Can Anyone Drop Sukuna X Reader Fics That Are VERY VERY Angsty? Lol

can anyone drop sukuna x reader fics that are VERY VERY angsty? lol

currently going through a “break-up” phase so i wanna just read through angsty fics tnx

My God (4)

Just when you know your week couldn't get any worse, the universe really decides to bring out the worst in you.

You might as well be near your boiling point and do some dumb decisions... or not?

a/n: sorry that this took a while for me to post – a lot has happened to my life lately lol dfhdshfs no worries, i'll be back to regular updates by next week!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: banters + angst, Yakuza AU, Fake Marriage Word Count: 4.4k All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

1 • 2 • <- previous

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting dancing shadows on the walls of your bedroom. Your phone vibrated on the bedside table, jolting you awake from a very, very restless sleep.

The lingering effects of the past few days — the unexpected announcement and the whirlwind of events — had left you feeling exhausted and unsettled. Why does your life seem to deteriorate each day since that fucking party and announcement?

You rubbed your eyes groggily, still processing the reality of your situation. It’s that hard to move on, okay? As you swung your legs out of your comfy bed, your foot brushed against the plush rug beneath, grounding you for a moment before the chaos of the day.

Reaching for your phone by the bedside table, your heart rate spiked as you opened it — staring so long at the text messages waiting on your screen. It is indeed a lot of emotions already this morning. I’m just hungry… right? I haven’t eaten anything since last night.

Sukuna > good morning, princess ;) > so, where are we secretly gonna get married? > gotta have it on my calendar, u know I’m a busy man

A wave of dread washed over you. The reality of your situation hit you with full force, the weight of the impending ruse pressing down on you, and how the fuck you will deal with this. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your phone and laid back down face-first on your bed to bury your face in your pillow. 

At least this pillow is soft enough, you thought as you continued to pound your head on it to at least try to escape the overwhelming sense of dread you’ve been having these past few days. The cool, soft fabric offered very little comfort, but at least it was something you could control. Or not.

You’re not ready to deal with anything this early in the morning, please. 

After a few minutes of futilely attempting to disappear into your pillow, you pulled yourself together and sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed again. The creak of the bed frame seemed to echo in the silent room.

You opened your phone in hand, your fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplated your reply to the bane of your existence, as you often call him in your mind. 

You > will a civil wedding do? > i’ll have it scheduled around noon   > and please, no more morning texts 

You put your phone down and stand up, stretching your aching muscles. Comfy bed, comfy pillow, but still giving me these aches, you thought. The tightness in your shoulders and back was a reminder of the amount of stress you have. You ran a hand through your hair, feeling the tangled strands pull against your scalp.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as a sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You immediately grabbed your phone, opened your calendar app, and scrolled through it with a sense of dread gnawing at your gut. And there it was — just as you feared. Yes, you did forget something.

There’s a fucking art gala tonight. Sponsored by your father.

Which meant… your father would be there, Sukuna would be there, everyone in the family would be there.

Worst of all? Satoru would be there. You just knew it.

Yeah, you’re skipping this one.

“There’s no way I’m going to the gala tonight,” you mumbled to yourself as you closed your phone and placed it screen down on the bedside table.

You walked towards your ensuite bathroom, and the cold tiles beneath your feet sent a shiver through you. Your disheveled reflection greeted you in the mirror, your hair sticking out in every direction, eyes slightly puffy from the lack of sleep. 

“I can’t deal with that hellhole tonight. Dealing with Sukuna is already enough of a headache,” you whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. The strands slipped through your fingers like silk, but they stubbornly refused to cooperate. 

Your mind then wandered to whatever chaos you might be missing this evening. Yeah, there’s something that will happen tonight, you thought with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You gave up on your hair and splashed cold water on your face. The icy shock jolted you awake, but it did little to quell the unease bubbling inside you.

—

Sukuna’s footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floors, each step resonating through the silent, opulent corridors of the mansion. The walls, adorned with priceless art and gilded fixtures, only accentuated the coldness that seemed to seep up from the floor, biting through the soles of his expensive shoes. He paid it no mind, his thoughts already far ahead, focused on the confrontation that awaited him.

A faint buzz in his pocket broke the silence and paused his strides. Sukuna pulled out his phone, his eyes narrowing as he read your curt reply. He couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at your attempt to try and take control of your situation like a kitten trying to catch the laser light but ended up tripping over nothing. 

He pocketed his phone, his smirk fading as he neared the heavy oak doors of your father’s office and knocked. Without waiting for a response, Sukuna pushed the door open. The air was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin and made it hard to breathe. But, not to Sukuna. 

Your father, Akira, sat behind his massive desk, the steam rising from a cup of tea curling into the air like tendrils of smoke. The faint aroma of peppermint filled the air, usually calming, and added unease that hung between them.

"Come in, Sukuna,” Akira’s voice was both tired and commanding. Sukuna stepped into the office, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in every detail — the subtle twitch in Akira’s jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the teacup.

Yeah, he’s still brooding over last night’s drama, Sukuna thought.

"Sukuna," Akira began, his tone laced with disapproval, "I've heard about the incident last night."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice calm and almost dismissive. "Just a minor misunderstanding."

Akira’s eyes narrowed to slits, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Minor misunderstandings can have major consequences," he warned. “The fight with the Zenin clan was reckless, and you know it.”

Sukuna shrugged, his posture relaxed, almost bored. "It was necessary," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "They were crossing a line."

Akira slammed his palm onto the desk, the sudden sound echoing through the room. “Just what line are you crossing, Sukuna?” He demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Just because I’ve named you as the next head of this family doesn’t save you from your dumb actions. I can take that back anytime. You’re becoming too reckless, and it’s only a matter of time before your actions come back to bite us all,” he warned. "You can't afford to make any more mistakes."

Sukuna didn’t flinch at the outburst, clearly expecting this reaction from the current family head. He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Akira’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down the older man’s spine. “I have everything under control,” he said, his voice steady and cold. The calm in his tone was more terrifying than any thread could have been.

Akira sighed, massaging his temples with his fingertips and evident frustration. "You think you have everything under control,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sukuna. “But you're forgetting one thing."

Sukuna tilted his head, waiting, his eyes narrowing slightly and silently waiting for the rebuke.

"Your actions affect more than just yourself," Akira reprimanded, his voice regaining its firmness. "Your choices have consequences for the entire family. I won't stand by and watch you dismantle everything I've built."

Sukuna took a sit down, legs crossed, the chair in front of Akira’s table, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You're getting emotional," he said with a hint of offense.

Akira’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm being realistic,” he shot back, his voice rising. “You need to start thinking with your head instead of your ego."

Sukuna chuckled a dark, humorless sound. "And you need to stop babying me like I'm some helpless child,” he retorted. “I know what I’m doing. My reckless actions are the reasons you chose me over your daughter. Or have you forgotten that?”

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, the words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. Akira stared at Sukuna, his expression a mixture of anger and reluctant acknowledgment. He knew that the young man was right in a sense, but it didn’t make them any easier to swallow. 

After what felt like an eternity, Akira spoke again, his voice calmer but no less tense. "Yes, your past actions played a part in your selection,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving Sukuna’s. “But, that does not give you a free pass to do as you please without regard for this family. We are not invincible, Sukuna, and your recklessness will catch up to you eventually.”

Sukuna’s smirk softened slightly, a rare moment of sincerity flashing in his eyes before it was quickly buried beneath its usual bravado. "I get it," he said, his one more subdued, though still laced with that infuriating confidence.

"Good," Akira nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly and his voice still stern but with a hint of relief. "Because this family can’t afford any more of your antics. Not now.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, raising his arms in a playful gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright old man,” he drawled, his smirk returning in full force. “I'll try to keep my antics in check."

As their conversation shifted to the upcoming gala tonight, Sukuna’s thoughts began to drift. He listened to Akira’s plans with one ear, already calculating his next move.

By the time he left the office, a sense of satisfaction settled in his chest, and couldn’t help but chuckle in satisfaction. He had defused the situation, at least for now. But he knew that old man would be watching him closely, waiting for him to slip.

It’s a game of patience, Sukuna mused. A game I’ve been playing for years. And I’m so close to winning.

—

“Well, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror. You were bathed in soft, ambient light that did little to calm your nerves.

As much as you hated the idea of attending the art gala tonight, you didn’t have the heart to miss whatever you felt would happen. The feeling is too strong to dismiss, okay?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been at least 40 minutes since you started getting ready. Usually, you would take less than 30 minutes to get yourself to look presentable, but tonight was different. The clock on your wall ticked away relentlessly, reminding you that you were on the verge of being late.

With a resigned sigh, you puckered up your lips to readjust your dark red lipstick before accepting the inevitable. The deep red dress you had chosen clung to your frame, the fabric shimmering subtly with your movements. It was a beautiful dress, one that made you feel powerful yet vulnerable all at once. I look so good though, you thought.

But, even as you admired the way it complemented your skin, it didn’t ease the knot of anxiety in your twisting in your stomach.

“Just a few more minutes,” you whispered as if convincing yourself could somehow delay the night’s events. Grabbing your clutch, you cast one final glance at the mirror, hoping to see confidence reflected back to you. Instead, all you saw was a woman teetering on the edge of uncertainty. 

The drive to the gala was a blur of Tokyo’s city lights and quiet streets. You could feel the nervous energy bubbling under your skin, but you forced yourself to focus on the road.

When you finally arrived, the gala was already in full swing. The grand hall was filled with people, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Art pieces adorned the walls, each more elaborate and expensive than the last. Normally, you would have taken the time to appreciate them, but tonight, they were just background noise to the chaos in your mind.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the undercurrent of power plays masked by polite smiles. You wove through the crowd, trying to find a quiet corner where you could collect yourself.

But before you could escape, the grand hall plunged into semi-darkness. The sudden shift sent a ripple of unease through the crowd, punctuated by the commanding, firm voice you know all too well. You froze, your pulse quickening as the tension in the room spiked.

“Where have you been?”

You turned sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you faced your father, Akira, whose presence was as imposing as ever. His eyes bore into yours with a mixture of frustration and concern. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention; the weight of his words alone was enough to make your heart pound.

“I—” you started, but he cut you off with a curt wave of his hand.

“This is not the time for excuses,” he said, his tone cold and clipped. “Do you realize how important tonight is? You were expected to be here on time, not wandering in whenever you felt like it.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure. The tension between you and your father had always been thick, but tonight it felt suffocating, more suffocating than your last confrontation. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” you replied, your voice strained. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Akira’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “Your presence is the bare minimum. I expected you to support the family, to be an asset, not a liability. You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities.”

His words struck a nerve, but you refused to back down and remain as composed as ever. “I’m not running away,” you retorted, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “I’m trying to deal with everything you’ve dumped on me, including this ridiculous charade with Sukuna.”

Akira’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You’re lucky I chose him over you,” he hissed. “Do you think you could handle the pressure of leading this family? You can barely keep your emotions in check.”

The sting of his words was like a dagger to your heart, the familiar ache of inadequacy tightening its grip on you. You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to lash out. 

“I won’t tolerate any more of your outbursts tonight,” Akira continued, his voice dripping with authority. “Do what you’re supposed to do, and stay out of trouble.”

You didn’t respond, knowing that anything you said would only escalate the situation. Instead, you turned and walked away, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing down on you with every step. The air felt heavy, almost stifling, as you made your way through the crowd, trying to clear your head.

But as fate would have it, your search for solitude was cut short by an all-too-familiar voice that made your blood run cold. 

“Ah, there’s my favorite fiancee.” Gojo Satoru’s drawled, his tone oozed with arrogance and mischief, his presence as infuriating as ever. 

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your glass as you slowly turned to face him. Satoru stood before you, exuding his usual air of effortless confidence. His stark white hair contrasted sharply with the tailored black suit he wore, and those piercing blue eyes behind his sleek sunglasses sparkled with the same irritating delight that always set your teeth on edge. 

“Satoru,” you replied, barely able to keep the venom from your voice. The sight of him is enough to make your skin crawl, your eyes narrowing in distaste. You absolutely can’t stand him.

“Don’t look so thrilled to see me,” he teased, leaning in closer than you liked. “You know, we’re supposed to be making this work. Or did you forget about the message I sent you last night?”

You glared at him, refusing to be baited. “Why are you here, Satoru? Shouldn’t you be off charming some other poor soul?”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You do admit you’re a poor soul,” he said in amusement. “But funny you mention that — I was trying to reach you, but it seems someone decided to block my number.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze head-on, “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

Before Satoru could reply, a low, dangerous voice sliced through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Sukuna’s presence is always an overwhelming one — dark, powerful, and very impossible to ignore. He stepped into view, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked from you to Satoru. His sudden appearance even made Satoru’s jaw clench in thinly veiled annoyance.

“Sukuna,” Satoru greeted, his tone light, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Just having a little chat with my fiancee.” He emphasized the last word, as if laying claim to you in front of Sukuna. Oh, if only you know, Satoru, you thought.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you for a moment as you stared right back at him, and then his eyes shifted back to Gojo. “Doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it,” he remarked, his voice calm but carrying a subtle challenge.

You know the tension is too tense, and you were caught in the middle of it all. Before you could try to break the ice, Sukuna continued with his tone still calm but now laced with unmistakable authority, “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to have a word with the princess here.” 

His gaze bore into Satoru, making it clear that he wasn’t asking for permission. Satoru's smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down, his posture remaining relaxed, though his eyes betrayed the simmering annoyance beneath.

“Princess, huh?” Satoru’s lips curled into a mocking smile as he looked back at you. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your royal duties.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes before he finally stepped back.

“Don’t let me keep you, darling,” Satoru said, his voice deceptively sweet, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. He brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours as he left, the brief contact sending a jolt of irritation through your body.

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your entire body tense from the exchange. Sukuna remained silent beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes just yet.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and with a hint of amusement, “A civil wedding, really? How is that discreet enough?”

You finally looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for any sign of mockery. But what you saw was something else — curiosity, maybe, or perhaps a challenge. As he always has.

"It’s the easiest way to make it legal without drawing too much attention," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Besides, it’s quick, and we don’t need an audience."

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And here I thought you’d want something grander, with all the bells and whistles,” he teased, but there was an edge to his tone as if he was testing you.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re not doing this for real, Sukuna. It’s a ruse, remember? The less attention we draw, the better.”

He considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours, as if weighing your resolve. “So you think a quick signature and some paperwork will fool everyone?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with skepticism.

“It’s not about fooling everyone,” you countered, your voice firm. “It’s about keeping things under control until we figure out the next step. This marriage is just the beginning, not the endgame.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re serious about this,” he observed, sounding almost impressed. “I didn’t expect you to be so... committed.” 

You held your ground, refusing to back down despite the proximity. “I’m not naive, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he finally relented. “Alright, princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you might want to ease up on the seriousness. You’re making this sound more like a business transaction than a scheme.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate, just slightly. “That’s because it is a business transaction, Sukuna. And I’m pretty sure you’re not one to shy away from deals.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and dark, and it sent a strange thrill through you. “True enough,” he conceded, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “But don’t you think it’s time to relax? We’ve done enough plotting for one night.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a few ideas,” he said, leaning in slightly. “How about we start with a drink? You look like you could use one.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, realizing he was right. You could definitely use a drink. “Fine,” you agreed, uncrossing your arms. “But just one.”

Sukuna’s grin was almost predatory as he led you to a secluded corner where a small bar was set up. The bartender looked up as you approached, and Sukuna ordered two drinks without even asking you what you wanted. He seemed to know exactly what you needed—something strong, something that would take the edge off the evening’s events.

When the drinks arrived, Sukuna handed you a glass, and you took it, eyeing the amber liquid inside. You took a cautious sip, the warmth spreading through you almost instantly. It was stronger than you expected, but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

“To our little charade,” Sukuna said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you clinked your glass against his. “To whatever the fuck will happen,” you replied, before taking another sip.

The alcohol burned pleasantly as it went down, and you could feel yourself beginning to relax. The tension that had been coiled tight within you all evening was starting to unravel, and you found yourself leaning back against the bar, feeling a little more at ease.

Sukuna watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as you drank. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“A little,” you admitted, swirling the liquid in your glass. “But don’t get any ideas. This doesn’t change anything.”

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Of course not, princess. But it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the moment, does it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his tone playful. “It’s a wonder we haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Give it time,” you muttered, though the edge in your voice had softened.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you said, finishing off your drink and setting the glass down on the bar. “But let’s see if you can keep up first.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he signaled the bartender for another round. “Oh, I intend to.”

The drinks kept coming, and before you knew it, you were both laughing more easily, the sharp edges of your words softened by the alcohol. The tension that had weighed so heavily on you earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a surprising sense of camaraderie.

“Tell me,” Sukuna said after a while, leaning closer, his voice conspiratorial. “What was the real reason you chose me for this scheme of yours? Was it because I’m the only one who can handle you?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. You were just the least annoying option.”

“Least annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’m hurt, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You know exactly why I chose you—you’re ruthless and cunning, and you don’t get sentimental.”

Sukuna’s gaze intensified, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “And you think that makes me the perfect partner for this little game of yours?”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “It makes you dangerous,” you said quietly. “And that’s exactly what I need. I kind of trust you, too.” It’s the alcohol speaking, is it?

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by something heavier, more charged. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a challenge hanging in the balance.

Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, Sukuna leaned back, the moment of intensity passing. “Well then, princess,” he said, his tone lightening once more. “Let’s see how dangerous we can really be.”

The night wore on, and the drinks continued to flow, loosening your tongues and blurring the lines between ally and adversary. You found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, the weight of the world temporarily lifted by the alcohol and Sukuna’s surprising wit.

By the time you realized just how much you’d had to drink, it was too late. The room was spinning slightly, and your movements were less coordinated than they should have been. 

But somehow, it didn’t matter. The knot of anxiety that had been twisting in your stomach all night had finally loosened, replaced by a warm, hazy contentment.

Oh well, might as well enjoy the rest of the night, right?

as a fan of mile high club aus? I’M SO GLAD TO FOUND ONE WITH SUKUNA 😭 DHHSHSHJWS I’M LIVING FOR THIS!!!!

sukuna x reader 😜🔞

"Thanks for dropping us off, dad" you smiled, hugging your father goodbye once he helped you and your friend with the luggage. "call me when you land" you nodded your head reassuringly at his request and waved as he drove off.

"I still can't believe we actually managed to snatch the concert tickets last minute" your friend commented as you moved towards the check in section of the airport. "I'm so excited i can't wait for us to land already" you spoke in excitement, tugging on your suitace with haste.

the check in queue looked terrifyingly long "we'll have to wait a bit" you pointed with a frown and pulled out your phone, to check the time - thankfully the flight was in two hours which eliminated the possibility of missing it.

Your notifications proved to be a good distraction so they had you scrolling mindlessly while snailing forward - your friend following closely behind. In this distracted state you paid little mind to how close the person ahead was standing which had you stumbling as you bumped into what was surely their back, but felt definitely like a wall.

"oh, pardon" your apology came out swiftly, eyes darting up to evaluate the surroundings, Your face proved to be desperately unprepared for the amount of blood that rushed to your cheeks when the man before you turned around.

A mountain of muscles, dressed in a casual white t-shirt which did absolutely nothing to cover the bulging abs beneath it - if anything the material clung to the rippling pecks so slickly, it accentuated every little curve. It was positively mouth watering and you haven't even looked at the guy's face yet.

The immeasurable flood of inappropriate thoughts deafened you to the point of having the stranger's reply fly right over your head. What stuck with you however, was his dangerous smirk, followed by a taunting wink that had your knees buckle.

It's been a while since someone has managed to scramble your mind to the point of losing the ability to form any coherent thought, yet this guy snatched the perception of reality right under your nose. All you could do was marvel at the scent of his cologne while your walls crumbled at his feet.

"dude" the warm touch of your friend's palm resting over your shoulder shook some sense of reality back in you. "you good?" she asked, choking on a long held laughter. All that the stranger was offering now was his sculpted back, considering he had turned away long after your encounter, letting you stare and daydream in complete obliviousness.

Covering your embarrassment felt like an impossible task and even if you wanted to indulge in finding a solution, it'd have proven quite difficult with having his godly body in such close proximity. Looking else where had your heart swarming with anticipation of the moment your eyes would land once more over his back.

"it seems like we'd be on the same flight, so maybe he'd be close enough for you to keep staring" your friend mocked with a whisper, to which you slapped her on the shoulder, of course. "just don't let your drool get over me, ok?" you groaned in embarrassment and told her to shut it, after realising her words might have been overheard, which was quite true as the handsome stranger let out a soft chuckle.

The only saving grace in this moment was that he kept still and didn't turn around to face you. You'd have unquestionably passed out if he did turn around, or worse - that moan tickling the back of your throat would have escaped and well, that would definitely have been the death of you.

After what felt like an eternity, your turn to check in finally came. although the thought of finally stretching your feet in the depths of the overpriced duty shop felt relieving, you also couldn't help but gulp sadly as the tall stranger disappeared into the bustling crowd or passengers headed towards the security check zone.

You waited patiently for the confirmation of the tickets - but an unsettling feeling nestled in your gut as the customer service agent scrunched her nose and turned to you both "It appears there is a double reservation for 34B" she spoke, looking back at her screen "well that's my seat, so what does this mean?" your friend asked puzzled, the agent offered her a different seat and as there was no other options besides changing the flights, you agreed.

"could we switch my seat too? We'd like to be together." you asked, the disappointment painted on your face was obvious once the agent explained this would not be possible as all other seats were also booked. "if you find a passenger willing to trade seats with you, we could make the switch"

Although you appreciated her understanding, you politely declined the offer and moved towards the security check zone with your tickets in hand.

The rest of your time in the airport passed quietly and soon you found yourself entering the plane with a small chocolate in hand - courtesy of the kind flight attendant welcoming you aboard. Your friend took her seat at the front of the plane while your place remained as 34A, some eight or nine rows after hers.

You moved along with the rest of the passengers until finally you spotted the seat - you nestled in, sneaking out the headphones from your back pocket. Considering the agent at the register desk confirmed all seats were booked your expectations were aligned with reality, therefore you did not expect for that quiet alone time to continue much more. Never the less you were alright with it because the concert will be worth it.

A couple of moments after, while you were choosing from the list of songs on your Spotify, the seat next to you shifted and of course in order to comply with the social norms you turned your head in the passenger's direction to greet them with a casual "hello". Unfortunately, your lips froze right after the first syllable when you found the person lounging next to you was no other but the handsome sttanger from before.

It was bewildering how prominently you felt the way your eyes widened. "and here I was thinking you'd be happy to see me again" the stranger spoke familiarly - the effortless sultriness in his voice tugging on your heart strings, arousing your nerves.

"i'm afraid I don't know what you mean" you retorted, clinging to any strands of self control you could grasp. "of course you don't" he smiled, a set of white canines sparkling dangerously. being in the presence of someone oozing such potent masculinity was intoxicating and even though you didn't want to succumb to it, your body acted on instinct.

with jaw clenched you let yourself lean back into the seat - looking through the small window, you hoped that anything out there will prove more interesting than the fascinating daydream next to you.

Your ears buzzed unpleasantly as you ascended to the sky, gliding over the clouds took your mind off the constant pressure building inside you, but only until the voice of the flight attended ruptured the silence. "do you need anything?" she asked politely, you were ready to decline as you were settled quite alright, but the sttanger next to you had a different idea.

"a bottle of water and a blanket please" his husky voice chilled you to the bone, and as you shifted uncomfortably in your small seat, you couldn't help but notice the creeping blush over the attendant's cheeks. The mood swing that shook you with annoyance felt like turbolence inside your heart and instantly your eyes rolled.

"how did you even get that seat?" you asked him with a scoff, but your surge of confidence subdued once his dark orbs captured you. "I told the nice lady at the register you're my girlfriend" although he replied nonchalantly, the trace of pride remained in his smile.

"and she believed you? just like that?" you were obviously baffled which he found amusing. "I've my way with the ladies" the stranger laughed, the sound piercing you deeply. "oh fuck off" you blurted, annoyed at the heat clinging to your own face.

The flight attendant returned promptly with your commodities and freshly applied lipstick, which you found less than amusing. You were quickly drawn back to the man in the seat beside when he laid the blanket over, coving you both.

"I'm not cold, thank you" you murmured, proceeding to unwrap yourself from the fleece material, but your breath hitched just as your fingers bunched up the plush corner. Your wide eyes pierced him incomprehensibly while his digits caressed lines across your thigh.

"what are you doing?" you whispered, sliding your hand under the blanket in a desperate attempt to move him away, but he was not budging - god why did his strength excite you?. "tending to my girlfriend" the stranger pointed obviously. "this is inappropriate" you told him firmly, but your heart was weeping because of the tension.

"and the way you stared at me earlier was appropriate?" he chellanged, the tips of his fingers burning the inside of your thigh even though the thick denim of your jeans.

"that was different" you reasoned, lips pressing in a firm line as he squeezed the subtle flesh. a dark corner of your soul hopelessly begged that in the morning you'd be able to gaze upon the fresh bruises in the form of his hand. the thrill ran deep within you - it was primal and wrong and it stung with intoxicating intensity. "different how?" the stranger teased, and as his grip on your flesh tightened your throat constructed as well, making you look away and bite the tip of your black painted fingernail.

It was more than you could withstand, he was wildly attractive and your resolve was faltering because of it. "I didn't do anything then" you brought yourself to answer, covering the undeniable shaking of your voice with a pretend cough. "you didn't, hm?" he taunted, nails dragging across your jeans.

"your minx eyes full of sex, you think I'm immune to that?" crossing eyes with him was a mistake, because just like a hunter would do with his prey, he saw right through your fear and by the sparkle in his darkened orbs you could tell, he found it most exhilarating.

"relax" he continued, his free hand moving towards your face, lightly caressing your ragingly blushing cheek. He leaned towards you, moving the strand of hair covering your ear. Closing in the distance felt so breathtakingly intoxicating, you feared you might black out, but it couldn't compare to the way your brain short circuited when his hot breath landed on your ear as he whispered "besides, you're so fucking wet I'm surprised you didn't find me earlier so we can fuck in the bathroom".

Your heart jumped, electrifying you back to life when the pad of his middle finger circled over your clothed heat. "you're practically leaking through those jeans, are you really that turned on?" a pathetic whimper escaped past your lips at the delirious pressure building when he pressed your button harder. Beads of sweat pearled on the back of your neck and with every second passing the space around you narrowed until the only thing you can see, feel and even smell was him.

His own scent mixed with the woody cologne he was wearing were doing a number on you on top of everything else that was happening. with heavy chest heaving your head turned to face him, while your legs rolled over and over in an involuntary attempt to get more of his touch.

Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips and you mourned how neglected they felt when his own lips were so close. you could kiss him, if only you were to lean in a bit more into his touch - you'd let him devour you, dominate you, hell even take you on that very seat for everyone to see if that's what he'd desire...

But some small of your already deranged brain was fighting this. it was so deeply inappropriate, you actually were lost in your own thoughts - torn by the desire to maintain even a small portion of your decency all while seriously doubting that you care about decency at all, considering you're letting a complete stranger get you off.

Stranger who you'd let to use you any way he pleases, so long you get to feel his bulging muscles flex on top of you, so long you get to scar his back by digging your nails deep enough to draw blood, so long you get to feel his breath all over you while he's pumping you full of his cum.

The conquest of his fingers over your dripping heat didn't cease the slightest. He adored the way your wet eyes drunk at the sight of any flesh he could offer - his neck, his biceps threatening to tear open the soft fabric of his tshirt, his devil dare smirk.

"don't get too loud now" the stranger scolded when you absentmindedly teased him with a barely audible moan. He let you squeeze your thighs around his hand as strong as you needed, feeling your core pulse with every grind of your hips. "I thought I'd have to reach inside your panties to make you cum, but it looks like you're doing just fine" he taunted with a small laugh full of secret adoration.

you looked at each other like two animals in heat and the air around you felt so heavy and thick, you could only hope the rest of the passengers are already fast asleep, because there's no stopping you from erupting in your jeans now - you're too far gone and he's too damn hot, there's just no going back.

"you're so fucking hot" he panted himself, fingers circling intensely, pushing and probing so the friction doesn't stop. "don't you dare stop grinding on my fingers" your brain was completely switched off to reality, any functionality besides the one to blindly obey him, long forgotten - and even though his demand was the obvious thing you'd do because you really, really wanted to cum, the little devil creeping inside urged you not to stop in order to please him.

you wanted to be good for him, your core clenched around nothing, spongy walls spasming at the mere thought of following his orders. You reached beneath the blanket, grabbing at his wrist, nails digging almost painfully, just like you'd do to his back were you offered the chance. "fuck" you whispered under your breath, eyes shutting tight as the pleasure he was giving you was about to reach it's peak.

"god, please" you murmured incoherently, back arching, glossy orbs focused on him through a layer of thick lashes "please fuck me after this" you begged silently, your hips shaking uncontrollably. A sharp gasp for air cut through the layer of silence, yet it did little to fill in your lungs - the only thing you wanted to fill you was his thick cock ruining you as you cum around his shaft.

your hands flew on top of the blanket, squeezing at your thighs harshly as the peak of your orgasm hit you, quenching your panties with an ungodly amount of slickness. the metallic taste of blood coated the tip of your tongue when you bit hard your bottom lip in a meek attempt to surpress the moans of heavenly pleasure.

your uneven breathing hitched when he pulled you close by the neck, sinking his teeth in the soft flesh of your earlobe, lapping rather loudly at any skin besides it. His igniting touch overstimulated you dangerously and you could no longer distinguish right from wrong. your lips found his swiftly and you kissed him, letting your hand run over his chest, humming at the sense of his hard muscles magnerizing your fingertips.

his tongue delved into the depths of your mouth and you sucked on it like a lollipop, greeding for more. the vibrations of his growl only urged you to continue, but with a firm grip to the side of your neck, he steadied you until your eyes locked. "shit" he chuckled, flashing you those pearly canines again. "that was hot"

Still under the influence of your intense release, all you could do was blink with heavy eyelashes while your breath was taking it's time to normalise. Your plump lips opened slightly at the surprise of the visible dark patch over the blanket. "what did you expect?" the stranger laughed deviously.

"to be completely honest" he continued, moving away the blanket and reaching in the pocket of the seat to get that bottle of water. "I expected I'd have the time to go to the bathroom once you're done, but you really got me going, I couldn't stop myself from jerking off."

You were still gathering the ability to form coherent sentences, but with a stuttering voice you managed to satiate your curiosity by whispering "you jerked off?"

His index finger looped beneath your chin as he winked "don't worry baby, I've come prepared" and with that he tilted the neck of the plastic bottle just enough to spill some of it over his crotch and chest. "ah baby! I told you to let me open it!" he shouted, flicking his wrists to get the excess off.

You stood there speechless as the scene before you unfolded - the flight attendant swiftly rushing over with some napkins and replacing the old bottle of water with a new one for free - courtesy of the airlines and whatnot (stupid cunt).

"you've given this some thought" you commented, not daring to show just how impressed you were. he winked at you after drying himself up a bit with the napkins. "now that you're impressed, you gonna tell me your name?"

your brows raised as you gave it some thought "are you not gonna give me yours first?" a taunt he most definitely enjoyed on your part, and one he'd make you pay for in a very delicious yet morally challenging way. "don't worry about it - I plan on having you scream it later in the bathroom."

obsessed with this au 😭 i can’t stop thinking of lieutenant sukuna hshshshaha help

Heaven Knows

synopsis. Lieutenant Ryomen has a problem; he was assigned a personal medic, a really pretty one, at that. And, since you were his medic, that also meant you were his in every other aspect, right?

cw. military au, fem reader, enemies to lovers, not so secret pining, jealousy (from Sukuna's end), eventual smut, hanky panky on a desk, answering the phone during s-x, guns, creampie

an. dont fact check anything, this is just fanFICTION 🤗

Available on Ao3

“You should really try to be less reckless, sir.” This was probably the fourth time this evening you let out a huge sigh — and for good reason — while disinfecting the wound. The lieutenant had made more trips to the infirmary this week than you could count on one hand. It was completely unlike him.

“I couldn’t help it,” Sukuna said, in that smooth voice of his. “I was thinking about something much more important than training.”

“So important that you had to get a bullet lodged in your arm, Lieutenant?” you quipped, mentally rolling your eyes.

The pink-haired man gave a bark-laugh, before he replied, “Of course.”

“I didn’t even know they allowed weapons in the training room, much less, guns.”

“Like you would know anything about stuff like that, Doc,” Sukuna scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, adding, “Lieutenant, you do realize your life is in my hands, right now? I wouldn’t say such insensitive remarks if I were you.”

“In that case, I would truly be a happy man dying by the hands of a darling like you.”

When you first received a position at base, you were filled in about all the sergeants, lieutenants, captains, colonels, etcetera, by your fellow colleagues. And while you did have some trouble remembering their ranks — unless you frequently conversed with them, you managed to learn their names, their faces, and their attributes — personality and looks wise — within a week.

Satoru Gojo was a lively, energetic man. You often wondered how someone in his line of work managed to have a smile on their face almost every second of the day. On the other hand, he was rather infamous for fraternizing every opportunity he had, whether it be while being stitched up or even while exchanging flirtatious comments towards enemies on the field. Consequently, he was known more by the title of “Womanizer” rather than by his callsign, “Six Eyes”, which was given to him after he wore two pairs of glasses at once — for reasons beyond you.

Suguru Geto was a much more refined man than the one mentioned before. You often joked between coworkers that he was born to balance out the white-haired man child. It was undeniable that Geto was an exceptionally handsome guy, and you sometimes even caught yourself staring at his sharp jawline. Fortunately, he was both brawns and brains, but he did have quite a foul mouth when it came to insulting the opposing sides while on a mission.

Toji Fushiguro could be described many ways, but calling him muscular was definitely an understatement. You couldn’t find out much details about him, seeing as he didn’t open up much, but you knew he was a happily married man with an absolutely adorable son, whom he took pride in showing pictures of him on his phone in the mess hall.

And lastly, the lieutenant, Sukuna Ryomen. Your first meeting with him was purely impromptu.

After being placed at base, you had taken a habit of using the more personal kitchen whenever the mess hall was closed and you needed a cup of coffee after dealing with so many patients. Luck was on your side that night when you hastily turned to return to your office and were face to face with a man whose mere presence exhibited a feeling of immense fear. Instinctively, you chucked your oh-so dear mug of coffee at the man. When you recognized his rank soon after, and consequently, your subordination, you apologized profusely. And to your surprise, he only let out a laugh, saying, “You’re an interesting breed,” before continuing on his way, leaving you dumbfounded and alone.

Some time after, for reasons unbeknownst to you, you were assigned as someone’s personal medic, which, even to you, was a new term. You didn’t know personal medics existed, and you had no clue what purpose they served being personal. Thus, you were a little curious. When you entered the captain’s office, to meet that someone, you almost shit yourself once you recognized those formidable tattoos and distinctive pink hair. At that moment, you had never had the role of patching up Lieutenant Ryomen, you mainly found yourself taking care of lower ranks, but now you were his personal medic? Unheard of.

You quickly learned what it meant to be a behemoth of a man’s personal medic. You were to be the only person who would be stitching up, patching up, and in general, taking care of Sukuna Ryomen. However, that didn’t mean you were only limited to one patient in the infirmary; that would just be a waste of your talents. You cared for whatever patient you were assigned to, but if you were called on to Sukuna’s aid, you would have to put down whatever tool was in your hand and assist the lieutenant instead.

After being in this arrangement for some time, you decided you wouldn’t mind being a personal medic had you not been assigned to serve Sukuna of all people. To put it bluntly, assisting the lieutenant was like trying to reprimand a child.

Sukuna moved way too fucking much for your liking, and not because he was scared of needles or anything of the like, he just moved and twitched and squirmed because he wanted to get a reaction out of you, rile you up, in other words. Everything was just a game to him. And if you even tried to tell him, “If you keep moving, I will gouge your eyes out with this scalpel, accidentally or not,” he would merely shrug, replying, “And I would report you for insubordination, accidentally or not.”

Whoever assigned you as Lieutenant Ryomen’s personal medic would soon eat their shit, because once you got your hands on them, you swore you would go berserk.

As a child, you learned in school and outside school that people who served in the military were people who were deserving of all things respect and honor. And while most people you came across did live up to their name and role, Ryomen Sukuna was certainly not included in that group.

You were a firm believer in respect being earned, and no matter how many feats that man has accomplished to protect his country, his personality, demeanor, and condescending tone would always override all those achievements.

Oftentimes, you find yourself wondering what godforsaken deed you might’ve done in a past life that earned yourself the role of Sukuna’s personal medic. He had no respect whatsoever towards anyone. And, even when speaking with higher-ups, his true self neither faltered nor subsided. His skill was probably the only thing that kept him from losing his rank, you thought.

Most encounters with the lieutenant ended with you either wanting to rip your hair out or wanting to jump off a clif. He barked orders at you left and right, saying this and that. Sukuna never went a day without aiming at least one backhanded comment towards you. 

It was irritating the way Sukuna found fun in keeping you from caring for other patients. He liked the fact that as long as he was in the infirmary, you wouldn’t be taking care of any other men besides him.

He was, needless to say, an insufferable man, and it was such a shame that he had taken a liking to you. When his mouth wasn’t so foul, he was no better than Gojo. Spewing suggestive, flirtatious comments every second he was near you. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was two different people. One second he could be criticizing you on how you performed your job, the next he could be speaking as if you two were in a relationship totally and highly inappropriate considering the actual circumstances.

If you pushed aside his vile, degrading comments, you could almost see yourself falling for his sultry personality. Because, after all, you couldn’t deny the attractiveness of Lieutenant Ryomen — especially when paired with his handsy habits.

Coming across Sukuna in tight spaces, halls, and corridors, always meant he would place a hand on the small of your back as he walked past you. Standing beside him during a briefing usually ended up with his hand casually slung around your shoulders, as if you two were friends or something of the like. You often found yourself with cases of phantom touch whenever Sukuna was away on missions for long periods of time; it irked you endlessly.

***

“Am I going to have to sedate you, sir, in order for you to stop wriggling around like a worm?”

“Dunno, would you like to try?”

Sukuna closed his eyes as you pressed a dampened towel to his wound, applying enough pressure to rid the gash of debris and rubble. This week, the lieutenant had just returned from another successful mission, and was in dire need of some patching up.

“Mm, can’t say it’s not a common fantasy of mine.”

His lips tugged into a sly grin, “How courteous.”

You took a step back and admired your handiwork; once satisfied with the completion of the disinfecting stage, you said, “I’m going to need you to sit up now, so I can start on the stitches.”

This part was usually easy for you, and you often looked forward to it since most patients were silent whilst you stitched them up, save for occasional grunts and groans here and there. But those were to be expected when a needle is piercing your skin.

The lieutenant wordlessly did as he was told, and you soon found yourself standing between his legs as you began to get to work.

For the most part, Sukuna was capable of maintaining his composure during this procedure, but, more often than not, he found himself with a preference for having his hands on your hips, occasionally giving squeezes whenever he felt it necessary. The conversation, in most cases, went like this,

“I highly doubt this is professional, sir,” you commented, but you didn’t remove his hands, because A) you would have to change your gloves, and B) if this was what would keep him from squirming, so be it.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper in your ear, his warm breath fanning your ear, “Maybe, but it doesn’t seem like I’m hearing any complaints.” 

You hesitated, deciding carefully what your next words would be, and in the end, you only breathed out a sigh.

-

Having but a few minutes left of your break, and seeing as your mug was empty, you had no choice but to make your way to the mess hall. You didn’t come around there often; most of the time the place was packed with sweaty, grimy, boisterous men, who had no idea what personal space was. The coffee machine in the kitchen of the infirmary was broken, and even with more than enough men on base, no one knew how to fix it. So, grumbling, you had ventured out of your office.

“Hey, Doc—” An arm was suddenly wrapped around your shoulder as an unfamiliar voice filled your ears. 

“Don’t talk to me,” you cut the kid off before he could say more.

Coffee. Coffee was the only reason you were here, not to chit chat. God, could this machine get any slower?

“Well damn, y’know I just love me a woman who plays hard to get.”

You turned to face the man with a deadpan look on your face, “Well damn, y’know I just love wasting precious time on my break talking to pricks like you.” Fuck, does no one know how to take a hint these days? This had to have been a recruit, because seriously, these cannot be the same people who are protecting this country.

A couple of snickers could be heard from people in line for coffee behind you, and your pursuer couldn’t help but finally leave you be, though, begrudgingly. However, those weren’t the only spectators. Near the back of the hall sat Lieutenant Ryomen and Toji Fushiguro, who were murmuring amongst themselves as they watched the scene unfold.

“I see the way you look at her,” the black-haired man began; an amused smile on his face as he moved around the food on his plate.

“You must be either blind or delusional, then.”

“No need to deny it, Lieutenant; it’s already obvious enough what you think of her. I mean, what kind of man goes as far as shooting himself on purpose just so he can go see his lady friend in the infirmary?”

The distant memory from last week — which was supposed to remain secret — caught Sukuna’s attention, and he glowered at his friend across the table. “I will roast your head on a spit and feed it to your family if you tell her I did that.”

“That’s harsh; you would traumatize poor Megumi.”

You had no idea what was going on. One second you were finally about to walk out of the mess hall with your cup of coffee, then someone’s hands were groping you whilst you were still in line, and the next . . . well, punches were being thrown. It all happened so fast; you weren’t even able to identify who was fighting who until people started breaking up the two men.

Yells filled the mess hall as it became clear who was involved.

“. . .Lieutenant Ryomen?” You almost dropped your oh-so dear cup of coffee in surprise.

“He’s crazy!” cried the man who groped you, as he was held back by a few of his colleagues. It was evident in his voice that he was more than shaken up by the event, and you almost felt bad had you forgotten what started this whole ordeal in the first place.

Sukuna wiped blood from his nose, clearly indifferent to his new injury, “At least I don’t go around harassing women. Did your mother ever teach you manners?”

When Sukuna suddenly turned to face you, it was impossible for you to read his expression. All eyes in the mess hall turned to you, awaiting what the lieutenant would next say.

“As for you, have you suddenly forgotten your job? Infirmary, now,” Sukuna said, in a commanding voice that had you scampering off as the man followed.

“Did I rip my stitches?” asked Sukuna, expectedly.

You heaved out a sigh as you cleaned up Sukuna’s bloody nose, “Mhm.”

“Ah, I thought so.”

“. . .You shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It wasn’t even that big of a deal; I would’ve handled it perfectly fine on my own, y’know.”

“I have no doubts you would, but he put his hands on you, sweetheart. Now that’s a big deal if I’ve ever seen one.” Sukuna’s eyes followed your every move as you patched him back up.

You couldn’t help but stop in the middle of your work to let out a laugh, “So you mean to tell me you’ve never been taught as a kid to share your toys?”

“Not when it comes down to my favorite toy, no.”

“I was joking, Ryomen.”

“Well I’m not.”

“. . .So what’s going to happen to that guy?”

“Dunno, not my decision. But if it was, it would definitely involve a few tears being shed,” Sukuna shrugged.

Sometimes conversations between you and the lieutenant went this way. The both of you speaking to each other as if you two were friends, or close colleagues. And, sometimes you did feel like your relationship was just that. But nonetheless, you couldn’t say you hated the more common tension you two shared.

There was just a spark that occurred whenever you two butted heads. Sukuna was a man who enjoyed riling you up solely to gain a reaction out of you, and you were someone who was angered easily by infuriatingly annoying men. In other words, you two made it work. The captain clearly knew what he was doing when he assigned you as Sukuna’s personal medic.

***

However may it be, your opinion of the lieutenant never changed much. No matter how smooth of a talker he was, he would — eventually — find more ways than you could think to make you want nothing more than his head on a spike. Today — also known as the following after Sukuna’s “incident”, was no different.

The pink-haired man was in the middle of doing nothing when you suddenly stormed into his office, with a crazed look on your face. At that moment, Sukuna decided he had never seen something sexier.

“What the hell did you tell them?” you asked, slamming a hand on his desk as you leaned down to his level.

Sukuna stood up from his chair and rose to the full extent of his height, a sly grin on his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Lieutenant.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Don’t swear in my office.”

“How come all of my patients won’t look me in the eye anymore without breaking a sweat? They’re afraid to even breathe in my presence, sir.” You walked around Sukuna’s desk while you spoke, until you reached where he stood.

“Good.” His reply came curtly; simple enough to get another glare from you and obvious enough to confirm your suspicions that he was involved in this, some way or another.

“God! You’re insufferable.”

“You know you love it.”

“Fuck off. I hate your ass, you cocky bastard.”

Sukuna gripped your chin in his hand, bringing your face to his, “Mhmm, you make such a pretty liar.”

All complaints you had were soon swallowed up as Sukuna roughly smashed his lips against yours in a breathtaking kiss.

If you said you weren’t expecting this to happen sooner or later, you would be plain stupid. You two had been dancing around for weeks ever since you arrived at base; tensions could only reach so high before something could happen.

You let yourself melt in his hold as you shut your eyes, submitting under the overwhelming feeling of bliss.

Parting your lips in a gasp as Sukuna slipped his hands under your shirt, it didn’t take long before your bra came undone.

“Mm, fuck. D’you do that often, Lieutenant? You’re awfully quick at it,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sukuna bit your bottom lip, and you felt him smile against you.

Steadying yourself, you placed your hands on his shoulders as you two continued fervently kissing and nipping at each other’s lips. It was well into the evening by now, and you had no reason to worry about more patients, but still, you had a sense that,

“We should—ngh—stop.”

“I know,” came Sukuna’s reply, but neither of you moved nor pulled away.

“This isn’t right.”

“I know.” 

Sukuna licked your bottom lip, and let his tongue explore your mouth once you parted your lips.

“We—hah—shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.”

“We have to stop.”

“Fuck no.”

You sucked in a breath as you felt Sukuna’s hand wandering down towards your ass, gripping the fat there hard enough to elicit a whimper out of you. His other hand slipped into your pants, pushing aside your panties and slipping two fingers inside.

“Shit, so big. . .” Your voice drawled as you tightened your grip on his shoulders.

Sukuna murmured sweet nothings in your ear as he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside of you as he felt you tighten around him, a knot building up in your stomach.

Your shirt was soon pulled up and over your head, discarded somewhere in the office. Sukuna cupped your breasts as he brought his lips to your tits, sucking.

By now, it was safe to say you were a moaning mess. Sukuna gave equal attention to your clit as he did to each of your nipples. Sometimes grazing his teeth, sometimes giving a teasing nibble. The feeling of his mouth on your tits combined with his fingers inside of you had you biting down your moans as you came on Sukuna’s hand.

“Fuckk, what a pretty sight,” Sukuna gave an evil grin as he stared at the mess between your thighs. Making sure your eyes were on him, he brought his fingers to his mouth as he sucked at your leftover cum on his fingers, “And you taste so sweet, too.”

You whined, done with his antics, “Don’t be a tease.”

“Right, right,” Sukuna’s tone was full of mockery, “m’sorry, baby.” 

He turned you around and bent you over his desk, placing kisses down your exposed neck and back. “You really gonna let me do this? I thought you hated my ass,” he snickered.

“Shut up, Ryomen,” you gritted your teeth, before shuddering at the feeling of his hard-on against your thigh. “You better fuck me like you mean it.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I would never plan on giving you less than just that,” were Sukuna’s exact words as his cock slid into you.

Maybe provocation wasn’t your best choice in a situation like this, but it was the smartest, fastest way for you to get what you wanted most.

“Ahh,” moans escaped you left and right, and Sukuna hadn’t even moved yet. Probably just the feeling alone of him inside of you could make you see stars, and you feared — with how big he was — that his dick would be the very last cock you would ever live to take.

“Where’s the snappy mouth from earlier, huh? Don’t tell me you can’t take what I’m about to give you.” Sukuna’s face held a sinister grin as he leaned over you, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he spoke, before he slid out just to violently slam back into you. The contact knocked the wind out of your lungs, and you could hardly suppress your scream. 

You winced as the desk rocked under the both of your weights combined, and your mind quickly went to the idea of someone investigating the ruckus that was occurring so late into the evening.

“Fuck, baby. Do you know—hah—how long I’ve wanted to do this? Ever since I saw your pretty little ass prancing around base? God, I swore right then and there, when you threw your coffee at me, I had never seen anything hotter.”

“S’kunaa, ngh!” You arched your back, your tits rubbing against the rough wooden surface.

“I bet you knew how bad I wanted you. And fuck me since I wasn’t the only one,” Sukuna groaned into your neck as his hips snapped against yours. “Do you know how many fuckers have been salivating at just the sight of you? Shit, and you were the one gettin’ all hot headed at me for taking you away from your other patients all the time. Well, now you know why.”

“R—mmph—really?” Your voice was so meek, it made Sukuna almost want to go soft on you.

“I have never lied to you. Hah, I’m going to make this greedy little cunt remember my cock every time you even think of fucking with some other good-for-nothing recruit—”

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

You were brought out of your dazed state at the sudden sound of Sukuna’s phone ringing against the desk, nevertheless, Sukuna never stopped his movements as he continued fucking you.

Ring! Ring! 

Sukuna leaned down to mumble in your ear, “Don’t make a sound, unless you want everybody in this building to know how much of slut you are for some cock from your superior.”

You weren’t given even a moment’s notice before a gun was shoved in your mouth. Was this Sukuna’s idea of some sick joke? Or was he trying to use the weapon as a gag? Either way, you wrapped your lips around the cold steel, and whimpered as Sukuna moved his hand to rub your clit. He was not going to make this easy for you.

“Who is this?” Sukuna asked after picking up, his voice visibly irritated after being interrupted.

You knew the safety was on — the lieutenant wasn’t that insane — but still, there was a rush of adrenaline that coursed through you at the thrill of taking such a risk. You wouldn’t even think of agreeing to this another time unless it was Sukuna who was offering. 

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he continued slamming in and out of you at a merciless speed. You whined at the roughness, and your nails scratched and clawed at the desk for any source of leverage. All the while, no noise escaped you.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, your cheeks smudged with running mascara as you choked back a sob. Sukuna knew how to mix pain and pleasure just right, and your eyes continuously rolled back inside your head as he hit every spot inside of you.

“So the files can be taken care of tomorrow? Great. Good night.”

The phone call ended within three minutes, and Sukuna immediately removed the gun from your mouth, throwing it on his desk.

One particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars as you suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore, coming on his cock whilst babbling nonsense. “Nngh, Sukuna, fuck.” Muttering curses under his breath, Sukuna slammed into you one last time, his seed filling you up seconds later.

You laid limp on top of the desk, catching your breath as the mess down between your legs dried. Sukuna trailed a finger down your spine, enjoying the way you shuddered and shivered at his touch. A smile tugged at the corners of the lieutenant’s mouth. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let you leave his office any time soon.

***

“Is this a bra in your office, Ryomen?” asked Toji, as he warily eyed the black lace lying on the carpet floor.

“Fuck.” Sukuna pinched the space between his brows; he must have forgotten to pick up after himself yesterday.

YES I NEED THIS KIND OF ANGST UGH UGLY CRYING NOW

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence. 

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife. 

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for. 

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time. 

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else. 

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know.  But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

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EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated. 

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief.  “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

 “I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

 “Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless. 

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back—painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there. 

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

😵 me af

This is me. Kinda jealous of all the writers who can write quickly because I can't.