“I Hope This Email Finds You Well”

I'm cryin

“flirting” aka staring at u and when u look back at me i look away very fast so u wont see that i was staring at u

Well shit 😌

part eighteen spoilers. alexa play you right by doja cat.

It's important to humble male celebrities with the fact that they are laying eggs on ao3

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: misogyny, talks of ageism, unrequited love, dubious cheating, gaslighting, mentions of a/nal, e/xplicit smut, mentions of w/eed, mentions of a/lcohol, substance a/buse, toxic family dynamics, class differences, sukuna is anti-noveau riche, sukuna is a walking red flag, jin itadori supremacy, hiromi and nanami duke it out in court, exposition, mentions of a m/urder, negligence, court cases, MDNI

masterlist | playlist

Treading the world of marriage as a woman past her prime in a judgemental upper class society was a dance that left you exhausted and skittish; wishing you could put an end to its haunting melody. 

As you were ticking fast past the rotten age of twenty-seven, your family’s empire hung by a thread as nervous investors and stakeholders started to ask the golden question: When will your only daughter get married, Jiro? 

Suitors knocked on your door, only to be turned away by your snobbish mother and your equally weak-kneed father who tried to appease her. None of them good enough for you; handsome enough for you or rich enough to grow your family’s vaults. 

That was until Itadori Jin reached out to your family with an offer your father could not refuse.

His older twin brother, Itadori Sukuna, has just been released from an investigation and needed a bride to save the family name. 

They wanted to paint him in a good light to the press: partying bad boy turned a charming, married man who was now working towards building a family with another girl of his standing.

And, that was when you came into the picture.

The first time you saw Itadori “Ryomen” Sukuna was a moment you would never forget.

The tattoos swirling around his face should’ve given you pause; made you backtrack on the idea of marriage to the Itadori house the second it left your father’s lips—especially when it came to a man like him.

In his neatly pressed white button-down which strained over his (admittedly) impressive pecs, and pair of expensive Bottega slacks, he would’ve been the picture of sophisticated upper class if it weren’t for the tribal lines on his face and arms—the sight almost making you high tail it out of the cafe you were both seated in.

It was the first time you were meeting him without your parents to chaperone. Bodyguards stood by the doors, stationed close by in case the press got too nosy. 

With this being the first time you were talking to him without your mother lingering in the background, you were free to eye him up and down, unsure of what to make of the disdain setting his mouth into a hard line.

He was different from the men you had encountered before. Tall in an imposing way and with his shock of pink hair, you could spot him from a mile away in the middle of a crowded room. Sukuna carried himself with an air of princely cruelty, often staring down the line of his nose; astride the white stead of his borned privilege and high position in society. 

But, the one thing that stood out were his eyes.

The warmest brown dissolved into a shade of vermillion which shone blood-red under different lights.

You couldn’t quite keep your eyes off them or stare at them for too long, and you sensed rather than knew how much he enjoyed your discomfort. 

He swivels his coffee, spilling some down the pristine white cup. Somewhere behind him, a guard stifles a yawn.

“So… what do you like to do for fun?”

You sit up straighter, practiced to perfection with your reply. “I love watching horse races, Itadori-san. On some days, I prefer pottery and painting. I’ve always wanted to open my own art gallery.”

He glances at his nails, looking almost bored. “And why didn’t you open your own gallery?”

It’s a cordial question at best, but you bristle as if he had just mocked your interests.

“I… don’t have the time,” you mutter meekly. 

He looks up at you, and you think he might finally unleash the scathing remark he’s been holding back for the last few minutes.

“What does a prissy girl like you know about not having time? I thought you thrived on wasting your life away with hot pilates classes and private-jetting to islands?”

You bite back your fuming reply, masking your discomfort with a bright smile. “Itadori-san, you judge me so harshly. I only attend one hot pilates class per week.”

What you hoped was a light-hearted reply dissolves into a sour note when he sighs and sits back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, sweetheart. I know this can’t be easy on you, too, but you don’t know what’s at stake here.” Sukuna leans forward, invading your space with the spicy sweetness of his cologne. “I have a reputation to change and you have daddy’s money to keep. We’re both each other’s salvation from the shit our family put us through so I need you to work with me here.”

You frown, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “But, I am trying to work with you. I’m here on this date, aren’t I?” 

“You gotta look decent,” he doesn’t beat around the bush. Gesturing to your modest midi floral dress and neutral beige Mary Janes, the look of disgust on his face breaks something in your chest. “You’re dressed like a goddamn Mormon college girl. For someone very rich, you sure don’t have taste.”

Offended, you stared at him, unable to fathom what he had just said—how he had just insulted you unprompted and in broad daylight.

But, Sukuna doesn't give you time to revel in his words. He grabs a cigarette from his pocket, ignores your wrinkling nose as he smokes openly in this establishment. The waiters don’t dare to cross him, pretending the smell of tobacco doesn’t faze them.

You, however, were finding it harder to mask your disgust. For the sake of your mother’s excitement at finding you a suitable match, you tried to tame down the anger frothing in your veins, slapping on a sweet, yet sardonic smile.

“And what is your definition of ‘taste’, Itadori-san?”

He peers at you over the veil of smoke, taking his time to piece together his reply. “Plunging necklines. Satin. Bows. Thinner heels. I need a mature woman by my side, not some plain old maid playing dress up as a prepubescent girl.”

His words stung, and you leaned back, suddenly feeling too small. The cafe lights felt like a pair of microscopic lenses studying your every move, highlighting your discomfort and sudden unease. Your skin flashed hot and cold, the anger cresting and ebbing. Whenever you were upset, you didn’t lash out or cry, preferring to fall silent until the storm passed.

Despite a tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you it would be useless to try, you attempted another shot at winning his validation; hoping Sukuna would bestow it unto you readily and without mockery.

“Then, why don’t you come and shop with me? I’m sure a man of your taste would help my image.”

He stares at you for a long moment, unblinking. You’re reminded of a snake—its tongue scenting the air to determine whether to strike, unlidded eyes locking onto its target. 

Sukuna thaws, tapping off the excess ash onto the floor. You try not to cringe at how the poor waiters would have to sweep all of that up once he had left.

“Fine. I’ll help,” he says like it's the biggest feat in his life to perform. “But, on one condition.”

Eager, you nod, not wanting to turn him off or jeopardize a moment with such a handsome man who wouldn’t look twice at you if it weren’t for your last name.

“We push the wedding back by a month.”

Flashback: One week ago

Tensions were running high in the courtroom.

Rows of judges and the impassive jury hollows out in shades of gray, fading into the white buzz of his mind as Sukuna glances at his brother’s ashen face. Outside, the hungry press waits, sharks roaming in deathly waters waiting for the first drop of blood.

Itadori Jin clenches his pen in his white-knuckled grip. Their defense attorney, Hiromi Higuruma leans close to him, whispering something under his breath. 

Sukuna can’t hear him from his vantage point on the testimonial seat, but he can venture a guess when his younger twin nods, pushing his glasses up the sweaty bridge of his nose.

“Higuruma-san, please take the floor,” the judge intones, allowing for their docketed defense to play out. 

The ruthless, cold lawyer clears his throat, and stands. 

He turns to face the jury, those soulless eyes sparking with a passion Sukuna has never seen before in all his twenty eight years of knowing the old lawyer.

“Your honor—Judge Itachi. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. How many of us have often mistaken goodwill for evil? We don’t bite the hand that feeds us and yet, we have every right to question when something isn’t as sanctimonious as it seems.” He turns his dark gaze to the rows of people.

“Itadori Sukuna has devoted half of his life to the bolstering of young athletes. Football is one of his biggest passions and he often pays meticulous attention to the facilities that nurture the talent of our future sportsmen. The sole person to be blamed for the murder of young Masamichi Ryota isn’t the man sitting on that podium—it’s to be found in the coach who pushed him beyond his capabilities and forced him to play even with a ruptured spleen—”

“Objection, your honor.” Nanami Kento, an unctuous piece of shit in a neatly-pressed suit who thrives on taking cases pro-bono to bolster his spotless reputation, stands. He adjusts his tie, looking at the plaintiff’s family—the coach’s great mustache trembling as he holds back his anger. 

“The post-mortem report submitted shows that Coach Tanaka has explicitly asked for a leave of rest for the star player. But, the rejection letter—traced from Itadori Sukuna’s hand, I might add—explicitly denied that request on grounds of the millions of yen he has betted on that poor boy’s success.”

The crowd moves, a great sea snake whispering, scales rustling. Unsure of whether to attack or stand down.

“Your Honor, that is a stretch,” Hiromi drones. “The young man was known to have a history of smoking and a regrettable habit of shooting ecstasy. A fact, we found out later on, that was unearthed in the same autopsy reports you had just shared, Nanami-san.” 

This time, the two attorneys stare each other down. 

Sukuna fights back a smirk at the blonde man’s narrowed eyes. Beside him, Tanaka, the coach, hangs his head.

“While his death is very regrettable and a horror to his family and loved ones, Masamichi was not known for reigning in his… impulses. He has a weak will and a fondness for abusing substances.”

“Objection,” Nanami raised his voice. “Defaming the deceased’s name is a violation of—”

“Order, order,” Judge Itachi bangs his gavel, shaking his jowls as he glares down from the stand. The room quietens. Nanami takes a deep breath while Hiromi glances at his watch. 

“Nanami-san, the Defamation Act 2013 does not apply to this situation as Masamichi is not a minor. A lawyer of your caliber should know this.” Nodding towards Higuruma, he says, “Continue.”

This time, Sukuna can’t help the chuckle slipping from his mouth. 

Hearing him, Jin shakes his head with a glare, hazel eyes drilling Now’s not the time, asshole deep into his skull. 

Higuruma, having heard his slip, also narrows his eyes.

Nanami uses this moment to pounce on Sukuna’s perceived indifference.

“He openly mocks the death of one of Japan’s brightest football stars, and yet, we’re supposed to believe in his goodwill? If you were to speak of my client’s dead prodigy, you should take into account what kind of man Itadori Sukuna truly is.”

Commanding the floor, the sharply-dressed blonde man takes center stage. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Judge and jury. Itadori Sukuna hails from an affluent family, but do not let that distract you from how he uses his position in society to silence those lower than him.” Looking straight into Sukuna’s eye with that infuriating, righteous stare these bootlickers always had, Kento seethes. 

“He is a drug-addled playboy who spends his time exploiting young talent for his own gain. These young men under his program are little more than betting fodder for him and his other rich friends. Wouldn’t you say that is correct? How many times have we seen him in the news because of his drunk folly? If he were an actor, we would’ve banned him from screens, and yet, because of his standing in society, we commend him for exploiting our sporting talents—and ultimately, playing in the negligence to cause someone’s death.”

Higuruma bristles, not expecting his opponent to pull out his client’s reputation and smear it across the courtroom floors.

“You claim defamation is uncouth, and yet, you’re doing the same thing to my client, Nanami-san—”

“Order,” Judge Itachi bangs his gavel again, this time looking irritated at how this case had turned.

Sukuna suddenly catches sight of a woman from across the room. She’s glaring at him with unabashed hatred, her dark eyes swollen and red-rimmed, lower lip wobbling. Beside her, the man he assumes is her husband wears a stony mask, his gaze locked on the floor, completely still except for the rapid rising and falling of his erratic breaths.

They were both clad in a dress, shirt and slacks that looked like they belonged to the 90s—neat and clean, but shabby in a way that only these lower class scum could pull off if the dress code given to them was business casual. 

These must be Ryota’s good-for-nothing power hungry parents who threw him into the harsh pits of Japanese football in hopes of improving their standing in society. How plain and old they look. Sukuna fights back the urge to sneer at them, keeping his expression neutral.

It’s like Jin’s voice is in his ear: Do not misbehave. Do not give them more reason to already hate you. Remember—Jin’s infuriatingly kind eyes were unflinching and serious. They’ve just lost their son. Have some compassion and remorse.

“Attorneys, return to your seat. The jury has already made their decision and I, for one, can vouch for it.”

Sukuna feels his palms going clammy, and suddenly, the idea of investing in sports from Ino’s advice was making his stomach turn.

I’m going to kill that bastard once I’m out of here.

Removing the slip of paper from the white envelope of justice, Judge Itachi clears his throat.

Higuruma sits back down, his viper-like eyes locked on the judge’s face. Trying to predict the outcome.

“The court today has deemed the case Itadori v Japan’s Football League a negligence in duty of care concerning Masamichi Ryota’s untimely death.”

No one is breathing, all attention on the judge with his pockmarked face. 

Sukuna is fixated on Jin, whose head is bowed, eyes closed. If this blew up in their faces, a case like this would cause Itadori Enterprises to suffer a major investor fallout.

And once again, the blame of their family’s bad fortune would be on him. 

Sukuna swears the last time he was this nervous, he was waiting for Este’s pregnancy test results to come back negative.

It was one time, ‘Kuna! She had tears in her eyes, the stupid white stick clenched in her hand. Can you lay off of me and take responsibility for once in your goddamn life?

He should call her after this—apologize to her. God knows it would be his last fuck before he has to spend half of his life behind bars for the death of some schmuck kid whose name he had already forgotten.

Judge Itachi speaks again, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Therefore, the jury and I have come to the conclusion. In the case of Itadori Itadori-san, we find him—”

The clock ticks. Every lung is constricted—jury, attorneys, a few press members who had managed to bribe their way in. Sukuna recognizes them with their obnoxious yellow press tags; thinks how many of these leeches would get a raise once they broke the scoop on him.

Oh, the irony, he muses. His downfall being their salvation to fighting back against the rising cost of living.

“—not guilty.”

…

Sukuna is unsure if he’s heard it right.

Not guilty. 

Not guilty. 

Not guilty.

He doesn’t react immediately, blinking slowly like a fish caught out of water. The oldest son of Itadori Wasuke tries to meet his twin’s eye, but Jin is as shocked as he was, frozen with his laser-sharp focus trailed on the stand—trying to digest this turn of events.

Higuruma is the one who finally breaks the ice, standing and bowing to Judge Itachi. On cue, the rest of the room follows suit, getting to their feet and showing the retreating judge their begrudging respect.

Sukuna bows jerkily, unused to such a humble gesture he had almost forgotten how to do it.

In front of him, the brat’s mother starts to bawl, her husband’s arms coming to wrap around her as they both shuffle out of the courtroom, looking older and grayer than when they had entered.

Sukuna doesn’t have much time to force a lick of sympathy for them, not when this farce of a trial was over and he was late for Ino’s party.

He hops down the stand, ambling easily to his younger brother who was whispering in low tones with their lawyer. A few feet away, Nanami Kento reassures the coach and his family, painting a picture of trying to achieve righteous justice for that good name—a feat Sukuna knew he would never achieve.

After all, the Itadori empire wasn’t built on rainbows on sunshine but pure, hard grit. And a little bit of blood and here and there to get what they want.

Jin looks up, frowns. “Let’s catch the sedan and have a smoke. You and I have a lot to discuss about.”

The way he said it made Sukuna feel like a kid again, about to be chastised for peeing the bed or killing off the pet goldfish.

Higuruma packed up his briefcase of documents, and a pack of bodyguards stationed around the different points of the courtroom swarmed to the middle, shielding the two brothers and their lawyers the second the doors opened and the press descended on them. 

Flashing lights went off in a wave of clicks, the vultures with their cameras snapping his humiliation at every angle for their publications; boldly throwing their questions at him without fear now that the great Itadori “Ryomen” Sukuna was knocked down a peg or two. 

Itadori-san, can you comment about Masamichi-san’s death at length? 

One woman with a silver bob shoved a mic in his face. The guard on his right quickly elbowed her out of the way, throwing his arm up to hide Sukuna’s visage from the bug-like chittering click of these press leeches and their expensive cameras.

Itadori-san, this news must come as a shock. What does this mean for the future of Itadori Enterprise?

Will this affect any future mergers, particularly a rumor circulating about a potential collaboration with Nara Corp? 

Itadori-san, do you ever regret investing in football?

A few sport reporters were also seen trying to push their way through the crowd, recorders in hand to glean some golden nuggets for their pathetic column.

Itadori-san, what does your verdict mean for the future of the Japan Football League?

Itadori-san, did you know that Masamichi-san was about to prepare for his university entrance exams? How does his death make you feel?

“No comment,” Higuruma intones, taking Jin and Sukuna both by the elbow to steer them towards their waiting car like they were teenagers again; back when he had to bring the twins straight into Wasuke’s study to discuss their future inheritance.

A fresh-faced rookie Sukuna had never seen before stumbles in front of their entourage, and he’s mortified to see a pink lipstick print on the front of the intern’s tag.

Royale News' first appearance in such a serious case.

“Itadori-san, you’re already approaching the ripe age of thirty," the dim-wit says. “Do you have your eye on a woman who can domesticate you? Can you ever be tamed?”

Amidst the overlapping voices and chaos, that question sticks to Sukuna like sweat on skin during an unbearable summer heat, unsettling him until he sinks into the sedan with Jin beside him and Higuruma on the opposite seat. 

The door closes shut, bodyguards standing in front of the heavily tinted side windows to keep the press from clamoring after them.

Once the chaos was left behind on the freeway in a cloud of smoke and ashes, did Jin lean forward to raise the privacy screen. With the driver unable to hear them, his younger twin reaches for his packet of Montecristos, lighting three of them up and passing one to each man.

Higuruma accepts his offer with a nod, while Sukuna grabs the nicotine-laced vice from him with a ferocity that takes his brother aback. He inhales deeply, exhaling rings of smoke which fogs up the car, tasting cherries, cedarwood, tobacco and his freedom. 

“Easy, ‘Kuna,” Jin mumbles tersely. Sukuna resists the urge to flip him off.

Instead, he drags his gaze to the lawyer smoking quietly in front of him, smiling sleazily in triumph. “You did a good job, Higuruma. If I were you, I’d ask for a raise.”

The Itadori scion expects his brother to join in the jest meekly, like he always does. Not glare at him with pure vitriol in his eyes, the kind Sukuna had never seen Jin harbor for him.

“You scumbag,” Jin mutters hotly. His brother half expects him to throw a curse word or two with how riled up he was. “You were supposed to dump this stupid hobby. I gave you the money to start a foundation for good press. Not throw it all into some useless human betting ring. Are you an imbecile?”

That was a new insult. Jin rarely ever threw him a good verbal uppercut, and Sukuna must’ve really fucked up to earn this side of his younger twin brother.

He plasters on a sleazy smile, giving his otouto a once over. 

“Well, aren’t you a fucking ray of sunshine? You should be glad Higuruma managed to avert the crisis and get me out of it. Or, are you going to piss in these blessings?”

“I would rather you didn’t embroil yourself in such a shit show in the first place.”

Jin sighs, sags into the seat and massages his temple. “One day, Sukuna, you’re going to give me a heart attack and you’ll have to take over oto-san’s company. Then, you will know true responsibility. True suffering.”

Sukuna hums, staring outside at the scenery flying by.

“Neither the company nor its investors would last a day with me at the helm. So, for your sake and mine, I’m going to ask the doctor to keep the life support machine going even if you’re hanging onto your last breath, dear brother.”

“Good luck with that,” Jin refutes with a slight snarl. “I would explicitly mention it in my will to refute your efforts at reviving me.”

“Then, I will rebuke your will.”

“You can’t because I actually have a son to execute it.”

“Yuuji is two. He can’t even hold a pencil.”

Any insult towards his beloved son would never be tolerated by the famed Itadori family man. Jin puffs out his chest, about to berate his older brother, when Higuruma stops them both with a sigh.

“If only your parents could see the both of you now. How disappointed they would be in you, Sukuna.”

Hiromi sucks in a deep breath of the sweet cigar, turning his head and exhaling lightly out of politeness for smoking in his employer’s car. 

Despite his hulking muscles and blase attitude, Sukuna can’t help but glower in petulance at any mention of Wasuke and Kasumi’s disappointment in him. Growing up as the black sheep has casted a permanent cloud over him—his best efforts were seen as second tier in comparison with his perfect, golden brother. And Sukuna resents any mention of it.

Their family lawyer continues on, as if he hadn’t made two of them heel to an uneasy stop.

“At your age, you should be taking over Jin’s part. But, your brother is too nice. He took up the burden so you could do what, exactly? Party every night? Sleep with models? Get involved in scandals?”

Hiromi sighs, and Sukuna turns his glare outside the window, unwilling to take such a personal beat down. 

“Your mother had hoped you would snap out of your selfish streak. She even thought you would settle down and give her some grandchildren by the time you turned twenty five. But, you had to be pictured… fucking… the mayor’s daughter during a gala. How crude.”

“Stop talking down to me like you’re even at my level, Higuruma.” Sukuna snaps and something in his tone catches the other two men off guard. “You think just because we employ you in our good graces, you have the fucking right—”

“What Hiromi is trying to say is this,” Jin interjects before this could escalate into a full fist fight. “Both of us have come up with the best way for our family to get past this scandal.”

Sukuna has heard this a thousand times before. The Itadori pockets were bottomless when it came to preserving their good name.

“How?” He sneers, dismissive and mildly insulted that the two of them had made a decision for him without his input. “Don’t tell me you’re going to flush out more money to keep the press quiet. We can’t keep using the same strategy over and over again.”

In answer, Hiromi and Jin share a look. Sukuna suddenly feels like the car seat he’s on is about to be pulled from under him.

Wilted ash drips from the tip of his neglected cigar. He tenses, darts his vermillion eyes between his two conspirators and wardens.

“Hiromi and I have come up with a better idea,” Jin begins his pitches like he always does—with a little smile and a sniffle. “The idea is—”

“Marriage,” Hiromi intones, taking one brother aback and the other on a guilt trip. 

Jin grimaces. Sukuna stumbles with the words stuttering out like a reckless oil spill.

So, the only thing he could spout was, “M-marriage?! What kind of trickery is this? Jin—” He looks to his otouto, hoping against hope his ears are just fucked up and he didn’t actually hear Hiromi saying the tragic, forbidden ‘M’ word.

“—this has to be a mistake.”

“No, it’s not,” Hiromi steps in to cover Jin’s ass, placing himself at the front to take the bullets of rage that would no doubt rain down on him once the whole plan was laid bare to the older, hot-headed twin. 

“We believe that with your souring reputation and increasing questions surrounding your perpetual bachelorhood, settling down with someone would be in the interest of the family business. And of course, your inheritance.”

Hiromi makes sure to dangle the most effective carrot in front of him; that sadistic bastard.

Sukuna seethes—confusion, anger, disappointment and fear coalescing to overtake his first instinct to run. Numbing him with his inaction of thoughts and body. 

Hiromi lifts his heavy-bagged eyes, pinning him right to the spot. The knife slices deeper, cutting him from the inside out; hammering in this decision he absolutely had no say in unless he would want to kiss his lavish lifestyle goodbye.

“We need to get you married off by the end of the year.” A death sentence knells right into his chest; Hiromi digs the pain deeper. 

“In fact, the sooner, the better.” 

Sukuna remembers the very first time he had seen you in your wedding dress. 

It was a chance encounter as he passed by a Morinaga boutique in downtown Shibuya; his brother having orchestrated the entire meeting so Sukuna would catch a glance of his future bride trying on her custom-made dress.

With her head bowed, and shoulders bare under the light, the older Itadori twin thought her figure was appeasing and pleasing to the eyes. That is, until she turned around with her naked face and he had to physically stop himself from recoiling.

“Is that her?” he demands, unwilling to believe Jin would sell him out like this. Shades of disgust lines his tone, and he tries not to put his stupid twin in a headlock and break his neck.

Jin notices his reluctance and makes a face. “She’s unlike the girls you whore yourself out to, that’s for sure.”

The more he looks at you, the more Sukuna is starting to think this was a mistake.

“She’s so… boring. Vanilla. Are you sure this is what you think is best for me?”

Since their father passed on and the business went to his younger twin, Sukuna was often painted in their society and by the media as the irresponsible Itadori—the audacious older brother, the partier.

The playboy.

Often having a gaggle of girls at his mercy, he was not exempted from warming beautiful model’s beds, and having flings with other trust fund babes—bad habits his younger brother was desperately trying to get him to shrug off to take on more of the family business mantle. 

“You’re almost thirty, ‘Kuna. It’s time to act like it.” 

Jin sighs, removes his glasses. The action reminds him so much of their father that Sukuna pauses for a second, blinking away the mirage of that senile, old man.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed just how old his younger brother had gotten.

Dressed in a sleek trench coat costing four times more than a McDonald workers’ monthly salary, Itadori Jin was quiet and unassuming, yet only his twin brother knew that still waters ran the deepest.

An inch shorter than him and with a kid from his old, dead wife, Itadori Jin was the antithesis of Sukuna’s recklessness. Where the older twin was all hulking machismo and a massive ego, his brother was soft-spoken and with a sharp mind that was always one step ahead of his, bringing their father’s company back from the brink of bankruptcy and launching it into international waters from his sheer will. 

Sukuna respects the guy, and as much as he wants to rile Jin up and pop a vein on his younger brother’s temple, he tempers down his sarcasm, preferring to roll his eyes.

“Whatever. So, her daddy wants the merger money and you want me to settle down with some ugly chick?”

Jin winces, wishing his brother wasn’t being this curt and lewd. 

“Her father wants an heir. And he wants 40% of our shares. That’s a whole different game.”

“He can’t have those.” Sukuna was irresponsible as they came, but even he understood the basic math of divesting half of your company’s assets to a party other than your stipulated stakeholders. “The Nara family already holds 22% of our board and the Ikina’s are up close with 15%. If those vultures take 40, how’re we gonna break even in the next quarter? We’ll be bleeding red if we give into their whims.”

In answer, the corners of his brother’s mouth twitches. “I see you’ve been doing your homework. Impressive.”

They both have stopped in their tracks, standing a little ways on the sidewalk where prying ears couldn’t hear their discussion.

Jin suddenly turns serious. “L/N-san has struck gold with new fintech models. We need to curry his favor if he wants to reduce the patent price for us to move on with Project Armstrong. I hope you understand the gravity of this situation.”

Usually, Sukuna prefers not talking business with his brother in such broad daylight without a drink in hand. But, seeing as how Jin has left him no choice, he relents to this impromptu exchange, feeling more and more like some wild stock being sold in a farm the longer he speaks to his brother. 

“And she’s nicknamed the Wisteria Woman because her entire family latches onto fame and power like leeches,” he bristles, catching Jin by surprise. 

See? Even a useless ass like him could bother with basic research. And the rumors were nastier than he imagined.

“I already don’t like the sound of that—of her.”

The younger Itadori cocks his head. “Then, I think you should be honest with her if that is how you feel. That this is a business arrangement and nothing else.”

Sukuna flicks a cigarette from his leather coat’s pocket, sticking it between his teeth.

“Say I agree to this plan. What’s in it for me?”

Without a beat of hesitation, Jin replies: 

“110% of the profit.”

Sukuna nearly spits out his stick. 

The amount yawns before him, looming zeros and zeros staring him in the face. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Jin teases, though there’s tension crinkling in the corner of his eyes.

Switching gears, Sukuna turns mellow; even slaps on a smile. “I see. Interesting.”

“So. Are you on board with this?” 

In the distance, he sees your silhouette exiting the bridal shop, bags in hand with your maids or girlfriends following behind. The sunlight does little to bring any depth to your expression or features, but he appreciates that you look semi-decent from his vantage point.

“Fine,” he says, clicking open his vintage Dupont to light the tip of his cigarette. “Count me in.”

He supposes that even with such an embarrassing family background that will drag the Itadori name through the mud, the high stakes more than made up for such a lackluster wife.

His favorite whore sighs right into his shoulder, the smell of his cum, sweat and her expensive perfume strong on her skin.

After ejaculating right onto her tits and smearing it everywhere down her belly, Sukuna was exhausted and in a need for something stronger than nicotine. Rolling over, he picks up a joint Ino had passed to him as congratulations for making it out of that nasty as fuck trial, lighting it up and inhaling with a tremendous sigh.

Este’s lips are right on his shoulder, kissing a path from his deltoid to collarbone. Sukuna wraps a hand in her soft, brown hair, holding her firmly in place as he makes a move like he was about to kiss her; her lips parting and smoke pouring into her waiting mouth, her hitched inhale pulling a cruel smile across his own lips. 

She turns her face away, eyes watering and fighting back a coughing fit. “Asshole.”

“An invitation for anal? Gladly, baby.” He turns her onto her belly, peals of laughter muffled by the pillow, strong arms holding her down as he positions her on her hands and knees, joint stuck in between his teeth.

Este turns her face to the side, catching his eye. Mascara smudges around her eyes, her red lipstick feathering at the corners of her impishly smiling mouth.

“What’re you doing, ‘Kuna?” 

“Y’know what I’m doing,” he murmurs, cock stirring at her wiggling hips and devilish grin.

“Are you really going to take my ass?” 

He sucks in another inhale of the joint, feeling the high slowly unlocking his muscles and turning his brain fuzzy. “Scared? Afraid daddy might find out his daughter is going around offering her virgin hole to any rich man who’s on the marriage market?” 

Condescension drips in poisonous tendrils, and she bristles. “Fuck you, ‘Kuna.”

In one swift motion, he’s sheathed inside of her, feeling her walls choke down on his cock. His head tosses back, sweat glistening off the tribal tattoos on his chest, hips drawing back and snapping forward in languid thrusts. 

The moon shines strong. Cheap Southern alcohol pumps in his blood, his sweat soaks through her skin and hair, damp skin illuminated by the ember tip of his joint. 

“Isn’t that what I’m already doing to you?” He drawls, and her body starts to shake. 

“We still—mhm—h-haven’t talked about your m-marriage…” 

Her voice fades; cracks on the reality of him no longer sharing a bed with her.

Jesus. Does everyone know about this? 

Sukuna doesn’t do anything to comfort her, except for slipping a hand between her legs to rub soft circles on her clit as a flimsy apology.

She keens, white-knuckled grip fisting the soft blankets. Her mediterranean mix shows under the weak light, tan skin stretching over defined back muscles, dark roots growing past the brown dye job she gets done once every two weeks.

In another life, Sukuna thinks he could’ve been in love with her.

Este screams his name as she shatters around him. Sukuna tosses the half-smoked joint back on the side table, not caring if it would catch on something and burn her room down. He’d just fuck her through the flames until she asphyxiates and succumbs to both the lack of oxygen and her orgasm.

She clings onto him, a second layer of skin he wants nothing to do with. 

Sukuna pushes her away not so gently, grabbing his joint and snuffing it out with the heel of his palm. 

“I gotta go,” he mumbles, reaching for his shirt, pants. She watches as he dresses, still dazed and starry-eyed from her release.

“Are you going back to her? To Y/N?” 

Sukuna crinkles his nose, as if the mention of your name was enough to make him lose his appetite. “Don’t be stupid. No. I’m going back to my place for a shower and a nightcap. I’ll see you around.”

Tossing her a nonchalant wave, Sukuna leaves Este’s sheets, knowing that in a few more days, he would be back here again.

That’s the thing he likes about Este Nara—she’s easy. Not just to get in bed, but to get away from. She doesn’t bitch or moan about him being distant and aloof. She takes his cruelty without much flinching, seeing the dangerous man lurking under his tattoos and barely thinking anything of it. 

If she even had half a brain to think.

He revs the engine of his Ducati Superleggera, hightails it past her condominium with his helmet buckled haphazardly around his neck; not slowing down, wishing he could leave his problems in the dust being kicked up by his tires.

“What do you mean he’s trying to push the marriage to a month later?” your mother seethes over her coffee, glaring at you.

You shrink from her anger, pushing around a soggy banana with your fork tines. “It’s what he told me,” you argue back weakly. “What was I going to say?”

“What about actually standing up for yourself and doing what is best for our agreement?” 

She arches a perfectly groomed brow, waiting for you to respond. You cast a despairing look to your father who picks up his glass of bourbon, sipping on it while he listlessly scrolls through his iPad. 

“Listen to your mother, my little light.”

“I did,” you tried again, willing them both to understand. Bunching your fists over your lap, you take a deep breath, hoping they would listen. “I did everything you asked me to: not interrupt him. Let him talk. Laugh at his jokes. Everything,” you emphasize. “And yet he asked me to consider pushing the marriage back by a few weeks. What else could I say?”

You reiterate your question, growing hotter in the cheeks. Finally understanding why some people could have a heart attack in the middle of dinner when the entire situation was spun around to paint you as a villain when you had tried your best to be as cooperative as you could. 

A grimace stretches across her plastic-filled cheeks. People often said your mother could win a beauty pageant on her worst days; rising above other beautiful women with her wit, charm and charisma. Of course, she was also the daughter of a department store king, so the money graciously ‘donated’ to these glittery showcases put her many steps forward compared to other contestants.

“I don’t know where I went wrong in raising you,” she sighs, dramatic as always. “Jiro, please. Can you speak to Itadori Jin-san and tell him what our daughter told us? There is no way his brother can resist this offer.”

Offer. Like you were a cow to be traded in the market.

“Lia, I told you, Itadori Jin-san has no control over Itadori-san. That’s his nii-san. It would be a perversion of authority if he forces Sukana-san’s hand in any way.”

Her expression sours. “Well, isn’t there some way we can orchestrate a reunion, perhaps? A dinner or getaway to officially welcome them to the family?” 

You blanch at the idea of seeing Sukuna again, stewing in your mortification and humiliation when he had already made it clear how distasteful he finds you.

You’re about to say you don’t mind going with Sukuna’s timeline when he sets his glass down with a pensive look on his face.

Ten years older than your mother and with a brilliant mind born from the best business school in Tokyo, your father was not a man to be played with; his word was law, and that was how he spearheaded the tech scene at the tender age of twenty-five with nothing but a dream and his gritty determination. 

Knowing he had to prove himself to your grandfather—your mother’s father, on his capabilities to build a home and a better life for a woman who already had everything—made you wonder how he did it.

From nobody to somebody. It’s why no matter how he treated you, he would always have your respect.

“A getaway?” Jiro murmurs, an idea darkening his thoughts. “That could be interesting. Very interesting indeed. I’ll make some plans and we’ll play it by ear.”

He went back to scrolling, ignoring his smugly beaming wife.

Pacified that she had gotten what she wanted, your mother turns nurturing once more, cooing and touching your shoulder.

“We should get you a spa treatment and a light makeover before Itadori-san sees you. Do you have something to wear in mind?” 

As if you were a doll whose only purpose was to be dressed up, this was the reality you were living in for the past twenty-seven years of your life. If Itadori-san didn’t want to marry you fast enough and get you out of your childhood home, you were sure a swift bullet to the head would be the best alternative.

Plastering on a smile, you ponder for a second on your choice. 

“I want to try something new,” you decide. A furrow appears in her brow. 

“What do you mean by new, my dear?” 

“Something Itadori-san would like,” you try to curry her approval, feeling lighter and happier when her solemn face breaks into a knowing smile. 

“He says he loves dresses with satin and plunging necklines. Thinner heels. I think Okuta-san would understand.”

Referring to your personal stylist, your mother nods her approval.

“That’s perfect. I’ll get her to do some digging on some of Itadori-san’s past girlfriends and see what they wore.”

Unruffled by how audacious that statement was, you were truly reminded that this marriage was a cruelty of convenience when her smile deepens.

“I’m proud of you for taking this step, my dear,” your mother’s voice warms, though the implications of them make you freeze. 

“You’re finally proving your worth to the L/N family.”

a.n. OKAY WE'RE SO BACK. ive deleted the first chapter due to low interaction and decided to give this series a second chance by starting with y/n's pov !! this series will rely heavily on feedback and reblogs (my adhd ass cant work on something if i and other people dont care for it) or else it'll be scraped and we keep things moving (i sincerely hope u loved this <3)

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms

How to recover fic deleted from AO3 that’s NOT on the Wayback machine

Sharing this because I just found out about this and it blew my mind.

The short version of it is: The Wayback Machine is not the only backup/archive of AO3 content out there. It’s just the most user-friendly and immediately browsable.

THIS database on Archive.org contains most AO3 fics as text files, including plenty that are not Waybacked: https://archive.org/details/AO3_final_location

What you’ll need: A browser for .sqlite3 files such as DB Browser for SQLite, an archive manager (e.g. WinRar or 7zip), good internet download speeds, and potentially a LOT of free GBs in storage space.

Not needed but heavily recommended: A download manager such as HTTP Downloader (so you don’t lose the entire download the second your internet stutters).

1. Click here to get to the archive’s files. It’s going to look something like this:

ao3_current.sqlite3 and ao3_old_files.sqlite3 are metadata files. The .zip files contain fic, most of them in simple .txt format. The metadata files tell you which fic is in which zip.

The “current” metadata file is recent backups. The “old” metadata file seems to be fics archived until 2020ish.

2. First, download either ao3_current.sqlite3 or ao3_old_files.sqlite3. Now launch DB Browser for SQlite, then File > Open Database Read-Only > open the sqlite3 file. Now click on the Browse Data tab.

3. It’s going to look like this.

4. The “Filter in any column” field can be used for keyword searches in, well, any column of this table. Be warned, it takes a while to update, give it time, it’s indexing.

5. Here I searched for all fic which gets a hit for the “Avengers” keyword (usually fandom). You can also search for a specific title, author, description, etc.

Let’s try to locate the first fic on the list. Click on the field on the left - row 1, column 1.

On the right you’ll see the full content of that cell. The most important thing here is the start - ao3_01. This means that the fic is located in ao3_old_files_part01.zip.

6. Download ao3_old_files_part01.zip and open it with your archive manager. It’s 5.5 GB. This will take some time.

7. There are multiple ways to find the fic within the zip file. Probably the easiest way is to use your archive manager’s search/find function to locate the fic by keyword - author is a good bet here, or title if it’s unique enough - and extract that. This way you don’t have to extract the entire archive. Be sure to add a wildcard operator (*) on either side of the keyword.

8. Extract the file and you’re done. Note: It will probably be in .txt format, and might be in one giant block of text. Just select-all and paste it to a proper word processor to restore the paragraph formatting.

+ I suppose if you’ve got like a free TB of space you could just skip the metadata step and download all the zip files and unzip them and use a command line search tool for keywords, too. This will work with keywords like title, author and fandom that are part of the file title. The metadata file just contains additional info, like character fields, description, etc.

This isn’t a perfect remedy, there are still fics that got deleted before they could get archived here. But it seems more complete than the stuff on the Wayback Machine on average.

Saw ppl on tiktok saying they were very similar

W/ hat version:

I'm gonna go insane I think the fic got deleted

Aegon: So you like Aemond?

Y/N: Yes...Thoughts?

Aegon: and prayers, girl what

Goro the Merman

It's Mermay! And I have for you a wonderful story of a girl and the merman who terrorizes the beach she is supposed to watch over. (I just watched Zoolander so I'm trying not to make a joke.) Female Reader x Male Merman

There’s loud screaming coming from the beach. You look up towards the window, rushing over as you pull back the curtains. To see a crowd rushing from sandy dunes, some falling over in panic. You scoff, frustrated as you know exactly what has happened. You go outside, taking down the wrap around your hair.

“It’s alright, people! It’s alright!” You shout out to the crowd. “Go to the awning over there, yeah, the green one!” You instruct people where to go after being frightened like that. Storming down the beach, you come to the lapping waves.

“I know you’re out there!” You snap your hands upon your hips. “I’m waiting!”

Something inky black rises to the surface. Then glittering gemstones of eyes look at you. You can tell he’s smirking under the water.

“Goro.” you say sternly.

Bubbles rise up from the water as he laughs.

You lick your tongue along the edge of your teeth and tsk. “What did we just talk about? I told you that this is-”

“A rest stop for the weary,” Goro hissed as he raised his head further out of the water. The black tendrils that covered the top of his head continued to float along the surface. “A beach for the weak. Sands for healing.”

You had been trying to hide the full brunt of your annoyance, but your scowl always came through. He is testing you, because reaction is what he craves. Even the smallest scowl gives him glee.

“That is not my prerogative.” Gor came up onto the beach, stretching out his long tail. The end looked like ripped fabric, going into many various strands and length. On land it looked like wet cloth, but underwater, you were sure it was a spectacle of brilliance.

“I asked you a favor!” Your balled fist thumps against your temple. “This beach earns me my income and you are-”

His mouth split into a great big smile, revealing many rows of teeth. His bright green eyes flashed in the darkness of his scales. He was midnight incarnate, and his scales shone like an aurora borealis.

“I’ll be gone soon enough,” you quickly said before he could add anything. “I run the lighthouse until the first frost.”

Goro’s smile is replaced by something else, something less menacing but more telling. “If not you, then some other fool. Then another, and another.”

“That’s how this job works. Keep the lighthouse, guard the beach, and don’t discourage the travelers!” You put your hands back to your waist. “That includes watching you.”

Goro cracked his neck and pushed his tendrils back from his face. “I am an attraction, same as the sands.”

You narrowed your eyes upon him. “Behave. That is what I am asking you.” You then bent over and snatched a handful of the magic sands. “You’re just lucky I needed more of this to study.”

Goro snickered. “To study. Right!”

You turn to head back to the landing where all the people have gathered.

Behind you, Goro sighed. “I know the secrets to the sand, but no one ever asks me nothing.”

“What are you going on about?” You huff as you face him again.

Goro smirks, his scales shimmering teal then to purple against the black. “Everyone is so curious about how the sand here has healing properties, but they never think to ask me why.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay then, why?”

He tapped a finger to his wide mouth. “Family secret.”

You asked and got what you expected. “Behave, Goro,” you said sternly. “I won’t tell you again!”

“And then what will you do?” He teased.

You gave him one last look before heading back up the beach to tell the travelers all was safe. Goro was a menace, but he wasn’t dangerous. A fighter, perhaps, but he wasn’t a flesh eater.

Once people were calmed and taken care of, you went back to work. The healing sands were well known, and many had tried uncovering the secrets it hid. Back at your old apothecary, you used to make potions with it all the time. That was, until your apothecary fired you when your experiments blew up the laboratory.

But that’s okay! The lighthouse and beach keeper position was great! You got to study the sand directly from the source, and the lab you made was in a bunker, so if there was an explosion again, you would be the only one harmed by it.

Still, your post here was limited. Once it began to grow cold and the froth on the beach turned to ice, you would be moved off the island and back to the mainland. Which was fine by you, you were never one for the cold, and you had plans to go study spices in Rakshasa Country. You would be surrounded by other students varying from chefs, healers, and your kind. Your only constant company here on the island was Goro, and you had been warned about him.

The previous beach keeper had dealt with Goro for three seasons before giving up. This was your first season, and while Goro was a nuisance, you couldn’t understand why he would make someone leave the island.

Early mornings were your favorite time to go to the beach. The sky was dusky, the air crisp, and there was no one there. You would walk the beach, studying the sands and watching the waves. Whatever gave the sand their healing properties had to come from the ocean, but that was an even bigger mystery.

“Walking all by yourself?”

Above you, Goro was lounging upon some smooth boulders. His cheek rested on his arms, and his eyes focused upon you.

“I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me,” you grunted.

“Awww, how come?” Goro’s tail swished back and forth upon the stone.

“I’m a little busy,” you tell him.

Goro sat up and stretched, yawning loudly, stretching open his mouth to show the sharp teeth inside. “Doing what?” He smirked down upon you. “Making sandcastles?”

You frowned, kicking down a heap of sand you had built. “Just doing some thinking. That’s all part of studying.”

Goro slid down from the rocks and relaxed upon the sands. He grabbed a handful of the sand then let it run through his fingers. “Is thinking what turned your hair green?”

You reached up and touched your hair, gently smoothing it back. “No. A potion I make does it.”

Goro snickered. “You’d fit in better under the water with hair like that. It’s perfect camouflage for hiding in the kelp.” he seemed to pose, raising his long arms above his head then puffing out his chest. There was a stretch of skin along his belly and chest, a soft flesh area that was dark, but flecked with pale speckles.

“Bigger mystery than the sand is why you’re here.”

Goro gave you the most confused and agitated look. “What?”

You shrugged at him. “I don’t know! Seems like a merman like you would have better things to do than stalk around this island, scaring travelers and making extra work for the beach keepers.”

He narrowed his eyes upon you. “These are my home waters. You and your kind are the ones trespassing, if anything.”

“And that may be true. But where are the others?” You motioned out towards the ocean. “If we are such a problem, how come you’re the only one making noise about it?” The ocean lapped quietly at the shore.

Scoffing, Goro rose up. “Noise wouldn’t even begin to describe what I could do.”

You just kept your eyes locked upon him as he slithered down the beach towards the water.

“Maybe one day, you’ll see!” Goro splashed into the ocean, vanishing under the waves that were shaded pink by the sky.

You let out a long sigh before Nara, a kobold whose family made their money by selling the sands, came walking out. Her family was who hired you and all the beach keepers before you.

“Good morning!” She sang.

“Good morning,” you grumbled.

“How is Goro?” Nara knelt down on the sands, drawing a symbol upon it before kneeling her head down to pray over it.

You pouted slightly. “I honestly don’t know.”

Nara rose back up and began using a special scoop to fill her dried gourd. “We used to play together as kids, you know?”

“You never told me that.”

“I suppose we don’t get to talk much outside of business things.” She filled her gourd then stood with it, holding it by the weaved handle. “He’s the only male of his colony, so he’s sent away a lot.”

You furrowed your brow. “How come?”

“To find gifts,” he answered. “That’s why he comes to the beach all the time.”

Well, that answered a question or two. “Is that why he is such a pest?” You followed Nara along the beach towards her family’s home and workshop.

“I know I warned you that he could be a lot to handle. Has he been causing any trouble lately?” She asked.

“Scaring travelers,” you muttered.

Nara’s brow knit together and she hummed.

“What?”

Nara shook her head. “That’s rather well behaved for Goro. Is that really all he is doing? He’s not chasing away? Throwing fish? Tying people’s feet together with kelp?”

You made a face. “No! He’s done that?”

“He dragged the last beach keeper into the ocean one time.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “He really put the last one through some things.”

You were a bit shocked. Goro had never behaved like that towards you. Sure he was annoying, but that was the extent of it.

“If you like it here though, we wouldn't mind keeping you on through the cold season.” Nara walked up the stairs to the workshop.

“Really? I thought the beach was closed.”

“It does.” Nara led you inside where he mother and father were bickering over something, laughing while they did. “But you’re trained in potion making and apothecary stuff right?”

You nodded, instantly greeted with a warm beverage from Nara’s sister.

“We’ve been wanting to expand our business for some time, but we’ve not come across anyone with your expertise.”

You were flattered! “I wouldn’t call myself that,” you laughed shyly.

Nara’s smile brightened. “Think about it. I know you have that study in Rakshasa Country. Trust me, I’d rather spend the cold days there than here. But if you did, there’s a lot we’d love to discuss with you.”

“The study is for just a month,” you murmured. “Maybe I could come back early once it’s complete. Then I could have my own ideas based on what I’ve learned there.”

“We can discuss it further!” Nara cheered. “That sounds like a perfect idea. Get a break from the beach, become inspired.”

You were…relieved? Strange. You would think you’d be eager to leave the island. But over the last couple of months, it’s become a home. Even after you were outcast from the best job you ever had. Maybe that job wasn’t so great?

That evening you went out to check the traps to get something for dinner. That’s where you noticed the trap was ripped to shreds.

“Ugh! Goro.”

“You called?”

Above you on the beach, Goro was laid out flat atop high dune.

“Did you destroy my trap? What am I supposed to do for dinner?” You chucked the wrecked heap onto the ground.

Goro rolled over onto his stomach then propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s not like you caught anything.”

“Well, now I have to fish!” You scoffed.

“Or you could ask nicely.”

Your hand went to your waist. “Ask nicely for what?”

Goro smirked. “For me to feed you? I can find you something really good. You’re not exactly good at catching the delicious parts of the ocean.”

You frowned and avoided his gaze. True. You’d either lived off fish or the kindness of Nara’s family during your stay here.

“Ask. Me. Nicely.” Goro punctuated.

It was either that for fish, and you hated fishing. You let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine.”

“Nicely,” Goro let the word slither from his lips.

You took a deep breath. “Would you please catch me something for dinner?”

Goro sat up on the dune. “Of course.” he leapt off it, splashing into the water and vanishing into the depths.

What was keeping you from believing he was tricking you? You’re not sure, but you stayed on the beach waiting for him anyways. Sitting there, you watched the ocean lap at the shore, the colors of the sun fading into the distant waters.

Then, Goro’s dark head popped up out of the water. He remained still there for a long while, his eyes watching you from behind the black drapes around his head. You stared back, slowly moving from sitting to standing to approach the water.

Suddenly, Goro whipped something from the water and towards you. You dodged, getting out of the way of whatever he threw at you. You gawk back at him, shocked by the sudden retaliation.

“What the hell was that?” You snapped.

Goro was laughing as he came closer to shore. “Keep you on your toes! That’s what.” He crawled to shore, a couple of things tucked under his arm. “Look.” He pointed back.

You turned, seeing what he threw to you laying on the sands. You looked back at him, grimacing before going towards it. It was a roundish shape, a little bit bigger than a small stone. You dusted the sand off, seeing it was a massive pearl. Your jaw dropped.

“See there? I can be nice. You humans like those things, right?” He chomped into a fish. “I love biting the heads off first,” he said between chews.

You rolled the large pearl around, thinking about the fortune in the center of your palm. You could sell this thing in Rakshasa Country for enough money to start your own apothecary anywhere in the Ruby Empire! Glancing back towards Goro, munching on his fish, you couldn’t decide why he would give you this.

“Here,” He wagged a bundle of lobsters at you. “I promised food. I got you food.”

“Thanks.” You slowly approached him again, taking the bounty from his clutches. “Why did you give me this?” You extended the pearl towards him.

Goro shrugged, giving you a curled up lip in reply. “I saw it, and the green in it made me think of you.”

This took you back for a moment. It was a heart skipping moment.

“Don’t act so shocked or anything.” he extended out his hand to you, curling up his long fingers. “Give it back. I chuck it to the depth I found it.”

The pearl became clutched to your chest. “No. I like it.”

“Then good.” A smirk crawled across his face. “Glad to hear it.”

It was a strange smile, one you hadn’t seen from him. It wasn’t one from the joy he got scaring travelers on the beach, or one of boyish pride. It was different, happy, hopeful.

“You should go cook those. They’re best when fresh.” he then shrugged. “So I’ve heard.” he bit into his fish again.

“Yeah,” you’re still unsure of how to respond to him now. “They are.”

Goro licked across his teeth, smacking it. “I guess it’ll be the end of the season soon. You must be excited to get off this island,” he said with a sort of forced laugh.

“Kind of,” you answered. “I have a study lined up in Rakshasa Country. I was going to take some of my studies on the sands to the professors there and see what they thought.”

Goro’s lip curled again. “I’ve never been much of anywhere.”

“Why not?”

His eyes flicked back towards you and he scoffed. “Where else would I go? This island, these waters-” his eyes became distant as he stared out over the water. “I like it well enough. Besides, who else would want me?”

“Oh, I dunno, depends on what you’re looking for.” You sat down beside him in the sand, setting the lobsters aside. You looked at the pearl, seeing the slight green reflection it gave. “I’m sure you could woo a beautiful princess or two.”

“A handsome knight, a powerful dragon, maybe a warlock and witch couple.” Goro stretched his long arms out behind himself and leaned back. “I know I could have anyone I set my eyes on. That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” You smiled.

Laughing, Goro stuck his tongue out. “Are you dumb? What else would keep me here? You’re a smart lot, you study, you perform your mad experiments. What would keep you home for so long if you had to?”

You thought of your childhood home. “Well, my family.”

Goro pointed with his tail to the ocean. “Exactly. I have family out there counting on me. I have a job to do here for them, and just so you know, I like doing that job.”

“Who's your family?” You asked.

Goro snorted. “Bunch of chattery women like you.”

Your smile grew brighter. “Do you have sisters?”

“Several.” he sighed and leaned back again. “I was the only one to survive my mother’s first clutch so-” His voice trailed off.

Your smile faded. “Oh? What happened?”

He was scowling, but trying not to let it grow. “My father ate them. Afraid there would be a son.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

“Yeah, oh!” He sneered at you then broke into a big smile. “But I proved his point when I grew.” He laughed. “Oh man, did I show him.”

You looked down then back out over the ocean.

“What about you?”

“I never fought my father,” you replied.

He gently smacked your arm with a chuckle. “No, idiot. Do you have any siblings?”

You shook your head. “No. I was an only child back home. I had lots of cousins and extended family though. The whole village was like a family.”

“Do you miss it?”

A surprising question. “Of course.” You looked back at him to assess his expression. It was soft, another surprise. “Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason.” he then pointed beyond you. “Your dinner is getting away.”

You watched just as your lobsters crawled back into the ocean. You laughed, cupping your hand around your mouth.

“I’ll go get them.” You stopped Goro by putting your hand over his.

You were laughing harder. “No! It's quite alright! Let them go, they earned it.”

Goro eased back, watching your hand touching his. A softer smile appeared on his lips, and he turned his palm so it was like you were holding hands.

Soon, the day came that Nara and her family were shutting off the beach to travelers. The waters were becoming too cold, and soon, wind and ice would replace the balmy breezes and sunny skies.

Packing up, you decided to leave your lab in the basement. After all, you would come back after your study. Sure, you could sell that pearl and use it to open an apothecary of your very own. But the idea of working here on the island sounded right.

There was a tapping on the window. As you were walking it towards it, it opened and a large conch shell was flung inside. It bounced off your bed and to the floor with a loud clatter.

Goro appeared in the window grinning. “Something to remember me by.” He hefted himself up, crawling inside.

“I think I have enough to remember you by.” You huffed as you picked up the conch. “Since when could you crawl up here?”

“Oh always,” he snickered as he lounged luxuriously on your bed. “I just didn’t want you thinking you could command me to spend time with you whenever you wanted.”

“Oh sure.” You set the conch down on the table.

“Will they be finding a new beach keeper?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m coming back here. So get used to that idea.”

“I just might.” Goro snuggled to your pillow, breathing in deep.

You leaned over top of him while he had his face buried in the pillow. “Are you going to miss me?”

Goro jerked, looking up at you over top of him. His surprised stare turned into a vicious glare.

“I think you are.” It was your turn to tease him, and you were going to take this perfect opportunity. You sat down on the bed so he had no way to escape. “I have reasons to believe it might be a little bit more than that.”

“Don’t go and think so highly of yourself,” he sneered.

You smirked. “You don’t like me then?”

“That’s-” Goro held his tongue. “Get back.” He pushed his hand against your shoulder. “I’m warning you. These teeth of mine can rip apart more than just fish!”

“I’m sure.” You dipped down, giving him a small, soft kiss. One you meant to be playful. But Goro’s hand on your shoulder grabbed your clothes, pulling you in, making the kiss something more, something deeper.

You whimpered, but you didn’t fight.

Goro was the one that released you, pushing you back a bit. “If you’re going to do that then you might as well mean it.”

Your face was flushed, and Goro’s eyes were completely black.

Goro’s hand then completely covered your face. “Humans.” He pushed you back so he could sit up. “You think you know everything.” He put his arms around you, rubbing his neck against yours. “This is how we sea folk do it.” His gills ruffled against your skin, tickling you in a way that sent shivers through your whole back. He then bit your shoulder and your body responded in such a visceral way you lost your breath.

A laugh entered your ear. “If you want to know the secrets of the sands, you’ll have to come back to me,” he whispered seductively. “I’ll only tell you then.”

Locking eyes with him he then butt his head against your forehead. “Promise,” he breathed.

You placed your hand upon his cheek. “I’m coming back.”

“Good.” Goro bit your shoulder, but this wasn’t like all those times before. His breath hitched and his lips trailed against the skin ever so slightly. A tickle went up the back of your neck as his tongue gently brushed against you. “I’ll find you if you’re lying to me.” He bared his teeth to you then left back through the window.

Catching your breath, you realized your nipples were completely solid and your heart was fluttering like the wing of a hummingbird.

In Rakshasa Country, you began your class and took great interest in the study. You even presented your studies on the healing sands to your professors, who decided to take time to study it with the class. Theories were presented onto its healing capabilities, but nothing sounded right to you.

“We would like you to stay on and take on an internship here,” one of your professor’s offered. “I think you could accomplish great things here.”

It was a dream come true for you, a great offer. But it didn’t feel right. “I’m sorry,” you replied, hating to let her down. “But I have a job offer back at the island. I already accepted it.”

She smiled. “I understand. I would much rather work on a beautiful island than here any day. Besides, you can always report your studies and findings on the sands back to me. I’m fascinated by your research.”

You were relieved she was taking it well. “I’ll report back as much as I can.”

“We can still work together then.”

You went back to the island when Nara’s brothers came to deliver sand. You met them at the port, helping them to load supplies and food onto the little ship. They had ordered so much to make it through the worst parts of winter you had to sleep around the cargo.

The ship got in late one evening, and it was later still after unloading everything. You passed out with Nara in her bed, making it home after her family fed you a huge breakfast. Once done, you trudged across the beach with your bag towards the lighthouse.

“You’re back!”

You didn’t have time to react before Goro clobbered you on the beach. You hit the sands and he crawled up your body.

“It’s not even spring! What are you doing here?” He clutched your face. “It’s really you! It is!” He was beaming, eyes wide, teeth fully showing.

“My class ended,” you managed to speak. “They invited me back to start an apothecary business with them.”

Goro rubbed his neck against yours instantly, sighing breathily as he did. Your skin shivered and your body responded in kind to his touch. You stroked up his back, touching the nape of his neck. Something prodded at your hip.

“It’s cold out here,” you whispered.

“You warm blooded creatures,” he snarled. “I want you here and now.”

“Goro,” you whimpered. “I don’t think we-” Your voice choked out as he bit your shoulder. “Wait!”

Your loud outburst made Goro raise up. “You don’t have to yell,” he pouted.

You caught your breath and sat up to look him in the eye. “I’m not going to have much fun cold. And I certainly don’t want sand in my nethers.”

Goro’s lip curled. “Fine!”

You made your way back to the lighthouse where you got a fire going and lit a candle for some light. Goro was waiting on the bed, stroking one of his cocks in his hand. The other quivered at the brush of his knuckles until he switched to it. They were extremely hard and pitch black with a line of white going down the back side where there were linear bumps to the sheath.

“You like me more than I thought,” you said teasingly as you let your hair down.

His eyes followed your curls as they touched against your neck. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“I’m not.” You began working on the buttons on your clothes. “Nara told me you had a thing for humans.” You smirked. Nara didn’t say that exactly but you were hoping to catch a reaction from him for once.

Goro scowled.

You dropped your tunic then pulled up your underclothes, revealing your breasts to him. His eyes widened and he held his breath in anticipation. His fists grabbed tightly around both of his shafts.

“Have you had many humans?” You said with a smirk.

He sneered at you. “Does it matter?”

“No,” you chuckled. “Just wondering what experience you have in pleasuring them.” You stood naked before him then, stroking your hand down your belly and towards your loins.

Goro’s long, dark tongue traveled across his lips. “A sailor here, a sailor there.” He then grinned. “What experience do you have in pleasuring merfolk?”

Smirking, you put your hands upon your hips. “None.”

“Then I guess I’m taking the lead, just to make sure we both have fun.” He held his hand out to you. “Come here. Now!”

“Demanding.” You crawled into his lap, kissing him softly before his teeth came out. He bit your lip, your chin, your neck. He lowered his head down, biting upon the soft flesh of your breasts before breathing upon your nipple. He bit it then nuzzled between your soft bosom.

“I love these,” he moaned. “We don’t have these below the waves.”

His cocks were grinding up against your ass, slippery, extremely hard. They throbbed as his mouth sunk over a breast, suckling the nipple and playing with it on his tongue. You whimpered, grasping his head as the sensations radiated through your body.

Goro chuckled as his fingers went between your cheeks and to your mound. “Wet already.” He rolled you over, hiking your hips up into the air. “Fuck,” he growled, spreading you out and watching you. “Don’t have these either.” His cocks slid up your thigh, rubbing against you until one slipped along your cunt.

“Then what do you have?” You moaned.

“I don’t want to talk about that now. I don’t even want to talk.” The pressure at your entrance, the slight tension of him hesitating. “I want to know how warm you are.” He was inside, deep and hard. He felt like a toy made of glass you once had.

Goro quivered, holding his breath as he lingered inside. He seemed to be memorizing and studying you.

“Goro?” You wanted to make sure he was still with you.

“Just a second,” he whined. “This is why I love humans,” he said in jubilation. He began to move, bucking, thrusting. You cried out, grasping tight onto the sheets. He rammed harder into you, deeper than anyone had reached. He was snarling, growling. He then bit onto your neck, snarling and licking. The sharpness of his teeth added to your pleasure deeply.

“So good. So warm!” Goro cried out. “Wet! Wet!”

You were whimpering, trying to focus on just one sensation, but there were too many. Your head was spinning.

There came a moment where Goro pulled from you and tossed you over. He pressed his cock to your lips, making you suck him. “This is the secret,” he chuckled darkly. “Take it directly from the source.”

He filled your mouth and throat, he went deeper, making you almost choke. It was slightly sweet and very salty. He pulled out, letting his other cock spurt across your face and down your chest.

You swallowed, coughing from the sheer amount he left.

Goro chuckled, still stroking himself as he watched you below him. “Do you feel it yet?” He leaned over you, licking some of his cum from your cheek. His fingers sunk back into you, making you tremble.

There certainly was warmth. It started on your tongue and down your throat. Aches in your body seemed to fade away. There was a lightness to your limbs, a newness you hadn’t felt. There was a flare of energy you thought would take weeks to recover from your journey. Goro’s fingers found a spot inside you that made you cry out.

“There it is. Feel it?” He chuckled. He kept going until it was like you would levitate off the bed.

Even after all that, your stamina hadn’t faded. You laid with Goro, kissing and slowly rubbing together. He was inside you, moving at a purposefully slow pace. He was smirking, proud of his work.

“Taking my time now that I have you,” he whispered.

“It’s nice.” Your arms were wrapped around him.

“If you’d like, I bet I could fill one of your bottles over there so you can study it,” he teased.

You kissed him to make him go quiet. “I think I know where I can get it fresh when I need it.”

Goro chuckled proudly. “That’s not even the most potent thing about us. Mm-” he moaned and stilled to savor the deep unending feeling. “It’s everything about us. Our scales, our eyes, our bones. Generations of us supply this beach with it’s healing properties.”

“Then why not share?”

“We do! We allow you to use this beach.” His eyes fluttered as he moved again inside. “We use what we have now for us. I’m giving you this because I want you. During the spring, you might only receive it once.”

“Why?”

“Because, I have to help fertilize the clutches.” He kissed you softly. “Silly human.”

“So you’re a father?” You teased him.

He shrugged. “Not really. It’s a lot to explain. Right now, I just want to explore.”