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✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?
✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.
✦ ── a/n: and we're back my forest-dwellers. WHEW longest volume yet. apologies for the late update but i've been plotting on this volume for months and writing it felt a bit intimidating. anyway, if you're interested in seeing the moodboard for this fic, here it is!
✦ ── word count: 7k
archive ─ playlist
series masterlist - volume eight - volume ten
art by outdmilk on twt
“I think I’ve loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity.” — Alice Oseman, Solitaire.
So he didn’t own a tuxedo.
What were you really expecting from a guy who owned about seven different pairs of the same starchy red flannel and most likely didn’t even know what aftershave was?
“I ain’t wearin’ this,” Sukuna grumbles, husky voice only the slightest bit muffled past the silk drapes he’s changing behind. You have a view of his ankles down, feet clad in crisp black socks and dress shoes reflecting the boutique’s exquisite set-up lined with intricate florals and printed wallpaper you want to run your fingers down.
You roll your eyes, tossing your head back listlessly on the cushy leather seat and groan. “Just come out and if it looks weird, we’ll find you a new one.”
It was hard enough squirming out of every other tailor shop in the area because they didn’t have the measurements to suit such a massive man on such short notice—Sukuna tearing through the seams of each option they had on hand.
The shortest notice possible as the wedding was this afternoon.
However, your prayers seemed to have been answered with a location that somehow guaranteed to fit men of all sizes, including the ones that towered near seven feet.
Your phone buzzes and pulls your attention, quickly shoving your hand into your jean pocket and slipping your device out to see an incoming text from one of the only people that seemed to care to keep up with you nowadays.
11:42 A.M. — Sho: i’m just surprised he hasn’t killed you yet
11:42 A.M. — Sho: like he lives in buttfuck nowhere
11:43 A.M. — Sho: i still don’t trust this guy no matter how much you butter him up and how much you hide your freaky fling in the forest
You roll your eyes, thumbs at the ready to type up a snarky response about how she doesn’t know him like you do.
11:43 A.M. — You: Listen, I know you don’t trust him but
11:43 A.M. — You: He’s done a lot for me
11:43 A.M. — You: Like he even agreed to get fitted into a suit for a wedding just cuz I don’t wanna go alone
You watch her text bubble jumble up and down a few times, as if she was trying to find a new angle to scold you from. Or maybe make a million innuendo’s about how he wants to see you and him up on the altar instead.
11:45 A.M. — Sho: just be careful.
11:45 A.M. — Sho: i don’t want to have to drag you down that mountainhill after i dig up his evil past of being a mercenary or a creep ヽ( `д´*)ノ
She pauses her typing for a moment, before picking it up again.
11:46 A.M. — Sho: and for the record, i miss seeing your stupid face scowling at my second-hand smoke
Your lips curl up in a soft grin, something warm buzzing in your chest like that first sip of tea in the morning as your mind settles down.
You still haven’t had the heart to tell her about Sukuna’s past, but that could wait. For now, you were just taking things one day at a time.
How were you supposed to explain to her that the guy you were staying with and planning to build a house with was an underground cage fighter with claws that tear through his knuckles and is over two centuries old?
Shoko really might just kill you then.
Beside you on the plush sofa rests the wedding invitation you’d stashed away with you detailing all of the event information. You pick it up, fingertips brushing against the stiff and expensive cardstock with a dull stare at the cursive calligraphy staining the milky canvas. Each T is crossed and each I is dotted and it makes you motion sick.
You have to hand it to the Zenin’s—they were unvarying, holding the ceremony at the very same venue that you and Naoya had uttered your vows to each other that clearly didn’t hold with time seeing that he was having a do-over just a few years later.
You wonder if the clan prefers her over you. Naoya made his grievances quite public through the course of your marriage, leaving you to shy away from heated glares of wiry bearded and wrinkly old men.
Maybe she didn’t talk back as much as you did—didn’t pursue a career and instead tended to the home as the suitable docile wife everyone expected you to turn into. You couldn’t be hysterical and passionate like you ached to be.
Maybe she lived while you performed.
Only speaking when spoken to and completely subservient like a fucking mutt. The kind of life that left you hollow and frayed at the edges.
You hadn’t cared to look into who she was—a vacant and abysmal gap settling in your gut after the last well of tears had been reaped from your waterline and you’d been too exhausted to pay attention to the bruised hickies decorating your soon-to-be ex-husband’s neck as you signed divorce papers in an echoing conference room, your lawyer doing all the speaking on your behalf as you bore holes into the mahogany finish.
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as your phone buzzes again, lifting the device up from your lap and looking at the new message from Shoko who’d been chatting your ear off the entire morning, adamant on catching up.
11:48 A.M. — Sho: soooooo does your mom know he’s coming
You nibble on the inside of your cheek.
11:49 A.M. — You: Think I should tell her?
11:49 A.M. — Sho: nah. it’ll be so much funnier to see the look of surprise on her face when she realizes you actually have game
You audibly scoff.
11:49 A.M. — You: Funnier isn’t a word, Sho.
You’re not even sure if that’s entirely true, but you don’t want to address the elephant in the room sitting between you and the brute just a few feet away from you.
You slide your phone back into your pocket as you hear more grunting and shuffling behind the thick curtain that probably cost more than the rent of your old apartment.
Sukuna steps out after wrangling with the drapes, face melted into a scowl as he meets your eyes. You have to mask how you feel your heart skip at least four consecutive beats in your chest with a slated expression.
His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he’s too busy gazing somewhere off in the distance, feeling incredibly ridiculous in the get-up—but your focus is too busy trailing down his attire.
He’s clad in an all-black suit, the sterile dressing room lights reflecting off the sleek stygian material and giving it a soft shimmer. His dress pants are cut off and loose near the ankles, yet tight around his thighs like a vice and showcasing his pure muscle from years, or better, centuries of hard labor.
You fear that with a couple of movements, the buttons on his dress shirt will give and scatter them across the room, maybe even landing square in your forehead and knocking you out. You have a clear view of his sharp collarbones since he opted to not button it all the way up.
He didn’t care to secure the blazer, the jacket hanging off of him with enough casual composure that he somehow radiated elegance.
His hair is still shaggy and outgrown, but it was nothing a little bit of gel couldn’t solve.
His stubble was poking through, and though you find it to be the slightest bit dashing, it probably isn’t the greatest idea given his other, far more noticeable physical attributes.
“You gonna keep staring or tell me to try another one on?” He remarks, breaking you from your slow once-over, the seam of his lip curling upwards.
You swallow your heart that’s neatly lodged in your throat, nearly stopping you from keeping your composure. “I-It should be fine. Now hurry up and get out so I can get fitted.”
There was a whirlwind of people ushering around to get the dress shirt wrapped in a plastic garment bag and his pants tucked into a fancy box that the two of you gawked at, quickly paying for the fitting and shuffling out of there.
You pad down the sidewalk towards your next destination, the stocky man at your side as he stared at the overly decorated and sleek box in his hands adorned with a giant black ribbon that flitted in the afternoon wind.
He’s staring at it like he was born last night, or maybe that’s when he snuck onto Earth.
“First time going shopping?” You snarl, glancing at your phone for directions to the dress boutique.
“Why? ‘Cause I’ve got beginner's luck?” He quickly shoots back, dusting off his hat and placing it on his head.
You sigh deeply. For all his elegance just moments ago, he had quickly returned to his old and brusque self.
𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
The boutique smells of hydrangeas and expensive perfume.
“Ah, I see. Your mother left your measurements and had us pick out a few dresses ahead of time. You can follow me and I’ll get you fitted.”
You glance back at Sukuna who barely fit through the short front door, too busy eyeing the small boutique desk that was organized far too meticulously. He grunts in mild surprise but catches onto what you were trying to wordlessly message. “Uh. Gonna run a quick errand. Be back before you know it.”
You nod, watching him awkwardly shuffle out of the door.
You follow the receptionist as she motions to a marvelous open space that’s fairly empty, save for a young woman who was most likely just a few years younger than you accompanied by her mother.
They were getting her fitted for her wedding dress.
The universe might possibly just have it out for you today.
You rock on your heels impatiently, staring at your hands clasped before you, awaiting the receptionist to return with the dresses as the mother and daughter giggle about something arbitrary.
“I think I saw a suit that matches this one,” the daughter, gorgeous as ever, twirls, tossing her hair past her shoulders and bunching up the lacy flounce in her hands.
Her mother’s eyes sparkle as she fixes the strap of the dress. “Well, how am I supposed to pick when you look so lovely in each one?”
The receptionist quietly returns, not noticing your hollowed stare across the room. “There’s four dresses—.”
“Thank you,” you tersely interrupt with a pinched smile, folding the multi-colored fabrics over your arm and quickly hurrying into the nearest fitting room, pulling the door shut with a huff.
You stiffen with your back against the door, hands fisting the sleek dresses slipping through your fingers.
You plop down on the bench, resting your head in your hands and raking your fingers through your scalp with an exasperated groan.
It’s going to be a long day, and you were definitely going to be late for the ceremony but you didn’t care too much. As long as you made an appearance, then your mother would stop harassing you.
As easy as falling off a log. You hope. You’ve got the metrics for it, clumsy as can be and spending your days between the trees.
For all you know, this could be one of the very last things she requests of you. And a part of you, a small, rebellious part that aches for change, tells you that you’re going to put your foot down from now on if that wasn’t the case.
But it was damn near impossible with the incessant whispering of your mother’s voice in the back of your head, fraying the edges of your psyche that you’d never make her proud if you pursued the things you truly wanted.
She’d prefer the notion of you boxed away as the image of subservient perfection—and you knew that wasn’t who you were. At least not anymore.
With a shallow sigh that did nothing to relieve your nerves, you sort through the dresses, dark satins and silks brushing your skin before you settle on a burgundy slip with a modest bodice you could fit into.
You try it on, giving yourself a quick inspection, before tugging it off and stepping out of the dressing room.
“I’ll take this one.”
As you got it squared away at the front, Sukuna was back and looming over you quietly without a word.
𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
“Do you think he’s going to recite the same vows?”
Sukuna looks over at you from his ice cream, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”
You lick the vanilla cream that managed to trickle down your wrist before sighing. “Naoya. My ex-husband. Do you think he’s going to use the same vows he had with me?”
The burly man is quiet for a moment, reaching over to grab a napkin from the plastic bag he set on the park bench and handing it over to you. “You’ve got ice cream all over your face.”
You sigh, sending him a sideways glare before taking the paper and wiping your mouth down.
“Again, I don’t see why any of that matters. Why do you care what he does if you hate him?”
You recall your conversation with him beneath the stars, his stance on this whole thing remaining unchanged.
You ignore the brain freeze creeping in to ice your firing neurons. “Because that was my life once.”
Sukuna peers over at you, face tight and unreadable before he turns away.
You don’t elaborate further, and he doesn’t ask you to. You think he understands, and if he doesn’t, he isn’t going to make you drudge up something you feel so strongly untoward.
You watch a raven crow circle a hanging branch before resting upon it, calls echoing off into the air.
The two of you stare out at the gentle ebb and flow of the Ōoka river—pink cherry blossoms in full bloom and decorating the surface like scattered promises, resting upon the water with a gentle kiss before they’d succumb to the besetting tide.
Sukuna grabs a bag of dark cherries after he rounds out his ice cream and begins popping them between his lips and spitting the pits onto the ground barbarously. The deep red juice trickles down his chin and stains his top, but he doesn’t quite care. And neither do you.
Besides, you think he looks handsome like this.
𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
You end up getting changed at a rest stop on your way to the venue, and Sukuna took far longer getting dressed in the restrooms than you did. The poor guy clearly doesn’t know his way around buttons that barely fit between his massive finger pads.
You forced a shaving kit and hair gel into his hands before he could complain and told him to get to work.
You turn antsy waiting for him.
“Took you long enough,” you groan as you spot him breaking out of the rest stop doors, propping a black heel on his dash and sighing as he leans into the cracked window from outside. You clasp your eyes shut as the warmth of the sun dusts over your face, basking in your last moments of peace. You’d managed to get your makeup done and get dressed before he made his way out.
He doesn’t say anything, and all you hear is deep and slow breathing beside your ear.
You peek out from your left eye, nose scrunching as you realize he’d been watching you in his moments of silence.
You drop your foot, quickly adjusting yourself in the seat and tugging the hem of your gown down. “Creep much?” You quiz, voice an octave too high as heat crawls up your nape.
Sukuna shrugs noncommittally. “Red’s a nice lookin’ color on you.”
He rounds the truck, giving you enough time to try and slow your heart rate down before he hops into the driver's seat.
“We’ve definitely missed the ceremony. We’re probably only going to make it for the reception.”
You cross your ankles, rubbing your warm calves against each other to ground yourself. “Fine with me,” you mumble, hoping your lofty mind would subside.
Though it continued throughout the drive as your heart felt like a balloon ready to pop at any whisper from Sukuna.
The drive was pretty short, Sukuna pulling off to a curbside near an open field where uniformed staff were putting the outdoor decorations away while people slowly shuffled indoors to a sleek building.
Your mind swam with bitter remembrance of what you once believed was the best day of your life.
Your eyes settle on the large crowd, interwoven chatter and humble laughter piercing your eardrums as you take slow steps towards the grand doors propped open.
In just a few moments, you’re going to relive your least favorite parts of your life with the people you despise the absolute most on the planet, all to make your mother comfortable, happy.
Knowing her, she most likely arrived early to help set up and chat with the bride and the Zenin’s. Butter them up and ensure they’d continue lining her pockets, groveling like a desperate hag.
Sukuna rubs the back of his neck, before tossing you an uneasy glance. “Not too late to skip town,” he offers, coming over to your side and sliding his hands into his pockets. He smells good. You’re glad he didn’t snag a cigarette yet to defile the crisp scent of the expensive cologne dusting his suit.
“N-no,” you breathe out, sliding your clammy palms against your dress and shaking your head. “I wanna go.”
His carmine eyes flicker with something you can’t quite dissect, lids narrowing for a moment before he nods and places a hand against the small of your back like that’s where it belongs. “Alright. What citygirl wants, citygirl gets.”
You peer up at him and feel your heart stutter, brushing off how your skin is flaring beneath your dress. Sending him a curt nod, the two of you pace inside.
𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
The Zenin’s clearly did not disappoint, the venue adorned with decked-out elegance and beauty, showcasing their unfathomably ridiculous wealth.
The same vaulted ceilings you once glowed under stand tall and mock you with their lowly stares and custom moldings. The glossy hardwood floor is made for dancing, though you have a feeling there won’t be much of that happening in such a haughty setting.
It might just be you but the air feels heavy—a heady mix of potent and suffocating perfumes wafting through the room and defiling each breath you take, sending a tremor down your spine.
Massive tiered crystals hang from the sky, dripping in decadent excellence and reflecting soft sparkles and shimmers. There’s a spiral staircase that leads to a balustrade where a small live band plays instrumentals that could lull you to sleep.
Each round table is decorated with finely polished china that you could sell for a fortune and live comfortably off of the earnings. A wait staff circles around the room and leaves small dishes of desserts ranging from intricate wagashi’s like nerikiri and layered sweets like anmitsu.
You’ve cleaned places like this before. Lavish weddings held in a massive reception handed off to private cleaning companies and paying them humbly above minimum wage.
The bride and groom are nowhere to be seen.
You feel your jaw tick, teeth grinding like bone joints with no lubricant as you spot a few dismally familiar faces. Naobito, Ogi, Jinichi…
They don’t spot you in the quiet chaos of familial pleasantries, only making your skin simmer.
A huff of air leaves from your nostrils, breaking away and stalking towards the bar. Sukuna eyes you warily, though he doesn’t express his concerns and trails right behind you.
“Two rum and cokes,” you call out to the bartender.
Sukuna towers over you, avoiding the stares he’s started to pick up thanks to the thick black lines adorning his face, fingers drumming against the sleek marble counter. “One’ll be just fine,” he calls back, before peering over at you.
You slide onto a stool, crossing your arms with a vacant stare forward.
Sukuna is not quite sure what he can offer you in a setting like this when he himself feels out of place. Yeah, he’s used to the saucer-wide gawks and hung maw’s whenever he finds himself in a public setting, but it’s only amplified in a place like this—surrounded by decaying pompous pricks lording over the common person with their uppity chins and self-assured righteousness that makes him nauseous.
To be quite frank, Sukuna hasn’t cared about what anyone thought of him in ages.
That was until he met you. So, the fact is, if you want these people to like you, he won’t stand in your way. Even if he disagrees with it every step of the way, he knows he can’t change your stubborn mind, and he sure as hell won’t add more issues to your overflowing plate.
You nod to the bartender as they pass you a small frosted glass before you down it in just a few gulps. Sukuna grimaces and watches you order another, toss it back, then order another.
Supervising you in mild horror, he attempts to cut you off before your words start to slur, but you just swat his hand away and motion towards the bartender again.
He sucks on his teeth in frustration with your tantrum, carding his fingers through his well-kept hair, practically bristling by your side. He leans forward, warm breath fanning over your ear and wracking a shudder from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hairs. “Think you’ve had enough, huh?”
His voice is low, gravelly, firm enough that it tells you that there’s no arguing with him. Something about it rattles you, sending a sense of clarity through your buzzing mind. You stare at your fingers for a moment, brushing against the cold condensation of the full glass, before you sigh deeply and spin off of your chair and pace away.
He exchanges a grimace with the bartender before tossing a few bills down and following you like a dog with a bone between its teeth.
You’re tipsy, not drunk, but inebriated enough to make bad decisions.
You find yourself plopping down in an empty seat at a not-so-empty table, drawing attention to yourself immediately.
Sukuna doesn’t know a single person here, but the faces textured of crumpled paper and sagging skin pinching like they’d just smelled something sour and rotting upon laying eyes on you tells him enough.
These people really do not fucking like you.
You flop forward, elbows digging into the table cloth, an uncanny grin painting your lips as you glance around at each face, picking up on the newly etched lines you’d missed in your time away. “My god. It’s been, what?” A laugh leaves your lips as you count on your clammy fingers. “Damn near six years since I’ve come to one of these stupid things.”
Two old snobs whisper something to each other as they glare at you, their postures ram straight like an arrow, or they’ve all got sticks up their asses. Sukuna decides on the latter. “I’d like to say it’s a pleasure to see you again, though we all know that’s not true.”
There were a few snickers concealed behind palms lilting through the air and Sukuna watches your smile falter, adjusting uncomfortably in your chair.
The comment came from an expected contender practically begging for the spotlight in a home where she was merely tolerated. Alas, you were tired of tolerating the woman.
“Heard about your husband, Chiho-san. Tell him I said congratulations on securing some lovely… eye candy. Must be exciting to have another in bed, hm? Especially a gal as young as me.”
There’s a coy tilt to your head, something sharp and cunning hanging from the tip of your tongue as you watch the table freeze up like the temperature had just dropped twenty degrees, their toes dipped in an icy lake and shudders coloring them pale.
Though the venom you spat didn’t feel as gratifying as you expected, your stomach churning as piercing eyes settled on you and the elders stewed in their disdain for the intruder at the scene.
A bitter and quick puff of air akin to a laugh leaves your lips, the silence deafening and making your mind split, before you quickly hop to your feet. “Well, this has been fucking miserable.”
You sharply turn away from the stifling atmosphere, mind reeling and fogged, but suddenly run straight into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.
The bubbling and fermented beverage spills all across your dress and the waiter, a loud gasp leaving your lips as all eyes in the venue finally catch on you, and Sukuna just a few steps behind.
You feel your gut clench, expression sobered as the waiter scowls at you. You reach for their handkerchief to start wiping them down but they are quickly pulled back by someone.
“My goodness! I have never been more humiliated in my entire life!” Your mother suddenly shrieks, her shrill voice cutting through the smothering air. She clasps the shoulders of the waiter and checks to see if they’re alright as if you’d just stabbed them, using the sleeve of her fancy blouse to wipe down their uniform before sending them off. Her eyes glaze over the unexpected attention of the room before landing on you. “Must you work so hard to make a mess of yourself and our name?”
Your lips part, but a vice wraps securely around your throat, squeezing every morsel of dignity you thought you had left.
“No need to fret,” a familiar voice lulls, soft yet carrying such pretension it makes you fucking ill.
Your ex-husband, Naoya Zenin, finally decides to make an appearance, his lovely bride clung to his side.
She’s young, tragically beautiful, sporting a babydoll puff dress for her reception and scarlet red lipstick.
The same shade you’d seen on Naoya’s collar years ago.
“I’m sure she was just leaving,” he croons, muddy eyes latched onto you with a knowing conceit, as if he hadn’t fucking invited you. Like one look at you after all these years away tells him just what he needs to know. That you were a fucking mess after the divorce that couldn’t pick their life back up.
His bride stares at you like she’s seen you already, memorized your face ten times over.
“Naoya,” you croak, though it’s a lot less brisk than you were hoping, each syllable sluggish and dragged.
Quickly bored of you, his gaze turns over to the brute looming just over your shoulder. Sukuna could turn the guy inside out without so much of a lift of two fingers, though he still smirks at him with a swollen head. “And who might this… character be?”
You frown at his disrespect, leaning back and placing a hand against Sukuna’s forearm. You know what Naoya’s asking, and it’s not Sukuna’s issue to deal with. “You don’t have to answer that,” you whisper, though it’s not as subtle as you could have wished in such an echoing hall.
But it doesn’t seem to deter him, and his hand finds yours. His fingers slide between yours—calloused, textured, warm. He squeezes your hand in his massive one and you feel something in your gut settle, feeling as grounded as you yearned for since you stepped foot into this place. Your thumb brushes against his battered scars, and he doesn’t bristle or scoff. Simply stands strong like the kind of man he is.
“Her fiancée. You asking ‘cause you want an invite to the wedding?”
You watch your mother stiffen at his lies.
Your heart snowballs into a lumpy and dizzy mess.
Sukuna’s words are crass, never one to sugarcoat or put on the soft pedal at the sound of disrespect. He’s formidable in that sense and it makes you lean into him.
Even if he’s just lying to save you from some embarrassment.
You see Naoya’s composure falter for a second, his conceived notion that you’d always belong to him tearing at the seams. “I see. You’re on, what? Your second attempt, and your standards have clearly been modernized.”
Sukuna doesn’t fall for the bait at the jab, Naoya giving him a slow once-over and frowning in utter repulsion as he inspects his thick tattoos and pink hair. “Word of advice for you, though. Man-to-man.”
Naoya leans in and whispers something to Sukuna that no one can quite catch, before stepping away with a shit-eating grin that makes bile sour at the back of your throat.
You peer up at Sukuna, face contorting in what you can assume is horror. The next thing you know, his fist is cracking against Naoya’s cheek, the obscene sound of bone crunching under metal making your eyes go saucer-wide, Naoya sent straight to the ground.
People come rushing to Naoya’s side, the groom crumpled in a pathetic heap on the floor as he holds his face and howls in pain, a part of you surprised that the punch didn’t end in a knockout.
You know Sukuna pulled his punch, for your sake at least.
Your mother practically sprints to the bride, consoling her as tears cascade down her face like a fucking newborn.
The security detail finds the two of you, tugging and shoving the both of you out of the front doors with a slew of curses before slamming the doors shut in your faces.
You’re both met with silence, Sukuna still seething over something completely unbeknownst to you as you stare at the closed doors.
“What the fuck did he say to you?” The words tumble ungraciously from your lips, your fingers trembling at your sides.
He scoffs in unadulterated disgust, though you know who it’s directed at. “Nothin’ a lady like you should hear.”
His honesty makes your nose scrunch.
You didn’t expect to see Sukuna land such a blow on Naoya, nor for it to feel so victorious.
But before you can revel in your vengeful glory, the doors are pushed open and your mother is stomping towards you.
“You BITCH!” Her face is pinched and scornful, not giving you a second to utter a word before her palm cracks right against your cheek.
It’s silent for a few moments, besides your mother’s huffing and puffing, face flushed red from her overflowing anger.
You stare at the ground as your vision clouds over, tears filling your waterline. Not from sorrow, but from physical pain.
Sukuna stirs behind you, not quite sure if he should step in, but you’re glad he stays where he is.
You sniffle, adjusting your ale-scented dress and pointing your nose to the sky. “We’re done.”
A wry, almost incredulous smile cracks open on her face, followed by a laugh coated in disbelief. “Done? Oh I am far from done with—.”
You see Sukuna stalk towards the two of you, but raise a hand in his direction to halt his movements. There’s a chance he might be more fed up than you.
But he can’t solve this for you, and you’re quite aware that his hesitancy to interrupt means he knows it, too.
You suck in a sharp breath, feeling your heels dig into the concrete below your feet.
“I have crawled on my hands and my fucking knees for you. I have bled until I ran dry and I have torn myself apart to fit into a mold that is perfect for you. Just you. I married a man I didn’t know for you, I endured your slews and berates of becoming the perfect wife, I became disgusted with my own barren womb for I could not bear the grandchild you so hoped and prayed would tie you to this family. If you paid any sliver of attention to me, hell, if you even cared, you would have noticed my misery long ago.”
You swallow thickly, your tongue heavy between your teeth. “But, you know what? I am still more human than everyone in that room combined. And I am nothing like you. And I don’t want anything to do with you, or any of them.”
You nibble on your lip quivering from unbridled rage, swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.
“And for the sake of fucking confessions, I’d like to say that Dad would be real fucking disappointed in you.”
You watch her hands twitch by her sides at the mention of her late husband, eyebrows slowly dropping as the last statement spills from your lips like tainted seed settling in her core.
She thinks you’re curled up at a bad man’s feet and gone off on a bender and lost your fucking mind, she doesn’t even have to utter it. You can tell by the clarity washing over her face like she’d just been sucked under a tide of what’s been swimming in your mind.
You know the comment about your dad was low. Hell, he was so sick at the end of his life, which was most of your upbringing, that he couldn’t pick up on the way your mother had been treating you. When you, yourself, had gotten so sick from your mother’s mistreatment, and you’d fallen into a depression and even lost your menstrual cycle.
Your father was no saint, either, feeling like he could finally rest when you’d finally broke the news of your marriage instead of leaving his daughter behind with no other male figure in her life. But even if he was emotionally absent even long before illness, he could still care for you in a way that your mother somehow couldn’t.
Your mother broke her piercing gaze from yours, as if your words were simply something to brush under the rug like the unattended guilt she carried with her, like she had no use in arguing with the enemy she’d pushed out of her womb. “Leave. Don’t come back.”
Your jaw ticks at her finality, and you scoff with a bitter smile. “You know, a part of me thought that you’d hear me out. Put aside all your shit and listen to your daughter. I’m not some pawn you can use when you deem me important.”
Your mother, clearly hearing enough from you, waves her hands around her head and paces back towards the building.
And where you expected to break down in tears, there’s a universal sigh leaving the recesses of your chest, your shoulders no longer bunched to the sky.
𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
It’s quiet where the gravel turns from concrete and rock to wet earth and brush that tickle your calves.
Sukuna hasn’t spoken a word to you since you’d left the wedding. He got you buckled into your seat, slipping your heels off and sliding your socks and sneakers back on before driving back home.
You’re not sure what you expected to feel today, but you’re not quite so sure you hate the turn out.
You’d been wandering, lost and dizzy and fogged for what feels like years. Hands encircling your throat and squeezing every morsel of life from you until you’d been hollowed out and bled dry.
On your way up the hill, you spot the creak you’d taken a dip in what was now just a month ago, and what feels like centuries before. Icy cold water rattling your very bones and awaking something within you.
You can recall the way you’d sprinted down this very path naked away from Uraume.
The heated puncture wound on your ankle that led you to a place you’d never expected you’d ever coin home.
Meeting someone who made your chest clench and rage kindle and heart soar.
You peer over at Sukuna, still decked out in his suit with his hands stuffed into his pockets and staring at the ground. He hadn’t changed back into his usual attire, but he had decided to toss his hat back on.
You could probably guess what he’s thinking—that your mom and ex-husband are Grade-A assholes, and the very thought makes you giggle.
You press a palm against nearby bark, the craggy and furrowed texture digging into your hand as your feet meet the ground, another small snicker leaving your lips.
Sukuna glances over at you, cocking an eyebrow as you laugh to yourself.
Soon, your chuckles pick up and you’re nearly keeling over and holding your stomach from how much you’ve humored yourself.
The absurdity and pain of today is something you think you needed, your mind jumbled with the expression of Naoya as he whimpered like a kicked dog on the ground.
The color of his new wife’s lipstick, brandishing into your brain when you’d first seen it across Naoya’s collar and deemed it abhorrent.
You peek a teary eye over at Sukuna.
You don’t think you hate the color red anymore.
He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, not sure if you’ve finally snapped, before he too finds himself fighting a grin. “This funny to you?”
You nod, barely able to stop the flit of laughter tumbling from you. “I-I think… Today was the best day of my life.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
You bite your lip, wiping the backs of your hands against your warm cheeks to erase the joyous tears. “Never seen my mom so mad. I think I’ll have that burned into my memory forever.”
He runs his tongue over his lower lip before nodding along with you, allowing the silence to settle comfortably. “Hey. I got you something.”
You slow your pace just a bit, tilting your head towards him. “What? A one-way ticket to a mental institution?”
“That was my first option but man they’re expensive,” he groans, rubbing his hand on his jaw while you nudge his shoulder with a giggle.
The two of you slow to a roll as he pulls something out from inside his jacket.
It’s a small box, about the size of your hand, and he places it within yours. “Open it.”
You frown. “I’m not sure I’m ready for the whole white wedding do-over after today.”
He flicks your forehead and you swat at his hand.
You run a finger over the sleek material, before pulling the top off.
“Had this made for you the first time you came over, but, uh, you ended up healing quicker than I anticipated so it just sat with at the blacksmiths.”
You stare at the key in the box, then peer back up at him with furrowed brows, your breaths suddenly feeling airy. “A key to your place. Is that where you went when I was getting fitted?”
He shuffles uncomfortably, averting his gaze from you and kicking his dress shoes into the dirt. “Glad it’s just finally goin’ to use,” he huffs, though there’s no heat behind it. “Fuckin’ things are expensive—.”
You swiftly toss your arms around his middle, digging your face into his sturdy form.
Sukuna stiffens, hands hovering above you as he peers down at you in utter astonishment, his pulse roaring in his ears.
The breeze is light, and though you’re sweating from the exertion of the hike, a chill kisses your skin. Goosebumps are sent in waves and you press your cheek against his hardened abs, thinking you quite like it here.
After a few quiet seconds, you pull back and wipe the fresh tears from your cheeks and sniffle. You glance up at Sukuna who is still eyeing you like you’ve lost your mind, which earns another chuckle from you.
He tugs off his jacket at the sight of your bare arms and tosses it around you.
His cheeks are dusted a shade of carmine and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re miles inland, or because he might feel what’s swirling in your gut, too.
You don’t think you need much more than what you have right here.
The both of you find yourselves laughing again, chest swelling and heads light. You don’t even care that your dress is clinging to you and the air is humid and you stink of liquor and sweat.
You feel good.
“You’ve seen all my crazy now,” you say whisper, an admission you’d kept bottled in as he laid eyes on what was your past life. “What’d you think?”
His eyes narrow thoughtfully, though he doesn’t hesitate when relaying his answer to you. “Same as I thought before.”
You click your tongue, trying to hide the smirk crawling on your face, but it’s fruitless.
“You still planning on building me a place?”
He drags a hand down his face in feigned annoyance, ears nearly beet-red and puffing at the ground. “You got it, citygirl.”
CRUNCH
You feel your feet lift from the ground, something heavy and sharp slicing through your diaphragm with no grace.
Sukuna’s eyes go wide, smile dropping in an instant like everything good to him has been ripped from his claws in an instant. Maybe they have.
You feel something wet and sticky trickling down your stomach, staining your thighs and dripping off the tips of your sneakers.
Your hand goes limp, dropping the key that Sukuna had bestowed on you, the jingling sound of the metal meeting wet earth.
You slowly peer down, adrenaline coursing through your body as you see four bone-like daggers protruding through you. You don’t really feel them, but you know you should.
This isn’t right.
Sukuna whispers something, a name maybe, before whatever just cut through you retracts and you fall to the ground, your legs buckling beneath you limply.
Sukuna catches you, massive arms encircling you with your head in his lap. Your glossy eyes drag over to the other man beside the two of you.
You recognize him.
The man who looked just like Sukuna, outside the pawn shop when you went back to see him. You see the uncanny resemblance, in the way he sneers and the way he carries himself.
Though his claws aren’t metallic.
Those bone-like spurs dripping with your blood are the last thing you see before your lashes flutter shut, and the last thing you feel is something wet falling from Sukuna’s face and pelting your pallid, sweaty cheek.
✦ ──a/n: yes, we are in the home stretch and nearing the ending and it makes me nauseous saying this. never could i have imagined that i'd write a sukuna wolverine au but this is by far my favorite work of all time. i also love the quote at the top even though it's from a book in the heartstopper series which doesn't match the vibe in here but the quote itself is beautiful and fitting LOL. but thank you to everyone who has stayed along this far and left sweet comments and asks <3 they are always so appreciated! i'll see you all next time, apologies for this angstfest TvT
Take your incest/rape kinks or fantasies off of this app and into the notes app. Can’t find a normal Leon Kennedy fan fic without seeing ts. Just cause u get off on it doesn’t mean it doesn’t trigger anyone else babe you’re disgusting, a creep, and weirdo go to twt or pornhub they would very much appreciate you there!!! Get therapy too you’re weird asf and a potential predator too.
do i like reading incest fics? no. do i like rape/cnc fics? no. do i waste my time and energy shaming people who do? no. its called fantasy for a reason. i don't really like horror films either but i'm not whining about how everyone who watches them needs to go to therapy and is a weirdo creep for watching someone get murdered, BECAUSE IT'S NOT REAL. the internet is not a safe haven from your triggers, that's a YOU problem.
Right so this is something that needs to be talked about but could never be because insulars like OP would never open up their ears to listen to what people have to say, immediately shunning it as 'disgusting' and 'bad'
I think andro summed up what is already the fact of the matter but for those who still dont get it and want to agrue about it clear your clogged ears for a second and realise not everyone is your definition of normal, mind you a 'normal' you were raised to understand, do you even understand why you hate on such people? if you do, good for you im glad you have set boundaries, if not check yourself before writing up a post on a website full of different people with different ideologies, I digress.
I believe its just ignorance making you say something like this but it has to be willful. You don't have to read it. There are always 50 labels to warn you because we realise we may trigger somebody, like honestly just block. Most of the time I do it for people.
And also your comparing it predatory is something I dont even want to get into—how can you make such an insensible comparison like that, you clearly are not fully grown in matters of human empathy and understanding. Please, leave something you don't know anything about alone.
(just ignore every spelling and grammar error atp 😔)
This is funny to me because you people never like to see the bigger picture. I think certain kinks are weird like piss kinks or fart kinks or something crazy like that and if I see them in fan fics idc. It may not be normal but it isn’t really hurting anybody. People might be scared to tell you this and you bring the empathy bs but you aren’t to others AT all. It’s not like you talk about your rape kink or incest kink in a community specifically for that no you make you place your fantasy onto a character that has nothing to do with it.
So let me be honest. You are steps away from spiraling into a predator. It’s set in your head the system is already being placed. You don’t have to think that’s kind of me to say because being kind isn’t a reality check. You think like a predator would you even get off on it like a predator would and your pathetic little excuse that it’s different for whatever the sad ohhh so sad reason it is that you’re the way that you are isn’t going to cut it. It doesn’t make it right.
Getting off on rape and incest is wrong. But you’ve got me all wrong. I do have empathy for people like you who don’t see the bigger picture that thinks being a predator is a mindset someone was immediately born with and it’s not a bunch of hurt people fueling each others sick fantasies to make it seem normal and not wrong when you all know it is. All of you know you need therapy and if you don’t know now you do. I empathize with you because you very clearly need therapy. I may be ignorant to you but I see what I see. If any of you really took the minute to reflect you’d think , “maybe I do get off on what an abuser does? Don’t I?”. But that’s completely up to you and saying my triggers are my problem but you want me to what pitty you? If you aren’t thinking like a predator you think like a victim. It’s bad for you regardless honey.
The difference is I block people because they spread harmful kinks and think like predators and you block people because they burst you sad little bubble and call you out
Different ideologies aren’t the problem and you not realizing it is exactly the problem.
It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give you any sources for the desperate help you need right? Here are a few links for you poor souls :) Wish you the best of luck!!
Take your incest/rape kinks or fantasies off of this app and into the notes app. Can’t find a normal Leon Kennedy fan fic without seeing ts. Just cause u get off on it doesn’t mean it doesn’t trigger anyone else babe you’re disgusting, a creep, and weirdo go to twt or pornhub they would very much appreciate you there!!! Get therapy too you’re weird asf and a potential predator too.
✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?
✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.
✦ ── a/n: hi my lovely lovelies. apologies for this slower-than-usual update, motivation was running the slightest bit low but ya girl bisque know's where home is! (with sukuna up that hill...) anyway, enjoy and see you guys at the end <3.
✦ ── word count: 4.1k
archive ─ playlist
series masterlist - interlude - volume nine
art by outdmilk on twt
Your fingers were curled around the handle of a sticky syrup bottle, watching the maple honeyed liquid dribble from the spout with a slow deliberation onto your short stack of buttermilk pancakes, coating it in a thick and treacly brown layer. The sight and scent was more than enough to make your stomach audibly grumble with want.
Sukuna wasted no time himself, digging into his hashbrowns and side of scrambled eggs like a man starved.
It was an oddly comforting sight, not to mention a familiar one too.
“This is how you do pancakes,” you started, eyeing the spread of berries you’d requested on top, slicing a triangle heap of your entree with your knife and shoveling it into your mouth.
“Agreed,” he grumbled, and you felt yourself still.
You carefully lowered your utensils, leaning back against the red leather booth of the shoddy diner he’d brought you to, eyes dropping to the three plates before Sukuna. “A cheap shot at my cooking expertise?”
That seemed to have spurred him on, a minute tug at the corner of his lips. “Guilty.”
Your foot found his shin in a hard kick that he hadn’t forseen, the giant man flinching and butting his knee into the bottom of the table.
“Cut it out, brat,” he gritted through clenched teeth, claret eyes set ablaze, the piercing glare sending daggers through you.
You simply feigned a gentle grin. “Cyanide is tasteless.”
“For potential tenants, you’re on the chopping block.” He quickly remarked back.
“Gosh darn. Looks like I’ll have to give it up to granny with the ogling eyes,” you whispered with a delighted grin, shielding your mouth with your hand not-so-inconspicuously and bobbing your eyebrows past Sukuna.
He frowned, warily peering past his shoulder and scanning the fairly busy diner. Quickly, his eyes landed on an elderly woman, maybe somewhere around sixty years old, stirring her steeped tea with a rusted silver spoon and giving Sukuna what he could only describe as “bedroom eyes.”
He turned back to you, scoffing and continuing to scarf down his hefty stack. “Wouldn’t be the first time I opened my scope to the geriatric circle.”
You dropped your hand, and your smile with it, praying that your appetite hadn’t been snubbed thanks to his vulgarity and the frightening image.
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
With hunger came deliriousness, which meant that now that your bellies had been thoroughly satiated, you were both a hell of a lot more clear minded.
If it weren’t for Sukuna’s nasty habit.
Your nose scrunched, wrinkling with mild anticipation, throat stinging and eyes watering. “Could you put that out?”
He rolled his window down, flicking his cigarette out the window along with a puff of smoke dissipating with the afternoon heat. “Uh, yeah.”
His crimson irises flickered over your form reluctantly every couple of minutes or so, and you could feel the unadulterated amount of convoluted confusion radiating from him despite his adamancy on remaining tightlipped even after teasing you during breakfast.
You winced, cracking your knuckles before tossing him a glance to break the stifling silence only coupled with the quiet hum of radio tunes. “You ever play 21 questions?”
The two of you had a lot to catch up on.
He cocked his head slightly, focused on the road before him. “The hell is that?”
You splayed out weakly in your seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Well. We’re going to play my own version of it, anyway… that’s basically nothing like the original but semantics…” you swiftly blurted out, mindlessly drumming your knuckles atop the passenger side window like it’d give you the courage you were racking your nerves for. “I ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly. Then you ask me a question and I have to answer honestly. We keep going until we’re both satisfied.”
He huffed a breath, a sound akin to a derisive laugh. “Doesn’t sound much like a game.” You shot him a glare that he shook off, adjusting his long legs in his worn leather seat before complying after a few contemplative moments. “So how’d you find the ring?”
You shut your eyes, feeling like you’d just stepped into a trap you’d cleared the land for and placed atop the dirt—wincing and wondering if it was better to yarn or tell the truth for the sake of your slowly untethering dignity.
You settled on the latter after your mind drew blank in search for an excuse, releasing a shaky breath.
“I, uh. Came by the mill to bring you a sandwich… which I ended up eating, but that’s besides the point. Was gonna do the whole talk over lunch with you but as you can see my plans ended up turning out for me one way or another,” you chuckled dryly, promptly shutting up when his lips thinned out. “Your coworker, Shiu? He invited me after I told him that I knew you.”
Sukuna eyed you quietly from the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering while the other rested on his open window, halted at a red light. The warm afternoon air raked through his unruly salmon tresses, a golden light cast on his skeptical expression, deep lines trailing across his tatted face that colored him disappointed. You fiddled with the frayed hem of your jean shorts, one sneakered foot tapping against the rubber covering of his car floor—the mannerisms of a child being scolded by a parent.
“City girl,” he grumbled out in a disgruntled tone after a few suffocating moments. You were holding your breath like your air was tethered to his. “You’ve known me for, what? A week? The fuck are you thinking?”
You nibbled on your lower lip, feeling your chest coil in agitation. “That’s two questions…” you muttered under your breath, a weak attempt to settle the tension.
He slowed at a stop light, turning his head and frown pointed at you as his boot lowered against the brake. “So… what? Gimme something to work with here,” he grunted, wrenching the steering wheel in one palm.
You folded your arms strewn with a thick tension, peering out of the window like the gentle sway of mighty pine trees could distract you from this conversation, caging yourself in your hold.
“I hate the city.” You spoke flatly, lulling backwards as the car moved in motion again.
He scoffed at that. “Prissy girl got sick of all the noise.”
Annoyance flashed in your eyes as you whipped your head towards him. “Don’t call me that.”
“Or what?” He rolled his eyes lazily, rolling a knot in his tense shoulder, caused by his lack of resignation to sleeping somewhere proper.
Sukuna knew practically nothing about you—not about your familial life, work life, social life, none of it. He’s here making baseless assumptions off of nothing and you wouldn’t sit here and take it.
You opened your mouth to spew some sort of curse at him, but hesitated, lip trembling before you sank back into your seat and sigh exasperatedly. There was still something you needed from him, so rising to the bait wouldn’t be in your best interest lest he use it as a reason to turn you down. “What’s the story with the tattoos?” You blurted to change the subject, tone bitter and dry.
Sukuna stiffened, then cracked his neck to distract his stammering heart. “Not sure that’s a story you wanna hear.”
“Well I wouldn’t have asked it if I wasn’t interested,” you pushed back with choler, teeth gritting against each other like tectonic plates with a personal vengeance.
He prodded his tongue against the inside of his cheek, keeping his foot steady on the gas, allowing the beam of the sun winking in the sky to keep him settled in reality. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Your prickly gaze dragged over to him as he spun the radio off, clearing his throat uncomfortably over the droning silence. He dragged a hand over his face, letting out a sigh before he started. “Uh, you remember that dog tag of mine you found?”
You nodded slowly, fingers pressing into your biceps.
He hummed. “Well, got that during the first war I served in,” he murmured under his breath.
Your head spun towards him, eyes saucer wide and piercing him incredulously. “What?”
He glanced at your sideways, before staring out of his rearview mirror. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
You shook your head, dismissing his crass comment. “You said your ‘first war?’ Christ, how old are you?”
Sukuna itched the back of his head, as if he were really contemplating it. “Not sure. Stopped countin’ years ago,” and the admission had you dizzy.
“Huh,” you breathed out, eyes dropping to your lap. “Then you were born around the same time as the first mutants, I’m guessing?”
He nodded at your realization. “Must’ve been the early 1800s but it’s been so long I can’t remember the date.”
You were silent for a few minutes, before Sukuna heard a sniffle from the passenger seat, head spinning towards you so quickly that he almost veered off the road. “The hell you cryin’ for?” He spat, knuckles paling under the pressure of his clenched fists around the leather wheel.
You wiped the backs of your hands against your damp lashes, sniffling and shaking your head. “S-sorry. It just made me realize how long you’ve been alone…” you trailed off, holding back yet another sob.
Sukuna cringed, rolling his eyes and nudging your head lightly with a couple of his fingers. One second you’re pissed off at him, the next you’re feeling sorrow on his account. “Pity me again, brat, and see what happens.”
You ignored his baseless threat. “So do you remember your b-birthday?” You whispered, teeth nibbling and tearing at the skin on the inside of your cheek.
Sukuna was quiet for a few moments, crimson eyes narrowed, windswept wisps of pink locks falling over his forehead. “Nah. It’s trivial after a certain point. And what’s there to celebrate anyway?” He growled, almost in annoyance at your ridiculous worries.
But was it really ridiculous? Was he so far gone that the celebration of life had almost no significance to him?
You scoffed, rolling your eyes and trying to suck down the tears threatening your waterline away. “Fine. Today’s your birthday, then.”
“What?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“You heard me. If you can’t remember your birthday, then I’m appointing today as your birthday.” You tried to sound annoyed, but your heart was battering against your ribcage.
And then it was quiet again. Sukuna didn’t offer a reply, drumming his finger against the gear shift mindlessly. But his face was pulled in taut lines, like another word from you would unravel every tightly knit nerve.
“We’re here,” he huffed, and effectively tugged you from your wandering thoughts.
You glanced up, gaze meeting the impound lot in town, a dingy and near dilapidated building with a rusty red exterior that’d long fallen into a state of disrepair. There were hundreds of cars going past the building, some recent models and some looking as if they’d been sitting here well before Sukuna was born (which isn’t quite realistic but who are you without your dramatics?)
You pushed the rickety passenger door out, climbing out and missing Sukuna’s gaze lingering on you. You padded over to the front door, mind swimming with borderline irritation with Sukuna’s defensive nature, but a sense of understanding.
You still didn’t know the story behind his scars, but with how long he’s been around and the plain fact that he was born a mutant, was enough to tell you that the guy had it rough.
One day, you’ll ask. But for now, you didn’t want to tread in territory that could very well be a wound he hadn’t closed up yet.
“What can I do for ya?” An older man quizzed, coveralls covered in grease and soot.
You were about to speak up, Sukuna’s presence behind you looming, but he took matters into his own hands. “Her car was towed. We’re just here to pick it up.”
The older man chuckled, wandering over to rest on a stool and brush his hands onto his knees. “You ain’t teach yer girl where to park.”
You stiffened. “I’m not his—.”
“Not yet.”
You peered up at his jarring interruption, eyes locking onto his, but his expression was unreadable. He tugged out his wallet, thick fingers parsing through massive wads of bills.
There’s no way in hell he’s paying for your idiocy. “Wait—.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, lovebugs,” the older man jeered, standing up to file through a giant cabinet and tugging out a document that you assumed was for you to fill out. “Gonna need some proof of ownership, insurance, and a valid driver’s license.”
You swallowed thickly, glad for the distraction that had your heart rate pick up, rummaging through your bag and stepping towards the counter. You ignored Sukuna’s huff behind you, seemingly irritated with the system of things, but nonetheless stayed quiet.
It only took about fifteen minutes to get everything sorted with the old man, before Sukuna slipped a wad that was probably far too much to the older man and stomped towards the door. “Be waitin’ in the car,” he grumbled before disappearing.
Your gaze followed his retreating figure, shoulders loosening once he was gone and releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. What the hell was that?
“How long?”
“Huh?” You squeaked, wide orbs flashing towards the voice.
The old man was now squinting at you with a mirthful gaze that made you shuffle nervously. He laughed, low and easy, before tilting his head towards the door.
A knowing look coloring him that made your eyes go wide.
“Oh! No… we’re not… no,” you dismissed the notion with a wave of your hand, feeling heat bloom in your chest that you tried to dryly laugh away but it was futile. Wonderfully unfurling with no respect for your denial.
The old man slowly nodded his head, pursing his lips as if he was trying to convince himself at your adamancy. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
You plopped the feathered pen in your hand into its respective jar alongside its set, brushing your clammy hands down your thighs in an attempt to steel your nerves. “Hm? Why’s that?”
You tried to sound apathetic, though it came out squeaky and nervous.
He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest to give you an once-over.
“Well, because he looks at you like you’re magic.”
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
“How long ‘till you can pick it up?”
You pulled the door shut, adjusting in your seat and avoiding Sukuna’s bleak gaze, voice laced with chagrin like you were a nagging tick despite a certain stranger’s observation. “Just a couple of days, so until then, my cars all theirs. They just need to process my documents,” you breathed out, hoping what was slipping through the cracks of your skin wasn’t perceptible.
Sukuna started up the engine, seemingly unaware of your sparking nerves. “Right.”
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
“How the fuck are we supposed to carry all of this up the trail?”
Sukuna watched as you loaded his truck bed with your plethora of things from the motel room you’d been staying in, eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest as you actively committed a disservice to him.
You really had just packed up your entire life to move into the woods.
You shrugged, shuffling through a duffel bag and giving him a lazy appraisal. “You’re a strong guy,” you walked over to him and patted his bicep. “You’ll figure it out.”
Steam was practically puffing from his ears as you settled back into the passenger seat with a sly grin on your face.
The drive back to the bottom of the mountain wasn’t long, thankfully not far from your motel. The two of you hopped out, you pulling a visor over your head and stretching to prepare yourself for the trek ahead and Sukuna folding his flannel sleeves up he’d snagged from his spare collection.
He rounded to the trunk, taking a look at your baggage and sighing deeply.
There was no way he was subjecting himself to two hours of dragging this shit up an elevated trail.
“Nah,” he warily sighed, shaking his head as he took a step back. “Not carrying this.”
Your head spun towards him, heart rate steadily picking up. You hurried over to his side to peer over the back of the truck where he was currently frowning towards. “It’s, uh, not that much,” you weakly convinced, rocking on your heels as your trepidation steadily rose. “Plus, you’ve carried me up and I’m way heavier, so.”
You peered up, eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight, a golden light casted over your features that made his mind spin.
“Please? I’ll do anything,” you sighed out, placing a hand over his bicep and pouting.
And Sukuna short-circuited, eyes dancing over your form that bobbed up and down nervously, motioning towards your things like they were the most meager things he could carry with the curl of his pinky.
“Sure,” he cut in, not quite sure why his mouth suddenly decided to speak for him before his mind could logically grasp the severity of the situation.
It would be like hauling you up the mountain all over again, though it’d be a lot less soft—.
“We goin’ or what?” You quizzed like a perky dog, and if you had a tail, it’d be wagging wayward behind your back.
He felt the air leave from his lungs in irritation as you cracked your joints, twisting your neck as if preparing yourself for a treacherous trek. Though, he should be the one bracing himself because he nearly hadn’t survived the first run with you.
He grabbed your two satin duffels that were bound to wear away with time but he made no comment, tossing them over his shoulder, then motioned for your suitcases and grabbed the clasps before tugging them along. He wasn’t even going to have you carry anything up because with your luck, you’d probably wear yourself out, slip on a rock, then meet an early demise.
The first twenty minutes were a breeze, the heat was forgiving and the elevation wasn’t too bad. Though, he was starting to feel an ache coil in his left shoulder from where one of your bag straps rested, rolling it out every now and then.
“How’s your ankle?” He quirked out of plain boredom, gaze falling down to your sneaker for a moment before meeting your eyeline.
You perked up, practically skipping, not yet worn out thank goodness. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to lug you up, too. “Great, actually! I was able to work just fine on it, too. Just got a battle scar to show for it,” you claimed, ducking under a lowly hung branch.
Sukuna made a sound derisive to a laugh, seemingly entertained with your comment. “So you say. And what line of work is a lady like you in?”
There was a stumble in your gait, as if Sukuna’s question threw you for a loop and you were recalling something you didn’t want to. But that falter only lasted a breadth of a second, focusing on your feet as a smile crawled onto your lips. “I was a preschool teacher.”
Sukuna cocked an eyebrow, clearly stupefied that it made you want to slap his uncanny smirk. “You? A teacher?”
You rolled your eyes, kicking a pebble with your foot only for it to bounce off of a rock. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve got better control over my emotions when a man like you isn’t baiting me,” you shot back, wanting to drag the curl of your lips off of your face, deciding on just shaking your head.
He hummed, fingers flexing around the clasp of your luggage. “You’re confirming that me getting a rise out of you is effective, then.”
You parted your lips, mild offensive coloring your heated cheeks before you brushed it off. “Just shut up,” you muttered, running your tongue over your top row of teeth.
He cocked his head, lifting his boot to step over a boulder and coming to your side, making a scene of getting into your personal space. “Sorry, I’m gonna need you to repeat that.”
You ducked away, a fit of giggles leaving your lips, pushing a hand against his side to put some well-needed distance between the two of you.
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
THUNK
“Never… ask me to do that again,” he huffed out, chest heaving as he dropped your bags just a couple of meters from the familiar shabby home.
But you were barely listening, chest swelling at the sight before you, wiping the backs of your hands against your perspired face as you, too, tried to catch your breath.
It was still the afternoon, so the sun was tethered somewhere high up there amongst the sparse clouds, yet there was something about the entire setting that made you buzz with elation.
The landscape felt suspended in a chambré afterglow, a gentle croaking buzz of wildlife surrounding you, mind melting with an overwhelming relaxation.
Bark!
Your head spun to the side where the sound erupted from, a whirl of white fur throttling towards you, small patters of paws hitting the spongy Earth before you were thoroughly sent into the fescue and tackled into a heap of snickers and rolls with the mutt on top of you.
“Uraume!” You called out through a guttural laugh, fingers tangled in their fuzzy fur, the dog licking slimy stripes up your sweaty cheeks, sending a tickle across your goosebump littered skin.
They barked right into your face, nuzzling you with an excitement, gentle coos falling from your lips to rile them down.
And Sukuna stood there like a man frozen in time, gaping with eyes wide and feet rooted in the ground like he was planted in black tar, unable to make sense of what he was witnessing and what he was feeling.
You were a pathetic clump on the dirt floor, dragging up mud across your bare calves and twigs protruding from your hair in an unruly manner, eyes crinkled with each smile adorning your soft face.
He quickly tore his gaze away, mindlessly leaving your things just outside and heading straight for the front door. He shuffled through the pockets of his blue jeans, tugging out his keys and fumbling with them before promptly stuffing it into the keyhole and pushing himself inside.
“You miss me?’ You quizzed, placing a kiss against Uraume’s nose as they panted with excitement, rubbing against your leg as you got to your feet.
You sprawled your hand over their head, giving it a thorough rub, before heading inside with the pup following close on your tail.
You could grab your things later, deciding on waltzing straight into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.
Sukuna was nowhere to be found, but then you heard the bathroom faucet flip on with a few splashes, a signal that he was most likely cooling himself down, a well-needed respite.
You plopped down at the table, tossing your head back and staring at the popcorn littered ceiling you’d fallen asleep to just a month ago. You don’t know why your lips curled with the fact that you were back here again, heart still racing at a pace that made your mind the slightest bit dizzy.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, footfalls on the wood sounding as Sukuna made his way towards you. “Bathroom’s all yours if you need it,” Sukuna cut through the hazy air, stomping into the kitchen and searching through his cabinets for what seemed to be a glass cup as well.
“Thanks, but I’ll just shower before heading to bed,” you mindlessly answered with a limp wave of your hand, bleak gaze still trained to the world above.
He peered at you past his shoulder, eyeing the steady rise and fall of your chest, before promptly breaking it, swallowing thickly. “So what now?” He queried, grabbing the water pitcher and pouring himself a tall glass.
You mulled it over for a few moments, then broke yourself from your jaded reverie of tranquility and matched his gaze as he leaned against the kitchen sink.
“I… might need a favor.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly at your confession, but allowing you the stage nonetheless.
You adjusted nervously, leaning forward to clasp your hands together like you were pitching a sale at a business meeting. “Any chance you own a tuxedo?”
a/n: next episode, sukuna and citygirl crash a wedding ;p thanks for reading, i have missed hearing everyone's thoughts so lmk what you thought of this volume!
✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?
✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.
✦ ── a/n: hi my lovely lovelies. apologies for this slower-than-usual update, motivation was running the slightest bit low but ya girl bisque know's where home is! (with sukuna up that hill...) anyway, enjoy and see you guys at the end <3.
✦ ── word count: 4.1k
archive ─ playlist
series masterlist - interlude - volume nine
art by outdmilk on twt
Your fingers were curled around the handle of a sticky syrup bottle, watching the maple honeyed liquid dribble from the spout with a slow deliberation onto your short stack of buttermilk pancakes, coating it in a thick and treacly brown layer. The sight and scent was more than enough to make your stomach audibly grumble with want.
Sukuna wasted no time himself, digging into his hashbrowns and side of scrambled eggs like a man starved.
It was an oddly comforting sight, not to mention a familiar one too.
“This is how you do pancakes,” you started, eyeing the spread of berries you’d requested on top, slicing a triangle heap of your entree with your knife and shoveling it into your mouth.
“Agreed,” he grumbled, and you felt yourself still.
You carefully lowered your utensils, leaning back against the red leather booth of the shoddy diner he’d brought you to, eyes dropping to the three plates before Sukuna. “A cheap shot at my cooking expertise?”
That seemed to have spurred him on, a minute tug at the corner of his lips. “Guilty.”
Your foot found his shin in a hard kick that he hadn’t forseen, the giant man flinching and butting his knee into the bottom of the table.
“Cut it out, brat,” he gritted through clenched teeth, claret eyes set ablaze, the piercing glare sending daggers through you.
You simply feigned a gentle grin. “Cyanide is tasteless.”
“For potential tenants, you’re on the chopping block.” He quickly remarked back.
“Gosh darn. Looks like I’ll have to give it up to granny with the ogling eyes,” you whispered with a delighted grin, shielding your mouth with your hand not-so-inconspicuously and bobbing your eyebrows past Sukuna.
He frowned, warily peering past his shoulder and scanning the fairly busy diner. Quickly, his eyes landed on an elderly woman, maybe somewhere around sixty years old, stirring her steeped tea with a rusted silver spoon and giving Sukuna what he could only describe as “bedroom eyes.”
He turned back to you, scoffing and continuing to scarf down his hefty stack. “Wouldn’t be the first time I opened my scope to the geriatric circle.”
You dropped your hand, and your smile with it, praying that your appetite hadn’t been snubbed thanks to his vulgarity and the frightening image.
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
With hunger came deliriousness, which meant that now that your bellies had been thoroughly satiated, you were both a hell of a lot more clear minded.
If it weren’t for Sukuna’s nasty habit.
Your nose scrunched, wrinkling with mild anticipation, throat stinging and eyes watering. “Could you put that out?”
He rolled his window down, flicking his cigarette out the window along with a puff of smoke dissipating with the afternoon heat. “Uh, yeah.”
His crimson irises flickered over your form reluctantly every couple of minutes or so, and you could feel the unadulterated amount of convoluted confusion radiating from him despite his adamancy on remaining tightlipped even after teasing you during breakfast.
You winced, cracking your knuckles before tossing him a glance to break the stifling silence only coupled with the quiet hum of radio tunes. “You ever play 21 questions?”
The two of you had a lot to catch up on.
He cocked his head slightly, focused on the road before him. “The hell is that?”
You splayed out weakly in your seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Well. We’re going to play my own version of it, anyway… that’s basically nothing like the original but semantics…” you swiftly blurted out, mindlessly drumming your knuckles atop the passenger side window like it’d give you the courage you were racking your nerves for. “I ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly. Then you ask me a question and I have to answer honestly. We keep going until we’re both satisfied.”
He huffed a breath, a sound akin to a derisive laugh. “Doesn’t sound much like a game.” You shot him a glare that he shook off, adjusting his long legs in his worn leather seat before complying after a few contemplative moments. “So how’d you find the ring?”
You shut your eyes, feeling like you’d just stepped into a trap you’d cleared the land for and placed atop the dirt—wincing and wondering if it was better to yarn or tell the truth for the sake of your slowly untethering dignity.
You settled on the latter after your mind drew blank in search for an excuse, releasing a shaky breath.
“I, uh. Came by the mill to bring you a sandwich… which I ended up eating, but that’s besides the point. Was gonna do the whole talk over lunch with you but as you can see my plans ended up turning out for me one way or another,” you chuckled dryly, promptly shutting up when his lips thinned out. “Your coworker, Shiu? He invited me after I told him that I knew you.”
Sukuna eyed you quietly from the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering while the other rested on his open window, halted at a red light. The warm afternoon air raked through his unruly salmon tresses, a golden light cast on his skeptical expression, deep lines trailing across his tatted face that colored him disappointed. You fiddled with the frayed hem of your jean shorts, one sneakered foot tapping against the rubber covering of his car floor—the mannerisms of a child being scolded by a parent.
“City girl,” he grumbled out in a disgruntled tone after a few suffocating moments. You were holding your breath like your air was tethered to his. “You’ve known me for, what? A week? The fuck are you thinking?”
You nibbled on your lower lip, feeling your chest coil in agitation. “That’s two questions…” you muttered under your breath, a weak attempt to settle the tension.
He slowed at a stop light, turning his head and frown pointed at you as his boot lowered against the brake. “So… what? Gimme something to work with here,” he grunted, wrenching the steering wheel in one palm.
You folded your arms strewn with a thick tension, peering out of the window like the gentle sway of mighty pine trees could distract you from this conversation, caging yourself in your hold.
“I hate the city.” You spoke flatly, lulling backwards as the car moved in motion again.
He scoffed at that. “Prissy girl got sick of all the noise.”
Annoyance flashed in your eyes as you whipped your head towards him. “Don’t call me that.”
“Or what?” He rolled his eyes lazily, rolling a knot in his tense shoulder, caused by his lack of resignation to sleeping somewhere proper.
Sukuna knew practically nothing about you—not about your familial life, work life, social life, none of it. He’s here making baseless assumptions off of nothing and you wouldn’t sit here and take it.
You opened your mouth to spew some sort of curse at him, but hesitated, lip trembling before you sank back into your seat and sigh exasperatedly. There was still something you needed from him, so rising to the bait wouldn’t be in your best interest lest he use it as a reason to turn you down. “What’s the story with the tattoos?” You blurted to change the subject, tone bitter and dry.
Sukuna stiffened, then cracked his neck to distract his stammering heart. “Not sure that’s a story you wanna hear.”
“Well I wouldn’t have asked it if I wasn’t interested,” you pushed back with choler, teeth gritting against each other like tectonic plates with a personal vengeance.
He prodded his tongue against the inside of his cheek, keeping his foot steady on the gas, allowing the beam of the sun winking in the sky to keep him settled in reality. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Your prickly gaze dragged over to him as he spun the radio off, clearing his throat uncomfortably over the droning silence. He dragged a hand over his face, letting out a sigh before he started. “Uh, you remember that dog tag of mine you found?”
You nodded slowly, fingers pressing into your biceps.
He hummed. “Well, got that during the first war I served in,” he murmured under his breath.
Your head spun towards him, eyes saucer wide and piercing him incredulously. “What?”
He glanced at your sideways, before staring out of his rearview mirror. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
You shook your head, dismissing his crass comment. “You said your ‘first war?’ Christ, how old are you?”
Sukuna itched the back of his head, as if he were really contemplating it. “Not sure. Stopped countin’ years ago,” and the admission had you dizzy.
“Huh,” you breathed out, eyes dropping to your lap. “Then you were born around the same time as the first mutants, I’m guessing?”
He nodded at your realization. “Must’ve been the early 1800s but it’s been so long I can’t remember the date.”
You were silent for a few minutes, before Sukuna heard a sniffle from the passenger seat, head spinning towards you so quickly that he almost veered off the road. “The hell you cryin’ for?” He spat, knuckles paling under the pressure of his clenched fists around the leather wheel.
You wiped the backs of your hands against your damp lashes, sniffling and shaking your head. “S-sorry. It just made me realize how long you’ve been alone…” you trailed off, holding back yet another sob.
Sukuna cringed, rolling his eyes and nudging your head lightly with a couple of his fingers. One second you’re pissed off at him, the next you’re feeling sorrow on his account. “Pity me again, brat, and see what happens.”
You ignored his baseless threat. “So do you remember your b-birthday?” You whispered, teeth nibbling and tearing at the skin on the inside of your cheek.
Sukuna was quiet for a few moments, crimson eyes narrowed, windswept wisps of pink locks falling over his forehead. “Nah. It’s trivial after a certain point. And what’s there to celebrate anyway?” He growled, almost in annoyance at your ridiculous worries.
But was it really ridiculous? Was he so far gone that the celebration of life had almost no significance to him?
You scoffed, rolling your eyes and trying to suck down the tears threatening your waterline away. “Fine. Today’s your birthday, then.”
“What?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“You heard me. If you can’t remember your birthday, then I’m appointing today as your birthday.” You tried to sound annoyed, but your heart was battering against your ribcage.
And then it was quiet again. Sukuna didn’t offer a reply, drumming his finger against the gear shift mindlessly. But his face was pulled in taut lines, like another word from you would unravel every tightly knit nerve.
“We’re here,” he huffed, and effectively tugged you from your wandering thoughts.
You glanced up, gaze meeting the impound lot in town, a dingy and near dilapidated building with a rusty red exterior that’d long fallen into a state of disrepair. There were hundreds of cars going past the building, some recent models and some looking as if they’d been sitting here well before Sukuna was born (which isn’t quite realistic but who are you without your dramatics?)
You pushed the rickety passenger door out, climbing out and missing Sukuna’s gaze lingering on you. You padded over to the front door, mind swimming with borderline irritation with Sukuna’s defensive nature, but a sense of understanding.
You still didn’t know the story behind his scars, but with how long he’s been around and the plain fact that he was born a mutant, was enough to tell you that the guy had it rough.
One day, you’ll ask. But for now, you didn’t want to tread in territory that could very well be a wound he hadn’t closed up yet.
“What can I do for ya?” An older man quizzed, coveralls covered in grease and soot.
You were about to speak up, Sukuna’s presence behind you looming, but he took matters into his own hands. “Her car was towed. We’re just here to pick it up.”
The older man chuckled, wandering over to rest on a stool and brush his hands onto his knees. “You ain’t teach yer girl where to park.”
You stiffened. “I’m not his—.”
“Not yet.”
You peered up at his jarring interruption, eyes locking onto his, but his expression was unreadable. He tugged out his wallet, thick fingers parsing through massive wads of bills.
There’s no way in hell he’s paying for your idiocy. “Wait—.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, lovebugs,” the older man jeered, standing up to file through a giant cabinet and tugging out a document that you assumed was for you to fill out. “Gonna need some proof of ownership, insurance, and a valid driver’s license.”
You swallowed thickly, glad for the distraction that had your heart rate pick up, rummaging through your bag and stepping towards the counter. You ignored Sukuna’s huff behind you, seemingly irritated with the system of things, but nonetheless stayed quiet.
It only took about fifteen minutes to get everything sorted with the old man, before Sukuna slipped a wad that was probably far too much to the older man and stomped towards the door. “Be waitin’ in the car,” he grumbled before disappearing.
Your gaze followed his retreating figure, shoulders loosening once he was gone and releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. What the hell was that?
“How long?”
“Huh?” You squeaked, wide orbs flashing towards the voice.
The old man was now squinting at you with a mirthful gaze that made you shuffle nervously. He laughed, low and easy, before tilting his head towards the door.
A knowing look coloring him that made your eyes go wide.
“Oh! No… we’re not… no,” you dismissed the notion with a wave of your hand, feeling heat bloom in your chest that you tried to dryly laugh away but it was futile. Wonderfully unfurling with no respect for your denial.
The old man slowly nodded his head, pursing his lips as if he was trying to convince himself at your adamancy. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”
You plopped the feathered pen in your hand into its respective jar alongside its set, brushing your clammy hands down your thighs in an attempt to steel your nerves. “Hm? Why’s that?”
You tried to sound apathetic, though it came out squeaky and nervous.
He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest to give you an once-over.
“Well, because he looks at you like you’re magic.”
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
“How long ‘till you can pick it up?”
You pulled the door shut, adjusting in your seat and avoiding Sukuna’s bleak gaze, voice laced with chagrin like you were a nagging tick despite a certain stranger’s observation. “Just a couple of days, so until then, my cars all theirs. They just need to process my documents,” you breathed out, hoping what was slipping through the cracks of your skin wasn’t perceptible.
Sukuna started up the engine, seemingly unaware of your sparking nerves. “Right.”
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
“How the fuck are we supposed to carry all of this up the trail?”
Sukuna watched as you loaded his truck bed with your plethora of things from the motel room you’d been staying in, eyes narrowed and arms folded over his chest as you actively committed a disservice to him.
You really had just packed up your entire life to move into the woods.
You shrugged, shuffling through a duffel bag and giving him a lazy appraisal. “You’re a strong guy,” you walked over to him and patted his bicep. “You’ll figure it out.”
Steam was practically puffing from his ears as you settled back into the passenger seat with a sly grin on your face.
The drive back to the bottom of the mountain wasn’t long, thankfully not far from your motel. The two of you hopped out, you pulling a visor over your head and stretching to prepare yourself for the trek ahead and Sukuna folding his flannel sleeves up he’d snagged from his spare collection.
He rounded to the trunk, taking a look at your baggage and sighing deeply.
There was no way he was subjecting himself to two hours of dragging this shit up an elevated trail.
“Nah,” he warily sighed, shaking his head as he took a step back. “Not carrying this.”
Your head spun towards him, heart rate steadily picking up. You hurried over to his side to peer over the back of the truck where he was currently frowning towards. “It’s, uh, not that much,” you weakly convinced, rocking on your heels as your trepidation steadily rose. “Plus, you’ve carried me up and I’m way heavier, so.”
You peered up, eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight, a golden light casted over your features that made his mind spin.
“Please? I’ll do anything,” you sighed out, placing a hand over his bicep and pouting.
And Sukuna short-circuited, eyes dancing over your form that bobbed up and down nervously, motioning towards your things like they were the most meager things he could carry with the curl of his pinky.
“Sure,” he cut in, not quite sure why his mouth suddenly decided to speak for him before his mind could logically grasp the severity of the situation.
It would be like hauling you up the mountain all over again, though it’d be a lot less soft—.
“We goin’ or what?” You quizzed like a perky dog, and if you had a tail, it’d be wagging wayward behind your back.
He felt the air leave from his lungs in irritation as you cracked your joints, twisting your neck as if preparing yourself for a treacherous trek. Though, he should be the one bracing himself because he nearly hadn’t survived the first run with you.
He grabbed your two satin duffels that were bound to wear away with time but he made no comment, tossing them over his shoulder, then motioned for your suitcases and grabbed the clasps before tugging them along. He wasn’t even going to have you carry anything up because with your luck, you’d probably wear yourself out, slip on a rock, then meet an early demise.
The first twenty minutes were a breeze, the heat was forgiving and the elevation wasn’t too bad. Though, he was starting to feel an ache coil in his left shoulder from where one of your bag straps rested, rolling it out every now and then.
“How’s your ankle?” He quirked out of plain boredom, gaze falling down to your sneaker for a moment before meeting your eyeline.
You perked up, practically skipping, not yet worn out thank goodness. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to lug you up, too. “Great, actually! I was able to work just fine on it, too. Just got a battle scar to show for it,” you claimed, ducking under a lowly hung branch.
Sukuna made a sound derisive to a laugh, seemingly entertained with your comment. “So you say. And what line of work is a lady like you in?”
There was a stumble in your gait, as if Sukuna’s question threw you for a loop and you were recalling something you didn’t want to. But that falter only lasted a breadth of a second, focusing on your feet as a smile crawled onto your lips. “I was a preschool teacher.”
Sukuna cocked an eyebrow, clearly stupefied that it made you want to slap his uncanny smirk. “You? A teacher?”
You rolled your eyes, kicking a pebble with your foot only for it to bounce off of a rock. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve got better control over my emotions when a man like you isn’t baiting me,” you shot back, wanting to drag the curl of your lips off of your face, deciding on just shaking your head.
He hummed, fingers flexing around the clasp of your luggage. “You’re confirming that me getting a rise out of you is effective, then.”
You parted your lips, mild offensive coloring your heated cheeks before you brushed it off. “Just shut up,” you muttered, running your tongue over your top row of teeth.
He cocked his head, lifting his boot to step over a boulder and coming to your side, making a scene of getting into your personal space. “Sorry, I’m gonna need you to repeat that.”
You ducked away, a fit of giggles leaving your lips, pushing a hand against his side to put some well-needed distance between the two of you.
𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸
THUNK
“Never… ask me to do that again,” he huffed out, chest heaving as he dropped your bags just a couple of meters from the familiar shabby home.
But you were barely listening, chest swelling at the sight before you, wiping the backs of your hands against your perspired face as you, too, tried to catch your breath.
It was still the afternoon, so the sun was tethered somewhere high up there amongst the sparse clouds, yet there was something about the entire setting that made you buzz with elation.
The landscape felt suspended in a chambré afterglow, a gentle croaking buzz of wildlife surrounding you, mind melting with an overwhelming relaxation.
Bark!
Your head spun to the side where the sound erupted from, a whirl of white fur throttling towards you, small patters of paws hitting the spongy Earth before you were thoroughly sent into the fescue and tackled into a heap of snickers and rolls with the mutt on top of you.
“Uraume!” You called out through a guttural laugh, fingers tangled in their fuzzy fur, the dog licking slimy stripes up your sweaty cheeks, sending a tickle across your goosebump littered skin.
They barked right into your face, nuzzling you with an excitement, gentle coos falling from your lips to rile them down.
And Sukuna stood there like a man frozen in time, gaping with eyes wide and feet rooted in the ground like he was planted in black tar, unable to make sense of what he was witnessing and what he was feeling.
You were a pathetic clump on the dirt floor, dragging up mud across your bare calves and twigs protruding from your hair in an unruly manner, eyes crinkled with each smile adorning your soft face.
He quickly tore his gaze away, mindlessly leaving your things just outside and heading straight for the front door. He shuffled through the pockets of his blue jeans, tugging out his keys and fumbling with them before promptly stuffing it into the keyhole and pushing himself inside.
“You miss me?’ You quizzed, placing a kiss against Uraume’s nose as they panted with excitement, rubbing against your leg as you got to your feet.
You sprawled your hand over their head, giving it a thorough rub, before heading inside with the pup following close on your tail.
You could grab your things later, deciding on waltzing straight into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.
Sukuna was nowhere to be found, but then you heard the bathroom faucet flip on with a few splashes, a signal that he was most likely cooling himself down, a well-needed respite.
You plopped down at the table, tossing your head back and staring at the popcorn littered ceiling you’d fallen asleep to just a month ago. You don’t know why your lips curled with the fact that you were back here again, heart still racing at a pace that made your mind the slightest bit dizzy.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, footfalls on the wood sounding as Sukuna made his way towards you. “Bathroom’s all yours if you need it,” Sukuna cut through the hazy air, stomping into the kitchen and searching through his cabinets for what seemed to be a glass cup as well.
“Thanks, but I’ll just shower before heading to bed,” you mindlessly answered with a limp wave of your hand, bleak gaze still trained to the world above.
He peered at you past his shoulder, eyeing the steady rise and fall of your chest, before promptly breaking it, swallowing thickly. “So what now?” He queried, grabbing the water pitcher and pouring himself a tall glass.
You mulled it over for a few moments, then broke yourself from your jaded reverie of tranquility and matched his gaze as he leaned against the kitchen sink.
“I… might need a favor.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly at your confession, but allowing you the stage nonetheless.
You adjusted nervously, leaning forward to clasp your hands together like you were pitching a sale at a business meeting. “Any chance you own a tuxedo?”
a/n: next episode, sukuna and citygirl crash a wedding ;p thanks for reading, i have missed hearing everyone's thoughts so lmk what you thought of this volume!
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