#I feel bad for being so slow to get to these sorts of things | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shawtuzi · 8 days ago

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♱ FEELZ ft. choso kamo ♱

summary: after months of desperate searching, choso finally finds the perfect roommate! you cook, clean up after yourself, and best of all, you happen to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. your only flaw? a gnawing bloodlust that increases tenfold whenever you’re around him because of his rare blood type.

wc: 18k cw include: sfw-roommates to lovers?? kinda??, mentions of reader killing people (she be hungry she’s just a girl!), mentions of blood, side character death, they’re so down bad for each other but for diff reasons, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, nsfw- lots of kissing, switch!choso, fondling, biting, a smidge of blood play, dry humping, oral f&m!receiving, SMIDGE of foot stuff, choso has an abnormally huge dick, riding, backshots, reader drinks choso’s blood during, marathon sex, abrupt ending IM SAWRYYYY I GOT TIRED >:(

‘ they say home is where the heart is, you’re the reason mine is beatin’. ’

“i’m sorry i had to schedule us meeting on such a crappy day, but i’m glad you were able to make it! what did you say your name was again?”

“y/n, my name is y/n. it’s very nice to meet you, choso.” you extended your manicured hand out to his, a small smile lifting at the corners of your lips. choso graciously enveloped your hand in his, giving it three slow shakes before awkwardly clasping his hands together.

he was handsome, intimidatingly handsome. the kind of handsome that would make you do a triple take if you ever saw him walking down the street. he was a big man. no shorter than six feet with broad shoulders to match. his eyelids were smudged with black liner, and right above the medium size scar on his nose was a bridge piercing. he had a few other piercings; a stud in his nose, snake bites, and if you paid close enough attention you could see a tongue ring.

as handsome as he was though, he had a sort of anxious aura surrounding him. he was nervous, but why?

“i don’t mind the rain, even when it gets like this. i like the smell that it leaves afterwards.” your eyes crinkled together in a smile which he returned happily.

it was silent for a few moments before choso finally spoke up. “sorry. i suppose you’re waiting for me to get the conversation going,” he chuckled breathily, resting his hands on the table. you hummed, giving him a curt nod while taking a sip of your tea.

“we’ve already gone over what’s in the apartment and rent, and all that other good stuff. what i really wanted to meet up to talk about was your boundaries, and other things you feel i should know about yourself.”

for such a big man he had the most gentle voice, and the kindest eyes as he spoke to you.

“well, i think we can both mutually agree on staying out of each others rooms, and toiletries. i take pride in being a good cook, so i don’t mind ever whipping you up something if you’re hungry. i’m good at picking up after myself, and you seem like the kinda guy who does the same so i don’t think that’ll be an issue. um, i would say i’m more on the introverted side, so you don’t have to worry about me having guests over.”

the more you spoke the more you could see choso visibly relax. you were saying all the right things, especially the part where you mentioned not having guests over. it’s not like choso didn’t have friends over from time to time, but my mans enjoyed the solitude of a quiet home very much.

“w-well that’s . . . that’s great! i know that’s like the bare minimum a person can ask for, but you have nooo idea what kinda nuts i’ve had to deal with.” he trailed off with a chuckle, and when you joined him in laughter he couldn’t notice how nice your smile was. you had the cutest little canines.

“i cook as well, but i wouldn’t say i’m the best, heh. i mostly work from home, so i’ll be home most of the day. i do have company over sometimes, but it’s just a couple of friends and my brother—if it would make you more comfortable i could try to let you know when they come over?”

sweet and thoughtful.

with a small shake of your head you said, “that won’t be necessary, but it’s very thoughtful that you’d offer. please continue.”

“ah, the only other thing is my gaming habit. i try to be quiet, but if i’m ever too loud please don’t hesitate to say something.” you couldn’t help but giggle. you didn’t take him for much of a gamer.

finally you bit the bullet and asked the question that’s been on your mind since he sat down. “have you ever roomed with a girl before?”

“ . . . ”

you could hear the way his heart picked up at your question. the faint blush on his cheeks was also a dead giveaway that he has, in fact, never shared a living space with a woman. “um, no. no i haven’t, b-but i promise i won’t be weird or anything like that. i’ll always respect you and your privacy, honest!”

the jangling of your gold bracelets caught choso’s attention as you rested your chin on your palm, a playful grin on your lips. “you’re real cute y’know that?”

this had choso smirking, the blush on his cheeks growing deeper. “yeah i’ve heard that once or twice. don’t let the looks fool you, i suck at talking to women no matter who it is,” he chuckled, eyes flitting to the rings on his fingers.

after a little more talk about your living situation, you and choso made some small talk. he told you a little about his job, and some stories about him and his brother when they were kids. you were pretty vague when it came to talking about your life, but choso didn’t seem to notice—mostly because you didn’t give him a chance to think before you were asking him another question about himself.

“it was so nice meeting you, y/n. i really look forward to being roommates. if you have any questions before your move-in day please feel free to reach out.” choso reached his hand out for yours, and to his surprise your hand was ice cold.

when his eyes flicked back up to yours, you had a look on your face he couldn’t quite decipher. you were smiling, but something just felt . . . off.

ah, he was all in his head again. you seemed like a nice girl, a normal girl. you had no criminal background as far as he knew, and after stalking what little socials you had, he didn’t get any kind of serial killer vibe.

you’d be the perfect roommate. you had to be!

“it was nice meeting you as well, choso! i’ll see you on the first.” and with that you parted ways.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

‘ breaking news ! another dead body was found in an alleyway by two citizens early this morning. the couple described the scene as ‘horrific’ and ‘nightmarish’. like the other four corpses previously found, the body was drained of all blood and was missing its head, arms, and its entire lower half. police are encouraging citizens to follow the ten p.m curfew, but there have been talks of enforcing this curfew rather than having it as a suggestion . . . ’

the tv clicked off, leaving nothing but a black screen. nanami let out a long sigh through his nose before slowly turning his head towards you. “are you being sloppy on purpose or are you just that dumb?”

you lips quirked up in a grin, “calm down. it’s not like they’re ever gonna figure it out who’s doing it all, and besides, a ten p.m curfew? in new york city? please. plus, i’ve decided to take a break for a little while, i’ve found a new roommate and i need to settle in.”

if looks could kill your heart would surely have a stake through it by the way nanami was looking at you. his usually handsome face was twisted into a deep frown, and if you weren’t scared of him quite literally breaking every bone in your body, you’d laugh at him.

nanami was an old friend of yours, but not really a friend at all. he was hired to watch over you by a very old, irritating, and invasive counsel that you despise with every fiber of your undead being. he’s simply there to make sure you didn’t draw any unwanted attention to your kind.

it’s not like you pranced around with your eyes crimson red, and fangs bared for all to see—you just had a problem controlling your bloodlust. hence why nanami was there. he’s been following you around the world for almost a century now, and he hasn’t changed the slightest bit. if anything he got more and more grumpy as the years went on. if he was physically able to age he’d be as shriveled as a raisin by now.

“i hope you’re at least being sensible about the lives you’re taking. some of these people have families to get back to,” nanami spoke lowly, taking a long sip of the bourbon in his glass. the comment had you rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“i can assure you no one will miss them. you should know by now i don’t go after innocents,” you all but growled, digging your nails into the leather of the couch you were sitting on.

“not everyone can live off diseased squirrels, and alley cats, or whatever the hell you eat to survive.” you muttered the snarky comment under your breath, but nanami heard every syllable.

he tongued the inside of his cheek, veiny hand coming up to loosen the tie around his neck. “this new roommate of yours . . . is anyone going to miss him when he turns up missing?”

“he won’t turn up missing because i don’t plan on killing him. he’s nice . . has some friends and a little brother. seems a little ditzy too so i don’t think he’ll catch onto anything, but at this point, anywhere is better than sharing a place a with you.”

ever since you settled on staying in new york, nanami took it upon himself to find an apartment for you. it was a beautiful place to say the least, but the catch was he was staying there with you. that was always the catch, but this time around you were fed up with the blondes meddling more than usual. you had to get outta there.

“i hope you know that just because you’re leaving that doesn’t mean i won’t be keeping an even closer eye on you,” he muttered, setting the glass beside him. unfortunately you were already fully aware that no matter where you hid in the ginormous city, or in the world honestly, nanami would always be on your coattails.

the thought of trying to kill him doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. every attempt you’ve ever made on his life ended horribly . . . for you. the last time you tried to kill the blonde he ended up breaking both of your kneecaps with a single, swift kick, and that was the end of that. you couldn’t cause any physical harm so verbal attacks would have to do.

“like i could ever forget. now please be useful for once and help me pack the rest of my things.” you sounded like a spoiled child. it annoyed kento to his core. sixty years of following you around, and you haven’t changed a single bit.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

when you arrived at your new apartment the sun was just about to fully set, the pink and orange swirls in the sky now fading to night. the sun wasn’t your total enemy. it wasn’t like you disintegrated into dust the second a ray of sunshine hit your skin, but it was still rather bothersome and you tried to avoid it if possible.

choso was waiting for you by the entrance of the building with his hand lifted in a wave, and a sweet smile on his lips. sure, he thought it was a little odd you wanted to move the rest of your things in when it was dark out, but he didn’t care to question it.

your headboard and mattress had already been brought earlier in the day along with two of your dressers, and the nicest vanity he’s ever seen. the apartment itself was a slight downgrade from your previous place, but like you had stated before: anywhere is better than sharing a space with kento.

all you had with you were clothes. lots and lots of clothes. so many clothes that it had choso’s eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“it looks like a lot but i think we can knock this out in a half hour, forty five minutes tops!” you wrapped an arm around his muscly bicep, biting back a giggle as he examined the moving truck full of boxes and racks of clothes. choso let out a low chuckle, hand awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

“is there any particular reason why you have so many clothes?” he hummed, tilting his head to you. he couldn’t deny the tingle that shot down his spine when you batted your lashes at him. “ummm, all of this is vintage, designer, or vintage designer. i had to bring all of it with me. now c’mon!”

the entire thing took a little over an hour, and it would’ve gone by faster if you used a little of your inhuman strength and speed, but watching choso’s muscles strain as he carried each box was far more enjoyable. hearing the little grunts and groans he made was even better.

“you barely even broke a sweat! you’re so strong, choso,” you giggled, lazily swinging your legs back and forth as you watched him set the final boxes down. choso preened at the praise, a dopey smile forming on his lips. he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple before speaking, “ah, it’s nothin’. my friends convinced me to start going to the gym with them a couple months ago, and i guess the results have been pretty nice.”

you could’ve rolled your eyes when he said the words ‘pretty nice.’ he was one of the most jacked men you’ve ever seen, yet he was describing the results as decent. why downplay himself?

you couldn’t wait to pick this boys brain apart.

his ears perked up when he heard you pat the soft cushion of the couch. “come sit with me, cho.”

he blinked a few times before slowly making his way over to you. when he sat on the furthest end of the couch your lips lifted into a playful smirk. “you don’t have to sit so far y’know, i don’t bite.” well, at least for now.

“i know, i just—i don’t know,” he chuckled, glancing over at you before flitting his eyes to the chunky rings on his fingers.

‘come onnnn. start some conversation, don’t be weird!’ he screamed at himself in his head, afraid that this comfortable silence will soon turn into an uncomfortable one.

you could see the struggle on the his face, hear the way his heartbeat picked up as he tried to think of something, anything to say.

“did those hurt?” you spoke softly, poking a finger to your lip. his tongue slowly swiped over his snake bites, brows raising in question to see if that’s what were were referring to. you let out a small, barely audible hum and nodded your head.

“eh, kinda. i’d rate if a six and a half on the pain scale. my most painful piercing was definitely my—oh, um, well i don’t know if i should show you—unless you wanna see! t-then i can totally show you—”

everything happened so quick. one minute you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch, then suddenly you were so close to choso that your thighs were smushed together. his mouth dropped open the tiniest bit when you cupped his cheeks, bringing his face close to yours. your hands were cold, but your touch was as delicate as ever.

“calm down. you sound like you’re about to have a stroke,” you giggled, releasing your hold on him. choso let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in and silently nodded. without another word being said he lifted up his t-shirt, revealing a singular piercing on his left nipple.

your eyes widened, a grin forming on your glossy lips. you leant in close, so close it had choso making a noise of surprise. “why just the one?” you giggled, trailing your eyes from his chest to those pretty, doe eyes of his.

“the plan was to get both done, but i pussied out after the guy did this one. the pain was just too much, which is funny considering i’ve had my ribs tatted—now that is real pain right there! see?” two of his fingers slowly trailed down the tattoo on the left side of his ribs. your eyes widened the size of saucers when you realized the tattoo was of icarus.

“are you—do you happen to be into greek mythology?” when you nodded ‘yes’ choso matched your giddy smile, his eyes brightening in a way that was just too cute. “when i was younger i thought it was sooo cool, a-and i still do! hence why i got a tattoo of icarus. i know there’s more interesting stories, but his really stuck with me. i guess i can relate to pushing myself past my limits, physical or mental . . . ”

you came to a conclusion that night that you liked hearing choso talk about literally anything. you liked how soft spoken he was, and how he stumbled over his words. you adored hearing the way his tone changed and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about things he was passionate about or liked.

you told him a little about yourself, and it was nice to see the way he hung onto every word you said. the way his eyes lit up when you delved a little into your personal life. he was a good listener, you liked that.

it was true shame that even after all the great impressions he’s made in only a few hours—you still wanted to yank him back by those pretty, brown locs and sink your teeth into his neck.

his scent was enough to have you drooling, and if you hadn’t of indulged in a man the previous night, you surely would be now. it was a sweet scent, like those expensive chocolates you only bust out for special occasions. you’ve only smelt such a thing one other time, but that would mean . . . oh.

he had a rare blood type; o-negative to be exact. the rarest blood type in the world with only six million people worldwide to have it—and here you were with a walking blood bank of it. now you really had reason not to kill him.

you could end his life, indulge in him now, and get your fill, but then what? this was something you had to nurture, something you had to savor.

“y/n? you alright? i lost ya for a second there,” he grinned, cocking his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy.

“hm? oh yes i’m fine. just thinkin’ about all the unpacking i have to do.”

“w-well i could help you if you want? i’d love to see your clothes if they’re all vintage. that kinda stuff is real neat to me.” your silence to the question worried him, but when he heard you say yes his eyes lit up.

your wardrobe was far more impressive than he could’ve ever imagined. from dresses, to handbags, to jewelry—you had it all, and you took pride in it. happiness isn’t guaranteed for all of eternity, but stylish clothing certainly is.

“isn’t this shawl beautifu? look at the detail on it,” you spoke lowly, holding the article of clothing out for choso to see. with a shaky hand, choso delicately ran two fingers over the lacy material of the shawl. “its from vivienne westwoods nineteen-ninety five spring collection. the naomi campbell wore this same one on the runway.”

now choso didn’t know much about fashion, but by the way your eyes lit up at the article of clothing, it had to have been something real special.

choso plopped down on your freshly made bed and propped himself up on his elbows. “how on earth did you get your hands on that?”

your lips parted in a small laugh. “you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. just know i have my ways.”

he didn’t need to know that you were there in person to see naomi campbell walk down the aisle with said shawl, and he certainly didn’t need to know the troublesome lengths you had to go thought to get it.

“oh shit, it’s past midnight. i should probably head to bed,” choso groaned, reaching his arms over his head to stretch. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle his flexing muscles as he did so.

“mm, well goodnight, choso. thank you for helping me unpack my stuff. sweet dreams!”

he gave you a sweet smile and made his way to exit your room. as he passed you got a strong whiff of the sweet, mouthwatering scent that was him. you had to physically restrain yourself by digging your nails into your palm so hard they bled—otherwise you would’ve tackled him like a linebacker just to get a little taste.

not today, y/n. not today.

when choso dozed off he could hear little rustles from your room, and when he woke up the next morning he could hear noises from the kitchen. the sun was barely peeking through, and you were already up? whew, and he thought he was an early bird.

still very much groggy with sleep, choso exited his room and was met with the sight of you in the kitchen, whipping up some kind of breakfast while you hummed a quiet tune.

* yawn* “good morning, y/n.”

“good morning, chos—oh! um . . . cho?”

“hm?”

“any particular reason you only got boxers on right now? not that i’m complaining or nothin’,” you giggled, whipping back around to focus on the breakfast you were making. as you finished your sentence all the sleepiness in choso’s body vanished, and was quickly replaced with embarrassment?? shame?? both??

all you can say is you’ve never heard a grown ass man shriek.

you heard loud footsteps and the sound of a door slam. you perked your ears up a little bit more to hear him and he did not disappoint. little whines and whimpers of embarrassment slipped past his lips left and right.

‘idiot! she probably thinks i’m a huge perv!’ you heard him whine in shame, and sickly enough, it brought a smile to your lips. sure, you felt bad that he was so embarrassed from exposure, but ugh! he was just too cute!

even with the numerous tattoos and piercings, choso gave you severe cuteness aggression, and when you paired it with that marshmallowly, caramel scent he had, it made you wanna kiss his cheeks and rip his throat out with your teeth at the same time.

ugh. you needed to feed, and soon. you could already feel your humanity slipping, and that wasn’t good for anyone.

your thoughts were broken by the smell of burning french toast. “ah, shit.” your nose scrunched in annoyance as you scraped the now burnt french toast off the pan.

“i’m sooo sorry about that. i-it’s been a while since i’ve had another person here, a-and i smelt food—not that that’s an excuse of course. i just—i’m sorry.” he was talking so fast you barely understood a word he said, and you feared if you asked him to repeat himself he’d explode into pieces.

you hummed out a small laugh and set a plate of french toast and eggs on the small glass table in front of him. “it’s okay, cho. we’re both adults, stuff happens. it’s all good, now eat!” he silently stared at you for two beats before slowly pulling out a chair and sitting.

the petrified look on his face was wiped off and replaced with a small smile. “this looks delicious, thank you.” you bowed your head slightly in a silent thank you and took a seat right next to him. human food did little to appease your appetite, but it did curb your cravings a tad, hence why you decided to pick at your own piece of french toast.

“have any dreams?” you asked, licking a dribble of syrup off your fork. choso nearly choked on his eggs at the action, quickly gulping down some juice to ease the burning in his throat. “n-nah, none in particular really stand out. y-you?” you giggled and shook your head. “i don’t dream very much. i guess my thoughts are too loud or something.”

you both maintained small talk while choso demolished his breakfast, and while you talked he only made direct eye contact about a handful of times.

choso was already bad with girls, but you made him completely beside himself. you had him stumbling over damn near every word he said, your precious laugh set the apples of his cheeks ablaze every time he heard it, and worst of all he hasn’t stopped looking at your boobs since you sat at the table!

you were wearing a pink, lacy nightgown with a robe to match, and every time you leant forward even an inch, your breasts were spilling out more.

“you want some more, cho? there’s plenty left.”

choso blinked. hard.

“um, no no that’s okay. i should probably freshen up . . . get ready for work and s-such, but thank you! thank you so much for breakfast, you’re the best!” the sound of his chair scooting back was deafening. he couldn’t believe how fucking awkward he was being right now.

“mm, suit yourself. i’ll be tidying up in here if you need anything!” the smile you gave him was the same one you had given him at the coffee shop where you first met. it looked sincere, yet it sent a shiver up his back. it honestly looked like you wanted to devour him whole.

while you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but, once again, let your mind wander to choso’s impressive physique. he was so big. you just wanted to sink your teeth into every muscle on his body. you certainly didn’t miss the massive bulge in boxers either—

“o-oh!”

you nearly dropped the plate you were holding, your brain going into complete overdrive at the smell of blood.

“ah, shit. stupid fuckin’ razor . . . ”

so he cut himself with a razor. that’s unfortunate. maybe you could help him tend to it. maybe he’d even let you smell the blood soaked tissue he dabbed it with. your mouth watered, a thin line of drool dribbling from your lips and onto the porcelain plate you were holding with an iron grip.

“i need—i n-need to get out of here,” you whispered to yourself, damn near tossing the plate in the dishwasher. if you didn’t step out now you would surely hurt choso, and that was last thing you needed to deal with when you’ve only been there one night.

the sound of a door slamming caught choso’s attention, and when he walked out to see what the commotion was, he found nothing. nothing except a little note on the counter.

had to run out and do a few things. i’ll be back soon.

— y/n

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

your fingers twitched around the icy glass in your hands, the feeling of hunger draping over you more and more by the second. he should be here any minute.

your ears perked up at someone entering the bar, and surely enough there he was; toji fushiguro, aka your next target. you’ve done some research on the man, and he was more than perfect for the job.

he killed people for a living. it didn’t matter if it was a man or woman, old or young—if you paid him enough he’d do it. on top of that he also had a reputation as a sleazy pig, someone who thought more with his dick than his brain if it wasn’t work related.

he was big, intimidatingly big, but nothing you couldn’t handle. in fact you were hoping he struggled, you liked a challenge.

“now what’s a pretty thing like you doing a shithole like this?” his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to your ears, but nonetheless, you forced a smile and slowly turned your stool towards him. you almost wanted to roll your eyes when you saw an unlit cigarette dangling from between his smirking lips.

you let out a dramatic sigh and batted your lashes extra hard. “well, i got into a nasty argument with my boyfriend while we were having lunch and i ended up getting so mad i stormed off! i left the restaurant and just kept on walking until i ended up here.”

the reality actually was: you waited in a cafe until this dingy bar opened at ten a.m. and then waited even longer in this uncomfortable ass bar stool until he showed up. he was a regular at this bar. according to other patrons, if he wasn’t there he was either out on a job or dead because he never went home.

as far as you knew, he had no friends, no living relatives, and more reasons to be hated than you could count on your fingers.

“well that’s an awful shame darlin’. how ‘bout you buy us a round of drinks and tell me alllll about it.” before you knew it, his side was pushed up against yours, his large arm now wrapped around your shoulders. the smell of whatever cologne he had on had your nostrils burning.

you let out a small, fake laugh and whipped out a wad of cash. “order whatever you like,” you grinned, slamming the money down so hard you could’ve sworn he flinched.

it wasn’t until four drinks later that toji’s words started to slur, and he was a tad more touchy than when he first approached you. you were feeling borderline feral at this point, the last of your humanity slipping through your fingers due to a fight between two patrons that happened minutes before.

the metallic smell of blood lingered throughout the air. it was so strong you could practically taste it.

“you alright, sweet thing? shakin’ like a leaf over there,” he chuckled, slithering his hand around your waist to give it a squeeze. his eyebrows raised slightly when you turnt your head towards him. “um . . . have your, um, have your eyes always looked like that? maybe i’m a little too tipsy but they look red.”

without saying a word you grasped his bigger hand in your own. “come with me,” you muttered, hopping off the barstool. a wave of shock washed over toji’s face at the amount of strength you used to pull him off his own stool. “heh, you’re pretty strong, cutie.”

when he realized you were taking him into an alleyway, his lips pulled into a sleazy smirk. “what’re you tryna do, little lady?” he chuckled, teeth catching onto his bottom lip when you pushed him into a near brick wall.

“i am just so, so hungry,” your voice was hushed, now two octaves deeper. you pressed your nose against the pulse point in his neck, inhaling until you felt dizzy. your fangs were practically throbbing against your gums. you needed to bite into something, anything!

your tongue lolled out, sloppily rolling itself around the expanse of his neck. you nearly hissed at the man when he cupped your jaw in his hands. “are you—? heh, are you droolin’?”

you let out a small giggle, giving him a toothy grin. you took multiple mental pictures of the look on his face. it wasn’t exactly a face of horror, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

without thinking he pushed you to the ground, his back now firmly pressed against the wall. “the fuck . . . the fuck? is this some kinda prank? the fuck is wrong with your face?”

when you attempted to get up you were met with the sound of a gun clicking. you peered at him over your lashes, your nose crinkling in a laugh.

“i’ve heard of you guys, but i thought it was all just rumors. fuckin’ nightwalkers. tell me why i shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now.”

it all happened so fast. one minute you were on the ground and the next you were gone. toji’s head whipped left, then right. you completely vanished before his eyes.

“you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—oof!”

toji had somehow been flipped to his back, his head knocking against the gravel below him. when he tried to get up, he was stopped by a heel pressing snugly against his chest.

“i hope you’re not looking for this,” you dryly chuckled, tucking the weapon in your purse. you made a mental note to dispose of it later—guns were little to no use for someone such as yourself.

“why’re you doing this, hm? the fuck you want from me?” his teeth grit together when you pushed your heel deeper into his chest. toji was fucked. undeniably, incredibly fucked. he could run, but you’d catch him. he could try to take you down at hand-to-hand combat, but he knows you’d break every bone in his body before he even threw a punch.

he knew karma would catch up with his ass one day, but damn! did it have to happen right when he just got done with a job? at least he was decently buzzed.

“you’re a very bad man, mr. fushiguro. you’re wanted for murder, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon—gosh, i mean the list goes on! i’m sure the world will be a much better place with you off the streets. not to mention you made me get my skirt dirty. that’s enough reason for me to rip your head off.”

you slowly took your heel off his chest, and to your surprise he stayed put, not daring to move an inch. toji let out a deep sigh through his nose. “well, if i’m gonna die, at least it’s at the hands of a very, very gorgeous lady such as yourself.”

your head tilted to the side, a bashful smile tugging at your lips. “tch, you’re too sweet, honestly.” you knelt down beside him and tilted his chin up. the sound of his heart thumping in his chest had your head pounding.

“i’ll try to make this as painless as possible, mr. fushiguro.”

‘ breaking news ! yet another body his been discovered this evening by patrons leaving a nearby bar. the police have identified the body as toji fushiguro; a known criminal around the city of new york. patrons at the bar say they saw mr. fushiguro leave with a woman, but a description has yet to be released. when police found mr. fushiguro it appeared that he had been attacked by an animal due to the multiple bite wounds around his body, so this mystery woman may not be our suspect, but due to the lack of security cameras inside the bar it is unlikely this woman will be found. ’

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

choso had a problem. a very big problem. after almost six months of living together, he’s developed the corniest, most lovesick puppy crush on you. what could he say? you were perfect in every way imaginable. you were a little bit of a mystery to him, but that only added on to the crush even more!

he loved being in your presence, the floral scent that you left behind every time you crossed paths. he loved your home cooked meals, and the random desserts you’d bake just because you were bored. he loved that you both had so much in common—from tv shows, to movies, to music!

all these amazing things, and more had choso falling head over heels for you, but because of the roommate code he swore upon himself, he never once made a move. the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, so he kept those feelings bottled up, but as the days went on it became harder and harder to not show his attraction to you. especially during your weekly movie nights.

“sooo what’d you pick for us tonight, cho?” you asked once he took a seat on the couch. you pouted at the distance, wasting no time crawling towards him until there was less than an inch of space between your bodies.

“from dusk till dawn.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and this caught choso’s attention. “what, you don’t like that movie? it’s a classic!” he chuckled, taking a sip of the juice he was nursing.

you grinned at him, cocking your head to side as you batted your lashes. “i’ve actually never seen it, all i know is that it’s a vampire movie.” choso was absolutely gobsmacked at this information.

“well now we have to watch it!”

even though vampire movies weren’t your favorite, you decided to watch it anyway, but only if choso held you the entire time. that was your one condition.

so that’s how you ended up tucked snugly into his chest while his arms were weakly draped over your lower back. he wanted to be normal about this, but how could he?! especially when you had on the most tempting set of lacy pajamas.

“you’re so warm, choso . . . smell really nice too,” you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his chest to get a stronger whiff of him. he smelt so sweet you could practically feel your tooth aching from it. “t-thanks y/n. you smell nice too, like, like flowers.”

“mhm, it’s peonies. i’ve been using a new body wash, thank you for noticing.” you shuffled the tiniest bit, making your top ride up and expose your lower back.

choso’s hand twitched. god, he wanted to touch you, feel how soft your skin was.

“mm, hold me tighter. you feel so loose,” he heard you whisper below him, and with a deep exhale he pulled your body closer to his, his hand now splayed across your bare, lower back.

fuck, he was right. your skin was in fact as soft as the peonies you smelt of.

he squeezed your side gently, and you hummed, lashes fluttering at the action. “that feels nice . . . rub my back? please?”

“s-sure. let me know if i’m getting too low or far up . . . ‘kay?” you let out a small hum and nodded, fixating your eyes on the movie. you weren’t really paying attention, more so relishing in how soft choso’s hands felt against your cool skin.

it wasn’t even five minutes later when choso really started to notice how close you were to him. your chest was pressed so tightly against his it was driving him mad! your tits felt so soft, even through his shirt and your top. he couldn’t help but wonder if they were as soft as the rest of you—oh god he cannot pop a boner right now, not here!

“um, y/n.”

“mhm?”

“do you—do you want some wine? i could really use some wine, how about you get up for a sec—”

a squeak flew past your lips when choso abruptly sat up, taking you up with him. your hands flew to his shoulders out of instinct, and somehow, this put choso in an even more fucked up situation. you were sitting right on his dick, and if you didn’t notice it was hard then, you definitely did now.

your face was blank for a moment and then you smiled at him. “i’d love some wine, thank you.”

you knew he was sporting a boner before choso himself even knew. you could practically hear the blood rushing to his dick, the way his heart rammed against his ribcage. it brought sense of pride in your chest that you didn’t even know existed.

you slowly maneuvered yourself off his lap, and to choso’s surprise you acted completely normal, reaching over to pause the movie as if either of you were actually paying attention. as if he wasn’t scrambling to get some wine to draw your attention away from his semi.

even after this shameful moment, his dick was still hard and getting harder by the second. so while he shakily poured two glasses of wine, he also made quick work to adjust himself, though it did little to hide anything.

he could call it a night, and hide in his room forever, but that might hurt your feelings. choso would rather get jumped than ever hurt your feelings. he just had to think of something to make it go down, but what? you were the only thing plaguing his mind.

he tried to think of the most disgusting things possible, and even tried coming up with mental pictures that would have him gagging, but nothing worked. caught up in all the commotion in his head, choso hadn’t realized how loose he was holding onto the wine glasses before one of them slipped from his hand and onto the ground.

you jumped, head whipping to the side with furrowed brows. “everything okay in there, cho?”

choso was borderline panicking at this point, not even thinking about the shards of glass slicing at his fingertips as he picked them up.

your nose twitched. there went that smell again.

you should leave. go somewhere far away before you do something you regret . . . but then that would mean leaving choso. what if he was hurt? what he if couldn’t give himself proper care?

despite the numerous voices in your head shouting at you to leave him be, you got up and slowly made your way to the kitchen. choso could hear your sock clad feet padding against the hardwood floor and straightened his posture, his eyes not even daring to look at the mess in his hands.

“your . . . ” you took a final step forward, not daring to move another inch, “your hands. they’re bleeding.”

choso’s eyes flitted to his crimson hands, then back to yours. your hand was covering the entire lower half of your face, almost as if you had smelt something foul. your body was practically vibrating from how much you wanted to pounce on him.

his eyes widened. “i’m—i’m sorry. i was making the drinks and they just—are you okay? do you get queasy around blood? i’m so sorry—”

choso was utterly embarrassed. this was certainly one way to kill a boner.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, let me see.” your words were muffled due to you speaking over your hand. choso took a step forward, and it almost looked like you wanted to take a step back, but you stayed put, slowly moving your hand away from your face as he got closer.

you could feel saliva pooling on your tongue as you took a short inhale. “o-oh, choso. why would you pick up glass with your bare hands?” your tone had sounded more aggressive than you intended, but hey, it was better than the other things you had in mind.

choso gnawed on his bottom lip. “because . . . because you make me nervous. i’m sure you saw my, um, problem, thank you for not saying anything by the way,” while he was explaining himself it was like he was speaking through you, his eyes avoiding yours as much as possible. you nodded slowly, your nostrils flaring as your lungs burned for air.

“i just—i just wanted to get rid of it before i made an even bigger fool of myself, but you see how that went.” before he spoke again you shushed him.

“it’s fine. just follow me to the bathroom so i can pick this glass out. i have a pair of tweezers.” he nodded dumbly like a lost puppy, and silently followed you with a frown etched onto his lips.

“you know you don’t have to help me—”

“please shush. just sit so i can help you, i don’t mind a bit, cho.” you hated that your tone was so snippy with him, but you weren’t sure how much longer your humanity would stay intact.

choso’s frown deepened, but he sat on the toilet seat cover regardless, gently laying his hands on the porcelain sink palms up. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i completely crossed a boundary i shouldn’t have, i mean, we’ve been getting along so well these past five months, and i know we get physical sometimes, but i shouldn’t have . . . gotten an, erm, erection.”

it was silent. not even a breath could be heard from either of you. why were you being so calm? why were you helping him? he figured any other girl would be livid . . . unless you felt the same.

he watched you shuffle around the bathroom as you looked for your tweezers until you finally found them. the sight before you would probably send shivers down anyone’s spine from the amount of blood, but it left you starving. you hesitated twice to grab his hand, and with a shudder you finally grasped it.

“o-okay let’s do this,” you sighed, making quick, but swift work to remove the tiny shards of glass. you were honestly very proud of yourself for making it this far.

choso hissed when you pulled out a particularly long piece, his brows furrowing in discomfort. you could hear his heart thrumming in his chest, it was beginning to hurt your head.

“i’m not upset or creeped out that you got hard, cho. i felt it before you even got up. if i was uncomfortable i would’ve let you know, but i wasn’t, i was just waiting for you to make a move . . . but then you cut your—your hands.” you swallowed thickly, nostrils flaring as you pulled out the final piece of glass.

choso let out a deep sigh, brown locs covering his eyes when his head tilted downward. “i’m at idiot, an injured idiot at that.”

your lips parted in a breathy laugh, “you’re not an idiot, you’re sweet. now sit tight so i can disinfect it.”

it physically pained you to wash his blood off your hands. you wanted to shed a tear watching the crimson liquid swirl down the drain, but you had to be sanitary about this!

you couldn’t help but think of nanami, and how proud he would be if he could see you tending to a humans wounds rather than indulging on them.

“this is probably gonna hurt . . . like a lot.” you warned looking into his eyes for consent to continue. he hesitantly nodded, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing.

you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past when your lips when choso cursed rather loudly at the stinging sensation from the alcohol. he was a trooper for sure, hands not moving an inch, even as you dabbed more alcohol on the cuts.

“t-thank you for doing this. fuck, there’s no w-way i could’ve done this myself with somehow getting injured more.” his voice was shaky as he spoke, but there a small smile etched onto his lips.

you breathed out a small laugh, wiping the cuts clean before beginning to bandage them. “i’m glad i was able to help. now please be more careful! next time you drop some glass just sweep it up!”

“y-yes ma’am, i promise.”

when you finished putting the alcohol and bandages away, you were shocked to feel choso pull you close by the backs of your thighs.

“choso! watch your hands, you just got them bandaged up,” you giggled, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. he smiled at you, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his chest. you were so close your faces were nearly touching, the scent of your body wash wafting into his nose once more.

kiss her. kiss her. kiss her.

“are you trying to kiss me, cho?”

choso swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing. “mhm.”

your lips lifted into a toothy grin, and for the first time decades you actually felt butterflies in your tummy. “c’mere then.”

when choso pressed his lips against yours it was soft, so soft you barely felt anything. you kissed him back harder, and that elicited a small sound from the back of his throat.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. it was so dangerous for him and he didn’t even know it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. you don’t think you could even if you wanted to. each time you moved away, even slightly, choso was chasing your lips eagerly.

“d-don’t pull away. please, jus’ stay right here,” he sighed, gently cupping the back of your neck to keep you in place. your whimpered, lips parting to allow him to him to slip his tongue in your mouth. his hands throbbed in pain, but he knew he’d be the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet if he stopped this.

the kiss was getting more and more heated, and choso was getting touchier by the minute. it sucked he couldn’t feel all of you due to the bandages, but hey, this was better than not being able to feel you up at all.

“we—we should probably stop. you’re probably in—ngh, in pain.” your lashes fluttered shut when choso’s puffy lips began smearing kisses all over your neck and throat, desperation and need laced in each kiss.

he felt a hand wrap around his throat, followed by a small push, but he was resistant. the pulse point in his neck thrummed underneath your finger tips. god, you just wanted a little taste.

“i don’t mind bein’ in a little pain, i just want you.” his arms wrapped possessively around your waist, “you’re always so cold, y/n. lemme warm you up.”

his kisses were addicting. every time you wanted to pull away and put some distance, you found yourself going back in for more. your mind was beginning to fog, and he just kept pulling you further and further in.

“your heartbeat is so loud,” you whimpered into the kiss, manicured fingers tugging at his hair. choso hissed, too drunk on your kisses to even process what you had said.

he noticed your kisses were becoming hungrier, more aggressive. the little nibbles you gave his bottom lip now turning into full on biting. he breathlessly chuckled, “c-careful. you’re gonna—mmph, make my lip bleed.”

“i know.”

and then there it was. it was sweeter than you imagined, gliding onto your tastebuds like the finest honey. choso’s blood tasted divine, just as you thought.

you gasped, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. choso was caught a little off guard, and he didn’t know if it was because his dick was hard or that fact you made anything attractive, but he was into it. his eyes rolled back, and if you didn’t have such a sturdy grip on his shoulders his head surely would’ve knocked against the wall.

you were entirely too far gone now, so what happened next came as a shock to choso and yourself.

“o-ow . . . y-y/n?”

choso was holding onto your side with an iron grip, paralyzed in fear. your lips were no longer his, now on his neck along with your fangs. you let out an apologetic whine, and slowly removed yourself from the coziness of his neck.

you backed up into the wall, hard. your chest was heaving, the air around you seeming to not get in your lungs fast enough. choso’s lips parted, but before he could even let out a puff of air you were right back in front of him, your hand covering his mouth roughly.

he let out a weak noise, fear pooling in his, usually bright, purple eyes. your eyes softened, but you weren’t sure it was doing you any good.

your teeth were coated in blood, his blood, some dribbling from your wobbling bottom lip and onto your chest.

“that wasn’t supposed to happen. i’m—i’m so sorry, choso. that wasn’t—shit. i-i’m so sorry, oh my gosh, look at your neck.” you hated that you did this to him, and during such an intimate moment.

a beat passed, and then another. choso’s rapid breathing had calmed a bit, but he was still shaking like a leaf.

“if i move my hand will you promise not to freak? we can talk about this, i promise—i swear, i won’t hurt you.”

choso blinked slowly, his eyes trailing to the blood staining your lips, then back to your eyes. he slowly nodded, and with zero hesitation you removed your hand from his mouth.

“i don’t—i don’t even know what to say. you’re not gonna kill me are you? i-i promise i won’t tell anyone.”

“no, no, no! i won’t hurt you, i never wanted to hurt you. it’s just my urges—they get so strong, especially when i’m not in my right mind. even n-now . . . i wanna hurt you, but there’s something inside thats keeping me from doing it, and—and i’m thankful.”

you reached your hands out to him, but he flinched away, cowering like a kitten until you cupped his cheeks. “i wish i could revert to how i looked before, but i’m stuck looking like this until i feed.”

feed.

he was so confused as to why you were speaking about yourself as if you were an animal. what even were you exactly? you couldn’t possible be a fucking vampire—those things didn’t exist! they were a myth!

you were so soft and sweet, there’s no way you could possibly be something murderous as a vampire.

“i know this is crazy, but just breathe and bare with me okay? you’re probably trying to convince yourself this isn’t real, but it is. it’s okay though! i’m not gonna hurt you, i just—ugh, i don’t know what to do! i’ve never bitten someone and let them live before.”

your lips were turned into a pout, but it was quickly wiped away when you saw the horror on choso’s face. a thought crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to believe it. before he knew it words were spilling past his lips, “do you know anything about those murders that have been happening?”

you wanted to shrink into a ball of nothingness. choso’s lips parted, then shut.

“i . . . i have no choice, cho! i need to feed so i can live, a-and the men i did kill were all bad people! i don’t kill innocents—people like you, people who have friends and families waiting for them at home. *sniffle* i-i promise i’m not the cold blooded killer you think i am.”

you were, actually, maybe even worse, but you’ve changed, and it was all thanks to choso! you’ve only met a handful of decent men in your life, and choso put them all to shame. he was so precious . . . so caring, loving, and naturally apologetic. you just wanted to put him in your miniskirt pocket and carry him around the world with you.

he didn’t say anything so you kept speaking, “these urges . . . they—they get so bad. it’s like my entire body is having a migraine. i’m in so much pain when i thirst, and i’ve almost hurt you before but—b-but i always left because i would rather get stabbed through the heart than ever hurt you, cho. i like you so much, i would never let anything bad happen to you.”

you hated that you were crying, showing him a weakness that no one, not even nanami has seen, but you couldn’t help it! if he turned you away, or god forbid told someone about you, that would mean you’d have to do the unthinkable, and that was the last thing wanted to do.

“you . . . you like me?”

you were slightly taken aback by the question, due to the other, more serious things you had said, but nonetheless you shook your head yes.

your brows raised when he stood up, towering over you like he was about to do something. your hands clenched into fists, prepared for whatever was about to happen.

a shaky gasp left your trembling lips when he cupped your face, thumbs brushing along the apples of your cheeks. “i’m so sorry you have to live like this, y/n,” he spoke lowly, a deep frown settling on his kiss bitten lips.

ugh, what an empath he was.

his eyes trailed to the fangs in your mouth. they were . . . cute. his thumb went down to brush over one, but you stopped him. “careful. you might cut yourself, and that’ll lead to more . . . you know.”

choso’s lip poked out, almost in a pout. with caution he swiped his thumb slowly over the sharp canine, and sure enough he felt a dull stinging sensation. you tried to back up, but he kept you in place.

“choso—seriously, you could get hurt, and i wouldn’t forgive myself. just please let me go so i can find someone else to feed on—”

“no.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “no? what do you mean no? i-i have to or—”

“feed off of me, y/n.”

you scoffed, giving choso’s chest a forceful shove. you were able to put some distance, but he was quick to close it, backing you up into the wall until your bodies were only centimeters apart.

“no. fucking. way. back up right now, i’m not doing that.” choso didn’t move an inch, in fact he got closer, so close his front was now touching yours.

“if you move another inch, i’m gonna push you. hard.”

a shiver ran down his spine at the threat, but it wasn’t a fearful one. fuckin’ perv.

“ . . . well—well, push me then. go ahead, y/n.”

when you didn’t move a muscle he sighed. “why won’t you let me help you? you don’t want to hurt anyone, right?” you let out a small sniffle, your head bowing in a nod.

“then let me help you, please—”

“it’s—it’s more complicated than that! even if you did let me, what next? i can’t do it forever, you and i both know that, so then what? and your blood type, it—it’s the rarest one out there, only a handful of people in the world have it. it’s too risky, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop myself.”

he didn’t say anything.

“aren’t you scared?”

his eyes flit the ground, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing. “yes, a little, maybe a lot, but i wanna help you, y/n. i don’t know what we’ll do after tonight, but—but we’ll figure it out! i-i still like you, fangs and all.”

you let out a small laugh through your nose, your arms crossing over your chest. “no you don’t . . . you’re probably just in shock, and not thinking clearly.”

“i think i’m okay with that.”

you gave him a confused look, and without warning choso pulled you close, tucking your face in his neck rather roughly. his large hand cradled the back of your head, holding you in place.

“i won’t tell anyone your secret, i promise. you’re always doing things for me, let me do something for you.” his tone was gentle, every word being whispered directly into your ear.

your nose twitched, the metallic smell of blood flooding your senses. your lips parted, then shut.

“o-oh!”

choso blinked rapidly, his hands pushing against the porcelain sink you had pushed him into. he let out a small laugh, “damn, you are strong.”

you didn’t bother to acknowledge the comment. “if we’re gonna do this . . . there is a way i can make this easier for you, less painful i guess.”

his eyebrows raised in question.

you let out a puff of air through your cheeks. “my fangs produce a sort of, um, venom? i guess you could call it that. its supposed to numb the bitten area, or something like that. i’ve only done it a few times—it makes my gums hurt afterwards so i don’t do it often.”

a beat of silence passed.

“i guess i’ll, um, do it from your neck since there’s already a mark. again, so sorry about that.”

out of instinct choso’s hand rubbed across the aching area on his neck. it didn’t hurt too bad, it felt like a dull bruise at the most, but even if it was painful, he’d endure it for you.

he sighed when your cold hand cupped his jaw. “the venom will help the healing process as well. m’so sorry, cho. i’ll explain more as best as i can in the morning.”

his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb tenderly rubbing the soft skin. “i’d appreciate that. we don’t have to go too in detail, but i—i have so many questions.”

“and they will all be answered in due time, i promise . . . i really appreciate you for doing this. your blood will keep my appetite at bay for days, it’s such a relief knowing i won’t have to get my hands dirty.”

choso’s heart skipped a beat when you softly pressed your lips against his, but it didn’t last long, a sharp breath slipping past his lips when you pulled away.

when your smaller hand enveloped his, he followed you like a lost puppy, eyes wide with wonder. his hands felt shaky, clammy, but not from fear, more like excitement.

he couldn’t believe this was real, this was actually happening.

now all the little odd things you did made sense to him. the blacked out curtains in your room that you kept closed twenty-four seven, your peculiar eating habits, the way you’d disappear for hours, sometimes even days, at a time.

“are you alright? you look a little spaced out . . . if you wanna back out that’s okay i don’t mind—”

“i wanna do it. m’just . . . thinking is all.”

“o—okay, well have a seat here,” you mumbled, using your hands to gesture to the couch. with no questions asked, choso sat down, adjusting this thighs in a way that would be comfortable for you to sit on.

the light from the tv illuminated your figure, and when he looked up he couldn’t see your face, only the dull glow of your eyes.

his abdomen clenched when your swung your leg over his thighs, your bottom now pressed against his crotch. choso immediately leant into your touch when you cupped his cheeks, his lips chasing after yours.

your lips met his in a hungry exchange, but you didn’t do it for too long, much to his dismay. “i got blood on my lips, that’s gross,” you whispered, giving the shell of his ear a tiny kiss, and then another on his jaw, and another on his neck.

choso nudged at your cheek with his nose, eyes squeezing shut to prepare himself.

“i’ll try to be gentle, can’t make any promises though,” and with that you sank your teeth into his neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the taste of him. it was indescribable. better than the oldest, most expensive wines ever made, and you trust you’ve had your share of them.

choso’s body had gone completely slack, his head tilting back against the couch. “this feels . . . ” his words trailed off, lips parting as an accidental moan leapt up his throat.

he could only describe the feeling of your venom as being heavily wine drunk. he couldn’t feel any pain, only the feeling of your tongue swiping against his neck. he felt hot, too hot for his own liking, and the most annoying part of it all was that he was starting to get hard again.

“a-am i doing okay?” his voice was breathy, and borderline whiny. you made a noise, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it, until you swiftly whipped your face from his neck, your chest heaving from deep breaths.

for once in your entire life you felt like you had finally had your fill. no lingering hunger resided in your belly for blood, only a hunger for choso, and choso only. you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so at peace.

“you did great. so, so good,” you murmured, nudging your nose against his. “does your neck hurt, you feel funny?”

you smelt like blood, the metallic scent had his insides twisting.

“no it doesn’t hurt, and i guess i feel fine . . . how do you feel?” his thumb hastily brushed against your bottom lip.

“i feel much, much better, but now i’m hungry for somethin’ else.” choso visibly shuddered when he heard the sound of your fangs retracting, your once crimson red eyes now back to their original, soft brown color.

now that you were at no risk of harming choso, you could finally smush your lips against his once more, blood smeared across your lips and all. choso’s lips parted, giving you quick access to slip your tongue inside his mouth.

you tasted like blood. it wasn’t an awful taste, but it was definitely a strange one.

“i-i thought you said kissing with blood on—on your lips is gross,” he panted, eyes squeezing shut when your bottom half brushed against his. your fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to give yourself access to his neck.

choso’s adams apple bobbed, eyes zeroing in on the ceiling. your lips ghosted over the tender beneath his jaw, little spots of blood still speckled around the area. your tongue darted out, gently gliding over the sensitive skin. “that feels n-nice,” he sighed dreamily, fingers digging into your sides.

choso was flushed all over. his clothes felt too tight, almost restrictive, he wanted them off—yours included.

“can i—can i touch you some more? l-like under your clothes?” you let out a small hum, giving him the green light to feel you up as he pleased, and boy did his hands wander. he started off by rubbing the bare skin of your hips, and then they drifted up your back, tracing random lines and shapes.

your lips connected with his once again, and that’s when his hands made a beeline for your behind, squeezing the soft flesh with need. “you’re so soft n’ smell s’good.” his words were slurred, heavy pants slipping past his kiss bitten lips.

you sucked on his bottom lip, and that’s what had him whining into your mouth, his hips bucking up. he was holding back, you could tell, and that just wouldn’t do for you.

“you’ve probably been waiting for this a long time, hm?” you whispered, peppering his flaming cheeks and nose with kisses. choso groaned, his head bowing in a shallow nod. you slowly slipped the straps of your top off, exposing your breasts, and choso wasted no time cupping them, his thumbs running over the petal soft skin.

“you have *kiss* *kiss* no idea,” he murmured into your collarbone. “it’s been so bad these past couple of weeks. couldn’t get you out of my head, y/n, not even video games helped.”

his arms wrapped around your waist, and with a low grunt he stood up, hands slithering down to cup your ass. “is it cool if i take you to my ro—!”

choso was cut off by your lips roughly smushing against his in a clash of tongue and teeth. he’ll take that as a yes.

when choso kicked open the door to his room your scenes were taken over by the overwhelming scent that was him—it was a homey scent, one that had you instantly relaxed.

he set you down gently on the edge of his bed, and knelt between your legs, hands caressing the bare skin of your thighs. “you’re so pretty. wanna kiss you all over—worship you. please let me.” your head tilted back, lips parting in a low moan when he sucked at the spot below your ear.

“s-sure, cho. do whatever you wan’ to me.”

choso whined into your neck, teeth grazing over your collarbone. “don’t say stuff like that, baby, because i will, and then we won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

baby. that was new.

choso kissed his way down your sternum until he reached your breast, lips immediately latching onto your nipple. the feeling of his tongue piercing swiping against the bud had your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip.

your hand cradled the back of his neck, pushing him more into your chest. “i don’t get tired, like at all, so we can go as long as you need to.” and it was true! not only did you have inhuman stamina, but you quite literally couldn’t get tired, even if you stayed up for days on end. you did enjoy an occasional cat nap during the day though.

choso tried to speak, but his words were muffled by the your chest, and even then he couldn’t find it in himself to move an inch.

his fingers looped onto the waistband of your pajama shorts, giving them an experimental tug. when you looked down, his purple irises were already staring back at you. you let out a small giggle, “ya’ know, i’ve never noticed how much your bags bring out the color of your eyes.”

choso scoffed, his lips cracking into the tiniest smile. “wow, thanks. i gotta say, that blood around your mouth n’ chin really brings out your eyes, erm, well i guess i should say your other eyes.” you both snickered, noses bumping into each other so cutely that if anyone were to see they’d gag from how adorable you two were.

choso’s lips captured yours in a soft kiss, and with one swift tug he pulled your pajama shorts off. you were almost completely bare for him, the only clothing on you being your panties and your top that was sitting underneath your breasts.

“what’re you gonna do now, hm?” you hummed, lips breaking out into a giddy smile.

“eat your pussy if that’s alright with you,” he grinned, looking up at you through his lashes while he pressed tiny kisses over the tops of your thighs.

your body flopped back against the mattress, and shortly after you spread your legs, finally giving choso a salivating view of your center. he was entranced—no, no, he was starstruck. his body count was particularly high, but out of all the girls he’s had the privilege to indulge in, you had the the prettiest pussy by far.

he felt like a dog, drool pooling on the tip of his tongue as he leant forward to get a better view. “can i—may i taste?” you didn’t respond, instead you just blindly reached for his head and pushed him down until you felt the tip of his nose graze over your folds.

choso didn’t know what the next day had in store for him, for all he knew this may be the last he’ll see you because he knows your secret, so for that reason he took his sweet time with you.

with a slow bat of his eyes, he poked the tip of his tongue out, and slowly circled it over your swollen clit. he kept doing then until your hips were weakly thrusting up, and then, and only then, did he finally cup your pussy with his tongue, swiping the muscle swiftly through your folds.

finally being able to get a taste of your essence could only be describe as heaven. seriously. choso wasn’t the type to moan while he ate pussy, only because it felt too embarrassing, but right now? he couldn’t have gave less of a shit about his volume.

“you’re so soft down here,” he muttered, sloppily rubbing his lips against your folds. he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you stated, your scent. he was addicted.

“h-hah! feels s’good, cho,” you mewled weakly, fingers threading through his brown locs. each time you gave his hair a sharp tug, he’d groan into your cunt. every stinging sensation from your pulling had his dick leaking like a faucet, surely staining the soft cotton of his briefs.

with shaky hands, you hooked them underneath the backs of your knees, and lifted your legs. choso followed your movements, and pushed your legs back even further, his entire mouth cupping your pussy.

his lips puckered, slurping up everything you had to offer him. the noises he was making were downright obscene—not a kiss, slurp, or suck gone unheard.

you could hear the way his heart raced, the way all the blood in his body pumped to his dick. it made your body feel hot all over, which was odd because you couldn’t particularly produce body heat.

“your pussy is so cute,” he breathily chuckled, using both thumbs to spread your lips. his tongue lolled out, a line of spit slowly dripping from the tip of it and onto your clit. “can i put a finger in? please? i’ll be so gentle, i-i promise.”

you pushed yourself up with your elbows, your cheeks puffing up in a deep exhale. “what about your hands? don’t they hurt?”

choso lifted his right hand, his fingers wiggling around freely. “my fingers are good see? s’just my palm, baby, don’t worry. i promise i’ll be gentle,” he murmured, giving the inside of your thigh a wet kiss.

and gentle he was. the second you gave him the green light, his middle finger began to gently prod at your entrance, and to relieve any potential pain he swiped his tongue piercing back and forth on your clit.

choso gnawed on his lip piercing, tugging the metal with his teeth as a form of restraint. “shit, that’s tight.” your walls felt velvet soft against his finger, sucking the digit back in each time he tried to pull it out.

“another one, please,” you whined, cupping your breasts softly. choso hummed, adding his ring finger into the mix ever so slowly. his fingers curled, and this had your eyes rolling back.

a white, translucent cream began to coat his fingers, and with a choked noise he pulled them out, shoving them past his lips seconds later. you whimpered at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“ith tho gooth,” he said, words coming out muffled due to a mouthful of fingers. he removed them from his mouth, and blindly wiped them on the sheets below you, before maneuvering himself on top of you, the bulge in his sweats now pressing snugly against your cunt.

one of his hands cupped your jaw, and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. his thumb pushed down on your chin, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in your mouth. he tasted like you; sweet, yet tangy.

you both moaned in unison when choso’s hips started to move. he just couldn’t help it, and it felt soooo good. the way the soft material of his sweats rubbed against your clit had you drooling, and choso shamelessly licked it up, his tongue swiping across the center of yours.

your hands wandered across his back, feeling every ridge and muscle over his shirt. he was so strong, and his skin was piping hot to the touch over over his clothes.

“off,” you whispered, tugging at the thin material, “wan’ it off of you.” choso moaned against your lips, giving them one final peck before sitting back on his knees. he shirt was off instantly, tossed to the side without a care.

choso let out a small noise of surprise when your foot pressed against his pecs, moving lower until you stopped at his lower tummy. “you’re so handsome, cho. ‘could just eat you up,” you giggled, nudging your foot against his bulge. choso groaned, his hand wrapping around your ankle.

“don’t—don’t do that, please. i’m already about to fuckin’ bust over here,” he chuckled breathlessly, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“mm, really?” your lips lifted in a lazy smirk before you nudged his clothed cock again, earning a breathy moan from choso.

“you like that?”

“m-mhmmm,” you weren’t even moving your foot at the point, choso was doing it for you, gently moving it up and down the length of his cock. “f-feels nice. it was starting to—ngh, h-hurt a little,” his lips broke out into a drunk smile and before you knew it choso was using your foot to get himself off.

“if you cum like this i might just have to laugh at you,” you grinned up at him, pressing your foot down harder. choso was squeezing your ankle impossibly tight, so hard that if you weren’t who you were, he’d be worried about leaving bruises.

his lips puffed up in a pout, nose scrunching in pleasure and embarrassment. “m’not gonna cum like this, i just—i just needed a little relief. fuck me.”

there was now a small wet patch on the front of his sweats, growing bigger and bigger as the minutes passed.

“cho?” you murmured, completely in awe of the state he was in. choso hummed, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

“you want me to help you out?”

his nod was eager, and with one harsh tug, he pulled the waistband of his sweats and briefs down, exposing his poor, sensitive dick. hung was an understatement, this man was so big it had you questioning yourself.

“w-what do you want me to do? want me to lay down, stand? just tell me, and i’ll do it.” although choso was towering over you, he had never felt so smell under your intimidating gaze. you looked like you wanted to eat him up, and he was more than willing to allow it.

that’s how he ended up bare, on his back, with you sitting on top of his stomach, a mischievous grin on your lips.

your eyes trailed to his neck, and with a single look from you, he turnt his head to the side giving you a better view. the healing process for the wound on his neck was already starting, now fixing to form into a dull scar.

“this should be fully healed by morning,” you whispered, stroking his collarbone with your knuckle. you fingers danced their way to his jaw, gripping it with little force. his lips parted in a silent plea for a kiss. you happily obliged, leaning down with quickness to suck his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss didn’t last long, unfortunately, but you made it up by tenderly kissing every inch of skin you could reach on your slow decent down his body.

“h-ho, geez,” he gasped, hands clenching into fists when your tongue swirled over his pierced nipple. you giggled between kisses, your tongue poking out to run over the ridges of his abs. “did you like that?” you asked, gently flicking his nipple.

choso brushed his damp hair out of his face, “y-yeah, i did. i liked it a lot.”

noted.

your hands trailed down his muscly thighs as you kissed lower, and lower, until you reached where he needed you most.

his dick was pretty. pale, with a dark pink tip, and a patch of dark hair below the base of it. his was tip was shiny, gleaming from his bedside lamp. “so big . . .” you murmured, wrapping your hand around the thick appendage. the veins wrapped along it thrummed against your fingers, begging to be relieved.

choso was sure he wouldn’t last very long, and unfortunately, he was correct, because the second he felt the warmth of your tongue trace along the thick vein on the underside, he was knew he was a goner.

“oh shitttt.”

your lips wrapped around his swollen tip, tongue grazing over his leaky slit. he tasted sweet, which was expected due to his healthy diet.

your cheeks hollowed, and that’s what had choso’s jaw dropping, tongue damn near falling out of his mouth. his dick twitched in your mouth, and you sucked harder, little dribbles of spit spilling from the corners of your mouth.

“hah—y/n, baby, that feels fuckin’ great,” he all but purred, resting his arms behind his head. when you peered at him through your lashes, your eyes zeroed in on his biceps. they were so big n’ muscly, you just wanted to bite them—but in a loving way!

he followed your gaze, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “heh, you wan’ me to flex for you, or somethin’?”

you pulled off his dick, lips swollen, and nostrils flared as you tried to catch your breath. your hand wrapped around his base, stroking it quickly while your other hand squeezed his balls. “maybe later . . . careful though, i might take a bite out of you.”

choso grinned, a laugh rumbling in his chest, but it was quickly overtaken by a loud moan. did you just—did you just bite him again?

he looked down at you, and sure enough there you were, teeth latched onto his thigh while your hand continued to work his cock. your tongue ran over the mark on his thigh, and with a quiet giggle, you gave the tender, reddened skin a soft kiss.

you were shocked when choso’s hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements.

“if you—ngh, stroke it again m’gonna cum. seriously, like i’m—i’m not k-kidding.” his nose and eyebrows were scrunched in pure concentration, balls throbbing for the feeling of release.

“get up here, ride me. you’ve been around a long time right? surely you can show me a few tricks,” his smile looked strained, and it was! he wasn’t doing himself any favors in this moment, imagining you on top of him, riding him like you hated his guts. god this was starting to hurt.

you gave his cock a final sloppy kiss at the base, and slowly crawled your way up the bed until your lower half was hovering over his. his cock twitched, grazing over your cunt for only a millisecond, but it was enough to have choso whimpering.

you balanced yourself on the balls of your feet, hands moving behind you to find purchase on his thighs for stability.

“i do know a thing or two,” you murmured, pressing your pussy against his cock. fuck, he felt so hot. choso’s lashes fluttered, “sit on it. please, please just—just sit on it.”

if choso could describe the feeling of being inside you, he wouldn’t know what to say, because the feeling is indescribable. maybe euphoric would be a good word? you fit together perfectly, like the worlds most fucked up puzzle.

he didn’t feel that warm sensation like he did from other girls, but that was to be expected due to you not radiating any kind of body heat. you were wet though, very wet, and mind numbingly soft.

he was gasping for air, words coming out a garbled, choked up mess, “t-this feels . . .”

“good right?” your words came out as a fluttery sigh, your hips now moving in slow circles. choso’s head fell back into his stack of pillows, hands finding purchase on your thighs.

“so fuckin’ good, babe,” he grunted, eyes zeroing in on the way your pussy gripped him, the way it struggled to take each inch of him. you’re the only girl that’s been able to take more than half of his nine inch length, not the he was bragging of course, in fact he was a little embarrassed about it. not even his pocket pussy that he whipped out for special occasions could fit all of him :(

shlick! shlick! shlick!

the sounds of your pussy sucking choso’s cock in was the only sound that could heard throughout the room, that and choso’s high pitched whimpers.

“you wan’ me to go faster?”

choso nodded, tongue lolling out of his mouth, followed by heavy pants. you giggled, moving your hips in quick figure eights. “you look n’ sound like a fuckin’ dog, cho. are you a dog?”

your hips had unexpectedly dropped, engulfing the entirety of choso’s cock in your cunt. his lips parted, a loud moan echoing throughout the room. “y-yes, yes i am—fuck, mm’a fuckin’ dog,” he uttered through grit teeth. his dick throbbed between your walls, release already just inches away.

“y-yeah, yeah, fuck me like that. just like that, baby, please keep going. c’mere, come closer,” choso panted, using all of his strength to sit up, and pull you closer to him. his arms wrapped around your waist, smushing your bodies together until there was no space to be seen.

your hands wandered across his upper back, eventually finding themselves to the hairs at the nape of his neck. you pulled him in for a heated kiss, and at the same time started to move your hips, the new angle making you see stars.

“ngh—s’real deep,” you were shocked by the shakiness in your voice, but you truly couldn’t help it, not with the way choso’s tip was prodding against that spot that had your toes curling.

he was so rough, yet gentle. quick, yet oh so sensual. you could fell all those weeks of yearning he pushed down with each brush of his hands against your skin. he was feeling you up anywhere he could—from your lower back, to your thighs, to your breasts. he couldn’t get enough.

“mm, shit—you cumming? you feel real—”

choso’s words came out muffled when your hand slapped across his mouth, your head tilting back in a high pitched moan. “yes, y-yes, i’m cumming. hush for a second,” your brows furrowed in concentration as you chased your high, and choso just watched in awe. his eyes were low and lidded, and if it weren’t for your hand being smushed against his lips, he’d be drooling.

god, you were perfect. he liked you so much, maybe a little too much if you really thought about it, but who’s thinking right now?

your cunt convulsed around his cock, white, translucent pearls of cum dripping down the base and onto the bedsheets. your hand had moved from his mouth, and joined your other in clawing at his back, crimson red lines now raising in their wake.

choso could feel the cool air brushing against his new wounds, and his veins ran cold. not out of terror, nor fear, but something else.

the trembles in your body were slowly fading away, and yet, you were still holding choso close to you in an iron grip, your face now buried in his neck. the smell of blood hit you like a semi, of course, but for some reason you didn’t get the overwhelming urge to bite him. it still smelt like heaven though. it had saliva pooling on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips.

maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

“ . . . that smells nice,” you whispered into his skin, middle finger swiping over the scratches on his back. you removed your face from his neck, your eyes finding his. “may i ? . . . wanna do this the right way this time—if there’s even a right way for this,” you both laughed, and with a deep inhale through his nose, choso nodded, uttering out a tiny ‘please.’

with no hesitation your lips wrapped your finger, and fuck, this was some good shit. you still had trouble believing such a delectable thing existed. you moaned around your finger, pulling it from your mouth with a quiet pop!

his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something. your lips curled into a lazy smirk, “can i have some more?” before you had even finished your sentence, choso dumbly shook his head, chest heaving from pure adrenaline.

he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing you in your true form—eyes deep red, and teeth bared, ready to sink your teeth in his skin. he figured you would go for his neck, and tilted his head to the side to give you better access, but you had other plans.

your manicured fingers gripped his jaw, turning him towards you, “later. i want you to keep fucking me.”

choso truly didn’t need to be told twice.

he lifted you off his cock with ease, teeth clenching together in a hiss at the cool temperature that greeted him. maybe he was too fucked out, but he could’ve sworn you had gotten warmer around him.

he flipped your body over, lifting your hips up to position you on all fours. your body relaxed into the pillow he placed beneath your tummy, and with a dreamy sigh, you began to sway your hips.

“since you think m’such a dog, might as well fuck you like one right?” he chuckled, swiping his tips between your soaked folds. shockingly, his crappy joke made you laugh, and the melodic sound had his heart tightening.

you slowly turned your head back, locking at eyes with him. your lips curled into a smile when you heard him audibly gulp.

“you scared?”

choso slowly shook his head, eyes softening.

“ . . . no. you’re just so fucking pretty. even with . . . you know,” he trailed off, chuckling as he gestured to his eyes and teeth. your stomach twisted, and with a small squeak your whipped your head back around. “thank you,” you muttered into the sheets, biting back a smile.

choso grinned, gently caressing the skin of your ass. had he made you . . . flustered?

he slowly pushed his tip between your folds, groaning at the stretch. “do i got the little murderous vampire all shy now?” he chucked, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip. you whined, wiggling your hips against him. choso gently pushed down on your back, deepening your arch.

“gotta make sure you feel me allll the way,” in one swift movement, he pushed himself in to the hilt, “in here.” his hand swooped underneath you to push against your tummy, earning a loud squeak from you.

“tell me how you feel, now. tell me how it feels.” his eyes were clenched shut, meanwhile his hands were gripping onto your hips for dear life.

your lips parted, but no words were able to come out, only a pathetic wheeze. choso slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, creating a slow, steady rhythm. “c’mon, baby. talk to me,” he grunted.

your arms outstretched, nails clawing at his bedsheets from pleasure. “full . . .” was all you managed to get out between cries and hiccups. your mind was a muddled mess, all of your senses consumed by choso.

his slow pace didn’t last long, and next thing you knew he was pounding you into the mattress. his foot was perched on the bed, meanwhile one of his hands was pushing your face further, and further into the bed.

“this fuckin’ pussy,” he gasped out, eyes flitting to the mess between your bodies. your essence clung to his sweaty skin, creating thin webs with each clap of his hips against your rippling ass.

“faster! f-faster!” you pleaded, throwing your ass back to match his thrusts. the feeling of his cock nudging deep inside was like a high you kept chasing, you just couldn’t get enough!

“mm, baby wants it faster? no problem.” you gasped when you were suddenly yanked up by your hair, your body slotting against choso’s perfectly. his arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

choso couldn’t help but coo at the way you nibbled on his bicep. it hurt so good. so much so that when you actually bit him, and started feeding, all he could do was go cross eyed, his knees nearly buckling.

“jesus christ, a warning would’a been—hah, n-nice,” he whined into your neck, thrusts coming to a halt. shivers ran up his back, that same dizzy feeling from earlier overcoming him once more. you responded with a noise that was a cross between a moan, and a giggle.

“ngh, this—this feels amazing, o-oh my—”

choso’s ears started to ring, his orgasm washing over him in harsh waves. he wanted to hold back, he really did, but you had him completely weakened, mind and body nothing but a pile of mush.

your eyes fluttered shut, a content moan rumbling in your chest at the feeling of warmth that flooded your tummy. you couldn’t even remember the last time a guy fucked you so good that you let him finish inside you.

you retracted your fangs from his arm, tongue lolling out to lick up any excess blood. choso whimpered behind you, and without warning he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. hard.

you yelped, body going completely limp in his strong hold. “how do you like it, hm?” he growled in your ear, poking his tongue out to run over the shell of it. you let out a small, breathless laugh, “heh. i can s-see why people don’t like it too much.”

choso slowly pulled out with a hiss, his eyes flitting to his cock that was a glistening, creamy mess. he wanted you to clean him up, suck him off until you were gagging around his dick, but that would to have wait because unfortunately for you, choso still hasn’t had his fill.

he twisted you around onto your back, roughly pushing your knees to your chest. he pressed a kiss to the center of your food before tapping his fat tip against your clit, relishing in the way your mewled at the contact.

“she’s so fat n’ cute,” he grinned, slipping his cock between your puffy folds. you covered your face in embarrassment, but he was quick to slap them away. he’d be damned if you obstructed the most perfect view a person could have.

“c-cho—”

“shhh, listen.”

your embarrassment increased tenfold, the sound of his cock rubbing in between your folds becoming deafening.

“ugh, just put it in, you big brute,” you sniffled, fangs catching onto your bottom lip. choso noticed this, and leant down, “don’t bite too hard. don’t want ya to hurt yourself.” his voice was sweet and low, sending shivers up your back. he didn’t move until you nodded, and released your lip.

“good girl,” he murmured, letting a glob of spit fall from between his lips and onto your clit. while his thumb roughly rolled over your swollen nub, he slowly began to push his cock inside once more, slipping in with ease.

your back arched, thighs beginning shake from your already nearing orgasm. “fast, cho, faster,” you pleaded, pulling your knees back further. choso groaned, quickening the pace of his hips. he could’ve easily cum once again seeing how flexible you were.

he just wanted to fill you up over, and over again . . . and he did. until you physically had to stop him because the poor boy could barely keep up with himself.

he was on his back once more, chest heaving rapidly while you sat on top on his stomach, pinning his hands above his head. it was nearing four a.m. and for once in your life, you were utterly exhausted. you had never met another human being with stamina like him, it actually frightened you a bit.

“you can barely keep your eyes open, yet you want more . . . what’s up with that?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. all choso could do was shrug and thrust his hips up. you were using quite a bit of strength this time, so he really couldn’t move.

“well i need a break,” you spoke softly, releasing one of his wrists so you could cradle his face, “and you do too. how about you get some sleep, yeah?”

you could’ve melted at the way choso pouted, his brows scrunching up oh so cutely. he didn’t fight you, or protest, instead he just nodded, drowsiness already beginning to overtake him.

“you’re gonna sleep in here, right?”

“if you want me to i will, though i do have to be somewhere at seven,” you whispered, releasing your grip on him entirely. you moved off of his stomach, and got comfy before nuzzling into his side, your hand coming up to tenderly rub on his stomach.

“don’t you—don’t need me to clean you up?” he mumbled, eyes now shut from sleepiness. you made a noise of disapproval, and shook your head, “i’ll be fine, just get some rest. don’t forget you do have work in a few hours.”

choso didn’t need to be told twice and within minutes you began to hear small snores from his parted lips, his racing heartbeat now at a calm, steady rhythm. you were seriously going to have to introduce this boy to some herbal tea with the way he’s constantly worked up.

“mm, this calls a for a little cat nap,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling more into choso’s side. his arms wrapped around you tighter, chin now resting on the crown of your head. his toned chest was now centimeters away from your face, and unfortunately your intrusive thoughts won, because the last thing you remembered before dozing off was nibbling on his chest to soothe the ache in your gums.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“thank you for finally gracing me with your presence. following you around has been rather tiresome.”

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to entertain nanami’s comment as you took a sip of your matcha. it had been five months since you’ve seen him, and they’ve been the most peaceful months of your life. why hadn’t you thought of getting a roommate sooner?

you set your cup down rather obnoxiously, your arms folding together as you leant back in your chair. “is there any particular reason why you called this meeting? the sun is supposed to be at a uv nine today. i’d like to get home soon.”

that was an actual reason, but what you really wanted to do was see choso. you’d been thinking about him, and his lovely scent since you stepped foot out of your apartment.

saying getting out of bed that morning would be an understatement—that shit was one of the hardest trials of your life! choso had refused to let you get out of bed, not even caring that his sore hands were screaming in pain as he held you in place. you had no other choice but to slowly fuck him back to sleep, your leg thrown over his waist while he delivered slow strokes until he was cumming with a loud whine.

after he dozed off you were finally able to slip out of his grasp and leave, but not before internally melting at how cute his cheeks looked when they were puffy from sleep.

nanami took a long, slow sip of his coffee. “how’s your roommate?”

you shuffled in your seat, “he’s fine, nothing new.”

“ah, so he’s still with us?”

you frowned, eyes narrowing at the blonde. “of course he is. i told you i won’t, and still don’t plan on harming him. we’ve formed . . . a sort of bond. we’re friends.”

“yes, yes. i’d be pretty chummy with a human too if i found out their blood type was o-negative. it’s got to rather painful to control the urges though, no?”

you froze, breath getting caught in your throat. now how the hell did he know that?!

he took your silence as an answer and continued to speak, “i could smell it on you the second you walked in here. you fed off of him, but i still can’t decide if you’re telling the truth about him being dead or not. i’m sure you know what’ll happen if the council finds out you’ve exposed yourself to a human, and let them live.”

your lips parted to speak, then shut. you were at a complete loss, mind boggled at how nanami was able to figure it out.

“how—how do you know it’s his and not someone else’s, hm? you have no idea what you’re talking about kenny,” you spoke softly, voice shaking the tiniest bit.

nanami set his mug aside, and leant on the table, his now crimson eyes piercing into yours. “i’ve been following your friend around a little bit, and i’m sure you know a scent like his is hard to miss.”

a beat of silent passed, and then another.

“w-why . . . why’re you following him around?! he’s done nothing wrong!” you could feel your temper rising. the mere thought of nanami stalking him without his knowledge had your blood boiling. “choso is innocent in all this, he doesn’t need to be stalked or harassed by you.”

“who said anything about harassing him? i just wanted to make sure that he was still alive, and not asking too many questions about his roommate . . . but it seems any questions he had about you have been answered. i know you fed off of him y/n. there is no use in lying. my problem is, instead of finishing the job, you let him live. i am sworn by an oath to watch over you, and clean up any messes you make—”

“i was not going to kill an innocent man because of something that was my fault,” you growled, voice lowering two octaves. “you don’t even know the full story of what happened, or what was said, so you are in no position to decide whether choso lives or dies.”

nanami’s expression was bored, and unamused, like he couldn’t be bothered to hear what you had to say.

“he promised to keep my secret, and i believe him. i couldn’t really give less of shit if you believe him or not, all that matters is that i do, and i have a great intuition. besides who would believe him anyway? there’s scarier, more violent things than us on the subways. i think we’ll be okay.”

nanami took another sip of his coffee, “and if he starts spouting nonsense about how vampires are real, then what?”

your head cocked to the side, and you smiled, but it wasn’t a sincere one, it almost looked sinister. “then i’ll kill him where he stands, and flee the city. i already have my next destination in mind if shit goes left.”

your stomach twisted, almost painfully. you didn’t mean anything you said, not a word of it, but you had to play it up for kento. god, even the thought of laying a threatening hand on choso made you nauseous.

“but what about the council? my oath—”

“geeeez, you and this goddamn oath—who cares?! the council is all the way across the sea in europe. what they don’t know won’t kill them, and if they find out about what i did, i will accept any consequences given to me.”

nanami scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “why do you care so much for this human? you’ve never gone out of your way to accept such a fate for anyone, why him?”

you didn’t quite know the answer to that yourself.

“i’ve grown fond of him, like i said before, we’re friends,” you spoke softly, eyes drifting to the couple that was sitting a few tables away from you. they were giggling and laughing together without a care in the world, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how much you missed the simplicity of caring and loving for another being.

your eyes flit back to nanami’s, lowering in a glare. “i mean it, ken. if you, or—or anyone, tries to harm him because of something he didn’t choose to know . . . i’ll—i’ll—”

“you’ll what?”

“i’ll kill you. i don’t know how, but i will. i appreciate you for cleaning up my messes, lord knows i’d probably be dead for real without you, but i don’t think this requires your attention. i hope you can understand that, because as long as i’m around, choso will remain alive and well.”

“hi! can i get you two anything else?”

the stare down that you and kento were having was interrupted by a bubbly waitress. you didn’t say anything, instead you just continued to stare at him, your face expressionless.

nanami blinked once, twice, thrice.

“no, i think we’re done here. thank you for taking such good care of us, dear,” he spoke lowly, offering the waitress a small smile, and a fifty dollar bill. she swooned of course, mentioning something along the lines of hoping to see him again soon, and you all but gagged watching the interaction.

after the waitress walked away, nanami cleared his throat. “i hope you know what you’re doing, y/n. keep in touch,” and with that he was gone, leaving you stunned, and nearly on the verge of tears.

was he convinced? was your choso safe?

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

#boarder credit @cafekitsune #choso kamo x black reader #choso imagine #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x black!reader #choso smut #choso smau #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader

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stillwatervoid · 2 months ago

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Invincible’s special healing treatment | Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Summary: Your healing powers—marketed as “Revitalizers”—made you a vital asset to both heroes and civilians. They erased fatigue, sealed wounds, boosted strength, and mended broken bodies like magic. Everyone loved them. Especially Mark Grayson.

That is, until he found out the secret ingredient behind your power was… your spit.

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Heavy Making Out, sort of Spit Kink? (subtle), there’s some grinding at the end but nothing explicit.

Tags: Reader Has Healing Powers, humor?, Fluff, mutual pining, and Mark being totally whipped.

w.c: 7k | a/n: English isn’t my first language, so there may be some mistakes here and there. This was a draft I started ages ago and finally decided to finish. It was supposed to be kinkier than it turned out—I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote the first draft back in January... I was probably just horny or something. I guess I couldn’t live up to the expectations of past me. I don’t even like it that much but I wanted to get rid of it already!!! (And yes, I still owe you pt. 2 of ‘Now nothing’s the same’, but please accept this as compensation.) Hope you enjoy it!

It starts when Mark’s nose scrunches in disgust as he stares at the small plastic cup in his hand, the truth of its contents finally dawning on him.

“Oh my god, stop being such a baby,” you groan, rolling your eyes as you monitor his vitals on the med-bay screen. “You’ve been drinking this for months and never complained before.”

“Yeah—when I didn’t know it had your spit in it!” he snaps, pushing the cup away like it personally offended him. His face twists into a grimace, torn between horror and betrayal. “This is disgusting. Someone should’ve told me! I have a right to know what I’m putting in my body!”

You cross your arms, irritation prickling under your skin. “It’s just a bit of saliva, Mark. And it’s mixed with, like, 80% water. You literally can’t taste it.”

He pouts, eyebrows knitting together stubbornly. “Still…”

“You know what?” you snap, cheeks flushing—partly from anger, partly from embarrassment. It isn’t your fault your healing powers work this way. “Fine. Don’t drink it. Enjoy waiting a month for your ribs to heal naturally. I’ll let Cecil know you’re benched until further notice.”

Before he can protest, you snatch the cup from his hand and down it yourself, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge. It tastes exactly like water. No big deal. Mark is being ridiculous. When you finish, you set the cup down with a shrug, feeling refreshed and perfectly fine.

“There,” you say curtly, grabbing your things along with the report of his vitals. “Now suffer alone.”

“Wait, wait—!” Mark jerks forward, wincing as his injuries protest the sudden movement. “You can’t just leave! I—I need to heal fast! I can’t be sidelined for a month!”

“Oooh,” you drawl, mocking. “Well, that was the last one left. Too bad, Invincible—oh, wait. Guess you’re not so invincible right now, huh? Stuck in a hospital bed, bruised up, with broken bones…”

You shrug, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you turn for the door again.

Mark’s face falls. “Wait. You’re joking. There’s no more?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the p, watching as his eyes widen in panic. “I came here to make more stock for Cecil. Felt bad for you, so I whipped up one on the spot—but hey, you didn’t even want it, Grayson.”

“Wait, Y/N—” he scrambles, voice turning desperate. “C’mon, I’m sorry, okay? I need that Revitalizer! I need to keep training! Please? Please?”

You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a slow, unimpressed stare.

“So now you want my spit—the one that was ‘disgusting’ literally ten seconds ago?” You arch a brow. “Yeah, no. Have fun with the crutches. Later, Grayson.”

Mark’s desperation instantly shifts to irritation. “Hey! You can’t just leave! This is your job! So do your job, Y/N, or—or else!”

You stop again, a brow twitching. “Or else… what, exactly?”

Mark fumbles, his bravado faltering. “Or else I… I dunno—I’ll tell Cecil to fire you or something?”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, sure. Because firing me, the guy who keeps all his damn heroes—including you—on the field, is such a brilliant idea.”

Mark crosses his arms, smirking like he’s found a loophole. “Well, you’re not exactly keeping me on the field now, are you? And by the way, I’m his best guy. Cecil’s not gonna be happy you’re refusing to heal his best guy.”

You press your lips into a thin line, irritation bubbling in your chest as Mark’s cocky, self-assured smirk grates on your last nerve. He was already pushing it, eating up time you didn’t have, and now he was really pissing you off.

But there was no more stock left. Making a new batch would take at least ten more minutes—minutes you couldn’t spare. What could you do?

Then a dark, petty idea slithers into your mind.

“Fine,” you mutter, shutting the door and stepping back into the room. “If you insist.”

With swift strides, you move toward him, grabbing his face between your hands, fingers pressing into his cheeks just enough to squish them together. His smug expression falters, confusion flickering across his face—just as you lean in and kiss him. Full on the mouth. Tongue and all.

Mark makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, his whole body jerking as your tongue slips past his parted lips, brushing against his demandingly. You don’t give him a chance to react, to pull away, to breathe—you just press in deeper, holding him still, making sure he gets a direct dose of your healing power.

Because, yes, your saliva contains the ability to heal. That’s why you dilute it in water—so heroes can take it without things getting… weird. It works. It’s enough, and really, Cecil would never ask for more from you.

But this—this direct contact, exchanging spit with Mark, making sure he’s drinking it straight from your mouth instead of a diluted version—is the raw, unfiltered version of your power. The kind that knits bone and flesh back together in seconds.

And if Mark was that desperate for it, then here. Take it.

His breath hitches, throat bobbing as he instinctively swallows the saliva between your entwined tongues. Under your fingers, you feel the swollen bruises on his face smooth out, the lingering pain vanishing in an instant. Only then do you finally break the kiss, a faint line of spit still connecting you both before it snaps.

“There. Happy?” you pull away completely, scowling as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “You’re dismissed. Go home.”

“W-what?” Mark’s mouth opens, then closes. A flush creeps up his neck. “I—you—what the…?”

You look away, your own face heating up. “This is the last time I’m doing this. Don’t tell anyone—” your voice drops to a dangerous whisper “—or I’ll kill you.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving a spluttering, red-faced Mark behind.

The second time it happens is while you’re both on the field.

Mark is in the air, fighting off the bad guys. You’re on the ground, checking on injured civilians and offering help.

You’re not really paying attention to what Invincible or the other heroes are doing. Your focus is entirely on offering assistance, stabilizing wounds, and evacuating as many people as you can from the area. You don’t worry. You never worry. Not when it comes to them—and especially not when it comes to Mark Grayson.

The boy’s basically a force of nature wrapped in a spandex suit. Inexperienced, sure. A little reckless at times, yeah. But strong, strong. The kind of strength that makes his skin impenetrable, his body durable, and his raw power overwhelming. The kind of strength that makes you believe, really believe, in corny hero names like invincible.

That’s why you’re so surprised when he suddenly comes crashing down from the sky, his body slamming into the asphalt like a meteor, carving a trail of shattered pavement before slamming through the side of a building. Concrete buckles. Steel bends. The whole structure groans under the impact.

One second passes. Then two. Three. Ten.

And he doesn’t get up.

Panic grips you, and you’re already sprinting before you realize it.

“Invincible?!” you call, voice cutting through the air as you swipe the dust from your face and enter through the whole he made. “Shit—Invincible?”

The building creaks ominously around you, but you push forward until—

A low groan echoes from the rubble.

There, buried in a mess of rubble and twisted metal, lies Mark.

Your eyes narrow, instincts kicking in as you assess his condition with clinical precision while carefully making your way over. He’s in bad shape—bruises swelling across his face, blood smearing his skin, breaths ragged and uneven, and one of his arms is bent at an angle it definitely shouldn’t be.

The sight twists something sharp and awful in your chest, but you bury the feeling beneath your professional mask. You can’t afford to panic.

“Invincible?” you mutter, kneeling beside him and brushing debris off his chest and shoulders. No answer. Just a weak, pained sound—barely more than a groan. “Mark?” you try again, softer now, a hand slipping behind his head to lift it gently. He lets out another weak noise, eyes fluttering, but there’s no real awareness behind them.

No, you realize quickly, the Revitalizer won’t cut it. Not for this. Not fast enough. Mark’s breathing is shallow and quickening—too quick, too sharp. Collapsed lung, maybe. Add that to the concussion and the internal injuries you’re certain he’s hiding under the surface. The diluted solution of your power works on minor injuries and fractures, but this is beyond that.

You pause, weighing your options, the conflict mounting in your chest. Outside, the battle still rages—the heroes definitely need Mark’s help if the panic and screams are anything to go by.

Which means this calls for a direct transfer. Maximum potency. And you know exactly what that means.

Your jaw clenches.

“Goddammit, Grayson,” you whisper to his barely-conscious form, already making the decision. “People need you out there.”

The building groans and creaks ominously above you, dust raining from the ceiling. But you pay no mind, heart hammering.

One hand slides behind his neck, the other tilts his chin up. “Sorry for this,” you mutter, even though you doubt he can hear you. Your gaze flickers briefly to his lips, the sudden thought making your stomach churn. “Trust me, man, I don’t want this more than you do. So when you wake up… no hard feelings, okay?”

And then, without another second of hesitation, you’re sealing your mouth over his. Your tongue pushes past his lips, shoving the raw, undiluted potency of your power straight into him. It’s messy, desperate, laced with the taste of blood and grit. Mark jolts under you, a weak groan trapped between your mouths—but you don’t stop. You count the seconds in your head, focusing on the transfer, making sure he gets enough. Enough to mend everything.

Then you feel it—the sharp, deep breath he takes as his lung reinflates. His ribs shifting under your palm, bones snapping back into place. His arm realigning itself with a sickening crack.

Then, the soft gasp you swallow when his consciousness starts to return.

Mark makes a confused noise, his tongue brushing against yours, clumsy and startled. You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and shock, and pull back immediately.

“Y/N...?” Mark’s voice is hoarse, and it makes your skin burn. “What... did you just—?”

You glance away, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “Can you stand?”

Mark blinks, still dazed but healed, already flexing his newly-mended arm. “I… yeah. Yeah, I think—”

“Good,” you snap, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. “Then move.”

But Mark just stands there, staring down at himself—then at you—then back at himself. And then, with a breathless laugh, he beams.

“Oh-ho-ho, I feel amazing!” he exclaims. “I feel great! Like, better than great!”

To prove it, he hovers a foot off the ground, spinning in a gleeful pirouette like a complete idiot. You fold your arms, glaring at him as he flexes his muscles and stretches, putting on a ridiculous display of his newfound energy.

Then the building groans again—a low, warning sound that cracks through the air.

Mark halts mid-spin, looking up at the ceiling. “That... doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you mutter, eyeing the unstable column just behind him. “We better go before—”

You don’t get to finish.

The ceiling gives out with a thunderous crack, and before your brain can catch up, Mark’s arms are around your waist, yanking you off the ground. Your eyes squeeze shut instinctively, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he blasts up through the collapsing hole he made when he crashed through earlier.

The world whips past you in a blur, and when you blink again, you’re outside. The building is falling behind you, collapsing in on itself, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that engulfs the area.

You both land a safe distance away, unscathed, while the building continues its dramatic descent.

“Aw, shit,” Mark mutters, pouting as he stares at the wreckage. “I did that?”

You hum, shooting him a side glance. “You’re lucky I evacuated that thing before it came down.”

Mark turns to look at you, his pout deepening like a sulky kid. But this time there’s a shift. He’s... uncomfortably close. Closer than you realized. You can feel his breath against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. That’s when you realize—his hands are still curled loosely around your waist. And your arms are still looped around his shoulders.

Both of you seem to notice at the same time.

Mark drops his arms like he’s been burned, quickly turning away to scratch the back of his neck and coughing into his hand. You shift your weight, eyes darting anywhere but him.

“Well—” his voice cracks, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks for, uh. The whole. You know. The thing with the—” he makes a vague gesture toward his mouth.

“Sure,” you reply, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “Anytime.”

A mutual, full-body cringe.

The moment is mercifully shattered by Immortal calling out to Mark, urging him to get back in the fight.

Mark jolts like he’s been electrocuted. “Right! Yeah. Duty calls. Gotta—” he gestures weakly toward the fight, already floating backward. “So, uh. Thanks. Again. For the—”

“Go,” you interrupt, already turning toward a group of civilians still trapped in the area.

He throws you a final awkward half-wave, then rockets away—but not fast enough to hide the way his ears burn crimson. You watch him fly away, cheeks heating up, too.

The third time it happens, Mark isn’t bleeding, broken, or even remotely in danger.

No—he’s bored, crashing into your workspace at the GDA’s hospital wing, apparently done with his hero duties for the day—and, shockingly, with catching up with his college classes too. How he manages both, you have no clue. But here he is, picking up and poking around your things like a kid in a candy store.

“What does—”

“I swear to god,” you cut in sharply, patience already fraying, “if you ask one more time what anything in this lab does, I’ll gut you, Grayson.”

Mark pouts, carefully placing a large syringe back where he found it. “You’re no fun.”

“This isn’t a damn playground,” you mutter, returning your focus to the screen in front of you. “Now, unless you’ve got a severed limb or third-degree burns, get out.”

Mark flops into the nearest chair with a groan, legs sprawling like a petulant teenager. “Okay, fine. I’m here for, uh… a headache.”

“Oh no, how tragic,” you don’t even glance at him. “Take a pill.”

There’s silence.

An unnaturally long silence.

Long enough that you sigh and finally drag your gaze from the screen to find Mark staring at you with the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“What,” you ask flatly.

Mark fidgets under your stare. “I just—” he sighs. “They take forever to kick in, okay?”

“So?” you arch a brow. “Suck it up, Invinci-boy. I’ve seen you take a hell of a lot more and never flinch once.”

“Yeah, but—” he glances away, wincing while pressing his fingers to his temple exaggeratedly. “This is a migraine. Like, brain-melting pain. Totally screwing with my focus.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicion flickering in your gaze. But as he keeps avoiding your eyes, fidgeting awkwardly, wincing every time he shifts—one hand pressed to his temple—you finally sigh and lean back in your chair.

“Fine,” you mutter.

Mark straightens up immediately, his eyes wide with surprise, cheeks flushing a faint pink. “Really?”

You blink at the sudden change in energy, head tilting. “Yeah…?” you say slowly, reaching into your desk drawer. Inside are several little Revitalizer cups—80% water, 20% your saliva. You grab one and set it in front of him with a soft thud. “Here. Thank me later. Cecil’s weirdly strict about the inventory—he hates wasting these on stupid things like a damn headache.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn back to your computer, resuming the work you’d been organizing before Mark decided to drop in unannounced.

Silence falls again—long, lingering, and just awkward enough to pull your attention back.

You turn to him, exhausted. “What now.”

Mark’s expression sours into a pout, his shoulders slumping as he stares down at the little cup, as if it’s the most disappointing thing he’s ever seen.

He sighs, closing his eyes before weakly reaching for the cup. “Nothing. It’s—nothing.”

Mark pops the lid off, staring at the clear liquid with exaggerated contemplation before drinking it all in one gulp. You watch silently, noting the way his throat moves as he swallows. Finally, Mark exhales, setting the empty cup on the desk.

Then he blinks, licking his lips with a curious hum. “Huh. Now that I’m really paying attention... it really does taste like nothing.”

“It tastes like water,” you point out distractedly, returning to your task.

“And water tastes like nothing,” Mark grumbles. He puts a hand to his chin, like he’s suddenly contemplating life’s biggest mysteries. “But it’s weird… did you know your spit has a taste?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. Slowly, you turn your chair to face him fully. “Huh?”

“Yeah!” Mark springs up, suddenly animated, twirling the empty cup between his fingers. “It’s got this...I dunno, this flavor. Kinda—I can’t describe it.”

In all your years working with the GDA, through countless medical exams and power analyses, never—not once—has anyone mentioned your saliva having a flavor.

Your brows knit together in confusion. “You mean... like how everyone’s spit tastes?”

“No, no way,” Mark insists, shaking his head vigorously. “This is different. It’s like—” he waves his hands around, struggling to articulate. “Sort of... sweet? But not too much. More like—a feeling. But also a taste? And it lingers. You really can’t tell? It’s your spit after all.”

You tilt your head, gaze drifting in thought. “Not really.” Then your eyes narrow. “Can you taste your own spit? I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, fair,” he admits with a shrug, though his cheeks are now dusted with a light flush. He glances back at you, this time with a different kind of glint in his eye. “Hey—so. This thing—” he shakes the empty cup, “—hasn’t really worked yet.”

“It’s been, like, fifteen seconds—”

“The other method was instant.”

You glare. He looks away like he finds the ceiling lights particularly fascinating.

“The other method?” you repeat slowly, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to kiss your migraine goodbye or something?”

Mark chokes on air, spluttering. “No, no, I didn't say that! I just want, uh, I want—I just want to know what your spit tastes like!”

A long beat.

“For science!” he rushes to add, flustered beyond salvation. “I wouldn’t want to kiss you! I mean, ew, eugh, no, I—that’s—I don’t—”

You hum thoughtfully, tuning out the rest of his babbling. The scientific implications are intriguing. Flavor? In your saliva? That’s a whole new variable. Could you isolate whatever this is? If there’s something in the taste that links to your power’s effectiveness, maybe you can concentrate it, increase the strength of each Revitalizer beyond the current 20% dilution. If Mark’s being honest about all this… it could be groundbreaking.

“—and kissing dudes? Not my thing! Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just—”

“Alright,” you cut in sharply, standing up from your side of the desk. “C’mere.”

Mark’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “Hmm?”

“Come here,” you repeat, already grabbing a notepad. “You’re going to describe this supposed ‘flavor’ in exact detail.”

Mark’s mouth hangs open, eyes wide in disbelief, and for the first time in the last five minutes—he’s finally silent.

“Wait—so you’re saying—does this mean we’re…?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think, Grayson? Unless you’ve suddenly changed your mind.”

Mark scrambles to his feet so fast he almost knocks over his chair. “No! I mean—yeah, I want to,” he says, and you catch the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple as he adds, weaker, “for science.”

“For science,” you echo with a slow nod, watching him as he rounds the desk with nervous, rigid movements. “Then I need you to be very attentive, okay, Mark?”

“Sure,” he says quickly, voice lower now, eyes flicking over your face before landing—and staying—on your lips. “Super. Attentive. So... how exactly do we—”

You reach for his chin, thumb pressing lightly on his lower lip. “Shh.”

He goes still, sucking in a sharp breath.

Then you guide him in, sliding your hand to the back of his head as you draw him into a kiss. Mark comes willingly, lips already parted. The moment your mouths meet—warm, tentative, tongues brushing in a slick, electric glide—it sends a jolt through you both. A quiet groan rumbles from deep in his throat as his body melts into yours, tension giving way to something softer, needier. You take a single step back from the force of it, your breath catching, but neither of you pulls away.

You move slowly, letting your tongue sweep languidly against his, the taste of him mingling with your own as saliva slicks between your mouths. As the seconds pass, Mark’s movements grow more eager, his confidence rising with the heat between you. Then, without warning, he licks and sucks on your tongue in a way that makes your whole body shiver, goosebumps scattering across your skin.

“Mmh,” you groan softly into the kiss, one hand drifting to his chest—his firm, toned, distractingly solid chest—and you try to pull back just enough to catch your breath.

But Mark whines, his grip tightening, pulling you back in.

“Mmph?!” you mutter, muffled and breathless.

His hands, which had been awkwardly hanging by his sides, finally move, fingers sliding up to your hips. His touch is hesitant at first, then turns urgent, twitching with anticipation. Your heart pounds in your chest, lungs burning from the lack of air, as his lips move hungrily against yours. His grip tightens, drawing you impossibly closer, until you feel every inch of him pressed against you—the steady beat of his heart syncing with your own.

Hell, you can even feel the bob of his throat as he drinks from you.

When you finally wrench your mouth free, a glistening thread of saliva connects you for one obscene second before it snaps. Mark chases after your lips like a man starved, but you press a cautious hand against his mouth.

“Grayson,” you pant, “that’s enough. I need—data.”

Mark blinks, dazed. “Huh?”

“The flavor,” you remind him, voice rougher than you’d intended. “The point was to, y’know, describe it.”

His pupils are blown wide, lips parted and panting. He looks confused for a second—then realization dawns across his face.

“Right! Right. It’s, uh—” his tongue darts out, licking his swollen lips. “Definitely... sweet. But like, honey-sweet? Only—more subtle. I think—” he clears his throat, voice rough, “I think I might need... further testing. For accuracy.”

“Accuracy,” you repeat flatly, raising a brow.

At this point, you seriously doubt he came here out of curiosity about the taste of your spit, or that he gave a damn about the ‘science’, or that he ever had a migraine to begin with. That realization makes your cheeks burn hot, your heart thudding harder.

Still, you pull him closer, noses brushing. “Well,” you murmur, “it can’t be helped, then. We do need to be extra accurate. So pay attention, yeah?”

His breath hitches, forehead resting against yours as his fingers flex on your hips. “Yeah…” he breathes. “I’ll be super attent—”

You cut him off with another kiss.

Science demands repeat trials, after all.

It keeps happening as the weeks go by, for reasons you can’t quite understand.

If Mark’s seriously injured, it’s become your go-to method—because, really, the world can’t afford to have its strongest hero benched for weeks just waiting to heal. If he’s just feeling sore or tired, it’s your method too—because otherwise, he’ll whine and mope and follow you around all day. And if he says he just needs an energy boost, claiming your powers make him feel like he could fly to another universe and back, then yeah, it’s your method again—because he won’t stop asking until you finally snap and kiss him just to shut him up.

But this time, it’s not Mark who’s critically injured.

It’s Rex.

Somehow, he survived a bullet to the head, severe blood loss, and an amputated hand. And even now, after all the surgeries and treatments, still confined to a hospital bed, he has the nerve to act cocky and cheerful.

“C’moooon,” Rex groans the second you step into his room to check his vitals. “You’re my only hope here, Y/N. I can’t take another day in this prison—I’ve read every magazine Eve brought me twice, and I’m dying of boredom.”

“No,” you reply, not even glancing up from his chart. “You know Cecil—”

“Cecil doesn’t let you waste your powers like this because it’s ‘pointless,’ because he’s got it all covered, blah blah blah,” Rex mocks, rolling his bloodshot eyes. “I just don’t get why we have a healer hero who’s not actually healing me, y’know?”

“You are healed,” you mutter, irritation seeping into your voice. “You just need to stay in bed, rest, and let it be.”

Rex glares. “That’s not being healed. That’s the boring process of healing!” Then he squints at you, brows scrunched. “Why are you even here if you’re not gonna do your job?”

You scoff and drop the clipboard onto the end of the bed with a thud, fully turning to glare at him. “For your information, the only reason you’re still alive is because my Revitalizers kept your dumbass brain together while they rebuilt your skull.”

“Oh, those little cups?” Rex shrugs, unimpressed. “Yeah, they’re fine, but we both know there’s a way faster method to get me out of here.”

You press your lips into a tight line, brow twitching as he gives you a pointed look, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

“No.”

He sighs dramatically. “C’moooon, Y/N. It’s not like I want to do it either, but if—”

You don’t hear the door slide open as you continue glaring at him.

“—a kiss is all it takes to fix me up, then get over here, baby,” Rex puckers his lips, closes his eyes, and starts making exaggerated smooching noises. “One little magical mouth-to-mouth and we’re both outta here. C’mon, lemme taste some of that miracle spit, mmh?”

You open your mouth to go off on Rex, but another voice cuts in, sharp and disbelieving.

“What.”

You whip your head around, glare softening instantly as your eyes land on Mark. He’s standing at the doorway in his civilian clothes, wide-eyed and frozen.

“Oh, hey Mark!” you say quickly, snatching the clipboard from Rex’s bed as you move to leave. “Came to visit Rex? Good luck—he’s extra insufferable today.”

“Hey!” Rex shouts, trying to prop himself up, waving his good arm like a flag of protest. “Don’t bail yet! What about our special healing session?”

You scoff, eyes still fixed forward. “Didn’t promise anything, asshole. Bye now.”

Mark doesn’t move. He stares at you, then at Rex, then back at you again with a look of wide-eyed panic and something suspiciously like betrayal. Just as you reach for the door, he suddenly jumps forward, blocking your path.

“Wait—!” his voice cracks, just slightly. “Do you—do you do that a lot?”

You blink, thrown. “Do what?”

Mark pouts, hesitating for a second before glancing over at Rex, who’s watching the scene unfold with curious eyes. Mark scowls, jaw tense, then puts both hands on your shoulders and pulls you close, not taking his eyes off Rex.

“You know…” he mutters, voice low and pointed, “that.”

Your still confused, baffled expression only makes Mark deflate. He sighs, looking away shyly, his cheeks turning pink, though his face is still tinged with a touch of disappointment.

“You know…” he mumbles again, quieter this time. “The ‘special treatment.’ I didn’t know it was… Rex, too. I thought I was the only one you kisse—mmph!?”

Mark is swiftly silenced when you slap a hand over his mouth with an echoing clap, panic rising in your chest as it hits you halfway through what he’s talking about. But by then, it’s too late. You know it’s too late.

Five seconds of pure silence drag on.

Then, behind you, Rex gasps dramatically. “No way…” he whispers, eyes widening with dawning comprehension. And then, louder, “No way!”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god…”

“Dr. Y/N!” Rex clutches his chest in mock outrage, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Kissing your patients? That’s highly unprofessional! What would Cecil say if he knew? You know he hates wasting your power like that.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again, dragging your hands down your face, trying to hide from the embarrassment.

You whip around to glare at Mark, who shrinks under the intensity of your glare. But whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as Rex’s obnoxious cackling rings through the room, making your last nerve snap.

“So you are into special treatment, huh?” Rex laughs, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. “You were all high and mighty, denying it to me earlier. Well, look at you now!” Then he pauses, blinking in confusion, tilting his head. “Wait wait wait—so why does Invincible get the premium package, but I’m stuck with the watered-down version? That’s some bullshit favoritism! I don’t wanna be stuck here any longer! Hey! Do your job!”

Your jaw clenches. In one fluid motion, you throw the door open, grab Mark by the collar, and turn back to Rex with your most dangerous glare.

“Your treatment is called shutting the hell up.”

And with that, you drag Mark out of the room, slamming the door behind you with a resounding bang.

It’s silent at first—just the pounding of your heart and the flush burning across your cheeks. Embarrassment, dread, and the terrifying thought of Cecil ever finding out. You flinch just imagining the long, agonizing lecture he’d have locked and loaded if Rex opened his mouth. You have to make sure he doesn’t. And oh, you can think of several ways to ensure Rex’s silence—each more creatively painful than the last, all of them tempting—

“I’m sorry,” Mark says softly, cutting through your dark thoughts. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize there were... others.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and damn it all, when he looks up with those wounded puppy-dog eyes, your anger dissolves into mist.

You cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Mark. There are no ‘others.’” Your thumb brushes his cheekbone. “You seriously think I go around swapping spit with every hero who gets a paper cut?”

He winces. “No...”

“You think I’d kiss Rex of all people?”

His nose scrunches. “No.”

“Think that—” you pause, suddenly aware of the barely-there space between you. Of how your breaths mingle, how he’s leaning in without realizing it. Drawn to you like instinct. Like gravity. The next words come out softer than you mean them to. “That I’d do this with anyone but you?”

Mark’s eyes widen. His lips part—whether to answer or ask for clarification, you’ll never know, because you choose that moment to shut him up the only way that ever really works.

Closing the distance and kissing him.

Your lips crash together, deep and intense and hungry. His tongue meets yours halfway, practiced and eager, moving against your mouth in the way he’s learned you like. His arms wrap around you, hands slipping down your back, pulling you in closer, pressing you tight until there’s nothing left between you—not air, not space, not thought.

Your heart stutters and then races, excitement surging through your veins, raw and electric, leaving you lightheaded and weightless.

You hum into his mouth, slow and content, before finally pulling away—only to place one last, lingering peck to his lips.

Mark grins at you, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, that familiar giddiness and energy radiating from him—just like always when he feels the effect of your power. You can’t help but grin back, your chest warming at his boyish enthusiasm, before letting your forehead drop against his shoulder with a dramatic groan.

“Cecil’s gonna skin me alive if Rex blabs about this,” you mumble into the crook of Mark’s neck, feeling him shiver at your breath against his skin. “That little bastard’s definitely gonna hold this over me...”

Mark stays quiet for a long moment, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. His warmth and steady presence grounds you, but you can feel the slight tension in him—the guilt he’s trying to hide, stretching the silence longer than it should.

Then—

“What if...” he starts, hesitates, then tries again, voice low and unsure. “What if we just... dated?”

You blink, pulling back just enough to study his face. He’s red. Like, really red. Avoiding your gaze like it physically hurts him to meet your eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, clearly nervous.

“I mean,” he rushes to explain, “Cecil can’t exactly lecture you about healing kisses if they’re just... regular boyfriend kisses, right?” He nods to himself, clearly pleased with this flawless logic. “Totally normal couple behavior. He can’t be mad if your power just happens to work that way…”

You stare at him for a few seconds, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. You notice the way his lips pout slightly, the hopeful look in his eyes, and how his fingers twitch lightly where they rest on your waist.

“Is this your subtle way of asking me out by pretending it’s not a big deal?” you ask, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mark Grayson—oh, my hero, swooping in to do the favor of dating me so my boss doesn’t scold me for kissing one of his heroes an unnecessary number of times, just because he whines and cries like a total baby when I don’t?”

“Hey!” he protests, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It was justified! I was—y’know, in severe pain and everything…”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, tilting your head. “Like that time you said you needed extra energy and a good luck kiss before your Mars mission? Was that also you being in pain?”

“Well—that—I did get lucky from that, okay?” he stammers, cheeks flaring red. “And we succeeded, didn’t we? Thanks to your power enhancing my power.”

You can’t help but laugh, and soon he’s joining in, the sound warm and bright as you stay wrapped in each other’s arms. His laughter does funny things to your heartbeat, sends warmth blooming across your cheeks.

Then he sobers, his expression turning uncharacteristically shy. “So... is that a yes? To the... dating thing? Or…”

You smile softens, fingers brushing along his cheekbone with tenderness. “Well,” you murmur, eyes flickering to his lips, “we did skip a couple of steps, didn’t we?”

He huffs a breath of laughter, relaxing a bit. “Yeah… I guess we did.”

“Then why are you even asking, Grayson?” you murmur, lips brushing just barely against his as you lean in. His breath catches. “Of course I’ll date you.”

The kiss that follows is sweeter than any before it—slow and certain, filled with promises rather than excuses. Mark sighs into it, his arms tightening around you as if to say mine, finally mine.

You smile into the kiss, kissing him back with just as much eagerness, heart full, lips willing. You weren’t going anywhere.

It happens late at night, when Mark’s bruised, battered, and still trembling after a draining fight with Angstrom. The man hurt his mother, his little brother, and left him stranded in some godforsaken alternate universe. Mark’s body is shaky, yet he’s profoundly grateful to be back, grateful that your healing powers pulled his family together in minutes as soon as you learned of it. Grateful that you’re here now, with him tonight, wrapped in his arms, sharing a bed, and sharing kisses, because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

His kisses are desperate things—raw, needy, equal parts gratitude and desire, as if he’s trying to imprint the feel of you beneath his hands into his memory in case the universe decides to be cruel again.

“You know,” you murmur against his mouth when he pauses to breathe, “sometimes I think you like my powers more than me.”

Mark nips at your lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, his hands sliding down your sides with possessive certainty.

“Course not,” he growls against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver through you. His knee slots between yours as he rolls you gently onto your back. “I like you because it’s you.” His teeth graze your jaw, sending a shudder down your spine. “Because you’re stubborn.” A soft kiss to your pulse point. “And brilliant,” he adds, as his hands mold to the curve of your waist, fingers slipping beneath your shirt like he’s desperate for more contact. “And you taste like warmth.”

You hum, rolling your tongue against his in a slow, deliberate movement, a tease that leaves his breath hitched and ragged. The slick slide of your mouths against each other fills the quiet room, punctuated by Mark’s low, guttural groan when you suck gently on his tongue. His hips buck instinctively, pinning you deeper into the mattress. His body is warm and heavy and grounding. His hands roam, bolder now—urgent with the need to feel you, have you, anchor himself to you after almost losing everything.

And you let him.

Because you need it too.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” you whisper, breath hitching as you rock your hips up, seeking the delicious friction of his body against yours. A soft moan escapes his lips in response. “Even if you didn’t… like me back or whatever. I’d still let you have me. Give you anything you needed.”

Mark’s head snaps up.

“But I do like you,” he says, like it physically hurts him to think you’d believe otherwise. His hand slides down, purposeful and shaking just slightly, squeezing the growing bulge in your jeans. He swallows your gasp in a hungry kiss, lips messy and desperate. “Shit—I love you. I love you so much.”

The second the words escape him, Mark freezes. His whole body stiffens, eyes going wide with panic, like he hadn’t meant to say it at all. Like the confession yanked itself out of him before he could stop it. He pulls back, breath catching, lips parted like he’s about to take it back or apologize—

But you just laugh softly, even as your heart slams against your ribs.

“I love you too, Grayson,” you murmur, pulling him back down by his collar, lips brushing lightly against his. “So don’t go getting yourself trapped in some alternate wasteland again, okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

Mark’s entire body sags with relief, the tension melting from his shoulders as he nuzzles into your touch like a starved man.

“Okay,” he says with a breathless laugh. “I’ll try. I mean—I’d really rather not be stuck in a version of reality where I’m not with you. Or where you don’t exist. That’d suck.”

You huff, amused and affectionate. “Then be more careful next time.” And before he gets a chance to reply, you seal your lips over his.

Mark groans against your mouth, his forehead pressing to yours as you tug him flush against you.

“Yeah,” he breathes between kisses, his voice rough with longing, his hips rolling against yours in a way that makes your vision blur. “Yeah, I’ll—mmph—be real careful next—”

The rest of his promise dissolves into the hungry press of lips and the slick slide of tongues—but the way his fingers lace through yours, squeezing like he’s afraid to let go, says everything he can’t put into words.

Then, of course, Mark ruins the moment.

He pulls back with a breathless chuckle, eyes locking with yours—dark, dilated, cheeks flushed, forehead damp with sweat, and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Hey so—” he rolls his hips deliberately against yours, drawing twin groans as denim strains between you. “The way you keep kissing me like that?” Another teasing grind. “Think I might have enough energy to last all night and morning.” His lips brush your earlobe. “What d’you say, baby?”

You stare at him, heat blooming across your cheeks like fire—but you can’t help the smirk that creeps in.

“Well,” you say, playing along easily, “I don’t exactly have anything better to do the next couple days… Might as well give the world’s strongest hero all the healing treatment he needs.”

Mark’s answering kiss is filthy—all tongue and teeth and saliva, like he’s trying to drink every last drop of your power straight from the source.

Then he pulls back just enough to pant, “God, I love your powers.”

You grin cheekily. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who they belong to.”

He huffs a laugh—and before you can say anything else, he steals another kiss. There’s nothing patient about the way Mark moves—like he’s got something to prove, and you’re the only one he wants to prove it to.

No matter—you’re happy to let him.

A/N: Oof, I know... I didn’t really know where I was going with this either. I swear this was supposed to be worse—like, a lot kinkier, definitely 18+—but here we are. Thank you for reading!

#mark grayson x male reader #invincible x male reader #male reader #x male reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible #gay #male!reader

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theorist-fox · 4 months ago

Text

Simon breaks your fever

Because I can't stop thinking about this

18+

CW: you're sick (fever, high body temp), fluff, established relationship, smut (clit rubbing, unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation). you're so hot (literally) that simon busts a nut

Masterlist 🦊

Your fever hasn’t gone down.

Despite you telling Simon that it’s okay, that it’s just seasonal flu and pretty much half of your colleagues have had it, that man can’t stop fussing.

On day two, you heard him grumble over the phone that he had to take some days off for family matters. And while it was cute to listen to him refer to you as family, this whole thing was an overreaction.

You had a cold and a mild fever; you weren’t on your deathbed.

But then he came into the bedroom straight after ending the call, holding a cuppa in one hand and your pills in the other. Left them on the nightstand before pressing his lips to your forehead to check if you were still warm—grumbled something about you heating up the room when he pulled back with a frown.

And then he helped you sit up, fluffed the pillow behind your head, and smoothed away the hair sticking to your forehead. Made sure you took your pills, made sure you were comfortable and cared for and—

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You decide that being sick can’t be that bad, when he makes it feels this good—even if you’re cranky and feverish.

And so, you start offering bright smiles when he presses cold, wet towels to your cheeks. Brush kisses on his knuckles when his palm comes to feel your forehead. Whisper thank yous when he insists you eat in bed, your bowl of soup carefully placed on a wooden bed tray.

And when he gets in bed at night, seemingly unafraid of catching your same bug, you press your back to his chest and fit in his arms. Simon’s already a walking furnace on his own, and your fever doesn't help with the uncomfortable stickiness that grows between your bodies through the night.

Simon doesn’t care, especially on day three, when you decide that a reward is on schedule. Poor man’s been at your beck and call ever since your early symptoms have appeared, so why not give him a reward of sorts.

You press your ass against his crotch, rolling slow circles that rouse him from his slumber.

Simon’s first instinct, however, is to stop you. A big hand flattens on your belly, fingers twitching to resist the urge to curve around your waist and grasp until he dimples the fat there.

A hum leaves him. “What are you doing?”

You nuzzle the pillow and act all innocent, even if he can’t see it in the pitch-dark room.

“Nothing,” you tell him. “Can't sleep. Feel a little restless, with the fever and all.”

“Restless,” he echoes with humour, already catching on. “Need me to wear you down?”

You turn your head until his nose bumps with your cheek. He presses a kiss there.

“Mmh,” you hum with a smile. “Maybe."

His hand rises slowly, and you’re delighted to feel the pads of his fingers reach your chest. He cups your breast through your shirt and thumbs your nipple, already pebbled and stiff.

Hard like his cock pressing against you.

Your skin is unbearably sensitive due to your fever, and the slightest touch could easily turn into stinging pain. That’s why as soon as he skims over your nipple your body goes haywire and you jolt, grinding the swell of your ass against him.

Simon presses forward, meeting your inadvertent movement.

There’s a moan coming from both sides. Yours is more cracked, a wonderful cocktail of relief and soreness—though you’re liking this more than you should, probably. You’re never one to say no to a bit of pain now, are you?

Simon, on the other hand… oh, Simon. His voice is low—gravel against the road. A groan that sounds like it’s coming from a dry throat, strikingly possessive when paired with the gentleness with which he’s holding you.

“Lemme take care of you then, yeah?” He whispers, leaning closer to your ear.

He tucks his arm under your neck, letting you nestle your cheek in the crook of his elbow. You’re sure he must be running hot too, but you’re sporting a whopping 100.4 body temperature, making his skin feel like an ice pack.

You sigh beautifully at the slight relief he provides.

Simon takes care of you first, like he's so kindly offered, and you don’t fight against him.

You don’t fight against his hand snaking under the waistband of your sweats. Don’t fight against the pads of his fingers drawing slow eights on your clit.

What you do instead is bury your face in his forearm, as he presses soft kisses to the exposed skin on your neck.

You get wet embarrassingly easily. He collects it with his middle finger before returning to the tight knot of your clit, circling gently—no rush whatsoever.

He checks in every once in a while, whispering soft questions to your skin as he explores it with his lips.

Are you okay?, and a kiss. You hurtin'?, and another kiss, right under your ear. He waits for you to reply each time, before finally giving in and nuzzling the nape of your neck through your hair.

He goes on, murmuring sweet nothings when you whine and he can’t pinpoint if it’s from pleasure or your body aches.

“That's it, love,” he whispers, coaxing moans from your lips as his fingers guide you closer and closer to the edge. Steadfast on your clit, he keeps a rhythm he knows will crack through you—break the mould of stiff muscles and sore skin.

Your orgasm catches the breath in your throat. It almost stings, burning through you in waves that stem from your sex and ripple in all directions.

Until your body undulates with it, pressing back into his. Until your voice follows suit too, cracking gently as you bite into the thickness of his forearm to keep quiet.

Simon’s panting against your shoulder like he came as well. It’s impossible not to notice the girth of his cock indenting the fat of your ass, how deliciously hard he is just because he’s touched you so thoroughly.

It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

His lips are pursed in a kiss ardently left to the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness of it, the heat seeping through your much hotter skin. His fingers slow down, until soft circles turn into mere flicks on your clit that gently drag your consciousness back into your body, back into his arms.

“Alrigh'?” He murmurs to the skin of your neck, as he huffs from his nose to balance his breathing.

“Mhmh,” you reply absentmindedly, still foggy and dipped in a dreamy state.

Gingerly, the hand buried in your knickers travels to your waist, leaving a wet trail that slowly dries up—from the curls on your pelvis all the way to your hip. He pinches you softly.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks.

In response, you press your ass to where he’s waiting for you.

“Yes, please—yes.” You say, not bothering to veil your willingness.

If your bones weren’t aching, you’d let him fold you like cheap paper. Knees to your ears and all.

Simon’s fingers tug down your pants and knickers at the same time, exposing the burning skin of your ass to the air. Even under the duvet and pressed against him, everything feels so unbelievably fresh—it’s utter relief that has you softening against his chest.

Relief that ratchets up when you feel the head of his cock glide seamlessly through your slit, causing you to grind your hips backwards each time it catches your swollen clit.

His tongue lavishes the skin of your neck, distracting you from the pleasurable pain of the stretch as he comfortably slides in. You feel your muscles tighten around him, as your nails dig into his arm wrapped around your waist.

But Simon’s the one who seems most out of his element, for once.

“Jesus fucking Christ, love.” He breathes heavily to your shoulders. His voice doesn’t even sound like him.

The hand around your waist grabs a handful of your clothes, fabric bulging within the grooves of his fingers, while the one extended under your neck fists the pillow until his knuckles paint white.

“F-fuck—you’re burnin’ up.” He croaks, burying his face against the back of your head. “Bloody hell—fuckin’ melting me down ‘ere.”

He tries to move but his voice cracks in a moan before he stops completely. More muted curses leave him.

“Fuckin’ hell you feel good.” He pants, voice so breathy you can barely hear him, and you wonder if he’s talking to you at all. “S’ so fuckin’ hot.”

He stays stock still inside of you, hips flush to your ass.

But you’re as cheeky as they come, and he should know that already.

Which is why you move, canting your hips until you can feel him slide out of you, and then back in.

“Fuck, no—sto—"

Simon grunts. Chokes on it.

One flick of your ass has him unravel. He cums inside of you with a quick snap of his hips to meet yours, and the slap of flesh against flesh would be loud if it weren’t for how strong his groan is.

For how much he’s filling you up, buried to the hilt until you swear you can almost feel him throbbing in your stomach.

Simon hides in the crook of your neck, holding on tight with a stiff arm curled around your belly. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady.

It takes him a while to recover, to catch his breath. You coax him out of his bubble gently, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp until you feel him deflate behind you with a sigh.

“Bit of a cunt move, that.” He mumbles, but there’s no bite in his voice.

You smile. Somehow the aches in your body soften up, and you feel like floating on a cloud.

“Well, I'd say you didn't mind much,” you say innocently.

He snorts.

A hand lands blindly on your face, and he gives it a good scramble until you’re chuckling in his palm. You easily recognize that as his way to sneakily check for your temperature, while masking it as a playful jab.

“Sorry,” you feel compelled to say, though your voice is muffled by his hand.

And then he nuzzles your shoulder, planting a fat kiss on your neck.

“S’alrigh’,” he says softly. “Saved us from a third-degree burn, after all. Gotta thank you for tha'."

You burst into a laugh that he catches with his mouth—his fingers already curled around your jaw, turning your head his way before you can utter another word.

Your laughter seeps through your lips onto his, vibrating until his cheeks curl into a smile of his own.

Infectious, like your stupid flu.

Because the next morning, Simon wakes up with a terrible sore throat, though he doesn’t feel as annoyed as he thought he'd be.

In fact, he decides being sick can't be that bad, when you make it feel this good.

Even if now you're both cranky, feverish, and all.

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starmapz · 3 months ago

Text

what you know - ch14: trials || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 23.4k.

❦ a/n ; this serves as a bit of a part 2 to the previous chapter and picks up right where the previous one left off! sorry for the wild word count LOL. i'll see you at the bottom!

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Sitting in your passenger’s seat, Sukuna finds himself missing his old beat-up car. It clicked if you turned the axle too far and rattled at every stop light. One of the brake lights flickered but never quite went out. It was barely street legal, but it got him from one place to another.

It got his dad to appointments and hospitals. That was what mattered the most.

There was a certain sense of freedom that came along with having a car that Sukuna can’t help but feel he’s lacking now. Still, it’s not so bad being your passenger.

Although the ride is mostly silent apart from your music quietly playing, he finds himself able to sort through his thoughts while staring out the window. It’s not a particularly long ride, but it gives him the chance he needed to come to terms with the dirty game that Kaori is playing with this lawsuit.

Clearly she’ll stop at nothing to tear Sukuna’s life to shreds and take his brothers from him if it’s the last thing she does. Him and his lawyer just need to find an angle that lets them win without pulling dirty tricks like she is. The last thing Sukuna needs are more fees or even charges on his record.

He still can’t figure out Kaori’s angle, either. She isn’t on social media as far as he can tell, her name doesn’t pop up online. She doesn’t want the kids for the money obviously and he can’t wrap his head around the idea of her actually wanting her own kids.

Which is fucked.

His fingers tap on his thigh as he contemplates how this all stems back to one moment.

He wonders how different his life could have been had he not gone looking for Kaori at his grandfather’s funeral. Maybe even Choso and Yuji’s fates could have been different.

The car comes to a halt in a quaint strip mall parking lot, with only another car or two in the lot alongside yours. Sukuna blinks as he glances around. He vaguely recognizes the area from when you’d first spent time together working on your project at your apartment.

It feels like a lifetime ago now that you listened to The Eagles on vinyl while working on your research project.

Getting out of the car, you stretch your arms up above your head. “I hope it’s good,” you comment, casting him a glance as you lead the way up to a plain door with the restaurant logo across the front. Sukuna hums in agreement.

Within the small shop, there’s a cozy and homely warmth that surrounds you, the smell of broth wafting through the air. The lighting is soft and warm with slats of vertical wood separating each small booth along a wall with ivy green paint beneath the wood. A couple of decorative lanterns adorn stylized chandeliers in each booth, and a counter with stools runs along the farthest wall.

A waitress approaches you both and kindly asks whether you’d prefer a booth or the bar. Sukuna gives you a nudge to let you decide, and the waitress leads the way to a small booth in the very back of the restaurant. The atmosphere is welcoming, though the booth provides enough privacy that you can comfortably converse with one another.

“This place is so cute,” you comment as you both shrug your coats off. You’d almost forgotten how painfully overdressed you are as you look down at your white blouse, which is equally as unfortunate. You’ll just have to be careful not to spill.

Across from you, Sukuna hums as he pulls at the knot of his tie before slipping it off and unceremoniously shoving it in his suit pocket. He can’t say he particularly cares about whether it has wrinkles or not. After all, the next time he wears it will be-

Shit. He’s not sure he’s ready to think about that, yet. After all, they need the house study back before they can prepare. He has time. He can relax and enjoy his time with you.

He needs to live in the moment and try not to think about the dull future that plagues his mind. He needs to let himself relax for the first time in what feels like months.

To keep yourself from watching the painfully attractive way that Sukuna pulls at his tie and undoes the first couple of buttons on his shirt, you busy yourself with the menu. “The tonkatsu sounds good,” you comment.

Rubbing his eye with the back of his knuckle, Sukuna finally picks up the menu, holding it back far enough to see it without squinting as he searches for what you’re talking about. “Sounds good,” he agrees quietly, casting a glance over the menu to stare at you as he struggles to find common ground to chat with you. It’s not like his curt answers are helping, but the small talk you’re spouting to fill the dead air isn’t doing either of you any favors.

Clearing his throat, he sets down the menu. “I’ll just get the gyoza.”

Flipping back a page to take a look at the item on the menu, you eye him suspiciously. “Sukuna, that’s the cheapest thing on the menu and it only comes with three. Get what you want,” you urge, finding it hard to contain your smile as he glowers when you see right through him.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll get the curry ramen.”

“Good,” you hum, pleased.

As both menus are set down, the waitress returns to take your order before you find yourself staring at the soy sauce left at the end of the table. The dead air sitting stagnant between you burns at your skin, lapping like flames against the balance between you. Where once there was easy conversation, a void has been left in its place. Prior to your fight, there was rarely a moment where neither of you knew what to say. Even the silence was usually warm and inviting, but the trepidation left in the wake of uncertainty here doesn’t speak to what once was.

In an effort to fill the silence, Sukuna mutters out a question before he has a chance to think.

“How’s the conspiracy theorist prof been?”

Mild amusement pulls at the corner of your lips. “We had a whole class where we discussed the death of Edgar Allen Poe,” you chuckle as you lean over the table.

Blowing a breath of air out of his nose in a wry laugh, Sukuna leans his chin on his hand, his elbow bent over the table. “What’d she land on?”

“Rabies,” you shrug.

He hums. “More plausible than some of her other theories.”

“I still think it’s more likely to be-”

“Alcoholism.”

“- alcoholism.”

Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the corners as familiarity finally finds its place back within the void, filling it out just a little bit. You giggle as he finishes your sentence in the same moment that you do. “It’s the only cause that has any footing!” You insist happily, beginning to go over the ways that you claim it ‘just makes sense’.

Sukuna’s muscles relax as he listens to you, chiming in occasionally to offer his opinion or add in something his dad had once mentioned on the subject. His tongue glides across his lower lip as he watches the way your lips move as you speak, your eyes crinkling at the corner each time you giggle. He’s only pulled from his stupor when the food arrives.

A large bowl with chopsticks and a spoon is placed in front of each of you, the steam of the warm broth billowing in the air between you. Your mouth waters at the smell alone as you thank the waitress and pick up the chopsticks. Sukuna follows suit, taking a bite of some noodles.

“Everything you hoped for?” He gruffs between bites.

“Um-” you hesitate, “yeah, it’s good!”

“But?”

“It’s a bit salty,” you pout.

“It’s ramen.”

Your brow furrows, playfully offended at his dry tone, as though you don’t know that. “It’s saltier than I usually get, is what I mean,” you retort, raising your brow playfully.

His eyes flicker between your bowls before he pushes his towards you. “Try mine,” he insists.

Your lips purse, giving in without complaint. His food has a bit more of a kick to it and considerably less salt, but the flavor is downright divine. Your brow raises, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you like it more.

Smirking, Sukuna pulls your bowl towards him, exchanging the dishes. “Keep it.”

“What? Are you sure? I really don’t-”

Sukuna takes a bite of your ramen and nods.

Your hands hesitate in the air, still not quite sure what to make of the switch. Sukuna’s never been one to particularly care what he’s eating, but this strikes you as just plain sweet. “Really, it wasn’t that salty-”

“Princess,” Sukuna sets his chopsticks down, finishing his bite of noodles, “eat your damn food.”

You shoot him one last hesitant glance before relenting. Your brow knits together, a shy smile finding its way to your lips. “Thanks,” you murmur as your cheeks heat up. Surely from the heat of the soup.

Surely.

Before you can insist on swapping food again or something else Sukuna would consider foolish, he brings up a new topic, something that’s been nagging at him since he realized how much of a dumbass he’s been, and continues to be.

“How’s Toji?”

He’d seen and heard from Uraume fairly frequently, though he continued to keep them in the dark about the lawsuit. Every day that goes by, thoughts consume him about whether or not that’s the right option, and every day he struggles to find a reason why he continues to keep it a secret from them.

The truth is that he’s a coward. He can’t bring himself to tell them because it’s been so long that he fears they’ll find a reason to walk out of his life. Though his feelings surrounding Uraume differ greatly from those that involve you, he’s not sure how well he could manage without them either. He’s so deep in the hole he’s dug for himself with this lawsuit that he’s not sure he could blame them if they blew up at him for his spineless decision. Hell, he’d let Uraume dig the hole deeper for him and bury him alive if they so pleased.

Maybe Uraume and Toji could even tap their shovels together in a ‘cheers’ of sorts with the amount of secrets Sukuna’s kept from them both.

“He’s okay,” you shrug. “He asked me about you.”

Sukuna pauses, noodles dangling from his chopsticks as though he didn’t expect that in your reply.

“He was pretty upset,” you continue, hoping to share enough to help them mend their friendship while respecting Toji’s boundaries. Though you’ve grown closer to Sukuna’s childhood friend over the past couple of months, he’s definitely more of Satoru’s friend. You certainly don’t know him well enough to be confident recounting his exact words to Sukuna.

Setting his chopsticks back in the bowl, Sukuna stares down at his scattered reflection on the surface of the soup. “Shit,” he mutters simply, letting the silence linger.

Finishing up your bite, you tilt your head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You two were best friends, weren’t you?”

Sukuna leans back in his booth, crossing his arms over his chest. The shoulders of his suit jacket crease as the sleeves pull taut and accentuate his muscles. “Dunno. We just didn’t talk about shit like that, and…” he shrugs, finding your gaze with no definitive reasoning to offer.

You frown, Toji’s reaction coming to mind when you’d parroted that exact phrase to him a couple of months ago. ‘That was his excuse?’ Over the course of two months, you’d thought maybe Sukuna’s response might change just as the man himself has. “Don’t you think he would have wanted to know?”

“‘Course he would’ve,” Sukuna agrees, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t think about it,” he shrugs again, searching for some sort of reasonable answer where there is none. He just didn’t tell Toji. He didn’t want to be around Toji and he didn’t want to talk to Toji. There’s no grand reason why, Toji never did anything to upset Sukuna. The simple fact of the matter is that Sukuna had so much on his plate, that all reason fell to the wayside. It was never Toji’s fault, and had it not been Toji, it would have been someone else. Sukuna didn’t want to be around people at the time.

Sensing that you aren’t getting anywhere with this conversation, you bring up another question that’s been plaguing your mind since Sukuna brought it up at the case conference. You pray it doesn’t piss him off for one reason or another but he’s been more reasonable lately so you don’t feel like you need to step on eggshells around him as much. “Hey, Kuna? Um-” You pause, setting your chopsticks down. “Where did you find Kaori at your grandpa’s funeral?” You query, watching the way his eyes snap to you at the mere mention of the question.

His jaw clenches as he sits up, fiddling with the bottle of soy that sits between you. He stares at it like it’s done a disservice to his family, huffing as he explains in the simplest terms what had happened. “I was a kid, like fourteen or some shit. Kaori was…” he raises his hand, motioning at nothing in particular as he searches for words. “She was fine. She never really cared to be involved with my life, n’ my dad kept things pretty quiet between ‘em until she got pregnant and he proposed.”

He takes a moment, huffing at nothing in particular as he pulls his hand back from the soy sauce, his fingers curling into a fist. “Found her with her fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off as his voice cracks, his expression hardening as anger courses through his veins at the mere thought of his step-mother. It’s been so long since he’s crossed paths with the thought of what he’d discovered that afternoon. He’d almost forgotten just how vividly his mind can still conjure that image, bringing with it the disgust and self-reproach he’d longed to forget for so many years.

You don’t hesitate for a moment to reach across the table, settling your hand over his fist the moment his distress becomes apparent. With one simple movement, you seem to dissolve the void between you. The uneasy silence tapers off as things become familiar once more.

He’s not sure he’ll ever grow accustomed to your kindness. How is he meant to convince himself that he’s allowed to be selfish, to take, when he has so little to give in return?

Yet even as guilt festers in his stomach and he scowls down at the place where your hands join, he still lets his fingers relax, flipping his hand upright to gently rub his thumb across the second joint of each of your fingers. Your skin is warm, soothing the chilling sensation of the memory.

Re-centering himself, Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh. “I found her tongue-fucking my uncle in some corner,” he hisses, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Your lips part in shock, the realization settling slowly as your stupor morphs to revulsion. Putting together his words from the case conference earlier, you blink in further surprise. “You didn’t tell your dad?”

Sukuna’s fingers glide through yours suddenly, his much larger hand finding a place around yours as he clasps your hands together, your fingers intertwined. Your gaze shoots to your entangled hands, unable to make heads or tails of the action as heat rises from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears. You can blame the soup all you want, but you know the truth.

You’re used to Sukuna seeking comfort within you, but there’s something deeper to this. Something you don’t know how to explore with the man, and something you don’t dare bring up as he’s opening up to you.

It doesn’t matter how fast your heart hammers in your chest, or the way that blood pumps loudly behind your ears. The mixed signals, the confusing push and pull that seems to go hand-in-hand with the brute across from you, none of that matters with the air heavy with the weight of a confession long kept behind bars, never shared with a soul.

Even Toji doesn’t know, of that you’re certain.

So, you swallow hard and put your focus into his expression, something akin to guilt, averting your attention away from the warmth of his hand as best as you can.

“I couldn’t,” he admits, a look of disdain clouding his vision. “Kaori was fine for the first few years that I knew her. She was a good enough mom to Cho and sometimes me when she wanted to be,” he shrugs, a bitter snarl tugging at his lips. “Funny. She had us all fooled.”

You nod slowly, just to tell Sukuna you’re listening.

“The week before my grandpa died, we had freshman year finals. I fucked up-” he breathes, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. “Failed all four in my last semester. Wasn’t doin’ anything important, I was just bein’ a dumbass.” He shrugs, his grip on your hand tightening. “They were gonna hold me back n’ I didn’t wanna be apart from Toji or my friends, so him and I broke in.”

“To the school?”

He shoots you a look that you recognize. One that says obviously, though he keeps his mouth shut, continuing without answering your question. Now’s not exactly the time to be teasing you over what’s just your way of showing you’re listening.

“The plan was fucking stupid from the start. Thought we could change my grades without my dad or the school knowing. Dunno, I was a kid. It made sense to us back then.” He scoffs at his own ill thought-out plan. “I got arrested. Made sure Toji got away, didn’t want his family goin’ off on him so I covered for him,” he shrugs. “They had to call a guardian, so I gave ‘em Kaori’s number.”

Your head tilts and even in the midst of the heavy air, Sukuna wants to scoff at the way his blood pumps faster. “Weren’t you close to your dad? Why not call him?”

Sukuna nods slowly in acknowledgement. “We were close, yeah, but he was a teacher and I was smart, got good grades n’ shit. He was the type who didn’t really get mad, just disappointed, which was worse than whatever I thought Kaori would do.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing,” he sighs, leaning his chin on the ball of his free hand over the table. “I never got charged, and she bribed the school into passing me, actually. It was cool of her at the time.”

Your lips purse as you listen intently. It’s a lot to take in, though you did always picture Sukuna and Toji being the type to pull a stunt like that given that you know about Sukuna’s days trying not to get caught with an incriminating can of spray paint.

“So, you didn’t tell him because she did you a favor?” You confirm with a furrowed brow. Favor or not, you’re not sure you could keep a secret like that from your parents.

But neither could Sukuna. “Fuck no,” Sukuna chuckles dryly, tensing his jaw. “I went to tell him the moment I saw her. It woulda been cruel to tell him at the funeral, but I thought it was worse to keep it from him.”

You nod intently.

“That-” His teeth are gritted as he cuts himself off, choosing his words wisely around you.

Though honestly, she’s deserving of the title he clearly wants to give her.

“She fucking blackmailed me,” he hisses. “Chased after me n’ told me she’d have the school charge me and fucking fail me,” he growls, the crease between his brows so harsh that you almost think he might give himself a headache.

Pulling his hand away from your grip, he leans back in the booth once more, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “The fuck was I supposed to do, fail? I was terrified of disappointing my dad,” he shrugs. “I got my shit together the next year, but christ, she fucking played me. I didn’t know how my record worked back then either, getting charged with a crime when you’re fourteen or some shit feels like the end of the damn world.”

In a rare moment of genuine vulnerability, a look of innocence settles in his eyes, fleeting. You often forget just how young Sukuna was when his life got turned sideways. Even his teenage years sent him through a turmoil you can’t begin to imagine. With all his rough edges and hardened lines, it’s easy to forget that the man in front of you has a soft inside so full of a genuine love for his family and even for life. That flame got taken from him bit by bit before he ever got the chance to nurture it, stuck quelling his own desires in order to make ends meet.

Though he pulled away from your hand, you find his foot beneath the table with yours, gently nudging it. “You didn’t tell him after she left?”

He uselessly throws his hands up in a shrug, his tired expression increasingly obvious in the warm overhead light of the ramen shop. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. I think…” he trails off, inhaling sharply, “at some point I realized he was gonna die, and I didn’t want him to think his wife didn’t love him at the end.”

Your lips part, jaw hanging slightly ajar at the weight of his confession. His sorrow grips your stomach, twisting it as your expression falls. “I’m so sorry, Kuna.”

He eyes you for a moment, choosing not to reply.

The silence stretches on, your hand remaining where he left it on the table when he leaned back. A part of you wishes he would take it again so that you can offer him silent comfort, pushing down the lingering yearning that comes with such a tender action. His mind seems to be elsewhere though, his eyes glazed as he stares distantly at the decorated wall beside him.

Letting the moment linger, you find yourself pulling your hand back to stir your nearly forgotten soup. It’s still mildly steaming thankfully, which you’re grateful for given the cold weather. Less fortunately, your stomach wrenches at the thought of eating under the weight of Sukuna’s admission hanging heavy in the air.

“Do you think you could bring that up at the trial?” You query quietly. Although the judge had shut it down today, it does have pertinent information about Kaori’s character.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it doesn’t look good on either of us. I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, was just pissed,” he grumbles, scratching his jaw. With a deep sigh, he returns to his soup as well, taking small sips of the broth in an effort to not let the food go to waste, though he’s equally as uneasy as you are.

“Was she like that a lot? Blackmailing you and… stuff?” You wave your chopsticks through the air as you both pick at your food.

“Somethin’ like that. She just stopped pretending to give a shit, I guess,” he shrugs. “Wasn’t just me, either. Choso too,” he sighs, his brow tugging into a scowl. “Mother of the year,” he grumbles with a dramatic wave of his chopsticks in mock celebration.

If anything, it only leaves you with more questions about why she’d want the kids. Sukuna makes it sound like she didn’t care back then, what could have changed now? Of course, there’s the possibility that Sukuna could be wrong, but it seems unlikely given Kaori’s track record and her behavior earlier. The lies she’d told under oath at the courthouse may have slipped past the judge, but you saw through her.

The way she looked at you, as though you were a pawn in some game sends a shiver up your spine.

Nudging his foot as he sips a spoonful of broth, you catch his attention again. “Is she always so… ” You trail off, coming to the realization that you don’t know exactly how to describe the way Kaori acts.

He hums questioningly. “What, fake?” He asks, watching as you raise your spoon to your lips.

“Yeah, like…” You pause, holding your spoon out in front of you. “I don’t know, too sweet and caring?”

Sukuna scoffs, a hint of amusement skirting the edges of his tone. “Since the funeral, yeah.”

Poking the inside of your cheek in thought, you contemplate whether any details from Sukuna’s past could be used in the trial, but Kaori or her lawyer always seemed to have some well thought-out refute for every time Sukuna attempted to bring up her track record.

It’s almost strange, in a way, to think about how easily the judge seemed to decline any objections from Sukuna’s lawyer.

Nudging your foot to bring you back to the present, Sukuna gruffs out a “hey,” catching you off-guard. As your body jolts in surprise, your spoon tilts and the broth spills across the front of your painfully white blouse, the warmth seeping through the material. The squeak of shock that you let out sends concern rippling through Sukuna’s entire being like lightning.

“Shit,” he breathes, standing abruptly and offering napkins as he averts his gaze from the outline of your bra that’s now startlingly obvious. His gaze rounds the table as though in search of something that might fix the situation. “Fuck, did it burn you?”

Blinking as the initial shock passes, you shake your head. “Oh- um, no! No, it’s just warm.” And thank god for that, had you not waited a bit before eating, this likely would have been a hell of a lot worse. Reaching for the napkins Sukuna offers, you dab at the stain, chewing on your lip at how glaringly obvious it is, and even worse, how see-through your blouse is. You consider putting on your winter coat, but between the warm soup and heated building, that just might melt you.

Great.

Coming to the same conclusion that you have, Sukuna slips out of his suit jacket without thinking, wordlessly handing it over to you. Gratefully taking it from him, your cheeks heat up once more at the sight of his jacket draped over you. You can’t help but giggle at the way it absolutely dwarfs you in size. The sound of your laughter puts the man across from you at ease.

Between how painfully cute you look giggling in his suit jacket and the smile he has to physically fight off at the sight of you adorned in his clothes, Sukuna finds himself able to take a seat, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said blood wasn’t flowing south too.

A thought crosses his mind. Something that he’s been running from, but he sets it aside. He shouldn’t even be considering the implications behind his heart’s pounding or the smile he finds himself chewing on his own cheek to fight off as he hides behind his hands. What he needs to focus on right now is your well-being.

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself as he keeps running from that familiar thought. He knows it’s cowardly, but he’s not sure he’s in the right state of mind to face it.

“You alright, princess?” He asks from behind his hands, composing himself.

“Hm? Yeah, don’t worry! It wasn’t hot. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” you reply with a small smile, unbothered.

Your friend hums from across the table. “You have an unhealthy relationship with hot liquids.”

Your brow furrows as you hold his jacket around you to prevent the see-through patch from being visible. “Since when?” You can’t recall another time you’ve spilled around him.

“The oil,” he reminds you.

Your lips purse as you scour your memory, brow shooting up as the image of an employee passing you with a bucket of oil passes through your mind. The feeling of Sukuna’s arm effortlessly holding you off the ground sends an equal amount of heat through your cheeks as the embarrassment of the near-incident itself. “Oh yeah,” you murmur, quickly scowling to deflect his accusation. “That was so long ago!”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, no longer hiding his smirk now that he’s fallen into familiar territory with you. “Ya still needed to be rescued, though,” he pokes fun at you.

Groaning playfully, you give him a light kick to the shin under the table, causing his smirk to shift into a full-on grin as he chuckles at your expense. “You’re such a dick!” You insist.

“Mm, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Rolling your eyes, you return to your ramen, careful not to spill, lest you get teased further.

Though the more you think about it as you catch glimpses of Sukuna’s mild and easy smile as he eats, maybe you wouldn’t mind making a fool of yourself if it means he’s in a good headspace. Especially given the day he’s already had, there’s satisfaction to be found in seeing Sukuna laugh.

The real Sukuna.

The one that makes your stomach flutter and your heart flip.

It hurts in a way that you’re not quite prepared for, a way that’s painfully lonely in spite of being across from the person that you never quite stopped loving.

Bittersweet, you keep the tone light as easy conversation settles between you once more. Even if you hold onto your cautious inhibitions, there’s relaxation to be found in the shared warmth. “Toji told me you used to do a lot of graffiti.”

He scoffs, amused. “Been a while, but yeah.”

“He said you used to tag all the basketball courts you hung out at.”

Humming, Sukuna nods as he slurps up a noodle. “Mhm. Courts, tunnels, n’ old trains.”

“So what did you usually tag things as? Like, your name?”

Sukuna’s content smile falters, a pale pink shade dusting his cheeks. “Somethin’ like that.”

A grin slowly spreads across your lip. “Is it embarrassing?” You ask, leaning in. He glances up at you, pointedly taking another bite to avoid your interrogation. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. You know I named myself ‘Flower’ in Animal Crossing.”

His brow raises. “Weren’t you like five when you played that shit?” He retorts.

“Yeah, but…” you trail off with a shrug. “Come on, please Kuna?”

And when you tilt your head like that, your eyes gleaming like he’s a masterpiece to behold, who is he to say no?

With a drawn out sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “The King,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes shut to avoid your judgement. And for good reason as you fail miserably at fighting your grin.

When you don’t reply, he finally peeks an eye open, regretting it immediately when you break, a fit of giggles taking over.

Clicking his tongue, he rolls his eyes dramatically. “It’s not that bad,” he grumbles.

“It’s not, it’s not!” You insist between giggles, coughing in an effort to cover them as he stares at you in disdain. “It’s just… so you.”

“The fuck does that mean?” He gruffs.

“Just-” you pause, covering your lips as if he won’t be able to tell you’re still struggling not to laugh. “- I don’t know! It’s just exactly what I’d expect from you.”

“Then what’s so funny about it?” He scoffs, glowering across the table.

“Kuna,” you stare at him expectantly, as though he should just know. “Come on, you were- what? Sixteen? When you came up with that, right?” You query, met with a hum of agreement. “It’s just- it’s cute!” You insist as Sukuna continues to scowl at you. “It’s just- funny to picture a little Sukuna who thought he was really cool for that.”

His brow twitches, his hardened expression cracking. Of course Sukuna thought he was cool. He couldn’t just be ‘King’ either, no, he had to be The King. He snorts at the thought, bringing a hand up to cover his face as he chuckles. Your giggles turn into a full blown outburst of laughter that’s even contagious for Sukuna as he finds himself hunched over the table at the thought of a time long past.

Your shared laughter is musical, filling the air with a fondness that’s been missing from your lives for so long you both thought it was lost. Each moment spent basking in it, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down just a little bit more.

“I wish I could have seen one of your tags,” you grin, eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. “I guess it was a long time ago though.”

His tongue runs along his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh to stop himself from smiling and giving away his secret.

“No way.”

He stares at the wall, his cheeks now painted in a pale rose as he leans on his elbow. His hand muffles his words as he attempts to cover his smile with it. “I think there’s one that’s still there.”

“Sorry, what’s that?” You tease.

Shooting you a knowing look from his peripherals, he makes a show of huffing. “You heard me, princess.”

“Where is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses.

“Come on, please?”

“No,” he grumbles behind his hand, turning to face you finally as if in a challenge.

“I’ll ask Choso.”

His confidence falters as the gears visibly turn in his mind. He actually can’t remember if Choso knows, but there’s a very real possibility that he does. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the model brother and Choso was there for a decent chunk of his time spray painting random alleys and trains. Choso was just happy to be there with his brother, unaware of the criminality of his older brother’s actions.

With a sigh, he drags his hand over his face in defeat. “Y’know the skate park two stops past work?”

“I think so.”

“I figured out how to tag the ceiling under the bridge, it’s probably still there.”

“Oh my god, we have to go after work sometime,” you gasp in delight.

He opens his mouth to say no, but the words die in his throat at the sight of you grinning with stars in your eyes. This is the most normal things have been with you in the past couple of months, and now you’re the one asking to hang out. Not out of pity or to help his brothers. Not for work, or school. Blowing a puff of air from his nose, he relents. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want,” he grumbles, though even for all his grumbling, the warm look in his eyes says otherwise.

That same warmth spreads to his chest as you beam at him with a triumphant ‘yesss!’, one hand clutching your spoon as you return to your soup while the other holds his suit jacket over yourself. It drapes over your body like a dress, it's so long. The shoulders of the jacket droop, your form nowhere near as broad as his, yet somehow you make it look intentional. As though his jacket belongs to you and it always has.

His bowl of ramen sits empty as he finds his attention drawn to you. As you finish what’s left of your soup, his mind wanders. The reality he’s been running from seems to draw closer, seeping into the edges of his mind with each passing moment.

But along with it comes a guilt that settles like stones in his stomach.

“You’re still bein’ too nice to me,” he blurts out.

When you meet his gaze with a raised brow, you shake your head. “Is that a bad thing?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question, your kind way of telling him that you want to be nice, but self-sabotage is his closest friend. “You’ve always been too nice to me. After all the shit I pulled, you’re still-” he just shakes his head, his gaze drawn to the small remaining pool of soup at the bottom of his bowl. In the depths of the dish, he finds his reflection staring back at him once more, distorting each time either of you shuffle or knock the table.

With each distortion of his own picture, he finds himself frowning. It makes him look older, somehow. As though he’s grown weathered and worn. It’s been so long since he lost himself that each glance at a mirror serves as a reminder of the missing pieces of himself, fracturing in the ripples of the soup beneath him.

Maybe that’s why he clings so desperately to you and his brothers. You carry pieces of him that he recognizes, while he’s nothing more than a shadow of what once was.

“Kuna,” you scold lightly as you recognize the look in his eyes, giving his foot a nudge and capturing his sharp gaze. “Stop it.”

You know you don’t need to elaborate, he understands. He knows the multitude of meanings behind your words. The guilt boiling at the pit of his stomach isn’t so easily swayed, though. “Just thought you’d learned your lesson.”

You laugh lightly, humoring him. “Oh, I did,” you affirm. His brow raises, the distance in his eyes clearing just enough to find intrigue in his gaze. “If you’re a dick on purpose again, I’m not sticking around to be treated like that,” you smirk, your tone too warm for the words that slip past your lips.

Amused at both your choice of words and your confidence, Sukuna snorts. “Good,” he hums, shoving his bowl aside in hopes that his dreary thoughts will go along with it. “Keep it that way. The confidence looks good on you, princess.” No matter the circumstances he finds himself in, he knows he wouldn’t- couldn’t- dare to say such outright hurtful things to you again.

Heat rises up your neck like a wildfire, averting your eyes in an effort to fend it off. Luckily, the waitress returns to the table and shields you from Sukuna teasing your shyness as you ask for the bill. She returns a moment later and lets you know to pay at the front.

“Ready?” You hum, bracing your hands on the bench. When Sukuna nods, you push yourself out of the seat, brushing down Sukuna’s suit jacket before handing it back to him with a sweet ‘thank you’ as you throw your winter coat over your stained blouse.

Heading to the front of the shop, you pull out your card as the waitress prepares the keypad, but before you can move a muscle, Sukuna slots his card into the reader.

“Sukuna, what? No-” you reach out in an attempt to pull his card away. “I told you I’d pay. Ah-!” An involuntary squeak leaves you as Sukuna pulls your hand away from his card and uses a strong arm around your shoulders to slot you against him, holding you away from the machine. Even as you claw at his bicep and struggle against him in a fit of giggles and protests to let you go, he effortlessly holds you in place.

It’s such an obvious display of his muscles and you’re painfully sure he can feel the heat radiating from your skin given how close his arm is to your collar and neck. And really, how are you not supposed to think about his stupidly buff arm when the veins are right in your vision?

Asshole.

When he finally releases his grip and you stumble forward, fixing him with a pout, he just smirks at you.

“I was gonna pay!” You insist.

He shrugs. “Ramen won’t break the bank. It’s worth it for you.”

Any protests die in your throat as all you can do is blink at him. Your lips purse, his words settling in your mind.

Had he just said that it’s worth it, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it, it’s the way he specified that it’s worth it for you. Sukuna returns to his business like it’s nothing, tucking his card into his wallet and shoving his hands in his pockets, but it takes you a moment to follow after him as he pushes back out into the cold.

The brisk air hardly even hits you. Sure, it’s gotten a bit warmer, but that’s not what you’re focused on when the intonation behind Sukuna’s words only leaves you shocked, and worse, confused. You know your friendship with him runs deeper than most that he bothers to foster and you hold a place within his life that he’s willing to fight for, but this strikes you in a way that your usual banter and nudges don’t.

It brings you back to the way you’d been stunned when he intertwined your fingers in a way that felt so real.

You remember his rejection all too well, and yet… Now you’re not so sure how he feels. Maybe you’re reading into things too much, maybe this is all part of him earning your trust back, but your racing heart wants to think otherwise.

Maybe it’s all just a sick delusion.

Swallowing hard, you push aside your thoughts as you crawl back into your shell, the sudden realization of something altogether confusing leaving you scared. “Do you need a ride?”

“Nah,” Sukuna replies, the face of stoicism. He digs into his pocket, setting a cigarette between his lips. “Gonna walk to the kids’ school n’ wait. It’ll give me some time to think,” he gruffs, his voice muffled from the cigarette. His lighter clicks as it ignites, the ashen edge of the cigarette glowing like a firefly.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“See ya, princess.”

–

The office is quiet come Tuesday. Even Yuki only stole about ten minutes of your time, mostly to complain about the fact that she’s still not done with Baby Whale, and she’s absolutely sick of it.

And really, who can blame her?

Finishing up your work, you send it over to Yuki for review and approval, met with an immediate pout from her as your email pops up in her inbox right away. With an innocent smile, you’re just about to offer to take something off her plate since you’re a bit ahead of schedule when Maya pings you with a request to come see her.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to her office with dread twisting your gut.

She likely just has a question, but there’s something stressful about being summoned to your boss’ office no matter the occasion.

Or maybe that’s just how your brain works, finding worries in the least likely of places.

Knocking, you push into Maya’s office with a polite smile, casting a glance to the side at the sight of Sukuna manspreading in a chair across from Maya’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his forearms, the veins protruding over rippling muscles with his sleeves pushed up. God, he’s distracting.

His aloof stare falls flickers to you before he fixes his attention on Maya again.

“Hey,” she greets, sitting up and clasping her hands professionally. Something about the momentous air in the room doesn’t settle your nerves as she addresses you. “Sorry, Sukuna and I were just finishing up his one-month review,” she explains as she hands him some paperwork. You can’t make out how it went based on either of their expressions. “While I have him here, I figured I’d call you in as well. The client pushed the due date forward on Lee’s Adventure. How far along are the edits and cover? They want them by tomorrow but I don’t want to push either of you,” she explains.

“I finalized the edits this morning, Yuki just needs to review. I can take some of her work to balance her workload,” you offer.

“Gimme an hour and the cover’s done,” Sukuna replies mildly.

“You two are lifesavers, thank you,” she sighs in relief. “I swear, as soon as we finish this, I’m done with this agent,” she grumbles. “Send me the cloud file once it’s uploaded, Sukuna. I’ll wait for Yuki and let her know you’ll take something from her.”

Once dismissed, you stretch your arms overhead as you make your way out into the main office. The moment Sukuna shuts Maya’s door, he turns towards you. “Coffee?”

Huh, you hadn’t even realized he didn’t bring you one today. “Don’t you need to work on the cover?”

“I finished it last night,” he dismisses with a smirk. “Come get coffee with me.”

You can’t help the bubbly laughter that comes with the realization of why he asked for an hour, nodding. You both make pit stops at your offices before making your way out the front door. The snow has mostly cleared and it’s finally warm enough to be in a spring jacket rather than a winter one. With the weather finally easing up, it’s nice to be outside again. No breath billowing out in front of you as your ears and the tips of your fingers freeze, just a light breeze that rustles your hair.

There’s a shop only a couple of blocks from the office that you’ve only tried once when you got to work a bit early that you had enjoyed. It’s not Sukuna’s usual choice, but his order is about as simple as it gets, so surely it can’t be too bad no matter where he goes.

“You go first,” he urges as you arrive, letting you tell the cashier what you’d like. He steps forward and requests a black coffee, playfully shoving you aside in the process because he knows you well enough to know you were about to try to pay.

“You have to let me pay for something,” you groan in mock disdain.

He shrugs, not even offering any words.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Thanks, Kuna.”

He hums in acknowledgement, handing your drink over as it slides across the counter.

Once his arrives, he leads the way to a table and slides down in the chair, taking a sip of his coffee. He sighs at the familiar taste, grateful to finally get some caffeine in his system to keep him awake.

“So, how’d your review go?” You ask, taking slow sips of your warm drink.

“Pretty good,” he nods, glancing off to the side in thought. He seems tired again, though given that you both thought the trial was last Thursday, the kids probably did too, which really would only extend Sukuna’s troubles. “I guess the fucker who thought you were his personal assistant complained, but other than that she seemed pretty happy.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “Reggie’s the worst. He’s so full of himself.”

Yawning, your friend shrugs again. “Whatever. She didn’t really seem like she cared that he complained.”

“That’s good at least. I don’t think anyone really likes him, so-”

You cut yourself off as Sukuna begins digging in his pocket abruptly, scowling at his vibrating phone as he processes the name on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

From your perspective, he continues to glower at nothing in particular as he listens to whoever’s on the other line. He hums or grunts in reply, though he doesn’t offer much for insight until something seems to catch his attention.

“What?” He growls, hackles raised as he’s suddenly sitting upright. “It shouldn’t be ready for weeks.”

More silence as Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, tousling it. “The f-” he cuts himself off, adjusting his phrasing, “what does it say, anyway?”

You take a sip of your coffee, trying to give him privacy, but it’s hard when you left your phone at the office and have no distraction beyond your surroundings.

He sighs heavily, waving his hand uselessly through the air in exasperation. “Gotta be kidding me, of course it does.”

Huffing as he continues to listen to the caller, his frustrations quickly explode into full-blown fury. “How? You said we shoulda had fuckin’ weeks, how is that fucking possible?” He barks.

Your eyes widen at the sudden change in tone. The tattooed man casts a glance around the cafe before abruptly standing and pushing out the door to continue his conversation outside. Choosing to give him privacy, you stay in your seat, watching with concern as he throws his hands in the air in disbelief from outside the window. It takes a few minutes before he hangs up and dumps his phone into his pocket. He throws his head back, dragging his hands over his face and remaining there for a good minute before swinging the cafe door back open with enough vigor that it meets the wall behind it.

Sukuna plops down in the chair across from you, picking up the coffee he’d left on the table and downing it in one go. Your brow raises as you regard him with concern.

Before you can voice your concern, Sukuna speaks up. “What’re you doing tomorrow morning?” He asks tersely, his gaze fixated on the paper cup in his grasp that he’s struggling not to crush in his own bout of irritation.

“Um-” you hesitate, scouring your mind for anything important. “Just classes, why?”

“The fuckin’ trial’s tomorrow.”

You recoil in horror, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Fuckin’ Kaori,” he hisses. “Fucking snake put an urgent push on the date and I guess it only needs twenty four hours’ notice,” he growls, the cup in his hand fracturing under the weight of his hold. He sets it down on the table before whatever liquid’s left in the paper cup drips onto his gray slacks. “Can’t believe they’re letting her get away with this shit.”

“Wouldn’t she need, like, evidence or something to make it urgent?” You shake your head quizzically, trying to make sense of the sudden weight placed on Sukuna. It had only been a handful of days since he’d come to terms with the fact that he had more time and now the rug is being pulled out from under him as fast as it had been laid out.

Sukuna shakes his head and shrugs at once. “I don’t fuckin’ know.” His tone is disdainful as he harshly rubs his hands over his face. “She paid for a rush on the house study and it should have been done in a few weeks instead of months, not a few fuckin’ days,” he snaps, not directed at anyone in particular.

“You don’t think…” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you bring up something that’s been gnawing at you.

“Yeah, I do fucking think this shit is rigged,” he finishes your thought, pushing a hand through his salmon locks. He exhales heavily, eyes alight. “Fuck, I just told the kids things were okay and now I’m a fucking liar, and she’s fuckin’ cheating somehow, I- I don’t-” his anger and anxiety begin to blur, the lines separating them beginning to converge as his leg bounces beneath the table.

The fire in his eyes is quickly extinguished by fear as he considers what his next twenty four hours will look like.

You can’t watch despair take over without stepping in. Reaching across the table, you offer your hand. “I’ll be there. Class doesn’t matter. What time?”

He turns his attention to you, his eyes flickering between your face and your outstretched hand. “Ten thirty,” he grumbles, cautiously reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Thanks, princess.”

With a sympathetic smile, you nod.

“Shit, I gotta…” he trails off, inhaling sharply. “I gotta get home n’ meet with the lawyer,” he mumbles, his day immediately cut short by none other than Kaori.

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you capture his attention again. “Do you want some tea or something before you leave?” You offer, recalling how fast he downed his coffee.

Sukuna nods hesitantly. “Another coffee would be nice,” he mumbles, standing before you can move. “I can get it, though.”

“Let me get you this,” you plead as you push to your feet.

He takes a moment to examine the determined gleam in your eyes before giving in. “Sure.”

With a new cup of coffee in hand shortly afterwards, he thanks you quietly as you begin the short and tense walk back to work. The morning had seemed so easy barely a half hour ago, and now you can’t help but think that you took that sensation for granted.

Silence follows you as you let yourselves back into the building, quietly following Sukuna to his office while you stand in the doorway as he begins packing up.

“Don’t forget to send that cover to Maya,” you remind him.

He mutters a curse under his breath, the dark circles under his eyes painfully apparent as he pulls his laptop back out and quickly sends the files over to your boss.

Once he’s finished packing up, his coffee in-hand, you stop him before the door with a hand on his forearm. He regards you with a look that breathes only exhaustion.

“It’ll be okay,” you reassure him.

Despite the swirling anger and anxiety living within the crimson oceans of his irises, something stronger breaks through when he steels himself as he replies. “I know. I won’t let her fuckin’ win.”

You offer a smile, grateful for the resolve that he continues to nurture despite his own doubts. His brothers need him, and he’ll play the role he needs to in order to win the trial, no matter how much he feels as though he’s at his wit’s end. You can only pray he holds himself above water long enough to keep himself from drowning.

“Good luck, Kuna.”

He examines your expression for a moment, simply nodding as he pulls away from your grasp and slips out the front door without a word.

–

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you stare in the mirror. It’s funny, the way you’d felt so prepared for this day for so long, but now that it’s here, it sits like a molten lava in your stomach. It churns and sears at your insides, unsettling you to your very core. If this is how you’re feeling as a bystander, you can only imagine the way Sukuna’s feeling right now.

They’re not your family, not your brothers, but they’re dear to you. All three of them.

Running your hands down the front of your black pencil skirt, you nod to yourself in the mirror. Fiddling with the sleeve of your (now stain-free) white blouse, you gather your keys and throw on a nice coat and professional plain black heels.

Even the thought of listening to music doesn’t seem right on the drive to the courthouse. Your mind is filled with trepidation, your finger tapping idly at the leather steering wheel as you opt for silence on the way there.

The world around you seems to hold its breath as you step out of your vehicle, your heels landing on fresh pavement. The birds overhead are silent, although a pair of crows eye you from their perch atop a tree. The air is suffocating, and you long for the relief that the end of this hearing will surely bring.

Your gaze falls on the large wooden doors at the front of the familiar stone building with flags at either side. The sheer size alone is imposing enough as is, but the cool and smooth exterior of the monotonous building does no favors to ease your stress. You would almost think they want you to be nervous upon arrival.

Pushing through the doors, you’re reminded that the inside is no better. After making it through security, there are very few windows, the artificial overhead lighting beating down on you as though it’s passing its own judgement. A large reception desk sits at the center of the room, alongside a pair of hallways on either end of the lobby. Evaluating the vaguely familiar room, you find the person you’re searching for fairly easily, his hair standing out in the waiting crowd with Ms. Harte sitting silently beside him.

The click of your heels alerts Sukuna to your presence before you take a seat beside him. He’s dressed to the nines, but you don’t have the luxury of appreciating just how good he looks given the gravity of the situation. When he lifts his head, you find yourself frowning regardless. His eyes are little more than an endless sea of doubts, stress, fears, and misery. There’s a distance glazed over his eyes that suggests he’s not all there right now, hanging on by a thread.

He’s worn so thin that even the sight of you doesn’t ease any of the thoughts running through his mind. He’s gone over the case so many times with his lawyer in the past twenty four hours that he’s not sure he even can be any more prepared, yet he still finds himself feeling vastly underprepared. The short notice in particular claws at the very flesh of his being, as though Kaori is personally taunting him.

“Hey.” Your voice is soft as you offer him a smile, but your nerves are evident in the twitch of your brow. His pupils slide slowly from your face down to your wrist, where he can faintly see the red and purple twine bracelets hidden beneath your semi-translucent sleeve. You may be here in part to support him, which he appreciates more than you could ever know, but he knows the gravity of this situation affects you too, given how much you adore his little brothers.

He almost regrets ever dragging you into this part of his life. The only reason he can even dare to put the word ‘almost’ in that thought is because if he ever dared to express that, you’d chew him out. He thinks he’d let you without so much as batting an eye either, because he needs you.

“Sukuna?” You softly call out to him and his gaze finally raises from your wrist once more to meet your eyes. He examines you for a moment, his finger twitching as he longs to reach out. He longs for the comfort the warmth of your soft skin brings him, but his own self-doubt plagues him down as though he’s wading through mud. He barely has enough strength to keep himself afloat, let alone to dare ask for something.

He knows he’s made leaps and bounds of progress in your relationship over the last few weeks, but as he braves the fog of his mind, he can’t seem to make sense of the lines that separate you anymore. He can’t bear the thought of overstepping.

As is, there’s already a risk he loses his brothers. He can’t lose you, too.

Not again.

Clearing his throat, he gruffly pushes out a reply. “Hey.”

Your brow furrows, “Do you need some water?” You offer, sure you can find somewhere to get him some.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m fine.”

You both know well that it’s a lie. Neither of you are fine.

The dejected tone he speaks in doesn’t do him any favors, either. To think this is the same man you met so many months ago almost seems like a joke. Usually so full of pride and bravado, the world has stomped out every last flame that once made up the stubborn brute. He seems almost like a shell of his former self.

It’s strange, when you consider what you’d just told Shoko last week, that Sukuna seems more like himself. The more you think about it, now you’re not so sure. It’s as though his own life is beating him down into a person that you wonder if he even recognizes.

Your heart twists at the thought that somewhere along the line, the man sitting beside you lost himself.

He lost you, he lost himself, and now he’s at risk of losing what’s left of his world.

It only makes you more furious with his step-mother. You don’t see her or her lawyer on this side of the waiting room, and thank god for that. The look of control she always bears makes your skin crawl.

“How are Choso and Yuji?” You keep your voice low as you check in on your friend and his brothers.

Sukuna sighs quietly. “Uraume’s with ‘em. Couldn’t get them to go to school. When I told ‘em what was going on, Choso…” He just shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“He shut down?”

Sukuna hums in thought. “No, I think he’s tryin’ to listen to you.” He shuffles in his seat, sitting up. Tugging at his collar and tie uncomfortably, he cracks his neck. “I just dunno what to do. He’s outside my door tryin’ to talk every few minutes, but I-” With a shrug, he shakes his head again. He knows you get him. He doesn’t need to tell you that he doesn’t have a way with words, you know.

“He just needs you to be there for him. You don’t have to say anything.”

The crimson of his eyes seems to swirl with doubts as he examines you, but he finds it in himself to nod, slumping back in the chair once more.

��How’d the house study turn out?” You query, hoping that will at least help his case.

Shakily sighing, he tilts his head in a ‘so-so’ manner. “No issues with the house,” he states, his gaze fixated on an empty chair in front of him. “But they looked at the kids’ mental health as well, and Yu’s went fine but Cho…” he shakes his head with a sigh, knowing he doesn’t need to spell it out for you. “Good news is they gave us a record of what both kids said and asked ‘em both about me and Kaori.”’

“That should help,” you agree, thankful that even if Choso is too young to testify, at least the kids’ opinions are taken into account to some degree.

“Yeah…” He agrees, though he doesn’t seem to share your optimism, his gaze still painfully distant with the weight of his ambivalence.

Unable to keep his mind on-track for a conversation, he inhales sharply as the tense silence of the courthouse surrounds you both. The closer the time strikes to ten thirty, the more the air seems claustrophobic despite the high ceilings and large, open lobby. With each second that passes, Sukuna finds his leg bouncing quicker, his mind racing faster, and his heart damn-near pounding right out of his chest.

Every muscle in his body is rife with tension, and his chest could implode at any second given the burden that claws at his lungs. He can only sit with his hands clasped in his lap, acting as though the taste in his mouth isn’t so vile that he could wretch.

Quietly drowning, he doesn’t dare to even cast you a glance. As though every mistake he’s ever made with his brothers isn’t already crashing through his mind like a wave, he can’t bear to consider the ones he’s made with you.

But you’ve always been too sweet to him.

In a silent show of support, your fingers glide across the skin of his clasped hands, settling atop them. You run your thumb gently over his knuckles, the warmth of your skin soothing the frigid water that threatens his lungs. The sympathy on your features would frustrate him if you were anyone else, but from you, it doesn’t taste so bitter.

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. His leg gradually stops bouncing as your thumb continues to softly brush his skin. He casts you a grateful glance despite his silence, too afraid of ruining the moment and losing the one thing keeping him sane.

It’s funny, really. Or maybe funny isn’t the right word. But Sukuna remembers a time where nothing scared him. He remembers being the type of kid who would dive headfirst into a fist fight with someone bigger than him just because they bumped into him.

He’d even gotten off lucky once when he’d thrown a punch at some rich kid tattling on him for skateboarding in a park where it was prohibited, but he’d narrowly missed and slammed his fist into the wall. Why is that lucky? Because the money Jin had to spend fixing Sukuna’s fist is nothing compared to the money he could have spent on a worthless lawsuit. That was also one of the first times Sukuna had ever experienced the true shame in being at the center of Jin’s disappointment.

It’s also the single moment in his life that decided that he would call Kaori rather than Jin when he was arrested.

But Sukuna’s world has flipped on its head, and that’s not who he is anymore. He doesn’t have the luxury of throwing reckless punches at the wall.

He needs to be better, for his brothers. He wants to be better and build a world where they can have what Sukuna couldn’t.

He casts you a glance. You’re part of that world, too, though he struggles to identify what role it is that you play.

“Case number 2493, Sukuna versus Itadori.”

Sukuna’s head whips up to face a man in a full suit standing at the edge of the waiting area with a woman dressed equally as pristinely at his side. He recognizes them as the bailiff and court clerk, ready to lead the way to the family courtroom and staring expectantly at the waiting crowd.

Ms. Harte gets to her feet, leading the way with a confident gait. She greets the court clerk and bailiff with a professional smile while waiting on Sukuna who’s much slower to get to his feet. He pulls his hands away from you, brushing his suit down and adjusting his tie. He loosens it slightly, but the choking feeling he’s experiencing isn’t the tie at all.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he glances back over the chair as though he might be forgetting something, before following after the lawyer. Although your nerves are more subtle than Sukuna’s, you find yourself following his lead, brushing down your outfit as though your presence has any bearing on the case.

From the opposite side of the waiting room comes Kaori in a flawlessly fitted suit and pencil skirt with a new obvious display of wealth sparkling in the overhead light as it dangles from her neck with matching earrings to boot. Her confidence is picturesque with not a single hair out of place. Her lawyer, Mr. Cahn, stands as proudly as ever beside her in a navy suit, equally as prepared as she seems.

You’ve only seen her once before, for such a brief period of time as she drove Sukuna through hoops in an effort to take her children from him, and yet were this not a courthouse, you would have words for her. Choice words. You didn’t know back then the lengths she was willing to go through to ruin Sukuna’s life, and now you can only wonder what more is in store.

You’re not one to raise your voice, nor start fights, but she’s caused so much needless pain and suffering to those three brothers, that you find yourself wanting a fight. You can only imagine how Sukuna feels about her as you catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s sending her way.

She’s lucky his lawyer warned him to stay on the judge’s good side this time around.

In your mind, she’s the textbook definition of a monster, so her kind and somewhat sympathetic smile cast in Sukuna’s direction as she approaches immediately strikes you as fake. Much like every other nicety she’s thrown his way over the past week.

Sukuna’s hands ball into fists at his sides as the clerk ushers your parties to a courtroom simply labeled as ‘four’. The clerk pushes his way into the small room, helping both parties get situated at separate tables before the judge’s bench as he and the bailiff take their own seats.

The room is smaller than what you’ve seen in the movies. There’s very little room to move around and apart from the flags that hang at the door, the small room is painted only in dull and somewhat dark tones of cream and walnut. There’s still no windows, the sterile overhead lights being the only source of light and painfully so. The artificial feeling of the room does no favors for your nerves.

The clerk leads you to the small section of gallery seating behind Sukuna as the only viewer of the case, though you suppose that family law likely doesn’t get many spectators, so it figures that you’re alone. Still, the uncomfortable chair doesn’t add any layer of comfort.

Both lawyers quietly discuss the case with their clients while awaiting the arrival of the judge. Ms. Harte emphasizes courtroom rules to Sukuna before quickly going over the points she expects Kaori to use given the documents that had been provided by the opposing lawyer during their latest disclosure of evidence and the case conference last week. Among the evidence is a variety of photos, school records, and much to Sukuna’s dismay, evidence of every transgression plaguing his troubled childhood.

Every. Single. One.

His lawyer had assured him she didn’t see this being an issue given how old most of the documents are, but he’s still little more than a hulking mass of tension, while the opposing party on the opposite side of the room is the picture of confidence. That serves to make you more nervous, but Sukuna’s been the kids’ guardian for so long that there’s no way he can lose.

The door to the courtroom creaks open as a tall man in a gray suit enters the room. As Sukuna recognizes that the trial is about to begin, he inhales deeply, casting aside as many of his doubts as he can to present himself as one thing: determined.

For a moment, you even think you see a glimpse of the confident bravado Sukuna once wore back when you first met. It may be a mask he wears to keep up the appearance of his resolve, but a sliver of that mask bears a resemblance to the Sukuna you recognize.

He can do this.

The bailiff stands at the entrance to the room, straightening as she presents the judge. “Please rise. The Honorable Judge Martinez is now presiding.”

The judge runs a hand through his graying hair, which seems as though it may have been black once, as he takes a seat at the head of the room. His calm and authoritative emerald eyes slide across the room, taking in the scene before him and lingering a moment too long on Sukuna for your comfort. You can only hope he isn’t judging Sukuna’s ability to parent his brothers by his appearance.

That presumes anything but a fair trial, and given that Sukuna already suspects some sort of foul play on Kaori’s end, that doesn’t bode well for him.

Everything about this experience seems to differ from your expectations, as though everything you’ve seen in movies and TV isn’t quite right. Or maybe that only applies to family court, you can’t be sure.

The judge pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket, setting them on the bridge of his nose as he reads a brief summary of the case before him. As he wasn’t present during the case conference, all evidence will be new to him, which works in Sukuna’s favor as well given his outburst towards Kaori.

“Please be seated,” comes the bailiff’s instructions. Crossing your legs, you bite your lip as the hearing begins.

Judge Martinez addresses the room. “The court is now in session. We are here to address case 2493, Itadori versus Sukuna, for custody over the children Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori. This is in regards to social file number 34785-98. I will be directing this case myself.”

Sukuna’s stomach flips in dread. Coming up on four years of taking care of them on his own and it all led to this. He wants to spew curses at his step-mother, to chew her up and spit her out wounded and bleeding, but he doesn’t dare break his calm facade. As far as anyone in this room needs to know, he’s a picturesque guardian to his brothers.

“Ms. Itadori, as the applicant in this case, we will open with your counsel’s statement.”

Kaori’s lawyer rises, bowing to the judge. He runs a hand through his well-kempt beard before beginning. “Thank you, Your Honor. My name is Richard Cahn and I will be representing the applicant, Ms. Kaori Itadori. My client is applying for full custody of these children as the biological mother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori. Due to unfortunate circumstances regarding her health, Ms. Itadori was unable to care for the children after the passing of her husband, Jin Itadori, however she has since fully recovered and is now capable of providing for the children.” Her lawyer pauses, casting a glance at Sukuna, who keeps his eyes straight ahead in an effort not to break. “We acknowledge the important role Mr. Sukuna has played in their lives as their half-brother, however his actions have demonstrated that he is still young and not fit to take care of two children at this time.”

Judge Martinez nods in acknowledgement to the opposing party, motioning to Ms. Harte on Sukuna’s side. “I would like to hear from the counsel for the respondent.”

Sukuna’s lawyer stands, and you’re grateful for her confidence, because you’re struggling to share it. At least Sukuna is keeping up his confidence. Ms. Harte introduces herself in the same manner as Mr. Cahn, before beginning her statement.

“Your Honor, my client, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, is the older half-brother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori and they have been in his legal care for the past three and a half years. Mr. Sukuna has raised them since Mr. Itadori fell ill and you will find that he has successfully provided stability, a safe home, and a positive environment for them over the years. While we acknowledge Ms. Itadori’s blood-relation to the children, they have shown an overall preference for their older brother, and I would like to ask that you consider what is in their best interest for this case.”

The judge nods upon hearing both opening statements. He scans the legal paperwork beneath his hands before rattling off a series of legal rules to the room. He goes over the procedures for the hearing, making a point that he would not like either party interrupting, and that he will direct the conversation. He explains that he will begin with the applicant, to have the respondent act as such- a responder.

After ensuring his instructions are clear, he allows the bailiff to call the first witness to the stand, Kaori herself. Sukuna had inquired about having you be a witness, but his attorney advised against it as your relationship with one another wasn’t set in stone or easy to describe and could serve as a detriment against an opposition like Kaori. As such, both parties had disclosed that their only witnesses would be the two guardians themselves.

There’s no witness stand for Kaori to move to in the small family courtroom, so she simply gets to her feet. Politely clasping her hands, she takes a vow to tell the truth, swearing herself in, and bows to the judge.

With Kaori now prepared to answer questions, her lawyer rounds the table to stand closer to the judge as he presents himself to the grander room. “Ms. Itadori, please explain the reasoning behind your inability to take guardianship of your children upon your husband’s passing.”

With a nod, Kaori smiles politely. “When my husband passed away, I had recently taken a job overseas to help provide for our family. It was a difficult decision to leave, however I felt it was for the best to prepare for our future. I was made aware that my husband was sick after my departure and we spoke daily, however I didn’t receive any notice that he had passed away for quite some time. I tried to reach out, but never heard back.”

Sukuna’s nails dig into his palms beneath the table at the blatant lie, but he does everything he can to keep his expression neutral. At the end of the day it’s her word against his, he can’t afford to tarnish the judge’s view of him.

“I had booked a flight back when I didn’t hear back after a couple of days, but I became quite ill out of nowhere. Um-” She pauses, her mask of confidence slipping for just a moment as she glances down at the table before her. “Here are my medical records and the flight ticket receipts.”

Her lawyer takes the documents, presenting them to the judge, who lays the paperwork out before him. He scans them briefly, motioning with his hand. “Please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I only recovered late last year, otherwise I would have started this process much earlier. I love my children and I regret missing such a large portion of their lives.”

Mr. Cahn nods in approval at her testimony. “Please testify to the statement made that Mr. Sukuna is unfit for guardianship.”

Kaori nods, clearing her throat. “Of course. My step-son didn’t reach out when my husband passed away, and I was distraught to find that he had taken custody of my own children after learning of my husband’s passing. I helped raise Mr. Sukuna since he was nine years old, but he always caused problems. I have school records as evidence of his poor grades and misdemeanors.”

Her lawyer passes the documents along to the judge as she continues

“And here’s a photo Ryomen took with my son Choso which shows him trespassing in a train yard committing property damage. Not only is this inappropriate behaviour, but my son is very impressionable and this unacceptable.” She clasps her hands in front of herself, keeping up her responsible and caring appearance. “How is Mr. Sukuna meant to be trusted as a guardian, when he has demonstrated his poor abilities to care for my children as a babysitter?”

Sukuna’s mask of neutrality begins to break as he’s just about ready to pull his own hair out. A fucking selfie from when he was sixteen. Come the fuck on. Although he’s already seen all of her evidence, it’s hard not to be irritated with the woman when she’d held onto his records all these years later. He’s certain she did it for no other reason than to hold them over his head if she ever needed to.

“I’m aware these are older, however I don’t believe his behavior has changed. Before serving him with this case, I was going to talk to him about discussing this in a more civil manner, however I didn’t feel safe leaving my kids with him when I found him smoking outside of his apartment with someone while my kids were alone upstairs.”

Sukuna shuffles in his seat, but he can’t recall whatever Kaori is talking about. It’s not like he would have left them for long, he was right outside. If he were to guess, he was likely with Uraume if he was smoking with someone and it was before the lawsuit. It probably wasn’t you.

Kaori glances back down over the evidence on the table in front of her. “I would also like to bring attention to Mr. Sukuna’s employment. His lawyer provided us with his records, and he was working two jobs, while also attending college. This is irresponsible for my children’s well-being and wouldn’t allow him any time to be home with them. He would need to leave them in the care of other people, or even alone, rather than being with them himself.”

The worst part about this trial for Sukuna as he’s forced to sit in silence, is not being able to scream from the top of his lungs that at least he was there at all. Kaori can claim she was sick all she would like and Sukuna can’t refute that, but he sees through it.

“For those reasons, I would like to suggest that full custody is returned to me, as their mother. My husband and I have prepared rooms for both boys and we have the money and time to provide for them.”

Sukuna’s head whips towards Kaori, scanning her left hand. Sure enough, a rock as extravagant as the necklace she’s flaunting sits around her ring finger. Husband? Since when? That hadn’t been in any of the documents that had been provided to Sukuna and Ms. Harte. How had she had the time to get married if she was supposedly so sick?

He swallows hard, staring at the table in front of him. Surely the judge can see the holes in her logic just as Sukuna can.

Does she really just hate Sukuna that much that she can’t bear the thought of having a conversation with him to solve this?

That’s a useless thought, though. After everything that’s happened with her, Sukuna wouldn’t have handed over custody. It’s not what his brothers want, and he can see now more than ever that this isn’t in their best interest. He’s been trying to convince himself for months now that he’s a good guardian, but for the first time it’s glaringly obvious. Kaori is lying through her teeth, even after taking an oath, but Sukuna can’t refute any of her lies, he has no proof of anything.

Every word from Kaori is coldly calculated to take Sukuna down and his gut twists with each lie she tells.

He can’t figure out for the life of him what her angle is, either. What does she want them for? She clearly didn’t want them to begin with, so what the hell changed?

And worse still are Sukuna’s fears that Kaori is somehow manipulating the outcome of the trial. He needs to put his faith in the system, but it’s not easy when he has to watch her lie so outlandishly with such confidence, only to receive a nod from the judge.

Before her lawyer can speak, Kaori chimes in one last time, tilting her head towards Sukuna as she feigns motherly love for her step-son. “I appreciate everything Mr. Sukuna has done for my children, however he’s young, he has no support, and he has no experience raising children. Mr. Sukuna has always struggled with his emotions, as documented by his school records, and I don’t believe he can provide the emotional support my children require, particularly Choso.”

Emotional support. There it is. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Like she knows just how to hit him where it hurts.

The weight on Sukuna’s chest bears down harder on him as she points out his shortcomings. He knows. He knows. Fuck, he knows. But it’s still better than what she can offer. It takes every ounce of Sukuna’s concentration to keep reminding himself of that. He won’t deny that he’s young and inexperienced in raising children. He won’t deny that he was horribly ill-prepared at first.

But he was there. He wasn’t perfect, he still isn’t. But he was there and that has to count for something.

“Ms. Itadori, can you comment on the urgency of this case?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

“Absolutely. We pushed for a rush of the house study due to my concerns for my oldest son’s mental well-being which that study confirmed, however upon being on the receiving end of my step-son’s behavioral issues last week during and following the case conference, I felt that it was important to place an urgent rush on this trial.” She grimaces as though this is some sort of grave and unfortunate ordeal for her.

Her lawyer nods in approval once again, all lines from both people in their party clearly rehearsed to a T. “That is all, Your Honor.”

The judge motions to Ms. Harte accordingly. “Thank you, Ms. Itadori. I would like to invite the respondent’s attorney to cross-examine the witness.”

Ms. Harte stands, confidently rounding the tables. Her heels click across the hardwood floor as she finds a place before Kaori. “Ms. Itadori,” she begins, “you claim that my client did not reach out upon your husband’s death, can you comment on the records that I provided your party detailing his efforts to reach out?”

“May I see these records?” The judge chimes in.

“Of course, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte agrees, handing over the paperwork.

“I do see here that Ryomen reached out, however none of my contact information here is right. I had moved recently and swapped to company-owned devices when I received a promotion at my job,” Kaori confidently explains. Her drawl carries an air of arrogance, as though nothing could possibly break her air-tight testimony.

“How could that be? Why would your step-son not have your proper contact information?”

“As I mentioned previously, Ryomen has a record of delinquency and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to step in and police how my husband chose to parent him,” she explains with ease. “We communicated very rarely after I left, and I didn’t have his number on-hand to reach out when Jin wasn’t replying.”

Sukuna’s lawyer pushes further. “Can you still say that you helped to raise Mr. Sukuna and know him well if you weren’t willing to step in as a parent?”

Kaori nods. “I did everything I could to appeal to Ryomen. I was there for every holiday, I took him to his driver’s test, and would take him shopping. My husband and I decided it was for the best that I tried to only create good memories with him since he wasn’t fond of me for a while. I believe for a while, he saw me as a threat to the attention he received from his father.”

Ms. Harte doesn’t so much as stutter as she continues to question Kaori. “If you weren’t willing to step in with Mr. Sukuna, why should the court believe you’ll do so with Choso and Yuji Itadori?”

“Those are my children. I’m comfortable parenting them how I believe is best, and I know their needs well.” she attests, her form straightening. “My children need their mother.”

Ms. Harte shakes her head. “Can you say that you know their needs well when the house study details not only that neither child remembers you, but also that their preference is for my client’s guardianship?”

The judge flips through the documents submitted to the court laid out in front of him, nodding in acknowledgement once he’s skimmed the children’s statements.

Yet Kaori always seems prepared. “I acknowledge that they were both young when I took a position overseas, and I have reason to believe that the preference towards Ryomen that they have stated is purely for that reason. Given the opportunity, I know they would thrive in my care,” she states confidently. “They’ve only chosen Mr. Sukuna as they don’t know what it means to be outside of his care.”

Sukuna’s lawyer mentally resets as Kaori rebounds easily. Addressing the room as a whole as she continues. “In addition, I would like to request that the documents provided by the applying party regarding my client’s educational misdemeanors be disregarded, as nothing is dated within the last four years.”

The judge regards Sukuna quietly for a moment before nodding. “Sustained.”

Ms. Harte bows politely. “Thank you, Your Honor. Additionally, I would like to ask that claims of Mr. Sukuna being seen outside of his apartment are disregarded as hearsay, as my client does not recall this.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up, taking a stand. “I would like to ask that the court considers that a guardianship case is primarily hearsay, especially in circumstances where the children are too young to testify. Would Mr. Sukuna’s claim that he doesn’t recall this moment not be equally considered hearsay?”

The judge takes a moment to consider this, before clasping his hands together. “I agree. Your request is overruled,” he addresses Ms. Harte. Sukuna rolls his shoulders in his seat, crossing his arms to mask his irritation.

It’s not like there haven’t been small wins and pushes in Sukuna’s favor, but the cards seem to fall ever in Kaori’s favor, no matter how hard Ms. Harte and Sukuna fight.

“Very well, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte relents, clearly frustrated by this outcome. “In any case, I would like to ask that Ms. Itadori provides further information on this claim.”

“Of course,” Kaori smiles easily. “I arrived from overseas on September 4th, and went to visit my step-son on the sixth in the evening, which is when I witnessed him smoking with someone.”

“Do you have any evidence the children were home at the time?” Ms. Harte queries.

Kaori hesitates for a moment, the first crack in her confidence that sends a wave of relief through both you and Sukuna. “No, but I have no reason to believe they were somewhere else either.”

Ms. Harte nods, moving along. “You mentioned that you and your husband will be able to provide for the children. If you were unable to reach your phone due to illness, when did you have time to be married after your husband Jin’s passing while ill?”

Kaori cracks once more, hesitation crossing her features for the briefest of moments. “We met prior to Jin’s passing, and he supported me through my grief and sickness. Our ceremony was days before I returned to see my children in September and our honeymoon has yet to happen. Everything has happened very quickly,” she explains.

Sukuna sits upright in his seat, blinking at the realization that while she may not have admitted it, there’s no fucking way she didn’t cheat on Jin. Again. Sukuna grits his teeth hard, the pressure in his jaw tightening until he’s physically holding back a snarl. Sukuna can live with the ways she wronged him, but to smite Jin in his final days? He wants nothing more than to put her in her place.

But all he can do is sit in silence while Ms. Harte moves along, Kaori’s response is too sound to question further. “Ms. Itadori, you claim that Mr. Sukuna’s work schedule wouldn’t give him much time to be with the kids, however as outlined in the documents provided to your lawyer, you can see that Sukuna has recently taken a new position to allow himself more time with them.”

Kaori shoots a glance at the paperwork in front of her, nodding. “I see that, however his resume doesn’t give me confidence that he’s able to keep that job. He doesn’t seem to hold onto anything for much longer than a year, and that same document says that he recently dropped out of college.”

Unperturbed, Sukuna’s lawyer presses. “He put the children first over his own desires. Does that not show a dedication to these kids?”

Kaori considers this for a moment, casting a glance at her lawyer, though he nods confidently as though they’ve gone over the possibility of this coming up. You wonder if she’s even speaking in her own words, or if everything is a premeditated response, practiced. “It does, however I’m concerned for his ability to provide for my sons if he’s unable to hold a job or schooling. By dropping out, he’s also limited his career options,” she points out. “He doesn’t seem to have the qualifications for his current position, either.”

Sukuna stiffens at the mention of college, his leg inadvertently bouncing again under the table. He’s not sure if it ever stopped shaking, really, or if he’s just now noticing it again.

“There are more ways than just school to climb within the workforce nowadays, Ms. Itadori. Additionally, my client has proven more than capable of providing for the children financially by any means necessary. He’s shown his willingness and dedication to them through his actions,and has never once been unable to pay rent, keep food on the table. I do hope that the court will consider that money isn’t everything.” She turns to face the judge, politely bowing. “That is all, Your Honor.”

Ms. Harte returns to her seat beside Sukuna, where he’s waiting with white knuckles as he braces himself on the arms of his chair, preparing to testify.

The bailiff thanks Kaori, willing her to sit. She then turns her attention to Sukuna, giving him the opportunity to testify as well.

Sukuna turns to his lawyer briefly for assurance, before he pushes to his feet. Rolling his shoulders and smoothing down his suit, he takes the same oath of truthfulness as Kaori. He prays that neither the judge, nor the opposing party can hear the shaky breath he takes before Ms. Harte pushes him to begin his statement.

“Your Honor, Ms Harte,” Sukuna addresses the judge and his lawyer as he begins, hesitantly shifting from foot to foot as he stares down at his hands. Clearing his throat, his chest remains tight, his voice low as he speaks. “I- uh- I’ve been taking care of my brothers since my dad died. I got us an apartment, started workin’ and have letters from my employers to show my work ethic,” he pauses to hand these to his lawyer, “and I found a babysitter my brothers like.”

Sukuna’s gaze shifts up to the judge as the letters are passed along, straightening as he feels the scrutinizing glares of his step-mother and her lawyer in his peripherals. His own voice sounds unfamiliar to him as he tries to match the formal tone of the courtroom.

“I taught myself how to cook their favorite foods, I read to ‘em,” he wracks his brain for more details. “Learned how to change diapers, and I make sure they stay in school.” He sighs quietly as he scowls down at the table before him in thought. Every hardship and distant memory of the difficulty of teaching oneself to take care of children seems to weigh him down as he recounts each and every way he taught himself to step up.

He may have been forced into this life, but in every lifetime he’d do it over again if it means his brothers are happy.

Steeling himself, he fixes the judge with a determined gaze. “I stepped up. I did what I had to when I couldn’t reach their mom, and I’m still here. My little brothers are happy, they got food on the table, a roof over their heads, n’ they’re in school with friends. I’ll do anything for my brothers, and I’ve always been there for them, even when their mother wasn’t, no matter how much that affected them.” Sukuna finishes his statement, making a point of dragging down Kaori without being disrespectful in an effort to make a point about Kaori’s disingenuity.

Turning his expectant stare towards Kaori and her lawyer, he keeps his head up and gaze certain. The minute shake in his hands is well-hidden by the determination that keeps him looking at ease.

There was a time where his confidence wouldn’t be so thinly veiled. Shit, if he was testifying on any other subject, he’s sure he would be the picture of confidence itself, unperturbed by the goings on around him. It’s dejecting to know that he’s been reduced to a shadow of his former self by the very same woman who Sukuna knows openly rejected her own children’s calls.

The woman who wouldn’t step up and be a mother to him is now the woman tearing him down through legal means rather than having a conversation.

She’s selfish.

She’s a coward and an asshole and it pisses Sukuna off to no end to know what he’s become because of her. He hardly recognizes himself.

It’s strange. The person he sees in the reflection of the judge’s glasses doesn’t feel like him. He’s accustomed to the dark circles and pale reflection he sees, but the anxiety and doubt that cloud his vision taints his perspective of himself.

Sukuna is confident. He’s sure of himself. He’s brash, bold, and egotistical. He’s a hothead and a bit too quick on the draw to jump to conclusions. He’s smart, cunning, and hard-working, but under all those layers is a man who cares very much about those dear to him.

But the man who stares back at him is scared. In fact, he can’t see any of the qualities that seem to make him Sukuna aside from a set of tattoos that his father sighed at when he saw them.

He considers for a moment your presence behind him as well, and the version of himself he’s trying to be. He strives to be better. For you, for his brothers, and even for himself.

But the real difference between his step-mother and you is that you still want the version of Sukuna you saw before his step-mother tore him to shreds. You still want his confidence, his boldness, even his ego. You like his sharp-tongue and cunning remarks, and you’re willing to work through his emotions with him when he gets a little bit too impetuous for his own good. You’re even willing to help him through the unfamiliar territory that amounts to what he’s become after Kaori’s meddling.

You only ever ask him to treat you with the respect you give him. You want him to be himself, while being conscious of others.

Ms. Harte nods, shooting Sukuna a kind smile of reassurance before falling easily back into her role. “Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you provide further information on how you reached out to Ms. Itadori upon your father’s passing?”

Sukuna swallows the lump in his throat at the mention of a time he still can hardly bear to think about without guilt, shame, and grief washing over him. “Yeah. Got her number from Jin’s phone and tried his and my phone to call her, I had lawyers calling and writing, we sent letters from Choso and I, and emails to any contacts I could find.”

“Did your lawyers attempt any other method of contact?”

Sukuna nods. “Yeah, they pulled a-” he pauses, brow furrowing in thought. “A land title, I think, to try to find her new address, but nothing came up.”

Ms. Harte nods. “Thank you. Can you confirm you had no knowledge of Ms. Itadori’s illness prior to this case?”

“I didn’t,” Sukuna gruffs in confirmation, shooting a glare at Kaori as he still doesn’t believe her for a second.

“Can you attest to your connection with the children?”

Sukuna nods slowly. “Choso n’ I have been through a lot and I’ll always be there for him. I taught him how to cook and he wants to be a chef when he grows up, he even wants to take classes when he’s older,” Sukuna explains, inhaling sharply. “I’ve been there for all of Yuji’s firsts. First words, first steps, that was all me. He’s like my own kid n’ I know how to raise him and what he needs just fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you speak to your work ethic, please?”

“Mhm,” he hums, taking a moment to mentally reset. “I worked two jobs ‘til I was able to find one that pays well enough for less hours. I did what needed to be done while I got my footing and now I’m stable and spend almost every night with my brothers.”

“Do you believe that having a babysitter affected your ability to care for your brothers?” Ms. Harte queries.

Sukuna’s thankful for this portion of the questioning, as this is all rehearsed. “No. They like their babysitter a lot and I still spend all my free time with ‘em.”

Whether he’s talking about you or the kind woman across the hall you can’t be entirely certain, but you get the feeling it’s you. Even in the midst of the stressful trial, you find a minute smile pulling at the corners of your lips at the thought.

“Can you speak to the matter documented in the case conference last week in which Ms. Itadori states that you lashed out?”

Sukuna shuts his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to keep himself composed. “It’s been an emotional time, I don’t want to lose the kids.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. No further questions,” Ms. Harte nods, bowing to the judge as she takes a seat. With Mr. Cahn taking her place, Sukuna feels a chill run up his spine at his hardened disposition.

“Mr. Sukuna, would you not agree that it’s important for the kids to have a motherly figure in their life?”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “They have lots of good influences in their life other than their mother.”

“Do you believe you’re one of them?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly as he blows a breath out through his nose. If he weren’t in a courtroom, he’d have choice words for the man in the navy suit. “I do.”

Mr. Cahn presses harder, sensing Sukuna’s mounting frustration. “Would you not consider your nicotine addiction to be a detriment to the children’s health and your ability to uphold a positive influence in their lives?”

It takes everything in him to keep his tone neutral as he replies. “I don’t smoke around the kids.”

Unfortunately, Sukuna doesn’t realize the angle that he gives the man across from him. “So you admit that what Ms. Itadori saw when she intended to visit her children could be a possibility?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows, casting a glance at his lawyer who shoots him a signal to simply tell the truth, whatever he believes that to be. “I usually smoke on the balcony. I don’t like leaving my brothers alone,” he decides after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Kaori’s lawyer examines his expression as though reading him like a book, moving along. “You claim that you had to teach yourself to cook for them and learn their preferences, were you aware of the needs of children when you became their guardian?”

Sukuna shifts. His patience for this man is on thin ice. As is, he hates that he’s sharing his life with a group of strangers, his step-mother included, but to be grilled over his decisions and abilities is downright insulting. He may be a shadow of his former self, but he’s competent and he won’t let Kaori take that away from him.

“I looked after Choso when my dad was still around, so I knew a bit. I had some growing to do when I took over, but I figured sh- things out,” he replies, crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

“But wouldn’t you agree that their mother is better suited for the position of their guardian? Her ability to care for them is borne into her instincts as a mother.”

“No,” Sukuna replies immediately, his lip curling as he snarls his response. Momentarily forgetting to hold his tongue, he barks angrily, “maybe if she ever reached out or tried to be a mother to them I’d change my mind, but she was gone for four years without a word.”

“Mr. Sukuna,” the bailiff warns in an authoritative voice.

Sukuna shoots the bailiff a sharp glare, physically biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking out.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’d like to remind you of my client’s illness. She was bedridden for a majority of the years you speak of, unable to even sit up, let alone use a phone. On top of that, she spoke to her husband and Choso weekly at a minimum before Mr. Itadori passed. She attempted to call his phone, but you never picked up.”

Sukuna mutters an inaudible ‘whatever’ under his breath, fixing the lawyer with his harsh stare. Of course he didn’t pick up the unknown numbers calling his dad’s phone while he was grieving. That was the last thing he needed.

Chewing on your lip, you pray Sukuna can keep his frustrations under control. Given Kaori’s urgency to push the trial forward and her statements against his attitude, you can only guess he’s hurting his argument.

“Moving along, how do you balance your full-time position with taking care of the children?”

“I work while they’re in school,” he answers easily.

“And do you make enough to support them with that position alone?”

Sukuna nods slowly, lacking total conviction. “I pick up the occasional shift at an autoshop if I need to, but it’s enough.”

“And would you not agree that this allows you less time to ensure that the children are taken care of and that their needs are met?”

“Their needs,” Sukuna barely keeps his tone neutral, his teeth grit. “Are met. They have a good babysitter who they love. They’re happy.”

Ms. Harte casts a glance up at him, her expression unreadable. The judge may keep a straight face through the conversation, however you can practically see the way he’s passing silent discernment over the burly man each time he struggles to keep himself in check.

“Mr. Sukuna, a house study took place last week, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Detailed in the documents provided to the court,” he gestures towards the broader room, “it mentions that Choso Itadori is not only quiet, but seems as though he’s struggling emotionally. Have you been unable to meet his emotional needs?”

Sukuna swallows hard.

Time after time after time, it always seems to come back to the ways in which Sukuna has failed Choso. As though his own guilt isn’t enough, even those around him seem desperate to choke his failures out of him.

How the fuck is he meant to answer? ‘No, I haven’t been able to’? What good will that do him? How the hell is he intended to deflect the question without lying, the one thing his lawyer drilled into his head over the past couple of months?

Sukuna purses his lips, searching desperately for anything to appease a court. He’d been specifically advised against mentioning you due to your complicated relationship, could he take credit for the ways you’d gotten his little brother to come out of his shell?

Unfortunately for him, Kaori’s lawyer is a vulture waiting to strike. He takes Sukuna’s drawn out silence as his opportunity to address the judge. “Mr. Sukuna does not possess the emotional maturity to provide for such young children. I would like to advise the court to consider Choso Itadori’s mental well-being and struggles when making decisions on their guardianship,” he advises without so much as a stutter.

Kaori’s lawyer takes a pause, staring down Sukuna as the older man feels he’s beginning to wear through Sukuna’s shell.

Clearing his throat, he addresses the judge once more. “While I recognize that Choso’s statement reads that he’s particularly fond of Sukuna’s care, I also want to point out that he’s young and impressionable. He has no frame of reference for any other care and it’s important to take into account the fact that he’s suffering under his current care.”

If he hadn’t already been shushed by the bailiff, Sukuna would have burst. He would have thrown down every way that Kaori failed not only his brothers in the past four years, but all the ways she’d failed him growing up.

He wants to lash out, scream about the school events he only attended to make his dad proud, only for neither of them to show up because she was too busy getting her nails done and forcing Jin to wait. He want to lay out the way she forgot about him at Toji’s place, instead opting to take Choso to a movie, or the way she chose not to attend his high school graduation in favor of a girls’ day with her friends.

It was one of the very last events his father ever got to attend before Sukuna became little more than his father’s personal ambulance as the brutish kid was forced to watch his father deteriorate- alone. Whatever energy Jin could muster was used up on taking care of Choso and Yuji in order to alleviate Sukuna of the duty.

If only Jin could see what had become of his family now.

Sukuna seethes with rage at the thought.

All these years and he’s never once thought to try to get his father’s phone records, bills, anything to prove that Jin wasn’t consistently speaking with Kaori. He’d never considered needing to keep receipts or records that would prove that the woman sitting on the opposite end of the courtroom from him isn’t what she claims.

But now every last detail of their lives is nothing more than hearsay. His word against hers.

It’s the word of an exhausted and scared older brother, against the formal documentation of an overly confident mother and her disgustingly expensive lawyer.

His hands ball into fists at his side as he flashes a snarl at the opposing lawyer. “I’m perfectly capable of providing for them. Including mentally,” he retorts, strained as he finally finds some form of footing.

“Your Honor, I would like to call an additional witness to the stand,” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up as though taking Sukuna’s words as an invitation to speak.

“Objection, Your Honor!” Ms. Harte roars as both her and Sukuna tense. “There were no additional witnesses previously disclosed to my client, we haven’t had the opportunity to prepare.”

Judge Martinez adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Can the counsel for the applying party provide some insight on why this witness was not previously disclosed to the respondent?”

“Your Honor, we were only made aware of concerns of Choso Itadori’s mental health upon receiving the house study, which we received yesterday morning. Upon review, we felt it was necessary to contact Choso’s school for further analysis of his mental health. We only received word back last night that his teacher would be able to testify.”

You can only sit and watch, your mouth agape in horror, as the judge replies. “Objection overruled. Given the short notice, I understand that there was no time to disclose the witness, so I will allow them to testify. I will allow a small break after the testimony to give the respondent time to prepare for the cross-examination.”

Sukuna’s rage may as well manifest in the form of smoke blowing out of his ears with how furious he clearly is. He takes a seat with a drawn out, frustrated sigh as he begrudgingly holds his tongue.

You want to cry out that this is Kaori’s fault to begin with, that Choso wasn’t always like this. You want to shake her by her shirt collar that probably costs more than your entire car and blame her for everything that’s happened to this poor family, but one word from you will surely have you thrown out of the room. The most you can do is shoot Sukuna a reassuring look when he casts a fearful glance at you.

Whether it eases him or not, you can’t tell.

The court is hushed, murmurs between each lawyer and their clients are the only thing that can be heard as the bailiff retrieves the newest witness. You recognize Choso’s teacher, who likely has no real idea what’s going on, and thinks this is what’s best for the little boy, as she makes her way to the side of the opposing party’s table. Her brown hair is done up in curls, her long skirt pleated from where she sat as she awaited her part in the trial.

The bailiff has her introduce herself as Ms. Donovan, Choso’s teacher of several years due to the shifts in the school system, and she takes an oath to tell the truth, before she’s allowed to give her testimony. Mr. Cahn pushes for her to give a broad statement.

She doesn’t seem entirely comfortable in the courtroom setting as she begins. “Choso Itadori has been a part of my class for the past few years, and I currently teach him with a class of twenty three other students. I’ve known him for about five years, and he’s been an absolute pleasure. He’s bright, and he seems to enjoy learning.”

Your heart warms as she praises him, however you dread the ‘but’ that you know comes next.

“However, I’m concerned for his well-being. He got really quiet out of the blue about four years ago, though I’m aware that’s when his father passed away. He came out of his shell bit by bit and began to excel in science and math, and made some good friends, but a couple of months ago, it happened again.”

She adjusts her blouse, sending a sympathetic glance at Sukuna, though he only feels betrayed. Of course, she doesn’t know the mess she’s entered into, but what the hell is he meant to do in response to this? He can only pray his lawyer is as good as Hiromi had mentioned.

No, he knows she’s good. He really needs to pray that the judge didn’t have his mind made up from the beginning. While real trials differ greatly from the scenes he’s accustomed to on television, one thing stands the same between both.

The system is flawed and favors the rich. It favors those with power, and if Sukuna’s being honest, he doesn’t know a damn thing about the capacity of Kaori’s wealth. She always brought money to the relationship with Jin that she worked for, but everything seems different now, and she covered her tracks well. Sukuna hadn’t been able to track down any information on her online despite the status she clearly has.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Choso say a word in the past couple of months,” Ms. Donovan continues. He doesn’t seem to pay attention anymore and his grades are slipping. I know he’s young and he has time, but I’m more concerned for his mental health. On top of that, his attendance was perfect until recently. There have been a couple of weeks this year where he hasn’t shown up at all,” she adds with a frown.

Fuck. That was meant to be a positive break for the kids, and now it’s ammunition against Sukuna’s own case.

“Lastly, Mr. Sukuna has been late to pick them up on multiple occasions. He’s usually only a few minutes late at most, however there was an occasion where he didn’t show up at all.”

“Thank you for addressing your concerns, Ms. Donovan. No further questions.” Kaori’s lawyer takes a seat with an overly pleased look on his face.

The judge leans back in his seat as he addresses the court room. “I’ll allow twenty minutes for discussion and break, before we resume.”

Ms. Harte sighs, running her hands over her face as she faces Sukuna. You can’t hear her words from the viewing area, though you can feel her exasperation.

“That certainly puts a wrench in our argument,” she sighs, tapping the table. “But we still have an angle. Choso’s behavior changed when he became aware of the lawsuit, correct?”

Sukuna, desperate for a break, a cigarette, anything, grunts. “Yeah.”

“Right. We use that, and advise that Kaori’s interference in the childrens’ lives is what’s negatively affecting his health,” she nods, remaining confident. Though Sukuna doesn’t share the same confidence as his mood shifts and fear dwells in the corner of his mind, he agrees with a small nod, putting his faith in her.

You can only shuffle uncomfortably in your seat as Sukuna and Ms. Harte prepare for the cross-examination. Their murmurs are the only sounds filling the silence that clings to your lungs like water, drowning you in uncertainty.

Casting a glance at Kaori, you can’t help but notice the way she confidently crosses her arms over her chest as she discusses details with her own lawyer with a goddamn smile. You wonder if the judge sees through her innocent and sweet grins just as you do, but you fear that hope is misplaced.

Just as you’re sure Ms. Harte and Sukuna suspect something, you can’t help but wonder if there’s manipulation of sorts going on behind the scenes. Everything feels skewed and even if the balance of the court is only off-kilter by a couple of degrees, it’s enough to catch your attention. But what can you do? There’s no way to prove your theory.

While you can understand the judge’s decision to allow an additional witness, something about the whole situation seems to play into the idea that something is wrong and the system is failing before your very eyes.

What’s Kaori’s angle here, anyway? You can understand being sick, but the details don’t add up given what you know about her. But that’s just it, she has an excuse for everything. It’s as though this is nothing more than a routine. Hell, even Ms. Donovan speaks with a practiced air of confidence that makes you wonder if her speech was equally as fake as Kaori’s. Her argument is painfully air-tight.

Is that all this is to Kaori, a game? Are her own children pawns in some scheme you can’t put your finger on? If her love for them is as fake as her love for Sukuna clearly is, then what does she gain out of this?

You can only hope to never be sure as the court returns and the bailiff announces that the hearing is back in session, allowing Sukuna’s counsel to begin the cross-examination.

“Ms. Donovan, good morning,” Ms. Harte stands, greeting the young woman. She returns the lawyer’s greeting with a genuinely sweet smile. “Can you confirm when Choso Itadori’s behaviour took a turn for the worst again?”

Chewing on her lip, the teacher takes a moment to consider the question. “It was early in January. The first week, I believe.”

“Thank you. Can you confirm that the change in his behaviour has been similar to how it was around four years ago?”

The teacher nods. “That’s right.”

“Your Honor, Choso Itadori’s mental health has taken a turn at two pivotal moments in his life. The first is when his father passed away, which coincides with a time where the child thought his mother had chosen not to return. Much like my client, he had no way of knowing his mother was ill,” she points out, pacing somewhat closer to Sukuna. “The first week of January is when Mr. Sukuna informed the children of this trial. He is raising them to be mature and responsible and did not believe that keeping information from them was wise. They’re smart children,” Ms. Harte points out.

Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief at how strong of an argument his lawyer makes in his favor.

“I would like to advise the court to take into consideration how a revelation of that gravity would affect a child. Each time that my client chose to keep the children back from school was in order to preserve their mental health. While school is important and Mr. Sukuna is well-aware of this himself, he puts an emphasis on taking breaks when necessary and teaching the children to manage their mental health.”

Turning to face the judge, Ms. Harte stands confidently in the center of the room.

“Ms. Itadori herself is responsible for Choso’s declining mental health, whether it was her intention or not,” she claims, leaving the possibility open-ended so as not to make accusations she can’t back up. “Mr. Sukuna has proven he is capable of nurturing Choso’s mental well-being, as detailed by Ms. Donovan. She confirmed that the child’s attitude improved over the months following his father’s passing, a time when only Sukuna was present in their lives. My client cares a great deal about the children and would not allow their health to deteriorate without taking the appropriate steps to care for them.” She bows. “No further questions.”

Judge Martinez directs his attention to the applicant party. “Does the counsel have any further questions?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Cahn adjusts his tie as he pushes to his feet. “Ms. Donovan, does the school offer the children any tools to manage their mental health?”

The teacher nods slowly. “We offer a limited range of programs to assist, but Choso hasn’t been receptive to anything.”

“Can you confirm whether the faculty has made any suggestions to Sukuna in order to manage Choso’s mental health?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

With a hum of thought, she clasps her hands as she replies. “When Choso’s grades began slipping, we suggested it may be worth having him evaluated by a mental health professional. I’m not sure if that happened.”

Sukuna stares at his hand as his grip on the arm of his seat tightens. He’d forgotten about that. She had mentioned it, but the thought had burrowed itself into the deep recesses of his mind and quite simply disappeared. He’d had so much on his mind, he’d figured he had time.

Constricting around his lungs, his guilt slices and claws into him once more, dragging the breath from his lungs.

“Thank you. Has Mr. Sukuna ever mentioned his reason for being late on multiple occasions?”

Ms. Donovan shakes her head, shrugging. “I don’t recall, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Mr. Cahn moves along. “Have you witnessed Mr. Sukuna smoking around the children?”

“On occasion,” she replies without hesitation. “Never on school property, but usually right before class ends.” Sukuna grits his teeth. What bullshit that twenty minutes prior to class ending supposedly counts as smoking around his brothers.

“Thank you,” Kaori’s lawyer nods his head calmly. “One final question.”

“Do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Sukuna could be a negative influence on Choso Itadori?”

Ms. Donovan casts a glance at Sukuna. She seems to consider the question seriously. “I don’t think he’s a driving negative force in Choso’s life,” she replies. Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief a moment too soon as the teacher continues, “however, I think Choso would benefit greatly from more guided care. In the six years that I’ve been teaching, I’ve never seen a child as withdrawn as he’s become, and he shows no signs of improving.”

“Can you describe his behavior?”

Fiddling with her skirt, Ms. Donovan nods. “Of course. Choso seems to look right through everyone, and often when I think he’s paying attention, it’s not until I address him that he seems to tune in to what I’m saying.” She swallows, shaking her head as she continues. “He turns in homework without issue, but any in-class work goes unfinished. His tests don’t have any rhyme or reason behind what he writes or what options he chooses in multiple choice and he doesn’t show his work, either. I don’t think he’s reading the tests at all.”

Sukuna’s brow furrows as his shortcomings are laid bare for him. He knew Choso’s grades were slipping, but the homework he’d been doing seemed fine whenever Sukuna looked it over. Sure, Ms. Donovan had advised him that she’d like to meet, but he’d pushed her worries away given the gravity of the upcoming trial. He’d been under the impression that he would win, and everything would be fixed.

It’s not that he didn’t heed the teacher’s warning that Choso needed help, but he thought he understood what was going on with his little brother. He wasn’t aware just how deep the roots extended into the little boy’s life.

Failure after failure after failure.

How many times would he need to fail Choso before he learned his lesson?

He’s always known school is important, there’s a reason it took Sukuna so long to give up on college, but he didn’t realize just how much Choso’s behavior in school painted a picture of how Sukuna is as a parent.

The room feels claustrophobic as Sukuna continues to listen to the witness.

“At recess, he’s completely closed himself off from the other students. He eats alone in the classroom and won’t respond to me if I try to engage with him in conversation. He’s always been quiet, but he had a good group of friends. They’ve all expressed their worries to me, as well.”

He stopped talking to his friends? Shit, why is Sukuna even surprised? The kid stopped talking to his brothers. Still, his heart drops.

“On a couple of occasions that he did leave the class- which is rare-” she continues, “I caught a couple of children bullying him. I don’t tolerate that, and have punished them appropriately, but this is new as far as I’m aware. His behavior seems to be making him a target for teasing.”

Sukuna’s shoulders drop to his sides as he stares across the room in wide-eyed disbelief. Choso was being…? Why had he never mentioned it?

Of course Sukuna wants to do right by Yuji, but he carries a deep conviction to do right by Choso. The eldest of his little brothers may not look like him, but Choso is a very obvious product of Sukuna’s shortcomings.

He just didn’t realize how obvious.

Sukuna struggles to remember the last time Choso even smiled. His heart twists as the image he conjures in his mind of his little brother is adorned with a frown and eyes that speak of unspoken battles that Sukuna’s incapable of helping him through.

There was a time, so far into the past now that the tattooed man hardly remembers it anymore, where Choso was much closer in personality to Yuji than to Sukuna. He’d always been a bit more on the calm side than his youngest brother, but he was filled with a genuine curiosity for the world, his eyes so filled with light.

He can’t say for sure when that light dulled and eventually flickered out.

Sukuna’s not sure he ever really came to terms with the fact that at the root of this issue, he became a father at eighteen.

A father.

He’s not sure he really understands the meaning behind the term, in truth. He can’t be sure where the line falls between brother and father, unable to clearly define the roles. The brother in him wants to teach the kids bullying his little brother a lesson. The father in him, whatever part of him that is, is lost. What do you do when the kid you’ve raised is being bullied?

What’s Sukuna meant to do? There’s no handbook for this.

Would Kaori know how to deal with this?

Would Jin have known?

He wonders if Jin’s watching this unfold somewhere on the other side. If he’s as torn up about his fractured family as Sukuna is. How would he feel to know his oldest son dropped out of college and has amounted to nothing more than another bill on an expensive lawyer’s docket?

Sukuna’s guilt towards Jin is misplaced, though, when Choso is sitting back at home. He thinks his remorse regarding his mistakes with Choso set in before he ever really realized what role he’d been forced into playing. It lingered deep in the recesses of his mind, back when he still grappled heavily with his grief, but it wasn’t until he’d processed his situation that he realized just how fucked he’d been.

Choso was so young. Sukuna was so young. Eighteen is old enough to legally be a guardian, but not to drink. What kind of sick law is that? To have that responsibility thrust upon him with no other options left Sukuna as a horribly bitter man suffocating from the weight of the pressure. Rather than asking for help, he chose to drown his brother in his sorrows, to bring them both down.

But could you even call it a choice he made when the reality is that they were both just kids?

There’s no guide for this sort of shit. No YouTube videos, no ‘For Dummies’ book.

What would that even be called? ‘How to Become a Father to Your Little Brothers for Dummies’?

How many times would he need to remind himself that he acted so childish back then because he was a child? Hell, sometimes he thinks he still is. The weight of his immaturity bears down on him harshly when he remembers forgetting to pay taxes just a couple of years ago because March and April were never tax season to him.

They were the beginning of skateboarding season, of paint sticking to walls and basketball with Toji.

Only, Toji wasn’t there anymore.

He just forgot to pay.

The worst memory he carries with him from that time is one that keeps him up at night. Worse than when he snapped at Choso when Kaori didn’t reply, and worse than relying on a kid to help him make it through a house study.

He remembers staring at Choso with resentment, seeing only Kaori in his features. He remembers the discussions with lawyers quickly turning into arguments. Choso was always on the sidelines, listening in. Sukuna had no real regard for him at the time, too caught up in his own issues. He recalls yelling about how he didn’t ask for any of the responsibility, he didn’t ask to be looking after his brothers like this.

“I don’t want them, or any of this shit!”

His words echo in his mind, burrowing themselves into his very being like a parasite.

He shuts his eyes briefly. If only Choso could see him now. See how much this really means to Sukuna. Just once, he wants to do right by his little brother. He can’t erase the past, but he can make up for it with a better future. He can show Choso that his misgivings in the past were a product of the misdirected anger of a delinquent child.

Like every other time he’s stumbled through life and learned as he went, he’ll figure things out this time too. He’ll scare off the bullies with a glare as Choso’s brother, and let Choso know to tell him if it happens again as his parent.

He’ll figure it the fuck out.

He faces straight ahead, his face hardened with resolve.

“Ms. Donovan, did you make Mr. Sukuna aware of the bullying?”

She hesitates, casting a glance in his direction. “This development is recent and I haven’t had the opportunity to, no.”

“Would you say it’s safe to assume that Mr. Sukuna isn’t aware of what goes on with Choso at school?”

She hesitates once more, her face falling as she watches Sukuna from her peripherals. “... Yes.”

“Can you confirm whether or not you’ve attempted to get his attention around your concerns with Choso?”

She nods again. “Yes, I have.”

Sukuna’s resolve shatters before it has the chance to flourish. Even Choso’s teacher thinks Sukuna’s failing.

As much as he wants to say he stands on equal footing with Kaori, fear crawls up his spine and grips him by the throat.

Is he losing?

He can’t lose, by all accounts he’s been there, he’s the living and breathing proof of what it means to care for someone. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he’s made, he’s still learning. Maybe he is young, maybe he is inexperienced, maybe Choso needs more help than Sukuna’s been giving him, but he can figure that shit out.

It’s true that Sukuna didn’t ask for this responsibility. He didn’t want it. But he’ll fight for it. He’ll fiercely protect the family he recognizes now as the most important part of his life. The people who each hold pieces of him and make him who he is. Choso, and Yuji. His eyes trail back slowly to you, seated on the edge of your chair.

You look gorgeous. Even with your brow furrowed in concern and fear that mirrors his own, you look flawless. You hold a piece of him, too. A piece that he can’t bear to live without, for fear that he might completely fall apart.

He wants to scream from the top of his lungs that every person here is a damn fool if they believe any of Kaori’s words. He wants to list every single misdemeanor that she did that he could never tell his dad about. Yet, every single time he tries to lead the conversation in the direction that Kaori isn’t all she seems, they have some sort of concrete proof or evidence to say otherwise.

It’s fucked, and all Sukuna can do now is pray to whatever god will listen. His heart is in this and that should be what matters, because Kaori’s isn’t. If it’s obvious to him, it’s obvious to the judge. He has to cast aside his concerns of outside manipulation of the judge, because this is all he has.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

As the bailiff dismisses the final witness, the courtroom becomes deathly silent. It penetrates through Sukuna like a banshee, ringing loudly in his ears. As closing arguments finally begin and Mr. Cahn rises, his words are a blur to Sukuna. His, Ms. Harte’s. They’re all the same, reiterating the points they’ve gone over already and emphasizing the importance of this case. Mr. Cahn makes a point that there’s a reason a rush was placed on this case, as Choso can only be put through so much, but Ms. Harte easily refutes that once this case is over, Choso will find his footing in the world once more.

As Judge Martinez requests a moment to consider his notes before delivering a decision, the silence bears down further on Sukuna from all sides. It threatens to suffocate him, clawing at his insides as the taste of iron floods his mouth when he bites down on his tongue a bit too hard.

He’s kept his fears so well-masked over the course of the past hour that his body seems to burst as he feels his hands physically shivering in his lap. It’s not cold in the room, if anything the sweat rolling down his jaw from his temple should spell out just how warm the room really is.

He’d spent so many days preparing for this moment, so many hours on the phone with telecommunications companies for phone logs, putting in extra work to get letters from his employers, and pulling files out from the darkest depths of closets to prove anything.

Had this been a couple of years ago, he’s not even sure if he could have managed to get the files. Not because he wouldn’t have cared or wanted to, but because the sight of his father’s obituary tucked among all his bills would have sent Sukuna spiralling. He’s come so far over the past few years, he can’t let it be for nothing.

How had it come to this, in the first place?

When would karma come for Kaori like it had so often haunted Sukuna?

His attention snaps to the judge as the man addresses the room again. “I have carefully read through all of the provided evidence. After considering this and the testimonies from witnesses of both parties, I have reached a decision that I believe is in the best interest of the children and their mental well-being.”

Their mental well-being? Sukuna’s heart drops. No.

“I would like to start by acknowledging how much love is clearly being put on display for these children. I can very clearly see that both parties care greatly for them. My greatest consideration today will be to ensure the long-standing welfare of the children and ensure they have what they need in order to flourish int he future.”

On the edge of his seat, Sukuna clings to the table with white knuckles. This can’t happen. He has to interrupt.

“With that in mind, the decision I have made today is one that I feel will allow the children to heal from any prior transgressions. Concerns on both sides have been noted, and I believe both parties today will be able to understand where my decision is coming from.”

Sukuna’s gaze whips towards Ms. Harte, whose expression is grave. She knows too. He has to say something. He has to-

“The applicant, as the biological mother of Choso and Yuji Itadori will be granted sole guardianship. While I understand the applicant placed a rush on this trial, I do not believe that Mr. Sukuna places the children in any immediate danger and as both their half-brother and prior guardian, he will retain visitation rights. To allow the children a safe and easy transition, this will be effective as of Monday next week.”

“No! She doesn’t fucking care!” Sukuna barks in a desperate plea, losing control as he finally stands.

The bailiff stands immediately. “Mr. Sukuna! Order, please,” she requests, matching his fervor with confidence.

With venomous intent, he opens his mouth, but Ms. Harte places a hand on his forearm to catch his attention. “Please sit, Sukuna. I’ll work through this with you.”

Surely she has cause for a retrial or an appeal or something, right? He has to put his belief in her and her abilities right now, because it might damn be all he has left.

As he takes a seat, his vision closes in on him. White from all edges, he shuts his eyes and rubs harshly at them. The ringing in his ears is overbearing, his throat closing up on him as he struggles to sit still.

The trial continues on without him as Ms. Harte makes decisions on his behalf for the handover of the children on Monday morning. Sukuna can’t make out a single word being said. It’s nothing more than jumbled and broken letters, gibberish in his mind.

He feared this outcome so heavily, yet it never seemed like it could be a possibility. What happened here that Kaori had gotten away with so much deception? Where had these supposed hospital records come from?

What kind of dumbass is this judge? Did Kaori pay him?

On paper, the case was always tough, but the more evidence he pulled up, the more it leaned in his favor. Yet with each piece of evidence he compiled, Kaori had something up her sleeve to throw the balance off.

Would he spend a lifetime wondering what went wrong?

Kaori would never let him visit no matter his rights, would he not see Choso for six years? Would it be thirteen years before he sees Yuji again? Surely not, his lawyer has to figure something out. He’ll drain every penny he has to make it happen. He can’t let this happen.

He can’t fail Choso again.

And yet, he already has.

You sniffle from behind Sukuna, though he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seem to hear it. You want just as badly as he surely does to reverse the decision, to fight more, fight harder if you can, but it’s to no avail. You’re at a complete and utter loss. Your head feels horribly light as the decision truly sets in.

The bailiff adjourns the court, advising an exit of the room.

Wiping tears from your eyes and inhaling sharply, you cling tightly to the bracelets that round your wrist, forced to watch in horror as Sukuna stands abruptly, stumbling out of his chair with the scraping of wood across the floor. He clutches at his chest, anger ablaze in his eyes as he slams out the door while Ms. Harte attempts to reach out to him.

Your lips part as you call after Sukuna as well, but he’s gone before it ever reaches him. Whether he’s going to throw his unsuspecting lighter into another wall or to gasp for air out in the cool morning, you can’t say for sure, but one thing’s for certain.

It took Kaori only one hour and twenty four minutes to rip whatever remained of your dear friend to pieces.

Another tear rolls down your cheek and you find yourself choking back a sob as you hide your face on the way out.

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❦ a/n ; forgive me :')

trust, i promise this series will have a happy ending <33 i'm a sucker for angst though and you guys are subject to my whims 🙂‍↕️ LMAO anyway regardless of the angst and devastation, i really hope everyone is still enjoying the series! ty all for sticking with me, there's still much more to come! i never could have anticipated how long this series would be but i'm super grateful to be able to share it with you all

shoutout again to all the lovely and amazing people who helped me with the legal drama as well, it's been a huge help! if you see any legal process errors, no you didn't ;)

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