Bunny Princess

22 | female | ♋︎ |

[bunnyxxprincess]

18 + nsfw blog: Minors DNI

I am not sharing my name due to privacy reasons

You can call me princess, bunny, or any other cute names🫶🏼💖

I DO NOT have a Daddy and these scenarios are completely fictional

Kinks: ddlg, abdl, bdsm (light and extreme), praise, degradation, dumbificafion, breeding, CNC, petplay

always open to exploring more too :)

Please no kink shaming

Also, I will not tolerate degrading about bodies and body type

I do not send nudes. If you send me unsolicited nudes you will be blocked.

I will try to respond to DM’s if they’re polite! <3

[fallentology]

A Crown Remembered

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

SYNOPSIS: You died centuries ago and Sukuna never forgot. When he finds you reincarnated in the modern era, he knows immediately. Unfortunately for him, you think he’s a creep. WORD COUNT: 11.5k

The Heian era was a time of blood and gold.

Sorcerers carved their names into history with blades and curses, while lords and emperors hid behind paper screens and whispered prayers. In the shadow of those fragile thrones walked Ryomen Sukuna. With four arms, four eyes, tattoos like black flames across his skin, and a second mouth that laughed at every scream it tasted.

They called him the King of Curses. Calamity.

Everything except what he truly was to you.

Yours.

You were no trembling village girl offered as tribute. Your name already carried weight among the clans. Starfire chains, your inherited technique, could bind even the strongest cursed spirits, wrapping them in burning light until they shattered like glass. Clans had tried to marry you off for alliances. You had burned every proposal scroll in front of their envoys.

Then came the day the great Ryomen Sukuna arrived at the borders of your clan’s territory, not to conquer, but to see the sorcerer who had single-handedly sealed a special-grade curse that had been terrorizing three provinces.

You met him in the open courtyard under a blood-red sunset.

He towered over every warrior present. Two arms crossed over his broad chest, the other two resting lazily on the hilts of his cleavers. His lower eyes watched the trembling guards while the upper pair fixed solely on you. The mouth on his abdomen grinned with too many teeth.

You walked forward without hesitation, bare feet silent on the stone, your crimson robes whispering against the ground. Your hair was long then, falling to your waist in loose waves, adorned with a simple gold circlet that caught the dying light.

Sukuna’s voice rolled like distant thunder. “So this is the little star who thinks she can chain what I would devour.”

You stopped only a few paces away and looked up at all four eyes, all that raw power without flinching.

“I don’t think,” you answered, voice clear and steady. “I do. And I choose who I stand beside.”

A low chuckle escaped both mouths. The guards around you shifted, hands tightening on weapons they knew would be useless.

Sukuna leaned down slightly, one massive hand reaching out. Clawed fingers stopped just short of your chin, as if testing whether you would retreat.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stepped into his reach and tilted your head so his fingertips brushed your jaw.

“I choose you, Ryomen Sukuna,” you said softly, but loud enough for every witness to hear. “Not because the world fears you. Because I don’t. Because something in you looks… bored. And I want to see what happens when you’re not.”

Silence fell across the courtyard like a blade.

Then Sukuna laughed. A full, rolling sound that vibrated through the air and made several lesser sorcerers drop to their knees. He straightened, but his hand did not leave your face. Instead, his thumb traced your lower lip with surprising care.

“Bold,” he murmured. “Foolish. Intriguing.” His lower eyes narrowed with dark amusement. “Very well, little star. Come with me. We’ll see how long that fire lasts before it burns out.”

You smiled. “It won’t.”

That night you left your clan’s compound without looking back. No forced marriage, no chains, no fear. You walked beside him willingly, your hand resting lightly on one of his lower arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The first time he took you to his domain. A ruined temple he had claimed as his own, the air tasted of incense and old blood. He watched you explore the halls with four unblinking eyes.

You stopped in front of the great throne of carved bone and gold, then turned to face him.

“Everyone says you destroy everything you touch,” you said quietly.

Sukuna’s grin was sharp. “They’re usually right.”

You crossed the distance between you, robes sliding from your shoulders until they pooled at your feet. Naked, unafraid, you looked up at the King of Curses and traced the black markings that ran across his chest with gentle fingers.

“Then touch me,” you whispered. “And let’s see what happens.”

Four hands descended on you at once.

Two pinned your wrists above your head against the cold stone wall. One gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. The last cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head so he could claim your mouth in a kiss that tasted of smoke and iron and something dangerously close to hunger.

He was not gentle. Sukuna had never needed to be.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall. The mouth on his stomach opened, teeth grazing your collarbone while his main mouth bit down on your shoulder, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“You’re smaller than you look when you’re burning things,” he growled against your skin, voice rough with want. One of his hands slid between your thighs, fingers teasing until you were trembling. “But you feel just as fierce.”

When he finally pushed inside you—thick, hot, unrelenting—you moaned his name like a challenge. He fucked you against the wall with deep, powerful strokes, four arms holding you exactly where he wanted you, the second mouth licking and sucking at your breasts until you cried out.

You came hard, nails raking down his back, starfire flickering at your fingertips and leaving faint glowing marks on his skin that healed almost instantly.

Sukuna followed with a low groan that vibrated through both his mouths, spilling deep inside you as if marking territory no one else would ever claim.

Afterward, he did not let you go.

He carried you to the furs piled near his throne and laid you down, surprisingly careful. Two arms wrapped around you, the other two resting possessively over your waist and thigh. For the first time anyone had ever seen, the King of Curses looked… at ease.

You traced the tattoos on his chest with lazy fingers.

“I told you,” you murmured sleepily. “My fire doesn’t burn out.”

Sukuna’s lower eyes closed. The upper pair watched you with something dangerously close to fondness.

“We’ll see, little queen,” he rumbled. “We’ll see.”

Outside the temple, the world already whispered in fear.

The monster had taken a bride.

And she had chosen him back.

The months that followed your choice blurred into a rhythm of violence and intimacy that no one else in the Heian world could have understood.

You rode beside Sukuna on campaigns that turned rivers red. While lesser sorcerers hid behind barriers and chanted protective sutras, you stood at his right hand on the battlefield. Your starfire chains lashed out alongside his cleavers, binding groups of enemies so he could carve through them with leisurely precision. He never ordered you to stay back. He never treated you like fragile porcelain.

Instead, he watched you fight with open amusement and something darker—pride.

One particular skirmish against a coalition of rival clans remains burned into your memory.

The valley was narrow, hemmed in by steep cliffs. Three hundred warriors and sorcerers had gathered under a false banner of “righteous purification,” thinking numbers and a hastily constructed anti-domain barrier would be enough. Sukuna had laughed when the scouts reported it.

Now the air reeked of smoke and opened bodies.

Sukuna stood at the center of the carnage in his full glory. Four arms moving like separate instruments of death. Two cleavers sang through armor and bone. One hand summoned slashes of cursed energy that bisected men mid-scream. The fourth hand occasionally flicked away arrows as if they were annoying insects.

You fought at his flank, crimson robes stained darker with blood that was not yours. Your chains of starfire whipped through the air, glowing white-hot. They wrapped around a cluster of archers, tightening until their bows snapped and their screams cut short as the flames consumed them from the inside.

A spearman broke through the chaos and lunged at your unprotected side.

Before you could react, one of Sukuna’s lower arms shot out, massive hand closing around the man’s head like a vice. With casual strength he crushed the skull and tossed the body aside.

“Careful, little star,” Sukuna called over the din, voice carrying easily. “I’d hate to have to replace you so soon.”

You laughed, it was bright and unafraid. Sending a chain lashing toward a sorcerer who was trying to weave a binding vow. “Then stop talking and keep up, my king.”

His answering grin was feral.

When the last enemy fell, the valley had become a slaughter yard. Crows already circled overhead. Sukuna wiped blood from his cleavers on a fallen banner and turned to you.

You were breathing hard, hair wild, a shallow cut across your forearm already clotting. Without hesitation you stepped over corpses until you stood directly in front of him. Two of his hands settled on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto a broken stone pillar so you were closer to eye level.

“You enjoyed that,” he observed, lower eyes half-lidded.

“I enjoyed watching you,” you corrected. Your fingers rose, tracing the black markings that ran down the side of his face. The touch was gentle, familiar. No one else alive would have dared. “You move like the world is too slow for you.”

Sukuna’s main mouth curved. The stomach mouth opened slightly, teeth glinting. “Everything is too slow except you.”

He leaned in and kissed you right there among the dead. Deep, claiming, tasting of iron and victory. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back. Another slid beneath your robes to rest possessively against the bare skin of your lower back. The kiss was not soft. It never was. It was heat and teeth and the promise that whatever came next, you would face it together.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment. Four eyes closed, a rare moment of stillness.

That night you returned to the ruined temple he had claimed as his seat of power.

The great hall was lit only by braziers and moonlight filtering through cracks in the ancient roof. Sukuna dismissed his few remaining followers with a lazy wave. The moment the heavy doors closed, the air between you shifted.

You barely had time to loosen your blood-stained robes before four hands were on you again.

He lifted you onto the wide stone altar that served as his makeshift throne platform. Your back met cool rock as he loomed over you, tattoos stark in the firelight.

“Strip,” he ordered, voice low and rough.

You obeyed slowly, deliberately, enjoying the way all four eyes tracked every inch of revealed skin. When you were bare beneath him, he paused—just watching.

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to keep,” he said quietly. It was as close to a confession as the King of Curses ever came.

Then he descended.

Two hands pinned your wrists above your head. One large palm spread your thighs wide. The fourth hand traced lazy circles on your stomach, claws lightly scraping. His main mouth claimed yours again while the mouth on his abdomen moved lower, hot breath ghosting over your inner thigh before the tongue. Longer and more dexterous than any human’s, licked a slow stripe up your center.

You arched with a sharp cry.

Sukuna chuckled against your lips. “Still so responsive. Even after painting a valley red.”

He didn’t tease for long. The second mouth latched onto your clit, sucking and licking with relentless focus while two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling just right. The stretch burned beautifully. You moaned his name like a prayer and a challenge at the same time.

When you were trembling on the edge, he withdrew.

You whined in protest.

He positioned himself between your spread legs, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance. In this form he was large—almost too much—but your body remembered him, opened for him.

He sank in with one slow, powerful thrust, bottoming out as you gasped.

“Fuck—Ryomen—”

“That’s it,” he growled, voice layered. “Say my name while I remind you who you belong to.”

He set a brutal pace. Deep, punishing strokes that rocked your entire body. The altar creaked beneath you. Four hands held you open and pinned, allowing no escape, no mercy. The stomach mouth continued its work, licking at your breasts, teeth grazing nipples until they ached.

You came first. Hard, vision whiting out, starfire flickering uncontrollably at your fingertips and leaving glowing trails across his shoulders that faded slowly.

Sukuna followed with a low, guttural sound, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you, marking you from the inside out.

Afterward he did not pull away immediately. He stayed buried within you, arms wrapping around your smaller frame, holding you against his chest as if you were something infinitely precious.

You traced idle patterns on his skin, fingers following the black tattoos you knew by heart.

“They will come for me one day,” you whispered into the quiet. It was not fear but simply fact. “Because they cannot kill you directly.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened fractionally. “Let them try. I will burn the world before I let them take you.”

You pressed a kiss to the mouth on his stomach. It nipped your lip gently in response.

“I know,” you said. “But if they ever succeed… remember this. Remember how I chose you. How I looked at you without fear.”

He was silent for a long moment.

Then, so quietly you almost missed it: “I will not forget.”

The fire in the braziers crackled. Outside, the night wind carried distant screams. Remnants of the day’s work.

Inside the temple, the King of Curses held his queen close, four arms a cage no enemy had yet breached.

But the world was already whispering.

They could not defeat the monster.

So they would target the one thing he refused to lose.

Winter came early that year, cloaking the Heian provinces in frost and silence. The ruined temple you shared with Sukuna felt warmer for it. Braziers burned hotter, furs piled thicker, and the air carried the constant scent of incense mixed with the faint metallic tang of recent blood.

Your days settled into a dangerous rhythm of power and peace.

Mornings often began with strategy. Sukuna would lounge on his throne of bone and gold while you sat cross-legged on the wide stone steps below him, maps of rival territories spread across your lap. Your starfire technique allowed you to sense cursed energy signatures from miles away, so you marked weak points with glowing embers that hovered in the air like tiny stars.

Sukuna listened.

That alone was a miracle. Generals who had served him for decades were cut down for speaking out of turn. You spoke freely, challenging his plans, suggesting subtler approaches when brute force would waste energy.

“You could take the eastern pass without leveling the entire village,” you said one frost-bitten morning, pointing at the map. “Leave the survivors to spread stories. Fear is a better weapon than ash sometimes.”

One of his upper eyes narrowed in amusement. The lower pair watched you with lazy heat. “Since when did my queen become merciful?”

“Not merciful,” you corrected, rising to your feet and stepping between his spread thighs. Two of his hands automatically settled on your hips, claws pricking lightly through your robes. “Strategic. Dead men tell no tales. Terrified men tell exaggerated ones.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and the mouth on his stomach. “You’re getting dangerous, little star.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against the black marking on his cheek. “Good. You were getting bored.”

That evening he rewarded your cleverness in the way he knew best.

The temple’s inner sanctum was lit only by moonlight and a single brazier. Sukuna had you on your knees on the thick furs, your upper body draped over a low wooden bench. Your wrists were bound behind your back with one of his spare sashes — not because you couldn’t escape, but because you both enjoyed the illusion of restraint.

He knelt behind you, four hands mapping every inch of your bare skin.

Two palms smoothed up your spine, pressing you down. One hand gripped your hip, holding you steady. The last traced slow circles over the curve of your ass before delivering a sharp, stinging slap that made you gasp.

“Still so responsive,” he murmured, voice rough with approval. “Even when you play at politics all day.”

His fingers slid between your thighs, finding you already wet. He teased your entrance with two thick digits, pumping slowly while the mouth on his abdomen licked a hot stripe up your spine.

You moaned, pushing back against his hand. “Ryomen… stop teasing.”

He laughed darkly. “You forget who gives the orders here.”

But he obeyed anyway, because it was you.

He replaced his fingers with the thick head of his cock, pushing in with one long, relentless thrust until he was seated to the hilt. The stretch was perfect, bordering on too much, and you cried out in pleasure-pain.

Sukuna set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing off the stone walls. Every thrust drove you harder against the bench. His lower hands kept your hips angled exactly how he wanted, while his upper hands reached forward to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between clawed fingers.

The second mouth joined in, its tongue flicking teasingly over the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders, occasionally biting down just hard enough to leave marks that would linger for days.

You came first. Walls clenching around him as starfire flickered uncontrollably at your fingertips, leaving faint glowing patterns on the furs beneath you.

Sukuna followed with a low growl that shook the air, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you, hot and endless.

Afterward he untied your wrists and pulled you into his lap, four arms wrapping around you like a living cage. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady, inhuman rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you,” you whispered into the quiet. It was the first time you had said the words so plainly.

Sukuna was silent for a long moment. Then one hand stroked through your hair with surprising gentleness.

“You are the only creature I have ever allowed to speak those words and live,” he said finally. “That should be answer enough.”

You smiled against his skin and traced the tattoos over his heart. “It is.”

But peace never lasted long in the Heian era.

The first whispers reached you during a rare journey to a neutral hot spring valley. A place even rival clans respected as temporary ground for negotiation.

You and Sukuna traveled with only a small escort of his most loyal (and terrified) followers. The springs were steaming under a clear winter sky, the water rich with minerals that soothed cursed energy fatigue.

That night, while Sukuna soaked in the largest pool with three arms draped lazily over the rocks, you lingered at the edge, letting the heat seep into your muscles.

A young sorcerer from a minor clan approached under the guise of offering scented oils. His hands shook as he bowed.

“My lady,” he whispered when Sukuna’s eyes were half-closed in apparent relaxation. “There are those who fear what you have become. A queen to the King of Curses… it upsets the balance. Some speak of… removing the attachment. For the good of all sorcerers.”

You turned your head slowly, eyes sharp. “And you bring this message to me?”

The boy swallowed. “As a warning. Leave him. Return to your clan. Or they will make you leave.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna’s voice cut through the steam like a blade.

“Bold of you to threaten my queen in my presence, insect.”

Four eyes opened fully. In an instant the boy was lifted into the air by an invisible slash of cursed energy, dangling helplessly.

You placed a hand on Sukuna’s arm, the one closest to you. “Let him go. He’s just a messenger.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, but he released the boy, who scrambled away into the darkness, sobbing.

You turned back to Sukuna, water lapping at your waist. “They’re starting to realize they can’t kill you directly.”

He reached out with two hands, pulling you through the water until you straddled his lap. The other two arms wrapped around your back, holding you flush against his chest.

“Let them plot,” he growled against your throat. “They will die screaming for their arrogance.”

You kissed him softly, tasting mineral water and restrained violence. “I’m not afraid. But promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If they ever come for me… don’t hesitate because of me. Burn them all.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened possessively. “I would burn the heavens themselves before I let them take you from me.”

You believed him.

But the whispers grew louder in the following weeks.

Messengers arrived with false offers of alliance. Minor clans sent gifts wrapped in protective charms. Once, during a solo scouting mission you insisted on taking alone, you found a letter nailed to a tree with a cursed dagger:

“The monster’s weakness must be excised. For the sake of the world, the star must fall.”

You burned the letter to ash and said nothing to Sukuna when you returned.

He noticed anyway.

One night, as you lay tangled together on the furs. Your body still humming from the way he had taken you twice, slow and deep, whispering filthy praise against your skin. Sukuna traced the gold circlet in your hair with one claw.

“You’re hiding something,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

You sighed, pressing closer to his warmth. “They’re planning something. Targeting me to hurt you. But I can handle it. I’m not fragile, Ryomen.”

His four arms tightened around you. “You are the only thing I refuse to lose. If they touch you…”

You silenced him with a kiss, then guided one of his hands between your thighs again, distracting him the best way you knew how.

“I know,” you whispered as he rolled you beneath him once more. “Now remind me who I belong to.”

He did. Thoroughly, possessively, until the only sounds in the temple were your shared moans and the crackle of dying braziers.

But in the quiet hours before dawn, when Sukuna’s eyes finally closed in rare rest, you lay awake staring at the ceiling.

You understood the danger.

They couldn’t defeat the King of Curses in open battle.

So they would try to break his heart.

And you had already decided: if it came to that, you would make sure they paid for every second of his pain.

Spring thawed the frost, but the whispers did not melt away. They grew sharper, more coordinated, like blades being honed in secret forges across the provinces.

You felt the shift in the cursed energy of the land itself. Subtle tremors in the web of power that connected every sorcerer and spirit in the Heian era. Your starfire technique made you sensitive to such things; faint resonances of binding vows being woven in hidden mountain shrines, alliances forming between clans that had once been bitter enemies.

Sukuna noticed your distraction during a quiet afternoon in the temple courtyard. Cherry blossoms—somehow surviving in the shadow of his domain—drifted lazily on the breeze. He lounged against a pillar, two arms folded behind his head, the other two idly spinning one of his cleavers like a child’s toy. The mouth on his stomach hummed an old, bloody war chant.

“You’re thinking too loudly, little star,” he rumbled without opening his eyes. “Speak it before I get bored and make you.”

You sat on the edge of the stone fountain, trailing your fingers through the cool water. Droplets glowed faintly where your cursed energy brushed them. “They’re getting bolder. Not attacking you outright, they know better. But messages keep coming. ‘Temporary truces.’ ‘Shared threats from rogue curses.’ All of them mention me by name. ‘The Star Queen must mediate.’ ‘Only she can seal the threat without escalation.’”

Sukuna’s cleaver stopped spinning. All four eyes opened, fixing on you with predatory focus. “Let them send their pretty lies. I’ll decorate the temple steps with their spines.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “If I ignore them, they’ll claim I’m hiding behind you. Weakening your image. If I go…” You let the thought hang.

He sat up slowly, massive frame casting a long shadow over you. One lower hand reached out, claws gentle as they tilted your chin up. “You will not go alone.”

“I know,” you said softly, leaning into his touch. “But rushing in with full force gives them the excuse they want. Proof that the King of Curses cannot be negotiated with. That his queen is just a leash.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. The stomach mouth snarled silently. “Since when do we care about their excuses?”

“Since they started targeting the one thing that makes you hesitate,” you answered, voice steady. You rose and stepped between his spread legs, placing both hands on his broad chest, tracing the familiar black tattoos with your thumbs. “I’m not fragile, Ryomen. My chains can bind armies. And I have you. But let me play their game for a little while. Gather information. Make them reveal their hands.”

He stared down at you for a long moment. Four crimson eyes searching your face as if memorizing every detail. Then, with a low growl, he pulled you flush against him. Two arms wrapped around your waist. The other two cupped your face.

“You test my patience more than any enemy ever has,” he muttered against your lips. “If anything feels wrong, anything, you burn the entire negotiation site to glass and return to me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

“Be careful,” he said, so softly it almost didn’t sound like him. “The world can burn. But not you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then the marking beneath his lower eye. “I’ll come back to you. I always do.”

The next morning, the false alliance message arrived via a trembling envoy from the Fujiwara-adjacent clans.

A rogue special-grade curse has manifested near the northern border, threatening trade routes vital to multiple provinces. Only the Star Queen’s unique sealing technique can contain it without unnecessary bloodshed. We request your mediation under a flag of temporary truce. No weapons. No armies. Neutral ground at the Valley of White Mist.

You read the scroll aloud to Sukuna, who listened with a bored expression that didn’t hide the murderous glint in all four eyes.

“It’s a trap,” he stated flatly.

“Obviously,” you agreed, rolling the scroll. “But if I refuse, they paint me as the tyrant’s consort who dooms innocents. If I go with force, they scream that Sukuna cannot control his queen. Let me go. Take a small escort if it eases you. I’ll assess their strength, then return.”

He didn’t like it. The air grew heavy with his cursed energy, shrine-like pressure making the braziers flicker.

But he trusted you, the only person alive he truly did.

“Take my cleaver,” he said finally, pressing the smaller of his two into your hands. “And this.” He removed the thin gold circlet from your hair, kissed it once, then placed it back. “Come back wearing it. Or I will paint the valley red searching for you.”

You smiled, rising on your toes to kiss him deeply. “I will. Wait for me, my king.”

As you rode out with a handful of his most loyal (and disposable) followers, Sukuna stood at the temple gates, four arms crossed, watching until you disappeared over the horizon.

The Valley of White Mist waited.

And somewhere in the shadows, a hundred sorcerers bound by a desperate collective vow sharpened their techniques, ready to excise the King of Curses’ only weakness.

The journey to the Valley of White Mist took three days on horseback. You rode at the head of the small escort Sukuna had grudgingly allowed. Six of his most hardened retainers, men who had survived enough battles to know when silence was wiser than questions. They kept their distance, eyes darting nervously between the road and the gold circlet still gleaming in your hair.

You felt the shift in cursed energy long before the valley came into view. The air grew thick, heavier, like breathing through wet silk. Your starfire technique hummed beneath your skin in warning, the chains coiled invisibly around your wrists and ankles ready to manifest at a thought. The cleaver Sukuna had given you rested at your hip, its weight a comforting reminder of him.

The valley itself was deceptively beautiful. Thick white mist rolled between ancient cedar trees, glowing faintly under a pale spring sun. A wide clearing had been prepared in the center. Flat ground ringed by stone lanterns that flickered with unnatural blue flame. Representatives from three minor clans and one major Fujiwara offshoot waited there, dressed in formal robes, faces carefully blank.

No obvious weapons. No large army in sight.

You dismounted, crimson robes brushing the dew-wet grass. Your escort stayed mounted behind you, hands hovering near their blades.

The lead negotiator, an older sorcerer with a neatly trimmed beard and eyes that betrayed nothing, bowed low.

“Lady Star Queen,” he intoned. “We are grateful you answered our plea. The rogue curse has grown stronger than anticipated. Your unique binding technique is our only hope for a bloodless resolution.”

You studied him calmly, letting your senses expand. Beneath the polite words, the cursed energy in the valley pulsed like a living thing. Layered, synchronized, bound by a complex vow. Not one curse. Many.

“I see,” you said, voice even. “Show me the curse, then. Quickly. My king grows impatient when I am away too long.”

They led you deeper into the mist.

The trap sprang the moment the trees closed behind your escort.

White light erupted from the ground in perfect geometric patterns. A massive collective domain, not quite a full expansion but something worse: a binding cage amplified by a hundred linked sorcerers hidden in the treeline and behind illusion barriers. The mist thickened into opaque walls. Your escort’s screams were cut short as slashes of cursed energy tore through them like paper.

You reacted instantly.

Starfire chains exploded outward in a blazing lattice, burning through the nearest bindings and shattering three stone lanterns. The air filled with the scent of scorched cedar and blood. You moved like you had on a hundred battlefields beside Sukuna—graceful, ruthless, unafraid.

But they had planned for you.

Dozens of sorcerers emerged from the mist, their techniques synchronized into a single overwhelming assault. Binding chains of their own—weaker than yours but multiplied—wrapped around your limbs. Anti-domain stakes drove into the ground, suppressing your output. Spears of condensed cursed energy pierced your side, your shoulder, your thigh.

You didn’t scream.

You laughed instead, low and bitter, as blood soaked the front of your crimson robes.

“So this is it,” you said, voice steady despite the pain. Your chains still lashed out, snapping necks and burning limbs, but they kept coming. “They cannot kill him, so they kill what he loves. Pathetic.”

A particularly strong binding vow slammed into your chest, cracking ribs. You staggered but stayed on your feet, cleaver in hand, slashing through two attackers in one fluid motion. Sukuna’s weapon sang with his residual cursed energy, cutting deeper than any ordinary blade.

Yet the numbers were too great. The cage too tight.

You realized too late how perfectly they had timed it. Far enough from the temple that even Sukuna’s speed might not save you in time, close enough that he would feel every second through the bond of cursed energy that had grown between you over the months.

“They’re trying to break him,” you whispered to yourself as another spear grazed your cheek, drawing a hot line of blood. Your vision blurred at the edges, but your hands never stopped moving. Starfire flared brighter, desperate. “Fools. He will burn the world for this.”

The final blow came from behind. A cursed technique designed to pierce the core, not kill instantly but ensure a slow, agonizing death. It drove through your back and out your chest, just missing your heart but shredding everything vital around it.

You dropped to your knees in the blood-soaked grass.

The mist began to thin as the sorcerers stepped closer, faces triumphant and terrified at once.

You lifted your head, gold circlet still somehow intact, now stained crimson. Your breathing came in shallow, wet gasps, but your eyes glowed bright with starfire even now held no panic. No begging.

Only calm understanding.

In the distance, the sky tore open.

Black shrine gates manifested like jagged teeth against the clouds. Malevolent energy rolled across the valley like a tidal wave. Sukuna had arrived.

He landed in the center of the clearing with earth-shaking force, four arms already in motion. Cleavers flashed. Dismantle and Cleave shredded the air itself. The collective domain shattered like glass under the weight of his true domain expansion, Malevolent Shrine, painting the sky red and black.

But it was too late for the trap.

It was too late for you.

Sukuna’s lower eyes found you instantly. The upper pair widened fractionally. The closest thing to shock the King of Curses had shown in centuries.

He crossed the distance in two strides, dropping to one knee beside you. Two massive hands cradled your face with a gentleness that would have stunned anyone watching. One pressed desperately over the gaping wound in your chest, trying to stem the blood that wouldn’t stop. The fourth gripped your hand so tightly your bones creaked.

The remaining sorcerers tried to flee. They didn’t get far. Invisible slashes turned them into red mist before they could take three steps.

You looked up at him. Four crimson eyes, tattoos stark against his skin, the face you had chosen without fear, and smiled through bloodied lips.

“Ryomen…” Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried. Your free hand rose, trembling, to trace the black markings beneath his lower eyes exactly as you always had. The touch was weak but sure. “Even now… you came.”

He snarled, but the sound cracked. “You promised you would return. You lied to me, little star.”

A wet, broken laugh escaped you. “I’m sorry… but they needed to learn. They thought… taking me would break you.” Your fingers slid down to rest over the mouth on his stomach. It opened, teeth gentle against your palm for the first time. “Don’t let them win that way. Remember how I looked at you. How I chose you. Not out of fear… but because you were worth choosing.”

Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth. Your starfire flickered once, twice, then began to fade.

“I would find you again,” you breathed, eyes locking with all four of his. “In any life. Any form. My king… my equal… I lo—”

The light left your eyes.

Your hand slipped from his face and fell limp into the grass.

For one endless second, the valley was silent except for the distant crackle of dying flames.

Then Sukuna roared.

It was not grief in any human sense. It was annihilation given voice.

Malevolent Shrine expanded to its full radius. Shrine gates manifested in endless rows. Every surviving sorcerer in the valley. Every hidden ally, every coward who had planned this was torn apart at the atomic level. The trees turned to ash. The mist evaporated in screams of steam. The ground itself cracked and blackened as if the earth were bleeding.

He destroyed everything.

When the rage finally ebbed into something colder, sharper, Sukuna remained kneeling in the crater that had once been a valley. The gold circlet, somehow untouched amid the devastation, lay beside your body. He picked it up with one bloodied hand, then carefully removed it from your hair and wrapped it around the hilt of his cleaver, tying it with a strip of your torn robe.

He lifted your body with all four arms, cradling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing.

The King of Curses walked back toward his temple alone, leaving nothing but silence and ruin behind him.

For the first time in his long, bloody existence, Ryomen Sukuna carried something he could not conquer.

Something he could not get back.

Centuries passed like ash on the wind.

The Heian era crumbled into legend. Sorcerers rose and fell. Curses evolved. The world forgot the exact shape of the King of Curses’ wrath, but the scars remained. Craters where mountains once stood, blood-soaked soil that still refused to grow anything pure.

Ryomen Sukuna endured.

He sealed himself away in pieces, scattered across fingers and artifacts, waiting. Plotting. Remembering.

He kept the gold circlet wrapped around the hilt of his favored cleaver. Sometimes, in the long stretches of boredom between hosts, he would run a clawed thumb over the thin band of metal and feel the faint echo of starfire still clinging to it. Your final words haunted the empty spaces inside him.

“I would find you again… In any life. Any form.”

He never spoke them aloud. But they anchored him the way nothing else ever had.

A relatively new graduate from Jujutsu Tech’s hidden curriculum, assigned to the Tokyo branch under Gojo Satoru’s loose supervision. Your cursed energy was unusually potent for someone so young: bright, burning, instinctive. Instructors called it “starfire-adjacent” in hushed tones when they thought you couldn’t hear. You had no memories of the Heian era. No recollection of four arms, black tattoos, or the taste of blood and incense on your tongue.

Yet some things refused to stay buried.

You never flinched in the face of special-grade curses. When others hesitated, you stepped forward as if you belonged at the front line—beside power, not behind it. You fought with a quiet fearlessness that made veterans raise eyebrows. And sometimes, late at night in your small apartment in Shinjuku, you would catch yourself tracing invisible patterns on your own arms—black, looping marks that weren’t there.

Dreams came more frequently now.

Blood-soaked valleys. Gold catching moonlight. A deep, layered voice calling you “little star.” Four crimson eyes watching you with something between hunger and devotion. You always woke with your heart pounding and a strange ache low in your belly, as if your body remembered pleasure your mind had forgotten.

You chalked it up to stress.

Today’s mission was routine on paper: investigate a localized curse outbreak in an abandoned subway station beneath Shibuya. Grade 1 at worst. You were paired with a second-year student who kept glancing at you nervously.

“Stay behind me,” he muttered as you descended the stairs, flashlights cutting through the dark.

You ignored him and moved ahead, chains of glowing starfire already flickering at your fingertips. Your technique had manifested as luminescent binding links that could seal or burn on command. The cursed spirit that lunged at you was fast, but you were faster. One chain whipped out, wrapping its torso and igniting. It shrieked and dissolved into black smoke.

“Show-off,” the student grumbled.

You smirked. “Just efficient.”

The platform was quiet after that. Too quiet.

Then the air changed.

A heavy, ancient cursed energy rolled through the tunnels like smoke from a distant fire. It tasted of iron and old incense. Your pulse quickened for reasons you couldn’t name.

A figure stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the platform.

Pink hair. Dark tattoos crawling across his face, neck, and bare arms. He wore a casual hoodie and pants that looked borrowed, but the energy radiating off him belonged to something far older than any teenager. Two eyes glowed with lazy malice, but you swore… for a split second, you saw the flicker of two more.

He stopped a few meters away, head tilted, studying you like a puzzle he already knew the answer to.

You raised your chains instinctively, glowing bright. “Identify yourself. Now.”

The boy—no, the thing inside the boy—grinned. It was too sharp, too knowing.

“You’ve gotten smaller,” he said, voice low and rough, carrying an echo that vibrated through your bones. “And your hair’s shorter. I liked it longer. Easier to wrap around my fist.”

Your stomach dropped. The words sounded insane, yet they landed somewhere deep inside you, stirring half-remembered heat.

“Who the hell are you?” you demanded, stepping forward despite your partner’s frantic tugging at your sleeve.

He took one step closer, hands in his pockets, utterly unbothered by the glowing chains pointed at his chest. “You used to look at me without fear. Still do, apparently. Good. Some things don’t change.”

Your partner summoned a weak technique and tried to step between you. “Back off, curse user—”

The pink-haired stranger flicked two fingers. The student flew backward into the wall, unconscious but alive.

Now it was just the two of you under flickering fluorescent lights.

He studied your face again, all four—no, two—eyes narrowing with something dangerously close to fondness. “Still burning bright, little star. Even if you don’t remember why.”

The nickname hit like a physical blow.

Little star.

Your chains faltered for half a second. Memories that weren’t memories flashed. Strong hands on your hips, a second mouth dragging across your skin, the sound of your own voice moaning a name you couldn’t quite recall.

You shook it off and strengthened your stance. “I don’t know you. And if you don’t stop talking like a delusional creep, I’ll seal you right here.”

His grin widened. “You always did threaten me when you were flustered.”

He vanished in a swirl of red mist before you could strike, leaving only the faint scent of blood and incense behind.

Your partner groaned as he came to. “What… what was that?”

You stared at the empty platform, heart hammering. “I have no idea.”

But your body remembered.

And somewhere deep inside the pink-haired vessel, Ryomen Sukuna leaned back in his makeshift throne of consciousness and laughed—low, dark, and triumphant.

The queen had returned.

She just didn’t know it yet.

That night you barely slept.

The dreams were clearer than ever.

A ruined temple. Braziers casting golden light on black tattoos. Four arms holding you close after battle, after pleasure, after everything. A voice rumbling against your ear: “You are the only thing in this rotting world I don’t get bored of.”

You woke gasping, skin flushed, thighs pressed together against an ache you couldn’t explain.

In the mirror, you traced the faint, phantom lines on your arms again.

And for the first time, you whispered to your reflection:

“Who are you… and why do I miss you?”

The encounters didn’t stop.

If anything, they escalated.

Over the next two weeks, the pink-haired curse user—who still hadn’t given you a proper name—became a walking, talking migraine wrapped in tattoos and smug arrogance.

First incident: the convenience store at 2 a.m.

You had dragged yourself there after a long night exorcising low-grade curses near Roppongi. Your hair was messy, your jacket smelled like burnt curse residue, and all you wanted was strawberry milk and something fried. You were reaching for the last onigiri when a familiar voice spoke right behind your ear.

“Still eating like you’re about to march into battle. Some habits never die.”

You spun around so fast the milk carton nearly slipped from your hand.

He was leaning against the ramune fridge, arms crossed. The tattoos stood out stark under the fluorescent lights. Two eyes watched you with lazy amusement, but you swore you could feel the weight of two more.

“You again,” you hissed, keeping your voice low so the sleepy cashier wouldn’t call security. “What is your problem? Personal space exists for a reason.”

He tilted his head, grin widening. “You used to let me closer than this. Much closer. Naked, usually.”

Your face burned. A customer two aisles over dropped their basket.

“Creep,” you snapped, slamming the onigiri into your basket. “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Stop following me or I’ll exorcise that smug look off your face.”

He laughed—low, rolling, far too pleased. “There she is. That fire. You threatened me with chains the first time we met too. Ended up wrapped in them for entirely different reasons.”

You marched to the counter, paid, and left without looking back. But the entire walk home you felt eyes on your back, and the phantom scent of blood and incense lingered in the night air.

Second incident: the training grounds at Jujutsu High.

You were sparring with Maki when the air pressure shifted. A figure appeared on the rooftop overlooking the field—lounging against the railing like he owned the school. Pink hair ruffled by the wind. Tattoos visible even from a distance.

Maki paused mid-strike. “Who the hell is that?”

You didn’t answer. You just raised your hand and sent a warning chain of starfire whipping toward the roof.

He caught it.

With one hand.

The glowing link wrapped around his wrist and he tugged playfully, as if testing its strength. “Cute. But you used to bind me with a lot more enthusiasm, little star.”

Maki’s eyes narrowed. “Friend of yours?”

“Absolutely not,” you growled.

Before you could launch a proper attack, he vanished again, leaving only a faint chuckle echoing across the field.

Third incident: your apartment balcony.

You had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around you, when you sensed him. You yanked the sliding door open, starfire already blazing between your fingers.

He was sitting on the railing like it was a throne, four—no, two—arms resting casually. In the dim city light his tattoos looked alive.

“You’ve gotten even smaller when you’re half-naked,” he observed, eyes raking over you slowly. “I approve. Easier to carry.”

“Get the fuck off my balcony!” you shouted, launching a chain that shattered the railing inches from where he sat.

He didn’t even flinch. “Still shy after all this time? You used to ride me on a stone altar while the temple burned around us. Literally.”

Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Heat flooded your face—half embarrassment, half something dangerously warmer. “I’m calling the police.”

He actually laughed out loud, the sound rich and mocking. “The police? Me? The King of Curses reduced to a suspicious individual? How the mighty have fallen.”

Then he disappeared in red mist, still chuckling.

You stood there dripping wet, towel slipping, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

The dreams got worse after that.

Every night you saw fragments: strong hands pinning you down, a second mouth dragging hot and wet across your stomach, four eyes watching you come undone with something like worship. You woke up aching, thighs slick, whispering a name you couldn’t quite remember into your pillow.

By the end of the second week you were done.

You marched into the local police station with your arms crossed and determination in your eyes. The officer behind the desk looked half-asleep.

“I need to report a stalker,” you said firmly.

The officer sighed and pulled out a form. “Description?”

“Male. Early twenties appearance. Pink hair. Face and body covered in black tattoos. Extremely rude. Keeps saying delusional shit like ‘you’ve gotten smaller’ and ‘you used to ride me on an altar.’ He appears out of nowhere like rooftops, my balcony, convenience stores. He’s insane.”

The officer scribbled slowly. “Has he touched you?”

“Not yet. But he keeps implying he has. In detail.”

Just as the officer asked for your contact information, the station door exploded inward with a casual kick.

Every head turned.

There he stood. Pink hair, tattoos, hands in his pockets, looking deeply unimpressed with the entire metropolitan police force. The cursed energy rolling off him made the lights flicker.

The room went dead silent.

You pointed. “That’s him!”

The pink-haired man sighed, the sound of someone who had toppled empires and was now dealing with paperwork. “Really? The police? I annihilate bloodlines and you file a formal complaint?”

One brave officer reached for his gun. “Hands where I can see them!”

The man raised an eyebrow. Two extra spectral arms flickered into existence for half a second—enough to make the entire precinct freeze—then vanished. “She’s my wife. Reincarnated. It’s complicated.” He glanced at the trembling officer holding the form. “You’re going to ignore this, right? Good. Saves me the cleanup.”

He looked straight at you, eyes softening with dark amusement. “Still fighting me at every turn. Adorable. You’ll remember eventually.”

Then he walked out as casually as he had entered, leaving the door hanging off its hinges.

The station erupted into chaos.

You stood there, face burning, fists clenched. “I am not his wife.”

But your voice shook.

And deep down, something ancient and hungry stirred at the word.

That night the dreams returned stronger than ever.

You saw yourself in crimson robes, sitting beside a four-armed king on a throne of bone. You saw four hands on your body—pinning, claiming, worshipping. You heard your own voice moaning “Ryomen” like a prayer.

You woke up gasping, fingers pressed between your thighs, chasing a release that felt centuries overdue.

In the darkness of your room, you whispered to the empty air:

“Who are you… and why does my body remember you better than my mind does?”

Miles away, Ryomen Sukuna smirked in the shared mental space.

“Soon, little star,” he murmured to no one but himself. “You’ll remember. And then I’m dragging you back where you belong.”

The police report accomplished exactly nothing.

No one at the station wanted to touch the case after the pink-haired intruder casually kicked the door off its hinges and called you his wife in front of twenty witnesses. The report was “misplaced.” The officers suddenly developed convenient amnesia. Even the security footage developed mysterious glitches.

You were on your own.

And he knew it.

Sukuna’s approach changed after that day. The casual, taunting appearances gave way to something more intentional. More predatory. He no longer popped up for cheap shocks. He watched. He tested. He closed the distance.

First came the rooftop again, but this time he didn’t stay at a distance.

You were finishing a solo mission near an old shrine on the outskirts of Tokyo, wiping cursed energy residue from your hands, when you felt him behind you. Not the playful flare of cursed energy from before. This was heavier. Closer. Ancient.

You turned slowly.

He stood only a few feet away, pink hair tousled by the night wind, tattoos stark under the moonlight. He looked deceptively relaxed, hands in his pockets, but the aura rolling off him pressed against your skin like a physical weight.

“You stopped running,” he observed, voice lower than usual. Rougher. It slid down your spine like warm velvet dragged over gravel.

“I’m not running,” you replied, summoning a single glowing chain that hovered between you like a warning. “I’m deciding whether to seal you or hear you out. Talk. Who are you really?”

He took one step closer. Then another. You didn’t back away. Something in you refused to.

“I’ve told you pieces,” he said, stopping close enough that you could smell that faint trace of blood and incense again. “You used to sit beside me on battlefields. You used to trace these marks with your fingers while I was still inside you.” One hand lifted slowly, as if giving you time to flinch. When you didn’t, he brushed a thumb along the side of your jaw. “You used to call me yours.”

Your breath hitched. The touch sent sparks through your nerves. Not fear, but recognition. Heat bloomed low in your belly. The phantom memory of four hands holding you open flashed behind your eyes.

You slapped his hand away, but there was no real force behind it. “Stop saying things like that. It’s insane.”

“Is it?” He leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur that vibrated against your ear. “Then why does your body remember? Your pulse is racing. Your cursed energy is flaring brighter. You’re not afraid of me. You never were.”

You swallowed hard. He was right. The fear you should have felt was absent. In its place was something far more dangerous. Curiosity, longing, a pull you couldn’t name.

“Back off,” you whispered, but your chains had lowered without you realizing.

He didn’t back off. Instead he stepped even closer until your back met the shrine’s wooden pillar. One hand braced beside your head. The other hovered near your waist, not quite touching.

“You’re starting to dream again, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “Blood. Gold. Me. Not this borrowed face, the real one. Four arms. Four eyes. The mouth that used to taste every inch of you.”

Your knees weakened. A vivid flash hit you: strong hands pinning your wrists, a second mouth licking a hot trail down your stomach, a deep voice growling “Mine” while you came apart beneath him.

You shoved at his chest. He didn’t budge.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, voice breathy.

He chuckled, the sound dark and intimate. “Liar. But that’s all right. I can wait. I’ve waited a thousand years already.”

Then he was gone again, leaving you trembling against the pillar, thighs pressed together, cursed energy flickering uncontrollably around your fingers.

The dreams intensified after that night.

They were no longer fragments. They were memories wearing the skin of dreams.

You saw yourself in a ruined temple, crimson robes pooled at your feet. Four massive hands lifted you onto a stone altar. Black tattoos shifted under firelight as he moved above you—inside you—deep, relentless thrusts that made you cry out his name. “Ryomen—” The second mouth on his abdomen sucked marks into your breasts while the main one bit your shoulder hard enough to bruise. You came screaming, starfire exploding from your hands and painting his skin with temporary glowing brands.

You woke up every night gasping, sheets soaked with sweat and something far more embarrassing. Your fingers would find their way between your thighs before you could stop yourself, chasing the echo of a pleasure that felt centuries old.

Each time he got closer. Each time his voice dropped lower. Each time your resistance frayed a little more.

You stopped reporting him.

You stopped trying to exorcise him on sight.

Instead you started looking for him.

One rainy evening, you found him waiting on the rooftop of your apartment building again. The city lights glittered below like scattered stars. Rain plastered his pink hair to his forehead and made his tattoos glisten.

You stepped out under the downpour without an umbrella, chains dormant at your sides.

“Why me?” you asked, voice barely audible over the rain. “Why do you keep coming back?”

He turned to face you fully. For once the smirk was gone. In its place was something rawer. Hungrier.

“Because you chose me when no one else would,” he said simply. “Because you sat at my right hand and never trembled. Because even when they killed you to break me, you looked up at me with those same eyes and told me you’d find me again.”

He took a slow step forward, rain streaming down his face.

“And because this body is only a vessel. When you remember, truly remember, I’ll show you the real me again. The one you loved. The one with four arms that used to hold you like the world could burn and it wouldn’t matter.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Another flash hit you: gold circlet in your hair, four hands on your body, a second mouth growling your name like worship while he spilled deep inside you.

You didn’t run.

You stepped closer instead, until you stood directly in front of him, rain soaking both of you.

“I don’t understand any of this,” you whispered. “But… I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”

His hand rose slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn’t, he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing rain from your lower lip.

“Good,” he murmured, voice rough with centuries of waiting. “Because I’m done being patient, little star.”

He leaned in, lips hovering just above yours. You felt the heat of him, the ancient power coiled beneath borrowed skin. Your eyes fluttered half-closed.

But he didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

Instead he pulled back with visible effort, a dark promise in his eyes.

“Soon. When you see me I won’t stop at almost.”

Then he vanished into red mist, leaving you alone in the rain with trembling legs and a heart that no longer felt like it belonged entirely to this life.

That night the dreams changed again.

This time, when you woke gasping his name “Ryomen” it didn’t feel like a question.

It felt like the beginning of an answer.

You called in sick to Jujutsu High the next morning.

Instead you wandered the rainy streets, hood up, starfire flickering restlessly at your fingertips. Every shadow felt like it might hide him. Every gust of wind carried the faint scent of blood and incense.

He found you near the old shrine where you had first properly confronted him weeks ago.

This time he didn’t hide on the rooftop. He stepped out of the torii gate like he belonged there, pink hair dark with rain, tattoos glistening. He wore no hoodie tonight. Just a simple black shirt that clung to Yuji’s muscled frame and revealed more of the black markings crawling across his skin.

You stopped in the middle of the stone path. Rain poured down around you both.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply walked forward until only an arm’s length separated you.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” he said quietly. No taunt this time. Just raw observation.

“I haven’t,” you admitted. Your voice shook. “The dreams… they’re not dreams anymore. I see blood. I see gold. I see… you. But not like this.” You gestured at his current form. “Four arms. Four eyes. A mouth that… that used to…” Heat flooded your face.

Sukuna’s expression darkened with hunger. He closed the remaining distance in one step, one hand rising to cradle the back of your neck. The touch was firm, possessive, but he held back—waiting.

“Say the name,” he murmured, voice dropping to that low, layered register that made your knees weak. “The one you whispered in your sleep last night.”

Your lips parted. Rain streamed down your face.

“Ryomen,” you breathed.

Something in him snapped.

He pulled you against him, mouth crashing down on yours in a kiss that tasted of centuries of waiting. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming—teeth and tongue and raw need. One hand fisted in your wet hair while the other gripped your waist hard enough to bruise. For a moment you swore you felt two extra spectral arms wrap around your back, holding you tighter.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his chest, nails digging into his shoulders. Starfire flickered at your fingertips, leaving faint glowing marks on his skin that healed almost instantly.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.

“You’re close,” he growled against your lips. “So close to seeing me. The real me.”

You stared up at him, chest heaving. “Show me.”

His eyes flashed. For a heartbeat the vessel cracked. Pink hair darkened, tattoos spread further, two extra arms manifested fully, and four crimson eyes burned down at you.

The sight hit you like lightning.

The rooftop dream. The temple. The valley. The way those four hands had held you. The way those four eyes had looked at you like you were the only thing in the world worth keeping.

Recognition slammed into you all at once.

You didn’t recoil.

Instead your hands rose, trembling, to cup the sides of his face. Tracing the markings exactly as you had in every memory, every dream, every lifetime.

“It’s you,” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears mixed with rain on your cheeks. “Ryomen Sukuna. My king. I only knew your true form… I didn’t recognize you in this vessel. But it’s you.”

A sound tore from his throat—half growl, half laugh, pure relief and obsession.

He lifted you effortlessly with all four arms now fully manifested, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the nearest torii pillar. Rain poured down, but neither of you cared.

“Finally,” he snarled against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse. “My queen. My star. You’re mine again.”

You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, starfire and cursed energy mingling in the air around you.

“I remember,” you gasped as one of his lower hands slid beneath your soaked shirt, claws lightly scraping your skin. “I remember everything. The battles. The nights. The way you held me when the world tried to tear us apart.”

His forehead pressed to yours, four eyes blazing with centuries of devotion and hunger.

“Then let me remind you of the rest,” he growled, voice rough with promise. “Right now.”

The rain continued to fall, washing away the last fragments of your old life.

But in the shelter of four arms and four burning eyes, you had finally come home.

The torii gate groaned under the sudden surge of cursed energy as Sukuna’s true form tore fully through the borrowed vessel.

He was massive again. Towering. The real Ryomen Sukuna you had loved in the Heian era.

And between his hips, where the vessel had hidden it, two thick cocks stood hard and heavy, already leaking at the tips from the sheer force of recognition. The upper one curved slightly, ridged along the underside. The lower sat heavier, thicker at the base, both flushed dark and pulsing with cursed energy that made the air around them shimmer.

You didn’t flinch. You had never flinched from him.

Instead you reached up with both hands, fingers tracing the black markings across his chest exactly as you had done a thousand years ago. Starfire flickered at your fingertips, leaving faint glowing trails that faded almost instantly.

“It’s really you,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion and need. “My king. My monster. I only knew this form… I didn’t recognize the boy’s face. But these marks… these eyes… this body that used to ruin me so perfectly.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled from both his mouths. The main one curving into a feral grin, the one on his stomach opening to drag a hot, wet tongue across your collarbone.

“Mine,” he growled, voice layered and rough, echoing with the weight of every lonely century. “You kept me waiting, little star. Centuries of nothing but ash and memory. Now I’m taking back what’s mine.”

Four hands moved at once.

Two pinned your wrists above your head against the rain-slick torii pillar. One gripped your hip, claws shredding through your soaked clothes with casual ease until they fell away in wet ribbons. The last cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could claim your mouth in a bruising kiss.

His tongue—longer, rougher—invaded without mercy, tasting every gasp and whimper. The stomach mouth latched onto your neck, sucking a dark mark while its tongue flicked over your pulse.

You moaned into the kiss, arching against him. Rain poured down your bare skin, but the heat rolling off his body made you burn. When he finally pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips.

“Ryomen… please,” you breathed. “I remember how you felt. Both of them. I need you.”

His laugh was dark and triumphant. “Greedy little queen. You always were.”

He lifted you effortlessly with the two lower arms, spreading your thighs wide around his waist. The upper two kept your wrists pinned while one hand slid between your legs, thick fingers parting your folds and finding you already dripping—not just from rain.

“So wet for me already,” he rumbled, two fingers pushing inside you without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your vision spark. “This cunt still remembers its king. Clenching like it missed me.”

You cried out, hips rocking desperately against his hand. The stretch was familiar, perfect. Starfire flickered wildly around your fingers, painting glowing patterns across his forearms.

He pumped his fingers faster, scissoring them, stretching you open while the stomach mouth moved lower to latch onto one of your breasts. Sharp teeth grazed your nipple before the tongue soothed the sting, sucking hard until you were trembling.

When you were shaking on the edge, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the heads of both cocks.

The upper one nudged your entrance first, thick and insistent. The lower pressed just below it, sliding against your clit with every shallow thrust.

“Look at me,” he commanded, all four eyes blazing. “Watch who’s claiming you again.”

You locked eyes with him as he pushed in. Slow, relentless, both cocks stretching you open at once. The burn was exquisite. Your walls fluttered and clenched around the dual invasion, the ridges and thickness dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. He bottomed out with a shared groan, hips flush against yours, both cocks buried to the hilt.

“Fuck—Ryomen—so full—”

“That’s it,” he snarled, voice rough. “Take both of them like the queen you are. This pussy was made for me. Only me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving. Deep, powerful thrusts that rocked your entire body against the pillar. Rain streamed down your joined bodies, making every slide wetter, filthier. The dual stretch was overwhelming in the best way; every thrust dragged both cocks against your walls, the lower one grinding perfectly against that spot inside while the upper rubbed your clit from the inside with every withdrawal.

Four hands held you exactly where he wanted you—open, pinned, claimed.

The stomach mouth continued its assault on your breasts, licking, sucking, biting until your nipples ached deliciously. His main mouth crashed against yours again, swallowing every moan and scream.

You came first, hard and sudden. walls spasming around both cocks as starfire exploded outward in a brilliant lattice, wrapping around both of you like glowing chains. Your vision whited out, a broken cry of his name tearing from your throat.

Sukuna followed with a guttural roar that shook the shrine grounds. His hips stuttered, burying both cocks as deep as they would go while he spilled inside you. Hot, thick pulses from both lengths, filling you until it leaked out around him despite how tightly you were stretched.

He didn’t pull out.

Instead he kept you impaled on both cocks, four arms wrapping fully around your smaller frame as he carried you away from the pillar. He laid you down on the wet grass beneath the torii, still buried deep, covering you with his massive body like a living shield.

Rain continued to fall, but his heat kept you warm.

You reached up, tracing the markings on his face with gentle fingers, tears mixing with rain on your cheeks.

“I remember everything now,” you whispered. “The battles. The nights. The way they tried to break you by taking me. I told you I’d find you again… and I did.”

Sukuna’s forehead pressed to yours, all four eyes half-lidded with something dangerously close to tenderness beneath the raw hunger.

“You kept your promise, little star,” he murmured, voice rough but softer than you had ever heard it. One hand stroked through your wet hair while another rested possessively over your lower stomach, where you could still feel both cocks twitching inside you. “Now you wear my crown again. Rule beside me. The world once tried to separate us. It failed.”

You smiled, pulling him down into another deep kiss.

“Then remind me one more time tonight,” you whispered against his lips, rolling your hips to feel both cocks shift inside you. “Make me scream your name until the whole city hears who I belong to.”

His grin was feral.

“Gladly.”

He started moving again. Slower this time, deep and deliberate, both cocks dragging against every oversensitive inch. Four hands explored every curve, every mark he left behind. The stomach mouth licked the rainwater from your skin while he fucked you through another orgasm, then another, until you were sobbing with pleasure beneath him.

Only when the rain finally began to ease did he spill inside you a second time, both cocks pulsing as he marked you from the inside out.

Afterward he pulled you against his chest with all four arms, the gold circlet. Somehow still with him after all this time, now resting once more in your damp hair.

You traced idle patterns on his skin, fingers following the black tattoos you had memorized lifetimes ago.

“I chose you then,” you said softly. “I choose you again. In this life. In every life.”

Sukuna’s arms tightened around you, possessive and eternal.

“And I will burn every world that tries to take you from me,” he vowed.

The King of Curses and his Queen lay together beneath the clearing sky, two bodies. One ancient and monstrous, one reborn in starfire, finally whole again.

The world had failed once.

It would not get another chance.

© 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 ; 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢 - 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[angelsire]

❀.ೃ࿔* Heian!Sukuna spoiling his wife/ The first time he said "I love you"

˚ 　　　 . ✧　　 　　˚ 　　　 .　　 　　✧ ˚ 　 .

He had never been shown love through heartfelt words or loving embraces, not before your marriage at least, so he figured the best way to make you feel his care was with material items. You still remember the night of your wedding when it was just the two of you heading to the chambers that you would share. The room was filled with treasures, some taken as trophies from conquered kingdoms and others he had specifically sought out for the occasion. You had no idea this was only the start of the many gifts you'd receive.

The next time you were spoiled to such a great extent was a day your husband came to be extremely grateful for, your birthday. For the first time since you became Sukunas wife you woke up to an empty bed. "Husband?" you called out to him but received no answer. You quickly got out of bed, not bothering to change out of your sleeping robes as you began searching for Sukuna. As soon as you opened the door to the hallway you understood why he was missing.

Everywhere you looked was decorated in floral garland made from your favorite flowers. The air smelled of your favorite incense. Although he wasn't present you knew your husband was behind this. Excitement grew in your chest as you wanted nothing more than to see what else he had planned. Your feet brought you to the kitchen where you found yet another surprise. The palace chefs were hard at work preparing your favorite dishes.

You couldn't help but steal a few tastes before moving on to the next place you thought Sukuna might be. As you stepped outside into your personal garden you realized here was your first gift. What used to be a blank space was now filled with lush weeping cherry trees that you had mentioned just a week prior. You let out a shriek of delight before racing to the trees.

After you appreciated their beauty you decide to make your way to the library in hopes of finding him there. Yet again a gift awaits you. You can't believe your eyes when you find several books laid out in your designated reading area. Some you had heard of others were unknown to you but all of which you were ecstatic to receive. You were already so pleased with your gifts but you couldn't help but wonder why Sukuna wasn't here with you.

Surely he wanted to witness your joy. You decide to seek out his most trusted servant to aid you. It doesn't take long for you to find them. "Uraume, have you seen my husband? I've searched nearly everywhere." They make a bit of a perplexed face before suggesting you check your bed quarters once more. Trusting their advice you head back to where you began the morning. As you push open the door your eyes find yet another gift laid out on the bed.

A beautiful new robe is draped across the lower portion of the bed but this isn't what intrigues you most. A small scrap of paper on top of the robe catches your eye. "This is nicer than those sleeping robes, isn't it?" You read the paper twice to make sure you're correct. How did he know you had yet to change? Had he been observing you this entire time? Nonetheless you change into the new garment and head back into the main part of the palace.

Finally on your fifth time searching you find him. There he was, sat on his throne waiting for you. Once you realize you truly had found him you run towards him, careful not to trip on the layers of fabric now covering your body. "Husband! I've been searching for you!" You tell him as you find a seat in his lap. His arm comes to wrap around your middle as you continue speaking to him. "Did you really do all this for me?" I've never had such a grand celebration for my birthday."

"You're my queen and it's your day, of course I decided to celebrate you like this. Do you not enjoy it?" You know he's teasing but you can't help the way you quickly deny his question. "How could I not enjoy it? You know, I'm really starting to feel quite special. If I didn't know any better I'd say you love me." This made Sukuna freeze. Love? Was he capable of truly loving something. He had never felt love so how could he give it?

Sensing the change in the room you straighten in his lap. "Did I say something wrong? I didn't intend to." He eases you back into a comfortable position before answering. "No, you didn't, I believe you're right. I do love you." If you weren't happy before, you were overjoyed now. Never once had he uttered those words to you and he chose your birthday to be the day to tell you. You throw your arms around his neck before whispering to him. "I think thats the best gift you've ever given me."

A/n: Hey everyone... it's been a minute but hopefully this is a good enough apology🫣

Read more of my works here!!

[kkunai]

𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ trueform dad!sukuna spending time with you and your curious children :: heian era. idea by @deartoru.

the late afternoon sun filters through the paper screens of the estate and casts warm golden light across the engawa where you sit with your family.

sukuna lounges against a thick wooden pillar with four powerful arms draped casually—one pair folded behind his head while the other rests on his knees. your two toddlers, barely three years old, toddle around him like curious little spirits, their small hands patting at his tattooed skin with unabashed wonder.

“papa,” your daughter chirps first, her chubby fingers gripping one of his lower arms, tugging it gently as if testing its reality, “why you got four arms? like… like spider?”

your son, never one to be left out, clambers onto sukuna’s lap and pokes at the second set of arms with a sticky finger. “yeah! papa monster? or… big strong?”

sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow, but there’s no real bite in the growl that rumbles from his chest. the king of curses, reduced to a glorified jungle gym by two tiny humans who share your features more than his. his upper arms flex instinctively, one hand coming down to ruffle your daughter’s messy hair while the lower pair scoops your son up against his broad chest.

“monster?” sukuna scoffs, voice laced with that familiar arrogance. yet his touch is surprisingly gentle as he balances both children without effort. “fools. these arms mark power. i conquer with these very hands. slaughtered humans, crushed armies—” he pauses when your oblivious daughter giggles and tries to climb the extra limb like a tree branch.

a low huff escapes him despite himself, “oi, brat. that’s not a toy.”

you watch from your spot, smiling softly as you sip your tea. your husband may rule with terror across the land, but here, in this quiet corner of your home, he’s simply. . .a father. the way his extra arms cradle the toddlers so they don’t slip, the subtle shift of his tattoos as he adjusts to their wriggling—it warms something deep in your chest.

“mama says you strong,” your son declares as he presses his cheek to one of sukuna’s pecs, “but why not two like us? more better?”

sukuna’s gaze flicks to you, a smirk curling his lips, sharp teeth glinting. “because your father is no ordinary man, whelps. four arms mean i can hold both of you at once… and still have two left to protect your mother.”

one of his upper hands reaches out, idly brushing a stray lock from your face with unexpected tenderness. the lower pair tickles your children lightly, drawing squeals of delight.

“see?” sukuna rumbles, lifting them higher so they dangle playfully from his grasp. “efficiency. strength. and the ability to discipline little pests who ask too many questions.”

but there’s no real threat—only the extremely rare, softened edge reserved solely for his family.

your daughter plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, unbothered by the markings or the extra limbs. or the fact that her father is a ruthless man. to her, he's just papa.

“love papa’s four arms! best for hugs!”

sukuna huffs, but the way his four arms pull all three of you closer—two for the kids, two drawing you into the pile—says everything. in this moment, the fearsome ryomen sukuna is utterly defeated by toddler logic and sticky fingers.

[satomiu]

true form sukuna && his chronically online gf . . .

“get ’em banned.”

“what?”

“we don’t do that here.”

“woman, the fuck are you talking about?”

“oh now i’m pissed.”

and for some reason, that was his last straw.

his hand shot out and clamped over your face mid-rant, stopping you instantly.

“the hell’s wrong with you?”

you squirmed in his grip, muffled protests disappearing into his oversized palm.

“it’s twitter stuff, duh.” you managed once he finally let go.

“it’s what?”

“twitter..? like.. nick wilde scuba, that one katseye choreographer video?”

no answer.

“ok what about blue judas red judas, jane juliet and tuca donka—hey, are you even listening?”

…

“sukuna?”

“no.” he groaned, already turning away, dragging the entire comforter with him. “i’m trying to sleep.”

“hey wait?? ryo! i have to show you!” you insisted, grabbing his shoulder and trying to roll him back.

he didn’t move.

not even an inch. ( expected. as he's like 400 kg of muscle.. )

that’s when he grabbed you again.

all four arms this time.

dragging you as if it was the most effective way to shut you up.

one arm hooked around your waist and dragged you back with zero ceremony.

another came over your shoulders, heavy and firm, pressing you straight into his chest. the rest followed lazily after, locking in behind you like he couldn’t be bothered to leave even a centimeter of space.

just possession straight up disguised as annoyance.

“i’m sure you do.” he muttered against your ear, already closing his eyes again. “keep talking...”

you huffed, rolling your eyes entirely, the fight already leaking out of you as you melted into his embrace.

“ryomen. you are so lucky i like you.”

…

“when the dick get hard so you know thats hung hung sahur—”

“shut the fuck up.”

this is so 😭 ( me core )

：❤︎ ⸝⸝ masterlist !

[sorreleia]

Fashion-Obsessed!Reader & Under-Dressed Dad!Sukuna (with Baby!Yuji)

The apartment looked less like a home and more like a fashion magazine had exploded inside it.

Garment racks stood beside the couch. Fabric swatches spilled across the coffee table like fallen petals. Shoes were arranged in neat rows near the door, some elegant, some ridiculous, all dramatic.

And in the center of the chaos sat Yuji.

A very small, very patient Yuji.

He was perched on the couch like a tiny king while his mother adjusted the miniature coat around his shoulders. The coat was black and white, patterned with bold streaks that looked suspiciously like something straight out of a villain’s runway fantasy.

He was perched on the couch with his legs sticking straight out in front of him, looking oddly regal despite the fact that he was barely tall enough for his feet to touch the cushions. His round cheeks were slightly pink from the morning air drifting through the window, and his soft hair stuck up in small stubborn tufts.

He had learned something very important about mornings in this household.

If Mom says “hold still,” you hold still.

Even if she walked around you in slow, sometimes concerning circles.

Even if she tugged at sleeves and collars.

Even if she leaned back every few seconds with narrowed eyes like a sculptor evaluating their masterpiece.

Right now, you were kneeling in front of him, carefully adjusting the miniature coat resting on his shoulders.

It was black and white, cut with sharp little angles that made the pattern look bold and dramatic. The fabric shimmered slightly when it caught the light from the window, and the long lines running across it gave it that unmistakable high-fashion look that people either adored or were too intimidated to comment on.

On Yuji, it somehow looked both ridiculous and perfect.

You smoothed the lapel between two fingers, tilting your head as you studied the silhouette.

“Hmm,” you murmured.

Yuji blinked at you with wide, trusting eyes.

You tugged the sleeve down a fraction of an inch, then adjusted the tiny scarf you had wrapped around his neck earlier.

“There we go,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

Yuji kicked his feet once in approval.

You leaned back on your heels and let out a satisfied breath.

“Perfect.”

Yuji looked very proud of himself, despite having absolutely no idea what he had done.

For a moment he stared at you, processing something with the intense focus that only babies seemed capable of.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Ma.”

The word came out soft and slightly drooly, but unmistakable.

And you froze.

Your eyes widened.

“Sukuna!” you called, spinning toward the kitchen with dramatic urgency. “Did you hear that?!”

From somewhere past the hallway came the sound of a cabinet door closing.

A few seconds later, Sukuna’s voice drifted into the room.

“I heard.”

There was the slow shuffle of footsteps.

Then Sukuna appeared in the doorway.

He looked… extremely different from the rest of the apartment.

Where the room was full of deliberate style and theatrical detail, Sukuna looked like a man who had rolled out of bed and decided that effort was optional today.

He wore loose black sweatpants that hung low on his hips and an old dark T-shirt that had clearly survived several years of questionable laundry cycles. His pink hair stuck out messily in every direction, and he hadn’t bothered with shoes.

He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, his eyes moving slowly from you… to Yuji… to the coat.

Silence stretched for a moment.

“…Why does the baby look richer than me?”

You turned toward him immediately, offended by the accusation.

“He’s not richer than you.”

You gestured proudly toward Yuji, who was currently chewing thoughtfully on the end of his scarf.

“He’s styled.”

Sukuna pushed himself off the wall and walked closer, curiosity creeping into his expression despite his best effort to look unimpressed.

Yuji spotted him instantly.

His whole face lit up.

“Da!”

He kicked his legs excitedly, tiny boots thumping against the couch cushion.

Sukuna crouched down in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees as he examined the outfit like someone trying to understand an expensive art piece.

“Look at you,” Sukuna muttered.

Yuji grabbed one of his fingers immediately.

“He’s dressed like he’s about to attend a board meeting,” Sukuna continued, lifting one eyebrow. “Or run a fashion empire.”

“He could,” you replied without hesitation.

Yuji responded to this praise by drooling slightly.

Sukuna glanced up at you.

“…You dressed him up to go nowhere again, didn’t you.”

You gasped, clutching your chest like he had just insulted your entire career.

“We are absolutely going somewhere.”

“Where?”

You paused.

Just for a moment.

“…The grocery store.”

Sukuna stared at you.

Then at Yuji.

Then back at you again.

“You dressed our son like a runway model,” he said slowly, “for milk and eggs.”

“It’s called presentation,” you replied with dignity.

Yuji slapped Sukuna’s hand happily, like he agreed with you.

Sukuna leaned closer to him.

“Kid,” he said quietly, “your mother is insane.”

Yuji giggled.

Traitor.

You scooped Yuji into your arms before Sukuna could start undoing any of the carefully arranged layers.

“Don’t listen to him,” you whispered dramatically, pressing a kiss to Yuji’s forehead. “He has no appreciation for art.”

“Art?” Sukuna repeated.

“Yes.”

You turned slightly so Yuji could see the tall mirror near the door.

“There,” you said softly. “Look at you.”

Yuji stared at his reflection.

For a second he just blinked.

Then his face slowly broke into a delighted grin, like he had just realized the tiny, stylish person in the mirror was him.

Sukuna watched the scene, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…I’m underdressed,” he muttered.

You looked at him.

Slowly.

Your eyes scanned him from head to toe with the careful precision of a fashion editor preparing a very critical review.

Sukuna immediately sensed danger.

“No,” you said thoughtfully.

“No?” he asked.

“No.”

You gently set Yuji back onto the couch.

Then you turned and walked toward Sukuna with quiet determination.

“Oh no,” he said immediately.

“Oh yes.”

You grabbed his sleeve.

“We’re fixing you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re wearing a shirt older than our child.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“You’re a father now,” you said seriously, as if that explained everything.

Yuji watched the entire interaction with deep fascination.

Sukuna looked at him.

“Help me out here.”

Yuji clapped.

Five minutes later Sukuna stood in front of the mirror wearing a long black coat you had forced onto him.

The coat hung perfectly from his shoulders, its sharp tailoring giving him a sleek, intimidating look that matched his natural presence a little too well.

He stared at his reflection.

“…I hate that this works.”

You crossed your arms proudly.

Yuji sat on the floor between you both, happily chewing on a piece of discarded fabric.

You knelt beside him and adjusted his scarf one last time.

“Alright,” you declared.

“Family outing.”

Sukuna grabbed the car keys with a long sigh.

Yuji raised both arms in the air like a tiny champion.

And somewhere between the milk aisle and the cereal shelves, a very confused stranger was absolutely going to wonder why a baby dressed like a tiny fashion icon was riding in a shopping cart while his intimidatingly handsome father carried a basket of groceries.

req by: @rockssweetsmell

[all-with-angel]

❥ Sukuna refuses to let you out of bed .ᐟ sfw . gn reader

“SUKUNA?”

“Speak.”

“Can you move?”

“Stop speaking,” Sukuna huffed, arms wrapping tighter against your sides. “and no.”

A groan escapes your throat, wriggling your body on the soft sheets under you– to no avail. 

Whatever decisions you made to get here, you had incredibly regretted them the moment you woke up with seemingly the weight of the sun resting on your chest. And unfortunately no, it was not an adorable kitten, but a fully grown man laying on you. One who refused to move despite the threat of.. Anything.

“ ‘kuna, I gotta pee,” you sighed. “You gotta move.” Your simple declaration was met with unhappy mumbling against the fabric of your shirt, one protest to another. Yes, it was cute. But the cuteness did very little to lessen the call of nature.

You fruitlessly try to shove the giant off of you, trying to pry wads of tattooed muscle with little fingers. It didn’t help that you were sore, covered in bites and hickeys of varying colors– you could very much give a rainbow a run for its money right now.

Eventually, after a little more poking and prodding, Sukuna finally tilts his head up to meet your eyes.

“Give it a rest and go to sleep.” He complained, a loud grumble at the back of his throat before he not-so-gently shoved his face back into your chest. 

You click your tongue. “Sukuna.” you try again, voice louder this time.

A low, annoyed rumble vibrates against your chest. “What.”

“I seriously have to go.”

“Then hold it until you fall asleep.”

You stare down at the crown of his head, incredulous. “I can’t hold it when you’re literally pressing on my stomach.” you protested, voice still scratchy. “You’re heavy as hell, mister king of curses.”

His body is a boulder on top of yours, a warm, grumpy, and pink-haired boulder. He doesn’t answer you this time, only giving you a chuff against your– his, shirt.

The lack of a response only seems to grow your frustration, and you kick your legs from under him in protest. He must notice, because one clawed hand slides over your side and gives your waist a firm squeeze accompanied with a low hum, like he’s settling you down the way someone might hush a restless animal.

You hate how it works.

You also hate how you immediately sink into the sheets in utter defeat.

“Fine,” your hands lift his head from your chest, red eyes glaring half-heartedly at you. “Lets make a deal.”

He rolls his eyes at that, and you simply pinch his cheeks to get him to listen. “What.” he scowls.

“You don’t have to let go of me,” you say, tracing his cheek with a thumb. “You can just… carry me to the bathroom.”

Sukuna drops his head right back onto your chest.

“I’m comfortable here.”

“Uuuuuughhhhh Sukuna!” You kick your legs again, your fists thumping against the bed as you throw a restrained temper tantrum.

“Sukuna!”

“Stop flailing.”

“I have to go!”

A long, irritated sigh escapes him, as if he was a victim to your cruel, unjust demands. But before you know it, the weight on top of you recedes as a hand is cupped against your butt and your back, pulling you out of bed and into his standing embrace.

Theres a rancid frown on his face– and if you could see it, there would no doubt be a matching one on his stomach. 

You giggle as he curses under his breath, stomping his way over to the bathroom. A hand cups itself around his cheek, and you thank him with a gentle kiss to the side of his lips. It atleast stops the curses spilling from his mouth. “Thankyou, kuna.”

[hearteyedinfatuation]

The Good Influence

Yandere Gojo X Reader

Thinking about Yandere Gojo notorious for getting into fights in school. The top student despite seeming to spend most of his time wandering the halls. Pretty face and tall build making him immensely popular amongst the students and even some teachers. Gojo who everyone talks about but few talk to unless they want something from him.

Teachers thought you would be a good, calming influence on him. The only person they could think of to seat next to him in classes trusting that neither would you be provoked by him picking a fight with you and neither would you try to flirt with him. He found you boring like the rest of your peers did until you made the mistake of defending him.

Word count: 12k+ (Supposed to be 2k but this monstrosity got away from me)

Note: Not canon-compliant, yandere and violent behaviour. Slow burn yandere, takes a while to get to the crazy.

Gojo took one look at the nerd sitting in the desk next to his usual one at the back next to the window and glanced over to the balding homeroom teacher with his brows raised. There was no way you had sat there of your own accord. You looked too puny to be trying to take him on for strongest in the school and if you were there to flirt you at least would have tried to tame down the bedhead a little.

He set down his bag on the table, seeing you jump as his textbooks knocked against the wood and made a loud noise. Reminding him of a jumpy little rabbit but still you didn't even turn to look his way. He pulled out the chair and slumped down on it, long legs having trouble fitting beneath the desk, another reason he liked to sit at the back so he had a little extra room.

"Hey rabbit, why are you sitting here?" Gojo asked.

"Sugoshi Sensei asked me to." You responded without taking your eyes off the workbook you were furiously scribbling on.

Gojo turned his glare back to the balding man at the front, rolling his eyes when the man was already looking at him. He wasn't an asshole enough to make your life hard when you clearly had no interest being here anymore than he wanted you here, but the old geezer definitely had it coming. Gojo liked resting his legs up on that desk next to him but now he'd have to sit straight while the old bore droned on.

He didn't go to his next period, choosing instead to walk over to the convenience store and buy himself a chocolate milk. Wandering around the little streets that surrounded the school instead of going to his second period.

When he got to third period he was surprised to see you sitting next to his usual spot again. The teacher of this class a middle aged woman who liked to hold him back to discuss his future and then make eyes at him while she told him about how she believed in his potential. It was too bad she wasn't his type and she certainly wasn't getting so much as a graze of his hand now with the stunt she'd pulled.

It was like you were in every class, there before he was. Taking up the desk he normally used as a leg rest. He ignored you in the rest of the classes, legs cramped by last period from being forced to fold uncomfortably on the low chairs that weren't made for people as tall as him.

He took the long way to the internet cafe he usually went to afterschool, the other kids who had taken to frequenting it because he went there taking up all the computers, except the one with the buggy mouse.

"Hey move." Gojo said to one of the kids whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember who sat at his usual computer. It had the vantage point of the screen not being turned towards the rest of the cafe so he could do whatever he wanted without everyone gawking at his screen. The kid with the buzzcut turned, standing up to his full height that was still a good six inches below Gojo.

"And if I don't?" The boy asked making Gojo smile for the first time that day.

He invited him outside politely, not wanting to risk getting banned from the internet cafe. Leaving buzzcut leaned up against a tree a couple storefronts down from the cafe with a bruised and swollen face, nearly out of consciousness but still managing to promise he would regret this making Gojo laugh.

Gojo returned to the cafe, the kids sitting inside quietening the moment he opened the door telling him all he needed to know about the topic for the day. Two of the guys left, presumably to go get their friend, though they weren't such great friends for waiting till after their friend had gotten a beating before making their move. It was a pity they were so disloyal, he could have used more of a workout today. Beating just one kid with a bad attitude wasn't enough to work out all the kinks in his muscles.

Over the next few days he went to class even less than usual, classes were unbearable as it was but having to sit in that tiny desk made them downright painful.

You had been worried when the teachers in each of your classes besides math and history told you to go sit next to Gojo Satoru. The boy with perpetually bruised knuckles who everyone knew better than to sit next to.

Gojo Satoru always sat with the utmost disrespect, long legs extended out before him and feet resting on the desk next to his, bright blue eyes either looking down at his phone or out the window.

A part of you had been convinced that you would get a black-eye for daring to take his footrest but didn't have the guts to argue with teachers. Hopefully he wouldn't hit you too hard and then they'd be forced to let you switch.

To your surprise Gojo simply ignored you after asking why you were sitting there. Being called a rabbit was strange but then Gojo never really remembered anyone's names, using descriptive terms or nicknames that no one questioned in their place.

He wasn't too bad to sit next to once you got over the initial anxiety that he was going to punch you. Quiet and didn't pester you with questions about the school work or borrowing your notes the way other kids did. Not that he'd need them, everyone knew Gojo got the best grades in the school. Though there were rumours that was due to his rich parents buying his grades but either way it left him uninterested in your school work.

Other than taking up too much room due to his hulking physique, he was actually an improvement from your past desk mates. Just if kids didn't swarm around your desks so much to talk to him, he would have been the ideal student to sit next to.

You struggled to focus on the math homework you still had to complete, having not been able to get through all the problems during lunch while a group of students loudly giggled and jeered around you.

Two of the idiots were playing catch over your head with their gym bag that smelt putrid. You held your hand up to your nose to try to block out the smell, glancing back just in time to see one of the idiots trip while trying to catch the bag, flailing to stop himself from falling forwards and onto you. You barely had time to put your hands up in front of your face, hoping only to minimize damage but a large pale hand caught hold of the boy’s hoodie, tugging backwards to keep him from falling onto you.

"Watch it sweaty pits, you nearly crushed the rabbit." Gojo said, answering your question as to who the terrible smelling bag belonged to.

"Thanks." You said and Gojo only nodded, going right back to his conversation with a girl who was practically standing on his feet while flirting.

A couple days later in third period he dropped down a chocolate milk on your desk.

"BOGO at the convenience store. You want it?" He asked and you nodded, hesitantly grabbing it. He looked away, spending the rest of the period staring out the window as usual and after carefully inspecting the carton to ensure it hadn't been tampered with as subtly as you could, you opened it and drank the chocolate milk while taking notes.

You were discomforted by the way the teacher of this class stared at the boy beside you. Walking by your desks often, resting a hand on his shoulder and asking him to start doing his work.

Her face turned red when she saw the disgusted look you hadn't even realized you were wearing seeing her grope Gojo's shoulder under the pretense of asking why he wasn't starting the homework assignment she gave. Gojo seemed to see it too and let out a bark of laughter making her look almost furious. Her glare softening as it turned on him when he rose to ask to go to the washroom, though he would most likely not come back the rest of the period.

You didn't know the boy who sat next to you in nearly every class well but knew enough from proximity alone to know that half of the rumours about him were a lie. He sadly really did earn his grades, finishing every exam and quiz first even though you spent so much more time studying than he did. And that basketball player's girlfriend everyone had accused him of seducing had been the one to fawn all over him in chemistry. Asking him repeatedly to go to her house for a study session.

So when you heard some students gossiping that the reason he was doing so well in English was because he hit on the teacher, you couldn't help yourself but pipe up to defend him.

"He's doing well because he's smart and for the record it's that creepy old woman that keeps hitting on him. If you don't know him, shouldn't you not talk about him?" You asked the group of freshman who were blocking your way into the library. Completely oblivious to Gojo who had been coming down the stairs and heard the way you defended him.

Blue eyes tracking you as you stomped past the group of horrified freshman who had seen him come up behind you to listen and feared they would get a demonstration of the infamous Gojo Satoru's fighting skills. It was lucky for them he was too preoccupied thinking about the loyal little rabbit he had never realized was brave enough to stick up for him to terrorize them.

From that day on Gojo Satoru stopped ignoring you, though you had no idea why. He pestered you about the homework you were working on, annoying you by telling you all the questions you had gotten wrong. Asking you what you did at lunch and surprised to hear you spent it in the library.

"So when do you eat?" He asked.

"I eat my lunch there too."

"They don't let you take the cafeteria food in there."

"I don't eat the cafeteria food." You said, leaving it at that but then curious about what you did eat he started following you to the library at lunch.

"Milk bread, is that really all you're eating?" He asked, fascinated by the way your ears reddened at the tips and you grumbled out about the cafeteria food being overpriced and not tasting as good as your milk bread.

"No wonder you're so short." He said and you simply blinked at him, not wanting to stroke his ego by saying he was a giant. Choosing to ignore him instead and hope he would go away.

"So where are your friends?" He asked.

"Don't have any." You mumbled, people would probably be embarrassed over that but it never really bothered you. You didn't have time for friends. You spent every spare moment in school studying or doing your homework since you worked a part-time job after school.

"Me neither." He said, blue eyes taking on a weird glint you missed since you had your head bent over your history notes.

You assumed he was merely trying to spare your feelings since he was constantly surrounded by others but Gojo didn't consider any of them to be his friend. Every one of them seemed to hover around him because they wanted something. To leech off his popularity, leech off his money or learn what it was like to sleep with the Gojo Satoru. All except you, who didn't really want to be there and never asked him for anything.

You had assumed his attention would be short-lived and once the curiosity he had about you was abated, he would go back to leaving you alone. Unfortunately that didn't happen. Suddenly he was attending every class, waiting out in the school yard till you arrived so he could walk with you to your first period. His attendance perfect in all classes besides the two he didn't have with you.

You weren't the biggest fan of the change, now with him taking up all your time with his chatter, you had less time to focus on your homework. That resulted in you having to do it at night when you got home from work which disrupted your sleep making you crankier.

You blamed it on your lack of sleep for getting you into this situation. 99% sure Gojo was about to punch your daylights out. He had been pestering you as usual while you did your math problems in homeroom silent study. Telling you in a sing-song voice that was getting on your last nerve that your answer was incorrect and he'd tell you where you went wrong if you looked at him.

"Do you ever shut up?" You asked, your voice rising over the quiet chatter of the other students which died out immediately as everyone heard what had been said to Gojo Satoru. Gojo had put kids in the hospital for far less. Your eyes widened in horror at realizing what you had said and more importantly to who.

Your face went pale as your heartbeat picked up. Blood rushing through your ears making you feel faint as you stayed deadly still, waiting for Gojo to make his move.

"Only when I'm eating. Say wanna share some of that milk bread of yours with me? I skipped breakfast to make it here on time." Gojo said and you could practically here everyone's jaws drop to the floor.

"H-here." You said, digging it out of your bag and offering it up to him with trembling hands. Hoping it would be seen as a peace offering and save your life.

"Thanks." He said, tearing it open and breaking off half. Holding the rest out to you which you took back gingerly. Flinching when he moved his hand back suddenly.

"Don't save it for lunch. I feel like eating pizza and you're coming with me." Gojo said and you nodded, wondering if this was a new form of bullying.

By the time lunch came around you had convinced yourself he was luring you off school grounds to beat you up. Somewhere secluded where no one would interfere.

You tried to make excuses to avoid going. Saying you had a test next period but the freak seemed to know even what was going on in the classes of yours he wasn't in. Then trying to tell him you had an appointment with the guidance counsellor but he merely told you to reschedule it. Telling him you were sick and couldn't eat didn't work because your stomach chose to growl loudly right at that moment making him laugh and snatch your bag. Swinging it over his shoulder and telling you the only way you'd get it back was if you went with him.

You couldn't afford to buy those textbooks again so you had to follow him. Wary eyes tracking his every movement, just waiting for him to try to shove you into an alleyway. When you made it to the pizza place without incident you were really quite confused. Asking for your bag back so you could pay for a slice after he was done ordering, his face blanking as he stared down at you.

"I ordered a whole pizza so we could share." He said.

"Oh well let me pay you for half then." You said, reaching for your bag again but he stepped out of the way.

"Don't worry about it." He said, ruffling your hair. Surprised at how soft it was. He reached for your hair again but you pushed away his hand with a glare that made him laugh. Jumpy as a rabbit and about as threatening as one too.

He'd never noticed before but you were oddly cute. Grumpy and withdrawn but in a way that came off as endearing instead of boring like he had first assumed. You glanced at him and a weird fluttering feeling occurred in his stomach, he would have thought he was sick if it hadn't been strangely pleasant.

You both sat there to have your pizza. Gojo quizzing you on all your favourite foods and polishing off slice after slice with ease. You ate about a quarter of the pizza before declaring you were done. Gojo tried to make you eat more but you told him you were full and he blamed your appetite on only eating milk bread for lunch for god knows how long.

By the time you both finished, fourth period had started and when you caught sight of the time you made a run for it. Gojo watching you for a second in stunned surprise before darting after you with a whoop. Covering double the distance with his freakishly long legs making him frequently outpace you and then circle back, cheering you to go faster.

By the time you both got to class you were winded from the run, a painful stitch in your side and Gojo was grinning ear to ear. Watching you keeled over trying to catch your breath and all he could think about was how he had never had that much fun with anyone before.

That day he tried to convince you to come to the internet cafe, very perplexed to learn that you had a part-time job to get to. He hadn't known high school students worked. Much to your chagrin he followed you to the little supermarket you worked at.

Following you around as you stocked items and leaning up against the counter as you cashed out customers. Earning compliments about what a handsome young man he was from the old women who frequented the store.

Soon that became your routine, Gojo waited outside the school for you to arrive. You sat next to him in all your classes besides two which he both walked you to and collected you from. Either followed you to the library at lunch or forced you to accompany him out by hijacking your school bag.

Annoyed the few times you managed to pay for the food but secretly relieved you weren’t just putting up with him for his money. Trying to tell you he should pay since he wasn't the one who worked hard for his money but you merely replied that surely his parents would cancel his cards if they found out he was spending money so recklessly. You clearly had no idea just how rich his parents were and he was in no rush to tell you, he'd rather you think of him as normal.

At the end of the day he would follow you to your part-time job. The middle aged man who owned the store had been very skeptical at first about having him hang around but then seeing all the female customers he attracted, he had become much more welcoming. Offering Gojo fruit cups and candy on the house.

You spent most of your day with him Monday to Friday so when he asked what you were doing over the weekend you drew the line. Putting your foot down about him not being allowed to see you on the weekend even if it meant telling the Gojo Satoru no.

Weekends were the days you spent relaxing after your hectic week. Sleeping in, eating junk food and watching movies. Studying only if you needed to which since Gojo had decided he was going to spend most of the school day distracting you, became more often.

On Monday when you got to school Gojo was there, head cast down and you only realized why when you got closer. The skin around his right eye was a terrible mix of black and blue. You had never seen Gojo Satoru with anything other than bruised knuckles before but even that had stopped for a while. When you glanced down at his hands, both palms were wrapped in gauze, knuckles unharmed.

"Have you iced it?" You asked and he shook his head, watching you silently. You grabbed the cuff of his sleeve, tugging him along behind you to the nurse's office. His eyes on your little hand that gripped his sleeve and he had the strangest urge to push his hand into yours instead. Before he could act on the impulse you were at the nurse's office.

The school nurse got Gojo an ice pack, muttering under her breath about how usually it was Gojo sending people to her office. She had been holding the ice to his face but was called away by the principal, handing it to you as she left. He expected you to just hand it to him, taken aback when you stepped close to the cot he sat on, pressing the ice pack gingerly to his bruised eye. Worried it may hurt for him to hold the ice bag since both his hands were also hurt. Your face contorting into a pained grimace as though you were the one who had gotten hurt.

He was suddenly all too aware of his heartbeat, never having felt so keenly the closeness of another person in his life. He could practically count your lashes at this distance, seeing flecks of honey in your eyes that he had never noticed before. The shape of your parted lips, your tongue that darted out to wet them making him gulp and look away. A red flush spreading over his pale cheeks worrying you that he had a fever.

You pressed your hand to his forehead, then checked your own but didn’t sense any significant difference. The feel of your skin against his had his mouth going dry.

"You look feverish but you don't have a fever. Maybe you're just overheated. Take off your sweater." You said and he complied, pulling the hoodie over his head.

Your expression went blank as his toned upper body was revealed. So pale and perfectly proportionate he looked like he was cut from marble. Shoulders and chest too broad to belong to a high schooler, waist tiny enough to make you jealous and arms packed with muscle that showed why he was considered the strongest.

“I thought you’d have something underneath. Put it back on.” You said, disgusted by how pretty he was and not wanting to be faced with such nauseating perfection so early in the morning. He complied, confused as to why you looked mad.

“Are you not going to ask what happened?” He asked. Normally he hated when people tried to stick their nose in his business but it made him weirdly upset that you didn’t care to ask.

“I’m sure you’d tell me if you wanted to.” You said simply, silence settling between you two as you continued to hold the ice pack to his eye.

He’d never wanted to tell anyone about his asshole dad before. It wasn’t like they would actually care nor could they do anything about it. It would only make his dad angrier to learn he’d blabbed to someone about what he called family conflict. Though beating your kid the few times a year you actually managed to be home wasn’t much conflict in Gojo’s perspective.

“It was my dad.” Gojo said, voice quiet and almost small in a way you’d never heard before.

“Does it happen often?” You asked.

“No he’s only home a couple days of the year.”

“Is he going to be home tonight?” You asked and Gojo nodded, eyes on the white tiles of the nurse’s office floor.

“You can sleep over at mine until he’s gone.” You said and Gojo’s head flew up. He’d been thinking of staying at the Internet cafe and only going home in the morning to shower and change. But staying at your house, getting to be in your house, with you sounded so much better.

"Is that really okay?" Gojo asked, suddenly grabbing your hand that held the ice bag in his, uncaring of the way it aggravated the cut on his palm. His dad had shoved him into the glass table and he had sliced his hands on the broken shards of glass while pushing himself back up.

You flinched back at how close he suddenly was. A near manic look on his pretty face that you mistook for desperation to be away from his dad.

"Of course, you're my friend aren't you?" You asked, slipping your hand carefully out of his so you could continue icing his face.

"Friend." Gojo muttered, tasting the word on his tongue. Mind more preoccupied with you calling him your anything. He liked that, the idea of belonging to you in some way.

Friends didn't seem like enough though, even the idiots who walked around in rowdy groups called each other friends. That wasn't enough to describe what was between the both of you but it could be a start.

That day Gojo made you do everything for him, from taking out and putting back the bags needed for each class, to feeding him his lunch to passing in his classwork which he never normally did but was enthusiastic about completing when you had to write his answers for him. You had drawn the line at undoing the zipper of his pants when he needed to go to the washroom. Needless to say by the the end of the day came around you were not excited about the impromptu sleepover.

Gojo looked at the little house you lived in with your mother with such curiosity and amazement as though exploring a relic from ancient times. Though compared to what you were sure was a fancy mansion or penthouse apartment, your little shack of a house probably seemed like something from another time.

Your mother was overjoyed to meet Gojo, so glad you had finally brought a friend home. A little less thrilled to find out he would be sleeping over but seeing his bruises and making her own assumptions she hadn't fought you over it. Simply telling you to ensure you ordered food for the both of your dinners instead of just getting something from the convenience store before she headed out to her night shift.

Gojo was thrilled to be alone with you in your house, turning overjoyed bright blue eyes over to you the moment she was gone. The sour look on your face could not bring down his good mood.

He sat right next to you on your raggedy couch watching TV as you both ate the convenience store bentos you had bought on the way home. Also having bought a bunch of extra snacks since you knew what Gojo's appetite was like after countless lunches spent seeing him pack away enough food for three grown men.

Your eyes began to droop as you both sat there watching episode after episode. You tried to fight it, telling yourself you needed to set out the futon for Gojo before you fell asleep but eventually lost the battle.

Gojo paused mid sentence as he felt a warm solid weight thunk onto his arm. Glancing down and his heart nearly stopping as he saw it was your head that was resting against him. For a moment he couldn't bring himself to move, heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing in his ears drowning out the sounds of the TV. Eventually he was able to gather himself enough to lean forward a bit and take a peek at your face. Heart clenching at the sight of you fast asleep.

Features that were normally twisted into an unimpressed look or glare now soft and slack with sleep. Lips parted, long lashes appearing to be resting on the apples of your cheeks. He became all too aware of his breathing and the way it made his body move up and down, trying to regulate it so it wouldn't disturb your sleep.

He was so grateful you didn't have any other friends. Just the thought of you so vulnerable in front of someone else filled him with the urge to break and to hurt.

Having you so close soothed him, normally after a run in with his father he would be out on the prowl for a fight to pick. A way to unleash the frustration and aggression that built up every time he was forced to confront the man that seemed like a demon who wore his face. However, there was nowhere he would rather be than here with you.

When you woke you couldn't help the scream that escaped you nor the way your hands flailed out smacking away the bright blue headlight like eyes that were staring a hole into you. Gojo let out a curse, clutching his hand over his eye.

Your terror abated into guilt as you caught your breath after getting the worst jump scare of your life.

"I'm so sorry but why were you watching me sleep?" You asked, trying to get a glance around his freakishly large hands to his face.

"I wasn't watching you sleep." Gojo grumbled, not very convincing when his ears were burning bright red in embarrassment.

"Do you need another ice pack?" You asked and he nodded.

You went to the kitchen to make an ice pack, bringing it back to the tv room where he was waiting. Hand still over his eyes making you feel even guiltier. You rushed over not seeing the empty bento container on the ground, slipping on it and going sprawling across Gojo's lap. Your forehead knocking into his mouth making him curse again and hand landing unfortunately right on his crotch. Telling you more than you ever wanted to know about how what they said about men with big hands was quite true.

You glanced up at him and the quiet string of curses he had been muttering stopped as he saw how close you were. If the weight of your head resting on his arm had been soothing, your warm weight in his lap was anything but. He pushed you off before you could feel first hand what you being so close was doing to him.

"Might have been safer on the street." He joked as a deflection, heart pounding as he quickly grabbed a pillow and put it over his lap.

"God I am so sorry Gojo." You said, holding out the ice pack not trusting yourself to put your hands anywhere near him at the moment.

"It's fine and call me Satoru. You're my friend aren't you?" Gojo asked.

"I don't think we're really close enough to be on a first name basis." You said.

"You just grabbed a solid handful of my junk. It's going to make me feel very cheap and used if you don't at least call me by my first name." He said and you snorted out a laugh, cheeks pinkening in embarrassment at what you had done. Gojo's heart feeling like it was being squeezed and wrung dry at seeing your smile and pink cheeks. The image softened by how sleep rumpled you still were.

"Fine Satoru." You relented and he was glad he had already placed that pillow on his lap. His name sounded so much better coming from you, like he really was something special. Someone held dear to someone.

"Now ice my eye. You really smacked me like you were trying to break open a pinata." He said instigating an argument over pinatas not being broken with bare hands though he insisted that was how he had broken open his own as a child.

You two bickered until it was time to go to bed. He seemed incredibly let down to learn he would be sleeping on a futon in the tv room.

"Can't I just sleep in your bed?" He asked making your eye twitch.

"No and if you have a problem with the futon then you can sleep on the floor." You said, ignoring his sulking as you laid everything out for him on the floor next to the couch.

"How about we stay up and talk?" He asked.

"No I need a break from hearing your nonsense even if it's just for - 6 hours." You said, checking your phone to see how many hours you had to sleep before getting up for school.

"You'd be bored without me." He said.

"I'd be peaceful." You retorted walking towards your room but turning back before you went through the door to bid him goodnight. His chest filling with a warm feeling. He couldn't remember the last time someone had bid him goodnight.

Gojo went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. Thoughts of you swarming his head, ears ringing with your voice saying his name. Those thoughts following him into his dreams. You may have wanted 6 hours away from him but he was glad he didn't have to endure that much without you.

The week passed with Gojo crashing at your place every night. The only time he truly left you were those two classes you had without him and every morning before school when he would run to his place to shower and change. Reassuring you that his dad left for work so early that there would be no chance of their paths overlapping.

You only realized his dad had left days ago when Gojo accidentally played out loud a voicemail from his condominium saying his dad had asked them to call him to set a time to come upgrade the locks since he was out of the country again. You turned to Gojo with a look of complete disbelief that morphed into rage when you saw the sheepish look on his face.

That night you forced him to return to his apartment though he begged and sulked for you to let him stayed another night but for your own sanity and clean criminal record you could not. He was driving you up the wall, you were used to being alone. Not growing up with any siblings or making any friends at school you spent your days alone and had the house to yourself at night since your mom worked.

Having another being as impossible to ignore as Gojo Satoru constantly in your space was overstimulating to your very sensitive and poorly developed social senses. Much to your misfortune the teachers in every class had decided that just making you sit next to him wasn't enough. They also decided to pair you with him for every class assignment or group project giving Gojo just the excuse he needed to invite himself back to your home.

You wanted to complain and scream but there was an advantage to being paired with the top student. Though you had to yell at him to do his work, when he did it, he did better than any of the other idiots in your classes or even you yourself could have done.

However not all assignments were done in pairs and for your English class you all had been put in groups of four to do book reports on your assigned novels. Gojo and you had been paired up with another two boys, one of which you remembered as the boy Gojo called sweaty pits who had nearly fallen onto you and another Gojo called curly for his big curly hair.

Curly seemed terrified of Gojo, avoiding eye contact as you too had done at first upon meeting Gojo. Sweaty pits was reluctant to get too close and be told off about how bad he smelled so both boys resorted to communicating with Gojo through you. For whatever reason that just made him meaner to them both and gave them more reason to be afraid.

Meeting up at the school library after school to research together had been a bust. Gojo entirely unwilling to cooperate and do his part, spending most of his time interrupting the conversations between you and the other two. Sweaty pits wasn't really an academic mind so most of the conversing was happening between you and curly and it was making Gojo boil over with rage.

He snapped the pencil he held in half when you snorted at something curly said. Seeing the boy's eyes widen at seeing your smile. Gojo knew firsthand the sight you made and the effect it had. The way your entire face lit up when you smiled, eyes crinkling and looking even brighter than usual. Something incredibly soft about you when you exhibited even the slightest amount of happiness compared to your usual prickly exterior. Only he should be able to see that side of you. How sweet you were under the standoffishness.

Gojo had immediately swiped your things into your bag, ignoring your protests and complaints about him crinkling up your notes. Grabbing your wrist when curly piped up saying that you all could meet up again whenever worked best for the both of you making Gojo's attention turn to him. Blue eyes blazing with a hatred so visceral it had the boy's voice getting stuck in his throat.

You were dragged away under the pretense of Gojo having been hungry. Enduring the whack you gave him upside the head for bending the pages of your book over not being able to wait another hour to eat. Bad mood lingering all throughout the evening and he didn't argue when you told him he couldn't come to your house after you two had eaten together.

Walking from your apartment straight to the park in the seedier part of town. Not even wasting a moment trying to find a reason but stalking right up to a group of boys older than him smoking and throwing a punch at the biggest one.

Gojo showed up for school the next day with his knuckles split and bruised for the first time in months. The whispers that Gojo was back to his usual self following him through the halls as he made his way to class, late for first period.

You glanced at his knuckles as he sat down but didn't say a word, worsening his bad mood. He didn't understand how you could act so indifferent to him. He wanted you to be nosy, to intrude into his business and demand answers. Hated the nonchalance with which you treated him making him feel as though he was the only one who wanted to know everything about you and thought of you constantly.

For the rest of the day he was uncharacteristically quiet. Emanating an aura that screamed that anyone who came near him was going to get punched. A silent, furious shadow following you around throughout the day.

Everyone was allowed to have their off days and you figured that if he wanted to tell you he would, so you gave him his space. Not instigating conversation and using the time to work through your math homework.

When you got to last period, it was almost a relief to be in a class without Gojo. His terrible mood had been near palpable, suffocating in its intensity and you were glad to be away from it.

A bag settled down on the desk next to yours and you glanced up, surprised to see Curly. He nervously played with the straps of his bag as he asked if he could sit next to you. Quickly going on to explain that it was only because he wanted to ask you some questions about the assignment.

"Sure." You responded simply, having not even realized that you two shared this class too before today.

Curly was abysmal at math and you were glad there were no group assignments for this class or you would have risked failing. His English was luckily better. When you were given time to work on the assigned homework after the lecture, Curly told you he wanted to go over the plot points you needed him to add in the summary to support your part on symbolism.

It was the last class of the day so even when the bell rang you both stayed seated to finish going through the little bit you had left. You rubbed at your eye as you watched Curly furiously jotting down notes about the parts you had asked him to include. Glancing up to ask you a question but pausing as he caught sight of your face.

"You've got some ink on your face." He said and you glanced down at the hand you'd just rubbed your eyes with, groaning when you saw it was covered in ink from having been pressed against your freshly written homework. You swiped at your face with your other hand.

"Better?" You asked and the boy shook his head pointing at where the ink still was staining your face blue. You rubbed in the direction you thought he had pointed and raised your brow at him.

"Here let me just-" The boy said, leaning a bit closer and rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You heard a familiar voice growl. Glancing up to see Gojo charging into the room from where he'd been standing in the doorway. Having arrived to pick you up from your last class only to see you and Curly with your heads close together, Curly's hand on you enough to make Gojo's vision go red.

You could only gasp as a hand yanked the curly haired boy out of his chair and away from you. Tossing him to the ground like he weighed nothing and Gojo swung his leg over him, the first hit making blood spray and the audible crunching of bone breaking rung out in the quiet room. But Gojo didn’t stop there, pummeling fist after fist into the boy's face. Each hit raining down so quickly one after the other the boy couldn't even get his hands in front of his face.

"Gojo." You screamed, grabbing onto his hoodie and trying to pull him off the boy but it was like he didn't even notice you.

You couldn't make out what Gojo was saying, your screams for him to stop drowning out his voice. Your screams attracted the kids passing by in the hall and students came rushing in to the math class, not one of them daring to interfere.

"Get a teacher." You screamed at them grabbing onto Gojo's arm to stop him but he pulled free of you making you fall back onto your bottom.

"Stop it, you're gonna kill him." You wept but it was like he was deaf to the world in his rage. Finally you were pushed back as two teachers came charging in, each grabbing one of Gojo's arms and hauling him off the boy.

The hand you were using to push yourself up off the floor slipping, sending you sprawling back as you caught sight of Gojo's face. Features twisted in animalistic rage, the veins on his neck standing out. Blue eyes blazing with fury, teeth barred as he snarled out words just barely legible to you over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

"How dare you touch her? She's mine." Gojo was screaming over and over as he thrashed around to be let go. Two other teachers running out in front of him and pushing him back as he broke free and lunged for the boy again.

You scampered backwards in fear, having landed close enough to the curly haired boy to be in Gojo's way. Your movement making his eyes dart to you, the fight draining out of him at the frightened look on your face.

The four teachers took advantage of his state and dragged him out. You could hear Gojo's screams of your name long past when he was out of sight.

For the first time you realized what a mistake it had been to befriend someone known for their violent personality. The curly haired boy was helped up by the principal and another teacher, the students following them leaving you sitting alone in the math class.

You skipped work that day, going straight home. Telling your mom you weren't feeling well and she called the owner of the supermarket for you. Letting you go straight to bed and only coming in to tell you she'd made porridge for you on her way to work.

The next day you didn't go to school. Feigning sick again but actually unwilling to go in and face all the questions that were sure to be asked about the incident. People had seen you there.

You had nothing to tell, you didn't know what had set Gojo off. You remembered what he had been yelling but his words made no sense to you. As wrong as what he had done was, a part of you still felt loyal to your friend and didn't want to say anything against him. Figuring that if you simply didn't show up then you wouldn't have to make a choice between what was right and being loyal.

Gojo had come to school the next day eager to see you and apologize for scaring you. His dad had been called the night before and though the principal had been threatening to suspend him, he'd instead just gotten off with a week of helping the caretaker clean for an hour after school. The principal’s riteous fury doused when his dad brought up how great it would be for the education of the other kids if he got all the school computers replaced.

The principal had let it go, saying boys get into fights and it wasn't worth risking their admission to university to write them up. His father's secretary had flown in and gone to see the boy's family while they were still in the hospital with him. Promising to pay for all of his post-secondary education fees including board and spending money if they didn't press charges and that was simply too good a deal for a parent to pass up.

It was all back to normal like nothing had happened except you weren't there. You didn't come to school the rest of the week and Friday when you didn't show up during first period, Gojo had had enough. He stalked out of the room with the first period teacher asking him to come back or at least take the bathroom hall pass with him if we was leaving but Gojo didn't turn back. Walking right out of school and getting a taxi to your house.

Just the sight of your house was enough to make his heart swell. He knocked on the door, staying quiet as he heard you ask who it was. His knees went weak as the door swung open and revealed you. Standing there in mismatched pajamas with bedhead worse than the first time he'd laid eyes on you and yet he'd never seen such a welcome sight.

Your eyes widened as you caught sight of him. Torn between not wanting to talk to him and ask why he’d done what he did. You stepped out into the cold, closing the door behind you. Wrapping your arms around yourself. Gojo shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, taking a step forward to drape it over you but freezing when you immediately took a step back.

"Take it." He said, holding out his jacket. Blue eyes boring into you waiting for you to finally look up at him and stop staring at the ground. It was maddening to have you before him but still have you avoiding him like this.

"I'm fine." You mumbled.

"If you won't take it then let's talk inside." Gojo said, taking a step forward to reach for your door but you stepped in front of the doorknob.

"My mom's sleeping, you can't come inside." You said and Gojo tried to tell himself it was just because you were worried he would make too much noise and wake her and not because you didn't want him in your house anymore. He knew he had made a mistake, scared you but you had some explaining to do yourself. You had said he was your only friend so why were you letting that little curly haired bastard put his hands on you?

"Why haven't you been coming to school?" Gojo asked and you finally glanced up at him, surprised to hear he had been to school. You were sure he must have been expelled or at least suspended.

It was like he could breathe again now that your eyes were on him. Air filling his lungs for what felt like the first time in days.

"You were at school?" You asked.

"Yeah they put me on cleaning duty this week. Said it wasn't a big deal." He said, sounding so blasé about the whole situation it made your stomach drop. He had beat the curly haired boy to unconsciousness, most likely breaking his nose and taking out some teeth based on the amount of blood but to him it was no big deal?

"How is beating someone to unconsciousness not a big deal?"

"He's fine." Gojo snapped, annoyed that even after not seeing him for days you were talking about that bastard.

"Why are you here?" You asked, realizing you weren't going to get through to him from a morality perspective.

"What do you mean why am I here? You haven't been to school in days, I came to see you." Gojo said, taking a step forward but you stepped away from the door to put more distance between the both of you.

"I don't want to see you right now." You said making Gojo freeze. A cold sweat breaking out on his body as the words you had just spoken rung in his ears. You didn't want to see him. He had been dying to see you and you didn't want him here. You were done with him. He wouldn't allow for it.

"Why do you not want to see me? Look I won't even ask why you were letting that little bastard put his hands on you. It doesn't matter as long as you don't do it again. Let's just go out and get breakfast. You haven't eaten yet, right? We'll bring something back for your mom too." He rambled, voice friendly and bright but eyes manic with desperation that had you balking.

"What are you talking about? Did you hit him for touching me?" You asked, having been raking your brain for days trying to figure out why he had attacked the boy and been unable to think of a reason.

"I don't like others touching you. I'm your only friend. Only I should get to touch you." Gojo said making your heart drop.

"Gojo I'm my own person. You don't get to decide who I'm friends with or who touches me." You said carefully, still hoping this was all a horrid misunderstanding and you were mistaking the implication of his words.

He latched onto your upper arms making you jolt in surprise, pulling you in close until you were nearly chest to chest.

"But you're mine. Just the thought of anyone else touching you makes me so mad I can't think straight. I hate when others talk to you, hate it when they even look at you."

You could only stare up at him in horror. Finally recognizing that glint in his eyes for what it was, mania. You didn't know when he had started thinking of you this way, something he owned and should keep to himself. All you knew was you needed to get away from him.

Not only was he dangerous, with a temper that frequently got the best of him and strength far beyond your imagination, he was also backed by a father who covered up all his misdeeds. Gojo had power and there was no threat of repercussions or consequences to stop him from using it.

"Let go of me." You said but your words had the opposite of their intended effect. He pulled you in to his chest, stooping down to wrap his burly arms around you. Resting his chin on your head and clutching you to him as furiously as a child does their favourite stuffed toy.

"No, can't let you go." He mumbled, turning his face into your hair and breathing in your familiar scent.

"Gojo let go." You demanded, pushing at his chest but with your arms trapped you could barely get enough momentum behind them for him to even feel the pressure, let alone move.

"Stop calling me Gojo. It's Satoru to you." He said, tightening his grip on you making you gasp out in pain.

"You're hurting me, let go." You ordered and Gojo immediately stepped back, horrified at the thought of having hurt you. Gojo had hurt many people in his life, but he never wanted to hurt you. You were the most precious thing to him.

"Leave and don't ever come back. I want nothing to do with you." You said.

"No darling, I'm sorry." Gojo pleaded, trembling hands reaching out to grab hold of you and look you over.

"Leave Gojo." You demanded, turning to go back into your house but his next words made you pause.

"I can't live without you, I need you." He said, voice breaking in a way that had your resolve threatening to crumble. You turned back to him, unable to turn your back on him when the boy you had considered to be your friend sounded close to crying.

"No one's ever made me feel the way you do. I feel like I can't breathe when I'm not around you. I'll die without you, don't push me away." Gojo begged, capturing your hand in his. Blue eyes filling with tears.

You could barely believe this was the boy who nearly killed someone with his bare hands just a couple days ago. But even now as he cried he showed no remorse for what he had done to that boy. He was only upset at the thought of losing you.

He couldn't stop himself as he blurted out everything he felt for you. Needed you to see the truth, how badly he needed you. How he was nothing without you.

"Gojo I've only ever thought of you as a friend, I'm sorry. I think it's best we stay away from each other, I can't return your feelings." You said, watching the tears spill over onto his cheeks at your words.

"You're lying." He said and you glanced up at him, heart clenching at the way the tears poured down his cheeks but he didn't so much as blink or wipe them away.

"You feel the same way. Why else would you spend all your time with me when you don't even talk to anyone else? You invited me to sleep over, took care of me after what my dad did. You do care about me, you're just denying it cause I scared you didn't I?"

"Gojo that's not it, I'm sorry I've never seen you that way. I did all of that because I thought of you as a friend but now I don't think we can even be friends anymore. Just go, okay?" You said turning to go inside leaving him there staring at the spot where you stood as you tore open his heart.

You didn't even want to be friends with him anymore. You couldn't love a monster like him, you couldn't even tolerate to be around him. His dad had warned him that men like them always get left behind. But he wasn't like his dad, he'd get you back. He didn't know how but he would.

Wiping at his eyes Gojo turned to leave, heading right for that part of town he had been told never to return to just a couple nights ago. He found those thugs again, there was a bigger group of them this time. One pointed him out the moment he was in there line of sight.

"Didn't we warn you not to come back here?" One of them asked, standing up from where he was leant against the wall and stepping up to meet Gojo in the middle of the pathway he was walking down.

Gojo didn't even slightly falter at his words. Throwing the first punch once again.

"Oh you're in for it today pretty boy, all our guys are coming here to make sure you don't get to walk away this time."

That day Gojo fought like he really didn't care to continue living. He had lost the one thing that made it all worth it. If Gojo had been rash before then today he was downright reckless. Uncaring about the damage he took, only continuing to move through the swarm of bodies until he physically couldn't anymore.

It took more than one swing of the metal bat to his head to get him down. Barely any of them were left standing by the time he went down and it was lucky that the ones left didn't care to be arrested, leaving him there on the ground and collecting their own men before running off.

He woke up in the hospital. His dad's secretary by his side, glancing up from his laptop when Gojo groaned as he came to consciousness becoming aware of the debilitating headache he had.

You didn’t even come to see him, he called you and sent texts that went unread until they stopped delivering. He refused to stay in hospital longer than the moment he could stand up without the world spinning around him. He had to go back to school, had to see you.

You were relieved not to see Gojo in school when you went back on Monday. Back to being left alone without him there to pester you, letting you get all your homework done during school hours. Your mom wondered why he wasn’t coming over but you told her he was hanging out with his other friends.

It felt strange now to just study throughout lunch but this was for the best of everyone. You got news that the curly haired boy, whose name you finally learned had transferred schools and you wondered if Gojo had done the same. Though you would assume that a lot more people would have been talking about it if the Gojo Satoru left their school.

You only got 3 days of peace before he was back. Whispers and eyes following him as he trudged down the hall, gauze at the back of his head and two black eyes. Knuckles scabbing over from where they’d been split over and over.

His heart leapt when he got to first period and you were sitting there in your usual spot. Hunched over doing your math homework like always. You didn’t even seem to notice the hush that fell over the class when he walked in, going to his rightful seat next to you.

You glanced over as the chair next to you was pulled back, glancing up to see Gojo watching you with a blank expression. You quickly looked back to your homework, heart skipping a beat at the feel of those eyes on you again and you let out a slow shaky exhale to try to regain your composure. It was strange to feel this nervous around someone you used to be so comfortable around.

As much as you wanted to ask if he was okay you thought it better to ignore him. He had feelings for you that you didn't return and after seeing that other side of him, you didn’t want him in your life even as a friend. Best to distance yourself and not get his hopes up.

You could feel his stare boring holes into you all throughout first period, presence seeming to fill up the room and leave no room even for you to draw in a breath. You had never been so glad to hear that bell ring, throwing your stuff haphazardly into your bag not caring if you bent the pages of your textbooks or crumpled your homework.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Gojo asked before you could make your escape.

“I’m sorry.” You said, meaning it. You’d never meant to cause him pain. He scoffed out a laugh and you made your escape.

From that day on Gojo didn’t talk to you in class. He attended every class you both had together. Sitting silently next to you staring out the window. He got into more fights than ever before, knuckles constantly scabbed over from being split over and over again. When you’d pass him in the halls terrorizing the poor soul who’d had the misfortune of capturing his attention that day those blue eyes would stare at you accusingly. As though telling you this was all your fault.

When you walked into first period the next week and saw him on top of the teacher, throwing punch after punch in the man’s face you nearly fell backwards. It felt like another one of the nightmares you were now very prone to having of him attacking the student and you standing by, doing nothing to intervene. Those blue eyes flicked up to you as you finally managed to find your voice and scream for help.

A smirk twisting up those lips as he pulled back his fist and hit the man even harder than before, blood spraying onto perfect pale skin. He continued hitting the man long after he'd gone limp in his hold. Not taking his eyes off you even as he was dragged away by multiple other teachers.

You ran to the nearest bathroom, throwing up your breakfast and sinking down onto the ground. Entire body shaking as you remembered the look in those eyes. Like a cornered predator holding its head high even as it was torn to shreds.

For that incident he was suspended. It seemed even Gojo Satoru couldn’t get away with putting a teacher in the hospital but considering if it were anyone else they’d be in jail, you guessed his father had used his influence again. You hated the part of you that worried about the price Gojo must have paid for that interference.

For the next 2 weeks Gojo didn’t come to school. Slowly you stopped expecting to see him around every corner you turned and in every class you walked into. The owner of the supermarket stopped asking you to bring him back to attract customers and your mom stopped asking if you two had fought and when he'd come over again.

You went back to doing your schoolwork during your classes, eating your milk bread alone in the library during lunch. Walking to the supermarket, with your brain playing tricks on you and making you see flashes of a tall boy with white hair and impossibly blue eyes in your peripheral.

It was why when you heard a knocking on your door close to midnight on a Saturday, you didn't even suspect it would be Gojo. Being home alone so late at night you had no intention of opening the door. Clutching your phone, ready to call the police as the banging got progressively louder.

"What, now I can't even come around and visit?" You heard a familiar voice call out making you nearly drop your phone. You hurried to the door as he continued his banging, worried he was going to break your door.

You opened the door and there he stood. The dim streetlight illuminating his face as he glanced up from where he'd knelt down on your steps. Hood falling back and revealing his face that was covered in bruises. There was a cut across his eyebrow, edge of his jaw purple, lip split and a bandage over the bridge of his nose.

The smell of alcohol hit you as he got up to his feet, staggering slightly. Split lip pulling into a smile at the sight of you.

"What happened to you?" You asked and he was glad that you had finally dropped the uncaring act. Perhaps it was true what they said about distance making the heart grow fonder. Maybe you had spent all this time apart thinking of him just as his every thought had been consumed by you. No amount of fights or alcohol were helping. He didn't need any of that, he just needed you to feel better.

"Won't you invite me in?" He asked, ignoring your question. Wanting to see the worried look on your face a little longer. You probably thought his dad had done this to him. And well while he had a part to play, not all of it had been his dad. Just the lip really that had split when his dad backhanded him for making him abandon a deal and fly back home to set him straight. Threatening to cancel his cards and looking almost repulsed when that made Gojo start laughing manically.

He had flown back out the next day without making good on his promise. Clearly in no mood to do any actual parenting, either thinking him beyond help or believing the threat to cut him off to be sufficient.

You stepped back from the door giving him the space to enter. Unable to turn him away when he looked like he could barely stand up straight and had god knows how many more injuries. You were glad you let him in when he walked past and you caught sight of the blood that glinted red on the black hoodie he wore.

"Gojo what happened to your side?" You asked and he glanced down to the stained fabric as though just noticing it, lifting his hoodie and revealing a deep gash across his hip making you gasp.

"Jesus Gojo you need to go to the hospital." You said, rushing to follow him in and trying to catch him as he slumped back on the couch in a way that could not be good for his injury.

"Don't need anything else but you." He mumbled, reaching up to grab your hand while you were stood in front of him, legs trapped between his. Not noticing how close you had gotten in your worrying.

"I'm serious, I'm gonna call a taxi and let's take you to the hospital." You said, moving to step back but he tugged you down into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you to hold you down.

"Don't move, need this. Missed you so much." He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there. Your eyes widening at his actions.

"Gojo let go." You said, pushing at his arms around you but they wouldn't budge.

"Stop calling me that, acting like we're strangers." He whined, pressing kisses up your neck to your jaw. You panicked, shoving at his face. Accidentally hitting his injured nose and he let you go, winded from the pressure on the broken bone.

You scampered backwards out of reach, breathing hard. Glancing over at the door, wishing you had never let him in. He was drunk and completely out of control.

He was up on his feet by the time you glanced back at him and though you had been aware of how tall he was, you had never really noticed how much bigger he was than you before now. So much taller and broader than you. There was no competition when it came to strength. You could only hope you would be able to get through to him.

You stumbled back as he took a step forward, eyes darting down to your feet and back up to you. Pupils dilating as he zeroed in on his prey, each of his steps forward matched with yours trying to maintain the distance between the both of you.

You jolted in surprise as you felt your back hit something solid, taking a quick glance behind you to see you had reached the wall. But darling hadn't anyone ever told you never to take your eyes off the predator? He closed the gap between you the moment you turned your head, on you in a flash. Large hand grabbing hold of your jaw and you didn't even have time to try to pull away before he was crashing his mouth over yours.

Groaning at the taste of you, sweeter than he could have imagined. All the fantasies his brain tormented him with were nothing compared to the real thing. How soft and warm you felt under him, the smell of you that filled his senses. How perfectly your lips fit against his.

For a moment you were too stunned to move but as he licked over your lips to try to coax them into parting it was like you were kicked back into action. You pushed at him with all your might, fingers scrabbling against the solid mass of him for purchase. Soon you were running out of air and without any other options you bit down on his lip.

He pulled back with a laugh, swiping at his lip that you had torn again. Eyes catching on his blood that stained your mouth. Pretty lips slick with spit and his blood colouring them red on the side you had bitten him. Chest heaving with every breath as you watched him warily.

He saw you glance at the door a millisecond before you tried to lunge past him to get to it. But even when he was intoxicated you were no match for his reflexes, he pushed you back into the wall with ease.

Caging you there with both forearms leaned on either side of your head. He traced his thumb gently over your bottom lip, swiping his blood across it. Desperate for another taste.

You turned your head angrily and he tutted, tilting your face back towards him with a hand guiding your jaw. Careful not to apply too much pressure. Last thing he wanted was to hurt you. You looked so pretty with his blood on you but he had no intention of ever seeing your own, certainly not ever drawn by his hand.

"Don't touch me." You snarled.

"Don't be angry darling. I just missed you so much I couldn't help myself. I've wanted to do this for so long, longer than even I realized." Gojo murmured, eyes still tracked on your lips. Just wanting another taste but it had made you so angry the first time so he tried to hold himself back. You had no idea how much he had always been holding back for your sake.

"You disgust me." You spat making him freeze.

He didn't understand why you said all those hurtful things. It had ruined him to hear you say you never wanted to see him again but then tonight you'd let him in again. Been so worried over just a couple bruises and a cut that you had wanted to take him to the hospital in the dead of the night.

You had to be lying now too. It was such a terrible habit of yours. Lying about all these hurtful things, not knowing what it did to him.

"Don't say stuff like that." He admonished gently.

"You do, I wish I'd never met you." You said and he clenched his jaw. Trying so hard to hold back the rage he felt at being treated this way by the one he'd put above everything else.

"After what you did today, you mean nothing to me." You said and he slapped his hand over your mouth. Taking a long slow deep breath in and out to contain his anger.

"Enough." Gojo said quietly, glancing up to look into your widened eyes watching him, the understanding of the sort of situation you were in starting to settle in.

"What a terrible temper you have, saying all these hurtful things I know you don't mean." He said, taking his hand off your mouth to smooth your hair back from your face.

"Please leave." You asked quietly making him sigh.

"Why would I leave my pretty darling all alone this late at night?" Gojo asked softly, fingers playing with the tendrils of hair that fell across your cheek. Brows furrowing in confusion as a pearly drop slid down your cheek and it took him a moment to realize you were crying.

"No, no baby don't cry." Gojo cooed as he looked at your pretty eyes glassy with tears. He swiped his thumbs gently under your eyes, cupping your face between his hands and pressing the tenderest of kisses to your lips.

"It's been so hard on both of us being away from one another but I'm here now. I won't let them keep us apart anymore." He said, pulling you in close to his chest as you choked on a sob that broke free from your chest.

"Others have tried to get in your head haven't they? Telling you terrible things about me and trying to lure you away. My poor naive darling." He cooed and you steeled yourself to do what you had to in order to get away.

"Satoru." You called softly making him pull back to look at you. Eyes filling up with hope and a smile blooming on his face.

You reached up for him, carefully cupping his jaw within both your trembling hands. Keeping your eyes on his all the while you got up on the tips of your toes. Glancing down to your target and his eyes flickered down to your lips.

He leant down and you took the opportunity of finally having him the closest to eye level as you could to ram your head forward with all the momentum you could muster in that amount of space. Your head connected with his nose and an audible crack was heard that you were sure would ring in your ears for the rest of time.

Gojo stumbled back a step, hands flying to his nose. Not even understanding at first why his fingers were suddenly stained crimson until you shoved at his chest making him fall back on his bottom.

You darted for the door, fingers just grazing the door knob before your ankle was grabbed and tugged sharply, bringing you down. You cried out as you hit the floor, chin hitting the ground so hard it made your teeth rattle.

You were flipped onto your back as Gojo crawled on top of you, drops of the blood dripping from his nose dropping down onto you. You pushed and scratched with all your might, besides yourself with the need to get away but your wrists were caught in each of his hands and pinned down on either side of your head.

You sobbed beneath him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your head so you wouldn't have to see the horrifying image he made. Blue eyes lit up with the flame of his manic obsession, blood dripping down his nose past his lips and down his chin. Dropping onto your chest and splattering you with red.

"Why would you try to run from me darling? What have I ever done to you to make you act like this?" He asked, voice sounding so hurt as though he had any right to feel betrayed.

"Look at me." Gojo said but you kept your eyes squeezed shut. Hoping this was all a nightmare and you'd wake up soon.

"I said look at me." He said releasing one of your wrists to grab your jaw and force your head straight. Grip tightening until you complied, a fresh wave of tears swelling in your eyes at the sight of him.

"Fuck, look at what you've done to yourself." He muttered, gingerly stroking over your bruised chin making you flinch.

"Please let me go." You begged making his heart clench.

"I am never going to let you go. We belong together. Now come on, up on your feet. If we stay here they'll never stop getting between us. We have to leave." Gojo said, not waiting for you to comply. Rising up to his feet and forcefully pulling you up too by your hands.

"Now listen to me good darling, once we get outside I want you to keep your head down and stay quiet. If you so much as say a word to anyone, I'll kill them." Gojo warned, waiting till you nodded before pulling you in close and tucking you under his arm. Casting one last look at the only place that had ever felt like home to him before he ushered you out.

No one knew where you two disappeared to that night. Gojo's dad spent all the money he could on finding his son and your mother never gave up but not a trace was ever found again of either of you. At the school they said regretfully they had thought you would be a good influence on him and yet you two had been each other's ruin.

[fre4krena]

sukuna playing mc with his girlfriend (you)

as much as sukuna huffed at the suggestion, muttering something about having better things to do than “play blocky nonsense with you,” the thought of spending the entire night stretched out beside you instead of buried in textbooks was enough to make him cave.

he clicked his tongue, sighed dramatically, and grabbed a controller.

so now the extended couch was transformed into a fortress — blankets layered over both of you, snack wrappers already threatening to take over the coffee table, the glow of the tv painting the apartment in soft blue light. your knees brushed under the covers as you created a new world together, the loading screen humming quietly in anticipation.

the moment you spawned in, sukuna didn’t hesitate. he turned and started punching you.

“sukuna!” you shrieked, your character flailing uselessly as he relentlessly bare-fisted you with far too much enthusiasm.

“what?” he replied lazily, entirely unapologetic as he kept swinging.

you tried to fight back, jamming buttons in a panic, but the absolute sweat of a man somehow comboed you into oblivion with nothing but default fists. your screen flashed red, and you respawned with a dramatic groan.

“turn pvp off. i'm not gonna be scared of turning my back to you in a game."

he only smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “skill issue.”

“turn. it. off.”

eventually he did, though not without another light jab for good measure.

he knew the stereotypes — had seen the stupid reels of couples building quaint cottages together and deliberately placing their beds side by side like it was some grand romantic gesture. he wasn’t about to fall into that softness without resistance. (even if irl the two of you shared one bed every night (and he first initiated it))

when darkness rolled over the village you were looting, lantern light flickering against pixelated stone, he casually wandered off mid-conversation. you watched his character disappear into one of the smaller houses at the edge of the path, as if he’d suddenly decided independence was critical.

inside, he shoved a bed into the farthest corner and layed there, waiting.

and somehow, somehow, there were exactly two empty blocks of space beside him.

just enough.

you jogged across the village and squeezed inside, placing your own bed directly next to his without a word. the placement snapped perfectly into alignment.

you lay down, staring at the ceiling as the “waiting for other player” message hovered faintly on your screen.

he didn’t sleep. instead, he started jumping in and out of bed.

“go to sleep!” you complained, swatting his shoulder in real life as his character popped upright for the fifth time.

he only chuckled, that low, satisfied sound, and did it again just to push you.

eventually, after dragging it out far longer than necessary, he settled. both avatars lay still, side by side, as pixelated night hummed softly around the village and the screen faded toward morning.

beneath the blanket draped over your real legs, his knee nudged yours. not accidental. never accidental.

caves, though, were a different story.

the moment you descended underground, something in sukuna shifted. above ground he was insufferable — competitive, petty, constantly threatening to sabotage your builds — but the second darkness swallowed the screen and the first groan of a zombie echoed through the tunnels, it was like a switch flipped.

he walked a half-step ahead of you, cutting down monsters before they got close, placing torches with methodical precision so you wouldn’t stumble into shadow, mining every visible ore vein before you could even comment on it.

skeleton rattling in the distance? dead.

creeper hiss? neutralized.

he didn’t say much, just a low “stay back” or “watch your left,” like you were some liability he refused to let get scratched.

you didn’t need a bodyguard. but he clearly wanted to act like one.

but you were the one who found the first diamond.

you’d wandered slightly off his carefully lit path and there it was; that familiar teal shimmer tucked into the stone. you gasped, mining it quickly before he could even react.

achievement "DIAMONDS!" popped up in chat - you turned to him triumphantly.

“wow,” you said sweetly, “guess i have better eyesight.”

he scoffed.

“what’s wrong? grandpa vision kicking in?”

that earned you a sharp glare and a muttered threat under his breath. (he saw the diamond first, but decided to let you have it.)

above ground, his pride reasserted itself. he insisted he was going to build his own house far away from yours; something “architecturally superior,” he claimed, and stormed off with a stack of wood.

yet somehow, through a mix of your persistence and his own inability to fully detach, he ended up unofficially moving into your base. one chest became two. one furnace became shared. your carefully organized storage system was immediately ruined by his “temporary” dumps of cobblestone.

he threatened to blow up your base at least three times; once while holding flint and steel.

you banned him from the house after that.

he acted offended. deeply wounded. dramatically exiled.

he found a way (with some sweet words, and whispers in your ear) to be granted access again — under strict probation!

he nevers stopped building dirt penises everywhere though. that one you will have to live with... also the floating trees.

you, of course, collected pets like they were rare artifacts.

every wolf you tamed got a name, a designated corner in your base, a little fenced area with torches and a chest nearby like they were honored residents. you dyed their collars carefully, matching colors to personalities.

one of them, unfortunately for sukuna, was named “kuna <3.”

pink collar and a grumpy personality. it was like looking in a mirror.

there was a silent standoff of him - the dog, and the name hovering above it's head.

he claimed he didn’t care... but...

there had already been jokes about “accidentally” letting a creeper into the pen or “forgetting” to close a gate. you’d swatted him for it, half laughing, half serious.

then the unfortunate event happened.

you stood up to take a bathroom break, controller abandoned beside him. “don’t touch anything,” you warned lightly.

“i’m not a child,” he muttered.

a mob wandered too close to the base. he rolled his eyes and went to deal with it, swinging carelessly, confident as always.

the wolf ran in front of him at the worst possible second.

one hit.

another.

a yelp

silence.

oh.

oh no.

he froze, staring at the empty spot where the dog had been, now a faint puff of smoke. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

cold sweat washed over him instantly. from down the hallway came the sound of your footsteps returning.

every step felt slowed down, amplified, like the entrance music to some final boss he was absolutely not prepared to fight.

he contemplated exiting the game.

you sat down beside him, glanced at the screen, and frowned. “where’s kuna?”

the pause gave him away.

you checked the yard. checked the pen. your movements grew quieter the longer you searched.

when you realized, you just went still.

and kicked him out of the base.

he tried everything; low apologies, softened nicknames, the tone he used only when he genuinely meant it. “c’mon,” he murmured. “it was an accident.” he even nudged your knee under the blanket like he always did.

nothing worked.

the guilt sat heavy and unfamiliar in his chest.

so he built something for you.

right where the pen had been, he constructed a small statue — white wool body, stone base, even a strip of pink for the collar. it wasn’t perfect, but it was careful. a sign stood in front with the statue with the dogs name.

you stared at the little memorial and eventually, you sighed, forgiving him.

the two of you went deep into the forest together, searching until you found another wolf. you tamed it side by side, and when you named it “kuna 2.0,” he didn’t argue.

he just kept his weapon lowered around it from then on.

at some point, the steady glow of the screen became too much.

the blue light bit at your tired eyes, the repetitive mining sounds blending into background noise, and your character slowly stopped moving; left standing idle in the middle of the village.

sukuna noticed after a minute.

“you lagging or what?” he muttered, nudging your knee lightly when you didn’t respond.

your character remained still.

he glanced down, and found you slumped against his shoulder, controller loose in your hands, breathing slow and even. sometime between arguing about cobblestone placement and reorganizing chests, you’d fallen asleep.

without thinking, you shifted closer, nuzzling faintly into his side, seeking warmth even unconscious.

his expression softened in a way no one else ever got to see.

carefully, he reached over and paused the game, setting both controllers on the table. he adjusted his hold on you slowly, like you were something fragile. one arm sliding around your waist as he eased the two of you down into the cushions.

he tugged the blanket higher, shifting so your head rested properly against his chest, then angled himself just enough to cocoon you into his side, broad frame blocking out the cold air of the apartment.

you sighed in your sleep, instinctively curling closer.

his chin rested lightly against the top of your head.

“good night… brat,” he murmured quietly, thumb brushing once along your arm before he let himself relax too.

𝙖/𝙣: wish i could do this with him sighhhh (also wrote this like last night at 2am and i am lazy to correct any mistakes sorray) © 𝙛𝙧𝙚4𝙠𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙖 — do not modify, repost without crediting, feed to ai, or plagiarise my work.

[starspenxcie]

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹

18+ MDNI, smut - bf!sukuna spitting in your mouth

“open your mouth.”

you’re already crying. from the stretch. from how rough sukuna's fucking you. from how deep he is in you. thick and brutal between your legs with one tattooed hand gripping your jaw so tight it’s almost bruising.

his thumb drags over your bottom lip.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” sukuna smirks. all teeth. his sharp canines baring out.

“be good for me.”

you do. trembling. mouth open and tongue out.

his eyes darken. 

his hips are still grinding into you. dragging obscene little whimpers out from your throat. he’s purposely fucking you slow now, just to watch you squirm.

then he spits.

right onto your tongue.

your whole body shakes. you moan. loud. too loud

“fucking knew you’d like that,” he growls, laughing low in your ear. 

“slutty little mouth. always whining about nothin’. figured you’d want something to fill it.”

your cheeks burn. your cunt clenches around his thick cock.

“swallow it.”

you do. instantly. breath shaky. tongue wet. eyes glazed.

“that’s my girl,” he snarls. 

then, he fucks into you hard again. dragging your hips down on him - rutting both deep and fast. your moans going high and wrecked.

you can’t think. can’t breathe. can’t speak. you can only feel his cock pounding into you. his hand around your throat. how your lips are still wet from his spit. his deep voice in your ear all smug.

“so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he murmurs while licking up your cheek. “so easy. made to be ruined.”

and finally you do cum. sobbing. trembling. clenching around him.  

he fucks you through your orgasm. kissing you open-mouthed and the bastard spits into your mouth again.

“say thank you.”

“thank you, daddy,” you whisper - completely gone and drunk on him.

he smiles.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

A/N: I have a whole bunch of short smut dribbles i need to post hehe !

taglist: @im-a-simp139, @tojiful, @happyberryave, @lisabelhyhn, @mialafavorita, @tet-yy, @sxpernova, @airfyre, @chewiebee, @sukunaslovergirl, @pickledsoda, @sukunasonahole, @heh123321, @lovebythuuu

[hayakawalove]

Why Don't We Try Something New?

Summary: Suguru and Satoru learn a secret you've been hiding. You aren't as pure as they thought you were.

A/N: Got nothing to say besides enjoy.

CW: Smut, Humor, Polyamory, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rimming, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Nipple Play, Spit Kink, Choking, Slapping, Face Slapping, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Hair-pulling, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, Dacryphilia, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Degradation, Watching Porn, Top Suguru, Top Gojo, AFAB Reader, Female Reader

W/C: 5,830

Credit to @benkeibear for the banner

God, you were so bored. 

Bored was an understatement. You were basically lifeless. The house was big and lonely without the two boys. The both of them had gone on a trip, one they begged you to join, but you couldn’t; you had too much to do. They promised to call everyday, which they did, and you were glad they were having fun. But a part of you wished you did go. You tried not to listen to it. You ended up getting everything you needed done, at the expense of your sanity. The boys were supposed to be coming home anyway today, so you wouldn’t feel bored for much longer. They were supposed to arrive at 2 pm. Key word being “supposed” to. It was now 6 pm and there was no sign of them. Suguru called you to tell you that their ride was delayed, much to your dismay. You were trying not to count down the minutes until they showed. Surely it would be any second now, right? 

You slump at the kitchen table, idly flicking on your phone screen, your feed not interesting you today. The door creaking open jumpstarts your system, causing you to fly up from your seat. 

“We’re home!” Satoru’s jovial voice sounds out. 

You dart from the kitchen to the door and engulf him in a hug. His chest bounces with laughter as he rubs your back. 

“Bunny! I missed you. I even got you a souvenir!” 

“He ate it.” Suguru confesses Satoru’s sin, setting their bags on the ground. 

“Okay maybe I did. But it’s the thought that counts. I wouldn’t have eaten it if our ride wasn’t delayed. I was starving.” 

You pull away from Satoru and turn to Suguru, slamming yourself into him. He smiles softly at the action, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“I missed you princess.” He whispers the words like they were only meant for you to hear. 

You pull back and look up at them. The boys. Satoru’s hair was ruffled, probably from sleeping against a window if you had to guess. Suguru had bags under his eyes. He admitted to you once that he had a hard time sleeping when you and Satoru weren’t next to him. 

“Hungry? Or are you full after eating my souvenir?” 

Satoru gaps at you, starting to walk in your direction. You take off in a quick dash, running back to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t eat it!” Suguru calls out, pushing his hair back as he follows after the two of you. 

It appears that Satoru ended up catching you as he was sat at the table with you in his lap, his long arms keeping you hostage against him. You were trying to hold back a smile as you struggled in his arms. 

“Don’t pick battles you’re gonna lose bunny.” Satoru warns, not budging. 

After a couple of seconds you let yourself go limp, accepting your trapped fate. 

“Seriously though, are you guys hungry?” 

“Yeah. Food wasn’t that great there.” Suguru responds, sliding out the chair across from you and sitting down. 

They were gone for three days. An agonizing three days.  

“Okay. I can make something, you poor babies can rest.” You tease and pull Satoru’s ear. 

He clicks his tongue at you and tries pulling his head back. 

“I can help.” Suguru, ever the helpful one. 

“Yeah, make him do it so we can keep relaxing.” Satoru, ever the unhelpful one. 

“It’s okay. Although you can pull up the recipe on my phone. I wanna shower first and then I’ll get it started.” 

You pull out your phone and toss it to Suguru. There was a recipe in your recent tabs, one you had saved just for when they came home. 

He accepts it and watches as you pry yourself from Satoru. You pull Satoru’s ear one more time and lean down to kiss Suguru’s cheek. 

You tell them you’ll be quick before you’re off, making your way to the shower. 

“Should’ve offered to go with her.” Satoru sighs out. 

“You’re a pervert.” 

“Like you’re any better?” 

Suguru huffs out before swiping through your phone. He was curious what recipe it would be. He scrolls until he locates your internet app. 

“It’s so nice to be back. It feels like it’s been ages since we were home. Not that where we were staying wasn’t nice-“ Satoru rattles on. 

Suguru opens the app, his eyebrows flying up. All your recent searches were porn. Not the normal kind either. They were all kinky. 

He didn’t care that you watched it, and knew Satoru wouldn’t either. The type just surprised him. 

“What?” Satoru asks, noticing Suguru’s face. 

He gets up from his seat and walks over to Suguru, leaning over his back to see what he was looking at. 

Fuck. 

“What’s she doing watching those?” The tone Satoru had was not one of anger, but one more of curiosity. 

“I don’t know.” Suguru mumbles, clicking the first one he saw. 

A video pulls up. It’s of a woman with a tear stricken face. She was standing up, shaky as a man tossed her around. He smacked her face, pulled her hair, and had a hand wrapped around her throat. 

Satoru’s and Suguru’s pants began to get uncomfortably tight as they watched the scene unfold. You never had sex like this. It wasn’t like your sex life was boring. You all had fun together, but the way you fucked tended to be more lighthearted and on the safer side. 

You were interested in this? 

It was making their cocks unreasonably hard. 

“Why hasn’t she asked to try that with us?” Satoru asks. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Should we ask?”

“I don’t know.” 

Suguru taps out of the video, ignoring all the other searches while trying to locate the recipe. It looked obscenely normal in the midst of all the degeneracy. Suguru slides the phone on the table before the sound of the shower turning off snaps him back to reality. 

Satoru sits next to Suguru, his fingers twitching with the need to see what else you were watching. 

You slide on a tank top and shorts, getting ready as quickly as possible so you could meet them again. The boys were being suspiciously quiet. They probably just passed out. 

You walk back out to the kitchen where the both of them were sitting. Suguru calls your name, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. 

“We need to talk.” He says. 

Your breathing falters while you look at them with confused eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” Your anxiety gets the best of you. 

You sit across from them, not noticing the way Satoru’s eyes carefully slide down your figure. 

“We saw what was on your phone.” Suguru starts. 

You watch them, waiting for Suguru to say more. 

“The recipe?” You ask. 

“The porn.” Satoru cuts right to the chase, he never was one to fuck around. 

Your eyes widen at the admission, heat instantly spreading to your cheeks. Did you forget to delete those? 

You had kept yourself busy while they were gone. It was hard going from sex all the time with two men to nothing at all. You got yourself off and watched videos, that wasn’t a crime was it? 

“I, uh,” you flounder. 

“It’s okay baby. We don’t care. But are you interested in that stuff?” Suguru eyes you, noticing how you dart your gaze between them. 

“Yes. I mean, I don’t know.” You admit, shoulders sagging. 

“You don’t have to be afraid. We aren’t gonna make fun of you.” Satoru traces one of his fingers on your hand. 

Both boys had thought about rougher sex before, but they never wanted to hurt you. In their eyes, you were a dainty flower that needed to be protected. 

Maybe you weren’t as delicate as they thought. 

“I do wanna try it. I just didn’t know how to say anything, it’s kinda weird right?” 

Suguru bites back at coo as you admit your fear. There was something endearing in the way you carried yourself. 

“We can try it. We should make rules though so everyone feels safe.” Suguru says. 

You swallow the spit that had collected in your mouth. Satoru’s lips were spread into a smile, Suguru’s expression matching his. 

“Are you sure? It’s okay if it freaked you out, I-“ 

Satoru barks out a laugh.

“Honey, you’re gonna have to do something a lot worse to freak us out.” He says with a glint in his eyes. 

Suguru looks over to him in agreement. 

“Okay. Let’s try it then.” 

You had talked about what you were comfortable doing with the both of them. They tried to hide the surprise on their faces while you explained your deepest darkest fantasies. They were never unsettled by what you were saying, they just had no idea you wanted to try any of it. By dinner time the conversation was over, the typical air settling amongst you. You almost felt like the conversation didn’t happen at all. 

~~~

Several days pass without incident. You were falling back into your normal routine, finding yourself much more at ease with them back. Your mind sometimes wandered back to the conversation, thinking about when it would happen. You were excited at the prospect of trying something new, feeling your heart race every time the thought crossed your mind. 

You turned off the sink once you were finished washing dishes, indulging yourself in the silence. 

A hand slides over your front, grabbing your neck. Your body jumps; you thought you were alone. 

“You’re cute when you’re scared.” Satoru’s deep voice fills your ears. 

His grip was slightly tight, your mind buzzing. It was happening. It was really happening. 

“I’m not scared.” Were you lying? You were unsure of the answer to that. 

“No? Maybe we should change that.” Satoru flips you around to face him. 

He smashes his lips against yours, teeth nipping your lips causing you to whine. His fingers were bruising you as they held you tight, his hand constricting your air flow. His other hand drags across your body, sliding up your shirt to pinch your nipple. Tongues slide across each other, your moans getting drowned out. 

“Get to the couch, now.” 

His voice held no room for argument. You stumble forward, falling on the couch once you make it. You were about to ask Satoru where he was when you feel a hand wrap around your jaw, tilting your head back. 

You look up, a different figure behind you. Suguru stands behind the couch peering down at you. His eyes instantly put you in a trance. 

“You’re all worked up.” He observes, stroking the side of your face. 

You close your eyes at the feeling. His touch was much lighter than Satoru’s, it usually was, but you could feel the heavy weight that laced his words. There was fear in your veins, but you knew they would take care of you. They would never do something you didn’t want to do. 

You make a strangled noise, wondering what he would do next. The idea of him engaging in anything less than soft and careful left you confused. Imagining Satoru being rough with you was easy. Suguru on the other hand was much more meticulous and calculated, always treating your body like a monastery. 

Suguru keeps his hold on you, tilting your head from side to side as if he was scrutinizing you. 

“Open.” 

Your mouth drops open at the command, your tongue hanging out. Suguru doesn’t say anything else before he leans down, letting a drop of spit fall into your mouth. Your core clenches once it hits your tongue. You swallow it and pop your mouth back open. 

“You don’t even need to be trained. How impressive.” 

You wince. Seeing this side of Suguru was turning you on faster than you were expecting it to. 

“I leave for less than a minute.” Satoru murmurs, eyeing the two of you. 

His eyes were blue and cold as they watch you. Suguru’s hand releases your jaw as you look back at Satoru, eager for more. 

“On your knees facing Suguru.” 

You fumble, turning around to grab the back of the couch while you face Suguru. Even like this he was much taller than you. His hair was pulled back in a bun, somehow making him look much more stern and less soft compared to when the locks flowed down his back. 

You were hoping for some kind of praise like Suguru gave you, although there was something condescending in the way he said it, but Satoru offered nothing. Somehow the anticipation was eating you up, making your body crave more. 

Satoru’s hand roams across your perched ass, thinking of all the ways he wanted to ruin you. All he could think about was how much fun you were going to have, and how he and Suguru were gonna be the ones to cause it. 

A sound rings out and only after several seconds do you register it was Satoru slapping your ass. You’re about to turn your head to look at him when you feel another slap, much harder than the first. You let out a moan, feeling pain begin to bloom across your ass. 

“Keep your eyes on Suguru. Think you can do that?” He asks, voice mocking. 

You hum in agreement, staring up at Suguru. 

“Give me a real answer.” 

Your butt wiggles at the harshness of his words. 

“Yes sir.” 

The room silences, while the two men look at each other. 

Had you said something wrong? 

“You’re unbelievable.” Satoru murmurs, slapping you again. 

You moan and tighten your grip on the back of the couch. Your teeth dig in your bottom lip at the pain. 

“Here we are thinking you’re this well behaved girl, content with missionary and eye contact, when really you’ve been wanting something this dirty all along? Ready to call me sir at the drop of a hat?” 

Slap. 

“Give me a break.” 

Slap.

You moan loud again, bottom lip trembling as you keep your gaze locked on Suguru. 

“Gentle, Satoru.” He chides the other man. 

“No. This is what she wanted. So this is what she’s getting.” 

Satoru hits you again, your ass quickly becoming sore and sensitive. You groan, your body doubling forward. Your head hangs between your shoulder blades, panting heavily as you try to resist the tears. 

Satoru grips your hair, yanking it back so you’re forced to look at Suguru again. 

“What did I say?” Satoru speaks through tight lips.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” 

Suguru reaches a hand up to grasp your cheek. His cock stirs at the expression you’re making. Pain and pleasure painted on your face. 

“I know, he’s really mean huh?” Suguru asks, keeping his hand light and gentle. 

You stifle a sob and nod, trembling against him. 

“My poor girl.” Suguru pushes his thumb on your lip, parting your lips so it can rest on your tongue. 

Satoru chuckles to himself at the scene unfolding in front of him. Of course Suguru would act like the hero coming to save you. Satoru had no idea you were this ignorant. If you thought Satoru was bad, you had no idea what Suguru was going to be like. Satoru almost felt bad. You really weren’t going to have a break between either of them. 

Satoru pulls your pants down and admires your ass, his hand gracing over the sensitive skin. He wondered how you looked this good. Satoru drags down your underwear, pulling both pieces of clothing off your body. 

“I can’t believe it. Crying to Suguru like you’re the victim when you’re fucking soaking.” 

He drags his fingers across your slit, and you whimper at the feeling. He watches your hole clench when he grazes your clit. 

He leans over your back, pressing his chest against you. It made you realize just how big he was. It’s not like you ever forgot, but there were moments when the size difference was shoved in your face. It made a drop of dread spread throughout your body. You really were at the mercy of both of them. 

Satoru holds his fingers in front of Suguru. The other man sticks out a tongue, slowly trailing it up Satoru’s finger. Satoru has to suppress a shiver, gaze locked on the way Suguru cleans him. 

“Satoru’s right baby, you really are filthy.” 

Satoru steps back and slaps your ass again, appreciating how it bounces back. He repeats the action. He notices drool seep from your pussy, making him wonder if he was going to have to deep clean the couch after this. 

Your mind feels hazy as you look up at Suguru, the contours of his face becoming blurry between your tears. 

“Let's move this to the bedroom, Suguru.”

Suguru hums in agreement, pulling his thumb from your lips. You whine at the loss, instantly missing the way he filled your mouth. He walks around the couch and pulls you back, sliding his arms around you to carry you to the bedroom. 

“Don’t you think you baby her too hard?” Satoru asks, following the both of you to the bedroom. 

“But she is a baby, Satoru.” 

You sniffle, burying your face into his neck. His skin feels cool against the heat of your face. His fingers strum against your shoulders and tighten under your knees before he sets you down on the bed. 

“Besides, she’ll need someone to baby her after we’re through.” 

The threat seeps into your bones, making the hair on your arms stand on edge. You had no idea who these boys were. They weren’t your kind and soft boys. No, they were scary. 

And fuck, did it make you wet. 

They stand in front of you, looking down their noses at the sorry sight in front of them. You hiss at your exposed ass against the sheets. When would you be able to sit normally again? Satoru really did a number on you, and they weren’t even done yet. 

“Put that mouth to good use, yeah?” Satoru says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

You try not to ogle at the sight but damn, it was hard not to. His exposed chest ran shock waves through your system every time. Pale skin with toned abs. His stomach flexes as he tosses the shirt aside. 

He works on unbuttoning his pants as Suguru takes his shirt off, kneeling on the bed to help you pull yours over your head. 

“How you feeling baby?” Suguru asks, cupping your face when you’re fully naked. 

“Good, so good, want it rougher.” You were too needy to feel embarrassed. 

“Is that so?” 

Suguru pulls back, staring at you as he unbuckles his pants. You whimper when their cocks jump out, already hard. Their leaky tips stood at attention, facing you. 

It was always hard to suck them off. They were large. Your throat remembers the shape of them for days after whenever you give them head. Satoru bought you a bag of cough drops once just to tease you. You didn’t need him to know that you did end up taking them, and they did soothe your throat. 

You reach out a hand before Satoru smacks it away. 

“No hands.” 

You wince and scoot forward, looking up at Satoru as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. He lets out a sigh of relief the second your warmth envelops him. Salty residue falls on your tongue as you swallow more of him, feeling your throat begin to stretch at the size. He holds the back of your head, moans freely falling from his lips. You loved a lot of things about Satoru. One of those things was the fact he never held back in bed. 

“T-that’s it. Just like that bunny.” 

You push yourself down until you reach his pubic bone. It was nearly impossible to breathe, your hands floundering trying to ground yourself. Satoru pumps inside your mouth a couple times before pulling out, groaning at the sight of your spit hanging off his cock. 

Suguru leans in, brushing his cock against your lips. You sputter for a bit, trying to reclaim the lost air before looking up at Suguru. You stare at him as you take his cock in your mouth, sliding down until you start to choke. Every time you suck Suguru’s cock, you almost feel ashamed. His eyes were always trained on you, it felt as though he was grading you. You could never tell if you were doing a good job. 

You muffle a moan as you slide your tongue up and down his cock, more than eager to make him proud. Satoru must be getting antsy because he pulls your hair back, directing you to his cock. You go back and forth, sucking one cock before going to the other. 

“So talented.” Satoru mocks, watching as you work them both up with only your mouth. 

You were getting dizzy now. It was hard to tell if it was because of the lack of oxygen or because of how needy you were getting. 

Tears run freely down your face as you choke on Suguru, having a hard time taking him fully down your throat as you were starting to get sore. 

“Oh come on, you can do better than that. Let me show you.” Satoru puts a hand on the back of your head, forcing you all the way down Suguru’s cock. 

“S-shit.” Suguru groans, throwing his head back. 

He was getting riled up quicker than normal today, the idea of having their own personal slut getting to him. 

“Just gotta be mean with her. It’s the only way she’ll learn. It’s not her fault she doesn’t have much going on up there.” Satoru pulls your head back before shoving it back down. 

Your eyes fly open, desperate for a break. Being treated like this was making your hole clench, pussy leaking on the bed. You reach down and dip one finger across your clit, moaning at the sensation. Usually the men were quick to take care of you, your body was feeling neglected at the loss of their touch. 

Satoru rips you off Suguru’s cock, sneering at you. 

“Who said you could do that?” He asks. 

You cough, looking back up at him. 

“Someone’s gotta do it.” You feel the need to test him, if only to see how far he would go. 

“Yeah? You think someone has to do it? You think that’s what you’re owed?” His voice takes on a chilling tone, quickly making you regret your decision. 

You decide to try sticking to your guns. You straighten your shoulders and refuse to look away. 

“Let’s get one thing clear. You are not owed anything. If you cum, it’s because we say it’s okay. If you get touched, it’s because we allow it.” 

“Really?” You say. 

Satoru’s face cracks into a terrifying smile, the corner of his lips pulled up while his tongue runs across his teeth. Something deep rooted in your body alerts you, danger, danger, warning you to slowly back away before he bites. 

“So cute that you’re holding out baby, it’s admirable.” Suguru sighs, “it’ll make it all the more validating when you regret it.” 

Your body was trembling, begging for more. Did they know what they were doing to you? By the look on their faces, they must. 

“Since she wants to be touched, why don’t we give her that, Satoru?” 

Satoru agrees, knowing Suguru must have something planned. He was honestly kind of scared for you. 

“Up.” Suguru helps you stand, bringing you where he was. 

“I got her front, you got her back.” Suguru says. 

He sinks to his knees in front of you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Satoru sits on the bed behind you, running his hands up your back, before gliding them back down to your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart and looks at your asshole, begging to be touched. 

Suguru looks up at you as he lets his tongue hang out, swiping it against your throbbing clit. Relief washes over you, it felt so good you had to resist grinding against his face. Satoru dives in, licking across your other tight hole, relishing in the moan you let out. 

The two boys are in sync as they pleasure you. Their warm breaths pound against you as they eat you out from both sides, strong hands holding you up as you sway. The pleasure was overwhelming, your moans becoming erratic. 

Suguru swirls his tongue around your clit, feeling it twitch in his mouth. How long were you going to hold out for? 

Your pussy throbs in neglect, begging to be stimulated along with your clit and asshole. 

Your skin burns in pain as Satoru holds you open, not caring for the way it hurts you when he touches your bruised ass, your bruised ass that he caused. 

He rubs his tongue back and forth across your tight hole, groaning at the way it clenches under his mouth. 

Suguru doesn’t have to watch the way your expression changes to know you were on the edge. He’s fucked you enough to know when you were going to cum. 

He pulls away before you can fall off the edge, peering up to look at your frustrated face. 

Satoru pulls back shortly after, eyes laser focused on your ass. 

“Think she’s allowed to cum yet?” Suguru asks. 

“No, not yet.” Satoru responds. 

He rubs a thumb across your asshole, cock leaking as he hears you gasp.  

They wait until you aren’t close to cumming anymore before they dive back in, mouths attacking you. If you try to lean back to escape Suguru’s tongue, it only forces Satoru against you more, and vice versa. Waves of pleasure shock through your system, but it was almost too much. 

You don’t know where to put your hands, so you settle them against Suguru’s shoulders, fists clenched in response. 

Close, close, close. 

In seconds Suguru is pulling back, Satoru following suit. 

“Is she allowed yet?” Suguru asks, although he already knows the answer. 

“Hell no.” Satoru says. 

“Why not?” You complain, frustrated at the high that was torn from you. 

“You just don’t get it, do you? Even though Satoru so kindly explained it to you.” 

Your stomach drops at the shift in Suguru’s voice. 

“Every orgasm, every tear, every moan, belongs to us.” He completes.

Suguru drags his tongue up your clit, your moans pouring out. Satoru dips his tongue in your hole before trailing across it. 

It was getting hard to think straight with the amount of times they brought you close. Torture, it was torture. How could they make you feel so good but not allow you to succumb to it? 

Your voice is hoarse as you moan. Suguru attaches his lips around your clit, lightly sucking as you rock back and forth. Maybe he would let you cum now. 

“I, I,” you try to speak, your mind failing you. 

Satoru understands Suguru immediately, licking you fast. It crashes over you, you finally cum against their mouths, your moaning cascading down to their ears. It hits you harder than it has in awhile, temporarily blinding you as you shake. 

“Not so bad, was it?” Suguru asks, rubbing your waist. 

You want to crumble to the floor to take a break, but you have a sneaking suspicion they won’t let you. You try to squirm away but their grip remains steady. 

“Oh no princess, you don’t think you’re done yet, do you?” Suguru’s voice sounds patronizing. 

He stands up, dragging his fingers through your slit. It makes you wince, your body much too sensitive still. What else were they planning on doing with you? Could you even handle it? 

Suguru pulls his hand from you, shoving his middle and ring finger in your mouth. 

“Go on, taste yourself.” You choke on his fingers, your cum melting on your tastebuds. 

“So fucking nasty, all because we’re treating you like an object. It’s embarrassing.” He tells you, his eyes focused on the way your tongue cleans his finger. 

He takes his fingers out, allowing you brief reprieve. You were so far gone already and you hadn’t been fucked yet. The sight of you was going to drive him crazy. 

“Kneel on the bed. Since you wanted to be treated like a whore, we’re going to fuck you like a whore.” Suguru says. 

You tremble as you turn around to crawl on the bed. Your kneels settle down as you sigh in relief. At least your ass would get a break. You’re too dazed and confused to notice the both of them kneeling on the bed, situating themselves. Suguru sits in front with Satoru behind. Suguru grabs his cock and drags it up your pussy before sliding inside, your walls hugging him. 

He lets out a ragged breath as he pushes all the way in, holding you steady. You fall forward against him, whimpers escaping your lips as his cock stretches you. Even though he was being rough with you, you could still find solace in the way his arms held you, soft hands keeping you still. 

Satoru spits on his hand, bringing it down to rub his cock. It felt good to finally be touched again, but he knew your ass would feel so much better. He holds you open and guides himself to your hole, letting his tip slip inside. 

It was a tight fit. 

Made even tighter with the way Suguru was filling your other hole up. Satoru’s mouth drops open as he watches his cock disappear into your ass, your tight hole clinging to him. 

“So full, I’m so full.” You blabber against Suguru. 

He lets go of you, but you don’t wobble too much as you’re trapped between their chests. It was hard to catch your breath, their cocks reaching to the deepest parts of you. 

Suguru’s the first to move as he pulls back, slamming his cock in again. Satoru allows Suguru to go ahead as he revels in the feeling of his cock through the thin wall separating the two. 

You let out a strangled moan, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. It was nice. Satoru drags his cock out slowly before building up speed, beginning to fuck you. 

Your walls were so sensitive, being forced open each time they plunged into you. The position you were in made it easy for Suguru’s cock to drag along your gspot, and Suguru made good use of that. 

You loll your head about as they fuck you, each time they shoved themselves in you you became less coherent. 

“That’s it, just needed to be fucked like a slut huh?” Satoru whispers in your ear, slamming into your ass. 

“It’s-it’s too much!” You moan out. 

Tears from the overstimulation pour from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. 

“Yeah? It’s too much?” Suguru asks. 

You nod and sob, another groan falling from your lips. 

Just a little further, he wants to push you a little further. 

Suguru raises a hand and slaps your cheek, clenching his teeth when he feels you pulsate against him. 

“You shouldn’t start battles you’re not gonna win, princess.” Suguru imitates Satoru from earlier. 

He shoves his cock in you at a faster pace, slapping you once more. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pain making your pussy clench. 

“Give me a break, you like this shit.” Satoru says, moaning each time your ass tightens up. 

“I do, I do.” You don’t even know what you’re saying, letting your mouth move without much thought. 

Satoru reaches a hand around you, fingers brushing against your clit before he applies more pressure. He presses against it, letting his fingers swirl around your sensitive nub. 

Everything felt so good. The way they were stretching you, the way your clit throbbed underneath Satoru. 

Suguru reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly. Your toes curl at the action, the lack of air heightening your senses even more. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.” You cry. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, your body bracing for the high. 

His eyebrows pinch together as he slams into you, feeling his release approaching as well. 

Your moans come out broken at the restriction of his hand. Satoru increases his speed on your clit, needing to feel you cum on his cock. 

“Look at me, look at me.” Suguru orders. 

You peel your eyes open to stare at him, letting drool begin to build up in the corner of your lips. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyebrows shooting up as you start to cum, clenching around each of their cocks. 

“Yeah, that’s right, keep your eyes on me princess.” Suguru’s words sound breathless. 

Satoru doesn’t let up on your clit, continuing his ministrations as he fucks your ass. He knew Suguru was close, he could feel it in the way his pace had become erratic. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Your voice comes out softer, chanting while you cum. 

Suguru lets out a groan, his cock shooting out cum into your inviting pussy. He keeps his hand on your throat the whole time, only loosening it once he finishes cumming. 

Your eyes look far away as Satoru continues to fuck you, his high coming up. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he moans, his cum filling up your ass. 

The room is filled with weak attempts to catch your breaths, body’s smooshing together. Suguru pulls away, his cock slipping from your sensitive hole. You pout at the loss, almost falling forward until Satoru catches you, keeping you pressed against his chest. 

The weight of Satoru crushing you against him was comforting. His cock softens in your ass, waiting as Suguru grabs a towel and comes back, cleaning you up. 

Once he was finished, he passes the cloth to Satoru, who quickly places it against your ass when he slides out, catching the cum leaking from you. 

He tosses the cloth aside, gliding his hands up your sides while Suguru presses kisses all over your face. 

“You did so good for us.” Suguru murmurs, eyes full of love as he looks at you. 

“So perfect, always perfect.” Satoru says, pressing a kiss on your shoulders. 

“It felt so good, you made me feel so good.” Your mind is static, your body recovering from the session. 

“Yeah?” Suguru asks, finding comfort in the way you speak. 

He was worried that he and Satoru went too hard on you. They didn’t really want to break you. He lays you down on the bed, following after you and holds you tight. His heart clenches at the smile that lights up your features. Satoru slides down as well, eyes flicking down to your face before looking up at Suguru. 

“Let’s sleep for a bit, okay?” You ask, voice already sounding distant. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss @dinolvrrr

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know.

[liahcharms]

Loving you was really hard

Two years of dating, three years of marriage. You, Suguru and Satoru – a perfect marriage most friends could be jealous of. You adored each other so much, it almost hurt. Sometimes their love felt a little too tight. A little too consuming. But that's what true devotion looks like... right? You’re still wondering, quietly packing your bags in the dark, careful not to wake your husbands.

content/warnings: MDNI, marriage, husband Geto Suguru x reader, husband Gojo Satoru x readers, Satosugu, yandere, obsessive behaviours, possessive behaviour, dark romance, pregnancy, kinda babytrapping, it's a healthy relationship at the beginning?, or maybe not, smut, HEAVY breading kink, if I put this tag it'll be a spoiler, fem! reader runs away, slight dub-con, manipulation, guilt-tripping, age gap, violence

WC: 10k because I'm crazy

a/n: oh god it's the last one, I'm literally sick :((( also warning, this chapter is very, very dub-con, I would say

𐙚 Chapter 07

previous chapter

How difficult was motherhood?

Pretty challenging, as it turned out.

Your daughters were growing up like angels, but being a single mother with the occasional help of Shoko was still more demanding than you had first thought. Countless sleepless nights, breastfeeding till your nipples were too sensitive to wear a bra, monitoring their shallow breaths just to avoid a sudden infant death. You had those quite useful gadgets, of course, but something panged in your heart whenever your eyes closed just for a minute, and thoughts went towards something other than your daughters. They were beautiful, with big eyes glancing your way with curiosity and trust, small fingers wrapping around loose strands of your hair whenever you took them into your arms, chubby legs doing first steps and lips mumbling something under their blushed cheeks.

Two years have passed since their birth, and with every day, you have been adapting more to your role as a mother. It was, how should you describe it, terrifying and beautiful. There was nothing more frightening than being a single mother with daughters condemned to live in hiding, but at the same time, a new feeling blossomed within the depths of your heart, a gentleness and love you'd never felt before, every time you looked at your two angels. At how happy they were solely because of your existence, how they treated you as the centre of the world – their guardian, stepping stone, the most loving kisses and warmest embrace they were falling asleep to every night.

And as much as you loved watching them grow up, one thing scared you the most.

How similar they were to their fathers.

They had, of course, taken many things from you – the shape of the lips, gentle eyes or the curve of their nose, if you could already determine it at their two-year-old stage. But even with this, no one could deny their parentage.

Your first, a minute older daughter, glanced at you with purplish eyes and raven hair, a gaze that always went towards the ocean and small ears that loved the sound coming from big shells. That's why her name was Kairi, for being born in a sea village and with a small heart loving the ocean.

But your second daughter.

Oh dear god.

Her fingers clenched around your bigger one, babbling something under her nose and showing towards the blue waves creeping onto the wet sand of the beach. A small hat covered her snowish hair, fortunately still short enough to hide it fully, and glasses sat carefully on her small nose. Aiko, her name was, for being a beloved child, but also the cursed one, looking too much like her father, with eyes so bright you forbade anyone in your village to ever see her without dark shades.

A faint mama escaped her lips when water tickled her bare feet.

"Yes, dear, this is the ocean. The one we go to every day," you said, holding the hands of both of your daughters.

Kairi crouched, digging small shells from beneath the sand, fingers going slowly through wet ground with a bucket hat on her black hair.

It was finally summer, and going to the beach turned out to be a daily occurrence, with how much both Kairi and Aiko loved to sit and watch calm waves tickling their legs gently and small, colourful shells thrown out on the shore.

During the day, they stayed at home with your older neighbour, a lonely widow who loved your daughters dearly and treated them almost like her own granddaughters. You trusted her, as she was one of the few who never asked about the father and never pried into your private life.

Haibara was visiting you less and less, but on some days, he came solely to fill his "uncle" duty and played with the girls all week, treating them more like his younger sisters rather than nieces.

He was, in fact, the only man in your daughters' loves, so every time a happy daddy escaped their lips, your heart was shattering like a dropped glass.

"No, baby, he's not your dad. That's uncle," you always reminded your daughters, saying uncle slowly and clearly. "Can you say it? Uncle?"

But daddy was the only word on their mouths, and small eyes glanced at Haibara lovingly with chubby hands reaching towards his.

"They would torture me in a million different ways if they knew that their daughters call me a dad," he would try to joke with you, but the sheer thought of your husbands meeting your daughters brought shivers down your spine.

From what you've heard, they were still looking for you. After almost three years, this small, barely known village at the most remote seashore of Japan, became your home and the only place your husbands still haven't thought about.

Yet.

"They're close. It can be any day now, y/n. Boss Nanami says that–"

"I don't care what he says," you mumbled, sitting with Haibara on the porch and watching your daughters play in the garden. A butterfly sat on flowers nearby, its colourful wings getting the attention of both girls. "We can't move. They can't. Aiko can't. Have you seen any cameras in this village? The age of its population? It's the safest place it can be."

Haibara glanced at your white-haired daughter, a trembling sigh pushing through his lips. "But you can't keep them here forever. If we could move you to another territory, to someone stronger, maybe they could protect you."

You've heard this story before. About Sukuna and Fushiguro being open to take you in, of their offer to keep you safe, just to play on your husbands' nerves. Nanami tried to persuade you now and then to accept their offer, as his protection was getting weaker and weaker. Not just protection, territory too, with Suguru and Satoru pledging to search through his region, turning every little stone if it meant to find you.

But you didn't want to show your daughters that world. To take them back and keep hidden in another big mansion, with bodyguards watching under their bedrooms and men in suits coming in and out with businesses never meant to see the daylight.

They liked it here. You liked it here.

Although indeed there were times when you wished for them to have a dad, and maybe someone for yourself, too. To feel this excitement and passion coming from a new relationship again, but the wedding band in your drawer peeked out from the very bottom every time you opened it, and the sheer idea of still being legally married made your mind stop with its delusions.

Silence stretched between you and Haibara, with only a delicate wind scratching your skin and your daughters' quiet laughs when they noticed another butterfly landing on a tulip.

"You know one day it will happen," he whispered with a clenched throat.

You didn't answer right away, eyes following Aiko and Kairi, smelling freshly bloomed flowers and their chubby legs slowly walking around the small garden.

Would your husbands' love them? You wondered.

Would they condemn you for leaving them those three years ago?

Would they forgive you?

Change for you?

"Do you think they hate me?" you suddenly asked, although this question was meant to stay within the corners of your mind.

Haibara peeked at you with furrowed brows, considering the answer. Your gaze was blindly fixated on both of your girls, lips warmly curved.

"What are you saying? They're madly in love with you," he laughed quietly, fully believing his words. "They're just pretty bad at showing it like normal people."

You chuckled too, with the scorching sun trying to skim your body hidden under the roof of the porch. It was truly a hot summer, with temperatures higher than ever and visits to the beach becoming a must-have for both you and your sea-loving daughters.

"I know," you admitted, getting another raised brow from Haibara. "I know they loved me. Still do, probably. It's just..." you paused for a moment, next words caught in your throat. "it was so easy to love them. Too easy, I think. You know what I mean?" Haibara didn't know, but he nodded. "They were such perfect husbands, I ignored all the warnings. I shouldn't have. It was stupid of me. But I truly loved them, even though I knew something wasn't right."

He noticed the past tense and a sadness creeping up in your eyes. Drawn shoulders and throat moving slightly, when your thoughts were once again consumed by the past.

"Then why don't you want to move on?" He pushed once again, already seeing a wrinkle between your brows. "You could start once again, from the beginning. Y/n, you're still so young, and Nanami can arrange everything in one day. Why are you not giving yourself a chance?" he almost begged you to look, to grab your daughters right this moment and take them away from this run-down village. "Why are you still thinking of them?"

Your heart panged, something bitter gradually filling your chest.

"I don't know."

But you knew.

Of course, you knew.

Because you were stupid.

From the very beginning, seven years ago, when Satoru and Suguru were still nothing more than strangers met on the street. Lustful lovers and fun nights, sloppy kisses and sizzling hands lost on your skin. For this whole time, you were nothing but stupid to believe they wouldn't torment you for the rest of your life, haunting madly like a vengenful spirits, waiting till you finally fall into their claws.

And you knew, from the very beginning, that no place on earth would let you stay hidden forever. That even the depths of hell would be too shallow to let you run away from their chasing arms.

But you let yourself believe that there still was time. It's been three years already, you still have time.

That's why life was moving on normally. Beach dates, laughing in the garden, night stories read under the pale moonlight, Shoko visiting you every now and then, new words your daughters tried to vaguely remember, the–

"Impossible, I've just bought it," you murmured to yourself, seeing that you once again ran out of milk. Girls were already sleeping, their shallow breaths muffled by big teddy bears pulled to their faces and wisps of hair scattered around the pillows. You wanted to bake a cake for tomorrow's garden party at Shoko's house (she and Utahime were truly getting along, buying a small house and all), but it seemed like groceries weren't the most crucial part of your week.

It wasn't surprising, both girls have been slightly sick for the last few days, and their fever has passed just recently, with noses finally unclogged and cheeks looking sweetly like roses rather than dangerously tomatoey.

You glanced at both of them sleeping calmly and decided that going really quickly to the shop just around the corner wouldn't hurt.

They'll be fine – you thought, putting on your shoes.

They certainly won't wake up, right?

Even if, you'll for sure be back by then. It's only a short trip!

But your eyes somehow couldn't leave their small bodies covered with a blanket and a small fan humming softly in the corner of their room. Oh dear, it's only five minutes!

So you closed their doors and left the house quickly, pacing towards the nearest market.

You've made quite a few mistakes in your life. Many, even.

When you were younger, you punched one kid in elementary school for scribbling in your notebook. You still don't count it as a mistake per se, but if you didn't do it, your teacher wouldn't call your parents. And your parents wouldn't give you a hearing, forcing you to apologise to this small dickhead.

In high school, you had a chance of competing in a school's swimming tournament, but a day before, you sneaked out to a party and sprained your ankle. As a consequence, of course, you were not only grounded for drinking underage, but also never again chosen for any other competition. If you were a smarter teenager, maybe you could both grab the gold and even get a scholarship.

In university, you decided to get a part-time job with a night shift, which made you walk back home late evenings and wander around the dark streets of Tokyo. If you've chosen a job with a slightly lower salary, but a much better schedule, you wouldn't meet your yakuza husbands, and maybe, just maybe, your life would go different path.

A few years later, as a mother of two beautiful daughters, you decided to quickly pop into the store, because baking a cake was more important than not leaving your girls alone.

If you didn't decide to do it, maybe you wouldn't meet a neighbour and have a small talk with her.

If you stayed at home, maybe you wouldn't be out for longer than five minutes.

If you'd decided to bake a cake in the morning, maybe you would be back on time, before noticing a line of black cars parked in front of your house and men in suits standing in the garden.

But if you wouldn't close the doors to your daughters' bedroom before leaving, and hide all their toys back in their room, maybe your husbands would notice that your house wasn't actually empty.

A box of milk fell onto the ground, white liquid spilling from its ripped corner, mixing with a dusty road under your trembling feet. Your heart shook terrifyingly, breath stuck somewhere between your chest and throat, clenching so hard, tears started pricking in the corners of your eyes.

Your feet were glued to the ground, legs completly stiff when two men came closer, tall frames looming over your quivering body.

"Madam?" one of them asked quietly, and you immediately recognised this voice.

"Megumi?"

He was taller than three years ago, with broader shoulders and a sharper gaze, nevertheless still looking at you with warmth.

"Madam, how are you doing?" a second voice added, and your eyes turned to Yuji standing right next to him. There was still a hint of this teenage vigour in his playful eyes, but a tiredness too. He looked exhausted, although you managed to take a deep breath, seeing his gentle smile. "Madam, we've been worried."

"I'm sorry, I–" You murmured, words stuck in your throat.

You've noticed other men looking your way, whispering between one another, glancing towards the open doors of your house as if wanting to see what was going on inside.

Right!

"Where are they?" You interrupted him, fingers grasping Megumi's shoulder.

"Right inside, they're waiting for you. But, Madam–"

Please do not let them see them, please do not let them see them, please–

Words were stuck in your mind like a mantra, while feet took you through the familiar path of the small garden, now filled with rows of bodyguards. Their look felt almost sorry when you passed them, like a small lamb going straight for the slaughter. And you felt quite similar too, with your lower lip slightly trembling and your heart galloping like a horse, its hooves stomping on your chest with every step you took towards the open doors.

The summer night suddenly felt much colder, with a pale moon crying over your miserable fate and stars hiding behind the gloomy clouds as if terrified of watching your small figure slowly disappear inside.

The house looked as you left it, with bars of chocolate on the kitchen counter, a warm glow from a small lamp glimmering in the living room, the only source of light in the whole house, and... well. Something you didn't see before leaving.

Two men sitting on your sofa, their doom gaze fixed on the front door as you walked through them.

Seeing them again, after three years, was truly devastating.

Impossible it was to describe a feeling from that moment, but devastation was maybe the closest to ache that burned your heart. And when you took a step closer, and closer, and closer, standing right in front of them, your heart trembled even more.

Because the stare you thought was covered by doom was, in fact, filled with agony. A hunger so strong, you needed to take a step back, before feeling long fingers wrap around your wrist.

"Darling."

Suguru didn't change at all. His voice was still low and sweet when he called you, gaze full of authority, touch firm, but with a pinch of familiar gentleness.

Or maybe you were wrong, because his eyes had so much pain within them, weariness similar to what you saw in Yuji's glances, you needed to take a deep breath. He was still sitting, but pulled you slightly towards them, fingers skimming your knuckles.

"How are you doing, darling?" He added warmly, politely, reminding you of all the moments your heart fluttered every time you've heard it.

And now, it has fluttered too.

Another hand stretched out, pulling your body to its side, and the waves you've met with were torn by despair, a pain you've never seen before in eyes always full of playfulness and cheekiness.

"My baby," Satoru's white locks landed on your belly when he embraced you with his arms. Desperately, strongly, locking you in a brutal hug, squeezing you till your bodies melded in one. "After so many years, you're finally here."

Suguru stood up – no, no, no, please sit down, I can't do it – his broad shoulders covering the faint light of the lamp, raven hair swinging together with a move of his hands, when he hugged you from behind, head nuzzled in your neck.

And you? You stood there like a block of stone.

Body tensed within their arms, even though warmth spread somewhere in your chest, feeling the familiar gentleness of their touch. It felt so confusing, with your heart torn between two needs, fully contradicting one another. There was a feeling creeping up your spine, allowing you to melt under their hands, give yourself away freely, cry your eyes out and once again rely on them fully. It felt almost embarrassing to feel such a strong pull towards them after years of running away and doing anything just to not let them find you.

And that was the other feeling – anger. Disappointment, maybe? A fury coiling in your belly, irritation, and dread of what is to come, with both your husbands definitely taking you back to Tokyo. You couldn't run, you couldn't fight, but just pray that you will walk out that door before they notice another, hidden down the corridor, with a lullaby humming faintly from the small radio you have bought.

"What are you–" your voice was raspy, throat clenched, when Suguru took a deep sniff of your skin, and Satoru embraced you stronger, fingers digging deep into the meat on your thighs.

"What do you mean, baby? We came to take you back," He whispered right into your stomach, snowish hair trembling together with his low chuckle. He glanced up, looking straight into your teary eyes. "Aren't you happy to see your husbands, sweetheart? Did you miss us?"

Did you?

A question rambled in your head, heart filled with too much dread to answer it right away.

For all these years, did you miss them? Have you dreamt of this moment in the deepest corners of your room, with a hand somewhere between your thighs and warmth coiling in your belly? Have you wished to feel their touch once again and erase all your past actions just to–

"Darling, where is it?" Suguru suddenly murmured, his raven hair tickling your cheek, and muscular arms wrapping around you like a snake.

You tensed, eyes slowly glancing at Satoru's heavy stare, lustrous, intense, clearly seeing how fast your mind was working on this question. "What do you mean?"

A low chuckle escaped Suguru's throat, with something brutal coiling in his chest, stuck to your back. "You know, darling. Our baby. Where is it?"

And then – you shattered.

Fat tears escaping your hazy eyes, body convulsing heavily with a strained cry driving from your lips. Satoru stood up immediately, big palms cupping your puffed cheeks, soft lips licking off salty drops, peppering your face with short kisses, while Suguru hushed you warmly, his chest humming against your skin.

"Oh my sweetheart, my baby," Satoru muttered, caressing your cheeks gently. "Why are you crying? We're here, you don't have to worry about anything, hm? It's okay, we forgive you. Everyone makes mistakes, right?"

Your head shook violently, while another harsh cry shook your body violently.

Cheeks puffed precisely because of the fact that they were here.

"P-please don't kill me," you choked out, words slashing through the air, right to you husbands clenched heart. "I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, just don't k-kill me."

Satoru tensed. Hands falling down from your cheeks, lips slightly opened, an terryfiningly familiar feeling going through his face.

Anger

No, ferocity.

He was usually the funny one, playful, always warm and cosy, a morning snuggler, with his limbs always wrapped around your body tightly.

You've always preferred to get angry with him rather than Suguru, cooing him slowly like a hurt puppy and winning with soft kisses.

But Satoru, you were looking at now, wasn't the husband you had known for all these years.

He stood there, with fists clenched, jaw sharp, stormy eyes glued to your face. In such a moment, you've always realised how tall and muscular both of them were. How easy it was to dominate you, push you, strangle your body, have you whipped over their shoulders like a sack of rice, put into every position they could wish for.

So knowing the nature and their line of work, maybe you should've been grateful that the only thing you've felt was Suguru's body tensing behind you and Satoru lowering his face to meet yours.

"What did you say?" His voice pierced your heart, making your lip tremble even harder, when his hand cupped your cheeks harshly. "I didn't hear you correctly, sweetheart. What did you say?"

A few words escaped your throat, but couldn't pass clearly through your pressed lips.

"Repeat it, darling," Suguru added, his hand gently caressing your hair. "But this time, give more thought to your answer, hm?"

You quickly nodded your head, eyes shut, a shallow breath finally leaving your lips, when Satoru relaxed his hand.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, eyes opening slowly just to catch Satoru's fierce stare. "I'm s-sorry, Toru. But you both need to understand that I had every reason to think that way. I'm sorry, but I saw the basement! I saw the room! The–"

His hand landed on your face once again, shutting you up with a squeeze of his fingers on your flushed cheeks and face millimetres from yours. But this time, his touch was more gentle. Warm breath tickled your skin, fingers getting drenched under the drops of fresh tears, when he looked at you clearly with a despair in his gaze.

"If I ever hear you say it again, you will get fucking punished. I don't know what's going on in that sweet head of yours, but you are our wife, and I would rather be tortured to death than hurt you. Do you understand it?"

You nodded, heart clenching under the misery you've brought upon both of them. The distress, tremble of their hands, heart panging against your skin, when Satoru caged you in a strong embrace, putting your head right to his chest.

"We love you so much, sweetheart, but you need to learn," he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead. "The whole running away wasn't a smart move, you know?"

"S-so you won't punish me?" your asked weakly, voice still filled with faint cries. "You won't lock me up there, won't–"

"Darling," Suguru interrupted, turning you to face him. "What you did was very, very wrong, and you're aware of it, right?" He talked to you like to a child, voice gently calming your shattered nerves, fingers clearing puffy cheeks from the last drops of tears. "But every marriage has its ups and downs. Let's consider it the last one we will ever have, hm?"

And when you once again nodded your head, his eyes finally lost the intense gaze you hated so much. "So now, where is it?"

Right.

You couldn't escape their clutches, but your daughters? Would you be able to lead them away from them? Let Shoko keep them safe? Nanami, maybe?

"I–" you started, mind running, eyes everywhere just not on Suguru, trying to look somewhere else than into his eyes because he knew when you were lying. He knew you like the palm of his hand, his own pocket, every emotion, every glance changing together with your emotions. "I'm sorry–"

"What do you mean?" He smiled gently, fingers tucking a lost strand of hair behind your ear. "Is it a boy? Or a girl? Do we have a daughter? Is she here?"

His eyes scanned the living room and attached kitchen, looking for any traces of the baby's presence. Dear god you were such a good cleaner, not even leaving your daughters Winnie the Pooh's plastic plates on a table.

"Suguru, wait I–"

But Satoru already started rummaging, long legs taking him towards the long hallways, leading straight to your girls' bedroom.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him away from the path he tried to take. You could handle them, go back, endure, but your daughters?

"I had a misca–"

"Mommy?"

The three of you froze.

Air dense, sitting heavy in your lungs, eyes bulging, ears focused on quiet footsteps walking down the corridor, a hand supporting itself on a wall, before a small, tiny figure stood right in front of you.

Kairi.

Her raven, bed-hair stuck in every direction, purplish gaze still fogged by a slumber, nevertheless looking at both men standing next to you with a hint of curiosity.

And because both of your daughters truly didn't have any contact with men aside from Haibara, her words knocked the air out of your lungs.

"Daddy?"

You could almost hear the hearts of both of your husbands beating heavily in their chests. Eyes fixated on a small girl and her gentle eyes so similar to Suguru's.

Your fingers let go of Satoru's hand, quickly coming to your daughter. You sat in front of her, palms cupping her chubby cheeks warmly, as she looked at you lovingly.

"Baby, listen," you started, but saw how her gaze was going back and forth between your husbands. She lifted her finger, showing Suguru. "Yes, baby, this is your dad. These are your two dads."

Kairi's eyes glimmered, but forehead frowned in confusion.

She didn't understand what you meant. Two dads? But other children in a neighbourhood had just one.

"Two?" she asked quietly, and you felt a movement behind you.

"Y/n," Suguru started, his hand suspended in the air, eyes startled. "Can I–?"

But another voice chipped in. Dimmed, faint, coming from the bedroom down the corridor, immediately tickling your husbands' ears.

"Mommy?"

Their gaze landed on you, breaths hitched. "What?"

"Kairi?" Aiko asked again, your first daughter turning her head towards the corridor.

"Bad dream," she said, finger pointing towards the bedroom.

"Y/n?" Suguru asked again, but Satoru already pushed forward, passing you and Kairi, long legs taking him straight to your second daughter.

"No! Satoru, please wait, she doesn't know you, she–"

Oh dear.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

What have you done?

What mess have you gotten yourself into?

Your thoughts raced, eyes looked nervously at Kairi, while she was glancing at Suguru. Her small hand wrapped around yours, but feet almost instinctively took the first steps towards him, with a hint of curiosity in her purplish eyes.

She looked exactly like him.

Was fearless, like him, right away understanding who the man standing in front of her was.

And because you knew both of your daughters longed for a dad, the moment Suguru crouched and smiled gently, she left you behind and slowly paced towards him.

Sitting on the floor, seeing with how much love he looked at your daughter, your heart felt as if ripped open.

Because maybe you didn't have the right to separate them. To run away and force your daughters to grow up without fatherly love. To think of yourself selfishly, deep down knowing that a life you had with them was the best one you could ever have.

Even if you fully knew how possessive they were, truly madly, brutally in love, involved in messy business, but still trying to keep you safe and happy.

Faint voices filled the girls' bedroom, a gentle laugh, Aiko's chuckle and soon after, you heard heavy steps going back to the living room.

"Mommy, look!" she screamed, her laughter going across the room when Satoru entered with her in his arms. Her small fingers combed through his snowish hair, pulling it slightly, with excitement you've never seen before. "Daddy's hair!"

Your lip trembled when you saw how fast she trusted Satoru, her own arms wrapped around his neck, ocean eyes stuck in his, exactly the same ones, looking at her with so much love and agony, you once again felt like the villain.

"Yeah, baby. You see, I told you someone is looking like you. There was no need to worry, right?" you said gently, finally standing up from the floor and brushing the messy hair of your daughter.

"Worry?" Satoru asked, his strong arms wrapped around her small body.

You chuckled faintly, tears still bubbling somewhere in your throat. "You're not the most common-looking one, Satoru. She used to feel out of place among other kids."

But now, with her eyes brimming with joy and lips glued to Satoru's ear, mumbling something that made him laugh, you couldn't feel happier.

However, there was still something weird coiling in your chest. Fear. Anxiety. Heaviness that clunched your heart, because your husbands were still them. And the last thing you wanted for your daughters was to live in a world filled with pain and violence, being surrounded by bodyguards and kept locked up in a home, because of the blood running in their veins.

So when both of your husbands had their fun, talking, laughing, tickling girls through half the night, at some moment, you asked them to go back to their bedroom. But, oh dear, how hard it was to peel them off your husbands warm arms, their honeyed voices telling them stories while your daughters spoke them everything in their own, gibberish way about the trips to the ocean, the sand, beach, shells, another daddy – uncle, you corrected them, but a visible frown already went through your husbands faces – and all the friends in the neighbourhood. Although they knew maybe fifty words at max, your husbands still listened carefully with awe.

But when you closed the door of their bedroom, eerie silence once again fell between the three of you.

"Y/n–" Suguru started, but you hushed him with a raise of your hand.

"You can't take them."

He tilted his head, a shadow crossing his face. "Of course we can, and we will. All of you. You're moving back. Today."

Ah, there it was.

This tone. Dominant, knowing no objection, always having the last word.

You took a deep breath, nails digging deep into the skin of your clenched hands.

"I don't want them to live in hiding, like I did. In fear." Your next words left them breathless. "That's why I ran away. I want them to have an ordinary life. Normal fathers. Not a house with a fucking prison in the basement and other yakuza members as their uncles."

You had every right to feel angry. You knew it. They knew it too. Just didn't want to accept it.

"And we're not normal fathers?" His voice was low, grumbling, when he took a step towards you. "You were that unhappy with us, darling? Needed to take our daughters away from your monster husbands?"

"I didn't say that you're–"

"You didn't have to," he moved closer, muscular body looming over you mere millimetres from yours, while Satoru ordered the men standing outside to pack yours and girls' stuff. "You don't think I see the way my own wife looks at me? Have we ever given a reason to run away?"

Oh, he must've been joking.

"The man in the basement? A fucking tracker in my neck?" You brushed your hair to show him a small scar right behind your ear. "The room? Do you really think that you didn't give me any reason to–"

"It's because we love you!" He raised his voice, just slightly, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

"That's not how normal love looks!" He took a step back, clearly surprised by your reaction. "Why didn't you tell me? I am your wife! There should not be any secrets between us!"

But Suguru seemed taken aback, his hands clenching, gaze intense, looking at your small figure, squirming slightly under his tone.

"Do you still love us?" he suddenly asked.

You looked up, meeting his dark eyes.

"What?" This time, you were surprised, hearing the question that swirled in your mind for the past three years.

"Tell me, darling, do you still love us? Is that why you don't want to come back?" He asked with a hitched breath, voice almost pleading.

If he needed to, he would be ready to beg you on his knees to come back.

But if he needed to, he would also do it by force.

"Think about our girls. If we take them now, they won't even remember these two years without us. I promise you, they'll have a normal childhood," he cooed with his gentle voice, strong hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his warm body. "Baby, you know that's how it should be. They need us," his fingers grazed your chin, lifting it up to meet your worried gaze. "You need us. And we need you just as much."

And as much as you hated to admit, he was right.

Because, after all these years, you still somehow, fatally, weirdly, terryfingly, loved them.

So, so much, tears once again steamed down your cheeks, and head nodded slowly, feeling his gentle hands drawing you into an embrace.

But, well.

They were still them, and you were still you.

Stupid, naive young girl, a victim of manipulation and guilt-trapping, still, after all these years, not knowing that people, in fact, did not change that easily.

𐙚

Your girls were overjoyed when they entered the house. It looked the same as you remembered, with a lush forest hugging it quietly, a wooden interior welcoming you warmly, and fresh air creeping inside through the sliding doors of the living room, with your favourite windchimes humming faintly, moved by playful, summer wind.

There were fewer bodyguards inside, just as your husbands promised, but their number standing in front of the main gate?

Dear god.

"They won't be coming inside, but we cannot remove them entirely. Now that there are three of you, they will reside at the gates." Suguru said, while your daughters peeked at them curiously.

Kairi pointed at men with her small finger, looking at Satoru.

"Knights, sweetie. They will keep you safe." His voice was sweet and gentle, eyes still not enjoyed enough with his two daughters, walking with him in front of you and Suguru.

"Safe?" Aiko threw in, clenching a teddy bear in her free hand.

"From biiiig bears." Satoru roared, cradling both girls in his arms and lifting them up, till their sweet laughs turned usually stern corners of bodyguards' lips slightly up.

Kairi murmured something, looking at men who, in fact, did not look like knights. And she knew what knights looked like, because she watched cartoons and listened to stories, so why would Daddy lie to her?

Her eyes turned to Satoru again.

"You want them to wear steel armour?" He giggled, as if reading her mind. "Well then, it can be done!"

He was joking, of course, but you still couldn't help but chuckle at the frowns of the men standing in front of the gate.

And that's how the first few days went – with rich laughs, your daughters being woken up by Suguru every single day and lulled to sleep by Satoru's stories, until their heads fell flat on his chest and quiet breaths escaped their lips. They went shopping with their dads, because Aiko wanted more plushies, while Kairi decided she desired an ocean-themed room, and suddenly finding a shell-shaped bed became the most important thing on your husbands' to-do-list. You let them go reluctantly, staying at home full of anxiety, darkest thoughts coiling in your mind, knowing that this was the right thing to do. To let your daughters spend more time with their dads. Let your husbands feel the joy of parenthood you robbed them of during the first two years of Aiko's and Kairi's lives.

You hated yourself for still loving them as much as before, but truly seeing a slight change in their behaviour and love bestowed on both of your daughters. Sending them to kindergarten wasn't a problem as you expected it to be – after all, Suguru found them the best, most expensive, safest place in all of Tokyo. The one, where you usually meet kids of disgustingly rich and influential people, he should add.

You going out alone also turned out to be quite fine. Even giving calls to your friends wasn't happening anymore under their careful eye and ears, always listening to your whispers.

No more bodyguards inside the house, all "clients" meetings always taking place in their office, tracking app and devices kept away from you.

But the basement was still close and as much as you wanted to ask them about it, you treated it as a minefield. They sometimes disappeared behind the doors you never wanted to look at again, their reassuring smiles and kisses left on your forehead, but never offering an explanation of why they were going downstairs.

As days have passed, you even secretly contacted Shoko, calming her down and thanking for all those years she has spent with you. Her care and help, offering a shoulder to cry on and a warm smile to laugh with. A pain and regret filled his voice when she whispered her apology in an almost crying tone.

Your heart shuddered for friend, but you knew that there was nothing she could possibly do, nothing even Nanami could do, with your stubborn spirit and the authority of your husbands.

"That's okay," you whispered, sitting under the warm sun falling into your garden. "That wasn't your fault."

"But I have failed you–"

"No, you didn't. You tried to save me. But," you paused, looking at your legs hanging off loosely from the porch. "maybe that's how my life was planned. It's okay, don't worry."

She wished to add that's how your husbands planned your life. That's how they made you believe that you can do nothing without them. That your life can be led only with them by your side. And as much as she loved your daughters, they have tied you to these monsters forever, with their clutches never, ever, leaving all three of you.

But hearing how tranquil your voice was, heart somehow lighter with the way you've talked of them as fathers, she also couldn't help but be at peace with your decision. There was nothing left but hope that they had really changed.

This was the new reality you needed to get accustomed to.

And it seemed like it took a strain only on you, with your husbands' bodies glued to yours during the night, soft kisses pledging you goodbyes, hands put on your stomach, but never, never, going any lower.

It was weird.

To feel as if you didn't attract them anymore. Was it your body after the pregnancy? You did, in fact, gain some weight, with hips a bit plumpier, thighs going two sizes up in your jeans and breast slightly bigger, but you have carried two children for nine months, for God's sake! Of course, you didn't look the same as before!

So why the hell, for the past month of living together, they didn't touch you even once?

Why, every time you laid down between them, lace nightdress barely covering the fat of your ass, breast almost spilling from its cups, skin scented like heaven by your favourite balm, they looked at you so ambivalently.

Why their touch wasn't as sizzling anymore, fingers desperate just to get inside your sweet pussy, lips nowhere near your cheeks, nipples, inner thighs, with hitched breath and muscular arms cradling you warmly.

It was weird, confusing, devastating, truly making you go to sleep in pure agony, with walls clenching around nothing and cunt leaking under the satin material of slutty nightdress.

And you hated yourself for it – being a horny woman, who forgot about all the fucked up things your husbands did to you.

For still craving their touch on your skin and lustful whispers to your ear. Be pampered like their dear wife, they apparently loved so much, as often liked to state.

During the day, you sat on the sofa and watched Suguru cooking in the kitchen together with the girls. His forearms bulged every time long fingers kneaded the dough, a sharp laugh escaping his throat when Aiko babbled something to his ear, back wide under the tight material of his shirt.

Your gaze dropped down to Satoru, splayed on the sofa, his head cuddled into your belly, arms wrapped around the waist as he dream-dayed peacefully, with shirt slightly, just slightly, showing his muscular abs.

Your fingers pushed into his hair, slowly massaging his head while he hummed sweetly, lovingly, but never desperately as before.

Was it a game of sorts?

A punishment?

Did they want you to come to them first? Ask? Beg? Sweetly, like a cat in heat. Good wife, they've trained you to be.

And the answer to all of these questions was – yes.

Because when another month has passed, and you started to believe that while they have changed for the better, but to treat you like a ghost, something inside you broke.

It was another evening, with both girls sleeping tightly in their bedrooms and a quiet humming of crickets prickling to your faintly lighted room through the open window.

Both of them laid in bed already, close to one another, with Satoru's head leaning against Suguru's shoulders, fingers interwined in a strong embrace. Something in your heart squeezed when you entered the room from your attached bathroom, seeing your husbands looking at themselves so lovingly. In a way, some time ago, they used to look at you too.

That's why you felt so misplaced – what were their beggings for? The whole search, demand for you to go back, the need to have you with them.

"Do you still love me?" You finally asked, standing right in front of the bed.

They looked at you, with a hint of surprise in their eyes, as if your question was truly unexpected.

"Darling, what are you saying?" Suguru asked, patting a space on the mattress right next to him.

But you stayed in your place, hands clenching nervously on your nightdress, next words sitting heavily in your throat.

"Am I not attractive? Is it because of pregnancy?" You were blubbering, not looking their way, eyes glued to warm, wooden floors under your naked feet. "If you're not drawn to me anymore, just–"

And then, something pulled you sharply. Hand around your throat, breath stuck in your lungs, as you hit the soft mattress with your back.

You laid there, almost bare, with a flimsy nightdress rolled to the middle of your thighs, nipples somehow still covered by a lace, while both of your husbands looked at the miserable state you've found yourself in.

And this look.

Oh.

You've seen it before.

During your first night together, after they've picked you up from Shoko's house, waiting on a parking lot. Furious, annoyed, with your phone blowing up from messages, and their fingers clenched on your arms.

You were the one to make a move then, asking them so politely, sweetly, giving them permission to do whatever they wanted, fully giving your life away to both of them.

Truly a mistake.

So now, their eyes looked at you in exactly the same way. Pinning your body down to the mattress with a sharp gaze, a hint of something vicious behind them, maddening, possessive, with the way Satoru smiled sweetly and Suguru clenched his fingers around your throat.

"S-sugu?" You barely whispered, hands wrapping around his.

"My baby, oh my baby," Satoru combed through your hair, long fingers pushing away lost strands tangled around your eyes, skimming your flushed cheeks and lower lip, trembling slightly under his touch. "How can you even think that, hm? What's going on in that sweet head of yours?" You truly wanted to believe that his ocean eyes looked at you chastely, but the only thing you saw was the same fiery, maddening adoration. "Is it because we didn't touch you for a long time?"

You nodded faintly, a shudder escaping your throat together with their chuckles.

"You could've just asked," Suguru whispered, fingers slowly loosening up and freeing you from the tight collar. "Darling, just ask."

Satoru moved behind you, pulling you up and placing against his chest, head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

"You smell so good, sweetheart. Fucking ask already, I can't do it for another month."

You froze. Eyes bulged, breath hitched, wheels inside your mind spinning.

"What do you mean?"

Satoru tilted his head. "Baby, are you serious? Why do you think we didn't touch you that long?"

Suguru shook his head, a smirk dancing on his lips, as he lowered his head down, straight to your spread legs. "This fucking nightdress, stop wearing it around the house unless you want to be fucked on the breakfast table."

His lips touched the velvety skin of your inner thighs, strong palms pressing them both to your chest, till Satoru grabbed both of them, locking you in.

"W-why didn't you just–" You cried pitifully when Suguru's kisses almost touched your warmth. "Why m-make me think you don't want me anymore?"

Satoru inhaled the fragrance of your skin, sweetness sticking to you like glue, with his lips slowly placing a kiss on your neck, biting, licking, going up to your ear.

"Because you beg so nicely," he whispered, teeth biting your ear. "Beg us then, sweetheart. Tell us, what do you want from your husbands."

Suguru's deep eyes looked at you for this whole time, kisses wandering around the plush of your thighs, fingers pushing the nightdress up till your hips. He groaned, looking at how messy you were already, with puffy clit and drenched folds, sweet hole quivering around nothing, just waiting for his warm tongue and long fingers.

But he didn't touch you there, yet. Just moved his lips closer to your cunt and gave it a warm puff.

"Sugu!" you mewled pitifully, Satoru's fingers clenching on the back of your thighs and pushing you in a mean, mean mating press, with your belly rolled and tits squeezed together.

"Come on, darling. What do you want?" Satoru's lips irritated your skin, his low chuckle making your head spin, when cheeks suddenly bloomed like a rose and breath caught in your throat.

How could you say something so filthy?

"You did it once already, don't you remember?" he whispered, as if reading your mind. "It shouldn't be that hard now, right? After all, we fucked so many times already–"

"But m-my body changed!" your voice sounded truly pathetic, with tears dancing in the corners of your eyes and feverish heat filling your body.

You laid there bare, with fat spilling from Satoru's fingers, hips rolled under Suguru's touch, and nipples puffed from breastfeeding you had ended not that long ago.

Their bodies tensed, Satoru's teeth sucked on your throat, when you whined quietly. "Sweetheart, you're a mommy now. Of course, your body changed. You're truly thinking it'll make you less desirable?"

You nodded faintly, gaze dropping down to Suguru's gentle smile.

Gentle, or–

"We waited till you'll be ready and had no idea that's how you felt for this whole time," Suguru grazed your cheek, smudging all salty droplets with his thumb and pushing it through your open lips. You sucked it gently, with a little frown and the sweetest gaze going straight to his hardened cock. "But if that's how things are, then let us make up for our mistakes."

And then your breath hitched, a loud moan was pulled from your throat by Suguru's tongue, giving your dripping cunt a slurpy lick. He mewled, eyebrows furrowed, when the first droplets of your sweet juices landed in his throat, sliding down like warm nectar, tickling every bud of his muscles.

"S-sug–" but you couldn't finish, when Satoru covered your lips with his in a long, wet kiss. Tongue licking down your lower lip, pushing, forcing his way to your mouth, one hand squeezing your cheeks fiercely till breath locked in your throat.

"You taste even better than I remember," Suguru murmured, while Satoru's hand took your tits out of a lace nightdress. He pinched your nipples, squeezed the fat of your breast, pads going deep as if trying to feel whether you still had some milk left for your two thirsty husbands.

"Our next baby will need to learn how to share," He whispered, white locks tickling your neck as his took a long lick of your skin. "Fuck sweetheart, just look at yourself."

And as fucked out as you already were, with head dropping heavily on Satoru's chest, legs spread nicely for Suguru's heavy licks and first finger pushing through a tight ring of your muscles, you still somehow registered your husbands words.

"N-next baby?"

Suguru chuckled, his tremble spreading on your cunt, walls tightening around his finger as he curled it up, hitting exactly your sweet, plush spot. His lips sucked on your clit, ripping another moan from your throat, while Satoru's cock drenched your back with its precum.

"Of course, I'm sure girls would love to have a brother. Or sister?" Satoru sounded so gentle, with his fingers squeezing your nipples and heavy breath grazing your skin, but you still felt the fierceness in the tone of his voice. "And I would looove to fuck you while pregnant, sweetheart. You're such a good, perfect mommy."

But you knew what planning the next baby meant.

You remembered what it looked like last time.

That's why a dreadful sweat ran down your spine, your head spinning from both pleasure and the sudden realisation of where all of this was going.

You placed your hand on Suguru's head, pushing him slightly away, shuddering when his wet tongue gave you another nasty lick, swirling around your puffed clit.

"Mmm S-sugu wait, I–"

He thrusted another finger in, scissoring them, pushing deep, stretching your cunt to fit both of their cocks. "You don't feel good, darling?"

"I-I do, but–"

"You don't love us anymore?" another lick, curl of his fingers, a lovely whine escaping your lips.

"I do, b-but wait–"

"Satoru, shut her up then."

And with his command, Satoru's lips once again landed on yours in a sweet, brutal kiss. His muscular arms holding you in place, fingers twisting your nipples till heat started to build up in your lower belly, coiling with Suguru's every groan, driving your cunt to clench around his fingers.

"Baby, your pussy sounds so fucking drenched. Can't wait to stuff it with our cocks," Satoru groaned, rubbing his cock against the curve of your back. "Be a good wife and let us fill you up, hm? Wasn't it what you wanted?"

No, you wanted to say, I only wanted to once again feel desired by my husbands.

"Tastes so good, so f'good," Suguru growled, licking your cunt sloppily, lips sucking on your clit, fingers grazing every corner of your cunt, pinkish walls clenching, fluttering, drenching them in your juices.

And he knew you were close.

Because your breath hitched, lower belly squeezed, and eyes rolled back, with a salivia dripping from the corner of your lips and Satoru licking it quickly with a chuckle.

"Come on, sweetheart," his fingers dipped into the plush of your tits. "Cum on your husband's tongue. Go on, be a good wife a cum for us."

Your back arched and thighs kept in place by Satoru's arms tried to squeeze, but he pinched you in place, allowing only a sharp cry to escape your throat. You pussy squeezed one last time, a gush of juices soaking Suguru's face, dripping down his chin right onto the mattress.

They knew you were tired. So so tired, with your body not different from a rag doll, moved gently till put into the right position they wanted. You laid down on Suguru's chest, breast brushing his, head pushed against the corner of his neck, ass up for Satoru, who sat behind you.

"Oh my," he whispered, lowering down to give your fluttering hole one last lick. "She's so desperate, sweetheart. We don't want to keep her waiting, hm?"

But how could you say anything, with Suguru's strong palm on your neck, pushing you against his broad shoulders and silencing all of your cries.

"P-please, use a condom, I-I'm not on a pill," a faint plaid escaped your throat, muffled by low chuckles coming from your husbands.

Suguru lifted your head up, purplish eyes staring deep at yours, with so much love and madness, a dreadful shudder licked your spine.

"Of course you're not, darling," he kissed the corner of your lips, fingers tracing the blush spreading on your cheeks. "And you know what else?" You shook your head, lip trembling, hearing the eariness of his voice. His mouth moved to your ear, eyes lurking at Satoru, who sat right behind you. "You're also ovulating. Right now."

You stopped breathing.

"How do you know?"

"Of course I know," his hand caressed your skin, fingers tucked strands of hair behind your ear. "Why do you think we waited two months? To fuck you during your most fertile days, of course. Oh, no, no, darling, don't cry," he cooed, seeing fresh tears dripping down your cheeks. "There's nothing to cry for. Don't worry, you won't be alone this time. My love, my sweet, sweet girl, don't waste your energy, you're going to need it soon." His words pledged devotion, but you knew how their idea of loyalty looked. Fierce, brutal, maddening, stripping you of any ounce of your pride, making you depend only on them.

And when Satoru lowered down, tracing kisses down your spine, the fat of your hips spilling from his clenched fingers and head of his cock slowly, slowly, pushing against your tight rim – a sharp moan escaped your lips.

Because it felt good. So, so fucking good.

"There she is," Suguru muttered, warm tongue licking off salty droplets on your cheeks. "Let your husbands take care of you, hm? My good girl, such a good wife you are."

"Fucking hell, sweetheart. Your cunt's still so tight. She's sucking me in," Satoru groaned, fingers squeezing your ass so hard, another cry bubbled in your throat. "Suguru, join me in, just try not tear her apart."

What?

"No, wait, Suguru, it's been too long!"

He hushed you, hand once again pushing you to the corner of his neck, cries muffled by his sizzling skin, as you felt another cock positioning itself at your entrance.

Satoru thrusted, droplets of sweat beaming on his forehead, as he spread apart your drenched folds, seeing how his cock disappeared in your tight cunt. A shudder went down his spine when he hit your cervix, and walls suddenly clutched him desperately.

"You took it once, darling, you will take it again. Relax, we'll take such good care of you," Suguru muttered, tracing small circles on your clit, to help you soften.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're squeezing me too hard, ahh," Satoru pulled out, letting Suguru drench his cock in your dripping cum "Be a good wife and loosen up, hm? I know you can do it, sweets."

And with how much heat was coiling in your belly, head spinning and cherry flush dripping down your neck – your head nodded politely.

Oh, such a stupid, horny girl you were, with your cunt squeezing around nothing and ovulation hitting your head hard, stripping you down from any logical thinking when it came to their cocks, hard and ready to fill your womb up.

Your husbands chuckled when you moved your hips against Satoru's shaft, leaving wet smudges on his happy trail, hole catching on the head of Suguru's cock, trying to suck it in, like a simple whore you were.

"P-please," you cried, tears drenching Suguru's neck. "Just f-fuck me, please."

"What did you say, darling?" Suguru muttered, once again pulling your head up and meeting your teary gaze. "So you do want us to fill you up, right?"

You nodded.

"You want to cum on our cocks?"

Another nod.

"You want us to fuck a baby into you?"

This time, you hesitated slightly, but Suguru's fingers on your clit and his cock kissing your entrance made you nod twice as hard.

He smiled gently, eyes curved like a moon, grip on your neck loosening up. Because who was he to refuse his dearest wife if she asked so politely?

Fortunately, you decided to make it easy for both them and yourself!

He didn't want to force himself on you, but, well, if the situation was desperate, he would have no other choice but to push your head into the pillow and fuck you senseless till you would wake up pregnant.

So when both he and Satoru pushed their cocks inside, fat shaft stretching your cunt brutally, forcefully, with juices drenching their girth, you stopped breathing. After three years of having no sex at all, taking both cocks at the same time was truly torturous, with your throat clenching, walls feverish and sharp cries escaping your lungs, at the pain and pleasure that mixed in your lower belly.

"D-darling, dear god, loosen up please," Suguru muttered, fingers of one hand pinching your clit, another clenched down on your ass. "You're gonna hurt yourself, baby, relax."

But how could you, with two fat cocks hammering through your tight pussy, stretching your walls and grazing your cervix with their tips, till you almost felt them in your lungs.

"S'too much, mhmm, Sugu, Toru, p-please wait–"

"Can't hear ya, baby, your pussy's too loud," Satoru laughed, pushing his cock deeper, deeper, thick shaft smearing precum on your walls, juices dripping down its length, until they finally bottomed out with balls right against your ass.

Your body trembled as if pierced by cold, but a sweet mewl bubbled in your throat, eyes crossed, and lips spread, letting Suguru place his thumb on your tongue.

"Deep breath, darling. We're going to move now."

"N-no, Sugu–"

But it was too late when he shushed you sweetly, muscular arm embracing you in a tight hug, as both of your husbands pulled out and stuffed your cunt once again on their monstrous cocks. You cried, feeling the brutal pace they've set, your lower belly bulging slightly, with Satoru pushing his palm on your swelled skin.

"Riiight here, can you feel it, sweetheart? We're gonna put a baby right here." His fingers traced the shape of their cocks, stretching your stomach till the world spun in front of your eyes.

They rammed, sealing your cunt with their heavy shafts, hips pushing against yours, and ragged breaths escaping their lips every time you clenched them tightly.

They've devoured you entirely, with sharp thrusts and wet tongues wandering on your skin. With Satoru's mouth murmuring how sweet your pussy was, oh so sweet, with the fat of your ass moving together with their thrusts, making him absolutely lose his mind. Suguru's fingers were still circling your clit, lewd lips whispering obscenely to your ear, of how raw he will fuck you, with your cunt always kept warm and stuffed full of their cum, till your tits will get heavy with milk and belly deliciously plumped.

And you could only moan like a slut, a rag doll pushed on their cocks, with another wave of heat filling your belly, thighs trembling slightly.

"Mmmm I'm s-so close, p-please, please, please–"

"Yeah baby? You feel that fucking good?" Satoru asked, your head nodding faintly, lulled on Suguru's chest. "A little bit more, sweetheart. Just a little bit more."

But the truth was that both of them were at their limit, feeling not only the warm embrace of your pussy, but also their cocks rubbing against one another – soaked, hard, heads smooching your cervix, pressing against it brutally, smudging with salty drops. Sweat was dripping down their temples, hair glued to their foreheads, when they looked at your small figure, trembling under their heavy thrusts.

Oh, how beautiful you were, with these pouty lips and fingers clenched on Suguru's arms, pussy squeezing them lovingly, and eyes looking at Suguru with so much trust, desperation, devotion; they needed just a glimpse of your trembling fear to push, push hard against your womb.

And with one last thrust, shuddered breath and squeezed eyes, they felt your cunt fluttering around their shaft, another wave of cum drenching down their cocks when they came inside, painting your walls with gluey ropes.

"You'd better beg it takes the first time, or you won't be leaving this room for another month," Suguru gasped, his hand gripping your hair, lips pressing against yours. "Think about running again, and we will break both of your legs. Do you understand?"

And they knew you were too overwhelmed to answer properly, just giving them a short nod and small cry, when they pushed against your womb ever harder, filling you with so much cum you felt it in your throat.

"I'm sorry, darling. I know we promised, but this is for your safety. It'll be better that way," Suguru whispered, still keeping your head in his strong palms. Satoru pulled out, moving behind you, something heavy hitting the floor. "We love you so, so much, you know? Don't worry, you'll never, ever leave us again?"

Hold on, what did he–

But then, sudden pain went through your thigh, a thin needle going deep into your skin, before you heard a click!

Something hugged your ankle. Warm, soft, but nevertheless feeling a bit heavy.

Your head tried to move, eyes hazy, mind somehow spinning more than it should. You moved your leg, hearing something clacking on a wooden floor, too short to let you move freely, even on a bed.

"S-sugu, what–?"

"Shush, darling, just go to sleep. Everything's okay, yeah? You don't have to worry about anything. Just be a good girl and go to sleep."

But you didn't want to.

Your eyes fought to stay open, lashes heavy, vision swimming. The room tilted slightly, shadows stretching longer than they should. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – slow, sluggish, drugged.

"S-sugu–" Your voice felt small, swallowed by the room.

Suguru leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently to yours. His hands were still warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing under your eyes with unbearable tenderness.

"I know," he whispered. "I know you’re confused."

Behind you, Satoru climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped with his weight, and soon his arms were around your waist, strong and unyielding. Chin rested on your shoulder, breath soft against your neck.

"You tried to leave," Satoru murmured, almost pouting. "That really hurt our feelings, y’know?"

You tried to turn, but your body didn’t cooperate, thoughts lagged behind fear.

"I was just–" you started.

"But it’s okay," Satoru cut through, lips pressed against your neck. "We’ll just start over. Every marriage has its ups and downs, right?"

Your vision blurred. Tears or exhaustion – you couldn’t tell.

Your body finally gave in to the heaviness pulling you under. The room softened, edges melting into darkness. As sleep dragged you down, one awful, quiet realisation settled in your chest:

They hadn’t changed.

Just simply waited.

For you to foolishly believe them, lower your guard. Invite them yourself, drag them once again into your life, just like you did all those years ago.

To give them your consent, they mistook for granting them full control.

Because, after all, you were nothing but a stupid, naive girl.

a/n: Wow, it was a long road with this one. This was my first fanfic ever written in English (series too), so you may see a big difference between the language in the first and last chapters. I hope the change is for the better! I know some people probably wanted a different ending, so I'm truly sorry to disappoint you. I think tho, that them dragging her back was the clearest way to show how the main character was dependent and addicted to both of them. She sometimes had these thoughts of maybe wanting to live a normal life, but still couldn't forget about all the sweet moments they've spent together. That's how toxic relationships work, I guess. And because of some plot holes and different writing styles, I will be correcting previous chapters to rewrite them a bit better!

Kisses, thank you for all the comments and support <3

tag list: @pussyeaterleah @bl00medd4isy @sapph22 @junni-berry @miksde @hellodeeyanna @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @neteyamneteyam @aquariusscollection @slimysillysnail @skinstickets @cocooola @vamqyx @eli54sa @ilovenanmi @murasakiyams @lea04sworld @iamrgo @guesswhosback129 @sapph22 @riwliane @noirsabattoir @falconsandrainbows @ellieebellee-blog @lea04sworld @asteraslvrr @ilovebattinson @librincesd @tojis-ball-sack @batcatgal @itsjustxreaderlover @man1cslut @noirsabottoir @auraficial @cheeseneep @burpzz @wcke6 @brethebomb2 @dem1dearest @g0thicst-m @late-night-cravings-for-love @namjooningera @leewritesstuff @secretsofchance @rimuuuo @fudogh @bignyrm @reikots11

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru Geto

Synopsis: you try being sneaky behind your boyfriends' backs. But they're dead set on pampering you.

Good riddance.

You feel like ripping your hair out. The Zoom meeting has been going on for what feels like forever now. You've already told the interviewer everything he needed to know, your educational detaile, your degree, your previous experiences in the work force, and even your living arrangement for whatever fucking reason. So why on earth is he still running his mouth?? The ache in your cheeks from holding that tight smile makes you begin to regret applying for the job in the first place.

"You know you don't have to do this." And you do know,"we take care of you just fine, don't we?" And they do,"please, you stress yourself enough with school. You have enough on your plate already." And you do "Awe baby, just let us take care of you." and you should, but you just wouldn't fucking listen huh?

Your married boyfriends hate to see you like this. Don't get it twisted, they find it endearing the way you just don't seem to be able to sit still, how you just have to be doing something to contribute. But you just love taking it too far, working yourself to the bone, burning yourself out. Something the two middle aged men just can't have. And so, Suguru and Satoru have taken it as their mission to turn you into their spoiled little baby, a tiny little kitty in their palm, ever since they lured you into their marital home with charming smiles and hot meals.

The interviewer's words fade into the background as more and more doubt begins to cloud your mind. Realistically speaking, you really aren't in nee-

"Oh? what do we have here?"

You freeze.

But a pair of strong muscular arms wrap around your own, warming you right back up, you recognize that teasing tilt of tone anywhere. Lost in your own thoughts, you haven't been able to catch Satoru make his way into the room you swear you locked, and pull you into his embrace, your back pushed against hid soft plush chest.

"We talked about this didn't we? I can't believe you would go behind our backs like this? Im so disappointed~"

And usually, you'd laugh, kiss his cheek, tell him to stop being so dramatic, or even play along if he's lucky. But not when you've been caught red-handed, not when you've promised them time and time again that you'd take better care of yourself, and not when you've been pushing this interview around for when they both would be at work, and definitely not with your camera still on.

"U-uh satoru..." Said man responds with a hum against the back of your head in between gentle feather-light kisses.

"I'm uhm...in the middle of something....as you can see"

A second then two pass before he takes his face off of your hair. You can feel his piercing blue gaze burn the back of your head before he bursts into laughter. You shrink and curl back into him further.

"Awh sweets, the audaci-"

"Easy, Satoru. No use in being mean, you know our little angel just can't help it"

Your stomach drops to you ass once you register your other boyfriend (who's also your other boyfriend's husband)'s voice. Satoru rests his chin on your shoulder before pouting childishly.

Once again, your camera is very much still recording.

Suguru is leaning against the frame of the wide open door, a fond little smile on his face. And all hope is thrown to the wind. You may have had a chance at escape with Satoru, but definitely not with his husband. The feeling of hopelessness intensifies when the long haired man stands up straight and makes his way to you with purpose.

Suguru carries himself with the same elegance that caught your eye the first day you've met, a select few gray strands catch the sunlight making his black locks almost seem bejeweled. His hand comes down to ruffle his husband's hair and then to pinch your cheek affectionately before taking your unoccupied side. Effectively adding more fuel to the fire. Your hands fly to hide your flaming hot face, and your men share a look of amusement.

"Aww sweetie, come here." And of course. he wouldn't be Suguru if he didn't jump at the chance to coddle you in his own arms. "i know, i know... all of this work business must be stressing you out to no end," he noses at your temple, then moves to smear a long chast kiss on your cheek.

Maybe it's out of consideration for your rapidly beating heart. Maybe he thinks it's something only you should have the privilege to hear, either why you're thankful the next words came in the form of a whisper againt your cheek.

"But that's why you have us, right? We'll handle everything. You can just be our little one, wouldn't that be nice?"

And you nod, you actually nod. Can you believe that? That's all it took. Being sandwiched between the couple, a few kisses here and there a gentle whisper and you're once again swept off your feet.

"Why do you have to be this waaaayyy..." your muffled whining only serves to endear them, a big hand travels under your shirt to rub soothing circles on your back.

"It's for your own good" Suguru is yet to drop the soft cooing.

"And you do it to yourself!" Satoru is yet to drop the teasing.

You're reminded of two big happy cats when they start rubbing their cheeks on either side of your face, it's pretty impressive how synchronized they can be sometimes, yet again, you suppose it just comes naturally after a decade of marriage.

"..excuse m-" "You're excused!" Satoru quickly shuts your laptop. Effectively interrupting the interviewer, almost out of fear of an impromptu change of mind from your end, you can be quite stubborn, something they're working on correcting as well.

The embarrassment doesn't get a chance to sink in before Suguru scoops you up in his arms, eager to mother you as per usual.

"You've barely eaten anything for breakfast, you must be starving.. our poor baby..."

And your brain is melting again.

Maybe another day of unemployment wouldn't kill you.

[vngelisse]

੭꣒ ˖ ❛ bf!suguru who loves to babytalk you while sex.

c.ws :: mdni , smut , daddy kink , babytalk , a lot of praise , spooning sex , size kink , overstimulation , creampies , body worship , dacryphilia.

“aww, my little princess… look at you, all needy and squirmy for me, huh?”

suguru’s voice is a warm, teasing murmur right against your ear as he spoons you from behind, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. his other hand gropes your soft breast gently at first, then firmer, kneading the flesh like dough while his thumb circles your nipple, making it pebble under his touch. you’re already so sensitive, every little pinch sending jolts straight to your core, where his thick cock is nestled snugly between your thighs, teasing your slick folds.

“s-sugu… please…” you whine, arching back into him, your hips wiggling desperately for more.

“shh, shh, babygirl,” he coos, nuzzling into your neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “daddy’s got you, okay? gonna make my sweet little thing feel so good. you’re so sensitive today, aren’t you? my sweet girl…”

he shifts slightly, guiding the fat head of his cock to your entrance, pushing in slow and steady, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside your fluttering walls. you gasp, trembling as he fills you completely, stretching you just right, his girth making your tummy clench with that delicious fullness.

“there we go… oh, look at that, princess. takin’ me so well… feels good, doesn’t it? yeah? tell daddy how good it feels.”

“m-move—! ngh!” your voice came out as a mewl, turning quickly into a content sight as soon as he starts to move, his hips rolling in lazy, deep thrusts that have him grinding against that sweet spot inside you. his hand slides down from your breast to grip your hip, digging his fingers in possessively while he spoons you tighter.

“fuck— you’re all creamy and wet already. listen to that—hear how squishy you are? that’s your pretty cunt talkin’, huh? beggin’ for more.”

he picked up the pace, thrusting harder now, the wet smack of his hips against your ass echoing in the room in an obscene squelch, but his touches remained oh-so-fucking-gentle—his lips brushing your ear, whispering sweet nothings, his free hand roaming to caress your thighs, your belly, anywhere he can spoil you with affection.

your body feels on fire, every drag of his cock making stars burst behind your eyes, your walls clenching around him so hard he almost hisses under his breath. it’s too much, too fucking intense. tears start to prick your lashes as the pleasure builds, your needy cries turning into sobs.

“you’re shakin’, baby… too much? no? want more? okay, okay, daddy’ll give you everything. gonna fuck my sweet princess nice and deep, fill you up with all my love.”

“mmph! suguru—! i’m… i’m so close, please!” your hips meet his in desperate attempts to get more of him, chasing a high that promises to leave you so deliciously fucked out.

“yeah, just like that… let go, angel. cum for daddy… that’s it, let go. cream all over me, show me how much you love it.” his voice is a loving croon, even as he pounds into you relentlessly, kneading your breast again, pinching just enough to push you over.

you shatter with a wail, your pussy creaming around his shaft, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. suguru follows with a low groan, thrusting deep one last time before spilling inside, thick ropes of seed breeding your walls, leaking out around where you’re joined as he holds you still, spoiling you with kisses along your neck.

“there’s my good girl… so perfect, all filled up and happy. i love you so much, baby.” he stays wrapped around you, lazily grinding through the aftershocks, until you’re boneless and giggling in his arms, utterly loved.

Ი𐑼 ˖ written by ♥︎ ﹫ 𝐯𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 !

𓈒 navigation mlist ꒰ 🌬️ ꒱ taglist rules 𓈒

[ilykatz]

Sitting on Sukuna's lap on his throne, convincing him to just kill the curse already, so he pays attention to you

cw: dirty talk, grinding, talks of murder, blood, etc., double pen, blood kink? It's just you and Sukuna being freaky 18+ MDNI

Most thought that since you were a pretty little thing, that meant you were nice, easy going.

But you wouldn't be married to the King of Curses if you were anything like that.

You were just as sadistic as he, often goading him on whenever some human or lesser curse came to the shrine, on their knees, begging for their life. You loved being sat on his lap, being his sweet eye candy. He loved to show you off like that, show everyone who you clearly belonged to.

You loved to help him decide on what to do with them, oftening goading him to kill them right then in there. Knowing how strong your husband was gave you a thrill, as well as something about him killing anyone you wished when you said the word.

He didn't care who they were. You wanted them dead? He was going to kill them on the spot for you.

This time wasn't any different.

You were perched on his lap, one of his arms around your waist with a hand cupping your ass. Another would occasionally feed you some fruit that Uraume had prepared, his gaze locked on you, watching the juices drip down your chin and throat. His other arms were resting on the armrest of his bone-built throne.

A low-grade curse was kneeling at the bottom of the steps leading to the king and queen's throne. He was pleading and begging for something, you two weren't really paying attention, you were too busy looking pretty, and he was too busy admiring you.

"I beg you, my lord!" The curse pleaded for his life.

Sukuna's gaze still didn't break from you. You were feeling up his biceps, giving them an occasional squeeze.

The curse could tell he wasn't getting through to Sukuna, so he turned to you instead. "M-my lady! Please, surely you understand!"

Sukuna turned his attention immediately to the curse, glaring down at him. How dare he address his queen?

"You dare speak to her? You aren't even worthy to breath the same air as her, yet I still let you live for that." Sukuna growled.

The curse bowed his head lower, shocked that it was even possible. His sobs could only be faintly heard from how high up you and your husband were.

You giggled sweetly as your hand caressed Sukuna's chest. "Now, my love, it's not his fault he's so utterly pathetic. He's just simply too dense to understand."

Sukuna hummed in thought; his glare didn't falter from the curse.

You reach up, your soft hand cupping his cheek, guiding him to look at you, his eyes immediately changing when he locks onto you.

"Why don't you just kill him now, my king?" You ask him in a whispered tone. "Its taking your attention away from me."

He smirked, his hand gripping onto your ass and squeezing, making you let out a breathy moan. "Yeah? You want this fool's blood to spill, my queen?"

"Mhmm," you hummed sweetly, shifting your hips over his giant thigh. Your robes bunching up around your hips and grinding your cunt onto his meaty thigh, he could already feel your wetness through your panties. You were turned on just from talking about killing this guy with your husband, gods, you were sick. He loved it

"Maybe you should fuck me while doing it," you suggested. "We'll be kind this time, give him a show before his demise."

Sukuna's lower hands grip onto your hips, guiding your hips along his thigh.

His cocks twitching against his robes, eager to get this over with and fuck his wife on his throne.

Even the curse below was strangely turned on, being a part of the King and Queen of curses' odd erotic foreplay. He was lucky to even be in the same room during such an ordeal, but being directly part of it was something else entirely, even if it would ultimately lead to his death.

"Look at him, my queen, he's getting off on the idea." Sukuna nods his head over to the curse, who was now watching you two.

"Ew," you grimaced, disgusted that he was looking at you two. "What a pathetic creature, just kill him already, my love. Then have your way with me covered in his blood."

Sukuna chuckled darkly as he stood from his throne, lifting you up along with him, then seating you down on his throne—which is comically much larger compared to you. You crossed your leg over the other, leaning your elbow on your leg as you rested your cheek onto the palm of your hand, as you watched Sukuna walk down the steps from the throne and towards the curse.

He tried to beg for his life, but was quickly cut off by Sukuna's slicing technique, his blood spraying all over Sukuna. The body fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

You smiled at the sight. Your terrifying husband was looming over the body as the blood pooled around his feet. His muscles were painted with fresh hot blood, making him even more menacing than he already was.

He turned back to you, slowly climbing back up the stairs, stalking towards you like you were his next victim—which you were—making you sit up, your thighs pressing together in anticipation.

Once he finally reached you, he lifted you up and seated himself back on his throne, and you back on yours, on his lap. Your legs straddling his.

He wasted no time, shredding your panties, leaving your lower half bared to him, and his cocks revealed from his robes, standing tall on top of each other.

Your hands ran up and down his chest, spreading the blood over him and onto your hands.

His cocks teasing your entrance, barely pushing through, making you whine out.

"Kuna, don't tease me." You whine as you lower yourself onto his cocks, deliciously filling you up.

The stretch of both his cocks was so painfully good, making you throw your head back as you moan out.

The blood from the curse still decorated Sukuna's skin, transferring onto you as he fucked you.

As freaky and disgusting as it was, you loved it when he fucked you like this. After he was finished with a kill, covered in his enemy's blood, fucking the blood all over you.

You contninue to ride him, your tits bouncing from underneath your robes, that were now drenched in blood. His lower set of hands gripping onto your hips helping you along his cocks.

Noticing some of the blood was on your hands now, you bring one of them up to your mouth, licking the blood off your fingers slowly.

Sukuna groans out a laugh. "You're sick,"

That just egged you on further, leaning down to his neck, licking the blood clean from his neck.

His cocks twitch desprately inside you, you licking the blood off him, sending him over the edge, filling you full of his seed. He groans as he thrusts up to keep you stuffed with his cum.

His cocks shooting its load into you sends you into your orgasm as well, grabbing onto your own breasts, leaving bloody handprints over your chest.

He stays inside you, keeping you plugged up and full as his cocks start to soften in your cunt. Both of you catching your breath.

You give him a lazy smile. "Let's kill another,"

He lets out a boisterous laugh, his cocks twitching as they start to harden again inside you once again.

"Bring in another!"

a/n: requests are open!

[ryosbaby-deactivated20260215]

satoru is used to being the biggest tipper

sixeyedgod sent $50!

you wore the blue that i requested tonight <3 ahhh you’re a goddess

you tilt your head, showing off the baby blue lacy lingerie, “you like? it's a thank you gift for being the most generous ever.” you had wore it in exchange for him being last month's top tipper. he never missed a stream, he always tipped and it was the least you could do for him. you keep scrolling, reading the messages aloud.

then a new name pops up.

neonarcher sent $100!

first time stumbling into you here. cupid must’ve hit me cause what the fuck is this beauty

your eyebrows lift slightly. “…okay,” you murmur. “first timer, big move.” you keep your tone sweet, acknowledging it. “anyways, welcome! the more–"

sixeyedgod sent $75!

boo corny

"hey now behave," you giggle quietly, barely reacting. “but sure, i’ll take it.”

and then it escalates.

neonarcher sent $300!

something ridiculous here

sixeyedgod sent $250!

ahhhhhh careful, my spot

the chat explodes. laughing emojis, “oh??” messages, people clocking the tension instantly. you don’t rush it. it's not like you're holding these wealthy bored people hostage to donate. it's all in your favor! you just read what comes in, voice even.

“wow,” you murmur, glancing at the screen. “that’s… a lot for a first timer. you see sixeyedgod here is a regular."

neonarcher sent $400!

guess starting tonight you'll see me more then

you hum softly. “will i? who's to complain?"

sixeyedgod sent $450!

yeah no. absolutely not.

your lips twitch, but you keep it together. “someone’s very… passionate about the leaderboard.”

neonarcher sent $450!

is this how this usually goes or am i special

“i’d say tonight’s a little intense. we usually just try lots of things and have fun but you guys are stealing my show."

sixeyedgod sent $500!

yup. you're stealing her show you may exit

chat starts placing imaginary bets. people are tagging friends. someone types rich people fighting again. you pretend not to see that one or you would've burst out laughing.

neonarcher sent $800!

oops

there’s a tiny pause, just enough to register the number. that's insanely too big. satoru usually never goes above $500, he doesn't need to cause he's the biggest tipper always.

“…okay,” you say gently. “that’s an awfully big donation for someone new.”

sixeyedgod sent $900!

you’re not winning this

your tone stays light. “alright, chat, reminder: please don’t feel pressured to compete—”

neonarcher sent $1000!

what am i not winning

your eyebrows lift. just a little. “wow. okay. thank you.”

the chat is fully unhinged now. you wait for the familiar handle—you know how smug and competitive he is.

sixeyedgod sent $1200!

i literally never lose

you exhale through a small laugh.

neonarcher sent $1500!

we all like a little challenge. can you wear something neon next time pretty lady? you'd look absolutely amazing

you nod once, “in honor of your first live? i don't have neon—but let's see if that could be arranged."

sixeyedgod sent $1800!

neon is beyond ugly. you're torturing her

you almost laugh until you glance at the timer in the corner of your screen. “ahhh we're having so much fun but the live is getting close to the end of the live, just so everyone knows.”

neonarcher sent $2000!

worth it

“…thank you,” you say softly. “again that’s extremely generous. also you too six—"

half a second later—

sixeyedgod sent $2500!

goodnight

that one makes you pause. okay he's obviously losing it.

you composed, voice warm. “okay. i think that settles it.”

the leaderboard refreshes. sixeyedgod back on top. by a lot.

you clap your hands once, “alright everyone, we’re gonna wrap it up here. thank you for hanging out tonight. we couldn't do much as i said in the beginning i wanted to chat more. next live we'll do the weekly truth or dare! i'll get more cards this time."

the chat is still buzzing as you end the stream.

you lean back, stretching. the room is quiet, camera off and then your door bursts open.

“WHAT THE HELL,” satoru shouts, hair messy, pajamas disheveled, phone in hand. “WHO THE FUCK IS NEONARCHER AND WHY ARE THEY SPENDING MORE THAN ME ON MY GIRL?!”

you blink looking at your boyfriend who's obviously distraught, still perched on your chair. “toru,” you say softly, sweetly, “i told you leaderboard’s not real. you're ridiculous for spending."

“NOT REAL?” he groans, throwing himself onto your floor dramatically. “$700? $600? first-timer?"

you tilt your head, smile small and polite. “relax, babe. it’s fine. he’s just… a new fan. we like fans, right?"

“not fans like that,” god he's so dramatic, “he's trying to steal my spot? my blue? my top donation spot?!”

“uh-huh,” you murmur, still calm, brushing your hair back. “you got it back, just tip harder next time? does it really matter—"

he groans, “they should be grateful that im kind enough to share—that they can look."

you chuckle softly, leaning closer, hand brushing his arm. “you're adorable toru."

“babyyyy,” he whines, voice loud, pouting like a child. “i hate it” he flails.

you giggle, shaking your head. “i know, you outdone yourself tonight."

"i did now give sixeyedgod all the attention."

“but he already has it."

he pouts, dramatic as ever, and you watch him, calm and sweet. your viewers would probably lose it if they knew—your boyfriend is literally here, raging.

you murmur quietly about how ridiculous he is to yourself, “how bout you help me pick out the options for truth or date instead of being a big pout."

a/n: poll

[kkunai]

𝜗ৎ trueform!sukuna expects a lot from his soon-to-be one year old. maybe a bit too much. mlist.

you’ve just returned to your quarters and hear a soft, muffled cooing sound, followed by a familiar gruff voice. you push aside the shoji and pause at the sight before you.

sukuna sits cross-legged on the tatami, all four arms folded. his lower pair rests on his knees like a general surveying troops. his sharp eyes are fixed on the tiny boy in front of him: your son. he’s barely one, chubby legs trembling as he tries to cross the short distance between them.

the child took his first real steps around a few days ago. now he wobbles forward, arms out for balance, face scrunched in fierce concentration.

“one more,” sukuna rumbles, voice low but edged with command, “don’tcha dare fall this time.”

the boy squeaks and takes two proud steps. then his knees buckle. he plops onto his bottom with a soft thud.

sukuna exhales through his nose, almost a low growl. “pathetic, again.”

you bite back a laugh and step closer to the scene, “are you training our son or preparing him for war, ryo?”

all four crimson eyes immediately flick to you, softening only a fraction. “both. he’s my blood. he will walk like he owns the ground beneath him.”

the tiny boy, undaunted, pushes himself up and grins toothily at his father. “dadaaaaa!” he totters forward once more, four whole steps, before tumbling happily into sukuna’s lap.

sukuna catches him with one large hand whilst the other three freeze mid-gesture. for a moment, the fearsome king looks utterly defeated by a giggling infant.

“...tch. acceptable,” he mutters, as tiny fingers grab at his markings, “for today.”