressed your skin, for you were ever so familiar with rough callouses, and you exhaled, giving an unsteady smile, “No, I just…” He didn’t notice the cracks in your facade. “I thought I knew the person.”
“No.” Your voice was brittle, “I didn’t.”
“Did you?”
Depends, was it who you thought it was? You traced a path up to the place the man had gone to, and then to the mezzanine of the establishment… just a sign, that’s all you needed. A sign that it was the lost complementary pattern of the tapestry of your desires. But…
Satoru paid no mind to that, or well, he just wasn’t that attuned to you to notice. Instead, he asked, “Drinks?” he kissed your cheeks, a smattering of highlighter glittering on his lips when he broke apart, “There is a champagne fountain, and some really excellent sets. Vintage, from what I caught.”
You saw Satoru get lost in the crowd, and somewhere you knew that was the fate of your relationship, too. It was sweet — and maybe if you deluded yourself into the touch of his eager fingers and gushing voice, you could lull yourself into the gilded cage of a love you never wanted from the very start. You felt bad for him and rage at yourself. You were miserable, and you were dooming a charming bachelor to your blight, too. Satoru didn’t deserve this unreciprocated attachment, but neither did you. What you needed was—
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I’ll get a Coke Zero or something, in a flute to fit with the aesthetic.” He winked, and you laughed softly, “Sure.” You required a little getaway from the overwhelming sensation of his proximity anyway. After all, these were the small mercies you wanted to earn for yourself, considering the numerous times you had begged Satoru for a split that would never come.
There was that whiff again. Ambergris and Saffron.
You knew that.
You knew it was him; you knew because you had spent evenings with him while he perfected desserts in the kitchen, adding little flecks of saffron that you said suited him so well—
You whipped your head in the direction of the scent at a speed that nearly undid your hair updo. And—
There he was.
Knowing, silent, and oh, so stunning.
You used to joke that in the right lighting, his hazel eyes could easily be mistaken for honey, a hyperbole that was meant to symbolise why you loved calling him honey.
But today? Today, it felt anything but a joke, because Nanami Kento’s honeyed gaze was on you and you alone. Wide, apologetic and longing so deeply rooted you felt the weight from across the hall, him on the first floor, and you on the ground, separated by glittering chandeliers and the huge chasm of people in love around you. The distance amplified what you didn’t have.
It was a surprise to no one that Kento had been at the event too. He could never pull his orbit away from the gravity of your force, just like you could not either. And Satoru had accompanied you, practically depositing you at the altar of Kento's shrine of longing and wanting his hazel eyes kept hidden — but how could they hide it from you?
Before you could say anything, not that he would hear you from such a distance, he turned and stepped towards a darkened corridor beside the mezzanine’s balcony. Naturally, your instinct told you to follow him, and you took a step, steeling yourself to move and pursue him, but an arm around your waist stopped you. Right. Satoru.
“Your wine, M’Lady.”
At this moment, you could not care less about the goddamn wine.
“Right, yeah, can you keep this with you? I need a little breather,” you pointed at the corridor, “I’m… stepping away for a bit.”
The smallest of frowns graced Satoru’s pink lips, “You okay, sweetheart?”
Many responses were running in your head with the way he kept pausing you, ranging from negatives to straight-up expletives, but you reigned all of them in to answer with a soft, “Yeah. I just need to be away from the crowd for a little, Toru.”
He softened at the nickname, cupping your cheeks with his free hand to pull you into a kiss, but you stopped him once again, just in time for the announcement to come over about the auction being started.
“Why don’t you go sit and join the auction? I’ll be there in a bit.”
“You sure, sweets?”
Of course not.
“Yes,” you kissed his lips — too soft, too plump, too much, too wrong, all made for a face similar to yours but miles away, gone too far to ever come back in his reach — “I promise.”
That seemed to satisfy him, for he let go of you to join the masses towards the different auction hall, leaving you with the gate open to rush to someone you hoped hadn’t left; you hoped it wasn’t too late.
Your heels clicked obnoxiously on the marble floor, and you didn’t even pause to fix your dress as it caught on the sharp corners of your heels. Up you went on the winding staircase, hair falling loose, messy and falling apart like your composure. Oh god, you hoped he was there. You hoped he hadn’t left—
“My darling.”
At once, every breath you had swallowed in hopes of using it to convey your emotions to the man you had left some minutes ago left you in a gush. In the silence of the empty dark gallery, loud was your heartbeat — so traitorously loud, you almost believed that Kento was hearing it anyway.
A bare few footsteps away stood the man who had already once left you, speaking to you in dulcet tones and caramelled syllables like you would fall prey to the sweetness you had never stopped missing since he left.
Kento inched closer, just within your grasp, and the reflex surprised you as much as it did him, for your hand shot out, striking him on his cheeks so sharply that he flinched, holding the side of his face. Despite the sting, no words were on his tongue, only silence, a grim acceptance, a belief that was only finally sliding off of you and onto him that you hadn’t been the only one to make mistakes.
Gently, he stepped closer, and you let him, your chest heaving as you struggled to focus on the dichotomy of the moment, to choose whether to voice your turmoil or the relief of his presence. To chastise him, to rage at him, to be mad at this game he had made of you — or to inch closer yourself, to pull him in your arms, to curl up in his and hold the living, breathing example of just what was missing from your life, an emptiness that no amount of charisma and a facade of sweetness from Satoru could fill. Especially not when it was tailored for the wrong body type.
“You came—”
“Is this a joke to you?” You hissed, “Do you think this is something that fulfils either of us? Sneaking around like this? What do you think of me, Nanami—”
“Darling, please, I — that’s not what you call me—”
“Do you think you can throw a bone, and I’ll come running to fetch that on your command? Is that what you think?”
These words were but a useless placation to nothing else but your heart. Because in this moment, you felt exactly like the grime you were spewing.
How dare he leave and come back with that pathetic look on his face as if he had missed you? How dare he come back now with a lure so strong you could not resist it? How dare he come back with a tender embrace and the strength to hold all your fights and weapons? How dare he come back with such acceptance when he couldn’t fathom the idea of compromise some months ago?
How dare he be so human in front of you?
“No! No— my love, no—” Kento’s voice was a mirror of his heart. You thought of that for ages, and now you were witnessing it once again, watching and feeling it splinter in front of you, just like his eyes beading with tears at your vicious words. Did he know of the pain he had left you in? Did he know of the repercussions of his departure? Did he know that, as easily as he had walked away, Satoru had picked you up just as easily and refused to let go of you to the point you were suffocating in the cloying embrace of his hands?
“Seven months.” You grit out, but you felt the words dissolving on your tongue, replaced with emotions you were sure you had buried, “Seven fucking months, Nanam—”
“Please.” Kento rushed to speak over the syllables of his surname, as if the mere consonants of it were a worse wound than the slap of your hand.
“Darling, please.” He was begging now, and you just looked at him; it was all over, wasn’t it? Tears burned in the back of your eyes, mirroring how Kento’s were ready to spill over, but you pushed them back. Not now, not here. “Please don’t call me that. Anything — please. Just not that.”
Exhaling, he lowered his head, and then — and then Kento was on the floor in front of you, on his knees, his hands braced on your waist, bunching the baby blues of your gown. The colour was a mockery to him too; after how he said the colour never fit you that well, it was like dressing a deity to fit the image of their follower. He had said that the colour on you was like a palette of redundancies.
“It sounds like a curse on your lips when I’m used to you calling me Kento.”
“Well—I was used to many things too, yeah? Get over it. We can’t all have what we want—”
“My love,” his forehead touched your thigh, “Please. Please. You’re hurting me.”
Your eyebrows lifted at his brazen beseech. How dare he? After all, he left you in the wake of — how dare he?
When your fingers threaded his soft hair, you forcefully willed yourself to focus on every other thing than the sheer familiarity of the action, had it been any less vengeful from your anguished palm. You tugged his hair to have him face you. Eyes wide and teary, your ex-lover looked up, every facet of his countenance lined with an apology, an apology far too late to work as a band-aid, only for you to hurl vile syllables at him.
“Oh?” Your lips curled as the words were aimed to be thrown, “It hurts, does it, Kento?”
Eagerly, he nodded, anticipating your comfort, only for you to snarl, “Excellent. I hope you feel a fraction of what I have been going th-through since… since–” For some inane reason, the words lodged in your throat, digging their nails to keep you from lashing out at the man bowed before you. What was cursed was how you still felt the empathy for him in a tender corner of your bruised heart, the tissues unfurled out to accommodate both your and his grief, little trampled petals of hope piled over and over since the day you two had parted.
You took a breath, and then another to soothe the maudlin stream steadily filling your lungs and making it hard for you to let the air in your body. Your chest heaved at the intensity of your inspiration, as did your abdomen, turning the chyme into nauseating bile.
You blinked several times, hoping to clear the mosaic in your vision before it could hinder you in answering Kento’s inquisitive approach. He seemed to have sensed your tumultuous distress, glaringly visible in the subdued lighting, an out-of-place anomaly between lines of paintings etched in the name of love, for this was the romance section.
Kento leaned up as soon as the first sign of distress in the lines of your face. His hand reached out softly, a request to you to allow him back in your proximity, the action that was in tandem with his fretful question, “My darling?” He bent until he was staring up at you, his palm just inches away from your face, your tearful face.
The hypothetical rejection reared its ugly head once more. What if this was just a measly tactic for him to get close once again? What if he were to discard you once his bed was warm enough? Somewhere in a wretched crevice, you realised you didn’t care much for it; any attention was sufficient sustenance to sate your hunger for his fondness of you. You’d take any measly scrap he had to offer — yet.
Yet the suddenness of his approach faltered your stoicism. Much like the continuous flow of water on a creek stone, you regressed too.
“N-no…” you shook your head, and realised that you abhorred your splintering voice about as much as the predicament your enticed heart had put you into, “I c-can’t… don’t—”
“Darling, please.” For the umpteenth time in a mere few minutes, Kento begged for what was a ceaseless litany. Your name, the countless ‘please’s and the incantation of the endearing terms. Just what stone was your heart carved out of for you not to give in, one would wonder. You wanted to wonder too, but the second his eyes met yours — hazel overflowing with a desperation only your lover could ever embody — you felt your apathy fracture.
You bit your lips to stop your trembling lips from spilling out any sob, just to haul Kento up, and up until he was barely any distance from you.
And then you kissed him.
Your teeth clashed along his soft lips, biting and nipping over the flesh like the taste could end your gluttony. It couldn’t and wouldn’t; you knew that. You knew that in every breath you forgo — to pour your anger and grief and waiting into the kiss. Kento took just a second to make sense of his crowded senses, crowded with every bit of you, before he stood up, lips still slotted along yours, only to pull you impossibly closer. Locked in the euphoric closeness, he made a wrecked sound. You couldn’t call it a moan for how close it sounded to his sob, and the taste of salt on your tongue. It may very well be yours, but you weren’t the only one begging the other for rotten flakes of what you once used to call love. The two of you parted for something shy of a moment to gulp in the forgotten air, and in the fleeting second, you saw the trickling tear on your lover’s face.
“Heavens, darling,” Kento mumbled, cupping your face. He was helpless, besotted like a man in love, lured by your orphic desire, “I… oh, fuck it.”
He mumbled the consonants roughly, each syllable tinted with his unadulterated want, the signs of which you knew so, so, well. Of course you did.
Hence why it didn’t surprise you much as Kento picked you up effortlessly, making sure your legs were snug around his torso, before he walked you further back up against the wall of the gallery until you were braced unashamedly in between two paintings.
His palm slid slowly from your cheeks, flitting in a slow catalogue down to your waist, to have you straddling his hips. Your precarious position was an art to Kento, fitting of being pinned amidst the declarations of love, just like he had you immobilised. Flimsy were the satins Satoru had dressed you in, at least with how easily they gave Kento the jurisdiction of gliding. His eyes, however, never left your face. Hazels stayed fixated on you, maddening you with every new touch, gifting you with a feast after you had famished yourself in the cloying ocean of Satoru’s unwanted love.
For a fleeting moment, he didn’t speak or move, content to let your body descend from its adrenaline high of being moved around so suddenly; in the same duration, his breathing slowed from its heaving rush. Kento’s arms were wound around you, one snaked around your waist, the other cupping your cheeks. His warm, flustered breath fanned you, while his lips were parted as he tried to construct words to speak to you. Another beseech, if you had to hazard a guess.
A whiff of a gasp left him when he asked you, the sound bathed in a rejection he was no doubt anticipating, “May I, my love?”
You were so long gone, you’d have let him hike you on his thigh against a much less comfortable stone wall if he had, but in this moment, all you gave him was a small nod, what with how breathless you too were.
Kento needed just that permission to close in on your lips once again, the touch more unhurried, and with it ebbed the barricade of caution his proximity had been privy to. His pace held an unfounded sort of frenzy. He kissed like it was keeping him alive, like you held the answers to his unreceived prayers, like his touch could wipe out his blasphemy and rewrite the scriptures to include him back in your life — and you believed him. You clung to him in that act, kissing back just as resolutely, gnawing at his flesh in search of salvation.
When he pulled back, it was just to search your face for any dejection, any figment of pain — not that he’d find anymore of it, you had bared every bit of the fury already for him to collect in his palm — and when he saw none of it, he leaned close to breathe you in, only to shift the spot of his heady kisses across your cheeks, and neck, your earlobes, down to your neck and along the column of your throat.
Kento whimpered in the skin of your collarbone, peppering little kisses on all the spots he had missed, all the spots that were his favourite to lavish when you two were together.
“I’m sorry—” Kento whispered, “I’m so sorry. So, so, so, so sorry—”
“What for?” You choked out. Never one to be any less of an executioner, you griped to make his injury worse. It was his fault for leaving you, and letting you fester in a mess, and to come back at the one time he should not have, and to gather your broken pieces when you were mending in your own noxious pattern under cerulean gaze.
“For being a fool.” He rasped, nipping at the aflame skin of your shoulder, “For my utter stupidity, my – my insolence of thinking, even for a damn minute, that—that… fuck, darling, you’re. God— that I could ever live without you, exist without you and feel accomplished in life.”
Much like your short-lived rage, your want was quick to act up too, evident in the way your hands clutched his shoulders, scrambling for purchase on his tuxedo.
“Why did you have to go?” The timbre of your sentences wrapped around him; the shake in your usual conviction, and he jerked at the vulnerability in them, not that he hadn’t borne witness to it before, but in this peril, he was terrified of your agony.
“I’m so sorry, my love.” He cupped your cheeks, his thumb caressed your lower lip, the inflamed skin he hadn’t had the honour of touching for dreary long months, “I couldn’t say it enough if I tried.”
Not trusting your voice, you dragged him impossibly closer to you. You wanted every bit of closeness you had died for. What Kento was in your life, painted in passion, the carmines and ichors, how could Satoru’s cerulean and ivory fulfil for you?
It was a mirror to how well he understood you, your untamed desires that you never had to voice out, in how Kento’s hand slowly slid up your thighs, hiking the fabric until it was bunched around your waist. He paused for a second, staring at you in confirmation — one that you gave him once again, kissing him in reply. Tender and gentle, he palmed up to your thighs until his fingers caught on the seam of the satin fabric. Lace-trimmed and whatever, they were an obstruction in his path. His watch touched your heated skin, and the chill of the metal was enough of a drug to cause your blood to rush. You gasped when he ventured further. Was it the fact that you had forgotten what the sensation felt like, or was it the riskiness of the situation in this gallery?
The moment was apt for Kento to press his lips to yours, your breath mingling with his in the heated contact. Open-mouthed and addictive, he whispered as he tugged your satin set down your leg clumsily, “Shhh, darling, I’ve got you.” You nodded in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in to tally your fill from the seven-month absence. His scent was just as tantalising as it used to be, decadent to taste when your lips pressed hot on his neck’s exposed skin. Kento moaned, a sound you had been dying to hear, “Darling, please, don’t—” he exhaled, “If you keep doing that, it’ll be hard for me to hold back.”
You leaned into him languidly, “Then don’t.” He looked up in surprise. “Don’t hold back, Kento, you did that enough all these months.” He gave you another searing kiss, in tandem with the satin being tugged down one of your legs, only to dangle at the ankle of your other leg, hiked around his hips. You tried bracing yourself for what next might happen, but that was your stupidity, for you felt every touch very clearly. Gentle and slow, Kento’s fingers flit up your thighs until they rested carefully along the swollen lips of your slit. He felt the dampness, steadily coating his fingers the longer he just pressed on the spot, and it made him inhale sharply.
You hadn’t been this needy for months, only for your inhibitions to vanish like the space between you two, and you resisted the urge to draw your thighs together if not for the hard planes of Kento’s body standing firm between them.
“Hn— Ken. Kento…” A whine escaped you, almost helpless. Just as helpless as your lover’s slow grinding along your naked flesh through the layers of his clothing. He apologised immediately, “I’m sorry, my love.” Kento nibbled your throat, licking back to soothe the marked spots, “I just. Fuck. You’re stunning. I—I missed you, darling. I missed you so. So much.”
Your whine grows just a tad louder as you feel the callouses on his fingers. Oh, those rough indents that you missed so fucking much. He prodded at your folds, but you were strung taut, tensed to a fault, so instead, Kento inched his thumb to swipe at your clit. Even though the action is gentle, done with utmost care to make you relax for the intrusion of his fingers, you gasped at the suddenness, the sound breaking into a choked cry when his index finger joined to pinch at it sharply, all the while he swallowed your moans with his tender kisses, “Tell me to stop, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to—”
“Don’t. Don’t, Kento—” you shook your head frantically, “D–Don’t stop.”
“I know, my love, I know. Fuck, I know.” He kissed the corner of your lips, “Relax for me, darling; you’re too tense. Breathe in, my love, you’re okay, I have you. I’m not leaving.” Between hurried gasps, you nodded, clutching Kento tighter past the wrinkles on his tuxedo.
Not even a couple of moments to spare, you gasped when his index and middle fingers breached the muscle of your core, and the slick it was dripping; there was no resistance as you yielded to the intrusion. Kento kissed your gasp away, groaning into your mouth when your walls closed snug around his digits. “God. Darling…”
Your chest heaved in the tiny space, sweat beginning to shimmer on your skin. The gallery was cold and empty, but the company you were enclosed in was warm enough to melt the frost, and to blaze the skin that had longed for his touch. Kento took it as an invitation, nothing you’d argue or deny; your body was telling the truth about as much as you were trying to hide it — so perhaps giving up on trying to shield your desires from the man who knew you like the back of his palm was the best for both of you. He bit your lips, soothing the sting with his tongue, and you moaned the consonants of his name in his greedy mouth when his thumb pressed over your clit.
“Darling,” he pulled away to stare at you abashedly, “You’re — fuck. Fuck, my love… you’re–” You whined, how dare he pull away from you, and it was easy enough to wrangle him back in the crook of your neck, not that he was resisting.
“Is this all for me?” He whispered. Unintentionally, you found the uttered words so deeply wanton, devoid of anything pure, that you could only hitch a little gasp.
Kento hiked you further up, reaffirming his grip on your waist, “Come on, darling, let me hear you,” He pleaded, “Is this all for me?” And with the repetition, came the sinful crook of his fingers, grazing the gummy walls that were gushing around his digits. The next nod you gave was fervent, maybe because it was a beseechment to him not to stop his ministrations, for you choked out a needy cry on his shoulder while your nails dug into his back.
“Yes— y-yes! Ken–yes–” How could you have possibly forgotten that your lover could be just as ruthless as he was gentle when he wanted your attention on him?
Now that he had your answer, he eased you slowly, curling and uncurling his fingers, heightening the friction inside you bit by bit. You pulsed around him, and he drank it all, cherished it to perfection with his movement, coaxing your wetness to gather in his palm. You gasped again, one of the many still to come, building up the syllables of his name to let him know he was doing so, so good, but Kento knew the tells already; he only needed your desperate sound as encouragement. “It’s okay, darling, there’s no one here — just– fuck. Just us, my love. Don’t hold back.”
The slick that gathered on your lover’s fingers, he evens that out on his thumb, just so he can spare some attention by circling your swollen clit. The bud aches from the neglect and now the focused attention. As a result, you writhe in Kento’s hold, strained in the waves of agonising overwhelmingness. It’s almost embarrassing, your sounds that seemed to reverberate in the gallery. Kento holds those broken fragments too, with your composure and reverence.
Your feet kicked up when his fingers picked up the pace, an uncanny rhythm of a few shallow thrusts, where he pulled back to the tips of his fingers, and just when you would assume you had reprieve, he would ram deep beyond his knuckles to the one spot that made your toes curl in your expensive heels.
Kento built up your pleasure steadily, taking his sweet time until your mind felt all scrambled from the constant stimulation. He kissed you in all the right spots, licked every place he had helplessly bitten, sucked hickeys in every secret corner of your body he always liked to touch and trace. And just like that, his tempo remained perfect too. Your body flushed slowly — rising to that high with every movement, every angle he aimed — heat spreading from the base of your neck to the tips of your fingers, buried in his hair, mussing the blond strands to your liking.
And just with that rise, your moans and whimpers became uninhibited too. Where they had been hidden and choked at first, now that you could hear the dampness of your core under the reverberating sounds of your gasps, your control had slipped. Every other thought had left your head languidly, leaving your senses engulfed with the enormity of what was unspoken between you; the sin, the forbiddenness, the gluttony.
“Kento, Ken–Kento, Kento—”
“Shhh,” He kissed the words away, interrupting your spiralling sounds to keep you intoxicated at the motions he was painting between your legs. “I have you, darling; just focus on this–” He crooked his fingers and angled them to your sweet spot, which, of course, how could he forget. You cried out a garbled sound of his name, “Just focus on me.”
How could you tell him that you were trying? Trying to focus on him, but it was he who was making it so very difficult for you to focus on him. Your legs were shaking, hitched uselessly around Kento’s torso, and with the way the stimulation kept you centred on the feeling of his fingers scissoring you to a rapidly approaching orgasm, you couldn’t pinpoint if your heels were still on your feet.
The release drew closer, and Kento pressed you further against the wall. There was a painting of a Geisha and Samurai behind you. Dressed in almost the same shade of pearlescent blue, the Geisha was a mirror to your trussed figure on the wall.
“I hate this colour on you,” Kento whispered over your lips, speaking in tandem to your stuttering gasps, “Abhor it.” You were panting; the sweat was cooling on your skin, making the stickiness all the more potent because your lover was licking the skin on display for him. He hooked his thumb, and you felt the satin give way in his palm to glide up further, exposing the goosebumps on the tender skin.
“This colour washes you out, pales you,” he mumbled, affront in the words like the fabric had personally insulted him, “You don’t deserve these superfluous palettes, darling.” He let the fabric go, and it collected in a heap over your taut thighs. Kento palmed your breast with his free hand, and thumbed your pebbled nipple over the fabric. You gasped at the contact. The friction of the cloth had been heady enough, and now that he was actively stimulating it, you felt electrified. Your entire body had grown sensitive in these few minutes, strung tight; you were ready to let go, but Kento was drawing it out. He was prolonging the sensation you were drowning in, slowing down his fingers just enough for you to still feel the action but not tip over.
He cupped your cheeks when you whined, kissing you messily; tongue and teeth clashed with how disoriented both of you were.
When you pulled away, his gaze was on you. Reverence overflowed from those hazel eyes, despite how hooded they were, blown from the lust, and you could imagine it was somewhat how he had only now found you back in his arms, as well.
“I’d dress you in a different palette, my love,” he brushed your hair away from your face, as his words came with his lips pressing countless featherlight kisses on your cheeks, “You’d be royalty if I had any say in what I wanted you to wear.”
You had a rebuttal for that, something along the lines of how one does not merely give up on a royalty and run back only when it was convenient, but you were not lucid enough to answer that, for you were lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure. Kento didn’t make you wait now that you were close to your climax, seeing as his fingers crooked to the other sweet spot, aiming every thrust with terrifying accuracy. It made you arch away from him, a cry on your lips, and a couple of whimpers in between. None of it made sense to your uncaring ears, nor to him, for he just hugged you closer, not even minding that you would make a mess of his undone tuxedo.
“Let go for me, darling,” he cooed, kissing your ears while you buried your face in the crook of his neck, “Come for me, my love, I’ve got you, my wife.”
Your eyes widened, momentarily pushing you into lucidity at his proclamation, “Ken—what–?”
“Shhh.” He didn’t let you question it, the belief of his, a conviction so realistic you felt yourself clench around his fingers. You didn’t mind the visual of that idea. “It’s okay, you’re here now, yes? What kind of a husband would I be if I let my wife feel unsatisfied?”
You opened your mouth to protest, to ask, to share your concern — that you were not his wife, yet — but Kento was unbothered, fierce in how he wanted you to focus on nothing but the pleasure, and just with that in mind, his thumb pressed firmly over your clit, running in tight circles that rendered your mind blank. The coil in your belly snapped, and tingling heat spread through your body.
“F–fuck. Kento. Ken— ah!” His hand slid up to pull your face up to his level. With your lips parted in a soundless gasp and a tearful moan, he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you as you came, his fingers slowing down in their rushed pace inside you.
“That’s my wife,” he praised, kissing away the tears that had fallen unknowingly. “You did so well for me, darling.”
You gulped in deep breaths, slowing down from the high of the climax, and Kento pressed you closer to him, his knee gently replacing his fingers to press over your core. You mewled when he grinded over the pulsing slit.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Kento comforted in the midst of pressing kisses on your forehead and hair, “Just one more for me, darling—”
You weren’t sure if you’d be able to take another strenuous release under his expert stimulation, and it seemed like your apprehension was visible on your face, hooded eyes cautious with the way he still had more in mind for you.
“I know you can. For me, please?” He pleaded, eyes wide and beseeching. The request felt so undiluted that you couldn’t help but give in, nodding tiredly.
“Fuck. Thank you, thank you so much, darling.” He kissed you for the umpteenth time that night, on your lips and then your eyes.
Had you been any more tired, you would have missed the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, but you weren’t. After seven months, the familiar sound was near addictive; you heard the clinks and felt the tingle low in your belly and a simmer in your heart. You didn’t see it, or notice how hard Kento had been until he pressed against you. The sensation was heady, evident in the way you inhaled sharply, “Kento— I don’t think… I can’t—”
“You can, darling,” he assured you, honeyed and promising. “You always could, remember?”
Of course you did, but those days had been lost seven months ago; now you were accustomed to Satoru, and it wasn’t the real deal — you were allowed to feel unsure of this step.
“It’s okay, close your eyes,” He kissed your hair, hauling you up and pulling your hands until they were tousled in his hair, “Let me take care of you, please.”
You didn’t know why he was pleading; you were pliant to his touch anyway.
He hissed when the tip of his length caught on your slit, the sound drowning the squelch of your entrance and your moan, “Fuck… Gods, darling.” The intrusion felt foreign to your body after all this time, and instinctively, you tightened before he could slide past the entrance. Yet, Kento tried — he had, after all, stretched you enough to at least accommodate his tip — but it yielded nothing but a ragged cry from you at the stretch.
“Shh, shh, shh, darling, darling— you’re tense. Please. Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Kento whispered to your curled body, practically in his arms, “I missed you… Please, I wanna feel you again.” He begged, needy and desperate. Kento’s fingers joined just a moment later, flicking the nub of your clit to loosen up the tense ring he was working open. You keened at the touch, oversensitivity bleeding into overstimulation.
“I c-can’t— Kento, Kento— I can’t—”
“You can, I know you can, darling, just. Just relax. I’m here, no?” Calloused fingers cupped your cheeks tenderly, “Please, my wife? Just focus on me.”
And somehow, that was all it took for you to loosen up, and in one quick move, he pushed all the way in, stretching you beyond measure on his veiny girth.
Your hips canted, in tandem to your cry, which was again a version of his name.
“There you are, my l-love. Fuu—ck. Fuck, gods. You feel so perfect.” The praise fell so easily from his lips, “I knew you could, darling.”
He waited for a couple of seconds, letting you adjust to the stretch and fullness before he started moving. Almost immediately, your face flushed at the lewd sounds you could hear. You were dripping around him to the point it was solely enough lubrication on its own, coupled with the way Kento kept pushing in and pulling out — you were glad that the gallery was deserted. Any visitor and it would be a humiliation ritual of how obscenely your body gave in to Kento’s persistent passion.
You gasped each time he pushed in after pulling out. Every draw out burned, and every thrust back left you reeling at how good it felt. The familiarity was back, the knowledge that he knew how to bend your release to his own rhythm was overpowering. He knew you so well, conforming the pleasure to your mindless moaning until all that left you too, keeping you nothing but in the delirious state of stuttering out little puffs of hair as he fucked you along the wall. The paintings were witnessing the desecration. Perhaps the subject could understand why this was a need for you; maybe they would believe your situation and forgive your transgression. The man in the auction below could never know you the way your yearning lover did. He didn’t need any words to know when and what you were feeling — your anger, your grief, your lust. He knew it all to the blasted fragments of it.
His hips rung against your thighs, only barely muffled by the fabrics that were rumpled and ruined with your collective slick now. The feeling in your belly heightened, tightening to the knot that you knew would give way soon enough.
“Ken—” you tried, wiling your nails that were digging in his back to give him an indication that you were close again, “Kento, I’m—”
“I know— hn– fuck. I know, darling.” He groaned, the syllables broke into a whimper, needy and wanton; your Kento was not the paragon of purity either, drowning in your essence and longing, “Fuck, I need you– t-to. My love, oh my god. Fuck. I need you to come with me.” He gasped out, and you nodded, helpless to his lure. Kento’s thumb found your clit again, and he resumed the same maddening circles round the swollen flesh, tender and sensitive. You clenched around him, sobbing out the sounds that one could easily mistake for pain. You knew, and Kento knew that it was nothing but pleasure and gratification, the relief that you had him back and he had you back.
You arched up against him, and he kissed your aflame collarbone, and slowly drew up, pressing kisses until he captured your lips searingly.
His pace faltered, becoming uneven along with your own toes curling behind him.
“Darling—” He moaned in your mouth, one that you drank greedily, and then you both were coming hard. You clenched around him, and he spilled deep inside you with a hiss.
You two stayed in the same precarious position, head in each other’s necks, breathing in the stench of the sin that you had just committed.
“Don’t leave,” he murmured, “Please don’t go, darling, please. Please stay. I want you back, I want you, I love you, please, please, please—” Until it broke into a sob.
Your heart felt heavy at that moment. You didn’t want to go; you wanted to stay.
“I won’t.” You promised. What else was there to say? It was Satoru who had to hear the ugly truth; it was Satoru who had to understand that there were three in this relationship, and it was getting crowded. It was Satoru who had to hear a goodbye once again.
“I don’t know what I’ll tell him.” You said over the sounds of your slowing heartbeat.
“You don’t have to, darling; I can,” Kento assured you, but you still felt that unease. He stopped you with his soft touch, lowering you gently to the floor with a hand around your waist for your unsteady legs. He helped pull up your panties and straighten your dress. The strap that had slipped off by Kento’s then callous fingers, he now helped arrange it back into place with unbearable gentleness.
“Every day I woke up after I left, the bed felt too big, the house felt too quiet. There was no colour left.” He spoke in sad little sounds, “I wish I didn’t have to be that arrogant fool who only realised what their lovers meant to them after they left, but I’m not that.”
He looked at you and cupped your cheeks, brushing the stray tears of overstimulation away from your face, “I’m human, and I make mistakes, but I love you. I know I will stay this time, forever. In sickness and in health, in all the highs and the lows, I’ll be there.” The words went on when you didn’t interrupt, “I know I’m asking for too much, darling, but please, give me a chance, let me prove myself to you, let me prove that I’m yours till the end of time. Please.”
Kento walked beside you towards the exit, an arm around your waist, when your eyes fell on the painting once more.
The Geisha still looked stunning in her dress, but it was the Samurai whose eyes found hers, fixated on the woman like she was the entire religion he had devoted himself to.
Best friend Satoru has started dating but why does it bother you so much?
Part-6 | Masterlist - Play this!
Back when you and Satoru were eight years old, the teenage years of your life still seemed impossibly far away, and everything about the world felt simpler than it would later become. Every summer, just as reliably as the seasons changed, both you and Satoru would make their way to the outskirts of Tokyo, where Satoru’s grandmother lived in a quiet little house surrounded by fields, narrow roads, fruit trees, and enough flowers to make the entire place smell sweet by evening. She had never been particularly fond of the lavish lifestyle
Satoru’s family was accustomed to, and after her husband passed away, she had chosen to live a quieter life away from the noise of the city. She loved growing her own vegetables, tending to her flowers, picking fruit from the trees in the morning, and sitting outside with a cup of tea while the breeze moved through the fields. She would always say that there was something about the countryside that made a person remember who they really were, although eight-year-old you had mostly been interested in finding out how many strawberries you could eat before she noticed that she was short on them for making dessert.
There were always neighborhood children around during those summers, and one boy in particular seemed to appear wherever you went. His name was Rintaro, and Satoru already knew him from previous summers, having played with him whenever he visited his grandmother.
You barely remembered him from the years before, but that changed rather quickly when you were eight. Rintaro was around more often that summer, and whenever Satoru was helping his grandmother with something, you would wander off and play with him. It was completely innocent to you. You were eight, after all. You climbed trees, chased butterflies, played stupid games with sticks, and argued about which one of you could run faster. You never thought there was anything remotely suspicious about it, but Satoru apparently had a very different interpretation of the situation.
The thing with Satoru is that he noticed each and every thing or detail about your life and you simply didn't have any sort of clue about it.
One afternoon, Satoru had been outside helping his grandmother carry baskets of vegetables from the garden, while you were sitting on the grass with Rintaro, attempting to build something that vaguely resembled a miniature house out of twigs and feathers. By the time Satoru came back inside, you were laughing about something Rintaro had said, and the moment his big blue eyes landed on you, his expression changed. He didn’t say anything at first, but you knew him well enough to recognize the pout forming on his cute little face. You looked up at him with a grin, completely aware that you were about to make his afternoon considerably worse.
“What?” you asked.
“Wha-nothing!” he shrugged.
“You look angry....Toru, are you tired?"
“NO! Just a little sleepy is all.”
You glanced at his face, the pout was still there and so was the irritation in his tone “Okay...hey! Look we made this house.”
“Together? It doesn't even look like a house, a light blow will break it, just like that, besides...it looks hideous".
You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before the most mischievous smile spread across your face. “Hideous? Rintaro likes it...maybe he is my best friend now.”
Satoru’s head snapped toward you so quickly that you almost laughed.
“WHAT? No, he's not.”
You blinked “No?”
“No.”
“But... Rintaro is always kind so why?”
“Because I AM your best friend.”
You burst out laughing, which only seemed to make him more offended. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his face away from you with the dramatic dignity of a child who had just suffered the greatest betrayal imaginable. “You can’t just replace me.”
“I didn’t replace you Toru"
“You just said that he is your best friend.”
“I said maybeeeee”
“Same thing.”
“Uhhh, no it 's not.”
And then, because eight-year-old Satoru Gojo apparently possessed the emotional maturity of a particularly antsy cat, he stopped talking to you entirely. He wandered into the living room where his grandmother had just placed a large plate of freshly cut watermelon on the table for the two of you, stared at it for several seconds, and then picked up the entire plate.
You watched him in disbelief.
“Hey! Where are you going with that?” He didn’t even look back. “These are for my best friend.”
You frowned. “But I’m your best friend.”
“I’ll make a new one.” Your mouth fell open, you suddenly struggling for a comeback for a mess that you created.
“You can’t do that.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I AM your best friend.”
He finally turned around, the most smug little expression appearing on his face. “Then don’t have another one.”
You huffed, puffing your cheeks out as you crossed your arms, while Satoru walked away with the watermelon like he’d just won some enormous game. At the time, neither of you understood what was actually happening. You only knew that Satoru hated the idea of someone else becoming important to you, and apparently that was enough to make him steal an entire plate of watermelon.
Growing up, it would happen again, and again, and again.
As you grew older, the circumstances changed, but Satoru’s jealousy never really disappeared. He never minded you having friends, no...not really. He understood that you needed people outside of him, and he never wanted to become the kind of person who controlled who you spoke to or where you went. But there was a very specific point at which his patience seemed to vanish, and that was whenever someone began taking up too much of your attention.
If you started sitting beside someone else at lunch too often, Satoru would suddenly find a reason to sit beside you. If you began spending more time with somebody after school, he’d conveniently appear with some ridiculous excuse about needing your help. If you laughed too hard at somebody else’s jokes, he’d casually show up leaning his weight with his hand on your shoulder and would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to make you laugh harder..."Bro- that guy was so lame, I feel bad for you having to laugh at those lukewarm jokes" He never admitted what he was doing, and you never called him out on it because, at that age, you simply thought it was another strange part of being best friends.
The funny thing was that Satoru didn’t seem to care nearly as much when he was the one making new friends. He could spend hours with people without giving it a second thought, and you rarely felt the need to interfere. You trusted him completely. Besides, whenever he started getting close to somebody new, you didn’t want to become the nosy female best friend who suddenly demanded all of his attention. You wanted him to have his own life.
Well, congratulations because you are that nosy female best friend now but there was one thing you noticed as you grew older.
The jealousy changed when dating entered the picture for him. Friendship was one thing, romance was another and somewhere along the way, you began realizing that you were jealous too.
It started on a random day. You would see a girl laughing with Satoru and feel something uncomfortable twist inside your stomach. You would hear someone mention that he had been talking to somebody after class and suddenly find yourself wondering who she was, what she looked like, whether she was prettier than you, and why you cared so much. You would watch girls approach him simply because he had grown into that ridiculous combination of tall, broad, handsome, and unfairly beautiful, and you would pretend you didn’t notice when they flirted with him.
You noticed.
Now, the thing is that you too seemed to notice each and every thing about Satoru, it's just that he wasn't aware as well.
And that realization became harder to ignore because you’d dated other people by then. You had gone out with handsome guys, funny guys, popular guys, athletic guys, guys who were taller than you and guys who were more muscular than Satoru, but somehow none of them ever made you feel what white haired, blue-eyed freak would.
It didn’t matter how attractive they were.
They weren’t him.
They weren’t the nerdy boy who used to steal watermelon and pout when you played with someone else. They weren’t the boy who had sat beside you in that tiny treehouse while the rain poured outside. They weren’t the boy whose terrible jokes could still make you laugh when you were in the worst mood imaginable. They weren’t the person whose presence had become so deeply embedded in your life that sometimes you didn’t even realize you were looking for him until you couldn’t find him.
And Satoru was beautiful.
There was absolutely no point pretending otherwise.
You weren’t some innocent monk, some sheltered girl who had never noticed attraction before. You were human, sometimes a vile one at that...but still human. You could be petty, jealous, angry, possessive, hurt, unreasonable, and occasionally downright spiteful. You could recognize when somebody was attractive, and you could certainly recognize what Satoru had grown into.
You simply had never wanted anyone the way you wanted him and the thought of it being too late for you was eating you from inside.
The realization came almost reluctantly, but once it settled inside you, there was no unknowing it, no stopping it from taking form. Perhaps that was why the party had affected you so so badly.
Because you had spent years watching Satoru get jealous over you while convincing yourself it meant nothing. You had watched him pull you closer in crowded streets, rest his head on your shoulder, find excuses to sit beside you, flirt with you just enough to make your heart stumble, and then act as though none of it had happened.
You had never been certain whether he meant any of it.
But that night, watching him sit beside Utahime for hours, watching him laugh with her and give her all the attention you had become accustomed to receiving, something inside you had finally snapped.
And then there was Sukuna.
Sukuna, of all people...
He was the kind of person Satoru had always hated. The kind of person whose reputation preceded him, the kind of person who could walk into a room and make everyone instinctively look his way. He was confident, intimidating, attractive, and completely aware of the effect he had on girls.
More importantly, Satoru hated the man's guts. That was all you needed to know. You didn’t have to say it aloud. You didn’t even have to think about it for very long.
Sukuna was the key.
If Satoru wanted to spend the entire night making you feel replaceable, then perhaps you could remind him that you were perfectly capable of making him feel the exact same way. Maybe it was childish, maybe it was cruel, or maybe it was the worst possible decision you could have made.
But sitting there that night, watching Satoru’s eyes follow you while you sat on Sukuna’s lap, you realized something that frightened you more than the jealousy itself.
You didn’t just want Satoru to notice. You wanted him to hurt, just like you were and deep inside, beneath all the anger and alcohol and wounded pride, you wanted to know whether seeing you with someone else would finally make him feel what you had been feeling all along.
-
The restaurant had been almost offensively romantic, which was probably why Sukuna must have chosen it. Warm amber lights hung low above the tables, soft music played somewhere beneath the murmur of conversations, and every few minutes a server would pass by carrying plates that looked far too beautiful to eat. Sukuna sat across from you with one arm resting lazily beside his plate, occasionally reaching over to steal something from yours despite having ordered the exact same dish for himself, and you had to admit that the date was going far better than it had any right to.
He was attentive without being overbearing, funny without trying too hard, and, much to your annoyance, remarkably good at making you forget why you had agreed to come here in the first place. You had spent the first half of dinner telling yourself that this was nothing more than a game, that you were simply borrowing Sukuna’s presence to make a certain white-haired idiot jealous, but somewhere between sharing dessert and arguing over which of you had chosen the better appetizer, you found yourself actually laughing at his jokes.
Then your phone buzzed against the table, and you glanced at it before remembering the real reason you had been so eager to make this date public. You looked at Sukuna’s hand resting beside yours, then at his face, and with the most innocent expression you could manage, you reached across the table and intertwined your fingers with his. Sukuna looked down at your hands, then up at you, one eyebrow rising in silent amusement. “You’re planning something,” he said, and you smiled as you lifted your phone.
“Nouuuu, I’m taking a picture...Kuna”
“That’s not what I asked, pretty."
Wait...was he getting jealous?
“Hey— I just like to post updates on my profile.” He gave a low laugh but didn’t move his hand, and you quickly snapped the picture, making sure his fingers and his gorgeous rings were clearly intertwined with yours, before uploading it to your Instagram story with the simplest caption you could think of: getting to know him. You stared at it for half a second before locking your phone, and something wickedly satisfied curled inside your chest, blooming into the silent victory of getting to his nerves...because you knew Satoru. You knew him better than you knew most people, perhaps better than you knew yourself most times, and you knew there was absolutely no chance that blocking him had actually stopped him from seeing your life. Somewhere, somehow, there would be a fake account, a second account, a friend’s account, perhaps even some ridiculous anonymous account with a profile picture of a golden retriever and three followers, and he would find your story.
You knew because you too had a fake account to stalk him.
What you didn’t know was that Satoru had already been playing the same damn game. He had seen the story within minutes, stared at the picture for far longer than he wanted to admit, zoomed it to make sure it was your pretty fingers. Oh! so she matched her nail paint with his dick's eyes, cool. He then laughed once under his breath because, of course, you had chosen Sukuna. Of all the people in the damn world, of all the men you could have chosen to have gone out with, you had chosen the one person Satoru had spent years warning you about. He didn’t even need proof to know that this wasn’t some sudden romantic revelation. He knew you. You never posted temporary people.
You hated gossip, hated people dissecting your life, and had always been particularly careful about what parts of your personal life you put online. If you posted someone holding your hand, there was usually a reason. Which meant this was not about Sukuna. It was about him. It had to be. And perhaps that should have made Satoru feel victorious, but instead it left something bitter sitting beneath his tongue because he had no idea what you were trying to accomplish anymore, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish either. Still, if you wanted to play, he could play too!
So later that evening, when Utahime suggested getting ice cream, Satoru drove them to the tiny little shop hidden at the edge of the city, the one you and he had discovered years ago during one of your ridiculous late-night bicycle rides, after being burnt out from finishing your assignments. It was the place where you had once sat across from him at nearly three in the morning, lecturing him between spoonfuls of ice cream about how much sugar he consumed, while he had laughed and ordered another serving purely to annoy you (Not that he wasn't craving it). Now Utahime sat beside him, laughing at something he said, and Satoru lifted his phone. He took a photograph of the ice cream, then angled the camera just enough to catch Utahime’s hand reaching into the frame. He posted it with no caption. He didn’t need one.
He knew you would understand.
And you did. Hours later, lying awake in bed with the room dark except for the glow of your phone, you saw his story and felt your stomach drop before you could stop it. The photograph itself wasn’t even particularly intimate, which somehow made it worse. So he is having fun with her? You resented that you knew exactly where he was, how he could move with sharing all your favourite places with her. You knew that little shop. You knew the table they were sitting at by heart. You knew which corner he always preferred because the light above it flickered and he used to complain about it every single time saying he gets a headache because of them.
You knew the exact flavour of ice cream he had probably ordered because he had been eating the same one since he was sixteen. You stared at the screen until the photograph blurred slightly due to something warm in your vision, then scoffed at yourself and threw the phone onto the bed as though that would somehow make the feeling disappear.
The scoreboard said Satoru 2. You 1.
You had started the game, and apparently he had decided he was going to win it. The ridiculous thing was that neither of you had to do this. You could have simply spoken. You could have walked into his apartment, sat down, yelled, cried, admitted you were hurt, admitted you were jealous, admitted that the entire party had gone wrong because neither of you knew how to say what you actually wanted to say. But instead you were both behaving like two idiots with access to social media, and apparently that was enough to turn years of friendship into some twisted competition where whoever looked happier won.
The next day, Sukuna dropped you near the lecture hall, his hand intertwined with yours as the two of you walked across campus, and for a brief moment you almost managed to convince yourself that this was normal. You almost managed to pretend that you were simply a girl walking beside a handsome guy who had taken her out on a date, rather than someone who was constantly measuring every moment against another person who wasn’t even there.
That was util you saw the tree. The old tree near the centre of campus, the one with the thick roots rising slightly above the ground and the broad branches that had provided shade during countless afternoons, and the sight of it pulled you backward through years of memories so quickly it almost hurt. You and Satoru had spent hours beneath that tree. You would lie with your head in his lap while absentmindedly twisting little flowers between your fingers, talking about absolutely nothing while he studied, and he would occasionally look down at you over the top of his book and tell you that you were distracting him, even though the tiny smile on his face always gave him away.
You knew what that place meant for you both. Which was why the sight of Utahime sitting beneath it made something inside you go completely still. She was there with Satoru, laughing at something he had said, and you realised with a strange little jolt that you had never even known she was at your university. Perhaps she had been there all along. Perhaps she had come from one of those formal circles and clan gatherings Satoru always complained about, the kind of traditional social events he used to swear he hated attending, surrounded by people who cared more about names and families than actual human beings. You had always teased him that he would eventually marry some terrifyingly elegant woman from one of those circles, and he would always insist that women like that weren’t his type. Yet there she was, sitting beneath your tree, and when she shifted closer to him and laughed, you felt something acidic crawl up your throat.
Apparently, he had been lying.
You kept walking beside Sukuna, forcing yourself not to look back, forcing yourself to keep your fingers comfortably intertwined with his even though suddenly the gesture felt like a performance you were no longer enjoying. You wanted Satoru to see you. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted him to realise that you could move on too, that you weren’t going to sit around waiting for him while he paraded his new relationship in front of you. Yet when you looked at Utahime leaning toward him beneath that tree, you realised that victory didn’t taste anything like you had imagined it would. It tasted bitter and disgusting. It tasted like swallowing spit from your enemy's shoes. It tasted like looking at the person who had been your home for most of your life and realising that someone else was beginning to occupy spaces you had once believed belonged to you. You hated yourself for thinking that way. You hated the jealousy. You hated how childish it was.
Most of all, you hated that despite everything you had done to make him jealous, you were the one who kept ending up hurt.
Two days later, you found yourself standing in the front row of Sukuna’s football match wearing his jersey, surrounded by screaming students and the chaos of the crowd, and for a little while you managed to feel almost triumphant again. Sukuna had looked genuinely surprised when he saw you there, and you had smiled brightly enough that anyone watching would have assumed you were hopelessly smitten. The game itself was intense, and every time Sukuna touched the ball, the crowd erupted, while you shouted his name until your throat hurt, fully aware that if Satoru happened to see you like this, wearing another man’s jersey and cheering for him like you belonged there, it would probably drive him insane.
You had crossed some invisible line now. You knew that. This was no longer just a harmless story posted on Instagram. You were building an entire alternate reality around a person you barely knew anymore, and the worst part was that you weren’t even sure you wanted the reality itself. You wanted the reaction. You wanted him to look at you and feel something, anything. When the final whistle blew and Sukuna’s team won, the stadium erupted, and Sukuna turned toward the crowd, searching for someone. You assumed it was you. For one ridiculous second, your heart lifted. Then he ran toward the fence and wrapped his arms around one of the cheerleaders, Ana, who had been waiting for him at the front. You stood there, still wearing his jersey, watching them hug, and instead of feeling jealous of Ana, you felt something much stranger. You felt nothing. Not the sharp, ugly ache you felt whenever you saw Satoru with Utahime. Not the sudden need to look away. Not the jealousy that made your chest hurt. Nothing at all. You simply watched. And that was when the question finally arrived, quiet and devastating: if you were genuinely falling for Sukuna, if you were actually beginning something with him, why didn’t this hurt? Why was your heart perfectly capable of watching another girl wrap her arms around him, while the sight of Satoru merely sitting beside Utahime could make you feel physically sick?
That night, when you finally returned home and crawled into bed, you made the mistake of checking your phone again. Satoru’s story appeared near the top. You tapped it and your stomach instantly dropped. He was in Okinawa and he sure as hell wasn't alone. Utahime was there. A weekend away? A fucking weekend getaway? You stared at the screen in disbelief, your thumb shaking and hovering uselessly over it while your mind scrambled for some explanation that would make the sight less painful. A date was one thing. Dinner was one thing. Ice cream was one thing. But a trip? That was different. That was planning. That was time. That was choosing to spend an entire weekend with someone. You threw your phone onto the mattress and covered your face with both hands, feeling utterly ridiculous because none of this was supposed to matter. You had started this. You had posted the first picture. You had chosen Sukuna. You had turned this into a game. And yet somehow you were the only person losing.
Why, why, why, why?
As if your emotional disaster wasn’t already sufficient, your academic life had decided to collapse alongside it. You were failing exams you should have passed easily, missing things during lectures, forgetting deadlines, staring at notes without actually reading them, and every time you sat down to study, your brain would automatically reach for the same old memory. Satoru teaching you, Satoru leaning over your desk, Satoru explaining the same concept three different ways because you had somehow misunderstood all three, Satoru tapping your forehead with his pen when you stopped paying attention, muttering that you were hopeless while secretly making sure you understood everything before the exam. He had been part of your routine for so long that you hadn’t realised how much of your life had quietly been built around him until he was suddenly gone from it. Now you had no best friend, no peace, no decent grades, and apparently no functioning love life either. You had managed to lose almost everything simultaneously, all because you had been too stubborn to admit that what actually hurt wasn’t Utahime, or Sukuna, or the party, or even the stupid Instagram stories. It was Satoru.
He called you again that evening. Then again the next day. Then again after that. You watched his name appear on your screen until you couldn’t bear it anymore, but you still didn’t answer. You eventually listened to one of his voicemails, and his voice came through sounding frustrated and exhausted when he told you that this entire thing had gone far enough, that your friends weren’t idiots, that everyone could tell something was wrong, and that you both needed to stop behaving like children and talk. Shoko had apparently told him almost exactly the same thing, though you didn’t know that yet. Somewhere behind the scenes, your friends were desperately trying to push two impossibly stubborn people toward the conversation they should have had weeks ago, but neither of you was willing to take the first step.
Satoru had your email. He knew the time you reached university. He knew where you lived. He knew which café you went to when you were stressed and which library corner you preferred when you actually wanted to study. You knew his schedule almost as well as your own. There were a thousand ways to reach each other. A thousand opportunities. Yet neither of you did.
Beneath all the jealousy and anger, you began to wonder whether he had actually stopped trying because you weren’t worth the effort anymore.
Maybe the person you had known your entire life had finally decided that losing you was easier than fighting for you. Maybe all those years of friendship had only seemed permanent because you had never imagined a world in which either of you could choose to walk away.
You sat alone in your room, scrolling through photographs you should have deleted, finding pictures of Satoru asleep on your couch, Satoru making stupid faces at the camera, Satoru standing beside you beneath the old tree, you wearing Satoru's sunglasses, Satoru with his arm around your shoulders, and each photograph seemed to carry its own little piece of a life you could no longer access. You had thought jealousy would make him come back. You had thought making him hurt would make him understand. Instead, all it had done was teach you exactly how much it hurt to watch him live without you.
The scoreboard said Satoru 4, You 1.
And suddenly the score didn’t feel funny anymore.
You had started this game because you wanted him to feel jealous, but somewhere along the way you had forgotten what you were actually trying to win. You weren’t even trying to prove that you could make Satoru regret losing you. You had simply wanted your best friend to look at you and realise that you mattered, and instead of telling him that, you had chosen every possible way to make him believe the opposite. Maybe that was your punishment. Maybe it was karma. Maybe it was simply what happened when two people cared too much and were both too terrified to say the one thing that could have saved them. You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the wall, feeling the exhaustion finally settle into your bones, and for the first time since the party, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility you had been avoiding from the beginning.
Maybe it was time to let him go.
Maybe it was time to stop waiting for the fantasy you had built around him, stop expecting him to magically understand what you couldn’t bring yourself to say, stop measuring your worth by whether he looked jealous when another man held your hand, and stop pretending that you were winning when every victory left you feeling emptier than the last. Maybe Satoru had already moved on. Maybe Utahime was genuinely becoming important to him, and was a nice girl to be with. Maybe Sukuna was simply someone who had entered your life at the wrong moment, caught in the middle of a war that had never really been about him. And maybe, after years of having Satoru beside you, you had finally managed to lose the one person you had always believed you would never have to lose.
The thought hurt so badly that you finally stopped fighting it.
You looked at your phone one last time, thinking about his previous attempts to talk to you and for several long seconds you simply stared at it, wondering how something as simple as answering a phone, admitting your feelings could possibly feel more terrifying than losing the person on the other end.
Then you turned the screen face down. For the first time, you didn’t check his story, you didn’t wonder where he was doing anymore, you didn’t try to calculate the score.
You simply lay there in the darkness because you lost it all, alone with the awful realisation that perhaps the game had never been about who could make the other jealous.
Best friend Satoru has started dating but why does it bother you so much?
Part-5 | Masterlist - Play this!
Summer comes and goes, winter follows and then monsoon. Seasons have a habit of leaving, of changing, of becoming something else entirely. Friendship, however, was different.
A friendship never truly disappears.
Even when years pass, circumstances change and more so when the thread connecting two people become frayed and worn from time and distance. Pieces of it alway remain.
It gifts tucked away in drawers. In songs that immediately remind you of them. In birthdays marked on calendars long after they stopped mattering to anyone else. In movie characters they loved, books they forced you to read, inside jokes nobody else would understand. Sometimes all it takes is hearing a certain name, a certain phrase, and suddenly they were there again, living somewhere in the back of your mind.
Friendships never really break.
Because before there had been fights and misunderstandings and all the complicated feelings that came later, there had been something simple.
There had been you.
And there had been Satoru.
Long before either of you knew what heartbreak felt like, your fathers had been best friends. They had known each other for years before either of their children were born. By the time you arrived, followed six months later by Satoru, it had been practically decided that the two of you would grow up together.
You lived side by side in a quiet neighborhood. Comfortable homes and lives. Nothing outrageously extravagant, but enough that neither family ever worried.
Satoru's parents ran a successful business together. Your father was an engineer and your mother owned a boutique. Life? It was good. And somehow, between shared family dinners and weekends spent running through each other's gardens, a bond began to form.
One of Satoru's father's proudest accomplishments had been building a treehouse in their backyard. The structure wasn't particularly impressive. Well at least not to the adults but to you and Satoru, however, it may as well have been a castle.
Every spare afternoon was spent there.
The walls became cluttered with drawings, posters, stickers and crayon masterpieces. There were sketch pens stuffed into old jars, blankets thrown carelessly into corners, and enough snacks hidden beneath loose floorboards to feed a small army. Most of them had been smuggled in by you. Satoru had a terrible sweet tooth. His parents were forever limiting how much sugar he could eat, which meant every trip to the grocery store became a secret mission. Somehow your pockets always ended up full of candies and chocolates by the time you returned home.
You loved the way his face lit up whenever you handed them over. The grin. those dimples, that excitement. To you, it was worth getting scolded every single time. You had always been good at making friends. Satoru wasn't. There was anything wrong with him, it was in fact quite the opposite.
He was brilliant. Every hobby he picked up, he mastered. Every game he touched, he somehow won. Every test came back with marks that left teachers staring at him like he had descended from another planet.
Satoru Gojo was a genius.
The problem was that nobody had ever told him that. His parents demanded perfection and then demanded more and more of it. Every achievement became an expectation, and every success became the minimum benchmark.
As you got older, you began finding him in the treehouse more often, especially at night. From your bedroom window, you could see the tiny yellow bulb hanging from its ceiling, lit up. Sometimes it would flicker to life long after dinner, glowing softly through the darkness.
Whenever that happened, you knew that something had happened again. Maybe another argument or another impossible expectation. Always a reminder that he wasn't enough. At school things weren't much better. Kids were cruel to him, to them his white hair looked strange, or his eyes were too scary, his black sunglasses made him look different.
Children always found reasons, but Satoru never complained about it. He would simply sit through lunch alone, pretending not to care. So you made sure he never had to.
Whenever someone invited you to sit somewhere else, you declined. Whenever somebody made a joke about him, you made sure they regretted it. Satoru never hated anyone, but you hated enough people for both of you. And on bad days, when he sat quietly staring at his lunch tray, you would casually slide your dessert onto his side of the table.
"I don't want it."
It was a lie every time. He knew it and so did you. Neither of you ever mentioned it. One memory stood out above all the others though. When it was his eighth birthday. For weeks Satoru had talked about it and had been excited, convinced that he would invite all his new friends that he'd make. All convinced they would come and would celebrate his special day, his favourite day together.
Nobody asked.
Nobody cared.
He couldn't make any friend, and the invitations were never handed out. You remembered the disappointment he tried so hard to hide. So instead, the two of you celebrated alone.
Well not entirely alone. There was Satoru, there was you and there was his dog. Oh, and there were two dolls you had dragged along because every proper birthday party needed guests. Your mother helped you bake a cake overloaded with strawberries. An absurd amount of strawberries not to forget. Enough that you were genuinely concerned every bee in town might show up.
Satoru had laughed so hard when he saw you with the cake, eyes brimming with tears as if you'd everrrr forget his special day, the day that a boy so kind and beautiful had come into this world. It remained one of your favorite memories of all time.
Years later, another memory would join it. One particular rainy evening, when where thunder rattled windows and rain hammered rooftops. You were sitting at your desk attempting homework when you glanced outside and saw the familiar yellow glow.
The treehouse light.
Immediately you abandoned your work, threw on a raincoat and sprinted across the yard. By the time you climbed inside the tree, you were soaked.
Satoru was sitting in the corner.
Silent, scared, with his knees pulled to his chest. You didn't ask what happened because you were already familiar with the pattern. There must've been another argument or another impossible standard he had failed to meet this time. Without saying a word, you shrugged off your raincoat and sat beside him.
The treehouse was freezing. You looked around with your eyes drenched with the rainwater and wished there had been a fireplace.
Or a heater at least. Instead, you reached into your pocket and presented the only thing you ever had, a candy. Satoru stared at it and then at you, then back at the candy.
A tiny smile appeared on his face, he looked so cute. And suddenly that smile felt like the most important thing in the world. You smiled back. The rain continued drumming against the roof overhead while the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder beneath the soft yellow light, neither saying much at all because you didn't need to.
But the candy didn't seem to help much. Satoru accepted it, turning it over between his fingers, staring at the bright wrapper without really looking at it. His shoulders were still slumped, his eyes still distant. Whatever had happened at home tonight had cut deeper than usual. Even now, years later, you couldn't explain what possessed you to do what you did next.
Maybe it was the rain or maybe it was because seeing Satoru sad always made your chest hurt. Maybe thirteen-year-old you simply couldn't bear the sight of him looking so defeated.
Whatever the reason, you turned toward him, leaned forward and you kissed him.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't some love scene with fireworks and swelling music. It was a bit awkward. A tiny peck on his pretty lips. It was barely even a kiss at all. The kind only two thirteen-year-olds could share and then immediately pretend never happened.
Neither of you said a word afterward. You simply sat beside him while the rain tapped against the wooden roof overhead. Ten minutes later, you got up, pulled your raincoat back on, and told him goodbye.
The storm had started calming by then.
You climbed down the ladder and ran back home. Meanwhile, Satoru remained exactly where you'd left him sitting beneath the yellow bulb, hair disheveled, candy sticky and forgotten in his hand. He started blankly at the spot where you had been sitting.
Thirteen years old.
Satoru Gojo was thirteen years old when he fell in love with you.
The unfortunate thing about falling in love with your best friend was that nothing changed. At least not on the surface. The world kept moving, school and studies continue, birthdays came and went. Summer turned into winter and winter became spring again.
And through all of it, you remained exactly what you had always been.
Best friends.
Years later, both of you somehow ended up attending the same university. By then your friend group had expanded considerably. Nanami, Haibara, Shoko, Yuki, Choso, Suguru, all the people who would eventually become some of the most important figures in your lives.
Most of them found your friendship with Satoru either fascinating or concerning. Depending on who was being asked because from the outside, it looked obvious. The way you gravitated toward each other, the way every conversation somehow circled back to the other person, the way you always sat together. The way everybody else's plans seemed secondary whenever one of you called.
Naturally, everyone assumed you two were in love. Neither of you ever corrected them. Neither of you ever confirmed it either. The truth was that labels had never seemed necessary. People dated because they wanted companionship, because they wanted someone to spend their time with, they dated because they wanted someone who understood them.
You already had all of that.
So what exactly would have changed? You never questioned it and you never needed to. Satoru did. Because while you were busy living inside the comfort of your friendship, Satoru was watching.
He watched you grow up to be the most gorgeous girl ever. He watched you change, his jealous eyes watched the world begin noticing you.
Even as children, people had always gravitated toward you, classmates wanted your attention, friends wanted your time. People always liked you. Yet somehow, despite all of it, you always chose him.
You chose him during lunch. You chose him after school. You chose him on weekends. You chose him on summer breaks. You chose him when nobody else did. And that was one of the many reasons Satoru loved you.
Because for most of his life, people only approached him when they needed something.
Homework help, some career advise, people always liked what he could do for them. You liked him. There was a difference, a massive one. Unfortunately, love became much more complicated once high school arrived.
Especially the day you went on your first date. Satoru still remembers it and he hates that day to his very core. That was the day it became clear to Satoru that you'll always see him as your best friend.
You had been excited talking about the date nonstop. Meanwhile, he had spent the entire day feeling like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart until it stopped functioning properly.
He never said a word.
Never showed any of his feelings, his sadness. He never once complained. Part of him had always believed that if you ever liked him that way, you would simply tell him.
You had always been the braver one. The more honest one. And the last thing he wanted was to risk ruining the only person he truly valued in his life. So, he kept his feelings buried.
The friends certainly didn't help. Every single one of them noticed but kept quite to not interfere with something you both seemed uninterested to talk about. They didn't want to overstep or cause any awkwardness between you two, but they talked about you both behind your backs and thought you two would eventually come around. If only they knew how stupid, you both would become.
Sometimes Suguru would tease Satoru but when it became relentless, Satoru cleared that there was nothing romantic between you two. Because the last thing he wanted was some rumor finding its way back to you.
If you were happy, then he would stay quiet. That was the deal he'd made with himself. The problem was that university only made things worse. You became even more popular and you started going out on frequent dates. Met new people and every single time, Satoru hated it.
Satoru hated everyone. He hated those egoistic Football players, the frats- those prudent council members who thought they were campus celebrities. The handsome boys with confidence, with experience and charm.
All the boys who weren't him. Still, he never said anything. Instead, he listened patiently whenever you returned from another disappointing date. Half the time you'd spend hours complaining about how boring it had been or how arrogant the guy was or how he couldn't stop talking about himself. The irony wasn't lost on him. You kept rejecting people most students would have killed to date. Yet somehow that never reassured him.
Because if those guys couldn't make you fall in love, what chance did he have?
He was just Satoru.
The nerd next door.
The boy from the treehouse. The kid you'd known your entire life and still never opened your heart to and sometimes that felt like the biggest disadvantage of all. Because maybe, just maybe, you couldn't see him as anything else.
For years, Satoru convinced himself that eventually you would notice. Surely you noticed the way he looked at you. Surely you noticed how every invitation from every girl was met with the same answer.
"No."
Surely you noticed that he never bothered spending his free time with anyone else when he could spend it with you. Instead, every attempt seemed to land in the same terrible place.
The friend zone.
God, he hated that fucking phrase. Because every time he flirted, you laughed. Every time he tried to test the waters, you brushed it off as a joke. Every time he tried to create an opening, you somehow managed to turn it into another best friend forever moment.
And maybe that should have been his answer.
Maybe he should have accepted it years ago.
Yet there were moments. Moments that made him hope, that kept him trapped. Friday movie nights where the two of you would end up curled together on a couch, sharing blankets and snacks until neither of you could remember what movie was even playing anymore. Moments when your hand would absentmindedly wrap around his bicep, tracing his muscles while you laughed at something stupid on the screen, moments when the atmosphere would suddenly shift.
And every single time, you were the one who pulled away first. Never Satoru. Because if there was even the slightest chance of having you closer, he would take it every time. There were busy sidewalks where he would instinctively pull you toward him by your waist to keep strangers from bumping into you. Shopping trips where he'd rest his chin on your shoulder while you stood in front of mirrors holding up different outfits. Countless moments where you'd accidentally step backward into him and suddenly realize just how close you actually were.
Moments where your lips had been mere inches apart, where his heart nearly exploded. And moments that you always seemed to recover from much faster than he did.
Then there was the kiss.
The one in the treehouse.
The one neither of you ever mentioned again.
Sometimes Satoru wondered if that had been his answer all along. Maybe it had meant something to him because it was you, Maybe it had meant nothing to you because it was him.
You had always been outspoken and honest. Brutally honest, sometimes. If there had been something there, surely you would have said it. Wouldn't you?
So eventually, Satoru did what every idiot in love eventually convinced himself to do. He tried to move on or at least pretend to. The girlfriend had never been about replacing you.
Nobody could replace you.
It had simply been his last desperate attempt at proving to himself that he was capable of wanting someone else. Capable of loving someone else. That he could build a life that didn't revolve around waiting for you. Because how long could a person wait? How long could someone sit in the same place hoping to be chosen?
Years.
Apparently.
Years.
Yet ever since he'd started trying to move forward, you seemed to be slipping further and further away. Your calls became less frequent, the conversations became shorter.
The easy comfort that had existed between you for years suddenly felt fragile. Like every interaction carried some invisible tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
And that terrified Satoru.
It wasn't because he thought he was losing his chance with you but because he simply didn't understand it. Didn't know whether you were angry, jealous or hurt.
Or simply didn't give a fuck about him. Maybe you hated the fact that he had a girlfriend. Or was it because you hated that he hadn't told you beforehand. Was it because you hated that you hadn't been part of the process?
The truth was that he'd tried his best. More times than he could count. There had been dozens of moments where he'd sat across from you and thought, tell her.
Tell her now.
Tell her before it's too late.
Tell her before somebody else gets there first.
Tell her before you spend another year wondering.
But every single time, his fear won. Rejection was one thing; he could handle that but losing you was another. And Satoru had survived a lot of things and he was sure he couldn't survive that.
The old treehouse was gone now.
Torn down years ago after weather and time finally claimed it. But sometimes he still thought about it. Thought about the little yellow bulb and your scattered crayons. Your stolen candies, the rain against the roof and the home he'd built there. Not the tree one but the one inside his heart.
The one that had your name written all over it. The one he'd never managed to leave behind. And now? Now all he could think about was the image burned into his brain. You sitting in Sukuna's lap. Looking at somebody else the way he'd spent years wishing you'd look at him. Kissing somebody else, choosing somebody else. How many guys got to see that side of you? Seeing you kiss Sukuna hurt him ten times more than every date you'd ever gone on combined. Because for the first time in years, he genuinely felt like he had lost you.
The apartment door slammed.
The sound ripped him from his thoughts and reality came crashing back all at once.
The party and the fight...
Everyone was still standing exactly where they'd been left. Nobody seemed quite sure what to do. Satoru exhaled shakily and only then did he realize how hard his hands were trembling.
Across the room, Utahime looked completely lost.
As if she was desperately trying to understand how she'd somehow ended up in the middle of a war she didn't even know existed. Guilt immediately flared in his stomach because none of this was her fault, not a single part of it and the fact that you had been so rude with her to her very face.
Slowly, Satoru looked toward her.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
The apology felt pathetic and insufficient. Utahime merely offered him an embarrassed smile. The one people gave when they didn't know what else to say at the moment.
Around them, the room remained frozen. Nanami had both hands buried in his hair. Haibara looked like he'd just witnessed a natural disaster. Shoko was staring at the front door and Satoru and Suguru had his eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Sukuna was still standing exactly where you'd left him, watching the door. Watching the place where you'd disappeared. Then, from somewhere down the hallway outside the apartment, came the faint echo of another door slamming shut.
And suddenly the reality of it settled over the room.
You were gone.
A couple of days passed.
Every single morning your phone lit up with Satoru's name and every single morning you declined the call. By the second day, you blocked his number.
By the third, you knew it was childish and that he still followed you on every other social media account. He could've messaged you there if he really wanted to. Hell, he could've walked the five minutes from his apartment to yours and knocked on your front door like he'd done thousands of times before.
But blocking his number felt... satisfying.
Was it petty and immature? Sure. You know it was completely pointless. Yet somehow it became the only thing that made you feel like you still had some freaking control over everything that had happened.
The days weren't kind to you either.
You cried far more than you'd ever admit to anyone, missing Satoru in all the stupid little ways only someone who'd known another person their entire life could. You missed his painfully terrible jokes that somehow only got funnier because he was the one saying them. You missed his crooked glasses sliding down his nose whenever he laughed too hard. You missed the messy white hair that never stayed in place no matter how much he fixed it, the ridiculous height that always forced you to look up at him, the way his cologne lingered on hoodies he'd accidentally leave behind at your place, how he'd hold you in his arms and swing you around whenever he had a good news.
God.
You even missed hearing him breathe beside you while the two of you watched movies in complete silence. He had always been there and that's why you took him for granted. Only if all of this could be undone, you'd run up to him and no matter how childish it would've sounded- you'd tell him that you loved him so so much and that you were an idiot to not say it out sooner, you were sorry it got to messy.
You'd tell him that no matter how many guys you kissed, none of them felt right like it did with him in that tree house.
He'd become such a permanent part of your life that his absence wasn't just noticeable, it was annoyingly loud and noticeable. You knew he was probably hurting too. You knew him better than anyone else ever could. But somehow every possible option seemed easier than facing him. Talking to him meant admitting why you'd reacted the way you had, and you weren't ready to peel your own heart open just so he could tell you he loved somebody else.
So you stayed quiet too.
Shoko called that same night while Suguru called the next morning, followed by Nanami and Haibara's conference call. You were surprised because Nanami always said that phone calls were "an inefficient form of real communication," and yet he somehow found himself checking in on you.
Suguru apologized over and over again, sounding genuinely guilty.
"I swear to God," he'd sighed into the phone, "Shoko and I invited him because we thought if you two were stuck under one roof, you'd finally sort out whatever the hell was going on between you. We never expected... that."
Shoko snatched the phone from him immediately." If I'd known he was bringing Utahime, I would've locked the door. Trust me."
Despite yourself, you laughed a little. "It wasn't your fault."
"No," Shoko replied quietly. "But I'm still sorry."
You knew that they meant it so you forgave them almost immediately. None of this belonged on their shoulders. If anyone had started this mess, it had been you. You were the idiot who'd gone and fallen in love with her best friend.
Nobody else deserved to pay for that. You convinced yourself Satoru would be fine, now that he had a girlfriend to check up on him.
He'd move on.
Eventually...
and so would you.
...
Satoru, meanwhile, wasn't doing much better. After everyone had finally left Suguru's apartment that night, the silence inside his car had been suffocating. Utahime had broken it first. "You should tell me."
He tightened both hands around the steering wheel. "...Tell you what?"
"The truth." For the longest time he simply stared through the windshield before letting out a tired laugh. Then everything came spilling out. He told her about growing up next door to you, about the treehouse, about sharing birthdays, never spending a single summer apart. He also told her how you'd become so woven into every part of his life that he genuinely couldn't remember who he had been before meeting you. He told her about Sukuna too, why he hated him. How the guy had a reputation for treating girls like games. He thought of you anywhere near someone like him made him sick with worry.
"I wasn't angry because she kissed someone," he admitted quietly. "I was angry because it was him."
Utahime listened without interrupting once. When he finally stopped talking, he leaned back in his seat, exhausted. "I'm sorry," he said after a while.
"I dragged you into... whatever this is."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I do."
He rubbed his eyes. "You deserve someone who's actually certain."
Utahime smiled sadly. "Sometimes people come with unfinished stories, Gojo." He looked over at her. "I know your friendship matters to you. I know you're confused. And... I'm not giving up on getting to know you just because things are messy."
He almost told her, almost admitted that this wasn't confusion. It was the love he'd been carrying around for years. Love he was desperately trying to bury by convincing himself that dating someone else was the mature thing to do.
The confession sat on the edge of his tongue and then he swallowed it.
Because what would be the point?
You weren't speaking to him anymore. He'd still lose you. The weight in his chest would still remain. He'd simply have another person hurting because of him.
So instead...when Utahime leaned forward to kiss him, he kissed her back but if the gods asked him for a confession, he'd have to tell them that he wished it was you instead.
...
Across town, you sat curled beside your bedroom window, absentmindedly tracing circles against a cold glass of champagne and without meaning to, your thoughts wandered back to him. To every time you'd caught those impossibly blue eyes already watching you before you ever looked his way.
To every accidental brush of shoulders that never really felt accidental. To Friday movie nights where he'd somehow always ended up close enough that your legs touched. To the way your heart had always reacted to him...long before you understood why.
A loud car horn pulled you back into reality.
Your phone vibrated almost immediately.
Sukuna Calling.
You answered.
"I'm coming down."
"You've been standing at that window for three whole minutes."
"...Were you timing me?"
"I was admiring the view."
"You mean me?"
"No, No. It was your stained windows you dumbass."
You laughed too hard at that "What a gentleman." You shook your head, grabbed your bag, and hurried downstairs. By the time you stepped outside, Sukuna had already climbed out of the driver's seat.
He wore an oversized grey sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing the black tattoos winding over sun-kissed skin. His pink hair had been pushed back neatly with some hair product, a pair of small silver hoops decorated both ears, and relaxed dark jeans fell over an expensive pair of fresh sneakers. He glanced at himself one last time in the side mirror, muttered, "Good enough," sprayed another burst of cologne that completely overpowered the poor car freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, then finally looked up.
And for a brief second he forgot whatever he'd been about to say. You stood there in a fitted black skirt and a soft, flowy crimson blouse that danced gently in the evening breeze, your hair framing your face just enough to catch the fading golden light.
"...Damn," he muttered under his breath.
Then, recovering almost immediately, he grinned. "You planning on making this date difficult for me already? How did you get hotter in a span of 5 days?'
You just rolled your eyes at the comment and gestured him to get closer to where you were standing in front of the bonnet, he immediately wrapped your waist around his big, calloused hands and gave a quick peck to your neck, then your jaw, and finally on your maroon lipstick!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Lemme know what you think of this chapter. Mueheehhehe. 😼
I’m soooooo sorry that I can’t get back to all of your comments on these chapters, the past chapter got over a 100 comments and I’m so freaking honoured to have this kind of response to this fic. I promise I’ll get back to all the comments.
when ZUKO finds out the girl he once fell in love with is now AANG'S wife.
YOU MAKE HELL OUR PARADISE !
PLOT. forced by duty to preserve the future of the air nation, a proposal is made by the republic city council, and you are chosen to become aang's second wife. as you find yourself joining the family he's already built with katara and their two children, your marriage brings an unexpected reunion with the boy you once knew only as lee—the tea shop owner's nephew who stole your first kiss and disappeared, now revealed to be none other than fire lord zuko.
WARNINGS. 18+, angst, talks of arranged marriage, political marriage, established kataang, reader will be aang's second wife, eventual zuko x reader, aang and katara are in their early 30s, reader and zuko are in their mid-30s, bumi and kya exist, slight canon divergence, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, duty over love, not proofread.
(please check the story masterlist for the story warnings.)
CHARACTERS. FIRE LORD ZUKO & AVATAR AANG.
WC. 4.7k
masterlist :: story masterlist
art creds :: snvvvo, iritzu on x.
a/n: will clarify, this is a ZUKO CENTRIC, ZUKO ENDGAME, NOT SLOW BURN AT ALL, FAST-PACED SHORT STORY.
the reason why aang is also a love interest is cause he is reader's husband, and they do have smexy time together.
BUT THIS IS A ZUKOOOO FIC.
The morning sun spilled through the open windows of the Avatar's home, settling over the familiar chaos Aang had long since learned to meditate through.
"Bumi." Aang called out, feeling the weight of the growing boy hang off of him like second nature, only to be met with no answer.
Rolling his eyes, he called out again.
"Bumi. I really need to go now."
A muffled giggle sounded from behind him, followed by two small arms tightening stubbornly around his shoulders.
"I'm coming with you! You won't leave me here!" His son complained with a big smile, somehow maneuvering over his father to now be hanging off his front.
"You know, I don't think necklaces are supposed to complain this much." Aang sighed, though the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed any real annoyance.
"I'm not a necklace," Bumi declared, his words nearly lost against Aang's chest as he clung on with all the determination an eight-year-old could muster.
"I'm a flying lemur!"
Hilariously, the only flying lemur in the room perks up at the mention, tilting his head as he looks at the father and son, chirping at their morning antics.
Aang suppresses a laugh at Momo's immediate response to Bumi's statement, shaking his head as he sighs.
"You've been a flying lemur for fifteen minutes."
"But I'm sleepy."
"You should get ready for your lessons."
"No!"
Aang chuckled, reaching over one shoulder in a hopeless attempt to pry one of Bumi's arms free. The effort only earned him another laugh as the boy held on tighter, forcing Aang to carry him through the room.
Across from them, Katara watched the exchange over the rim of a wooden bowl placed on the table, shaking her head in quiet amusement before turning her attention back to Kya.
"Eyes on the water," she reminded gently.
The little girl sat cross-legged opposite her mother, tongue poking out in concentration as both hands hovered uncertainly over the bowl. The water quivered, rippling beneath her shadow before lifting in an uneven wobble no higher than a few inches.
It lingered there for only a heartbeat before collapsing back into the bowl with a splash that soaked the front of Kya's tunic.
She stared at herself for a moment before bursting into delighted laughter.
"I did it!"
"You did," Katara smiled, brushing damp strands of hair from Kya's forehead.
"Soon, you'll be able to move it without throwing it at yourself." She continues, swiftly waving her hand over Kya's front, the water gathering into itself before she drops it into the bowl.
Aang watched them for a moment, a smile settling across his face. He still found himself stopping whenever he saw Katara teaching. It didn't matter whether it was Kya, an eager student from the city, or even him all those years ago—she always carried the same patience.
Although, the moment was interrupted by Bumi dramatically dropping his full weight against him.
"I'm hungry again!"
"Bumi, you finished breakfast." It was Katara who answered this time, getting up from her place leaving Kya to practice alone.
"Well I gotta eat to become strong!"
"You'll survive until lunch." Aang hums, patting Bumi's back who only pouts as though life had become impossibly difficult.
"You always take Mama's side."
"I'm married to her."
"I guess..." He pouts.
Aang smiled to himself as he finally manages to coax Bumi off his neck, giving his hair a quick ruffle before reaching for the outer layer of his robes that Katara was holding out for him.
"Did they mention what this meeting was about?" Aang questions her, slipping on his robes.
She looked up, thinking for a moment before shaking her head.
"No. Brother Lao only sent word that the council needed you this morning. He didn't say why," She shrugged lightly, adjusting the sleeve of Aang's shirt.
"He seemed distracted and unusually insistent, though."
Brother Lao had represented the Air Nation on the council for years, and if there was one thing Aang had come to know about the older Air Acolyte, it was that he wouldn't ask him to attend the meeting unless absolutely necessary.
"Hm."
Katara noticed the faint crease settling between his brows and offered him a reassuring smile.
"I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."
He returned the smile automatically, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead before crouching to ruffle Bumi's hair and kiss the top of Kya's head, earning an indignant squeal when a stray lock tickled her cheek.
"I'll be back soon."
The council chamber had fallen so silent, and Aang was sincerely hoping that he had simply misunderstood what had been asked of him.
"...I'm sorry?"
His voice carried little more than disbelief as his gaze drifted slowly across the circular table, searching each familiar face for the slightest indication that someone might laugh and dismiss the suggestion as a poor attempt at humor.
The Earth Kingdom's High Chancellor, Minister Qilan, folded his hands neatly atop the polished table, his expression remaining as composed as it had throughout the rest of the morning's proceedings.
"Avatar Aang, we, as the council, believe it would be prudent to consider taking a second wife." he repeated with measured patience.
The words settled over the room as Aang stared at him.
For years these meetings had revolved around criminal disputes, reconstruction efforts, and the endless growing pains of Republic City.
Never—not once—had anyone presumed to speak of his marriage as though it were another item upon the day's agenda.
"I'm already married."
The response came automatically, almost incredulously, and to him that should have been the end of this discussion.
"We are aware," Minister Qilan replied, inclining his head ever so slightly. "Our concern is not with Master Katara, but with the future of the Air Nation."
Something tightened in Aang's chest and instinctively, his eyes shifted toward the seat beside him.
Sokka sat a distance away where the chairman of the council does, the carved emblem of Republic City resting proudly behind his chair.
It had taken years of work to earn both that position and his place as the Southern Water Tribe's representative, and ordinarily there was very little capable of stealing the confidence from his posture.
Now, however, his shoulders sat unnaturally rigid, his jaw tight as Aang noted he hadn't spoken once.
"Sokka?"
His friend finally looked up, guilt crossing his face as he sat unable to say anything.
Aang's confusion deepened.
This wasn't some political matter. They were discussing Katara. His wife.
Sokka's sister.
If anyone in this room should have objected first, it should have been him.
Before Aang could question him further, another voice spoke.
"It is not Master Katara's place in your life we question."
Brother Lao rested both hands upon the table, the older Air Acolyte speaking with the same calm restraint he always had, and of everyone gathered within the chamber, his words surprised Aang the most.
"Our concern is that there may come a day when there is no Air Nation left to return to."
Aang's brow furrowed. "There was a time we didn't. But we do now."
Brother Lao held his gaze, neither offended nor discouraged by the interruption.
"There are the four temples. You have acolytes who have dedicated their lives to preserving your history. But there are no Air Nomads."
A silence settled over the chamber.
"The children born to you are the only chance our nation has at beginning again."
Aang's jaw tightened. "And you think the answer is another marriage."
"It...is unfair that history has left you carrying a responsibility no man should ever have been asked to bear." Brother Lao answered carefully.
"Then don't ask it of me." The words came sharply and he didn't regret them.
"I entrusted you to speak for the Air Nation," Aang continued, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice as he looked directly at the man.
"How can you sit here and agree with this?"
"I have spent the last twenty years watching you carry the weight of being the last airbender, and I know better than anyone that you should never have had to."
Brother Lao lowered his eyes for only a moment before looking back at him.
"If there were another way, Avatar Aang, I would gladly place it before you."
"There is another way." Aang leaned forward. "My children."
"Your son is nine years old and has shown no signs of air bending. Your daughter has already begun waterbending under Master Katara's guidance. If your son doesn't inherit your bending..."
Brother Lao let the sentence hang unfinished.
"The Air Nomads end with you." It was Minister Qilan who finally broke his silence.
"The only person capable of air bending will be the Avatars that come after you. And no one will remain who can truly guide them."
The words lingered long after Minister Qilan had spoken them, leaving behind a silence that no one around the council table seemed willing to question.
Aang felt his jaw tighten. "So that's it?"
"No one is questioning your marriage, Avatar Aang." Minister Qilan's voice remained as composed as ever, almost frustratingly so.
He looked younger than a man entrusted with representing the largest nation in the world had any right to, yet there was an ease about him that suggested long familiarity with debates far more heated than this one.
"We are asking you to consider your responsibility beyond it."
"My responsibility?" Aang echoed, unable to keep the edge from his voice. "You speak as though Katara and I haven't spent the last decade rebuilding an entire nation together."
"And no one here would diminish that. We have only placed the matter before you." Minister Qilan paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing.
"If, after careful consideration, you decide the council's concerns hold merit..." His gaze never wavered from Aang's.
"I would be honored to offer my youngest daughter as a prospective bride. She is not far from your age."
The offer settled over the chamber like stone, and suddenly the motive was clear.
Every head around the table turned toward the chairman as Sokka folded his hands before him, his expression carefully composed.
"You've all said what you came here to say," he began evenly.
"The Avatar has heard every concern this council wished to raise. Whether he chooses to act on any of it is, and always will be, his decision."
No one interrupted him as Sokka's gaze swept once around the chamber before settling briefly on Minister Qilan.
"So unless someone intends to force the matter, I'd suggest we move on to the rest of today's agenda."
Another silence followed, and the discussion had not reached a conclusion; it had been brought to an end.
One by one, the representatives returned to the documents before them, parchment shifting across polished wood as though the uncomfortable conversation had never occurred.
Sokka reached for the stack of reports resting at his side, his voice returning to its usual cadence expected of a chairman.
"The next matter concerns the proposed expansion of Republic City's eastern harbor..."
Aang heard him along with every report that followed, but not a single word found its way into his thoughts.
They remained fixed on the conversation the council had chosen to set aside so easily, as though suggesting he take another wife had been no more significant than approving funds.
The meeting had barely been adjourned before Aang was on his feet.
He didn't acknowledge the representatives filing from the room, brushing past the murmured conversations that had already begun replacing the one they'd left unfinished.
By the time he stepped out into the corridor, Sokka had only just caught up, a stack of reports still tucked beneath one arm.
"Aang."
He didn't stop even at the call of his name.
"Aang." Sokka tried again, matching Aang's pace beside him until finally he stopped in his tracks, looking absolutely livid.
"What was that?" The question came out sharper than he'd intended to, especially when he would never wish to speak in such a manner to his friend, though after everything that had just transpired, he found he no longer cared.
Sokka let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry you had to sit through that."
"No." Aang turned to face him, disbelief still written plainly across his face.
"I don't think you are. They sat in there discussing my future marriage as if my existing marriage to your sister doesn't exist, and you didn't say a word."
Sokka looked away.
"You let them talk about Katara like she wasn't relevant."
Sokka simply stood there, the confidence he'd carried throughout the council meeting melting away.
As chairman, he'd ended the discussion without hesitation. But as Katara's brother, he suddenly seemed at a loss.
Finally, he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"Arguing with them wasn't going to change why they brought it up, Aang."
Aang stared at him in disbelief, not able to fathom the fact that Sokka of all people could possibly be agreeing to their reasoning.
"You don't have to do it." Sokka met his eyes at last, and there was something unmistakably guilty in his expression.
"I'm serious. Nobody can make you do that."
"Why was this conversation even brought up? The council has no right to be making suggestions like that."
"Because..." Sokka stopped himself, exhaling quietly before trying again. "I think you should talk to Katara first."
Aang frowned.
"What is it? Did she...say something about this?"
It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough for Aang to notice the hesitation written across Sokka's face.
"Sokka."
"I can't."
"You can't what?"
"I can't be the one to tell you." Confusion slowly gave way to unease.
"What are you talking about?"
Sokka lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up. "Just...talk to her."
Aang searched his friend's face, hoping for some explanation, some hint of what had just happened inside that council chamber that he still wasn't seeing.
Instead, Sokka only repeated himself.
"Please."
It was the first time that morning he'd sounded less like the Chairman of the Republic City Council and more like Katara's older brother.
"Just talk to her."
By the time the sun had disappeared beyond the skyline of Republic City, his house had settled back into its much needed calm.
Bumi had reluctantly given in to sleep only after reminding Aang twice about his promise to take him flying on Appa tomorrow, while Kya had drifted off halfway through one of Katara's stories, her tiny hand refusing to let go of her mother's sleeve until Aang carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to bed.
It was an ordinary evening, but Aang found himself moving through it mechanically.
He'd smiled when Bumi insisted Appa could beat any sky bison in a race. He'd laughed when Kya proudly announced she'd managed to lift the water "this much" today, stretching her hands impossibly far apart as though she'd parted the ocean itself.
He'd even joined Katara in cleaning up after dinner, drying bowls while she put the kitchen back in order.
Yet every moment had felt strangely distant.
Only once the children were asleep did the house finally grow quiet enough to settle his thoughts.
Katara sat at the edge of their bed, absentmindedly unravelling the braid she'd worn throughout the day, her hair falling over one shoulder in loose waves as she caught Aang standing by the doorway.
"You've been quiet all day."
He looked up.
"Hm?"
"You've hardly said a word since you came home." She knew him too well not to notice.
Aang let out a slow breath before crossing the room, lowering himself onto the bed beside her. Neither of them spoke as he rested his forearms against his knees, staring down at his hands as though the right words might somehow be waiting there.
"...What did the council need you for?"
He looked at her, still bothered by Sokka's suggestion to speak to her, hoping to see if Katara might have had a hand in it, but he only found quiet curiosity in her expression.
He looked away, unable to meet her eyes as he admitted his worries.
"They..." His voice faltered before he tried again. "...they asked me to take another wife."
Katara froze, searching his face for the slightest hint that this was some poorly timed joke, and when she found none, the color seemed to drain from her expression.
"...What?"
"The council..." He let out a slow breath, still struggling to believe the words had actually been spoken only hours ago. "Minister Qilan brought it forward. He wants me to marry his daughter."
"The Earth Kingdom representative?"
He nodded. "He said the council believed I should consider taking a second wife because our children can't airbend."
Katara stared at him. "No."
"I wish I was making it up."
She shook her head almost immediately. "No one else said anything?"
"They all said something."
Aang leaned back against the bedframe, rubbing a tired hand across his face.
"Brother Lao spoke for the Air Nation. He said..." Aang hesitated, remembering the older Air Acolyte's expression more than his words.
"He said if something happened to me, the Air Nation would disappear with me."
Katara lowered her gaze. "He...isn't wrong."
"He said Bumi's nine, and he still hasn't shown any signs of airbending."
Katara's fingers curled around the edge of the blanket resting across her lap.
"And Kya. They know she's started waterbending."
"They all know," Katara murmured. "Half the city knows. News travels fast when the Avatar's daughter bends for the first time."
Aang gave a faint nod.
"They said since neither of them inherited airbending..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, but Katara already understood.
"They think...that a non-bender would be more likely to have an airbending child." She said quietly, urging Aang to look at her.
"How did you know?"
Katara couldn't answer him. She couldn't tell him that she had thought of the very fact before. If she had been a non bender, perhaps both Bumi and Kya would have been air benders.
But she was proud of her heritage, just as much Aang was of his. And she knew Aang would never think in such a manner, and that he would always be proud of their children even if they will never air bend.
"The whole time..." He exhaled slowly. "I kept waiting for someone to tell them they'd gone too far."
Katara's eyes met his. "Sokka?"
"He didn't say a word."
That surprised her.
"Sokka ended the discussion before it went any further," Aang continued, "but after the meeting..." He frowned, remembering the conversation in the corridor.
"He kept telling me I needed to talk to you."
Katara froze. Her expression changed so subtly that anyone else might have missed it, but not Aang.
"...Katara?"
She looked away and Aang watched her carefully.
"...Katara."
She still hadn't looked back at him and a quiet unease settled over him.
"Sokka told me to come home and talk to you." He searched her face, trying to make sense of the guilt that had crossed both hers and Sokka's.
"Do you know something about this?"
Katara closed her eyes.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "...I think I know why Minister Qilan brought it up."
Aang felt his stomach sink.
"What do you mean?"
She took a slow breath before setting the hairbrush aside, her hands folding tightly in her lap.
"A while ago, while you were away, I went to the council building."
He nodded.
"Bumi had been asking all week when Sokka was coming back into the city, so I thought..." A faint, tired smile crossed her face before disappearing just as quickly.
"I thought they could spend some time together before he had to leave again."
As she spoke, Aang could almost picture it.
Bumi racing across the courtyard the moment he'd spotted Sokka, Kya stumbling after him with all the determination before demanding to be carried the rest of the way.
"The children ran off into the gardens," Katara continued quietly. "They were playing together while Sokka and I stayed behind."
She hesitated.
"I don't even remember how we started talking about it." Her gaze remained fixed on her hands. "I just...admitted something I'd been trying very hard not to think about."
Aang said nothing, letting his wife speak.
"I told Sokka..." She swallowed. "...that I was scared."
The confession lingered between them, and Aang grew concerned at what her words might entail.
"Scared of what?"
"Another pregnancy." Her answer came so softly that, had the room been any louder, he might not have heard it at all.
She drew in another slow breath.
"I loved carrying Bumi. I loved carrying Kya." Her eyes shimmered, though she kept her composure.
"And I love them more than anything in this world, Aang...but I don't know if I can do it again."
She looked up at him then.
"I still remember how much it hurt. I told Sokka..." she continued after a moment, "that I wanted another child. I really do."
Her voice broke slightly on the last words.
"But wanting one and...being able to go through all of that again...They're not the same thing." She shook her head.
Aang instinctively reached for her hand.
"Katara..."
She squeezed his fingers before he could say anything.
"I know what you're going to tell me. You always tell me it doesn't matter if our children aren't airbenders."
He frowned. "Because it doesn't."
"I know you mean that. I've always believed you." She smiled sadly. "But I've also always known you."
Aang's expression slowly faltered.
"You've spent your whole life believing the Air Nomads will end with you. Now Kya's started waterbending...and Bumi..." Her voice softened.
"I thought..." She looked away. "I thought eventually we'd talk about trying again. And I was going to ask you to wait a few more years."
Aang stared at her. "You thought I'd want another child because of that?"
"I did. And...Sokka didn't say much," Katara continued, her eyes falling once more to their joined hands.
"He just told me I needed to tell you before you brought it up yourself."
She paused.
"And then as we were talking, Minister Qilan walked over."
Aang's attention sharpened immediately.
"He greeted us and it felt like nothing more than a polite conversation. I didn't even consider that he might have heard us."
Katara sat quietly for a long moment, replaying the memory in her mind.
"I suppose..." she said after a moment, "...he must have. It's the only explanation I can think of."
She drew in a slow breath.
"I've spent the last few years telling myself that if we ever wanted another child, I'd be ready by then." Her voice was quiet, but there wasn't any uncertainty in it anymore.
"After Bumi, I thought maybe it was just because he was my first. Then Kya came, and I remember thinking the second time would be easier because I'd know what to expect."
She let out a humorless laugh.
"It wasn't. I know there are mothers with four, five, six children, and I wish I understood how they find the strength to do it because I..." She paused, shaking her head.
"I don't think I have it in me."
Aang opened his mouth to speak, but she gently squeezed his hand before he could.
"Please let me finish."
He nodded.
"I love our children more than anything. If I had to go through all of it again for Bumi or Kya, I would. I wouldn't even hesitate."
She looked at him then, tears beginning to gather despite the composure she'd held onto all evening.
"But choosing to do it again...knowing exactly what's waiting for me..." She swallowed. "I don't think I can."
Aang stared at her. He had been there through both pregnancies.
He remembered the mornings she couldn't keep food down, the nights she barely slept because nothing eased the ache in her back, the fear that had settled over him every time she cried out during labor.
He remembered standing helplessly outside the room with Bumi, listening to the woman he loved scream until his own knees had threatened to give out beneath him.
He had never forgotten it.
"If you think I want children in hopes of raising an airbender, then you're wrong. I never wanted this for you," he said quietly. "Not once have I looked at Bumi or Kya and wished they were someone else."
"I know."
"I want children because you're the love of my life. I want a family with you, but if you say we should stop, we'll stop. I mean it, Katara." He stressed, wanting his wife to believe he would never put her in a position that would harm her.
She looked at him, no longer able to contain her tears as her eyes glossed over. "But that doesn't change what Brother Lao said today."
Aang looked away, finding truth in her statement.
He was indeed the last airbender.
"I hate that they're right," Katara whispered after what felt like an eternity. "I hate it so much because they had no right to ask that of you...but I can't stand here and tell you they don't have a reason to."
The words lingered between them and neither knew what to say next. Aang found himself staring at the floorboards beneath his feet while Katara absentmindedly traced circles against the back of his hand, both of them searching for something—anything—that would make the decision before them feel less impossible.
And when it never came, they kept talking.
What began as quiet attempts to reassure one another slowly became hours spent circling the same impossible question, each trying to find an answer the other hadn't already considered, only to arrive at the same painful conclusion every time.
The candles burned lower with each passing conversation until their flames were little more than trembling embers and there were no arguments left.
Aang lowered his head into his hands, his voice scarcely more than a whisper.
"I don't want another wife. I don't want anyone but you."
Katara's eyes closed for a moment.
"I don't want that to change either, Aang. But maybe we can come to an understanding."
"They can say whatever they want in that council room. Brother Lao can tell me I'm the last airbender until the end of time. It doesn't change anything."
"It changes everything."
"But It doesn't change us!"
Despite the small outburst, Katara held his gaze.
"I married you, and I'd only marry you again." She answered without hesitation. "In every lifetime."
His expression softened.
"So then that's it."
"Aang..."
"We're done talking about this." He spoke as though the decision had already been made. "They don't get to decide who I spend the rest of my life with."
"They don't."
"Then why are we still having this conversation?"
Katara looked down at their joined hands.
"Because if we stop now..." she whispered, "...you'll spend the rest of your life pretending being the last airbender doesn't bother you."
"It doesn't."
"Yes It does, Aang! You've spent ten years telling me that it doesn't matter whether Bumi airbends. Then Kya was born, and you told me exactly the same thing." She smiled sadly.
"You never once lied to me."
"I didn't."
"I know. But I've watched you stand alone at the Southern Air Temple. I have watched you walk through those halls. I was there, Aang"
He looked away.
"You've never made me feel like I failed you."
"Because you never have."
"But I've also watched you carry the weight of an entire nation on your shoulders since you were twelve years old."
The room was silent again.
"You've spent almost two decades believing the future of the Air Nomads begins with you." Her voice trembled despite herself. "I can't ask you to put that down simply because I'm afraid."
Aang shook his head immediately. "I'm asking you—"
"No."
"Katara—"
"No. I won't let you choose me because you think you have to."
He stared at her as she reached up, cupping his face with both hands.
"If this was only about us..." she whispered, tears finally spilling over. "If you weren't the Avatar...if you weren't the last airbender..." Her voice broke. "I'd tell the council to go to hell."
A laugh escaped him despite everything.
"So would I."
She rested her forehead against his. "But that's not the life we were given."
He closed his eyes, giving the smallest nod as Katara brushed away the tears he hadn't realized had fallen, and somewhere between the silence they shared and the dawn that crept through their windows, they accepted the future waiting for them.
chapter two coming soon...
a/n: how many times did i write "the last airbender?"
Warning: slight swearing, sickness during childbirth, arguing, reader is heavily insecure, ends cutely
Synopsis: The royal advisors are trying to get Zuko to take concubines but he refuses, leading them to become frustrated with the royal family aka you…
Fire Lord Zuko, it’s just a suggestion. Taking new concubines would not be disrespectful. The Fire Lady is sickly. If she even dared to produce another heir, it’s possible she’d—”
“I said no.” Zuko’s voice was angered, his authority unwavering.
“But please listen. You need an heir to succeed the throne—”
“I already have one. My daughter.”
“Yes, but it’s tradition to have at least two. Something could happen—”
“I SAID NO!” Zuko’s voice boomed through the conference chambers. “If you even open your mouth to ask me again, there will be consequences.”
This morning’s conversation echoed through your head all day. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you wanted to check in on Zuko and ended up hearing things you didn’t like.
What hurt even worse was that they were right.
Your first pregnancy did not go well. You had many complications with your daughter, and your physician recommended not having another child for quite some time.
You and Zuko were saddened by this news, but he wanted nothing more than for his two girls to be healthy. You wanted nothing more than to give him as many children as he asked for, as many heirs as would please him. Unfortunately, your body had other plans.
He said he was okay with that, but you weren’t. You were scared that one day they might convince him to take on a concubine or perhaps several.
You spent your afternoon reading letters from friends and family in the gardens while your daughter waddled around, chasing bugs and turtle ducks.
“What are my favorite girls up to?”
Your heart thumped at the sound of his familiar voice. A small smile tugged at your lips as you patted the seat beside you. You folded the letters and slid them neatly back into the envelope.
“How are you, my love?”
Zuko swung his arm behind you, and you slid closer, cuddling underneath it.
“I’m okay.”
He peered at you. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face. You could tell he wanted to pry, but he didn’t. Thankfully.
You two watched your daughter play her little heart out. You started to feel guilty. You couldn’t even give her a sibling, someone to play with, someone she could rely on and trust after you and Zuko were gone.
You thought for a second until you came to a saddening conclusion.
“Zuko?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to take on a concubine solely to give you another heir.”
Silence filled the garden, It seemed as if nature itself stopped. His body slowly shifted toward you.
“How did you—”
“I want you to choose someone who’s healthy and strong enough to bear at least two or three children for you.”
“Did someone say something to you—” You didn’t answer him.
“Y/N, I’m not going to—”
“Zuko, do not argue with me. My word is final.”
Before he could get another word out, your daughter came running toward you with sleepy eyes. She babbled and attempted to crawl into your lap. You picked her up, standing and placing her on your hip.
“I’m going to put her down for a nap. I’ll see you for dinner.”
•••
After placing your little Ember down to rest, you took it upon yourself to walk through the garden to clear your head.
You cried a little from frustration and hurt. Just the thought of Zuko sleeping with someone else made you uncontrollably sick.
Unfortunately, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to marry Zuko. Granted, his father did not have concubines, at least not that the public knew of, but many Fire Lords had before him.
It was not an uncommon practice.
You walked and walked until the sun was starting to set, accidentally losing track of time.
“Excuse me, my lady? Sorry to interrupt, but you are late for dinner.”
Realization hit, you nodded and thanked her and rushed to dinner.
Dinner was…awkward.
You and Zuko ate across from each other like normal, but this time in silence. You had nothing to say, and he had a million things to say.
He just stared at you every so often, trying to read your mind.
“Do you really want me to have a mistress?”
You looked up from your plate and shrugged.
“It’s not about having a mistress, Zuko. It’s about you having heirs to succeed your throne.” Your answer was short and to the point. You could feel him growing frustrated with your answer.
“That’s not what I’m asking. I already have an heir that you gave me.” He said, putting emphasis on you.
You continued to push your food around on your plate, ignoring him and not wanting to continue this conversation.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up? You’re not going to get mad and—”
You dropped your fork aggressively and pinch the bridge of your nose trying to control yourself. You politely dismissed your servants before losing all your temper.
“What more do you want from me, Zuko? You want me to beg you not to take another woman? You want me to cry and make a fool of myself and tarnish my family’s name?”
Your voice echoed off the walls, bringing him to silence. All of your frustration from today came pouring out.
“Do you truly think I am pleased with this situation? I want nothing less than for you to have another woman, but this isn’t my choice. I don’t get a say. You need more heirs, and unfortunately, I cannot give them to you at the moment.”
Your chest began to tighten, your ears rang, and your eyes prickled with tears.
You loved Zuko more than anything, but you knew he had a duty to his citizens. They came first before anything, and your duty was to tend to your family.
That’s how it is, and that’s how it’ll always be.
Zuko was silent for a while. Then, with the screech of his chair gliding backward, he rose and made his way toward you. His larger stature towered over you before he lowered himself to his knees and took your hand in his.
“Do you remember when we got engaged?”
You tilted your head in confusion at such a random question.
“Yes?”
“Remember when I told you I chose you?”
He looked up at you with those beautiful golden eyes. Your heart began to thump against your chest again, not out of anger, but from being flustered.
The day you two met played through your memories.
• 5 Years Ago •
“You said she had to be from a noble family and virtuous? Is she not those things?”
Your back straightened as you heard muffled voices from the hall.
That has to be him. That has to be Fire Lord Zuko. Your nerves tore through you as you anticipated his entrance.
You remembered your mother’s words as she dressed you today.
“Smile, be polite and ladylike. Do not seem too available, but do not seem too reserved.”
What stupid rules to live by, but you’d do anything to get her to stop treating you like a failure.
You adjusted yourself in your seat, hands clasped in your lap, holding what felt like an awkward smile.
“But my lord, there are more women to choose from. Their families have been friends with the royal family for years they’ve been groomed for this. She’s just Commander Lee’s daughter, nothing special—”
“Silence. I do not want to hear any more from you. I have made my choice.”
Within a few seconds, the doors to the room slid open.
In walked Fire Lord Zuko in all his glory. Damn, he’s more handsome in person.
You immediately stood, giving a polite bow. You raised your head, offering a pearly white smile.
“Pleasure to meet you, Fire Lord Zuko. I’m—”
“I know. We’ve had the pleasure of meeting once before.”
You tilted your head with confusion.
“We…have?” you asked cautiously.
You racked your brain for a time you’d met the Fire Lord. You knew your father was his military commander, but you couldn’t recall meeting him one-on-one.
Oh, great. You’re gonna screw this up…
“Yes, we have. Although it was quite some time ago, and I…” He hesitated shyly. “I didn’t have this scar.”
“I was lost, and you let me join you on your walk home with your older sister. I promised myself if I were to ever meet you again, I would ask you on a play date…”
He trailed off as his cheeks began to turn a dusty pink.
“But now, since we’re older and a little too old for playdates, another opportunity presents itself, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage. If you’re willing to accept, that is.”
Your memories began to fall into place, but you were so young, and it was so long ago that you had almost forgotten.
“Oh— I…what about the other ladies? I’m just the first—”
He stepped forward with a small smile. “And you’ll be the last. So, what do you say?”
You were stunned into silence at his forwardness. You didn’t think you had a real chance of marrying The Fire Lord. You only came here because your mother wanted you to be married.
This felt like one big prank.
“I—”
“Please say yes, or I’ll be forced to pick one of those other ladies out there waiting, and no offense, but…they seem boring.”
You snorted, immediately hiding behind the sleeves of your robe. He grinned at you, letting you know it was okay.
“Yes, Zuko. I accept your proposal.”
• Present •
“…and you’ll be the last.”
His words echoed through your mind. You stared at the man kneeling before you, your husband’s hand still wrapped tightly around yours.
“You remember that?” he asked softly. Your lips parted, but no words came.
“Because I do.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I remember walking out of that room thinking I had just made the easiest decision of my life.”
Your eyes began to sting. “Zuko, you chose me because you needed a wife and you were most familiar with me—”
“No, you’re wrong.” He shook his head, a little more anger entering his voice. “You need to listen to me this time.”
“You said you wanted me to take a concubine because you think I need more heirs.”
“You do,” you answered. He sighed shaking his head.
“I have an heir.”
“Yes, Zuko, but it’s only one heir.” You sighed, tired of going in circles with this argument. You’d wish this would all go away, you wish he didn’t care so much.
“Our daughter is healthy. She’s happy and she’s loved. She has a mother and a father who would tear this palace apart before letting anyone hurt her.” A small, sad smile tugged at his lips.
“And she has you,” he finished, leaving a kiss on your knuckles.
Your gaze fell still not believing his words. Still worried about the future of this nation. “That isn’t enough.”
Zuko’s expression changed. You could tell he was becoming more upset by the minute. You immediately regretted saying it.
“It isn’t enough for the throne,” you clarified quickly. “Not forever. What happens if something happens to her? What happens if—”
“What happens if something happens to you? You froze. You never really thought about yourself, or what would happen to your family when you were gone. You’d just assume they’d be taken care of.
Zuko’s voice cracked slightly. “What happens if you try to give me more children because some old, crippled man in a council chamber decided that your life is an acceptable price for the stability of my throne?”
“That’s not what I’m—”
“But It is.” He cut you off with certainty. He stood, but he didn’t release your hand. “You could’ve died giving birth to Ember.”
Your heart clenched, remembering the long hours of pain and screaming.
“You need to give your body time to recover and adjust. I’m not going to risk your health nor your life because someone wants you to keep pushing out baby after baby.”
You let stray tears stream down your cheeks as you remembered waking up after giving birth. It felt like days had gone by and seeing him asleep beside your bed, his head resting against the mattress, still holding your hand.
“I remember wondering if I’d ever hear you call my name again. I remember thinking that I would trade the throne, my crown, my title—everything if it meant you would open your eyes.”
“Zuko…”
“And now you’re standing here telling me you’d willingly put yourself through that again because you think I need another heir? It’s really upsetting to here you’d take yourself away from me to please others…”
You never thought about Zuko, what he would be like if something ever happened to you.
“What about?” He asked as his voice wavered. “You’re willing to leave me alone? To suffer without you? It would drive me mad not being able to see the woman I love every day. To see her in my daughter but to know that I lost her over something that can be prevented.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. Thinking about Zuko having to raid your children on his own never truly crossed your mind, how devastated he would be if he’d lost you. You knew he loved you greatly.
“Please don’t be selfish. You’ve given me more than I could ask for. I don’t ever want you to think you can be so easily replaced.”
You bit the inside of your cheeks, trying to hold in your tears.
“What about your duty to your people? They need a secure succession—”
“Woman, will you just stop with that!” He raised his voice, but you truly knew he wasn’t upset.
“I didn’t pick you because of your title, your father’s position, or the fact you could give me children. I chose you because you were the little girl who let a lost, lonely, angry boy walk beside her because she thought he looked like he needed a friend.”
Your face crinkled into a smile. Zuko smiled faintly, wiping away your tears.
“I knew I’d choose you. And I’ll continue to choose you.” He placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes, relishing in the moment.
“Even when I’m difficult?”
He smiled. “Especially when you’re difficult.”
“Zuko” You playfully slapped his chest.
“There’s my favorite girl.” He chuckled, holding you in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his torso, leaning your head against his chest. You stayed there, enjoying the feeling of being held.
You both needed it after today.
“If one day the physicians tell us it’s safe to have another, we will. Until then, we will wait. No matter what those old bastards say.”
“I need nothing more,” he whispered against your hair before leaving a kiss.
His hands settled on your waist as you lifted your head and rested your hands against his chest. Looking up at your husband, you suddenly felt a sense of confidence and pride. You gave him an innocent smile as you played with the opening of his robe.
“Y’know, they did say I couldn’t have children just yet…”
You paused to choose your words carefully, but you were also a little flustered.
“They didn’t say we couldn’t practice making them.”
Zuko’s face immediately turned red, his eyes darting around the large dining room as if someone were there to hear you.
He swallowed. “But…we haven’t…y’know, since Ember was born.”
You nodded. “I know, but she’s two, and after that whole devotion-of-love confession, it’s kind of got me…excited.”You shyly admitted the last part.
Zuko’s face went serious as he looked down at you. “Are you sure? I don’t want to rush things.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Zuko, either fuck me or I’m leaving—hey!”
He shut you up as he hoisted you onto the dining table, your eyes bulging in shock.
The last person you expect to comfort you on this shite day is local nuisance Gojo Satoru. In your shower of all places.
content: gojo x gn!reader, angst with a fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, budding feelings, shower talk, mild gore, sfw, reader is a sorcerer
word count: 7.2k words
notes: english is not my first language so uhh brace urself. also this is a oneshot but i could expand it into sth longer if there's interest
Some days are harder than others. Anyone can attest to that, and it’s certainly not a novel concept to you. But the meaning of those words changed gradually with every year you’ve spent in Kyoto Jujutsu High. Opening up your heart and eyes to cursed perspectives might just have been the point in your life when things escalated to reach new highs and lows. It’s rewarding sometimes, and devastating other times. Saving a life, losing a life. Executing a curse, limping home, escaping death by the skin of your teeth. You might have learned to win your fights, but you haven’t quite grasped yet how to let some of them go.
Being no stranger to your mind, you can already tell this one is going to stay with you.
Screams permeate the air. You don’t worry about your cover, sprinting towards the sight you had the misfortune of stumbling across. A poor man hangs halfway in a curse’s mouth, being slowly devoured. It has an almost humanoid shape, if it weren’t for its lack of face and rotund middle with a singular mouth. He bellows as he claws at the curse’s body, his hands finding no purchase at all to stop his slow descent. Tears and snot streak his face. You are running as fast as your legs will carry you, creating a veil on your way. It’s like muscle memory by now.
The few houses snuggled against the tree line are usually peaceful. This guy is so unlucky.
He has spotted you now, desperately crying and reaching out. You jump over a little creek, the last thing to close the distance between yourself and the little parking lot by the forest. As soon as you’re in range, you shoot your whip forward. Imbued with your cursed energy, it finds the man’s wrists with ease, tying them together. Connecting him and you.
You pull with everything you have. With the man stuck in its throat, the curse gurgles like a cat about to throw up. It noticed you now, being sobered from its food frenzy, and it seems to get angry. It wails far louder than the man ever did. Enraged. Offended. It extends a stubby arm to push the man further down its throat.
You stumble a step before grounding yourself, keeping up the tug of war. Your body is on fire. The man’s suddenly rising panic is lost on you as you strain your every muscle. You manage a step back, then another. Slowly, he emerges. You hug a lamp post to steady yourself, the cold metal digging into your skin as the curse fights you.
You are tired from the mission you just returned from. There wasn't supposed to be another curse; you’re on your way home. You wanted a hot bath instead of cold death. All the more reason to channel your strength into one intentional pull. Being weakened, you prefer to play smart. You give in first before yanking hard. Classic recess technique, and a classic for a reason.
The opulent curse is caught off-guard and the man comes free. Pulled out by his wrists, he slips out of the curse’s mouth onto the pavement. You don’t waste a second, pulling him as far as possible and rushing to get between the two.
“You gotta run,” you say but are met with only more screaming. You have half a mind to bark at him when you catch sight of the problem. The man’s lower half is covered in blood, his feet completely crushed. One hangs on by a tendon. He can’t stand up, let alone run, but his survival instincts push him to drag himself away from the scene.
When the curse lunges for you, you careen sideways, luring it away while fighting for your life. It’s faster than the curse you executed earlier, surely at least one grade higher, and a lot angrier. You land deep cuts on it with your whip, lowly chipping away at its energy while trying to preserve your own. Someone will leave this fight dead and you’re trying not to be the one. Your strategy is to find an opening for your cursed technique. You just need one chance to completely take this curse out, one well-timed attack.
The curse flies towards you with its mouth open, trying to catch you in it, and that’s when you spot it. You dart out of the way, eyes on the concentrated swirl of cursed energy at the back of its throat. Everyone’s cursed energy has a source. And every curse’s core is somewhere else; some easily found, some well-hidden. If you had more energy, you’d wait for a better opportunity, but you’re getting out of breath and the man will likely bleed out soon. So you let instinct and muscle memory guide your hand, imbuing your whip with cursed energy and shooting it into the curse’s mouth — aiming exactly for the signature blue swirl.
It takes one moment of your cursed energies colliding to make the connection, and a little moment is enough. Your mind is violently ripped out of your body and finds itself in the grotesque form of the curse. You can see your collapsed figure from its eyes, feel its tug to jump at you and crush you. Snap your bones and tear your flesh apart.
You take that urge and dissipate it into nothing. The curse’s body stops, unaware of what’s happening. Their minds are always a mess. Simple but sticky like bubblegum, and a harrowing place to be. You plant a single impulse before retreating, not bothering to blend it in somewhere unassuming, this simpleton won’t know what’s happening.
Kill yourself. No one else.
You rip your eyes open to see the curse breaking a tree branch and stabbing itself over and over again. It wails and gurgles but doesn’t stop. You scramble to your feet and wait until it’s dead before turning on your heels and sprinting away. You need to find the man. You’re already dialing 119 as you follow his crimson trail of blood. He got far, which means he has energy, which is good.
His trail leads you into the tree line.
“Hello, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s hurt, I’m not sure what happened, maybe a hit-and-run, he needs an ambulance.”
It’s the standard excuse and fits his injuries. You ignore the rising tension in your voice. It’s protocol. You’ve made this call dozens of times. You’re going to keep making it, too.
“Where are you right now?”
You turn the corner and he finally comes into view, lying by the creek. You rush to his side.
“Sakyo ward, there’s a temple nearby—“ The words are caught in your throat as you discover his head to be lying inside the creek, face-down submerged in the water. Oh for fuck’s sake. The phone forgotten, you drag him out of the water and shake his limp body to no avail. Is there a pulse? Check his neck. Your trembling fingers can barely feel right. Is he breathing? He’s not. Even as you turn him on his back and tip his head back to peek into his mouth, you’re not sure if his airways are clear. You were never properly taught this, this is not your specialty. There’s only one way to find out that you can think of. You lock your mouth with his and blow in until his chest rises.
They’re clear.
“You idiot,” you curse as you start chest compressions. “Why did you fall in the water?”
“Ma’am?” Oh yes, the phone. It’s lying by your side, the sound barely reaching your ears. “I’ve dispatched… exact location?…”
“Kyojaku-ji Temple,” you yell, hoping the phone on the ground picks up your voice, “he’s drowning.” Hope and frustration twist your insides, mixing into a concoction you could go drown in next. How did he manage to end up in the shallowest of creeks after surviving an entire curse? Is this the kind of joke life plays on a person? You could cry if you weren’t so busy keeping the rhythm of a heartbeat. You steel yourself for when he becomes responsive again because you know that drowning victims can bring up stomach contents. When that happens, you need to turn him on his side before he can drown in that all over again.
But he never does.
You keep up the compressions until EMTs appear next to you, urging you to let them take over, asking you questions you don’t have answers to. ‘I don’t know’ gets you surprisingly far until you fade into the background of the scene.
You leave before they load him into the ambulance.
The campus of Kyoto Jujutsu High harbors a kind of tranquility that feels artificial on days like this. Like it’s all carefully placed here as an apology. Sorry you had to see that guy die. You’ll see more but look at this nice tree. The green of the foliage shines unnaturally as the blinding sun beats down on you. There are no sounds except for crickets crying and the ringing in your ears.
Today needs a shower. A long one. And other thoughts.
Chucking off your clothes in your room, you don’t care where you throw them, as long as the sweet relief of hot water can wash the day away. You shut the bathroom door behind you and step behind the shower curtain where the water has already run hot. Dirt and blood cling to your skin. And then slowly, they dissolve, coloring the water at your feet in unsightly hues. First intense, but as time eats away at the day, the colors in the tub fade out the way they always do.
You try to let the shower be your moment to switch off. You’ve heard office workers in cafés complain about the same thing. It’s so hard to let go after work, they need a ritual to not keep thinking about what they’ve done and still have to do. Their commute home, or going out to run, or meditating. They move their bodies or still their minds in order to understand that they are home now. They are more than just their jobs. Whatever happened by the water cooler isn’t even worth sweating over.
Whatever happened by the creek isn’t even worth sweating over. He probably survived, he’s in professional hands, you did everything you could. You could have brushed up on your first aid for drowning victims, but you did your best. And sometimes your best isn’t good at all and other people die because of it. He must have passed out right when crossing the water, it’s just something that can happen. People die pathetically all the time. Maybe he doesn’t even have a family to miss him, and then does it even matter? Maybe no, maybe yes, but he’s fine. And even if he isn't, things happen.
Right?
RIGHT?!
Hot tears mix with hot water running down your face as you find yourself scrubbing your body to no avail. The sticky feeling, like tar all over your mind, takes the longest to scrub away. It’s like the foul aftertaste of bile after vomiting, tucked into the back of your throat where you can’t reach it. A curse’s mind is the kind of filthy that’s unfathomable unless you’ve seen it. The way they think, the things they feel. You witness them in all their sincerity. It makes sense to them, all this destruction, it’s their most natural instinct. The only way to move forward, to survive, and survival is everything. That is where things get blurry, because you understand that instinct. It is all the more gut-wrenching to witness that logic be entirely inverted, perverted, and spit on — and having to come to terms with the fact that that perspective has a place in this world, too.
You’ve tried a lot of the things people say to do. You’ve gone running and you’ve tried meditation, nothing really giving the effect that people rave about. All things considered, the shower still works best. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, it’s quiet.
Until the bathroom door slams open.
“Where have you been?!” A familiar voice nags from the other side of the curtain, and you feel all kinds of violated. This is your room, right? This is your bathroom? Yes, these are your things indeed. You didn’t accidentally wander into someone else’s room. Unlike him.
“Gojo?” You confirm, incredulous. You don’t even have anything to cover yourself with except for your arms. Wait, do you need to? You’re behind a curtain. You’re covered. Yet, you don’t feel like it.
“Yeah.”
“… I’m in the shower.” What’s the exact etiquette of someone walking into your bathroom as you’re naked? This feels like something HR should know about.
“Yeah, duh. Did you want red or yellow?”
You have no idea what he’s talking about and close your eyes to ward off the onsetting headache in your skull. Gojo Satoru has spent the last week in Kyoto due to the mysteriously rising curse sightings. No one is sure why, but they have been popping up in numbers unprecedented, and Gojo has been a helping hand. Unfortunately, his person has also been grating. You find yourself equipped with a fraction of your usual patience, your focus torn between your growing headache, ringing ears, the sticky tar, his questions, and the fact that this is your shower.
“What the hell are you talking about? Get out.”
“Seriously?” he retorts. “You made me go buy them. You didn’t pick up the phone, so I got both. At least choose one so I can get my money back for the other.”
His words don’t make the least bit of sense to you and his demeanor never does anyway. How is it that Gojo always walks around doing exactly whatever the hell he wants? You’re not sure which part of your mind this sudden anger surges from. Whether it’s the fact that you’re spread so thin, you can feel the weight of every small emotion multiplied by ten, or you’re simply finding things to be angry about. But he makes getting what you want look so easy, so shameless, like he can bend the rules however he wants. It’s not weird at all to waltz into someone’s private room, bathroom, without knocking, and get what you want.
You want to know what it feels like to be so carefree. What’s it matter, anyway? Why are you such a stickler for the rules? You stop hugging your chest and pull the curtain just far enough to stick your head out, hair swinging over your shoulder and dripping past the tub. Not even hitting the towel on the ground, no, hitting the bare tiles. Who cares!
When you catch sight of the two packs of balloons he’s holding, all your anger vaporizes.
You did ask him to buy those. You couldn’t make the time because your mission was last-minute and you still needed time to prepare Utahime’s room before she returned. It’s no party without balloons. You had forgotten all about it.
There are worlds between this morning and right now.
You rub your face to wipe the emotions off it. “I’m sorry. Thank you, Gojo. They’re both nice, I’ll pay you back.”
He cocks his head, regarding you. “No problem. You okay? Why didn’t you pick up? I called for like ten minutes.”
You sigh, conjuring patience out of nowhere. “I ran into another curse after my mission. It got complicated, I haven’t checked my phone yet.”
“Lots of extra curses these days, huh.”
“Yeah, you know how it is.”
You observe Gojo and how utterly at ease he stands. How odd to make small talk from the shower. It should feel odder than it does, holding up the shower curtain to your chest while he stands by your sink. There is some sort of magic around him that makes everything feel like it is allowed. Not odd, not exciting. Just okay.
“What happened?” he asks, and you find yourself hesitating. Somehow the question churns something in your stomach and closes up your throat.
“The usual,” you say steadily. “Maybe a grade 3.”
He looks confused through the sunglasses. “Really? Then why did it take so long?”
You exhale. Not this again. “I’m a grade 4.”
Gojo seems to be none the wiser of the energy it’s taking you just to keep up the conversation. “I’ve seen you beat those in minutes. Could you not connect to it?”
“No, I connected fine.” You try not to let your mind wander to the real reason you were late. The mental image alone is enough to make your full glass threaten to overflow right now. You’re still processing it. He needs to back off.
“Then what happened?”
“What’s with the questions?” you snap, welled up emotions trying to break through your throat. It is not lost on you how Gojo can ask his questions so confidently. You’re tense from head to toe. You’re being short. Your voice got all high-pitched. Something is obviously up. It is taking a physical effort and a lot of clenching for you not to cry right now. And obviously you’ve got no reason to cry, but sometimes your body just… does it. Like this, after a long day, sometimes it just happens, and you find it increasingly harder to hold it back.
“You just seem a bit off. Did someone die?”
“What makes you think that?” you deflect, but your voice cracks a moment.
“You still have blood on your face.”
It’s not fair, the way he looks at you now. There’s pity and charity, looking past the sunglasses with eyes as radiant as the sky. You'd rather he make fun of you; a snarky remark would be easier to stomach than that look in his eyes. You hold your breath to keep it in. But a burning sensation spreads in your nose, and your anger flares up all over again.
“How does it NEVER get to you?!”
You must be making a pitiful face. Outraged, features twisted and reddened, trembling like a wet dog. You’re sure he didn’t sign up for this when he came to ask which balloons you’d prefer. Why did he have to stay and ask you all those questions?! Now there’s really no stopping it. Your eyes start burning a moment before your vision blurs, and you yank the curtain shut behind you.
You take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, I’m lashing out,” you say, hiding behind it. “You can leave the balloons, I’ll do the rest.”
You dunk your head back under the hot stream of water. You scrub your face all over, not even sure where that blood is still stuck. Washing away your tears, cradling your pained mind, hoping to finally scrape off the remnants of that curse’s inside that are stuck to you like dried gum under a table. Maybe you can stop remembering what it feels like wanting to rip apart that man's bones.
The sound of rustling tells you that Gojo set the packs of balloons down and a closing door signals his leaving. You exhale deeply. It’s difficult trying to let go of the tension. It’s all that’s been stopping you from splitting at the seams. You press your palms into your eyes until spots dance before them erratically. Sometimes that helps.
You jump when the shower curtain moves.
A pale arm has reached in, holding up a long fluffy towel like a peace offering. “… Sometimes it gets to me.”
The gentle voice behind the curtain sounds unfamiliar to you. You're sure you’ve never have heard him speak so softly before. Especially not to… what, make you feel better?
You turn off the water and gingerly take the towel, careful not to get close to him. That’s your peace offering, a little apology for your lashing out. Keeping the extra distance. You know it makes people uncomfortable, being this close to someone who can beat their mind like eggs with just a touch. It’s more complicated than that, but most don’t care, as that is what it boils down to. And it is unsettling. You get it. You appreciate the fact that he’s come this close.
“You hide it pretty well, then.” You stifle a sniffle, poorly playing it off as a cough, as you wrap the offered towel tightly around your body. When you pull the curtain aside, Satoru stands before you at eye-level. With the sunglasses gone, you have to endure the full force of his impossibly faceted eyes, and digest the way they look at you.
“So do you, honestly.” He dons a lop-sided smile for the smart retort.
You look down at him and his completely crisp uniform. It’s hard to tell when Satoru is on his way to a mission or returning from one, as he rarely ever has a scuff in his appearance. It’s only one of many things that make him seem so much more competent. Better suited. You can’t get the filth off of you under running water, let alone wipe it from your mind, while he’s not even able to step into a pile of it.
“What happened?” you ask, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of the puzzle that is Gojo Satoru. On his worst days, he still shines like a prism in the sun, so how come he’s standing here, looking so impossibly understanding?
“Not sure” he ponders, folding his legs under him to sit on your towel right on the floor. You mirror his movements and sink down, the tub separating you like a low wall. “Half a year ago, I think. Executed a grade 2, but it killed some civilians before I got there." The nonchalance with which he says it brushes goosebumps along your arms. You rub them away. "I don't know why I'd care but… I don't know, couldn’t stop staring at them that day.” He rubs his head at the memory, as if still trying to make sense of it. “Just, the kid looked like a different kid a couple weeks earlier, and after I made that connection, I remembered a bunch of them at once, and I couldn’t really stop it. Blasted through some trees just to stop thinking about it.”
Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “You did what?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t mean to, it just happened, the Red basically made itself. All I know is, you need to like… redirect your thoughts. Before you do something stupid.”
You nod slowly. “Something stupid like blasting a bald spot into the forest?”
“Something like that.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, mulling over his words. Relabeling your thoughts positively, of course you’ve tried that before. One life lost is ten lives saved, but those saved lives don’t exactly gain anything from that. That’s how their lives are supposed to go. Uninterrupted. The one lost is the only thing that changed. “How do you do it?” You ask in a quiet voice. “The redirecting.”
He thinks a moment, fiddling with the hairs that fall in his neck. “I just do something else. Try a new café, drink, snack. Hang out with Shoko or Nanami, but they kick me out sometimes. Game. Watch something.”
The way he avoids your eyes, the clumsy explanations, it all makes you feel like this is the first time he’s ever put this into words. He’s admitting to coping; you never thought he had something to cope with. How odd, seeing Gojo Satoru on eye-level. For the first time, he doesn’t resemble a sharply cut jewel as much as he resembles just a squishy body. A person. A boy.
You want to know more.
"How about after a really bad mission?"
He waves it off. "It doesn't happen much. It's totally random. Most missions I do just fine."
You can see his defenses locking into place; you’ve reached too deep. And now it’s hard to tell if he means it or if he's acting tough, but it's very easy to assume the former. Satoru and struggle don't go together often. Despite knowing this, a little piece of doubt tugs at your mind. How much does he relate? What if he just can't put it into words? What are the chances of that? You could tell him more, more of this embarrassing stuff you’ve clung close to your chest. What are the chances he feels the same?
You're tempted to take the gamble. You're already naked, might as well bare your mind.
"It's the little missions for me. I don't know why, but somehow it doesn’t happen after the worst ones. Like, one time, Utahime and I executed some nasty bug curse and had to cut a bunch of half-dissolved people out of cocoons. I’m talking limbs washing away on gunky acid waves. That was fine. But a no-name small-fry grade 3 nobody like this gets to me.” You have to laugh, unsure whether this makes you seem more collected or hysterical.
Satoru has a pained smile tugging at his lips, listening. Why does he look like he relates? You realize suddenly that you don’t want him to. It’s so much easier thinking that nothing can get to him, that it’s just you, that you just need to be tougher. Stronger. Grow thicker skin. Train more. You need something to look up to. Hope. If Satoru feels just as broken as you, what's there left to do?
“Maybe it’s all that,” he says. “The sum. Sometimes stuff boils over.”
“We’re supposed to get used to it.” Frustration eats away at your composure. “The sum is supposed to make it easier.”
“I thought that too, but I don't know. We see a lot of bad stuff. Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy.”
“Then where are we headed?” you ask, a sad smile on your face. It feels involuntary, like your body is trying to soften the blow. What’s there to console yourself with? You win the battles and lose the war. If you walk away from every victory a little more broken, how long until you shatter? If it’s the misery of the people that curses feed on, and you walk away from every fight more miserable than before, do you tip the scales at all?
What's the point of all this?
“How about a vacation?” Satoru pipes up.
You’re not sure you heard him right.
“A nice break,” he clarifies but because you still stare at him. “In the tropicals, maybe. Oooh. Or Antarctica. With the penguins.”
You gape at him for a little longer before the ridiculousness of the question gently takes you from the brink of tears to cracking a smile. “The penguins? What? … What would you even do with those?”
“They look cuddly, don’t you think?”
You can’t stop soft laughter spilling out of you at the image of Satoru chasing after frightened penguins. You’re not sure where you stand between laughing and crying. However absurd, you cling onto the mental image and expand it into a scene. A moment that’s a little too easy to imagine, like a soothing soft blanket for your mind. Replacing the grotesque images in it with Satoru sliding in the snow, slipping, toppling over. And it’s exactly the absurdity of it that you need right now. “I’m thinking more like the desert. I’ve always wanted to see a real roadrunner.”
He cocks an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Because of the cartoon?” His voice falls flat like that is the lamest reason someone could have for seeing an animal.
You almost take offense. “Maybe, so what?”
“Don’t give me that now. You laughed plenty at my penguin idea.” He leans forward on the tub wall with his arms to accusingly points his finger at you.
Something about the air feels too light to be angry anymore, you realize then. You haven’t felt light in a long time, usually preoccupied either with your next mission, your last one, or the training of the day to prepare for the next one. You’ve pushed yourself forward to the point that you aren’t sure anymore how far you’ve run and where you’ve ended up. Where are you now? This isn’t what you had in mind when you enrolled to be a sorcerer. Back then, it seemed a lot more heroic and rose-colored. Not so lonely. Not so dreadful.
“Let’s do it.” Your words come out like a plea. “Let’s go see both.”
Satoru laughs before he realizes you mean it. “What, right now?”
You look at him with a determination that could or could not be insane.
He eyes you with reservation, not entirely convinced you two are in the same reality. “You want to go ditch everything to see some animals? You? You don’t even leave the classroom during breaks.”
You’re taken aback for a second. How would he even know that? You go to different schools. The fact that it’s true makes it sting more and manifests your desire with a vengeance. You gotta see the desert. The times you’ve spent your breaks in class, hungry to learn and not let even a word go to waste, it feels ridiculous now. Wasted. There wasn’t anything worth chasing in those books except for fragile dreams. You haven’t even graduated yet, and you’re already out of juice. You fought tooth and nail and still haven’t reached grade 3. You can’t use your cursed technique and walk away without a headache. You can’t even see a dead guy without losing it.
“Who cares?”
Satoru all but gawks at you.
You must look stupid. Nestled into the tub, sopping like a rag, still trying to hide the fact that your nose has been stuffy the whole time. The cold of the tub seeps into your skin with every second Satoru doesn’t say anything.
“What about Utahime’s birthday?” he asks finally. “You prepared a lot of stuff.”
You look away, fiddling with your fingers and trying to unravel the knot of emotions pressing on your chest. “It’s not like she’s expecting it,” you mutter but it sounds insincere, even to your own ears. Expectations or not, you have done a lot of work. Excitedly. And you know she would love it.
But you’re so tired.
“Why did you bother if you’re gonna back out?” There’s a sudden sharpness to his tone that could cut, catching you off-guard.
“Who says I’m backing out? I’m just… thinking? I mean—” You’re not sure what you mean. The thought of a vacation tastes so sweet, of ditching responsibility for just a day, but the words spoken out loud mortify you.
“You bought all kinds of stuff and even sent me on an errand. All that just to throw it away in the end? Come on. What do you want?” He asks the question with a finality that urges you to meet his eyes.
You don’t feel like this is just about the party anymore. A part of you wants to let the anger surge, ask him how the hell it’s his business. A larger part has you frozen in contemplation, because the wound he's pressing on hurts.
“Why did you plan it?” he prods further, forcing you out of your corner.
“Iroi loves surprises.” That’s the easy explanation. You’re friends and she likes things.
“And?”
“And it’s nice?”
His finger drums on the tub impatiently. “Get to the point. And?”
You’re almost offended, the way he demands. His sudden gruffness feels like a challenge to you, just like when you spar and he goes straight for the knock-out punch instead of giving you a second of grace to warm up.
You’ve never not matched his attitude.
“And it’s fucking depressing without a party once in a while. She’s been in Nagoya all weekend wading through cursed energy because they don’t have enough sorcerers over there. She probably spent her birthday getting hurt and patched up, being done after the stores close, so maybe she got some tiny cake from a convenience store and ate it by herself. And no one gives a shit because that’s what we’re supposed to do! But sometimes, you know, it’d be nice to have just one nice thing. Just ONE thing. Just one tiny thing of self-indulgence.”
“Something good for a change,” he completes your rant, making your next wall of words get stuck in your throat. “I'm with you. But you gotta push through the shit. Let it go. For the nice things,” he urges, giving you pause to contemplate. He understands you so well it’s worrying. He’s so calm it’s worrying. None of that upbeat demeanor, no rude remarks, no fuck-everything attitude. Somehow, you’re more concerned for him than yourself right now. You thought you’ve been hiding it well, but what about him?
“Is that what you’re doing? The whole time.”
Satoru barely looks caught. He just puts on a lop-sided smile that turns sadder by the second. How did you not see it before? “Everyone does. Well, everyone who lasts. But yeah. You have to.” His voice turns quiet, leaving things left unsaid in the air.
You can take a guess at who didn’t last. Geto’s disappearance took everyone by surprise, and it must have hit Satoru the worst. He was praised for the record number of missions he completed right after, but even all the way in Kyoto, it struck you as odd. How long he kept it up. It impressed you at first, gave you good fire to train harder too, but after months, impressive became odd. Curious. He took on all that for so long without a break or complaint. Now he’s here, solving your problems, shouldering them for you while you cry in the shower, and he’s still making it look so easy.
But his smile doesn’t look easy anymore. How did you miss all that hidden behind his grin?
Your eyes fall to his hand resting on the tub and you feel a sudden tug to hold it. The world must be upside-down. You can’t imagine the right words to comfort him, and your mind fails to put together what you feel. There are chasms in your chest you can’t begin to define yet.
Having barely reached out, you stop yourself. You aren’t just anyone; no one touches you. Who knows what you’ll dig up. And he isn’t just anyone, either. And for different reasons, no one touches him either.
This isn’t possible.
You fidget with your arms, noticing now that they have mostly dried already. Only your hair is still dripping water onto your shoulders. “Wanna help me prepare the party?” you offer instead, trying to hide how helpless you feel. “It might be fun, doing it together.”
His eyes follow your hands before resting on your face again. “Didn’t you say I was colorblind and couldn’t wrap a present for the life of me?”
You turn red at the accusation. In your defense, those statements were made at two separate occasions, and not unprovoked. “That’s ‘cause you were insisting the flower was green.”
“It was green.”
“It was blue. And if you had eyes, you would know that. And supposedly you have six of those.”
Satoru rises with a laugh, a laugh very familiar, which you now can’t help question how much of it is joyful or deceptive. “Ready to stop moping in the shower?”
“Ready to stop intruding on me in my shower?” You’re about to lift yourself when his hand suddenly hangs in front of your face, outstretched. You almost laugh. “You don’t have to go that far. But thanks.”
Whether the confusion on his face is real or not you can’t tell. “What do you mean?”
He earns himself a pointed look in response. “You know, my cursed technique. You’re not that ignorant. I’ve done it to you before.”
“That was during a spar. Are you gonna peek now?” His eyes remain on you, steadfast.
The thought alone is nauseating. “I don’t want anything to do with your mind.”
“Then take my hand.”
His words hang in the air as you’re catching up to the fact that he means it. You don’t know how to handle this sudden trust. Surely, he must be drunk on endorphins from the heart-to-heart, because there’s no way he’d make the offer on a normal day. Of course you want nothing to do with his mind, but he can’t know that. And if you did and took a look and pulled something private from his memories, he’d be unable to stop it. The things you could find and use against him are infinite. All with a touch. Everybody knows that.
“I mean it,” he insists and he looks at you in a way that’s so disarming, your breath catches. Why are you the one feeling afraid now? He should be afraid. Or concerned, at least.
You reach for it. Slowly. Testing, giving him enough time to change his mind and pull back, retract the offer like he never meant it. But he doesn’t. Your hand wraps around his. You’re surprised at how delicate he feels. Your fingertips brush over his skin, warm and soft, and entirely unlike what his Infinity feels like. You’ve never touched him before. There is that time you landed a punch while sparring, but that’s completely different.
He helps pull you to your feet before you work to step out of the tub. There isn't much to hold onto. Balancing your weight on a grasp alone, you wobble just a moment. Almost instantly, his other hand shoots out to support you, finding yours, clasping together with an electricity that makes you hold your breath. Your cursed energy is begging to seep out and it takes real discipline to keep it in place. You don't want to catch a single thought. You don't want to waste his trust. You don't want to lose it, if only to prove that you really can control your technique now.
For a moment, you feel the awkwardness of not knowing how to step out of the shower. No one's ever held you up doing it. Before you can instinctively let go of one of his hands, its pressure around yours increases ever so slightly. The sensation is barely noticeable, barely worth giving meaning to. It's just enough so you don't let go. And then his arms shift with your body, reading you well. Giving way where space is needed and support where you shift your weight into nothingness. Your hands rely on his, and his body weight shifts with yours. It works better than you expected. You don't feel safe, but you're not falling, and every moment he has you propped up steadfastly is a moment you grow increasingly curious about. How long until he drops you? How long until you slip anyway? You anticipate it, despite being far from it. The way it never happens almost leaves you wanting.
What kind of sick thought is that?
It's easier to expect the worst of him, if it means you won't have to step out of your comfort zone. Why open up if he’ll just make fun of you? Why hold onto him if he’s just gonna drop you? Realizing you've kept yourself trapped in a tiny space alone, when you had perfectly good reasons not to, is not something you can bear to acknowledge. It's easier giving yourself credit. Good job protecting yourself. You never know what could happen.
But he doesn't drop you.
You're still tense when you stand firmly on the ground, the buzzing of his mind against yours too inviting. His cursed energy is everywhere. Everywhere is a potential doorway already ajar.
You try to let go but he grasps your hands tighter and leans in teasingly. “Always tell someone. Don’t go crying alone in the shower like a loser.”
You have to straighten up to not let it get to you. You grip his hand even tighter, continuing a fight for what might be the most painful hand holding session ever, before leaning further in yourself. “Only if you promise to open up, too. You seem to have a lot on your mind yourself.” If he’s weaponizing your mental health against you, his isn’t safe either. You can go lower.
You feel the tickle of a water droplet dripping from your hair. He looks bothered before the movement catches his eye and his eyes go astray for just a moment. They follow it as it rolls down the smooth groove of your neck and past your collarbone. But before you can make sense of it, his eyes snap back to your face.
“No clever comeback? Thought so.” You let go of his hands, feeling ever so smug as you saunter out of your bathroom. “Don’t come in, I’m getting dressed,” you say as you swing the bathroom door shut behind you. You don't turn to see the way he’s holding his face, hiding a soft-hued shade of color. He releases a deep sigh behind closed doors.
You’re preoccupied with the warm feeling in your palms as you dig through your drawer. You’re doing your best to ignore the lingering phantom sensation but it’s wrapped around your hands as if he hadn’t let go yet.
A shiver runs over you. It’s cold out here.
You better get dressed.
It’s funny how sometimes the thing we try to avoid the most seems to be the remedy to our burning pains. Like disinfectant on a wound, there is no immediate relief, and there is no way to relax through the process if you know it’s going to hurt. But maybe anything that was going to touch that wound was going to hurt. Better let it be the disinfectant than let it fester. Better let the alcohol eat away at the malignant parts before you grow so used to the pain, you don’t remember a time before it. You might just get so used to it, you won’t realize you’ve been limping, slowing down to protect your wound. Slowing down so much, the thought of walking could scare you.
The wound could become a part of you. Encapsulate you.
Looking back on that day, you wonder sometimes if Satoru knew then. You had a feeling of course, but with everything you know now, you wonder just how deeply he understood the dangers of ignoring that wound. You feel guilty now, knowing you should have asked him more questions. Forced him out of his tub the way he had forced you. You didn’t have the maturity; you had an idea, but you were so far from grasping the whole picture. And he was so good at evading you.
You try not to get lost in that feeling anymore. If he taught you anything at all that day, it was to breathe and focus on what you can do now.
What you can do is try to be kinder; you didn’t know and he didn’t want you to know. Try to slow down when things are overwhelming. Ignore everything outside of your control, and if you won’t die, sometimes just don’t do something. Most of all, try to pass on that wisdom to the next generation.
They look so young to you now. You don’t understand how you all did it back then. Satoru is even younger than you; it’s unfathomable to you now how you all carried so much on your inexperienced shoulders.
You cried that day, you despaired that day, and then you cried again and you laughed. You didn’t think you could do these things out loud or all at once. You didn’t think someone else could feel the same nonsense feelings.
But you had walked out of your room with a weightlessness you couldn’t explain yet at the time. You thought it was the change of topic, the chatting about paper cups and garlands, or Satoru balancing all the brightly-colored party supplies as you picked the lock to Utahime’s room (which she forgave you for). Seeing him struggle to tie a balloon while wearing a stupid party hat was such a pleasant distraction, you missed the point until much later.
It wasn’t about ‘redirecting your thoughts’. It was about having someone on your side to catch you before you fall. Having someone to hold you, so you don't slip.
It was about not walking that road alone.
a/n: if you're mean to yourself on hard days, consider yourself CALLED OUT
･:*:｡☃︎𓏲ּ back to december satoru gojo x reader oneshot
cw : angst
note : sorry a lot of angst lately my bf made me mad😡 not proof read. back to december by taylor was playing so it inspired me
it’s been years since their relationship ended. she broke up with him in december of 2006. just a couple months after he killed toji. she couldn’t do it anymore. she couldn’t be with someone who’s life was constantly on the line. it didn’t matter if he was the strongest. her heart couldn’t take it anymore. she didn’t want to wake up to the news of him dying. it was such a bitter break up. she walked away after breaking his heart, leaving him no room to say anything.
they started dating in december of 2004. he had saved her one day and they kept in contact since. their relationship was sweet. it was what you’d think of when someone brought up teenage romance. they were each others first everything.
eleven years since the breakup. eleven years since their eyes last left each others. eleven years of no contact. until today.
“satoru?” a soft voice spoke.
he turned around. standing there was the only girl he’s ever loved. she looked almost the same.
“y/n.” he stared at her. he knew she was there but he didn’t expect to run into her. he tried to avoid her due to how bad things ended.
“how has life been?” she walked closer, acting as if she and geto didn’t completely destroy him just months apart, except she didn’t know about geto.
“good.”
“how is megumi?” she remembered the small boy that she only knew for barely three months. he was so cute the last time she saw him.
“good.” he spoke. this was the first time a woman had made him lose his composure. “how was work been for you?”
“it’s been good.” she smiled. “got the day off since it’s so cold today.”
“that’s nice.”
he couldn’t help but remember that december night eleven years ago.
it was december seventh, just two days before gojos birthday. he had plans to hang out with y/n that day. they were going to go ice skating and see some christmas lights.
he waited at the front door. she opened it and even though they’ve been dating for a little over a year, his heart still skipped a beat every single time he saw her.
“i missed you!” he hugged her, only she didn’t hug him back. she just said a quick ‘missed you too’ and walked ahead of him.
he pushed it off as maybe she got into a fight with her brother. he held her hand as they walked to the train station.
“satoru?” she looked down, avoiding his eyes at all cost.
“yes?” he leaned down to hear her better.
she wanted to tell him before he spent money on her. she wanted to tell him before his birthday. she still loved him though. she loved him so fucking badly. she loved him so much that it hurt.
“i don’t think we should go anymore.”
he stopped walking. he stopped everything.
“why?” this was unlike her to cancel a date last minute. it was unlike her to not look her in the eyes. he could feel it coming. he didn’t want to believe it. he didn’t want to accept it.
“i dont think we should be together anymore. being with you hurts. seeing you leave for missions hurt. i thought i was over this feeling after you reassured me that you’re the strongest but i can’t help but worry about you every single day, every single mission.”
“i would never die. i would barely ever get hurt.” he put a hand on her shoulder. “let’s not say words like that.”
“no.” she removed his hand. “i can’t do this anymore. what if you’re wrong? what if one day i wake up to people at my door saying that you died? i can’t take that! i don’t want to be with you anymore if you continue on being a jujutsu sorcerer.” she started crying. “because if you die, i will die too.” she walked away.
gojo watched her back. he didn’t chase after her. he didn’t beg for her to not break up with him. he knew this day was coming sooner or later, he just didn’t know it was coming today. he went back to his dorm room and thought about all the moments they had together.
the previous summer they took her brothers car and she drove illegally. they drove all the way to the outskirts of tokyo. they did a mini camping trip together, just them two.
he laughed at the memory. they stayed up all night telling ghost stories, he managed the grill and burnt a couple of things but they just laughed it off and tried again. when night came, he held her closer than ever, protecting her from the dark and wilderness.
“good morning,” she kissed his cheek as we stirred awake. he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was her face. he loved her face. he loved everything about her.
“good morning.” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer. “i don’t want to wake up yet.”
“we have to.” she said but she snuggled in closer to him. “my brother will be home today. he’s going to freak out that we took his car.”
“fifty more minutes.” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.
“fifty minutes?!” she hit his chest. her stomach rumbled in the silence causing him to laugh.
“okay okay. let’s make some food first.” he sat up. “someone is super hungry.”
“it’s not funny. it’s embarrassing.” she pouted.
“it’s funny to me.” he kissed her temple before standing up. he put away the tent and all of the other camping gear. he didn’t let her lift a finger at all since she was driving back.
y/n looked at him with love. she really loved him and wanted to be with him for the rest of his life. they sung together in the car. gojo laughed from the passenger side at her off key singing even thought he was just as off key. she dropped him off at jujutsu high before making her way home.
“text me if you get in trouble.” he kissed her. “i’ll beat him up.”
“you’re so funny.” she kissed him back. “love ya.”
she watched him in her rear view mirror as she drove off. he was truly everything she wanted in life.
august came and she hadn’t hear from him in weeks. she couldn’t help but worry about the worst. she needed to see him. she needed to know if he was okay. she texted and called but no reply. she wanted to desperately go to jujitsu high but she was grounded for taking the car.
he knocked at her window. she opened the curtain and saw him with blood dried up on his forehead and a big bruise on his shoulder.
“what happened?” she let him in and hugged him. “i was so worried about you!”
“it’s okay. i won.” he collapsed into her shoulder.
y/n was never too worried about him but today was different. today something shifted in her that made her stomach churn at every thought of him fighting.
“don’t leave again.” she whispered. “i don’t like it when you leave.”
“i’m sorry.” he mumbled, knowing that he couldn’t keep that promise.
he when ghost again during september. he loved her but he just lost his best friend, his one and only best friend. the only person who was equally as strong as him. he didn’t lose his physically yet, but mentally he could tell that he was no longer there.
the constant calls and texts from her disappeared. she was worried but she knew he would never respond back to her when he goes ghost.
they had a big argument when he came back again. the argument lasted for weeks.
“i told you don’t leave again and you still did.” she was eerily calm. “you don’t have to see me but a text would be enough for me! letting me know that you are okay and alive is enough for me even if it’s just a simple ‘i’m ok’. don’t you know i’ve been so worried sick!” she hit his chest.
“i’m sorry y/n.” he let her hit him. he let her yell, cry, do whatever she needed to get her frustrations out. when she was finished, he pulled out a bouquet of roses. apology roses.
“i should’ve said something. im sorry.” he kissed her forehead.
by then it was already nearing december. after breaking up with gojo, y/n debated calling on his birthday but she couldn’t. she didn’t have the courage to. she regretting that day for years. she cried. she yelled. she wanted to see him, but she didn’t. she went no contact. she had moved on with her life. she never forgot him but she was happier now. her heart was at peace now but she missed him. she missed her boyfriend that would say he was the strongest and had proof to back it up. she missed her boyfriend who would tell her the most unbelievable stories. she missed everything about him.
his thoughts were interrupted when she apologized to him. he imagined the moment they’d reconnect but he didn’t think it’d be in the middle of the grocery store.
“i’m sorry for that night. i walked away at your lowest. im sorry.” her voice was mixed with multiple emotions. love, happiness, sadness, it was all too much. “there were some words i shouldn’t have said. there were some things i should’ve said better but i can’t take them back now. if things were different, i would’ve stayed. i regretted leaving you the moment i did.”
he never knew he needed her to hear those words. he opened his mouth but nothing came out.
“mommy!” a high pitched voice came running over. “who are you talking to?”
“just someone i used to know.” y/n picked up the little girl.
she had moved on. she had a life. a life where she didn’t have to worry about her husband dying. a life with no cursed techniques, no curses, no unnatural danger.
gojo smiled. his heart hurt at the sight of his only true love with a kid from another man. her daughter had her smile that he adored. she had her hair color that he could recognize from anywhere, but her daughter had another man’s eyes.
“it was nice seeing you again y/n.” he said before walking away.
he lost everything eleven years ago already, so why does it feel like he’s losing everything again today?
note : short lil something bc im still mad at my bf😡
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