Chapter Text
It was days like today that had you thankful for the fall.
With a cool breeze in the air and the leaves slowly breaking away and floating off into the wind. The world around you despite being cold felt alive and bright, with all the colors of the changing leaves and the slight damp smell that filled the air. You pull your jacket closed as you move along the front yard, you had been summoned by your father for an early dinner and you had already kept him waiting for nearly ten minutes now.
The driver as always is there to hold the door open for you as you duck and slide into the open seat of the large SUV. Across from you sat your father, gray hair at his temples fanning smoothly into the darker hair near his crown. His eyes trained on the phone in his hand even as the vehicle started to move. He looked tired, was your first thought as you gave him a quick glance over. His suit was still just as pristine as it was when he left this morning, dark blue pinstripes and pressed button up, he looked like your average officer worker just out for a casual day with his daughter.
You watch him for a moment as he sits down on his phone and adjusts the cufflinks at his wrists, old and golden, something you knew came from your great grandfather when he married your mother.
“We’re going to dinner,” he says, tone flat. “I need you on your best behavior today.”
You kept your hands folded in your lap, like you always did, because you learned a long time ago that correction in your family was far from gentle. Even after the twenty something years you had been alive you still bore the mental scars of a strict upbringing. Something that you could only assume resembled military training rather than a loving family you had always wished for.
But that was the price you pay for the life you have now. Wealth, protection from men worse than your father. The blood he bought and paid for with money earned off the suffering of others did not live in your chest lightly. You knew all too well what kind of man sat across from you, and a loving and emotionally present parent was the lowest priority for someone like him.
But you had no other option than to be thankful for the life he had provided you all these years. You never went hungry, you were allowed to buy whatever you wanted, within reason. Hell your room currently holds art pieces and jewelry that would bankrupt a small country.
Spoiled…as your father always told you.
But you knew it was just his way of showing you love instead of giving you the time needed to give such an emotion. This family, your family while you were spoiled with the riches of a job you never had to do, left you caged in every other sense. There were no casual nights out, there were no friends that you met at school. You weren't even allowed a boyfriend until after you were already an adult. Your opinions of any subject were valued less than that of your uncles or cousins. While you may be kept, you were a second class citizen within your own family, just like the rest of the women who found their way into the circle. Marriage or being born into it, there was no way to escape the curse that made you be a woman that was forced to be subservient to the men around you.
Your father is quick to sigh bringing you out of your own dwindling thoughts on a tired subject.
“The deal isn’t closed yet,” he tells you, conversational. “Hisashi is hesitant, he wants to feel assured that a deal will follow through.”
You remember that name, and something about a deal that has been in the works for sometime now. The great binding of the new era, as your father explained to your uncles one night at dinner. Bringing the north end and the east side into one cohesive unit to stomp out the other crews that had been gaining traction in the south end. Though you distinctly remember one name in particular, every male at the table that night shivered in dread when he was mentioned
Ryomen Sukuna.
More monster than man you learned as dinner carried on. Tall, and built to withstand bullets and knives. A god among men your cousin had said, which earned him a quick smack to the back of the head. A real problem for your father it seems, the longer you try to not listen in on the conversation. He had sprung up in the south end one day and had caused nothing but chaos and havoc in his wake. Supply runs stolen, Guns, drugs…and all the people running it were either killed or sent back as a message.
This deal your father had been working on with Hisashi was the first real step at solving the major problem both parties had with the man in question.
“What kind of assurance,” you ask quietly.
He gives you a quick glance before pulling out an envelope from his jacket pocket and tossing it to you. You hold it while he speaks, too afraid to open it quite yet to see the contents.
“As discussed,” he says “ I'm going to offer him a compromise to seal the deal.”
He motions to the envelope in your hands lazily as he pulls back out his phone, and you have to take a deep breath before you are able to peel it open and check the contents. Your stomach drops at what you find neatly tucked away. Name change paperwork, social security, background and genetic testing, and tucked neatly in the back is a certificate of marriage…with the only thing missing is the signature of spouse number 2. You are in shock to see your name carefully and almost identical to the real one already written out and dated for today.
“Me?” you ask, shocked that your father would stoop so low. “Are you offering me?”
He chuckles in that dismissive way he always does, cold and sharp because he knows that he has won whatever fucked up little game he had been playing.
“Why did you think I'm dragging your sorry ass out of the house?” he asks, though you feel stupid for not catching onto it sooner.
You turn toward him slowly. “I’m not agreeing to this.”
Your father smiles. “I don’t need you to agree with it.”
“I don’t want to marry him,” you counter quickly. Your voice stays calm, but you learned young that emotions only give men in this world something to play with.
“That’s irrelevant.”
The car turns down another street and you quickly place all the items back into the envelope and shove it into your bag, like if you held onto them it would somehow disappear. Turning your attention back to him he is staring at you like he is upset, which was not far off what he probably was. This deal was something major for him, for the family. It was supposed to be the thing that finally tied the upper and west side into one unstoppable unit. But it was clear that your father had hit a snag or two along the way. This had been in the works for months now, and you thought things would go back to normal once it was done…clearly you had been wrong.
“He’s twice my age, daddy you can't expect me to be ok with this”
And in the blink of an eye you feel his answer in the form of a slap land across your cheek. Forceful enough to jerk your head to the side and your lip burning.
“Everything I have done for you in life and this is how you talk to me?” he says with a sneer, leaning forward in the seat and grabbing your still stinging cheek in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “ You will do what you are told, and that will be the end of it.”
His words make your skin crawl.
“But I-” He is quick to cut you off with a stare that you have seen a hundred times before. That same coldblooded look that tells you he is seconds away from doing something that is going to land you in the hospital if you don’t shut up.
“I will only repeat myself once,” he says as he comes nose to nose with you pulling you forward to meet him halfway. “You will be taken care of. He respects tradition, he understands loyalty, and he knows a woman's place. What kind of business partner would I be if I didn’t give him the most perfectly trained woman I know?”
“I’m not a child,” you say defensively.
Your father’s gaze sharpens. “You are my property to do with as I see fit.”
“You live well,” he continues. “You are protected, you wear my name and you eat at my table. All of that comes with responsibility.”
Responsibility.
Another word that has always meant obedience.
“This deal secures our future,” he says. “The expansion and safety of not just this family, but the ones who will follow in our footsteps. I did not build everything I have to lose it because you suddenly discovered some fleeting dream of independence.”
The car slows at a light. Somewhere nearby, someone honks, life goes on without you. “You’ll do this,” your father says calmly. “Because I am telling you to.”
“I don’t want to,” you whisper.
Even with tears in your eyes and the forceful grip you try your best to remain strong in front of him. Even if he believes women are weak and easy to turn on and off emotions to manipulate those around him, he will only see your tears as reaffirming that belief.
“What you want is selfish and will only hurt this family.” He says it with nothing but malice lacing his words, and your heart breaks just a little bit more because of it.
“I want freedom daddy, and you are selling me off for your own selfish wants!” You yell into his face, your spittle landing on the bridge of his nose from the force you use.
And no sooner do the words leave your mouth do you feel the hand let go of your face and come back in an instant with a vengeance. The slap you receive this time makes you cry out in pain, and you feel the blood already seeping from the corner of your lip. He leaves your head faced towards the window, and you feel the SUV roll to a stop. WHen you open your eyes you see the entrance to a building that is embellished in chrome and tall windows. An awning that is a deep crimson red, and shielding the door greeter from the trickle of rain that has started a few moments ago.
“Bargen for your freedom with your new husband, that is the only option left for women like you.” His voice is so cold, that you have to really look at him to see if this is actually your father or if he had been possessed by some demon.
And as the door opens and he steps outside, he holds out his hand for you to take. Guiding you out of the vehicle like nothing in the world is wrong. You know how this goes, wipe your tears, fix your face and put on a good show for those you are about to entertain.
All this because he is afraid of a single man trying to take something from him. It was ridiculous, and felt so unfair at the same time. Thanks to some mystery thug you were being forced into this fucked up game your father had started. And it was up to you to finish.
You run on auto pilot as you enter the restaurant. Your arm laced with your fathers as the hostess guides you through the restaurant and into a private dining area in the back. The crimson curtains and soft candlelight make for a moody brunch. And once you enter the area your father lets you go only to shake the hand of an older man dressed nearly the same as your father. His hair was more gray, and he had a cigar hanging from his mouth. You try your best to smile and be polite, but the car ride here, and the new information you had been given had put you into a mood that was not proper for company.
But still you were nothing more than a quiet piece of furniture for them to admire. These types of things never meant that you were valued or respected. You were meant to sit and look pretty, nod your head when they asked something sexist. Expected to be the perfect embodiment of a woman trained by your family.
You are seated between your father and the man he intends to marry you off to like a fucking decoration.
You are not a guest here, you aren’t expected to participate. You are merely an accessory that had been carefully placed at the table to soften the edges of a deal. The restaurant you watch moves in a quiet efficiency. Runners beginning out drink, one handing you a menu that your father takes from you.
“She’s very well kept,” Hisashi says, lifting his glass. “You’ve done well.”
Your father smiles. “She knows how to behave.”
Another man chuckles. “That’s what matters. Too many girls these days think they’re meant to be heard.”
They laugh like your entire existence is nothing more than a joke to them. But still you keep your lips sealed and your gaze towards the small dancing flame on the table in front of you.
“She’ll make a fine wife,” the older man says, finally acknowledging you without looking at you. “Quiet. Beautiful. Fertile, I hope.”
Heat crawls up your neck and your stomach turns at the thought of him even touching you, let alone allowing him to slip inside of you.
“She’s healthy,” your father replies easily. “No bad habits to speak of.”
You lift your glass and sip water you do not need. Your appetite has vanished. The sound of their voices blurs into something dull and distant. Your chest feels tight from the pressure you are building up.
You set the glass down carefully.
“Excuse me,” you say softly. “I need to use the restroom.”
Your father glances at you briefly, then nods. Permission granted.
No one objects. You are dismissed without a second thought.
You stand, push your chair in and walk away with your back straight and your steps measured. You do not rush. You do not look like someone about to vanish. You slip out of the dining room with no eyes on you, and find the hallway to the restroom. Once inside you lean against the door and let out a soft sigh. Your heels echo softly off the tile as you go to stand in front of the mirror.
Right now, you look exactly like the girl they all think you are. Not a single hair out of place, the dress you wore is modest and perfect…other than the small scratch on your bottom lip you wear the perfect mask. You let your head fall as you grip the edge of the sink and take a breath. Your heart is pounding loud and more urgent the longer you let the intrusive thought wander around in your brain.
You could run.
As crazy and impulsive as that seems, right now it feels like the only option you have left. Just wash your hands of this life and everything in it. The thought is almost too tempting to not think about. Your eyes glance at the door of the restroom, and then back to your reflection. You had no money of your own except for petty cash your father didn’t know about. You had no clothes, no place to hide until this all blew over.
But fuck, this wasn’t the life you ever imagined for yourself. You are a grown ass woman with absolutely no autonomy over yourself or what happens to you. Your father made sure of that, along with every other man that had ever had the grace to call you family. Your hands tremble as you push yourself to stand straight. You couldn’t do this anymore, living on the street and dying of starvation seemed like a better choice than going back to what waited just a feet away.
There was nothing else to decide as you slowly opened the door and inch your way past the open entryway of where the rest of your party sat. As they drank and seemed to laugh and have a good time together. It was easy enough to get past them and walk towards the neon sign on the back that was labeled exit.
WIth a soft push cool air hits your face, and you take a moment to scan your current surroundings. This was the alley behind the restaurant. And it smelled like damp concrete and trash that had been left in the dumpster for too long. But there were no men following you, no eyes to watch you like a hawk, just a few steps away was the freedom that you had been begging for all your life.
You take those first few cautious steps on the pavement and head in the direction of the street out front. Tugging your jacket around your face to hopefully hide who you were if any of your fathers men were lingering around outside. Your heart hammering away with each step, forcing you to walk faster the closer you came to the open street. And you didn’t stop, not for anything. Because for the first time in your life you were at the mercy of the world with nothing to cushion your fall. But you push forward until you are at least a few blocks away. The city moves around you in the way that late afternoon always does. Fast and crowded, and it only takes one person bumping into you to make your heart freeze. Your breathing coming in fast and loud, as your mind screamed that this was a big fucking mistake.
Every instinct is screaming for you to turn around, to smooth your dress into something presentable, walk back inside and apologize for needing to take so long in the restroom. FOr you to sit back down and let them finish carving your life into something they can continue to control.
You could still do that.
You could so easily walk back and pretend like you didn’t attempt to throw your life away. And pretend that you weren't sitting in a room full of men who viewed your body as just another piece of inventory for them to catalog. You could always keep pretending you haven't been walking the razor's edge of your nerves for years waiting to snap.
But your father would know the sins you committed, whether you told him or not.
You force your feet to keep moving.
Flowing into the sea of people dressed in tacky business suits, and business casual wear making the same journey as you are. The city feels enormous now, no longer does it shield itself from you as the curated version you’ve been allowed to see of it from your home. The sidewalks are cracked, and neon signs flicker as music and the smell of food wafts through the air. These people don’t know the first thing about you, or who your father is.
This is what you wanted right? To be invisible?
You walk in a daze now, for who knows how long. Your phone on airplane mode in your purse since you didn’t want to be able to be tracked. Your father started calling fifteen minutes after you left, and you know you were caught. So the only thing you could do was keep on walking with no destination in mind. The sun has set about an hour ago, and that left you to wander into a small coffee shop and sit down. Obviously in a corner tucked away from the large open windows in the front. You order a coffee and a small pastry and pull out your phone. It was just something to keep your hands busy, to keep the dread that you feel now that you are halfway to freedom.
The only problem now was that you didn’t know what to do, you hadn’t thought you would make it this far. And so you sit and pick idly at the raspberry and cheese pastry you had bought, unable to fight off the twisting feeling in your stomach.
The one thought that kept coming back to you was your father did all this to save himself from some lunatic in the south end. Sukuna, you keep thinking over in your mind. Letting it sit heavy and sparked with a current of absolutely stupid ideas.
You’ve heard the rumors, everyone has.
He owns a club somewhere in the south end and it being a Friday night, you are sure to catch a glimpse of this god-like man that has effectively ruined your life. But walking into the devils den like that would be suicide, you know that.
But what if…
What if you went, just for a little while at least. Maybe try to talk to this man, get on his good side. Maybe he would take pity on your father and call off this stupid fucking war that he is brewing, save you from a life that wouldn’t be worth living. And if things go south? Well at least you would disappear on your own terms. Lost to the world and never to be seen from again, erased without anyone ever finding you. As grim as it seems at least the options are yours to pick from.
Because you already know what happens if you crawl back to your father.
That thought is enough to force yourself out the door, and start walking again. Never mind the ache in your feet from wearing heels for so long, or the amount of walking you have done so far. No, this was going to change your life in a drastic way. But at least it would be by your own hands for once.
You quickly throw your phone back into service and pull up the directions for the club,Dominion. You stare as the missed calls and voicemails start pouring in. From your father, uncles, and even the stupid cousin you can’t stand. An overwhelming amount of notifications are blazing across your screen and it's enough to get you to stop just short of your destination. Looking up towards the sky for a moment you have to force yourself to breathe. And for a brief moment you glance sideways to look at your dim reflection in the store front. Your eyes wide, face flushed. Nothing more than a woman who dresses for the approval of stuffy and sexist men, someone who looked like the ghost of her mother, before this lifestyle took her away.
You were about to make a deal with a devil, to save yourself from another one.
That thought was more than enough to make you straighten out your spine and walk the rest of the block to your destination. Fuck what everyone had to think up until this point, if you were going to die tonight or sixty years into the future, none of it mattered if you let the world swollow you whole like this.
You don’t linger outside for long.
As you enter the line to get in, with a group of faceless people and loud noise. It was overwhelming and you hadn’t even made it inside the building yet. But the bouncer took one look at you in the que, and smirked before pulling you out of the line and letting you bypass the thirty people ahead of you. And when the doors open you are taken back by what you experience.
The music thumps heavy, deep bass that rattles your body and makes you feel dizzy. Sin is there to greet you like an old friend as you make it deeper inside. The lights strobe and the air smells like sex and alcohol. A steady cloud of smoke hovers above the dancefloor, catching the lights as they change colors. The air thick with perfume and regret you can only imagine as you see the massive amounts of bodies on the floor. Pressed together, women and men alike draped over furniture and laid out like an art piece. Random sets of hands slide their way over exposed skin, dipping to trail fingers over hip bones and the backs of a man's thighs. You notice the moans as pleasure is given without shame.
It’s enough of a sight to make your skin flush. Though you were no virgin, thanks to the various grunts your father trained and set off to different locations…you were still inexperienced in most areas. Other than heated kisses that didn’t last long, and a hand laced over your mouth to keep the noise down. Rushed and sloppy, rather than crafted with the intent to earn love.
You pass by a bar, refusing to stop for too long. The light catches on the bottles as they rise above the shelfs, glittering and tempting as you watch the bartenders fight and yell over the music. You watch for a moment as drugs are passed by one by one. Neat little bags of white powder that disappear into a waiting palm, while one man can’t resist the urge to tap some onto his hand and quickly snort it, laughing as it burns.
No one is hiding, or having to pretend here…and the thought drives you wild.
This is the exact thing that your father makes you believe doesn’t exist, while profiting off of it. Sex, drugs, violence. All of it conveniently located in one place for your viewing pleasure tonight. Even as you force yourself to move deeper into the club, you can feel the steady bass of the music thrumming in your chest. The lights play tricks with the shadows and how people move. Even without the drugs freely floating around, the feeling was almost intoxication, especially for someone who was only experiencing it for the first time.
And as you move past the dance floor and climb the spiral staircase to your left, that feeling stays alive in your ribs. Even as you pass a man half naked, and be caressed by a man twice his size as if he was a well known lover. The sight is enough to make your skin flush as you pass by and witness them lock lips like they were the only ones with oxygen left to share.
Some base part of you is afraid as you make it to the top of the staircase and look out over the sea of bodies moving to the music. But rising from the feeling is something that has awakened in you, in the worst kind of way. The sights, and sounds of this place was like a drug of its own. And some dark part of you wants to know more about it while you can.
It takes a moment to draw your attention back to the task at hand. Dragging yourself back from the railing and deeper into the part of the club that was nothing but a dimly lit hallway and deep crimson walls. All of it in that industrial art style, deep colors and lots of metal accents. And as you pay no mind to the rope sectioning this area off from the rest of the club, you feel a shiver run down your spine.
What were you even hoping to find here? Surely Sukuna wasn’t even here, it was a weekday for god's sake. You freeze when you see the door at the end of the hall. Clearly a private room by the way there were two men dressed in suits, and guns hanging from their hips guarding the door.
“The hell are you doing back here?” the man on the left asks before he leaves his post and starts walking towards you.
You quickly start to step back as he approaches. If life has taught you anything it’s that men will hurt you for anything they can, and this wasn't even family. You could only imagine what a stranger was willing to do to you if he caught you.
“I-Imade a wrong turn,” you say quickly and take another step back, ready to abandon your plan and run right out of here.
But fate has other plans for you it seems. As the man, taller and broad shouldered, grabs you above the elbow and jerks you to stop. He makes quick work of turning you around and giving you a once over, before smirking. He starts pulling you back towards the door where he came, with his partner now blocking the entire door.
“Oh, boss is gonna love this,” the man blocking the door says as he turns around and opens the door.
The man holding your arm is too strong to fight and he is able to drag you the rest of the way down the hall and ungracefully tosses you into the darkened room, and lets the door shut behind him. You land on the floor with your palm hitting the ground first, and you yelp as pain shoots through your wrist. Staring at the floor in front of you, you see that you have landed on a plush carpet, but it didn’t cushion your fall. Dragging yourself onto your knees you hold your sore wrist with the other hand and give yourself a moment to breathe.
But it was the soft feminine moan that causes your whole body to freeze and your head to snap up in the direction of the noise. Just there a few feet away sits a topless brunette staddled across the lap of thick thighs. Her head is thrown back in a moment of passion and your eyes drift down to watch the way a thick hand wraps around her hip and grinds her down further onto the person she is sitting on. You are entranced by the scene, perverse and intimate in nature. And here you were holding your wrist, unable to look away from the moment of passion laid out before you.
You look away after a moment, the sight too much for you as the hand on her waist drifts down to cup her supple ass, pulling what remained of her dress down further off her body. And instead you catch yourself in one of the mirrors. Hair a mess, looking like a deer that just ran into an oncoming set of lights on the road. You see the bar and bartender in the reflection behind you. He was working at cleaning the water stains out of the glass, paying no mind to the debaughtry going on in this small space.
And then the most foolish thing you could possibly do is look back to the reflection of the man seated on the couch. He looks like a man carved out of indulgence and violence, but taught how to wear the mask of a handsome man. His hair is a dusty shade of pink that shouldn’t work for someone who looks like he does.His jaw sharp under the low lights of the room. His mouth is expressive as he watches the woman on his lap grind against him, a smirk that looks like it was stolen from the devil himself plastered on his beautiful face. Black ink tattooed into his skin only serves to add mystery to his features. From the bold thick lines that run across the bridge of his nose, all the way down his chest, you can see that they go on further than what the top buttons of his shirt allow you to see.
Then you make the mistake of looking at his face again and see his crimson eyes locked onto you in the mirror.
For a moment you think this isn’t real, this can’t happen. But when his mouth curves into something that feels sadistic, you know now for certain you are royally fucked. He laughs, clearly amused as to what he finds staring back at him in horror.
“Well I’ll be fucked,” Sukuna says, voice carrying just enough to reach you. “If it isn’t the princess herself.”
The woman in his lap turns her head, and her laugh turns lazy as she never stops the slow pace she has, grinding her hips into his at a teasing pace. That is until his hand shoots up into her hair and grabs a fistfull of it, pulling her hair briefly with a sharp tug, forcing her to stop. It’s rough enough to have her yelp in pain and push at his chest.
“That’ll be all,” he tells her, eyes never leaving you.
You hear the huff leaver her, but you can’t even fathom looking at her right now. You are caught in a staring contest with this man, as the woman slides off his lap and shimmying her dress back up her body. You feel the heated stare she is glaring into you as her heels click on the floor, and the light that temporality fills the room from the door behind you as she leaves. The soft click of it felt like a prison sentence rather than a relief.
Sukuna leans back, adjusting the rock hard erection in his pants before he beckons you over with two thick fingers.
Come here.
The gesture is small, but unmistakable. You hesitate for a moment, before you find yourself back on your feet. Your injured wrist is still held in your good hand. This is a terrible idea, and now you have absolutely no way to retreat. Each step you take makes your body feel heavier than it did before. The closer you get the louder everything seems to get. The echo of your shoes clicking on the hard floor, The muffled music streaming from the door behind you. You are far too aware of the fact his eyes haven’t left you since he finally noticed you were here.
Up close, he is worse.
Pink hair brushed back from his face. Tattoos crawling over his skin like something alive, curling down his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. His eyes are sharp and hungry, far too curious for your liking. He up this close you smell the distinct scent of smoke and expensive liquor coming off him.
“You look lost,” he says mildly, looking you over from head to toe. “Or confused. Hard to tell with girls like you.”
Girls like you. The words stick somewhere in your ribs as an insult.
“You know who I am,” you manage.
He hums. “Of course I do.”
He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. It brings him closer to your orbit in a way that is unsettling. He was too close and it makes your skin prickle.
“I’ve met your father,” Sukuna continues. “Once or twice. He’s less charming than he thinks he is.”
You feel too aware of the fact that he knows exactly who was just thrown into his private area, interrupting his evening plans of sex and violence. And you shift your weight from one leg to the other. His stare makes you feel exposed and small, though you are the exact opposite of both those at the moment.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he adds, voice dropping. “This place eats girls like you.”
You look to the floor out of shame, because he was right. This was the last fucking place you should be. And yet somehow you found yourself here as a desperate attempt to prove a point to your father.
“I need to talk to you,” you say.
Sukuna studies you for a long moment. The noise of the club fades around him, like he’s deciding whether you’re worth the trouble. And then he does something that shocks you. He moves his body to one side of the long red couch he is on and pats the seat next to him.
“Sit,” he says. “Before you lose your nerve completely.”
Your heart stutters as he smirks at you. Clearly he was enjoying the effect he was having over you. And you don’t even realize just how tightly wound you are until you see his expression shift from amused to stern, because he wasn’t asking you to sit…he was fucking demanding it.
“Come on, little princess,” Sukuna says lightly. “Before you bolt.”
This time you don’t stop yourself from following his order. You calmly walk to the open end of the couch and sit down, just barely letting your ass make contact with the seat. Preparing yourself for what exactly, you didn’t know. But you wanted to be ready just in case this went bad.
He motions for the bartender who is quick to bring you both drinks. Handing one off to you that smelled sickly sweet and tropical, there was even sugar on the rim. Taking it in both hands, you hold it and look up at him unsure of what you should do. He takes his own glass with a large circular iceball and a deep amber liquid and silently toasts you before taking a long sip, and letting the drink lazily hang from his fingers, gripping the rim in a lazy way.
“Drink,” he says casually.
But again you find yourself hesitating because what if there was poison in this, or some type of drug? You hadn’t watched the bartender make this, and airing on the safe side of paranoia you didn’t want to be the fool who trusted the devil not to bite.
“If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead before you tiptoed your ass into my club, now drink.”
Again this wasn’t something he was asking, but it was him telling you what he wanted you to do. And it would be rude of you to not accept the start of a treaty between you right? Lifting the glass you take a sip, letting the fruity flavors invade your tastebuds. Overly sweet and nothing like the bitter liquor your father kept stashed away for special occasions. It burns only for a moment and you can’t resist the urge to take another larger sip before finally sitting it down on the table.
Sukuna watches you with a smirk on his face as he takes a long drink from his own glass.
“Do you know how stupid it was to walk into my club alone?” he asks casually.
“Yes,” you say, honesty slipping out before fear can stop it. “But I needed to talk to you.”
He leans back on the couch, crossing one of the strong, long legs over the other and lets his drink dangle from his hand as he lays it on the back of the couch, like he was waiting for something more than just your simple explanation. His posture reads pure confidence in this entire situation, he knows that he has the upper hand at the moment, but you are confident in your ability to persuade him…hopefully.
“Is that so?” he asks, voice dripping with mock surprise. “Tell me why my name tastes so sweet on your lips then.”
You can’t help but let your fingers curl around the edge of the couch, the soft leather squeaking softly under your grasp. You needed to get your shit together and quick, or this man was going to eat you alive, and use your bones to pick his teeth.
“You’re coming after my father,” you say, knowing it's a statement and not a rumor anymore.
His smile sharpens with a hint of excitement. “Am I?”
“Yes,” You insist, your tone soft but confident. “ I hear things, even when they think I don’t.”
Sukuna hums thoughtfully. “And?”
“And I want to know why,” you say. “Why are you pushing so hard? Why is he scared of you.”
This was not the kind of situation where beating around the bush was going to earn you any favors. That didn’t make saying it out loud any easier. Or the fact your heart felt like it was two seconds away from flying out of your chest. But you see the glint in his crimson eyes, it's just a flicker of smugness, but you see it. You’ve seen that look on many men over the years.
“Careful,” he tuts at you, almost playful. “Curiosity gets people killed.”
“I already know what my future looks like if I stay silent and do nothing,” you reply quietly. “I figured I might as well learn something before it ends.”
He laughs this time, and takes another swig of his liquor, but the humor of what you just said is lost to you. There is nothing funny about your life being on the line for the sake of other men, especially when you didn’t even have a say in the matter.
“You really are naive,” Sukuna says. “Walking in here like I’d explain myself to you.”
“Then don’t,” you say. “But don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this.”
His eyes darken, and for some unknown reason you feel heat rise from your neck and crawl up your face. He looks every bit a monster, even with the designer clothes, and jewelry. He was a king among men, and anyone who stood in his way was cursed with a life that ended too sudden.
“And what is it that I enjoy Sweetheart?” He asks in that condescending tone he is known for.
“The fact that I came to you,” you say, voice steady despite the way your heart hammers. “Looking for something.”
For a long moment, he says nothing. But then he leans closer. His arm sliding along the back of the couch, and encasing you. Stuck between his arm and the arm of the chair, you gasp a little at the suddenness of it. He tilts his head and you can see the faint scar that runs along his jaw. Your eyes catch yourself in the mirror behind him and his body nearly covers yours completely, no matter where you look.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Sukuna says softly. “And you don’t even know the rules yet.”
His glass briefly touches your exposed shoulder and you feel the condensation drip onto you. Running in an icy line down your arm. The shiver is involuntary, but it seemed to catch his attention all the same. His grin is lazy, but you can tell the clogs are always turning in his mind. HE is waiting for the drop, the punchline that brought you to him. Poor sweet little you into his domain of destruction. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to breathe, feeling his breath fan along your face.
“I need protection,” you say finally, the words too soft for the tense moment.
But there it is nonetheless, out in the open finally. The thing that had you banging on his door scared and afraid. THe lamb that brought herself to the wolf, hoping he would take mercy on you.
As you open your eyes, you watch as he blinks and then laughs. Like he couldn’t believe what he just heard fall from your glossy plump lips.
“Protection,” he repeats, tasting the word. “From who?”
You swallow. “From my father.”
You watch as the absurdness of what fell out of your mouth has time to click in his mind. His eyes gleam as he looks like a delighted predator who is seconds away from tasting a meal he has been longing for. The way he looks at you makes you feel too seen.
“You walk into my terrority,” Sukuna says, tilting his head at you with a smirk. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips ever so slightly. “Alone, and seemingly unarmed. Asking me to protect you from the man I am actively trying to erase?”
He knows what he is doing to you, he has too. He is too close, His free hand landing on your shaking knee as if to prove a point about who is in charge here. His thick fingers squeezing softly, you’d almost confuse the touch as affectionate if it were anyone else.
“You are either very brave,” he continued softly, “or very stupid.”
Most likely it was both, though you weren't sure where your stupidity ended and the bravery came into play in all this. This was nothing more than a petty stab at your father, to show him that you were a grown ass woman, who didn’t need a man deciding her future. But now that you are here…you can see just how naive it was for you to even attempt something like this. You are outskilled in more ways than one when it comes to this man, and he was smug for knowing it all along.
He drops his head so that he is eye level with you, and you feel the heat of his hand when he takes your chin and lifts it with a tender touch.
“You think I save girls like you?” the way he asks you softly, doesn’t match up with the malice hidden behind his eyes. “Pretty little things that are raised in golden cages who suddenly realize they have no room to fly?”
You can smell the bourbon on his breath and he leans in close, the smell of cedar and smoke clinging to his body. The smell is almost intoxicating on its own, until you realize who it's attached to. Your senses are clogged with everything that makes him who he is. Of course he is dangerous, but god does he smell good and the smirk he wears when he speaks to you causes a pool of warmth to pool in your belly, and you want to turn away but the hand holding your chin doesn’t budge.
“I think,” you say carefully, voice soft, “that you don’t do anything for free.”
As the words leave your mouth and flow into his ears, you watch in real time as his grin goes from teasing to down right feral. His canines peeked through his parted lips and you can’t help but watch as his tongue slips out to run along his bottom lip. It wasn’t meant in a seductive manner, though that's the first place your mind decided to run to. At that he lets go of your chin and allows you to move before leaning back just enough to let you breathe your own air for a moment.
“Smart girl.” he says as he picks up his drink and lets the remaining amber liquid slide down his throat.
You stare longer than you realize as he works to take all the liquid in the cup. His gold chain catching off the moving lights of the room. If he notices your blatant staring he doesn’t comment on it. Before he holds the glass up behind him to signal the bartender he is ready for round two. It only takes a moment for the Bartender to round the bar and hand off a fresh glass to him, filled with a heavy pour of liquor.
“I know you’re moving against him,” you continue. “I know he’s getting shipments he hasn’t told his partners about. I know where he hides his money because he doesn’t trust the banks. I know which men he plans to sacrifice if things go wrong.”
Sukuna’s expression doesn’t change, but you feel the shift in the air. You were more than just a pretty face, because you made yourself important in other ways. You didn’t need to use bribes and the lure of sex to get people to do what you wanted. You simply just needed to stay quiet, be unnoticed and collect the metric fuckton of information that your father talked about.That didn’t make you valuable to your father, but it was valuable enough to catch his biggest rival's attention.
“I keep track of it all,” you say. “Dates, names, new and old routes they may take.”
You reach into your small bag, slow enough for him to not see it as a threat of pulling out a gun or other weapon on him, and produce an old ratty notebook. Something you have been carrying around for the past two years, just filling information in as you go. The pastel purple edges of the pages are curled on the top, and it looks no more dangerous than what it is. Just your little memo book that nobody ever thought to go through once you said it was for tracking your monthly cycle.
Sukuna holds his hand out, waiting for you to give it to him, but you are quick to pull it back against your chest. He doesn’t get anything until he agrees to your terms.
“I will give you everything I have,” you say softly, and look down at the book. “In exchange for your protection.”
“Is that so?” he asks as he quirks a brow up at your words.
And you can’t help the immediate reaction of nodding your head and opening the book in your hands and fanning the papers quickly, so he could see that you were being truthful. He watches with what you assume is interest, before he smirks.
“So in exchange for my protection, you plan to give me the leverage I need to wipe the old bastard out for good?” He asks as he crosses one leg over his knee, letting his leg lay lazily there, one arm resting on the back of the couch. “I could just as easily kill you right now and send your body back to your father in pieces little girl.” he says playfully, but you know he would if it came down to it.
“I also have something else.” you say as you go back into your bag and pull out the crisp white envelope you kept from your father earlier today and hold it out for him to take.
“What’s that?” he asks curiously.
He takes it from your hand far more gently than you thought he would. His thick fingers softly grazing your hand as he takes it. You don’t shy away from answering him as he starts to sift through the small amount of paperwork.
“My marriage certificate,” you say. “Pre-signed. My name is already on it. All it needs is his business partner’s signature.”
You watch as it dawns on him now why you decided to show up on a random Thursday and ask for something he was half tempted to give you. The smile on his face returns, looking every bit wolfish as he reads the paperwork.
“So, your father is selling you off to that Hisashi bastard huh?” he asks but the paperwork only confirms the rumors you no doubt knew were spreading by now. He laughs and adjusts himself in his seat before he lays the papers in his lap and looks at you. “You don’t know what you are asking for.” he says but there is no bite to his words.
He studies you for a long moment, his stare heavy as you see the way the clogs are turning in his head. He had just been handed two weapons in one neat little package. And it was a weapon he didn’t know he wanted until it was offered up on a silver platter like this.
It was the same story no matter who you dealt with. Men want one thing and that is power, they crave it harder than any drug that is on the market. It's intoxicating holding the power to influence and have people at your mercy. It was primal in the worst kind of way. But your father, thankfully, had taught you to appease those around you to get what you want. And if you had to offer up your old life for a new one with a man who could easily kill you…then so be it.
It would be a decision you made at the end of it all.
“I know enough.” You say softly. “Enough to know that this will benefit us both at the end of the day.”
You know you have his interest, it's hard to read, but you can see it. In the way his eyes roam over your form and down to the notebook in your hand. The slow careful gaze of a predator that has been offered a meal he can’t refuse.
“You’re asking for a lot,” he says calmly. “From a man you barely know.”
Your fingers knot together in your lap. You force yourself not to shrink.
“I’m asking for a chance,” you say. “To be a person.”
His brow lifts slightly. Interested despite himself.
“Speak up Sweetheart,” he says casually. “You didn’t come all this way to whisper did you?”
The tilt of his head feels degrading. Just enough of a taunt from him to try and rile you up. And you hated to admit it was working. For far too long you have been made to be quiet and forgettable. Raised as someone who didn’t deserve the same base level of respect as your male counterparts. Speaking softly was just something that had been ingrained into every fiber of your being. And this man? He wanted to hear what you had to say, Even if it was only to serve his own purpose.
“I want-” you start but cut yourself off.
What did you want? Of course you wanted freedom, and the chance to have a life that belongs to you. But at the core of it you wanted to feel the love of someone who didn’t see you as nothing more than a trophy to hand upon a shelf, You wanted to be loved just because someone thought you were worthy of it.
Sukuna rolls his wrist lazily before lifting his drink to his mouth and watches you with a quirked brow, waiting for your great revelation.
“I want freedom.” you say pushing your voice to sound louder than a whisper. “I want to be wanted, not traded around like some heirloom to benefit someone else’s future. I want a family, people who can love me without having to earn it. A future of little babies that look at me and know that I will protect them from anything bad in the world. That-”
Again you stop yourself before you ramble on. The man sitting across from you didn’t give a shit about your vain wishes for a perfect life. He stares at you for a long moment, almost as if he is caught off guard by your list of demands. Then he does the wildest most disrespectful thing he could do and fucking laughs.
It’s deep and slow, something that feels malicious as it rumbles from his chest and falls out of his mouth. You scoff and look away once you realize he is laughing at your dream, even if it was silly to him. Men are all the fucking same, and this just proves it.
“A Family?” he repeats, with a chuckle. “You really are full of surprises.”
You feel the heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. Searing embarrassment at his mockery. “Stop laughing.” You say voice losing its strength as his laugh dies down.
“You want freedom,” Sukuna says. “But you came here offering yourself to me.”
“Yes,” you say glaring at him, lips pouted from anger. “Becuase freedom costs something, and I am willing to pay the price.”
That does it.
He sits his now empty drink down on the table and leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs and his eyes locked onto yours. The stare is nothing like anything you have ever felt before. Its almost like he is staring into your soul and debating if you are being truthful or not. And when you break eye contact he doesn’t hesitate to reach out one strong hand and grab your thigh and drag you effortlessly onto the cushion next to him. Angling you where your knees are almost trapped between his knees, and he doesn’t let go.
“Let me make this perfectly clear for you.” He says his voice losing whatever teasing tone he might have had a few minutes ago. “You can go where you want, guarded of course.” he adds softly. “Wear what you want, say what you want And if you feel brave enough…fuck whoever that pretty little heart desires.”
The hand that is on your thigh leaves and drags up the front of your body slowly, pulling the fabric of your dress along with it gently. The silky material catches on the callouses of his fingers.
“But,” he adds smoothly as his hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at him again. “ Do not confuse being free with being absent.”
You gasp softly as his thumb runs along your bottom lip softly. The roughness of it feels so much different than it did a moment ago. Like the sadistic asshole he is, he examines the still new cut that had blossomed on your bottom lip and presses on it slightly, forcing a soft hiss to escape your mouth. Like he knows exactly where it came from and who gave it to you. You can feel your heartrate kicking hard as he looks at you, almost expecting you to pull away and finally run. But he only smirks when you hold his gaze, as your face feels flush.
“You tie yourself to me,” he says. “You come home to me. You answer to me when it matters. Anyone who tries to keep you from that will die.”
The words land heavy between you, but you can feel the soft undertone of his words. They were meant to ward off anything that might still be causing you conflict. He was a strong powerful man, and clearly possessive was a deep seeded belief he kept. There was no room for an argument about it. He would allow you to indulge in others, but at the end of the day you belong to him.
“And if I fall in love with someone else,” you ask quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them,
But his smirk turns sharp, like he had been waiting for you to ask. He tugs you closer, and you have no choice but to move with his hand. Your hands falling to his chest to keep yourself from crashing into him completely. He feels hot under your cold hands, like an inferno that you secretly want to lean into, soak up some of that warmth for yourself.
“Then I guess both of us will be having a life lesson won’t we?”
Your pulse races, with fear and heat tangling in your chest.
“What about the rest of it?” You press, voice going back soft. “You laughed at it.”
You don’t know why but some part of you wants the very thing that he and every other person in your life has failed to give you. Unconditional love and care. Be that a collection of people who you call family, or a real one of your own someday.
“I laughed,” He says, leaning forward just enough to invade the last bit of personal space you had. His lips damn near ghosting over your own. You can smell the bourbon and cigars lingering on his breath, making your head feel dizzy. “Because I can give you whatever it is that you want. If you give me your loyalty…” He groans softly and you feel him tilt his head in a teasing manner. “I will burn the world down for you.”
You swear you feel his smirk dance along your lips as he talks softly to you. The tone of his voice sends a shiver throughout your body, and you can’t quite tell if it was involuntary or not.
And just as you are ready to close the miniscule amount of distance between your lips, he lets you go and moves back to lean back on the couch. Your eyes open in shock from the loss of heat his body provided, and you have to stop yourself from whining like a pitiful child.
“You should think about this, long and hard little one.” he says as more of a warning. “If you choose me, there is no going back.”
You nod your head and pick up the now almost room temperature drink that had been discarded on the table and bring it to your lips. Warm alcohol wasn’t what you wanted, but you needed something to cool the burning sensation you had in your throat. You could feel it in his presence alone that he meant every word that he said. There was no room for anything else, and oddly enough that made this deal all the more tempting.
“What if I regret it?” You ask softly, and for the first time you can’t figure out if its the alcohol or your own willingness to throw your entire life away for the man who sits next to you. Looking at you like he would eat you alive.
He leans in just enough to steal the air from your lungs.
“You won’t get the chance to,” he says. “That’s what commitment is.”
Your pulse roars in your ears at his words. For men like him vows didn’t come fillipanty, there were more than just a promise. And you become painfully aware of yourself in the moment. How soft your skin is, how young and naive you feel for thinking this would benefit you in a real life changing way. How completely unprepared you are for the gravity of what he is offering.
He sits back once again, hopefully done with teasing you so harshly.
“I’m not forcing you,” he says. “You walked in here. You opened your mouth. I’m just telling you my expectations of this union.”
The room falls quiet, and you swear that the music stops. Could you really do this? Could you leave your old life behind and sell yourself to a new devil all for the sake of freedom? The thought sounded almost too good to be true. And yes while you were absolutely afraid of Sukuna and what he could do to you…a part of you felt like that wasn’t up for debate. If he was willing to tie himself to you, then it was his job to make sure nothing happened to you as well.
You only have a moment to ponder the thought before your phone blares out with a phone call. The harshness of the music forces you to jolt and gasp.
“Damnit,” you mutter as you reach for the phone. You forgot to turn it back on airplane mode before coming in here. And as you bring the phone up to look at the screen you see your fathers name plastered on the screen. A moment of panic flashes across your face at the sheer amount of missed calls, and texts that have flooded your notifications.
After the last set of rings, the phone goes back to a black screen. And you breathe a sigh of relief. But it is so short lived when the screen lights up once again with your fathers name, your panic soaring through the room. How the hell was it that you were sitting in a room with a man that took peoples lives like it meant nothing, but swan dive into a full blown panic attack at the fact you have missed not one…but thirty six calls from your father.
“Persistent fucker isn’t he.” he mutters and looks at you and then to the phone in your shaking hand.
You shake your head faintly, panic creeping up your spine. “I can’t.”
“I know,” he says, like he can read your mind..
Before you can react he reaches across the table. Not for you or your room temperature drink…but for the envelope that you had placed on the table. He flips it open, and scans the papers again. Then without hesitation he pulls a pen from his pocket, the scratch of the pen hitting the paper feels louder than the music playing from your phone. Your breath catches as he folds up the papers and seals them back in the envelope and holds them up over his shoulder. That's when you see a man, who looks nearly like a smaller and younger carbon copy of Sukuna, take the envelope and walk out the side door.
“There,” he says, far too casual for your liking. “No more worry about shit you can’t control.”
And with that he reaches forward with the quickness of a lion basking in the sun and plucks the phone from your hands. You are sure you are going to black out as you watch the smirk form on his face as he slides his thumb over the screen to answer the call.
“Missing something?” He asks with a slight chuckle.
And you can hear the angry voice of your father, muffled as he screams at Sukuna who looks so unbothered by what he is hearing. Once the barrage of insults and screams start to die down, you refuse to watch as he opens his mouth to speak finally.
“Shes safer now, than she has ever been you old fool.” he quips with a laugh and rolls his eyes like this is a game to him. “Oh, don’t worry you don’t need to look for her anymore.”
You can hear the boom of your fathers voice pick back up on the line, and a string of profanities leave his mouth. Threats you hear halfway, still muffled from where Sukuna keeps the phone next to his ear. He leans back and sprawls his legs open, making himself comfortable as your father has a melt down on the other end of the line. Again as a courtesy he allows your father to rant until he is out of breath, still smiling the entire time about what he said.
“You raised a cute and smart girl,” he quips after a moment. “Took a page out of your book and sold you out before you could sell her.” he glances at you and winks and your face heats up a million times over. “Shes got a new daddy now, and my little girl gets whatever she wants.”
You gasp softly at his words. No doubt a petty jab at your father.
“Coun’t your fucking days old man. Because when I come for you there will be nothing left for her to mourn.”
He doesn’t allow your father to get another word in before he hangs up the phone, taking a moment to look down at it, before taking it in his hands and easily snapping it in two. He tosses the broken pieces behind him and they crash to the floor and skid across the pavement.
The smug look on his beautiful face cracks something fragile inside of you, and replaces it with something that feels too dangerous to name. He knows what he just did, he saved you the humility of begging for his help, and made the decision for you. Though now you aren’t quite sure if this was ever your decision to make. And when he goes to stand and he holds out a hand for your to take, you reach for it with only a small amount of hesitation.
He guides you the back way out of the club. Nothing more than a set of black doors and long dimly lit hallways. The entire time he shields you from anyone else that you cross as you go. The music and the voices fade as you step outside into the night. A lone SUV running just a few feet from the door. He has the manners to open the door for you, allowing you to step inside. He stops you with a soft grip to your upper arm, and you can’t help but turn your face to look at him.
“Welcome home, little girl,” he murmurs. “I promise. I’m going to ruin you in all the ways he never earned the right to.”