Bleeding Blue | Apocalypse Au

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-nine —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

You trip over a tree root, catching yourself against the rough bark. You don’t stop. You scream for him again, your legs propelling you toward the road, boots sliding over loose gravel.

He pushes past the others and closes the distance.

You slam into him, nearly falling, and grab his shirt, using him to steady yourself. “Simon, we have to go. Now. We need to leave.”

“What’s going on?” Someone asks—Price?—but it barely registers.

"We need to fucking leave!" you urge.

Ghost clamps onto your shoulders. “Twix, breathe. What did you see?”

“There is a body—and blood, on the wall—I don’t know what it says, but it's fresh—” You shake your head, heart erratic. The words won’t come out right. You can’t explain the wrongness crawling under your skin, the terrible dread in your stomach. You thrust a finger in the direction of the chapel as if they will understand. The quiet air rolls through the flowers. You feel it now. It's too quiet. Too calm. You can only manage a whisper. “Someone had to have written the words. We’re not alone.”

You barely catch the unfurling of his eyes before the world erupts into black smoke, and then you can't see him at all.

They already knew you were here.

He grabs you, shouting something you can’t make out.

Your first thought is Blue, and your second is the bow.

Your hands fumble as you blindly slap an arrow onto the string, but someone's body slams into yours, and it falls. You can’t even see where it landed.

The cloud of smoke burns your lungs, and a string of coughs spasm up your throat.

Ghost’s grip slips from you.

"Blue!" you choke out. 

You stumble forward, reaching aimlessly, even though you don’t know what you’ll do when you find her. Your vision blurs with painful tears, and then you feel it—a sharp prick at your neck.

The pain is a numb, searing sensation down your spine.

Your muscles seize, then convulse.

"Ghost," you think you say. The soft ringing in your ears drowns everything. You try to take a step, but your leg won't move. You succumb to the numbness. The ground rushes to meet you, though darkness steals you first.

You swim between disjointed visions. Viewing them from behind plexiglass. At first, you are talking to Paul. It's a sunny day. The birds are chirping through canopies of oaks. Then, you are in a room bathed in white. Fingers prod at you. You can't react to them. A soft voice hums sweetly, almost soothing, but it twists and warps back into Paul’s voice.

"The world kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

You bite a smile. "You know I have those words memorized."

"Good. Don't forget them," he says, not looking up from the wooden bird he whittles between leathery hands. It is a raven, you think. Though, you're no expert like he is. 

"You missed the first part, though."

His brow lifts. "Remind me."

"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places," you recite. 

A weathered mouth stretches at the corners. "Which one will you be, then? Broken or killed?"

You look down at the knife in your hand, the one you've been using to carve the arrow for the bow he's made you. The blade is dulled. You drag a thumb over it, shrugging. "I guess only time will tell."

"I suggest deciding for yourself, Twix."

You look back at him. "What did you call me?"

He responds, but his voice slurs into something unintelligible. 

White sunlight catches on his knife’s blade, almost blinding you. You close your eyes against the glare, but the light doesn’t fade when you reopen them—it grows, washing out the blue sky until it shifts into a stark white ceiling. Paul is gone. The birds have been silenced. The crisp scent of fresh linen reaches you. Is this a new dream, or the kaleidoscope rolling before the surrender to death? Your body feels like a borrowed shell, your mind straining to instruct your fingertips to move. They manage a weak press into the soft sheets below, rubbing against the fabric as if to convince yourself it’s truly there.

You are alive, then. Or the brain is incredible at tricking you into thinking so. 

Moving your neck feels like a daunting task, as if the vertebrae in your spine have been rewired, so you shift your eyes, searching for clues, but your memory is faulty at best. The walls are all white and bare. There is a dark wood table at the far corner, and a single shut door to your right. Then, there are...bars. Metal bars stripe the view, and you realize with a sudden jolt in your chest that you are enclosed by them, kept in a confined rectangle at one part of the room. 

Awareness strikes as you realize you're nearly naked, clad only in a thin, white shift. Someone has changed you. You ignore the lingering ache as you crane your neck upward and steal leverage from your elbows. The small bed below you creaks with the shift in your muscles. 

There are two other cots in the enclosure, and in them lay two unconscious figures. One lays flat, limbs spread in an unnatural way, while her black hair curtains over the white linen like splats of ink. The other is a smaller girl, her body curled into a haphazard fetal position.

There is no one else in the room.

Only you, Nereida, and Blue.

Audibly dry breaths stagger up your throat. Your mouth feels like painful sandpaper no matter how much spit you try to gather. You try to sit up more, but your legs won't move the way you tell them to, and you end up almost crumpling onto your back again. 

"F...uck."

They are still asleep, or knocked out, or whatever it is that has been done to you. They are alive, though. This much you know, based on the steady movement in their chests. Still, you want to reach them. You try to lift up once more, managing to lean your back against the wall for support, but just when you are ready to throw your weight into swinging a leg over, a gentle creak comes from the door.

"Tu es réveillée!"

Your gaze snaps to a young woman—a stranger—dressed in a long white cloak with a hood and veil. She might look like a ghost if not for the faint shimmer of her features on the other side of the veil: soft cheeks, a slightly crooked nose, but still pretty. She can't be older than you. In her hands is a tray with three mugs of what appears to be a porridge. Nothing about her emits a threat except for the fact she is on the other side of the metal bars. A sharp intake floods your lungs, a scream caught in your throat as she approaches, tilting her head in a look that feigns concern.

"Forgive me, I forget you speak anglaise. Please, do not be afraid. My name is Salome." The accent is thick but ignorable. She glances at the other two with a gentle smile. "I am happy you are awake. Your friends will be awake soon, as well. Are you hurting?"

When you say nothing, frozen, she reaches a mug through the bars and sets it on the floor. "Here. For you. Eat it slowly. Your body is still recovering."

A stretch of silence hangs between you, broken only by your uneven breathing. The understanding sinks in with full force as you glance between her, the other two, and the mug. It’s an understanding spliced with confusion—missing pieces. All you know is that your nostrils twitch, and you have no desire to move an inch toward the offering of food.

You observe her in more detail. The cloak hangs loosely on her frame, but she isn't boney, in fact a distinguishable swell shifts under it when she adjusts the tray in her hands. She is pregnant. A pregnant woman is your kidnapper. No, that's not right. She couldn't have carried the three of you, nor could she have done whatever the hell has been done to the four males who are clearly not present. There has to be others. The thought digs your nails into the soft mattress. 

She looks ready to say something again when her eyes dart to the side. You follow her gaze to see that Blue is moving her leg, eyes still closed, but she is moving.

The sight gives the rush of adrenaline needed to rip the sheet off your body and bring your feet to the floor. On wobbly legs, you rush to her cot, ignoring the woman's presence in favor of cupping Blue's cheeks, checking her pulse. Her skin is warm and the artery is beating steadily. You give her a little shake, but her eyes won't flutter. 

"She might not wake for longer than you. Do not be worried. The dosage has a stronger effect on children."

You stiffen.

A snarl cuts through you as anger surges, ripping free from the pit in your chest.

"Dosage?" 

You whirl around, careening toward the bars, gripping them when you almost lose your balance. "Do not be worried? You drugged a fucking child and shoved us in a cage." Your hands tighten, the metal biting into your skin. You don't care that your voice hurts from disuse. "Where are the others? Why aren't they here?" She startles back a step, her soft eyes downcast.

"I see you are upset," she says, her tone soft and careful. "I know this is... much for you. Sometimes God works in ways we do not understand right away, but I promise, He has blessed you. You are safe here." A light touch to her belly. Whispering now, she adds, "You are coveted." 

Then, she lowers the other two mugs through the bars and slips out of the room, cloak silently brushing her feet. 

Breathing hard, the energy deflates.

You half-crawl back to Blue's bed.

Staring at her pink cheeks.

Head pounding.

She claims you are safe. The lack of hostility might suggest that, but the enclosure and fact that she could not answer your question about the others say different. 

You spend a strange amount of time sifting through the recesses in your brain, plucking the memories out, from the bloody chapel to the smoke to this, before Nereida shifts in her bed. Her eyes actually open, and then she is gazing around, the same process of understanding contorting on her face. 

"Twix," she breathes. "What is—where are we?"

You tell her about Salome and everything you know, which is next to nothing. 

"But the guys—"

"I don't know where they are. She wouldn't tell me anything."

The mugs of porridge go cold. 

You hear movement outside in the distance—someone stepping through the grass, a passing exchange between French-speaking men—but the window is on the other side of the bars.

"Maybe if we try to just..."

Nereida attempts to poke half of her face through the bars to look out, but by the way she claws at her hairline in frustration, you don't need to ask to know she can't see a thing. 

Your muscles feel mostly in control now, and despite the howl in your stomach, you refuse to eat.

Nereida does, too. She does some silent prayer—if that's what you could call closing her eyes and humming hypnotically to herself—and when she is done, she reopens them and says, "John will come soon. He will."

"They could be dead."

"We would know if they were."

"No, we wouldn't."

"I would know," she whispers, and circles her arms around her knees, thumbing the scar on her shoulder. "He isn't dead."

Neither of you speak for some time. 

You watch Blue, her pulse steadying you, even if by a little. Absently, you stroke her hair. The pieces of the puzzle fall together with grim clarity. No weapons. Ghost, Price, Kyle, and Ari could be dead. The thought is a weight you can barely carry. You shove it away, refusing to let it consume you. If you let yourself linger too long on the possibility, you'll break down. You can't—merely for Blue's sake, not when you're holding onto the fragile thread keeping you together.

As the sunlight through the window starts to fade, you try to determine whether it's been a day or more since you were knocked out, and when exactly Salome will return. That's when Blue finally wakes up.

"Twix?"

Her lashes flicker.

"Blue. Blue, I'm here." You carefully scoop her in a tight hug, breathing her in closely. 

"What... what happened?" She lamely pulls away, shoulders sagging, and trembles in confusion. "I can't—I don't remember anything."

"We were drugged. Someone—I don't know who or why—but someone is keeping us in here."

"Are they going to kill us?" she whispers.

"I think they would have by now if they wanted to."

Her breath staggers. "But where is—why isn't Ghost here?"

You swallow. "I don't know if he... I don't know where he is."

Her eyes dart around.

"You mean my dad—he could be..."

She clutches at the shift on her chest.

At first, when you see her eyes begin to gloss over, you fear she is in pain. But then the panic becomes palpable, tearing through her ability to breathe, and she starts clawing at her own skin. 

"My dad is dead! My dad is fucking dead! He's not here. Why isn't he here!"

Her screams pierce the room.

You grab her wrists to stop the damage from her nails, welts already beating red on her neck.

"Blue, stop! Stop it!"

But she won't stop. She grabs the pillow and stuffs it in her mouth, howling into it, her face red and wet.

She begins to rock violently.

"I can't survive without him."

You watch helplessly, trying to hold her. 

"Please, just—breathe. We don't know if he's—"

The door opens. Salome rushes in beside an older woman similarly dressed in white. 

"Le pauvre enfant a peur! Dieu montre ta grâce." The other woman carries the tray this time, with what looks to be more food along with a syringe. She hands it to Salome. "Dites-leur que cela aidera."

Salome offers the needle through the bars as you glare at her, tightening your arms around Blue. "This will help her calm down."

"I am not giving her that. Stay the fuck away."

Blue is shaking so hard she bumps her skull into your jaw. Nereida touches your arm. "Twix, it could help her."

"You don't know what the fuck they put in that thing," you hiss at her. "I'm not drugging her even more."

"I will leave it here for your choosing. Your dinner will not be hot for long. Please, all of you, eat." Salome bows her head as she places the syringe and tray on the floor in front of the cell, and leaves with the other woman before you can demand more from them. 

It is only after minutes of listening to Blue scream, unable to stop her from scratching herself any longer, that you concede and ask Nereida to bring it to you. Carefully, you sweep the hair from her face, steadying the tremble in your hand as you sink the needle into a vein in her arm, with Nereida helping to keep it extended.

"There. Please, Blue, please calm down. We cannot think the worst. Not yet, okay?" Your eyes threaten moisture but you blink hard to keep it at bay.

Whatever it was acts the moment it seeps into her bloodstream. She sags into you, face turning sticky as the tears are given time to dry, and her wailing dies down to silence. 

"Are you hungry?" 

She shakes her head.

That first night is spent without sleeping. 

You entangle yourself with Blue in the cot, watching the evening turn to a sliver of moonlight across the floor. She doesn't fall asleep, either, oscillating between silent tears and a void stare at the ceiling. Nereida stays in her own bed, humming here and there in that way that she does. At one point, you hear her whisper into the pillow: "John, give me strength. You always do."

You keep your emotions steady by counting the notches in Blue's spine, one by one, then starting back at the top. As you do, you think about what Salome said. You are not just safe, you are coveted. They want you to eat. They are not trying to harm you. Coveted. She's touched her stomach when she said it. The connection between it all grows starker in your mind. 

You share this with Nereida at the break of dawn when Blue seems to finally have succumbed to fatigue.

"They want us because we are women. That's why the others aren't here."

She nods, whispering. "I was thinking the same."

"Then we use that to our advantage."

"How?"

You palm your temple. "I don't know. I mean, we have some standing here. They value us in some way, right?"

"But we don't even know who 'they' includes," she murmurs, leaning her forehead briefly against the wall, then sitting straighter. "There are men here, too. That much we know. And if they were able to take out all of us at once, then there could be many."

"But none have come to see us," you point out. "Why is that?"

"Because they aren't allowed to." She places a finger on the wall, drawing it around, as if it helps her think. "Why would they be? We are coveted, remember? Something to be protected. Why else would they bother feeding us and keeping us tucked away in here."

"So maybe the guys aren't dead yet," you exhale, wishfully. "Maybe they are just in separate... housing or something. Another cell of their own. Kept away from the women, that's all."

Based on the interior of the room, this feels it was once a small, detached home. Maybe on a farm. The walls are painted stone; cold to the touch. All of the buildings you recall seeing on your way here were old, little farmhouses. Perhaps they have an established settlement. 

Mewling it over, you finally touch the cold food, taking a small bite of the cut-up meat to confirm it's something you haven't tasted in years: beef. They have cattle. What else do they have? Drugs, apparently. Or at least some type of sedatives extracted from plants. They are well-versed in the land. They are religious. And women are coveted for reproduction. 

"But then what was the shit in that chapel for?" you whisper to yourself, the image of the mangled body staining the backs of your lids when you close them.

When they reopen, Salome is at the doorway.

"Bonjour, mesdames. I have some oatmeal—" she frowns at the tray on the floor. "Oh... my. You have not eaten for two days. This is not the Lord's wishes. Your bodies are chosen, and they are in need of—"

"Tell us where they are, and we’ll eat," you cut her off, rising to your feet. You grip the bars tightly. "Tell us if they're still alive. One of them is her father. If you don't want her screaming again, you will tell us if he's okay."

She stares at you, then nods. "Eat first. All of you."

The oatmeal is sweetened with ripe blackberries that burst on your tongue. Blue awakens just when you and Nereida finish scarfing the last bite. You hand her the last bowl of oatmeal and urge her to eat, knowing that Salome won't cooperate if she doesn't. Blue takes minuscule bites. She hacks some of it back up, but with a sip of water passed through the cage, she is able to finish the rest.

She wipes a hand over her mouth and looks at Salome. "My dad. Where is he?" Her voice is low.

"He is alive. Of course, he is. They all are." A tremendous sense of relief washed over you. She cups her belly, her fingers tracing the shape. "Life is sacred... and so is death. We must be careful not to let more death come than is needed. The world... it has already seen too much of it."

Your brow scrunches. "Bullshit. I saw that corpse you guys left in the—"

Nereida gives your wrist a light squeeze, a reminder to hold back. You bite your tongue, knowing this woman is the only one who might give you any answers.

Salome tilts her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "I do not mean the world does not deserve the plague it bears. Men... they grew too sinful. Strayed far from God's will. It was His plan for them to atone for it." Her lips stretch into a faint smile, a thin, almost sad expression. "Your friends—they cannot come closer to God until they make amends. They must atone before they can be worthy of the future we will bring."

You blanch. "What the hell does that mean? 'They must atone?'"

Her gaze drifts to the left, and she mutters something under her breath in French, her words faint, then lowers her head to collect the tray, her back to you. You can’t hold yourself back any longer, pushing your face between the bars. "Don’t you fucking dare. You’ve hardly told us anything!"

"I... I fear I cannot say more." She pauses, glancing over her shoulder. "You are in a delicate state, and Maman will see to you today. Please... trust me, this is the way it must be."

Maman?

The door quietly clicks shut and you growl at it.

A hand cups your shoulder. 

"She told us they're alive. That's what matters, right?'

You face Blue, leaning your spine into the metal. "Yeah. But we still have no way of getting to them."

The red rim around her eyes has faded to the same flush as her lips. She takes a slow breath through her chest, clenching and unclenching her hands, before asking, "What do you think they are doing to them?"

"I don't know," you say with a heavy exhale, your tongue pressing between your cheek and teeth.

G

Pennies.

When Ghost swims to the surface of semiconsciousness, the smell of pennies wafts up his nose first, then the feel of icy, hard restraints around his wrists hits him second. It is the kind of smell that is deeply woven into the floors and walls. Old blood calling for new. He could remember smelling it for the first time in Mexico when he'd awoken in a cell, stripped. The flush of air against his chest suggests this time is now different, but upon forcing his lids apart, a glance downward reveals he still has jeans on.

Ghost thinks he hears someone scream his name—Simon!—but it is merely a memory from right before the world went dark. He'd fought against it all he could, keeping the tail of Twix's shirt in one hand, and trying to seek Blue with the other, but then he had to choose one to let go of to grab his gun. The memory swims up to the forefront; the fumbling of his fingers at his belt loop, seeking the pistol, the loss of motor function as something pricked his neck. The pistol slipped from his grasp, and so did they.

He forces the reel of Twix's screams to the back of his mind where they play in a distant loop. Through hazy vision, he looks around, taking in the lack of light. No windows. It is a small room, with grey stone walls, and only one door at the far end. None of the others are here. Not the girls or Price or Gaz. There wouldn't even be space for all of them to fit in here. The shackles on his wrists are rusty, nicking his skin when he tries to shift around. His heart thumps steady and slow between his ears. Whatever they drugged him with is fading with each shake of his head and forced blink of his eyes.

He tugs on the manacles once more in vain when there is a voice from the other side of the wall.

It is muffled through stone, but grows crisper as booted footsteps close in.

Then they stop.

The door creaks open.

The man who steps in is cloaked in grey.

He waves a metal bar, whistling lowly, and kicking the door shut behind him. 

"You must be an early riser." His chuckle is wry. "Up before your friends. Tell me, Brit. What brings you all the way to l'Hexagone? Not a fun trip over the water, is it?"

The man circles him. A light tap of the bar on his bare shoulder blade. 

"No? Not much of a sharer?" The end of the bar presses in, just slightly, but the pain doesn't register. Only the cold wetness of a trickle of blood on his back when it pulls away. A hand fists his hair, and yanks his head back. "Nous allons régler ça, sale racaille. Je me ferai un plaisir de t'aider à retrouver la lumière."

His head is thrown forward with force. Ghost blinks down at the floor, teeth grinding. Through them, he breathes hard—

"Where are they?"

"Which ones? The pretty ones?" The accented voice lowers to the shell of his ear. "I would not get your hopes up of seeing them again. They will be saved for the most worthy of us."

- Nous devons expier nos péchés...We must atone for our sins. - Tu es réveillée!...You're awake! - Le pauvre enfant a peur! Dieu montre ta grâce....The poor child is afraid. God show your grace. - Dites-leur que cela aidera...Tell them it will help. - Nous allons régler ça, sale racaille. Je me ferai un plaisir de t'aider à retrouver la lumière...We'll sort this out, you dirty scum. I'll be happy to help you get back to the light.

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead. 

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest. 

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable. 

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath. 

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb. 

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks." 

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod. 

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours. 

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?" 

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty. 

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning. 

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open. 

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi. 

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead. 

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are. 

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: everything's going good, amazing actually. your baby girls happy, healthy, and turning one. your co-parenting relationship with sukuna has never been better, you smile a little more and fight less. yet despite all of the progress you've made, you continue to be unaware of anger and resentment that continues to build up inside of him.

genre: hidden child trope, toxic relationships, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, emotional cheating

part three | part four | part five

notes: again, tag list is closed! this part is also 9.3k words, so u may want to split it up or save it for later ❤️

Sukuna’s house is different from yours– it’s sharper, darker, colder. It’s devoid of warmth, a stark contrast from yours, yet there’s a certain calm in the air when you wake up there in the morning. It could just be the fact that there's no random toys laying around, something you don’t get to wake up to much often. 

Or maybe the fact that you actually got to sleep in for once in your life since Sukuna was the one who kept an eye on the baby monitor– waiting for any sign that Sayomi was starting to wake up. The goal was to catch her before she started crying so you could sleep in. 

Maybe this was your gift for keeping a little human alive and happy for an entire year— a full night of uninterrupted sleep and waking up at 10:00 am. 

You weren’t sure why he was so adamant on having you two sleep over the night before her birthday, but after a whole week of him practically begging you without giving a real reason why, you finally said yes. 

It made sense when he surprised you with Yomi’s very own room. He wasn’t sure what to get her for her birthday and decided it would’ve been perfect since she didn’t have one at his house in the first place. The room itself was the complete opposite from the rest of the house, filled with different shades of pink and soft textures– very cottage fairy vibes.

You avoided saying that though, only because he would’ve made fun of you for wording it that way. But it was beautiful, it became the one spot in Sukuna’s dark home that the sun had shone on.

He also revamped the room that was next to hers for you, just in case you didn’t feel completely comfortable with letting her spend the night there alone. He didn’t have to go that far, you would’ve stayed in any room or even the couch, but you appreciated the extra effort. Your room definitely wasn’t as fancy as Ms. Sayomi’s, but you could tell he had you in mind when decorating it. Soft white linen sheets, some art pieces hung up on the wall and a couple of plants laying around. It had a similar vibe to your home.

The party isn’t until Saturday, but you still wanted the day of her actual birthday to be special. You took the day off from work and Sukuna took the day off from practice. Some close family will be coming over a little later for an early dinner. It’ll be your parents, along with Jin, Yuji, his other brother Choso and Choso’s long time girlfriend, Yuki. 

You haven’t met Yuki yet, but you’re fine with having her around your daughter. She’s been with Choso since their freshman year of highschool. Just from what you’ve heard so far, you get the feeling that she won’t be someone temporary in Yomi’s life— something you won’t outwardly say to Sukuna, at least not in that same exact wording. The last thing you need is him getting offended that you still don’t want him to introduce her to Yorozu. 

They’ve been official for a little over three months now, you told yourself that you’ll allow it once they reach the one year mark. And no, you don’t think you’re being harsh on the timeframe, you hold yourself to the same standard as well. You want Sayomi to meet a future step-parent, not a girlfriend or boyfriend. 

You take one last look at your phone before heading downstairs. The closer you get to the staircase, the more your daughter’s laughter fills the air. She’s grown to be quite the daddy’s girl, Sukuna really doesn’t have to do much and she’s already smiling at him. 

“Mm!! Hi mama!” She excitedly greets you when you come into view, it’s the one sentence she can say just about perfectly.

Sukuna’s feeding her breakfast and you're pretty sure he was just eating her food as a “joke”, hence the laughter. 

“Good morning, birthday girl!” You lean down and give her several kisses on the cheek. “Are you eating breakfast with your dad?” 

She tilts her head when she looks at you and babbles some random sequence of words that are only known to her, then finishes it off strong by saying “dada”. 

“Sounds fun babe!” You enthusiastically say, it’s always better to just act like you know. Sukuna ends up laughing, having no idea what the hell she just said either but he likes the passion behind it. 

“Did you sleep good?” He asks in place of a normal greeting, continuing to feed Yomi the rest of her oatmeal. 

“I actually did.” You say, brushing some of the baby’s hair off of her forehead. You’re a little afraid to look anywhere else, Sukuna’s in nothing but a pair of short rugby shorts. You try to not think that everything’s about you, but you’re seriously having a hard time believing he didn’t do this on purpose. 

Whether it was on purpose or not, the one thing you know for sure is that this man is not above accusing others of lusting over him and trying to objectify him– all it takes is a glance while Sukuna’s in a silly goofy mood.

“What about you two? Did she wake up super early today?” 

“She woke up so fucking early,” he sighs and complains. “She got up at 5:00 am, so I gave her a bottle–”

“Did you measure it correctly?”

“Who knows, she’ll survive.” He waves off your concerns and continues. “Anyways, I gave her a bottle and took her back to my room. We both fell back asleep, then she woke me up at 8:00 am by picking my fuckin’ nose.” 

“That’s so gross Yomi, he has germs up there.” You squish her cheeks and tease her. 

“She would not be here right now if you thought I had germs.” He murmurs, feeding her the last spoonful of her food. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” 

The day goes by slowly. You end up having to go back to your house real quick to grab a couple things, like makeup since you forgot it for some reason. Other than you brief trip home, the three of you lounged around up until family members started showing up. 

The first to arrive was Sukuna’s side. As always, Yuji’s excited to see his baby cousin. No introductions were needed for Jin and Choso since you’ve already met them, so you introduce yourself to Yuki and spend some time getting to know her.

She was also nice enough to bring a smash cake for Sayomi, something that you and Sukuna slightly felt guilty about since you both completely forgot a cake and candles. 

You don’t even know how it slipped your mind– probably happened because her actual party is on a different day and this is literally your first time celebrating your child’s birthday. 

You quickly let it go after Sukuna told you a lot of kids in this world don’t get to have cake on their birthdays. In that moment you truly understood why he is the way he is.

Your parents arrive around an hour later. They don’t bother providing an explanation, even with Sukuna glaring at them as he patiently waited for one. Ever since they retired, they’ve started to run off of their own time, a.k.a it’s not 6:00 pm unless they say it is.

It’s kind of funny when you think about it, but you still feel bad for the people that have actual appointments with them. The only reason why your mom shows up to her workout classes on time is because they threatened to kick her out for constantly showing up late. 

Well deserved in your opinion, but you kept it to yourself. 

Even with how.. particular your parents can be, everyone gets along surprisingly well. As expected, they really liked Jin, but it was Choso that ended up capturing their hearts. They even made a comment about how they’d adopt him if they could.

Unfortunately Sukuna, who was already drinking, overheard that.

It’s one of those days where you’re not sure if he’s being serious or not. You were leaning towards him being serious since they gushed over all the guests, except him. He also started listing off reasons why he’s better than all of them, and since it’s Sukuna, he never ran out of reasons. 

It’s impressive how obsessed he is with himself.

“Do you guys want a refill?” Choso gestured at your parent’s empty glasses, interrupting Sukuna and giving him another reason in his head. 

“On top of that, I don’t interrupt others, especially when it comes to proving to others that I respect my elders.” Sukuna continues to ramble, he was also way more fucked up than he was when he first started. “Which is ageist, or however the fuck you pronounce it. Listen– mom, dad– I don’t care about how old someone is, there is no age limit to getting your ass beat.”

“Did you just call me an elder, Sukuna?” Your dad asks, deciding that getting called old was far more concerning than Sukuna basically saying his hands were rated E for everyone. 

“Me? Never!” He tries not to laugh as he begins to twist the narrative. “Choso said that shit, not me.”

“I never said that!” Choso defends himself. But it’s too late, Sukuna was going to win this argument by any means necessary. 

“You didn’t have to say it, you showed them that you thought they were old by offering to refill their drinks.” He turns away from your parents and smirks at his brother who was just trying to be nice. “They’re strong, independent people. Their arms aren’t go to break off by pouring themselves a well deserved drink for being the best grandparents in the world.” 

“Wow.” You turn to look at your parents who are floored by how he just doesn’t shut up when he’s drunk. “He holds you guys in such high regard yet you couldn’t even buy him his first pair of earrings.”

“Don’t you start with us now too.” Your dad says, you couldn’t tell if it was a warning or plea. 

“God forbid women have hobbies.” 

“Giving your father a headache is not a hobby.” He scolds you, he doesn’t get too far since you start laughing. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop, I’m done.” 

“Good ‘cause I was just getting started.” You already know who said this.

After chugging two massive glasses of water and listening to his daughter have a meltdown that he’s convinced was for fucking fun, Sukuna sobers up. You all decide it’s the perfect time to do a test run for the smash cake. She’s going to eat some of course, but everyone’s more interested in seeing how Sayomi would react to a group of people singing happy birthday to her. It might not be the most accurate result since there will be almost a hundred people at your house on Saturday, but it doesn’t hurt to try. 

So you guys give it a try. She’s slumped back in her high chair, staring at the cake like it’s more of an inconvenience than it is a delectable treat. Sukuna tries to tickle her neck and she just frowns and slaps his hand away.

But no tears. This is good. 

Her expression changes when you light the candle on top, making her a little more interested than before.

“Mama no?” She asks and you nod. 

“That’s right babe, no.” 

She points at the lit candle, “no?”

“No.” You say again, she seems to get it. Even if she didn’t and eventually tried to grab at it, you were close enough to stop her. “No touching, that’ll give you an ouchie.”

After fully explaining why fire was bad and doubting she understood or even listened, you moved on to the moment everyone’s been waiting for— the singing.

It’s kind of ridiculous how far you all would go to see what her emotional limit is, but you’re left with no other choice. On any other day, it’d be fine— cry your fucking heart out. But it’s her first birthday party, you’d rather not bring her to the point where she gets in one of her moods and then sleeps for the entirety of the day. If it’s something avoidable like not singing happy birthday or keeping balloons away from you, you’ll do it. 

It goes well at first, she doesn’t seem to care, but something bothers you. 

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“Can you sing along with everyone?”

“No.” He responds stubbornly, crossing his arms as if it’d prove a point. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t like singing.”

“You’re singing happy birthday,” you scoff at him. “You don’t have to hit Mariah Carey notes to properly sing it.” 

“I don’t care. I gave her a room that’s bigger than some peoples homes, the fuck does she need me to sing to her for?” 

…

Not only did Sukuna sing beautifully, but Sayomi also didn’t cry for all the 12 times you’ve rehearsed the song. She even smiled at one point, so you have high hopes for Saturday. Everyone was quick to go home after that, which is understandable. You all had lost track of time, it was already pushing 9:00 pm when you brought the cake out.

You were the last to leave since you had to pack up all the stuff you had brought for the overnight stay, but there was no rush. Yomi was already fast asleep in Sukuna’s arms, so you were able to take your time making sure you didn’t forget anything important.

“You sure you two can’t spend the night again?” He asks as you walk toward the driveway. 

“I can’t, my parents are staying with me for two nights.” You remind him once again, too tired to even get frustrated at having to repeat yourself. 

He most likely does remember and just thinks he can talk you into it.

“So?” He chuckles, genuinely not understanding why that’s an issue.

“They’re staying with me because they want to spend that time with her.” You hold back a smile from how you actually have to break it down for him. “They want to see her at night before she sleeps and they want to eat their breakfast with her in the mornings. I doubt they’d stay if the house was empty.”

“That’s dumb but alright.” He mutters, placing a kiss on Yomi’s head right after. “Gonna feel empty here.”

“Are you still tipsy?” You ask, looking at him with slight disbelief.

“Maybe.” He says in response, yet the long pause beforehand tells you yes. “I’ve said worse than saying my house feels empty while drunk.”

“I believe that.” You end up smiling when thinking about how he tried to turn your parents and Choso into enemies. “I’m surprised you’re saying that in the first place. I doubt it’ll feel empty here if you invited your girlfriend over.” 

The suggestion brings genuine laughter to the man, eventually having to cover his mouth for a moment because Yomi began fussing around in his arms. 

“Say her name.” 

“Why would you want me to do that?” You immediately shoot him an annoyed look.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say her name before.” The smile on his face is way too warm for someone that’s just realized something like that. “It’s always ‘your girlfriend’ or just her pronouns.” 

“I think you’re thinking too much into it.” You laugh with him. “I wouldn’t even know how to confirm or deny that, it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, not caring that much if it were true or not. “But yeah, I could invite her over.”

“You should.”

“Definitely should.” He easily agrees. “Probably won’t though.”

“Don’t complain about being lonely then.” You softly scold him. The way you said it makes him realize hasn’t felt this much warmth from you in years. 

Having her here wouldn’t fix that. 

He probably shouldn’t say that. 

It’s not the same as having you two here.

He probably shouldn’t say that either. 

It would never make a difference in the way you see him. 

“I know.” He ends up saying, then forces out a low laugh. “I probably just need sleep.”

“I think so too.” You end up taking Yomi into your arms and begin walking to your car, he follows right behind out of habit. “You’re not used to someone waking you up so much in the morning.”

“M’not– I’ll get used to it though.” He says, watching you put her into the car seat. 

His chest tightens a little more than usual this time around as he watches you gentle secure the rest of the straps.

“It’s fine if you don’t, I never did.” You let out a little sigh after stepping away from the backseat. “It’s just easy to get over it because she’s cute.” 

“She's the cutest,” he chuckles and shuts the backseat door. “I might be a little busy tomorrow, so if I don’t get the chance to visit then I’ll just see you Saturday morning.”

“Sounds good. Have a goodnight.” You offer him a little smile before getting in the car.

“You too.” He can’t find it in himself to smile back right now, but allows his eyes to linger on you a little longer. It’s the one thing you don’t get on him for and hopes you continue to just let him have it. 

As pathetic as it sounds, it’s all he has left.

—

“Nice of you to come out the night before your daughter's party.” It’s one of the first things Suguru says after you finally sit down and look at the menus. 

It was a new restaurant in the area that has quickly gained popularity from their food and laid back ambiance. It was still fancier than most, but one you could definitely relax and enjoy your dinner in. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this.” You admit, sounding more than relieved to be here with him. “It’s been such a long week trying to get ahead with work just so I could take some extra days off for Yomi.” 

“I bet.” He chuckles. “How’s work been for you?” 

“It’s doing good! I have 2 potential clients that reached out this month. I'm considering hiring an intern for extra help and to see what having an employee would be like.” 

“Why an intern? Just so you can say goodbye without feeling bad if you end up not liking it?” 

“That’s exactly why.” You laugh with him. “It’d be good for them too, they’d be getting the experience and a nice letter of recommendation for wherever they’d want to go next.” 

“That would be good for them.” He agrees and takes a sip of his drink. He’s a whiskey on the rocks kind of guy and you don’t know how he does it. “I remember getting so stressed out trying to land a good internship while I was in college, I never want to go through that again.” 

“Did you end up getting a decent one?” 

“More than decent, it was one of the top ten financial firms in the country.” He reveals, acting a little shy about it. “But my manager was such a fucking dick.” 

“That sucks, I'm sorry. I feel like it’s more common than not. I had 2 during college and 1 right after and they were all really rude. I just stuck through it to fluff up my resume.” 

“Yeah, same here—“

“Here you go, Sir.” A waitress ends up interrupting the conversation to drop off your plates. “And here’s yours Ma’am. Was there anything I could get you two before I step away?” 

“Yeah, a refill on this please.” He says, sliding his empty glass over to her. “Want more wine?” 

“Yeah sure.” You smile and slide the empty glass over to her. “Same as the last one please.” 

“Of course, I’ll be back with those shortly.” 

The rest of the dinner is kind of just that— small talk with some personal stories sprinkled into the mix.

You try not to talk about your daughter too much during dates. You make it known that she's your everything, but you’ve found that it’s nice to take a break from talking about things like milestones and teething.

Or the crippling anxiety you get whenever you think about how dangerous the world can be, and that you can try your best to protect her from it, but you’ll reach a time where you can’t and that terrifies you. 

But that’s a conversation that you save for your family and therapist. 

Suguru isn’t the first guy you’ve gone on dates with, but the one thing that’s made him stand out from the others is how he doesn’t seem to care that you’re a mom. 

He knows you’re busy a lot of the time and isn’t pushy when it comes to seeing you. He’s never made any backhanded comments about your life being ruined, like a couple of men have said in the past. You also like that he asks questions about her and seems genuinely curious, instead of asking just to be nice. 

Are you trying to find Sayomi a stepdad? Not really. You’re just having fun. Going out on dates and having girls nights for a couple hours, 3-4 times a month has helped you feel like yourself again in a short amount of time. 

It’s not like you bring people home to meet your daughter, so there was no harm in having some nights out. 

As you both begin to walk through the dining room, Suguru takes your hand in his and it’s oddly nice. You’ve slept with him a couple times before, but your internal reaction to something as innocent as having your hand held made you realize how touch starved you truly were. 

But the night is young, you’ll have time later to sulk about how lonely you feel sometimes. 

The cold air immediately hits you when you two step outside. Springs deceiving as always— you find yourself sweating at some parts of the day, then barely able to talk from how violent you shiver at night. 

Except the usual feeling of wanting to run into a car with a heater on full blast fades away when you get a glimpse of pink hair and mass walking up to you from the corner of your eye. 

This man couldn’t sneak up on anybody no matter how hard he tried. 

The moment you turn to face him, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. When he first saw you walking out of the restaurant, he wasn’t quite sure if it was you or not. 

He hasn’t seen you dressed up in almost 2 years. The times that he actually has shouldn’t even count since he’d rip the clothes right off of you, leaving you bare for him to enjoy. 

Then you got a little closer. Instead of your words, he was able to hear only the sound of your voice. You obviously don’t use it on him because you don’t like him anymore— for whatever fucking reason— but you used to use that same exact tone with him. 

He doesn’t even completely realize what he’s doing until Yorozu’s following behind him, asking where he’s going— and he suddenly realizes he’s walking straight over to you. 

There’s no plan in mind, there’s barely any thoughts except for what are you doing here and who did you leave his little girl with. 

“Oh, Sukuna!” is all you can fucking come up with right now. You two obviously aren’t together but you can’t help but feel like you got caught doing something bad, especially with the way he was looking at you. “Surprised to see you here, have you been here bef—“

“Where the fuck is Sayomi?” He cuts you off with a question that sounded more like an accusation. He didn’t even bother to introduce the woman he’s with or introduce himself to the man you’re with. 

He doesn't give a fuck about either right now, all he can see right now is you as he began to seethe.

“At home?” You let out a light laugh, mainly from how uncomfortable you’ve become in record fucking time. He makes it seem like she’s all alone at home or waiting in the car for you while you finish your date. “She’s spending time with her grandparents right now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He continues to question you, looking back at Suguru once before going back to glare at you. He takes a small step forward and Yorozu lightly wraps her hand around his arm, you’re not sure if it’s an attempt to calm him down or hold him back. “I thought you were with her this whole time.”

“I didn’t know I had to.” You begin to defend yourself, but he just starts laughing, it makes it hard to continue speaking but you do anyway. People are starting to look and you don’t need him to cause a scene. “Are you mad? She’s safe at home right now.”

“Of course I’m fucking mad!” He begins to raise his voice, taking another step closer. “You didn’t fucking tell me other people were watching her tonight!”

“What do you mean other people?! They’re my parents!”

“That’s not fucking point! I thought you were with her this entire time!” There’s a strain in his voice as he begins to fully unload on you, it causes Suguru to step forward and hold his arm out in front of you. He doesn’t know what Sukuna’s like, you haven’t given him too many details, but with the way Sukuna’s looking at you right now, he’s fully prepared to block him from getting to you.

Seeing that pisses off Sukuna even more. 

“I don’t see the fucking issue, Sukuna!” You throw your arms out in defeat, “I don’t even see why I should be telling you where I’m going.”

“Babe, it's okay.” Yorozu steps in and tries to get him to relax, he drank a little bit before coming here, he could do anything right now. “I’m sure Sayomi’s safe.”

“No, no— YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” He suddenly snaps at her, before pointing his finger at you. “Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t give a FUCK about what you do or where you go. What I care about is where MY DAUGHTER is and who she’s with. This whole fucking time I thought she was with her mother! I don’t care how simple it seems to you, I need to know that kind of shit!”

The whole street’s looking at this point and you swear you’ve never felt smaller. Sukuna continues to release years worth of anger on you, all while his girlfriend continues to try to soothe him while throwing little glares at you, and you just continue to shrink beside Suguru, who did not sign up for this shit tonight. 

“Jesus fucking christ– OKAY! I’m sorry, I’ll fucking tell you next time!” You yell back. “I didn’t think it was going to be a big deal.” 

“That’s his daughter, of course it’s a big deal.” Yorozu says, backing him up. Your eyes almost widen in surprise— you weren’t expecting her to say anything at all, now she’s trying to make you look worse than he already is. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Are you fucking serious right now?” You grimace and take a step forward, but you end up getting stopped by Suguru who still has his arm out in defense. 

He wasn’t planning on saying anything, letting the parents sort this through and all, but even he reached his breaking point after seeing that the girlfriend was ready to go at it with you. Sukuna didn’t look like he was going to do anything about it anytime soon either. 

“Listen man.” Suguru turns to him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “We get where you’re coming from, we understand. I can promise you she didn’t have any bad intentions behind this.”

Sukuna laughs then stares him dead in the eye, clearly not really to settle down just yet. “Who the fuck is we? ‘Cause last time I checked, it was her that hid a child from me for almost an entire fucking year and I doubt anything like that’s ever fucking happened to you. So tell me, do you actually fucking understand? NO.” He then turns back to you, “And now you’re keeping shit from me again, is this just who you fucking are?!” 

“No it’s not! I already said it wouldn’t happen again!” You cut him off in frustration and your eyes slowly become glossier and glossier. “I apologized, Sukuna! I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get him to shut up!” Yorozu says. “You were defensive from the start and don’t sound remorseful at all.” 

“How do you expect me to act when it was him that immediately started attacking me?! He could’ve talked to me about this in private but he chose to yell at me in public.” 

“He wasn’t attacking you, he was worried about where his daughter was since you never told him you were leaving her with other people.” She refutes. 

“Okay ms. Sukuna whisperer,” you mutter and laugh. She literally just repeated everything he said. “I’m sure he’s real worried from how he’s letting his fucking girlfriend fight in his place.” 

“I’m my own fuckin’ person, sweetheart.” He chuckles, “no one’s fighting in my place.” 

“Coming to your defense then.” You roll your eyes as you correct yourself. “Something a grown fucking man does not need, yet here we are.” 

“That’s what couples do.” He says bitterly. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Tell me, do couples also blow up every others fucking phones when they don’t get a text within 5 minutes?”

“Or how about that one time you wanted to spend the day with Yomi after she got her ears pierced and you couldn’t because someone else was demanding your attention?”

“You couldn’t even use your phone because of how many calls you were getting back to back!”

Crickets.

“Nothing? Okay! I’ll let you two go then, so you can enjoy being a normal couple.” The look you give Suguru immediately tells him that you’re ready to go and begins to step back, waiting for you to take the lead. 

“Back to your boyfriend's house then, huh?” Sukuna continues to throw jabs, showing you once again that he just likes to fight.

You tried so hard to get away from him, so hard to avoid being on the receiving end of his anger, yet here you are. He doesn’t even let you walk away.

You were fucked since the moment he laid his eyes on you. 

You take one big deep breath, trying to get it together because Suguru had already seen enough. Sukuna and Yorozu have also had the pleasure of watching you lose your temper. The small attempt to calm yourself does nothing to soothe the burn in your eyes, you eventually blink away the tears that have slowly built up within the last 10 minutes and they steadily flow down your cheeks.

Fuck. 

If only they knew this was all from frustration and not fear or remorse. You don’t regret a thing you said. 

“No.” You finally respond to his question. “My mood’s ruined and I don’t feel like staying out and making it everyone else's problem, I’m not like you.”

“So now it’s my fault?” He asks, getting defensive all over again. 

“No.” Your voice slightly raises and you sniffle right after. “It’s mine– I don’t communicate enough, I hide things from you, I have the fucking audacity to defend myself when it comes to you. How dare I try to do that after all I’ve done to you?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, I don’t know, but I felt it.” Your voice slightly trembles. “You take any chance you can get to remind me how much of a piece of shit I am. Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like had I never left you and I don’t think it’d be any different from this.”

You finally begin to walk away from the two, with Suguru following along. Sukuna tried to say some other things to you, but it was all muffled out. Maybe it was from some of the wine you drank, or maybe it was just the pent up frustration you’ve been having since he came back into your life. Whatever it was, you didn’t hear a word he said, nor did you care anymore at this point. 

Suguru was the one that picked you up, but you decided to take an uber back home. The last thing you wanted to do was unpack everything that just happened on the car ride back. You were also just plain embarrassed, Suguru never knew about the full story of you hiding Yomi away from her father. 

The birthday party was less than 24 hours away, you needed the time alone to relax and prepare yourself to deal with all the people that were attending it.

—

As expected, the morning was hectic. The planner and her assistants got to your house at 9:00 A.M sharp and got to work decorating the main areas of the house and backyard. You didn’t even know what to expect, you told her to do whatever she pleased, so you’re in for just as much of a surprise as everyone else. 

Your only job for today was getting Sayomi fed and dressed in her frilly little birthday dress. She seemed to love it with the way she kept grabbing at it and smiling, but she hated the matching headband. You didn’t even bother putting it back on after she ripped it off, you ended up tying half of her hair up and adding a little accessory. 

When you finally walk back down the stairs, everything’s pretty much done— the balloon decorations, flower arrangements, snack tables, different food stations. You momentarily interrupt your moms conversation with her to quickly thank her for everything, god knows you could never transform a space the way she could. 

You didn’t even have the time for that.

The guests started rolling in at noon, with each person that arrived, the more you dreaded her Sukuna’s arrival. The good thing about him is that he doesn’t seem to tell his family much about the tumultuous relationship you’ve have the past three months, so you’re sure it’ll be easier to act normal around him with his brothers and Yuki around. 

The entire family shows up around 30 minutes after the party officially started and of course, your child’s father manages to steal all the attention.

He’s tall and built to begin with, imagine all the looks he got when he stepped into your home with a white button up, rolled up at the sleeves and the top buttons undone to show off his chains. On top of that, his grey slacks were perfectly tailored and his hair was neatly styled. You’d think it would all clash, but it somehow worked with his ear piercings and eyebrow slits. 

You don’t look for too long though, he was already getting enough attention from everyone else. You hardly acknowledge him at all, actually. 

The first one to greet you was Yuji. The sweet boy was already bouncing off the walls, ready to go outside and play with the other kids. But he also had manners, making sure to give you and Yomi a hug and kiss on the cheek. Next were Jin, Choso, and Yuki, which you greeted and gave a hug to in that exact same order. 

By the time you reached Yuki, Sukuna was looking at you expectantly, but you ended up turning back around and leading the three to where all the food was.

Peace doesn’t exist though when you have a child, your sweet baby girl proved that to you within those 10 minutes.

“Dada,” Yomi says to you and points at him, as you’re walking into the kitchen. 

“You wanna go to Dada?” You ask, moving some hair out of her face, not bothering to look up at him. 

“Mm.” She lightly nods, looking at Sukuna excitedly. 

“Okay.” You smile before side eyeing the man. “Here.” 

Without protest, he takes her. He’s honestly been waiting for you to hand her over, not completely sure if you’d say yes if he asked. He wasn’t even sure if you were going to allow him to come after last night, but figured it was alright since you never texted him telling him to fuck off. 

Sukuna spent the rest of the day being pulled away by a bunch of relatives and family friends– out of sight and mainly out of your mind. A lot of those who approached him tried to use the birthday girl as an excuse to go up to him, but you knew they just wanted to finally meet the mystery man that fathered her. A part of you wondered how some of those conversations went. The topic about who Sayomi’s father was is a topic that everyone avoided, even just asking about it was a big no-no. So you can imagine it to be a lot of mental gymnastics trying to talk about it, you never even gave people an explanation as to how or why he’s in her life now. 

It’s not until you have to sing Happy Birthday when you have to interact with him. You almost want to laugh when he turns the corner and you see how blissfully unaware your daughter is of what she’s about to have to deal with. 

You were able to set aside your differences for a minute when he also acknowledged how much she was going to hate this. She may not have reacted much on her actual birthday, but now she’s essentially in a room filled with strangers.

“Should one of us hold her while they sing it?” He asks, lightly bouncing her in his arm as if getting her in the best mood would make her fall from grace less steep. 

You shake your head, “that’s never stopped her from having a meltdown.” 

“Right.” 

He cautiously set her down into the high chair, where there’s a purple princess cake in front of her that’s waiting to be lit. She’s fine at first, her attention’s on the cake, not the crowd in front of her. 

It’s after only a few seconds of singing where she slowly drops her happy demeanor, her face turns into one you’d make if you were all alone in a room and something randomly moves.

Complete terror of the unknown. 

The worst is when she looks at you or her dad, she thinks crying is going to get her out of this situation so her bottom lip starts to quiver the longer you two go without getting her the hell out of there. 

Too bad Sukuna was determined to keep her in that goddamn chair, so he takes a little frosting off the top of the cake and quickly swipes it over her lips. 

Usually she’d be offended by something like that happening, but her mood quickly turns around when stops pouting and actually tries it. She eventually starts kicking her feet around and pointing at the dessert, asking for more. 

Singing happy birthday was a success, it ended with Yomi clapping her hands along with everyone else while chewing on her newest favorite food.

You gave her all the time in the world to eat however much of it she wanted, you were taking pictures after and needed her to look as happy as possible. 

And it all went fine, at least up until the very end. You were so worried about Sayomi this entire time that you never considered what were some of the things that could’ve gotten on your nerves today, aside from looking at Sukuna’s face.

“Okay, now let’s get a picture with both mom and dad!” Your dad’s sister, who’s never once in her life been able to read a room, exclaims. 

You try to look at anywhere else but Sukuna’s direction after hearing that, it was so painfully obvious to him, only because he’s the only one that knew about what went down last night.

After everything, he still wanted to take a photo together as a family, even though he’s starting to accept that the three of you will probably never truly be one, especially after what happened last night.

But still, he puts his pride aside.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, holding his arm out for you. 

You obviously go up to him, not wanting to give away any signs that there were issues between you two, allowing him to pull you into his side and throw his free arm around you. 

“Hi mama!” Your daughter flashes you a dopey grin– doesn’t matter if she hasn’t seen you in 2 minutes or 2 hours, she’s been greeting you each time she sees you and it makes your heart melt.

She makes the picture taking a little better, she’s more giddy than usual because of the sugar content that was in her cake— she’s probably in outerspace right now. Hopefully her energy crash isn’t that bad at bedtime, but it’s her birthday. She’ll do it if she wants to. 

Her pathetic father had some hopes that you’d rest your hand on his chest or something for the photo— just seems kind of natural to do so, but you take your daughter's hand instead. 

At least it made a cute photo. Sayomi will look back and never know just how cold and distant you felt in his arms at that moment.

—

The last people to leave your house are your parents. They love staying over and seeing Sayomi, but miss the peace and quiet of their own home, so they decided tonight's the night they finally go back home. 

Is a two day stay a lot? 

For them it is.

It’s not something to take personally, if you absolutely needed them, they’d be here for you in a heartbeat. 

It’s not until you walk into the cluttered kitchen and realized you’re not alone. You find Sukuna standing over the kitchen island, quietly trying to open a bottle of wine.

“Didn’t know you were still here.” You mutter, taking his attention off the stubborn cork. 

“Probably because you spent the whole day ignoring me.” He says while finally opening the damn thing. The room’s quiet as he pours you a glass and slides it over to you. “Can’t blame you though.” 

“You sure? You don’t seem to mind blaming me for everything else.” You say, taking a seat in front of him and pulling the wine glass closer to you. You’re not even taking jabs at him anymore, you genuinely meant it, which makes him feel worse.

He doesn’t respond to that out of guilt and leans forward on the counter. He doesn’t even know where to start right now, he was an asshole to everyone last night. But if he were to be completely honest, he doesn’t care much about how he made Suguru and Yorozu feel last night. He was out for blood the moment he saw you stepping out of the restaurant, he would’ve snapped on anyone. 

And since he’s being honest with himself right now, he wanted to hurt you. Right now he’s just trying to figure out if last night's anger was how he truly felt or if that was just his final straw to an already bad day. 

He didn’t even want to go out last, his girlfriend just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. He was tired and wanted to rest up since he had planned on being here the entire day. Lately, Yorozu’s been taking his “no’s” as suggestions and it’s so much easier just giving in sometimes. 

He glances at you and you’re already looking at him, raising your brows at him. He knows it’s your nonverbal way of saying “fucking get on with it”. 

“After missing all that time with Yomi…” He begins to explain himself, carefully choosing his words because he wants you to understand. Right now he’d rather you understand why he reacted that way he did, instead of forgiving him. “Not knowing what’s going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I don’t know.. I– when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it. I trust your parents, but if you told me you were going out, I would’ve cancelled my plans and hung out with her.”

“Are you saying you got mad because you got fomo?” 

He lightly chuckles at the word choice. “It sounds so stupid when you break it down in your own words, but yeah, that’s kinda what happened.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” You assure him, it’s probably hard enough having to explain himself after the scene he caused. “I would’ve asked, but you usually have date nights with Yorozu on Fridays, so I never thought to ask.” 

“I’d never choose a date night over spending time with Sayomi.” His voice drops an octave as says those words in all seriousness. “I’m also really sorry for the way she tried to get into our business like that.”

“Can’t blame her, you made it her business the moment you decided you were going to call me out in front of her. Same with Suguru.” 

Fair enough.

“Still shouldn’t have let her talk to you like that.”

“Did you even try to say something to her after I left?” You murmur, twisting the glass around by its stem. “Or does she think she can start arguing with me whenever we fight, because that’s what couples do?”

“We fought over that after you left.” He reveals, his expression grew a little more stressed as he continued. “I told her if she ever pulls some shit like that again, it’s over.” 

You were aware of how heated their arguments could get, so when he tells you they’re bad, you don’t take it lightly. You fully believe him when he says they stayed up until 1:00 am fighting over the fact that he never wanted her to speak to you like that again and how she constantly countered it by saying she was just defending him.

It barely got resolved, she just barely stopped arguing with him when he threatened to break up with her. 

He was so fed up at the end that he even called her an uber home, all he wanted at that point was to be alone— his head hurt, voice all raspy from yelling too. Yet he stayed up for another hour or two just staring at the ceiling and listening to nothing but the faint breeze outside, wondering what the fuck was he even doing with his life.

You hum in response, you’re not sure if his threat is overkill or not, but it makes you feel slightly better. Enough to be okay with her meeting your daughter after a year? Nope. 

“Well thanks, I guess.” You say nonetheless. 

“Yeah…” He takes a deep breath. “I really am sorry. I can apologize to your date too if you want.” 

You almost laugh at the suggestion, he sounds so remorseful, it’s not very fitting of him. “No need— he ended things with me.”

His jaw might as well be on the floor from how shocked he is to hear that. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Mhm.” You say, letting how bad he fucked up sink in for him.

“Fuck.” He puts his head down and lets out a low curse. “I’m so sorry… what did he say?”

“He texted me when I got home, saying something along the lines of how my situation was a lot to handle, and that I deserved someone that didn’t feel that way.” You finish the rest of the wine in the glass after saying that. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned. Heavy lids, brows slightly furrowed, he looks guilty as hell.

“Honestly… yeah. We only dated for three months, I only saw him a couple times a month too. I feel like he would’ve seen something else anyways and backed out.” You’d obviously like for Sukuna to feel bad about it for a while, but it’s the truth. You and Suguru wouldn’t have worked out to begin with. When you two first started talking, he thought that Yomi’s dad was out of the picture— a lot has changed since then. 

Then you bring in one of Sukuna’s record breaking meltdowns, you understand the guy.

Which also leads you to another thing. 

“Listen… you’re always going to have some sort of resentment towards me and I understand that.” You say, breaking the silence. “But I don’t want to spend the next seventeen years having you throw that in my face whenever I do something wrong. I think it’s time that we start thinking about splitting custody with her.”

You obviously haven’t had enough time to think about it, but it’d be easy, especially with how she has her own room at his house now. It’s not like he was bad at taking care of her anyways. If you stop breastfeeding her now, she could probably spend her weekends with him and be perfectly fine.

“What? No, I don’t want that.” He immediately rejects the suggestion, slightly hurt over it. “I don’t want to take her away from you, I’d rather just visit when I can.” 

“And what if I don’t want that?” You argue back. “The last thing I want is for you to teach her that it’s okay to treat me like that. I’ll admit that what I did was a thousand times worse, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like a punching bag whenever you get triggered over something.”

“I’ve never done any of that in front of her!” He tries to reason with you, but deep down he knows it’s not enough.  

“There’s always the possibility that you will. Look, I’m trying to make it easier on all of us. If me not being around you helps you heal from all of this, then I’m glad to do it.” You continue to explain, but it just falls on deaf ears. 

Yeah, you two have your bad moments, but when it’s good, it’s really good. You two are able to laugh together, easily make decisions over Yomi together. He enjoys being with you— the both of you. 

“You make it seem like I get pissed at the sight or thought of you, I don’t! Last night was just a bad day, I didn’t even want to go out in the first place–” 

You cut him off from going on a rant. “I obviously don’t want you to have bad days, but that’s not my problem, you can’t just use that as fuel to lose your shit on me.”

“I know that.” He murmurs and sighs. 

“And I know that you feel bad and mean it when you apologize, but you need to work on yourself— whether it’s therapy or making some other life change. I can’t keep listening to you apologizing.” 

Therapy? 

You see the weary look he gives you for bringing that up, but he can’t even deny that it’s probably a good option at this point. He already had his own problems to begin with, having a child just makes it all worse. It doesn’t matter how good he is to Sayomi either, she’ll grow up to see how mad he gets when things don’t go his way, you don’t want her learning from that.

“So if I get therapy, you’ll…” He waits for you to finish the sentence. 

“Do nothing. We can keep doing what we're doing. It works, I just can’t have you treating me the way you did last night.” You lean back in the seat and cross your arms. 

He apprehensively looks at you for a bit, not sure if you’re telling the truth. You’re oddly calm for someone that just threatened to remove herself from his life if he didn’t get help.

He’d think you’d be a little bit more emotional about this, but then remembers you’re mentally and emotionally capable of leaving someone without a word. 

“I did all my crying last night.” You say, he just realized he’d muttered that last sentence to himself. 

“M’sorry about that too.” He easily apologizes again. “About all of it, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

You look down at the empty wine glass, which he quickly fills up for you as a part of his final apology, and can’t help but feel guilty at how much remorse he’s showing right now.  

What are you so afraid of? 

It’s not like I’d hide her away from you.

At least now.

But he doesn’t know that, hiding her from him is all that he knows. If only you could be a little more selfless, allow him to make you feel the same way you made him feel at one point. 

An eye for an eye. 

You doubt it’d stop there, there’d be no truce— you’d destroy each other completely.

“Try not to be so hard on yourself.” You take another sip of the freshly filled glass, it makes looking him in the eye a little easier. “I made you this way.”

You absolutely fucking did, he refrains from saying and instead just looks at you back. He’s recently come to realize that this is something you struggle with too, you don’t say it but he sees it whenever he’s having a good time with Yomi. You look happy one minute, then the next you wipe the smile off your face. It’s almost as if you don’t allow yourself to have that experience with them, like you don’t deserve it. 

“We just need to find a way to move on from it.” You say, wrapping up the last of the words you had for him. 

“You’re right.” He’s been holding his breath enough that it’s shaky when he finally exhales. “I’ll uh– I’ll reach out to someone on Monday.”

“Okay.” It comes out so light, it’s almost a whisper. It’s a hard conversation to have, you weren’t expecting him to make it so easy. “Can I ask you something?”

Hearing the answer would probably make you feel worse, but it’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to ask him. 

“Does it have something to do with when we were together?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s better if you don’t ask, you’re hard enough on yourself as is.” He says, giving you back your own advice. You already know you caused enough pain by jumping to your own conclusions about him, hearing the truth from him was just unnecessary at this point. “How were you supposed to know how I felt about you when I never told you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

The only times he's texted you back then were to see when you’d be free for him, you looked like a booty call on paper. It was stupid of him to think you’d stick around just because he was nice to you. He should’ve taken you out more, called you when he had free time, let you know he missed you whenever you weren’t around. 

It’s not that he was scared, he was just stupid. He genuinely thought you’d just feel it, but you clearly don’t trust your gut. He’ll always wish he told you he loved you, he’d probably be getting ready to go to bed with you right now if he said it all that time ago. 

He looks at his phone to check the time and realizes he’s overstayed his welcome. Not that he’s complaining, you two got somewhere from it. A mutual understanding almost. Maybe he’ll finally be able to have his first decent night of sleep since he saw you at the park that day.

But who is he kidding? 

Mutual understandings don’t mean shit to a man that is unfortunately in love. 

“Do you wanna sleep in the guest bedroom that’s here downstairs?” You suddenly offer after seeing him check the time. He didn’t live far, but it’d probably be nice if he skipped the driving for tonight. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks, skimming through his missed texts. 

“No. I’m sure Yomi would like seeing you in the morning too.”

He chuckles and puts his phone away. “I’d hope so.” 

He tried so hard to hate you, but the love he’s always had for you has sadly grown since being back in your life again. 

And no, you don’t try to deliberately hurt the people you love, like how he did last night. But like what you said, you made him this way, and now he’s stuck having to fix that part of himself. 

What’s worse is he’s happy to do it if that means he gets to stay around you, because you will never be too much for him to handle. He chose the baby in a heartbeat, if only you knew he’d choose you just as fast too.

His phone buzzes again once he’s finally comfortable in the guest bedroom you offered him. For once, he’s not annoyed when he checks it. 

[7:05 p.m] Yor: How did the birthday party go? 

[8:45 p.m] Yor: Did she give you a hard time over what happened last night?

[8:50 p.m] Sukuna: No

[8:55 p.m] Yor: That’s good. Can I come over? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

[8:58 p.m] Sukuna: I wanna be alone rn. ill talk to you tomorrow

notes:

i just wanted to leave this here and the direct quote below for anyone that’s a little confused/needs clarification on what sukuna got mad about during this chapter. he went almost a full year of not knowing he had a child, he has trauma from that. he’s fine with reader going out and doing whatever, he just wants to know where the baby is and who she left the baby with ‼️

“After missing all that time with Yomi…Not knowing what’s going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I don’t know.. I– when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it.“

and also, read the warnings!!! the angst and toxic relationship warnings are there for a reason. i understand that it’s not for everyone, but don’t make that my issue by coming up in my comments and announcing your departure 😭

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I don’t usually post up here 😅 but I’m having trouble finding a fanfic that I was reading. It was a Sukuna x reader and reader got into a car accident and lost her memory and Sukuna is helping her remember day by day. It was on Ao3, if anyone can find it thank you so much🙏

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 11 I know it's been forever. I finished my exam and then fell into an energy coma and did not get anything done. Sorry if this chaper is kinda disappointing but I'm trying to find my flow again with this; I gave it my best shot. These two still make me go insane. As always if I messed up readers description please tell me. I am merely a self indulgend human who is prone to mistakes. Part 10 | COD Masterlist | (Part 12)

Simon’s pretty sure he’s beet red under his helmet. Now that he’s making his way through traffic with your arms wrapped around him the previous interaction is catching up to him and he can’t believe he had the audacity to touch you like that.

Then again, you hadn’t objected. Maybe you’d just been too polite to shove his hand off. But you had grabbed it, held it too, maybe that moment hadn’t been as one sided as he feared (who is he kidding, why would an angel like you willingly touch a sinner like him).

He tries to shake the thoughts off, just being thankful that he got those precious moments forever seared into his memory.

Suddenly your arms are gone from around him and he almost gets worried until he realizes that you merely spread them to the side, wriggling your fingers trying to feel the wind. Before he can stop himself one of his hands finds your thigh and he gently grabs onto you, making sure you’re still there. His heart is beating so loudly he can feel it echo through his body, surely you can feel it through the thick gloves and pants, drumming against your skin, spelling his devotion in Morse code.

The fact that you don’t seem bothered by it in the least tilts the picture he had of you in his mind sideways. You’re wary, shy and scared without your dog, but not uncomfortable with casual physical touch and he’s incredibly thankful for it.

Simon’s not sure since when he’s someone who wants to casually touch others (he doesn’t, he only wants to touch you, he wants you to touch him too, wants you to wrap your hands around his throat and make him yours) but he wants to touch you. Preferably all day, every day.

He can feel himself short-circuit when your arms wrap around him again and your hands slowly stroke up and down his chest and stomach. Hopefully you can’t feel the way his heart tries to squeeze its way through his ribs to fall into your perfect hands.

Once again his chest swells with a warm thick feeling and he wants to tear his ribs open, carve out his heart and make a home for you in its stead. He wants to chain you to him so he won’t have to spend another second without you (okay, fucking weirdo, he should really get a grip on his thoughts).

It’s the best ride of his life with you pressed close to him and every now and then spreading your arms. He can even pretend you’re wrapping your arms around him out of want and not necessity. Maybe he can remember the feeling the next time he wakes up alone from a nightmare.

He thinks of your mutt, who gets to wake up to you every morning. Simon would sleep in a dog bed too if it meant he could be close to you like that.

The ride is over far too soon when he parks a few streets away from the venue. Immediately he holds out his hand for you to get off and you take it, putting your other hand onto his shoulder to stabilize yourself while you get off with ease.

You take of the helmet and gear. Simon can’t help but appreciate the view of you stripping something off, even if it is only the outermost layer. Immediately he admonishes himself for the path his thoughts take but he really can’t help it when you wriggle out of the gear and hand it to him to put it back in the cases.

“Ready?”, he asks you and your excited grin is almost infectious. Now that you’re near the concert hall you’re all restless buzzing energy. Most of it excitement but he can sense an underlying nervousness too.

Simon is sure that Wraith could have calmed you down in seconds. For a moment he almost misses the mutt, if only for how comfortable he makes you. Then he shakes it off. He’s here and he’ll take better care of you than the mutt. He’ll show you that there’s nothing to fear with him at your side.

Slowly he places one of his hands on your shoulder and your body stills. His eyes zero in on the way it looks so fucking big against you and he swallows dryly. Your eyes find his and he tries to reassure you through his body language alone, squeezing your shoulder to ground you.

You take a few deep breaths and then your hand comes up, reaching for his. He nearly chokes on his own saliva when instead of brushing him off, you take his hand in yours and bring it down so you can comfortably hold it.

“So we don’t get separated.”, you say softly while slight pink dusts your cheeks.

Oh.

Simon is so utterly fucked.

It takes all his willpower to just gently squeeze your hand instead of sweeping you off your feet so he can kiss you breathless and slip his tongue between your perfect lips, taste if you’re as sweet as you look (oh god, he should stop fantasizing about kissing you or he’s going to lose his mind).

He nods, like a normal person and manages answer without stumbling over his words. “Of course.”

It’s a throwback to the way you strolled through the park, but this time you initiated the contact and Simon might be floating instead of walking.

As you approach the concert hall more and more people join your direction and your eyes widen as you take in the crowds. Now you’re looking around a lot, scanning those closest to you as if you expect danger any moment now. It reminds Simon of a little meerkat on the lookout and he probably should not find it as endearing as he does.

He takes a deep breath and when he exhales a bit of calmness settles over him. It’s almost like a mission, when he thinks about it. Get you safely into the building, let you enjoy yourself and safely get you back. Stuff like that he can handle. Stuff like that he’s done before. Stressful situations are where he –

You step closer to him, your other arm coming up as well and now you’re damn near hugging his arm. Simon almost stumbles over his own feet but he catches himself and looks at your overwhelmed expression.

He extracts his arm from your almost hug and instead puts it around you, effectively pulling you into his side. He holds his breath for a second, afraid that any unnecessary movement may spook you (breathing is unnecessary when it comes to your comfort).

Instead of pulling away you seem to slightly relax and he continues leading you into the hall. When you enter you crane your neck to look around and then your eyes settle on Simon.

“I’ve never been to an event this big!”, you shout over the deafening sound of thousands of people having their own private conversations.

“Get ready to have your mind blown. Been to one of their concerts before. They’re bloody brilliant, sweetheart.”, he shouts back and once again you giddily hop in place a bit. This time he gets to feel the movement against his side and he fights himself to not crush you against him in his intense need to hold you closer.

He looks around, satisfied that he managed to herd you to the front row directly before the stage. After all you deserve nothing but the best experience and any regret he could have had for the people behind him that might have a slightly obstructed view, dies the second you beam up at him.

“Thank you, Simon.” You nearly squeal and he knows his eyes crinkle with the way he smiles so wide.

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

His own excitement is growing, not just at your anticipation but because he can’t wait for the music to start. His gaze is embarrassingly soft as he looks down at you, next to him and he fights the need to place his hand on your hips and pull you closer.

At least he knows that the hall will get so crowded that more physical contact between you two is inevitable and Simon will soak that up like a sponge that’s been dry for years.

Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: When your terrified voice reaches Simon in the dead of night, it shatters the fragile calm he’s barely been holding onto. The chilling sounds of Tom’s violence echo through the phone before the line goes dead, plunging Simon into a storm of panic and rage.

At the hospital, the sight of your battered body tests the limits of Simon’s resolve. Wracked with guilt and helplessness, he sits vigil by your side, promising to be your anchor through the long journey ahead. With every breath you take, Simon clings to hope, vowing that no shadow, no monster, will ever dim your light again.

A/N: Here's your daily does of emotional whirlwind —writing Simon’s frantic desperation was both exhilarating and painful. The tension, urgency, and heartbreak culminate in the ICU, where hope begins to bloom amid the wreckage. Simon’s love and determination shine as a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there’s always a glimmer of light. 🌌💔

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 - The Longest Night

A few more days bleed into restless nights, the heavy silence of the Manchester sky pressing down on Simon like a weight he couldn’t shake. Time moves like molasses, each second dragging him deeper into the dread of not knowing how you were, or if you were even still safe. But that night, everything changes in an instant. His troubled sleep is torn apart by the shrill ring of the phone, cutting through the air like a blade. His eyes snap open, and before he can even comprehend the sound, his hand is already reaching for the receiver. 

The voice on the other end, fragile and trembling with fear, nearly paralyzes him. "Simon?" 

It's you. And in that one word, in the sheer terror that laces it, Simon’s world tilts, and all the anger and hurt he’s kept buried for so long rises to the surface, hot and violent. 

"What's wrong, love?" His voice is rough, half-awake, but the panic is unmistakable. He struggles to ground himself, to make sense of what he’s hearing. "What happened? What did he do?"

Your voice breaks as you speak, barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to rattle him to his core. "He’s going to kill me this time, I know it."

Simon’s blood runs cold. Every nerve in his body goes taut, and his heart pounds in his chest as the words hang in the air between you both. The rawness of your fear is something he’s never encountered before, and it pierces through him like a dagger. He can hear the crashing of objects in the background, the sounds of a struggle. Then, Tom’s voice—mocking, casual, as if your life is some game to him. 

“Sorry, but they’re a little busy at the moment,” Tom sneers, his words dripping with malice. 

Then, the line goes dead.

The silence that follows is deafening, a hollow emptiness that fills Simon’s chest with a freezing panic. His throat tightens, his stomach churns. In that moment, it’s as if time itself stands still, and Simon’s worst fear becomes a brutal reality. You’re in the hands of a monster. His mind races, each thought sharp, desperate, as the fear of losing you claws its way through him.

His fingers tremble as they dial the police, his voice a mixture of urgency and barely-contained rage as he relays the details. He pleads with them to hurry, to get to your house—now. But the suffocating weight of the night drags everything down, the darkness amplifying the terror of the unknown. There’s nothing he can do until they arrive, but he can’t sit idle. Not when your life is on the line. Not when every instinct in his body screams that he needs to act.

Without hesitation, he slams the phone down and rushes toward the truck. The engine roars to life beneath him, the sound a furious symphony against the quiet of the night. He slams his foot down on the pedal, sending the truck screeching forward. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, but he doesn’t feel the pain. All he can think of is getting to you, getting to you now.

The road ahead is a blur, the lights from streetlamps slicing through the night like stabs of light in a sea of dark. His mind races with memories of you—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the warmth of your hand in his. Every moment he’s spent with you flashes before his eyes like a reel of precious memories, and for a split second, he lets that tiny flicker of hope ignite inside him. Maybe, just maybe, he can make it in time. 

But as the miles stretch on, that hope feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. The darkened streets pass in a haze, each second a heartbeat that echoes louder and louder in his ears. His foot presses harder on the gas pedal, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He’s already pushing the truck to its limits, but it doesn’t feel fast enough. There’s no time for caution now. Only the desperate need to reach you.

When Simon finally arrives at your house, the scene is chaotic. Police cars line the street, their flashing lights a disorienting mix of red and blue that slices through the night. Officers swarm around, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of urgent conversations, punctuated by the crackling radio transmissions and the sharp clack of boots on asphalt. The air smells of tension and fear. Simon’s stomach twists, each step he takes toward the house heavier than the last, his body moving on autopilot as his mind tries to process what could have just happened. He pushes through the crowd of officers, each one a physical barrier, until a voice rises above the rest.

“With those injuries, it’s a miracle they still had any blood left in their body.”

Simon’s breath hitches in his throat. A cold, brutal wave of dread crashes over him, freezing him in place. The words echo in his mind, each one a jagged shard that digs deeper and deeper into his chest. He can’t think, can’t breathe—his body is moving on instinct now, his legs carrying him faster as he fights through the crowd, his pulse roaring in his ears.

“Where are they? What happened?” he demands, his voice hoarse and desperate, barely recognizing the rawness in it.

The officer he approaches looks at him, and for the first time, Simon sees the weight of the world in someone else's eyes. The fatigue is etched into the lines of the officer’s face—someone who’s seen too much, someone who’s witnessed the worst of what humanity can do. He opens his mouth to answer, but his words land with the kind of heaviness Simon wasn’t prepared for.

“Looks like it was a bad scene. The victim’s been taken to the local hospital. They’ll do everything they can.”

The officer’s words are a blur, but Simon barely hears them. His mind is already miles ahead, racing toward the one place where he might find you—the hospital. Without another word, Simon turns, his breath ragged, his heart beating in overdrive as he sprints back to his truck. Every muscle in his body is screaming at him to move faster, but the agonizing truth sits like a weight on his chest: he’s already too late to prevent whatever horrors have already been inflicted.

The engine of the truck roars to life beneath him, and Simon doesn’t hesitate, his foot pressing firmly against the gas pedal. The truck surges forward, the tires squealing against the pavement as he drives faster than he ever has, weaving through the streets with the sole thought of getting to you.

When he pulls up to the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic and bleach hits him like a slap. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, too bright, too harsh against the darkness of the night that still clings to him. His hands shake as he pushes the door open, the noise too loud, too intrusive. He feels disconnected from everything, as though he’s walking through a dream—a nightmare he can’t escape. He’s gripped by the overwhelming pull of anxiety, guilt, and helplessness, and his heart is a wild, uncontrollable drumbeat in his chest.

A nurse sees him and gestures for him to follow. Her professionalism is almost a cruel contrast to the mess of emotions churning inside him, but he clings to it, letting it guide him through the sterile corridors. She leads him to the ICU, where the air is thick with sorrow. And then, there you are.

You lie in the bed, a quiet warrior in a battlefield of bandages. Simon’s stomach twists violently, and for a moment, he can’t breathe. His knees feel weak as he steps closer, the sight of you a punch to the gut. Your skin is marred with bruises and cuts, black and blue hues staining you like a map of countless battles fought in silence. He sees the way your body is wrapped in white gauze, each bandage a whisper of the suffering you’ve endured, each stitch a testament to the hell you’ve lived through. The enormity of it presses down on him, each breath he takes a struggle as if the air itself has been robbed of its warmth.

"Will… will they be okay?" he finally manages, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with the raw emotion he’s been holding back.

The nurse’s face softens, but her answer is cautious, laced with the knowledge of what recovery truly means. "They’re stable for now, but it’s going to be a long road. It’s going to take time."

Simon nods, his heart cracking a little more, the weight of her words settling deep inside him. Time. He wants to scream, to demand that it hurry, but he doesn’t. He just watches, helpless, as you lie there—your life hanging in the balance, the toll of your suffering written across your face.

He pulls a chair up to your bedside, his hands trembling as he reaches out to grasp yours. His fingers wrap around yours gently, but it feels like you’re a thousand miles away. Your hand is cold, too cold, lifeless in his. His throat tightens as tears threaten to spill, but he holds them back. He promised you he would protect you, and here he is—unable to protect you from the man who’s broken you.

“Stay with me, love,” Simon murmurs, his voice cracking with emotion, a raw promise slipping from his lips. “I promise I’ll take care of you. Every day after this, every moment.”

He watches the faint rise and fall of your chest, the steady rhythm of your breathing a bittersweet comfort. The night drifts on, time stretching endlessly as he sits by your side, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts—thoughts of you, thoughts of Tom, thoughts of the life you should have had. He remembers the cruelty he faced at the hands of his own father, how those scars shaped him into the man he is today—a protector. And now, watching you fight for your life, he realizes that he is fighting, too. Fighting for you in every way he can.

He thinks of his mother, who used to say, when the nights turned cold and the shadows loomed too large, "Love’s light will always pierce the darkest nights."

And Simon clings to that light. He knows it’s what will guide him through the darkest moments ahead, and it starts right here—staying, waiting, and hoping.

Until the moment you wake, he’ll be here. Fighting for you, for your healing, for the chance to give you everything you deserve.

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Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

MONSTER - Modern!Sukuna x Reader

When you meet a sexy, tattooed stranger in a club, you can't bring yourself to care that he looks like he might be bad for you. In fact, you wouldn't mind if he became the monster in your bed

Inspired by "Monster" by Lady Gaga. A while ago, someone sent me an ask about this song and Sukuna. I can't find the ask anymore, but I hope you will see this story! This is one of my favorite Sukuna songs, and I always feel so insane about him when I hear it. I wish he was the monster in my bed uwu 🖤 Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). 3.5K words. 18+, smut, oral, rough sex, squirting, cumshot, mentions of alcohol. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

You meet him in a club downtown. He's leaning casually against the bar, sipping his vodka, looking so sexy, with all those tattoos adorning his face and his body. He's dressed all in black with tight jeans and a sleeveless shirt to show off his gorgeous muscles. He is confident as hell. Arrogant even. But it makes him even more attractive to you. That smug, playful smirk on his tattooed face drives you crazy.

His face is beautiful, like an angel's, but you can tell that he is the opposite.

A bad boy. The type of guy your parents would tell you to stay away from because he is bad news. The type of guy your friends would fuck in the bathroom of the club because he is too irresistible to turn down, but they would never go for more because he surely brings all kinds of trouble into your life.

But none of that matters tonight. Not to you.

Not when he is so enticing, and there is this intense eye contact between the two of you that makes you feel light-headed. As if his eyes are full of a wordless promise.

You can't stop staring at him, giggling nervously at the way his gaze seems glued to you as you dance with your friends a few meters away. There's a look in his eyes that makes goosebumps rise on your arms. No one has ever looked at you that way. With such hunger in his pretty eyes. Like a powerful predator, a monster watching its prey.

It makes you shiver but, at the same time, you feel like an emptiness you have felt all your life seems to get replaced by something else. Something you have been missing and craving all your life. A kind of desire, a kind of want you have only read about in books or seen on TV screens. The kind of desire and attention you have been dreaming about but never thought would ever be directed your way.

But here he is. The sexiest guy you've ever seen. Like a devil, beautiful and seductive. As if someone overheard all your stupid little fantasies, all your nightly yearning, and manifested it into one person. You want him like you never wanted anything before.

Your friend says something to you, but you don't even hear her. All your focus is on him. And he smirks at you as he sets his empty glass on the bar counter, unashamedly looking deeply into your eyes, making your face feel so hot that you feel like you have a fever.

His eyes and his smirk seem to challenge you. Beckoning you to come over to him. Like a Venus flytrap, which sends out its seductive lure to attract its victims. And you are oh so willing to fall victim to this man.

You are so drawn to him, unable to stop yourself from dancing closer and closer. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, smirking that sexy, arrogant smirk again. A smirk that becomes wider when he lifts a large, tattooed hand and makes a beckoning gesture with his index finger. There's black nail polish on his nails, you notice, and small tattoos and rings on each finger.

You slip out of your friend's arms and take the last remaining steps toward the handsome devil who's been calling for you all evening. He is so tall that you have to tilt your head to look at his tattooed face. You are met with that arrogant, knowing smirk again. He looks good enough to eat, but you are sure that if anyone devours the other, it will surely be him who sinks his teeth into you.

He exudes confidence and danger, but you want him so bad, and you don't have the willpower to push him away when he puts a large hand on your waist and grinds against you in rhythm with the new song that is playing.

He looks intimidating with his tall height and broad shoulders and all those tattoos and piercings. But somehow everything feels so easy with him. He takes your hand in his much larger one and pulls you closer, drags you into his world, so all you see, feel, and know is him.

And he feels so good against you. Firm and strong, and smelling so good that it makes you bite your lips as you look up at him, trapped in the intense gaze out of those beautiful maroon eyes that almost glow red in the neon lighting of the club.

The bass is thumping loudly, making the whole club vibrate, sending a delicious feeling through your body. Or maybe it's because of the boy in front of you. Because of the way his large hands wander over your body.

His lips claim yours after just a few minutes, kissing you feverishly like you've never been kissed before. He grabs your chin, his thumb brushes over your lips, pulling down your lower lip, and then his tongue licks over your lips, hot and wet and so enticing that it makes you moan.

His kiss is savage. He licks deeply into your mouth, making your head spin as you feel his large, calloused hand cup your chin and tilt your head back, claiming you.

He has a tongue piercing. It feels amazing in your mouth, when he lets the small metal ball glide over your tongue with every deep kiss. It's arousing. It makes you get bolder and run your hands hungrily all over his tall, buff body, feeling him up, feeling all those firm muscles under your fingers, making you wish this dance will never end and you can just keep your hands on him forever.

The fact that he is so tall that you have to get on your tiptoes to even be able to kiss him makes it even hotter somehow. And his hand is on your chin, holding you in place, a long finger caressing your jaw, making you open your mouth even further for him, wanting more of him, wanting to give him more of you. And he takes it. He takes everything you offer him, and maybe even more than that.

Maybe he takes a part of your soul that night. But you don't care. At this point, if he told you he is a monster, a demon, or the devil himself, you wouldn't run, but instead sign over your soul to him oh so willingly, just for one more kiss, just for one more touch.

It feels exciting to be with him. He takes control so naturally, and it feels so comforting somehow as if you can finally let go of everything that has been worrying you. Nothing matters anymore apart from him, apart from this sexy stranger and his skilled tongue in your throat.

At some point, you shout over the music, asking him for his name, and he grins at you and leans down, teasingly licking the sweat off your neck, letting the metal ball of his tongue piercing glide over your sensitive skin before he bites your earlobe and murmurs in your ear,

"Sukuna."

He doesn't ask for your name. Maybe he doesn't care. Or maybe he doesn't need your real name because he already picked a name for you,

"Come closer, princess."

His voice is a low, velvety caress that sends shivers down your spine. Another light bite, his teeth gracing your earlobe, his lips spreading in a smile against your heated skin. No, you don't need him to know your name. You are quite happy with being his princess.

Somehow, it makes things even more exciting, even more forbidden. You are just two strangers dancing and making out in a club, and Sukuna's kisses and body feel so good, and that's really all you need to know.

His tall, firm body is pressed tightly against yours, grinding slowly against you. His large hands wander over your body, wrapping around your waist, his thumbs dipping lower, even in the middle of the dancefloor, teasing you, making shivers run through you. And his breath is so hot on your skin when he whispers in your ear. Nasty promises of what he will do to you.

Sukuna is a monster. He knows exactly what he's doing. He knows exactly how sexy he is and how crazy he drives you with everything he says and does.

He asks you to leave with him, smirking that sexy smirk that has you all crazy for him, and before you can even think twice, you already nod and smile up at his tattooed face.

Usually, you don't go home with strangers. Usually, you don't take any risks. Usually, you are always too scared to enjoy life to the fullest. But tonight, something is different. Or maybe it's not the night that is different, but the boy in front of you.

Sukuna pulls you along toward the exit while your heart beats so fast that you feel light-headed from it. This is the craziest thing you have ever done. It's exciting and scary, but you want it so badly. You want him so badly.

You stumble out of the club behind Sukuna, your hand in his, laughing, feeling so exhilarated, almost high, even though you didn't take any drugs. It's just the effect he has on you. He makes you feel so free, so invincible. As if this whole city belongs to you. As if he is laying it at your feet with the way he looks at you when he turns to grin at you.

"Let's go to your place, princess. Or do you want me to fuck you right here in the back alley?"

You shiver, not sure if all of it is from the chilly night air and the light rain coming down or also from the adrenaline buzzing in your veins. Sukuna's words make everything more real, and your head is spinning, but you refuse to let your fear win. You have never wanted anything so bad as you want this night with Sukuna.

Your face feels hot when you look up at him and tell him,

"We can go to my place."

You have to avert your eyes a split second later, too shy to keep looking into those smoldering maroon eyes after he announced he will fuck you.

Sukuna's low laugh fills the dingy back alley. He puts an arm around you and pulls you flush against his side as he leads you out of the dark back alley and into the glittering lights and the streets filled with a nameless crowd.

You have never done this before. Your mom always warned you about leaving with a stranger. But you feel like you will never forgive yourself if you let this chance pass.

And a little voice in the back of your mind whispers that maybe you won't even mind if Sukuna turns out to be a real monster. You want him to devour you. You are tired of always holding back, of always being the good girl, of always playing it safe. You want to let go for once. You want to experience all the things you have missed out on until now. Even if it means the monster will eat you alive.

And so you smile up at Sukuna as your heart thunders excitedly in your chest, and your small hands grab his tightly, telling him that you only live a few stops away from the club.

You sit on Sukuna's lap on the subway train, not caring about the other passengers, when Sukuna gives you nasty, open-mouthed French kisses that make you squirm needily on his muscular thighs. Your laugh comes out breathless, and you put a hand on his chest, clawing hungrily at his shirt, digging your nails impatiently into the defined muscles beneath it. You have never wanted any other boy in your bed this much.

You put your other hand on Sukuna's neck, fingers running over the short stubble of his undercut and into his soft pink hair, pulling firmly on it and pushing your body tightly against his, humming softly when your tits press against his pecs. This time, you are the one who claims his lips in another passionate kiss while Sukuna's low, amused laughter fills your senses.

Maybe what Sukuna shows you is that not only are you into monsters, but you are some kind of monster, too, driven by a dark desire, desperate and hungry for anything that Sukuna is willing to give you. Desperately craving his tongue in your mouth and his large, rough hands all over your skin. Craving his dick that's pressing hard against your thigh through his tight jeans.

He shoves you against the wall next to your front door, smirking against your lips while he kisses you deep and nasty while you try to find your key in your small handbag. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest when you slip inside the house, taking Sukuna's hand and tugging him along and up the staircase.

No going back.

He tears your clothes right off the moment you step into your apartment, making your pulse flutter when you are standing in front of him completely naked while he is still fully dressed, and his burning gaze trails hungrily over your naked tits and pussy.

He licks his lips, a lopsided grin lifting one corner of his lips as he looks deeply into your eyes,

"You look good enough to eat, baby."

It sends an intense longing through you, making you moan and press your thighs together. Thighs that get pushed apart a moment later by Sukuna's rough hands when he throws you onto your bed, exposing your embarrassingly wet pussy to his smug gaze.

You are in a daze, heart racing, moaning breathlessly when Sukuna buries his handsome face between your legs, kissing and licking your pussy hungrily, teasing you with his tongue piercing, and sucking on your swollen clit in a way that makes you sob and squeal and tug needily on his soft pink hair.

He is unrelenting, holding you down even when your hips buck wildly. Sukuna devours you. Kisses and licks and fucks your pussy with his mouth and his tongue, filling the room with obscene wet noises that make your cheeks burn. He makes you cum twice on his tongue before he lets go of you, smirking lazily at you as he straightens up and pulls his shirt over his head.

You lose your mind all over again when you watch him undress, revealing his broad chest and defined abs and even more tattoos. You moan when his large hands unbuckle his belt and push down his pants.

He puts your hand on his bulge, laughing when he hears your sharp intake of breath when you feel the heat of his hard cock through his boxer briefs.

"Don't be shy, princess. You can touch anywhere you want."

But his laugh turns into a sexy low groan when you rub your face against his abs, trailing kisses down his sharp v-line while your nails scratch his muscular thighs.

You find the courage to pull down his underwear and your mouth instantly wraps around his cock, sucking hungrily on his gorgeous swollen mushroom head. You moan around it, wondering why you find such bliss in feeling Sukuna's dick in your mouth.

You feel high, looking up at Sukuna's face as you suckle lovingly on his swollen tip. Your eyes meet Sukuna's, and it's the most intense eye contact you have ever had with anyone. He smirks down at you, one large hand wrapping around the back of your head, long fingers caressing your hair oh so lightly, making you shiver deliciously.

You suck his thick cock devotedly, holding eye contact, feeling your spit run down your chin and your arousal run down your thighs, basking in the soft groans coming from Sukuna's parted lips.

But he stays in control the whole time. Only lets you suck his cock for a short while, pulling you off it before you can make him cum, pushing you back down onto the bed, but this time he follows you and covers you with his tall, heavy body.

Sukuna is the monster in your bed, who knows how to touch you to turn you into the biggest mess. Deep, hungry kisses and dirty words whispered against your skin. Warm lips suckling on your sensitive nipples and calloused fingers caressing your throbbing clit.

And finally, his hot, thick cock glides teasingly slow between your pussy lips, massaging your clit in a way that makes you moan his name shakily. He fucks you open just around that gorgeous thick mushroom head. In and out. In and out. Giving you just a taste, driving you crazy.

Sukuna truly is a monster. Someone who doesn't just take you but makes you beg for it. Makes you so wild for him that you sob his name and look at him with big pleading wet eyes, abandoning all shyness, begging him to fuck you for real, begging him for his heavy cock. Begging him to fuck your brains out.

When he finally fucks you, it's like you entered a dark paradise. Sukuna fucks you rough and deep, so good that your eyes roll back. You have never been dicked down like that. No other cock has ever made you act this way. Turning you into such a horny mess. Uninhibited, unrestrained, squealing loudly while the headboard of your bed bangs against the wall in rhythm with Sukuna's deep strokes.

It's almost feral how he fucks you, how his hips snap against you, and his lips and teeth mark you up, his large hands restraining your wrists, his low grunts and moans in your ear. Savage. But he never loses control. His dick makes you cry, every thrust so precise, so calculated, making your legs shake and heat coil deep inside you.

It almost feels too good. Sukuna rolls his hips, and he hits that spot inside you that makes you splutter embarrassedly, squirming beneath his heavy body, ashamed of the way your body is reacting, but Sukuna doesn't let you go. He doesn't slow down. He doesn't stop making you feel so fucking good. He doesn't stop until you squirt all over his cock with a loud cry of his name.

And he watches you with a smug smirk playing around his lips. He pulls out after you stop clenching around him, but only to smack his heavy cock against your swollen clit, laughing at the nasty, wet sound of it.

"So messy. Sweet little thing got so excited for me, huh? How cute."

He drives you crazy, makes you lose your mind with everything he does. You're not even able to feel embarrassed anymore when Sukuna kneels over you with those strong muscular tattooed thighs on each side of your body, one hand wrapped around his enormous cock, stroking it with fast, long strokes, while his other hand pushes between your legs, rubbing your clit, spreading your wetness all over it, having you on the brink of another orgasm only seconds later, moaning and whimpering his name as you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

And Sukuna smirks down at you, licking his lips as he moans and tells you to keep looking at him,

"Open your mouth for me, princess. And stick your tongue out like a good girl."

You follow his every command, lost in the rush of the pleasure he is giving you, already feeling the familiar tightening deep inside you again as Sukuna toys with your clit while he jacks off unashamedly over your face.

Two long fingers get shoved into your twitching pussy, right when a low guttural moan escapes Sukuna's lips, and his warm, sticky cum shoots down on you, nutting heavily all over your face and tits, thick and milky. And you cum so hard on his fingers that you almost black out, screaming your soul out.

He silences your screams with another savage kiss, leaning down to cover your much smaller body with his. Your bodies are sweaty and sticky from Sukuna's cum, but you still pull him closer, craving him, wrapping your arms around him and sighing when he rests his weight on you and presses you down into the bed.

His lips claim yours again, kissing you deeply. He tastes addictive, like maraschino cherries and smoke, and somehow you know you will search for this taste all of the rest of your life, in every other person you kiss, but you will never find it again.

Maybe that is the true monstrous thing about Sukuna. He is the best, and everyone else you meet will never even come close to what he gave you.

And tonight, Sukuna is yours, and you can get as much of him as you want. And so you keep kissing him, and touching him, and letting him push his hard cock into you again, letting him fuck you another round, over and over again.

He stays the whole night, blessing you with more kisses and more sex, fucks you from behind, and bounces you on his thick cock until you start crying from the bliss of it.

Finally, he rolls over, grinning lazily at you before he slumps down half on top of you, falling asleep and trapping you under his heavy body, his face buried in your neck and one large hand sprawled over your tits possessively.

He leaves your bed in the morning with your marks on him, deep scratches on his broad back, and dark red hickeys all over his tattooed neck. And you know when you walk past a mirror, you will find the testament of your night spent with Sukuna on your body, too.

But Sukuna's mark isn't just physical. It's much deeper, and you fear you will never get rid of it again. That boy is really a monster, and he consumed you whole.

KUNA, PLEASE BE THE MONSTER IN MY BED!! 😘😘

I hope you enjoyed your wild night with Sukuna!! Thank you so much for reading, and thank you so much to the person who sent me the ask about this song.

Comments and reblogs would be sweet 💗

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

Boxer Sukuna who, despite his hard and heavy appearance, is an absolute lovesick bug once you start dating him.

Boxer Sukuna who makes you kiss his knuckles before a match. Makes sure the stain from your lipstick/balm and grease is there on his knuckles before he puts his gloves on. (Nobody knows why he kisses his gloved knuckles in the middle of a match)

Boxer Sukuna who appears to be a relentless bully to you in public, biting your shoulder, pinching your sides, flicking your forehead, sinking his fangs into your cheeks, but is gentle when his mouth is on yours, gentle with his arm around your waist, gentle with his hold on your shoulder as he helps you navigate through a crowd.

Boxer Sukuna who is pliant in your arms. Who comes home after a tiring day and sinks into you, eyes heavy and shoulders sagging, and lets you run your fingers through his hair, massage his shoulders, and mumbles a heavy, “talk.” into the skin of your neck as he quietly lays on you, occasionally he chimes in with a , “what a pathetic bastard,” or “remind me to break his fucking nose,” when he listens to you rant about one of your lab partners.

Boxer Sukuna who finds himself reaching out for your favourites at the grocery store, at the deli, anywhere really.

Boxer Sukuna who knows your schedule by heart so he promptly slips in a sandwich or a wrap in your bag on days where you’re too busy.

“Eat.” He texts you the second the clock strikes one.

“Forgot to pack lunch.” You answer and he can picture your sheepish grin.

“Third pocket in your bag. Eat.” He answers.

Boxer Sukuna who doesn’t admit it, but is so stupidly in love with you.

A/N: Not sure if i should add this to the series.

one of me is cute, but two, though?

one | chapter index

fresh from a breakup, you fucked your ex-something's ex-best friend - and it looks like he left you with more than hickies to remember him by

relationships: baby daddy!Geto x f!Reader

content: smut and angst and fluff unplanned pregnancy, one-night-stand to coparents, pregnancy symptoms, soft domestic Geto, making out, hickies, fingering, unprotected piv sex, this man is already down bad and worships you, falling for each other, comfort <3

a/n: this is part of a larger fic (falling snow found here, branches off of pt. 10 of gojo's ending, picking up a couple months after her and geto's hookup), however it can be read as a standalone <3 gorgeous Geto art is by @grartsss

Your tits felt weird.

A little heavier maybe? You squinted at your reflection in the mirror, readjusting your bra for the third time this morning. How was it too tight? You just bought it before you moved in to your new apartment and out of your old city. It had barely been six weeks.

Frustrated, you unhooked the back and returned to your dresser to fish through the drawer for another one. Maybe it was just the lighting, but it almost looked like your nipples were just a shade darker too.

Weirder.

You pushed the thought to the back of your brain while you kept getting ready. It wasn't until you were pawing through your medicine cabinet trying to find your deodorant that you saw the unopened box of tampons pushed to the back and a little click! went off in your brain.

Must be about time to start your period.

You paused.

When was the last time you'd gotten it?

You quit your birth control the week after your brutal break up, convinced you were calling off all men for the foreseeable future. And okay, yeah, maybe you fucked his former best friend two months later, but that was in the name of getting over him and under someone else.

Either way, you were pretty sure you'd gotten it a week or two after he discarded you. Or at least the month after that. But last one? You had no idea.

Between moving all your stuff in and working overtime half the week, the days had flown by so fast you hadn't even thought about it. Frowning at the box in front of you, you chalked it up to stress and your hormones being out-of-whack.

This was supposed to be your fresh start.

A new job in a new city, fresh faces and a nice apartment to return home to. Someplace you could carve out a sweet little slice of life from and start over again.

Still, the whole day you couldn't shake the lingering feeling that something was different.

“We're going to grab a bite to eat. Wanna come?” The receptionist called out to you, leaning across the desk as she chatted with a few other women you'd talked to a handful of times since you started.

“Sure,” You nodded, backtracking to where they were standing. Honestly, you'd give anything to stop thinking about how off you felt today.

“You seem a little down today, sweetie,” One of them patted your shoulder. She was the type to bring homemade cookies for everyone on Mondays, never forgetting to greet you with good morning before you’d even set your bag down. It was plain to see her concern.

“Everything good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Just not feeling very well,” You tried to smile.

“Are you sure you're up for dinner? You don't have to come if you're sick,” The receptionist frowned, searching your features with worry.

“I'm fine, just think it's about to be y’know, that time...” You trailed off, knowing the women would immediately pick up on it. They laughed, offering their sympathies.

“Could be worse,” The receptionist giggled. “At least you're not pregnant.”

A gnawing pit opened in your gut the second the last word fell out of her mouth.

There was no way.

No fucking way.

“I'm actually starting to cramp,” You lied, panic pumping through your veins. “Join you guys next time?”

“Okay,” They waved you off with a chorus of hope-you-feel-betters, heels clicking hard against the tile as you hurried out in search of the nearest pharmacy.

Enduring the embarrassment of being in the family-planning aisle and staring at the assortment of pregnancy tests lining the shelves, all boasting things like a 99% accuracy rate to detecting it as early as the first day of your missed period. How the fuck were you supposed to know what to pick? You didn't miss the tremble in your hands when you grabbed a couple different ones or how white your knuckles were against the boxes as you waited in line to checkout. You couldn't be pregnant - that was insane.

But if you were, then the morning-after pill must’ve not worked. Or maybe you took it too late. Oh God.

“Next?” The cashier's voice snapped you out of your daze as you stepped forward and set the pregnancy tests on the counter. He didn't even bat an eye, scanning the barcodes and monotonously telling you the total as you slid over some cash. He pushed them into a plastic bag, handing it and your change over, already moving onto the person waiting behind you.

Like this purchase didn't have the potential to change the trajectory of your entire fucking life.

“Thanks,” You muttered, stuffing the plastic bag into your purse.

It felt like you were walking around with a loaded gun.

You tried to think about anything else. What you were going to eat tonight, whether or not to make the drive to crash at your friend's place this weekend, what you'd been too lazy to unpack from the moving boxes yet. Definitely not that you might need to call Suguru Geto and tell him he was about to be a father.

The second you unlocked your apartment door, you made a beeline for the bathroom to take every single one of those stupid tests.

Surely you'd feel a lot better once you knew you weren't pregnant.

You’d always heard stories of other girls having pregnancy scares, but it felt ten times worse living it.

So you ended up staring at the ceiling, sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom, staving off a panic attack and waiting for the timer on your phone to go off. Chewing your nails down to nubs as each second dragged on excruciatingly long.

Ding ding ding.

Pushing off the floor, your hand froze before you reached for the first one. Too scared to see what you already suspected. You hesitantly picked it up, teeth gritted as you stared blankly at the two dark lines in the middle.

Two dark lines.

“Fuck.”

Okay, maybe one could be a fluke. False positives happened sometimes. You snatched the second one, heart sinking in your chest as you saw the single word in the tiny box.

Pregnant.

“Oh fuck.”

You called out of the work the next day, feigning a stomach bug as you scheduled an emergency appointment at the nearest gynecologist. Not like it wasn't that far off from the truth.

“When was your last period?” The nurse asked, poised to type over her keyboard.

“Uh, I'm not sure?” You swallowed hard. “July? I think?” She hm-ed like you answered wrong.

“If you don't know, you’ll need an ultrasound so we know how far along you are,” She informed you. You nodded, clutching your purse against your stomach as she went through a checklist of questions that you stumbled through answering. Standing up, she ushered you down the hall into a dim room with a medium-sized screen against one wall next to the exam table. As soon as she closed the door, leaving you to get on the bed and wait for the ultrasound tech to show up. There wasn’t any way to distract yourself or keep the panic at bay laying back on the crinkling paper and scrunching your eyes shut. Your mind constantly wandering back to how you were waiting to see your baby.

You couldn't think of a scarier pair of words.

The tech knocked on the door before pushing it open. She was perky, greeting you with a smile that reminded you of Yuji's as she sat down next to you.

“Morning!” She chirped, looking over the chart in her hands as she confirmed your name and birthday. “So your last period was in July, huh?"

“I'm not sure,” You admitted. “But I think so. Maybe August?”

“No problem,” Her voice was smooth, trying to offer a little bit of comfort as she pulled out a white bottle with red writing across the label. “Why don't we go ahead and get started?”

“Okay,” You mumbled, hesitantly lifting up the hem of your shirt to expose your stomach.

She tucked tissue paper in the waistband of your pants, pulling them a little further down on your hips.

“The gel might be a little cold,” She apologetically said.

“It's fine,” You swallowed hard as she squeezed a fair amount on your stomach, using the wand attached to the ultrasound machine to spread the jelly-like substance across your skin.

You were a little surprised at how firmly she pressed the wand against your lower stomach as she clicked a few buttons on the keyboard. It always looked so gentle whenever you saw it happening in movies and tv, just skimming the surface. Not like this.

A black and white staticky image popped up on the screen, and you had no clue what you were supposed to be looking at. You squinted, trying to make out the vague shapes as she moved the wand along.

“See that?” She pointed to a tiny gray splotch standing out against the black. “That's your baby.”

“Uh-huh,” You said, dumbstruck. It was so small.

It’s not like you were expecting to see a fully-grown fetus or anything. But the thought of that little glob on the screen being a baby, your baby, was sending you in a bit of a tailspin. You nervously laughed, waiting to wake up from whatever weird dream you were in.

“You okay, honey?” She paused, seeing the panic-stricken look on your face.

“Um,” You paused, the lump in your throat choking you up. “It’s, uh, different seeing it.”

You scolded yourself for calling the baby it, but you didn’t think you could say the words out loud yet.

“Yeah, feels more real now, right?” She sympathized, returning her attention back to her own screen. She was typing something with her free hand, taking measurements and offering explanations that went in one ear and out the other. You didn’t understand how she could tell what any part of it was. “We’re going to check for the heartbeat now.”

“Okay,” Your mouth was so painfully dry, palms clammy as you waited for it.

You didn’t know why you were so anxious when it took her more than just a few seconds to find it. But then you heard the muffled and grainy thump-thumps of the baby’s heart beating so fast you could feel your own pulse thrumming in your veins.

You stayed quiet, not a single thought floating through your brain as you watched her click a button and photos of the ultrasound started printing out of the side of the machine. She pulled them off, handing you a roll of photos that all looked virtually identical to you.

“Looks like you’re about eight weeks along,” She commented. “So that’d put your due date around mid-April.”

You felt like you might puke. Or faint. Or maybe both.

“Oh.”

“If you want to keep the baby, if not, there are other options-”

“I want to,” You interrupted, surprising yourself. Although you were admittedly terrified, the thought of not having it was worse.

So what the fuck happens now?

The rest of the appointment was a blur, being shuffled back around to a new doctor who handed you a packet of papers practically two-inches thick with dos and don’ts and what-to-expects and a prescription for prenatal vitamins that she recommended you pick up as soon as possible. Thumbing through it in the driver’s seat of your car, knowing your eyes weren’t processing a single word they were reading while you sighed. Maybe it was silly considering you weren’t actually together, but you still wanted to tell Geto first. He was the father. Even if he ended up not wanting anything to do with it.

You tried to comfort yourself with the hope that he wasn’t the kind of man who’d get angry or upset with you - but you had to remind yourself that you didn’t know him all that well.

Where he worked, what his family was like, what hobbies he had or any of the little things that added up and amounted to who someone was. You’d let him lead most of your conversations, and he usually ended up asking about you and offering very little of himself.

It’s not like you could just pretend this wasn’t happening though.

You were supposed to visit your friends this weekend anyway. You unlocked your phone, pulling up his contact information before you chickened out.

You: Are you free this weekend?

You immediately set the phone down in the cupholder, leg bouncing up-and-down anxiously as you tried to distract yourself by reading the first page for the fourth time since you got in the car. But your phone vibrated only a few seconds later and you couldn’t help snatching it back up.

Suguru Geto: Yeah, everything OK?

You: I’ll be back in town tomorrow morning. Can we meet?

Suguru Geto: Of course.

At least it was a beautiful day to tell your one-night-stand he knocked you up.

The sun was out, pleasantly warm outside. A light breeze floated by, the leaves on the trees just starting to change from green to sunset shades as they drifted down with the wind. You pulled your jacket around you tighter, waiting on a park bench for Geto to show up. The carefully folded ultrasound pictures you brought felt like they were burning a hole in your pocket.

You could tell he was a little confused when you picked a park to meet at when he offered to take you out to eat instead, but you honestly didn’t know if you’d be able to tell him with other people around when you hadn’t even managed to even say it in the mirror.

“Hey,” A warm familiar voice greeted you, a hand on your shoulder as he snuck up on you.

“Hi,” You turned around as he walked around the bench to take a seat next to you. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about your baby being ugly with him as the father. His bangs were down today, but he had put half of his long hair up in a messy bun in the back of his hair. The cream-colored sweater hanging off his broad shoulders suited him, made him look even more sophisticated somehow. He had a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, holding them out for you.

It only took him a couple seconds looking at the panic in your eyes for concern to flicker across his face. He sat the flowers down in the small gap between you on the bench, the plastic wrapping creasing as his expression darkened.

“What happened?” He asked, skipping the song-and-dance of him asking if you were okay and you pretending that everything was fine.

I’m pregnant.

The words were on your tongue, lips parted like you were going to say them, but you couldn’t get a single sound out. He reached over, covering your hand with his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me,” His voice was low, so soothing. You didn’t want him to stop talking to you like that.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, even though you knew it took two to make a baby. That didn’t make you feel less guilty for the information you were about to drop on him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You stuck your other hand in your pocket, pulling out the ultrasound photos and half-shoving it in front of him.

“I’m pregnant,” You muttered, barely audible. You couldn’t look at him when he took the film from your hand. He didn’t say anything.

Geto sucked in a sharp breath.

“The baby’s mine?” He asked. You shakily nodded.

“I went to the doctor yesterday. I'm, uh, due in April,” Hearing yourself say it out loud was surreal.

“You went by yourself?”

“Yeah. Haven't told anyone else,” You hesitated. “I thought you should know first.”

“Because I'm the father,” He said it like he couldn't believe it. You weren't entirely convinced you were over your own shock yet.

“I understand if you don't want anything to do with this,” You mumbled. He squeezed your hand tightly.

“You want to keep the baby?” He sounded so tender you had to look back over at him. He was staring down at the ultrasound in his free hand, eyes glued to the little gray speck.

“Yeah,” You confessed, feeling self-conscious.

Geto paused, both of you staring at each other while the weight of the decision started sinking in.

“Do you want the,” You cleared your throat, tongue failing you again. “Um, baby?”

You had to cringe at yourself, how tense the word came out, your voice cracking with all two syllables of it. Holding your breath and hesitantly meeting his intense gaze.

“I do,” He softly said. Maybe it was the way the morning’s rays caught the warmth in his brown eyes, but there was something gentle and affectionate in them reflecting back at you.

“Oh,” You squeaked, on the brink of crying and not even knowing why.

“Hey,” He soothed. “It's going to be okay.”

You hadn't realized how badly you needed to hear that until he said it. Geto let go of your hand, reaching up to brush away a tear you didn't know fell. It wasn't even necessarily romantic when you moved the flowers to your other side so you could scoot closer to him.

With his leg pressed against yours, he pulled you against him, one hand deep in your hair while the other still held tight to the ultrasound photos.

“I’m scared. And I don't have anything figured out,” You admitted into the thick cashmere fabric, words broken up by quiet sobs. It’s not that you thought you had to be married to have a baby, or ever really considered the possibility of even getting pregnant beyond a passing thought. But you always sort of figured you’d be in a committed relationship if it happened.

Nothing like this. You just moved cities away and he lived here and you didn’t know the first thing about having a baby, let alone raising one and -

“We have plenty of time,” He talked into your hair while you tried to catch your breath. “Whatever you want to do, I'm here. I'll support you and our baby.”

Our baby.

“I'm gonna get makeup all over your nice sweater,” You started to pull away, sniffling as you blinked back the last of the tears. But he just pressed you back into his chest.

“Go ahead,” He chuckled a little.

The sound escaping your throat was half a sob and half a laugh.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” He asked, his thumb dragging along the back of your neck down to massage the tension in your shoulder.

“S’pposed to go see my friends,” You mumbled into his sweater. The idea of telling your friends that you were pregnant made your stomach churn.

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight, okay?” You looked up at him, the seriousness and sincerity in his fox-like features as he brushed your hair out of your face and wiped away the damp trail of tears from your cheeks. For the first time since you’d seen the two lines on the test strip, you felt like things might actually be okay.

“Okay,” You shakily nodded, his fingertips tracing your cheekbone. It wasn’t love in his eyes, but a quiet sort of admiration and adoration to let you know you could depend on him. “Do you mind if we keep this between us for now? Until I’m a little further along?”

“Sure,” He kissed your forehead.

It’s not like it’d be particularly difficult to keep it a secret at least until you started showing, right? How hard could it be?

And yeah, while you made it through visiting your friends just fine, dinner came sooner than you were ready for.

It might have been the most awkward date (question mark?) of your life.

He didn't seem to get the message though Sitting across from Geto in a cozy little booth at a family-style restaurant tucked between some shops you'd never heard of before. It wasn't quite what you expected when you told him he could pick the place. Skimming through the menu and stealing glances at him over the laminated paper.

You had a hard time grounding yourself in the moment.

He was as put-together as ever, not a hair out of place or wrinkle to be found on his clothes as his eyes scanned across the menu.

“Have you been here before?” You tentatively asked, hoping to break the silence. He sat the menu down, directing all his attention towards you.

“Not as much now, but I used to come every month. The girls love this place,” He casually said.

You stared blankly at him, not understanding what he meant by his last sentence. Girls? Was he implying that he used to bring dates here or what?

Sensing your confusion, he frowned like maybe he was just realizing something.

“I’m sorry, I don't think we’ve talked about Nanako and Mimiko,” He paused, going to pull his phone out of his pocket and scrolling until he found what he was looking for. He held it out, showing off a picture of him with two girls a few years younger than you. Probably still in college, grinning brightly at the camera. You recognized one from the work party you first met him at, but you hadn't gotten a great look at her then.

“Sisters?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Adopted them when I was still kind of a kid myself,” His face was grim, like maybe the memory of it was unpleasant before resuming his neutral mask. “But they turned out okay.”

Part of you sympathized - it reminded you of how hard Choso had worked to take care of Yuji. Unfortunately for you, the larger part of you was stuck on the fact you were about to be a what? A mother and a stepmother of sorts? Ok, maybe that was getting ahead of yourself.

You didn't think Geto necessarily wanted a serious relationship with you, but still, your baby would already have siblings before it was even born.

What if they didn't like you? Or the baby? They’d been his family far longer.

Would that change things for him?

“They must really love you,” You commented. It hit you again how much of his life you weren't privy too - just how little you knew about him. You'd be taking care of a whole human with him in less than nine months. Was that nearly enough time to get to know him?

Especially considering the fact you no longer lived in the same city?

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” He asked, watching your reaction through half-lidded eyes.

“Not really,” You shook your head. It was probably best to be upfront with him. “Just thinking about how much we don't know about each other.”

He shrugged like it didn't particularly bother him.

“We've got the rest of our lives to learn,” Geto said, setting his phone down on the table and picking the menu back up.

“How are you just okay with this?” You gaped at him, finger tapping the table nervously. The fluttery panicked feeling was stuck in your throat, the question strained. Could he really be that cool and collected under his polished surface too? Was vulnerable even in a word in his vocabulary?

You probably cried on-and-off for two hours after getting those positive tests. Him? He ended up comforting you not even a full minute after you broke the news.

“It’s our baby.”

It sounded so simple when he said it like that.

But it also made you feel like you were going to have an anxiety attack in the middle of the restaurant. You might actually have if you weren't interrupted by an approaching waiter.

He ran through his memorized greeting spiel, reciting specials with his best customer-service smile before asking what you wanted to drink.

“Just water,” You nodded, your eyes drawn back to Geto as he politely addressed the man and gave him his drink order. The demure confidence that practically oozed out of him no matter what he was doing was intimidating.

What, would you have to be prying other single moms off of him every time you took your kid to the park?

Once the waiter walked away, he turned back to you, the corner of his lips just barely turning upwards realizing you were already looking at him.

“Let's start spending weekends together,” He suggested. You chewed your cheek, considering the logistics of an arrangement like that. “That way we can get to know each other, right?”

“My friends would probably be a bit suspicious if I'm coming down here every weekend and disappearing half the time,” You mused.

Still, you wanted to get to know him. If he was going to be in your baby's life and by-extension yours, it would be nice to have a good relationship of any kind.

“My apartment isn't quite as nice as yours, but I wouldn't mind you staying over,” You added, almost embarrassed by your own invitation. “If you want to, I mean.”

“I’d love to,” His small smile turned into a smirk at your shyness. It felt kind of ridiculous to be worried over such surface-level pretenses when the two of you were here thanks to something so much more intimate. “I meant that you could stay at my apartment too, you know. Not your friend’s.”

You blushed, really embarrassed now.

“Oh,” You mumbled, looking away and praying the waiter would return with your drinks and maybe a gun to put you out of your misery.

But he was nowhere to be seen and you could feel those dark eyes focused solely on your face.

“We could just trade off. I could drive to you one weekend and you come over the next?” You nervously suggested. There was still an absurd amount left to figure out but it sounded like a good place to start, at least.

“Okay,” The look on his face was almost enough to convince you that there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be. “I’m holding you to that.”

It was difficult to say no when he suggested you return back to his place for the night after your meal.

His apartment hadn't changed in the past couple months since you'd last been there. But there were a few new additions to the coffee table, books on parenting and pregnancy stacked with the receipt still tucked in the front cover. The idea of him leaving your meeting this morning to go straight to a bookstore to pick those out was more endearing than you'd like to confess.

He shrugged his jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack by the door, not hesitating to help peel yours off and hang it up next to his.

“Thank you,” You swallowed, feeling suddenly meek remembering his hot and heavy touch, how he hadn't hesitated to throw you on his bed and take you like you always belonged to him.

“Of course,” He murmured. His tall frame hung behind you, his breath warm on your neck.

Was it wrong to want him to kiss you? It’s not like it would be the first time.

If you were being honest with yourself, you really wanted him to.

You didn't turn fully, just glancing curious and cautiously back up at his expression. He was watching you back just as intently.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You asked, voicing the thought you couldn't get out of your mind.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, his kiss searing your lips. You slipped your arms around his neck, twisting into his body and parting your lips for him.

“Baby,” He murmured in the shallow gasps for air, picking you up with your legs wrapped around his waist as he tenderly marked your throat with fevered kisses. You could taste the need, the want for more radiating off of him, practically able to see the leash he was using to hold his desire back.

You still weren't sure what this was to you, much less to him - the chemistry just as confusing as it was compelling. Did he need you or just the comfort of having someone warm underneath him? Geto didn't give you a chance to think much further on that.

He pressed you against the wall of the hallway, pausing to suck a harsh mark above your collarbone. You giggled, reaching up to pull out the hair tie on his half-bun that somehow got disheveled in the heat of the moment.

“What? Getting me pregnant wasn't enough? Need to leave hickeys too?” You teased, watching his pretty black hair frame the fine features of his face. The smile that adorned his face came easily, his eyes crinkling in the corners before he buried his face back into your neck.

You groaned into him, letting your fingers sink into his silky black locks, tugging as he grazed his teeth against your skin.

It was like he couldn't get enough of you. Like you might somehow manage to slip away while still in his arms, he had to close the gap. His body slotted so firmly against yours that your thighs ached when they spread further to accommodate him, ankles crossing behind the taut muscles of his back. Pinned against the wall, letting him pepper your skin with heated kisses that melted the thoughts and worries which left you frozen in anxiety and panic over the past two days. You tilted your head back, the exposed tendons flexing as he didn't hesitate to press his tongue hard and flat against one, the sensation sending goosebumps down your arms.

“You're teasing me, you know?” You accused, biting your bottom lip as the growing bulge in his pants rubbed against you tauntingly. He chuckled, his dark eyes flickering over to meet yours as he squeezed your ass in his cupped hands.

“Maybe I missed you,” He casually smirked. Your brain was frazzled by the feeling of all of him grinding against you, the friction bordering on agonizing through too many layers of clothes.

“Better prove it then,” You jutted out your bottom lip, and he didn't falter, didn't hesitate to hoist you up higher, readjusting his grip to carry you the rest of the way to his bedroom. The door was half-open already, and he used his foot to kick it the rest of the way before your back could hit the wood. Instead of throwing you down onto the mattress like last time, he laid you down softly without ever letting go. His mouth found purchase on yours, your back sinking into his mattress.

“I've gotta be gentle,” Geto mumbled into the corner of your mouth, barely two inches away.

His hair all the down and so handsome it hurt, he stared so intensely it stole the breath right out your throat.

“You can still fuck me, you know?” You swallowed hard, moving your hands from their spot around his neck to touch his face, trace the line of his bottom lip and craning up to deliver a soft kiss. When he kissed you back, it was harder, rougher, and you could taste the restraint in it.

“You better behave,” He chided.

How could anyone expect you to behave when it came to him?

“Make me,” You taunted, bucking your hips up to harshly rub against his groin. A low moan escaped his throat, his head snapping down as his hair fell in a curtain around his face.

Watching him try to maintain his collected demeanor, attempting to control himself was absurdly attractive.

Why should you hold back now?

He already got you pregnant. It's not like he could do it again.

He sat up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head while you propped yourself up on your elbows. Geto slipped a hand behind your back, pulling you up into a sitting position so he could get yours off too. When his gaze landed on the way your breasts had already started to practically spill out of the now almost too-small bra you had yet to replace, he paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing tightly in his throat.

“None of them fit right,” You defensively said, crossing your arms over your chest. No one had ever told you about that part of pregnancy, the fact that a baby was barely the size of a raspberry could already be affecting the rest of your body so much. What you just dismissed as period symptoms had persisted, your breasts still swollen and tender.

He grabbed your wrists in one large hand, pinning your hands over your head and pulling one out of the cup before you could protest. Running his fingers across the sensitive peaked nipple and smirking at the gasp he elicited.

“We can go shopping tomorrow and I’ll buy you new ones,” He promised, his voice a smooth velvet meant to distract you before he continued licking and pawing at you while you squirmed under his firm hold.

You slid a knee up to press into his crotch, massaging it up-and-down. If he was going to be a tease, you were going to return the favor. He groaned, his mouth still wrapped around one of your nipples as his free hand slipped down under your skirt to find the band of your panties.

All it took was one finger to slip in, just barely ghosting against your damp skin, for him to laugh.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sighed, but you could see a glimmer of contentment in his eyes as he let go of your wrists so he could stand up and (finally) take his pants off.

“I guess I'm your problem now,” You laughed back, scooting up on his bed and shimmying your skirt down your legs to toss across the wooden floor of his bedroom. You had just managed to reach around and unclasp your bra before he was back on you, hands on your back and skin-on-skin as he pulled you into his chest. Each aching kiss left you wishing his lips had lingered a little longer.

“Yeah,” He softly muttered. “Mine.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the word.

You weren’t confident, you’d never been, but you could let yourself believe in it while he was here.

He pulled down your underwear, tossing it behind him without a glance. You wanted his mouth everywhere, your upper thighs and dotting across the crook of your hips and smothering your own.

“Sugu,” Your breath was labored, tension packed into every crackling atom hanging in the air between the narrow space between your body and his. There were so many things you wanted to say but nothing would come out.

He trailed feather-light kisses down your chest, pausing when he got to the soft spot of your stomach just below your belly button. His dark eyes looking up to meet yours, a mutual understanding that he meant it when he said he wanted this with you.

“Are you going to let me be gentle now?” He nonchalantly said, not looking away once. You nodded, tongue numb.

He slowly slipped a finger in, easing it in like it might hurt you despite the fact you’d been wet from the moment he pushed you against the wall earlier. He fingered you like he lived - steady and practiced, taking his time and measuring your reactions with an almost smug expression.

“God, please,” You fisted his bedsheets, arching up into his hand.

“Come on, use your words,” He goaded, sliding his finger up to circle your clit. Biting your lip hard enough to bleed, you whined.

“Can’t you just fuck me?” You pouted, desperation bleeding through your question, thighs trying to close around his hand as you searched for any scrap of friction you could get against your clit. “Please?”

He didn’t reply, and you got the impression that he might give in if he did. Instead, he nestled his head in between your thighs, his tongue darting out to paint meticulous patterns inside while one of his long, sturdy fingers massaged the sensitive bud above it. His slow pace was driving you insane.

“Suguru, ah, I can't-” You gasped, trying to buck up into his mouth. He didn't stop, even when he chuckled at your weak mewls, writhing as he slid his other hand up to grope one of your swollen breasts.

“You can,” He muttered, pinching softly at your clit, sending a surprised jolt through the rest of your body.

Suguru Geto was definitely not like anyone else you’d ever met.

You didn’t know if that was thrilling or terrifying.

Maybe both.

Once he felt like he prepped you enough - borderline edging you alternating between his soft and hard touches of his tongue and fingers - he moved up, positioning his throbbing cock against your slit.

His tongue lapped at the blood on your split bottom lip from where you had bitten it earlier, the corner of his mouth red.

“I wanna look at you,” He murmured, thumbs pressed into the corner of your brows as he gently eased the tip in, giving you time to adjust to him. It felt like every part of you was throbbing, aching for all of him.

“Need you, Sugu,” You panted, nails scratching down his back. A not-so-small part of you wanted to mark him too, stain his skin with some proof you were here now that you were carrying part of him with you.

“Need you too,” He promised, his cool was starting to slip a little, sweat dripping and plastering a few loose strands of his bangs to his forehead. He finally started thrusting in-and-out, struggling to keep his strokes gentle. “Fuck.”

His hoarse curse had you curling your toes, lost in the darkness in his eyes and the feeling of how well he fit into you with every careful movement of his hips. He readjusted his position just enough to allow one of his hands to slip back down to rub against your clit while he fucked you.

It was almost embarrassing how fast he’d pushed you to the edge. You hadn’t even realized it until you were on the brink of falling over.

“S-Sugu, shit, ah, I’m gonna cum,” You whined.

“I know, beautiful,” He half-whispered into your ear, hair tickling your face as he rutted into you faster. “Think you can make it a little longer?”

You whimpered, nodding and trying to hold yourself back, clawing at the feeling trying to keep it at bay.

“That’s my girl,” He kissed the side of your neck, and you couldn’t stop yourself from snapping, coming undone under him with a loud moan. The sound of your voice seemed to push him past his limit too, a low noise coming from his throat as he finished inside of you.

He took care not to collapse on top of you, pulling out slowly, cum leaking onto your legs while he sighed. He climbed off the bed, his gaze hanging onto your body bare before him like it was an altar to worship at.

When he watched you with those eyes, it was nearly enough to convince you that all his sweet nothings exchanged in between kisses were whole-hearted and real. As much as you didn’t want to hold your past relationship experiences against him, you were struggling. The weight of them wasn’t his burden to bear but you didn’t think you could carry the load alone.

“You wanna take a shower?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You nodded, pushing down the messy feelings clouding your judgment. You had time to figure out whatever this was going to be.

He held out a hand to help you up. You took it, wishing all the other decisions coming up would be as simple as that.

tags: @inthedarkshadows000 @universal-s1ut @theonlyhonoredone @sugurusfavemonkey @chsuguru @ravester @unikornboop @ivyvenus333 @nylve @shibataimu @20kglex @cuntphoric @starriesworlds @cryingoverpixelsetc @psychoartiste @saurondriell @simplyraeblue @deftoneslut004 @theclassbookworm @grapelover2000