Writing Resources: Smut

DABI'S MASTERLIST

Note: it will be updated anytime I'll post something new.

FICTIONS

Cigarette: part 1. (sfw) - part 2. (nsfw)

Piercings and feelings. (request - sfw)

January 18th. (mini fiction - sfw)

Agony. (mini fiction - nsfw)

Painkiller. (mini fiction - nsfw)

DRABBLES

Sing for me. (sfw)

Septum piercing. (sfw)

Make-up. (nsfw)

Cherry perfume. (nsfw)

Period comfort. (sfw)

So pretty. (nsfw)

Hair pulling. (nsfw)

Precious. (nsfw)

Insane. (nsfw)

Love. (nsfw)

Mommy. (nsfw)

HEADCANONS

Dabi's Spotify playlist.

A quote that reminds me of him.

Soul connection.

Fog reminds me of him.

-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine

trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.

warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training

a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.

The rumors had spread like wildfire.

The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.

They thought they'd washed their hands clean.

They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.

But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.

Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.

Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.

And then you appeared.

"Hi,"

The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.

"What?" he rasped.

You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.

"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.

Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.

You looked truly pitiable.

But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.

He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.

He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.

"We're both dying,"

You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.

You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.

Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.

The boy hummed in return.

With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.

Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.

Sweet.

Fruit.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.

"Eat," you simply said.

He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."

Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.

"What are you—"

Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.

Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.

His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.

"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.

You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.

"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.

Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.

He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.

Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.

He grunted, "Sukuna."

You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.

And surprisingly, he did the same thing.

He repeated it.

This became your routine.

You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.

Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.

You hardly ate yourself.

No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.

"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"

"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."

"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"

Sukuna could say the same about them.

Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.

Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.

A little girl, with more bones than meat.

Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?

Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.

Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.

He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.

Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.

"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.

—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.

But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.

But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.

That must've been his nerves, he figured.

You were annoying him, he figured.

You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.

And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.

"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."

"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."

The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.

A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."

You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"

Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.

"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.

"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.

You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.

Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.

"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.

You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"

"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."

He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."

"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."

His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."

He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.

You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."

His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."

For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."

Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.

But for now, you weren't alone.

Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.

Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.

Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.

But you hadn't. Didn't.

And that caused him to grow over the years.

He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.

What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.

Definitely for no other reason, though.

Nope.

Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.

Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.

Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.

Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.

Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.

And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.

So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.

You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.

The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.

"The girl's still out there!"

"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"

"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"

Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.

"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"

He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."

And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.

From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.

You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.

Always bloodied.

It was never his blood.

His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.

You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.

He never flinched. Never winced.

You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.

This was your routine now.

You decided you didn't like it.

You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.

It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.

The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.

You knew what they were.

You didn't need to ask.

Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.

You knew that.

He knew you knew.

At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.

He was scared.

Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.

But you didn't.

You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.

You didn't support what he was doing.

But you would never stop him.

For the world had done the same to him.

Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.

Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…

You would never abandon him.

So you stayed.

Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.

Because that's what you'd always done.

And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.

No matter how bloody he was.

No matter how much darker he seemed.

He always came back.

To you.

After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.

He'd proven himself.

It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.

Sukuna found an estate on a whim.

It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.

He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.

Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.

He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.

"Brat," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.

The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.

Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.

But there were some who didn't fight.

Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.

Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."

And they did.

One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.

By the time he finished, the estate was his.

Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.

Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.

Because that's what you had always done.

There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.

Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.

But also… not not that.

It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.

The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.

From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.

When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.

He definitely didn't admire that.

But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.

"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.

You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."

"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.

It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.

Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)

There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.

You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...

But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.

You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?

It irritated him.

"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."

You didn't respond.

He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.

You looked sad.

Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.

"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.

You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.

Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.

So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.

Yes. Yes, that was the answer.

Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'

So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Literally.

"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.

You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.

"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"

Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.

"Stop being so damn stupid—!"

Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.

"..Oh."

He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.

Which pissed him off even more.

"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."

You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"

"What?"

Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."

He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."

But you didn't.

And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.

And that terrified him.

He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.

So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.

It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.

The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.

This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.

No.

This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.

A pair.

You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.

He didn't care.

He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.

You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.

But then he saw it.

The way your expression shifted.

You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.

Your frown deepened.

And that's when Sukuna realized.

This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.

He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.

"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"

You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."

He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."

You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"

But you weren't mad.

Just pouty.

And he found that absolutely hilarious.

Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.

So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.

And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.

"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."

Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."

Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."

You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."

He rolled his eyes.

"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."

He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."

"To me, you are."

"..."

Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.

But there was this constant urge to have more.

You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.

That's why you started training. A lot.

Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.

And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.

His praise.

Your guilty pleasure.

You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.

And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.

Take eating, for example.

Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.

Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.

Nope.

Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.

Sukuna was confused.

Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.

Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?

As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.

"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."

"Bullshit," he said flatly.

You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.

Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are."

You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.

"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.

"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.

"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."

A small grin tugged at your lips.

"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.

Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.

When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.

You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.

You were you.

A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.

If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.

One day, another letter arrived.

It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,

The Crow.

The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.

Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."

You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."

The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.

"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."

You knew it, and so did he.

But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.

"I'm going."

Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."

You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."

"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."

"Then come with me,"

He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.

"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."

"So I've heard."

The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.

The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.

What confused them most was him.

Why was he here? Only you were invited.

The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."

"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"

The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"

"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"

The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."

The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"

"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.

But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let me handle this," you said softly.

His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.

You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.

You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.

One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.

"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.

Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.

Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."

The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.

Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.

But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.

You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?

Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."

Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."

You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"

"I do not pout."

"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.

Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"

"That's irrelevant," he muttered.

You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"

Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.

He hated this.

Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.

He stayed silent, letting you work.

When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.

And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.

They were beautiful.

They promised you they smelled even better.

Who were you to decline?

But beauty has a cost.

The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.

The trouble began not long after.

At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.

Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.

Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.

And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.

Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.

He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.

Instead, he sent servants.

The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.

"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.

The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.

Useless.

A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.

One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.

By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.

Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."

The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?

Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.

"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."

The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.

And so, Sukuna waited.

What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?

Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.

Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.

You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.

And then it dawned on you.

They were aphrodisiacs.

You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.

One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?

Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?

Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?

You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.

The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.

What had you done to deserve this?

You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.

And that would mean the death of the villagers.

You didn't want that, either.

But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.

You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.

What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.

The one placed in the bed you shared with him.

You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.

And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?

You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.

You felt like you were in heat.

You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.

"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"

To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.

What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.

He wanted to touch you.

To demolish you himself.

"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"

"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.

He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.

And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.

His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.

He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,

"Tell me what you desire, my dove."

"You."

No hesitation.

Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.

"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."

His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.

"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"

He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.

"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."

That's when you felt it.

Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.

Exactly where his maw was located at.

He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.

Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.

His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.

And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.

You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.

It was eating you.

Literally.

You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.

He pinched them.

And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.

And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.

His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..

"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"

Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."

You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.

He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.

But you giggled, actually giggled at him.

"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"

"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."

"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"

"..."

He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.

You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.

And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.

Using your hands to cover what's his.

"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.

You obeyed.

And there he was.

There they were.

Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.

He was right. You would wither trying to take him.

"Excited already?"

Oh, yeah.

How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.

"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"So desperate, my dove. Tch."

Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.

Fuck.

It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.

And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.

You could cum on spot for what he said next;

"Good girl. F-fuck."

Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).

You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.

Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.

He was so perfect.

During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.

"G-get off— woman."

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.

With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.

You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.

"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.

Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..

His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.

"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"

You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.

"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."

Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.

"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.

"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"

He hummed, his tongue retreating.

"I suppose you can't, no."

"Huh?— Ah—!"

He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.

He was big.

He hurt.

But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.

The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.

"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"

Ever?

You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.

His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.

You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.

He'd summoned mouths over his hands.

Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.

"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"

"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.

"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"

You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.

Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.

Shit.

"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.

He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."

"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.

"'Kunaaaaaa-"

"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."

His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.

"..this time?.."

He tilted his head.

"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"

Oh but you did.

Whoops.

Blushing, you looked away.

"I- I don't want to be a concubine."

"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."

Silence.

Oh. Wait. That meant?..

"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"

"Yeah."

He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."

Silence.

"Sukuna?"

"Brat."

"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."

And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?

"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."

To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.

"...I'd like him to grow up loved."

"..."

...but Sukuna had loved you, hadn't he?

masterlist

Hanahaki comic Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Sometimes the one thing scarier than than being rejected is being loved back

Stay tuned for part 3

Villain Roommate |Chapter One|

(Fair warning before you start reading, I am not caught up with the manga so things might not be true to the canon story line. But this is a fanfiction, you didn't come here for canon did you?

Also, this will be a slow burn. Well, as slow as I can make it lol, don't expect to get it on with Dabi within the first few chapters. That being said, there will be smut. I'll put a warning on the chapter(s) that will involve it.

That's all, enjoy reading)

It had been a long day at work. All you wanted to do, was go home, get some food in your, watch a little of your favorite show/movie, then go right to bed. Your boss didn't go easy on you today, which only made you yearn for some alone time even more. What had you done to set him off? Nothing, no really, you did nothing except come in a few minutes late. He must have been pre-pissed off, cause there was no need for him to cause a scene like he did. You sigh and look at your phone, checking the time.

8:30 pm. Yep, time to go home. You gathered your things and made for the elevators. You stepped in and pushed the lower floor button, then leaned against the wall with a heavy exhale. You waited while soft yet annoying elevator music played all the way down to the bottom floor. The doors opened, letting you walk out.

You decided to go the quickest way home tonight, not that you'd ever go the long way. Especially at night. However tonight, you came across something that would prevent you from going the quick way. Construction signs, tape, and blocks were up on the street you'd always walk down. Nothing had happened yet, but it looks like the road might be worked on.

As it should, you couldn't count the times you nearly tripped because of the uneven cracked road. But you wouldn't mind it tonight, that's how badly you just wanted to go home. However, that would not be the case tonight. You almost thought about hopping over the tape and walking through anyway. But no, you were a good citizen, and tonight, you would take the long way home.

You were just about home, when you came across something that stopped you in your tracks. In the alleyway just next to you, you saw a person slumped up against a wall. You also noticed the blood on his hands. You thought about calling the police, figuring you were but feet from a corpse. But when that "corpse" moved, and groaned. The softer side of you came out, and you rushed over to their side.

"Hey, are you ok?" You ask as you crouched down next to them. They did not answer, they must of finally passed out. You panicked for a moment before remembering-

You has a quirk perfect for this situation!

"It might take too long for help to get here, and I really don't wanna see a person die in front of me..." You said before looking for whatever injury that was causing all this blood. Finally, you found it, a large cut on his side. You moved up their large hoodie just enough to see it. With careful hands, you placed them on the wound, flinching a bit at the warm blood that made contact with your palms.

You took a deep breath in and focused on the wound. And slowly but surely, the wound closed up. You sighed a breath of relief. "Still got it. Now...to get you some help." You pulled out your phone and began to dial nine-one-one, but before you could press the first number, the person grabbed your wrist. You yelp in surprise.

"Don't..."

The person's voice was rough and low, you assumed it was a man's voice. "W-What do you mean don't? You were bleeding out, you need help." You tried to tell him. "You fixed it didn't you?" He asked, referring to his wound. "Yes but, you're beat up pretty bad too. And that wound took a lot out of me, I can't heal the rest of you."

The man finally let go of your hand and stood up, you did as well. He leaned against the wall, panting slightly. He was hurt bad, you may have healed the worst of it, but he was still hurting. Why didn't he want help?

"Then try harder." He demanded. You could get a better look at his face now. His hood was up and he wore a mask and dark shades to hide his face. Why? "I-I can't..."

He was going to say something else but was cut off by coughing, blood stains were forming in the mask. He nearly fell over, but thankfully you caught him. He was heavy. "Look! You're obviously hurt way more than I thought! You need help!" You said more sternly. "If you know what's good for you..." The man said with heavy breaths. "You won't call the fucking cops...got...it?" You knew he passed out when he slumped against you, going limp entirely.

Well...what now?

"Was he threatening me just now? Or warning me?" You asked yourself . Either way, you didn't want to find out what would happen. You had a feeling it would turn out bad. And so, without anymore options, there was only one thing you could do. But you really, really, didn't want to do it.

                                                                  

You were so lucky no one was out at this time. Otherwise, the cops would have been called for dragging a unconscious man into your house.

You groaned as you flopped the half-dead man on your couch. You were totally out of energy, but you needed to make sure this guy doesn't die on you. Or on your couch, in your home. Have fun explaining that to the police. You rolled up your sleeves and got to work. First you struggled to get off the man's hoodie all the way. You gasped at the sight.

Burn marks, deep burn marks. And lots of staples keeping his burnt skin connected to his untouched skin. What did this? Was there an accident? Clearly these aren't fresh, they didn't add to the man's injuries. You took a deep breath, then placed your hands on his chest, slowly moving down his abdomen as you used your quirk. You couldn't heal his scars, but whatever was wrong with him, you could and did heal.

You removed your hands and looked at his face. "I need to get that off of you." You said as you took off his shades and bloodied mask. You dropped both as you got a look at his face. You stood up and backed away.

"No way...no fucking way..."

Laying before you, was none other than the infamous villain Dabi. You had just used your healing quirk, on a villain. And not just any villain, one of Japan's most wanted villain. No wonder he didn't want you to call the cops. Well your sure as fuck was going to do it now. You pulled out your phone and began to dial, but before you could press call, Dabi spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You almost dropped your phone hearing his voice. You looked up from your phone and saw Dabi bringing himself to a stand. He cracked his neck and wiped away the blood from his mouth. "Did you have fun? Putting your hands all over my body like that?" He smirked. You backed away further until you were against a wall. "Aw, look at you...you're trembling." He said as he took a step closer to you. "You should be." He said lowly.

Your grip on the phone couldn't be any tighter, you thought you'd break it in half. Dabi kept inching closer and closer until he was face to face with you. "Now be a good girl, and give me the phone." Dabi said, holding out his hand. You swallowed hard before shakily giving him you're phone. "Atta girl." Dabi said before tossing it somewhere. Thinking it might break was the least of your worries right now. You were about to be murdered.

"P-Please." You started, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't kill me."

"Kill you?" Dabi asked. He reached for you. You closed your eyes and waited for what would come next. What did come next however, surprised you. Dabi moved a strand of your hair out of your face, flinching at his touch, you slowly reopened your eyes. "After you saved my life? Ah, don't give me that look. It's not so bad that you saved a wanted man. What are ya? A hero in training?"

You shook your head. "N-No...I'm not."

Dabi looked you up and down. "Hm, yeah, you're not dressed like it. That's for sure. What? You just sit at a desk all day then? How boring." Dabi finally backed off from you. "Anyways, I should be off. Thanks again, life saver." He waved before heading for the exit of your home. "Oh and by the way." He turned to face you.

"If you try to call the police, I'll have to pay you another visit. And I won't be as merciful next time."

With that he left. You fell to your knees, heart and mind racing.

What have you done?

first loves

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x fReader Warnings: angst, (slight) hurt/no comfort Word Count: ~2k A/N: apparently tumblr had issues so i'm reposting this!

They say that first loves are the hardest to forget. A face, forever imprinted in your memory with a series of "firsts" forever in the back of your mind. It's a cruel phrase, toxic even, one that snickers in the back of your mind when you see Kamisato Ayato for the first time in years. He looks the same, a knowing smile on his lips, eyes bright with amusement but dancing with secrets, but he's different. He's taller now, with a broader frame, hand moving through the air gracefully as he speaks to Madame Kujou Sara with nothing but elegance dripping from his tone. Everyone around looks at him as if he was a king, a shining star standing before a throne he had just sat at. 

And yet, you still see the boy that used to be one of your closest friends as a child. You still see lilac eyes gazing at you with delight as he drags you down the streets of Inazuma City, a bag of Mora bouncing in his hands as he declares that you have to share this next dessert with him. Ayaka pouts from behind you, hands on her hips as she demands that her brother also get her one as well. It’s only a couple seconds of arguing before the eldest gives in, buying two desserts. One for Ayaka, and one for the two of you to share. You’re not quite sure why he doesn’t want one for himself, but Ayato claims that it’s too sweet for him to finish on his own. You don’t question it. After all, you’re just children.

You still see the boy who proudly proclaimed that he was in love with you, offering you a poorly put together bundle of flowers that he declares he made himself. You’re not children at the time, barely adults but still so new to the harsh reality of the political world.

But now, years later, childhood innocence is only a fantasy that you can indulge in when you have time alone, left in your room with nothing but pictures and old trinkets that commemorate a friendship that consumed your youth. You’ve watched as Kamisato Ayato has grown from a boy to a man in just a short number of years, the misfortunes that befell upon his family still lingering in the shadows. You see it in the way he carries himself, head raised and shoulders pulled back, not a single misstep as he strides down the road. Years upon years of reminders and lessons are forever ingrained in his mind but you still notice the small habits he’s kept from childhood, from his anxious fiddling with the collar of his kimono, to the way his eyes brighten when he comes across something as simple as milk tea.

And tonight, the Yashiro Commission hosts a party in honour of the wedding between Hiiragi Chisato and Kujou Kamaji, the couple basking in smiles and congratulations, entertaining an eager crowd as you watch from a little ways away. The spotlight was meant for them, for the people of the high ruling families, where politics were like a game of chess and every little move was based on calculations. With the marriage of two people from the Hiiragi and Kujou clans, people have begun to turn their heads towards the Kamisato clan, eager whispers about the commissioner simmering in the background as offers are made and declined. Said man handles each approach with grace, bowing his head with respect as he forces a chuckle to be heard before sending away another invitation to marriage. He can feel your stare on him, and has caught the way your eyes seem to catch on his figure as you scan the room. Ayato watches the way you make small talk with Thoma and Ayaka, covering your mouth with your fan when his retainer apparently says something outrageously funny that it has you turning away so as to not make a scene. When was the last time you smiled at him like that?

“I apologize, but there’s something I need to take care of.” He offers the man in front of him a quick smile before slipping away, eyes trained on you as he leaves behind his umpteenth marriage offer of the night. Thoma and Ayaka notice him first, the latter darting her eyes between you and her brother before she leans in, her own mouth covered by her fan as she whispers something to you. He watches, almost painfully, when he notices the way you stiffen up and turn towards him. Your smile isn’t as wide, isn’t as bright, isn’t as genuine as he remembers.

“You came.” His words are gentle but the weight of them is made known to you as your eyes trace over his raised brows and parted mouth that begins to curl into a smile. Thoma mumbles something about checking the food, offering his arm to Ayaka who takes it quickly, patting you on the forearm gently before being whisked away to leave you and Ayato to some privacy.

“It would be rude of me to decline an invitation from the Yashiro Commissioner.” You can only watch as his smile wavers at your words, a reminder of the past that begins to claw at your chest now that you’re face to face with him for the first time in years.

He clears his throat and his hand reaches up to fix the collar of his kimono. “Of course, but I hadn’t heard you were back from Liyue, last I heard you were working abroad with the Feiyun Commerce Guild.” He’s lying, not that he’d tell you, that he’d known the moment you arrived back in Inazuma after being away for almost two years. Ayato wants to pinch himself, has it already been two years?

Two years ago you watched as storm clouds began to haze over his vision, Inazuma beginning to be thrown into a political turmoil as rumours of a decree being enacted in disfavour of vision holders began to run through the streets. You had voiced your concerns, not only for the political state of Inazuma and the growing tensions within the Tri-Commissions, but also for Ayato’s wellbeing. It was nothing new to see him engrossed in work, handling multiple tasks at once and slowly but surely, pushing people away under the excuse that he was too busy. The bags under his eyes seemed to pull him down day by day, and when the breaking point finally came, it was poison that spilled from his lips, his words so casually cruel as if he were being honest about your relationship.

---

“You don’t get it, do you?” You swallowed thickly at his words, taken aback by the sharp rise in volume. Ayato’s hands lay flat on the table, holding up his upper body as he leaned forward over his desk, eyes cold and uncaring as he stared back at you. The gift behind your back felt heavy as you sucked in a breath and waited for him to continue.

“I don’t need your help, and I haven’t for awhile now.” He sneered, “Archons, I swear the past few months you haven’t done anything to help. You’re in the way.”

“You don’t mean that.” Despite the hurt that sunk into your chest at his words, you tone was unwavering, pushing back against the stress that was far too evident upon his shoulders. “You’re overworking yourself and taking it out on me, so don’t give me that. You need to take a break, you can’t continue to work yourself to the bone.”

Ayato scoffed, “You’re not the Commissioner, are you? You don’t belong to any of the big three families, so tell me, what do you know about any of this?” His hand swept over the papers in front of him, sheets rustling in protest before settling down in their place.

“If you have nothing better to do than bother me, then leave. I don’t need you here.”

---

Now air feels thickened, clouded with unsaid words and broken promises, a first love washed away through the seasons. He’s older, more mature and understanding, with experiences, good and bad, tucked within his mind. And as he takes in your appearance, the way you hold yourself and stare back at him unflinchingly, he can only wonder what you’ve been up to in Liyue. He can only hear so much from his informants and diplomats that have been stationed in the land of the Geo Archon. The you who entertains friendly conversation during the day is still the same, with a warm smile and open hand ready to help. But behind closed doors will remain unknown to him. But now, away from the crowd of people and the secrets whispered behind decorated fans, it’s just you and Ayato and the bridge of memories that desperately holds you two together.

“You look good.” He allows his eyes to trace down the design of your kimono, a hint of pride shooting through him as he notices that it’s of the same silk he’d given to you on your eighteenth birthday.

“How eloquent of you.” Your tone is dry but he can hear the hidden teasing. It makes his smile grow wider, a little flame of hope sparking in his chest. “I had it made when I returned. After all, I haven’t had the chance to attend a party hosted by the Yashiro Commission since I left.” Your hands smooth down the fine silk, calloused fingers from years of training brushing against the embroidered designs. He looks down at the floor for a moment before smiling bitterly, the memories dancing in his head. His breaking point marked the downfall of it all. Words of affection became whispers in the dark before you had been the one to call things off, wishing him the best through tear clouded eyes and trembling hands. You left on the last day of Spring.

And how ironic it is, that today marks the first day of Spring, with the Sakura blossoms in full bloom and the hint of festivities just around the corner. He takes a breath, gathering whatever’s left of his slipping courage and offers a hand to you. “How about dinner sometime soon? Allow me to properly welcome you back to Inazuma.” He’s a bit late to that welcome, after all, you’d already been in Inazuma for a month, but if this is his chance to mend things, he’d take it in an instant. 

“I’m sorry.” His chest squeezes painfully at the words, “But I’m leaving back to Liyue in a matter of days. I still have business with the Feiyun Commerce Guild.”

“Is it someone else?” The words fall out before he can stop himself and he wants to kick himself when you lean away from him, eyes narrowed and mouth downturned. 

You scowl and resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest. “So what if it is?” Ayato doesn’t know what to say to that, because what right does he have to barge his way back into your life, offer you dinner and a date as if you’d never left, as if you’d stayed friends over the last couple years.

“It simply piqued my curiosity.” He lies and takes a step back when he catches sight of the way you grip your fan nervously. He takes in the way your fingers pick at the smooth wood, a telltale sign of your anxiety. 

“Of course.” You shake your head and step back. Ayato inhales sharply but stops himself from speaking when your lips part. “I should go, there are some things I need to take care of at home, before the night ends. This was a mistake, no, well, I’ve overstayed my welcome. But thank you, Lord Kamisato, for your time. I’m sure we’ll see each other around sometime.” You can’t bring yourself to care about any formalities as you ramble on, offering him half-hearted apologies. And in the end, the Yashiro Commissioner stays silent, just like you were, when he pushed you out of his life.

They say first loves are hard to forget. And Archons above, never has that been more apparent as Kamisato Ayato can only watch as you slip through his fingers once more and blend into the shadows, the click of the door shutting echoing in his mind. He swallows thickly, hands clammy and chest stinging with hurt. Did you have to wear that to walk out of his life?

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

◇ After five years together with Midoriya, you find yourself newly single and heartbroken. When he starts dating again, you shout a bold-faced lie to the universe that wraps you and Katsuki Bakugou together for better or worse. In order to save face, you need to work together with the grumpiest man on the planet.

◇ Verity (noun): The quality or state of being truthful or honest. Also your Hero Name to go along with your quirk of forcing others to tell the truth.

ProHero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader (Brief Midoriya x Reader)

◈ Pro Hero, Fake engagement

!!: angst, sex, cheating

Normally updates Tuesdays and Fridays at 3pm PST

◇ Chapter 1: It Starts With a Breakup

◇ Chapter 2: Life Goes On

◇ Chapter 3: Always Second Place

◇ Chapter 4 - Coming September 6, 3pm PST

◇ Chapter 5

◇ Chapter 6 (18+)

◇ Chapter 7

◇ Chapter 8

◇ Chapter 9 (18+)

◇ Chapter 10

◇ Chapter 11

◇ Chapter 12

◇ Epilogue

Tag List: @thatfanfictionwriter , @loving-katsuki , @dienamights , @katditca , @boosyboo9206 , @alex-sulli , @hypernovaxx , @daddyissxes , @ti-mame , @thekaylahub , @ms0milk , @nerd-nowandforever , @minninugget , @tiny-wooden-robot , @icedemon1314 , @xviternity , @naiomiwinchester , @lovinkiri , @sincerelyyrosemary , @abnormalanimeweeb , @satogg , @liberace2 , @acid-rain27 , @itgetzweird08 , @chaoticorganizedmess , @neurovascular-entrapta , @kiwiified , @bnha-free-writing , @fishbolw , @xxkay15xx , @zombiewarprincess , @izuwumidoriya , @blue-enigma , @mommy-without-milkers , @plaggi , @budibbly , @hiqhkey , @great-goddess-of-sin, @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory , @zyxys1 , @doonaandpjs , @chifuyus-slut , @aceredhairliberal , @dxrkdreamer ,

smitten ✨

flesh

this is PART THREE of the FIVE PART HORROR miniseries WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING.

itadori yuuji x reader x sukuna

dynamic // yuuji x fem!reader x sukuna

genre // smut + horror

aged up characters (25+)

heavy nsfw + dc, minors do not interact

part three word count // 12.1k

playlist // spook

header by @dilf-uc​ ;___; <333

DO NOT POST MY WORK ON TIKTOK. 

SERIES SUMMARY

a killer is ravaging the streets of your once-peaceful town. will your new roommate protect you from the nightmares that exist both in your head and out of it?

WARNINGS FOR PART THREE (heavy, please read)

horror + general cw - graphic imagery, fear, gore, mentions of death, hallucinations, confusion, derealization, warped reality (a big mindfuck)

nsfw cw - dark content heavy. monsterfucking - true form sukuna (3 meters+ tall, four arms, two dicks, mouths everywhere), drowning (not to the point of death), repeated loss of consciousness, breathplay, gore, double penetration (with tongues, then dicks), orgasm delay and denial, drugged sex, extremely dubcon (tagging noncon), body horror, nipple play, blood kink, blood drinking, fear play, pain play (ish), sadism + masochism, masturbation (m), spit kink (heavy), degradation, humiliation, biting (heavy), cervix fucking (ish), gaping, oral (m -> self and m -> f), begging (f), cum eating, clit nipping (?)

A/N

part four is scheduled to drop late october for the threesome + triple pen + cucking ;>

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“ you left me no choice but to stay here forever. ”

EVERMORE — A 4.5K MILESTONE SPECIAL SERIES !

SYPNOSIS. years after a breakup with your first love, kamisato ayato, you thought you’ll never see him again in your life since that fateful night, until you received an invitation to his wedding as well as a free-week stay in a 5* hotel, something you definitely do not want to pass on. when you arrived, you didn’t expect to meet a strange yet aloof man get along with him easily… and perhaps end up becoming something more by the time this trip ends.

CHARACTERS. diluc ragnvindr, kamisato ayato, zhongli, thoma, raiden shogun, yae miko, yoimiya, arataki itto, kujou sara, sangonomiya kokomi, gorou, kamisato ayaka, kaeya alberich, tartaglia, and more ! (w/ gn!reader)

TIME. new chapter will be posted once a week at 00:00 / 21:00 GMT+8 !

TAGLIST. @kazu-topia @coleluuviida @elychee @rion-s @denkineptune @franini @sophisticatedleslie @thedivinepriestress @smashsubs @httpmitsuya @bl6o6dy @cottonkendi @uchihaeirin @abvolat @kokushiboswife @crowleysthings @kyomihann @prplbunny @jiyujinsstuff @durptwit @elegantcecile @crowbird @mnemosyneechan @bananazzzen @s-adidass @belovedxiao @deimmortales99 @veyu002 @axeybelle09 @suzuyamitsuki @seungmouu @thraetor @chimsblogg @akemeru @headintheclouddd @bea-tan @ys14a @beef-stew @instantyouthpainter @henryjekyllsimp @leaunce @goth-cutie3 @katsumikumo @kitto-lover @q-zrs @accurateakane @otomaniac @notemika @yeonatingz @reveltica @ryobf69 @aria-haru @phoenixdrake88-blog @jiejievas @adanfore @iea-tsand @soanchorrebel @shiningddeonghwa @ikilledsparky2 @ducksonfanfiction (please visit this post if you’d like to be tagged!)

AUTHOR’S NOTE. this series is based on taylor swift’s album evermore ! i know a lot of you expected a prompt event for this milestone event, but unfortunately i just don’t have enough time to do requests since i still have 45+ more fics to do. thank you for your understanding!

MASTERLIST.

prologue // right where you left me

chapter one // willow

chapter two // champagne problems

chapter three // gold rush

chapter four // ‘tis the damn season

chapter five // tolerate it

interlude // no body no crime

chapter six // happiness

chapter seven // dorothea

chapter eight // coney island

chapter nine // ivy

chapter ten // cowboy like me

chapter eleven // long story short

chapter twelve // marjorie

chapter thirteen // closure

chapter fourteen // evermore

chapter fifteen // it’s time to go

epilogue // folklore

epilogue2 // lover

epilogue3 // speak now

epilogue4 // red

epilogue5 // fearless

epilogue6 // 1989

q and a — a special occasion for appreciation ! ( come visit this link if you’d like to ask me something regarding to this fic <33 )

xingyun high school uniforms 🧊