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phyrestartr · 7 hours
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I keep ricocheting between my 2 sukuna stories omg I have so many THOUGHTS and IDEAS rn I'm overwhelmed!!! I have another that I'm brainstorming on too like im doomed ig
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phyrestartr · 11 hours
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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)
W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge
A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!
tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9
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The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.
…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…
Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.
Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.
And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.
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“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 
“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 
Piss off, runt. 
“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 
Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 
Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 
Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–
“Huh. Weird.”
Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 
Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.
They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.
Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.
Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.
So, Sukuna pushed him aside.
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[Heian Era]
You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 
You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 
Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 
Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 
They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 
Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 
“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 
You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 
What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–
“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.
“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.
"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.
“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 
The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 
The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 
“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 
Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 
That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 
“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”
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It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 
Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 
But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 
“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 
“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 
Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 
“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 
“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”
You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 
“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 
“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”
Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 
“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 
Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 
“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”
Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 
“What more?” He prodded.
Your tail flicked as you thought. ���What would you ask of me?” 
“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 
You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 
You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 
It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 
“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”
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You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 
Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 
Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 
So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 
You better be here when I get back.
“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.
You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.
Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 
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The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 
However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 
But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 
So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 
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“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 
“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 
You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 
Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 
You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 
“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 
“Of course.” 
She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 
Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 
You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 
You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 
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He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 
Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 
“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 
“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 
“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 
“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 
“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 
You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.
Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–
But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 
Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 
He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 
You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 
The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 
“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 
You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 
Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.
And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 
“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 
“Another?” 
“Kiss.” 
Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 
“Oh?” 
“Give me another blessing.”
And you agreed.
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phyrestartr · 5 days
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Icarus Drabbles (Pt.2) | Sukuna x M!Reader
W/C: 3.7k [#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, cheating, zenin family mentioned, lightly edited lmfao]
Note: There will prolly be a third drabble thingie lol I just wanted to post SOMETHING
tag: @better-imagination-9
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1. Restless
Sukuna finally bagged you, the omega he pined over and hunted down for over a decade, and knocked you up, made you move in with him to ensure he could keep an eye on you and that growing baby bump. His alpha had rejoiced, running its victory lap around Sukuna’s chest, but then it slowed, yawned, and curled up, satiated. 
Now, his human side was left to its own devices, and it was bored. 
Probably because you were boring. Or, well, you’d become boring–you and your omega seemed more in-tune with one another, both settling down as soon as you both agreed on staying with Sukuna, with your mate. To Sukuna’s human instincts, that meant you were about as exciting and fun as doing his taxes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Whenever the hypothetical crossed his mind, that second set of eyes would open and stare, tear bared, anger rippling. And Sukuna would agree with it. He didn’t want to lose you, yet he didn’t always want you either. 
And he was bored. 
“Hey,” you cooed, leaning over his shoulder as he stared into space on the couch. “You okay?”
Sukuna blinked a few times and rubbed his face tiredly, finding himself growing pissed off at the dull delight your presence brought him. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Need something?”
“Well, Christmas’s coming up,” you reminded. “Wanted to make sure we were still–”
“Can’t.” Bitterness rose in the back of Sukuna’s throat. God, he didn’t even want to look at you right now. “Gotta work.” He finally spared you a glance, but only after a long stretch of silence. You didn’t look perturbed or mad, not really sad or disappointed, just…placid. 
You looked at your phone, staring at something just for a moment before returning back to him with a slight nod of acceptance. “Alright.” 
Sukuna's other bristled. “Alright.” 
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“I knew you couldn't really be taken ‘n tied down, Sukuna-sama,” Yorozu cooed as she cozied up into the spot between the man's legs, her hands smoothing up and down his thighs before deftly unlatching his belt and ripping it off. “You're too good for that sort of life.” 
“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do with that mouth?” The nice part of Sukuna asked. The less nice part of him wanted to rip her head off and punt it at the stupid fucking moon. Luckily for her, he was trying not to throw as many things at the horizon these days. 
Yorozu's eyes shone with pure delight. “Oh, of course, of course.” She unzipped his slacks expertly quick and pulled free his half-chub, excitedly stroking it to get him to full-mast. 
Sukuna sighed and sank back in his chair, trying to focus and enjoy the attention and spice he so sorely missed, but it was hard. Well, not hard, which was the problem–his mind wasn't finding this (cheating, getting a blow job at his desk, having a woman with tits on his knees for him) exciting. Thankfully, though, his body reacted in his mind's stead, and decided to not embarrass him. 
He closed his eyes and focused on the small hands grasping his base and holding his thigh–but your bigger, stronger hands held him better, digging in without the lethality of acrylics threatening harm. At least her mouth was warm, her lips soft--but your lips were soft, too, and you knew where he liked to feel your tongue press down. Her hair was silky and thick enough to fist his hand in–but yours was just…better. He couldn't describe it, but–
Knock it off, he growled. He needed a break from you, from how mundane you made everything, that was the whole fucking reason he ditched you in the first place. You were boring. You were making life boring. You–
What were you up to, actually? 
Sukuna sighed, this time in defeat, and snatched up his phone while Yorozu gave him head. He scrolled through whatever socials he knew you had, but saw nothing new, nothing Christmas-y. 
Who the hell is he visiting again? He looked to the side, gazing through the huge windows looming behind his desk as he thought, and then remembered. 
Sukuna tapped open your text thread and grimaced–it was so blatantly one-sided. The sight of his flippant convo-killing responses hit him with a wave of psychic damage that probably couldn't be fully healed for as long as he lived. He wasn't a fan of texting, but he was a fan of you. But-wait, didn't he loathe you?
5:05am went to see my mom for christmas
5:05am getting picked up dw
5:06am hope work doesn't suck too much
Right. You went to see family. Right. Sukuna was supposed to meet your mother. 
Damn.
“Fuck's sake,” Sukuna muttered moments before fisting his hand in Yorozu's hair and pulling him off his softening cock. “We're done.” He stood and tucked himself away, ignoring the indignant scoff the woman sent his way. 
“Sukuna–” 
“Leave.” He sent a text your way instead of tuning in to whatever Yorozu said as she picked herself up off her knees:
10:49pm When should I pick you up?
Of course he was gonna pick you up. He wasn’t about to let someone else take care of you for a second longer. 
“Clearly you're unhappy,” Yorozu finally cut in. 
Sukuna saw a read notification pop up in the chat. 
“Clearly that other one isn't satisfying you fully.” 
He watched the three dots pop up as you replied back. 
“After he has your pup–”
10:52pm you can come now
10:52pm if you're free 
“--you should reconsider your choice in mate–” 
Bang.
10:53pm Send me the address.
He stepped over her and the pooling crimson on his way to the door, texting Uraume to call the cleaners to take care of a mess in his office while he went to pick up his baby mama. 
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Picking you up had been eventful.
Firstly, Maki and Mai had refused to open the gate for Sukuna in favour of mocking him and exclaiming, “are you kidding me? You're the baby daddy?” while incessantly prodding him for information. You'd managed to bat them aside to let him up to the house, though it took some effort on your part. 
Next, Toji Zenin himself was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, totally unbothered, dressed in his hideous Christmas jumper that his woman had apparently made him wear as punishment for something. Sukuna ribbed him, hiding just how confused he was about the entire thing–he didn't fucking get why there were so many Zenin assholes here. The outcasts, sure, but what the fuck was that about? 
“Oh. Toji's my stepdad,” you said when you had finally squeezed your dragon's hoard of gifts into the car and got in the damn thing to go home. Sukuna left it at that for the time being–he didn't want to think about what the fuck that meant now that the two of you were together. He had time to ask a thousand questions another day.
His mind still whirred in the elevator, though, and when he helped carry your only-child gifts into the penthouse like a servant put under a spell. You said something to him that he only realized a solid fifteen minutes later was, “I'm taking a bath. There's room for two,” and a fire suddenly lit under his ass. 
“Huh, so you can bear to look at me,” you hummed from the bath. It was large and oaken, filled with yuzu thanks to Uraume's thoughtfulness, and it overlooked snowy Tokyo and all its bustling, light-filled glory and–wait, what.
Sukuna scoffed as he pulled off his clothes methodically. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 
You watched him undress shamelessly. “It means you still have lipstick on your dick.” You poked away one of the yuzu that bumped into you. “It's not really my colour.” 
Sukuna clenched his teeth and kicked aside his clothes before grabbing the showerhead to wash off before joining you because he was going to join you. No matter the case. No matter the objection. 
But you never objected. You leaned back in the tub and watched him while you rolled another yuzu between your palms. “Did you have fun fucking her?” Fuck, you could be so scary sometimes. And you didn't even have to try.
Sukuna found it hard to answer. He found it hard to even speak. Christ, was this shame? “Look–I didn't fuck her. Didn't even get close.” 
“So she just sucked your dick.”
“Tried. Didn't finish. Couldn't.” 
“So sad. Why not?”
“‘Cause she's not you.” Sukuna finished with the shower and slipped into the bath, sitting across from you with a content sigh. “You give better head.” 
“That went from being somewhat meaningful to annoying,” you grumbled. Still, you scooched over to him and pressed up against his side, clearly in the mood to forgive his stupid little attempted fling. “So. Then you're sure about this.” 
“Sure about what?” Sukuna wondered, suddenly feeling more at ease with the rich scent of you pooling through his senses. He leaned into you when you carefully smoothed his hair out of his face with that usual, simple gentility he'd come to desire so desperately every day. “Sure about you?” 
“Yeah. Us. Everything.” You nuzzled at his neck, dutifully scenting him up with kisses, nips and licks. “You started pulling away like a pussy, so I figured you regretted it.” 
Sukuna had to laugh. “You're callin’ me a pussy?” He half-growled before yoinking you into his lap and squeezing you up against him. His grin widened when he saw you hold back a smile. “I think you should apologize.” 
“You cheated on me with your stalker. Why do I need to apologize?” 
“You hurt my fuckin’ feelings.” 
“Oh. Hm. I see.” Your fingers, bigger than a woman's yet still elegant as a piano player's, danced across his firm shoulders in thought. “I think you need to have feelings for me to hurt them.” 
His hands found their rightful place (on your ass) and kneaded your skin thoroughly, squeezing and pinching wherever he felt most enticed. “You know I have feelings, sweetheart. Why do ya think you're here in the first place, huh?” 
Your scent flared with bashful approval. “Guess that's good to know. These days, you've left me wondering.” 
Sukuna grew placid gazing upon your features, listening to your words. If he really tried, behind that diamond mask of nonchalance most Zenin brats wore, there existed soft, vulnerable skin--tired and ragged, worried and creased. He'd done that to you. Why had he done that to you? 
He lifted a hand from your curves to cup your face gently, his touch breaking through the shields you so bravely put up to tell the world to fuck off. And you leaned into that touch so eagerly, so hungrily, with a sigh that sounded like you just remembered how to breathe. 
“‘M sorry,” Sukuna mumbled. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t know if he even said it right.
Your eyes squeezed shut just a little tighter, holding onto whatever you could of your crumbling shell as your hand rose to rest on his. “You know I love you,” you said while diamond dust turned to quicksilver.
Sukuna wiped the glimmer from your lashes. “Love you too, runt. Mean it.” Those words still felt strange, too, but he loved those words. He loved the way they made you glow from within, how they solidified you and stopped you from collapsing into a melted mess in the face of his betrayal and swift try at redemption. 
You nodded a little, the hard line of your mouth softening. Sukuna relaxed and hugged you close to him, purring deep in his chest in rhythm with you as you wholly accepted him in return and buried your face into his neck. He did the same, scenting you the way you had him, enjoying your company and weight against him. Because he loved you. He really did. 
So, he said once again, “Sorry.”
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2. Family Matters
“Sukuna,” Wasuke warned. The attention of the younger alpha, leaning against the counter, was on you as you yapped on about this and that with his little brother.
Sukuna grunted and looked over his shoulder at the old man, though, silently and curtly asking, what? even though he already knew what was coming.
“Leave that boy alone.” 
Sukuna stared at his grandfather. It'd become more and more common, the way the young man challenged his elder, maintaining hostile eye contact that threatened the beginning of the end if the older broke first–but he never did. The old fuck was too tough. Molded by whatever his own colourful irezumi put him through. 
Once, when he was younger, Sukuna wanted to know how to break his elder. He wanted to crack him open and rip those secrets from him, find out how he could use that knowledge to his advantage to never feel so small in the eyes of another ever again. He hated it. He hated the dominance held over him, the humility that came with it. 
But, like always, Sukuna broke first, looking away with a grumble, reinforcing his place in the food chain.
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Sukuna sighed. The old house was the same–far too traditional, too plain, too normal. It irked him to his core. Here, amidst all the boring normal shit of his past, his status in society no longer mattered; here, he forfeited first place, and took up second.
“Hey,” came your voice, muffled by the car window separating you from your lover. When Sukuna looked over at you, he saw his little nugget tucked safely in your arms, only half-awake as she nuzzled into the warmth of your chest. 
But then there was you. A face full of confusion, annoyance, and exasperation greeted Sukuna. You went for the door handle to wrench your man out of the car, but he locked it, watching you yank on the handle a handful of times before you knocked on the window incessantly. 
“Get out of the goddamn car, you little shit,” you hissed, looking between Sukuna and the front door of the house frantically. You stared at him hard, then, your frustration building every second your alpha refused to budge and end the embarrassment crashing down on you. 
A terrifyingly calm expression took over your face, before you adjusted the little pup in your arms and fished something out of your pocket. Sukuna didn't realize what it was until you leaned over and slammed your fist into the hood of the car, tearing into it easily with the fucking key in your hand. 
“You gotta be shitting me–” Sukuna scrambled to unlock the door and swing it open. He hopped out and slammed the car door closed. “You little–” 
“Oh, good, you found your balls.” 
Sukuna groaned as he looked at the damage you left. “Baby, you know how expensive this is gonna be to fix? Fucking hell, why're you such a crazy bitch?” 
“Well, look who I'm stuck with,” you said lightly. “Obviously you've corrupted me. It's not my fault.”
Sukuna grumbled and turned to you, grabbing you and pulling you close; but instead doling out a punishment as his past self was so accustomed to doing, he aggressively nuzzled the top of your head, viciously scenting you up and squeezing you against his solid frame while he grumbled and growled. 
“I'm splitting you in half when we get home.” 
You sighed, dramatic. “Oh no. I'm so afraid. But I guess I deserve such a brutal punishment. Sigh.” You nuzzled him back before tiptoeing up to kiss his chin, then his lips when he leaned down to meet you the rest of the way. “Ready?” 
Sukuna took a deep breath and looked over your face, running the back of his fingers against the rise of your cheekbone. He loved touching your face these days (more than usual). You still held onto a bit of pregnancy plushness that filled in the hollow angles of your handsomely beautiful face and other once-bony parts of your body. You'd never panicked about it, but you bitched and moaned, loudly lamenting about the way your clothes fit a little differently or how you just had to keep stealing Sukuna's shirts to replace your own. 
Touka, your little one, mewled from her spot smooshed between her parents. Sukuna sighed as he pulled back to look down at her, hoping she'd take most the heat off of him when he faced his grandfather again. 
“Let's just get this over with.” 
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Yuuji was the one who answered the door. He lived with Wasuke, claiming it was just easier and cheaper than getting his own place, but most knew the younger was a worry wart; he couldn't stand by and let his grandfather get put in a home or quietly tough out everyday life on his own in his elderly years. Yuuji stayed for the sake of family, and Wasuke quietly welcomed it. His brother's goodness nearly struck Sukuna with guilt. 
But any chance at guilt died the moment he met the old bastard's stony gaze. 
“Itadori-san,” you cooed pleasantly, a far cry from the demon that'd keyed Sukuna's car. “It's good to see you again.” 
Wasuke quirked a brow and walked up to you, nudging Yuuji aside so he could get a good look at you and the pup nestled to your chest. Sukuna took a breath and looked away. He didn't need to see the critical stare of the old man while he processed the fact that Sukuna had indeed not stayed away from you. Ugh, the idea of being scolded made the alpha itch. 
“We're far beyond honorifics, boy. You know that,” Wasuke lightly scolded, and you beamed. Sukuna could imagine a little shiba inu tail on you, wagging fast enough to take flight. “I'm glad to see you in one piece after taming my grandson. It must've been a damn ordeal.”
Yuuji cackled impishly, pointing at Sukuna. “Oooh, burn.” 
“Sorry, who got the omega in the end?” Sukuna quipped back, making Yuuji sprout a grumpy look and cross his arms with a mumbled you suck. 
“Quit the fighting and come in,” Wasuke ushered. “And you,” he snapped, looking at Sukuna with chronic disapproval, “Take off those sunglasses. You're trying too hard. Look like an idiot.”
You stifled your laughter as Sukuna grumbled and plucked his shades off. His very cool, very neat, very fancy, very expensive shades.
Wasuke ushered you all inside, gesturing to the kotatsu prepared with food and drinks and starting off on a grumbling rant about the shitty cold mornings and warm afternoons that came with Spring. Obviously, he'd complained to break the ice, and it worked. 
Small talk turned into easier conversation. Whenever Sukuna seemed to struggle with being cordial, you would lean into him more, squeezing his hand tightly whilst purring under the radar. That worked, too. As much as Sukuna was an asshole, he didn't want the afternoon to fall apart. Better he stay quieter than say something to regret. 
“They've calmed you down,” Wasuke said, snapping Sukuna's mind to attention. It was then that he finally noticed Yuuji had effectively kidnapped little Touka and was giving her a tour of the house like she actually gave a shit. 
“Hm?” He grunted, so eloquent. 
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning into your partner more with a sigh. “Words, not grunts, Sukuna.”
He huffed. “You grunt at me all the damn time.” 
“Not at our elders.” 
“Tch.” Sukuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whaddaya mean they've calmed me down, huh?” 
Wasuke, for once, looked somewhat amused. “Your pup. Your mate. They've made you human.” 
“Ha? You're actin’ like I was some four-armed, two-faced freak or some shit.” 
“Some days you acted like it,” Wasuke scoffed. “Doesn't matter if you agree or not, I can see the change in you, kid–that wild thing inside of you is finally settling down.”
You hummed and looked up at him. “I've noticed, too. You're less pissy. More tolerant. Still annoying, but that's just a personality flaw.” Sukuna growled and nipped at you, but you faced him so very bravely and suffered no such nip. 
“I'm glad for you, kid,” Wasuke interjected, breaking up the petty fight that was about to go down. The two of you looked back to the eldest. “You were a real pain in the ass, and you fucked up a lot along the way, but you made things work out. You should be proud.” 
Sukuna would never be able to put his feelings, the utter rush he felt getting his grandfather's approval, into words. 
“So where does this end, kid?” Wasuke asked. 
“What?” He asked before he could properly think it through. 
“This life. Your ‘profession.’ How long're you gonna keep that up, huh?” 
Sukuna could feel you lean into him more, letting more body weight ease your shared worries about the life you shared and the professions you'd taken up. Both unpredictable. Both in the crosshairs of dangerous beasts.
“You think we'll end up six feet under like mom ‘n dad, that it?” Sukuna rasped. He looped an arm around your waist and squeezed you against his side in reassurance as Wasuke's expression grew gloomier.
“You're more like your mother than you know, kid. You don't–”
“‘Course I don't know,” Sukuna interrupted, firm but not vicious. “Mom was a fucking moron ‘n knocked up whoever the fuck she could to get an in into one of those big-name clans. No shit they'd get pissed off and kill the bitch.” 
Wasuke scowled, but didn't argue. It was hard to when his daughter in-law was in the wrong, when she dug her own grave with every child sired before slipping and falling in on her own. A sad story. An incredibly stupid one, too. 
“That won't happen,” you offered mildly. Sukuna looked down at you, suddenly feeling the urge to shoot another baby into you as you spoke up on your own. “I trust Sukuna as much as I trust myself; he's worked hard to create an untouchable empire, and I have the connections to supplement it.” You glanced up at him. “If it's not Sukuna, then it'll be someone else running Tokyo. I couldn't think of a better king.”
A beat of silence passed before Wasuke asked, “And you, kid?” You afraid? 
Sukuna willed his mind out of R-rated territory to look at his grandfather. “You know me,” he started with a troublesome grin, “I can't stay away from what I want.” 
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phyrestartr · 8 days
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Should I post on AO3? 🤔
I recently discovered there are reader insert fics on AO3 but idk how popular the genre is there?? Idk I'll have to do some digging too, but if anyone has any deets as to how bumpin it is there, I'd be appreciative of the intel!!
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phyrestartr · 10 days
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I don't wanna be that guy, but Imma be that guy for a second bc it's my lunch break
No matter which character I look for fics for (rn it's Sukuna lmfao sadge), 95% of the time the grammar is chalked, the reader is a hyper-feminine NPC with no personality (and is constantly the damsel in distress somehow), the dialogue is all 'im 15 and this is deep'-coded, character personalities are void of nuance or just OOC--
Deadass the pain I go through to try and find a fic with writing style/good grammar/interesting plot or premise/interesting take on a relationship like 😭 ESPECIALLY if you're someone who is NOT hyper-fem and aligns more with GN/masc reader insert stories?? Bro you're shit out of luck
IDK I love cooking for myself and for people who are similarly looking for d1ck instead of p×ssy, but GODDAMN would I ever love to find some food I like out here without having to scale mountains o(--( I'm so...hungy...i just want...well-written stories...
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phyrestartr · 10 days
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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (TEASER)
#full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, typical canon violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS
A/N: this fic is so long rn lol I just have to release a piece of it into the wild :sob: feel free to reply if you want to be tagged for the full story when it's ready
☆☆☆
You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 
Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 
Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 
They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 
Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 
“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 
You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 
What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–
“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.
“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.
“They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated. “They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 
The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 
The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 
“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 
Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 
That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 
“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”
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phyrestartr · 11 days
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i appreciate you and your fics💗 you're one of the very few fanfic authors I know with correct grammar and knows how to use the semicolon hahaha
Yoo thank you so much!! Tbh my grammar and punctuation can be kinda fucky sometimes (idk I overthink things and tend to mess up for no reason lol, and I mess up punctuation for style but asdjkfl;), but I really do try so I'M GLAD IT IS APPRECIATED!! I'm also a girlie who can't read fics unless the grammar is p ok so I understand the struggle loool TY FOR LETTING ME KNOW YOU ENJOY MY FICS!! <3
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phyrestartr · 18 days
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writing this here so i don't lose it lol it's not worth opening a google doc for :clown:
prof sukuna/university reader -- oopsie papi knocked up a student kekw
mechanic sukuna / reader?? idk sukuna and yuuji are twins tho
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phyrestartr · 19 days
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The Sukuna x male reader was so good!!!! I absolutely loved it!! Will there be more parts? And do you have a tag list??
YOOO TYSM DUDE! There'll be a next part, but it'll mostly be a compilation of short stories and drabbles that take place in various, random points of the relationship. I like this AU and dynamic, so I kinda just want to write lil random tidbits for it and post them in a drabble dump or smth 😎
And if you/anyone would wanna be tagged for Sukuna/Reader then feel free to comment it here/on the fic list/on fics and I'll do my best to tag folks 🙏 Tysm for the interest bro!!
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phyrestartr · 27 days
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I LOOOOOOVE THE OMEGAVERSE SUKUNA X MALE READER PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING RAHHHHHHHHH
WAAAAAH U GOT IT HOMIE I WILL PROVIDE!!! TYSM FOR READING AND FOR LETTING ME KNOW U ENJOY THIS SHITE ASJDFWI;OIEJ
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phyrestartr · 27 days
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JSHSHSHSHS Omlll sukuna getting shot jumping out of a car and then getting hit by another played out so fucking funny in my mind especially eith everything going on in the manga rn, and him just standing there with that classic non chalant pout and arms crossed sjsjsjnddnjdjdjd
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Also i just realised you write male reader! Povs, but they seem mostly gender neutral! Im not male but damn this read was fucking amazing
I love your work, much love
LAMELKEFMWLEMFAWEWEFAE BRO FRFR HIM GETTING REKT GTA STYLE WAS INSPIRED BY EVERYTHING GOING ON IN THE MANGA RN AWOEJF;OWJIEFW LIKE GADDAMN WHAT'S NEXT--I truly like to beat the shit out of Sukuna and have him just nod and brush it off while he's literally -45 lives, spitting out blood, dehydrated--
AND TYSM DUDE!! YE I mainly write male!reader stuffs, but I don't really use gendered language TOO much idt (esp when m!reader is the taker B) ) sO I GUESS I ACCIDENTALLY WRITE GN-LEANING FICS LOL. tbh, reading fics that are like PVSSY TITTIES BABY GRILL CVNT YEEHAW makes me recoil lowkey, just bc i v much enjoy being to be able to switch up reader's gender in stuff i read, but the PVSSY BOOBA of it all kinda makes it difficult sometimes?? IDK. I'm gn/nb and enjoy dat sweet sweet ambiguity and room to imagine things differently!!
REGARDLESS I'm so for ppl reading my fics and imagining a fem/lady reader instead of a male reader tho 🙏 I focus more on the character/personality of reader rather than pp or booba, so REGARDLESS OF GENDER I HOPE TO PROVIDE FUN READS WAHOO
TYSM AGAIN WAAAH IM FLUSTERED
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phyrestartr · 27 days
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Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader
Main Fic W/C: 5.9k Bonus Drabbles W/C: 1.6k
[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, I KINDA EDITED BUT I JUST WANT THIS TO BE YEETED INTO THE OPEN OK BYE SORRY IF PARTS ARE CLUNKY]
@better-imagination-9 I summon thee
--
Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business. 
He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as it was made out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders. 
“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand. 
“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”
Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”
“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I'm not.” 
Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor. 
“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–” 
“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.” 
Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room. 
You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane. 
“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted. 
“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.” 
“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat. 
Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”
He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.
The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.
The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too. 
Ding. 
He knew it was you. It had to be you. You were a good person, willing to let Uraume rest while you gave your ex the update he needed about his brother. After all, you didn't fear him, nor did you yearn to please him. You were more than capable of delivering shit news and getting off scotch free. 
“So?” Sukuna took a deep puff from his cigar and leaned further into the balcony railing as you approached. 
You hummed as you sidled up next to him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as the breeze tugged at it. “He'll be fine. Yuuji's tough. He's a bit shaken up now that the adrenaline’s worn off, though.” 
“Maybe that'll teach that idiot not to get shot.” 
“Probably not.” 
“Probably not,” Sukuna sighed, tapping off a dash of ash from the butt of his cigar just before it was plucked from his hands. “Oi.” 
“These things'll kill you,” you scolded airily. “So will that.” You tried reaching for the crystalline glass of amber, too, when Sukuna scoffed and took a sip to spite you. 
“Don't,” he snarled. Any normal omega would have backed away. Any normal omega would have keened. Any normal omega would have tried to please him up with a sweet scent of submission. But you were a different breed entirely. 
“Don't growl at me–” you gaped as Sukuna downed the expensive liquor before whipping the glass at the skyline. “Sukuna.”
He stalked back into his penthouse with heavy steps as he ran his hands through his hair. He had to busy his fingers, his palms, just so he wasn't tempted to touch you, to grab you like he was used to. It'd been years since you were properly together–properly engaged in fact–but he still couldn't shake those infuriating fucking habits. You were a cancer in his mind, plaguing his body and thoughts. 
But he didn't want you to leave. Maybe he liked the chase. Maybe he just liked how his entire, explosive world narrowed down to just one infuriating thing that he wanted so badly. He didn't know. Maybe he didn't need to know. 
Sukuna poured himself another drink and collapsed onto his soft leather couch with a deep sigh. His arms draped along the back, one hand still holding the glass by the rim. He let his head fall back, and stared at the ceiling. 
Thankfully, you wandered in. And you wandered toward him, not to the door like you usually did when his temper flared and he acted out. Something small and pathetic in him uncoiled and settled down, purring in content when you took a seat beside him. 
“What's going on?” you asked quietly. Your fingertips singed sparks of pleasure against his skin where you touched: his cheekbones, his hairline, his furrowed brow.
He lolled his head to the side to look at you, his stupid pretty boy. “Nothing.” Not even Sukuna believed that.
You brushed his hair back, and the stupid alpha in him rose to the surface and moaned. “Yuuji’s not behaving?” Your warm palm cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it. 
“That little shit never behaves,” he mumbled through the vibrato of purrs rumbling from his chest. “Gonna make me die young.” 
“Hm. Is that why you haven't slept?” 
“I'm sleeping.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Sukuna.”
“I said–” 
“You and I have different definitions of ‘enough,’” you chided lightly, like you were scolding one of your cats. “You look tired.” 
“Maybe it's because my mate scampered off in the middle of the night.” 
“Don't blame this on me.” 
“Why not?” Wine-red eyes glowered at you, deciding whether he should dominate or decimate you. “It's your fault.” 
You recoiled the slightest bit, your top lip twitching in that oh-so familiar way it did whenever you were close to snarling and snapping at him. You had such a temper for such a calm thing. Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't try to rile you up on purpose. 
“Ho? What,” he started, grinning wickedly when you made a move to get up, but his arms snaked around you and held like wrought iron. “Feelin’ guilty?” 
“No,” you hissed, half-pissed by his drink spilling on you, half-pissed by his accusation. “Let go. I'm leaving.” 
“Leaving?” He crooned. “You always get so pissy when I don't wanna talk, ‘n now that I'm in the mood, you're tryna leave? Come on, sweetheart, that's not fair.” 
“I don't feel like fucking fighting tonight,” you snapped, and Sukuna stayed quiet for a change. “Yuuji got shot. You look like shit. And we--I haven't–” you took a deep breath. “Can't we just be civil for a night? Can't we just talk about–”
“About what?”
“About whatever.” 
“Fine.”
“Alright. Okay.” 
Somewhere behind the haze of alcohol, Sukuna's consciousness celebrated–this could be his shot at starting to fix things. This was his moment to rebuild that lost relationship and maybe clean up a space in his life for you to sit safely in. Your expectant expression agreed with him. You looked quite cute, what with your big eyes and the way you leaned into him. But instead–
“Was it a boy or a girl?” Sukuna asked before taking a sip of whatever remained in his glass. 
You blinked and shook your head, eyes narrowing the slightest as you looked over his face. “What?” You asked. 
Sukuna snorted and turned to face you, one arm gesturing with his scotch glass while the other arm stayed slung across the back of the couch. “I said,” he started, gesturing to your stomach and chuckling through his low, bassy words, “boy or girl? If it was a girl, then maybe the world did you a favour. You know how it is for women in this day and age.” 
You stared blankly like you were shellshocked, and Sukuna bubbled with near-manic, reedy laughter until you got up and walked to the door. 
“Oi, where the hell are you going, huh?” He got up and followed you, hastening his steps when he saw you b-line for the door. “Omega.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, purring into your ear as he pressed his chest to your back. “Come on, we can make another one. You'd like that, huh?” 
“Get off,” you barked, ripping his arms away from you. But he grabbed you again and spun you back to face him. You shoved him back, your mind whirling in a chaotic waltz drenched with grey thoughts and crimson rain that almost drowned out the words he barked at you until–
Whack. 
He hit you. Backhanded, fingers adorned with thick, bulky rings and knuckles that'd seen too many fights. A natural disaster contained in the vessel of a mortal man–sometimes, he didn't know his own capabilities.
“Shit,” Sukuna mumbled, scrambling to set down his glass to, what, tend to you? Rewind time? Sure. “Babe–” 
But you, too, were a natural disaster. The tsunami that came after an earthquake, raising tides high and staring down at split earth with a taunt: you think you're bad? Watch this.
Thwack. 
You snatched up that bottle of fancy scotch and hit a home run, watching Sukuna collapse to the floor.
Sukuna woke up with a concussion, his wallet missing, and one of his favourite cars torched. 
It got him riled up. He was too ready to hunt you down and make you rectify your mistakes–that is, until he remembered why you did what you did. 
Boy or girl?
Maybe the world did you a favour.
Fuck. He flew way too close to the sun this time.
He watched you stack up expenses on his card instead of hunting you. Your little rage-filled crime spree was kind of funny anyway, and he couldn’t help but hope it made you feel at least a little better. 
Though he knew it could never. Nothing could make it better. 
“You should quit messing around with him,” Ieiri said as she tended to the half-dead gangster laying on her operating table. “He's bad news. A kid like you shouldn’t be getting involved.” 
The one little, wiggly lucid part of Sukuna wanted to strangle Ieiri; you were young, sure, but not stupid. Sukuna wouldn't go so far as to say you were mature for your age, no, but you'd been beaten down by life and forced into the role of an adult for long enough that it'd changed your way of thinking, of perceiving the world. You could make your own choices–just as long as it involved him. 
“You're not the first person to tell me that,” you said softly, words rising with a small, warm chuckle. “Good guys try way too hard to put on a show, to hide how garbage they can be.” You squeezed Sukuna's hand and ran your thumb over his split knuckles. “Guys like him show you who they really are right away. Then, you get to figure out what his good side is like.” 
You were there again. In the elevator, looking a little pensive beyond your cool exterior. 
Sukuna took a drag from his cigarette as he stepped in beside you. The button for his penthouse leered at him and whispered, “you have time.” 
All he had to do was think of what to say. The right course of action was obvious, but–well, was it really his fault? He couldn't accept that 100%. You clocked him upside the head with a fucking glass bottle and stole his– 
“Those things'll kill you.” Your fingers snatched the smoke from his lips before he realized it. He caught you butting it out on the fancy gold railings. 
“I like things that can kill me,” he hummed, lighting another cigarette and chuckling when you snatched that one too. “What, scared of a little competition?” 
“Yes.” 
Oh. Sukuna liked that.
“I, uh,” you started, fumbling with your pockets before handing something over. “Found this.” 
Sukuna glanced your way finally. He couldn't help but laugh as he plucked the wallet from your hands. 
“Found it, huh?” 
“Mhm.” 
“Such a benevolent, pious thing. I would've kept it.” 
“Yeah, well. You're a dick. ‘Course you would.” 
“Where'd you find it?” 
“My pocket.” 
“No shit.” 
“Yeah. Weird.” 
The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the empty hall leading to the penthouse. He glanced down at the door before looking back down at you. 
“Have a drink with me.”
Your expression soured. 
Sukuna threw his arm against the doors to keep them open. “Coffee?” 
Your brows lifted, the creases smoothing from your face. “Coffee.” 
Sukuna's alpha bloomed with pleased content. He sidled up next to you and rested his broad hand on the small of your back, leading you down the hall. 
“With a bit of Baileys.”
“No Baileys.”
He let you try to sooth his stress while you waited for your favourite, poor-person coffee to brew. 
You straddled his thick thighs as you kissed at his neck. Your hands roamed and threaded through his gelled hair, your blunt nails dragged along his scalp, coaxing rumbling purrs out of your alpha.
“Shit,” he moaned, leaning back into your hands, digging his head into your digits and grumbling like an old dog. You hummed in sympathy, and gave him harsher scritches, making his knee bounce in double time like a dog getting the spot scratched.
You weren’t done, though. You licked at his neck’s scent gland and coaxed more of his natural musk to the surface to mix with yours–a classic way to get one’s partner to calm down. You were methodical as fuck about it, too, knowing how Sukuna’s stress abruptly blocked any good scents in favour of excreting foul, angry odors into the air when he was pissed. Or, sometimes, he’d shut down completely, the only scent coming from what clung to his skin and clothes. 
And so, he needed a little more TLC to get things flowing again, to make his body disarm and let the good vibes flow. 
You nipped the swollen spot lightly, eliciting a strangled growl from the man. “Too rough?” Your tongue pressed at the spot again, and pulled more of that deep purring out of him. “Maybe not.” 
“By all means, rough me up.” That was as close to a warning as you would get from a greedy bastard like Sukuna. He wanted you to bite harder, to break skin and set the wild tornado of a mating rut into motion. You were careful to avoid him when your unholy heats crashed down on you, but being in the presence of your estranged man when he was set off–well, it’d jumpstart your sex-crazed frenzy, too. 
“Raincheck,” you murmured. 
He huffed and rubbed circles in your hips before grabbing your ass and squeezing. “When's the last time–” 
The coffee maker sang a tune and you got off, saved from your warm, fuzzy marking daze. “Does it matter?”
Sukuna got up and stalked after you, rubbing the ache out of his shoulder. “Like it or not, we're stuck with our binding vow.” His chest pressed to your back, his arms slipping around your waist as he leaned down to nuzzle into your skin. “Mated for life.” He couldn't help the smile that branded into your neck. 
You cleared your throat and snatched up two mugs. “There're surgeries–”
“No.” 
“How do you take your coffee again?” Hah. You didn't even try to argue it.
Sukuna's ego boomed. His scent grew more dominating and demanding in tow. “You know how I like it. You know the way I like everything.”
You scoffed and slapped his hand away, the sweet, teasing omega that happily marked him up and scented him to high heaven gone, now replaced with your annoying, bratty self. Ugh. He loved it as much as he hated it.
“You used to be cuter,” Sukuna commented, quiet and breathy, so out of character. His hands retreated back to hold your waist instead of keeping you trapped against him. “What happened to–”
“You know what happened.” You sounded tired, too. Angry. But not at the Sukuna standing with you right then and there. 
Sukuna's old friend, unyielding frustration, bore down on him. He sucked his teeth and beat down the urge to snap, to yell and scream, claim it wasn't his fucking fault and that you never filled him in, so how could–
His forehead pressed against your shoulder. “I don't,” he sighed. “I don't fucking know, (Name). We lost our kid, I know that much, so what the fuck else is there?” 
For a moment, he thought he'd lost you again. He expected you to whirl around, throw a cup at his head and curse him to hell to start off another fight; instead, you slipped out of his hands gently, and replaced your warmth with a cup of coffee. 
“Come sit.” 
Sukuna complied. 
You tucked your legs up under you when you sat down. Your own mug was held snugly with both hands, yet your fingers fidgeted, twirling around whatever rings you had on while you thought of what to say. 
“So,” you started. “How much do you know?”
Sukuna leaned back and thought. “Uraume called. Said something was wrong.” He could remember their voice ringing in his ear, that usual, frigid demeanor exploding into something panicked and tortured as they tried to comfort you, order idiots around, and explain the situation. “They didn’t know what, but said you were bein’ taken to Ieiri. I met ‘em there, Gojo wouldn’t let me come in.” He sighed, the memories pricking his nerves. “Told me you miscarried, and–well, that’s more or less it.” 
You nodded a little, digesting the scraps of knowledge that’d been given to Sukuna. “I was alone,” you breathed. “I was–I’d been cramping. A lot. I thought–I didn't know–I just–I thought it was normal.” You cleared your throat, fidgeting more and only stilling when Sukuna's palm rested on your leg. You covered his hand with one of yours. “There was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying. Uraume and Yuuji took me to Ieiri.” 
Sukuna remembered that, too. He remembered catching sight of you just before his brother carried you away from him. It was hard to forget the sound of your wailing amidst all that red–that damned noise came from hell itself, from the burning, fetid pits of agony and despair and up through your beautiful voice. For something so foul to touch you was nothing but blasphemous.
Sukuna tried to follow you in, but that moron Gojo wouldn’t let him in, spouting some bullshit about how he’d make things worse. Needless to say, Sukuna snapped, and Ieiri suddenly had more than a mourning omega to deal with.
“I pinned it on you to cope. I didn’t know what else to do.” You spared a shy glance at him before staring down again. “...Uraume filled me in, though. You were dealing with so much shit. All that crap with the Zenins. And you didn’t even–you didn’t even know I was knocked up until I wasn’t.” You sighed and sipped your drink before setting it aside. “Guess it was easier to blame you for everything than it was to just accept I got unlucky.” 
“‘Unlucky’?” Sukuna repeated lowly, void of mirth for once.
You nodded. “Chromosome bullshit, garbage genetics, a shitty cervix. Coulda been anything.” Sukuna watched your expression shift from desolate to bitter. “And if you fuck up once and lose your pup, odds are it’ll happen again.”
“Says who?”
“Science. Doctors.”
“You really gonna take their word like that?” Your eyes met his, doey and expectant. “I'll gut ‘em myself if they say that shit next time you're knocked up.”
You looked a bit bashful then, looking away from him with pursed lips and glossy eyes. For a second, Sukuna thought you were about to snap and argue with him about how you vowed to never get pregnant again (which he'd indulge in), or maybe even bolt for the door (which he wouldn't allow), but instead, you grabbed the remote. 
“Tch. Don't say such stupid shit. It's annoying.” 
Sukuna could only grin to himself as you settled in beside him, tucking up against his side. Neither of you could swallow your pride enough to properly apologize for anything ever, but that wasn't necessarily needed–understanding was what was needed. Things had just become a little bit clearer. 
For once, the alpha found himself at ease. Sure, you had your petty and some less-than-petty spats, but there was a coil of contentment that stayed at the forefront of Sukuna's mind through it all. Now, he no longer fumed nor bristled, no longer wondered if you really belonged to him, no longer thought about how to trap you if he wanted to keep you around. 
Because you made more of an effort to see him, to call when you couldn't, to set his vicious wolf's heart at ease so he could rest soundly. He rested the most when you were so gracious as to curl up in those black, silken sheets with him, too.
Don't get too excited. It's just because we're mated; we'd go insane otherwise, Is how you rationalized it. And, honestly, it was cute to see you act so flippant and uncaring when Sukuna knew you were so the opposite. 
Little liar. Loves playing pretend. He gently tucked stray hairs behind your ear as you snoozed soundly beside him. It was unlike you to sleep in so late (“late” meaning past 6am), and it was unlike Sukuna to wake up before you, so it must have been kismet. 
Because this moment was the first in a long time where he got to touch you. Beyond the playful ass slaps and grabs at your hips, you never really let him feel you. Or did he just never try to touch you like this? Gently, just for the sake of feeling your skin and your warmth? 
Sukuna was a brutal man. He didn't often have a chance to be careful. If he'd had that kid, then he might've learned how; he could've learned not to throw glasses at skylines, not to lash out at his omega, not to expect you to still love you when he broke you. 
He brushed his thumb along your cheek and down to your jaw, admiring the soft skin and strong angle that led him to the curve of your chin, and your perfect lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. It'd been an eternity since he had a taste of you. Maybe if he was gentle–
I can do gentle. Sukuna shifted the slightest bit towards you until his nose lightly brushed against yours, until he felt your light breaths fan against his skin. Ah, why was his heart beating so fast now?
He did his best to ignore the way his pulse thundered in his ears when he brushed his lips against yours once more, before he kissed you softly. Gently. Perfectly. And he took his time parting. He had to savour the taste of your lips against his because who knew when he'd get to kiss you again? 
I love you, he heard echo in his memories when your lips parted. But he never heard himself reply. 
“Love you too, brat,” he murmured. “Don't you dare think otherwise.” 
Your eyes opened a moment later. “You mean that?” came your reply, just as light and whispered. Sukuna felt waves of heat come off your skin–were you blushing?
Crimson eyes flickered from your bashful look to the slight parting of your lips and back again. “Always.” Even though he never said it. But he let you get away with everything to show that love–credit card theft, cracking him upside the head with a bottle, abandoning him for months on end.
A soft ‘hm’ hummed through you. Your sleepy gaze melted from Sukuna’s, and down to his lips, too, while your own pursed, pensive. Thoughtful. Christ, you were really something else–just a single look from you had his mind reeling, his chest easing into a warmth so reminiscent of a campfire, the sort you both used to sit around when you’d bullied Sukuna into buying one for his too-big balcony. 
Back then, you were just “friends,” though the flirting and meaningful touches said otherwise. You were still a street doctor, introduced to him by Yuuji of all people, but you had more pep in your step, especially when you worked to try and swoon the hardened, deranged alpha you’d decided belonged to you. You’re mine, you said simply after shooting whatever whore the big, bad boss had hired for the night. The look in your eyes, cold and determined, got Sukuna achingly hard in an instant. He never wanted you to look at anyone else like that–your rage, your obsession, it could only ever be for him.
“‘M I still yours?” You still want me? You still love me? Am I still just for you?
You looked a little sentimental. A little sad, too, maybe. But maybe it was just the culmination of your fears and worries, your wants and desires finally breaking through your solemn being. 
“I'm a minimalist at heart. I've only got room for so much.”
“Don't tell me you're back on that Kondo Marie kick–” 
“But you're something I can't do without.” Yeah, I love you. I want you. I don't want much, but I want you. You're mine. “You bring me joy, or whatever the saying is. But I wanna beat the shit outta you sometimes for being a dumbass.” 
Sukuna laughed and nudged your nose with his–a small, primal gesture of fondness. “Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Tch. You're gonna have to be careful--you're gonna send my old ass to an early grave if you keep up with all this fiery youth shit.”
“Then I can inherit your fortune,” you offered airily before kissing him teasingly. Sukuna growled when your small fangs dug into his bottom lip playfully. “That'd be nice.” 
“Hah. Everything's going to family–Yuuji, the old fart.” Sukuna pulled you in closer and purred as you complied. “You'd have to–”
“I'll marry you if that's what it takes,” you cooed, and Sukuna froze. You paused for a moment, too, before lifting yourself up to look down at his dumb face. “Oi.” You pat his cheek lightly but he scowled at you, half-cranky, half-defeated. “Eeeh? You mad?”
“Tch.”
“Awe, big alpha's mad.”
“Don't.” A command. A warning. One that had your subgender reeling and whimpering behind you, but your human side smiling, ready to mock. 
You slid on top of him, straddling his waist and splaying your hands out on his broad, solid chest. Sukuna still kept his gaze elsewhere. Honestly, you couldn't blame him--you were in a mood. 
“Oi,” you prodded, poking at his ridiculous pecs and tracing over the dark lines of his irezumi. “Hey. Don't pout.” But he grabbed your hands when your stupid fingers threatened to assault his nipples, and he continued to pout. “Come on, I said I'd marry you.” 
“Tch.” You've said that before. 
“I mean it.” 
“Tch.” You’ve said that before, too.
You leaned down, and nuzzled the hollow of his cheek while he grumbled and grumped. “You don't like the idea of breeding me anymore? You don't want me to yourself, all caught up in your bedsheets with you between my legs? Hm? You don't wanna fuck me through my heat, knock me up a few more times, make me bare your children for the world to see how I belong to Ryoumen Sukuna? You don't want me to be drenched in your scent–” 
You squeaked when your man flipped you around, pinning you before ripping off the sleep shorts keeping your skin from him. His rough fingers dove deep into your slicked up hole (apparently your long list of hypotheticals had worked you up into a soft, wet, pliant thing) and hurried to stretch you wide. 
“Such an annoying little shit,” Sukuna grumbled. And you laughed, lightly and so achingly genuinely through your fluttery mewls and moans. “If you try ‘n back out this time, I'll break your fucking legs and tie you down to the bed, you got that? I'm not gonna be so fucking nice this time.”
“Eh? You were being nice last–” you whined when his wet fingers jammed into your mouth. But you obediently sucked and bit at them, holding onto his muscled arm for leverage while he kicked off his bottoms and pressed his sweltering tip to your soft entrance. 
“You got no idea, princess.” Sukuna pushed in, groaning with ancient, cursed need as your insides welcomed him and obeyed, letting his uncomfortable size push you open. Seemed your body still remembered him. Wanted him as much as your stupid pretty mouth claimed. 
You were gasping, your molars chewing into his fingers as your missing piece slid back into place, filling you up until it hurt to breathe. Strong thighs clamped down against Sukuna’s sides as he dragged you down, forcing the last bits of his cock into your very depths, squeezing a reedy whine out of you, before he pulled out and slammed right back in again and again and again.
Your cry nearly sent him over the edge. It was a loud, bassy thing, something like a cello toppling or having its string plucked too hard by a callous touch–a sound Sukuna reveled in. You were the only partner he'd had that was like this, so demanding and bitchy, absolutely horrible and as poisonous as alphas were, and he loved it. He lived and died by your gospel, by the very life that thrummed underneath his touch.
And you promised to be all his. Sukuna could have everything, anything and anyone, and that apparently included trapping and claiming a god. One that only he prayed to. One that'd only smile upon him. One that only delivered to him divine blessings. 
What a divine gift.
He folded you in half with ease and blanketed your trembling body with his own. The fingers fucking into your mouth slipped out and down to your throat where they squeezed lightly; then, they traveled to the back of your neck, found your cute little nape, and squeezed. 
Your eyes rolled back as your body arched up into him. Words left you in some ancient tongue neither you nor Sukuna could decipher. But it was a language of love and pleasure, the sort that brought delicious submission coiling through your blood in offering to the lowly creature devouring your holiness. 
“Sukuna,” you choked out. Your fingers dug into his shoulder and fisted in his hair, pulling him closer to the old, scarred mark left there by him a decade ago. “‘Kuna, I need–” 
The boss laughed low, but with fluttery, manic high tones warped throughout. “Need me to bite you? Mark you mine again?” He taunted. His nails dug into your soft side as he fucked into you harder, lifting your waist up to meet his brutal angle as his base started to swell. “I wanna hear you say it–say you need it, you want it. Say you need me to fill your guts every fucking night. Say I'm the only one who can get you there. I'm the only one–” his other hand grabbed your nape harder, forcing your submission further, forcing your neck to the side to present it to him. 
Then, with a snarl, he added, “say ‘I do.’” 
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you murmured those very words into his ear. 
I do. 
Sukuna's heart howled with the beast living inside him. Blood flooded his mouth when he tore into your shoulder, digging deeper than needed to brand you his again just before his pulsing knot squeezed into you and locked into place, stilling his wild rampage and holding you hostage beneath his hulking body. 
You shifted and writhed against him, so obviously overwhelmed by such an archaic, crazed union–your omega must have been going wild, willing you to fight against the monster pouring his seed into you, locking you in place, taking away your autonomy. But a short, rough warning growl settled your inner self the slightest bit and straightened out your thoughts enough for your human pettiness to urge you, too, to sink teeth into flesh and mark up your alpha to complete the re-bonding. 
Good boy. Sukuna's hips rutted against you in light pulses, attempting to jam his knot further into you to ensure you'd take everything he so graciously offered you. But every little move your bodies made together tore more hot strings of cum out of him and into your core. Apparently an eternity of not having you was culminating into this one moment. 
You were the one to let go first. You collapsed onto your back with a loud sigh, and the crushing constriction of your thighs laxed just slightly. 
“Fuck,” you gasped, wholly content and pleased. Your hand wiggled between your bodies and rested on the still-inflating curve that your partner had oh-so loving built out of cum and obsessive dedication. “That's gonna make a mess.” 
Good. Sukuna's chainsaw purr reverberated against your bloodied skin. He chewed into you further and relished in the taste and smell of you, the way it mingled with his own scent of existence and made him feel so irrevocably whole. 
Your fingers laced through his hair as you laughed. “Oi, let go already. Your knot's not gonna go down for like thirty minutes. I'm not going anywhere.” 
Your mate obliged, dislodging his chunky fangs from you and lapping at the wound dutifully until the bleeding staunched. Next, he got to work leaving an array of dark hickies and light bites all over your neck and shoulder, just in case the gnarly bite mark wasn't enough to ward off idiots who thought they had a chance with you. He grumbled at the mere idea of it. 
“So?” You cooed, running your hands up and down his muscled shoulders. “What do we do for half an hour?”
Sukuna scoffed. He tried to pull out just a bit, just to see if he was seriously locked in there, and you spat a vile hiss his way, your nails digging into him at the same time. And, fuck, you were tight–
“Fuck.” He didn't think this through.
-- DRABBLES --
“You're dumb as fuck, you know that?” 
“Ah, such romantic words to hear from my wife.”
“Husband, jackass.” 
Sukuna managed to open his eyes through the pounding of his head. God, he felt like shit. But that probably came with the territory of getting shot point-blank before bailing out of a moving car on the highway. Honestly, he was lucky only one car hit him when he hit the pavement. 
Still, it was bad enough to warrant him a ticket to the hospital. Uraume worked behind the scenes, ensuring their boss got a private room and that the police would stay the fuck away if they knew what was good for them, and it all somehow worked out. Uraume was definitely a sorcerer of sorts.
“Can you save it for home? Fucking hell,” Sukuna groaned, letting his eyes fall shut again. “Too tired to argue.” 
“That's a first,” You huffed, and marched up to his side, sitting down in the cozy seat waiting for you. Your careful touch prodded at his hand gently, as if assessing the damage, guestimating if you could hold his hand without hurting him, but he made the choice for you. He caught your hand weakly, and you held him safe with both of yours. 
“Missed you,” he grumbled, squeezing back lamely. “Have fun on the trip at least?”
“Yeah, until I heard what happened.” You sighed, watery and warbled. “I shouldn't have left. You're too stupid to survive alone.”
Sukuna laughed, then coughed. He felt you tense. “F-Fuck you, little shit. I'm fine.”
“You got shot.”
“Been shot before.”
“Jumped out of a car.”
“I've jumped outta faster.”
“Then got hit by another car.”
“That was a first.”
You sighed to fight back either a sob or ill-placed laughter, or maybe both. “This is so fucking ridiculous. Never make me take a vacation again. I can't be off fucking around in Hawaii when my baby daddy's getting hit like it's GTA.” 
“Christ, I already–” he paused, though, and cracked an eye open to look at you. “What did you…” 
He lost his words when he saw you. Your skin glowed in a way he hadn't had the luxury to see before. Your face looked rounder, too, like you'd put on a little bit of weight since you'd been gone. But your scent–your usual sweet, full-bodied scent of flowery coffee was cranked up to a trillion. If Sukuna's nose wasn't busted, he would've noticed the way it filled up the room, and he might've noticed how his own scent rose to meet it in greeting. Something strange was happening. 
“Oh. Right. Uh…” you cleared your throat and hastily tucked some hair behind your ear. You looked a little bit lost for words too, in all honesty. “I’m pregn–”
Sukuna sat up. You barked at him to lay down, your voice rising a few octaves when something that was probably important dislodged from his wrist as he reached forward when you stood. And you froze when his palm pressed against your stomach–a natural, maternal thing to do. Sukuna remembered when he caught your cat for you when she was trying to dart out the door whilst pregnant, and how she froze dead in her tracks when his hand caught her by her kitten-filled stomach, and let him carry her back inside. 
But this was different. This wasn’t his partner’s cat’s kittens he was feeling, it was yours. His. A shared little nugget doing its best to grow big for its expectant mama–and now expectant papa. 
“How long?” Sukuna rasped. When did his throat get so dry? 
“Two months. Ish.” You rested your hands over his again despite the awkward angle he caught you at. “I didn’t know until last week. I tried to call, but–” You got obliterated and couldn’t answer your phone.
“I get it. Don’t gotta explain.” Sukuna gazed at your stomach a moment longer with droopy, half-lidded eyes before looking up at you as nurses burst into the room. “You’re moving in.”
And for once, you didn’t argue. 
“Dude, you guys can't fuck when he's pregnant! You'll crush the baby like a tin can!” 
You snorted and tried to cover your mouth as your tea shot out your nose. You coughed and wheezed, turning away and waving at the brothers in a desperate plea for them to not look and continue their petty argument.
Sukuna, caught between the urge to mock you and kick the shit out of his annoying little fucknut brother, sighed and rubbed his face before handing you his fancy handkerchief he kept tucked in the breast of his jacket for nothing but looks. These days, though, the damn thing had been paying its dues. 
“You think I'm gonna listen to a fuckin’ virgin about this kinda shit?” Sukuna quipped back as he watched you clean up before trying to take a sip of your drink again. 
“Hey, man, I'm just saying. Your dick is like a third leg.” 
You slammed your hand down on the table after spitting a mouthful of tea back into your cup. “Yuuji. Please. Why do you even know that?” 
Yuuji pouted and scooted closer to you under the kotatsu. “Wh--we're brothers! It's not even that weird!” 
“It's weird as shit,” Sukuna offered as he reached out to rub your back. 
“So not weird.” His honeyed eyes locked onto the small affection the older showed you. “Man, so not fair you guys are ganging up on me now that you're, like, a thing,” Yuuji whined and let his arms and chest flop across the table like a petulant child. 
Sukuna smirked. “Jealous?”
You grumbled. “Sukuna. Don't start.”
Yuuji's ears turned bright red. “Jea–what?! No! I like girls like Jennifer Lawrence, not--I don't–”
“N'awe, little pup's tryna cope with losing.” Sukuna grinned wildly when Yuuji's head snapped up, pinning a deadly stare onto the older alpha. “Oh? Finally grow a pair?” 
“Sukuna,” you warned again.
“You better shut it, dude,” Yuuji threatened next, and you knew it was a lost cause; two alpha brothers, both incredibly competitive, both pining for the same omega, spelled disaster. 
Your partner laughed that familiar, ugly laugh–the sort that was too genuine and sounded borderline insane. “Or what? You gonna make me cry–” 
Yuuji launched over the table in an instant, tackling his brother to the ground with a bratty snarl. You watched on, unimpressed, waiting for any signs of their wrestling turning into a serious fight, but it never came. So, you enjoyed it a bit. It wasn't everyday the two idiots played nice. 
You rested your hands on your curved stomach while the two growled and snarled half-heartedly in their dumb attempt to subdue the other. Sukuna could've won in an instant, you both knew that, but he'd let Yuuji think he had a fighting chance for a little bit. It was part of the fun for him, letting his little brother gnaw on him like it'd do anything, letting him try to use his horrible jiu-jitsu skills on his older, bigger brother. It reminded you of–
“Oh,” you peeped when a rowdy kick jostled your hand. It didn't come from the boys, no, it came from the tiny tot inside you. 
The boys froze and stared at you.
“Huh? What's ‘oh'?” Yuuji asked through his panting and straining. Sukuna had him in a headlock, one of his hands giving a brutal noogie to the younger's head. 
“No, just–I think she kicked. Maybe not, I don't–” but your expression brightened with delight when another little throw hit your hand. 
“No shit?” Sukuna grinned, waves of excited alpha scent rolling off of him. He face-shoved Yuuji away before sidling up next to you and pressing his palm against your stomach. You guided his touch to rest over the kicky hotspot, and sure enough–
Thump. Thump.
“Two kicks for your old man, hey?” Sukuna hummed, looking so damn triumphant. 
“Hey, hey, I wanna feel!” Yuuji scrambled over like a nightmare and wiggled up on your other side, pointedly ignoring the snarl Sukuna sent his way. “Come on, it's my niece, chill out.”
Sukuna growled again, but you pulled his hand off to let Yuuji feel the little life making herself known. His eyes, too, lit up when those tiny thwacks battered his palm. 
You looked up at Sukuna dreamily, making the other's ticked expression smooth down into just mildly-annoyed; if your omega wasn't threatened, then he wasn't going to threaten. Sukuna didn't think Yuuji would hurt you, absolutely not, but anyone who came near you, or so much as accidentally bumped into you, pissed Sukuna off, sending his over-protective instincts into overdrive. He always had to rely on you to know when not to react.
“That's so cool!” Yuuji squeaked. “She's seriously in there!” 
“Where the fuck else would she be,” Sukuna grumped.
“Don't ruin his fun, Sukuna.” 
“Yeah, don’t ruin my fun!” 
“Yuuji’s banned from the house.”
“WH–HEY!!”
“Sukuna.”
“Heh.”
“What about gramps, then?” 
Sukuna paused. His heart stopped for a long, long moment. 
“What about him?” He answered, nonchalantly as possible. “Old fuck cut me off years ago.”
“He still cares,” Yuuji offered with a shrug. “And I told him about the pup ‘n everything.”
Sukuna frowned. “Yuuji–”
“You seriously think he doesn't give a shit? Dude, be real, the guy raised us.” 
“That's generous.” 
“Didn't you say you were leaving everything to Yuuji and ‘the old fart’ originally?” You cooed, unhelpful as ever. 
Carmine eyes found yours. “...If he actually wants to meet her–” 
“Awesome, I’ll let him know!” 
“Oi, runt–”
But Yuuji jumped up and pulled his phone out, leaving Sukuna to wonder what he’d just gotten himself into while you laughed at his misery. 
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phyrestartr · 29 days
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Yo im wilding y'all imma write some dabi x reader too like damn I'm in a mood LOL. Will fin the Sukuna fic first tho yeehaw
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phyrestartr · 1 month
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Icarus, I Am Devoted | Sukuna x M!Reader (Teaser!!)
[#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort]
A/N: LET'S GOOOOOOO I love this shit and wanted to share a piece for vibes as I continue to write it lol lmk what you think!!
☆☆☆
Sukuna didn't like Yuuji getting caught up in his business.
He was too brash, thought himself too badass for the world to take down, thought gang life wasn't as bad as the world made it out to be, just because his older brother was involved. Sukuna didn't know where the fuck he got that idea–the tattooed menace had killed people, stolen money, sold shit that ruined lives. It was fun for him, sure, but not so much for bystanders.
“You're an idiot,” Sukuna growled as he dragged his brother into his office and threw him at the chaise lounge while they waited for their doctor on demand.
“H-hey, come on, man! It's, uh, it's not even that bad–” Yuuji grimaced, though, holding at the wound gushing blood from his arm. “You've had worse!”
Sukuna laughed bitterly as his henchmen flooded the room and made necessary preparations for their aid's arrival. “You and I are fucking built different, Yuuji--you’re too damn soft for–”
“I'm not,” Yuuji snapped, honeyed eyes blazing. “I can help you.”
Sukuna laughed again, then ripped his plush, leather chair across the room, sending it hurtling into the expensive ebony walls he encased his place of business in. He roared in overwhelming fury as it clattered to the floor.
“How hard is it for you to listen? How come you can never just fucking–”
“Yelling won't solve things,” your cool voice interrupted as you hurried into the room, medical bag in hand. “I thought you learned that by now.”
Sukuna whirled on his heel. His hands were still fisted in his hair and his blood boiled, but now, there existed an explosive tension with you in the room.
You, his pretty little omega. The one he chased away. The one he still craved. The one that drove him insane.
“Uraume,” Sukuna growled, crimson eyes locking onto his most devoted.
“My apologies,” they said with a pensive look and deep bow, “he was the only one willing to come.”
“So mind your manners, or I'll let your brother bleed out,” you said airily, so haughty and bitchy and annoying. But Sukuna knew you wouldn't let Yuuji die. You wouldn't let him suffer with a wound like that–you were too fond of the little brat.
Sukuna snarled in frustration and fixed his jacket with sharp tugs. “Just fix him.”
He stalked away, ignoring the way Yuuji yelled at him before preening at you as you tended to him. Sukuna knew his brother had a bit of a thing for you, his bitch, which caused more than a handful of problems with the two arguing and fighting for your affections. Naturally, you chose Sukuna. Of course you would.
The alpha's frustrations boiled, reducing the rage in his gut into simmering desire. He leaned his head back against the elevator mirror with a sigh as it shot up toward the penthouse--the one you, too, used to occupy. The one where you'd spread your legs for him, drowning in expensive, black silk sheets while he bred you like the good little thing you were. The one where you'd cook for him if (when) you woke up before him the morning after. The one where you first whispered I love you against his skin when you thought he was asleep.
The elevator doors dinged open, and he stormed out, eager to rid himself of the tightness pulling at his slacks. A cigar and a drink sounded good, too.
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phyrestartr · 1 month
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I hope y'all can forgive me for breaking character and writing a lil smth smth for Ryoumen Sukuna enjoyers bc SHEEEEEE man's been ruling my mind these last few days and I gotsa get it out of my system 💀💀💀 will be past sukuna / yokai!reader okokokok stfu i need this
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phyrestartr · 1 month
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Ight bro, I'm telling you, I fucking love your male reader fics—it gives me the jellies of satisfaction(fuck is that even a thing) I really love Y/N's personality (being really tired and like a puppy but have those dominant aspects—personal fave), and I would love to read more
JELLIES OF SATISFACTION--
sobbing LMAOOO THANK YOU SO MUCH DUDE OH MY GOIAWJEFOIAWE I'm always so curious to know what ppl think of the stories/which version of m!reader they like the most/what they gravitate to, SO TYSM MAN!!
I definitely agree that I like the sleepy/puppy-energy reader when they're dom-ing their lives away in a sohft (and hardcore lmfao) way. IDK, I just appreciate Miguel having a partner who is kinda physically and spiritually on the same level as him? not that having a sub/softer m!reader is bad ofc, I dig that too, but dom/masc men fcking other dom/masc men is nice and fun to write tbh
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phyrestartr · 1 month
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Vampire | Miguel x M!Reader
Vampire!Miguel x Reader W/C: 5.9k
#NSFW, vampires, blood, gore, violence, bottom!reader, top!Miguel, mentions of sex work, mentions of assault, it's kinda cute idk, posessive behaviour, questionable relationship, reader is morally grey, reader is lowkey a criminal though lol, Johnny Blaze = Nic Cage 5ever sorry not sorry
Note: I FINISHED IT! Lost steam with editing so some bits may be kinda weird and word-y, but I really enjoyed writing this honestly :clap: ty guys for voting for me to finish this o(--( I actually finished it so quickly wtf--
--
Vampires. Blood-sucking, man-killing, devil-calling creatures. Many feared them, even now, even after the legends of Dracula faded into obscurity and out of the minds of mortal men. But there were some who kept weary watch on the old castle looming before your meager town: older folks, the ones with bleached scars and haunted voices, with quivering hands and a phobia of the dark. 
You thought they all spun tales, convinced themselves of a time that never happened thanks to whatever their parents hushedly told them come the waning of the sun. “Don't leave the house after dark,” “be wary of the man you know not,” “pray to God for his protection,” is what you figured they'd been told. You couldn't blame them. Not really. Mass hysteria, mass lies told to the young had a penchant for warping their minds, destroying their futures. 
But still, you'd listen. Face alight with a smile, one ear turned their way as you poured drinks for whatever patron came bumbling your way that night. There was one man, one who claimed to have been touched by the devil himself, momentarily transformed into something wicked and unholy, who frequented the establishment. 
“Come on now, Johnny,” you chided with a laugh, “you don't really believe all that rubbish. Touched by the devil? You Americans really are the dramatic sort, aren't you?” 
“You don't need to believe all of it,” Johnny said mildly. “You just need to believe a sliver of it. It'll do you some good. Keep you safe.” 
You smiled to yourself as you busily made a drink for a new customer. “Yeah? Keep me safe from what, exactly?” Your eyes met his, then, and you found your blood stood in place for a moment. 
“You know what.” The devil. He'd said it too many times to count without uttering his name. “Just be smart.”
“I'm always smart,” you said with a phony laugh, the sort you used to lull women and men into some cheap sense of comfort. 
“Smart people do dumb things, too.” He took a swig of his drink before peering down at the amber pooling against crystal. “Like sneaking around old, unhallowed castles.” 
You pursed your lips. “I'm just curious, old man, you don't need to worry. I've not been inside, yeah? Just looked ‘round the outside of the old place.” That's probably filled with loads of goods. 
But Johnny only stared at you, calculating, thinking. It almost unnerved you. 
“Just be careful.” 
And in that moment, a man whose name you didn’t know, but whose body you knew too well, walked into the bar. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall, and from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden away under the brim of that hat, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones. His eyes, a bizarre colour, always glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of, and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadow rolling off his strong neck. 
He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t look away. Your gaze followed him to where he found a quiet seat off to the side by a small table. He wouldn’t order anything. He never did. He only ever waited for your shift to end. 
“Kid?” Johnny prodded, freeing you from your momentary curse.
You blinked and sputtered, nodding in earnest to whatever Johnny had said. “I–right. Careful. I’m always careful.” 
Just be careful.
But that was impossible with this otherworldly spirit around you, waiting for you every other night just for the sake of bedding you, and leaving before morning with nothing but a stack of bills (or sometimes some jewelry, if you were lucky) to remember him by. Your favourite client by far. Your only client, per his request.
Your fists twisted into the bedsheets as you gasped with every brutal crashing of the man’s hips against yours as he took you from behind. He was in a bad mood tonight, it seemed. Normally, he liked to take it slow, he liked to savour his meal, but for some reason–
His hand clasped over your mouth when his teeth tore into your neck again. The cry that left you was hoarse and tired, but not so surprised, no; the man had his kinks, and one just so happened to be biting. He did quite the number on you, too, always breaking skin and leaving scars and scabs in his wake. But it felt good. It felt right to be claimed. The greedy, ugly little part of your heart wanted people to know you were taken and owned by this strange, captivating man.
“Fuck, I–” You buried your face into the mattress as another orgasm hit, striking your dull nerves like hammer on hot iron thrust after thrust. Soon enough, you felt his body stutter against yours just before an uncanny, liquid gold filled your guts and seeped into your core–he was finally done. Finally. Though part of you wished it didn’t have to end. 
His teeth, the pointed, feral things, dislodged from your neck before he ran the flat of his tongue against the weeping wound. Somehow, that always staunched the bleeding. You didn’t quite understand it, but you weren’t exactly well-versed in medicine.
“Tired already?” He mocked in that smokey, American accent. “Thought the young had more than that to offer.” The purr of his voice soothed the pulsing start of a headache as you came down from your high. Yet another strange effect he had on you. 
You took a good handful of moments to catch your breath before you tried to hazard an answer. “I’m–you’re in some kind of mood, darling; can’t blame me for your brutality.” You turned your head to rest your cheek against the scratchy sheets, and the beast took the opportunity to leave nips and kisses along your jaw. 
“Tch. I’m just reminding you who you belong to. Where you belong.” Sharp teeth grazed your skin again, and you shuddered. “No one likes to see theirs fawning over another man.” 
You strained to look back at him. “You–you mean Johnny? He’s not–I wouldn’t let him bed me, are you mad?” A rough push of his hips against yours reprimanded you. “H-He’s a mate, love, that’s all.”
The man twitched. “A mate?” 
“A friend, you bloody idiot.”
He relaxed, but still sought confirmation. “A friend.”
“A friend, indeed. Father-figure, maybe.” With a bit of effort, you managed to wriggle free from the strength of the man pinning you in place, and laid on your back to gaze up at him. “I’m not interested in him, he’s not interested in men, so you needn’t worry a thing.” One of your worn hands reached up and smoothed over the curve of his sharp cheekbone, drawing a pleased hum from the chamber of the beast’s chest. 
“Fine.” He rested his weight on you, and you sighed, content and warmed. But that bony chin digging into your chest was a tad bit fucking irritating. “Then if he’s not trying to fuck you, what makes you listen to him for hours on end, hm?” Hah. Annoyed. Jealous. Quite endearing. 
“He has stories to tell,” you offered. “Words about the devil and the curse of the undead. About Dracula and that old castle.” 
The man’s brows raised in interest. “Oh? And you like ghost stories, is that it? Here I figured I'd be enough to keep your mind entertained,” he said with a taunting smirk, like he thought your suggested belief in those spooky tales was laughable. 
Heat washed over your face. “I–you–shut up, I just like me a good story, is that so wrong? Tch, stupid American.”
He laughed, a sound you adored to hell and back. “I’ll keep it in mind. Might have a few good stories up my sleeve, too.” His head tilted the slightest bit. “Maybe then your eyes won’t wander.”
“Terribly jealous one, aren’t you? I never would’ve guessed it.” You raked your hands through his hair and he sighed, deep and ancient. But your words were true–this man, your mysterious client-turned-lover, he captivated all wherever he traveled. With so many eyes on him, why did he want you to look nowhere else but to him? 
Greedy man. That’s what you decided. He wanted everything and more. 
“Other men don't get to look at what's mine,” he mumbled after a time of you pampering him with pets and scritches. “And you're mine, for the record.” 
“Hm. I quite like the sound of that.” 
“Then marry me.” 
“I'm not sure I can,” you lamented. “I find myself in trouble too often. It puts me on the run, jumping from town to city and back again.” 
“You'd never have to run again if you let me have you.” He picked himself up and loomed over you, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke against your lips. “You'd be safe, cared for, never want for anything. None of those sacks of shit would would lay a finger on you again.” His lips trailed down, brushing against the thick vein in your neck. “I think it's for the best if you agree.” 
You almost argued back, but the large hand engulfing your throat gave you pause. He didn't hurt you, no, but gave you a silent warning. The power that man held over you contradicted his weakness to your wants and desires, and twisted your thoughts into unorganized knots. 
“I'll think on it,” you breathed, not wanting to say yes but unwilling to say no. You didn't want marriage, but commitment was a tantalizing idea. You'd just never thought it'd happen to you. 
His eyes came back to yours again. Your heart fluttered at the glints of carmine shimmering in candle-lit eyes. God, he was beautiful. 
“I better like your answer.” 
You left. You hated doing it, you hated running from your problems and whatever seemed to haunt you day to day, but too much happened in too short a time. 
For one, the landlord demanded more and more rent money from you when he noticed your gifted jewelry and newly tailored coat, and then, when you didn't give it to him, he took to trying to get payment another way. You shot him, obviously. 
Which led to your second reason for leaving–you'd shot a man and fled the scene, unknowing if he was alive or not, and uncaring of the outcome, quite frankly. You figured the lowlife would be more pressed about the money than dying, anyway. 
And third, the bar you worked at found out you'd been swindling and stealing on the job, pocketing tips and taking home near-empty bottles to refill with something of your own design to sell on the streets. Admittedly, it was fine work, but you'd long abandoned that method of money-making once that stranger wandered into your life and offered you more cash than you could imagine.
But you liked that bar. You liked those patrons. No strings attached.
And that's why you were back. Not with the intention to stay, no; you were back to scout out the castle after getting confirmation from some university lads about how valuable the old place was. You figured you could find enough in there with the scoundrels you'd come with, and maybe you could pay the old owner back before leaving for good. 
You'd never have to run again if you'd let me have you. 
Maybe you should've just said yes.
– 
The castle stood beautifully, even with the screams of the slaughtered ringing through the halls. It was big, too, eagerly letting you get lost in its enchanting halls and inviting rooms as you tried in vain to remember the way out. 
That's when you crashed into one of the uni snobs you'd come with, Harry. He was a mess, clothes and hair out of place for once, with a spray of sticky blood coating his face and white shirt. Osborn must've seen their tormentor. 
He grabbed your shoulders as you grabbed his arms. “We have to go, we have to go–” he chanted, pulling and pushing you in undecided directions. 
“Osborn, where did you see it? Where–” Another scream gave you a hint. Your eyes snapped down the hallway, staring deep into the torchlit halls and finding nothing but the unknown staring back. 
Then, there were footsteps. Slow, methodical things that rung to a tune hidden in your memories.
“We have to go,” you whispered, like that'd help. “Osborn, we have to–” a splitting pain electrocuted your senses and sent you stumbling backwards. The world spun. Your head ached. Funeral bells shrieked. Worst of all, that dress shirt and that fancy jacket you loved so much were stained suddenly, a foul colour of darkness that reeked of pennies and iron. It took you too long to look back to the student, and to see the smoking pistol held out in his shaky hand. 
“I had to,” Osborn whispered, so, so haunted. “I had to. You understand.” And quite frankly, you did understand; wounding a lamb to leave behind for a wolf to indulge in was a sure way to let a farmer escape. 
Harry took off. You grasped your stomach and leaned hard against the wall, trying to pull yourself together to make some kind of run for it before those languid steps found you and cut your story short. But you felt so tired, so dizzy. The red weeping under your hand and the bewildered pants leaving you left you colder and colder. You wondered if Osborn had shot himself in the foot with this one (hah), killing the sacrificial lamb, rendering it useless to what was believed to be a vampire of all things. They devoured the living, not the dead. 
Clack, clack, clack. The haunting echo of fine shoes on wooden slats passed you by, then vanished all together. You collapsed to your knees and heaved in the burning air just as a deafening screech ricocheted through the halls with the echo of frantic gunfire, and the slosh of viscera. You fought back the burn of bile in your throat when you braved a look; there laid a body on the floor, and a corpse standing above it, illuminated just barely by torchlight. 
His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall–
“We could have avoided all of this,” the creature growled. 
–from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden in the swath of darkness around him, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones–
“But you didn’t listen.”
–his eyes, a bizarre colour, glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of– 
“Why couldn’t you just listen?”
–and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadows rolling off his strong neck.
He appeared beside you so suddenly, so soundlessly, you wouldn’t have known he approached if it weren’t for the strength of your fluttering eyelids seeking the truth. You stared hard at the tips of his leather shoes. Perhaps you should’ve known it was him all along. Perhaps you had known. 
He knelt before you and forced your chin up, making your eyes meet his as he stared down through you. Blood marred his face, matching the wine-red hue of his furious, gem-cut eyes; even like this, teeth bared, about to kill you, he was beautiful. 
“Look what you’ve done. This is your fault–”
But that beauty was wasted on such a foul-mouthed monster. 
“My fault?” You spat. “Fuck you.” You tore your chin from his grip, but his hand sought out your throat instead. “Don’t fucking touch me–”
He smiled, bitter but so wholly and infuriatingly amused before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.” And before you could lash out, before you could throw a fist at his stupid face, he yanked you in and bit.
A winter breeze rippled through you. Cold. Piercing. And you gradually froze like water dripping from the gutters, no longer able to fight back, too sluggishly slow to do anything about your fate. You breathed hard, feeling the hole in your stomach and ache of your heart weep and worsen with every shattering breath you took. Your hands, gentle in their weakness, pawed at his chest and sought a spot to dig in and hold on to for dear life as the waking world turned its back to you.
But despite the bitterness, and despite words exchanged, he held the side of your face as you faded in and out of consciousness. He called something, and a flurry of orange wisps appeared above you. 
You awoke to the echoes of a dream, one you hadn’t had for a while. A cloudless night where you’d been caught in bed by a taken woman’s man and beaten half to death; in return, you shredded through the man's chest with a knife from the kitchen while the wife watched on in silence. You'd been ready to kill her, too, slit her throat in one easy motion, but she never screamed, never looked at the wild animal with fear. 
Tell the police he attacked you, miss. 
Well, it wouldn't be the first time.
You fumbled through the alleys after leaving the scene, but others, foul things that roamed the streets where not even rats lingered, found you, threatened to use up the last of what you had to offer this pitiful world. It seemed as though they disappeared in the time it took you to blink, though, and a man was left, standing in their wake. He looked somewhat disheveled, like he’d just finished some grand task, but he was just so put together, too. You struggled to make sense of it, but you didn’t really care to. 
“Well, isn't that impressive,” you said with a breathless laugh. “Not a shred of blood on you. Are you the ripper the paper’s gone on and on about?”
The being glanced over his shoulder, eyes alight in curious mirth. He turned your way and stepped closer. You saw it then, the slightest bit of dark smears on his face.
“Is that what they're calling me?” He adjusted his cuffs, and rolled his shoulders. “Huh.” 
Adrenaline poured into your heart. “You're quite the dangerous man, aren't you, sir?” you swallowed thickly as you looked him over: fine shoes, expensive coat, luxurious rings. “And, ah, well-off. You wouldn't happen to be interested in spreading the wealth, hm?” 
His hand cupped your jaw, sticky with freezing blood, and he leaned in. The pungent scent of iron curled your gut as he breathed you in, making up his mind with what to do with you. Then, with the dry, warm back of his gloved hand, he caressed the side of your face and watched your eyelids flutter, devouring the simple gesture. 
“Let's see if you can convince me to.”
-
“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.
Curiosity willed your eyes open, and you gazed down at the hollow tube connecting you to the walking corpse. You fought to ease the jump of your heart, but it became impossible when a dark red raced from the vampire's arm down into yours. 
“Is that going to make me like you?” You whispered, nerves twitching and burning with the bite of restless fire ants. 
Crimson eyes found yours and looked deep. “It won't. You can relax.” But you weren't convinced, and your lover could tell. “You'd have to drink my blood.” 
“Why're you giving me your blood, then?” 
“You'll die without it.” He pumped something, you now noticed, and realized it was what drew the blood from his veins and drained it into yours. 
Curious. “Were you a man of medicine?” 
He scoffed. “Still am.” He threw you a wary look, one brow raised. “How many more questions are you–” 
“Your name?” That was something you'd requested before, but always through a veil of uncertainty. You didn't like to ask much of him. He didn't ask much of you. But you didn't know him, yet he knew you. 
Your vampire frowned, unapproving. “What difference will it make?” 
“You asked me to fucking marry you,” you bit out. “And yet you keep so many secrets from me, still. I've given you more than I have, and you can't even–” 
“Miguel.” You both paused–him to gauge your reaction, and you out of shock. “Miguel O'hara.” 
The cracks in your chest mended, just slightly. Miguel O'hara. What a name that was. Formidable and wholly suiting the beast of a man you'd known and craved for far too many years. 
“Miguel O'hara,” you whispered, staring tiredly at the red thread connecting the two of you. The name felt good on your tongue. 
Nothing more was said, then. He must've still felt the tension in the air, or maybe the coil of apprehension in your body, for he worked on in silence, quietly saving your life for no reason. 
It was when he pulled free the needle that you found the will to break the silence on your own. 
“Why didn't you tell me?” It came out a pathetic whisper, sounding as broken as your mind felt. 
He paused before pulling the needle from his own arm. “Tell you what?” 
It was a good question. You didn't know what to ask him to elaborate on. You didn't know if you wanted him to elaborate on anything, actually, because it'd make it too real, too tangible. 
“Everything.” And when he stayed silent, you narrowed it down to just, “all of…you.” 
Miguel licked his thumb and stroked it soothingly against the pinprick of a wound while his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into something of a frown. “How could I?” You both watched the tiny dot of red cease weeping. ��If you'd moved on and you knew, it could put everything at risk.” 
If I'd moved on. It felt wrong. It felt uncomfortable to know he felt that somewhere between his ribs and his heart. And for how long? How long had he not trusted you? Did he even trust you in that moment, knowing what and who he truly was? Or were you now doomed to this castle just as he was? 
“I'll let you rest,” Miguel said as he clasped his medical case shut and stood. “Lyla'll bring you food.” 
Thump, thump, thump, echoed his footsteps, those fine shoes muffled by old carpet; but the sharp clack, clack, clack in the hollow echoes of your memories, just before the truth revealed itself to you, swallowed up your thoughts.
“(Name),” Miguel said, and your eyes opened to find the tall, proud back of his silhouette stood at the door, one hand clutching the knob. “Don’t leave this room.” 
And he left you there, heart aching, mind melting, soul shattering. 
Solitude reminded you of what else happened. The lads you'd come here with, nothing more than acquaintances, were missing, or perhaps dead. It ate at your mind. Could you have done something different? Could you have convinced him to let them go?
More importantly, would Miguel let you leave? He claimed he wanted to marry you, but words were just words if not put to use with actions. Staying by his side would mean stomaching the fact he'd consume countless other people, wouldn't it? How were you expected to watch your partner(?), your groom-to-be(?), hold and pierce others the way he promised to you and only you?
But could you let him stay here alone, hunted and hated by believers, laughed at by the average skeptic? If you were not here, how many more would walk in on a dare, and meet a terrible end? They didn’t matter, no, but the legend of a vampire would turn more and more true, summoning devil-hunters to his doorstep, stake and flames in-hand.
The thoughts plagued you, filling your head with the terrible buzzing of bees. You couldn't fathom why you cared so much; most of your life you'd lived for your own sake, doing what needed to be done to get by, to have a better tomorrow. You hated other people. A few of them you'd personally buried six feet under, whether they were dead or lived still, and you never batted an eye. You had no patience for those who'd oppose you. 
You would have killed Osborn yourself if O’hara hadn't. And that was the truth. That'd been the truth the whole time, ever since you saw just how expensively he and the others lived; gold dripped from their tongues, silver ran through their veins, diamonds fell from their eyes. You wanted to claim a bit of that for yourself. 
And Miguel had shared his wealth with you, just in exchange for a bit of blood and your body for the night. Surely you could look past what he did to survive, even if it put your heart into a spiral. 
Lost in thought, you found your way to his chambers, freely disobeying his orders
He lounged in a clawfoot bath. Stuffy heat lulled you into a daze, something like a carefree summer evening wherein the sun took too long to vanish. Though when he noticed you approach, shedding clothes the entire way, the heat grew near unbearable.
Miguel's claws creaked against the enamel in anticipation when you stepped into the water. You watched him with the same delicate intrigue as prey investigating something that could be a threat as you found your place between his spread legs, getting close enough to feel the pounding of his undead heart. You'd only seen his body in dim candlelight or withering rays of the moon, never truly illuminated by the glow of floating chandeliers nor the collection of sconces arching from the wall.
Slowly, your fingertips dragged along muscle, warm and firm under your calloused touch. The scars littering your hands and knuckles shone so stark against his perfect complexion. He really did seem too perfect. It would have sparked jealousy in your gut if he didn't apparently belong to you, and you to him. No one else got to touch. No one else got to see. 
Now, you were built finely yourself, but the man before you was something entirely different. You didn't know if it was thanks to his supernatural existence, but his body was built in a near-animalistic way that screamed power and speed, not similar enough to a human. Though, looking back, you did always think his manners in bed were more beast than man. The growling, the clawing, the marks of claim on the nape of your neck, it all clicked and made sense in the whirlwind of your mind. 
“I think a werewolf would suit you better,” you admitted. “What with the claws and biting and general uncouth behaviour.” 
Miguel huffed. “You must be talking about yourself.” His voice rang low and quiet, too aware he might scare off his prized hare if he put too much into his words. “You're the one acting like a rabid animal.” 
“No, you.” 
“Don't think so.” 
“You're difficult.” 
“You're one to talk.” 
“How long have you been like this?” Your fingers combed through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut. “A vampire. Or whatever you are.” 
“Lost track,” he said, sounding too honest. “I have records. Notes. From experiments. The dates on those are close to when it happened.” Experiments? Colour you intrigued.
“So you weren't exactly practicing white medicine?” You tilted your head in thought. “You were doing something more–” 
“It wasn't black magic,” Miguel scoffed. “It was science. Genetics. Studying how other organisms function, learning about them.” His expression darkened just the slightest bit. “Trying to…recreate them.” 
Your head spun a little trying to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard to accept as reality. But if anyone were to unlock the damned secrets of immortality, of course it'd be this man. This cocky, genius, charming man. God really did have favourites, though they always did seem to disappoint him.
“I see. So you're telling me you're a genius who rebirthed vampires,” you summed up, letting your hands melt down his body, below the water's surface. “How is it you only get more and more impressive, Mr.O'hara?” 
A smug smirk bloomed across his lips. “It's just in my nature.” His head tilted back with a pleased sigh when your touch finally landed on that annoying thing prodding your thigh. “I have no choice but to succeed.” 
“Tch. Americans are so arrogant.” You hummed and leaned in, ghosting kisses along his vulnerable neck while your hand pleased him slowly, teasingly. His talons screeched against the tub again. “But maybe you have reason to be, hm? Given how accomplished you are.” 
A dark, scarlet haze like the sky of the blood moon illuminated Miguel's eyes in the few moments they slipped open to catch a glimpse of you. You wondered if he needed a reality check. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, maybe he thought that you weren't really there despite being pressed up against him and murmuring useless quips into his skin. You'd be sure to leave an impression on him; your hand quickened, gripping tighter and pulling the way he directed you to far too many years ago, but his barbed hand caught your wrist. 
“Stop,” he gasped. His chest rose and fell with his light panting as he stared you down. Want radiated off of him like an animal starved. You knew what was rattling around in his mind before he even spoke. 
“You want to fuck me, is that it?” 
Miguel's breath hitched. 
You made him ravenous. You were the only thing he wanted to feast on, delicacies and sanguine temptations be damned. 
One of his large hands held your waist in a death grip while his other hand held your head down, forcing your incoherent ramblings into the soft, silken sheets as he rammed you from behind like a beast in heat. You took it well, too, not that you hadn't before–he always held back, appeared to you as human when he fucked you previously. But now that you knew the truth, now that you knew what lay hidden in the dark nooks of his bones’ marrow, he felt complete. And that meant he could completely lay claim to you, too. 
He matched the curve of your back with his chest when he leaned over you, burying his nose into your neck and shoulder to indulge in your scent. Your vampire's desire to breed slowed and steadied into deep, thoughtful rolls of his hips. Perhaps his mind had caught up with him and ushered him to slow down, to abandon some of that reckless excitement. 
Miguel heard the slightest mumble of his name on your lips and leaned down further to touch his own to your cheekbone. One arm looped underneath your throat in a benign chokehold of sorts, while his other hand threaded through your hair–if he wasn't fucking you like an animal before, this makeshift mating lock he had on you sealed the deal. 
“You feel good,” Miguel murmured, voice tickling the shell of your ear. 
“Hah. I, ah, always feel good,” you tried to quip back, but your expression betrayed the fraying threads of whatever self-control you still desperately clung to. “You’re, uh…unhinged, hey?” Miguel scoffed. “Like a…a wild beast.” 
“Oh?” A purr hummed through his chest, piercing your body and rattling through your own lungs in seismic pulses. “A wild beast? Flattering.”
“Really, darling, you don't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when you're–” a hard snap of his hips sent you spiraling for a moment, “--in my ass.” 
“Maybe you should watch your mouth,” he suggested. 
“Maybe you could watch it for me,” you countered. 
The warmth of his laugh sent chills scattering across your skin. He pulled out of you and turned you over, dragging your hips back against him before his powerful body engulfed yours again. Miguel liked this more. He liked the feeling of your hands grabbing and clawing at him, the way your thighs attached to his waist, how you bit your bottom lip while your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of your partner destroying you.
And of course, his lips could meet yours like this. The sweet tang of copper and berries, a taste so familiar and so you, was shared between tongues, kept secret in the crevices of teeth. It amazed Miguel how much one little kiss could push him over the edge and make the bed creak and groan with you as he loved on you and made sure to send the message straight to your core. 
Your hands fisted in his hair when you came undone. That lovely voice of yours poured into Miguel's eager mouth, and you tightened, pulling him to the edge and pushing him over with the might of a wild stampede. Claws nipped your skin, fangs pierced deeper, yet his rutting hit deepest, and burned you alive with unbearable, liquid heat.
“Why me?” You asked into the stillness of the room. 
Calm silence answered you for a long moment. The sun bloomed beyond the thick curtains, you noticed in your wait, and you wondered if you would ever miss the sight. England never truly had bright, sunny days from what you recalled; stretches of smokey, grey overcast clouded the skies and your memories more often than not. Could your vampire walk amongst the living like this?
Miguel sighed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair. “Figured you’d understand.” 
“I’d understand what?”
“Killing to survive.” 
“How long have you known?” You wondered, unsurprised. 
“Blood tells stories,” he whispered. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered a moment before crimson eyes peered open the slightest bit. “Your story’s long. Complicated. You’re too young for it.” 
A smile twitched onto your face. You adjusted in the bed, getting more comfortable on your side in those pooling, satin sheets. “So you thought I’d be an easy target for sex, then? Desperate and young as I was.”
He found your eyes, his gaze earnest and bleeding. “I–you–fine, at first it was like you said. Maybe. But after enough time, I decided you weren’t like the rest. You’re as supernatural as I am.”
“Supernaturally handsome? I agree.”
“Stop.”
“You didn’t think I’d be afraid of you.”
“I’d hoped as much.” 
“And you still didn’t tell me.” Your fingertips danced along the arch of his cheekbone, leaving pleasant sparks against his skin in their wake, unbeknownst to you. “Were you scared?”
“I’d rather have you as a man for whatever time we had together than to lose you to a beast,” he explained, cryptic as one would expect an old legend to be. “I’ve lost too much already because of…this. Because of me. I didn’t want to lose more.” Miguel’s dark brows furrowed. “If you ended up fearing me to, I–”
You silenced him with a hand over his mouth. “Enough. I understand.” You palm smoothed back up to cup his face. “You needn’t be afraid of me–well, being afraid, I suppose. I’ll stay.” You took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “This bed’s too comfortable to give up, after all.”
His breath fanned against your skin as he chuckled, tired and perhaps tinted with disbelief. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want.”
“Brilliant. Would you even let me drink your blood?”
The rumble of a growl, or perhaps a purr, rolled through his chest into yours. You searched his eyes, wondering, hoping, and found mere slices of ruby peeking out from behind eclipsing pupils. 
“We’ll see.”
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