Harry Is My Happy Place

"I'm really sorry, I was having a wee. The toilets are ages away." - Harry Styles | 19

[indiewritesxoxo]

HOW TO...DUMP YOUR BABY DADDY?

you left him before. can you leave him again with a baby on the way?

synopsis: divorcing a stubborn dickhead like Ryomen Sukuna was probably the most difficult thing you ever had to do. but what were you supposed to do when your husband had practically become a stranger considering most days he spent more time at work than he did at home? and when he was home, half the time he'd rather sleep on the couch than in your bed? you didn't hate him. but you didn't love him anymore either. maybe you would have moved on. but when one last night together ends up with more than just a memory after you get two little lines on a pregnancy test, you discover you might not be able to get rid of him after all.

pairing: ex-husband!sukuna x pregnant!reader (also featuring best friend!geto)

content: mdni, smut and angst, some domestic fluff, divorced-to-remarried, complicated relationships, messy feelings, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy sex, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral sex, pining, so much regret, misunderstandings, breaking up and making up, gruff and grumpy sukuna who misses his wife, soft geto trying to steal her from him, more tags in individual chapters

a/n: lovely art by @winterrbluess !! part of my community event <3

chapter index

one | two | three | four | five

six | seven | eight | nine | ten

eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen

comment to be tagged <3

[indiewritesxoxo]

BABY DADDY DRAMA!

instead of getting the girl, gojo just got her pregnant! how's he supposed to win you over when you only seem to see him as the baby daddy?

synopsis: when the frat president becomes the father of your daughter, the last thing you expected were his brothers to start bidding to be the step dad! can he prove that he's serious about starting a life together for the three of you - or will someone swoop in to steal both his girls?

pairing: frat!gojo x milf!reader x frat!geto (also starring frat!sukuna)

content: mdni!! fluff, angst, and smut, college au, unrealistic frat depictions, parties, drinking, accidental pregnancy, raising a baby, they all want to be the daddy, condoms breaking, one night stands and messy hookups, piv sex, pulling out, lots of pining, gojo being lovesick and stupid, denying feelings, jealousy, multiple povs, more tags will be found in individual chapters

based on this drabble

art cr: @zeilorene0 on x div cr: @/tsumiinum

chapter index

manchild ꕤ sugar talking ꕤ go go juice

taste ꕤ juno ꕤ don't smile

read your mind ꕤ already over ꕤ nonsense

COMMENT TO BE TAGGED!

series | latest oneshots | patreon

a/n: do i have like twenty other series to finish? yes. can i stop myself from starting new ones? no. apologies in advance :3 you guys just get what i have fun writing

[blkkizzat]

❝ #HardLaunch ❞            ⤷ Choso Kamo x Reader ﾉ 呪術廻戦

𖥻 𝓼𝓾𝓶. Your life as an influencer in Japan is ending over a clerical error. In comes Choso Kamo—the emo kid with questionable yakuza ties that you haven't seen since high school. Right on cue, Choso becomes your bartender, your therapist and somehow, your pretend fiancé—all in one night. Lives completely intertwined and suspicions building, you gotta fake it till' you make it, immirite? Just make sure he is faking too.

𖥻𝓬𝔀. rom-com ﾉ fluff ﾉ angst ﾉ smut ﾉ drama ﾉ CINEMA ﾉ choso x reader ﾉ popular girl/loser tropeﾉ flawed reader: self-involved ﾉ lots of sexual tension ﾉ special cameo from a certain lnds/lads man ﾉ slow burn ﾉ pet names: bunny, princess ﾉother jjk characters: gojo, geto, utahime, yuki and shoko ﾉ mentions of satosugu ﾉ itadori family: unckuna, jin, yuji (5yo), wasuke ﾉ ex-yakuza ties ﾉ 𖥻𝓶𝓭𝓷𝓲. ﾉ pleasure dom!choso ﾉ pussy spanks ﾉ choso has a prince albert ﾉ nipple play ﾉ creampies ﾉ choso is an EATER ﾉ prone bone ﾉ backshots ﾉ slow fucking ﾉ squirting ﾉ rawdoggin ﾉ choso is a bit yandere. ﾉ 𖥻 𝓪𝓻𝓽. deka ﾉ srkork

𖥻𝓪𝓷. sorry this was supposed to be a one shot but it hit tumblr word limit lol. (psst, if you liked my infamous plug!choso y'all will eat this up! trust.) Oh yeah, it's this is my bday fic (7/21)! This is my present to you all! :)

𖥻 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:  𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟏 ❯❯❯ Crashout Proposal  𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟐 ❯❯❯ Family Matters   𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟑 ❯❯❯ Lock-in & Sell it 𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟒 ❯❯❯ In-Laws of Relativity  𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟓 ❯❯❯ 3 Body Problem 𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟔 ❯❯❯ Standing Next to You

𖥻 soundtrack ♪ 𖥻 preview 𖥻 aesthetics 𖥻 faq 𖥻 main m.list 𖥻 ao3

               𖥻 𝐜𝐡.𝟏 ❯❯❯ Crashout Proposal 𖥻 𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝟔𝟐𝟔

Thirteen years. Thirteen years in Japan and it took one woman with a bowl cut and a rubber stamp exactly four minutes to end it all. 

Your visa?

Revoked. 

You'd made it worse in the taxi, obviously—a spontaneous burst of emotion that had your camera up, live-on and mascara running down your cheeks. The kind of tragically messy and unfiltered post that gets you trending within the hour.

Predictably, the comments are a warzone. 

Half of them are sympathetic, heart emojis and dozens of ‘NOOOO QUEEN’s and the other half are already tagging immigration lawyers, beefing with your haters and starting petitions you didn't ask for cause you knew it wouldn’t do any good. 

If you'd had a clear head in the moment, you might've considered that going live right after wasn't your most graceful exit—your ugly-cry face is viral now—but life as you know it is practically over, so your makeup being in shambles is the least of your concerns.

More concerning now is your 2m follower milestone that’s now being trashed. They follow you for being Tokyo’s pretty little gaijin darling—not so you can go back to where-the-fuck-ever and film absolute oblivion. 

Feelings too raw to go home—you need a distraction badly.

So in the spirit of your streak of irrational spontaneity you end your ride early to wander aimlessly through a nearby area brimming with bars and restaurants, looking for somewhere discreet to drink your sorrows away. 

Although you don’t consider just how non-discreet you are at dusk wearing giant ass sunglasses that drown your face. 

Scoping a tucked away street, what you stumble upon is a rundown establishment you'd normally deem "sketch" and walk straight past on any other given day. The izakaya in question is wedged between an old laundromat and a shuttered pachinko parlor, no English menu in the window, the noren over the door so faded the kanji's barely legible—which, as a non-native speaker, pretty much means it's illegible to you.

But you're not shadowing its doorway because it's trendy.

You're here because a quick scan confirms hardly anyone else is—and the current patrons look sixty-and-over and clearly don't check social media.

You'd be safe. 

For now.

Inside, it's far cozier than the rundown exterior promised. Low-lit and close, a single row of stools along a worn wooden counter rubbed smooth and dark by decades of elbows. The lamps overhead cast that soft amber that makes everything look kinder. A haze of old smoke and grilled things soaked into the walls, a shelf of bottles with handwritten labels curling at the corners, a lucky cat frozen mid-wave under a coat of dust. A calendar two months behind. A cracked stool cushion someone's mended with tape.

The perfect place to go incognito.

The bartender’s back is to you as you slink onto an empty stool and plop your completely out of place pink Goyard bag on the counter.

“Be right with you.”

You hear it but you don’t acknowledge it.

The constant vibration of your phone reminds you of all the endless notifs you’re trying to ignore. Distraught, you turn off your phone completely, place it facedown on the wooden bar and press both palms over your eyes, applying enough pressure to see stars.

"Rough night?"

The bartender’s voice is deep, but calm, the kind that tells you he's seen a lot worse than you, which in the moment doesn’t do much to make you feel better.

“You have no idea.”

Sighing, your breath shudders from a silent sob as you try to pull it together enough to order something. Your hands come back to rest on the bar with your chin, you haven’t looked up yet as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Can I get a—wait, no, what's your strongest highball? Actually, no. A shot. Two shots. Make them burn! And then a highball!"

Wordlessly, a small glass appears on the bartop. Then another. No garnish, no ceremony.

You can smell the potent sting of homebrew doburoku sake before he sets it down. The cloudy liquid looks much gentler than you know it is and as expected it’s like acid traveling down your throat as you knock it back with a hiss. 

But it’s exactly the kind of pain-numbing medicine you need as you can already feel it dulling the edges of your despair. Not even letting it settle for a minute, you put down the second before finally opening your eyes enough to look at the person sliding over your highball.

You blink. 

The bartender’s face is familiar. 

Not in the way celebrities are familiar, nor in the algorithmic kind of way where everyone starts to blur together. Familiar like a song you haven't heard in years that you still know every word to.

His brown, shaggy hair drawn up in two pig tails, eyeliner or dark circles you aren’t quite sure but his septum piercing catches the light, drawing your eyes to the tatted bar anchored over the bridge of his nose.

His tired eyes are resting on you—waiting for you to catch up to what he’d figured out since the moment you walked in.

"It's Choso," he says after it's clear your brain hit a hard reset. It's not an introduction, it’s a confirmation.

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again as through your grief it finally dawns on you just who you are looking at.

"Choso? Choso! Kamo Choso?! What the—oh my god!" 

Halfway off the barstool, both your hands slam down on the counter as you peer over the bar to get a better look at him—completely oblivious to the fact that your boobs are about two seconds from popping out of your top, pink lace bra and all. Choso, already struggling to keep his eyes where they should be, barely catches the highball before your tits can knock it off the edge.

“What the fuck, you own a bar?! Since when!" 

“Aye, you’re disturbing the customers, Bunny,” Choso lightly chides, as a few drunks and old men stir in the back. Although there’s no real admonishment in his voice as he’s pleased by your reaction.

"And it’s an Izakaya."

"Same thing." You roll your eyes.

"It's not, actually." Choso corrects, topping off your drink.

You wave him off though, slumping back into the stool, no energy to fight him on it—but you two always used to bicker like this and something in your chest loosens for the first time all night. He's a piece of history before everything in your life got complicated with followers, brand deals and the visa denial currently ruining your life.

"I can't believe it!"  

You’re still in awe as you drag your drink closer, long pink nails rapping on the glass, "Last time I saw you, you got in a fight with that Yaga-sensei over your combat boots at graduation—"

"I won that fight, too." Choso winks.

"You got chewed out." You shake your head with a smile. 

"Still walked in 'em, so I count that as a win." He wipes down the bar in slow, unbothered passes, sleeves shoved to the elbow, and you clock the ink you somehow missed—black, red and gold inkwork encasement of traditional Japanese symbolism, taking over his entire forearm before disappearing under fabric. 

"You fell off the face of the earth after graduation, ya know! I know you got into Todai like the rest of us."

Your eyes land on his tattoos as you take a sip of your highball. They're hard to miss this close—the ink disappearing under his sleeve.

"Or were the rumors of you joining your family's organization true, huh Cho Cho?"

There's a flirty lilt to your voice as you use the cutesy nickname you used to call him. You're teasing—half-curious, half-testing, as you poke the bear to see what you’d get out of him.

Choso doesn't answer right away. Just keeps working the corkscrew into a bottle, slow, unhurried. Then:

“Hm.” 

And his next movement is so abrupt it catches you off guard.

One second he's twisting the corkscrew, the next the tool flips in his grip, the point jutting out between his knuckles, resettled along his forearm ready to strike.

It's the type of muscle memory that says he’s reached for things far sharper than barware before—and reached for it quick. Choso turns it over once, appraising, like he's calculating all the ways he could utilize it as a weapon before his gaze cuts up to yours and holds there. 

The comforting sleepiness in his eyes is gone. What's behind them now—something smoldering and still—lifts the hair on your arms for reasons that aren't exactly fear.

Yet the tension dissipates as fast as it came on, replaced by an easy chuckle falling from his lips as the corkscrew spins back into the bottle.

"For a time," he says, finally working the cork to a new bottle of sake free with a soft pop. "Then we got out. Then Zenin took over, n’ now I'm here."

You pout, heat dusting your cheeks. 

There's more to that story, you know there is, but you don't push. 

Not tonight. 

You don't want to sour the mood, so you switch gears with a simper.

"And that little move, that bit right there—" you flick at him with your long pink gel extensions, "—that's what you do to impress the ladies?"

Choso grins wide, his tongue piercing catching light as it pokes out through his teeth. 

It’s goofy, entirely at odds with the man who held that corkscrew a moment ago—and you get an instant flashback to high school.

It’s the same look Choso would wear every time he got away with something he shouldn't have.

"I mean—you're still here, aren't ya, Bun?"

You both hold each other's eyes a beat, then simultaneously crack up. 

The laughter cuts the tension as the conversation flows on from there—silly, light, easy, because Choso was always easy to banter with and a decade hadn't changed that one bit.

So deep into catching up, the time slips away—you barely notice the last two salarymen settling their tabs and shuffling out into the night, one of them bowing sloppily at Choso on the way, until it's after closing and you and Choso are the only ones left.

He’s started drinking now too, but the shot he took with you and the glass of aged whiskey he’s nursing has nothing on the four highballs and three shots you’ve already put away. 

"I didn't disappear, I—" You wave a hand, sloshing your drink, your buzz clearly turning into drunkenness as you express your indignation at his questioning once he brings it around to what you’ve been up to. "Modeling. A bit of reality TV. Then the whole—" you gesture vaguely at yourself, at the general concept of your online existence, "—this."

"I know." Choso says it plainly, taking another sip, not looking you in the eye. "I follow you."

You blink. "Cho…y–you—you follow me?"

"Everyone follows you."

Choso pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "You're hard to miss."

“I suppose.” You knock back more of the highball. You don’t know why the thought of him following you all this time had you a bit flustered considering your follower count surpassed the entire population of some small countries, but it did.

“I…I didn't even know you had social media.”

Honestly though—Choso wasn't really the type to have social media, even back then. He barely had Line. You wonder if it's just a blank page or if he actually posts.

"Okay, w-well." 

Your voice wobbles.

The sorrow you spent all night burying won't stay down forever.

"Enjoy the content while it lasts, because in—" you go to grab your phone but realize it's off and then start guesstimating in drunk girl math"—less than thirty-nineteen days I'm getting shipped off like a Shein package."

Choso stops mid-sip. When he lowers the glass he's staring at you with an intensity that doesn't match the moment.

"My visa got flagged," you admit, like a sin, not being able to meet his eye.

"I was just—condo shopping, I’ve only lived with roommates since my godparents passed. I just submitted my first home owner application for a condo, ya know, the normal thing and it kicked something back in the system. Some cross-check." Your laugh is hollow. 

"Turns out my visa was never processed right. Like over a decade ago. There was some error at the start and nobody caught it, and it's been quietly wrong this whole time, and now that they've found it—" your throat closes, "—they're not fixing it. They're revoking it entirely."

You press your face into your hands, trying not to cry again and your voice comes out muffled behind them.

"I did everything right. I have a car, I’ve had multiple jobs here! I have a dentist, I-I—" you sob, "—I have a whole life, and it turns out it was all built on a typo somebody made when I was fifteen and they just get to—take it all. Because they screwed up. And I'm the one who has to..."

You don't finish. 

Lowering your hands to drink so you can stop talking, you find your glass is empty again. 

Great.

Thankfully, like a patron saint of the drunk and devastated, Choso is already making you another. He slides it over without a word.

No judgement. No lecture about slowing down. No I think you've had enough.

Just the drink, appearing like he knew you'd need it before you did.

"Thanks." you sniffle.

Choso leans back against the shelf of bottles, arms crossing over his chest as he appraises you without distraction for the first time tonight.

You were pretty then. But damn—you've really grown into yourself. 

Despite your apparent misery your aura still glows like it always did. 

Of course he's seen you on TV, online, read the occasional gossip article—only when they'd mention you, though. Choso thought you'd forever just be someone famous he could say he once knew.

He couldn't fathom you'd ever come back into his life. 

That you'd be here, in front of him, now.

Yet here you are, despite the odds. And now you're being forced to leave.

Although he supposes if not for your unfortunate turn of circumstances you'd never have dragged yourself into his bar in the first place. He sucks his teeth at that.

"So," Choso says, measured. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?" You ugly-laugh through your falling tears. "The plan is to get drunk enough to forget I need one. If I had one I wouldn't have bawled my eyes out for the entire internet and knocked a good ten years off my liver's lifespan tonight."

Choso's lips twitch as he suppresses a chuckle.

"Y-You know what my problem is?" You're gesturing with the drink now, ice clicking as you grow sloppier by the minute. 

"I'm too picky. I could've solved this whole thing years ago. Rich n’ famous husband. Boom. Permanent residency. You know how many idols and B-celebs proposed to me!? Even a few CEOs! And you know those relationships never last and would have been a good PR boost!"

"Mm." Choso says unimpressed, his mirth gone, but you're too far gone to catch the temperature change.

"Or like—okay. Gojo. Gojo would marry me as a bit." You're warming up, ticking names off on your fingers. "He'd think it was hilarious. He'd make it the most expensive wedding in history just to post it and then forget he did it." You snort. "Or Geto. Geto would do it out of, like, principle, make it into some big movement that would actually stick—he's in politics now, you know."

"You were in high school when you dated them." Choso reminds you.

"And in college… at the same time too. We still keep in contact, you know! But that doesn’t count anyway," You roll your eyes. "Everybody dated everybody. It was a whole—" 

You trail off, losing the thread and finding it again, "—point is...um, the point is I’ve racked my brain and the only way I can stay now is with a native Japanese husband. The clock is ticking and my best options are two men that are obviously gay for each other, clearly fucking but still in denial—we’d never pull it off." 

You drop your forehead to the cool bartop with a soft thunk. "I'm so screwed.”

"I can help with that." Choso quips but you are too deep into your spiral of self-pity to notice.

“Gawwwd, m’gonna have to actually propose to some random or OMG—one of my followers, can you imagine?! 'Hi, you’ve liked more of my photos in a 30 day period than anyone else, congrats, please legally bind yourself to me so I don't get deported. But like also, don’t be creepy about this, kay?'"

You're laughing into the damp countertop now. 

It's not really that funny, but hell, it keeps you from crying.

“Bunny.” Choso says, more forceful this time and waits until he has your attention.

"Marry me." 

"Right? That's exactly the energy, that's—"

You lift your head.

Choso looks dead serious.

Glass in one hand, towel in the other, leaning against the back shelf with that same unbothered energy you’ve known him for. But now he's looking at you straight-on, and there's not a flicker of a joke anywhere on his face.

"Um...What?"

"Marry me." 

Choso sets the glass down. 

"You need a husband. I'm Japanese, born and raised. I'm right here."

"C-Choso…" 

You blink up at him, slowly, trying to sober yourself through sheer force of will—and failing miserably. "T-That's—y-youuu can't jusss—"

"Why not?" Choso’s brow quirks.

And you open your mouth to list the reasons, all the obvious reasons, and every single one of them evaporates, because your head's swimming, the bar's warm—so is his ghost of a smile—and he's saying it like it is the most obvious solution in the world.

"I'm… “ You burp-hiccup as you slump over on the bartop. “...m’reallyyyyy drunk, r-right now, C-Chooo." 

It’s the most honest response you can manage at the moment.

"I know."  He says it softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. "Sleep on it, yeah, Bun? But first let’s get you home."

𖥻

Your head drops back onto the bar as Choso does his closing duties. When it’s time to lock up, he does it one-handed, keys between his teeth, the other arm hooked over yours, supporting most of your weight as he sets the locks because your legs have filed a formal complaint against you. 

Outside, the night air hits you like a slap—that specific late-autumn Tokyo cold, wet concrete and someone's cigarette two doors down. The worst of it, thankfully, is cut by the heavy leather jacket he drapes across your shoulders. 

"You're heavier than you look, ya know" Choso jests, pulling the oversized jacket tighter around you.

"Ruuude." Your smile is just as slurred as your words though as you kick your feet up. "S'the boots—balenciagas."

Nuzzling deeper into his jacket, you smell the tell-tale scents of yuzu, char and something decidedly masculine that warms you even more than the worn leather. It’s so comfortingly familiar that it tips you sideways into a memory you haven't touched in years.

First year. 

There was a courtyard nobody used, behind the science wing, where you’d go to hide when being ‘The New Gaijin Girl’ got to be too much of a performance.

Choso was already there, well, more like always there. Sketchbook balanced on his knee, that ridiculous septum ring he’d flip back up into his nose to hide during classes and an aura around him like a giant DO NOT ENTER sign the whole school honored.

They'd warned you about him. The Itadori-Kamo kid. 

Don't get too involved. His family's—well… you know. And then whoever was talking would draw a thumb across their throat, or more often than not just let the sentence die, because everyone already knew what it meant.

You plopped right down next to him all the same, because ...well, because you were fifteen and lonely, orphaned six months prior and shipped to godparents in a country you only knew from visiting summers.

Choso was the only person at that school who didn't treat you like a novelty.

Plus he spoke surprisingly good English. 

"Your nail polish is chipping," you'd said. You didn’t bother with intros. You knew you both knew who the other was, each infamous for completely different reasons.

He'd glanced up, "So?"

"Sooooo…you should switch to gel, standard lacquer is so ten years ago!" You dug the three-in-one gel polish combo out of your bag and set the bottle on the concrete beside him— "black came with my set and I never wear it anyway"—already getting up, dusting off your skirt.

"See ya around, Cho-kun!" 

You skipped off before he could stop you, tossing a last quip over your shoulder that he should use the UV light in the lab room to cure it.

That was the first time you spoke to him.

From then on you'd smile and wave in the halls or occasionally slip away to sit with him at lunch. People, including Choso initially, wrote you off as the crazy gaijin who didn't understand—you didn't care. 

Then you started dating Suguru and he'd join you, which pulled in Gojo, then Nanami, Shoko and Utahime, until all of you were crammed back there with Choso like a pack of delinquents. 

Which, naturally, then made it cool because Gojo and Geto were there. 

You giggle to yourself, remembering Choso's face as his quiet sanctuary turned into the it lunch spot. People who used to cross the hall to avoid him were suddenly less wary of talking to him once Gojo and Geto absorbed him into their group.

When the present seeps back in, your cheek is against his side and the last few blocks are gone. Streetlights smear past in a nausea-inducing blur. His arm is a bar of iron across your back, adjusting every time your feet stumble.

"Y-You still draw, Cho?" you ask, closing your eyes and just letting him guide you sight-unseen.

Choso's stride doesn't break but he's more focused on the street signs against the drunken, half-assed directions you gave him.

"Eh, sometimes."

"Y-You were reallyyy g-good. Y-you—oop!" A hiccup interrupts your train of thought. 

"S-Sugu couldn't draw. T-Toru was even worse—he'd scribble a sorry excuse for a stick figure, n’ then sign it like it was a Jackson Pollock."

That sends you into a fit of giggles.

"You're comparing me to them again?" Choso shakes scarcasm bleeding through. "How devastating."

"Oh, s-stop—you beat 'em n’ it's not even close, Cho!“ You reach up to drunkenly poke his cheek. “Y-You were the only one with any real talent for it and you knew that, s-show offff.”

He huffs—the closest you’d get to an admission out of him—as he steers you around a curb you'd have eaten pavement over otherwise.

“Besides, m’comparing everyone and everything—'s been a night."

You settle back into his side when he doesn't respond.

After a few more blocks, Choso points up. “Here?” 

Craning your head all the way back, you almost topple backwards before he grabs your arm. 

He’s right, you are home.

But there’s a pit of anxiety bubbling in you, not wanting to be alone with your sorrows and you’ve felt so good since you happened upon Choso’s izakaya.

When he stops at the entrance you don't let go—if anything you burrow deeper, both arms wrapping fully around his torso, pressing your whole front into him, chin on his chest gazing up at him.

"Chooooo-kun."

"Mm?" 

"How come I never dated you?" You grin up at him.

Choso’s whole body goes still, expecting more drunken rambles out of you.

Not this. 

"Like—" you hiccup, swaying, your hands coming up his back to grip his shoulder blades, "— we hung out all the time. You were cute. You were nice. Y-You had the whole mysterious thing going on."

You squint up at him, genuinely puzzled, like this is a real brain-teaser and not a question with an obvious answer written across every year of high school. 

"I feel like we would've been so good, Cho. D-Don't you—hicc—t-think?” You giggle at your own musings “Like—could've been a whole thing, maybe I wouldn’t even have this problem now.”

The reason you were never a thing, of course, is that you were busy dating the two most popular boys in school while he was a nobody. That during summers you were modeling and he was the kid with eyeliner, black nails and piercings, people crossed the street to avoid. You were in two different worlds. 

But you're too drunk now to hear how that sounds.

Or understand how he feels when you're tossing this out like a fun hypothetical while pressing against him like it's easy—because for you it always has been. 

“You know…” You weigh, your train of thought derails as your bleary eyes land on his mouth. Specifically, the glint of metal when his lips part. “...I’ve always kind of wanted a tongue piercing.” You flick out your tongue. “My publicist would lose it though. What do you think, Cho?”

Choso freezes. Whatever he was going to say to that gets caught somewhere between his brain and his mouth and doesn't survive the trip.

"C'mon." You hiccup, tugging at his shirt as you sway toward the door. "C-Come upstairs. My roommates aren’t home. We can watch something.” One hand still pulling Choso along as you dig in your purse for your building key with the other. “I have that shōjo anime you used to pretend to hate but I always caught you watching over my shoul—"

Shit.

"No, no, no, fuck—my keys, Cho, I left them—I went to the bathroom and I—" The panic cuts through the drunk for exactly three seconds before your face crumbles. "T-They're back at the izakayaaaa."

"Yeah." Choso exhales slowly, still reeling from the last few minutes. "Yeah, I figured."

"Chooooo," you whine, a sniffle starting and he's already steering you back toward the street because it figures your roommates would be out of town and that was your spare you left behind as you explained to him.

"We'll go back."

"Yuh-hiccup-ay!" You cheer, snuggling deeper into him, crisis forgotten instantly.

However, the question is not forgotten. Not by him.

How come I never dated you?

You said it like a fun thought experiment. Yet when it came down to it, you were the experiment's only variable.

Now nearing complete incapacitation, the way back proves to be an even bigger struggle, walking becoming no longer a viable option for you. After a quick rest stop for a not-so-low-key puke into a nearby bush, Choso decides it will be faster just to put you on his back.  

By the time you both reach the izakaya again, it's late and you are deadweight—passed out and drooling down his shoulder.

Choso checks his watch. 3AM. Even he's starting to feel it.

You don't remember much else, just fragments—bemoaning the loss of warmth when he sets you down, a couch underneath you, the shape of him crouched at eye level, dark and unhurried, tucking a blanket near your chin. A water bottle and a small waste basket placed on the floor by your head, because he thinks of things like that.

"Sleep."

Thankfully for him, you comply easily and without a word.

Choso settles into a nearby chair that's almost too small for him, phone light on his face. He could've put you in his bed—he thought about it—but you'd wake up confused enough on a couch, let alone in the sheets of a man you haven’t seen in years.

He honestly doubts you’d even remember propositioning him. And, more practically, he really didn't want to clean puke out of his bed. 

He was already counting his blessings you'd managed not to get it on yourself—he'd have had to clean you then, and that was a level of reunion neither of you were truly ready for.

When you finally do wake up, it’s well into the morning.

And hell, everything is wrong. 

Your back hurts, your neck hurts, your stomach hurts—and this isn't your ceiling. 

Huh? Wait!

Choso!

This must be his place. 

You look down and are still dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Sitting up to grab your phone buzzing by your feet, your splitting headache hits full force, only rivaled in intensity by the full-body dread of a phone you're afraid to check.

With a deep breath you check it anyway and are bombarded with an endless stream of notifications along with one priority notification. It’s an all caps text message from Utahime that reads: GIRL. CALL ME.

Urgh, you plop back down, cushion over your face.

You need a minute.

"Pills are next to you. Keys too. You left ‘em in the bar."

When you lift the pillow over your face, true to his word, there are two painkillers set out next to your keys. Choso leans in a doorway across the room, black tank with two full sleeves of tats on display around coiled muscle, hair loose and brushing his shoulders.

He's holding a mug like he's been awake for hours. 

"Did I, um… did I say anything insane last night?" You ask sheepishly, after sitting up and swiftly downing the pills. “I seriously don’t remember anything after leaving the bar.”

Choso quiets, taking a sip of coffee.

But it’s long enough for you to start mentally drafting an apology, a prayer, and a will depending on the severity. His jaw works once, like he's turning something over.

“Izakaya.” Choso corrects before addressing your question “But nah…nothing you didn’t mean.”

A timer goes off and Choso turns to disappear down the hall before you can chase a better answer out of him. 

Urgh, Mr. Mysterious is clearly in a mood.

Fully awake now, the house comes into focus around you—old, big in the traditional way, wood floors worn smooth and a genkan cluttered with too many pairs of shoes in too many sizes.

A wall of paperback spines.

A go board mid-game on the floor by the window.

A kid's drawing taped to the wall. 

This isn't a bachelor pad. 

It's a home, generations deep, and it holds more people than you accounted for—other voices come from somewhere down the hall, a sliding door, the clatter and grumble of a household already awake.

You’re tempted to chase Choso down, headache be damned, but then your phone buzzes with a number you recognize—your immigration attorney.

The next twenty minutes gut you and confirmed what you already knew—nothing could be done about your visa from his end, which also meant when your lease ended next week you'd be homeless before your deportation.

"Heard most of that." 

Choso reappears, with a TV table. He sets mini sausages, over-easy eggs and furikake rice in front of you with a side of miso soup. 

"You can stay here."

"Choso—" You start as his offer from last night floods back into your mind.

"Not forever, of course."

Choso sits in a chair across from you, unhurried, elbows on his knees. "You need an address. This house has one of those, you know." 

You sigh. An address was the least of your worries in the grand scheme of things.

"It's not charity. We're getting married, remember?" He says before rubbing the back of his neck, “Or… uh, I guess you haven’t exactly given me an answer on that yet.”

You gawk at him—because he's actually deadass, like last night wasn't a drunken joke he could've walked back on.

Your mouth opens but the yes and the no are wrestling each other into a stalemate. You couldn’t, could you? Was this just crazy enough to work?

"Mmm… and there's room for me to stay here for a bit?"

Is what comes out instead. Not exactly a yes or a no. 

Urgh, you can’t answer him now about marriage. You want to say yes. You don’t want to leave Japan. But the guilt of dumping your entire life crisis onto a man you just reconnected with twelve hours ago is sitting heavy on your chest. 

"Spare room's full of junk right now. I'll handle it." He slides the plate an inch closer, like that settles it. "Eat."

Yeah, you make it exactly nowhere near that plate. 

You aren’t the least bit hungry. 

It's too much. The painkillers. The food. The offer to stay. You can't sit in this kind of warmth right now—it'll crack you open and you had to hold it together today.

You hop up.

"Sit," he says, nodding back at the plate. "There's fish too, if you’d rather have that and—"

"I have to—" You cut him off, already scanning for your sweater. "There's stuff. Visa stuff—and calls. I have to make calls!"

"You haven't eaten."

"I'll eat! I'll eat later, I just—I'll call you. I’ll let you know my decision—about everything. I, uh, I just need to handle some things first."

You swap numbers in the genkan—him reading his off while you fumble it into your phone one-handed, boot half on.

Choso watches as you attempt to flee. Doesn't stop you—that's not his way, as you're already remembering.

But you're still wrestling with the old door knob on the front door when you hear a cupboard open behind you. Something sails past your ear.

You catch it on reflex. Melon pan.

A Yakult follows and you fumble that one against your chest.

"So you don't pass out on the train," Choso says with a smirk. “I’d be liable as the one who got you that drunk, ya know Bun.”

You blink at the little bottle in your hands. It's the kind of thing you keep around for someone—a stash for a kid who's always hungry, a brother who forgets to eat while he's working. Not the kind of thing a man buys for himself.

"...Thanks, Choso." You say as you finally get the door open, voice so small it’s nearly a whisper.

Then you're gone, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder that's more flight than farewell as he watches you hurry down the alley and back into the main street. 

𖥻

You spend the day in damage-control mode after your crashout. The comment section has turned your life into a spectator sport.

Utahime keeps you on the phone for 2 hours, talking you off three separate ledges,and lands on the one point you can't argue with—you could do a lot worse than having to marry Choso Kamo.

She's not wrong and not a bad option either.

He'd filled out since high school—tattoos, more piercings and definitely more muscles. The kind of muscles that belong in a j-drama—and from the way he'd listened last night, poured without judging, carried you home without complaint—he'd probably make a decent husband by anyone's metric.

You try not to think about that part too hard, even though your followers definitely would buy it.

Relying on men was never your thing though.

You were a flirt, sure—a slut even, in some circles. But you made your own way regardless. PR relationships never spoke to you.

You know this is different though. This is survival. 

By the time you call Choso, it's past midnight.

You've been staring at your phone for twenty minutes. In the end you just hit call before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Hey."

You purse your lips, twisting them, before the words finally unstick.

"Hi, Cho. I, uh thought about it." You take a big breath. "And I'd really appreciate it if you'd be willing to house me…and marry me, Choso—at least until the visa stuff is sorted and I can get my own place." You rush through it like ripping off a bandage. "If you'll have me."

Before he can answer, you barrel on.

"But, um—why?" Your voice gets smaller. "Why would you do all this for me? And don't say it's nothing, Choso, because it's not nothing."

You know you shouldn't interrogate an offer this generous—but you need something to hold onto. Some reason that makes sense.

Your anxiety spirals as you are met with silence on the line. Just the clink of glasses, the low hum of a fridge—he's closing up, you can picture it in that quiet, unhurried rhythm of his.

"I owe you one, Bunny."

Huh? 

"...What?! Choso, you don't owe me any—"

"Yeah, I do." He declares it firmly.  "You were good to me back then when you didn't have to be. That's not something I was raised to forget."

"Sure, Cho, but not something like this—"

"Interest over thirteen years would be a whole lot more in my clan’s old line of work."

You shake your head but you can't help but smile, pressing your forehead against your phone. He’s always been like this: impossible.

Giving in, you laugh a little. "So...um, when are we doing this?"

"Sooner the better. Your visa's got less than thirty days. I talked to a guy who knows the process—if we file the paperwork this week we can have the ceremony in three, maybe four weeks."

"Three WEEKS?! That’s not enough time, I need a dress, my hair—"

"It's a signing, Bunny, not a royal wedding."

"I—okay, yeah, no, you're right. It's just—" you exhale, "—hearing a number makes it real, you know?"

"Yeah," Choso says, quieter. "It does."

You both sit in that for a second—the weight of a number, a date, a deadline that just went from abstract to concrete.

"...Thanks, Cho."

Choso just chuckles, lightening the mood.

"Ay, Don't thank me yet Bunny. You haven't met my, heh—I mean your new family."

You both decide you’d move-in that weekend—gives you enough time to sort out what's left of your lease, pack up what matters, and say a few quiet goodbyes to your roommates, who still think you are leaving at the end of the month and they still have a going away party to plan. 

You don’t know how to tell them to make it an engagement party to the cute emo yakuza kid you made all your friends in high school eat lunch with every day.

That friday night, after closing, Choso pulls up in a blacked out van that smells like the bar and has a suspicious number of rugs and construction tools in the back. You have two suitcases, a few boxes and a garment rack of clothes that's worth more than everything else combined. 

Choso loads it in, methodical, unbothered, like he's done this before.

"That's everything?" He eyes the surprisingly small amount of stuff you brought thinking he’d have to make at least three trips to get it all.

“Of course not!” You roll your eyes. “The rest is in storage. My shoes alone would need their own room, silly.” 

Choso chuckles. Although looking at the clothes on the rack, you look more ready for heat of summer than the crisp fall season approaching.

“And you’ll be warm in this?” He says skeptically.

"Hey! Don't judge my wardrobe."

"Wasn't gonna." Choso lies. He absolutely will give you shit for it later when you’d inevitably start stealing his clothes.

Choso drives one-handed, the other arm resting on the window sill. His window is down, the night air blowing in, and you try not to shiver on principle. Neither of you talks much—but it's the comfortable kind of quiet, the kind that doesn't need filling.

"Family knows the situation, by the way," Choso says at a red light, casual, eyes on the road. "They're cool with it."

You glance at him picking up on what was unsaid. "For the most part, you mean?"

"For the most part." Choso confirms. The light changes and he doesn't elaborate further.

When you both pull up to the house, it's dark. Bigger than you noticed before—part of the upstairs sits on top of the izakaya but it's wholly its own two-story structure connected to the back of the restaurant.

Choso kills the engine. "Ready?"

You look at the house that is full of people you haven't met. The house you're about to lie your way into.

"...No."

"Good." Choso opens the back to grab your stuff. "Neither am I."

And somehow that's the most reassuring thing anyone's said to you all week.

The house is dark when you enter except for the blue flicker of a TV.

A UFC match plays to no one. Beer bottles crowd the low table—five, six, you can’t count them all. There’s a man sprawled across the entire couch, one arm flung off the edge. 

He's massive, shirtless and covered shoulder to wrist in ink so dense it reads black in the low light, an eyepatch shoved up crooked over one brow, and a scar cutting through the other. He's drunk, snoring like a train and dead asleep.

How he still manages to look like an imminent threat in that state is beyond you.

In the armchair across from him, an old man dozes upright, chin to chest, glasses fogged.

Choso exhales through his nose, cursing below his breath. 

"My uncle's back," he mutters, toeing a fallen bottle upright. "Out on parole early. Apparently, no one thought to tell me."

Uncle. 

The same ex-con uncle who managed to kill an entire room of people with his bare hands?! The rumors—the ones you'd waved off as high-school mythology for years—reassemble themselves in real time.

You simply nod, both amazed and alarmed—however you still make a mental note of the exit routes.

"This means he’ll get the spare room—I mean technically it is his." Choso says, already doing the math you haven't caught up to yet. He glances at the passed-out mountain of his uncle, then down the hall, then at you. "He's not sleeping on the couch. Trust me. Nobody wants that."

"Okay." You're much too tired from all the packing today, to see the cliff you're walking toward. "So where do I—"

"My room."

The words sit in the dark hallway between you.

"Your room," you repeat.

"This way." Choso informs you, gesturing his head down the hall, arms full of your things. 

You trail behind him,  past sliding doors, a bathroom and a wall of family photos as you head upstairs before finally reaching his room. “There’s a futon I can roll out. I'll—"

Choso opens the door and is interrupted by you sliding in front of him, eager to get a look.

"—sleep there. It’s more ideal." Choso finishes, putting your things in a corner of his room to sort out later.

It's a nice room, actually. Clean in the sparse way of someone who doesn't own much—which is great because you own a lot—a low shelf of sketchbooks, a few vinyls, Visual Kei posters, a window with the curtain half-drawn. A wooden box sits on the top shelf, tucked behind a stack of books, the kind of thing you'd never notice if you weren't so nosy.

And one bed. 

A big one, sure. But only the one.

"C’mon Cho, this whole situation is less than ideal—but we aren’t five years old. I don’t have cooties, ya know. You're not sleeping on the floor." 

"It's fine, I don't mind."

"You're like six feet of solid—no way!" You don't finish that thought, your exhaustion making your mouth a bit reckless. "It's a huge bed. We're both adults. We're getting fake married, for Christ's sake, I think we can survive a mattress together."

A muscle in his jaw ticks, fighting an internal war. "Alright," he concedes with a grin. "But I steal blankets."

"I'll steal 'em right back!" You counter with a laugh.

Twenty minutes later, you're lying flat on your back on the far edge of a king bed, staring at a ceiling that's now, oddly enough, yours.

Getting here had been its own ordeal—making Choso turn around while you dove under the sheets in silk tank and short lingerie combo you'd packed for a private room, not a shared bed. Swapping his sad flat pillow for your own. Negotiating blanket territory. All the awkward choreography of two people performing casual and fooling nobody.

Now the lights are off and the rigid line of nothing running down the middle of this bed is doing very little to make you forget he's there.

Because you can feel him. The dip of the mattress pulling toward his side, the heat radiating off him in the dark, the way the bed frame creaks once when he shifts and then goes too still—the kind of still that says he's aware of every inch between your body and his.

Somewhere downstairs, Sukuna snores like a dying lawn mower. A pipe ticks in the wall. The house settles around you—old bones, old wood, sounds you'll learn to sleep through eventually but tonight make everything feel unfamiliar and close.

"Cho?"

"Mm?"

You don't know what you were going to say. The whole bed smells like him—that same musky warmth from his jacket, except now it's everywhere, in the sheets, the air between you—and whatever half-formed thought you had dissolves in it.

"...Nothing," you whisper. "g'nite."

The mattress shifts as he turns his head—you feel his gaze land on the side of your face in the dark and hold there longer than your nothing warrants.

"Night. Get some sleep," he says, low, voice rougher than it was ten minutes ago. "You'll need it in the morning."

"...Why?"

But he doesn't answer—or if he does, it's lost in the dark, in a foot of space amongst the shuffling of blankets as he adjusts.

You lie there a long time, staring at the ceiling, stomach in knots.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a problem.

𖥻 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝚋𝚕𝚔𝚔𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊𝚝 © 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹-𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼

𖥻 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 let me know if you want to be tagged here only, lmk actually cause otherwise ill assume its just a comment about the story lol. taglist 58/150 cap once the capped out only tagging those on gen 𝐠𝐞𝐧. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜)

How's that? Much more to come! Sorry in advance, reader will be annoying in this at times (but not as annoying as plug choso's reader lmfaoo) but next chapter is a bit of redemption for her! I But i will post Ch 2 in a few days Aug 1-2! for anyone wanting a sneak peak of p2 the preview was from p2!

𖥻 main m.list 𖥻 ao3 𖥻 tip ur bimbo 𖥻 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜, 𝓀𝒶𝓁𝒾💋

[yenayaps]

ceaseless

Pairing: warlord!sukuna x courtesan!reader

Synopsis: A lot can be said about Sukuna. He’s a true warrior. Beastly. A man fully capable of overthrowing the current regime if he wanted, but chooses not to because he’s lazy. He’s also irritatingly persistent, that much is known with how many times he’s come into the brothel demanding your presence rather than going with all the other courtesans he’s been offered… for free, thanks to the power and status that comes with his name.

It's been years now. You can’t hide from him forever, especially not when your mother, the Madame herself, is starting to grow tired of turning him down.

Cw: explicit smut, profanity, alcohol and tobacco use, historical au, loosely inspired by apothecary diaries and demon slayer, sukuna's a menace, the emperor's afraid of him, readers an oiran (highest rank)

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

notes: lol nvm about the hiatus thing, off we go to delulu land

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform

[sukunahs]

crazy in love | ryomen sukuna

chapter 9: it's nothing new

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.

he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.

if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.

word count: 11k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion, toxic relationship, major character death

a/n: what's the worst couple in the world up to THIS week?? enjoy the finale everyone <3

masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter

The barrel of the gun pointed at him had Sukuna’s red eyes widening in surprise. 

He wasn’t sure if he was hurt or amused by how quickly you’d scrambled under the pillow to grab the item, holding it up in his direction with trembling arms. Your face was a picture of anxiety - brows knitted together in concern, sweat beading on your forehead, your teeth scraping against your lips. 

“Don’t come any closer,” you whispered. 

The quiet nature of your tone gave him reason to celebrate, because if you’d truly made your mind up on hating him, you’d be shouting for Yuki by now. Instead you’d lowered your voice to keep the conversation between the two of you, because you wanted to handle this whole thing privately. 

He imagined that meant you hadn’t told anything of worth to Yuki either. 

In fact, he was sure you hadn’t, else the police would already be there. If Yuki had known what he’d done there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d have let you go to bed and move on.

God, he loved how loyal to him you were. Even when you were all afraid and confused, you were still thinking about him, still trying to make sure he was free and safe. 

He did wish you’d lower the gun though. 

“I’m serious, Sukuna. You need to go- please- don’t make this harder for me than it already is.” Your voice was all high-pitched and shaky. You still looked cute, even through all your fear, and Sukuna found himself wanting to grab the gun and close the gap between the two of you entirely. 

He was at least ninety percent sure that you wouldn’t pull the trigger. 

But the remaining ten percent kept him still, peering down at you and wondering what the best plan of attack was. 

When he’d fallen asleep with you in his arms he’d been so certain that he’d succeeded in convincing you that you belonged at his side. You’d been so sweet and pliable that evening, giving yourself over to him like that night was just as special for you as it was for him. Now that he was aware that you’d lied and run, he wasn’t so sure how easy it would be to just talk you around. 

Let alone allow himself to trust that you were actually convinced. 

He really didn’t want to resort to dragging you back to his place kicking and screaming, but he did have ropes and chloroform in his backpack if it really came to that. It would be a genuine last resort though, because he was certain it would take years to bring you back around to trusting him again if he had to keep you against your will. 

And as much as having you at all was better than not having you, he really wanted it to be willing. 

He wanted endless nights of you curling up against his side, gazing up at him with that loving gaze of yours. He didn’t want to see you all shaken and afraid, looking at him with hatred and fear that he’d have to slowly break out of your fragile mind. That wasn’t ideal at all. 

So he’d try the gentle approach, because he was certain that you still loved him beneath all your fear and confusion. 

It was just a matter of him needing to be more convincing than he had been earlier that evening. Perhaps he’d been too rushed in finishing up the conversation and distracting you with sex. You probably needed more clarity - more reassurance regarding the depth of his love for you. He’d clear everything up with you and take you back home with your hands entwined. 

Yeah, everything would be fine. 

“Please,” you mumbled again. Your cheeks were lined with the evidence of tears, and fresh ones were blooming at the corners of your eyes. “Please, you know we can’t do this. It’s all so fucked up, we’re not good for each other!” 

Sukuna didn’t believe that for a second. Nor was he willing to accept that you believed it. The two of you were perfect for each other. Your claim was just the result of social norms getting in your way - the voices of Yuki and your parents infecting your mind with drivel. So what if Sukuna had killed for you? It was romantic and you knew it. 

You were just trying to convince yourself you didn’t see it that way to align with what everyone else wanted from you. 

He’d seen it in your eyes back at his apartment. He’d seen the flush that had graced your cheeks at his claim that his kills were a gift to you. You could deny it to yourself as much as you liked, but he wouldn’t let you deny it to him. 

“Baby, we’re soulmates,” he whispered, keeping his tone sweet and gentle. 

Even if he was livid that you’d run from him, he wasn’t going to display that anger to you. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t mad, that he’d accept you back with open arms. That was the kind of man he was - loving, forgiving. 

You’d hurt him, and still he’d be good to you. That had to count for something. 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re insane, Sukuna. You need help.” 

“More proof of our connection really, isn’t it? You’re broken too. You need more help than I do with all the night terrors and the trauma. We can help each other just like we always have. Let me look after you, and you can look after me.” A cunning glimmer flickered in his maroon gaze. “You’ve already helped so much, baby.” 

“I have?” You asked. He noticed your grip on the gun falter ever so slightly. He took the opportunity to shift forward, kneeling before you on the cotton sheets of Yuki’s guest bed. 

“Yeah. You have. You know your little friend Hiromi? I wanted to kill him, I really did, because he tried to take you from me. But I didn’t do it - all because of you encouraging me to do better. I can do better when I’m with you, and I know you do better when you’re with me. Alone we’re both terrible. If you leave me, who knows what I’ll do, but I know that whenever I’m with you, I’m too distracted by your love to think of much else. You’re the cure for my sickness, baby.” 

If you were another person - perhaps a girl with greater self-preservation, or one who hadn’t undergone years of trauma and manipulation, you probably would’ve seen Sukuna’s words for the poison that they were. Sukuna didn’t believe his own speech. It wasn’t like his self-control was hinged on you - if anyone presented themselves as a threat to your relationship he would dispose of them no matter his status with you, that was just the man he was. 

But through that claim he presented himself to you as broken. He acted like he was just like you - someone who was lost and suffering and traumatised and in desperate need of someone else to cling onto. 

It was manipulative, in the most obvious way, to the extent that Sukuna was sure it would only drive you further away from him, letting you gain a sudden awareness of just how heavily he’d been playing you from the start. 

Instead, tears began to stream down your face, accompanied by a look of sheer pity and sorrow. Sukuna took that opportunity to take the gun from your hands, finding no resistance as he pulled it from you and placed it firmly down on the bedside cabinet. 

“That’s it, there we go. Don’t cry, pretty girl. You can still do the right thing.” 

Closing the gap between you, Sukuna pushed you down onto the bed, clambering on top of you so that you were pinned beneath his body. He didn’t want to take the chance of you changing your mind and running off - your behaviour was far too erratic for him to quite trust it. 

He still had no idea what was going on in your mind. 

But you weren’t resisting him, so for the moment that was good enough. 

“I’m sorry- I just- how can we live like this, Sukuna? How can I live with you now that I know all this? What will I tell people? I want you- I want to look after you, but I feel like I’m poisoning you with my existence and I’m scared being at your side won’t be enough to stop this. I’m- I’m sort of scared of you.” 

His heart dropped, but he kept a gentle expression on his face all the same. 

“I told you already that I’d never hurt you,” he cooed, stroking your face. “If Yuki’s put that shit in your mind, forget it. You’re such an overthinker, I told you that I’ll take care of everything. Just relax and let me make the decisions for us, then you’ll never need to get all panicked ever again.” 

“But you broke in again!” You pushed back against him a little. “You said you wouldn’t do that either but here you are. How can I be sure one day I won’t annoy you to the point where you take a knife to me? How can I be absolutely certain-”

“Don’t you trust me?” Sukuna asked, with a little pout. “After all I’ve done for you?” 

Again, your brows furrowed, your expression turning all sad and guilty in that pathetic way that Sukuna had come to adore. He knew you were thinking about just how much he had done for you - the long nights holding you through your night terrors, the gentle reassurances whenever you started to spiral, how happy you’d been when Sukuna had come to your rescue in Satoru’s lakehouse. 

For every fear you held, every little bit of disgust that had bubbled up to the surface in the last few hours, there was an equally happy memory to go along with it. For every reason to leave him, there were two dictating why you should stay. 

“I’m sorry I broke in,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking straight - I was too afraid that I’d lose you and I know neither of us want that. I love you so much, and you love me too, don’t you? You said it in your note. I know you want what’s best for me because you love me, and what’s best for me is being with you. Please.” 

Sukuna was aware that he was rambling, but at the same time there was a strategy behind his method. You were confused and exhausted and all he needed to do was whittle you down with a total onslaught of reason until you could see no better path than staying with him. 

And based on the conflicted look in your eyes he could tell that he wasn’t far off achieving his goal. 

He pressed a soft kiss against the tip of your nose before finding your lips. Your body was rigid beneath his, and as his mouth pressed against yours there was a moment of anxiety where he thought you might not kiss him back. It took you a few moments before you gave in, sinking into the familiarity of him once more.

It had his heart fluttering in his chest, and his fingers came to intertwine with yours lovingly. You always felt so warm to touch - the one thing that could light up Sukuna’s whole life. How could you ever believe that he would bring you harm, when all he wanted was to have you there beneath him like that? He would cherish you like no other man ever would, and surely that was worth all he’d done. 

To throw away a love so vast for something as trivial as the lives of others was just stupid. 

You were all that mattered.

He broke the kiss with care, red eyes glimmering with love and hope. If he could just convince you to leave with him, he could be certain it would all be okay. He could take measures to ensure you didn’t flee again, but he needed Yuki out of the equation as soon as possible. He couldn’t relax knowing she could be plotting something from another room. 

“Sukuna?” Your voice was a whisper, lashes fluttering as you peered up at him. He couldn’t quite read your expression, the tremble of your lips building  concern in his chest. “What will you do if I say no?”

“What?” He asked, convinced that he’d heard you wrong. 

“If I say no to staying with you. If I ask you to get off me and leave me alone forever. What will you do?” You took a while to get through the full sentence, stopping every few words to try and steady the shake in your voice. 

Sukuna’s grip on your hands tightened. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to hurt, but tight enough for you to notice based on the way your eyes darted around his face nervously. 

“You won’t say no,” he said coolly. 

Your lips parted in disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly. Desperation seeped into your tone as you spoke once more. “Sukuna. What happens if I say no?” 

“I’d convince you. I’ll always convince you, no matter how long it takes or what methods I have to employ to do it. We’re meant to be together, baby. You won’t say no, because you know that we’re soulmates, and I’d stop at nothing to prove that.” 

He was growing irritated, the anxiety in his chest only growing beneath the weight of the conversation. He needed to manage his emotions - he couldn’t come across as angry or frustrated to you, lest he scare you away. Likewise, he needed to ensure that he didn’t raise his voice in any manner and alert Yuki of his presence. 

“But if you can’t. If I stay resolute in my decision, then what?” He could feel your heart thudding against your chest, and gently he released one of your hands, bringing his fingers to your pulse point on your neck. He brushed the sensitive area gently, taking note of the way you shivered at the action. 

“Then I’ll keep trying until I can convince you. You’re all I want - all I have.” 

“And if I screamed for Yuki right now? Told her to call the police and have you locked away for everything you’ve done - what then? What chance do you have at convincing me of anything when you’re locked away?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” he murmured calmly. 

Part of him wanted to cover your mouth to erase any chance of that situation arising. If he was being honest, part of him wanted to switch from convincing you to tying you up and carrying you home and worrying about the consequences later. But his heart told him that he’d regret it. 

He wanted you to be willing, and what you were discussing were hypotheticals. You wouldn’t do them - you were just testing him. 

“Why? What would you do to me if I did that?” You asked.

“To you? Nothing. I already told you, I’ll never hurt you. I can’t say the same of Yuki if she tries to get in the way.” You recoiled a little, but Sukuna pressed his advantage, leaning closer and brushing his nose against yours. “And, to be clear, that would all be your fault. You would’ve forced my hand. I’ll be so good to you, I’ll live normally for you, but I can’t abide by anyone trying to destroy us.” 

Falling silent, he let you consider that for a few moments, pressing kisses against the skin of your neck, enjoying the sensation of your fluttering pulse against his lips. 

“It would be my fault,” you murmured quietly to yourself.

He hummed in agreement. “Obviously, I can’t stop you. You’re free, baby, you can do as you like. But I think you’d realise your mistake very quickly. You need me, you love me, and I’ll never let you go - no matter what. And you don’t want to let me go. I know that. If you’d really wanted to be free of me you would’ve locked the window. You’d be fighting back. Hell, I think you would’ve called for Yuki regardless of the risks.” 

“I don’t-” 

“In fact, I think you would’ve called the police the second you fled from me, but here we are. Because you love me. Somewhere in that sick little mind you’re just like me - you’re honored to have someone who would kill for you.” 

“No, I-” you hesitated, the lie that you didn’t find it romantic hanging heavy on your tongue. Clearly you decided against voicing it, realising how obvious the reality would be if you uttered the words aloud. “I should call the police.” 

There was no real conviction in your voice, leaving it hanging as an entirely empty threat. That helped Sukuna stay calm, his crimson gaze fixed on your lovely face. 

“Maybe, yeah. You’re free to do that too if you want. I told you, I won’t hurt you either way.” Glancing over at the bedside cabinet, he grabbed your phone, pressing it into your hand. “Here, call them if you want. That’ll get me put away for twenty years at least, but don’t blame me for your misery when I’m gone, when you desperately miss me night after lonely night.”

Nor could you blame him for what he’d do to any unfortunate boyfriend you happened to be with after his release. The way he’d torture that poor guy would make what he’d done to Ryu look like child’s play. 

The phone was uncertain in your grip, and you made no effort to open it. All that did was bolster Sukuna’s certainty that everything was little more than a bluff. You would threaten change because that was what you thought was morally correct. You didn’t have the conviction to actually do anything. 

You both knew it. 

But he was growing tired of your endless list of hypotheticals. He didn’t want to outline to you exactly how far he’d go to keep you as his - the full list of details weren’t worth you hearing with your fragile little heart. All he wanted was the certainty of a decision falling from your lips. No more questions or concerns, just your choice. 

Would you scream for Yuki and ruin the lives of everyone in the house, or would you go back to a life of bliss?

It wasn’t a particularly difficult decision. 

“Do you really love me?” You were squeezing your phone tightly in your grip. “Or are you just obsessed with the idea of me? Like some superfan of an idol?” 

What a stupid question. 

“Baby, I love every part of you. How could you ever think otherwise? I see you, the real you, through all the good and the bad and still I cherish you. I hope that you feel the same way towards me. Just please let me take care of you. Let’s go home, let's cuddle and make out, let me make you breakfast, let me look after you. You’ve had a rough night.” 

“Sukuna-”

“All I am is dedicated to you,” he interrupted, hands curling around your body and pulling himself closer. He nuzzled his face into your neck, drinking in your scent. “Any problems we have, we can work them out. Just please come home, come back to my bed, and accept me as I am. Because you love me, I know you do.” 

“I do love you- its just-” 

“We’re gonna be a family, baby. We’re gonna move forward in our life together and I’m going to keep you so happy and comfortable. I’ll attend to your every need - isn’t that what you want? Your past boyfriends cheated and fucked you over, but I’ll stay loyal forever. I’ll be the perfect boyfriend, husband, whatever you want. Please.”

His lips latched against your skin once more, sucking love bites into your shoulder. You shivered at the touch, and he swore he could feel the resistance within you flicker and die. Your phone fell from your hand onto the duvet below, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

Burying your face into his pink hair, he was suddenly aware of the tears flowing freely from you, your whole body wracked with sobs. 

“I don’t wanna break up,” you rasped. “I know it's the right thing to do. Nothing you’ve said tells me that I’d be doing the right thing by staying but- fuck- I don’t wanna be lonely!” 

Sukuna’s eyes widened in surprise, his heart practically leaping into his throat at your honest confession. It felt so true and raw - nothing like the guarded agreement that you’d offered him earlier that evening. This was the truth of your heart. 

And your heart longed for him.

“You’re all I have! I was miserable before I met you, and then despite everything with Mahito I’ve still been at my very happiest with you. If I lose all that I know I’ll miss it forever, because through all your bullshit I think you’re right when you say we’re soulmates. I don’t wanna leave, I don’t wanna sleep alone at night thinking about you, I don’t wanna lose this baby, I wanted a future with you…” 

You hesitated, and Sukuna pulled back to look at you, trying to understand the sheer horror that lined your face. 

“I still want a future with you,” you whispered. “Fuck- what’s wrong with me?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, baby,” he purred, pressing more soft kisses against your face. He tried not to show how genuinely ecstatic he was for fear that it might push you further back from the realisation that you were steadily happening upon. “We’re meant to be - that’s all.” 

You hesitated before speaking, tripping over your words. “Promise me you can stop killing, please. If you can stop, maybe everything can be okay - maybe we can be okay.” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he couldn’t help but see what a fool you truly were. No matter what he said in that moment, you’d believe it. And you’d use any false promise to justify all the evil he’d done before - to sweep it all under the rug and stay at his side. 

He was grateful for it. 

But that didn’t make you any less stupid. You were just as bad as him really, underneath all the fake moral outrage. He’d rotted you from the inside out, made you so reliant on him, so broken that mere words were enough to get you to stay. Words and promises of love were enough for Sukuna to get away with murder. 

How lovely. 

He almost wished there was someone else who could have witnessed all that had happened between the two of you, because he desperately wanted a pat on the back for how hard he’d worked with you for years. The payoff of the pathetic sight of you before him would have to suffice as congratulations. 

Still, your question was sincere, and you were looking at him with an almost laughable seriousness, so Sukuna made sure to respond in kind. He cupped your face and set his gaze on yours, putting on his most earnest expression. 

“I promise, baby. Never again. We’ll start over, move on from all this together. What if we go to the coast? Head up the highway until we find some nice place between the mountains and beaches. I’ll work construction and you can finally figure out what you want. We’ll get a cat, we’ll get a cute house, it’ll just be us, our little family, and we’ll be so happy.”

He could see the hesitation on your face, the warring thoughts trying to decide on the right choice. On one hand there was need and love, on the other there was morality and sheer horror at all of his transgressions. If you’d heard all this years ago, before all the trauma and manipulation, he was certain the decision would’ve been easy. 

You would’ve pushed him away. 

But he’d had you within his jaws for a long time now, and all he needed was to finally close the deal and swallow you whole. 

“That is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” He pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, summoning his kindest smile to grace his handsome face. “You want to be happy.” 

—

When you’d first heard the quiet steps on the landing you’d hoped that Yuki would have enough sense to stay away. If she’d known what was good for her, she’d have called the police and hidden until they arrived. 

Or alternately, turned a blind eye and equally made herself scarce until you and Sukuna had left. 

But she’d never been the type to shy away from injustice - nor was she the type to abandon her friend to a fate she didn’t agree with. She wouldn’t walk away from what was happening like Sukuna had walked away from her all those weeks ago. 

No, she’d had to intervene. 

Because she was a well-meaning fool. 

You were pressed beneath Sukuna, your mind racing as he pressed kisses against your neck, murmuring about how much he loved you, making all kinds of plans for your future. You still weren’t sure you were decided on what you’d do. You loved him, and you believed he was capable of change, he’d promised he was - and yet, worry and guilt still gripped your heart. 

It felt wrong to excuse all that he’d done to Ryu and Kashimo. You knew you should hold him accountable for that. 

And yet, your heart was fluttering at the sound of his deep voice, at the sensation of his lips against your warm skin. You didn’t want to part yourself with that. He was right, wasn’t he? Together, the two of you could start over, you could be happy. Sukuna had been there for you at your darkest times, why should you turn your back on him when he was broken? 

That was all it was. He was sick, and you could be the cure for that. You didn’t want to turn him away and worsen his suffering - it would inflict pain on everyone around you too. It was best to stay where you belonged, right there at his side. You could make him better and with time you’d forget about all the sin. You could go back to the way things were before. 

All you wanted was to wake up in his arms - happy and carefree, knowing you were loved. That didn’t have to change. You just had to come to terms with his past and accept that you were the person who could alter the course of his future. What was done was done. 

He was no great evil. He was just the victim of a sickness. 

“Come on baby, let's go home. Just you and me-”

His words were cut off by the bedroom door slamming open with a swift kick, and the unmistakable clicking of the safety on a pistol. Sukuna faltered for a moment, staying frozen in place on top of you, crimson eyes flicking over to where Yuki stood in the doorway. Her shoulders were heaving, her gaze a bit wild, but she held the gun steady. 

“Get off her,” she commanded. 

Sukuna made no move to do so, blinking slowly. “This is none of your business.” 

Yuki glanced at you, pity heavy in her chestnut eyes. “It is when you're trying to convince my friend of something she doesn’t want to do. She ran away from you, accept that she doesn’t want to be with you and get the fuck off her.” 

“No-”

“It’s okay, Yuki!” You interrupted. Slowly, you shimmied your way out of Sukuna’s grip. He moved back, allowing you to sit up properly while he rested on his calves, his expression measured and calculated. You wanted to diffuse the situation, to make Yuki leave so that this didn’t have to escalate. 

You were certain that if she became a genuine threat Sukuna would not abide by it. That wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No. No, babe. It’s not okay.” She looked deeply frustrated, switching all of her attention to you. “I know you’re all fucked up but you can’t be serious right now! I’ve been listening at the door and I don’t know exactly what he did but I heard enough to know that it wasn’t good.”

Sukuna was growing steadily more alert, and you could see the careful decision making process whirring away in his mind. The weight of whether not upsetting you was worth the risk of letting Yuki continue with the path she was going down. You needed her to leave before he drew any conclusions. This didn’t concern her, just for once, you wished she could leave it all alone. 

“Come on, she’s a big girl. Let her make her own choices,” Sukuna said. His eyes moved to the gun on the cabinet, an action that Yuki immediately picked up on. 

“Don’t even think about it, asshole. Move and I shoot you. I’ve already called the police, since you’ve broken into my house, but I’m getting the sense that there’s probably way more than just trespassing that they’ll be interested in.” She repositioned her hands on the gun. “You’re a killer, aren’t you? Who was it? Kashimo? Ryu?”

“Yuki.” You stood up, moving closer to her. “Please, he's going to leave. We’re both just gonna leave - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s no big deal?” She asked. “Babe, please. At least try and deny what I just threw out there.” 

You opened your mouth to lie, glancing towards Sukuna. He made no effort to hide his secret, staring back at your friend passively. It was clear that with the cat out of the bag he had no intention of stuffing it back in, and that terrified you. 

What would become of Yuki now that she knew? 

Your hesitation was more than enough for her to draw a conclusion. 

“You can’t deny it, can you? You’ve been so obsessed with him that I knew some normal domestic wouldn’t bring you to my place in the middle of the night - only something serious. So, what? You’re just gonna sweep it under the rug because he fed you some nice words? Gonna play nice with a murderer until he one day kills you too? Wake up.” 

“It- it’s complicated-” 

“Oh, come on, no dick is good enough to be worth all this, right?” Yuki’s plea was desperate, sharp eyes flicking to Sukuna with revulsion. He looked almost smug, remaining silent at your side. 

“It’s not that simple!”

“No, it is. You’re just fucking stupid. It hurts me to say it, because I love you, but I really just despise you right now,” Yuki said bitterly. “He’s killed people. How can you still say that you love him?”

“Don’t call her stupid,” Sukuna bit. 

“Oh! Manipulator of the century over here coming in and pretending like he actually cares. You don’t even think she’s a person, you just think she’s a thing for you to own and possess, and I’m sick of watching you spread her poison through her. I can’t wait to see you fucking rot.” 

“Mmm. It’s a shame that won’t be happening.” Sukuna stood up slowly, taking his place beside you. Yuki’s hands shook ever so slightly, but she kept the gun firm. 

“I’m warning you. Move any closer and I’ll shoot. I bet it’ll feel good.” 

“Well, wouldn’t that make you just like me? Killing just because you don’t like someone? What was it that Mahito said? If you kill a killer the number of murderers remains the same?” Sukuna’s lips quirked up into a smile, and he ignored Yuki’s command to stay still, wrapping an arm securely around your midsection. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was. Perhaps he was planning on using your body as cover to reach for the gun that was mere centimeters from your hand. Or maybe it was just a ploy to ensure Yuki wouldn’t shoot him - fairly confident that she wouldn’t pull the trigger if the bullet had any chance at hitting you. 

“It would be worth it,” she said. “You can’t manipulate me like you’ve manipulated her - I’m not blinded by foolish lust.” 

“Thank god, I think having you lusting after me would be fairly unpleasant.” Sukuna's grip on you tightened, and he shuffled ever closer to your side. You flinched as Yuki fired a warning shot across the room, your ears ringing with the sound. 

“I’ll do it. Get any closer to that gun and you’re dead. That isn’t what you want, right?” She asked. 

Sukuna sighed heavily. He was growing noticeably agitated and the more Yuki goaded him the more that it felt like she was backing him into a corner. When she’d first discovered the two of you, you’d been convinced there was a way back for her - a situation in which she let Sukuna flee and turned a blind eye. 

More and more, it felt like she was pushing Sukuna to the point of no return. 

You wanted her to run, wanted her to turn her back and realise the level of peril she’s placed herself in. You didn’t want Sukuna or Yuki to suffer, you just wanted to get the hell out of there with both of them still intact. 

“Please, Yuki, you don’t understand. Just put the gun down and let us leave. He said he can change, I’m going to help him change!” 

“Just stop, do you hear yourself? He’s just manipulating you! He’s always been manipulating you,” she said, exasperated. 

“He saved me. Looked after me when I was at your lowest.” 

“Saved you from what? Scenarios of his own making? I bet he set those freaks on us in the forest-” 

“He didn’t,” you said. “Please, he’s sick, he needs me.” 

“Yeah, he’s definitely sick. That’s something we can both agree on,” she spat. 

Sukuna was getting antsy, and you could tell. It was clear that he was aware of how time was ticking. If he was going to do anything, he needed to do it immediately, or the police would show up and Yuki would tell them everything. At the very minimum Sukuna would be arrested for breaking and entering, and then investigations of everything else would take place if Yuki decided to spill the beans. 

Which she definitely would. 

“As fun as this whole little moral debate is, I think it's time we all move on.” You weren’t sure what was going through Sukuna’s mind as he uttered those words, his red eyes darker than you’d seen them in a while. 

Gently, he pushed you forward with his arm, urging you both closer to Yuki. Anxiety tugged at you, dreading the idea of Yuki pulling the trigger. You didn’t want to stay there and have Sukuna get caught, but you were even less keen on him being dead. 

“No,” Yuki hissed. “I told you, you aren’t going anywhere.” 

Sukuna cast a glance between you and the gun on the cabinet, chewing on his lower lip before offering you a gentle smile, as though he’d suddenly grown certain of something. 

He turned his attention back to your friend. “You aren’t gonna shoot me Yuki, I really don’t think you have the balls. Put the gun down and we can settle all this amicably, because I’m not leaving here without her in my arms.”

“Then you won’t be leaving at all.” 

You could see the determination in Sukuna’s eyes, certain that he wasn’t going to stand there and do as she said. Likewise, you were certain that Yuki wasn’t going to let him leave. She’d never been the type of woman who was prone to bluffing, and her hatred for Sukuna made it even more likely that she’d offer no mercy. 

She wouldn’t be concerned about it affecting her relationship with you, because she’d see it as doing what was right - convinced that even if you hated her, at least you’d be free. 

If only she could understand that wasn’t what you wanted. It would be the same as her ripping a piece of your heart right out from your chest. You and Sukuna were entwined, you were meant to be - and you couldn’t be without him despite everything. 

You’d always be his. 

“Please, Yuki. Just let him go. Please don’t hurt him,” you begged softly, and your friend scoffed, failing to even spare you a glance. She seemed to have dismissed you from the conversation altogether, like you weren’t worth reasoning with at all. 

It made sense. You weren’t going to change your mind. 

“Look at that,” Yuki said, gaze fixed on Sukuna. “It must feel good to have your pet begging for your life after all you’ve done to her. I bet you feel real proud, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said with a grin. “It feels nice to be loved by someone. I’m sure you don’t understand. I mean, where even is Choso? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of our love.” As Sukuna’s barb struck true he took another bold step forward, his red eyes wide with determination. 

The next few moments happened faster than you could even register them.

With that single step, Sukuna had finally pushed too hard against the boundary Yuki had set for him. He’d known that, but he’d simply gambled that Yuki wouldn’t kill him - that she didn’t have the heart to take a life. 

And on that count he’d been correct. 

She’d pulled the trigger, but the bullet had done little more than graze his arm. 

Your shot, on the other hand, had struck true. 

You weren’t sure what instinct had compelled you to grab the gun at your side - there had been no control over your body as you’d raised the pistol and pulled the trigger. The whole thing had been done on autopilot, out of some twisted and primal desire to defend the one you loved from death. 

In your mind, she’d been about to take Sukuna’s life. In your mind, you were going to lose the one person who had shown you patience and love. The one person who had given your life meaning. 

And your soul had made the decision before your brain could stop it. 

There was no piercing scream, just a tiny little gasp of disbelief falling from Yuki’s pink lips as she fell to her knees, chestnut eyes fixed on you in horror. Red was blooming across the white cotton of her pyjama shirt, spreading steadily across her stomach. 

Sukuna let out a grunt of pain, his hand flying to the smaller wound on his arm, stemming the flow of blood with his hand. He wasn’t paying it much mind, too distracted by you, gazing at you with a manic expression of love and pride. 

Usually, to have him so pleased with you would make you feel warm. In that moment you felt nothing but disgust with yourself, wishing that you could take back the last few seconds. You’d go back and beg Sukuna to stay still, convince him that you could reason with the police and fix things that way - no one had to get hurt. 

And yet, the rational side of you knew that this was always going to be the outcome - whether by your hands or Sukuna’s, the moment you’d arrived at Yuki’s house she had been doomed. 

You were never truly going to part with him - he was right, you’d just been acting out, pretending that you cared about some moral highground. You should’ve remained in his arms where you belonged. 

This was your fault, all of it.

A choked sob left your lips and the gun dropped softly onto the floor. You followed it swiftly, falling to your knees, your vision blurred with tears as you stared at Yuki’s body now laying flat on the floor. Her blood was seeping into the cream carpet, painting it a deep shade of crimson as her life steadily left her. 

“No, no, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Yuki, I’m sorry-” 

You crawled across the floor, ignoring Sukuna’s words echoing above you. Your fingers dug into the fabric of the carpet, pulling yourself along slowly but surely towards her twitching body. She was still alive, just barely - perhaps she could live, maybe you could fix it. 

She’d fallen face down, her wound hidden to you in the position she was laying. You didn’t want to turn her over in case that would make things worse, your hands pressing hopelessly against her back, completely at a loss as to what to do. You should call an ambulance, you should stop the bleeding, you should do something. 

But Sukuna was standing over you with a desperate urgency in his eyes. 

He wouldn’t let you call for help. He wasn’t willing to waste even a single moment longer on this. Not when his freedom was in jeopardy. 

Yours was too now, you supposed, considering the dying body laid out before you. 

“Yuki, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her, almost hopeful it would keep her warm, perhaps revive her. She let out a pained groan, moving her head ever so slightly to allow her dimming brown eyes to meet yours. 

“You- you’re not.” The words were hard to hear, but they cut you to the core all the same, horror and hurt overcoming you as her lashes fluttered shut and her body stilled. You wanted to ignore her, wanted to convince yourself that she was just being mean. You’d had no choice but to shoot her, right? 

In your soul you knew better. 

You’d had a million chances to turn your back on Sukuna and walk a better path. You’d taken none of them, and now you’d chosen definitively you would reap the consequences of your decisions - your best friend dead at your feet. 

The sobs left you uncontrollably, saliva catching in your throat as you threw yourself over Yuki’s body, clinging to her desperately and wishing you could turn back the clock several years. If only you’d never dated Ryu, if only you’d been with Sukuna from the start, perhaps you could’ve had everything you’d ever wanted. 

Perhaps you wouldn’t be keeled over in a pool of Yuki’s blood with a string of bodies left in your boyfriend’s wake. 

A heavy hand fell upon your shoulder. “We need to leave, now.” 

You weren’t sure you could. Your legs felt like jelly, your mind operating at full capacity. You didn’t have the energy to flee from the scene - you could barely comprehend the weight of your decision.

“I- I can’t” 

Sukuna swept you up in an instant, holding you close in his arms and pulling you away from Yuki with little effort as he headed towards the door. You had no energy to fight him - to demand that he leave you behind. That wasn’t really what you wanted anyway. You didn’t yearn for a life behind bars, not after you’d gone so far for the man at your side. 

If you were going to accept him, if you were going to kill for him, you at least wanted to be with him. 

Otherwise it was all for nothing. 

But your gaze stayed fixed on Yuki as Sukuna pulled you away, on that golden hair splayed out across the floor, knowing it was the last time you’d ever see it. 

After that, much happened in a blur. 

Sukuna had bundled you into the passenger seat of his car and sped back to his apartment, leaving you there strapped in the front seat while he chucked all he could into suitcases. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’d contemplated a quick getaway, because he was done with all he needed in a matter of minutes, throwing your shared belongings in the back and speeding off into the night. 

You were pretty sure you’d nodded off a few times, finding yourself gripped with visions of Yuki, memories of the two of you hanging out at the mall as teens, sharing secrets about crushes while laying on your bed, playing pranks on Shoko together. Each memory remained for only a few fleeting moments before it bled into the image of Yuki’s dying expression - the look of betrayal on her face at the realisation that you’d chosen Sukuna over her. 

And each time you’d jolt awake in a panic, soothed only by Sukuna’s hand reaching over to you and squeezing your thigh comfortingly. You hated how safe you still felt with him, how disgustingly grateful you were that he was still alive and at your side. If he had died you were certain that you’d have curled up in a ball and withered away yourself. 

As pathetic as that was. 

It was more startlingly clear than ever now that you were made for each other. Just as he’d protected you, you’d protected him. There was blood on your hands just the same as his. You supposed that he might’ve always been able to see it - perhaps he’d always known you better than you knew yourself, ever aware of what you were capable of. 

You had to hope that being with him was the right decision, because there was no longer a way out of that. You were tied more intimately than most by sinful actions, ever bonded by your rotten souls. 

And you weren’t even sure you were unhappy. Not when he’d smile at you so reassuringly, his red eyes twinkling with love and pride.

Why had Yuki made you choose? Why couldn’t she have just stayed out of it? 

Why was she so stupid? 

Everything could’ve been fine. 

By the time you properly awoke, breaking free of your cycle of dreams and nightmares, the sun was rising up over the horizon. You weren’t quite sure where you were, but thick forest had given way to open, hilly land, unlike any familiar to your home state. Sukuna looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes as he did his best to focus on the road. 

The clock read 6am, which meant you’d been on the road for four hours or so. Sukuna hadn’t slept at all, and you couldn’t imagine it was all that safe for him to be driving, but you could understand his desire to put as much distance between you and Yuki’s body as possible. 

Still, once he was aware that you were awake he perked up a little. “Gotta pull over soon. I’ve got fake plates to put on the car. Could do with an hour or two of sleep too, if that’s alright with you, baby? I’ve put a fair few states behind us already and we’ll keep going later. No one’s gonna find us.” 

You nodded sleepily, and Sukuna drove until he found a thinly wooded area where he parked the car in an empty layby. He left you to doze while changing the plates, before inviting you into the backseat with him where you could both be a little comfier. He’d had the intelligence to bring a blanket with him from his apartment, wrapping it around the two of you as you settled down at his side. 

“Doing okay? You haven’t said a word since…” You could sense the anxiety in his tone as he trailed off. He thought you were going to flee from him again. Like you had anywhere to go. Your final act with Yuki had proved your devotion, and had cemented your place at his side. 

He didn’t have a single thing to be anxious about where you were concerned. 

“Not really,” you mumbled. “I didn’t mean to- I just- I thought she was gonna kill you and I couldn’t help myself.” 

“I know that.” He squeezed you tight, planting a kiss on your head. “You’re a good person, I know you didn’t mean to. You were just looking out for me, right? I appreciate it, baby. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” 

You hummed, heart fluttering softly. It was the right thing to do, no matter how wrong it felt. Sukuna was your soulmate, he didn’t deserve to die. If you hadn’t killed her, Yuki was going to kill him. It was self defence. You had to do it. 

You had to. 

You had to. 

Sukuna was looking at you carefully, studying every microexpression with great interest. You felt almost small under his scrutiny, eased only when he bumped his nose against yours lovingly, before drawing you into a deep and passionate kiss. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. “You’ve always known where you belong, always known that your place is with me. It makes me so happy, you make me so happy.” His hands trailed into your hair, brushing through the strands. It was a little painful, because they were still matted with blood from where you’d thrown yourself down beside Yuki. 

Sukuna seemed unbothered by it. 

Unbothered even by the dried blood staining your hands and arms, like it was of no concern to him. 

“I know you’re upset. That fragile heart of yours isn’t built for this, but what you did was right. Be sure of that, my love.” He kissed you again and you made sure to lose yourself in the feeling, swearing you could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue but brushing the thought away promptly. 

You pushed all your thoughts away. 

Ryu. Kashimo. Yuki. 

They all faded off into some distant vault at the back of your mind - into a far off place where they needed to live lest you start to tear the skin from your bones at the realisation of how fucked up your life had become. All you could do was focus on Sukuna - focus on the good in your life. 

Before you was the man you loved. All warm and affectionate, devoted solely to you in a way that no person ever had been before. If you viewed everything only through that lens, you could truly be happy. He was everything you’d ever wanted and more - the only thing you really needed out of life.

You wouldn’t let yourself despair. You’d cherish what you had and block out the rest until you were ready to deal with it. 

If ever. 

Sukuna’s kiss grew more urgent, and he pulled you onto his lap. His hands moved down your body, sliding beneath your shirt and shimmying it over your head, allowing his hands to graze against your warm skin. It had a shiver running through you, and you clung to him tightly, your fingers tangling in the pink hair at his nape. 

Things were the same as ever. 

You were just two lovers making out in a parked car, like you’d done so many times before. 

There was no blood on your hands. There was no blood on his. Your only crime was maybe one of public indecency for engaging in this in a public place. Yeah, everything could be justified - you’d both only ever done what you had to do to overcome people who unfairly wanted to tear you apart. 

People who were jealous at the idea of your souls intertwining so perfectly. 

Yeah, that was it. 

Sukuna made short work of the rest of your clothes, discarding his own shirt and letting you press yourself up keenly against his muscular chest. The feeling of his skin against yours always had electricity buzzing through you, desperate to feel his touch at every available opportunity. You knew he felt the same, based on how actively his hands explored your curves. 

He didn’t bother removing his jeans, finding it to be too much effort in the confined space of the backseat. He simply undid the zipper and slipped them slightly down his thighs, leaving enough space to free his cock for you to sit yourself upon. 

You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you lowered yourself down on him, whining against his skin at the familiar stretch. You weren’t sure that the feeling would ever stop serving as a comfort to you - always enjoying the pleasure of being wrapped so snugly around him, his cock twitching needily at the tight sensation of you squeezing him. 

Kissing his neck, you moved lazily on top of him, aware that he was lethargic from a night of driving. You wanted to show him that you were grateful for how hard he fought for you, that you were sorry for even thinking of abandoning him, that you loved him unwaveringly and always would. 

Neither of you lasted long, both with heightened senses after a truly stressful night. On numerous occasions while atop him, worries tried to force their way into your head - questions about how you’d live as wanted criminals, regrets around Yuki and all the others - but over and over again you pushed them aside. You’d meet Sukuna’s crimson eyes and find yourself enthralled. 

The person who loved you unwaveringly was there before you. He’d be there no matter what. And as long as he was at your side, you could cope. 

He wanted what was best for you. He wouldn’t lead you astray. He’d done what he felt was right, and you’d done what was right. That was all. The only thing that bared thinking about was his love. Everything else was nothing more than noise. 

You whined his name quietly as you came, clinging to him desperately, panting for breath at the feeling of him releasing inside of you, his warm body shaking in your grip. His hands came to settle firmly around your midsection, cradling you against his tired body. 

For a while, the two of you dozed in silence, basking in that pleasant sensation of your bodies feeling all weightless, still connected together so intimately. It was where you were both supposed to be - the only place that really mattered. 

“I was being honest, you know,” he purred lazily against your ear, fingers rubbing circles into your waist. “Lets go get some nice house on the coast and start again. We’ll have our baby and maybe a few more. I’ll keep you happier than you’ve ever been - I swear it to you. I swear.” 

—

You stared down at the body passively, the buzzing in your ears drowning out the careful explanation that Sukuna was giving you. His hands were on your shoulders, attempting to soothe you, or perhaps to tear you away from the mutilated corpse half buried in the mud. 

This was the third one in three months. 

Which meant you’d have to move on again soon. 

It had been two years since you’d fled your hometown, leaving everything that you’d known behind in favour of standing by your soulmate. 

In that time you hadn’t managed to find a permanent home - always on the move, always looking over your shoulder for cops. You’d often had stints of living out of motels, or out of your car, driving up the coast in search of something that you weren’t sure existed. 

Even if Sukuna always made sure to promise that it did - ever holding you at night and purring about your bright future together, about the lovely home you’d make together, so long as you waited just a bit longer. 

Your most recent home, and the one you’d stayed at for longest, was a trailer park just outside some seedy beach town. You were currently standing in the doorway of your shitty trailer, your toddler babbling away at your hip, while you computed a sight that had grown all too familiar to you over the years. 

It wasn’t clear who this man was - you couldn’t remember ever encountering him, but based on his workwear you could only assume that he’d been one of Sukuna’s colleagues at the construction site he’d been working at for the last few months. Although, even if you had known him, he would be hard to identify thanks to the axe splitting his skull in half. 

Perhaps the old you would’ve thrown up at the sight - would’ve fled back into the trailer in an attempt to stop your baby girl from witnessing the horrors that her father would never stop committing. But you’d grown numb to such things. You’d seen too many of his kills now to feel anything but mild disappointment. 

The first few had left you outraged and distraught, reminding him that he’d promised he would stop, but every time he came with an excuse about the necessity, and a reminder that you were a killer too so you should understand. Originally you’d fought him on it, but the evenings would always end the same - with you falling for his honeyed words and nestling himself in his arms. 

It didn’t matter that he smelt of blood - you were no stranger to the scent anymore, and you had little choice but to accept it. You had thrown away everything for him, your own humanity included, and as frustrated as you could get with him, there was no action that you could really take to stop him. 

You weren’t going to leave him - you had nothing and no one else left but him. 

Through all his faults you would cling to him. You needed him. Without him you’d be nothing. 

“Make sure you bury him properly,” you spoke hollowly, cutting off Sukuna’s stream of words. His face lit up with a smile, pleased that you weren’t going to give him a hard time that particular evening. Leaning forward he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before mirroring the action with your daughter, who giggled raucously at the loving affection from her father. 

She was getting a little too big to comfortably hold, especially with your belly swollen with your second child, adding to the weight you had to carry. Seeing the way you struggled as your daughter squirmed, Sukuna took her from you carefully, holding her easily in his arms. You tried to ignore the blood he smudged onto her clothes. 

Despite everything, you felt warm seeing him hold her so carefully, his red eyes alight with joy. She was the apple of his eye, the most treasured part of his world. He’d been so pleased when she was born, so thrilled to have something that had been built by the both of you together. 

His devotion to you and to her always served to remind you that everything was worth it, that this was the thing you’d fought for, even through all the difficulty you’d encountered over the past few years. 

“I’ll make sure he's buried properly, don’t worry,” Sukuna spoke, rocking your daughter in his arms soothingly. It was approaching her bedtime and you wouldn’t be surprised if she simply drifted off in his grip. “Sorry, he said some stuff about you at the bar and I couldn’t let it go. Talked about how he’d like a piece of you and all that.” 

You hummed, knowing it was pointless to tell him that was rather classic construction worker talk which, while unpleasant, didn’t warrant murder. 

“Do I need to pack the suitcase?” You asked. 

“Maybe. I think I can cover this one up. I’ve been making good money at this job so if we can just stick it out a little longer we should finally have the money to buy a proper place up north. I wanna do that in time for the birth of the next little one.” You nodded, your eyes once again drawn to the man on the floor. 

Sukuna followed your gaze, before shooting you a sympathetic look. “You know it's all because I love you, right? I don’t want you to be mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” 

You were, but it was pointless to say it. 

You might as well be telling a cat not to hunt birds. It was built into Sukuna’s programming, and you’d long since grown certain that he was incapable of change. His promise to try, all his nice words about you being the cure for his sickness had all been bullshit. 

But you tried not to think about that. Not when your decision to stick with him had already been cast in stone. Not just by the murder of Yuki but by your daughter too. You were tied to him and you’d make the best of it. That was all you could do. 

Sukuna loved you deeply, he treated you well and you had a beautiful baby girl together. If you focussed on those things, all the things that were deserving of happiness, it wasn’t so bad. 

Really. 

“Good, good, I love you so much, baby.” He kissed you again, before realising that your child had fallen asleep in his arms, clinging needily to his shirt. 

She was a daddy’s girl through and through - when you held her there wasn’t a single thing that would get her to slumber so peacefully. Sukuna’s arms always seemed to ease her immediately. He smiled softly at the sight. 

“I’ll put her down to sleep and then finish up out here,” he said. “Go get comfortable in bed and I’ll join you when I’m done.”

You nodded compliantly, casting a final glance to the poor corpse before pushing it to the back of your mind like everything else. You didn’t have the mental space to linger on it, to spend the evening going back and forward over your feelings towards your lover. You’d curl up in bed and read your book, turn a blind eye to it all and let him clean up his own mess. 

That was the pattern you’d found. 

It was late by the time Sukuna found his way to your bed, curling himself around you lovingly. His breath was warm against your shoulder, his hands coming to rest on the bump of your belly, caressing the skin affectionately. Sukuna was the happiest he’d ever been - no matter your living conditions, all he’d ever wanted was you. 

And he had you now, for as long as you both drew breath. 

“I am sorry,” he purred. “You know how I get sometimes.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you forgive me?” He asked, lips grazing the skin of your neck, nipping at that sensitive area in the way he knew you loved. 

“Of course.” You faltered, your chest tightening. “I always do.” 

And that night, just like many others, you’d lain awake in his arms long after he’d drifted off to sleep, wondering just what your life would’ve been if you’d never met him. 

It was a fool’s thought, you knew that, because there was no doubt that he’d always find you, both in this life and the next. No matter the circumstances, you were always destined to be his. There was no reality in which your paths didn’t cross - you had been doomed the moment he had been born into the same era as you. 

But could you really complain? When you still revelled in the warmth of his arms? When his kisses still made your heart flutter? When you willingly bore his children and allowed him to sink into you lovingly night after night? You still loved him, still felt genuine when whispering those words into his ear after an evening of passion, your bodies sweaty and intertwined. 

You were happy, weren’t you? Wasn’t this what you’d wanted? What you’d fought tooth and nail for against all of the warnings from people you’d cared about? All you’d wanted was a life with your soulmate. You’d thrown everything away for it, after all. Who were you to complain about a life on the run or sleeping beside a murderer who had no capacity to change? 

It wasn’t like you could get up on your high horse when you were a killer just like he was. 

Besides, he was the only person who could soothe you, the one who could keep you from going completely off the rails, preventing your never-ending night terrors from tearing you apart entirely. He alone could guide you through the darkness plaguing your soul, even if he was the one who had put in there in the first place. 

With him was where you were meant to be. It was where you’d always end up - caught up with a soulmate who had never given you the chance to be anything except exactly what he wanted you to be. And you’d sat by and let it happen. You’d fallen into his arms again and again until you’d lost the very thing that made you the person you used to be. 

There was no chance for you to regret it, no world in which you could look back and acknowledge how far you’d fallen, how deeply you’d fucked up your entire life, all for a man who had planned your descent into madness from the first moment he’d laid eyes on you. If you acknowledged it you’d have to face the ugly truth of yourself and realise just how wrong you’d been. 

You’d never do that. 

Yuki, Ryu, Kashimo and every other poor person who suffered at Sukuna’s hands would stay locked away in the back of your mind for as long as you lived, never surfacing for you to acknowledge the extent of the sin which you’d committed for a man who was a plague upon both you and the world at large. 

Instead, you’d snuggle closer in his arms and cling to him like he was the only person who had ever meant anything to you. 

Because you were his. 

You were made for each other, destined to remain glued together for all eternity. 

Both of you as rotten as the other. 

a/n: not sukuna ruining readers entire life and future just because he has a big crush :( (genuinely sorry to do this to her)

hope you enjoyed this fic, I've loved writing this and making sukuna extra awful, its been a lot of fun!

I will be taking a break from yandere content and moving back to medieval fantasy for my next multi-chapter sukuna fic. I'll share more on that soon <3

thank you all for the support and love on this fic! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3

taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @alebrasil0101 @unikittylover57 @maomimii @xadenpoop @mxchiii @tinkspen @martianzmars @drasticallyinluv @grimm3r @choyuxx @janellawliet @nanamigirl4ever @actuallynarii @aiive @chloe022r @targaryenposts @erasersslut @loulasav @natsolox @kenstarsworld @elviqss @blu3berryies @cupidstrace @ksjtozaki @feyrinnn @heartless-rythm @beaniesayshi @shazzer29 @mortallyshadysoul @neverlandqueen36 @sweethoneycream @mikkmmmii @sikurgvx @8nitxe @lexispeak @inmywhitegown @unlimited-impressions @absolutelycaffeinateddevil @paulineeo @onlykuna @jjkfannn34 @queendom-of-yuki @blinmkk @emmaiscool22 @angelbabyy111 @moonsquid49 @0imliterallybatman @crunchycathy @yailuxe

© sukunahs

[conleches]

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

body language masterlist

a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

550 words to say instead of fuckin said

638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

some more body language help 

[bellero]

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[isaut]

“look to your left,” barou says calmly as he sips on his coffee.

you whip your head in the direction, trying to figure out what’s caught his eye on your morning coffee-and-people-watching date.

“the couple.”

you continue to scan before landing on them: tourists. a beautifully dressed woman in a matching little capri outfit, accessorized and in heels. the man she’s with is dressed in cargo shorts and a sports jersey.

“ugh,” you reply, crinkling your nose. you look back at him. “i’m so glad you dress nicely.”

he hums. “it’s the least i can do. he should do the same— she’s probably planned every outfit down to a t for this trip. and this is how he repays her?”

“maybe he’s funding the trip.”

barou snorts. “with the way he’s dressed? he’s a bum.”

you giggle.

“he should have paid for it, but if he did, he would have dressed better. ungrateful. and now he’s standing in the way of her finding a good husband.”

with a smile, you reach over and pat barou’s thigh. “you tell him, baby.”

[saintshigaraki]

what do u think are tenya’s slimiest traits….. especially if he thinks they make him a good and doting partner……

well first things first he is 100 percent going to somehow someway get you evicted from your place so that you have no choice but to move in with him....and of course he thinks this is just him looking out for you....two he believes in making you orgasm for your health...gives you a nice slow one in the morning before he leaves so that you'll sleep in after....and of course. the cameras he has set up in his place that he may have. perhaps. neglected to tell you about. so that he can keep an eye on his baby while he's out and about. and of course. the tracker he put into the dainty necklace he gifted you on your third date that he asks you very nicely to never take off.

[sukunahs]

crazy in love | ryomen sukuna

chapter 8: ups and downs

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.

he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.

if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.

word count: 10k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion, toxic relationship

a/n: this one is a bit of a mess for both characters so good luck

masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon)

Your soft breaths felt warm against his bare chest, lashes fluttering every so slightly as you lost yourself in some seemingly pleasant dream. Sukuna had been watching you for a while, cradling you against him lovingly, choosing to bask in happiness for a few hours at the fact that you were there and pregnant and his. 

He wanted to stay there forever, caught solely in that lovely moment with you.

But he knew he couldn’t. 

He knew that he instead needed to get up and address the concern gnawing away at his gut. If he wanted more nights like that, more nights with you in his possession, he needed to ensure he didn’t lose you. That meant he couldn’t bury his head in the sand and fall asleep blissfully at your side like he wanted. 

He had to understand just what you knew. 

Reluctantly he slipped from your grip, laying your head softly down upon the pillows and ensuring the blanket was wrapped snugly around you before padding into the bathroom to confirm the truth of his suspicions. His red eyes went straight to the tile beneath the sink, catching his lower lip between his teeth at the easy assessment that something was amiss.

The tile had been put back in the wrong orientation, the pattern not quite matching up with the ones neighbouring it. Sukuna hadn’t shifted that tile in months, and even if he had, he always took great care to line it back up again perfectly to avoid any suspicion.

This was the carelessness of someone replacing the tile in a panic. 

A heavy breath left his lips and for a few moments he’d just stared at it, leaning his palm against the sink, his mind totally blank. He didn’t want this to be happening now - he’d figured one day you’d find out, but had wanted that to be under his careful control at a time when you were more securely locked within his grip. 

Right now he was uncertain where your mind lay and that was a problem. 

At least you hadn’t immediately run from him. That, he supposed, was a positive sign. 

Even through all your jittery anxiety displayed earlier that evening, you’d still given yourself to him, still clung to him like he was the most precious thing in your world. It meant that he still had a chance to shape your opinion on what you’d seen - still had a chance to secure your place with him. 

He wondered if you’d even understood what you’d found. Perhaps you’d made up some excuse or story in your head where Sukuna came off better than the reality. It would be preferable if you had understood and had chosen to stay anyway. If that was the case Sukuna really would’ve struck upon gold. 

Crouching down, he shifted the tile, finding that you’d repacked the items in the space below almost exactly as you’d found them. That pleased him, because leaving the evidence in place suggested that you didn’t have a plan to run off with it or investigate further. Or, perhaps you were just clever enough to know he’d check and didn’t want to risk him realising what you knew. 

It was a thought he shoved from his mind in favour of holding faith in your loyalty to him. 

Putting the tile back where it belonged, Sukuna stood up and leant against the sink once more, red eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He looked tired, with dark circles hanging on his face, and his hair a little more tousled than usual. Despite it all there was a calm quality to his expression - one that he wasn’t quite expecting on account of the fact that he should have been freaking out. 

He was on the precipice of losing you, of losing everything. You’d discovered the secret that could topple everything he’d spent years building. 

And yet, he felt strangely serene. 

You hadn’t run. Not yet. You knew, and you were still there in his bed. That meant that there was a chance for him. There was no point in panicking, what he needed was to stay level-headed and formulate a plan to ensure that you didn’t change your mind. He needed to know where your head was at, and he needed to twist your thoughts until all your affection was directed towards him. 

Assuming that wasn’t already the case. 

Ideally, he wouldn’t need to do much at all. 

—

Sukuna hadn’t needed to wait long to understand your thoughts on the whole situation. 

A day had passed since that fateful evening, and Sukuna had made sure to come home from work as early as possible. While he was feeling calm about the whole thing, he wasn’t entirely confident that you wouldn’t scurry off while he was out of the house. He couldn’t completely comprehend your mental state and was subsequently unsure whether your currently fragile mind might work with or against him.

His gut told him that your distressed condition would probably go in his favour, since you were always so clingy with him, but that didn’t stop the flicker of anxiety over the idea that hours alone to think would have you fleeing from his home. 

If that was the case it would be fine - he’d still get you back. It would just be far more difficult than he’d ideally like it to be. 

He didn’t want to take drastic measures with you - he wanted you to be at his side completely willingly. But if you forced his hand he would act regardless. You were destined to be with him and there was absolutely nothing that would ever get in the way of that. 

The pregnancy had really come at the right time, because he was certain that the baby would make it easier to keep you exactly where you belonged. It was something that would tie you to him permanently, something that would give you serious pause when considering leaving him. God, he was glad he’d had the foresight to steal your birth control pills and poke holes in the condoms when you’d made him use them - that was really paying off for him. 

And just as he’d hoped, upon his return to the apartment he found you there as usual. 

You were curled up on the sofa, all wrapped up and cozy in a blanket. The TV was on, playing an episode of Community - a show you’d often have on as comforting background noise. You weren’t watching it when he walked in through the door, your eyes wide and worried as you watched him enter, a pistol gripped between your trembling hands. 

Sukuna faltered for a moment, his shoulders only relaxing when you let out a choked sigh of relief, lowering the gun down onto your lap. 

“Hey,” he said, almost cautiously. 

“Hey.” You rubbed your face. Sukuna surveyed you carefully, taking note of how tired you looked, with dark circles hanging beneath your unusually dull eyes. You looked sickly - sweat slick on your brow, and your lips a little cracked and dry. 

“Gonna shoot me, baby?” He asked, only half joking. 

“No- no. Sorry.” The apology was bashful, and you were quick to transfer the gun from your lap over to the coffee table. “You’re home so early. When I heard the door I thought maybe…you know…” 

He hummed as you let him fill in the gaps. He hoped you were suggesting that you were concerned he was someone else, rather than fearing that he’d broken his usual routine with the intent of showing up to hurt you. It didn’t seem to be the latter, since your anxiety from the previous night was largely absent. 

You just seemed unwell rather than scared. 

“It’s okay. I like knowing that you can look out for yourself.” He caught the blush that covered your cheeks, his ego boosted by the reactions he could still draw from you. If the evidence wasn’t so clear he would’ve believed you were still totally in the dark about Kashimo, going by the adoration you still seemed to hold for him. 

He hoped that was a sign of good things to come. 

“Not feeling well?” He asked, crossing the room and crouching down in front of you. His hand went to your forehead, pressing against the sweaty skin. You were running concerningly hot, and he quickly moved to stroke your hair comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss of greeting on your lips. 

“Morning sickness doesn’t seem to keep itself exclusive to the morning,” you grumbled with a pout. If you didn’t look so faint he’d find it insanely cute.

A smile played on his lips at your words, the concerns about your relationship fleeing him for a moment. He’d been so focussed on the Kashimo issue that he hadn’t had too much time to bask in the pleasant feeling of you being pregnant with his child. He was happy to hear you talk about something like morning sickness - some mundane part of your shared life. 

It made his fears of a burning future seem almost trivial. 

“Ah. Want me to make you some soup? That should be easy for you to keep down,” he suggested. 

“It's okay, I’ll do it. You’ve been at work all day.” You moved to get up, but Sukuna’s hands were quick to fall upon your shoulders, carefully sitting you back down on the couch. 

“Stay there. You’re pregnant, I’m not making you do anything.” 

You flushed, sinking back down into the sofa as your eyes followed him. There was still a trace of something within them - a slight uncertainty that Sukuna didn’t like, but he brushed it aside in favour of pretending everything was normal. He’d make you dinner and you’d curl up at his side on the couch while you watched TV. 

Just like every night. 

That was your routine, that was how it was for you to belong to him. 

Nothing would change that. 

“One of Kashimo’s old friends called me today.” Your voice rang out after a few minutes of silence. 

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, stalling his cutting of onions for a near imperceptible second before continuing. “Oh yeah?” He was curious to see where you were going to take this, because he was absolutely certain that no such friend had reached out to you. 

“They said he’s gone missing.” 

“Huh. Probably in some drug den somewhere if what Satoru told me is anything to go by.” Sukuna said easily, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. He’d admit to nothing until you came out and actively accused him of something. Coming out with the truth or a half-baked lie could both do damage until he understood where your mind was on the issue.

“I don’t know, I’m kind of worried.” 

“Why? The guy treated you like shit. Good riddance, who cares what he’s doing?” 

For a few moments you were silent, biting down on your lip. Your gaze wasn’t on Sukuna, but on the TV, pretending to be all invested in the show you’d seen hundreds of times. Sukuna knew you well enough to be able to see the cogs turning in your brain - a war raging in your mind over what you should say next. 

“What if he’s dead?” You asked. 

Still, you didn’t look at him. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were holding your breath. It wasn’t an outright accusation, it was nothing more than a roundabout way of trying to get Sukuna to slip up. He needed you to give him more than that, so he simply played along with your thought experiment. 

It's what he would do until you asked him a direct question about your suspicions. 

“Why would you think that?” He asked, adding the chopped onions to the pot, covering it and setting it on a low heat, continuing to prepare dinner like you were discussing something no more important than the next day’s weather. 

To him it was no more important than that. 

“I don’t-” you hesitated, freezing up. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.” 

Sukuna tried to keep himself from smiling at how poorly you’d played this game with him. You’d gone in without any real plan or structure to your conversation, leaving yourself with no excuse or opportunity to understand the truth without asking the question outright. You just weren’t experienced enough at acting sly - not like he was.

It was most amusing to see you trying so hard at it though. 

Cute, even. 

“Baby.” Sukuna dropped the knife into the sink, his attention turning to you. You looked so sweet all huddled up on his sofa, practically drowning in one of his t-shirts. There was something about the scene that provided unquestionable proof that you were his, and he wondered if you even believed in the little investigation you were mounting. 

Were you asking those questions because you really wanted to know? Because you really cared? Or were you simply asking the questions because you felt it was morally correct? Asking with the intention of weakly confirming that Sukuna had done nothing wrong, allowing you to stick your head back in the sand?

Perhaps that was why you weren’t addressing things directly. 

“Lets cut the shit. Why are we talking about that guy? I don’t like thinking about him,” Sukuna said, staring down at you expectantly. 

There, you could have your chance at being direct, if you didn’t want to take it then that was that. Case closed. 

He watched your face evenly, taking note of your nervous, darting eyes, and of the way that your lips trembled at their corners. For a moment he was certain you’d back down from the challenge, but you seemed to miraculously find your resolve somewhere deep within yourself. 

“Why do you have Kashimo’s things?” You asked quietly, and Sukuna grinned. 

“Why do you think I have his things?” 

He couldn't pass up the chance for you to come up with your own reasoning. He wanted to hear your thought process first before offering either the truth or a lie that would fall further from the image you’d already created in your head. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” 

“Don’t you?” 

Again, there was hesitation. Your gaze dropped down to your lap in a desperate attempt to escape the pressure Sukuna brought with him as he approached your position on the sofa. “No. I don’t,” you murmured quietly. “I don’t.”

There was a resignation in your voice that told him you did know, but were desperately trying to find another explanation, hoping there was something he’d say that could clear all this up for you as some big misunderstanding. 

You’d find no such comfort from him. 

He wouldn’t spend his whole life lying to you, not when the cat was clawing at the bag in a desperate attempt at freedom. One day you’d have to know, and you’d have to make peace with who he was. 

He’d make sure you made peace with it. 

“No, no. Go on, pretty girl.” His hands were on your shoulders, massaging them gently. “You’re not much of a liar, so say it. Say what you’re thinking. Tell me what’s been on your mind since I came home yesterday.” 

You were rigid beneath his touch. “Did- did you kill Kashimo?” 

“Yeah. I did.”  

He felt a shudder run through you, your breaths picking up rapidly at his confession. Instantly, tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes and you shrugged his hands off you, scrambling away further down the sofa. Your gaze was wild and scared, fixed on him with renewed anxiety just like your body language from the night before. 

You’d clearly pushed the thought aside over the past twenty-four hours - buried it deep beneath a slew of delusions. With the truth laid so plainly in front of you it was no longer possible to convince yourself that there was some reasonable explanation for what you’d found. 

And that clearly terrified you. 

To some extent he’d expected your reaction.

Of course you were going to panic - you weren’t like him, you were nice and soft, completely removed from the horrors of his world. But that still didn’t stop your response from wounding him. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him - he’d never do anything to hurt you, and he hated seeing you cowering away from him like you were. 

Even so, he needed to endure for a while. He’d be able to bring you back around once you let him explain - he was certain of that. There wasn’t a single thing that would keep him from you. It was pointless for him to grow overwhelmed with worry or sorrow - this was his chance to make you see the love in his actions, and he wasn’t going to waste it. 

Rounding the sofa, he positioned himself in front of you. His stomach twisted as you drew your knees up to your chest, as if creating a barrier between the two of you. He wanted to reach out and wipe your tears, perhaps card his fingers through your hair and coo about how safe you were with him, but he feared you’d push him away. 

It was a situation that needed delicate handling. 

“Why?” You choked out. “Why would you?” 

“I saw how upset you were at the reunion. I saw how much he’d hurt you. I ran into the guy afterwards and confronted him about it all and things got a bit nasty. I had no choice.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. There was little proof concerning the framing work he and Satoru had engaged in to make Kashimo look bad, so he wouldn’t admit it to you. 

That would be a pointless overcomplication. 

“Things got nasty?” You echoed, disbelief evident in your tone. 

“Yeah. You know how you said he was going home after the reunion? Well, I ran into him in the parking lot of a bar just outside of town where he was drunk and feeling up some escort. When I cussed him out he attacked me and I retaliated. I went too far and that was that. I didn’t wanna tell you because, well, y’know…” He shrugged. 

He could see confusion glimmering in your eyes as you struggled to understand the facts presented to you. Sukuna was banking on the assumption that your only evidence of Kashimo’s death came from the items hidden in the bathroom. If you had any further info then his construction could easily crumble. 

“No. Kashimo wasn’t- he wouldn’t... He was never violent to me, I don’t- I don’t believe you.” 

It seemed like even you were surprised to hear those words falling from your lips, an awkward guilt clouding over your face, as if ashamed with yourself for being unwilling to immediately believe the love of your life. 

“Yeah, well, if what Satoru stumbled across on his Myspace is anything to go by, you didn’t know him very well at all,” Sukuna pointed out. 

Again you were silent, chewing on your lip for a few moments. Sukuna was getting antsy, wishing he was a mind-reader so that he could take away the difficulty of playing this game with you. He wanted to inject the correct thoughts directly into your head to avoid any chance at losing you. 

He wanted you to be his willingly. He wanted you to accept him for exactly who he was. 

“That doesn’t make it okay. You killed someone, Sukuna. Even if he attacked you, you can’t just kill-” 

“We’ve both killed someone. Sometimes it has to happen. How would you like it if I told you that it was wrong to kill Mahito? You’d say I was victim-blaming.” Perhaps his manipulation was a little-heavy handed there, because you looked like you’d been struck across the face. Maybe that was exactly what was needed though - some comparison to help you realise that it wasn’t all that different. 

No one mattered outside of you and him. 

Mahito’s worth was identical to Kashimo’s. Just as Kashimo’s worth was identical to Ryu’s. The whole world was made up of nothing more than bags of meat with the exception of you. You were the only one with a shining, glimmering soul that he so desperately had to possess. 

“It’s not the same!” Your voice was all wobbly, and fresh tears started dripping down your cheeks, dissolving you into a mess of sobs. “Oh god, oh god. This is so fucked.” You were mumbling into your knees, making it hard to hear your words. 

Sukuna didn’t have much interest in what you had to say anyway. It was all irrelevant, nothing more than a kneejerk emotional reaction which he was going to correct. You were just shocked, that was all.

He took your condition as an opportunity, sitting down beside you on the couch and wrapping his arms tightly around your shaking body. Resting his chin atop your head, he tucked you close against him, savouring the warmth of you pressed against his side just like always. You tensed up for a moment, but remained there all the same. 

If he was right in his belief, you were just as incapable of pushing him away as he was at parting with you. 

“Just breathe baby,” he murmured, listening to your sobs and stroking your hair. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll always keep you safe. Everything I do is to protect you, to keep you happy. Weren’t you glad when we killed Mahito? You were grateful to have me there then. This is no different. I’ll do whatever it takes to look after you.”

“But Kashimo isn’t- wasn’t like Mahito! He never-” Your voice came out muffled and panicked, and Sukuna cut you off before you could finish, tightening his grip on you. 

“There was an axe in his car, y’know? A load of tape and rope too. We didn’t say it to you because we didn’t wanna scare you, but on the guy’s private Myspace account he’d made loads of posts about certain fetishes - cannibalism and stuff. It kinda seemed like he wanted to do it to you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t a good guy.” 

More sniffles sounded from you, but you said nothing. Sukuna wasn’t quite sure if you quite believed him, but didn’t labour the point any further. If he tried to over explain it would only make him look like a liar, and he needed you to retain some level of trust towards him. 

“I only ever want to look after you, baby. I’ll never be ashamed of doing that. I’d dispose of anyone who hurts you, that’s what it means to love. To kill for you is an ultimate expression of my love, it's my love language, I need you to see that baby.”

For a long time you were silent, completely frozen within his grip. He took that as a win, if things were dire you’d be squirming and struggling to escape, but still you remained beneath his touch, allowing proximity with a person who'd just admitted to disposing of one of your previous lovers. 

It meant you could be convinced.

“It’s your love language?” You murmured quietly.

“Yeah.” 

The cogs were turning steadily in your brain, and you slowly withdrew yourself from him. Your eyes were glassy as you peered up at him, horror and worry shining through the tears gathering at your lashline. 

“Kashimo wasn’t the only one, was he?” Your voice came out small and uncertain. 

He wasn’t going to lie to you. Not now you’d come this far.

“No. He wasn’t.” 

“Ryu?” You asked shakily. 

“Yeah. Yorozu too.” 

“Fuck. No. No, no, no. Please, this can’t be happening.” You began to scratch and scrape at the skin of your arms, as if trying to awaken yourself from a nightmare. Your nails started to tear at the skin, drawing shallow lines of red to the surface. Sukuna was quick to stop you, grabbing both your wrists with one hand and holding you still. 

The fear that flickered in your eyes was unpleasant, paired with a clear resignation that you could do little to overpower Sukuna if it ever came to that. If he called upon even the slightest amount of strength you couldn’t escape him, let alone if he actually tried. 

“Stop that, baby. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“I’m already hurt, Sukuna! You hurt me, you ruined-” your tone went all high pitched as you were overtaken by a sob, brows furrowed you tried your best to continue. “Ryu’s death broke me! I spent years in a spiral wondering who could’ve done such a thing, fearing that same thing happening to me, regretting cheating on him the day he died, but it was you! You caused all my misery! You killed my boyfriend and then fucked me while his body was still warm? Oh my god, Yuki was right. What the fuck am I doing?” 

Sukuna tried not to let his irritation show at the mention of Yuki, alerting you to his annoyance only via the tightening of his grip upon your wrists. 

“Did I cause your misery? Because I think you’d still be with Ryu right now if he didn’t die. I think you’d have a baby on your hip, stuck at home cooking his dinner all the while wondering what woman he was out fucking instead of you. You’d be dreaming about me, about the life we have right now, wishing you had this rather than being stuck with that asshole.” 

He saw your eyes widen in horror, and he couldn’t help but let the ghost of a smile slip onto his face. You were so easy to read, so painfully predictable in the things that would cut you deepest.

“I’m sorry for your misery back then, I really am. But you needed it for your own happiness - needed it to lead you into my arms. Can you really deny that’s where you belong? You’re still letting me touch you now, still let me fuck you last night, still clung to me like you never wanted me to escape your grasp. So don’t lie to me and claim you aren’t happy. That misery was worth it.” 

You blinked dumbly a couple of times, your shoulders sagging in resignation. It was clear that you weren’t completely on board, but nor did you have the certainty to bite back against what he was saying. You loved him, you still loved him despite it all, and he knew it. You didn’t want to throw away what you’d built together - it was why you’d curled up at his side the night before rather than flee from him. 

“You don’t know that,” you murmured. 

“Oh but I do. We both do. You’re meant to be with me, we’re made for each other.”

The silence stretched out once more, and Sukuna reached for you. His fingers brushed against your face, and a tremor ran through your body. Still, you made no effort to push him away, letting him dry your tears. His crimson eyes were fixed on you with great adoration, proud at how nicely you were sitting before him. 

Making no attempt to run. 

It pleased him. He had a contingency if you tried to dart away - he was faster and stronger and he’d hold you down and tie you up until you were ready to listen to reason. But he really didn’t want to resort to that.

“Baby, I just don’t think you’re good at making your own decisions, so let me make them for you. There’s too many people who want to take advantage of you and your happiness and I’ll cut through them all. I’ll keep you happy and safe and I’ll give you everything. Please just understand. You don’t have to even think about it - don’t worry about a thing.”

More tears dripped from your eyes, and he caught them easily with his thumb. You looked beautiful at the best of times, but he always liked the way you looked most when you were crying. He enjoyed the sight of you all helpless beside him, your face contorted with a despair that only he could comfort. 

“How can I stop thinking about this?” You asked. “I can’t- things can’t go back to the way they were before now that I know all this. We need to stop- this needs to stop.” Your hand moved to your stomach, and the sudden horror of realisation crept into your expression. “All of this needs to stop.”

“No.” Sukuna said simply. 

He spoke calmly, but inside a rage was simmering. He knew what you were implying - that not only should you break up, but you should get rid of the baby too. That was simply unacceptable to him. Not when he’d worked so hard. 

“Don’t be stupid, baby. Do you really think you can live a life without me? You were miserable before I came into your life, do you really think you wouldn’t be miserable after?”

He leaned closer to you, so close that his breath was fanning against your face, his lips almost brushing against yours. His hand moved down to your chest, pressing down to feel your fluttering heartbeat. 

“I’m the same man I was before you found any of this out, so what does it change? I know you love me, I know you want me. It changes nothing. We’re going to be happy, we’ll be together, we’ll be a family - because I know that’s what you want.” He paused, observing the way your eyes darted nervously, hanging on his every word. “You can’t live without me anymore. Admit it.” 

“But what if I can’t live with you either?” The question came out all meek, barely loud enough for Sukuna to hear it. “How do I know that one day you’re not gonna turn around and kill me?” 

Your eyes were shiny with terror as you met his gaze, and Sukuna found himself incapable of holding back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. You looked so sweet, all scared below him and yet still leaning into his touch, still making no effort to put distance between the two of you. For all your words of opposition, he didn’t believe you’d act on any of it. 

Even if you were disgusted by his actions, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be anything but attracted to him, still clinging to the relationship like it was the only thing worth having. There you were, voicing a fear that he’d kill you, and you couldn’t even find the will to scamper away. God, he was pleased with himself. He hadn’t realised just how deeply he’d dug his claws into you. 

“Because then my life would have no purpose,” Sukuna said. “Everything I do, I do for you. I don’t kill for sport or pleasure, I kill out of a devotion for you - a gift to make your life easier, if you like. I would sooner pluck my own eyes from their sockets before I would bring you any harm. You’re the most precious thing in my universe, the only thing I cherish. I promise you, with me you’ll always be safe.” 

Miraculously, your eyes seemed to light up. A soft blush blossomed across your cheeks and you quickly lowered your face as if to obscure it from him. Still, he’d seen it, he was aware that the words had struck a chord. You were still clinging to morality, trying to put your foot down - but it was fruitless. 

You loved him. 

That was all there was to it. 

Through the good and the bad, you still desired him. 

“But those were gifts I didn’t want. We would’ve found our way together despite it all, now everything’s just so fucked up,” you murmured. 

“I wasn’t taking that chance.” 

Sukuna’s fingers found your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His lips brushed yours tentatively before kissing you, drawing you in close to him. You could’ve pulled back, could’ve shoved him away - you did neither. Instead, you kissed him back, parting your lips when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, letting him move on top of you - pressing you back down onto the sofa. 

“I’ve always needed you to be mine.” He whispered upon breaking this kiss. “Since the day we met. When it comes to you I won’t take any chances, I want you at my side for all eternity. My soul calls for yours and I know yours calls for mine. I know you want to let this all go, to accept me as I am. So do it, just do it, baby. I’m yours as you are mine.”

“Sukuna-” 

“Please, baby. I love you. Please. I’ll give you a life you’ve only ever dreamed of.” His lips were pressing kisses all over your face, practically worshipping your body. He hoped his affection was enough to convince you of his devotion and remind you just how much you loved him.

“Sukuna, was the Mahito thing even real? Was that- was that your fault too?” Your voice came out all shaky, and he got the idea that the answer to that question was pivotal in your judgement of him. 

He was wounded you’d believe he’d be part of such a heinous plan. 

Sure, he was a killer, but he’d never hire some psycho to rough up you and your friends - that was a step too far. 

“Fuck no. Baby, I already said I’d never do anything to hurt you. I liked Shoko, and finding that house eerily silent was one of the scariest nights of my life. I wanted to rip that guy to pieces with my bare hands and I probably would’ve if you weren’t in the room.” 

Swallowing, you nodded slowly, clearly grateful for the fact that he at least wasn’t responsible for that. Still you seemed nervous, eyes a little unfocussed as he continued to kiss you. He was watching you carefully, trying to puzzle out where your mind was going, but struggling to read your largely vacant expression. 

He wanted to make it all better, wanted to find a way to make you understand that everything was going to be okay. You couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were currently in the midst of shock - that in a few days time you’d be able to view everything with more objectivity and weigh up how much more worth your relationship held when compared to those measly lives Sukuna had taken. 

“Without you I would’ve been raped and killed by Mahito,” you said slowly. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

There was no telling what might’ve actually happened, but he supposed that was probably a true enough guess. 

“Without you, I’d be Ryu’s depressed little housewife, or a victim of Kashimo’s fetish.” Again, the words came out slowly, as if you were trying to process them yourself. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself of them, and that fact made him very happy. 

He knew you were a little broken, but seeing you jump through so many mental hoops to justify him had his heart racing. You were so perfect, so well trained, he really did want to keep you forever. 

“Exactly. You get it, baby. I’m just trying to protect you. Everything I ever do, it’s all for you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your cheeks. “I love you. You’re so happy with me, I see it. We can be a perfect little family. Hell, we can start over somewhere else, get out of this dead-end town and really make it. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just you and me, no distractions?” 

No Yuki, no influence from your parents. That was Sukuna’s dream scenario.

He was staring down at you like a cat who had just dropped a dead bird at your feet. He was so pleased with himself, so proud of all he’d done, so proud of his plans for your future. He understood how you could be disgusted by his actions, but he needed you to see it for what it was. 

This was love. 

It was love that most people were never capable of achieving or experiencing. It was devotion in its rawest form, and he knew that you’d be able to see it with just a little time. 

“I love you too,” you whispered shakily, the words leaving his heart racing. “I don’t want this to end. I’ve got so little to hold on to. After Mahito I feel so lonely and hopeless, I can’t- I don’t want-” the words came out choked, and you let out another breathy sob, cutting yourself off. 

Again, Sukuna dried your tears. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. All you have to do is accept me, and I’ll keep you safe forever. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you have me. I’ll love you as long as I’m still living. Just accept me for what I am. Accept my love as it is.” 

And for that evening at least, you did. 

No more words were spoken on the matter. You lost yourself in his kisses, giving yourself to him wholly as you had so many times before, letting his hands roam your body freely, just as they always would. You kissed him like you might never kiss him again, with a passion that had his head spinning, leaving him desperate for more. 

He showed you his devotion in the only way he knew how, thanking you silently for not running from him, by lowering himself between your legs - pushing your thighs apart and feasting on you until you were twitching and whining his name. Your hands were in his hair just as they always were, winding between the strands needily. 

And just like the night before, when he took you to his bed he filled you with a romance and love reserved solely for that very situation. Now that you knew him fully, he would give you everything he’d ever held back - he’d make love to you as something truly sacred, something to be cherished and loved until the end of his days. 

Perhaps even beyond that. 

And as he’d drifted off to sleep with you firmly in his grip, he’d been naive enough to believe that was the end of it - that you had chosen him and forgiven all that had been uncovered. You were so enchanting to him that he couldn’t even consider the idea that you weren’t fully resolved in your decision. 

Awakening hours later to a cold bed had him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water had been tipped over his head. 

It was a feeling that only grew at the sight of a neatly penned letter left on the dresser on your side of his bed. 

Sukuna,

I'm sorry but I can’t do this. I love you, I really do, but you need serious help. I never wanted you to kill for me. I don’t want you to keep killing for me. I think it’s better for both of us if we put an end to it here. I don’t want to live a life stained by death anymore and you shouldn’t either. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done, I think you need to move on too. 

I’m sorry. Goodbye. 

Sukuna stared at it for a few minutes before calmly placing it back down on the dresser. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he took a deep breath and gathered himself before swiftly getting dressed. 

You couldn’t just leave him, the two of you were soulmates.

 The note made it clear you still loved him, as did all of your actions from just a few hours prior, which meant there was no chance in hell that he was letting you slip through his fingers. You were just scared and confused and needed him to set you straight just like always.

And he could do that easily. 

—

The rain had practically soaked you through by the time you reached Yuki’s place. 

You hadn’t risked wasting time packing anything - hadn’t even wanted to chance the rustling of putting on a rain jacket before fleeing Sukuna’s apartment. He had never been the heaviest sleeper, and you were certain he’d been more alert than usual that evening following your conversation. 

So you’d stumbled out in nothing but one of Sukuna’s hoodies and your pyjama trousers, slipping your feet into a pair of trainers and running with nothing in your possession except your phone, wallet, and Sukuna’s gun. 

It was nearly 1am when you rang Yuki’s doorbell, praying that she’d answer, hoping that she’d even want to deal with you after the sour nature of your previous meeting. 

She’d been right about it all. Sukuna was rotten. He’d killed and he’d killed and you were certain that he’d never stop killing. And the worst part was that there was a sick part of you that could see the romance in it all - a horrible, rotten aspect of your mind that could accept it. 

Kashimo, Ryu, and Yorozu had all wronged you in their own ways - had all caused you pain that Sukuna had so lovingly culled. It was wrong, it was evil, you knew that. But that didn’t stop it from being romantic. Nor did it prevent a sick part of you from loving him for it.

Because his words reminding you of your happiness weren’t wrong. You had been happy with him. He’d given you everything you’d ever wanted, even if he’d had to take to achieve that in the first place. You’d still be happy with him now, if you closed your eyes to the elephant in the room and let him treat you as he always had. 

That had been an attractive prospect when you’d laid there in his arms contemplating your escape, because you were certain that you’d never stop loving him, no matter what happened, no matter how much time passed. And you were certain that if you’d stayed there in his arms until the morning, you would’ve stayed forever. 

It was why you’d forced yourself out. 

For the sake of everyone else in the world, you couldn’t stay at his side. You couldn’t abide by his nature, or the sick and twisted definition he had of love when it came to you. You couldn’t allow any further corruption by his hands. This was the one chance you had to end it before it would all be too late for you, before you’d willingly allow yourself to fall into his grasp and stay there for all eternity.

Yuki looked exhausted as she opened the door, chestnut eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you dripping water all over her porch. 

You weren’t sure why you’d gone to seek her out over your parents - perhaps it was a subconscious choice of safety, for you knew that Sukuna was more than capable of breaking into your childhood bedroom at your parents house, and that was likely the first place he’d go to seek you out. 

Besides, you didn’t wish to explain the situation to your parents. You were far too exhausted for that. 

“Are you okay? It’s the middle of the night.” 

“Yuki I-” you hesitated, and fresh tears bubbled up in your eyes. Yuki took stock of your haggard face, concern lining her brow. You deserved better than her - even after everything she was still worried about you. “Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Come on, let's get you dried up. You’re gonna freeze out here.” Her voice was soothing, and her arm came to wrap around your shoulder, guiding you into her home. 

She wasn’t pushy with you, hurrying about turning on lights and brewing some tea. She instructed you to head to her room and pick some dry clothes to change into, considering you were visibly shivering. You weren’t sure if the tremors were coming from the cold or from the adrenaline of fleeing your boyfriend in the middle of the night. 

Your heart panged at the thought of him still in bed, the desire to run back into his arms building in your chest. 

You made your best effort to squash it back down. 

Once changed into one of Yuki’s sweaters and a pair of comfy shorts, you headed back down to the living room where your friend was waiting. A hot mug of tea was set out on the coffee table, and Yuki draped a blanket over you the moment you sat down in your space on her sofa. 

“You look exhausted,” she said. 

It was a neutral statement, one that you imagined had been picked carefully. After your last conversation, Yuki seemed wary of you - overly aware that she was walking through a minefield and subsequently straying well clear of things that could immediately sour the evening. If you weren’t in total crisis mode you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of her avoiding attacking Sukuna the one time you were open to hearing it. 

“It’s been a long night.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. You wanted to tell her everything, eager to burst into tears and rerun every terrible thing you’d learned over the last twenty-four hours. But you couldn’t. There was a loyalty to Sukuna engraved deep within you, one that wanted to preserve his safety even after everything. If you told Yuki the truth she’d make you call the police. 

You didn’t want that for him. 

So you changed the subject. 

“Is Choso not here?” You asked. They’d been living together for a little while, and you’d been surprised when Yuki had sent you up to her bedroom to get some dry clothes, figuring that Choso would be sleeping in there. You were surprised to find an empty bed. 

“No…” She hesitated. “He’s been busy lately, staying with his bandmates and stuff. Things have been a bit difficult between us since- well, you know. I don’t like being touched anymore. That can strain a relationship.” 

You lowered your head in shame. You’d barely discussed Yuki and her wellbeing the last time you’d seen her - all you’d done was get angry when she attacked Sukuna. At the time that had seemed like the right choice, but now you just felt stupid. Even if you hadn’t asked him about it directly, there was no doubt in your mind that Sukuna had left Yuki to her fate back at the lakehouse. 

He’d made it abundantly clear that the only person he cared about was you. 

And you’d had the audacity to call Yuki a liar.

“Why are you here?” She asked, clearly no more keen to discuss the topic of Choso than you were to discuss Sukuna. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I don’t think someone ever shows up in the middle of the night for a good reason. Especially not looking as miserable as you do.” 

It was clear that she’d already connected some dots in her mind, her eyes darting towards your stomach for a miniscule moment. She knew that Sukuna was the root cause of your presence, but you were certain she had little understanding of the true extent of your despair. Either way, she stayed silent, urging you to speak first before she imparted any judgement. 

She’d learned from the last time. 

“I’ve been so stupid, Yuki.” 

She opened her mouth to respond, probably to agree, but she clearly thought better of it, remaining quiet once again and allowing you to continue. 

“Sukuna- he-” you realised that you didn’t even know where to start - not unless you wanted to spill the whole story. “I can’t have his baby,” you said finally. “I just- I can’t.” 

Yuki leant forward, again she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Did something happen? You seemed…happy with him the other day.” You were grateful for her decision to glaze over the details there - you’d had plenty of terrible moments throughout your friendship, but at the end of the day you’d always be able to move on and find solace in each other.

You nodded, your gaze trained on the ground. You were aware of how badly Yuki wanted to push, her desperation for details poorly disguised. It was no secret that she’d been waiting for this moment, standing by patiently until Sukuna finally slipped up and forced you to open up your eyes. 

“What-” she hesitated, before seemingly reframing her question. “Why did you run from him in the middle of the night?” 

“So he couldn’t convince me to stay.” 

That was just the problem with Sukuna, with you. As long as he was conscious, he was perfectly capable of talking you into anything. Even now, outside of his direct sphere of influence, you were still second guessing all of your decisions, wondering if it was best to keep your mouth shut and go running back to his side. 

“Why would he have to convince you?” Yuki asked, pulling at the string of conversation with great care, as if certain it would snap and you’d clam up if she said the wrong thing. To her you were a ticking time bomb, ready to blow if her actions were the slightest bit off the mark. You wished you hadn’t gained that reputation with her. 

You were a shitty friend. You knew it. 

“I thought you were happy.” She emphasised again, when her question was met with only silence. 

Shuffling uncomfortably on the sofa, you drew your knees up to your chest, hugging them against you in an attempt to console yourself. It felt odd to have to comfort yourself like that - you’d grown so accustomed to Sukuna’s presence, to strong arms wrapping tightly around you and shielding you from any bad thoughts that would come your way. It had become so familiar that you’d almost forgotten how to look after yourself. 

How could you condemn him like you were? All he’d done was be good to you. 

If only you’d never found out. If only the cat had stayed in the bag where it belonged. 

Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke, mumbling into your knees. You didn’t really want her to hear, but you were certain she’d be unwilling to drop the topic. “He’s done- there’ve been some bad things. You were right, oh god, I’ve just been so stupid. I’m sorry.” 

“What things?” She asked, brown eyes wide with alarm. “Babe, what has he done?” She brushed aside the worry in your tone, leaning forward with interest. She didn’t want to hear your sobs and apologies, she wanted to hear the truth. 

And that was the one thing you couldn’t provide to her. 

“I can’t- I said I wouldn’t-” your breathing picked up, your loyalty to Sukuna crushing at your windpipe, keeping any words buried within your chest. You wouldn’t betray him. You were certain that you couldn’t even if your mind had wanted to. Your body loved him with a ferocity that was unmatched. 

To turn on him was unthinkable. 

“Please. You can tell me.” Yuki was pleading with you. She’d stood up from her position on the couch, kneeling down in front of you, a hand brushing against your knee. “You look like a mess. Whatever happened, it's okay, I won’t get mad at you or say I told you so or any of that shit. I’m here, but you need to let me help you.” 

Yuki’s words were kind and caring. They were the right thing for her to say in the moment - exactly what you’d want to hear from a friend who you’d asked for help from in the middle of the night. And yet, a flicker of irritation ignited within you. You hated how enthusiastic she seemed about the situation, how ready she was to condemn Sukuna, like she’d been waiting for this the whole time. 

She believed that he’d hurt you. You could see it in her eyes, in that sympathy that flickered within those chestnut irises. And you hated it, because she didn’t understand at all. Sukuna would never hurt you, and you’d never hurt him. 

Not physically, mentally, or socially. 

You weren’t going to betray him. You’d run from him for the sake of protecting those around you, for the sake of letting Sukuna heal from the obsession you’d ignited within him. You hadn’t run out of fear or hatred, but out of an awareness that it was for the best.

“Do we need to call the police?” Yuki’s voice drew you back to reality, a fresh wave of revulsion coursing through you. The last thing you wanted was for the police to be involved. You wanted Sukuna to be able to live, wanted everything to be swept under the rug because you knew his life had more potential than years of imprisonment. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“No, no.” Gently, you pushed Yuki’s hand away, shuffling back from her ever so slightly. She seemed a little shocked, perhaps even disappointed. “I can’t talk about it, I just- I need to get my head in order, I’m so fucking tired…”

Yuki bit her lip nervously, clearly trying to think up a way to convince you of sharing more. There was little that would be effective on you that evening. The feeling of Sukuna’s body on top of yours, filling you up with his warmth, was still overly present in your mind. You held a great fondness for him that hadn’t even begun to fade, and for that reason all of Yuki’s suggestions would fall upon deaf ears. 

It had taken all of your willpower simply to leave, and that resolve was only hanging by a meagre thread. It was nothing more than a valiant attempt to cling to morality, to remind yourself that you had suffered at Sukuna’s hands. But still your heart betrayed you, begging you to go back and swaddle yourself in the happiness that your lover always brought you. 

To do any more than simply walk out his apartment required a drive that you just didn’t have. 

“If he’s done something you need to-” 

“Yuki, please.” Your voice came out all shaky, tears once again prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Just let me go to sleep. I can’t do this right now. Tomorrow I’ll- tomorrow I’ll try. But please, just let me be for now.”

She wasn’t happy, but she relented all the same, her shoulders dropping in defeat. She offered you a sympathetic smile, and you supposed that she was trying to reason with herself that a promise of tomorrow was better than nothing at all. 

“Okay. That’s okay, I get it. Get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning,” she said, bidding you goodnight and sending you off to your room. 

Heading up to the spare room, you were only able to hold it together long enough for the door to shut behind you. The second you were alone, the sobs wracked your body once more, and you flung yourself down onto the bed, hiding your tears in the sheets below. Your traitorous mind wished it was Sukuna’s chest you were buried against, your imagination summoning his scent to your nostrils, even in that room where he’d never been. 

You wondered if he was still asleep - curled up in his bed all wrapped up in some nice dream in which you were still there in his arms. That was where you wished you were, where your heart longed to be despite everything. 

God, what was wrong with you? 

The pain in your heart felt unbearable, as though some essential part of you had been ripped clean from your chest. You were terrified at the idea of going back to him, terrified at the thought of what he might do to every person you’d ever cared for in your life. But you were also terrified of a life without him. 

A loneliness would creep into that empty space in your chest, calling out for him, longing for the other half who you loved so deeply. 

You were doing what was right. Staying far away from him was best for everyone. You were the one who had made him crazy - maybe without you he could live a normal life. And yet, jealousy crept up your throat at the thought of him moving on and loving someone else. You wanted his devotion, you wanted him. 

Really, you were just as bad as each other.

Somewhere in your soul you’d always known there was something wrong. Always had that nagging suspicion that Sukuna was far more dangerous than he presented himself as. And you’d ignored it. You’d loved him all the same, against all warnings. 

Now it had to stop. 

You had to stay away before the rot that bloomed between the two of you spread any further than it already had. 

So through all your tears, you turned off your phone rather than calling him like you wanted to, and you crawled into the bed. Ryu didn’t deserve his fate. Neither did Kashimo. That was what you had to keep reminding yourself of. For all Sukuna’s talk of his love language and his desire to protect you, his penchant for murder was nothing so beautiful. 

It was cruel and cold. Not romantic. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to see romance in it - no matter how significantly Sukuna’s explanation might have swayed you to understand it that way. Nothing he’d done was normal, and none of it was okay, and you needed to hold onto that belief and stay away so long as you wanted to retain your own humanity. 

God, you were pathetic. 

How had you ended up where you were? Sad and alone and pining for a man whose hands were stained red with blood. 

If only you’d never met eyes with Sukuna all those years ago, perhaps you’d be living a different life. A life unburdened by death and decisions that all led to your misery. 

But you knew somewhere within you that was nothing more than a fantasy. You and Sukuna had always been destined for each other - one day he would’ve found you, no matter what. He’d always find you. You were two halves of one soul, no matter how hard you tried to condemn him and deny it. 

Really, you’d been stupid to even believe that you could make it through a single night apart after trying to flee from him. 

He’d never let you go. 

You’d huddled yourself tighter between the sheets at the sound of the window rattling and sliding open, wishing you could make the last forty-eight hours disappear if you just willed it hard enough. There was a soft thud of someone dropping into the room, quiet footsteps making their way over to the bed and hesitating beside the lump of your body hidden beneath the duvet. 

Fear gripped your body, and you wished that fear was born from something primal - a fear of him hurting you or killing you where you lay. But it wasn’t. No, your fear came from the depths of your heart, because you knew that the moment your gaze fell upon those crimson eyes, all of your resolve would vanish, never to be recovered again. 

And he would’ve finally succeeded at rotting you from the inside out. 

A hand fell upon your body, stroking at your form through the duvet cover. It was a touch that felt familiar even with the barrier between the two of you. It was all you could do to not lean into it, to not seek out the warmth that his body had always provided. 

How could the hands of a murderer be so warm? How could they feel so gentle and pleasant against your skin? 

“Come on, baby. I know you’re awake.” His voice sent a shiver straight through you - one that shook your body so violently that it earned you a deep chuckle from him. You hated how attracted you were to the sound, how it summoned heat to your core. 

You were repulsive. 

“Don’t shy away from me now,” he purred.

Fingers gripped the edge of the sheets and tore them from their position atop you - any hope of denying him fading as his handsome face came into view. There was fury and hurt in his gaze, an anger possessing his body that he was barely keeping from seeping into his otherwise even tone. 

“Come on. We can work this out.”

a/n: reader genuinely needs therapy but instead she's got manipulator prime making life harder for her :(

anyway next chapter will be the finale, so tune in to find out if sukuna gets his way or if yuki saves our girl!

hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3

taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @alebrasil0101 @unikittylover57 @maomimii @xadenpoop @mxchiii @tinkspen @martianzmars @drasticallyinluv @grimm3r @choyuxx @janellawliet @nanamigirl4ever @actuallynarii @aiive @chloe022r @targaryenposts @erasersslut @loulasav @natsolox @kenstarsworld @elviqss @blu3berryies @cupidstrace @ksjtozaki @feyrinnn @heartless-rythm @beaniesayshi @shazzer29 @mortallyshadysoul @neverlandqueen36 @sweethoneycream @mikkmmmii @sikurgvx @8nitxe @lexispeak @inmywhitegown @unlimited-impressions @absolutelycaffeinateddevil @paulineeo @onlykuna @jjkfannn34 @queendom-of-yuki @blinmkk @emmaiscool22 @angelbabyy111 @moonsquid49 @0imliterallybatman @crunchycathy @yailuxe 

© sukunahs

[indiewritesxoxo]

EVERY MAN GETS HIS WISH

and sukuna's gonna let you be the boss!

synopsis: what's better to be than sukuna's crazy girlfriend? his crazy ex-girlfriend? when it comes to making up, breaking up, and everything in between, it seems sukuna's got your heart in his hands - and has no intention of letting it go. for better or worse. but probably worse.

pairing: boyfriend!sukuna x toxic!reader x landlord!toji

content: mdni. fluff and angst. porn with plot. crack treated seriously. reader and sukuna are both toxic and crazy. do NOT be like these idiots. jealousy. possessiveness. throwing shit. insecure and anxious behavior. oral sex. piv sex. rebounds. breaking up and making up.

art cr: @bitem4rked sparkle gif div cr: @pixopix div cr: @miyzluv

locking him out after boys night

sukuna eating a pudding cup goes viral

making him jealous out clubbing

hooking up with his landlord after a bad breakup

sukuna attempts to sabotage your new relationship

a tale of two boyfriends

you both know where home is.

bonus: their first breakup

this whole mini series is inspired by the incredibly talented @yenayaps hehe :3

[isaut]

hellooooo just Woke up (im the tenya/kdrama ask). first and foremost I must say that after reading all your post I had an unexplainable urge to cry in front of that man just to make him Crumble

"i just don't understand how this could have happened," tenya says with a frown, looking at the stain on his nice white couch. he sighs, patting at it further with his cleaning rag, bottle of cleaner in his other hand. "this is why i've told you not to eat on the couch."

jutting your bottom lip out in a pout, you watch tenya with your arms crossed.

"i do it all the time and i've never stained it," you murmur.

tenya rises to his full height and places his hands on his hips. "what do you mean, you do it all the time?"

you have to tilt your head up to look at him, but you don't hold eye contact for very long. one meeting of your eyes and then you're looking back down, the scolding sinking in. tears prickle at your eyes as the disappointment you've caused sinks in.

you shrug. tenya calls you by your first name: not darling, not sweetheart, not nekoni.

your chin trembles and your cover your face with your hands. "i'm sorry," you warble out.

tenya's eyes widen at the wavering cracks of your voice. he quickly places the cleaning supplies on the coffee table, then places his hands on your arms.

"why are you crying?" he asks, trying to tilt your head up. you don't let him. "nekoni, what are you crying for?"

"i didn't mean to spill anything," you whine pitifully.

"i know, i know," tenya says quickly, trying to sweep all of your emotions up and bundle them back together. he wraps you up in his arms, pressing you against him.

"you're mad at me," you cry into his sweatshirt.

"i'm not mad," tenya says quickly, all his irritation simmering off of him. "i'm not mad with you, sweetheart."

"you are," you insist. "i ruined your couch..."

"it's not ruined," tenya says softly, rubbing your back. "and i'm really not mad at you. i'm not."

he rests his cheek atop your head and gently rocks you side to side.

"i should have been here to have dinner with you," he murmurs. "then you wouldn't have eaten on the couch, right?"

you hum, sniffling, into him. he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"you're okay," tenya says softly, bringing a hand to scratch behind your little cat ears. "lets get you a little dessert..."

[sukunahs]

starburned and unkissed | ryomen sukuna

pairing: villain!sukuna x magical girl!reader

summary: after years of hiding your identity and spending nights fighting off monsters, you're tired of being a magical girl - especially with a new villain known as the king of curses out to get you.

all you want is to be able to focus on your normal life, and when you finally meet a nice guy at a work event for your day job you figure that maybe things are looking up.

if only he wasn't the very villain who wanted you dead.

content: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, humor, betrayal, lying, yandere/obsessed sukuna, confusing feelings, loneliness, falling in love, mentions of past illness, hurt/comfort, manipulation, sukuna is evil but he's also very confused, true-form sukuna, enemies to lovers (and back to enemies and then to lovers LOL), this couple is a mess

chapter 1: the magical girl

chapter 2: the villain

chapter 3: the mirror

chapter 4: the betrayal

chapter 5: the finale

[fancyfeathers]

Lion’s Pride

(Yandere!Jing Yuan x Mother/Wife!Reader)

౨ৎ Summary:

Being the wife of an Arbiter General of the Xianzhou Alliance is no easy feat, especially when it is a life you had never wanted.

౨ৎ Content Warning:

Yandere Content, Implied Noncon, Forced Pregnancy, Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Anxiety, Childbirth, Suicidal Thoughts, Thoughts of Neglect, Nudity, Unintentional Child Endangerment, More to be Added

౨ৎ Author’s Notes:

This sort of spiraled, it was supposed to be a oneshot but here I am doing a whole mini series. Apologies for any slow updates, I keep on wanting to use word that don’t have any direct English translation and only exist in Chinese or are very poorly translated to English.

౨ৎ Taglist:

@yandere-romanticaa @pranabefall @cupidxrere @rambzlezz

Chapters

Chapter I: Illusion of Bliss

౨ৎ Summary: The first born is never easy, a whole new world to navigate, especially in the world you are in and a world your child does not deserve.

Chapter II: Forged in Flames

౨ৎ Summary: The secondborn should be easier than the first, that is, until the world decides to play a cruel trick on you.

Chapter III: Farewell Wonderlust

౨ৎ Summary: ???

Chapter IV: Seek Within

౨ৎ Summary: ???

Chapter V: Return to Sender

౨ৎ Summary: ???

Additional Content

High Cloud Quintet Parallel

Catatonic!Reader

Injured Child

[isaut]

— PLAYING HOUSE MASTERLIST — ao3

f!reader x sukuna. post apocalyptic au. tw: mentions of rape, violence & cannibalism. (there is no rape between sukuna and the reader)

please be 19+ to interact/follow me

i. playing house: you run into sukuna looking for your antipsychotics on day 8 of the apocalypse. you have something you can give him.

ii. target; ally: target (n.): a person selected as the place of an attack; a superstore chain || ally (n.): a person that acts on the side of others, for good or evil

iii. the road: the world is truly desolate, but it's still not safe at night. realizations are made. allies are come upon.

iv. vignettes i: seven vignettes to pass the time (night, eggs, spirit, savor, wind, creek, taste) | playlist

v. personal jesus: sukuna is the best possible option given the circumstances | playlist

vi. vignettes ii: six vignettes to pass the time (camaraderie, pearl, cozy, decorum, fawn, dreams)

[sukunahs]

crazy in love | ryomen sukuna

chapter 7: innocence lost

pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.

he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.

if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.

word count: 9.8k

content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, torture, abuse, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion

a/n: this chapter marks the start of the final act where things begin to unravel hehe

masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon)

“So, Sukuna. You didn’t go to college?” 

Your mother’s tone was strained as she peered across the table at your boyfriend. It was clear that she was at least trying her best to be polite, while your father could barely bring himself to look at the man. 

It had been several weeks since the incident at Satoru’s cabin, and in that time the nature of your relationship with Sukuna had changed, and subsequently so had your relationship with your parents. 

When you’d first arrived back in town after escaping Mahito’s clutches, you’d gone straight to your parents to tell them what had happened and to ask for them to contact the Higurumas to help you through the legal process. If you’d been more mentally stable at the time perhaps you would’ve gone to them alone, playing along with your father’s request to not bring Sukuna to the house. 

But you’d been in no fit state to do anything alone, so Sukuna had tagged along that evening to support you, revealing himself to your mother for the first time as your boyfriend. 

To say that first meeting had been rocky was something of an understatement.

Her judgement of the man was evident and only further heightened by your father’s obvious disapproval. If you hadn’t been in such a state of distress you were certain that both of them would’ve outright voiced how disappointed they were in you. Perhaps they would’ve even asked Sukuna to leave.

But neither of them spoke out actively against him that day - not when he was the only thing you seemed to be clinging to, desperate not to be parted from him for a second. 

They could understand that he was your saviour - that you needed him, and even begrudgingly accepted it when you all but moved into his apartment in the weeks that followed, spending every night with him in the one place you felt safe and comfortable. It wasn’t like they were happy about it - you knew that, but they weren’t about to stand in the way of their traumatised daughter and her wants. 

Sukuna was the one thing keeping you going, and your parents knew that. 

Even if he was far from ideal in their minds. 

Your mother, no matter her opinion on a person, had always been the type to try to keep things civil and polite, which was how you and Sukuna had ended up invited for dinner at your childhood home, in which your mother was trying her best to extend an olive branch and keep an open mind about your boyfriend. 

It had already been an awkward affair, and you were desperate to leave, but Sukuna seemed unfettered, smiling politely at your mother’s largely condescending questions. 

“No, I didn’t go to college. My family wasn't very well off and even with scholarships it would’ve been hard for me. I might go back to school in a few years once I have some savings, but it was always a better option for me to earn.” His arm came to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in an act that no doubt had your father seething. “I’m set on finding a good career though. I want to be able to provide.” 

Your mother gave him a polite smile before diverting her attention back down to her plate, while your father rolled his eyes. It was clear that neither of them particularly liked the idea of him thinking long term about your relationship. In the few times she’d caught you alone since finding out about Sukuna, your mother had not so subtly reminded you that Hiromi was still single and willing to date, pairing it with the suggestion that a change of scenery might be good for you. 

So far you’d politely turned her down, but the whole thing was starting to grate on your nerves. Sukuna was who you’d chosen - he’d protected you through the worst of times and was continuing to care for you now, even when you were depressed and traumatised. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted - it was only him. 

It had always been him and always would be. 

“Do you think you’ll be coming back to work soon, sweetheart?” Your dad asked, shifting his attention to you. 

Since the incident you’d found it difficult to even get out of bed most days, your mind laden with thoughts of Mahito and what might’ve happened if Sukuna hadn’t arrived. And when you weren’t thinking about that, you were picturing Shoko’s lifeless body laid out on the floor. The idea of holding it together for a whole day of work seemed impossible. 

Your father had been understanding enough to allow Sukuna to take a couple of weeks off after everything first went down, aware that he didn’t want you left alone in such a distraught state, but Sukuna had been back on site for weeks now, while you still moped around at home. Your phone and Sukuna’s gun were never far from your grip whenever you were alone, constantly on edge that you’d hear the rattling of a window or the slow unlatching of the door, leading you to another terrible fate. 

“I- I don’t know.” 

You’d been waiting to return back to your normal self, to bounce back to the way you were before. But you felt like a vital part of you had been stolen, never to be returned. It was so similar to how you’d felt after Ryu’s death, and yet so different too. With Ryu, it had been like getting carried away by a stream, constantly trying to get your head above rushing water to take a breath. 

This felt more still - like you were drifting steadily to the bottom of a calm lake without the capability to kick back up to the surface. There was a numbness to the pain that settled within you through each passing day, like pieces of your heart were slowly being peeled away and cast aside. The piece that Sukuna held in his hands felt like the only one that was safe, protected by the one person who brought you comfort. 

“It's fine for me to look after her.” Sukuna cut in before your dad could respond. “She doesn’t need to work.”

The man pressed his lips into a thin line, collecting himself before making any rash response to Sukuna’s words. He’d hardly eaten any of his meal, clearly discomforted by the whole situation of having a dinner party with someone he didn’t approve of, someone who he knew had laid hands all over his daughter. 

“She should work. She’s more qualified than you are, it would be silly to let years of education go to waste.” 

“I don’t doubt her skill.” Sukuna bit back, “I simply care for her wellbeing. When she feels better she can decide what she wants to do, I’ll support her whether it brings us millions of dollars or makes us nothing.” 

“That’s admirable, don’t you think, honey?” Your mother tried her best to disarm the tension, casting a glance at your father who seemed utterly unconvinced. 

You kept quiet, uninterested in pushing your way into the conversation. Dinner hadn’t seemed like the best idea, even if you could see your mother’s intent. Your father would never accept Sukuna no matter how good a person he was to you - his low social standing already sealed that deal, making this whole meeting a waste of everyone’s time. 

It was better if you simply kept the two halves of your life apart. There was no point in causing strife or trying to convince your dad of anything when he was already deadset in his beliefs. He wanted you to marry someone wealthy like Hiromi, someone who could take care of you financially without working on a construction site. 

Someone with soft, uncalloused hands. 

Someone who would never think to cover themselves in tattoos. 

Sukuna would never be that, so he’d never be accepted. If anything, his heroic act of saving you from Mahito had only further concreted him as someone unpleasant in your father’s eyes - the type of man who was strong and scrappy enough to kill another. 

That his actions were in defence of you didn’t seem to matter. 

And for that reason you were done trying to argue. 

You’d only agreed to the dinner invitation because Sukuna had urged you to, emphasising the importance in him building a relationship with your family if you were going to be together. But ultimately, he was on his own on that front, because you could see no way in which dinner would end with anything but more animosity between both parties. 

So you’d let them talk things out, excusing yourself to the bathroom to free yourself of conversation you had no interest in hearing. 

Well, that and because you’d been beset with the sudden urge to vomit. 

For the last few days your stomach had been odd. You’d been waking up each morning feeling nauseous, leaving you sprinting to the toilet and throwing up until your stomach was emptied of its bile. Throughout the day the dizziness would decrease, but you found yourself disinterested in most foods, that wave of sickness passing through you at the hint of various scents. 

At first you’d convinced yourself it was a bug, but as you’d excused yourself from the table, suddenly nauseous after lifting a piece of broccoli to your mouth, you began to wonder if that was all it was. 

You’d stood there, in your parents downstairs toilet, peering at yourself in the mirror. The sound of Sukuna making strained conversation echoed through the wooden door and you paid it little mind, letting words drift into mere noise while you studied your reflection. It was hard to recognise the person staring back at you, with your sunken eyes and chapped lips serving as a constant reminder of the difficult few weeks you’d had. 

But those weren’t the changes you were focussed on. 

Prodding at your cheeks, you became certain that you were putting on weight, your face a little rounder than you were used to it being. In addition, acne had begun to spring up across your forehead and chin, symptoms that were usually only present when you were on your period. 

Now that you were considering it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on your period. 

It hadn’t been cause for concern, because the contraceptive pill had occasionally caused inconsistency with your cycle, meaning a missed period or spotting wasn’t unusual. That paired with how much stress you’d been under, it came as no surprise that you hadn’t been bleeding as usual. 

That combined with the nausea though? And the subtle changes to your face? That was a concern. 

You hadn’t realised how long you’d been in there pondering the facts until there was a quiet knock on the door. 

“Is everything okay honey?” Your mother called out.

“Yeah, all good.” 

“Can I come in?” 

Swallowing, you dried tears that had appeared on your face, not quite sure when you’d started crying. You pulled open the door and let her step in. If she noticed the redness of your cheeks she said nothing, simply pulling the door shut behind her to get some privacy. 

“You’ve been in here a while,” she commented. You turned back to the mirror, watching her through the reflection as she sat down on the edge of the bath, eyes meeting yours. “Are you sure you’re okay? We’re not upsetting you are we? I know dad can be difficult.” 

Shrugging, you shook your head. “It's what I expected. It's fine.” It wasn’t fine, you loved Sukuna and you wanted others to see what you could see - you hated that a dinner with your parents felt like torture all because you dad didn’t approve, but asking him to change his ways would be like asking the sun to stop shining, so there was no point in lamenting. 

“It's not fine. I’ll speak to him. I know we were both shocked when you brought Sukuna here, but if he makes you happy I’ll do nothing to chase him away.” 

“You don’t like him though, do you?” You asked, staring at her bitterly through the mirror. Your hand had subconsciously moved up to your stomach, and a fresh wave of nausea forced its way through you, leaving you swaying on your feet. 

“I…” She hesitated. “I was surprised, but I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.” It was a diplomatic answer, and you did all you could to avoid rolling your eyes. “But what I think doesn’t matter. Do you like him, sweetheart? Do you think he’s good for you?” 

“Yes.” 

That was the easiest answer you’d ever given.

“Then that’s all that matters to me, and it's all that should matter to you dad,” she said. “I just don’t want you to drift away from us because of this. It would break my heart for you to go off and have children with him only for us to never see them because we can’t play nice. If that boy treats you well, then your dad will just have to accept it.” 

You nodded, only half listening. What she was saying was nice, you appreciated the sentiment, finding it pleasant to have someone on your side for once. However, you were too focused on the shifting feeling in your stomach to be truly grateful for what she was saying. You just wanted to be left alone, uninterested in having a conversation about your current state with your mother. 

A basic acceptance of Sukuna being in your life was probably already a big enough adjustment for her. 

Adding a potential pregnancy into the mix could ruin everything. 

Especially when you had no idea how you were meant to feel about it. 

“Anyway,” she continued at your silence. “I’ll leave you be - I don’t want to abandon Sukuna to your father for too long. Don’t hide away all night, I think it's better if your dad sees the two of you together looking all happy - it’ll soften him up.”

You offered her a smile as she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder before heading back to the dinner table, the quiet sound of conversation continuing while you remained still, hands grasping the edge of the basin, wondering if the small portion of food you’d eaten was going to rise up from your stomach. 

There was no point in panicking until you were certain of what you suspected, and for now you almost wanted to bury your head in the sand. Even though you loved Sukuna, this didn’t feel like the right time for this - you were still picking through so much trauma and you couldn’t imagine doing that with a baby at your hip. 

Besides, you weren’t particularly certain how Sukuna would take the news. 

He’d always been open about wanting children with you one day, but you assumed that was a statement for the future, once the two of you were in a better position. There was no space in Sukuna’s apartment to raise a child - you’d have to drastically change both of your lives if you were going to make space for an extra addition. 

Panic swelled within you, and you braced yourself harder against the sink, your head spinning. 

It wasn’t something you had the time or space to consider. You had too much on your mind to really think about it. For all you knew, you could be getting ahead of yourself - what if you were just ill? What if everything was a coincidence? Worrying before taking a pregnancy test was foolish. 

You’d wait until Sukuna was at work and buy one at the drug store, and until then you’d give it no further thought. 

—

On the way to the drug store the following day, you ran into Yuki. It was a chance meeting - she was stepping out of the coffee shop next door, brown eyes widening as they met yours. Conversation between the two of you had been limited, mainly on your part. You could find little energy to spend time with anyone who wasn’t Sukuna, and seeing Yuki had unpleasant memories rushing through your mind. 

That same feeling seemed to present itself in her, as she winced at the sight of you, quickly attempting to replace the expression with an uneasy smile. 

She looked similar to you - her eyes were sunken and exhausted, and she’d lost some weight since you’d last seen her. She was usually a muscular girl, the epitome of health, and to see her looking so skinny made your heart sink. 

“Hey. Long time no see,” she said. Her tone was lacking any enthusiasm, but you knew not to take it personally. If her last few weeks had been anything like yours, she simply didn’t have the energy to spare. 

“Hey,” you responded bashfully. “Sorry I’ve been bad at replying to your texts…”

“Don’t sweat it. I get it.” She chewed on her lower lip, swaying awkwardly on her feet. “Do you wanna come to my place? I could really do with talking to you.” The reluctance in your eyes must’ve been evident, because she was quick to continue speaking. “Nothing sinister. I just miss you.” 

Glancing at the drug store, you nodded. “Sure, I just need to grab something first if that’s okay?”

“Yeah of course.” 

Much to your dismay, she followed you as you stepped into the store. You’d assumed she’d wait for you outside, but you should’ve known that luck never tended to favour you in such a manner. Agonising in your head, you wondered if you should buy something other than a pregnancy test to avoid any questions from Yuki, but in the end you decided that would be embarrassingly cowardly. 

Both of you were adults. If you needed a pregnancy test, you needed a pregnancy test. There was no scandal to be had. 

You picked one up from the shelves casually, casting a sideways glance at your friend as you did so. Something akin to disappointment flickered in her eyes for a moment, but she managed to conceal it well. She offered no words of judgement, trailing behind you as you went to pay, and failing to mention it on the short walk back to her place. 

It had been a long time since you were last at her house, but it felt comforting to be there all the same. Yuki had always had a great eye for decor, and her living room was filled with tasteful colours and low lighting which gave it a lovely cozy feeling. It was sweet to see Choso’s things scattered with Yuki’s across the room, making it clear that the space belonged to the both of them. 

Soon, you’d have to speak to Sukuna about moving into his place properly - or perhaps having the two of you move into a new place entirely. It would be nice to have something that belonged to the two of you, rather than feeling like you were intruding on a space that belonged only to him. You wanted more than a single drawer in his home. 

“Can I get you anything? Water? Green tea?” She asked, as you settled down on one of the sofas, sinking back against the pillow.

“I’m okay.” You still weren’t over your wave of sickness that morning, and didn’t want to consume anything that would make it worse. Yuki nodded, and sat down across from you, an awkwardness settling over the room as the two of you sat there in silence. 

After weeks apart, you weren’t clear on what to say to Yuki. You didn’t know if you should discuss what had happened at Satoru’s lakehouse, or if you should ask about the trauma that followed. Both matters were touchy subjects of discussion. But equally, it felt hard to discuss anything else. Sukuna was off the table, and so was Shoko. It felt like you’d have to dance around so many topics that it was easier not to speak at all. 

While considering your next words, you found yourself remembering that you’d been invited to Yuki’s house, leaving the burden of conversation on her shoulders not yours. That had you relaxing a little, watching your friend struggle with the same conflict in her own mind. 

She took a long sip of coffee before speaking, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I’m sorry, for what I did back at Satoru’s place. I shouldn’t have- sorry.” 

You tilted your head, struggling to compute what she was saying. In your mind she had nothing to apologise for - you’d all been in a terrifying situation brought on by a couple of psychopaths. Unless she’d outright invited them into the house, there was no apology needed.

But the deep guilt in her eyes was stark, like it had been eating away at her for a long time. 

“I know you’re mad at me. I think you hate me, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me. I get it, I picked you to be hurt by Mahito, I probably deserve to be hated.”

Your memory of that evening was largely spotty, and you’d blocked out much of what had happened to you. At Yuki’s words, the memory of Mahito forcing her to inflict injury onto you or Shoko came rushing back to you. It wasn’t something you’d held against her - she didn’t truly have a choice in the matter. If she hadn’t chosen a name Mahito would’ve killed you all. 

What else was she meant to do but pick you? Especially with Shoko in the state she’d been in. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yuki. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you said softly. “I haven’t been avoiding you either, I just haven’t had energy for anyone but Sukuna. I can barely drag myself from bed in the morning.”

“Right,” she mumbled, clutching her coffee cup a little harder. “But I deserve hatred. I watched him cut you up and did nothing. Shoko was more of a saviour to you than I was - all I could do was cry and watch it happen.” 

“And you’re alive. So that was probably the right thing to do.” Shoko’s actions had been foolish. You’d had no way of knowing it at the time, but if she’d just held on a little longer perhaps she’d still be alive. The boys could’ve rescued all three of you. 

Yuki nodded, brows furrowing as tears pricked at her eyes. You were only just noticing how bloodshot they were, like she’d been crying so regularly that the white was permanently tinged with red. 

It was sad to see someone like her reduced to tears. 

“Shoko. Oh god,” she sniffled. “I can’t stop seeing her when I close my eyes. I was angry at her when she died, so fucking angry over the fact she’d slept with Choso all those years ago. What kind of a wicked person am I to have felt that way about her in her final moments? It was such an unimportant thing and I was seething at her just before her heart stopped. I’m so fucking selfish.” 

You rose to your feet, crossing the gap between the two of you and taking a seat at her side. Your arm looped around her shoulder, and you pulled her close to you as she cried, struggling to hear her ramblings while she wept into your shirt. It was a dynamic you’d never experienced before, unaccustomed to comforting Yuki, but you did your best all the same. 

“Stop, Yuki. There’s no point in guilt. She’s gone and there’s nothing we could’ve done - we were both just trying to live.” 

She said nothing, and you let her cry for a while longer, stroking your hand through her long blonde hair. It felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had sat together in any amount of harmony for more than five minutes. Ever since Sukuna had come into your life things had been tense and uncomfortable - for once you felt like the two of you were on common ground, just like you had been throughout your teenage years. 

Even if this particular common ground was something you wished you didn’t have to share. 

Slowly, Yuki drew back from you, drying her tears with her sleeve. She took a deep breath as she stared over at you, cogs working away in her brain, like she had much more to divulge but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic. 

“Did he rape you? Mahito?” She asked, abandoning any tact and coming straight out with the question. Your heart picked up in fear at the mere mention of the word, unwilling to consider how close you’d actually come to that fate. 

“No. Sukuna found me first.” 

She let out a laugh which sounded almost bitter, dropping her voice as she spoke. “Right, of course he did.” Before you could question what she meant by that, she was speaking once more. “I was raped, did you know that? Did your boyfriend tell you that?” 

Reeling, you shuffled back from her a little, caught off guard by her fresh burst of spiteful energy. Her statement had come so suddenly that you were struggling to get your head around it, your mind still on her guilt and sorrow for Shoko, struggling to understand how anything had to do with Sukuna. 

“What?” You stumbled over the word. “I d-didn’t know. Oh Yuki-” 

“Stop. It happened, there’s nothing to be done about that. I’m glad it didn’t happen to you, but were you aware that it didn’t need to happen to me either?” 

Still struggling to follow, you tilted your head in question. “O-of course it didn’t need to happen. Those guys were awful, they should have never-” 

She sighed, cutting you off. “Of course you don’t know. Why would he have told you? It would ruin his image, wouldn’t it?” 

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded and eager for Yuki to just get to the point already. Your head was starting to spin and you didn’t want to focus too hard on anything. If she wanted you to reach a conclusion on your own she'd have to accept that you were in no physical condition to do so at that moment. 

“Sukuna saw me. He saw me in a room with that man, skulked about in the hallway watching while Jogo hit me, while he climbed on top of me. He could’ve stopped it, could’ve burst in and helped but he didn’t. He disappeared off to look for you and left me to my fate. It was five minutes until Choso found me, five minutes that I’ll never forget.” 

Conflict warred in your heart, leaving you uncertain on how to react. Sukuna had told you Yuki was safe - he’d lied. To leave someone to their fate at the hands of a psychopath was despicable behaviour, and exactly the type of thing that Yuki warned you about when it came to him. 

But at the same time you couldn’t help but believe he’d lied for a good reason. His first priority had always been you, and if he’d felt that intervening with Yuki’s situation would leave you to a dire fate, it didn’t surprise you to hear he’d make a harsh decision. 

It didn’t make you feel okay about it, but you could understand his thinking. The couple of minutes he’d have taken to save Yuki might’ve been minutes in which you’d be raped or killed, and he was unwilling to risk that. 

He’d made a hard decision out of love for you. He’d known Choso was coming for Yuki, but no one else was coming for you except him. 

Besides, a nasty part of you questioned Yuki’s statement regardless. It had been a stressful night for all involved, and who was to say that she truly saw what she thought she saw. For this to be the first time she’d mentioned it felt odd, and she’d admitted to wanting to sabotage your relationship once already. You were deeply sorry for what had happened to her, but you couldn’t understand why Sukuna needed to take the blame.

The person deserving of blame was rotting in a prison cell. There was no more to be discussed. 

Your thought process must’ve reflected into your eyes, because Yuki’s face contorted into an expression of sheer horror. “Oh my god, you don’t believe me. Why the fuck would I lie? He looked at me and walked away. Your sweet boyfriend left me to be raped.”

“Yuki, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that happened to you. But I’m not going to disparage Sukuna without at least talking to him first. We were all in a stressful situation and everyone made mistakes - you yourself said you made mistakes - it's not fair to assume something that hasn’t even been discussed.” 

She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. What will it take to convince you that he’s rotten?” 

You scoffed. “‘To convince me’,” you echoed flatly, “and you wonder why I didn’t instantly believe you. All you ever do is try to drive a wedge between us. If Sukuna had stepped in and saved you - if I’d been raped because of that, you would’ve used that as an excuse to prove he was rotten.” 

Yuki parted her lips to protest, but the words died on her tongue. She knew that to be true - no matter the situation she would always use it as an opportunity to twist it around on him. She knew it. 

“Please, Yuki, I’ll speak to him about it. I feel terrible about what happened to you but you have to stop attacking my boyfriend at every turn. I already lost Shoko, I don’t want to lose you too.” 

She shook her head, shoulders dropping in defeat, a look of sheer disbelief marring her face. “God, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? It's embarrassing. I feel like I’m watching you get chipped away and I can’t stop it no matter what I do.”

“Perhaps you could’ve tried being kind to me,” you said, voice trembling a little. “For the last few months you’ve done nothing but treat me like I’m stupid, so I’m sorry if I seem difficult, or distant. I don’t want to fight with you, I haven’t even said that I don’t believe you, but you only ever see what you want.” 

Yuki bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for that. I just couldn’t see another way, and now it's too late, isn’t it? His claws are in you. I suppose his kid is too, huh?” She asked, gesturing to your bag, where a pregnancy test sat within. 

You said nothing, tears prickling at your eyes. You didn’t want to deal with any of this, you simply wanted to go home and curl up in a cocoon and forget everything you’d heard from Yuki that morning. You wanted Sukuna to wrap himself around you and play with your hair, and you wanted to stay there for all of time, until everything disappeared but you and him. 

“Are you just gonna keep it?” She asked quietly, the plea in her tone not going amiss.

“I don’t know,” you answered coolly, getting to your feet and pulling your bag over your shoulder. You’d gain nothing from staying there longer beyond Yuki taking more shots at your lover, and it would do little to sway your opinion. You’d speak to him about it once he was home later that evening. 

But you knew it would change little. 

If Yuki and Sukuna were the only witnesses to the situation, they would exchange barbs and differing views until the end of time. 

And ultimately you’d have to side with the person you were in love with. 

Heading towards the door, you paused at the threshold, casting a look back at your friend. She was staring at you, sadness and anger blending together in her chestnut eyes.

“For the record, Yuki, if the situation was reversed and Choso saw me in peril and walked away knowing that you weren’t safe either and wanted to get to you first, I would forgive him. People prioritise those they love, and you can call that fucked up all you want, but its human nature. I mean, you chose me for Mahito to cut open. We’re all ugly in an ugly situation.” 

You didn’t let her speak again, slamming the door behind you and exiting onto the street beyond. 

—

The rest of your day had been spent obsessively cleaning Sukuna’s apartment. It was an activity that was long overdue, because things had been piling up over the past few weeks with you in a lethargic state. It would be nice for Sukuna to come home to a clean place, as a thank you for looking after you so well while you’d been incapable of anything. 

Besides, cleaning was an activity that allowed you to take your mind off things. 

Between the unpleasantness of the conversation you’d had with Yuki, and the positive pregnancy test sitting in the bathroom trash, you could really do with letting your mind go blank at least until Sukuna came home. 

Once he was there to share your problems and concerns with, things would be better. Issues always seemed smaller when voiced, and Sukuna always knew the right thing to say or do. Spending the afternoon laying in bed fretting would do you no good. 

Starting in the kitchen, you’d been thorough in working your way through Sukuna’s apartment - scrubbing the floors, dusting the bookshelves, wiping the insides of the windows. By the time you made it into the bathroom, your final obstacle for the day, it was growing dark outside.

Sukuna had said he’d be back late that evening. It was the birthday of one of the guys on the construction crew, and he’d been invited out for drinks after work. You were certain it wouldn’t be long until he made it home, never eager on spending too much time with his coworkers, so you picked up your pace as you set to making the bathroom sparkle. 

It had been easy, mindless work much like everything else that afternoon until you ran a mop across the floor and knocked a tile loose. 

Initially, you’d thought nothing of it, putting the mop aside for a moment and moving to put the tile back in its place below the sink. Your hand faltered at the realisation that there was a hollowed out space beneath the misplaced tile, with a small plastic bag hidden within. 

If you were wise, perhaps you would’ve left it alone. Maybe you would’ve assumed that it had been left there by a previous occupant of the apartment, or maybe by the tilers who had originally fitted the bathroom. But curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself reaching into the hole and withdrawing the plastic bag from its position. 

What you held was a neatly packed thing, containing a mobile phone, car keys and a wallet. None of the items looked recognisable to you - Sukuna’s phone was black and, as of recently, had a Hello Kitty charm you’d given him dangling from it, meanwhile this phone was silver and bare. Not to mention, the blue wallet looked nothing like Sukuna’s usual leather one. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting as you pulled the items from their bag, wondering if Sukuna even knew of their existence. Perhaps some criminal had lived here before him and had stowed away a spare phone and ID to use for illegal dealings. You placed the phone and keys on the counter, turning your attention immediately to the wallet. 

For some reason it felt familiar to you, with the insignia of some heavy metal band printed across the front.

There was no time for you to ponder on where you’d seen it before - no need for you to connect the dots on your own, not when your fingers were already prying open the wallet, gaze falling upon a gut-wrenchingly familiar face staring at you from the ID hidden within.

Hajime Kashimo. 

All the air in your lungs disappeared, and you found yourself frozen. No thoughts came to your mind, all you could do was stare blankly at the item in your hand, unwilling to draw any conclusions about what its presence in your boyfriend’s floor meant. Slowly, your eyes moved to the phone, suddenly realising how familiar it was to you - as was the lightning bolt keychain hanging from the set of keys. 

Why would anything of Kashimo’s be in Sukuna’s apartment? 

They hadn’t known each other. 

Your body moved on its own, reaching for the phone and flipping it open, dismayed to find that it was dead, offering no further explanation as to what was going on. Slowly you put it down, sinking to your knees, gaze still fixed on that image of Kashimo staring up at you. 

There had to be an explanation for this - some reason for Sukuna to possess these items, something that would make everything make sense. There had to be. And yet, there was some part of you that told you to exert caution, to think lucidly about what you’d just found, to consider the facts of the last time you’d seen Kashimo. 

Satoru had told you about the man’s infidelity, and Sukuna had comforted you afterwards. You’d largely considered that moment to be the catalyst for your relationship to bloom. Kashimo had been normal with you for the rest of the reunion, only showing his true colours via text after he’d left. 

From a phone that was now in possession of your boyfriend. 

Since then, you had heard nothing from Kashimo, aware only of a snippet of a rumor from a university acquaintance that he had moved out of the city and left his band in the lurch. Gone off to Hollywood, apparently, not unlike Yorozu. 

Anxiety pushed its way into your chest as your brain connected the last few dots. Sukuna had seemed so comfortable in his execution of Mahito, so controlled in the way he guided your hand, like he’d done it many times before. 

Maybe he had done it before. 

Perhaps he’d framed Kashimo of something despicable and disposed of him before you could ever verify the truth. 

No, no, no. 

You wouldn’t believe it. You couldn’t. Sukuna had been nothing but loving towards you, always looking out for your best interests, offering you comfort and protection in your darkest times. He couldn’t have killed him, or if he did there would’ve been a good reason for it. 

That you were certain of. 

Earlier that day you’d told Yuki that you wouldn’t condemn Sukuna without hearing him out first, and in that moment you were jumping to all kinds of conclusions. There was an explanation - of course there was an explanation, you just needed to ask for it. 

Trying to contain the tremor in your hands, you packed the items back into the bag and returned them to their position, sliding the tile back to where it had been before. Letting out a shuddering breath, you tried your best to calm yourself at the click of the front door, your heart rate spiking at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out for you. 

It was okay. There would be a reasonable explanation for everything. You didn’t need to act strange with the man you loved and you certainly didn’t need to be fearful of him. 

You knew that.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you put on a gentle smile of greeting, your worries easing ever so slightly beneath his crimson gaze. He stared at you with such love and reverence, his expression holding a softness which pushed your anxieties straight to the back of your head. 

“Rough day, baby?” He asked, crossing the gap between you. A hand came up to stroke your face before pulling you close, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. The contact had your gut tightening with pleasure, and you wondered how you could ever doubt someone you adored so much. 

There was an explanation. There had to be an explanation.

A mix of nausea and exhaustion washed over you at the thought of confronting him about it that evening. Between your talk with Yuki and the knowledge that a child was growing within you, you were limited on mental bandwidth, and couldn’t face another shock that evening. 

You wanted to get your thoughts in order first about everything - the kid, Yuki’s claim, Kashimo’s belongings - wanted to pretend that everything was okay for the evening before you did anything rash. 

All your questions would still be there in the morning, and maybe answers would be more obvious in the light of day. You couldn’t deny that you were exhausted, not thinking straight in the way that usually would. You just needed time to think. Perhaps the next day you’d awaken and realise your findings had been nothing more than a nightmare. You’d had no shortage of those after all.

“Just tired,” you lied as you pulled back from his kiss. The words came out shaky, and Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He knew you well enough to sniff out a lie with little effort. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, his voice dropping low. “You look like you’ve been crying.” You weren’t really aware that you had been. A few tears had dripped down your cheeks at the sight of the positive pregnancy test, still unsure what to think of the outcome, but that was hours ago. You supposed the day had worn on your face more than you’d realised. 

“No, just struggling with the usual stuff,” you confessed. 

“Right.” His thumb brushed your face tenderly, red eyes darting around the room. “You cleaned up.” It was embarrassing to admit how deeply you read into that observation, scanning for any hint of concern in his voice, but you found none. On the contrary, he seemed pleased with you. 

“I just thought it would be nice.” 

“Thank you, baby.” He planted a kiss on top of your head, giving you a tight squeeze. You were reminded just how strong he was, suddenly aware of how impossible it would be to overpower him if he ever decided to use that strength against you. A shiver passed through you at the thought. 

It didn’t matter. Because there was an explanation for everything. He’d never hurt you. Never.

“What do you want for dinner? We can order from that pizza place you like? Watch an episode of The Sopranos?” He pulled back to look at you, the charming smile you loved so much plastered on his handsome face.

You wanted to say yes, but the thought of sitting with him quietly while all your thoughts were swirling around in your head was far from ideal. You needed to go to sleep, fearful that prolonged time at his side would give away what you knew and put you in a position of having to deal with things before you were ready. 

Besides, the idea of watching Tony Soprano kill so ruthlessly on screen while you grappled with the question of whether your boyfriend had done the same didn’t sound like your idea of a good time. 

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ve got a really bad headache and I don’t want to make it any worse.” Sukuna’s face fell, and your own chest ached at the disappointment in his eyes. He’d been waiting all day to come home and spend time with you - he’d confessed that was what kept him going at work. 

Just like he’d been your shining light through all the trauma, you were his shining light too - the one thing that really mattered to him. And here you were pushing him away over something you were certain could be explained. 

That wasn’t fair. 

But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it either to clear the confusion up, hairs standing on the back of your neck when you considered broaching the topic. 

It was just a result of your exhaustion. That was all. 

“Okay, baby. Have you taken anything for the pain?.” His hand brushed soothingly against your forehead, and guilt knotted itself together in your stomach. How could you believe this man guilty of any wrongdoing when he was always so tender to you? 

Did it even matter if he was guilty? He was all you really had, the singular thing keeping you sane after everything that had happened. It was likely your overactive imagination jumping to conclusions anyway, that was the issue here, not Sukuna. Not the man who loved you so much he’d do absolutely anything for your sake. 

“I haven’t.” 

“I’ll get you some painkillers, you go and lie down.” Another dizzy spell overcame you as you made your way to the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorframe as all the thoughts of the day rushed at you. You didn’t want to be at odds with Sukuna over anything. You wanted to curl up against his side and drift off knowing you were safe. 

Because you were safe with him. He’d saved you from Mahito. And now your brain was trying to convince you that something was wrong? You were always sabotaging yourself - how could you be sure that Kashimo’s belongings had even been under those floorboards? You hadn’t exactly been able to trust your mind lately. 

What if you’d hallucinated up an issue? What then? 

The pregnancy had come as a massive shock to you, perhaps your brain was trying to come up with excuses as to why it wouldn’t work. 

Somewhere within you, there was an awareness that line of thinking was delusional. Likewise, there was an awareness that there was no mistake in the meaning behind Sukuna owning things that had belonged to Kashimo. You knew, somewhere in the distant recesses of your mind, that Kashimo was dead. 

That Sukuna had done it. 

And with that flickered a question about what else he had done, a thought promptly swept away by the currents of your mind before you could cling to it. Because acceptance didn’t come easy, not when you loved the person responsible. 

You couldn’t let yourself believe it, forcing a smile and accepting your own poor mental state as an explanation for what you’d seen. 

Sukuna stepped into the bedroom, painkillers in hand along with a glass of water which he handed over to you. There was something odd in his expression, like he had a question to ask you. Slowly he sat down on the bed, reaching out for your hand and holding it tightly within his. 

“Have you got something to tell me?” 

For all the delusion you’d fed yourself, your blood still ran cold. Had you put the tile back incorrectly? Did he know what you knew? Sweat gathered on your brow, tongue frozen in your mouth when you tried to speak, unsure how to best formulate a question or an explanation. 

He wouldn’t hurt you, would he? No, you doubted it. He was too possessive of you. 

Before you could put any words together, he spoke once more. “I saw the test in the trash.” 

Oh. You’d been so frazzled upon knocking the tile aside that you hadn’t finished your full clean of the bathroom, and had forgotten to empty the wastebin, leaving your positive test there for anyone to see. You hadn’t formulated a plan on how you were going to share the news with him, but you hadn’t wanted him to find out like this.

Before you could stop them, tears sprung to your eyes, all the emotion of the day overwhelming you. There was too much going on for you to process it. With the Kashimo discovery and Yuki’s harsh words you’d had no time to think about your opinion on the pregnancy, and now you were being directly confronted on it. 

Why couldn’t you just catch a break for once?

Sukuna’s eyes widened in panic, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “Hey, don’t cry. It's okay baby, come here.” 

It wasn’t okay, nothing was okay.

But you leant into his embrace all the same, wetting his hoodie with your tears in a display which had become all too common between the two of you. He didn’t push you for anything more, expecting no explanation, simply stroking your hair affectionately. You could feel his heart thudding excitedly beneath his ribs and once again a strange guilt prickled at you.

“Do you…” He trailed off. “Do you not want this? The baby?” 

A pang of hurt went straight through your heart at the dejected nature of his tone. It was clear that he was thrilled, that seeing the test lying in the trash had been something positive for him. 

And there you were moping and doubting. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I feel like I’m just being overwhelmed lately. I don’t have time to even consider what I really think about the baby.” You pulled back from him slightly, letting him dab your tears with his fingers.

“What else is on your mind? Maybe I can help?” 

“Nothing.” The statement came out too quickly, and in a higher pitch than you would’ve liked. Sukuna seemed suspicious of the response for a moment, before letting it go with a sigh. You’d been fairly odd lately anyway, and considering what he’d just discovered, who could blame you for being a bit off? “I’m just- I don’t know, depressed from everything.” 

He nodded, biting on his lower lip. “Well, it's not like you have to make a decision now, you can’t be far along. If you don’t want it we’ll deal with that.” There was a sadness in his voice that told you that wasn’t what he wanted to do, and pity began to gnaw away at your stomach. “To be clear, I’d like you to keep it, but it's your choice baby. I know how hard these months have been. I’ll love you no matter what.” 

A soft kiss was pressed into your hair, sending a flush across your cheeks. Of course he’d love you no matter what, he’d made that clear on more than one occasion. Could you love him no matter what? If your suspicions about Kashimo bore fruit? If Yuki’s claim was true? 

How would you implode if you walked away from him? What would you have then, in a life where you’d steadily been falling apart at the seams with nothing but him to hold you together? 

The anxiety built up within you again, and despite wanting to lay the matter to rest for a while, you simply couldn’t. You had to ask him. 

“Sukuna.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Would you kill for me?” 

“Yeah.” He said it without hesitation. There was no dramatic flair to his response, nothing to suggest that what he said was false bravado like most boyfriends might display to their partners. It was a simple confirmation, one that you knew to be true as his red eyes met yours. “You know I would. You’ve seen it.” 

He was right. Even if your hand had been on the trigger that evening with Mahito, it had been Sukuna who was in control - his hand caressing your carefully, guiding you into an action you never would’ve managed on your own. 

It wasn’t a first kill. You should’ve been more aware of that the moment it happened. Sukuna had been painfully calm. 

“Right,” your voice went quiet.

Sukuna’s fingers came to graze your chin, holding you to meet his gaze properly. There was no hate or anger in those red eyes - you never encountered anything but love there, a love that made your stomach flip with desire whenever you saw it, a love that you weren't sure could be displaced by anything even if you wanted it to be. 

“Why do you ask, baby?” His nose brushed against yours, and again you found yourself tongue-tied beneath the intensity of your presence. You knew you should've come out and said what you saw, but fear stopped you. Because the moment those words spilt from your mouth, everything was going to change, you knew that.

And you weren’t sure it was a change you wanted. 

“I- um- I don’t know. Just wondering.” You squeaked, cursing yourself as you backed down.

There was something amused in his expression, watching you carefully, not unlike a cat observing a mouse caught beneath its paws. “I’d kill anyone who caused you harm, anyone who tried to steal away your happiness. I killed Mahito to protect you, and I’d do it again. You’re the only person who matters to me. Is that a problem?”

It was a problem, but his words tugged on your heartstrings all the same. There was something romantic about a man who would do anything for you. If you hadn't been with a man like Sukuna, who knows where you’d be. Perhaps your brains would’ve been splattered across the floor at Mahito’s feet. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know if it's a problem. It depends.” 

“On?” 

“How far you would go.” Sukuna’s eyes glimmered with interest. He brought his lips to your neck, kissing away at the exposed skin, almost as if he was testing whether you’d push him away. You didn’t, you weren’t sure that you could, your heart fluttering desperately beneath his touch, telling you to forget the conversation and move on. 

You were having such a good time, why open a can of worms when things had been fine? 

“I would go as far as necessary to keep you safe. That’s all,” he murmured against your skin. “Now, is there something specific you want to ask? Or is this nothing more than a thought experiment?” 

Again you tried to build your courage, but found you had none to give. In your frazzled condition you weren’t certain you were capable of providing objectivity on anything. You needed to regroup - to think carefully about what Sukuna had said and re-examine the evidence you’d found. You needed to look at Kashimo's phone. You needed to consider whether Sukuna’s presence at your side trumped morality. 

After all, you were a killer too. What if Sukuna had his reasons for the situation with Kashimo, like you’d had your reasons with Mahito? There was always an angle to consider, and in the midst of a panic on the day you’d found out you were pregnant, was neither the time nor the place. 

“It was just a thought,” you spoke softly, leaning into the fluttering kisses spreading down against your shoulder, his fingers pushing your shirt down to give him better access to his soft skin, sucking marks on top of the purple bruises that already existed there. 

He hummed, but you weren’t confident he believed you, a shock of something strange in his deep red eyes. “Of course, baby.” His hands slid beneath your shirt, sliding up the bare skin of your sides, earning a shiver from you. His touch was still as pleasant as ever, still something you yearned desperately for. 

And despite him being the cause of much of your anxiety that evening, he also seemed like the only solution - the one person who could allay all your worries with his mere presence, touching you with an affection that you could receive from nobody but him. The very reason that you would jump to no conclusions or decisions. 

You loved him. 

You needed him. 

It was as simple as that. 

“Want me to leave you alone for a bit?” He whispered huskily against your ear. “You said you wanted to sleep.”

It probably would’ve been best for you to agree - to nod along and leave him to have his dinner alone while you drifted off beneath his soft sheets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to send him away any more than you could bring yourself to condemn him for evidence that lay plain before your eyes. 

“I want you here, if that’s okay?” 

The look on his face could only be described as pure euphoria, like you’d just handed him an award you weren’t aware you were giving out. He was always thrilled to be with you, but this was something else, like a balance of power had just shifted and you weren’t sharp enough to understand how. 

“Of course. I’d do anything for you, baby.” 

That night, you spent hours tangled in his sheets just as usual. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping you pinned beneath him, his lips set to work on every inch of your tired body while he filled you up over and over again with long, intimate strokes. This was Sukuna at his very sweetest, making love to you in a manner that proved his devotion. 

There was no roughness about it, nothing kinky like you’d grown accustomed to with him. 

This was deeply loving, and it was all about you. There was something in his movements that was sending you a message, as if he was thanking you or perhaps opening up to you on a whole different level of trust that you’d never held with each other before. 

“You’re mine, you’ll always be mine, won’t you baby? I’ll never let anyone else have you.” He’d mumbled in your ear, just one of many possessive statements breathed out between desperate moans of pleasure. And you’d agreed, lost in the throes of passion, consumed by him just like you always were. 

Because you really were his. 

You didn’t want anything to change that. 

It would be nice to be able to slip back into the ignorance you’d held that morning, before you’d spoken to Yuki or cleaned the damn apartment. It really was bliss, to not have concern and anxiety eating away at your chest, leading you to question everything you held sacred in your life. 

If only you could banish it all away. 

Because in your soul, deep in there, you knew now that Sukuna was rotten. 

On some level you’d known it for a while. Yuki and your parents had made no mistake in their assessments, and you’d brushed it aside all the same. You were drawn inexplicably to the man even through all his failings. If you’d had any sense you would’ve run far from him the moment he’d broken in through your window. But you didn’t, and there you were, tangled up so intimately with a man who had likely murdered your ex-boyfriend. 

Tangled with him and whispering words of love and affection against his shoulder, tangled with him and letting his hands run over your stomach where your baby grew, tangled with him and letting him do whatever he liked with you - just as you always had. 

Because even as the rot he carried with him festered, visible to your eyes in a way it never had been before, you still weren’t sure you could bear to part with him. 

a/n: sukuna actually crazy for the impact he's had on reader's mental over several years (since ryu) to the point where she's even hesitating after finding that stuff in his bathroom :(

stay with the murderous boyfriend and pretend everything's fine vs confront him and lose everything you love (and possibly your life) our girl is going THROUGH it :(

hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3

taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @alebrasil0101 @unikittylover57 @maomimii @xadenpoop @mxchiii @tinkspen @martianzmars @drasticallyinluv @grimm3r @choyuxx @janellawliet @nanamigirl4ever @actuallynarii @aiive @chloe022r @targaryenposts @erasersslut @loulasav @natsolox @kenstarsworld @elviqss @blu3berryies @cupidstrace @ksjtozaki @feyrinnn @heartless-rythm @beaniesayshi @shazzer29 @mortallyshadysoul @neverlandqueen36 @sweethoneycream @mikkmmmii @sikurgvx @8nitxe @lexispeak @inmywhitegown @unlimited-impressions @absolutelycaffeinateddevil @paulineeo @onlykuna @jjkfannn34 @queendom-of-yuki @blinmkk @emmaiscool22 @angelbabyy111 @moonsquid49 @0imliterallybatman @crunchycathy @yailuxe

© sukunahs

[tonycries]

Back To Black - N.K.

Synopsis. When you came knocking at Nanami Kento’s mansion, stranded in the middle of a storm, he couldn’t turn you away just like that - could he? After all, you smelled so cold, so scared, so…delectable. And you might learn that there’s a reason they keep demons locked away in large, lonely mansions. Because didn’t you know that he’s one hell of a butler?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, demon butler!Nanami, Black Butler AU, plot, powers, mansions, use of ‘my lady’, slight bIood and vioIence, slightly yan!Nanami, slight angst, reincarnations, yearning, pússydrúnk Nanami, fíngering, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, chokíng, p talking, manhandIing, matíng presses, use of his demon powers, x-rays, he’s a gentleman until he breaks, rough s, running from it, creampíes, cúmpIay, soul bonding, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.6k

A/N. Spooky season isn’t over until I say so…

“Goddamm- oh.” The merciless hand of the storm swipes your face, and you instantly clamp your eyes and lips shut against the sting.

It was a night colder than cold, a storm crueler than cruel. Fallen instantly: it was as if someone had simply snuffed out the light of day, and plunged you into a world that hurtled on its axis. Despite the portico you stood underneath, you clutched your tattered coat tighter against the wind.

This place had been the first you’d encountered during your treacherous walk. A light. And without thinking, you’d stumbled towards it. 

Perhaps a home. Perhaps shelter. 

The fog thickens. Your fist raises, knock-knock-knocking against the tall, wooden door. It was decorated in intricate swirling patterns and engravings that you couldn’t make out in the darkness right now.

You wonder whether whoever was inside could even hear you over the storm. Desperately, your fist raises to knock again when-

The door opens.

And inside stands a handsome blond man.

Almost otherworldly.

“My lady.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re not entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the rich baritone of his voice, the way it pierced your ears even above the wind, wetness, and anger of the storm. Perhaps it was his classically handsome face - slicked-back hair, high cheekbones, a pert mouth that was somehow knowing - like in one of those historical paintings, a Prince Charming. 

You wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint him in any century.

Or perhaps it was the way that when you stepped back, on instinct, he leaned down to loop a strong arm around your waist in a single, fluid motion. So fast that you muse he might’ve teleported.

Whoosh–! 

You startle at the noise above you, and look up to find that the strange man had unfolded an umbrella over the two of you - one that you hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

He lets the berth of it cover your frame, like the dark wings of a bat stretched taut. Uncaring of whether he himself gets wet, the man shields you against the icy billows of rain that blew through the portico. His warm grin stretches, urging. “My lady?”

“O-oh.” It registers that he was speaking to you. You’re unsure where to place your palms, and they lay flatly open against the man’s toned chest. Still. “My apologies for- for the intrusion so late. But I…”

You were getting distracted by his kind, molten eyes is what. But he finishes for you with a slight huff of amusement, “Happened to get caught in this monstrosity of a storm, am I right in guessing?” At your nod. “Well, it’s no wonder then, my lady. I’m only glad you made it here safe.”

“I-” You were right in feeling like you weren’t able to pinpoint which century he was from. Because his tone of speaking wasn’t reminiscent of any dialect you’ve ever heard before - something melodic yet stiff, something understandable yet…dated. 

And despite your incessant pondering, he stands as patiently as ever. Holds you as patiently as ever.

Even though the wind ruffled that neat hair of his, and the rain pelted his sides without the cover of the umbrella. You hasten to explain yourself, “I was actually on my way from a work function, a bit far away. When this storm suddenly hit and my car broke down in the middle of it- actually, I think it ended up in some ditch with no power, which is why I ended up- well- here.” You finish, lamely.

He looks thoughtful, nodding empathetically.

“And I really do apologize for the intrusion, really, but if I could stay just until the storm blows over and I can call for help-”

“Do forgive me for interrupting you, my lady.” The man’s precise tone speaks once more, “But you may stay here as long as you like.”

Relief washes down your spine like a bucket of heat, melting you instantly. “Oh, thank you- thank you.” And before you know it, you’re falling deeper into his arms. 

“A lady must not thank a mere worker.” He hums with a tut, and you wonder whether that means he was one of the staff at this large building - what little you could see of the silhouette seemed larger than a normal house, and you’d assumed that it was some hotel at first.

He steps soundlessly to help you steady yourself. And you’re soon being warmly gestured inside, the umbrella being held over your head with each step, even as he stepped aside into the rain to let you through. “Come now, we must dry you off at once. Being in the cold for this long won’t be good for your constitution, my lady.”

You step inside as he directs, and it feels like stepping into a warm bath - just right.

And what you’d seen in the distance - that yolky, blinking light that led you here, your body moving as if on instinct - wasn’t actually a lightbulb, as you’d thought. In actuality, it was about a dozen, flaring chandeliers.

Illuminating a fresco of gardens and flowers and spring. Lined along the sprawling ceiling like fruits that were overripe, fit to burst. They danced ever-so-slightly in the draught that the open door brought, yet not a single candle extinguished from what you could make out.

You felt so tiny in the house- mansion, as you were quickly coming to learn. 

Greeted by an imperial staircase made of marble, and accents of gold that fought with the chandeliers over which one of them shined brighter. You don’t think you could possibly count how many hallways holed themselves into the mansion just from here. Hidden caverns filled with antiques, and ever-green chrysanthemums, and paintings that you could just see the corners of. Upon either side of the entrance were large Clerestory windows that provided snapshots of the flared lightning outside; so high up, so large, that it made the front door feel dwarfed. 

You think it looks strangely familiar - perhaps something reminiscent of those illustrations you’d seen in classic stories.

Curiously, along the winding corridors, you note that there were many mirrors. Some small and bejeweled, some tall from ceiling to floor.

In intervals unknown to you, they stood out - the brightest of them all.

You jump at the feeling of something touching your elbow-

“My apologies for startling you, my lady.” Comes your host’s deep voice, and you whirl around to find him bowed. With a warm, citrus-scented towel presented to you (when did he even have the time to get that?) “Please, do make use of this towel to rinse off the water on your body. If you would like, I may do it for you?”

“No no, I can do it.” You insist, feeling your heart race. His stern lips quirk up ever-so-slightly when you reach for it. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure. I wouldn’t want my lady getting sick.”

My lady…

You shake your head, trying to get it free of that giggling lil’ voice that kept repeating those two words. Instead, you take the towel from the beautiful man and—oh.

Underneath your breath, you gasp through your nose. Because the very second that your fingers had grazed his own when taking the towel, a chill wafted down your spine. So cold. So…unnatural. You weren’t sure whether it was the sheer temperature, or the fact that it was the sheer temperature of his hand.

Why was he so cold?

Almost as if he sensed your thoughts, the man swiftly pulls his hand away. And it’s only then that you realize that he was dressed so smartly.

Shoes polished till they reflected your bewildered stare. Well-fitted black pants. A three-piece suit filled out by his broad shoulders. Black tailcoat. High collar. Steely buttons. And an emblem on his coat pocket that you couldn’t read from here. Gloves. Ah—so that was why he was so cold, you guessed.

Surely there was no other reason, right?

Lightning flashes.

The rooms lights up in ice-white.

“Oh dear, it seems the storm won’t be getting any better tonight.” He announces, clapping his hands twice. And then, previously unseen curtains start closing in on the windows so high above. Effectively shutting out the storm, the night, and with it, the world.

You wondered what automatic mechanism that was.

“We best get you to bed immediately, my lady.” The blond-haired man says, his hair gleaming in the candlelight - and you could’ve sworn that it’d been all ruffled and messy by the storm just prior. Now, it was untouched, as if he’d never stepped outside. 

He rounds the entrance, politely gesturing at you to follow. 

“Such a lovely place.” You observe, as you’re led up the staircase and into the East wing. The hallways were tall and ancient, humming with centuries of stories untold. And, as you’d expected, the antiques, the chrysanthemums, the paintings.

Blurs of faces that you were walking too quickly by to properly make out.

“Why thank you, my lady.” He looks back briefly, holding a golden candelabra to light your pathway. Still walking, he doesn’t need to stop to speak. “This is an old home, with old bones, old secrets.” The man cracks a grin, “I should know, I have been lucky to call myself a worker of this fine home for a long time.”

So he did work here - a butler, all signs were pointing to. You hum, butlers had always seemed like something out of a soap opera, or those regency novels.

Having him in front of you like this made you feel somewhat dizzy.

And you were entranced by the noiseless way he moved, “And how long is a long time?”

“Oh, one could say it feels like…centuries.” He chuckles to himself.

You make a few turns, heading deeper into the mansion. And you can’t help but notice that you’ve yet to see a single other person here except the two of you-

“The masters of this home are more in name.” The butler says, in his smooth tone. Like he could sense the question forming. “This house has been passed down through generations, and I fear that I have yet to officially meet whoever owns this grand establishment now.”

“Oh?” Your brows raise, “They seriously don’t come to visit a house this beautiful? Not even as a vacation home?”

“I’m afraid so. It is all but abandoned.” He nods, “But alas, I do not complain. They employ me here to clean and take care of this home, and that’s all I can ask. To preserve a piece of history so magnificent, no matter how much they try to forget…it shall always haunt you.”

“So you’re alone here?”

He stops then. And turns back to you with an unreadable expression- oh, something about the way the candelabra outlined the hollows of his face made you feel cold all over again. “I’m afraid so.” Voice quiet. “Would you prefer otherwise, my lady?”

In the distance, the growl of thunder trundles.

“No no, nothing like that.” You rush to answer, not wishing to offend the kind soul helping you for the night (and honestly, even despite that, you didn’t feel a speck of discomfort with him- in fact, you felt…at ease). “Honestly, you’ve been more than a delight- I was just wondering whether you don’t get lonely in such a big house, all by yourself. I certainly would visit.”

He observes you for a moment. Before his warm expression is back again- “Do not worry yourself over my wellbeing, my lady, of course, as all good workers do, I have gotten used to it. Yet…I must admit that there is the occasional night in which I, too, crave humanity—”

You listen, enraptured.

Before he then gestures to the door in front of which you’d stopped at - you hadn’t even noticed. It was an unassuming mahogany door, polished and pristine like all the rest.

His gloved hands gently twist the doorknob and lead you inside. “Your room, my lady.” He leaves the candelabra on top of a cabinet by the doorway. “I have arranged for a warm bath to be prepared for you, with a fine selection of body washes and shampoos from around the world. After which I ask you to allow me to treat you to a light supper in bed, as you must be hungry after such an exciting night. Kindly ring the bell-” He gestures at a slim handbell on the cabinet beside the candelabra that you hadn’t seen before. “-and I shall be here for you before the second ring.”

“This is…” You look around the room- chamber, more like. 

The candles on the chandelier inside had lit up as soon as you stepped inside (you had to figure out that mechanism, somehow!) Bathing the expansive bedroom in a soft glow, like this, it almost looked like a piece of heaven itself.

An antique chamber. A four-poster king-sized bed in the middle. A plethora of sweet-scented flower pots. A few paintings of landscapes. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the balcony, the garden. Though now, you could only see the storm outside. On one side of the room, you could see a shelf of thick tomes, impeccably dusted, and next to it was a fireplace. Roaring. 

You wondered how he had the time to light it.

On the other side it opened up to what you imagined must be an equally as luxurious bathroom. The polished tile squeaked as you made your way inside, reflecting your wind-torn coat that felt more than out-of-place in such a room. It almost felt like you were wading across a ballroom. 

You whirl, and you note that one of the walls adjacent to the bed wasn’t taken up by some painting or mural or wallpaper- it was nearly covered by a gleaming mirror. How interesting.

“-this is amazing.” You breathe.

“I am glad that it is to your liking, my lady.” He bows, “If you need anything, or wish to ask anything, simply ring the bell.”

And as the blond-haired man moves to exit with a final bow, you reach your hand out- “Wait-”

He turns. “My lady?”

“Ah, I didn’t ring the bell but- your name.” You fiddle with the drenched fabric of your coat as you ask, wondering whether it was salvageable anymore. You tell him your own name, before questioning, “Can I ask your name?”

He smiles. “Nanami Kento, my lady.” And there’s a zip of excitement that runs through your body at finally putting a name to a handsome face. Nodding, you expect that that would be the end of your small pleasantries, and you turn back-

But before he leaves for good tonight, Nanami speaks over his shoulder. “And worry not, I am one hell of a butler.”

You snap your head back to listen to him speak, and find that he was already gone.

The hallway was dark outside, and there was a slight wind coming in. You hasten to shut the door and find that you can’t even hear Nanami’s footsteps disappearing, can’t even hear his shadow—well, you always had the bell, right?

You shook off the slight prickling at your skin, and welcomed yourself into the clouds of warmth spiffing from the bathroom.

.

.

.

That night may have been the best sleep of your life, you had to admit. Like you’d been home, and doubled by the luxury of the place.

It might have something to do with the fact that the massive bed was amongst the comfiest things you’ve ever felt, or it might have something to do with the easy cotton fabric of the pyjamas that Nanami had left while you were bathing.

You’d come out of the bathroom, refreshed (the bathroom ceiling was blanketed with the most beautiful mosaics, and the bathtub was accented with gold), only to find that he’d left out nightwear of your liking.

Of your exact size.

You’d stopped then, wondering how he managed to find something that fit you so perfectly. 

Perhaps it was a lucky guess, and a previous owner of the mansion happened to be your exact size? Then again, it did feel so new in your hands…

Without wearing yourself out even further, you’d rung the bell and partaken in a quick dinner (you’d been famished, having only scoffed down a protein bar during the conference). And then chosen to ignore the shivers that ran down your spine to tuck yourself in. Soon oblivious to the storm, and the mansion’s creaking, and the eyes that seemed to watch you at night.

It all felt like part of a dream.

In the morning, you’d awoken to the twittering of birds, and a slab of golden sunlight, like butter, filtering in through the window. Nanami had already laid out a gorgeous princess-line dress of emerald green for you, with a deep v-cut collar that showed just a coy bit of skin, and a silhouette that flattered your frame perfectly.

That, too, was the perfect fit.

You adjusted your sleeves and couldn’t help but titter to yourself as you felt like a princess. In no time after you got ready, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh, come in.”

It couldn’t be anyone but Nanami. And he looked as handsome as the last time you’d seen him (earlier, in the late hours of the night you’d almost wondered whether it was the dimness that made him look so extraordinarily handsome).

But no, he was as beautiful as ever. His golden hair glinting in the sun, like a halo, and his smile beaming as he walks closer to you. “Good morning, my lady.” Nanami bows, “I see you have already prepared yourself for the day. How exquisite you look, should my eyes fall upon such a sight every morning then I should be blessed. Am I correct in assuming that the dress is adequate to your tastes?”

“It’s just beautiful, Nanami.” You run your hands down the sides, admiring. “I don’t know how you managed to get my perfect size.”

He brings a gloved index up to his lips, with a wink. “A butler always had his secrets.” Before he straightens up, “Now, if you would allow me, may I help you with your hair and make-up?”

“Oh-” You’d just thought about rifling through the vanity’s drawers, with the slight hope that you might find the products you use. And as if he could read your mind, he was offering. “Are you…sure?”

“It would be my honor, my lady.” Nanami sits you down on the chair before the vanity mirror. His broad frame behind you- from here, you could see just how snugly that tailcoat fit his slender waist. “You may keep your eyes on me, or on yourself- please tilt your chin up—”

Soft, cold hands get to work.

And you really did feel like a princess.

.

.

.

By the time you’re walking downstairs for breakfast, you find yourself all dolled up just the way you like it - and you didn’t even have to give Nanami too many directions. You thoroughly considered taking him back once you leave.

With the crook of his elbow stuck out for you to hold onto, his biceps flexed, you made your way to sit at the head of a long table. Narrow and at least as lengthy as two of your bedrooms back home.

Him trailing behind you at the entrance, you excitedly walk forwards to sit down- and have your chair pushed in by…Nanami?

You look towards the entrance once more, you could’ve sworn that he was still there the last time you looked.

He swiftly placed a steaming silver dish of breakfast in front of you, and then filled the table up with so many fruit platters upon toast upon sneaky puddings. Your eyes took in the kaleidoscope of food, feeling slightly dizzy at the sheer amount. “Did you—did you make all of this just this morning, Nanami?”

“What, this?” He looked in slight surprise at the table, as if wondering whether that was really an incredible amount. “Just part of my duties, my lady. Along with the cleaning, the baking, and the watering, a few to name.”

You look behind you - the dining room overlooked part of the garden that you hadn’t noticed last night during the storm.

Plush plants that somehow seemed unaffected by the torrents of water that had poured down: roses, chrysanthemums, marigolds, and weeping willows that all swayed idly in the wind. Like they were welcoming you. Welcoming you back. They were planted in a maze-like pattern. From here you think you could see flower-filled archways, and a lake that glittered underneath the sun.

You wondered how you missed it all last night - surely you would have stumbled across a few of the hedge growth? It all seemed so barren as you’d wound your way up to the portico, so acrid. But now…

“And if you don’t mind me being so brazen, I hope you do forgive me for this.” Nanami says, and you whip your head back to him- him and a very familiar set of car keys he was holding. “I took the freedom to move your car into our driveway.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of their skull, “You mean you pushed it all the way here?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Nanami smiles that secret smile, “Would you like to take a look at it after breakfast, my lady?”

You nod fervently, gulping down the rest of your breakfast. 

In a few minutes, you’d already finished and was being tutted by Nanami into drinking enough water and putting on the outside slippers (procured by him, also your exact size) before you went outside. As expected, your car was a wreck.

There was one wheel missing and the engine seemed to be completely busted.

“I have already summoned the town’s mechanic.” He’s telling you, as you looked on at the car in gloom - that thing had taken up a lot of savings to acquire, and above all you hated to see it in such a sorry state. How would you get home?

“And?” You ask, eagerly. “Did they say when they would get here?”

“I’m afraid he won’t be here for at least a few days, my lady.” Nanami frowns empathetically, mirroring you. “The storm last night was quite vicious, you see. It has most of the roads blocked with trees, and until those get cleared up, he won’t be able to make it up here.”

You swear underneath your breath.

“But the good news is you can stay here as long as you like!” He attempts to lighten the mood, with a smile. “In fact, I might just keep you even longer.”

“Oh, but I really couldn’t impose…”

“I insist.”

And that was that, it seems you’d be staying here for a little longer than you’d originally planned. Though, with Nanami’s hospitality, you doubted you’d feel anything but at home.

Right?

.

.

.

The rest of your day and the next was spent simply reading the fantasy novels in your bedroom, lounging in the gardens and corners of the mansion. 

By your second day there you’d explored every inch of the mansion that there was to explore (except for, perhaps the basement. A strangely nostalgic door outside. Which you had reached the very foot of, before Nanami had gently nudged you back inside with some comment about wines being mulled there that cannot see the light of day until the time was right). It’d taken you five entire days to get yourself properly acquainted with the place.  

And with your profanities.

Spewing them out, you don’t think you’ve ever used before as you attempted to get even a single bar of signal for your phone.

“Goddammit-” You grit your teeth, for the nth time in the past hour. It’s your second day in the mansion, and you’re leaning over the balcony of your bedroom, so far outwards that you think you might just fall off. 

With your hand outstretched, phone fisted in the air and searching for a signal. You couldn’t call anyone like this, let alone the mechanic to confirm. None of your messages or emails went through, either. “How are we this far up and yet I can’t get a single bar- oh, when I get home I’m cancelling this stupid subscription mark my words.”

“Might I suggest, my lady–” Nanami says from behind you. He stood beside your bed, changing the blankets and fluffing the pillows. “-that in the meantime you perhaps take a look at our library? I think you’ll find that we have certain books that are quite riveting.”

“Maybe…” You respond, still stung by the uselessness of your phone. “I don’t suppose that in the meantime you could also arrange a messenger pigeon for me, could you?”

He perks up, “I shall tame a pigeon immediately-”

“No no, it’s alright.” You wave off, with a stifled laugh. Ah- he always did manage to put you in a better mood, despite your circumstances. “Maybe I’ll take a look at the library tonight, it beats trying not to smash my phone to bits.”

“Quite.” Nanami quips.

And before you can say anything more, he’s walking over to you. Placing his hand on top of the phone - effectively on top of yours—“After all, it is a beautiful day outside. Would you fancy a walk in the garden, my lady?”

“Y-yes please-” You whisper, at his proximity. Cold to the touch. 

“Then, I shall get your slippers ready.” He smiles, and leaves. You can only look from afar as he exits, letting a breath leave your chest that you didn’t know you’d been holding in for the moment.

Your head drops down without thinking to look at your phone. Only—

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

You furrow your brows, trying to press on a few buttons- but the error message doesn’t leave. It glitches. Different from the meager ‘no signal’ symbol that’d been there earlier. And the crashed page is all you can see once more.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

NOT FOUND ERROR 404.

.

.

.

The error message lasts until your walk in the gardens.

The error message lasts all the way until after lunch. After dinner.

It was in the dead of your third night here, under the veil of darkness, when you finally manage to find a signal. 

Despite your phone having crashed, and despite your feet aching from your productive day, you found yourself leaning over the edge of your bedroom balcony once more. The edge of your phone reaching outwards—one bar of signal obtained.

You breathe out in relief, falling back onto the heels of your feet. The wind was whipping in spirals around you, creating a cloud of your nightdress to billow. Soft silk. Feeling like the touch of a hand.

You look at the phone screen that had finally stopped flashing that error sign, and eagerly tap towards the phone app. Only—

Your phone vibrates with a call.

Confused at the Unknown number, you wonder whether this might be someone from home that’s been worried about your whereabouts. And so you don’t question it much when you slide the blaring bar and answer the call. “Hello?”

No one answers.

You repeat, “Hello? Can you hear me?” 

No one answers.

Perhaps it was the wind that was making you hard to hear? You turn away from the gales slightly, careful not to lose the humble signal that you have. And you press your phone harder against your face. “Hello? Who’s this-”

No one answers.

But that’s when you hear it: heavy breathing. 

Low and labored. Like someone had just run a mile and immediately picked up the phone, somehow dialing your number.

“Is this some sort of prank?” You hiss, “Because it isn’t funny. Who is this?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Hello?”

No one answers.

Heavy breathing.

“Answer me-”

There’s a sharp tone as the phone ends, whether by you or whoever was on the other end of the line you’re not quite sure.

Heavy breathing.

This time, not from the phone.

You whirl around with a gasp—the curtains gust out at a sudden wind. And there’s no one behind you - there’s no sound of breathing behind you, either. But you’re sure you’d heard it before. You’re sure.

Lightning flashes in the distance. 

There’s the rumble of thunder that almost sounds like laughter- in fact, you’re sure that if you let your ears keenly listen in, it was laughter. Masculine and deep. Echoing into the distance, like it was someone surrounding you.

With your phone clutched to your thundering chest, you’re quickly walking to the safety of your bedroom inside. And you decide to lock every window that night.

You couldn’t sleep.

.

.

.

The day after that - your third day in the mansion now, your fourth night - there was still no sign of the car mechanic. You’d taken to sleeping during the day, lounged upon an intricately woven love seat that was inside your chambers.

Of course, Nanami hadn’t questioned a thing.

He was as warm and welcoming as ever, of course. Always so efficient getting you the things you needed, helping you get ready, and cooking your favorite foods - almost too efficient. Any time you looked at him, he never seemed to have a hair out of place, despite being embroiled in the toughest of domestic tasks (he took offense any time you offered to pull your own weight until the mechanic arrived).

Practically perfect.

Almost unnatural. 

You wondered how he had the time to do it all…

And that foggy night, you tossed and turned amongst the sea of expensive silken blankets. Ultimately, as the clock struck 2AM and you still found yourself unable to sleep, you got off the side of the mattress and walked. To the candelabra on the cabinet. And then outside.

With no fixed aim nor destination, your feet took you down one of the paths you’d explored during your days here. Though, you had the faintest feeling that even if you hadn’t explored- you’d have known your way around here. Past unwilted flowers and paintings that seemed to stare you down as you passed. And soon enough, you were standing in front of the great double doors of the library.

One of them, at least.

Nanami had told you that the mansion boasted about five massive libraries, filled to the brim with books across all ages and authors. And the smell of pages and put-out fires greet your senses when you enter, your slippers thudding across the cold stone floor.

The ceiling was high, almost never-ending.

And from above peered severe gargoyles, their wings outstretched, and their mouths mid-scream as if to warn you not to take a step closer. You wrapped your arms around your body and shivered, looking up at the high shelves.

With one hand craned out, you trace your fingers down their thick spines. Not a speck of dust on them.

Until, finally, the hairs at the back of your neck seem to raise–

You look behind you.

Nothing.

It was dark in the library, the sole source of light being the paper-thin moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Casting an almost eerie glow on everything it’s spindly fingers touched. 

Though, you still don’t think you would be able to sleep if you headed back to your bedroom right now. And you curiously read the book spines where you stopped walking (it was too dark to make them out properly, yet you still take a few of them with you, in hopes of a distraction).

You sit down at the nearest wooden table, and the singular candle holder in the middle of it flickers to life. As if awakened by your presence.

You really wondered what this mechanism must be - you made a mental note to ask Nanami tomorrow. And in the glow, you could now see what books you’d actually picked up.

Baker’s Book (1901)

Sebastian’s Book on How to Keep the House Warm

Pride and Prejudice

A Historical Analysis of the Nanami Mansions

That one was struck through, its scabrous leather cover torn as if someone had ripped through it with a knife. You squinted as you tried to read through the title, to no avail.

Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love

That last one seemed a little out of place amongst the rest- well. You took a look around. Perhaps it wasn’t that out of place.

And in the dancing candlelight, you open the first book and begin to read.

.

.

.

You’d fallen asleep there.

Somewhere midway through a paragraph about how this very mansion had no official founder, and how it had been handed to the first owner by chance; thus, resulting in its descent into discourse over ownership (with masters who, surprisingly, rather than fighting for it had been fighting not to have it), and how the whereabouts of the last master was unknown.

You dreamt of contracts and haggling masters and packed bags and demons. The red, red eyes of a demon that watched from the shadows.

As much a part of the mansion as the mansion was part of him.

And you swear that in the depths of your slumber, you felt cold, cold hands graze your skin. Your cheek. Your arms. With his pointed fingernails that were meant to kill.

A candle snuffs out.

You woke up and it was morning, and someone had draped a blanket over you.

.

.

.

Nanami had noticed that you were becoming more and more engulfed in your books. After several more tries to reach a phone signal had failed, you’d resigned yourself to merely waiting for the mechanic to get to you.

He informed you that the road clean up seemed to have been taking longer than usual, given the constant downpour the land was experiencing. And you understood.

After all, you weren’t lacking for anything here at all. Nanami made sure of that.

You’d moved on from the mysterious, and half-recorded, history of the mansion. Somehow more interesting than you might have imagined. On towards the baking book, the novel, even the domestic book.

Until the only thing left out of the book you’d picked was the eerie one about demons. Though you could easily go back and choose another, you weren’t a quitter!

And so you found yourself flipping through its pages, all the while watched over by a silent Nanami.

You begrudgingly admitted that the book had you enraptured. And soon enough, you were drinking in all there was to drink about the rituals it took to summon said demons, the way they could take on the most exquisite appearances, and even a few ‘real life’ recounts of people who’ve encountered them.

“Look at this one, Nanami.” You pointed somewhere on the page, and he leaned over your shoulder kindly to follow your finger. “The person saying they saw a demon here is from this very town, hah! What a coincidence.”

He smiles, “What a coincidence indeed, my lady.”

“Just imagine- meeting a demon. I wonder what it would be like- I’d probably get my soul stolen in an instant.”

“Demons steal souls only after they’ve bound a human in a contract, my lady. Though other methods of payments for a demon’s services can manifest themselves in the form of blood, flesh, sex. They thirst for those things, demons. Going without is almost worse than death- of course, a demon can’t die.” At your slightly stunned silence, Nanami cocks his head. “Chapter sixteen, the ways of the body.”

“R-right.” You start, “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d be the type to be into such things.”

He bears a secret smile. A secret, secret smile. “There is much that you don’t know of me, my lady.” Nanami spreads butter on a piece of toast without you even asking to, and places it gently down on your plate. “But of course, there is much time to find out.”

.

.

.

It’s by your sixth day that Nanami finally knocks at your bedroom door, deep into the evening. And he informs you that-

“The mechanic shall be here in a few hours, my lady.” You look outside through your window, at the blue and gold night. And of course he notices that little action - he notices everything. “I may have had a hand in the somewhat ah- untimely manner of things. You see, I had pressured him into coming as soon as possible, and it seems that the roads have only just cleared.”

“Oh, I see.” You reply, “I expect I should go down to wait for him in a bit, then.”

“If you so wish, my lady.”

After dinner, you took your demon book with you and paced the halls of the mansion. Just waiting. It was a few hours past when the mechanic was supposed to come, and you could feel yourself getting antsy. No matter how many times Nanami told you the mechanic would be here soon, and that he would take care of it all.

Nonetheless, when you found the corridors thoroughly trodden, you stepped outside. It was a clear night out, and you sat on the porch with your book in your lap.

Reading through the passages in the dim twilight as you waited.

You were on the final chapter now.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion.

Hearken, o’ mortal. In another story from the deep, the darkness, I entrust your ears with the legend of the Nanami mansion.

Hundred of years old. It stands still, braving the storms and the times, a relic of a past that never changes. And shall never change. Not as long as the mansion is haunted by the ghosts of its past, they say that the very walls of the house are infused with a force unknown.

Or so they say.

No mortal soul can say with utmost certainty when the mansion was built, nor by who, nor for what purpose. Only that the line of its masters has been both gruesome and bloody; history claims that what had once been impassioned family feuds over ownership quickly turned into a family heirloom that no pawn shop would accept.

No soul wished to be the master of a demon.”

A twig snaps.

And you gasp, looking up- though there was no one there. The light that flooded in from the mansion revealed no one outside, and so, shaking, you kept on reading.

The mechanic still wasn’t here.

“Yes, o’ mortal. It is true.

Though one cannot say for certain the dark forces that envelop the house, it is what resides inside that is sure to catch the interest of a demonologist such as you and I.

A demon.

They say that he - or, at least, he who takes the shape of a man - runs the household as if its masters still occupy its decadent bones. As if its masters weren’t taken by the very force that now cleans the windows, and grows pretty flowers in the mansion’s garden. As if its masters still live.

Still linger.

But do not be fooled, dear reader, the only thing that lingers in this household is the demon himself. His smile gentle. His face kindly. It would not be out of the realm of possibility that those of mortal desires, like us, are disarmed by the handsome face he uses to mask his bloodthirst. And he has snuffed the mansion of anything that makes this house a home.”

Someone was watching you.

Somehow, it didn’t feel human.

“One by one, it started with the other servants, centuries ago. Those who were lucky to flee their posts and tell the tale spoke of a shadow that haunted their every waking moment, of a fleeting presence that produced nail marks in the morning, or items in their chambers suddenly unravelled.

He was the model worker, unsusceptible.

And by the time the masters of the household realized, it was far too late for their mortal souls. The servants had disappeared, the livestock had fallen to plague, and the only residents of the mansion were them. And him.”

Someone was waiting.

You knew it didn’t feel human.

“There need not be much speculation on the fates of the owners in the house at the time, after which there was a scramble to pawn the mansion by living relatives.

Though, by that point, rumors of the mansion’s more supernatural occurrences were already beginning to fester, and the effort was futile. 

And though the mansion stands lonely now, never think that it is abandoned, o’ mortal. Perhaps you shall find that the chandeliers are always lit, and the beds are made. Dinners at the mansion are lavish and a-plenty. All of this can be given credit to the demon that runs it, of course.”

You stand up.

The mechanic was countless hours past when he was supposed to come, and you guessed he wouldn’t be making it today, either. Perhaps something more urgent had come up. Your feet step backwards- but something stops you, as if an invisible force. And without taking your eyes away from the page, you step forwards.

“Why this ancient creature torments the mortals that reside in the mansion, yet takes such meticulous care of it is a question unanswered to us. Perhaps we may never know.

Though some whispers claim that the rightful owner isn’t any lord or ladyship or bastard heir. No, not at all. It is - and brace yourselves for this, dear reader - none other than the demon himself.”

Forwards.

“Of course, this is only one theory put forth by demonologists. But as the rightful heir to the estate, the demon takes his time finishing off the foolish mortals that believe that it is theirs to claim. When, in actuality, you are stepping into the very abode of the creature. And no one - no one - has lasted longer than six days in its abode.

A creature that cannot ache. A creature that cannot love.”

Forwards. 

“And he will always have his door open to the ignorant that walk in. Into what one may think is a heaven named after his very self.”

You stop.

“Nanami Kento, of the Nanami Mansions.”

The book drops from your hands.

A scream in your throat, you’re realizing that you’d walked yourself - almost in a trance - right up to the shrub-covered door to the basement. The very same one that Nanami had nudged you away from last time.

Nanami…a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know what to think.

Almost as if it will provide you the answers, you reach out and twist the basement door handle. It creaks out in agony as it opens, and you almost have half the mind to run away right then, right now.

But you’re no quitter. 

In nothing but the pale moonlight, you step inside the basement and make your way down its narrow stairway. They were made of metal, biting through the soles of your slips with each step. You’re squinting your eyes in the darkness, hands reached out in front of you like you’d find something.

And then—

And then, right as you reach the landing of the staircase, you step in something wet.

It almost felt like a puddle after rain. Though the liquid stuck to your slippers, thicker than that. And as you raised your feet, it created a hollow squelch; the viscous sap looked much darker than water was supposed to be.

You gasp. It can’t be-

Lightning strikes.

Just a snapshot of light. Like someone had taken a photograph and burned it into your retinas.

In that split-second, you saw that what you’d thought was a puddle of water wasn’t really water at all. It was red. It was thick.

And it was leading a pathway all the way down to a body in the middle of the basement.

Two-toned hair bled red. Eyes pure white.

The mechanic lay dead on the basement floor. For how long, you weren’t quite sure.

With a scream, you almost slip on the blood as you sprint upstairs. Running out into the pouring rain outside - if you’d been guided in a daze to the massacre, then your brain was working in overdrive to guide you out. 

Slippers squelching. Eyes stinging with rain. You couldn’t even see where you were going, and it reminded you of the night you arrived here.

Yet, you’ll always find the mansion - always. And in almost no time (though it felt like eons to your poor, shivering body), you’re running inside the mansion and slamming! the front door shut.

Body pushed against the door. Lungs heaving. You gulp.

With your eyes downturned, your watch the rich carpet beneath your feet drench with beads of water. Rusted water. Blood.

Fuck. 

You had to get out of here right now. 

Just as soon as the thought has struck your brain, the candles go out. Every. Single. One of them. Startled, you’re whipping around and trying to open the door- bang! bang! bang! It only rattles underneath your hands, firmly shut with unseen bolts and padlocks that you wouldn’t have been able to open no matter what.

And it’s only with the thin glow of the moonlight that you can move your urgent body, one step after the other. Jerky, as if you have to force yourself to do it.

As if you have to fight against some outside force to do so.

You knew that no matter where you went inside the mansion, Nanami would be able to find you. What if you—the balcony.

You gasp, and try to tamper the thought down as swiftly as it had formed. 

Without a second of lingering any further, your feet dart you up the sprawling staircase. Spirals. Heart thundering, feet thudding, and your gasps laborious as you ran towards the bedroom that he had oh-so-graciously given to you.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Steady.

The complete opposite of your own, follow you the closer you get to it. Seeing that gleaming wooden door wink at you from the end of the hallway, like an old friend.

Until, finally, you’re throwing open the door and running inside-

“My lady.”

You howl in terror and it’s swallowed up by the sudden crashing of the storm outside. You hadn’t just raced into your room- you’d ended up bumping into none other than Nanami Kento’s firm, toned chest.

Carefully looping his arms around you.

“You’re-” You hiss, stepping backwards. “You’re a-”

“Yes.”

And then suddenly he’s behind you. Caging you inside the room, with no possibility of running back where you’d come from. 

He looms, larger than life. His shadow walking inside- “I can’t believe you’re a-” You stagger backwards, “So all this time-”

“All this time.” Nanami breathes out, even though you knew that his lungs didn’t need to work. Then he grins and oh- it’s the one thing that you could see completely clearly in the dimness of the night: his stark-white fangs, those crimson eyes, pupils like a snake’s. 

They bore down at you, especially when your limp legs stumble- and Nanami’s right there to steady you. With his inhumanly strong arms capturing your waist, and his chest pressed to yours. 

Oh. 

That low voice of his buries deep within your eardrums, sensual. “And I’ve been waiting…” He practically purrs, and your thighs clench. “-so, so long for you, my lady.”

You feel shivers go down your spine when Nanami nuzzles his nose against your throat, “A- a long time- so you mean that-”

“Yes.”

“Am I an descendant to the owner of this house-”

“Yes.” He sighs out his answers, like it took everything in him. Like he was breathing life into you. And you can’t help but notice that the two of you have edged towards the bed now, and you slightly turn your head to look at the mirror on the wall. “And you don’t know how starved I have been, my lady.”

Only to find that Nanami’s reflection didn’t show up on it.

It looked as if you were standing by yourself, and the blond-haired man (demon, more like) only holds you tighter in response. He murmurs in your ear, “Though enlightening, that book of yours doesn’t hold much truth.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Well-” His fangs glint, “-it does.”

You shiver. Not only with coldness, not only with fear.

Something more akin to a carnal need, with him pressed up against you like this.

“Though, it was wrong about two things-” Nanami’s plump lips graze down the column of your throat, and you wonder whether he can sense the way you grow…wet. “-a demon can yearn, a demon can love.”

Oh. 

One of his overlarge hands drag down your spine, fiddling with the ties of a dress that he’d tailored to your exact size. Perhaps centuries ago.

“And this demon has been waiting for centuries for your soul to return, my lady.”

Your arms tighten on his shoulders, and tender slip up to loop around his neck. “I’m here, Kento.” Your body is boneless in his hold, and he holds you to him like he wants you to be of one soul.

.

.

.

There’s a sodden squeeeeelch as he’s lightly tuggin’ those cute panties of yours aside- how could you even walk around with something so sweet on you?

Nanami feels his oh-so-famished tastebuds start to water at the sight of your pretty, pretty cunt. Just a thin line of drool makin’ its way down the side of his stern lips, mirroring the way that your tight hole was weeping out.

He rubs his glove-clad thumb down the front of your glistening folds, and you whimper at the scratch of its smooth texture. “Have you ever done something like this before, my lady?”

With a mewl, you nod. 

And you can’t help but notice the way that Nanami’s jaw clenches. “I see.” And there’s an inkling of something dark in his tone that you can’t quite pinpoint right now, roverin’ his mean fingerpads just over where your poor clit was. “And, forgive me if this is too forward, but have you ever fully enjoyed something like this before, my lady?”

“Well-” You try to keep your tone even, bucking off the bed. You were all sprawled out with only your drenched panties on, and Nanami Kento was on his knees by the foot of the bed.

On his knees for you.

His lips twitched impatiently, a sort of hunger in his eyes the longer he had to watch your needy pussy cling onto nothing. Continuing, “Well, I’ve liked it before with other people but-”

“Yes, my lady?”

And as you finish off, you slightly duck your head in shame. Whispering the words out (though you knew he’d hear with his demonic senses anyways). “But none of them have ever made me…cum before. I can reach it by myself but with other people- you know.”

“I understand.” You peer up to see the way that Nanami stares kindly at you. Something understanding in his eyes. Something…primal.

And your cunt starts to throb even more once he reaches his dominant right hand up to his mouth, then proceeding to bite down on the edge of his glove, and pull it off with his tongue. So unintentionally attractive. “Then, kindly allow me.”

In a split-second, his thick fingertip is probin’ between your pussylips.

Feeling the hotness of you clenching ‘round him and he groans- “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, madam?” Just the slightest hitch in his tone as he’s then sinking in with a slooooooppy slurp. The kind that leaves your ears ringing and your mouth dropping with each scouring inch he eases in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your skull at the feeling of his tender girth poking your insides. “O-oh my god.” Bucking your hips even deeper into his touch- “How does it feel so good already?”

“Oh, is that so–?” Nanami’s blond lashes flutter in amusement, “But you haven’t felt anything yet, my lady. Won’t you just raise your hips for me-” He guides you, and you’re squirming down his lengthy digits. “-yes, yes. Just like that, keep taking it all, alright?”

“I am I am-” Sobbing.

And you don’t know where you’re bawling more from - your swollen lips on your face, or the ones down below. The ones that he was striking viciously with his mountainous knuckles, every time he thrusted to let the long, solid inches of his finger delve inside.

Inside and inside.

Pushin’ in- he was just so eager to plunge himself inside.

Until the very forefront of his knuckles smacked your pussylips, and Nanami’s ruthlessly pressing his ring finger against your outer cunt. Smooch-smooch-smooching the very round tip of his ring finger against your pulsing clit, until he’s trying to fit that inside, too.

“Easy does it.” Nanami hisses, blond brows furrowing. Beads of sweat start decorating his forehead as he concentrates. “Easy- eeeeeasy. You can take it, my lady.”

And if you thought that the stretch of one of his fingers was enough to drive you wild, then you weren’t ready for two. “Oh my- fuck. You’re so mean.” You whine, holding onto his other gloved hand. Nanami has his fingers romantically intertwined with yours, and you were just clawing at his wrist there. 

The demon raises a brow - devilish. “Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” You rush to blurt out, your hips startin’ to gyrate. It took you a few vulgar strokes to get used to the size of him stretchin’ out your tiniest hidden nooks and crannies open - you swear that Nanami’s fingers were larger than normal. Scouring oh-so-deeply inside. “No no no- keep going. Ngh, you’re a-almost there.”

“Mmm, am I?” His lip curls, “And I wonder if ah- ‘there’ would feel even better with three fingers, hm?”

“O-oh…”

“That’s all you have to say, madam?” Nanami genuinely questions, though there’s a certain waver in his voice that lets you know he was teasing you. He was making your honeyed cunt grow even wetter with how Nanami Kento, of all beings, was being mean to you.

And with a few more slashing strokes, he’s fully opened up the clingy channel of your walls- fuck, he couldn’t even reel his two fingers back without your needy pussy trying to gulp him back up again.

Then with a sudden, soaked squelch you’re feeling a third of his fingertips kiss your tight hole. Tapping just a few times before he instantly presses down on your clit and makes you gasp- “Oh, fuck.”

The perfect moment for Nanami to shove his extended digit inside. All three of them expanding and contracting, scissoring a few times to engrave the crowned edges of his fingers against your most tender spots. “There-” Nanami hisses, between clenched teeth. “There there there-”

You’re suddenly seeing white- why? 

Because on that fourth bludgeon of his, Nanami’s easily locating your g-spot to pummel.

“-you’re taking it all so well, my lady. S’like you’re made f’me…heh.” 

“Shit-” Only blubbering and panting, he’s hittin’ your favorite spot so hard that your vision starts to blue - and you don’t know whether it’s because of tears or the sheer amount of white-hot pleasure that he’s making run through your body. “Shit shit shit shit- oh. Right there, keep going, Kento.”

Yet another smack! to that gooey bundle of nerves—“Ohhh, how I love when you call me that, madam.” Hard.

Push after push after push, and he’s spreading his prying tips so open- letting the doughy edges catch on the crevices of your g-spot. Meanly caressing. 

Even though he’s speeding up, slick dripping down the sides of his overworking wrists like a faucet, you don’t think he misses that lewd target of his even a single time. Push after push after push. Dizzy with the force, you look up n’ find that Nanami’s slitted pupils were glowing.

He was using his demonic powers to perfectly angle the strikes of his fingerpads against your sweetest, sultriest spot. Stickin’ straight against your nerves, you had absolutely no chance of a breather when he was using some sort of x-ray vision to keep your pussy captive.

“Captive?” Nanami reads your thoughts, “Madam, I fear that this isn’t even- hah, half of my speed. Would you like me to accelerate?”

And he does.

And you’re feeling so much bliss at the moment that you can’t stop yourself from anchoring your feet onto the mattress and pushing off- unsure whether you wanted to help meet his cadence or run away—

“Ah ah, what an adorable feat.”

His husky baritone breaks through your hazy thoughts- and before you know it, Nanami’s free hand untangles from yours to grip the sides of your neck n’ tug you right back.

Slapping that cutely sensitive front of your pussy with his knuckles, the demon chuckles darkly as you squirm at the pleasure. “You don’t think you can run away from me, can you, my silly lady?” With a growl, he tightens his restraint on your throat and makes you wince at the lack of oxygen. “You can’t. You won’t.”

And with that, Nanami cranes his watering mouth down to kiss the insides of your thighs. Letting the syrupy-sweet sheen of your slick coat his chin, “I’ve waited for you for centuries, and I’ll wait for you centuries more. I’ll find you.” Tightening. “Don’t think of running, madam.”

“Won’t- won’t-” You squeal out, and through the blurry gaps of your vision you can see the way that Nanami’s salivating. The way that his lips edge towards your heated core, the way he looks like he’s starving the longer he stares down at your cunt. “But, Kento, I do have one request of you.”

He snaps his head up immediately, “Anything, madam.”

“Could you please, ngh-” Your lips wobble desperately as you utter, and Nanami listens enraptured to every word. “-please put your mouth on me?”

And the stern man - a demon, living for centuries, unphased as he waited for your soul to meet him again - lets his mouth drop into a heated ‘oh’ as he registers. As he lets your words throb all the way at his furious cock.

“As you wish, my lady.”

Then you’re feeling the scorching hot sensation of his breath cloud your inner thighs, slithering upwards just in time with his mouth. “As you wish-” Nanami whispers, more to himself - more like a mantra. 

“As you wish, as you wish, as you- mmm.” His mouth slips over the crevice of your cunt, and you’re feeling him perfectly slot his lips with your folds. He cracks his ravenous mouth open, “Allow me to- oh.”

Before immediately shutting himself up after the first candied taste of your cunt. 

He lets his slicked tongue squeeze inside, gulping. “F-forgive me for not finishing my sentence. What I meant was, allow me to-” You buck, shoving him nose-deep between your sultry pussylips. “-oh, fuck. Forgive me, you just have me so…”

And he can’t even finish his sentence like this.

Because every time he’s parting those stern lips of his to speak, yet another glittery wad of your slick slips between that greedy maw of his. Pooling at the back of his mouth like some puddle, he can’t fucking get enough of your sweet, sweet juices. “It’s just- the taste of you. Shit. My lady, and who has allowed you to taste this sinful?” He hums. Guttural.

“Mmm, I dunno. Maybe you should’ve found out earlier-” You say, coyly. And raise your hips up to let his strong, velvety tongue pry inside n’ out. Almost fighting his fingers for space inside.

“Maybe you should’ve appeared earli- oh, fuck.” Shit, did he love hearing your gorgeous voice in conversation. 

But if that meant breaking off his prolonged, open-mouthed kiss with your pussy then he wasn’t wasting any time. He was just slathering his maw widely agape, the flat tastebuds on top of his tongue moving back and forth and all over.

And spearheading just his honed tip inside, the crowned girth of his tongue snakes all the way to your innards. Jostling his own fingers-

You gasp when that only makes him skid his fingertips against your g-spot even further. 

“I promise, I’ll be able to finish my sentences-” Nanami seethes. “-promise I’ll be able to, just with another- mmm, just another taste-” And his tongue lavishly licks up and down your slit. “-and another- oh, maybe one more-”

Again and again.

He’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His sizzlin’ hot tastebuds probe their way inside, before ultimately pulling out and resting against your clit. Nanami counts your throbbing pulse one-two-three-four times before he starts fucking you with it again.

All three of his digits and his tongue. Swirlin’ in dizzying patterns around and around and drawing a cute heart on top of your nub. Followed right up by his silvery initials—‘N.K.’

You’re shivering, curling the tips of your toes as the fatness of his tongue rolls over your clit. Again and again. And his fingers are just merciless- digging three slender circumferences against the side of your walls, feeling that if he could thrust even deeper to hit the side of your cervix then he would have ages ago. In fact…

“Wh-what are you-” You jump your upper half off of the springy sheets - it was as if your wet dream was coming to life. Nanami was elongating the tendrils of his fingers with supernatural powers, slipping every thorough inch even deeper. “Oh my god- ngh, now that’s just unfair-”

“And yet, I’m not the one that thought of it.” He snickers, plunging his digits further. And further and further. 

So deep, in fact, that you think you can feel his slimy, slick-glazed tips all the way near the back of your throat. Stabbing in thorough thrashes, you huff. “And yet- who’s the one that’s, mmm, pussydrunk, hm?”

“No- no no no, I’m not pussydrunk, madam.” Nanami insists, “Not at all. This is just a slight affliction that I- mmpf.”

You clench ‘round his fingers and that only makes him jerk his face even deeper- thank goodness he didn’t have to fucking breathe, because he was spending all his time swabbin’ away. Using the hand he still had on your throat, he pulls you in incredibly. “It’s not that m’pussydrunk—” Slurring his damn words. “-it’s just that…”

“Mhm—?”

You’re so wet by now that you begin to gush down his face. And Nanami didn’t have blood running through his veins, of course, but you should still feel his cheekbones burn with heat.

You’d made the centuries-old demon blush.

You’d made him gurgle on the slippery wads of your slick.

So completely pussydrunk that the thought of you realizing he was so- and taking your treacly cunt away made him glue his lips to your clit with a slight cry. A slight whimper—“D-don’t take this pretty pussy away from me.” His hand lifts off of your neck to hold onto your thighs, tugging. “Please?”

And as if to prove his point - to prove his desperation - the roverin’ tip of Nanami’s tongue moves even harder against your pussy.

Even faster.

And his scouring fingerpads probe in so deep that you throw your head back with a moan. Those wriggling tips filling up your every orifice, “Yes-” You weave your fingers into his unruly golden locks. “M’not gonna, Kento-” Gasping. “M’not gonna take myself away s-so you don’t have to- oh.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Just so rough with it. “Thank you- thank you- thank you-” 

You swear he’s bruising at the battered innards of your walls, and he’s leaving nail marks for daaaaays upon your thighs. Battling with his own lecherous fingers. Moving his lush tastebuds again and again and again-

“Thank you for lettin’ me taste such a sweet, sweet pussy, madam.” Nanami scorches out against your cunt, slobbering all down it. “Thank you for letting ‘er- ngh, cum all down my tongue.”

“C-cum?” You lift your dazed head at his pussydrunk babbling - only to find that it wasn’t just babbling, after all.

Because Nanami’s honed abilities meant that he could sense when the zapping fireworks at the pit of your stomach grew, he could fucking smell the honeyed fragrance of your cunt growing close. And, sure as day, with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re falling apart on his fingers and his mouth.

Your back arching you even closer against his nuzzlin’ nose, you cry out as your high zaps right through you. “It feels so good- oh, Kento. Oh my g-god.”

“Mmm, the opposite, my lady.” Nanami chuckles, fucking you through every peak of your high- you should have expected that he has a sixth sense for it. And with the soaring peaks of your orgasm, Nanami mazes his fingertips to directly hit your g-spot.

So good.

You’re drooling through your entire high stupidly, your eyes watering through the sensitive pangs of pleasure. Tuggin’ on Nanami’s clammy scalp to pull him in even deeper, and he was more than happy to let himself be moved. To be ridden.

Long, sloppy drag of his tongue making you arch your back. “Sh-shut up-” Mewling out, you let yourself be wrung dry of the waves of pleasure. 

“As you wish, madam.”

And he dutifully listens, there for only your euphoria. To which you respond by elongating your high by grinding down on his face—allll the way from the point of his handsome chin to the tip of his straight nose. “Shit-” You whimper, “Shit shit shit- never felt so good. Never felt like this.”

Nanami groans ‘round your clit, the vibrations sending you into a frenzy.

“M’serious-” You prattle out, your movements eventually slowing. That might just have been the best orgasm of your entire life - you were never going to be the same. “It just felt so good, Kento…wait, you’re not- ngh, done?”

He only shakes his head.

He only lets his slitherin’ tongue lap and lap at the teary crevice of your pussy.

With every lick, you’re feeling your body go into overdrive. Heat flaring. Heart racing. You absolutely thrash against the damp sheets of the bed as he continues- like you’d never even reached your high. 

Just plap after plap after plap of his knuckles against your tender outer pussy- and you start to wonder whether it doesn’t hurt for him. Whether his wrist doesn’t sting. Whether his mouth wasn’t swollen n’ rubbed raw on your drippin’ wet pussy, “Mmm, told me to shut up and make you feel good, didn’t you, madam?” You weren’t entirely sure that that was what you said, verbatim. 

Yet you’re too gone on his silvery tastebuds to bite back anything now. “Y-yes…?”

“And that’s exactly what m’doing.”

He’s overstimulating you even more. Thrusting his tongue between those sopping wet lips of yours to poke at your throbbing g-spot, you swear he’s able to elongate his wet muscle even further.

Slashing against your most tender spots-

“Sh-shit- but m’so sensitive.” Whining out, you half-heartedly attempt to tug him off of your pussy- but it was as if Nanami was plastered to your wettened lips. “I don’t even know if I can cum so soon again, Kento.”

He slightly raises his head - not enough to stop his drivelling mouth, of course - and raises a blond brow. “You don’t know, my lady?”

You shake your head.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that said, he’s fingering you to make a point. Staring at the writhing expressions on your face every time Nanami’s digits plunged inside, they hit the near-back of your pussy with such slurping sounds.

Hit after hit. Teasingly kissin’ against the throbbing spot of your nerves, and that’s when you can feel the fireworks start up again in the pit of your stomach once more-

And that’s when Nanami can sense it.

Smell it.

Taste it- fuck, it was as if you became even sweeter on his tongue any time you were nearing your high. And he doesn’t say a single word - doesn’t waste the time to - only thrashing and thrashing, he hits the bruised area of your g-spot and watches as you fall apart once more.

Pleasure zipping through your body.

Toes curling.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and your mattress was all but drenched with the moisture.

“Oh my god-” You’re all but limp by your second orgasm, letting it wrack your body mercilessly. “You were right-” Your breath hitches. “-ngh, m’cumming again, Kento. C-cumming—”

“Mmm, I know, madam.” Nanami grins, and you can feel it form against the tender folds of your pussy. Branding itself there. “I did that.”

He was mean.

You buck and you buck and you buck as he licks every crevice of your insides, and once he was done fucking you well n’ proper through your other high- the slicked tip of Nanami’s tongue slurps back in once again. As if to do it all over again.

He feels you clench ‘round him urgently, “A-again?” You ask, with a weepy tremble in your voice.

“Mmm, don’t think you can do it a third time?” Nanami gutturally groans out, “D’you wanna find- ngh, find out, hm?”

“Actually…” And he hangs onto your every word. 

Your jittery fingers intertwine with his polished hair, tugging. Continuing where you left off, “I was thinking that m’ready for something else.” He looks on in something that almost looks like disbelief - desperation. As if he couldn’t believe that these words were really spilling out of your mouth. “Wan’ your cock, Kento.”

And something in him seems to…snap.

“A-as you wish, my lady.”

He bows to you, right then and there.

In practically no time - though, to Nanami who’d been waiting for centuries, it only felt like centuries more - you’re being pushed back on the mattress until your head softly nudges the headboard. Nanami heaves himself up on the bed.

And you can’t help but notice that for someone who always looked so prim and put-together, he looked absolutely gone.

Hair sticking up in multiple angles. Eyes half-lidded and drunk. Slick dribbling down the sides of his mouth and down his prominent Adam’s apple. It drops from his fangs, which have now elongated. And lecherously down the front of his suit, which was a darker color than it usually was- drenched in heaps of your mess. In heaps of his mess. 

In quick, severe movements, Nanami takes his suit off. So fast and urgent that you can hear the whooshing sounds of the fabric attempting not to rip at the seams.

When it gets to his pants, your eyes drop down - it’s been a feast for the eyes with every layer that Nanami peeled away. First it revealed those broad, milky shoulders of his. Then it revealed his plush pecs, his ladder-like abs.

Until finally you were following the line of his sparse happy trail down to his thick, aching cock. And fuck- a few profanities leave your mouth, he was the biggest size you’ve ever seen. 

Just about nine inches (perhaps ten), with a plethora of winding veins that made it look as though he’d feel like he was twelve. A thick hilt. Ready balls. And the fat mushroom tip of his cock was glazed in a glittery topping of precum, pulsing primally as the cold air hit him. Dripping. 

“Anything you wish, my lady.”

Shivering at his serious tone of voice, you reach a hand up to your own collar-

Only to be halted in your tracks by an invisible force.

Nanami had one hand raised, his power surging. “Allow me.” He says, and with a harsh brush of his animalistic fingernails, he’s tearing your dress into shreds. Like butter under his touch. Easily falling apart. 

Your dress to your bra, they fall into tatters. And the only thing left is your slick-flooded panties that he scrapes a hand down to tear off, as well.

Before stopping- and seeming to think better of it- “Actually.” Nanami starts, “Keep them on.”

Oh, he was being filthy.

He was being mean.

And before your hazy brain can even register it, your legs are being flapped open. Kept firmly apart by two of his soft hands, feather-light, he pins them to the mattress and lets his slick cockhead slide juuuuust between your pussylips.

Back and forth, back and forth. The weight of his throbbing girth only makes you grow even wetter, and you’re gasping by the time he’s glazed himself up ‘nough to start pushing in.

“Now-” Nanami hisses, fangs grit. His heated body hunches over, and sweat beads down from his forehead to yours. The first feeling of your pussy clamping all ‘round his rock-hard length, and Nanami is a broken man. Slamming his hand down on the top of the mahogany headboard. “Now, madam, we’re gonna have to breathe, alright? Breathe with me now-”

You gasp- “Fuck- fuck, you’re so big-”

“Mhmmm—c’mon, my lady, breathe with me.” And though he was almost falling apart at the seams, he found the ability to string together coherent-enough sentences. Seething. “Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in–”

In and out. In and out.

Just like the way that plush, pinkish tip of his was swabbin’ repeatedly- he was pumping out half-ruts, just trying to fit himself inside your pussy.

Opening you up wiiiidely—

You try to follow along with what he says, “Fuck-” But the stretch of the first inch of his cock fitting in was incredible, he was molding his way inwards. Shaping out your snug channel, “But how am I supposed to when you feel like- hah- that-”

“Awww, difficult, hm?” Nanami coos, empathetically. You nod, all teary-eyed and pretty taking his elongated shaft that he can’t help but let himself swell just a lil’ wider. Thicker.

You’re taking this change in size with a moan.

And he ponders to himself for a few more strokes, getting used to the warmth of your cunt. Before humming like he’d just been struck with an epiphany- and soon enough, Nanami’s holding out his strong, vein-covered forearm in front of your line of vision.

Murmuring, “Then bite on it.”

Your eyes widen, “What?” But before you know it, you’re already making use of the demon’s sinful little solution - the next inch that he’s somehow mazing inside you, you’re sinking your teeth into the golden flesh of his forearm and taking it.

“Mmm, just like that.” He pants, squeeze-squeeze-squeeeezing his way past your puckered folds. The globular front of his cock kisses either side of your walls, pinpointing specks of pre everywhere his fingers had touched just moments earlier. “Take it- take it take it take it- sloooow and easy. You’re doing so well, my lady.”

Sensually, he’s managing to let your ravenous cunt swallow up his inches. 

And your sobs hitch after every stroke, it just felt like his fleshy tip was gracing your very lungs. You straddle his slim waist- tugging. “K-Kento…”

“Impatient, are we?” He raises a brow, “You have to take it easy, madam, if we want it to fit- breathe in. Breeeeathe in—”

And every time you did, he was shovelling in a few more inches. But the thing about Nanami Kento is that he made sure he tended to your every need; playfully rolling his thumb over your clit as he pumped himself into your hot core. 

Which meant that he took things slow, took things at a pace that your feverishly needy mind was being infuriated by.

Without warning (though, later on, you’re sure that he’d sensed it coming and simply let you), you lock your ankles around his hips and pull-pull-pull him in. 

And with that, his roverin’ wet shaft.

Bottoming out.

The headboard he’s holding onto cracks under the pressure.

You wanted him deep inside you. And Nanami can only respond by spitting out a line of swears that hits you in a scorching breeze, his face twisting into something of pure ecstasy. “O-oh.” Nanami’s voice stutters. Nanami’s voice cracks. “Ohhh, you shouldn’t have done that, my lady.”

And without further ado, he’s fucking you like a madman.

“Wanted to t-take it easy- you shouldn’t have done that-” He manages to spit out. Body shivering. His cock throbbing angrily right at the spongy platform of your cervix. “You r-really really…” Dazed, slightly, like his body was moving in water, he unhooks his palm from the now-splintered headboard. Then he throws those cute legs of yours over his deltoids.

Letting them lock firmly behind his sweaty neck, Nanami’s bending his ripped body doooooown. Folding you in half, too- you swear you’re hearing a few of your joints pop! 

And Nanami’s only hazily gliding his palm down your limbs, a soothing coldness overcoming them. No broken bones on his watch (even if his body was moving before his mind right now). So there’s no excuse for why you can’t bend in half for him. No excuse for why he can’t press his sticky forehead to yours and drill his hips even harder.

No excuse for the way that rotund tip of his scrapes your cervix with a rapid thud! thud! thud! The tender curve of his ballsack strikes the front of your pussy all raw—

Your mouth waters with the impact, “Y-you’re reaching in so deep, ngh.” But of course he was: he had you manhandled until the caps of your knees hit your tits.

“Mmm, just how you like it- hm?” Nanami chuckles, though there’s a certain pleading tone in his voice. Those drunken, honeypool eyes of his are boring straight into yours, and he memorizes even the slightest expressions you’re making at the massage of his puffy cock. “It feels good? Feels great? Makin’ this pussy feels so- oh, loooovely like she deserves?”

“Yes-” You’re gasping, your throat hoarse at the feeling of his zig-zagged veins that just kept intruding into your deepest hidden crevices. “Yes yes yes yes- yes-”

Somehow, he always managed to find the area that your drippin’ wet cunt needed him the most. Just straightly heading his wet tip towards that spot, and pressing a thorough smooch that made you damn near scream into his mouth.

And it’s then that a sudden thought hits you.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Nanami echoes- fuck, you’d almost forgotten that he could read minds. And with those demonic powers of his, he was echoing out a certain cockdrunken idea that you had. “So you want to know whether I can use my extra vision to hit your g-spot with my, mmm, cock, huh?”

Restless, you nod.

“And you know what you need to- d-do to have me fulfill your wishes—right, madam?” Uttering out - stumbling though his words. 

Shit, even he was affected by the idea.

The ends of his tight fingertips shivering as you finally unfasten your mouth to ask- “C-can you please- ngh, use your powers to hit my g-spot, Kento?” And when you flutter those teary lashes of yours for effect?

Fuck, you might as well just call him a dead man (he was too far gone on your gushing cunt to register the fact that he, technically, wasn’t living).

Because with a sudden, concentrated surrender of his hips- Nanami perfectly angles the blushin’ red end of his shaft. That lil’ divot on the very end streamed out precum that made you splosh around from the inside, “Breathe in.” He rasps, thumb flitting down to press on your clit. “Breathe- out-”

“Oh- oh my–” More like you’re squealing out at the rough jab of his cockhead. The demon’s eyes activate into something glowing when he perfectly targets your needy g-spot.

Snickering. “Breathe in.”

You breathe in.

“Breathe-”

This time, he doesn’t even finish his damn sentence before letting the slit of his shaft snag your sweetest spot. You had so many cute, clingy ridges inside that he loves to stretch out with his sheer girth- and one of them was right by your g-spot that Nanami just kept rubbing and rubbing and rubbing all over.

Wadding out a mess of his precum until your walls likely looked like cobwebs from the inside- “You don’t know what you’re- hah, doing t’me, little mortal.” The fatness of his thumb rolls over your clit, making you see stars. “Have no idea. No- oh, have n-no idea.”

His free hand holds your quivering jaw, turning your face up to look at him and only him.

“You’ve made a demon fall in love with you, my lady. Tut tut.”

You’re squirming in his hold- he was losing control over his body. Unraveling at the seams. Rutting like an animal. Even the smooches of his hardened cock left your insides all bruised n’ battered, swat-swat-swat.

“And not only that—” Nanami continues, in his slightly breathy tone. You half-wondered whether he even knew what he was babbling away- “Oh- not quite, madam. I do apologize.” He answers your unspoken question.

Your breath catches - so he was pussydrunk enough to simply be prattling away. Unthinking.

The spit-slicked edges of his mouth gluing against yours, his tone was absolutely shattered as he mutters into your open maw. “But you’ve made me fall in love with your- your pussy, too.”

As if in response, your dampened cunt lets out some of the most lecherous noises. And you huff out a teasing giggle, “You’re talking as if this is your- mmm, first time, Kento—”

But Nanami doesn’t laugh.

Nanami doesn’t do anything but look at you so-very-seriously.

“W-wait-” Realization starts dawning on you, and you can feel your heartbeaten quicken as it sets in. “Don’t tell me…it really is your first time.” He grins…and nods. “And earlier with your mouth, too- was that-”

“But of course, madam.” The demon breathes, thoroughly ruined on your sweet, sweet pussy. “I did say that I have been waiting- mmm, centuries for you, no?”

Oh, shit.

If this was what he was like when he was inexperienced, then you almost feared to wonder just how good he’d be when he was experienced - with none other than you, you’re imagining. And as if to prove his point, he plunges and plunges his thickened shaft into you.

The plump circumference of his tip fitting against where he was causing your g-spot to indent—hollowing out with his rotund end.

In time with each of his thrusts, Nanami’s fingers pinch your perky clit. You were throbbing with need for him, and his mean thumb drew out so many things right on top of where you were most sensitive.

Swirls n’ hearts n’ his initials.

You could feel the branding of his name stinging against your core, each movement of his fingerpads creating the sloppiest slurps. “Oh, please-” Whimpering, you rut against his glissading abs. “Please please please please-”

“You can’t just say ‘please’ with no- mmm, command.” He chuckles to himself, as if you were the cutest thing in the world. “You have to tell me what you want. Your wish is my command.”

“I want you…”

“Yes—?”

And to utter these very words, you’re dragging him in closer. Touch burning. His breath laborious. You’re pulling Nanami in reeeeeal close and letting his straight nosebridge graze yours, lips tenderly touching yours. “Will you be cumming inside, Kento?”

He nuzzles the crook of your neck, “I shall do so as you wish. But first, don’t you know that you must give a demon permission to- take- a part of you?”

“So you can’t cum inside until I say the word?” You blink, a strange zap of power running through your body.

“That is so, madam.”

And oh- he’s pounding you into the aged bedsprings like he was trying to pound the words out of you. Thumb becoming frenzied on your clit, simply driving you wild. “I see- I- oh, ngh- I see-” A smirk stretches your lips, “And do you want to cum inside, Kento?”

“Not if you don’t wish for me to-” But just then, your cutely heart-shaped insides clench—and Nanami’s cutting himself off with a few rough swears. “Oh, f-fuck- yes.”

As you try to catch your breath, he’s completely losing his.

Again and again and again.

The lines of his veins throb n’ plaster against every ridge inside your velvety walls- “Yes, I do-” From the back of his throat, constant groans wrench. “I do I do I- do-” And each one was punctuated with the most probing jackhammers of his. “Oh, how badly I want to cum inside you.”

Before you can respond, his free hand drags down the front of your stomach. And he rests it easily where that lil’ bulge of his cockhead was thudding into your cervix.

“I need it. I desire it- I desire to stuff you full of my cum right h-here.” And then he presses down to put force on where his cylindrical length was tunneling. “I desire to see you all swollen with my seed, having taken so much that it has no place to go other than to drip onto the sheets.”

You’re squealing, feeling the world spin around you. “Oh- fuck. Please, m’not gonna last long-”

“I desire to feel every wad of cum of mine as I fuck you.” He gruffs out, “I desire to bind you to me forever-” Nanami leans in closer, as if he was whispering a secret to you. “-to let myself be truly yours. For eternity, this time.”

Sounding so pained.

“Let me cum inside, my lady-” He begs now. “I-inside. Let me cum inside, let me cum inside- please.”

“Yes- yes, I want it.” You crash your lips against his, feeling his fangs nip against your lower lip. “You can cum inside, Kento.”

And then with a final few thrusts, you’re exploding into your high.

So powerful that it results in your eyes clenching shut, white behind your vision. Back arching into his chest. You could hear the thundering of your pulse in your eardrums, right along with the husky, attractive groan of your name that Nanami lets off before he, too, finishes.

And you’re feeling it before you’re registering it.

That sultry splash! of something hot and wadded hitting the back of your pussy. It trickles all the way in lines down your cervix, and then ends up overflowing in your snug channel. 

“Oh- oh, you’re really taking it.” Nanami’s hand presses down on your front, eyes activating. “Look at you—swallowing up every single drop. This pretty pussy of yours was- ngh, hungry, hm?”

“Shit, you’re so filthy.” You whine, clawing down his muscular back. And Nanami Kento only smiles like he knew it was true.

After all, he was feeling everything that he’d described earlier - the sploshing of webbed-up seed inside you, the way it glissaded down his shaft. Every line of his veins was coated in ivory sap, and the demon was fucking in each gluey wad inside you.

Your own high is overtaken by his - and you don’t know what else you expected: Nanami was cumming like he hadn’t in centuries.

Just bucketloads of cum that left your mind all stupidly hazy. With each quiver of your own pleasure, you could feel the clingy mess slipping out of your hole. It created this intricate white ring ‘round Nanami’s hilt that he’s thumbing away with a smile.

Pushing dooooooown- “S’taken.” Nanami breathes, somewhat in awe as he gazed down adoringly at where your womb was. With those powerful eyes of his. “Fuck yes, s’taken, my lady. I’m so proud of you.”

“You mean…?”

“Yes.”

“F-fuck.”

He watches as that white hot mess dribbles down his fingerpads, and he says—“Stick out your tongue, madam?”

Slightly befuddled in the aftermath of your high - nothing more than a few sensitive twinges at the pit of your stomach by now, oh, he’d dragged it out so perfectly with his ready cock - you do as he says. And in a few sultry seconds, Nanami has his cum-glazed thumb sticking in his own mouth. Said mouth of his edging even closer to yours to spit.

And then he kisses you fully.

You moan, shocked by his sinful, sinful antics.

And it’s only then that you start to feel a strange rush go down your skin. It’s only then that you feel atoms stop in attention around your body, where yours met his.

So caught up in the feeling, you barely even notice when Nanami finishes riding out his own high. Each n’ every ounce of his sap pushed thoroughly into your deepest innards. And he was so proud of it- no, you’re too caught up in the fact that you knew that.

In that fact that you knew he was proud.

You could sense it.

You could remember it: fragments of a time spent in this very mansion, that didn’t include the last few days. A flourishing garden where you stole kisses. Pale blond hair in the darkness of this very bedroom. The screams of the scullery as they found out. Blood. A new life. You remembered it - not all, it came to you slowly.

With a gasp, you’re pulling back to look at your hands; they looked as normal as always, except for a strange tingle of…something that left you feeling like you could smash this very bed frame if you tried to.

Wait- you turn your head to the mirror on the wall, only to find that…nothing was there. Nothing but the room, in all its emptiness.

For mirrors don’t reflect demons.

“You’ve made me a-” You gulp, and he purrs in affirmation. “-a demon.”

“I’ve contracted us for life, my lady.” Nanami responds, “Look here.”

He taps his index down on the spot where his palm had been plastered mere moments ago, where he was feeling for his cum sprayin’ out into your womb. And as you look down, you can see that your skin was emblazoned with a glowing purple mark of supernatural sorts. Swirling spirals and hearts: you were branded.

“And here.”

You raise your eyes to where Nanami had stuck his tongue out now- and there it was. A matching tattoo (symbol? Branding?) that matched the one you had, right in the middle of his tastebuds.

Two peas in a pod.

Two demons in a mansion.

You could feel the exact moment that Nanami’s cock throbbed at the fact that you were growing even wetter at the notion - a soul that was formerly yours, shared now, for eternity. And you’d spend it all with this handsome man, in a mansion that would never crumble.

“I can smell it on you—” Nanami snarls, canines showing as his lips twist into a feral snarl. He gives another squelching thrust, “We’re going to have a looooong few centuries to make up for, my lady. Mistress of the house.”

.

.

.

“Chapter 22: Fables From the Shadows - Nanami Mansion. (Cont’d)

And yet, the tale of the scorned heir is only one theory seeking to explain the existence of this deeply demonic yet tragic figure of Nanami Kento.

I think you will find, dear reader, that this author in particular is quite inclined to believe a much lesser-known theory. It is one slightly less blood-curdling, though with no less a flare of drama: the theory of the scorned lover.

Though most records of interviews with the original servants that served the Nanami Mansions have been lost to time, what few have been procured did speak of what has been aforementioned in this chapter. Yet, it is in the footnotes that the most jarring pieces of information start to reveal themselves.

They speak of a rather different character to the demon, Nanami Kento. A demonic yet agreeable character: sharp, sensible, no less human (or at least acted so) than the other humans that it worked alongside, keeping the mansion shining like a crown jewel.

And perhaps most representative of the demon’s humanity of all, was the way in which he fell - and quite hopelessly, it is said by one worker - for the daughter of the mansion’s master. Her name— And her wits, her laugh, her kindness seemed to have enraptured this demon. And it makes us think that, perhaps, even the most hellish creatures of all are asinine in the face of love.

Love makes a fool of us all.

And yet, there is a reason that demons do not fall in love.

For once this secret dalliance was discovered by the household, it is said that the master was enraged - till one could not tell the difference between human and demon. In the owner’s fitful anger, some say that the dishonored daughter was made a sacrifice of, others justify that she was discarded from the mansion, never to be seen again.

Whatever the result of misplaced love (perhaps it was not misplaced, after all, who are we, as mortals, to judge?), the demon had lost her.

And that loss manifested into grief, that grief manifested into anger. The once-proud stone pathway to the Nanami Mansions painted itself red, and it has not had a master since.

They say that Nanami Kento still roams the empty halls, and keeps the house a home, in wait of his lost lover. 

As for the fate of them, only time will tell. 

Do you believe in reincarnation, o’ mortal? For, demons certainly do. And if a soulless being could not love a mortal centuries ago, perhaps there is hope that her soul may find him once more. Whether by accident, or by chance, or by fate altogether. Demons always are quite stubborn.

And perhaps, this time, they may love one another as two souls who have ever loved one another should. As one. 

This author, in particular, chooses to believe that their souls are already one. For there is a home for every lost soul, doors and arms wide open.”

—Of Demons and Servitude: The Hellish Agelong Contracts That Surpass Love by Sebastian Michaelis.

A/N. Was technically supposed to be posted last month but ah-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[indiewritesxoxo]

MR. STEAL YOUR GIRL

the only place he wants to be is in your pants!

a collection of my sukuna fics where he swoops in and saves you from toxic relationships and terrible men!

ac: @hunnismokah sparkle div cr: @pixopix second div cr: @tsumiinum

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ pick your player! starring CYBERBULLY!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ betrothed starring FAIRY PRINCE!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ slim pickins starring REBOUND!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ cry for you starring FIANCÉ!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ knocked out up starring BABY DADDY!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ FREE SNAKE, PICKUP ASAP starring SNAKE!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ he's (not) my man starring COWBOY!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ love's laziest worker starring CUPID!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ broken hearts starring BANDIT!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ faking it starring TATTOO ARTIST!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ tell me (i'm yours) starring ROOMMATE!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ tourist trapped starring FRENEMY!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ to rope and ride starring SHERIFF!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ serial killer starring DETECTIVE!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ are you sick of me? starring TATTOO ARTIST!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ peaches + his prettiest peach starring BOWSER!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ loser + dorks and dicks starring NERD!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ best friend's brother starring PLUG!SUKUNA

𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ cheaters must die starring RING!SUKUNA

ᥫ᭡ˊ˗ the girl who cried wolf starring WEREWOLF!SUKUNA