A/N: happy birthday to us TEEHEE 🤭 also if this looks familiar its bc i recycled lines from something i shared and then never continued writing so just ignore that iykyk....
Thinking about Best Friend!Satoru x Reader..
Best Friend!Satoru who you’ve known since diapers. Whose baby photos are so intertwined with yours that your parents have to squint to remember which toddler was the menace that bit the neighbor’s kid (he insists it was you – it was most certainly not).
Best Friend!Satoru who grows into himself obnoxiously fast. Limbs too long and voice too loud and smile too sharp, looking at you like nothing has changed. Like you’re still the girl two inches taller who used to steal his snacks at recess and boss him around with a gap for two front teeth.
Best Friend!Satoru who grimaces when Suguru asks if you’re dating. Makes a whole show of gagging, dramatically collapsing onto the nearest surface like the idea alone has physically wounded him. “Me? With that hag? If I was attracted to her, I’d cut off my left ball–”
Your brow twitches, and you stomp on his foot. Hard. “Fuck you. Suguru, if I was attracted to him, I’d go bald.”
“Fine, fuck! Both balls then.”
Best Friend!Satoru who just doesn’t see the appeal. When guys go to him asking for advice – what you like, how to impress you – he shrugs them off with a languid flick of the wrist. “Dunno, man. Ask her. She bites.”
(he chooses to ignore the vitriol curdling in his stomach every time some hopeful idiot says he wants to “shoot his shot.”)
Best Friend!Satoru who claims he’s just being helpful. Surely. But he always fucks it up somehow.
“No, don’t take her out there. She’s scared of truffles.”
“Sorry?”
“Yeah. Reminds her too much of her feet, I guess.”
“Oh.”
Best Friend!Satoru who acts horribly offended when you confront him the next day. You’re sitting cross-legged on his bed as he games with Suguru on call, your arms folded across your body and voice shrill. “What the fuck happened yesterday, Satoru?”
“Why’re you asking me? I don’t keep track of your love life.”
“You ruined my date.”
“You lie.”
“You told him I had foot fungus.”
Satoru pauses the game and turns. Glances down at your socks, then back up at you with a scrunch of his nose.
“He looked like the kind of guy who sucked toes, so I had to warn him.”
“I don’t have foot fungus, Satoru.”
“You could. Someday.”
Best Friend!Satoru who tells himself he’s the same old him. You’re the same old you. Except he keeps catching himself staring at your mouth when you talk and your throat when you swallow and your pretty eyes and your pretty smile and your pretty tits (fuck, when did you get those?).
Like, objectively, they’ve always been there. But now they’re just.. there. And he’d be unappreciative not to look and admire, if only a little.
Best Friend!Satoru who finds himself wondering how soft they’d feel, how your nipples would look hard and wet from his tongue. How your neck would look with his marks painting your skin.
Then he blinks, realizes he’s half-hard in his sweats, and immediately starts complaining about being hungry again to distract everyone (mostly himself, and god, he’s hungry for so much more).
Best Friend!Satoru who – when you crash at his place after movie night and fall asleep on his couch with one leg thrown over the backrest and your shorts riding up so high he can see the little dimple where ass meets thigh – has to take the longest, coldest shower of his life.
Best Friend!Satoru who jerks off so hard he sees stars, biting down on his bottom lip so you don’t hear the way he whimpers your name like a pervert.
Fuck.
You.
He cums embarrassingly fast when he remembers you’re in the next room over. Spilling hot into his hand, groaning at the sheer amount. He then emerges half an hour later like nothing happened and tosses a blanket over you while muttering “slutty sleeping positions, jeez” under his breath.
Best Friend!Satoru who keeps telling Suguru “no, dude, she’s not my type”. To which Suguru raises a brow – because he sees the way Satoru smiles when you laugh.
He hums. Watches Satoru stare at you for a full ninety seconds longer – then raises his brow higher.
"Your balls are on the line, Satoru."
"Fuck."
Best Friend!Satoru who knows that you know that he likes your tits. Nothing really ever gets past either of you when it comes to each other. You call him a boob-obsessed pervert. He doesn’t argue, for once – because there’s nothing false about that statement.
Best Friend!Satoru who ends up drunk at your place one night. His head’s in your lap and you’re playing with his hair and his filter just.. evaporates, because he’s in your bed, and god, you’re pretty, and your tits are staring right at him, and fuck, he likes your tits, and he likes you.
“If I motorboated you right now, would you kick me out or moan?”
“Excuse me?”
He repeats the question, and you stare at him before laughing. So hard you snort, which makes him groan and hide his face between your thighs (out of embarrassment, and not for any other reason. no, no alternative motives at all).
“What would you even do if you saw bare boobs, Satoru?”
He gives you an incredulous look. Like it’s obvious.
“Uh.. duh. Squeeze ‘em. Bounce ‘em. Stick my face between ‘em and go brrr.”
He pauses. Looks at you as if waiting for approval. Then raises a hand and makes a little grabby motion mid-air.
“Honk honk.”
You blink, slow.
And maybe because you’re tipsy, maybe because his cheesy grin makes your stomach flutter, maybe because of some dumb concoction of the two – you tug your shirt up. Letting your tits spill free. “Okay.”
And for once in his life, Gojo Satoru is speechless.
No way.
There’s no way you– you, his dumb, stupid, gorgeous, absolutely-nothing-more-than-friends best friend – are in front of him right now. With your tits out. He’s gotta be delusional. Maybe this is one of those dreams he gets where you lean forward and kiss him and he wakes up with a wet spot in his boxers and the afterglow ringing in his ears.
Your shirt’s bunched just beneath your collarbones, tits sitting pretty like it’s nothing. And you’re perfect, just like you always are, and they’re perfect, just like he thought they’d be, and a flush is spreading across his face, and his dick is twitching so hard it hurts.
“Satoru.”
“Mm..?”
“You’re staring.”
“Whoops.”
You raise a brow. “You begged to motorboat me. So do it, loser.”
He answers with a wrecked noise wrangled from the throat – half-laugh, half-groan. Ridiculously long fingers landing on your bare waist as he surges up.
“Fuck,” he whispers. Mouth dry, hands clammy, eyes blown wide as his gaze snaps from your face to your tits to your face to your tits and then all the way down to your sleep shorts before back up. “You’re serious? You’re letting me–?”
“You’ve got about ten seconds before I change my mind, Satoru.”
And oh, that does it.
Best Friend!Satoru who lunges.
Zero hesitation and zero finesse and pure, greedy desperation. His face buries itself between your breasts with a muffled, ridiculous brrrrrrr that vibrates straight through your skin. Nose dragging along the inner curve of one, lips brushing the other, cheeks hollowing as he shakes his head side to side like he’s trying to drown himself in your cleavage. The vibration makes you squeak, before the sound dissolves into breathless laughter.
“You absolute fucking dork–”
He pulls back just far enough for you to see his face – flushed crimson from the tips of his ears to the hollow of his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Lashes fluttering as he stares up at you in open awe.
“They’re perfect,” he whispers, voice cracking, “so fucking soft, holy shit– fuuuck, I might die. Am I dead? Oh, if I am, I’m so, so happy about it.”
Then he dives back in.
His lips are soft and his mouth is hot and he’s relentless – tongue laving open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin, swirling slow, filthy circles around one nipple until it stiffens into a tight, aching peak. When he closes his lips and sucks – hard – your back arches off the bed. Fingers twisting viciously in his hair.
He groans at the pull, hips jerking forward. Grinding against the sheets.
“Look at these,” he murmurs, hoarse. Hands sliding up to cup your breasts, long fingers splaying wide as his thumbs brush over your split-slick nipples. “Been thinking ‘bout them for years, y’know? Every time you wore those stupid tops and leaned over to steal my fries and hugged me and they pressed against my body– shiiiiit, had to count backwards from a hundred. Didn’t wanna pop a boner in public like a perv.”
And oh, you see it. His hard-on, all warm and thick and pulsing with every heartbeat.
He’s so hard it has to hurt.
“Perv.”
He freezes. A full-body shudder rips through him.
“Don’t,” Satoru whispers. “Don’t– hah– or I’ll cum in my pants right now. I’m not joking.”
You giggle. Fingers running through his hair, cradling his head to your chest.
“Peeeeervert.”
“You’re evil,” he whispers, nuzzling closer. “You’ve always been evil. I hate you so much.”
“You’re literally suffocating yourself between my tits right now.”
“I take it all back. I love you. Never change. Marry me. Have my babies. Name them all after me–”
Best Friend!Satoru who thinks that taking off clothes is suuuuch an inconvenience. He does it because he has to, but really – you’re best friends. You shouldn’t need to wear clothes around each other. If you’re naked in his room all the damn time, then hey, that’s just what best friends are for. And honestly, while he’s at it, what’s a little cock, too? What are best friends for if not fucking?
Best Friend!Satoru who’s on his knees between your thighs before you can even catch your breath, long fingers spreading you wide, eyes glittering in the low light.
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes. Voice wrecked, thumb sliding through your slick folds just to watch you twitch. “Soaked, huh? Hiii, pretty girl. I know. ‘Toru’s here, baby.”
You barely manage a snarky shut up before he spits – deliberate, filthy – right on your clit. Watches it drip slow and nasty down to your entrance, then drags two long fingers through the mess, mixing it all together before pushing inside without warning.
The stretch makes you gasp – and then he curls his fingers just right, and you swear you see stars.
Best Friend!Satoru who lets out a murmured “attagirl” while he pumps his fingers into your pussy. You’re unsure as to whether he’s speaking to you or your cunt – scissoring you open as his tongue flicks out to swirl ‘round your clit.
“Mmm. Been dreaming ‘bout this pussy, y’know? Used to jerk off in the shower imagining your taste and then– fuuuck, yeah, post-nut clarity would hit so fucking hard. Felt like shit. This feels like heaven.”
Best Friend!Satoru who seals his mouth over your clit and sucks. The way he sucked on your nipples earlier, only harder, and filthier. Tongue flicking fast and then slow and then spelling his own name out against your cunt because of course he does.
“Satoru– fuck! Slow down–”
Best Friend!Satoru who does not slow down. Instead, he pulls off just long enough to grin up at you, lips shiny, chin dripping – “No.”
Then he’s hauling you up by the thighs, lying back against the sheets and dragging you over his face.
“Sit,” he grins. “Sit. Want your thighs around my head when I make you cum.”
Best Friend!Satoru who frowns when you hover just above. Who yanks you down until you’re smothering him, nose buried against your clit, tongue swirling inside you alongside two of his fingers, knuckle-deep. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting eaten, hips grinding uselessly against the air, a pretty bead of pre-cum dribbling down his cock.
And every time you try to lift up to give him air, he pulls you back down harder.
“No, no, use me, baby. Use me. Ride my face. Want you to drown me.”
Your thighs shake.
You’re close, so close, grinding down shamelessly now, chasing it – and he knows. He always knows. Just like he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green and he loves his best friend’s pussy so, so much.
Best Friend!Satoru who sucks your clit into his mouth one last time. Crooks his fingers just right. And then you’re crashing into your high, cumming with his name all sweet on your tongue, gushing while he drinks you down like he needs your arousal to stay alive.
Best Friend!Satoru who doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, oversensitive, trying to squirm away – and only then does he let you collapse beside him. He’s panting, face flushed a cherry pink, lips swollen and glossy with you. Sprawled on his back with an arm flung over his eyes, both of your chests heaving in sync.
You nudge his ribs. “You good, weirdo?”
He doesn’t move his arm. Just lets out the most pathetic little whine you’ve ever heard in your life, then curls into a ball.
“..I came.”
.
You prop yourself up on one elbow, peering down at him. “Wait. Like.. just now? Untouched?”
He peeks from under his forearm, mortified. “Don’t laugh. I’ll actually cry.”
You bite your lip so hard it hurts. Shoulders shaking. And he groans, rolling facedown into the pillows.
“I hate you– shit, sorry, not you.. I hate my dick. Why’s it so loyal to you?–”
You poke the small of his back. “Satoru.”
“–betraying me all the time–”
“Satoru.”
He turns his head just enough to halfheartedly glare at you, cheeks flushed. “Yes?”
“Wanna fuck me?”
His whole body jolts up – dick included. The arm flies off his face so fast it’s comical.
“Hell yeah.”
Best Friend!Satoru who lines himself up with trembling hands. Rubbing the fat head of his cock between your slick folds once, twice, swiping up and coating himself in the mess he’s made of you. And he’s big – bigger than you expected – filling you up with a burningly good stretch. He bottoms out with a groan – long and low and wrecked. Forehead dropping to yours.
“Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Holy shit, you’re tight, baby.”
“Shush.”
He blinks. Pulls back. His eyes dart over your face – hesitant.
“Sorry.”
“It's okay, ‘Toru. Just give me a sec.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah– are you okay?”
You nod, slow. Silence fills the room.
And then his dick twitches, and the both of you burst out into laughter.
It’s awkward. In that best-friends-really-shouldn’t-be-having-sex way. But that’s what makes it fun, no?
And god, Satoru thinks he loves you.
He likes when you smile. He likes when you say his name. You’re really fucking pretty all the fucking time and even more so when you’re giggling – something in the frequency of your laugh making his brain short circuit to a pleasant buzz. And when you give him the green light, the buzz spreads all the way down into his chest, into some funny fuzzy feeling that makes his stomach do flips.
Best Friend!Satoru who fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin and live there forever. Slow, reverent, hips rolling deep and deliberate like he’s trying to mold your walls into the shape of his cock with every inch. His forehead stays pressed to yours, breath hitching every time he bottoms out, those ridiculously blue eyes all wide and adoring and completely fucking gone.
“Shit.. shit, you feel–” he cuts himself off with a shuddering groan, pulling out slow just to watch the way your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to drag him back in. “You’re sucking me in, baby. Greedy little thing.”
Best Friend!Satoru who can’t decide where to put his hands. They’re everywhere, frantic, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he stops touching. Gentle against your tits, sliding down to frame your hips, then up again to cradle your face while he kisses you all sloppy and open-mouthed, tongue swirling with yours like he’s starving.
And then his eyes flutter open, and he murmurs soft against your mouth – “the clitoris.”
“What?”
He smiles bright, hand drifting down to thumb at your puffy clit. Grinning wider when your head falls back against the pillow and your toes curl and you squeal his name.
“The clitoris.”
Best Friend!Satoru who loses the plot completely when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. The rhythm stutters, turning all messy and desperate, and he pants into your neck, hips snapping hard enough that the headboard smacks the wall with a steady thump-thump. But his hand cradles your head gentle, the other supporting your waist. So, so careful.
“Wait– fu– fuuuckk, m’not gonna last if you keep–”
He chokes on the words when you clench deliberately around him, walls milking his cock.
“Shit, cumming, baby–”
Best Friend!Satoru who tries to pull out. Because he’s a gentleman (allegedly). But you lock your ankles behind his back and your arms wrap around his shoulders as you hold him tight to your body, murmuring a quiet “inside. on the pill” – and he’s gone. Eyes rolling back so hard you’re worried for a second, before he slams back inside with a guttural sound. Hips grinding deep as he spills all hot inside you.
He cums forever. Like, literally. Forever. You didn’t know a guy could cum this much. Pulse after pulse, hips jerking helplessly, face buried in the crook of your neck as he whimpers, muffled against your skin. “Fuck, fuck, take it– take it, baby, shiiiit–”
Best Friend!Satoru who stays buried inside you the whole time. Cock still half-hard and twitching every few seconds like it’s raring to go. Trembling, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, peppering gentle kisses along your collarbone as the silence spills soft between the two of you.
And then he pulls out, slow. Watches his cum drip out of you with a loving sigh. Proceeds to scoop it all up with two fingers and push it back in, smiling when your walls flutter weakly around his knuckles.
“Mine,” he whispers. Rolling your clit beneath the pad of his thumb almost absentmindedly. “All mine.”
Then he flops on top of you like an overgrown cat, face smushing between your tits, arms wrapped tight around your waist.
Best Friend!Satoru who, five minutes later, is hard again. Nudging your thigh with his dick like a golden retriever ready to play.
“Round two?”
You flick his forehead. “You just came inside me like a broken hose, Satoru. Give me five minutes.”
He pouts. Then brightens.
“Cool, I’ll use the five minutes to motorboat you again.”
“Satoru–”
“Brrrrrrbrrbprbrpbrrrrrr.”
Best Friend!Satoru who swears he’s not perving. Surely not.
Best Friend!Satoru who absolutely is.
But he’s doing it respectfully!
Quietly.
Desperately.
In the stupid way stupid guys do when they fall in love with their stupid childhood best friend.
a/n : wrote this short one because im. ovulating again... sukuna has a fever but he's horny... awkward reader.. rugbysukuna my brand. did not proofread..
wc : 4.4k
“Boyfie!”
Upon your loud anxious greeting and a rough slam to his door, you’re met with the shocking sight of Sukuna hunching over himself on the edge of his bed, head hung low with clasps hands. He’s sweating all over, and his room is overheating and stuffy.
“Sweetheart…?” Sukuna groggily looks up, and the sight makes you bite your lip even harder if it’s possible. You’ve never seen your usually composed and nonchalant boyfriend so unkempt. Sweatdrops all over his forehead, and pale chapped lips. His skin is flushed, his tank top thrown onto the ground in a manner that suggests he took it off in frustration.
“Are you going to die?!” Sukuna groans as you shriek in panic, flinging yourself at him. He weakly opens his arms to embrace you all the same, deciding that advising you to not jump at him was pointless since you’re stubborn and you’re also his girlfriend. You worry against his shoulder and he coughs.
“No, it’s a fever. I went to the doctor’s. Got my meds. I’m fine, and I’m sticky, don’t-” He sighs, trying to pull you away by the waist, “I don’t think you should be around me right now.”
“What?! You don’t like me anymore?” You pull away looking upset and about to cry, then he finds himself softening even more and conclude that you soothe his sickness just as much as you raise his temperature. Having a girlfriend means you have to accept someone cares for you, and he cares just the same. 5 months into dating, he still struggles to understand how helpless he is when you’re present. Sukuna does not recognize himself around you, but he does recognize the scent of your skin even when he’s sick.
“No, that’s not what I meant, you know that. Your immune system is frailer than mine. You’re gonna get sick too…” He comforts you a little while coughing, giving you a rare pleading look for you to listen to him once. But of course, his girlfriend wouldn’t be his girlfriend if she wasn’t so stubborn. So, you decide to push him down gently on his bed despite his resistance, and you start acting busy.
By “acting busy”, it means frantically grabbing a cup of hot water for him, but almost burning yourself with the thermal water. Trying to reach the top of his closet for more blankets to cover up his shivering body, but you’re not tall enough so you proceed to almost give him a heart attack by standing on his wobbly study chair to grab it. Sukuna thinks you should go home for the sake of his wellbeing.
If not for the rain during the rugby tournament two days ago, he thinks he wouldn’t have gotten so ill. The acid rain paired with an injured leg and running on an empty stomach was killing him.
“I told you to eat more! You loved to eat!”
“Sweetheart you know I control my body fat before my games. It’s mandato- ahem- mandatory.”
“Just be fat then!” You scold him as you cover him with the 2 blankets you found, overlapping them. Sukuna wonders if you’re aware that there’s still dust on the blanket and he’s damn well about to sneeze. You’re in sneeze range. He tries to hold it in but his unfortunately silly clumsy girlfriend with a sensitive nose decided to sneeze first, and you muttered a shy “xcuse mi” before turning away to find his meds. He sighs.
“Hey…but you love my abs. How else can I maintain my abs if i don’t control my body fat and go to the gym?” He lazily grins at the sight of your figure in his room.
“D-don’t get smart with me when you have a fever! I like you with a bit of belly too, whatever.” You turn around with a blush on your face, pretending to hit him. He coughs.
“Guess I’m ‘big’ enough for you.” Sukuna whispers, giving you a little wink after his little innuendo. How he’s even talking like a cheeky clown while bedridden with high fever, you don’t know. Maybe he’s getting into boyfriend mode right now.
“Pervert! Sick pervert! Go die!”
Okay, fine. If he’s going to die seeing his girlfriend as the last 7 minutes of his life, he can live with that. Sukuna wouldn’t miss anyone as much as you, but he keeps this to himself.
“I am actually sick, so…”
“I-I mean sick in the head!”
After fussing and a lot of back and forth eye rolling, you finally get him to take his meds. He’s a lot weaker than you expected. It’s your first time seeing your boyfriend so…so…You can’t voice out this oddly giddy feeling in your chest. Too taboo and controversial. There’s something wrong with you ever since the moment you got into his room.
It must be because you’re used to him pampering and spoiling you that you’re entirely clueless on the instructions and guidelines to taking care of others. As a friend, you’re great with words of encouragement. However, as a girlfriend, all you’ve done is awkwardly blushing and shyly asking for hugs and kisses. Sukuna cooks during homedates. Sukuna massages your feet when you cramp up. Sukuna helps you with homework.
Sukuna makes sure you feel good first before he does when you have sex.
Watching him with jelly limbs and a soft voice, helpless and pitiful…was doing something to your hungry gut. Not sure why. You just had a big breakfast earlier before rushing over after getting a text from Toji that Sukuna left his phone at his place and he’s sick.
“Why are you redder than I am?” Sukuna yawns from under his blankets, smiling with a sleazy grin. His fingers poke out underneath the fabric, gently running his thumb over your knee as you approach to sit on the edge of his bed. Such a tease even when he barely has the energy to move.
“It’s just…” You pout in embarrassment, “It’s my first time seeing you so…weak. You’re like…a…a baby..and I’m taking care of you…I like it.” Leaning over him more, you wipe away his sweat with a wet towel you got from his bathroom.
“Me being weakened is…appealing you?” He asked curiously.
“I guess. Dunno. You just look so cute…” You respond, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re happy about his sickness.
“Mhm. That’s how you usually are to me,” His canines poke out with his smirk, less smug than usual, “Pitiful, cute and helpless.”
“I-i’m not helpless. I’m just- I’m just a bit slow…” You roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered over Sukuna’s words. So that’s how he views you. His little girlfriend who makes him have this urge to do things for you. To him, you’re sick all the time.
“I take care of you.” He mumbles.
“Um...” Your eyes dart to the side.
“You know you’re spoilt, huh?” He gently smiles, one hand pinching your lower lip lightly while the other on your knee slowly travels up your butt, grabbing a handful to squeeze. He watches with a yearnful exhale when you grab his wrist shyly, eyes wide and suddenly quiet. No matter how many times he flirts with you or makes a move on you, you still react as if it was your first day reporting in duty as “Sukuna’s girlfriend.”
“Perv…” You murmur. He gets a few more delightful squeezes before surrendering to your grip, placing his slimy hands on your thighs respectfully while you wipe at his sweat.
Can’t lie, the first day he reported in as your “Boyfriend”, it was serious for him. Sukuna never had a girlfriend before, used to simply fool around in his younger years where puberty hormones had did a great number on his libido, giving him a huge growth spurt in masculinity. At the time, the concept of romantice desire and affections was too foreign and irrational for him to accept that it could ever happen to him.
Sukuna couldn’t understand how his little brother Yuji fell in love with his friend Megumi, noting the differences in personality. He deemed romantic love incomprehensible, until love hit him like a freight train and he’s tied to the train tracks like a suicide attempt. You are nothing like him. You’re awkward, out of place, frequently impulsive and constantly, horribly charming.
He was right. It is incomprehensible. How your stupid puns got a chuckle out of him, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a laughing ghost. How the little spots of acne scars make him do a double take, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a dermatologist when he bought you some cream a few days later and you had gotten better from it. Then you hugged him all friendly with a loud ‘thank you bro!’ and all he could do was push you away because you’re too close to his personal space and he’s not your “bro”.
“Stop looking at me. So awkward.” You cover his eyes. Now he likes your personal space more than you do and he’s definitely not your “bro”.
Sukuna’s eyes crinkle with mirth.
“This reminds me of the time when your chicken wing flew to my face, and you kept trying to wipe my face clean.”
“Oh my gawd don’t bring that up.” The memory instantly has you burying yourself down onto the bedridden man’s chest, cheeks aflame. He’s talking about the first time you met at the cafeteria. Trying so hard to separate the chicken from the small bones with your fork and spoon, the tension broke and it jerked all the way to the next table where Sukuna and his friend Toji sat. Toji pointed a finger at him and laughed so loud everyone saw.
Running his warm palm over your back to pat you, Sukuna swears he can feel the little bump and ridges of your spine. The delicate curve from nape to pelvis. Maybe he’s just losing it because he hasn’t seen you in almost a week and a half due to his tournament. You had a special agreement that you would not see each other before big exams and games, just so you wouldn’t get too distracted by each other.
“I missed you quite a lot, honestly.” He whispers with all the mental strength he can muster.
“Missed yew tew,” Your confession muffles against his shirt, “Now you’re sick…” You raise your head to rest your chin on his chest, looking longingly down at Sukuna before wiping away his sweat again. He’s suppose to feel sleepy after his meds, but it seems like your boyfriend is fighting the sleep.
“I feel bad…” A small shuffle up and you plant a chaste kiss to his nose tip, dodging his attempt to kiss your lips.
“You feel bad, yet I’m banned from getting a kiss from my girlfriend.” His nose scrunches, displeased.
“You’re gonna infect me too!” You complain, squeezing his cheeks as an apology.
“Then you should tell me about your week, or something. I can’t sleep with you lying on me like this.” He pats your hair.
“Why not? You never complained I was too heavy, should I get up?” You try to get up, but Sukuna quickly yanks you back down, shaking his head softly.
“No, I mean, I…” He coughs, “You’re really distracting. My girlfriend’s lying ontop of my chest, and I can’t do anything other than go to sleep. So show me mercy and talk me to sleep.”
Recoiling away with a scandalized face, you smack Sukuna’s chest, twice as light as before since he’s sick.
“Y-you thinking about sex even when you’re sick?!” You hush whisper at him, as if someone was eavesdropping on your naughty conversation.
“You just kissed me,” He deadpans. You turn your head back to notice the small tent growing from under the blanket, then whip your head back in horror, now terribly aroused by your debuffed boyfriend still being able to get hard even through his condition. It might be true the penis has it’s mind of it’s own.
“Oh.” You puff your cheeks.
“You don’t seem particularly angry about my erection.” Sukuna bluntly speaks, quirking a mischievious brow. Are you actually entertaining the idea of having sex with him while he’s sick? No, it can’t be, can it? His sweet girlfriend who’s a closeted pervert? Possibly cannot be. So he pulls his arms out fully from under the blankets and grabs your neck and your upper arm, pulling you down for another kiss. You swerve him again, but you don’t stop him when his sloppy kisses go from jaw to neck, all the way down your collarbone and you whimper.
“We can’t! You’ll exhaust yourself.” You whine with no fight, holding onto his thick forearms, not meaning to pry them off at all. Alas, Sukuna succumbs to his dizziness and slumps back down on the bed, a frustrated sound escaping his throat.
“Ya horny bloke,” You joke with a goofy accent, ignoring the fact that he’s looking at you all panting and needy. He gives you a wistful smile, slow blinking.
Then a eureka pops into your brain and you’re firm to say that his lust has rubbed off on you because what you’re about to say will render both of you speechless.
“Wh-what if I try topping you for once?” Your voice meek and encouraging.
Sukuna’s eyes blow wide and awake, left eye twitching twice for a good omen.
A beat.
“I think my dick is fully hard now.” He blurts out.
“Yeeerrrr, pervert.” You giggle.
“No ‘takeback-sies’. Or whatever you like to say.” He jests.
Lacing your nimble fingers over his callous and scarred ones, you lean down hesitantly some more, gently nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, before pulling down the blanket by a small margin. Afraid of him to shiver and get cold, you dare not to pull back too much, but a feverish Sukuna is haughty and impatient, so he pushes off his blanket himself to lean up a little, kissing the side of your hair.
“Pull me up.” He urges, sultry voice strained with urgency.
“You’re like, shockingly impatient when you’re sick, noooo cannn doooo.” You sing with a betraying curl of a smirk on your face, basking in all the power you have over him now that he’s as docile as a lamb. He scoffs with a choked cough, before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, quietly demanding you to do something before his dick explodes out his pants.
“Come on, sweetheart…I’m dying here.” The veins on his hands pop and protest with the harsh grip he has on your hips now, eyes conveying a sweet subservience. You debate within yourself if you should pull him up, but you decide to keep your upper hand and play your cards right.
“Only because you look so cute right now.” You whisper playfully into his ear, before slowly snaking your hand from his tattoed chest down to his firm stomach. The moment you feel his tented boxers, you let out a dorky squeak.
“Is my dick ‘cute’ too?.” Sukuna smirks, his sweaty palm pressing your hand down harder on his hard-on through his boxers, then he groans and whimpers in the same sound.
“Wah...!” You squeal, feeling his manhood twitch and jerk. You once told him a penis is like a worm to you, since it squirms and moves. Sukuna chuckled at you then, and asked you if you were fine with trying out “edible worms”. You smacked him for his lewd joke.
“Well,” He sniffles, “Since my cruel girlfriend won’t pull me up to sit, I guess you could try giving me a handjob. You know what’s that right?” He mocks with amusement.
“Don’t mock me! I know what’s that!”
“Okay, so…miss girlfriend, would you oh so kindly demonstrate once for me? I’m just a frail, bed-ridden patient after all.” He smirks.
“R-roleplay?” You stammer in surprise.
“Oh, I was joking, but I’m down, Doc. Fix me up?”
“Stop it. I’m shy...” You look away with an escalating heartbeat, no good at hiding your feelings.
“Awh. Too bad.” He feigns innocence, licking his dry lips in anticipation. He watches you get all shy and jittery before pushing your fingers into his boxers. His hips buck up on reflex the moment your cold hands touches his hot skin, his short cut nails on your waist almost tears into your shirt.
“Fuck, your hand feel extra cold when I’m sick. Shit, I might cum real fast.” His breathing starts to quicken even more, and you’re now wondering if it’s a really bad idea to be making him pant and heave while he’s already riding on a high fever and sore limbs, but Sukuna’s hand isn’t stopping, guiding you to torturously stroke him.
It’s slippery, you’re uncertain if it’s his precum or your palms being sweaty from nervousness and arousal that you’re jerking off your boyfriend for the first time like an amateur. You could hardly get used to the feeling of a penis. Meanwhile, Sukuna frantically reaches for the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it up, but you stop him quickly. He swats your hand away.
“No no! I promised today it’s about your pleasure! Don’t overexert your-”
“I can’t cum if you don’t- cough moan for me. Fucking- come here.” Sukuna’s temperature must be going up higher, noted by the way he’s rough in pulling up your shirt and stuffing the hem of it in your mouth. You shyly comply and bite it down before he pulls up your bra to let your boobs spill out. He’s usually a lot more teasing and sensual during foreplay, so the fever must be making his head spin like a centrifuge.
“I said stay still!” You shout, letting your shirt off your mouth and cover yourself again, squeezing his dick harder and press your thumb into his tip, making the big man below you shudder and throw his head back on the pillow, flushed and profusely sweating even more.
“Let me suck your tits,” He pants, one hand coming up to squeeze your boob through your shirt, relishing in the way you try to wiggle away but pump his dick sloppier as you do. Oh, it’s so good how bad you are at getting him off, that its getting him off anyways. His girlfriend who is really clueless at sex, is really good at being clueless at sex.
Sukuna can feel himself on the verge of cumming so hard from the tension in his spine and thighs. Just watching the way you fumble all over yourself trying to service him was his form of foreplay. He takes a mental note to fake being sick a few more times after this just so you could try “topping” him. Shit.
Something about the way you’re a novice at pleasure is extremely arousing to him. He was already your first, but he enjoys how you still get redfaced every single time you have sex. No matter how many times he tries to teach you, you’re still learning way too slowly.
He taught you how to kiss, but every now and then you still get the tempo wrong and drool all over his chin. He taught you how to grind yourself down at him, but you always exhaust yourself before you get to cum, angrily proclaiming you “give up at this sex thing” before he gives in and helps you.
Sukuna reckons some people are just meant to be pillow princesses. You’re already all worked up just from giving him a handjob, who knows what happens if you put your mouth on him? Sukuna groans out loud at his own fantasy.
“Do you- Do you want to put your mouth on my dick?” His eyes glazed over with lust.
“B-blow job?” You freeze, pausing your hand as well. Sukuna recognizes that you’re a little scared now, and squeezes your hand.
“Uh- no, yes, but sweetheart, I’m not going to be rough with you, trust me.” He tries to sit up, you push him back down.
“Can I just lick?”
“Yes, that’s what I meant. I didn’t say blow me, I said-…Fuck baby, I was gonna cum before you stopped.” He rubs his face in frustration.
“Oh! Sorry!” Your hand fumble to pump him again, but it seems that missing his orgasm was making Sukuna so frustrated that he looks properly in pain, covering his eyes with his hand and the other still on your waist. Are you the world’s most terrible girlfriend ever?!
To make matters worse, you can feel him starting to go soft.
No no no!
“Ryo I’m so sor-”
In a fast motion, Sukuna somehow managed to sit up right with a grunt and drags you to straddle him, ignoring your soft yelp. He starts to bunch up your shirt again.
“You tryna edge me, girlfriend? I’ll have you know I'm really horny. I’m really bad when I’m horny.” He grits, brows furrowing tightly, trying to suppress the sadistic smile that’s appearing on his face. Straining himself and being in pain to have sex is oddly turning him on. What’s that about sadomasochism?
“I swear I wasn’t…” Reflexes have you automatically loop your arms around his neck, looking at him like a pitiful thing. Sukuna lets out an angry growl at your genuine sadness, more so angry at himself being unable to practice self control around you. But fuck, he’s out of it.
He kisses your forehead and nuzzles it with his own, shutting his eyes close for a brief moment of composure.
“Listen to me sweetheart. How about you jerk me off while I suck your tits? I wanna suck your tits. I can’t cum if you don’t feel good.” He licks your collarbone, and you can feel how hot his breath is, “Don’t you want to make me cum?” He coos.
“I-I do!”
“So be a good girl and don’t think too much.”
Pushing his thumb in your mouth, Sukuna leans down to suck at your breast. It lacks his usual speed due to how tired he is, but its more sensual now from his kitten licks. His tongue trembles as he swirls, weak as he bites your nipple and breathes out loudly when he sucks on it hard.
Your mewls and whimper go directly into his eardrums, making his dick hard again and begging to be relieved. You listen to him and pump him fast without stopping, occassionally being too rough, getting lost in the feeling of Sukuna’s mouth on you. He doesn’t complain however, his breathing seems to get louder and louder until he finally jerks his hip up in a stutter and fuck your fist.
Your thighs rub together on instinct, getting awfully wet from the sounds of his pleasure and how delirious it is to have sex while he’s running hot and cold. You want to cum, you want Sukuna to cum, you want to cum together.
“Fuck! I’m gonna-” Sukuna cums loud, louder than usual with his hoarse voice and right into the hollow of your neck. Nipples lathered in his drool, he continues to tweak and pinch them even as he blows his load, hot white fluid splattering on your pumping hand. His thumb pops out your mouth and he swipes it over your nipple, making you shake.
Jaw slack with drool, Sukuna shoves his hand under your thighs and into your shorts, just to feel how wet you got for him. His dick twitches when he feels that wet, hot spot on your panties, and he’s guessing it’s probably the purple cotton one. He loves it this one in particular, because it’s thinner and he can feel the bump of your small clit through it. Rubbing it once, you cry out and he moans, greedy to make you wetter. His freehand kneads your ass again just to ground himself.
“God I want to lick your pussy so fucking bad.” He bites down at his own lip, his forearm getting sore and stuttering as he rubs you off. He knows he won’t be able to make you cum since he’s got no strength to fuck you right now, but god he wants to put his tongue to work. He wants to eat something and it’s only available inside the offensive barrier of your panties and his health.
“R-ryo you can’t…” You whine, thumbing his tip and feeling more semen ooze out of his dick.
“I know, I-I know. Hah.” He nods vigorously in resignation against your neck, peppering it with praising kisses, cursing out until he finally pulls his hand out from your shorts to suck on his fingers, desperate for the taste of your wetness on his fingers. He’ll be sure to make it up to you once he recovered.
“Think I’m gonna faint.”
“Ryomen!”
“Don’t leave.” Sukuna warns under his breath, you swiftly push him back down his bed. Rushing to get a towel, you wipe off the cum on your belly first, before wiping him down and pull his boxers back up. He’s sweating more after he came, flushed red and lightheaded. Rinsing a clean towel, you place it over his forehead.
Gazing down at your boyfriend who immediately passed out after your little session, you bury your face in your palms, your face hot and blooming. Why is sex with Sukuna always so hot? Maybe it’s because he’s hot. Or maybe because he wants you so much it’s hot.
Shaking your head, you open his closet again to pull out a small spare futon that he has stored in there. Sukuna bought this futon for his friends who used to like sleeping over at his dorm, but now it’s mostly used for the both of you. No, not to sleep, for…sex… You blush at the memory. Floor sex is great.
Anyhow, you lay out the futon on the floor and decide to sleep in for the night, watching over him tonight. He’ll definiely get angry with you for sleeping on the floor and not with him, but that’s tomorrow’s issue.
“Goodnight, boyfieee.”
No response.
“I’m so cringe…” You say to no one.
“…”
“I heard that.” A raspy whisper cuts through the sudden silence.
“Hey! You’re awake! Asshole!” You flush, embarrassed.
"Come here." He pats his bed twice.
"Go sleep!" You argue.
“Get up here right now before I come down there and scoop you up.” He orders.
You relent with a pout on your face. Best not to argue with a sick man.
a/n : swear im writing five fics at the same time Im so busy and full of ideas. Lawd.
oops! you expected to spend the holiday alone - not accidentally sealing yourself with Satoru Gojo in the prison realm! how mad can he be? or how good might forever taste?
wc: 6.6k (gobble gobble)
pairing: teacher!Satoru Gojo x teacher!Reader
content: MDNI, crushes!!, jealous Gojo, coworkers, oblivious idiots in love, fem!reader is a sorcerer (technique never described though), Geto never defected, ik the prison realm doesn't technically work like this but cut a girl some slack pls, confessions, mutual pining, teasing, making out, oral(m! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mating press, mild use of pet names (sweetheart, baby), talks of marriage and breeding, Gojo using his bandages to tie you up (no I'm not sorry)
a/n: I know I said I was posting this tomorrow but I am a liar and an attention wh0re what can I say lol
art by @3-aem | dividers by @dollywons !!
“Can you stop messing around?”
“Oh? Am I getting on your nerves?” You hummed, fingertips grazing against the edges of the various cursed tools and weapons lining the shelves and collecting dust in storage. Usually, it was always the other way around, Gojo's never-ending barrage of poorly-timed jokes and obnoxious teasing nearly pushed you over the edge on a daily basis.
He mumbled something under his breath, striding over to swat your hand away before it could land on a little box tucked towards the back.
“Who bruised your ego?” You murmured, reaching over anyway to grab it just to spite him this time. You both knew what that was, but even just the tiniest taste of irritating him was intoxicating.
You couldn't see his eyes through the bandages, but you could feel how hard he was staring, how tightly his jaw was clenched in annoyance, betraying the casual smile he was still trying to wear.
“You know, if you don’t wanna be here, I could call Nanami-”
“Just put it back,” He insisted before you could finish bluffing, folding his arms across his broad chest, his uniform traded in for a plain (but probably still overpriced) black sweater and dark slacks since today was supposed to be his day off. Yours too, technically. But you supposed you were the only one stalling going home.
“Why? It's not like either of us have a technique that can make it work,” You shrugged, sighing as you tossed it from one hand to the other.
It was lighter than you expected, you know, for some all-mighty cube that could seal anything or anyone inside it. You expected it to carry some weight, some innate heaviness considering what it was capable of.
Gojo's lips parted, and in your head, he was blinking slowly under his makeshift blindfold, probably about to call you an idiot as if you hadn't called him the same yesterday.
“Relax a little,” You went to poke his chest, expecting to meet only air, but you could actually feel the hard muscle, the cotton of his shirt creasing underneath your fingers. Maybe he wasn't in such a bad mood after all. “Don’t tell me Satoru Gojo is scared?”
He scoffed, but his jaw unclenched, uncrossing his arms. One hand reached over, and you thought he might grab it from you, but it just hovered over your hip, like he was weighing what to do next.
“Look, nothing is gonna happen, see-” You cleared your throat with a little ahem, stepping closer, your left index and middle fingers still firmly planted on his sternum. “Gate open.”
Okay, so, well, perhaps Gojo had been right about something for once.
“I'm sorry,” You mumbled for maybe the millionth time in ten minutes? Thirty? Two hours? It was hard to tell.
“Uh-huh,” He dryly replied, sprawled out laying down, arms folded behind his head.
“I really mean it,” You pouted, kicking aside a few of the skulls littering the floor to plop down on the ground half a foot away. It wasn't like you wanted to be that close to him, but the place was fucking creepy.
“Would it make you feel better if I said I told you so?” He sarcastically offered, yawning like he was reclining at the beach instead of stuck in the prison realm with his least favorite coworker.
Truthfully, when you first transferred to Jujutsu Tech to teach a few years ago, you had the biggest tiniest of tiny crushes on him. His laugh, his smile, how easy it was to be around him. But he never said anything. So you didn't either. And eventually, you realized he was just sort of like that with everyone and promptly filed your feelings away to collect dust in some small corner of your heart.
“I mean, maybe a little,” You muttered.
“Then I told you so.”
“They'll be able to get us out, right?” You nervously asked. Surely, he'd told Suguru at least where he went to meet you at and someone would find you and be able to piece together you were stuck in this stupid fucking box.
“Eventually,” He shrugged apathetically.
“Eventually?”
“Mhm.”
Great, so you were trapped in here for potentially forever when for all you knew, only a minute had passed outside.
You pulled your knees up to your chest, ignoring the way your skirt rode up your thighs when you wrapped your arms around your calves, propping your chin up on your knee. It was freezing but he didn't seem to be even remotely bothered, humming quietly to himself.
He slipped two fingers underneath the bandages, pulling them back just enough to get a proper peek at your frown, a faint glimmer of amusement shining in the cold blue of his eyes. He hadn't tried to escape once, picking his spot on the floor after giving the place a preliminary look over, clearing out a circle barely big enough for the both of you.
“What are you doing?” You asked, a little tempted to get back up just to kick him.
“Relaxing a little,” He actually grinned.
You couldn't even tell him to cut it out when it was your fault you ended up here in the first place.
Forced to keep your mouth shut, lips pressed together in a thin line while you shivered.
“Maybe you should give it a try,” He sardonically suggested, patting the cold ground beside him.
You reluctantly scooted over, laying down next to him, smoothing your skirt down and folding your hands over your stomach like it'd do anything to soothe the anxiety working itself in knots under your skin.
“I don't think this'll help,” You commented. It was silly, laid back like you were stargazing instead of staring at enough skeletons to put any discount Halloween store to shame.
But his body heat was nice at least, even a few inches away his faint warmth seemed to float over, fighting off the brittle chill settling into your bones.
“Someone seems stressed,” He mocked.
“Yeah, you know, I'm really worried I might miss my manicure,” You returned his tone, closing your eyes like when you'd opened them again you'd be literally anywhere else.
“What? No plans with Nanami?” There was a subtle edge to his voice, one you might've missed if you weren't so close that every syllable seemed to reverberate through you.
“Why would I have plans with him?” You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. It's not like you had any way to know if his eyes were even open, but fuck, did it feel like he was staring straight through you. His pink lips curled down in a cute little pout and-
A pout?
Why would he-? Oh.
“You guys had lunch together yesterday.” It wasn't an observation. No, it was much closer to an accusation.
“Well, yeah, but-” It struck you before you could even finish the real reason he’d been in such a terrible mood today. You broke out into giggles, sitting up all the way. “Oh my God, you're jealous.”
“Me?” He pushed up off the ground too, towering over you even when you were both sitting. “You think I'm jealous of Nanamin?”
Emphasizing the nickname as if he just had to remind you that Kento was his junior.
“You totally are,” You laughed incredulously.
“Why would I be?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand had snuck a little closer yours, his fingertips grazing against your own, no invisible barrier to separate his skin from yours.
“Mm, maybe because you are so hopelessly in love with me,” You taunted, hoping it didn't come across as wishful thinking as you reached over to interlace your fingers with his own just to see if it'd make him blush. And maybe it was how low the lighting was, but you almost could've sworn his cheeks were tinged pink at your touch.
Realistically, you figured all this time he knew you liked him and just couldn't conceive the idea you might move on some day. That it was simply the petty sort of childish jealousy of a kid who tossed a toy out just to want it back the second someone else picked it up. Surely, his six eyes had to pick up on all of your wistful stares, the yearning that simmered under the surface whenever he hung around or brought back souvenirs from his latest missions.
“And who was the one who was so desperate to have me all to herself that she just had to seal us in here?” He retorted.
You flinched.
Well, that was one way to kill the mood.
You let go of his hand, turning away and retreating back into yourself at the reminder of your shitty predicament and precisely who was to blame. His words from earlier ringing in your ear when he told you to put it back and you refused to listen out of spite. Even if he was joking, you couldn't convince yourself not to feel guilty.
There was the rustle of something behind you, faint movement like maybe he was taking the bandages off. You weren't about to turn and look.
“I didn't think it'd work,” You murmured quietly in your own defense, staring at your feet.
There was a small pause, his palms scraping against the floor as he sat up.
“I know, sweetheart,” Gojo spoke softly, one hand landing on the small of your back. And sure, he'd called you that hundreds of times before, but never quite like this, never the subtle sort of purr that made your heart stutter.
“I knew you had plans today,” You admitted, unable to face him.
He didn't move his hand though, holding it in place.
“Nanami only needed my signature on some papers yesterday, and he mentioned that you invited all of them to your place tonight. Guess he thought I was on your guest list. I dunno, I was just kinda hurt you didn't include me,” You continued in a sheepish attempt to clear your conscience. “But really, I just wanted to waste your time a little bit, not, uh, this.”
If you had known you'd wind up here, you never would've called him with some weak excuse why you needed into the storage room, and spent the rest of your afternoon wallowing in bed or out drinking with the rest of the people who were left alone today. Really, all you had in mind was messing around for a bit, dragging out your window shopping for a new cursed tool for some imaginary demonstration you swore you'd been planning for the students.
The thick silence seemed to seep into every atom of the air, bleed into every small breath you took. You didn't know what he was thinking, or if it'd make you feel any better if you did.
But then he laughed.
“Jealous girl,” He murmured teasingly in your ear, his hand sliding over to pull your back against his chest until you were pretty much on his lap, his sturdy thighs suddenly supporting you. Your face flushed at the contact, embarrassed at how easy it was for him to ensnare you back with just a couple words, a couple touches.
“Gojo, I'm being serious,” You tried to wiggle free, glancing over your shoulder at him.
“How many times have I told you to call me Satoru?” He sighed, the ends of his hair tickling your neck when he rested his head on the crook of your collarbone.
“Why are you-” You started to ask, just for his teeth to nip abruptly at your ear.
“Go ahead.”
“What?” Your voice only came out as a whisper when you felt how gently he was pressing his lips against your skin.
“Waste my time then,” He dared you, each word whispered in between butterfly kisses, his mouth gracing the column of your throat.
“Satoru,” You hesitated, body already melting into him more with every gentle graze of his canines along your tendon. “We-we-”
“We are going to be here for a while,” He chuckled, his fingers dipping into the soft flesh of your side, pulling you closer.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me,” You mumbled.
“No, I was supposed to invite you over when I saw you yesterday,” He offered reassurance in every searing kiss, each one growing sloppier, needier, the more you relaxed against him, your hand slipping up from your lap to interlock with his again so he'd hold you tighter.
“Why, ah,” Your question was interrupted by your own weak moan when he sucked hard, working the same spot over-and-over again, marking it for himself. “Fuck, I mean, why didn't you?”
“Maybe I was a little jealous,” He admitted with a dark chuckle, his free hand tracing along your figure like he couldn't decide what he wanted to explore first.
“I was just kidding before,” You whined when his arm wrapped around your waist, slipping his fingers under your shirt, skimming up to tug your bra down and pull your breast out for him to grope. Pinching and rolling your nipple in-between his soft fingertips, your head falling back onto his chest while you struggled to stifle your gasp.
“I'm not,” He casually said.
“You're fucking with me,” You accused, squirming when he squeezed harder.
“Why would I?” He hummed, like he was content to be here, in this hellhole, since he was with you.
“I mean, you could've had me years ago, and what? You wait until the one time I'm having lunch with Nanami to decide you want me?” You huffed, barely clinging to the last of your rationality to pull free just enough to twist halfway around and look at him, your shoulder brushing against his.
He stiffened, his face freezing and scrunched up in some unreadable expression. His fingers pausing too, the hardened bud of your nipple still pinched between them.
“What are you talking about? Years ago?” He hesitated with every word, his eyes glued to yours, the piercing blue you rarely got to see pinning you in place.
“You know,” You mumbled, wilting under his stare. Practically everyone had known, the subtle looks even the students would throw your way, the teasing you still heard every time he left the room.
“Believe me, I don't.”
“That I used to have a crush on you?” You bit down on your lip when you admitted it, realizing almost immediately just how wrong you must've been by the stunned look on his face.
“Used to?”
Okay, your choice of wording may have been a mistake.
It wasn't like you had anywhere to run either.
Your mouth was hanging open, but you didn't know how to get it to shut, your head tilted to the side while you stared at him over your shoulder.
“I mean, yeah?” You eventually said. “I thought you knew?”
“How would I know?” His brows were knitted together while he pouted, his question coming out in almost a whine.
“I figured Shoko or Suguru spilled. It was kinda obvious,” You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat, all your muscles tense. Acutely aware of the fact you were sitting nearly sideways on Satoru's lap, the possessive hold of his hands all over your body like he wouldn't be able to bear it if you moved.
He didn't say anything for a second, and you could feel the slow rise-and-fall of his chest, the breaths he forced out.
And then the hand that had been absentmindedly groping your tit traced up your sternum all the way to the line of your jaw, craning your head back far enough that he could kiss you, his mouth colliding against yours, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. The angle was a little awkward, sure, but it was hard to focus on anything other than his tongue begging for entry.
And giving in to him was terrifyingly simple.
A choice your mind and body unilaterally made in a split second, lips parting for him to slip inside. And you didn't realize you had been so hungry for him until the moment he broke the kiss so you could catch your breath and your heart ached. Starving after discovering something you'd imagined trying a million times before tasted far better than any piece of fiction your brain had come up with.
“I guess we've got a lot of time to make up for then," He breathed, his thumb dragged along your cheek, and your chest hurt like it couldn't contain how hard your heart was pounding. He cracked a lopsided smile, the same one you'd caught a glimpse of the first day you met him, and it stirred the same butterflies even now.
You kissed him back, harder this time, sucking on his soft bottom lip, the candied flavor of whatever he'd been eating before he'd shown up today still lingering on it.
Letting your back lay flatter against his chest to get more comfortable, making him do the work of craning his neck down to meet where your face was tilted up for him to kiss.
Even here, where you probably had all the time in the world, he was as impatient as ever. Decorating your cheeks with messy kisses like he couldn't bear to miss a single spot.
“You really didn't know?” You asked softly, eyes fluttering shut as his free hand skimmed down to where your skirt had started to bunch up around your waist from the constant readjusting, fingers tracing a line down the inside of your thigh until he reached your pantyline.
“If I did,” He hm-ed, slipping two fingers underneath the band and pulling it away just to let it snap back against your skin. “We would be doing this in my bed right now.”
Your laugh was cut short when his nimble fingers shoved your underwear over to slide himself inside, shuddering as he tore a sharp gasp from your throat trying to adjusting to his sturdy digits Pushing deeper, his sturdy fingers shoving past the first ring of resistance, any attempt you made at appearing unaffected entirely useless at how wet you were, how obviously aroused his voice and his mouth and his touch had left you.
“O-oh?” You panted, writhing under his hold as his fingertips grazed against the spongy spot that made you jolt in his lap. He clicked his tongue, curling his fingers like he was trying to claim every piece of you.
“Mhm,” He murmured, pumping in-and-out, rewarding every little gasp and moan you let out with a soft kiss on your neck. “You'd have a pretty ring on that finger of yours too.”
The hand that had been caressing your face, your hair, reached over to graze your left ring finger, his thumb rubbing the bare spot below your knuckle.
“Really?” You tried to chuckle, but you were pretty sure his knuckles were brushing against your entrance, his brutal rhythm unrelenting. “I'm, fuck, pretty sure the Gojo clan might have something to say about that.”
“I’m the Gojo clan, baby,” He laughed, rubbing the base of his palm hard down on your clit, tsk-ing at how fast your thighs tried to clamp down on his hand.
“What? You wanna marry me?” You heard yourself mutter, dizzy and disoriented, clawing back the cresting waves that threatened to overtake you more with every plunge of his fingers.
“You askin’?” He teased, his thumb skirting over the swollen bud, feeling more feverish with each passing second.
“N-no,” You whined, the desperation starting to peak, your hips rolling up to drive his fingers deeper.
“It's okay. That's my job,” He sighed dramatically, dragging the pad of his thumb back over your clit, massaging rough circles over-and-over until you couldn't hold back anymore.
“Fuck, Toru, there,” You cried out, too worked up to care about the hot tears brimming over your lashes, the makeup probably streaked across your face as you unraveled all over his hand. He refused to stop, working the same practiced motions as you mewled his name, a prayer in your tongue devoted to a man you'd happily get on your knees for. His mouth resumed it's messy trail of kisses staining your neck, probably leaving teeth marks scattered on every inch of skin he could reach.
“Sound so pretty for me, sweetheart,” He hummed into your skin, biting down at the same moment as he pinched the swollen bud, and you squirmed free of his lap, pulling away on trembling legs as you turned to face him, gasping for stolen breaths. “Where do you think you're going?”
He popped his still-slick fingers in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked them clean, letting his eyes shut like he couldn't get enough of the taste.
Your own fingers were moving before your brain could stop and think about what they were doing, unbuckling his belt and dropping it to the ground, the button undone and his zipper halfway down before he even seemed to process that you were on your knees in front of him, bent over with your face only inches from his waist.
“Baby, you-” He shut up once you started dugging his pants and boxers down, roughly pulling down until his cock sprung free. He flinched when it hit the open air, the tip pink and dripping.
You glanced up from it to the gleam of adoration reflected in his small sliver of blue left in his eyes, his pupils blown when your fingers wrapped around his shaft, the thick vein running along its side thrumming a steady pulse underneath your grip.
“Really, you, um, don't-” And here he was, stammering, yet another thing you didn't think Satoru Gojo would be capable of, another side of him you hadn't gotten to see before. Yet another page to add to the thick catalog of things you hadn't meant to store inside you, just more proof of the crush you’d been idiotic enough to think you'd ever gotten over.
“You want me, right?” You hesitated, your grip growing slack as you peered up at him.
“Yeah,” He answered like it came as easily as breathing, the lines in the creases of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “I want you.”
If he was just saying that to get his dick sucked, it was unfortunately working.
You leaned down, your lips wrapping around his tip, starting with soft kitten licks just to see what he'd do. Tenderly stroking the base of his shaft, tiny motions as your tongue flicked over his tip. You heard him swallow, felt one of his hands reach out to pet your hair almost affectionately.
“You know how long I've been thinking about this?” He mumbled, still a talker even when your mouth was occupied teasing his cock. You made a soft hm before dragging your tongue along the vein, pressing down hard and flat over it. “Remember when you brought those cupcakes?”
You couldn't stop yourself from laughing, pausing to flicker your attention back up to his face.
“Seriously?”
That must've been what? A week after you started? It was just a silly attempt at making a good impression. All you'd done is bake a few batches of cupcakes, dividing them up between the students and the staff. And sure, you'd made an extra one just for him, but that was only because his sweet tooth was practically infamous, decorating the frosting with little blue sprinkles you'd spotted grocery shopping a few days before. It's not like you were a baker, and you probably would've just been better off buying some, but you figured it was the thought that counted.
“You? Showing up in a short little skirt in my office after hours? With those cute cupcakes you made for me?” He sounded so fond of the memory you wondered just how many times he'd played it on repeat in his mind. “God, I wanted to eat you.”
“I probably would've let you,” You admitted, shrugging before drifting your tongue across his cock again taking it inch-by-inch into your mouth, kind of hoping it'd end the topic before he drudged up any other embarrassing incidents of the different ways you'd hoped to catch his attention over the years, oblivious you already had it all along.
Gojo, Satoru groaned, bucking his hips up to force his cock against the roof of your mouth, his grip on your hair getting tighter as he abruptly thrusted deeper, his tip grinding into the back of your throat.
You almost gagged, choking on him and the spit starting to pool around his girth, but he held you there, breathlessly murmuring your name.
“Fuck, you're warm,” He mumbled to himself, and you snuck a peek up to see how content he looked, his head reclined back, his eyes shut, white lashes fluttering so prettily as the lump in his throat bobbed.
His grip relaxed enough for you to start moving up-and-down, your fingers stroking what you couldn't fit in, every groan or lewd noise you managed to extract from him only making the heat in your stomach burn brighter, the panties still askew and awkwardly clinging to your skin, growing damper by the second.
“You're doin' so good, sweetheart,” He promised, his heavy breaths and his pet names and praise only riling you up more. You moaned, not even meaning to, and something inside him snapped.
Whatever control you'd wrestled from him had been snatched back, his fingers tangling deep in your hair to move you for him, fucking your face like he might die if he didn't cum soon.
Pulling your hair back just to shove your face forward, not even caring when your teeth seemed to graze him, just that he pushed as much of himself in as possible, probably bruising the back of your throat.
And in all of your fantasies of this exact moment, you'd never imagined he would be so needy.
“God, fuck, you're so-,” He gritted his teeth, cutting himself off like he couldn't find the words, driving his hips up again and again as if he didn't have his hand pushing you down at the same time. “Gonna put a ring on it the minute we get out of here, baby.”
You doubted he was even aware what he was promising, almost delirious, drunk on you.
You made a muffled noise, nails digging into the hard muscle of his thighs, tapping with your thumb to get him to stop.
He paused, his chest shuddering as he reluctantly pulled out. His cock was practically red, the vein on the side pulsing like you'd denied it seconds before it managed to finish. He was breathing hard, staring at you with an almost feral look, barely in control.
“You wanna cum in my mouth?” You pushed out your bottom lip in a pout, tracing his vein with your finger. “Or inside me?”
He completely unraveled.
Rough hands grabbing you until you were suddenly on the back, all the air knocked out of your lungs as he flipped the tables, on top of you, all over you. Tugging your underwear down so fast it was a miracle he didn't shred them, shoving your panties in his pocket before bunching your skirt back up. Not even bothering to take his own clothes off, using just the weight of his body to hold you down as his fist wrapped around his cock, lining it up with your entrance effortlessly.
“Satoru,” You stared, blinking hard, the tears still clinging to your lashes leaving you glossy-eyed, stunned by the the lovestruck look on his face, the soft way he was staring at you when his fingers were gripping you so mean, pressing you to the floor like you might still pull away.
But before you could offer him any assurances that you needed this, needed him, he bottomed out in one rough thrust, sucking in a sharp inhale as the sheer force of it made you reflexively scoot back. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you down so he could fuck you deeper, dragging his tip over the same spots he'd mapped out earlier.
“Wanted you so bad, gorgeous,” He murmured, not moving for a moment, his breathing getting more ragged by the second, his cock throbbing the longer he stayed frozen.
“You’ve got me,” You mumbled back, slipping your fingers up his thick sweater and the t-shirt underneath so you could feel how warm his skin was, trace the muscles of his back, all the ridges and curves until you reached his shoulder blades.
“Y-yeah?” He stuttered and maybe it was how good he felt buried that deep inside you but you were pretty sure you were in love.
“Mhm,” You copied his same lazy drawl, pulling him down to plant a soft kiss against his lips.
He steamrolled it with his own heated kiss, his teeth tugging at your lip until it broke the first layer of skin and you could both taste the iron. Mumbling an almost incoherent apology into your mouth, struggling to ignore the twitch of his cock every time your nails dug into his back or matched his desperation.
You whined, trying to arch your back, lift your hips to force him to move. But he refused, just readjusting his weight so you couldn't move underneath him.
“Baby, please,” He moaned, like he wasn't just torturing himself too. “Quit squirming.”
“Can’t,” You complained with a weak moan, all the muscles in your thighs clenching, his cock pressed so snugly against your cervix you were almost convinced he wanted to mold you to his shape, impress every ridge and vein onto you. “Need you, Toru, please.”
A string of raspy curses flying from his mouth, his lashes fluttering hard as he closed his eyes, jaw setting in a hard line as he abruptly pulled out, the cold immediately hitting you when his heat dissipated. Your tiny mewl sounded pathetic even to you, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scramble to his feet, his still-slick erection bouncing with every step as he snatched the bandages off the floor from where he dropped them earlier.
“Come back,” You muttered, frowning at the thought he might put them back on and you wouldn't be able to see his eyes anymore.
You weren't prepared for what he was actually planning.
He climbed back on top of you, his knee nudging your thighs further apart as he snagged your wrists in one hand, wrapping them up tight, the knot in your stomach straining every time he twisted the fabric around. Finishing it off with an oversized bow, and when you tried to flex your tendons, test the knot, you weren't surprised to find it didn't have any slack.
“Toru,” you pouted, pretending you couldn't feel how damp the inside of your trembling thighs were, how much the swollen bundle of nerves between them ached.
“Just let me take care of you, baby,” He murmured, caressing your cheek softly.
You tentatively nodded, running your teeth over the spot on your already kiss-bruised lips he'd bitten before.
A fluid movement was all it took for him to have your knees pressed against your chest, his fingers digging into your thighs, not giving you an opportunity to even consider what position he just put you in before his cock was sliding in, in, in until he slammed into your cervix.
You gasped. Or groaned. Well, both coming out in a strangled mess as he pressed his chest against your quivering legs, and you didn't think anything had ever burned so good, the stretch of trying to accommodate him forcing every sense to dial up higher, all your nerves on fire at the intensity behind every breath-stealing thrust.
Letting his massive palms slide up your thighs to grip your ankles, and for a second, you considered his attempts to fold you might go from bending to breaking.
“Fuck, you're, you're gonna-” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut like your walls weren't squeezing him even harder at the thought.
“Gonna what, sweetheart?” He asked, his playful nonchalance replaced with a hoarse growl.
The smacks of his skin on yours doing nothing to conceal your broken breathing as he desperately rutted into you, sinking in and overstuffing you with each stroke.
“Break me,” You whined your answer, your wrists straining in their hold, desperate to tether your fingers in his messy white hair. You just pressed your lips in a thin line instead, trying to hold it in, too enthralled by the idea of letting him have you however he wanted you.
“Aw,” He cooed, cocking his head to the side, his fingers tightening around your ankles. “Sounds kinda like you want me to.”
All you could manage was a weak whimper, your skin sticky, your forehead flushed, the heat of him and you making your head dizzy.
“M-maybe,” You confessed, but when his bruising grip pressed down a little too hard and you winced at the faint crack! from the direction of your ankle, his fingers loosened up, a small frown flashing across his face. It probably hurt, but you were currently too full to feel anything other than the throb of his cock, the burning desire that overrode every other thought and sensation. Later, you could make fun of him for taking breaking you literally.
“Oops, my bad,” He forced a crooked grin to conceal his worry, well-matched for his now nearly-black eyes, only a tiny apologetic twinkle in the faint blue outline left. "You can heal yourself, right, sweetheart?”
Because it looked like you were probably going to need it by the time he was finished.
“I mean, I'm, uh, not very good at it,” You stuttered out, your back trying to arch up from the ground while he stalled his thrusts, scanning over you to make sure you were really okay. Using reversed curse technique required the sort of concentration you were barely capable of most days, let alone one where you were folded into a mean mating press by the strongest sorcerer alive.
Well, actually, shit, could you even use any technique when you were stuck in here?
You guessed that was just another item to add to the list of things to figure out later.
He laughed at your attempts to buck up into him, lightening up on his grip as he resumed fucking you, softer this time, gentler. Murmuring a few saccharine-sweet apologies into your hair, like they weren't sparsed together with filthy fucking moans that made your stomach somersault.
You couldn't even make a noise at all anymore, lips parted and hanging open, just sharp little inhales and exhales as he pounded into the spot that left stars dotting your vision. Your nails digging crescent moons into your palm, toes curling while you felt the tension build and build and build in your core.
“You close, sweetheart?”
“Mm. Mhm,” You managed, watching him through half-lidded eyes, his swollen lips and the loose strands of hair now plastered to his forehead, the cute way his brows were drawn together in concentration.
“You really me to cum inside you?” There was a distinct lilt to his voice, teasing you even now.
You nodded, but he just clicked his tongue, waiting for a real answer.
“Please?” You didn't mean for it to be a whine, but you sure fucking felt how hard his cock jumped at the sound of you begging for him.
His thrusts getting sloppy, no rhythm to be found, just mindless rutting as his head tilted back, lost in his own lust while he started babbling again.
“Want me to put a baby in you, huh?” He drawled, his low chuckle only making you clench harder around him, your involuntary confirmation probably the last thing his ego needed. “Oh? You do?"
“Shut up,” You mumbled, one of his hands letting go of your ankle to skim over to your clit, rubbing a messy circle over it that sent a fresh shudder all over your body.
“You’re gonna look so cute carrying my kid,” He rambled on, relentlessly rolling the overstimulated bundle of nerves between his fingers, your brain too fried to consider what the fuck he was saying, mindlessly nodding and whimpering in agreement. He paused playing with the bud he'd been treating like his own personal stress-relief toy, skimming his fingertips up to where the fabric of your skirt was ruched up just below your belly button. Pressing down on the spot like he could feel the pressure growing inside. “Wanna be my pretty little pregnant wife, isn't that right?”
And as annoying as his delivery could be, maybe Gojo wasn't so wrong about something else today either.
Because apparently, his promises were enough to push you over, your second orgasm racking through you much harder than the first, all the tension in your body snapping at once as you cried out his name, everything trembling as the pleasure tore through you in one tsunami-sized wave.
“Oh God, oh fuck,” You moaned, faintly aware of how wrecked you must look, your damp cheeks and sore thighs (really, sore everything) quivering, your clothes all wrinkled and messed up considering he'd been too overeager to manage getting anything other than your panties off.
His eyes locked onto yours, and that was all it took for him to finish, your name sounding so tender, so intimate when it rolled off his tongue despite how sloppily he was thrusting into you, pushing his warm cum back in each time it started to drip out.
You were pretty sure you couldn't actually get pregnant in here, not without time actually passing.
But the idea of having a domestic sort of life where you went on dates, ate your meals together, even just watching stupid movies with Satoru left you flushed, your cheeks burning even as you started to come back down imagining what that might be like.
He was breathing hard, looking a little dazed as he stared down at you, his cock still faintly pulsing inside you as he fully released your ankles, one hand brushing the hair away from your face. Your legs numbly fell to the side, muscles aching from the aftermath.
“Toru,” You softly said.
“Hm?”
“We should probably start with dating, don't you think?” You tilted your head to the side, and he laughed, reluctantly pulling out of you as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.
“Yeah, you asking me to be your boyfriend?” He teased.
“No, I was talking to the skeleton over there,” You rolled your eyes, too weak to even gesture with anything other than the small bob of your head to your right.
“Too bad,” He tsk-ed, his lips finding yours again like he was trying to remind you that you were his now. “I called dibs.”
“On me?” You giggled. “Or the skeleton?”
“You, idiot,” He pulled away to pout.
“That's not a very nice thing to call your girlfriend,” You hummed, about to poke him when you remembered your wrists were still bound in his bandages.
“That's right. My girlfriend,” He echoed, too fucked out to notice, nuzzling his head against your neck.
“Um, Toru,” You mumbled, feeling his delicate flutter of his eyelashes.
“Mm?”
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognized it was a rare opportunity for him to really be lazy, at ease for once, the tension meling off him as his muscles relaxed. Maybe if he cleared out a few more skeletons, made some more space, it wouldn't make such a terrible mini-vacation.
“Could you at least untie me?”
“Pay up,” Shoko groaned, holding a hand out expectantly to Suguru.
“They still have their clothes on,” Suguru casually shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets, the spear you guessed he used to unseal the two of you discarded on the shelf as his eyes flickered from you to Satoru.
“Yeah, but look at them,” Shoko insisted, her mouth twitching up into a small smile.
Shit.
You hadn't expected eventually to happen when you were about to fuck Satoru for the hundredth? Thousandth? Okay, well, that was definitely an exaggeration but you'd lost count of what time it was exactly. Wearing his sweater, your skirt halfway unzipped, but you know, still on, at least. His zipper was entirely undone, his slacks wrinkled, t-shirt stretched tight against his muscles straining underneath it.
“What, um,” You awkwardly cleared your throat, hoping your face wasn't as flushed as it felt. “How long has it been?”
“Two days,” Shoko answered, amused, as Suguru dug his wallet out of his pockets. “For you guys?”
“Um,” You stalled, glancing over at him for assistance you were certainly not going to receive. “I, uh, dunno?"
Satoru didn't bother pulling up his zipper, slinging his right arm around you and pulling you against him.
“Guess what?” He grinned brightly at his friends.
“What?” Suguru grimaced, his eyes narrowing like he was ready to roll them. Satoru grabbed your left hand and held it up, a piece of his bandages he'd torn off tied in a cute little bow around your ring finger.
synopsis: satoru gojo's got a biiiiig wand - and he's not scared to use it on his favorite (and only) assistant after a successful show!
pairing: magician!Gojo x assistant!reader
content: mdni! smut, porn with plot, don't ask me how my brain works idk either, magician gojo is PACKING, no rabbits were harmed in the making of this fic, nepo baby gojo has a dream to be a magician what can I say, Sukuna cameo, jealousy, fingering (with the gloves on like a freak), unprotected piv sex, full nelson, so much teasing (he thinks he's SO funny), but he's doing magic tricks on that pussy so-, creampie, he wants us BAD
HOT ASSISTANT WANTED!
MUST BE FLEXIBLE!
You thought he was probably a pervert. Okay, definitely a pervert.
But the hourly rate posted on the advertisement was enough that you showed up to the listed audition time, pepper spray clutched in your fist as you walked down the aisle of the empty auditorium, wondering where the hell everyone else was - or if you were just the only stupid enough to show.
It was sorta creepy, your footsteps echoing as you stopped just shy of the stage, brows knitting together as you tried to figure out what the fuck was happening.
Someone tapped your shoulder.
And yeah, perhaps it was a tad bit of an overreaction, but you reflexively pulled the trigger as you spun around, shooting the spray directly in the eyes of your would-be assailant...or um, potential employer?
Belatedly noticing the ridiculous costume he was wearing, dressed in a tuxedo complete with a tailcoat and crooked top hat, one that fell off and spilled out multicolored ribbons as he let out a low curse and rubbed his eyes, panic piercing through you as you realized what you'd just done when your own eyes started to sting at the spicy compound in the air.
"Oh my god," you flinched, heat flooding your face with humiliation as you accepted you definitely lost the job now, and maybe gained an assault charge. "I'm so sorry, I-"
But then he laughed, one corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided smile even as he winced in pain.
"Guess I should've started with hi, huh?"
You still couldn't fucking believe he hired you after that.
Or how many of your nights would now belong to him.
All your friends thought you started stripping after you started ditching drinking and going out on dinner dates. You guessed they weren't that far off.
Technically, you were being paraded around on a brightly-lit stage, forcing fake smiles in a skin-tight outfit. But yours was beaded and bedazzled, glitter and rhinestones sparking in the spotlight as you were led around the stage, put on display to be a pretty distraction from the main show.
Satoru Gojo.
The man. The magician.
From the bits and pieces of his backstory you managed to put together, his family was wealthy enough to have the sort of connections to make his shows possible - but it was his own personality that made them profitable.
"Come on," he beamed, picking out a guest at random, gesturing for them to come up on the stage. They blinked, looking around nervously before hesitantly pushing off the arms of their chair and starting for the stairs. "Let's play a little game, okay?"
You'd seen it before.
Every Friday through Sunday for the past six months.
Traveling to different cities, rehearsing in the evenings, practicing stage direction rather than his tricks. He never needed to work on those. Just guiding you on where he wanted you to stand and what he wanted you to do.
Brighter smiles, wider twirls, deeper bows.
It was fun. Almost everything about him and this was.
Getting dolled up on his dime, letting him help you zip up the last couple inches of your bodysuit, listening to the chatter of the audience from backstage. Using the expensive products he provided, a full face of makeup and hair completely done, sprayed into place so it wouldn't so much as budge while you were up there with him. How you could feel the applause in your chest standing up there at the end, how right it felt to have his hand in yours when he clasped it and made sure you took your bows by his side. He made you feel needed.
You knew his routine by heart. Memorized every line, knew every step and sword that he'd pretend to slice through you in a box with, daggers being driven into wood while you were tucked safely in the hidden compartment.
But it wasn't really just the tricks people came to see.
It was him.
Something intangible about him, not just his shining blue eyes or the stray wisps of white hair poking out beneath his hat, but the energy surrounding him, the way his words boomed out through his wired mic and entangled you in his web of carefully-crafted illusions. Sure, you had the tiniest crush on him, but you told yourself it was simply the amount of time you'd been spending together, the chemistry that came with putting on performances night after night where he rambled to an entire audience of people how gorgeous you were.
Anyone who saw him would either want him or want to be him.
Even now, when he was just doing the whole boring pick a card thing, the one practically every magician did, the whole audience was only paying attention to him, trying to spot his sleight of hand.
They never did though.
Always left whispering 'how did he do that?' or trying to ask for his autograph as he walked off stage, sometimes even waiting out back to catch him on his way to his car.
This show was no different.
The same spiel, the same jokes, the same good night speech, twirling his wand in that big hand of his before waving goodbye at the crowd, all while you smiled and held onto the pretty white bunny he used that you affectionately named Gojo Junior.
The third most important part of the act really, after Satoru in second. He liked to tell you that you were the star, as if you both didn't know that he'd do just fine without your support. He could probably pick any other girl off the street at a much lesser risk of getting pepper sprayed - but he scoffed and scolded you the one time you joked about being replaceable.
Tonight came with one change you hadn't expected though, one in the form of friends you hadn't thought even existed popping up when you were both preoccupied with taking photos with a few lingering fans.
"Yo, Satoru," someone called out, and you looked up to see a man, maybe about his height clasping a hand on his shoulder. With another guy, and a pretty girl who was distracted on her phone, brown eyes glazed over with boredom. "Nice show."
"Thanks," Satoru smiled, relaxed, easy. Not the showman. Performance dropped, almost seeming like a normal guy who just happened to be in a full tuxedo, tilting his hat off as he glanced between his friends. "Didn't think you guys would come."
"After how much you talk about it?" The girl dryly said, not looking up as she exhaled.
"And her?" The other man chimed in, his deep grunt catching you off-guard as your head snapped over to him at the realization he was talking about you.
Or, well, belatedly processing that he meant Satoru was talking about you to his friends.
Satoru was unfazed though, buzzing through brief introductions and offering up their names while you nodded along, your outfit started to rub a little around your thighs as you shuffled on the soles of your heels.
Standing a little bit behind him, like you always did, watching him banter back-and-forth, used to fulfilling the role of the accessory on his arm until someone crossed the thin line separating what was staged and what was real.
"Are you free after this?" His pink-haired friend casually asked you, cocking his head to the side as he sized you up, dark eyes dragging over your exposed body and the shimmery fabric clinging to it. Sukuna, wasn't it?
You paused, considering what to say. Sometimes after shows you let Satoru convince you to come back to his place or whatever hotel room he booked, staying up late ordering pizza or whatever junk food he was craving while you watched old movies together. But he always passed out on the couch, hand in a bowl of popcorn and drool dribbling from his lips, and you usually left before he woke up.
"I'm actually-"
"She's still mine for the next, ah, two hours?" Satoru smirked, looking down at his wrist to check his watch for the time.
Except, it wasn't his watch.
Sukuna glared at him, attempting to snatch his watch back only for Satoru to take another bow, bending down too low just in time for his hand only to close around air.
"Too slow," Satoru cooed with fake sympathy, stepping back and unclasping the watch from his wrist just to dangle it in front of his face. "Gotta be quicker next time."
"Clean up isn't going to take two hours," you huffed at Satoru, snatching the watch first before holding it back out for his friend to take.
"I know," your boss pouted at you, pretty pink lips pushed together in a dramatic (and fake) display of disappointment. "I have some, um, notes I need to go over with you."
"Oh," you blinked, glancing towards backstage. "I guess I'll go get changed then."
Your performance had been pretty damn perfect.
No missteps or mistakes you could remember making, at least, frowning at your reflection as you slipped out of your heels back in your dressing room. You had already returned Gojo Junior to his cage in the corner, the bunny happily napping as you scanned the bag next to his set up for your extra clothes.
While you picked them up and started to throw them across the makeup chair, a little voice in your head slyly suggested the slim chance that Satoru was jealous. That just maybe your feelings could be mutual instead of just one-sided pining blinded by the persona you were used to him putting on.
Two sharp knocks had you snapping out of it, glancing back in time for the door to creak open before you could answer it.
"Is my lovely assistant dressed in there?" Satoru's warm voice called through the thin wood, and you instinctively checked the mirror, making sure your makeup wasn't messed up before you actually replied.
"Yeah," you called back out, stifling a sigh as you resisted the urge to put on a little more lip gloss.
"Damn," he shamelessly flirted, swinging open the door the rest of the way.
"Is that your way of asking to help?" You sarcastically muttered, shaking your head just slightly as you sighed.
"Can I?" He asked, almost managing to sound earnest.
You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach at the sight of him standing there and staring at you.
It wasn't that you thought his flirting was serious. You just sorta wished it was. It couldn't hurt to tease him back just a little too, right?
His blue eyes burned down your body, his jaw tensing as you turned away from him. You reached over your shoulder, making your own little show out of getting ready to strip down, glancing back to see how his face went slack. Watching him hold his breath, his grip tight on the wand still in his hand, knuckles bone-white.
"You'd make a terrible assistant," you wryly murmured, mouth twitching and fighting back a smile at how he was just standing there.
"My sincerest apologies," he purred, feigning remorse, a familiar grin twisting up on his lips as he reached up to tilt his hat, leaning against the doorframe as your fingers stopped just above the hidden zipper along the back. "Can I assist you in getting out of that then?"
You didn't say yes out loud.
Nodded just enough to answer for you, biting down on your bottom lip at the thump of the door shutting behind him.
"I'll start with the zipper first," he muttered, delivering the line like you were some audience member he had to impress. But his breath was warm on the nape of your neck, little goosebumps running up and down your arms as you barely stopped yourself from shivering at the sound of him so close.
"How sweet of you," you hummed as casually as you could, a little more pleased than you ought to be at how it felt for his long fingers to skim over your spine to reach the zipper. His other palm settled on your waist, your nose scrunching up as you realized he must have managed to slip his wand away without you noticing just to have both hands on you.
"Only to you," he quipped back, and before you could make a quick retort, he was tugging the zipper down all the way, sucking in a sharp breath at the freshly exposed skin.
Did he want to touch you as badly as you wanted him to? Ached for a connection that would catch sparks instead of fizzling in the shadows? Where you'd both stop acting like your chemistry ended once you stepped foot off-stage?
Feet planted on the ground, glued in place as he stayed there, both of you refusing to budge, daring the other one to break.
"Well?" You swallowed hard, keeping your head forward so you wouldn't have to see his face. "Are you going to help me with the rest or not?"
"As you wish," he quoted, murmuring all sweet and low in your ear as he started pulling your bodysuit off, taking his time to wiggle it past your hips and down your thighs, using it as an excuse to run his palms over every inch of you possible.
You tried to find a sliver of rationality. You'd even take regret. But there was just excitement brimming beneath the surface, desperation and craving melting together into you were just putty waiting for him to mold.
"Should I keep going?" He asked in that pretty whisper of his, making your heart stutter and race, mind reeling at his proximity, at the increasingly real possibility that you were really about to find out what more meant with him.
"Please."
He stripped you down to just your thin seamless panties fast enough it really did feel like magic, just to take off his top hat and put it on your head instead. You reached up to touch the brim, but then you were being picked up, his big hands sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hoisted you in the air, carrying you with your back still pressed to his chest over to the old couch in the corner, turning around and plopping down so you were on his lap.
You gasped, surprised at how sure he was even now, in this totally new territory of your friendship? Relationship? Acting like he'd planned it all out, knew how to execute every lingering touch, practiced the way his lips would graze against the shell of your ear.
"For my next trick," he grinned, his hand skimming down your stomach and stopping just between your thighs. "I'm gonna make your panties disappear."
Your lips parted, about to giggle at how sleazy he sounded, but then you blinked - and they were gone.
"Holy shit," you breathed, too surprised to care about how much you sounded like one of his fans. "How did you-"
"That's a secret, baby," he wryly chuckled, showing you an empty hand before he used it to cup your dripping cunt. A funny pulse shooting straight down to the pit of your stomach as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your shoulder. "Spread your legs a little more for me, princess."
You always complied when it came to him.
And he always made everything worth it.
Watching two of his thick fingers disappear into your soaked cunt, with his gloves still fucking on, mouth hanging open at the way he kept plunging in and making a fucking mess of you on the couch. Could anyone else hear the filthy squelch of his digits pumping in and out through the paper-thin walls? Your moans of his name getting sloppier and sloppier, somehow turning Satoru into weak whimpers of Toru as he wrapped one strong forearm around your waist to keep you from squirming while he worked to stretch you out for his, ah, wand?
God, you couldn't even think about it like that without being filled with the lewd mental image of him trying to stick his real wand inside of you.
"I-I thought you had notes for me," you groaned, grabbing onto the dark material of his pants as you rested your head back on his broad shoulder, struggling to hold onto your slipping thoughts with every brutal drag of his fingers inside you. The fabric made it somehow even hotter, your brain going all fuzzy as he dove in all the way.
"I lied," he bluntly confessed, burying himself down to his knuckles just to see you shudder, keeping you supported as he fucked you harder with just his nimble fingers, his practiced motions making you forget how you were supposed to feel about your suspicion that he was jealous being proven correct.
He didn't want to see you with someone else.
And when you were here, when he had you like this, you couldn't really picture yourself out on a date when he occupied all your thoughts anyways.
"Are you on birth control?" He paused long enough to ask, although you were hardly coherent enough to answer.
"Mm, mhm," you half-yelped as his fingers swirled up to poke and prod in a particularly sensitive spot.
"Thank God," he groaned, yanking his digits back out, and it was only at his absence that you realized the ridiculously hard thing you hadn't noticed poking your ass was his cock.
How the hell was it so-
"S'toru," you attempted to say his name, your throat growing dry at the thought of his size before he readjusted you off of him just enough to pull his pants down and let it spring out, a thick vein bulging along the side of it, his tip a pretty shade of pink and pre-cum already leaking along the slit.
"Change your mind?" He asked, as if your toes weren't already curling at the anticipation, thighs trembling as your body aches to have him back inside you.
"N-no," you mumbled, heat pooling deep enough in your stomach you could probably drown in it. "You're just, um, bigger than I thought."
"So you've been thinking about me too, princess?" He teased, not missing a single fucking thing, apparently.
Your first impression of him hadn't been that far off.
Satoru was a pervert.
And none of your rehearsing, none of your practice could have prepared you for how it felt to be lifted up by the back of your thighs, for that fat head of his cock to snugly press against your entrance and sink in before you had time to blink.
Eyes closing just to feel the burning pressure of his thick length bullying it's way in, pushing past the first ring of resistance to claim the rest of your body as his.
"Can I tell you something?" He whispered in your ear, all hoarse and rough, right as he folded you further, his cock rubbing against your walls and making space for himself.
You tried to respond.
But the only thing that came out was a fuzzy moan, messy syllables slurred together as you felt your insides getting pushed around, shoved up, up, up until you thought there surely wasn't any room anymore. Yet, he just kept pushing in deeper, inch after inch until you started to wonder if he was about to reach your lungs at this rate.
"Been fucking my fist after every show thinkin' about you," he rambled, oblivious to your whines, or maybe just spurred on by them. "Thinking about how this would feel."
He groaned, all deep and gravelly, bottoming out and hitting your womb while he was at it, reflexively jolting just for him to chuckle, pulling you right back down to meet him. Keeping you pinned, his hands on your thighs and your back to his chest, completely connected.
"Y-you could've said something," you cried out, tears collecting in your lashes as the pleasure started to condense into a hard ball at your core, pinging around and demanding attention as he started rutting his hips up, pulling out and pushing in at a pace you couldn't believe he was keeping up.
The couch creaked louder, the frame of it smacking into the wall as his thrusts picked up, your brain freezing as his tongue abruptly dragged up your throat before he started to leave a trail of kisses in time with his thrusts.
"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted, and you wondered if he could feel the way you clamped down, squeezing hard at how raw he sounded.
"You're not going to."
Satoru snapped.
Acting more like a bunny in heat, although this Satoru Junior was much meaner than the sweet ball of fur in the corner.
Fucking into you fast and hard, one of his hands moving to sweep over the swollen bundle of nerves between your thighs, making quick work of stroking and soothing your need as if he could sense it himself. The friction of the fabric only heightened it, his gloved fingers catching over your clit with adoration and perfected pressure. Treating you like his new favorite trick, delicately tracing over it, practicing different patterns until he found the one that made you throw your head back, a strangled gasp stringing through the air as he repeated it again and again.
"Oh, that's it," he purred, putting on his professional bravado to disguise the way his voice quivered at that last word. "Give me a good finale."
You finished for him with a moan you hoped made him proud, squirming in his hold as he continued to finger and fuck you through it, mouth permanently parted as he kept your thighs apart enough you had to feel the force of him thrusting up to fill you with cum.
Warmth that lingered and leaked down your legs, his cock only stalling when the last drops dripped out, both of you frozen in that intimate position as you tried to blink and bring back at least an ounce of sensibility.
"Can we go again?" He muttered while you were still out-of-breath, another strained whimper leaving your lips as his teeth nipped at your neck.
"W-what?"
"I forgot to kiss you," he whined, and you could hear his pout, feel the way his lips pressed together on your shoulder. "You can make it one more round for me, right?"
His cock throbbed inside you, not going soft as he gave you a small kiss just above your collarbone.
"Please?"
"Depends," you murmured, tilting your head to the side so he had easier access to paint your neck with more affection pecks. "Are you my boss or my boyfriend?"
"I'll be anything you want me to be."
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3
seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of
synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!
pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader
content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, discussions of death, some darker themes but plenty of goofy gojo to go around, idiots falling in love, petty reader, gojo being a DORK, she falls first + he falls harder, this one's gonna be freaky guys, unprotected piv sex, oral (m! receiving), more tags to be added!
devil! sukuna x angel! reader, kinda bad, ooc, not proofread, i'm rusty at writing
devil! sukuna who’s your sworn nemesis since the beginning of time
devil! sukuna who’s whole shtick is making deals with gullible humans
devil! sukuna who hates angel! reader for talking the humans out of the deal, making devil! sukuna miss his daily quota
devil! sukuna who’s a pain in the ass to get rid of. somehow whenever you’re trying to stop a deal, it’s always him making it!
devil! sukuna who flashes you that lopsided grin that definitely doesn’t make your knees weak. you try not to think about it but whenever he gives that shit-eating grin, you almost forget what you’re here to do. but no fear! you shake it off fast enough to stop the deal.
devil! sukuna who purposely prolongs his deal-makings, hoping that you would show to stop him, giving him a chance to see you.
devil! sukuna who hates loves the shine of your halo, the way the moonlight would catch at your features, giving you a heavenly glow, the cadence of your voice when trying to comfort a distressed human.
devil! sukuna who after centuries of playing the same game, realises he’s fallen in love with you
devil! sukuna who doesn’t realise you like him as much as he likes you
devil! sukuna who continues to play this game for another few centuries, falling even deeper and deeper in love with you as time passes by. he wishes things were different every time he sees you–that both of you were on the same side..alas, you could never be.
devil! sukuna who begs and begs and begs to be let go, to be allowed to quit so he could have a chance! just one chance to be with you. devil! sukuna who after decades of begging finally got his wish. he was relieved from his duties.
devil! sukuna who immediately went to the fountain where you broke so many of his deals and waited…waited days until you showed up.
angel! reader who showed up extremely confused when you saw devil! sukuna sitting at the fountain alone. you broke down in tears when you heard what he did. sprinting towards him, throwing your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.
eons of both of you dancing around your unspoken feelings leading to the kiss that finally united heaven and hell.
notes: hi i havent posted in so long this is kinda bad too oops uh i was supposed to make this a long fic but i just couldnt put everything into words properly so ya
God of the Dead was always alone. With the coldness weighing his heart and the stench of gastly doom clinging to his skin. But then, one day, the world under his feet shifted. Heart bloomed with bizarre fondness. And the Lord of the Underworld soon started to wish for nothing but to taste Spring Goddess's sweetness every single day. Even if he were to accomplish it by force.
requ ested (pray forgive me for waiting so long)
included in Tales, Myths, Romances
pairings: Hades!Trueform Sukuna x Persephone!Reader
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, greek mythology au, mythologically accurate, possessive behaviour, slightly dark romance, kidnapping, devotion, obsession, heavy smut, Sukuna is his own warning, proper use of belly mouth, double penetration, belly bulges, mating press, oral sex (both), facesitting, yearning, symbolism, Cerberus is just a baby, pussydrunk Sukuna, he's down bad, but he's also toxic
WC: 13.7k (the visions have plagued me)
a/n: I think we all know the story of Hades and Persephone, so this time there's no need for a history lesson! I just hope you'll like it because I had lots of fun writing it! And thank you, dearest anons, for the request <3
divider by @/diviniye
art by @/phantomosis on x
It was a universal truth that opposites attract.
Knowledge older than the Gods themselves.
Carved in marble and rivers, bending under the Greek sun in crystal serpentine. Crossing the lands, fields and meadows, with single droplets caressed by nymphs and fair birdies playing in the calm waters.
Everyone knew that opposites work together.
Everyone could look up and see the sun and the moon frolicking in the same sky. Brush their feet against the hard, stony paths covering the mountains, and yet see little snippets of flowers breaking through the surface. To experience sadness and joy, two contradictory feelings, yet impossible to exist without each other.
Everyone could enjoy the sharp breeze from the thunderstorms, preceded by the sizzling warmth coating their sweating skin.
Everyone knew the night had no meaning without a day. That spring couldn't exist without a death.
Everyone knew it.
Or did they?
Or was it maybe something that one, love-possessed God simply wished to believe in? That opposites could attract even in the most impossible-to-imagine scenarios.
It's not that the Gods of Olympus weren't paired in a rather bizarre manner. For there was a beauty of Aphrodite who cherished the brute God of War dearly. Zeus and Hera, so different and yet ruling over the divine world. And also Dionysus, who haunted by love towards a mortal, made her a goddess.
And yet, Lord Hades couldn't shake off the feeling that his love was plagued by a tragedy from the very beginning.
As how could it be that the Lord of the Underworld's heart, after thousands of years of being burdened by coldness, suddenly bloomed with restless warmth?
With a feeling so unknown and strange, his hand rested on his chest as if in desire to breeze the burning skin up. Long fingers tried to grab the muscle and tear the rosy flesh that separated him from it. But even the God of Death couldn't stop the lovely beating of his heart and mind tormented solely by a thought of… you.
It happened on a sunny day, when, usually hidden in the depths of hell, the Lord of the Underworld decided to take a stroll. Around the spring meadows, with the air carrying the flowery scent of blooming nature. So strange and bizarre, never floating around the endless plains of his domain.
He didn't show his face often up there, as God of the Dead was much, much busier than one could think! Humans were weak, reckless, dying like flies and flooding the Underworld with their restless souls.
Heron crossed the Styx like a madman, and Cerberus couldn't close his eyes even for a second, as the hell was a mad and troubled place.
But then, that one day when the sunlight finally blessed his crimson eyes, Hades, or Sukuna as he much rather preferred, could finally pleasure himself in breathing the air not stained by a musty smell of death.
Each of his steps left the lush grass withered, and the air bent under the heaviness of his aura. Birds would fall silent whenever the God of the Dead passed through the trees they sat in, as if in fear of being taken by the Grim Reaper too soon. Fruits hanging off the branches would suddenly fall rotten, not allowing God to taste the sweetness of their pristine juices.
As there was no sweetness or warmth in Sukuna's life and it had been a long time since he learned how to live with it. For why would anyone care about the wellness of the Lord of the Underworld himself?
And so the world withered and shattered around him, but God truly didn't mind.
Until he saw you, the Goddess of Spring.
Beautiful, alive, with sun smooching your laughing cheeks and eyes curving under the golden rays. Little flowers were tucked in your hair sweetly, and single strands framed your face heartily. Sukuna enjoyed looking at blooming plants, although they quickly withered under his bloody gaze.
But not you.
You quickly became his most dearest petal, with loose, light robes always in a riot of pastel hues and lovely laughter carried by spring winds through the vast meadows. Bare feet ran through the fields of flowers without any worries, and eyes always glanced somewhere over the horizon. Somewhere, towards the seas and trees and frolic nymphs playing near the rivers. Fingers weaved wreaths one by one, and a cooing voice helped the flowers grow and blossom beautifully.
Your robes were always slightly dirty from the earth, warm cheeks marked by pollen, eyes bustling with warmth and kindness, that touched every plant, every animal that cuddled into your open arms.
He usually lurked among the trees. Tall, broody, with a massive body covered by dark robes and a grim aura clinging to his skin. Four arms crossed on a wide chest and two pairs of eyes fixated on a young Goddess frolicking with her friends.
Soon, he started coming more often.
The usual workaholic, a gloomy God who liked nothing and no one, a brute, as some liked to call him, suddenly found something that started haunting his mind. His dreams and nightmares, as even there, you always seemed to smooch his cheeks like a soft petal.
There, you always seemed to be his.
His lovely, dear wife. A Queen of the Underworld.
For all those days he watched you carefully, you've never noticed him.
Not even once, as if completely blinded to everything else outside the walls of your little world.
Until one day, you were left alone.
No friends chirping to your ear, no animals warming your legs – just you.
And, well, him.
He didn't know when and how, but a warming tiredness fell on his eyes, and oh-so-mighty God of the Death slipped into a light slumber. With withered grass lulling his heavy body and birds ogling him from the thick branches. Wind whirred quietly, brushing his pink hair, slipping between the strands and massaging tired temples.
He could almost swear that he fell asleep on the grass. Hard ground moulding under his even harder body and green tuft giggling his cheeks. And yet, after turning and squirming like a restless child, he felt something softer under his head.
Something plush, squishy, beaming with the sweetest, flowery fragrance he's ever smelled. The wind's murmur turned into a lovely hum. A melody that coiled his senses and flooded down his spine, filling his body like the sweetest wine.
He didn't dare to open his eyes.
As he knew, the sight of the lovely Goddess brushing gently through his hair would lead to his death. For Sukuna was rather sure that the only thing in this world that could truly stop his heart was the graceful look of your eyes fixed on him.
Not on flowers, not nymphs, nor animals.
Him.
And thus he lay quietly, with your thighs dipping under his head and soft fingers playing with his hair.
"The Lord of the Underworld in my spring domain," you hummed, swirling a pink strand around your finger. "What a bizarre sight, I must admit."
A chuckle slipped from between your lips when his brows furrowed. Slightly yet rather openly stating that the God of the Dead, with his colossal body bending your earth, has not, in fact, been sleeping.
But there was no need to out his silly manner, and your fingers continued soft curls around his temples. As everyone, no matter their origin, was most welcome in your domain.
Something changed around him. The air, the melody, the structure of grass.
Your presence brought life back to the withered plants and silenced animals that feared him. The birds sitting high on the branches slowly flew down, huddling shyly on his chest. Decayed grass turned lush once again, smooching his skin with its plushness.
"There's no need for fear," you whispered warmly, seeing how wary the animals were of his presence. "He is a good creature too."
Forest animals started to come closer, and closer, and closer, with deer sniffing his body and frogs clumping on his shoulders. Their little, sticky toes left traces of gluey slime, but he didn't mind.
Because God of the Dead rarely felt a life embrace his body.
And thus he decided to cherish it and pray that this single, intimate moment would last forever. With your thighs beaming warmth under his head and animals cuddling to his limbs. Surrounding him in a tight circle with furs and feathers tickling his skin.
He couldn't open his eyes, to not destroy the moment, although, heavens, he truly wished!
To see your hearty face up close. To brush the lower lip coloured with fresh berries and tuck a single strand of hair behind your ear. To see the way pastel robes clung to your skin like a mist, and eyes peeked down at him. But instead, he could only lie quietly and listen to the melody slipping past your lips, curling around his mind like a viper.
A moment has passed, and the deep slumber began to coo his senses. He tried to fight it, longing to stay in your embrace a little longer. To remember the melody of your voice and the pattern of fingertips massaging his temples. The flowery, honeyed fragrance clinging to your skin and filling every corner of his body, taking away his privilege to smell anything else for the next few days.
Before the darkness blanketed his mind and breath became shallower, he could hear the last whispers of your voice:
"Go to sleep, my God. Allow me to accompany you for a while."
When he woke up, you were no longer there. Just a withered grass bending under his body and the warmth of the setting sun bathing his hair in red hues.
No sign of you or animals, and the God, once again, felt devastated. As if deprived of something he should hold onto with all his strength. He was a divine being, after all, and yet your misty figure slipped between his fingers like flowing water.
But his mind recalled those few words. Allow me to accompany you.
And thus, Sukuna decided to take this wish too faithfully.
⛥ ⛥ ⛥
"Stop going out there alone," your mother has sighed, looking at your figure swirling around the wooden hut. "It's dangerous, the Gods are unpredictable–"
Your head shook, lifting the little willow-wined basket used for gathering flowers. "I am a Goddess, mother," you chirped in with a giggle, before glancing at the woman's creased forehead. "And you are too. There's simply no need to fear anything. Besides, we're safe in the spring domain."
Liar.
You didn't tell her about the God of Death crossing the border between the Underworld and mortals much more often than he should. Than he used to. With his gloomy aura beaming off the woods, although he thought that you didn't notice it. Crimson eyes followed you every single day for the past few weeks, and whenever he appeared, one side of your domain suddenly went quiet. Withered, under his death-bringing feet and the silent atmosphere he spread around himself.
And as a Goddess of Spring, you knew of everything happening on your land.
At the beginning, you thought it was rather funny. To see the animals and flowers frightened by his sole presence. You didn't give it much thought, as various Gods had strolled through the plains of your earth and chit-chatted whenever they spotted your figure hunched over the flowers.
But Lord of the Underworld wasn't the talkative type, nor did he engage in any closer relations. In fact, you didn't know much about him aside from what you'd managed to notice over the past weeks.
And you've noticed a lot. His body was built like a mountain, with a heaviness that couldn't be put into words. Two pairs of crimson eyes, lidded like sweet almonds and framed by rather long lashes. Pinkish hair reminding you of blushed peonies, and you wondered whether it would feel equally soft under your touch. Four muscular arms carried the little birdies up their trees when he thought you didn't see, and black stripes curled around his body – like deathly mist, tattooed all over his chest, back, and cheeks, as the God of the Dead didn't mind relaxing his beastly, naked body in the nearby rivers.
The water spilt over the grassy edge, and four arms rested on drenched earth. Crystal water looped his body shyly, smooching the sun-kissed skin with cold kisses. He couldn't see your hazy figure lurking in the bushes.
Your eyes glimmering like two fresh peaches and lips curling in a sly smile, upon seeing muscles upon muscles bending on the God's back. Slick and bulging, stripped of the heavy, dark robes he usually wore and enjoying the kisses of the Mediterranean sun.
Sometimes a nymph would notice him bathing at the river and coo shyly at the handsome but rather intimidating God. You've always observed those interactions from the tree, lurking curiously, with birds perched on your shoulders. All the encounters always ended in a rather pathetic failure, with the Lord of the Underworld ignoring the sweet chirps of little nymphs and their promises to warm his cold body.
All of them flew quickly upon seeing a grave grimace twisting the God's face, and all four palms curling into fists.
"Always so, so angry," you murmured to the red bird sitting on your finger, as it nodded its little head.
And so you didn't tell your mother about these few encounters, for there was no need to worry her. She kept you away from the Olympian Gods as long as she could, yet couldn't stop you from becoming a Goddess too. Truly unfortunate, if she had to admit it, as she had tried for a whole life to keep you well hidden in the far, far corner of Mount Olympus, in your own little spring domain.
"Just be careful," your mother whispered, pushing back a few loose strands of your hair. A small basket hung on your back, and robes clung to your skin. "You know how Gods can be…"
You knew. For you heard of Apollo and Daphne. Of Medusa and a curse sent upon her for being a maiden far too beautiful. About Zeus and Callisto, and more, more Goddesses, who suffered a terrible fate from the hands of Gods themselves.
You understood your mother's worry. Why she tried to tie you up to this little hut hidden in the woods of Olympus. Why she was the Goddess of Agriculture and tried so, so hard to keep her dear spring flower hidden from the prying eyes.
And yet, the serpent flow of destiny was truly twisted and unpredictable. Bending under the Moirai's deathly whispers, with a thin thread slipping between their bony fingers like a river of silk.
As many Goddesses before you, you too were soon to learn that playing with Gods – particularly those who seemed to take a special fondness for you – was a treacherous path. That approaching them cheekily, taking pleasure in keeping them in your arms and cooing like a wounded animal, was simply foolish. Mad, in every deep sense of the word, as out of the many Gods in this world, you particularly should not play like a fox with the Lord of the Underworld himself.
So, on the same day, as golden rays dribbled down your figure hunched over flowers, hands picking the season's most beautiful blooms, the earth suddenly burst open. With a raw, brutal rumble, unleashing chaos across the peaceful meadow. Birds rose from the lush branches, and all the forest animals that were cuddling near your body ran off.
The heavy dust had covered your eyes, smooching flimsy dress and delicate petals that bent under the heavy, little droplets of curled earth.
The obsidian chariot harnessed with three black horses appeared right in front of your eyes. Tall and eerie, still carrying the coldness of the Underworld and a man whose crimson eyes stared down at your figure.
No words could slip past your lips as one muscular arm lifted you up and easily flipped you over the shoulder. Locking you in place with the sheer strength of one hand, until your head hung down the man's back.
"Wait!" Rolled in a scream as the world in front of your eyes started to spin.
A voice you hadn't heard yet punched you like a bucket of cold water. "Don't be afraid, my Goddess," Sukuna said, before whistling to his horses. "You'll soon be able to run through the meadows of the Underworld."
It tasted raw, heavy, so, so low, licking your ears with flamed tongues. A voice truly worthy of the God of the Dead himself.
Before you knew it, the earth had swallowed the chariot once again. The rumbling tore through your spring domain, causing vast fields of flowers to vanish as if slowly devoured by the sky. The horses sped downward, pulling the chariot deeper into the earth, until only a faint glimpse of the familiar sun remained – a warmth you wouldn't see again for the next few months.
The darkness engulfed you, wrapping your skin with icy, deadly touches. It felt as though the three sisters had already severed your thread of fate, sending you to the Underworld sooner than anticipated and plunging you into the claws of the beast you inadvertently unleashed.
"My God," you mumbled, trying to wriggle under his heavy arm. "Where are you taking me?"
Sukuna chuckled lowly, his whole body trembling with a laugh that made your spine tingle. "To home, my dearest Queen."
Deathly whispers curled around your body with curiosity, as if the air in the Underworld had tasted such a sweet life for the first time. Dark clouds filled the sky, and the chariot plunged even lower. Soon, a vast, grimy land spread beneath you, with a thick river curling around the dark soil.
You have never seen the Underworld and have never shown any interest in it. Yet, from that point, with the obsidian chariot soaring high in the sky, it looked mesmerising. Almost magical, with deep, dark forests and withered meadows stretching across the land, lit only by the pale blue light of the moon and little gleaming shadows wandering aimlessly across the plains.
It wasn't difficult to spot Hades's temple. Or maybe you should say a castle.
Sitting quietly on the cliff, with Styx's calm waters flowing beneath its heavy walls. It towered over the whole domain, glimmering in blue light under the moonlight's kisses, and something in your breath has hitched upon seeing an enormous garden filled with withered trees looming over the dead flowers.
The air was biting cold, and yet the closer you were to the temple, the warmer it seemed to smooch your skin. It didn't carry the familiar flowery fragrance, but rather a heavy, woody scent, as if something alive still lingered in the bleak land filled with agony and doom.
When the chariot came to a halt on the dark grass, Sukuna set you down gently. With one strong arm still stalling on your back, as if afraid the moment your feet touched the earth, you would try to escape.
But there was no chance for it, as the Underworld was a trickery and a dangerous place.
"From now on, this is your home. My Queen," his crimson eyes never left your face, even when the hand showed towards the temple looming deathly.
You moved a step away, trying to slip from between the heavy fingers brushing your waist. "It is not my home, and I will not be your Queen. Now take me back to my domain."
Looking up was a mistake, for the gravity of his gaze almost pulled you down to earth. Four eyes stared down at your fuming face before one hand lifted and fingers traced the softness of your warm cheeks. "I cannot do it, my Goddess. That's what I decided, and that's what the Gods accepted."
"The Gods?"
His big thumb brushed your lower lip, and you smacked his hand away. A low chuckle slipped through before he pushed you towards the temple. "Zeus agreed, and that's all that matters. Neither you nor even your mother has any say in it."
You tried to move away again, but his strong arm only pulled you closer to his massive body. Twice your height, with four arms ready to manhandle you like a beast – you knew standing up to him would be foolish. And yet, you tried.
But he didn't mind, as you weighed less than a feather and lifting you was not a sweat for a God of his calibre. Your body once again rolled like a sack over his shoulder, but this time you tried to fight. With nails dragging down his back and teeth digging into the muscles bulging under his robes.
For you, it was a matter of life and death.
For him? A flimsy, sweet teasing from his dearest Goddess, who was yet to accept her fate.
Oh, his heart swelled with the purest joy at the sight of your misty figure wrapped in his arms after weeks of yearning. It didn't matter whether you wanted to stay here or not – Sukuna aimed to use every possible means to soothe your mind and pamper you like his precious wife.
"You ignorant brute, a beast, freak!" Rolled furiously, as you once again left the bloody, tooth marks on his back. "You cannot do it!"
Another throaty chuckle escaped from his side, with his arm cuddling around your waist with fondness. "I can, my Goddess. That's how love works."
"And what can you possibly know about love, my God?"
Sukuna didn't know much, but his greedy desire to always keep you in his sight and worship you as if you were the only Goddess in the pantheon must have been close to what love felt like. To get drunk on your laugh and the plush skin of your body every single evening, as if his whole world twisted around nothing but you. To hear your chipper run with stale wind through his decaying land and once again feel your fingers brush through his hair.
The God of the Dead, the elder of the mightiest brothers, harbinger of death, wished for nothing but to taste the nectar of your love.
But with a frown you looked at him, your teeth digging deeper into his skin – for now, it seemed rather fruitless.
He entered the temple and moved towards the massive stairway curling to the heavens themselves. Your furious shouts could be heard throughout the whole land, but it seemed that neither he nor the servant who suddenly appeared seemed to mind.
"Uraume, prepare a bath for the Queen," Sukuna said, glimpsing quickly towards the woman. Her white, short hair curled around her slim face, and deep eyes blinked in amusement at your sorry state.
"My Lord, I don't think the Queen likes this position," she muttered, sending you a pleading look.
Sukuna scoffed, correcting your body on his shoulder. "The Queen acts like a brat, so she will be treated like one"
Uraume nodded before going down the stairs and disappearing somewhere in the deep chambers of the temple.
Thus, it was the two of you again, and Sukuna moved slowly through the dark corridors, with blue flames licking your writhing body. He didn't mind the shouts, the nails scarring his back through the dusky robes till crimson droplets formed under the material and bites that your teeth have left on his shoulders.
In fact, the God of the Dead took a bizarre pleasure in feeling your flaming touch on his skin. Something in his chest swelled whenever your lips travelled to his neck, and it didn't really matter that they left the bloody bites and not the nectar kisses he yearned for.
At some point, you've finally entered the big chamber. The weird warmness crept through the tall windows, bending in heavy, marble arches. Vast plains of the Underworld rolled like waves on the horizon, and you stopped scratching Sukuna's back when the full land came in view.
Beautiful, endless, mesmerising, so different from what you grew up with. With only a pale, blue moon constantly shining upon the lost souls and deep, agonising cries coming from the Tartarus.
Sukuna finally put you down. "That's our chamber," rolled almost proudly, and you looked around the bedroom.
Dark, draped in misty veils, with a huge bed covered with crimson sheets and a baldachin moving together with gentle swooshes of wind. Warm flames have lit the place, with torches and long waxed candles glimmering shyly around the whole chamber.
Just behind the crimson curtain, you've heard the dripping of water and Uraume's hushed voice. So that must've been the bath.
"I will not be sleeping with you in one bed, my God," you barked, but Sukuna seemed not to care at all.
He pushed you towards the balcony, with a heavy hand placed on your lower back. "That's the garden. I made it for you," your chest squeezed. For you. "You can do anything you want with it, of course."
"It's impossible to grow life within your domain," slipped harshly, before your eyes looked up. Crimson moons stared down at you. All the time. "So you kidnapped me to grow you a garden?"
His sharp jaw tightened. "I did it for your own good," he muttered, hand lifting to brush away your hair. "For our good. I want you to be the Queen of the Underworld. My wife," fat thumb kissed you fuming cheek. "My Goddess."
And as much as you wished to stay angry, it felt impossible to hide the special fondness rising in your chest. A mix of hate and curiosity, as it was difficult to imagine why the Lord of the Underworld himself was such a desperate beast to lock you in his clutches.
Your eyes went back to the garden, taking in the withered earth and flowers bending in death.
But then you've noticed something – a tree. Dark, yet looking rather alive, blooming with red, round fruits that looked as if ready to burst.
Pomegranate.
And you, as the Goddess of Spring, knew why it seemed to be the only fruit growing deep within this deathly domain.
Sukuna followed your lidded eyes before a low hum filled the air. "You'll eat it at some point," seeing a sudden shock bathing your face and a slow shake of your head, he added. "Even if I have to force you."
Soon, you would discover that there were many, many other things the God of Death would force upon you, just to keep you within his touch.
And as surprising as it seemed, eating the pomegranate seeds to bind you eternally to the Underworld would be the last.
You didn't say anything, looking at the pomegranate tree with a grim expression ripping your lips. A Spring Goddess you were, and yet the single look of this rich fruit made you want to burn it right here and there.
"My Lord, my Queen, the bath was prepared," Uraume slipped in politely, before once again disappearing into the darkness.
Sukuna came inside, and you followed, passing under his heavy arm as he lifted the curtains between the chamber and bath.
Multiple candles licked dark walls, and the steam curled in the air. The big, marble pool filled with hot water called your name like a madman, and you were ready to tear your dress in half just to dip inside. The air in the Underworld was much, much colder than up in your domain, and after the eventful day, you truly wished for nothing but a simple bath.
And yet, even this was to be wrecked by Sukuna's four hands slipping the misty robes of your shoulders. Your trembling finger caught the dress in front of your chest before it could fall.
"My God, may I know what you are doing?" There was no trace of madness in your tone, only simple weariness and irritation.
His lips curled in a smirk, and if not for both hands gripping your dress, you would surely smack his cheek. You would try at least, as bending your head back to meet his gaze was already difficult enough.
His dark robes hit the floor before you've noticed it, exposing you to the view that – rather unfortunately – made your thighs clench. Massive thighs bulged under muscles, and it seemed clear that he could snap your neck with a single clamp.
But it wasn't the thighs that hit your cheeks with a maddened fever. No, rather two, fat cocks, with shafts so heavy they barely stood straight. Droplets of sticky pearls curled around two pulsing heads, sticking like a net to his pubes. The smooth, reddened skin glimmered under the dimmed flames, and your breath hitched while taking in the inhumane size.
And then your eyes followed up to his belly, mouth grinning mischievously, torso wide as mountains and four arms, just waiting to grab your flimsy body.
Sukuna was… terrifying. Alluring, feral, obscene, but oh so beautiful. With a body worthy of a God and an almost tyrannical aura that clung to him like a second skin. The mortals have feared him, Gods always tried to keep the relations as polite as possible, and yet you somehow found a wisp of fondness coiling in his gaze.
"I'm planning to bathe with my Queen, of course," Sukuna murmured, tilting his head with a cheeky grin. Four crimson eyes burned your skin, and you've never, ever felt as small and helpless as now. "Let me help you with it." Fingers tugged on your dress, trying to slip it down.
You took a step back, gripping the robe even tighter. "My God, I'm fine. But please enlighten me why we should take a bath together?"
He, however, was relentless, and it took a single, harsher tug to let your robes fall down the marble floor. A gasp slipped past your lips as you tried to cover yourself with pathetic moves.
Sukuna lifted your body with a single arm, and soon both of you sat on the little bench carved in a pool.
He took a deep, deep sigh, leaning against the edge. Two muscular arms kept you in place, with your back plastered to his chest and ass brushing against the massive cocks, while the other two started to soap you up.
A shiver ran down your spine, feeling big, yet soft hands smooching your skin in gentle circles. Slowly, tenderly, massaging your shoulders and back, going down, and down, to the swell of your wet breasts.
A quiet, shy moan escaped your feverish cheeks when his thumbs brushed the perked nipples. You wriggled under his touch, as if fighting against itself to give into the warmness beaming from his body and heavy fingers washing your tired skin.
Your hips jerked again when he pinched your nipples, sending a sudden, electrifying wave down your spine.
"My Queen, try to keep yourself in place," he said with a low voice, and only then did you notice that your ass had been bumping against his cocks for this whole time.
You didn't look back, as if in fear that even a single glance could pique Sukuna's curiosity and test the dangerous waters of your patience. "Is it necessary, my God? I can wash myself."
Two hands gripped your hips, quickly turning you towards him.
Your hands rested on his shoulders as he sat you right on his muscular thighs. The water spilt over the pool's marble edge, and crimson eyes stayed fixed on your face. On your slightly parted lips and hair sticking to your cheeks.
His upper arms slipped up to your waist, while the lower ones started to massage your thighs. In slow, gentle circles, dangerously close to the naked pussy that bounced against the fatness of his shafts.
He played a dangerous, oh so dangerous game, but took a maddened satisfaction in observing the changing looks on your face. Anger mixed with delight, as if you wanted to hit him and nuzzle into his touch at the same time.
"What's wrong, my Queen?" he muttered, soaping up your waist. "Why would you wash yourself alone if your husband is here?"
At this point, both of you knew that the bath was a mere, foolish excuse for the Lord of the Underworld to finally enjoy the sight of your naked body. To take a pleasure in feeling your naked skin against his and test his own patience, feeling the warmth of your cunt brushing against his cocks.
His moves were deprived of any sexual manner, and yet your insides burned with the most wicked flame. Your drenched fold were bumping against his cocks, yes, and the fat shaft brushed against your clit, maybe, but even then, he didn't try to push you.
To force himself on you, as if waiting for your consent.
As if he wished you craved him as much as he did you.
But even then, every few seconds, he would move closer. His fingers would brush your trembling nipples, hips move beneath yours, and he would always take in your muffled moans with a sly smile.
"You're not m-my husband," rolled embarrassingly weak, and Sukuna hummed, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.
"Not yet. I'll give you time to make yourself at home," thick digit slipped inside your mouth, and you quickly bite it. Hard, feeling his bones crack under your teeth, although he only smiled. Like a man possessed. "As I was saying, I'll give you a month–"
"And what then?" you mumbled, with lips still curled around his thumb. "What if you won't tame me after a month?"
Pink strands of hair stuck to his wet forehead, and you needed to dig your nails into his chest, not to lift the fingers and brush them away. Four crimson eyes – two big, lidded in slyness and two smaller, curved like a moon – drank in the sight of a sweet little Goddess squirming on his massive body.
"Then I'll force you to love me," spilled calmly, without hesitation. And maddening yearning in his eyes told you that he was ready to do it. That his understanding of love was far from the sweetness and kindness you've known of.
His fingers travelled up, through the breasts, collarbones, and neck, till the second hand joined your face. He cupped your cheeks gently yet lined with restrained violence.
Possessiveness, madness, that filled his flamed eyes.
"Don't test my patience, my Goddess," he murmured softly, pulling your face closer. His lips nearly brushed against yours, and a wave of warmth washed over your body. "Let me love you in my own way, and I promise to make you happy. Within my domain, you can be as free as you desire."
It was difficult not to have your heart flutter upon hearing those words.
He knew how crazy your mother was about you. That you spent most of your life chained to her leg, never leaving the spring domain, never feeling the winds of freedom.
That's why his promise sounded so exhilarating. Wild, absolutely insane, and yet letting you let out a deep sigh. Because finally, after so many years, you were alone.
Without your mother, without the prying eyes of Gods, without the same meadows caging around you like a prison.
Only with a much, much bigger, heavier, and mind-spilling problem, of a God of the Dead who seemed to take a special, wicked interest in you.
Your hands, still trembling on his chest, pushed yourself away. Hips slipped from his cocks, but not before giving two, feverish heads one last brush. As if you wanted to push him over the edge.
He groaned and squinted his eyes. "Where are you going, my Goddess? We're not done yet."
Four hands shoot towards you, fingers trying to catch your slippery body. It curled at the end of his fingertips, teasing him mischievously with full breasts dripping with crystal droplets and soft skin glimmering under the gentle flame of candles.
His cocks moved, eyes tried to take the wholeness of your divine beauty, and yet, after weeks of watching you every single day, he still couldn't believe that a woman of your sort truly walked this earth.
"I am done with you…" your eyes curved cheekily as you slowly moved back. "My God. I agree to a monthly trial–"
"It's not a trial, you'll be staying here forever."
Your back hit the pool's edge, but Sukuna didn't move. Instead, he observed you. Like a predator, preparing for a deadly attack.
"As I said, I do agree. But if you won't manage to persuade me to stay," slipped in a whisper, and you smiled even wider, seeing a furrow creasing his forehead. "I will simply kill myself. Just like Daphne did."
His heart nearly stopped, crimson eyes bloodshot. Before you could escape the pool, two arms yanked you back, pressing your chest against his. He lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. Finger gently squeezed your face with a slight pinch, until salty fog blurred your sight.
"My God–" you barely muffled.
"Don't ever," he growled, gripping your cheeks harsher. "Ever say that in front of me again. I will break your legs if I have to. I will tie you up to bed if you force me to," something warm spilt from his belly, and just then, you remembered about his mouth. Heavy tongue took a long, fat drag of your wet cunt, and you cried within his brutal embrace. "You are mine. Every dream of yours, every part of your body, every single laugh, all of it belongs to me."
His grip on your cheeks was too strong to let you shake your head, but light enough to allow another moan to spill from your throat. In sweetness and pain, feeling the teeth of his belly mouth pinch your clit.
"My God–"
"Do you understand me?"
"I-I–ahh," a cry filled the foggy bath, feeling his tongue slurp on your wetness. It felt heavy, girthy, tasting you with a maddened pleasure as if feasting on the honeyed juices dripping down the water.
"Do you understand?" he gritted through his teeth, loosening up his grip on your cheeks. "I don't like to repeat myself."
With another sweet mewl, your head lulled to one side in a nod, and he finally released you from his clutches. You stood right in front of him – wet, trembling, with slippery thighs and cunt already missing the swirling of his tongue on your clit.
His thumb followed down to his belly, gathering traces of your cum. A second later, thick digit found its way to your lips, pushing the stickiness right onto your tongue.
It tasted sweet, almost milky-like, clinging to the muscle like a spider's web while his thumb smeared it all over your insides.
"Tastes delicious, hm? That's what you're keeping away from me," Sukuna groaned, drinking in the sight of your teary face. "I am not a patient man, my Goddess, but my heart belongs to you, and I wish to treat you the best I can," he lifted up your face, creaming your cheeks with the rest of the cum. "But I do warn you, dearest. When the month passes, I won't be holding myself anymore. So you'd better accept this fate and just let me love you."
You didn't nod, didn't even blink. Just observed his devilishly handsome face with teary, wrecked eyes beaming with fury.
You tried to snap back, but his thumb pushed harder on your tongue. "Uraume," he called, looking somewhere over your shoulder. "Take the Queen back to our chamber. I think she's a bit tired."
Light, white robes curled around your shoulder, before Uraume gently pulled you away from Sukuna's clutches. "My Queen, allow me to–"
You shook off her hand, wiping the rest of your cum from your cheek. "Thank you, I know how to tuck myself to sleep."
And so you left your future husband alone, with rage and ecstasy still mixing beneath your chest.
⛥ ⛥ ⛥
The next few weeks passed with silence and tension binding the Goddess of Spring and the God of the Dead like a thin thread of fate. Only the three sisters were able to cut it swiftly and release you from the torment, and yet no one ever came to save the poor petal.
The first few days you spent mostly in the garden, lying under the pomegranate tree and observing the darkness blanketing the sky. The withered plains of the Underworld have never been touched by sunlight, and the lack of it started to bother you too.
There was no way to tell day from night, as the air was always slightly cold and the sky never turned any colour other than dark blue. Sometimes a sudden fog has risen over the horizon, curling above the parched trees.
The agonising screams from Tartarus could be heard over from your balcony, although after complaining to Sukuna about your lack of sleep, they somehow quieted down. You didn't pry into his methods, nor did you need to exactly know how he accomplished it.
It was difficult to grow anything in the garden, and after days of trying, you finally gave up. Well, not entirely, for you spent more and more days trying to think of a plant that would not need sun nor much water to bloom and if Sukuna could let you out even for a few days, surely you could find something.
He, however, was fully relentless at your begging as there was nothing binding you to the Underworld. Yet.
Fresh pomegranates whispered sweet sins to your ears as you looked at the round fruits bursting with crimson seeds. You wondered what they tasted like. How pristine their juices were.
Sometimes your finger would trace their hard skin with delicacy and quickly pull away, feeling Sukuna's heavy gaze drilling the hole in the back of your skull.
He seemed to always have you in his sight. It didn't really matter whether you strolled around the garden or went deeper into his domain – he was always there. Somewhere, lurking at your misty figure, the only colourful thing in his vast world, even if you didn't see him.
For the first few days, you didn't talk at all. And he was oh so angry with your nasty mood swings, even though it seemed he truly tried to be on his best behaviour.
For a while, you even refused to sleep in the same bed. He would wake up in the middle of the night only to find you cuddled into Cerberus's massive, soft body, snoring like a little baby and nuzzled under his heavy neck.
The beastly dog quickly became your favourite creature in the whole domain, and Sukuna couldn't count the times when you strolled with it through the dark plains and meadows, giggling sweetly whenever it rolled in withered grass.
It seemed the beast was particularly fond of and protective of you, so that even the God of Death himself could not approach you without the beast's shiny, sharp teeth growling his way. Crimson eyes observed him carefully, as if ready to rip his heart out if his lone finger brushed your silky skin.
And whenever Sukuna reminded you that Cerberus also had his role in the Underworld, the loveliest pout would twist your lips, and a dog's low growl would slash through the air.
And because Sukuna was softhearted only for you, he didn't have another choice but to allow you to adopt Cerberus as your own, exclusive pet.
But he absolutely couldn't stand waking up to the coldness wrapping around his body, and thus, for the first few days, in the middle of the night, he would travel all the way to Cerberus's cave only to take his Goddess back.
"Where is she?" the God would growl, with all four arms folded on his chest and eyes lidded with sleep. "Give her back, she'll come back to you in the morning anyway."
And the dog would usually ignore him, with three massive heads pretending to be plagued by a heavy slumber. Sukuna would sigh and slip a soft plea, trying to resonate with a beast he raised himself.
Three pairs of bloodshot eyes would glare at him deathly, but after a few quite embarrassing and yet desperate pleadings, the dog would lift his head up, only to reveal your peacefully slipping body. Curled against his fluffy neck, with fingers gripping the soft fur and shallow, peaceful breaths coming from your parted drooling lips.
Sukuna would lift you up with utmost care and bring you back to your chamber, wrapping himself around your body with all six limbs.
When the "morning" came, he was always the first one to slip from the bed. But not before getting himself untangled from your body. Lying serenely on his broad chest, with a drool pooling right above his heart and soft strands of your hair tickling his chin.
It was his most favourite sight during that month, and the only chance to see your face without a pout or crease forming on your lovely forehead. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't get close to you as much as he wished to.
But at least, after the few weeks of constantly going back and forth between your chamber and Cerberus's cave, you finally stopped escaping from his clutches and slept in his embrace for a whole night.
Moreover, during those weeks spent in each other's presence, you seemed to enjoy nothing more than pissing the God of the Dead off.
During one eventful night that both he and Uraume would recall in the future with a painful headache, you sat quietly at the long table. The wooden furniture bent under the heavy supper, with meats, fruits and vegetables prepared in feast portions.
Sukuna loved to see your cheeks stuffed full, and sometimes you would even joke that he tried to fatten you up only to eat you for dessert. He chuckled lowly, every time answering that if only you spread those thighs nicely, my Goddess, I would gladly eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
An embarrassed, nasty slip from your lips, as you tried to ignore the warmth blooming in your lower belly.
One evening, however, Uraume interrupted your supper with a heavy panting and trembling gaze.
"My Lord, my Queen," she said, taking a few deep breaths. "Forgive me for the intrusion, but something deeply concerning has occurred."
"What is it?" Sukuna mumbled, not even looking her way. Instead, he poured you another cup of wine, while you tried to hide your flushed cheeks behind a curtain of hair.
Oh, you were so, so fucked.
"All the souls lingering on the river's banks have entered the Underworld."
Sukuna suddenly stopped and put the jug of wine back on the table with a loud thud. "What?!"
Both you and Uraume shrugged.
"Charon took them all," she said, glimpsing your way.
You, however, looked down at your plate, as if trying to completely erase yourself from this conversation.
"All of them were buried with a coin? How is it possible?" Sukuna growled.
Uraume took a deep sigh, with deep, sorry eyes still lingering on your hunched figure. "He said that…" She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. "The Queen ordered to let them in."
Fuck.
The air suddenly stilled, and a moment passed before Sukuna's crimson, angry eyes looked your way. But it's not like you could see the rage blazing in his gaze, as you still carefully observed the fresh fig lying on your plate.
The fact that he somehow got delivered all your favourite, fresh fruits down to the Underworld was truly–
"Do you want to tell me something, my Queen?" he asked with utmost politeness, although you sensed the displeasure bubbling in his throat.
"No, not really," you murmured, playing with a juicy fruit.
He took a deep sigh, curling all four of his hands into fists. A soft vein popped on his forehead as he truly, really tried to keep himself calm.
"I will ask you again," slipped softly, before his two hands pulled your chair closer to him. Your thighs brushed against each other, and his fingers lifted your chin up. Till you were forced to meet his heavy, bloody gaze. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?
Oh, lying to him like that was much, much harder.
"Listen," you started, and he already sighed. "I don't see any problem with it. Why would you keep them there if Charon can just take them all to the Underworld? Isn't that the whole point of your domain?"
His fingers tightened on your chin because, dear-fucking-heavens, he really struggled to hold it together. Four bloodshot eyes looked down at your pouty lips and doe eyes, as if your pure loveliness could melt his anger.
Well, it usually could.
"They cannot enter Hades if they do not get buried with a coin. That's the rule all of them must obey," rolled harshly, and your pout became even sweeter. Fuck. "How did you even force Charon to do it? This old man is stubborn as hell."
You nestled into his palm, attempting to ease his heart with a gentle, pleading look. "It turns out most of the creatures here are quite afraid of Cerberus," you giggled, even though Sukuna was clearly unhappy. "Um, and they’re also afraid of you. The threat of reporting to the Lord of the Underworld himself tends to work quite effectively."
Sukuna pulled away with a heavy groan and started massaging his temples. One side of him was rather happy that, after weeks of fighting, you decided to use both your title and him to get what you wanted. But the other wanted to curl his fingers around your neck and snap it clean, for the mess you have caused with your need to piss him off.
He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "Why did you do it?"
"They looked sad."
His crimson gaze once again snapped to your face. "Sad? The souls?"
You nodded. "Well, all of them wanted to enter Hades so–"
"My Goddess, you can't do such a thing!" Uraume cried, looking out the tall window as if all those souls were travelling up Hades' temple.
"Why? I thought I was the Queen of the Underworld." A cheeky smile curved your lips, and Sukuna almost lost it. "I can do whatever I want. Your own words, my God."
Well, he did tell you that from now on, this domain was under both his and your control, but his mind ran far too short to predict that you, in fact, wouldn't know the most basic rules of this land.
And thus, he could only swallow his rage and look back at Uraume. "Catch them all and bring them back to the shore. Also, tell Charon that from now on he's forbidden from listening to the Queen's orders."
You scoffed, crossing arms on your chest. "I'm just going to set Cerberus on him."
"Right," Sukuna growled, sending you a short, angry look. "And also chain the dog to his cave. This beast has forgotten who his real master is."
You could forgive him mistreating the poor souls and Charon, but a line had to be drawn regarding your beloved dog.
Your fingers grabbed his forearm, eyes bulging in worry. "Wait! Leave Cerberus out of this," Sukuna looked at your nails digging into his skin and a jittery gaze. "I'm sorry, okay? Just…" There was a thread linking you both – dangerously thin, leading to an emotion your relationship hasn't yet discovered. Forgiveness. "Please don't hurt him. It's my fault. Cerberus listens to everything I say, he's just a silly dog. So let him be. If there's someone who should be punished, it's me."
Sukuna didn't say anything for a while, staring at your pleading eyes with a furrowed brow. A storm of feelings coiled in his head, and you noticed his gaze soften slightly. He often acted like a brute, of course, but you believed that somewhere, deep, deep beneath his chest, there was still a man who placed the little birds that had fallen from the trees back in their nests.
"Fine," he finally muttered and oh, how shocked he was when you chuckled and wrapped yourself around his neck. For a moment, he sat frozen in place, but soon all four arms curled around you, as he inhaled the sweetness coating your skin.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Uraume looked away to hide a little smile tugging on her lips, as it was a long, long time since she had seen the God of the Dead blushing like a virgin nymph.
Sukuna coughed, sending her a deadly gaze. "But I still believe that you and Cerberus could use some time away from each other. I'm tired of raising two brats at the same time," he mumbled, and you giggled into his neck.
"Well, my God, try to suggest it to him, and we'll see what happens," you pulled away, with hands still wrapped around his neck. "I'm afraid your beast found himself a new owner."
And so, since that evening, a little, hopeful grain started to bloom in Sukuna's heart.
As it seemed that his lovely Goddess had finally begun to warm to him. During the evening baths, you chirped into his ear like a fair birdie, sometimes even washing his muscular back and massaging his always-creased forehead.
At night, your body instinctively nuzzled into his. Legs wrapped around him tightly, hands curled around his arms, and a slightly wet cheek left a small puddle of saliva on his chest. He always beamed with warmth, and you, like a cat, used his body as a heater.
During the shared breakfast, you kept talking while he fed you the sweetest, juiciest fruits. What's more, your roles would shift, with your fingers occasionally placing a piece of orange onto his lips – sometimes upper, sometimes lower.
Whenever you stole a few apples for Cerberus, as he's tired of eating raw meat, he would only scoff and wave his hand. The beast has been living on meat and water for thousands of years, and yet, a few weeks after your appearance, he suddenly developed a lavish taste for fruits picked only by you.
On some afternoons, when Sukuna would nap under the pomegranate tree, you would creep to his side. Carefully place his head on your thighs and hum a lovely melody, just like you did back then in a forest. He would always try to stay as still as possible, just to prolong those precious moments – your fingers brushing through his hair and flowery fragrance coating his skin.
One special afternoon, your hum was interrupted by something else.
Something… alive.
The high trilling of crickets, soft chirping of birds and muffled croaks of the frogs, coming from the little pond Sukuna has built up for you.
Your fingers suddenly stopped in their tracks, and the God coughed quietly, wriggling under your touch. Like a dog, begging for more pats.
"How is it possible?" you asked, looking down at his "sleeping" face.
There was a minute of silence before he slowly, carefully opened his eyes and sighed heavily, meeting your solemn gaze. "The animals also need to enter Hades. Just on different rules," His eyes fell on something crawling up your hand. "Look there."
And to your surprise, you've noticed a grasshopper sitting serenely on your skin. It wasn't as lush and green as you remembered it to be, but misty, almost like a cloud, with only his foggy soul still crawling up your arm.
And then you've noticed birds sitting high up on the pomegranate tree, with their little wings looking like a shadow.
Something heavy formed in your throat and heart stirred with affection. "You brought them for me?"
Sukuna hummed, closing his eyes and gently placing your hand back on his head. "You can say that. Most of them were already here. I simply ordered to be bring them to our garden."
Your fingers started working through his hair again – scratching and massaging his head, till the beastly God stretched on your thighs like a cat and nuzzled into the softness of your belly.
You didn't push him away but rather giggled and whispered a sweet thank you. A little smile tugged on Sukuna's lips, and he purred softly my pleasure, Goddess.
And thus, for the first time in your life, you have felt free.
With Underworld's woeful air smooching your cheeks and shadowy animals following you around the withered plains.
You have never felt more alive than in the realm of the dead.
That's why when Sukuna called you into the main hall one day, your heart froze. With dread and fear, upon seeing your furious mother standing right next to him by the altar.
The altar, decorated with your small marble figures and fresh flowers, he ordered to be changed daily since no plant in the Underworld could survive longer than a day.
Your fingers curled in fists, lips fell in line, and somehow, even though you loved her dearly, you simply couldn't take a step closer.
Sukuna stood still, with four arms crossed on his chest and eyes looking carefully at your trembling body. As if he could read all the thoughts coiling beneath your furrowed brows.
"My darling, oh Gods," she sighed, crossing the distance between you two in a few steps. Before you knew it, she pulled you into a hug, although your arms hung loosely by your sides. "I thought I'd lost you forever. Can you believe that I needed to threaten Zeus himself to finally find you?"
She pulled away and grabbed your cheeks, only to meticulously ogle your face. "Oh my, you're so pale! This place did you no good, but at least you're fine. This brute…" she looked over her shoulder, glancing at Sukuna's stony face. "My heart almost stopped upon hearing that he was the one who kidnapped you. Did he touch you? Are you okay? Did he, you know, force you to–"
"Mom," you quickly interrupted her and wriggled yourself out of her embrace. "Why are you here?"
She looked dumbfounded – with warm eyes bulging in shock and lips slightly falling open. When you stepped back, her forehead creased.
"I came to take you back, of course."
A gentle sigh echoed through the vast temple hall as you glanced over her shoulder. Somewhere nearby, a man was attentively listening to you, with a heart pounding loudly in his throat. Filled with fear, anticipation, hope.
Sukuna rarely looked at you with that gaze – filled with love and dread, as if he understood that neither anyone else nor he himself was truly worthy of your heart. He scarcely ever seemed so weak and afraid, as if his mind, soul, heart were fully, completely wrapped around your finger.
And thus now, after so many of his threats, you could make a choice.
To stay here, with him, or go back to your mother.
"Let's go, darling, I'm getting nauseous just from being here," she tried to grab your hand, but, once again, you stepped away.
"I'm not going back," slipped in a whisper. "I can't go back."
She looked shocked, and her lips curved in a nervous smile. "What do you mean, you can't?"
"I'm bound to the Underworld."
Lie.
But oh, how good it felt in your heart, lifting the weight of all the mixed emotions you've buried over the past few days.
"Bound? What do you–" she started, and then, as if suddenly enlightened, gasped. A sharp cry escaped her throat, and her eyes looked back at Sukuna with a frightened, intense gaze. "You! You forced her to eat the seeds!"
Before she could step closer and smack his cheek with an open palm, you grabbed her. "No, mom. I did it myself."
She stopped, turning back your way. With disappointment filling her eyes and trembling lips. "You did what?"
"I love him."
And that, well, that was a confession no one expected. Not you, mother, and particularly not Sukuna. His breath hitched, eyes bulged, and he almost, almost took a step closer.
As his heart, mind, and soul were consumed by a desire to hold you and caress you yearningly until your lips swell from the sweetness of the kiss.
Your mother quickly interrupted, holding your cheeks. "You don't. Don't say it. You don't love him. He's a beast who manipulated your mind, love has no place here. Don't act foolishly, that's not how I raised you."
Your heart shuddered in wretchedness upon her words. As you knew how much she hated all the Gods. How hard she tried to keep this sweet, yet so foreign feeling away from you, as if the little seed growing in your heart was something shameful.
Crystal droplets trickled down your cheeks, wetting her pads. "But I do, mother. And I will stay here, with him. That's my home now."
There was no need to listen to her further. Sliding her trembling hands from your cheeks, you turned and quickly disappeared into the comforting darkness of a temple you used to hate that much.
Her low pleadings filled the main hall, but you could only ignore them. Seeing her again, after a whole month, brought dreadful memories of years spent in her golden cage.
You entered the chamber and sat down on a plush bed. Your hands still slightly wet from nervousness, eyes taking in the cosiness and warmth of the bedroom you shared with… him. Candles licked your skin sweetly, and moon lurked through misty curtains.
Even the usual shrieks coming from Tartarus were mild that evening, allowing you to enjoy the little crickets slipping from the garden.
Cerberus barked somewhere deep within your domain, and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You were on your way to give him his daily dose of apples when your mother suddenly appeared.
You sat on a bed, hunched and frozen, not noticing a massive shadow that swooshed closer. Dark robes appeared in front of your feet, and soon a heavy, musky fragrance followed.
"My Queen," Sukuna started, not quite sure what to say. A silence has fallen – pleasant, warm, homey. He sighed and crouched to meet your gaze. "Are you okay?"
Only then did he notice crystal droplets still dripping down your cheeks. "My Goddess, why are you crying?"
"Don't allow her to take me," slipped in a crying whisper, before a muffled choke followed. His big hands gripped yours, trying to stop the trembling. "Please, let me stay here."
His fingers lifted to gently cup your face. "What are you talking about? Of course, I won't let you go," crimson eyes softened as a large thumb brushed your lower lip. "Have you forgotten my words? You're never leaving my side."
"Never?"
He shook his head. "Never. I will stand against all of Olympus if that's the price of loving you."
Another sharp cry rolled from your lips as you nuzzled into his hand.
He changed your positions, sitting on the bed and letting you climb onto his thighs, only to push your crying face into his neck. Four hands embraced you before he began to cradle you like a baby.
With soft whispers and kisses placed on your forehead.
When the first shock rolled away and the tears finally stopped, you pulled back. With swollen lips and puffy cheeks, that made Sukuna's heart swell with fondness.
His tongue lapped up the last salty droplets before big palms cupped your hips. "You'll stay here, with me," plush lips peppered your cheeks, nose, and the slightly trembling chin. "And you'll let me love and worship you as you deserve," his hands rolled your hips against his, drawing a moan from your throat. "No one will take you away from me. Not now, not ever."
Your arms wrapped around his neck, back bent in a delicate arch. You looked at him with a plea, taking in the divine beauty of his beastly face. "What if Zeus himself comes for me?"
His lips were barely brushing against yours, and a woody, heavy smell of his body tickled your heart. "I'll kill him. My Goddess, you truly underestimate me. I will move heaven and earth to keep you by my side."
And then, with a last longing gaze connecting your starving souls, your lips have finally crashed.
In a slow, gentle, yet raw kiss, with his teeth biting down on your lower lip and throat swallowing all your sugary moans.
All four hands quickly found their way around your body – caressing, holding, gripping the swell of your ass and moving your hips in harsher rolls.
Misty robe hanging on your shoulders slipped down with a gentle tug, and soon his two upper hands lifted to cup your breasts.
The softness of your skin made Sukuna's mind spin, and a craving to sink himself into your warm cunt felt almost maddening. His cocks, still clothed by a dark tunic, brushed against your folds and the sweetest, purest moan rolled right into his lips.
"Feed me, my God," you murmured, pulling away slightly. "Feed me the pomegranate seeds and tie me to the Underworld. To you."
Of course, you lied to your mother.
And Sukuna knew it too. He observed you for a whole day and night, never leaving your giggles out of his sight, and thus he was aware of your little, desperate lie.
What he hoped for, however, was that your confession was sincere.
Tasting the sweetness of your lips, he realised how truly doomed he was – completely entangled with the scent of your skin and the beauty of your eyes. His heart skipped a beat when your fingers pulled his pink hair, causing his hips to buck instinctively, seeking the intense pleasure.
You pushed his chest, forcing his massive body to lie down on the mattress. "Feed me, and I shall let you have a taste too."
Your lips met his cheeks, jaw, and dropped down through the bulging throat and collarbones, while fingers slipped from the dark robes. He wore nothing beneath the long tunic, and soon your lips curled around his nipple, biting it softly with a hum.
Two upper arms swiftly pulled you up to his face, while the lower ones still held your bare hips. "What will you let me taste, my Goddess?"
A cheeky smirk tugged on your lips as you placed your leaking cunt right over his open belly mouth. "Your favourite fruit, my God."
With a loud moan, you lowered down onto its tongue, feeling the heavy muscles giving you a long, nasty lick. A shudder washed over your spine, and Sukuna drank the next cry that escaped your throat.
"You taste even better than I remembered, my Goddess," he groaned, feeling the saccharine droplets coat his lower tongue. Sticking to his teeth and inner cheeks like the sweetest honey. "But I have a much better idea."
And with that, you quickly found yourself facing his massive cocks and hovering over his face. Your puffy, drenched folds hang right above his lips, and he looked at your dripping cunt with a low groan.
"Fuck, my Goddess," two fingers parted your folds, only for a small, sticky droplet to drip down his chin. "You smell so fucking good, lower yourself a bit."
He didn't wait for your answer as two big hands pulled your hips down with a single, strong move. A groan slipped past his lips and went straight to your cunt, sending a wave of trembling pleasure straight to your clit.
"That's right, my sweet fucking Goddess," he mumbled, lips curving under the weight of your hips. "Don't be shy, get yourself comfortable."
"I-I'm not shy," and if not for a heat that slapped your cheeks, he maybe would believe you.
But your body was too honest, too inexperienced to hide the way your hips rolled against his tongue. Another pitched moan filled the foggy air when his tongue slipped inside your tight cunt.
His lower hands landed on your back and slowly, slowly bent you down. Till your wet lips met with two, pulsing heads and breasts hang right over the belly mouth.
Oh, he was right, this position was absolutely killing… both of you.
Because the moment big, beastly lips curled around your nipple, your hips buckled, and a sweet moan tickled both leaking heads.
"Nghhh," bounced sweetly off his veiny shafts. "That's–mhmm, my God, feels so good."
Sukuna chuckled, slurping on your swollen clit and pushing another cry from your chest. "Give them a little lick, my Queen. They've been waiting for you whole fucking month."
With a hazy gaze, you glanced at two fat cocks smooching your cheeks. Wet and massive, with droplets of musky precum oozing down the pulsing skin and a strong fragrance making you even wetter. He smelled so heavy, manly, and the moment you gave the first cock a kitty lick, Sukuna groaned straight into your clit.
Your hand grabbed the other one and started pumping it in slow, gentle moves, with your thumb brushing the reddened head. Belly mouth sucked on your breasts as if waiting for something more creamy to release itself onto his ravaging tongue, and you cried even louder whenever the wet tongue travelled between both of your nipples.
"How is it possible, fuck," Sukuna groaned, scooping a hefty gush of your cum and drinking it straight from your fluttering hole. "That you're so sweet everywhere. My beautiful, divine Goddess. Come on, try to suffocate me with your cunt. Put your whole weight into it."
With your cheek stuffed full of his cock, you pulled away with a nasty pop and looked over your shoulder. "My God, please take a deep breath," you reminded, because Sukuna seemed to be absolutely lost between your drenched thighs.
With a single finger thrusting into your tight hole and an open mouth catching all the dripping sap. His teeth grazed your clit, before a warm tongue kissed the pain away. He slurped like a madman, whispering little obscenities straight into your pussy and kissing her with nasty squelches. Gluey cum stuck to his nose, lips and chin, connecting him with your parted folds.
"I can't, I don't have to, she needs me," he groaned, giving you another heavy lick. With tongue covering the entirety of your cunt and finger pushing through your pulsing walls. "So sweet, my Goddess, you're so fucking delicious."
Oh, there was truly no remedy for him!
And thus you went back to his pulsing, almost bursting shafts. Your puffy lips kissed two heads before sucking on one gently. Fingers squeezed his constricting balls, juggling them softly and giving them a shy lick.
Sukuna trembled under your body, so you did it again, and again, and again, kissing, licking and sucking on his balls, while rolling your hips against his tongue.
"My God, are you okay?" you slipped shyly, although a cheekiness shimmered in your haze.
Sukuna pulled away from your cunt, and took a deep breath. "Don't ask me stupid questions, my Goddess. My patience is already hanging by a thread, so unless you want me to fold in half and fuck that cunt raw, you better shut that pretty mouth of yours."
You giggled, biting gently down on his balls. "I'll take that as a ye–ah!" you moaned, when the second finger slipped into your tight cunt. "My G-God, that's too–"
Too much wanted to roll, but Sukuna soon added the third . "You're so tight, my Goddess. I'm afraid both of them won't fit in," he slurped, feeling the desperate squeezes of your walls and juices trickling down his fingers.
Both?
An unsettling, truly frightening thought has crossed your mind. He could tear you apart with one, and using two seemed to be a completely foolish idea!
When his pads pushed something, slightly swollen and plush, your whole body shuddered. Pleasure washed over your spine, dripping down to curled feet, and a sugary moan wrapped around his leaking cock.
"There it is," Sukuna growled, looking at your raw, soaked pussy trying to mould itself around his fingers. "My Queen, you're doing so well. Squeezing my fingers so tight, I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cocks."
The weird warmth has been coiling in your belly since his lips landed on your clit. But now, with fingers pushing your walls and pads brushing against the plump spot, something warmer, wetter started to plash inside your pouch. Something dangerously pleasurable and ready to burst beneath Sukuna's tongue and his big, stomach mouth sucking sweetly on your tits.
"My G-God, I–" you moaned, when all of his three fingers bent against the sweet spot and lips slurped on your clit. "I'm going to, mhmm, allow me to cum on your cocks, p-please."
And a single teary look over your shoulder, with hair sticking to your wet cheeks and lips fallen open, was enough to make him lose his mind.
"Whatever you wish, my Queen," he said, quickly pulling you away from his mouth.
Your body turned again, and this time you found yourself back on top, with two massive cocks squirming beneath your drooling folds and his lower hands gripping your thighs.
"You want me to…?"
He nodded, gently pulling your hips up, to help his leaking heads kiss your fluttering hole. "Ride me, my Queen. I want to watch you take it up…" his fingers traced the softness of your belly, before pushing on a spot somewhere just beneath your button. "here. Both of them."
Your pussy was ready to burst any second, and you could already feel something else, other than your normal wetness, drip down his cocks. The fog in your mind grew thicker, sweat coolly lined your neck, as you pressed both hands against his chest and leaned on trembling, feeble arms.
Rough thumb from the upper arm slipped between your folds, rolling gently the puffy clit. "Slowly, my Queen, take a deep breath." You did just that, with eyes looking straight into his. Both heads started forcing their way through your tight walls, gathering the slippery juices on the way. "That's it, that's my good girl, deep breaths."
He talked you through it, with thumb rubbing the sweet button and lower hands slowly, slowly, pulling you down his shafts.
A sharp cry rolled past your lips when both heads slipped inside. Pushing into your contracting walls and ripping you open, till the metallic taste of blood pooled somewhere at the back of your throat.
The water plopping inside your belly was filling you full, together with Sukuna's cocks constantly trying to thrust inside. You could feel every vein, every detailed curve of his shafts lick your gummy insides, as he pushed, and pushed, and took in the maddening beauty of your face, utterly lost in pleasure.
Your pussy squelched around his monstrous cocks. Cried sweetly, with a clit slowly getting much harsher rubs, till the swollen button started to tremble.
"My God, w-wait, something's wrong," you cried, trying to pull yourself off.
But Sukuna's lower hands kept you in place, and his hips bucked up, trying to meet yours. "Everything's good, my Queen. Deep breaths, you're doing so well."
"No, you don't get it, I–"
The heat hit your cheeks, walls clamped down half-thrust, and the alarmingly plopping water, finally, finally, spilt.
You came.
Or maybe, gushed.
With his cocks barely inside, a hefty wave rolled through your spine, spraying Sukuna's hands, belly, and chest with your cum. Your body trembled in pleasure, and he used this short moment of distraction to thrust his cocks fully, till your hips finally met his.
It was brutal, mean, absolutely filthy, with his lower mouth drinking your squirt and crimson eyes glimmering with maddening yearning.
Something in his mind snapped when he noticed a big bulge right under your belly button, and within a second, your position changed once again.
And this time, you knew that it was over.
He folded you in half, till your ass peeled off the drenched bed, and pussy glistened under his fiery gaze. All four arms kept you tightly in place, with lower limbs spreading your soaked thighs and upper ones taking something from the bedside table.
Only then have you noticed a crimson, bursting pomegranate, licked by the candle's warm tongues and dripping down Sukuna's forearm. He ripped it in half with a single, gentle move, before drinking the seeds with eyes never leaving yours.
"Deep breath, my Goddess," he said again, before both of his cocks rammed into your needy, stretched hole and lips crushed against yours. "Swallow it," he muttered into your reddened teeth, pushing all the pomegranate seeds straight into your mouth. "My little slutty Queen. Coming on my cocks when I barely thrusted in."
The fruit tasted sweeter than honey itself and mixed with Sukuna's sweet spin. His tongue trailed against yours, before lips moved towards your cheeks, chin, jaw, leaving all over your face a sweet, bloody trace of the fruit.
The power that tied your body, heart and soul to the God who wished for nothing but to love you like a madman and worship every piece of your skin.
His thrusts became more erratic, brutal, with squelches filling the wet, foggy air and his heavy, massive body leaning on your folded legs. His hips met yours with each roll, and whenever he pulled away, a long, sticky strand stretched between his soaked shafts and your sensitive cunt.
"Open up, my Queen," he growled, digging his fingers into your jaw. "Show me how well you swallowed it all."
Your lips fell open, and a string of drool trickled down his fingers. Big thumb pushed on your reddened tongue, and you sucked it sweetly, with eyes crossing in pleasure.
The long, fat tongue of his lower mouth slid out and gave your clit a long, filthy lick, before its lips sucked on it raw. Irritating the sensitive button and slurping on the last droplets of your squirt. Sukuna groaned, feeling your walls clamping around his cocks and pushed harsher, as if trying to fight the merciless squeeze.
"Fuck, my Goddess, let me–ahh–let get to your womb," he groaned, giving you a single, brutal thrust. You cried around his thumb, but he simply shushed you sweetly. "Don't cry, it's alright. Ngh, squeezing me so fucking hard," he leaned over, licking off the salty droplets.
His hips moved with unbelievably violent motion, rocking your bed against the wall and drawing a loud cry from your throat. Two pulsing heads kissed your womb with squelches till it swelled like a juicy peach and bent under his heartless thrusts.
A familiar warmth once again started to pool in your belly. Your arms curled behind Sukuna's neck, pulling him into another, filthy kiss. "My God, I'm g-gonna… soon… mhmm so good, s-so–ahh!"
He chuckled against your lips, but couldn't ignore the lovely tenderness filling your teary eyes. His heart jumped, and lower hands folded you into an even meaner mating press. Till you could barely breathe under his massive body, squeezing you down.
"Say it," he whispered, letting his cocks rip you raw. "Say it again."
Two fat shafts slipped in and out, smooching every little corner of your tired, swollen cunt. The pleasure filled you from head to toe, overflowing your body in electrifying strokes.
You knew what he wanted to hear. But his thrusts made a mushy mess out of your mind and eyes rolled back each time his hand pushed the bulge forming under your belly. Not even pregnancy could get you that bloated.
When your head lulled to the side, his fingers dug into your cheeks again, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Say it, my Goddess," he said, licking the last red traces of pomegranate juice from the corner of your lips. "I beg you."
"I love you," slipped like a dream. "I–I, mhmm, I love you. My God, I–"
His lips joined yours in a yearning, maddened kiss. "Fuck, my sweet Goddess. I love you so much, so fucking–fuck."
The warmth in your belly spilt again, and watery cum flooded his abdomen. The belly mouth sucked itself onto your clit, drinking each and every bead of your sweet nectar.
A second later, his hips finally stilled. Pulsing heads nuzzled into your womb, filling it with heavy, gluey cum. He pumped you full, with maddened pleasure creasing his forehead and knees digging into the mattress. Everything, just to get as close to you as possible.
His hefty cum filled your belly before bursting outside and buttering your folds.
"My God, at this point, mhmm, you'll knock me up," a sweet, tired giggle slipped past your lips, feeling his seed overflowing your poor womb. "Although I truly wouldn't mind."
He sighed, nuzzling warmly into the crook of your neck. The plushiness of your skin still made his mind spin, and the flowery fragrance haunted him like a spirit. "My Goddess, don't play with fire."
Your fingers brushed through his hair, pulling a low hum from his massive chest. "I'm not afraid to get burned," you said with full seriousness.
But God didn't answer. Just cuddled closer to your body – plush breasts, soft neck, and hair tickling his nose. He reminded you of Cerberus whenever the beast tried to cuddle into your side.
And with the same love and fondness, you kissed his temple, whispering simple yet oh so important, I'm yours, forever.
Forever it truly was for you, as no other couple on Olympus would ever conquer the utter devotion and love of the Goddess of Spring and the Lord of the Underworld.
Such contrary characters and yet relishing themselves in the most maddening obsession the Olympus has ever seen.
Oh god, I'm tired but so, so happy. I think it's pretty good, but please let me know your thoughts in the comments <3 Pray forgive me for any mistakes, the wizard was proofreading it at 11 p.m.
12 hours. A cramped economy-class airplane seat. A tall stranger who’s taking too much of your leg space. You didn't plan on him falling asleep on your shoulder. And you definitely didn't plan on what happened under that blanket. But sometimes, the best things happen at 40,000 feet, when your oxygen-deprived brain leads you to the best orgasm of your life.
cw: mdni, 18+ only. sukuna x f!reader, strangers to lovers, smut, public sex, airplane sex, slight dub-con, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, praise kink, modern sukuna, au sukuna, mild humor, germaphobe reader, reader has OCD, soft sukuna
wc: ~3.3k
You were not excited to sit on a 12-hour flight scheduled for two hours from now. Not even a little bit. So right before takeoff, you popped three melatonin gummies, chasing them with overpriced orange juice to get some Vitamin C before the dry cabin air potentially triggered your allergies again. You couldn’t wait to knock out in the aircraft, and you were hoping no one would disturb you either.
You were a window seat gal, duh. The very private nook you could create, with your head nested against the “headboard” (plane window) and your knees tucked into your chest (which would put your physical therapist into a coma), was reason enough. It was the only way you could justify trying to hold in your pee for hours because you refused to use public toilets.
As you triple-checked that your passport was indeed in your pocket and scanned your boarding pass with a fake smile at the flight attendant, you didn’t hesitate to quickly stash your carry-on overhead and launch yourself into your window seat. You put on your eye mask to ignore the world (especially whoever was going to be seated next to you) because you frankly didn’t want to know. As long as it was not a screaming child, you’d survive.
You could still hear people boarding the plane, but you couldn’t be arsed to peek out from your silk eye mask. You could feel the judgmental stares of passersby, scoffing at how comfortable you’d made yourself already with the thin, flimsy blanket the aircraft provided. But who the fuck would really remember your Hello Kitty eye mask and Hello Kitty tracksuit?
A few moments later, you felt a breeze beside you. Great. The middle seat. You peeked through the slight gap in your eye mask to see a tall man, around 6’4”, his face hidden by an oversized hoodie, settling into the seat next to you.
Oh hell no. He’s going to take all the leg space. Fuck this shit.
As the plane ascended, and the melatonin kicked in, you really tried to drift off.
Shift
Rustle
Shift
You jolted awake, irritated. The person next to you kept moving, adjusting, disturbing your precious nap. You ripped off your eye mask, ready to glare at them–
And froze.
God. Oh my god.
The man’s hoodie was gone now, and in its place was a black T-shirt stretched impossibly tight over muscles that looked like they'd been carved from stone. His biceps were the size of your thighs, and you did work out (imagine how big they were). Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and you could see the outline of…
Stop. Stop looking. You're being a creep.
You tried to steal a glance at his face, just a quick one, and..
Holy jackpot. He’s got a face card too. He swung his head towards you as you quickly darted your eyes away, only to realize he was trying to take in the panoramic views from outside the window.
“I’ll open the shutter completely. Wait,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them.
He just looked at you briefly and didn’t answer. But once you opened the screen, he leaned in just an inch closer to really take in the view. You could now smell his woody, musky scent, and it felt like you just ascended to heaven. Something expensive, probably. Or maybe just his pheromones.
Your heart was palpitating, and your melatonin gummies were doing jack shit anymore, failing to calm your nerves. But you tried to play it cool and just shut your eyes as he remained leaning over.
You must have eventually slipped into a small nap, because the next thing you knew, you felt the weight of a heavy head on your shoulder. You opened your eyes to see the buff dude next to you, sleeping.
Oh na. I’m in trouble.
You couldn’t move from his sheer force. But you were not opposed to it either. You lowkey liked it? Something about a big, muscular man seeking comfort from a barely-five-foot woman made something warm pool in your stomach. He smelled so good this close. Not just perfume, but something primal, alerting every sense in your body. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, accompanying the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You're literally having the horniest thoughts about someone whose name you don't even know. Get a grip.
As the food carts arrived, this man jolted awake. The fuck? Was he not asleep? Turns out even the deepest of sleepers wake up once there’s the smell of mediocre airplane food wafting through the air.
You ordered the chicken meal.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am, we've just run out of the chicken! Would you like the lamb instead? It's the only meat option left."
"No… I don't eat red meat," you said, disappointment coloring your voice.
"I'll switch with her," the man said, handing you his untouched chicken meal and pulling the lamb tray toward himself.
You stared at him, dumbfounded. He'd just given up his meal for a stranger. Although, a ‘stranger’ who'd been mentally undressing him for the past hour.
"Thank you," you managed. "You really didn't have to…"
"Eat," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.
You ate.
With everyone around you hungrily scarfing down their airline meals, you decided to watch a movie to pass the time. The map screen was just pissing you off anyway, with how slowly the plane symbol moved across the map.
God, my back hurts already.
The man next to you was drifting off again, this time, unfortunately, sleeping upright. You momentarily glanced at his screen to see it was completely turned off. Not even the flight map.
Now, a sane person would just enjoy the movie they’re watching, but you noticed an even greater view. The black screen perfectly reflected his sleeping face.
A couple of strands of pink hair were falling across his forehead, which didn’t seem to bother him (you did have an urge to tuck them back in). His eyes were slightly open, and you couldn’t help but notice his red eyes and long lashes, casting a faint shadow on his cheekbones. His nose. Oh my. His nose was slightly crooked but had a sharp bone structure. (You know what Doja Cat says about big noses)
And just when you thought this man didn’t just look like your exact type on paper, his sharp, clean-shaven jawline was the final bingo slot. You hated facial hair on men, and this guy seemed to not prefer it either. You almost instinctively wanted to caress his jaw. Just to see if it felt as smooth as it looked.
Yo, are you done? What is wrong with you today?! Thirsting over someone you haven’t even said hi to.
Well, why haven’t I said hi yet…
As if the timing could NOT be any worse, your bladder was not having it today. You really did not want to use the airplane washroom, but any more waiting and you’d have the whole plane staring at your pissed pants.
The problem? You’d have to wake the brute up next to you, and the old man next to him as well. Ugh.
Shyly, you tugged on his shirt once. That didn’t work. You poked his side deltoid next, impatiently, and he jolted awake, glaring at you.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I really need to use the bathroom."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded and leaned back as far as his seat would allow (which wasn't very far, because airplane seats are basically medieval torture devices).
But as your weak legs were still recovering from an insane leg day at the gym yesterday, you unexpectedly slumped onto him while trying to squeeze past him.
"Sorry! Didn't mean to!" you shrieked, while sitting on his fucking lap, wiggling to get up.
He just sat there, mumbling something that sounded like "don't worry about it."
You tried to get up, using the seat for leverage, but you were about to kick the old man in the aisle seat instead.
Large hands gently gripped the space right above your hips, steadying you.
"Next time," he said, voice low, "I'll just step out."
You nodded, cheeks burning. The sudden physical contact had sent a shiver through your entire body.
The pee break was quick, trying not to let your germaphobia get to you, washing your hands, and then sanitizing them. Opening the door latch, and then sanitizing them again.
When you returned, the middle-seat man was already out of his seat, waiting to let you back in. The old aisle man had apparently used your trip as an opportunity to take his own bathroom break. The cabin was dark now, most passengers asleep.
You settled back into your seat, trying to focus on your movie.
But something was wrong.
He'd taken some of your leg space while you were gone.
You weren't having it.
You spread your legs open, stretching dramatically, twisting from side to side. Assert dominance. Show him who's boss. He can’t manspread like this.
And then your eyes drifted down.
Oh, my god. Am I imagining things?
One of those stretches led to your eyes noticing a distinct bulge in his grey sweatpants. A large bulge. Even in the dim cabin light, you could see it. It was too obvious.
Is he… hard? On a plane?
You felt heat creep up your face, settling somewhere in your stomach. The clumsiness from earlier. The accidental lap-sitting. All of it led to this.
He's hard. Because of you.
You tore your eyes away, trying desperately to focus on the movie, whose plot you didn’t even absorb anymore. The pixels blurred together. You couldn't concentrate on anything except the warmth radiating from his side of the armrest.
“I think you have my blanket.”
His voice startled you, as he was poking the side of your head while you were still slightly red.
“Hmm?” you answered, only to look down at your side to see you had somehow taken his blanket alongside yours.
"Sorry!" You quickly tucked it out from under you and draped it over his lap.
Without thinking. His lap.
He stared at you, one eyebrow raised.
Shit. Does he think I'm a creep?
"How kind of you," he said dryly, "to drape it that way. You're the reason I'm struggling to hide my dignity anyway."
Oh, no. He noticed you looking.
OH NO.
Under the sleepy effects that were now fully kicking in from the gummies and the darkly lit cabin, you had the sickest, most unhinged, shameless thought creeping into your mind. Your right hand slowly settled up on his armrest, now sitting awkwardly on top of his forearm, waiting for him to pull away, but he didn’t.
“Need some help? With that?” you asked after minutes of your hands just lying against each other.
"Is this your way of apologizing?" His voice was low and dangerous. He didn't meet your eyes and just kept staring ahead at his screen.
His forearm shifted, his palm opening to let his fingers play idly with yours. Calloused. Warm. Perfect. He was into it.
You could feel the heat building in your core. You glanced around to see if anyone was awake or suspicious of you both in any way, but the coast was clear. The stewardesses seemed to have also returned to their sleeping beds for the long flight.
Just a little taste.
The public environment made it ever so thrilling, as you slowly slid your right hand down from the armrest to his core. Under the blanket, you couldn’t tell where your hands were going until you felt his rock-hard abs, flexing intentionally to let you feel the hard work of his gains. The outline of his length, straining against his sweatpants, practically slappingagainst your fingers.
You paused momentarily to look at him again to get his approval to go further with a soft “May I?” and he nodded, trying to hold his expression, but he was clearly squirming already, jaw clenching harder.
Your fingers found the edge of his waistband.
No underwear. How lewd. How convenient.
Your hand slid under the cotton fabric, and you wrapped your fingers around his length. He gasped – a soft, almost inaudible sound.
"Shhh," you breathed against his ear. "You'll wake everyone up."
"Brat." His voice was barely a whisper, rough and ragged. "Don't act like you haven't been planning this since you were staring at my face like a hungry kitten on that screen."
He’d noticed you admiring his face all along. "So." He turned his head, lips brushing your ear. "Like what you see?"
You squeezed his length in response. Your fingers began gliding slowly, deliberately, over his pre-cum slick cock, moving from the base all the way until your thumb met his tip, sliding over that slit, and the sensation made him let out a choked moan.
His own hand flew to cover his mouth.
“Tell me if my grip feels good, yeah?” you ask, whispering in his ear.
You kept moving, your rhythm steady. Your faces were practically glued to each other now, mere inches apart. His forehead came to rest against yours, hot breath fanning across your face. The tension between you was unbearable. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to devour him, but you couldn't risk it.
Suddenly, the same hand that rested on his left armrest was now under his blanket to meet yours. It engulfed your fist and began guiding it to pump his length harder. It felt oddly romantic. Holding hands to collectively help him reach climax. With every twitch of his length and slight jerk of his hips against your hand, you knew he was close. And instead of edging him like you wanted to, you decided to take care of him before anyone became suspicious.
He involuntarily spilled warm spurts of fluid onto your hands, both of your hands, his sweatpants, which were definitely stained now, and the blanket, which you’re sure would have been a dead giveaway if it wasn't black in colour.
As if it couldn’t have been more lewd, you swiftly brought your hand up to lick each of your fingers clean, smiling at him with a devious grin as he shuddered.
“You little brat,” he said, as his eyes traveled towards your lips, making an expression that could only be described as painful. “I want to kiss you so bad,” he said.
You giggled. “How unfortunate. If only it were just us two.” And there it was. An idea that he wasn’t expecting you to put into fruition. Well, sorta…
“You know, we could…” he said, motioning towards one of the washrooms.
You bit your lips, slightly shocked by his response. As much as you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you senseless, your germaphobe soul couldn’t tolerate getting pleased in the midst of a public toilet, and that’s what you told him too.
“What kind of germaphobe licks their fingers clean after–”
“Shh.” You said, trying to dismiss his very logical question.
“Let me take care of you, still.” He looked at you with a devious smirk this time.
“No–” you opened your mouth to decline, but before you could get a word out, his hand slid down to your jeans. His fingers found the button and undid it with practiced skill. Then they were inside, finding your black, lace panties. To the unsuspecting eye, it would probably just look like 2 people shifting around in their seats for space, but you knew what was about to go down, and your heartbeat grew rapidly.
"You're already soaked," he murmured, amused. "For me?"
You glared at him, but it lacked any real threat.
His hand travelled up, under your shirt, slowly, until it met the underwire of your bra. He raised an eyebrow, implying a silent question. He hummed at you to ask if you’d like him to go any further, and you nodded, still biting your lower lip to not let any moans from escaping your lips.
His left hand slid under your bra, kneading one breast until your nipple hardened under his calloused touch. He pinched, rolled, and you bit your lip harder to keep yourself from moaning.
Then his hand was back down, and he laughed, a rich, dark sound.
"All wet for me," he breathed. "Good girl."
And his praise almost made you want to jump off the aircraft in excitement.
His index finger played with your swollen clit through the thin fabric of your panties, which was pointless, really, since your wetness made the lace cling to every dip and curve, making it more lewd by the minute. He started stroking, up and down, then circling. He switched rhythm every few seconds, teasing your clit, building you up with another finger, and letting you fall.
You glared at him in response, as he stole the growing sensation from the sudden detour toward his destination. He delivered a gentle slap to your pubic bone in response. "Patience, princess."
Your panties were slid aside, and then it was just his bare fingers against your bare folds.
“Tell me what you want,” he asked.
“I want you to… make me–” your voice was breaking off, cracked from how parched you were.
“I can’t hear you? Who does this sexy pussy belong to?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear this time.
“Fuck..I–” you responded breathlessly, "You. It belongs to you. Just please–"
He slid two fingers inside you, fucking you relentlessly. In and out, in and out. He withdrew for just a moment to lube them with his spit, then plunged them back in. His thumb circled your clit while his fingers worked you open, and you lost yourself in the sensation.
Am I in heaven?
No man had ever been this skillful with his fingers.
You came hard, body shuddering violently, barely able to contain your moans. He covered your mouth with his other hand to drown out the noise. He kept pumping through the orgasm, drawing it out, and when you finally came down, he used a tissue from his pocket to clean you up.
How polite. Even after fucking a stranger.
The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful. Besides his death grip on your thigh, you latched onto his bicep as you slept. He’d tell you his name, his age and life details that you should know before their fingers are inside you. Surprisingly, he was just a year younger than you, and even shared hobbies that you could talk about once you had your numbers exchanged. His name was Ryo, which you later searched on LinkedIn to find was actually ‘Ryomen’. You had a history of dating people with unique names, so it was almost a sign this was meant to go somewhere.
You’d talked about your shared love for the gym and travelling the world. It was canon. You loved to cook; he loved to eat. He loved to clean; you loved to come back to a neat place that wouldn’t trigger your germ OCD. You loved cats, and he was immediately accepted by your cat Mimi as she nestled into his neck, as if they were long-lost companions. You just fit together like puzzle pieces…
But when all your friends asked how you met, the answer was always the same drafted lie you both would say.
"He swapped his meal for me, and our conversation just flowed from there."
And he'd say: "She helped me that day. I was in a bad mood, but her playful touches and bright personality made me feel… seen."
all art from Pinterest: Redbubble, Tmie and Edith Guitérrez
tell me why i was giggling, kicking my feet typing this one out??? the things i would do to have an accidental encounter with soft sukuna irl. let me be delusional. also, poor old man in the aisle seat T_T
imagine him returning from the washroom just to have to see two freaky adults getting it on while he has to pretend to be asleep.
"ryo. can't sleep," you whisper into your boyfriend's ear whose eyes are shut close under the comfort of your duvet. he was serious when he texted about coming over at this late hour just to sleep in your bed. been complaining about having trouble falling asleep lately too. along with his endless admissions how he sleeps better in your bed.
you on the other hand didn't expect his arrival at all. you've taken a short nap hours ago, woke up, took a shower, chugged half can of energy drink, and set up your study materials for an all-nighter for the upcoming exams.
so you really shouldn't bother him like this. when he arrived, he simply understood your plan for the rest of the night and promised he won't bother your studying session. he pecked your forehead and marched straight into you bedroom without another word.
not even an hour later, you saw how comfortable and cuddly and warm he looks on your bed, sleeping. effortlessly inviting you to come back to bed, how perfect would it be to slip under the covers and worm your way home against his chest. to make matters worse, resisting the imagination of his arms winding around your person is never your strongest trait.
he hums, stirred awake by your voice. he blindly reaches for your arm out of habit. "weren't you going to stay up?" he asks sleepily, the bed dips under his weight as he scoots over to make space.
"yeah but then you came and it's almost rude how comfy you look sleeping without me."
his arms around you tighten a fraction as he places a chaste kiss under your jaw, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his breathing slows down again. "so sleep. we can study together at the library after class tomorrow."
you can do that. even if your brain is still wide awake from that one can you drink, you know a trick that can shut off your mind effectively. which is exactly what sukuna's doing right now, embracing you closely. corded arms around your torso. the warmth radiating off his body works like a lullaby every time.
"kinda unable to sleep right now though.."
"yeah no shit you drank a can." his palm moves in a circle across your spine. he's not opposed to you wanting to fall asleep with him.
in fact, he welcomes and prefers it because having you close all night always makes his sleep feel like a spiritual reset. "jus' close your eyes," he instructs. his own already sealed too. "count all the sheep in ya head."
you sigh and allow yourself to relax with images of sheep jumping over a fence in your head. with sukuna continuing rubbing your back.
10 sheep, 11 sheep, 12 sheep.. sukuna's sheep.. this is actually effective.
he observes the way your breath slows down, completely lax against him now, your eyelids drooping as seconds pass.
"how many sheep?"
you don't answer. well that was quick he thinks.
sukuna himself is one wink away from sleeping. he stops his movement altogether and lets darkness consume his sleep again, this time much better with you at his side.
Summary: As one of Japan’s most beloved idols, you’ve mastered the art of making people fall in love with you. but when the fantasy is taken too far, Satoru Gojo is hired to be your extremely talented and unfairly attractive bodyguard
Content warnings: bodyguard!jo x idol!reader, stalking, parasocial behavior, obsessive behavior, slow burn, eventual smut, mentions of assault/murder
additional info: will be 4-6 chapters!!
setting/idol!reader: set in the late 2000s and you’re about 23 years old. you were first discovered by your manager, masamichi yaga, when you were just a 13 year old orphan with nothing for yourself other than potential and visuals. yet years later, after the girl group that launched you to fame eventually disbanded, your career only grew stronger and more successful.
bodyguard!jo: who grew up physically gifted, observant, and intelligent. ordinary life bored him, but a career that let him protect others and put his abilities to use suited him perfectly. now at 24, his 8 year long career felt a lot less prestigious. especially considering he spent most of his days practically babysitting you.
would you ever write sexting situationship sukuna...
cw: suggestive, sexting, a little bit of an awkward reader hehe (hope this is okay, anon!)
the thing about being in an unlabelled whatever-this-was with sukuna. a situationship as people called it is that it'll take ages before you actually get to the benefits of it all.
you thought that this was perfect when you agreed to it. he's easy to talk to, calm and composed despite the aggressor he is on the rugby pitch and very blunt. the man is the type to initiate things which is godsent for an awkward freak like you.
except you're stuck in this strange, flirty yet horny phase of the relationship where risqué texts are anticipated with bated breath when the clock strikes eleven at night. the things said are borderline sexting but toe the line and are ambiguous so you can never tell and it drives you crazy.
what's worse is that the tatted, pink-haired bastard sees you the next day and barely bats an eye, doesn't mention what was said under the cover of night and treats you to your favourite hot drink and pastry like he always does.
there's been a couple of times where you've invited him over for a movie night, something all young adults in college do as code for come-over-and-hook-up. and yet all he fucking does is devour your snacks, slurp the spicy noodles and chug your sodas, eating everything in your apartment but the very willing host.
“looks like it's time for me to go. i think i've overstayed my welcome, yeah?” he'd decide, rising from the couch and stretching with a groan that was tired, not sexual yet still had your stomach in knots, especially since his shirt rose and teased you with the ink etched into his hip and the waistband of his boxers.
fret not because everyone has their breaking point and you decide to mess with him one night when you're about to go out with your friends.
the shibuya neon smears against the taxi window, but you aren’t looking at the city. you’re staring at the screen, your thighs pressed so tightly together they’re starting to ache. under the silk of your backless dress, your skin feels hypersensitive, every bump in the road sending a jolt through your core.
sukuna is a mountain of controlled intensity on the pitch, but in your dms, he’s clearly bored with how many texts he's sent you and knows exactly how to make you squirm.
it started harmlessly. as usual.
sukuna: you're quiet. what are you doing tonight?
you: most people start with a greeting and small talk, ryomen.
sukuna: i like getting to the point but i'll humor you.
sukuna: hello, sweetheart. how are you?
you: hey. i'm pretty good and you?
sukuna: good too. back to my first question.
you: rude. going out with my friends to some new club.
sukuna: what are you wearing?
you: it's impolite to ask a lady what she's wearing, ryomen.
sukuna: you're right. i won't ask. tell me what you're wearing.
and that had sparked a brilliant idea in your head to send him a totally innocent picture of you in your dress before you left your apartment.
there is a delay that you count with the beats of your heart until your phone buzzes with his response.
sukuna: you're going out in that? careful, some guys might try to grab your ass.
eyes widening, you feel the heat creep up your neck. you know exactly what he’s doing—marking his territory from miles away.
you: why would they do that? lol
sukuna: because they're idiots. stick close to your friends, yeah?
you: okay. any drink suggestions?
across the city, sukuna leans his head back against the locker, his phone heavy in his hand. he stares at the photo you sent—the curve of your bare spine, the way the fabric clings to your hips. his jaw tightens. he can practically feel the texture of your skin under his calloused palms. he’s already straining against his shorts, the visual of you walking into a dark club with all that skin exposed making his blood simmer.
the picture gave sukuna a thrill. he'd been waiting for you to make the first move for a while now. to him, woman are like cats. no one in their right mind goes up to a cat, be it a stray or homed, and reaches out to touch it. it will attack you, look at you crazy or run away. the feline will let you know when you can touch it very much like a lady. so he's bidding his time with the patience of a saint for when you do, when you come out of your shell and show him what you want.
sukuna: i'm usually a whiskey on the rocks kind of guy, two fingers. you seem like you enjoy fruity cocktails though.
you: i do but i'm willing to try new things.
sukuna: think you can handle two fingers?
your heart skips a beat. you know it’s a double entendre, and the mental image of his large, tattooed hands—the ones that grip a rugby ball with such care—doing anything else to you makes your breath hitch. you’re rubbing your thighs together now, the friction the only thing grounding you.
stealing a glance at the driver through the rear view mirror, you feel silly about your shame. it's not like your screen is cast on the dashboard for the middle-aged man to see. he's focused on the road.
you: of whiskey, right?
sukuna: what do you think i mean?
you: well, we're talking about whiskey so i'm going with that.
sukuna: obviously.
you: you give drink recommendations to everyone like this?
sukuna: not in this manner.
you: in what manner?
sukuna: stop texting and being asocial. go have fun with your friends, silly girl.
the dismissal feels like a physical shove, making you huff in frustration. but then, your phone vibrates—a heavy, deliberate pulse.
it’s a photo.
harsh gym lighting. sukuna is shirtless, his jersey gripped between his teeth, pulling the fabric up to reveal a sunkissed torso that looks carved from granite. his tattoos snake around his obliques and dip dangerously low into the waistband of his shorts. crimson eyes pin you in place as he stares into the camera.
greedily, you zoom in until the ink blurs into pixels, your pulse drumming in your ears as you stare at the sheen of sweat on his skin. a dusty pink, neatly trimmed happy trail disappears into his shorts like an ‘x’ marking the spot of a pirate's treasure.
sukuna: it'd be unfair to not return the favor.
you: you’re a horrible man.
sukuna: you want to kiss this horrible man.
you: bite him actually. hard enough to draw blood btw.
sukuna’s eyes darken as he reads that. he imagines your teeth against the ink on his shoulder, the sharp sting of it and it makes the burgeoning bulge in his shorts pulse. a string of dirty messages aren't enough to get him worked up but he'd been wanting to palm himself for twenty minutes, trace the tip of his half-mast erection while he imagines dragging his fingers down the dip in your naked back and feeling you shudder.
sukuna: hmm, i bet you're a biter.
you: i bet you'd like that.
sukuna: this isn't about me.
you: oh yeah? i bet a hundred bucks that you're hard right now.
he doesn't try to deny it. he hits the banking app, the notification popping up on your screen instantly.
sukuna: [attachment: a notification of a $100 transfer]
you gasp, the sheer audacity of it making your stomach flip.
he’s winning. he knows he’s winning.
you: enough. i'm gonna get horny.
sukuna: my bad. i was gonna send you a voice note of me doing inappropriate things while staring at that picture of you but i don’t want to bother you. stay safe. bye.
you drop the phone into your clutch like it’s made of live wire. your mind is a mess of static and cotton and the driver has to call out to you a few times before you embarrassingly realise you've arrived at your destination.
as you step out of the cab and into the thumping bass of the club, you’re a ghost even as you beam at your friends and hug them. you stand at the bar, ordering his whiskey, but all you can hear is the voice note he didn't send—the imagined sound of his gravelly voice breaking as he took himself to the edge while looking at your body.
you’re wet, you’re haunted, and the worst part is knowing that tomorrow, he’ll see you during your planned hangout and just nod casually, like he didn't just ruin your entire night from a locker room across the city.
the club is a blur of strobe lights and muffled bass, but you move through it like a woman possessed.
every time the silk of your dress brushes your thighs, you think of his "two fingers" comment. every time you catch your reflection in a mirrored pillar, you see the version of yourself he’s currently imagining—a mess of smudged eyeliner and tangled hair fanned over his pillow.
by the time you stumble back into your apartment at 3:00 am, the whiskey buzz has settled into a warm, defiant glow in your chest. you’re tired of him winning. you’re tired of his nonchalant "stay safe. bye" while you’re left reeling.
you kick off your heels and head straight for the back of your closet. there it is. his red rugby jersey, heavy and smelling faintly of his detergent and that distinct, woody scent that clings to his skin.
in the bathroom, the lighting is soft, blurring the edges of the room. your hair has mostly escaped the claw clip, hanging in messy, dark waves over your shoulders. your dark eyeliner is slightly smudged, giving you a sleepy, wrecked look of a woman who's been thoroughly ravished.
you pull the jersey over your head. it swallows you, the hem reaching mid-thigh, the thick sleeves hanging past your elbows. just the thought of him wearing this has a delightful shiver crawling down your spine.
standing before the mirror, you hike up the left side of the heavy fabric, bunching it in your fist until the curve of your hip is exposed. you’re wearing lacy panties—the ones with the delicate silk bow right in the middle—that contrast sharply against the plush, doughy curve of your thighs.
your heart hammers against your ribs as you slide your free hand beneath the hem of the jersey, hiking it up on one side. your manicured fingers find the weight of your bare breast, cupping the plump swell of it, pushing the curve upward so it teases the edge of the lens.
you look flushed, your lips parted, your eyes heavy with the lingering effects of the liquor and the sheer audacity of what you’re doing. the phone hides your face.
click.
you don't look at it twice. if you do, you’ll lose your nerve. you open the chat—making sure it's his so you don't have an embarrassing mishap—attach the photo, and type a simple caption.
you: i found this in my closet. it’s a lot more comfortable than the dress.
you: goodnight, ryomen. sleep well.
across the city, in the silence of his dark apartment, sukuna's phone lights up the room. he’s finally managed to cool his blood with a cold shower, coral hair damp, lying shirtless on top of his sheets, staring at the ceiling.
he reaches for the device, expecting a "home safe" text.
the red of his jersey catches his eye first. then he sees your hand—your delicate, soft hand—all cozy in his clothes even as you taunt him with everything he can’t touch. he sees the plushness of your torso, the bow on your panties, the way the fat of your tit spills into your palm and his hot all over again.
sukuna knows that his big hand would easily engulf your breast. his fingers twitch at the thought of squeezing it.
his breath hitches, a low, visceral grunt rumbles in his throat as his groin tingles.
the "typing..." bubbles appear on your end almost instantly, but you don't stay to watch. you toss the phone onto your nightstand and crawl into bed, a smug, satisfied smile on your lips.
you: 1 sukuna: 0
actually—
sukuna: cute.
sukuna: bet what's underneath is even cuter.
no, he's not talking about your underwear.
sukuna: you should let me give her a goodnight kiss some time.
anddddd, you're screaming into your fucking pillow.
The mission in space was every physics teacher's wet dream. And yet, when you found yourself alone on a spaceship, dread filled your mind. Fortunately, it turned out you weren’t quite alone. As a weird creature you’ve met by accident seemed to be quite happy in helping you finish a mission and keep a warm company.
𖥔 ݁ ˖pairing: ꒰ Alien!Gojo Satoru x Physics teacher!Reader ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖content/warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18+ : fluff, fluff, fluff : also a bit of angst : mutual masturbation : use of sex toys : happy ending : women in stem, doomed to never being able to touch each other : prepare some tissues : space : aliens : Satoru is a brat in every universe : alien's D : mates and mentions of mating ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖WC: ꒰ 15k ꒱
𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: This story is based on the movie Project Hail Mary. Shoutout to @indiewritesxoxo whose story The One That Got Away inspired me to write a space-based fanfic!
dividers by @diviniyae
art by daichichirou on tt
"Miss, what's the space like?" a little girl with round frames asked you once during the class.
What's the space like? You wondered for a moment, with similar glasses resting on your nose.
Little models of planets swirled under the ceiling, clashing against each other with warm beams of sunshine curling around their painted bodies. The classroom stilled with silence, heavy and curious, marked by a dozen little eyes glancing up your furrowed forehead.
"Unfathomed," slipped almost in a whisper. But the kids were too young to understand this word, so you tried again. "It's endless, deep, mesmerising, silent, like–"
"Like a night?" a boy from the first row asked, playing with the wooden spaceship, all the children in the class had just finished painting.
You chuckled, playing with your own little toy, brushing the little silver window with a thumb.
"Much, much quieter," the spaceship landed on your desk, right next to the little, soft ball painted like Earth. Your eyes shimmered as you looked around the class of a dozen munchkins. "What do you hear while sleeping?"
Something began to coil in their little Einstein heads, with soft foreheads furrowed in thought. A flicker of an idea – a spark, their young minds were yet to discover and nourish throughout their lives.
You watched them with a smile, something warm spreading beneath your chest. Not everyone was born to be a teacher, with the day-to-day tiring work of preparing materials for classes, conducting lessons and checking all the foolish assignments that neither you nor the children liked. The education system truly was a shit hole from the very first steps those young minds took.
"Miss, that's a silly question," a little girl without one front tooth giggled. "We can't hear anything while we're sleeping!"
You hummed softly as you picked up the small earth ball. It yielded gently beneath your fingers, and the woollen toy, crocheted by your mother herself, felt pleasantly soft against your skin.
The bell would ring soon, and the afternoon sun was high in the sky, creeping through the tall, clean windows into the small classroom. Summer break was almost here, and the sweltering heat lingered in the stuffy air, filled with children's coughs and soft breathing.
"Exactly," you said, sitting on the desk and tossing the ball into the air. "That's what space is like. You can't hear anything."
"But what if I close my ears?" another boy said, pressing his hands to them. "I can't hear anything now, miss!" he screamed, setting off a wave of sweet giggles from his classmates.
The small green ball flew his way, and the boy caught it in one hand, scowling. "Hey, miss, that's not fair!"
"That was not, I do admit," you slipped off the desk, walking around the classroom. All small pairs of eyes followed you like puppies. "But you see, in space, there would be no need to cover your ears, because there is no air or matter for sound to travel through. Even when you're sleeping, there's always something out there, right?" Your eyes met a few nodding Einsteins before drifting towards the window. "You can hear the crickets singing under your window and the wind swirling between the leaves. But in space, there's nothing. Simply an empty, endless realm stretching beyond our comprehension."
A few droplets of sweat coiled on your temple, and you quickly brushed them with a thumb. Glasses sat crookedly on your nose, hair slipped away from a pin-up, and so you pushed them behind your ear.
"Miss, the space sounds so scary," the girl with round frames sighed. "I don't want to be an astronaut anymore."
You chuckled, coming to the previous boy and stealing a soft lump of earth from his sticky fingers. "The space may feel lonesome if you're there alone. But now, astronauts usually go in groups." The ball landed back on your desk, brushing gently against the wooden spaceship. "But even if you were alone, I think the view would be worth the night spent in loneliness."
And as it would soon turn out, nothing was worth the years spent alone. On the huge spaceship, with endless darkness spreading across the little window and years spent somewhere doing God knows what.
"The sun is dying," the government envoy had said. "Can you help us save the world?"
She caught you right after one of the classes, with a half-empty cup of instant noodles and cheeks peppered with crimson chilli-oil kisses. Arrived with a tall, muscular man and a printout of the PhD dissertation, placing a copy on your messy desk.
Your forehead crinkled, eyes landed on a neat, Times New Roman formatted title, An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations.
"That's not mine," you mumbled, going back to the cup of noodles. You hadn't eaten anything for a whole day, and your stomach was already pressed against your spine, with hunger twisting your weary mind.
"That's your name, isn't it?" she said, pressing a neatly trimmed nail against the smaller letters beneath the title.
You didn't even spare her a glance and simply shook your head. "No, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Both she and the man sighed, rolling two small chairs from the children's desk to sit in front of yours. With eyes fixed on your face, grimacing in ignorance, and a few locks of hair slipping into the cup.
"I'm Yuki," she said, crossing her legs before looking at the man with the dullest, most bleary eyes you have ever seen. "And that's Choso. We're from a… well. Now you only need to know that we work for NASA."
And that meant one thing – trouble.
Seeing your utmost disinterest, she continued in a warm tone. "Listen, we know your dissertation was a fantastic breakthrough that the supervising committee didn't appreciate. But–"
"A small correction," you interrupted, with eyes still glued to an almost empty cup. "They did not not appreciate me, but completely failed me. My research was proven wrong, and I spent almost five years chasing something that was never there. So no, it wasn't a breakthrough or anything."
Her long fingers clenched into a fist, and a tongue nervously filled a creamy cheek. "Listen, in our current world situation, we believe that your research wasn't pointless. The hypothesis that life can exist without water–"
"Which was ultimately proven that it cannot," slipped in a whisper, gaze still following anything but those two.
"Right," she sighed, staying shockingly patient. "But the thing is, it actually may."
And for the first time in the past five minutes, you finally looked at her. With eyes hidden behind librarian-like glasses, a white shirt neatly pressed against your body, and chilli oil still coating lower lip. You brushed it quickly with a tissue before clearing throat.
"You have five minutes."
But Yuki needed just a second.
"There are some… microbes, the nature of which we aren't yet sure, that are slowly eating the sun. If we don't do something, in thirty years the global temperature will drop enough to kill every life on Earth."
A long, heavy silence stretched between the three of you, though she was the one doing the talking. The man in a suit sat in silence. He was rather handsome, with dark hair falling long down his neck and purplish under-eye bags framing his deep, doe-like eyes.
Feeling your eyes fixed on his face, Choso wriggled in place. "We believe that you are one of the few scientists who can help in research on those microbes."
A deep sigh slipped past your lips as you took off your glasses and closed eyes. A pulsing headache was filling your mind, weighing down an already overstimulated brain. A few short strands of noodles clung to the bottom of the plastic cup, looking up at your weary eyes, pleading to go home.
You finally murmured, throwing the cup into the bin, "I don't see how that's my problem. I'm just a physics teacher, the academic environment pushed me away, and I believe there are many more qualified scientists for this role."
Yuki's forehead furrowed, lips pressed in a line. "Not your problem? The world is dying, and you think it's not your problem?"
You could almost see a grey smoke drifting above her head, eyes shining like two coffee beans. Golden hair brushed against her suit-covered breasts, with a few straight strands sticking to soft cheeks. She appeared magnificently commanding, exuding a dominant aura of someone beyond the law. Even sitting on a small children's chair, you felt goosebumps cover your bare shoulders.
You leaned back in a chair, the hard backrest digging into your spine. "I just don't understand why it should be me. This," you pointed at a three-hundred-page dissertation, "was just a foolish fantasy of my younger self. And trust me, I felt how stupid it was," your eyes fell to your fingers, playing with a soft, earthy ball. "No one treats me like a scientist anymore."
And then, Yuki stood up.
Suddenly, reaching over the desk right to your shirt, before pulling you closer with a single move. Eyes fixed on yours like a deadly viper, and a sweet note of heavy perfumes hit your nostrils.
"Try it," she gritted through her teeth. "Accept my offer till I'm still begging. I don't want things to get messy, but I really need your help on this one."
And so, feeling rather threatened, you nodded swiftly and followed the kind smile that lifted up her lips.
Now, three years later, reflecting on that time, you never felt as happy and alive as you did then. Surrounded by the world's most exceptional scientists, working on alien, new microbes – the freshest discoveries in current scientific research – spending days and nights fuelled by bitter coffee, sitting in the labs.
The time didn't matter, as long as you could work on your research. To once again feel like a valuable input to the academic environment and a student from your PhD days, when the world was most beautiful under the microscope and while collecting the newest data.
Your heart raced during the meetings as your fingers carefully noted each idea, each plan that other scientists put forward. The greatest minds in the world, flooding your own with plans and speculations you could've never thought of. Your brain fired multiple times a day, always running, always getting fed with new questions and solutions.
Why is the sun dying?
How can we stop it?
How to produce enough fuel to go all the way right to the sun?
Is that even possible?
But then it was revealed that an alien microbe was composed entirely of water, and your world collapsed. Because it finally confirmed the very point you've been secretly trying to reject for years, proving to you that cells cannot survive without water.
Your heart broke, and a wave of shame washed over your spine. The shame connected to your younger self, foolishly believing in a greatness of discovery no one has ever made. Something worth the international conferences, massive grants, Nobel Prize, and yet, you needed a single, alien cell, something not belonging to the human world, to finally prove those old geezers from your committee right.
The white, big lamp of the lab flickered; darkness spilt over the endless night. Nothing but a faint buzz of mosquitoes filled the lab, hitting the window again, and again, and again. Hungry and relentless, looking at your body hunched over the failed experiment and slightly trembling lip.
You haven't noticed someone else's presence until something cold and wet touched your cheek. Turning the head around, you noticed a can of soda and Choso's pale fingers wrapped around it.
"Thanks," escaped in a whisper, as you took the drink.
He nodded, sitting on the stool right next to you. Your lab partner, who's been through your highs and lows for the past few weeks. The biggest encouragement and life support, always reminding you to eat well and drink something other than a third coffee in a row. He was another government body, Yuki's closest friend, yet – you liked him.
He felt the most normal here, and thus, your head rested on his shoulder, while hair covered the slightly wet cheeks.
"Are you crying?" he asked quietly.
Your head shook, and a second later, a loud sniff rolled. Choso chuckled, offering a tissue.
"Thank you, Cho," you mumbled, trying to hide the streaming tears behind the wide glasses.
He nodded, waiting for you to calm down a bit. The white lamp buzzed quietly, and the screen of the computer shone bright with your PhD dissertation. The thick letters of the title, with your name written right below.
Three hundred pages of bullshit born from your silly dreams. The Nobel Prize? Dear heavens, you barely deserved to be part of the current team.
"That's not the end of the world, you know?" he said, then pressed his cheek with tongue. "Hm, no. It actually is."
You laughed disgustingly, with a snort slipping out of your nose and another wave of tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry," slipped almost silently. "I'm sorry, I proved you all wrong."
Choso sighed, looking at your sorry state. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and brushed away a single tear with a soft thumb. "No, you didn't. Now that we know what it's made of, you can think about another solution."
But there isn't another solution, you wanted to say, and instead bit down on your lower lip. The words bubbled in your throat, but a thin thread of hope still pulled at your heart. A faint wish that maybe this discovery wasn't a disaster. That the alien cell, made almost entirely of water, could somehow help with the mission.
That you could still prove yourself as a true scientist.
"Hey," Choso whispered, turning your face towards him. Deep, warm eyes shimmered with kindness as he offered a soft smile and gently pinched your cheek. "You are one of the smartest people I have ever met. I'm sure you can figure this out. Yuki believes in you. I believe in you." Staring into his eyes, you nodded with a pout. He chuckled and opened your soda with a quiet hiss. "Alright, let's call it a day and get back to it tomorrow. We still have time."
But the fact was that – you didn't.
And it was painfully obvious in how Yuki glanced into your lab every few days, asking about progress and results in halting the spread of alien microbes on the sun. Her neatly plucked eyebrows furrowed whenever you shook your head, and a short, stressed sigh escaped her rosy lips.
Try to hurry up, she would usually say, pulling a not-so-comforting smile.
Weeks went by, and everyone's stress increased. Yuki decided to set up a deadly mission, sending a team of astronauts to collect data personally.
The catch? They wouldn't return.
While there was enough fuel to reach the star teeming with alien microbes, there wasn't enough to return. Their goal was to collect the microbes, find a way to stop them from consuming the sun, and send all the data back to Earth.
The first time you heard about it, your knees almost buckled. It sounded outrageous, absolutely crazy, and the chance of finding someone mad and healthy enough to meet the requirements perfectly was already impossible.
And as it turned out, you were wrong.
The four astronauts were more than willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good – to venture into the vast, endless space and perish there, in the company of strangers and eerie silence. To become saviours on a mission that could save the entire world.
Except, there was a risk the mission would fail.
Except, no one knew if they wouldn't lose their lives for nothing.
Because if that happened, if it turned out that all the money and sacrifices the government has invested in it would go to waste, the world would truly descend into shambles.
You stood against it from the very beginning, but Yuki had already decided. And so there was nothing left to do but help the spaceship travel the twelve light-years towards the only star that was also dying, devoured by an alien microbe.
One hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres.
An unimaginably vast distance a simple mind could not grasp, yet you had to find a way to make it work. To figure out how to gather enough fuel to propel the massive, metal spaceship through every single kilometre.
And after a few weeks of getting yourself filled with coffee and nights spent outside the NASA base, gazing up into the endless darkness, you finally got it.
"The alien microbes possess unimaginable power," you said in one breath, looking like a madwoman. With hair twisted into a messy braid, hands shaking from too much caffeine, eyes glimmering as if possessed by Einstein himself. Your fingers gripped the black marker before drawing another black dot on the whiteboard. "You see, what we can do is allow the engines to feed the alien microbes into a reaction chamber and boil them to the point of natural breeding. This way, the cells will multiply and multiply, allowing us to use them in a much more efficient way," the black marker swooshed all over the board, drawing a crooked picture of the spaceship.
At least thirty pairs of eyes, seated in a conference room at NASA headquarters, stared into it with furrowed yet hopeful gazes. Yuki and Choso, among them, tried to understand the point you were making. The crazy discovery you had made mere hours earlier, before quickly asking for a meeting.
"Our ship doesn't need turbines, generators or heat exchangers, because there's no conventional fuel. It works as a sort of ship driven by light energy–"
"That's impossible," someone among the other scientists interrupted. "You cannot fuel a ship of such dimensions with light alone."
You nodded, whispering like a psycho under your breath, head buzzing with numbers. "Yes, you cannot do it with the sources we have here, on Earth. But," you turned back towards the whiteboard. "Our ship is not like the others, and the microbes allow us to actually use the light force as a fuel. Look, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's third law, we all know it, right?" A few heads nodded in unison. "Well, our ship will emit light in one direction, while Newton's law will push it in the other. I know it used to work only in theory, but with the amount of power packed into a single microbe, we can use it for our good. In short, the alien power goes into the ship, the light comes out, and we can move forward."
A long, heavy silence filled the room as you finished your little drawing. Black lines coated the board, crossing the black dots and twisting around the childishly drawn ship. You pushed your glasses up your nose and tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear.
That was it. Nothing else could've been done on your side. If none of the scientists and governmental bodies believed your crazy plan could work, there was no other way to put the ship on a direct course towards that star.
Yuki sighed and looked around nervously. While people whispered, shook their heads, or took notes, no one offered you a warm nod or made direct eye contact. But it also seemed that no one else had a better idea.
"Are you sure it can work?" Yuki asked, a heavy gaze lingering as warmth crept up your cheeks. "It's over a hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres. Are you sure the ship can be fuelled only by this alien microbe?"
Something weighed on your heart. Fear, panic, years spent believing you weren't good enough to become a real scientist. Those snickers from the PhD commission stating your research was useless. The rejections from one scientific conference after another, as no one wanted to accept your proposals.
Days spent on crying and staring at your dissertation, as if looking at it long enough would suddenly make it all worth it.
And then, under the cold light of the conference room, with thirty heads staring at you in blank mimicry, you needed to make a decision.
The one that would soon turn into a weight on your life.
"Yes," finally slipped. Strong and confident, as you corrected glasses slipping off your nose. "I can make it work."
But then…
But then the catastrophe came.
The betrayal.
Yuki apologising with utmost sincerity. Choso sitting quietly in the corner of her office. Three men keeping your body down.
From the moment you saw the space crew, one thought kept lingering in your mind. You dismissed it with a casual "they'll figure it out" wave, ignoring the instinct that indicated something was off – something that should have been clear from the start.
Why didn't the space crew have the scientist?
And a day before the departure, you finally discovered why.
"I'm sorry, I'm really so so sorry," Yuki said, trying to calm your wriggling body. The man's hands dug deep into your spine, keeping the hands and knees in place, with a cheek pressed to a dirty carpet. "We don't have any choice, and you wouldn't agree if I asked–"
"Of course I wouldn't!" you screamed, trying to bite the soft hand that reached towards you. "It's a fucking suicide! I'm a simple teacher; I can't go to a fucking space–ah, can you be a bit more gentle?!" But the men's fingers were already wrapping your hands with a thick rope. "Yuki, you can't do it to me!"
The woman didn't say anything. She merely opened her office door and beckoned someone inside. Wearing a white robe and holding a syringe between their fingers.
Your mind raced, breathing became almost impossible, and your throat clenched as you fought the sudden urge to vomit on the carpet. You tried to meet Choso's gaze, but he sat in the corner with his head in his hands, avoiding your gaze since you entered the office.
"Choso," you cried, as the doctor came closer. Long, thin needle shimmered under the office's cold lamp, sending a shiver down your spine. "Choso, l-look at me. You fucking coward, you bastard!" Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as the man sat like a stone figure. "You knew about it from the beginning, right? How could you do this to me?!"
Deep, warm eyes that you spent days gazing into finally looked up. Slightly wet, a bit hazy, while taking in the miserable state you found yourself in. Your glasses slightly crooked, lying a bit away from teary face. A few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, arms twisted painfully behind back.
His fingers dug into the leather chair, as if trying to force himself to stay back.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't… I couldn't bring myself to tell you…"
"That I'm going for a fucking suicidal mission?!" you interrupted, still trying to kick the men off your body. "I thought we were friends! I trusted you! And you simply sold me away?"
Yuki shivered, her gaze shifting between coldness and heartbreaking warmth whenever she looked at your writhing body. She slipped her trembling hand into the pocket of her jeans before giving the doctor a small nod.
"N-No," you cried, when the man in white bent down. A sudden, sharp pain washed over your body, tickling the ends of your fingertips. "Please, I d-don't want to, I can't…"
And then, a weariness slowly filled your mind, lulling it into a deep sleep. Your body relaxed, eyes half-closed, as if weighted by the countless sleepless nights you had spent in labs.
The men lifted you up, keeping your head steady, but you didn't feel a thing. Your feet felt funny, light, as if blending into feathers. Some hushed voices started to argue, someone's warm hand brushed your cheek, and a heavy, musky smell filled your nostrils.
And before you lost consciousness, a silent save the earth sneaked into your ear.
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
"Amazing," a low sigh slipped past your lips as you watched a massive ship slowly follow yours.
Monstrous, at least twenty times larger than the spaceship you called home for the past three years, which couldn't be contained within the small window you looked through. It appeared incredibly bright, almost as if it were made of glass, yet you couldn't see anything beyond the thick walls.
It's been shadowing you since yesterday, and it has been following you since yesterday, regardless of how long you travelled or how fast you went; it remained right there. Always in your line of sight from your window, constantly mirroring every move you make.
It was… fascinating. To say at least.
A little frightening? Sure, as you were alone on a ship, with the crew long gone and drifting silently through the vast emptiness of space.
But still – fascinating. It marked the first time a human saw an object outside Earth. Majestic and otherworldly, it looked somewhat familiar yet vastly different. A faint cosmic glow shimmered on its diamond-like walls, casting short beams through your solitary window, as if attempting to communicate. As if the creature within tried to contact.
Still drifting slowly, you bit down on your lower lip. "Maybe I should stop?" you thought out loud, as another flicker of light hit your window. "What if they'll attack me?"
But at this point, already being alone on an impossible, suicidal mission, it seemed that an alien attack would be the least of your problems. In fact, maybe it would even sweeten your life a bit, and before meeting death, you would still have a chance to make the first human contact with life outside Earth.
"Okay," You took a deep sigh, pulling down the engine handle. "Let's see what you want from me."
Your ship stopped, and the monstrous glassed vehicle followed right away. With your forehead pressed to the window, you waited.
And waited, waited, till ten minutes passed and the ship stood still. Your tongue pressed against the soft cheek as you walked back and forth, awaiting any sign of activity. Yet, the vast galaxy outside remained tranquil, a gentle glow reflecting off the smooth, wall-like surface of the enormous ship. It lacked doors and windows, being just a glassy, shimmering exterior that–
"Oh no," your throat tightened as it drew closer. And closer, closer, swooshing towards you, something long slowly sliding out of the ship's tall wall. "Oh, that's bad, fuck."
A panic squeezed your heart, thoughts rushed through a tired mind, and there weren't enough cuticles on your nails to bite them all. The window was too small to see the thing clearly, but it seemed to be heading straight towards your ship's door. A long, shining tube swooshed closer and closer until your ship suddenly vibrated, as if gently brushing against a foreign object.
Your fingers fidgeted with the plush fabric of the shirt, while droplets of sweat made your glasses slide down your temple. With unsteady legs, you cautiously moved toward the astronaut's suit and started pulling it over your body. The zipper felt heavy under your touch, and the bubble-shaped helmet was more suffocating than usual. The oxygen backpack almost doubled your load as you headed toward the door, with heavy pounding in your chest.
Your heart was always perfectly healthy, and yet for the first time in your life, you tried to remember all the possible symptoms of a woman's heart attack.
Chest pain, severe shortness of breath, nausea, radiating pain in the neck and jaw, you counted in your mind, marking each and every sign in your current state.
"Fuck, okay," trembling, glove-coated hands squeezed the handle of the massive, metal door, before you pushed it. It opened with a low, soft creek, inviting you into the endless tunnel filled with darkness.
To your surprise, gravity worked here, and thus you dropped heavily onto the hard floor. A soft oh filled the helmet as you lifted the flashlight a bit higher. Something shimmered at the end of the darkness, yet you weren't sure what.
Your steps didn't echo from the thick walls as you slowly approached the entrance to the alien ship. Thoughts clashed painfully in your mind, questions rose one by one as you breathed with a squeezed chest under the weighty kilograms of a spacesuit.
How many of them were there?
What did they look like?
Were they friendly?
How quick and painful would your death be?
Your mind tried to ignore the last one, as the chance of a cardiac arrest before meeting an alien seemed much more likely. Fingers clutched the flashlight tighter, feet moved carefully, one step after another, sticking to the tunnel's crooked surface.
"Hello?" Your voice bounced off the walls, lined with terror. "Whoever you are, I come in peace!"
Oh, what a cheesy line, you thought, biting down on your lower lip.
After a few steps, the glimmering thing came fully into view, and only then did you notice it was a thick glass wall. Or at least something similar to glass, with a hard surface that stopped you from going any further.
Glove-clothed hand touched it, helmet bumped against it, as you tried to light the darkness spilling behind it.
"Hello?" slipped a bit louder, with your fist knocking on the glass. "Anyone there?"
A silence, dull and endless, filled an eerie tunnel. Looking back, you took a note that your spaceship was still there – safe and sound – and you let out a deep sigh. It's not as if it would suddenly float away, but–
A heavy thump suddenly shook the tunnel's floor.
Your head snapped back, breath hitched, fingers squeezed with a tremble around the flashlight.
"H-Hello?"
The light reflected off something towering and shimmering, slowly moving toward you in a relaxed, unhurried manner, nearly as tall as the tunnel itself. A bluish halo beamed off the creature's body, filling the dark space with a soft aura.
You stepped back, trying to direct a flickering beam straight at the thing coming your way, but your hand trembled too much. The heart was on the verge of stopping, and dread haunted the mind as it drew closer, revealing its height. At least two and a half metres, brushing the ceiling of the tunnel's crooked walls, filling the narrow space with its wide body.
And when the light caught on their face… oh.
The pale blue skin shimmered softly under a luminous glow. It appeared unnaturally smooth, soft, and a sudden, foolish wish to brush it with your thumb swirled inside your mind. White, snowy hair touched the handsome forehead, while nearly inhumanly pale-blue eyes gazed down at your spacesuit-covered body. You looked tiny and short in comparison, with a gloved hand once more resting on the glass wall.
The creature was dressed in a white suit, clinging tightly to its body and digging deep into the hard muscles bulging under its skin. Alien's head tilted, knees bent down, and within a second, it found itself on eye-level with you.
White lashes decorating endless, luminous blue fluttered, as if trying to take in the terror twisting your face.
"⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜," a low, manly voice crept past the glass.
Your eyes bulged like two porcelain plates, fingers pressed closer to the wall.
So he was a man.
Well, you could already figure that much based on his looks, but the warm tone slipping under your bubble helmet was evidence enough.
Your mind didn't register the language at first, but when his soft brow travelled up, and lips curled in a smile, you thought that maybe he was awaiting an answer.
"Oh, um," you took a step back, waving your hand clumsily. "Hello."
The creature's head tilted again, and he mimicked your gesture.
You blinked twice, still struggling to believe the situation you're in. "Uh, okay, what now?" you whispered. "I am..." You pointed at your head and said your name clearly and loudly. "What about you?"
"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the creature said, and a wave of different sounds and tones once again hit your ears.
You sighed, pressing tongue against your cheek. "Right, it's not going to work."
He looked at you, and you looked at him. You, with a slightly furrowed forehead and your mind rushing through all the possible ways to communicate with the alien. He, with lips curled cheekily and pale eyes fixed on your face.
"I wouldn't mind your cooperation, you know?" you mumbled, but he tipped his head left and right, like a curious puppy.
"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the same sounds once again slipped past the glass wall.
His head was tipping and tilting, and a second had passed before you finally understood that he wanted to say something.
"What? I don't understand," you said, mimicking his movements.
And thus both of you were shaking and tilting your heads, going over and over the same ⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒, and I don't understand.
His brows furrowed as if irritated, and large hand touched his chest. He took a deep breath – first and second – then pointed at his head and finally at yours.
Oh.
"You want me to..." you gestured as if removing the helmet. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and eyes glinted. "But I can't breathe here."
He didn't understand and thus pointed at your head once again. "⏁⏃☍⟒ ⟟⏁ ⍜⎎⎎."
Your head shook. "Whatever you say, I cannot take it off. Because I will…" Your hands slipped up to your throat before a wave of trembling convulsions bent your body. It wriggled, shook, before, with a theatrical cough, you fell down the crooked floor.
The creature was staring at you with a furrowed forehead and a gentle flicker of amusement coiling in his spectral eyes.
"Not the best first impression, I know," you muttered, swiftly standing up. "My point is, I can't breathe without it."
But it seemed he either didn't understand or was simply relentless in his pleadings. As the long fingers hit the glass wall, pointing right at your head. Another deep breath slipped past his lips, and he nodded, as if trying to say it was fine. Whatever he filled the tunnel with, you could breathe here.
And thus, the thought of what if slipped quietly into your mind.
What if he was right?
What if he really did fill your half of the tunnel with oxygen?
But what if he was wrong, and the moment the helmet would go off, you would die in inhumane suffering?
Light blue eyes shone with anticipation, lips curled into an encouraging smile, and a finger pressed harder into the glass wall.
You took a deep breath, feeling the droplets of sweat coiling at the nape of your neck. He seemed to be a highly intelligent creature, with the ability to communicate as well as you and a rather comprehensive understanding of the differences between your species. For some reason, trusting him felt almost natural, and the assuring look of his spectral gaze made you drop your head with a sigh.
When fingers hooked on the helmet's edges, your heart was nearing its death. Chest squeezed painfully, eyes closed till the eyelids dug deep into your balls. The sweat was now dripping down your spine, wetting the nape of your neck and shirt that clung to your body under the heavy spacesuit.
"Okay," you whispered, both to yourself and him, and it seemed that he was rather amused by the agony twisting your mind. When he chuckled, your brows furrowed. "Don't laugh. There's a rather big chance this air will burn me from the inside."
And so it happened – your fingers slowly unclasped the neck ring, allowing the pressurised seal to loosen with a soft puf. The bubble helmet was lifted unhurriedly, as if your lungs were still trying to grasp the rest of the oxygen swirling inside it.
With still closed eyes, you took the first breath. And the second, and the third, and then, looking back at the alien, a sweet, loud scoff slipped past your lips and flushed cheeks.
"⌇⟒⟒, ⟟ ⏁⍜⌰⎅ ⊬⍜⎍," he chuckled, pressing his forehead to the glass wall.
Still in shock, you stepped closer, also touching the warm, crystal surface with your brows. "Sure, whatever you say."
You looked at each other for a while, with beaming smiles and foreheads almost brushing as you leaned in, a rather intimate gesture. It seemed that the first meeting with another species broke down some specific walls for both of you. The curiosity and fascination with one another blurred the lines of proper manners, breaching all the careful first steps you surely should think of.
His eyes flickered, suggesting a new idea had just come to him. He raised a finger and gestured for you to stay put. After your gentle nod, he vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving you alone with your thoughts swirling in your mind.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and as you sat on the crooked floor and took off the heavy spacesuit, he finally came back, with something gripped by his hand.
You looked closer, noticing the collar-like device and a small earplug. He placed it inside his ear while wrapping the collar around the pale neck. A faint, crispy sound filled his side of the tunnel, and milky brows furrowed as he pressed onto the device in his ear.
And then, with a gesture, he asked you to say something.
"Um," your head tilted, and he sat right in front of you, waiting with a soft smile. "You are rather pretty for an alien."
His fingers still pressed the small device, and after a second, cheekiness flickered in his eyes. "Am I, question? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
To say you froze in shock would be an understatement.
Your lips parted, eyebrows nearly touching hairline, as body leaned forward before your hand pressed against the glass wall. You didn't know whether you were more surprised by either his ability to speak your language or the casual compliment that caused your cheeks to heat up.
"You can…" You shook your head, barely breathing. "But how is it…"
He pointed at his ear. "This device recognises your language," then gestured to his neck. "And connects with this. Whenever I speak in my language, this collar converts it into yours."
A soft ah slipped past your lips, eyes fixed on the thin, crystal band made of a sort of rubber material. Your finger brushed the glass wall, as if trying to feel the device beneath it.
Your brows furrowed when another issue started to bite into your curiosity. "But how do you know my language? How did you build this translator? Our species never made contact."
He sat closer, pressing his forehead to the glass again. At this point, you started to wonder whether it was a sort of typical signal from his species, carrying a special, unknown meaning. And when he beamed with joy, you noticed little white droplets shining faintly, sprinkled around his cheeks. Was this an equivalent of a blush?
"You didn't with us," he pressed a finger to yours, and only then did you see the true, monstrous size of his hand. "But the Reds had been studying you for years."
The reds…
"Oh gosh!" A gasp ripped out of your throat as you covered your mouth with a hand. His head tilted. "The Reds, you mean, Martians?"
"Why are you shocked, question?" he asked, carefully eyeing as you quickly stood up and started walking back and forth between the walls.
Your mind pulsed, trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the past hour. The strange spaceship, the first-ever human contact with life beyond Earth, the final confirmation that aliens did, in fact, kidnap people and conduct experiments on them.
"I'm shocked, because humans never made any contact with life outside our planet," you said, biting down on a fingernail. "How long have you known the Reds?"
A low hum slipped past his lips, and smooth, blue forehead creased. "Five hundred years, I say."
"What?!" Your knees buckled as you once again sat in front of him, with hands and forehead and breasts pressed tightly to a glass wall. "Five hundred years? How is that possible? Are your planets close to each other?"
His head shook, but forehead remained wrinkled. "Humans are very underdeveloped."
You chuckled softly, noticing small, adorable language mistakes the translator made here and there. It's still, robotic voice muffled the creature's deep tone, and something squeezed your heart, as you surprisingly discovered that the honeyed warmth of his tone wrapped your mind in a rather pleasing manner.
"Yes, it seems so." Your head turned, with flushed cheeks pressed to the wall. "But till now I had no idea how far behind we are."
He stayed quiet for a moment before tapping gently on the wall. Your eyes slipped back to his, noticing the droplets sprinkled across his face, radiating adorably like flickering stars.
"My name is Satoru," rolled quietly, as the shimmering dust coated his cheeks ever wider. "Your name, question?"
When you said it slowly, he nodded, still tapping on the surface. Right against your pressed hand. "That's a very beautiful name."
"Yours is not bad either."
He hummed, as if in agreement.
Your head grew heavier and heavier, and the warmth was gently trying to coax you into sleep. As you yawned, Satoru's ghostly eyes carefully followed the exhaustion clouding your forehead.
"Are you tired, question?"
His throat bobbed when you giggled. "You don't have to add a question at the end of each ask, you know?"
You assumed that, because of his grammar rules, he needed to emphasise the difference between normal sentences and inquiries. You've noticed that his language sounded much more melodic than yours, yet it lacked the upward pitch humans use.
"But I am tired, thank you for asking." Looking over your shoulder, you've noticed that your ship was, fortunately, still there. "How about I go to sleep, and we'll get back to our talk in a few hours?"
You slowly stood up and grabbed your heavy spacesuit. Glasses slipped off your nose, and hair stuck to still-warm cheeks, as you lifted up the flashlight and… oh.
It seemed that you missed the sudden sorrow deepening between Satoru's brows. Eyes widened in panic, big palms plastered to the wall with lips just slightly opened, as he looked with a fearful expression at your attempt to move away from the wall. From him.
"Satoru–"
"Can you please sleep here?" His voice trembled, although the translator's robotic tone remained unwavering.
You looked around the tunnel, feeling the crooked ground bending beneath your feet and the dark walls emitting a deep, earthy smell. "I don't think that's a good idea, Satoru." A warm smile lifted your lips as you turned towards your spaceship. "But don't worry, I'll be back. Sleep for a bit, and before you'll notice, I'll–"
"Please," the anxiety filling his shaken voice stabbed right through your heart. "Please let me watch you sleep."
You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him in the same position. With hands pressed against the wall and eyebrows furrowed deeply.
"Watch me sleep?"
He nodded. "I… I didn't watch my crew sleep. The crew died. Satoru has been alone for the past forty years." Your lips fell open, but he quickly added, as if afraid you'd refuse again. "I watch you sleep, you won't die."
Seeing his face – filled with anxiety, pure fear, and misery – you could only smile softly and nod. As the mere thought of this man spending over forty years in space all alone tore your heart apart in the most inhumanely painful way.
"Yes, okay," barely pushed past your lips, before you cleared your throat. "Just let me bring my stuff."
You quickly changed into pyjamas, gathered a few blankets, a pillow and enough water for the night, before going back to the warm tunnel.
And then, as you drew closer to the glassy wall, you noticed a slight change in its shape. As during the five minutes you were gone, Satoru had prepared a special shelf for your body to lie right next to him. With his own feather-like blanket, he lay on his side, waiting for you to slip into the long space and hug him.
You giggled, filling the space with your own things. "That's quite intimate, Satoru."
His body was much taller than the width of the tunnel, and thus, he curled his legs a bit before trying to get even closer to you. "What does intimate mean, question?"
With head hitting the soft pillow and blanket covering your body, you turned his way. Nothing but a thick crystal wall kept you away from brushing noses with each other.
"It means that you're trying to be romantic with someone," but then you thought he might also not understand what romantic means. "Hm, it's when you do nice things for a certain person that you wouldn't do for anyone else. For example, make a special bed to be closer to someone."
A soft crease wrinkled his forehead, and the peacefulness of his eyes told you that he was deeply thinking. "I wouldn't do it for anyone other than you."
The sincerity beaming from his eyes was enough to assure you of the innocent truthfulness of his words. So you sighed, nuzzling deep into the pillow, hoping he didn't notice the warmth on your cheeks.
"That's very romantic, you know? Something you would say to your special someone."
"To your mate, question?"
You hummed, softly closing eyes. His presence somehow made your body tingle with a pleasant warmth, allowing the sleep to haunt your mind in a much softer, calmer way. In a way, you didn't feel for a long, long time, spending days in loneliness and a maddening need to feel someone else's warmth again.
You couldn't feel Satoru's heat, yet your heart fluttered fondly as his gaze truly watched you sleep.
"Yes, although humans don't mate."
"Why, question?"
When you giggled – sweetly, kindly – droplets coating Satoru's cheeks lighted up. Solely for a second, but it was enough to make him slip closer, and closer, and closer, till the glass wall was digging painfully into his body, and his heart still rushed your way.
You bubbled something under your nose. An answer he could not hear. With your lips falling open and a crystal string of saliva dripping down the soft pillow.
His finger pressed against the glass, as if wishing to brush it away.
And when another five minutes passed, a soft snoring filled your side of the tunnel. Breath calmed down, and body drew closer to his. Trying to curl into his – big, burning hot, utterly dangerous for yours.
"I watch you sleep," he whispered, brushing the glass with your pressed cheek. "You never die."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
Satoru was much more intelligent than you expected.
It's not that you treated him as beneath you, but the true power of his mind exceeded your expectations.
And as it turned out, he was in the same situation as you – researching the alien microbes that were also eating his sun. Except that his species discovered the problem forty years before yours, and thus a wave of panic washed over your mind. Because if a creature like Satoru couldn't find the solution to the problem that apparently touched not just Earth but the whole universe, you wouldn't do it either.
One difference between you and Satoru was that, as an engineer, he could actually do things himself. Simply produce them, with all the glassed walls and tiny models of planets made from a strange, gluey substance that rolled off his fingers. He wasn't a scientist like you, so when he heard that you were the "brain" of the crew, his eyes flickered.
"We can work together," he proposed, already considering the path to the only planet not consumed by alien microbes. Since it wasn't infected, it suggested there was something in its atmosphere that enabled it to withstand the lethal bacteria. "You will be the mastermind of the entire operation, I will develop the sources. Also, I have spent forty years here, so I know how to navigate."
His eyes were fixed on creating another little planet, rolling the gluey strings between his pads, moulding them into a ball and waiting until the substance dried into a crystal orb. After a few days, your glassy wall had advanced enough to have a small opening for a shelf where you could exchange little presents.
Although you forgot that Satoru's atmosphere was close to boiling lava in temperature, when your hands accidentally brushed, a nasty, red bump was left on the skin of your thumb.
He put the ball on the shelf and moved his hand away so you could grab it.
"Which planet is it?" you wondered, brushing the crystal surface.
He tsked – something he learnt from you mere hour ago – and mumbled. "The earth, of course."
A scoff escaped your lips, and warmth spilt over the heart. "We're not that small."
"I believe you are."
"And we have more greenery."
He wondered, this time building a small spaceship. Your spaceship. "I would like to see it."
Some things have become clearer after spending the past few days in Satoru's presence. His planet was one of the closest to the sun, wrapped in a dense atmosphere that protected its inhabitants from being burned alive. As Satoru said, the days merged with the nights, and it was always rather dark – hence the pale, almost spectral eyes he and other inhabitants had. There was little to no greenery, and the water system had long been sustained by technologies developed by engineers like him.
"A lot of sand", he once said, and you wondered whether it would look like anything close to the climate of Arab countries.
His head tilted then, and eyes flickered with curiosity. "How do Arab countries look, question?"
You tried to describe the endless desert plains, the crimson sun, the curling droplets of sweat on your neck, and the nights filled with beaming joy as best you could. The feel of warm sand under your feet, sea brushing the skin sweetly and fresh dates melting on your tongue in sugary pleasure.
He listened, with eyes following the curve of your lips and fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
"I would love to see it," he muttered, poking the glass wall with his finger. "It sounds beautiful."
You giggled, following the pale blue of his skin. Soft and shiny, it reminded you more of a region bitten by cold than of the merciless atmospheric temperature of over two hundred degrees Celsius.
"You're rather pale for someone living right next to the sun."
He scoffed, with fingers still creating the small spaceship. In the meantime, you leaned against the crooked tunnel's wall, with a laptop on your thighs, trying to plan the route towards the only "safe" planet.
"I'm not pale. I'm blue."
"That was a joke," you shoot him a glance, seeing the irritated squint of his eyes. "It means that the thing I say is supposed to be funny. You should laugh."
A low, awkward chuckle rolled off his lips, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Satoru knew how to express his joy, but it seemed he didn't quite possess the humour you did.
The moment has passed, and a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you. He was mapping the galaxy, while you tried to work out whether your ship still had enough fuel to travel that far. It would take you months to reach that planet, but there seemed to be no other choice. After that mission, the fuel will run out, and you, just as planned, will die here – somewhere in the embrace of endless space.
A low sigh slipped past your lips, catching Satoru's attention. "Are you tired, question?"
Your head shook, and a few strands of hair fell loosely from a pinup. "I would love to invite you to my ship. There's a room where we can watch movies and stuff. I'm sure I can find something about Egypt."
And so…
You've also learned over the past few days that Satoru took everything seriously.
In the most genuine and firm understanding of this word.
Two weeks have passed since your meeting. One morning, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in nothing but panties and a loose shirt while brushing your teeth, a deep, gravelly rumble shook the entire spaceship.
Your heart leapt into your throat, eyes bulged, and you dashed out of the room with wet hair and bare feet. With all the prayers you've learnt as a child repeating in your mind over and over again, as you run towards the entrance of the ship.
Did you somehow get unsealed from the tunnel?
Did something hit the ship and cause the irreparable damage that would cost you your life?
Fuck, did–
But when you finally got into the room connected with an entrance, with toothpaste smeared all over your cheek and glasses falling crookedly off your nose, a low gasp slipped past your lips.
"Satoru?!"
Because the pale-bluish creature himself stood in the middle of your spaceship, locked in a…
"And you're in a ball?" Like a hamster, wanted to join, but he probably wouldn't know what a hamster is.
Standing right in front of you, fully upright, with long legs wrapped in a white suit and a muscular back bulging under the stretched material – he appeared even more monstrous than usual. A creature over two metres tall, looking all over your place with amusement shining in his eyes, his gaze following all your dirty panties spread across the floor.
"Yep, so I won't die in your atmosphere," long fingers knocked the crystal ball, before lips curved in a cheeky smile. "Can I smell it, question? I want to know how your body smells. Put it to the shel–"
A sudden warmth had hit your cheeks, and throat tightened around the remnants of the toothpaste. "Absolutely not! It's very not polite of you to ask such things."
He started walking around in a large ball that barely fit the corridors of your spaceship, its hard walls brushing against each and every machine, piece of furniture, and console on its way. He strolled freely, dropping different comments here and there, while you followed him and picked up all your clothes.
"So dirty," he snapped, pushing a loud scoff from your throat.
"I didn't expect the guests!"
But he ignored you, as your bedroom appeared somewhere within the line of his sight. Blue cheeks shone with crystal droplets, and white, fluffy hair almost stood on end with excitement. Before you could stop him, long legs swiftly moved towards your bedroom, taking in every little, dirty, detail – more panties, a small mattress, a few books lying scattered all over the floor.
"Is that our nest, question?" He looked around before parking his ball next to your mattress. He sat down, leaning against the floor, and finally shot you a look. "I like it."
With a deep, weariness-filled sigh, you returned to the bathroom, cleaned yourself, and re-entered the bedroom. Soft light reflected off the glistening droplets on his cheeks as he probed the fabric of your panties with his finger. Only then did you realise that the ball, despite being firm, was quite flexible, enabling him to slide his fingers through its surface, which was covered in a sticky, shimmering coating that shielded his skin from the oxygen.
You took the material away from his curious gaze and pushed it back into your bag.
"Satoru, what are you doing here?" slipped rather harshly as you sat down on your bed.
He seemed to be confused by your tone, tilting the fluffy head with a furrow. "Are you mad, question?"
You knew that getting angry with him, while he was still learning to recognise human emotions, was silly. Stupid, even, and you felt as if you were shouting at the poor puppy. Except that this puppy was much taller than you and probably weighed twice your weight.
With a sigh, you fell back on the mattress and covered your face with an arm. "Sorry, I'm not mad. Just… surprised. I didn't expect you would come up my ship."
He tried to roll closer, but the space was too small to allow him any other movements than going back and forth from the entrance to your mattress. So he stayed in place, trying to observe the expression on your face.
"I can't see you like that," he noted.
Another thing you've learnt about his species was how important contact and intimacy are. Not even sexual ones, but rather a simple need to always be with someone. To communicate while looking right into their eyes, to feel their skin on theirs, and to follow the movements of their lips. To feel the presence of another creature next to them, even if the only thing you did was sleep next to each other.
So another sorry slipped past your lips, and you sat again, showing Satoru your face. He slightly lightened up before pressing a hand to the crystal ball.
"You said, and I quote, I would love to invite you to my ship," he noted with utmost seriousness, and you rolled your eyes. "So I came."
Well, he was right. You did say that, and you did wish there were a way to bring him into your ship. Travelling together would be much easier if both of you were on one ship, so amidst the pure chaos and shock he caused, you quite enjoyed the fact that he could live here.
With you.
"Okay," your hand pressed to the ball, filling half of his palm. "But we need to set up some rules first. First, we don't sleep in the same bedroom–"
"But I must watch–"
"Satoru," you interrupted him, seeing the pale eyes slip into the sorrowfulness. "You have excellent hearing and even more excellent sight. I'm sure you can watch me sleep while staying next door." A grim twisted his face, and a low mumble filled his little bubble. Too quiet for the translator to catch, so you chuckled sweetly, seeing his brattiness surface. "Okay. The second rule – you can't sniff my panties. It's something… reserved only for mates."
And, well, if that didn't fire him up – with eyes suddenly beaming in excitement and droplets twinkling one by one, like a tiny mingling stars. You felt as if you had challenged him, and thus quickly added. "And because we are not mates, you cannot do it. It's too intimate."
"I want to be intimate."
A sudden flush hit your cheeks, and warmth spread beneath your chest. "No, Satoru, you don't understand. It's about sexual intimacy. Something you share while…" saying it out loud felt like giving a biology lesson to elementary school kids. "Mating… with your special someone. When you, well, have sex and stuff. Do you know–"
He chuckled low, a sly smile lifting his lips. "I know what mating is."
Something in your lower belly bubbled, seeing him like that. Tall and strong, spreading a slightly possessive and dominating aura. With eyes full of bratty cheekiness and something, something, slightly sensual dripping from his voice.
"Well, so you know that we can't do it," You moved back, taking your palm away from the crystal ball. "Let's work on our plan and try to find a way to save the world."
And with a slight dissatisfaction, Satoru finally agreed.
But the next months spent in his presence were… interesting. To say at least.
Every day brought new surprises, which sometimes ended with your body blushing from head to toes, sometimes him getting shy and flustered, while still trying to keep up the cocky demeanour.
He was nothing less than excellent when it came to engineering and helping with the travel itself, also being an amazing companion for the long, daring journey.
Soon he resigned from constant stay in a ball and filled the interior of your spaceship with long corridors of crystal, making himself at home. Whenever you were – he was right next. Be it a bedroom, control room, kitchen or…
"Satoru!" You quickly covered your breasts with your hands, seeing him walking into the bathroom with the most casual demeanour.
A plate of some weird substance, he was always eating for supper, and a white suit half unzipped, showing off his muscular, blue chest. He leaned against the door, spectral eyes slowly following your naked body. From legs up to hips, staying longer on the gentle swell of your ass and the mould of your pussy, before going up, and up, to the breasts covered by your trembling fingers. "Sweetheart is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."
"Sweetheart" because he really wished to call you something human pairs use for each other. Even though at least three times a week, you needed to remind him that you, in fact, were not a pair.
A muffled, surprised scoff escaped your lips. You pointed to the exit with one hand, forgetting it was clutching one of your breasts. When the silky swell smoothly slipped from your grasp, bouncing gently before his eyes, he moved closer, already pushing a finger through the stretching wall.
"Can I–"
You smacked it, once again showing the exit. "Satoru! You can't walk on me while I'm naked."
"Why, question?" he asked, relentlessly trying to get closer to your body. With a finger poking the wall, that unfortunately couldn't stretch enough to even brush your skin. "Come a bit closer."
Something in your belly bubbled, warmth spread across your chest, and a single, dirty thought of letting him touch you bloomed in your mind. After all, sexual needs and anatomy were among the things all researchers wished to know about foreign species. And because Satoru was of the same, curious kind as you…
"It's too early, out!"
His head tilted, and lips curved into a foxy smile. "It's eight in the evening."
"No, I mean, we're not close enough to do such stuff."
He knocked on the crystal wall. "Sweetheart, but I can't get closer."
Oh god.
You sighed, finally letting the other tit bounce softly too. Leaning against the small shelf, you glanced at him with a frown. He, however, looked anywhere but into your eyes. Rude.
"Our relationship is not on that level…" yet. "What you want to do is too intimate. Sexual." And then, a sudden curiosity spiked your mind. "Satoru, how does the… mate thing look like among your species?"
His eyes finally slipped up to yours. "We choose one mate for a whole life."
Well, that was rather clear.
"What about the, you know…" You gestured awkwardly, partially at your still naked body.
"The mating," he finished. But as if feeling the spike in your curiosity, with round eyes ogling his naked chest and slipping shyly towards his hips, he bubbled a low chuckle. "Come closer, and I will show you."
What a brat!
With the last tsk and a dirty look shot his way, you turned back towards the mirror and finished your quick, morning "shower". Even while using rinseless soap and water pouches to clean your body, you still felt Satoru's presence behind you.
Deep blue eyes following the curve of your body, back muscles working beneath the soft skin, and when you bent over to rinse your face, a sudden, sharp breath escaped his throat.
You didn't have to look back to know that he was looking straight at your pussy.
"It's wet," he mumbled, coming closer. And closer, until his finger once again tried to evade the stretching wall, too short to even brush the swell of your ass.
You hummed, trying to hide an embarrassed warmth kissing your neck. "It's a natural lubrication. It usually happens when a woman is…" oh fuck it. "Excited."
He seemed charmed, completely bewitched, and some part of you wished the difference in temperature between your bodies wasn't over two hundred degrees Celsius. As the moment Satoru's hands touched your skin, you weren't sure whether calling it the third-degree burn would be enough.
"Why is sweetheart excited, question?"
With your body leaning forward and hands resting on the shelf, you looked back, eyes slightly hazy, wetness dripping down your thigh. A silken droplet swirled down your leg, and Satoru's always oh-so-attentive eyes, of course didn't miss it.
"I want the taste," he mumbled, and only then did you notice a bulge, trying to rip free from beneath the white spacesuit covering his hips.
You took a deep breath, bending yourself lower and lower, till he could clearly see your cunt shining with silky wetness.
"I'm excited," you started, voice dripping with sensuality. "Because of you."
As if awaiting this exact answer, his eyes, for just a second, ripped themselves away from your soft pussy and looked up. To cross with yours – slightly teary, a bit too warm.
"I want to–"
You turned around, once again leaning against the shelf. A low groan escaped his throat, as he no longer could see your pussy in its fullness. The little pout twisting his lips made you giggle, but a tricky, dirty thought has slipped into your mind.
"How about this?" You took a step, then another, until you stood right in front of him. Much closer than before, but not close enough to let him brush your skin. "I will let you touch me. Watch me…" You coughed, feeling this wind of bravery leave your body as quickly as it had come. "Masturbate. And you'll let me do it too."
Satoru's lips fell open, eyes sparkled in excitement. "I thought the intimacy was only for mates. Are we mates then, question?"
"Let's call it friend with benefits."
His eyes narrowed. "We don't do such things with friends."
You scoffed, pushing your hip to the side and biting the inside of your cheek. "Well, we do, so you can either accept it or not."
And seeing that this time his bratty stubbornness wouldn't work, Satoru nodded.
A few minutes later, you found yourself in the most embarrassed, going-straight-to-the-grave position you could imagine. With elbows supporting your body on the bedroom's mattress, legs spread open, and pussy pressed against the crystal wall. The slippery juices coated the surface, making Satoru breathe much, much harder than before. With fingers wrapped around the biggest, most monstrous cock you've ever seen.
You needed a moment to take in the sight that sprang up in front of your eyes after he took off the rest of the suit. Massive, veiny shaft, with a swelled protrusion at his base, probably used while mating. The blue skin was peppered with similar droplets sprinkled on his cheeks, and shimmered faintly whenever he looked down at your cunt.
Small and fluttering, with your hole squeezing around nothing and clit swelled from excitement.
The penetrative gaze of his made you warm up even more. "Satoru, touch me," slipped like an order.
His long finger brushed the crystal wall and pushed – gently, carefully, till he felt a soft button under his pad and heard a low moan escape your lips.
He dreamed of feeling the gummy structure of your pussy. To roll the clit between his fingers, without any surface protecting his body. To lower himself down and smell, lick, taste the dripping cum that in his mind was sweeter than anything he had ever tried.
And it should be noted that he had quite refined taste buds.
His other hand pumped his massive cock in slow strokes, enjoying the sight spreading in front of him much more than the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the dripping shaft.
"Does it feel good, question?" He asked, hearing another moan fill the small bedroom.
"Y-yeah, ahh, try to make gentle circles," slipped faintly, as you started to roll nipples between your fingers.
His thumb pressed against your clit harder, making your feet curl and legs spread even wider. As if trying to invite his massive cock, that would surely rip you in half.
Maybe the fact that you couldn't touch each other wasn't that bad. Because if he somehow found a way to fuck you with this size, you sure would feel it up in your throat.
And thus you enjoyed the sight spreading in front of your eyes – his beefy thighs bulging whenever you jolted under his thumb, pearly cum dripping down the blue skin, long fingers squeezing the veiny meat as he still oh-so-carefully rubbed your clit.
"It's getting wetter," he noticed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I want to taste you."
His low voice made your body melt under his fingers, forcing your thighs to spread wider and wider, while chasing the pleasure bubbling in your belly. Your hole fluttered around nothing, and a sheer sight of his cock spun your mind in crazy wish to get yourself stretched around it. To feel every vein scratch your tight walls, till the drenched head would kiss your swelling womb.
"Fuck, wait, I have an idea," you backed out, crawling towards your bag.
Crazy, stupid, nasty plan slipped into your head, as you took out a mid-size, creamy dildo. With a sucking pad at the end, and a slightly curved head. It wasn't yours, as you somehow found it among the things… oh well, does it really matter? It was clean and had been bathed in antiseptic spray multiple times; thus, using it was not disgusting at all.
But when Satoru saw it, his breath hitched. Eyes slipped down to his cock, and forehead furrowed. "Why is it so small, question?"
You chuckled, sticking it to the crystal wall. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's the average size of a human's dick."
He followed your body as you once again spread your legs open and brushed the silicone cock through your folds a few times. Drenching it all in your juices, and Satoru, since learning the meaning of jealousy, felt something unpleasant bubble in his heart. Because he wished to be the one making your pussy flutter around his head and push it inside, till your sugary walls would clamp around his fat cock.
Your forehead furrowed, eyes glistened from prickling tears as his thumb once again landed on your clit. But this time, the pleasure was twice as intense. With a silicone dick stretching your tight pussy and his finger rubbing you in slow, maddening circles.
"I could make you feel better," he groaned, hearing another pitched moan slip past your lips. "This pathetic thing is not worthy to be inside my sweetheart."
With rising irritation, he pressed your clit harsher. Till a tremble washed over your body and back hit the mattress, as you rolled your cunt to feel the dildo go deeper. But Satoru was right – his cock would indeed make you feel better.
Your hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the hard buds and chasing the maddening pleasure bubbling in your lower belly.
A deep frown creased Satoru's forehead, and he gently squeezed your clit. "I can't see your face."
"R-right, sorry–ahhh," A cry rolled off your tongue as you once again leaned on your elbows. "Satoru, it feels so good, mhmm."
His cock was more flushed than before, with a cherry tip spilling the heavy, thick droplets all over his hand. He pumped it madly, never once taking his eyes off your lovely face. With pleasure twisting your brows and teary eyes fixed upon his.
"S-Satoru, I, fuck, I'm going to cum," the silicone cock kissed your cervix, smooching it wetly with hefty, gluey cum sipping from your hole.
You tried to imagine getting split open on his cock. Being filled by his cum, with creamy saps stuffing your swelling womb and pumping your belly full. Getting manhandled by his muscular arms and wide back, as he would fold you into a mating press and push into the mattress. Till each and every spring would painfully dig into your spine.
So with a final cry, you came.
With a loud cry, spine arching into the sweetest curve, and a sprinkling of sweetness gushing all over his thumb, although it was a true pity that he couldn't feel it. Your body trembled and lips fell open, seeing a furrow cloud his forehead and fingers tightening around his cock.
And then, an idea slipped quietly into your mind.
"Wait a minute, don't cum yet," you muttered, taking a pair of panties lying on your bed. With a single, dirty move, you rubbed them against your drenched folds, gathering all the creamy cum and honeyed sweetness.
Satoru… dear heavens.
When a flimsy material landed inside the shelf, quite similar to the one he installed in a tunnel, Satoru's fingers snapped forward and snatched it. He brought it closer to his nose, lips, feeling your precious wetness and the rich flavour burst right onto his tongue, as a low, primal groan escaped his throat.
"Mhmm, s-so, ahh, tastes so sweet," a muffled cry was almost incomprehensible with your panties filling his mouth.
The head of his cock pulsed, massive balls constricted whenever his tongue took another lick of your fresh cum and eyes… oh, eyes stayed on you.
On your breasts coated in sheer sweat, thighs still spread open and a little, minx smile twisting your lips. Satoru was sure he could cum only at the sheer sight of your angelic face, and thus, after a few more harsh pumps and muffled cries, he came. Loud and heavy, with creamy ropes shooting all over his glimmering skin and fully emptying everything he has been keeping far too long.
What a waste, you both thought, wishing it landed somewhere far, far sweeter and warmer. Deep inside your womb, preferably.
A moment has passed, with a small bedroom filled with your heavy breaths and shy glances, looking everywhere but at your cum-coated bodies. With a faint cough, you finally closed your thighs and covered yourself with a blanket.
Blooming loveliness crept up your cheeks, and suddenly looking at Satoru required far more courage and calm than it had merely thirty minutes ago.
Before you could ask whether he needed a towel, his low voice spoke first. "Are we mates now, question?"
He said sheepishly, lifting your panties with a finger.
You groaned and fell on a mattress with his chuckle tickling your burning ears.
You didn't want to destroy this moment, even though you knew your mission would end with you dying in space. That he would go back to his planet safely, while you would float and float and float, while eventually dying of hunger.
And so, sharing this sweet moment of intimacy, with warmth spreading beneath your chest, you nodded. "Yes, Satoru. Let's become mates."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
The next few months were filled with nothing but joy.
With movies playing on repeat in the small, cinematic room, Satoru watches each of them with his lips agape. Enjoying the landscapes of Earth, you could project them into a closed space, with a blue sky spreading across the ceiling and tall Scottish plains stretching beneath your feet.
With the golden sand of Thai beaches shimmering in the sun and coconuts falling from the palms, the chirping of birds perched high in the lush trees of the Amazon Forest, and the endless plains of the Sahara Desert.
When you joked that the three pyramids in Giza you were just looking at were believed to have been built by aliens, he only hummed and nodded as if in agreement. A scoff rolled off your tongue, and his head snapped towards you.
"Why are you nodding? Of course they weren't!"
Plush, bluish lips curved in a sly smile. "Is sweetheart sure, question? It looks like something we have on our planet."
An unbelievable shock crossed your face as you stared at him, speechless. "No, you don't!"
"Yes, we do."
"You're fucking with me."
His head tilted. "I thought we can't fuck."
You rolled your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder. Or at least against the crystal surface he was pressed against. "Forget it."
"I can't, my memory is excellent."
And that was indeed true, as Satoru seemed to remember every single thing you said or did over the past few months. The plan you devised to obtain a sample of the planet's atmospheric gas to discover why it was immune to deadly microbes was etched into his mind with meticulous precision.
Truly mesmerising creature he was, especially as he also remembered which buttons to push, to make you cum faster.
What you had also discovered was that Satoru loved to talk about your future.
Particularly during the late nights, when you were curled up under the warm blanket, lying on a mattress in a dimly lit room, with him cuddled up against your side.
He couldn't brush your soft cheek pressed against the wall, but it was fine.
For the look of your lovely face, he watched with warmth blooming in his chest, was enough.
On such nights, when both of you longed for each other's warmth, he enjoyed dreaming. Of you returning with him to his planet, building you a small, private island with oxygen, and fulfilling all your wishes. You teaching the children of his species physics – as you did on Earth – and him continuing to serve as the most valued engineer on his planet.
Of you and him living together in a small seaside cottage, spending days loving each other and lying on the soft beach till darkness would spill over the ocean's horizon – the only his planet had, the one he was ready to fully give into your hands. Having sex all day and night, to which you responded with a sweet, faint giggle, as sleep slowly slipped onto your eyes.
"And how would we do it, hm?" you mumbled, pressing against the crystal wall.
A soft furrow haunted your forehead, and he imagined calming it with a gentle roll of his thumb. "The atmosphere of my planet allows us to use a special technique," through the glass wall, he traced the curve of your lips. "It wraps my body in a thin barrier, but I would be able to touch you," soft lips touched to the point where your nose pressed. "And kiss you. And hug you, make love with you, although we wouldn't have children."
You understood why and giggled softly, slowly opening your sleepy eyes to meet the endless, pale blue. "You really want to get even closer, huh?"
It was a joke, and yet a warmth bloomed behind his spectral eyes, forcing your heart to skip a beat. His hand pressed to the part where your chest met the wall, before he leaned his forehead against "yours". "If I could, I would make you live inside me. So nothing in this universe would ever rip us apart."
A faint oh rolled past your lips as you bit on the soft inside of your cheek. "Satoru, I don't know how long your species live, but… I don't have as much time as you think."
A sudden panic swelled behind his eyes, and thumb slipped out of the crystal wall to brush your lower lip. "My best friends have been mates for the past hundred and sixty years. How many can you give me, question?"
Something ripped through your heart. Cut it with painful slashes, till a crease on your forehead deepened. "Not a lot, Satoru. Maybe seventy years?"
His thumb paused, an ache spreading across the vast, pale blue plains. "I've lived three hundred years without you," he said, warm lips pressing into the wrinkle between your "brows". "I won't survive another seventy."
But the endless honeymoon couldn't last long.
For there was a reason why both of you found yourselves in space. Why the mission was tagged as suicidal, and why there wasn't enough fuel to get you back to Earth. And while Satoru's dreams indeed sounded tempting, you knew that it simply wouldn't work out.
For you breathed oxygen, and he needed ammonia gas.
Your body stayed cool at thirty-six degrees Celsius, while his was burning up to over two hundred.
He was three hundred years old – you twenty-seven.
But he didn't have to know all of that. Over the past twenty-seven years, no one had made you laugh, enjoy, and love life as much as he did. Even if those brief moments of happiness were only meant to last a few months, they were enough.
After the mission, he could go back safely to his home, and you… well.
And you would need to watch him die.
It was truly unpredictable, and none of you could foresee how the situation would turn out. You finally arrived on the planet, prepared to collect the necessary samples of the antidote. You didn't know, however, how dense its atmosphere would be.
How the wind would violently hit your ship, tossing it sharply left and right as you stepped outside in your spacesuit and carried Satoru's sampling device back onto the ship.
He told you to leave it. When you almost fell off the ship, he begged you to come inside. Hit the wall with hands, screamed right into the speaker inside your helmet, pleaded to leave the sample and just come back.
But you simply couldn't do it. Because leaving it here, after Satoru spent decades in space trying to seek the solution, would be simply foolish. Egoistic, and thus, after a few harsh currents, you grabbed the box filled with antidote cells and went back to the ship.
But then, it started spinning. And spinning and spinning, wish wind smacking it in violent currents, and you found it almost impossible to get back onto the normal route. Every single light inside the control room shimmered red. Satoru tried to calm you down, but there was nothing he could truly do from behind the glass wall.
You pushed and flickered every button, every controller, but after one sudden, brutal tug of the ship, your face hit the console.
Eyes filled with red, a nasty crack came from the nose, and the gaze became a bit hazy. You tried to push one last button that would help the ship get away from the planet's strong current, but you were simply too weak. With blood slowly covering your whole face and belts still pinning you to the chair.
Satoru shouted something, but you couldn't hear him clearly. Was it because of the red lamps and an alarm filling the control room? Or maybe because of the sudden sleepiness that blanketed your eyelids?
His fists hit the glass wall, spreading the dull echo around the control room. A soft sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart rolled past his lips, but you simply had no energy to look up. As if you did, the sigh of his trembling, panicked face would rip your heart apart.
His large fists wanted to break through the wall, eyes looked at the blood dripping down your face, body filled with helplessness and desperation, trying everything in his power to get close to you.
With a single finger, you still strained to push that last red button. To get the ship back on track, at least allow Satoru to be safe, and finish the mission that would help save his planet. But your body couldn't handle the gravitational force caused by the spin, which pressed you into the console. The slow crushing of your lungs, mind filling with fogginess, throat crushed beneath the flickering buttons.
So with a soft, almost inaudible I'm sorry, your eyes closed.
A second has passed, a minute, with mind registering the crying alarm and… and a shatter of glass.
A sudden pain washed over your body – burning and stinging every nerve. Someone lifted you up, carefully, slowly, trying to wrap you in blankets and clothes, anything to keep you from the lethal touch.
Quiet, you'll live, sweetheart will live, sweetheart, sweetheart, keep your eyes open, amid violent waves of coughing and painful moans, filled the corridors of your spaceship. When your eyes opened a little, you saw nothing but thick steam evaporating from something.
Someone.
"Satoru?" slipped out in a whisper as, from beneath the curling steam, a blue, familiar face looked down at you, wet-cheeked. "Satoru, no, y-you'll die–"
"Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay, sweetheart will live," he repeated like a mantra, hugging your wrapped body closer to his.
Fiery skin burned through the thick layers of blankets, leaving burns all over your bloodstained skin. Your body hit something, and before you noticed, an automated medical care robot soon filled your vision. The mechanical arms pressed the oxygen mask to your face before an IV needle slipped beneath the skin of your arm.
"Satoru," you mumbled weakly, trying to find those familiar, pale eyes.
And he was right there, offering you the most painful, heart-tearing sight. Tears ran down his cheeks, white steam curled tortuously from his body, and gaze slowly grew weaker. He could barely breathe, yet still stood right there.
Over your barely warm body, making sure that you would live.
"I watch you–"
"No, S-Satoru," barely pushed through your squeezed throat. With crystal tears swirling in your eyes and fingers trying to push him away from the table. "Go back, p-please, or–"
"No, I watch you sleep." his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt. "You won't die".
You were too weak to fight him. In too much pain, with your head pounding, skin burning from his touch and anaesthesia slowly kicking in.
And so, with a last look into the eyes your heart laughed for, you fell asleep.
There was no way to tell how much time had passed. How long you stayed under the mechanical clutches of the medical robot.
How long Satoru needed to suffer, to make sure you would be alive.
But when you finally woke up and ripped yourself away from the needles, he wasn't there.
He wasn't in your sight, but something else, something burned, marked the floor. Dark traces of blue dust led further inside the spaceship. Still weak, with the last traces of blood dried on your cheek, you followed them, your heart pounding. And a little grain of foolish hope bloomed inside your heart, fresh tears already swirling in the corners of eyes.
The ship was back on a normal route, carrying you through the galaxy at a slow, peaceful pace. Thanks to Satoru.
The blue dust led you through the control room, down into the basement, kitchen, bathroom, and finally to the bedroom, as if he tried to, for the last time, see every part of the ship. Just to make sure everything was working. That after waking up, you wouldn't have to bother yourself with anything.
And so another wave of crushing sob bubbled in your throat. A pain ripping you open as you entered your shared bedroom and saw him there – curled on the mattress, the upper part of his body already slipped inside his crystal corridor. As if he didn't have the strength to crawl in fully. Too busy watching you sleep.
"Oh, Satoru," a cry finally escaped your throat, as your knees bent beside his body. "You fool, so stupid, you're–oh!" A hysterical lament filled the small bedroom as you touched his cold body. "Satoru, how c-could you leave me alone?"
Face, always beaming with so much warmth and joy, lay in dead silence. With your loving, blue eyes closed behind the curtain of white lashes and lips more pale than usual.
Gathering every last ounce of strength still boiling in your body, you brought his ball back. In such a tight, ammonia-filled space, the chance of his recovery was much higher.
Opening it was almost impossible, so you cut a hole big enough to, with pain ripping through your muscles and sweat dripping down your spine, somehow push him inside. And then you glued the walls tight, with a prayer dripping off your lips, and your body cuddled into his crystal ball.
"I'll watch you sleep," you whispered, brushing the surface with his pressed cheek. "You won't die."
𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
The sun spilling through the curtain tickled your cheeks. The chirping of birds made you sigh deeply, and the gentle sea breeze coated your skin with soft kisses. The shoulder, the soft line of the spine, the slightly sweating neck, with a salty fragrance slipping sweetly into your nostrils.
You tried to stretch, waking up your stiff body from a deep slumber, but something locked you in place.
Something heavy and long, curling around your waist and pulling you closer to another stony wall.
Or, maybe you should say, stony chest.
Looking over your shoulder, you've met with a cheeky smile curling your husband's lips and still-sleepy, pale eyes. He pulled you closer, until your head found itself under his chin and your legs entangled with his.
"Good morning," you giggled, turning in his arms. "Did you sleep well?"
Satoru hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The thin barrier wrapping his body glimmered under the spilling sunlight. After years on his planet, you no longer needed a translator to understand his language. And so you kissed his blue neck, tracing the kisses up, and up, along his jaw and chin, until finally locking your lips with his.
"Apologies, I didn't watch you sleep."
You chuckled, biting gently on his lower lip. "Were you that tired after last night?"
"Mmm," a soft, satisfied hum escaped his throat when you felt something hard poking your belly. "Forgive your husband, he didn't realise he had a tigress and no wife at home."
You chuckled sweetly, forcing his lips to curl in a sly smile.
"Does my wife need anything? Do you want Suguru to lower the temperature?"
Tracing the sharpness of his jaw, up to the curve of his lips, your head shook. "No, it's warm enough. Maybe you can ask him to lower the birds' chirping a bit. I think they're a bit louder than yesterday."
He nodded, pulling you even closer. Till your bodies tangled in one, and a slow, peaceful pounding of his heart beat against your breasts. "Mhm, sure. But let's sleep a bit longer, and then you can jump on me as much as you want, hm?"
So with the last, soft kiss between your brows and heart swelling from feeling the heaviness of your body on his, Satoru allowed you to cuddle into his muscular chest and watch him slowly slip into a deep slumber.
synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.
a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL
You died while reading a manhwa.
One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.
The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.
And then you woke up somewhere else.
Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.
You turn toward the mirror.
The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.
You have transmigrated.
You are now the villainess.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.
The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.
In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.
And now I’m her.
Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.
The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.
“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”
You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”
The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”
The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”
You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”
The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.
Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”
They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.
They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.
The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.
There he is.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.
You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.
His knife stops mid-cut.
The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.
You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”
The words hang in the air.
Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.
“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”
He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.
“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”
Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.
You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.
This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.
The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.
By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.
You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.
Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.
A gruff “Come in” came from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.
The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.
Then his crimson eyes flicked up.
The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.
You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”
Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.
“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”
He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.
“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”
His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.
“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.
“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.
“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”
He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.
You didn’t argue.
You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.
Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
That went badly.
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.
Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?
If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?
It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.
You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.
The next morning arrived quietly.
You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.
You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.
You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.
About an hour later, the door opened.
Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.
For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.
“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”
You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.
“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”
Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.
“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”
You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”
He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”
You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”
Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.
“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”
But he didn’t ask you to leave.
You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.
It wasn’t much.
But it also wasn’t outright rejection.
You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.
Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.
“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”
You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.
“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”
The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.
You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.
“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.
You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.
This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.
But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.
You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.
Tomorrow it is.
The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.
You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.
You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.
They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.
You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.
“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.
A firm knock sounded at the door.
“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.
You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.
Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.
His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.
“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I said I would,” you replied simply.
He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.
You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.
As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”
You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.
The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.
When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.
Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.
“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.
You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.
“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”
The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.
The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.
You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.
Tonight was different.
Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.
A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”
Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”
You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.
“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”
“I thought she hated him…”
“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”
Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.
Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.
For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”
You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”
“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”
Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.
A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.
“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”
Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.
Suddenly, you were alone.
You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.
“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”
You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.
“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”
His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”
Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.
Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”
You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Sukuna.
His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.
Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.
“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”
Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”
You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.
Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”
Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.
“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”
Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.
He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”
The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.
You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.
“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.
“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”
Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.
“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”
His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.
Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.
“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”
His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.
The music swelled again around you.
Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.
“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”
Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.
He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.
“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”
You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”
The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.
As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.
“Sukuna…” you started softly.
He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.
“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”
The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.
When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.
“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”
He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.
Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.
The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.
When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.
When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.
“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”
He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.
You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.
“Wait…”
Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.
You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"
The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.
Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.
“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”
He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.
“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.
Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.
The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.
“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”
He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”
He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.
The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.
His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.
Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”
He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.
“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.
You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.
Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.
You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.
For a long second he just stared.
Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.
You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.
The silence was heavy.
“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”
Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.
The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.
Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”
He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.
Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.
For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.
Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.
He didn’t pull away immediately.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”
You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.
“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.
Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.
He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.
“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”
Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.
God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.
He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”
You didn’t make him wait long.
You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.
“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”
A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.
Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.
Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.
“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”
You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.
There was no point in holding back anymore.
“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit.”
The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.
“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”
You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.
“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”
His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.
“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”
His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.
“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”
The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.
Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.
You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.
“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.
“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”
His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.
“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.
Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.
“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”
He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.
“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”
His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.
Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.
“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”
You didn’t hesitate any longer.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.
Then he took control.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.
You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.
“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”
He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.
“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”
He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.
“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”
You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.
“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”
His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.
You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”
One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”
He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.
He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.
“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”
He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.
You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”
He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”
His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.
It snapped.
You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.
He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.
“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”
His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”
You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.
Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”
He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.
You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.
Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.
He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.
“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”
He pushed forward slowly.
The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.
Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.
“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.
You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”
He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.
“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.
You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.
“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.
“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.
You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.
“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”
“Good girl.”
He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.
The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.
“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.
“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”
“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”
It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”
He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”
Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.
Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”
He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.
Sukuna went feral.
He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.
You were cockdrunk almost immediately.
Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.
“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.
He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.
Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.
“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”
You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”
Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.
He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.
“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.
Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.
“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.
He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.
“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”
He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.
You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.
Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”
You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”
He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.
You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”
He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.
Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.
But he didn’t let go.
a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
Before God and all of House Ryomen, Sukuna swears an oath to love and protect the nymph before him. “By oath and by pledge, I bind myself to you.”
WORD COUNT: 5k+ words
18+ MDNI. sukuna art by the talented @ma0chi77 ┈ folktale / knight!sukuna / arranged marrange / explicit / non-curse / mcd / smut / bulge kink omfg / baby we have fluff in here too
For the wages of sin is death, for it is the only thing inevitable.
The feud between House Ryomen and House Aizu has lasted decades, until Lord Ryomen’s valiant knight finally forced their Lord's tower to its knees.
On the other hand, House Sugawara, ruler of all kingdoms, chooses not to intervene, keeping his side of the realm at peace by letting the lesser houses settle their own quarrels. The Sugawara's lord would rather stay in his keep than meet the god of war on the battlefield.
Sukuna Ryomen.
The deranged god of war, as the world calls him.
A man said to be the reincarnation of Ares himself, for he wages wars with no fear, no restraint, and no end.
He has beheaded dragons, razed castles, and looted the fallen lands of countless lords. Gold follows his name like a curse. For every head he severs, another fortune piles beneath his feet. But when he faces a presence so immense it nearly drives him to his knees, he knows it at once: his demise has come.
Sukuna keeps no trophies from his victories, no reminders of what he’s conquered. Yet even a god of war must have a wife, for a man without a family is but a lone wolf with nowhere to go.
And there you stand before him, timid and trembling, head bowed, and wrists bound. Your torn garments expose bruises blooming across your skin, black and blue.
When you lift your gaze, his eyes meet yours, and he inhales sharply. Not from pity, but from awe because your beauty is otherworldly.
“That’s one prize of a wife,” Uraume murmurs, half-teasing and half-wondering. “She’s the healing nymph of House Uro they spoke of.”
“A nymph?” Sukuna’s eyes narrow, studying your fragile form.
“Yes. And your bride, too.” The vice commander grins and elbows him lightly. “Nymphs are ardent worshippers of the gods. Perhaps her prayers might tame you.”
“Such wishful thinking.” Sukuna only exhales.
He watches in silence as the knights escort you through the palace doors.
“She’s the only healer her house has left,” Uraume adds, still watching. “She could serve you well in battle.”
“Perhaps.” Sukuna’s voice is low and unreadable.
Interesting would be an understatement. But in truth, he cannot yet find words to describe what he feels.
The sky is clear, yet a storm brews in your heart. Today, you are to be celebrated as the bride to the god of war.
The sound of wedding bells and cheerful hymns drown you as you walk down the aisle of a church whose god you do not worship, in a house you have never sworn allegiance to.
The green velvet draped over your skin burns where your wounds have only just healed. Some are closed, but still raw beneath the surface. Unlike most brides who are guided by loved ones, you walk alone. Grief and sorrow are the only ones to hold your hand.
At the end of the long aisle stands the knight who won you in battle.
When your eyes meet, your breath falters. Not from love, but from fear.
Sukuna’s features are as sharp as his sword; even his expression is cold and unmoving. Even now, on his wedding day, he barely smiles. He stands rigidly, looking almost bored of his own ceremony. Yet beneath the armor, his heart pounds against his ribs. He does not understand why, only that it does.
When you finally reach him, he offers his arm. You take it gently, your fingers trembling as they rest on steel and skin.
Before God and all of House Ryomen, Sukuna swears an oath to love and protect the nymph before him. “By oath and by pledge, I bind myself to you.”
It is said that your union will strengthen bonds between realms. A sacred merge blessed with power as another war looms on the horizon. But his vows are as cold as the steel he wears. His face never softens, his voice never wavers. Even as he drinks from the chalice, his hand remains steady.
You answer quietly despite the ache in your chest.
“Sir Sukuna, to you I pledge my heart. Where the flowers bloom and the sun brings warmth, I shall make a home for you. From the fires of war, I shall be your calm spring. By oath and by pledge, I bind myself to you.”
Sukuna removes his gauntlet and takes your hand. His hands are rough and scarred, worn from countless battles, yet his grasp is careful.
He slips a ring of steel around your finger, its jade center a reflection of the homeland he burned not long ago. It hurts, but in war, there are only victors and fallen houses. You simply belong to the latter.
When it is your turn, you press a simple silver ring onto his finger.
The hall erupts in applause. The sound drowns the noise in your head, but not the unease in your heart. Standing beside him, you feel small, like a shadow in the light of something monstrous. And yet, Sukuna feels peace for the first time.
Even if you never mean your vows, he believes he means his... even if they’re brief and hollow as they may seem.
Consummating the wedding is expected.
But on your first night as husband and wife, Sukuna does not touch you. Not even when you bare yourself before him, sitting still, patient, and waiting in silence.
He only looks at you with barely any emotion. “I assume you know who I am and what I do.”
You lift your gaze to meet his stoic form. It takes a moment before you answer.
“I most certainly do... but we must perform our duties.” You swallow hard, hesitant, but unbending. “It is the full moon, my good sir. Sons are conceived around this time.”
He says nothing, watching as you slowly lower your hands from your chest.
“Will you ravage me like the whores your men take to bed?”
Sukuna has stared death in the face a hundred times, but never has he met remorse until now.
“You are no whore. You are my wife,” he says with unexpected softness. What he says next snaps you back, “I hope your duty includes staying quiet on the night after our wedding.”
“And bear you a son,” you whisper while shivering as cold air grazes your bare skin.
He steps closer and brushes a finger across your arm. His fingertips barely touching, as though afraid you might break.
“Only if you and the gods will it,” he answers quietly.
Your eyes flicker with faint relief. “Thank you.”
He studies you carefully. When courage finds him, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What was your homeland like?”
For the first time since your arrival, Sukuna sees you smile gently and genuinely.
“It is– was– It was beautiful,” you say with eyes closed as you recall. “We lived in harmony and equality. It was a haven rooted in love.”
“Love is superficial,” he says coldly. “My duty is to bring ruin. To turn bountiful lands into dust.”
You shake your head. “There are no godforsaken lands, only war-torn ones.” Then, you softly add, “You grow weary protecting your house. Isn’t that love?”
He hesitates at first and lets the question hang heavy between you.
“All I know is destruction,” he admits at last. “I am the mad warrior, after all.”
“You aren’t mad. You just love deeply,” you whisper. “There is no house that loves deeper than yours.”
The words strike him like a blade. How can someone so fragile hold so much warmth? You are small beside him, delicate against the dim firelight, and yet somehow, your presence fills the room.
Still, Sukuna cannot shake what hides behind your eyes. Beneath your calm lies anger, quiet but fierce. He sees it flicker whenever you look at him, even for a moment.
And he wonders: How many more moons must pass before you finally grow accustomed to his presence?
At a safe distance beneath a lush ginkgo tree, Sukuna silently watches you with quiet awe.
You’re teaching the women in his homeland how to perform basic healing. He also notices how your voice is soft yet full of conviction. He overheard earlier that you wish to train them to tend to their husbands, and perhaps, someday, send women to the frontlines to heal the wounded on the battlefield.
“Your wife’s one to lead,” Uraume teases.
“Let her be,” Sukuna sighs, trying to hide the fondness in his tone. “Doing nothing bores anyone, even for a knight like you,” he adds, lightly punching the vice commander’s arm.
Uraume flinches and laughs. “Shall we take her on the next campaign?”
Sukuna doesn’t reply. Instead, his gaze drifts back to you, lingering longer than he intends.
“Let’s head back,” he finally says. “Training’s about to start.”
He isn’t fond of you teaching basic medicine or any task for that matter, well, not at first.
He was raised to believe a man protects his wife, not the other way around. But as the days pass, pride quietly replaces his doubt. You are his wife, yes, but you are also someone with a purpose far greater than tradition allows.
7 moons in, your life with him falls into a rhythm.
On the days he's out to train with the squires, you wait for him to return home safely each night. Most of the time, you just stay silent and serve him a warm cup of tea while watching him clean off the blood on his beloved sword.
Tonight is no different. The quiet of your shared quarters is broken only by the sound of steel and water as he cleans his sword.
“The drills weren’t too hard today,” Sukuna says flatly without breaking his gaze from his sword.
You blink in surprise that he’s the one starting a conversation.
“I suppose a campaign is coming,” you reply, and offer a small smile.
He nods. “Ah.” Then, after a brief silence, he glances at you. “I hear you’ve been teaching the women how to tend wounds.”
You freeze and look visibly caught off guard by his tone. He sounds neither angry nor approving. You’ve watched him many times from afar, but never this close. His long hair frames his face perfectly, his eyes sharp but not unkind.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper while bowing your head.
Sukuna blinks at your sudden apology.
Reaching out, he gently lifts your chin until your eyes meet his. “Never bow your head for doing something noble.”
The warmth in his voice stirs something in you. But your gaze soon falls to the shallow cuts along his forearm.
“Please don’t move,” you say softly.
“It’s nothing—”
“I said don’t move,” you shoot him a look and reiterate, “good sir.”
Your firm tone makes him smirk.
As your fingers trace his skin and glow faintly with magic, he studies your face. You’re not fragile, not the gentle creature he first thought. There’s strength and grace in you, wrapped in quiet determination.
Admittedly, he finds himself drawn to it.
“You have a gash on your cheek,” you murmur.
“A small one,” he answers.
“I’ll heal it too.”
When you touch his face, your thumb brushes the curve of his cheekbone, and the world seems to still. His breath slows, and so does yours. The wound fades beneath your touch, but neither of you looks away.
Then, without thinking, Sukuna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and his lips find yours. His kisses are soft, hesitant at first, before deepening into something neither of you expected.
You tilt your head, granting him more access to your neck.
“Sir,” you whisper against his lips.
He pauses and breathes on your neck. “I have a name.”
You smile faintly and cup his face. “Sukuna.”
For the first time, he smiles back. A real, boyish, and unguarded one. He takes your hands and kisses your palms, as if memorizing them.
And from that night on, things have been different.
You wait for him after long days of training. You share tea and quiet laughter before sleep calls. There are nights that the war feels far away when your bodies and hearts find solace in each other.
He realizes, slowly but surely, that you’ve become a part of him. The thought of battle no longer frightens him, but only the thought of not coming home to you.
For you are his anchor.
The one that keeps him steady and sane when the world turns cruel.
Sukuna comes home one night after a rough, intense training with the squires.
When he opens the bedroom door, he finds you wide awake, sitting silently by the window as you watch fireflies dance in the dark. When you notice his presence, you shift your gaze toward him and offer a soft smile.
Sukuna breaks into a small, tired smirk as he joins you. He effortlessly slips an arm around your waist and leans in to kiss you.
Tilting your chin up, he asks gently, “What’s keeping my wife awake?”
“My stubborn husband.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he shakes his head. “I’m afraid your nights will be sleepless for all eternity, my love.”
“You wear yourself out.” You run a hand over his arm, frowning. “It is your hardheaded attitude that will be your downfall.”
He scoffs. “My skills are unmatched. It is nearly impossible to kill me.”
“But you are not immortal,” you say sternly.
Your brows knit together as your palm hovers over each wound, a warm white glow spilling from your hand as you heal him.
“I do not understand why my love insists on being so rough during training,” you say quietly. “What joy do you get from it? Wars, destruction. None of it benefits man.”
“It benefits the lords.”
Sukuna’s expression softens as you continue to scold him.
You avert your gaze, muttering bitterly, “But what benefit does it bring us?” When you finally meet his eyes again, your frown deepens. “I do not wish to bury my husband.”
His calloused hands cup your face as he leans closer. “My death shall only come the moment I lose you.”
He captures your lips hungrily, drawing a small moan from you. Sukuna is used to doing all the work, but the moment your lips trail to his neck, a low groan escapes him.
As you begin to unravel his robe, he inhales sharply, feeling both his exhaustion and his strength melt away.
Sukuna closes his eyes and murmurs, “Everything you do consumes my whole being.”
You hum in quiet satisfaction as your kisses trail down his chest, until your mouth reaches his pelvis.
Looking up at him, you give him an innocent smile. “As you do with me.”
His jaw tightens as you take him into your mouth, never breaking eye contact. His eyes darken with lust as he watches your tongue drag along his shaft, then swirling around his swollen tip.
Sukuna throws his head back when he feels you take him deeper, a strained groan leaving his lips. His hand finds its way into your silky hair, pushing you closer.
When he realizes he’s nearing his release, he pulls away at once and effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder.
“It’s unfair that you lift me as if I weigh nothing,” you giggle.
As he carries you to the futon, he runs a finger along your slit, bringing his now slick coated finger it to his mouth.
“I would very much like to have you on the futon.”
He carefully lays you down on the futon before hovering above you. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and you smile up at him.
“Take it out on me.”
Sukuna blinks. “I'm afraid I—”
You pull him down into a rough kiss, mumbling between kisses, “Please be rough. I want to feel all of you.”
He responds with the same need, gently parting your legs with his knee. With his free hand, he aligns his throbbing cock, teasing you as he drags his leaking tip along your folds.
When your slick coats him enough, he pushes into you, slow at first, before stuffing you full to the hilt. He savors the way your warm walls close around him.
Sukuna huffs with a smirk against your neck. “I will kill the man who rips this tight cunt of yours away from me.”
He pulls back slightly, still buried deep, holding your hips firmly as he starts to move in slow, deliberate thrusts that quickly turn into the punishing pace he prefers. He slams into you greedily, again and again, until the rhythm entirely his.
“Kuna— look,” you whimper. Your fingers trail down to your stomach, tracing the outline of his cock beneath your skin. “I—it’s you. See?”
His gaze darkens at the sight of his thick cock protruding. For a fleeting moment, he fears he might break you, but when he looks at your face, twisted in pleasure, that thought disappears entirely.
“Feels s’good.”
A low chuckle leaves him. “Look at you. Acting innocent, but you moan like a whore.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as your breasts bounce with every thrust.
“Hear that?” he murmurs darkly. “That’s all you, my love.”
Your pussy makes him stupid. Sukuna groans as he plants one foot firmly on the futon. The shift lets him drive deeper, slower, more deliberately, forcing an arch from your back.
His breath hitches at your reaction, his hand absently finding your breast and squeezing. When your mouth parts, eyes still locked on his, he finally loses control.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans.
He snaps his hips up to meet you, matching your rhythm until your walls tighten around him. Your body sinks deeper into the futon, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.
“Fuck,” he breathes as he finally spills inside you with a husky moan.
Sukuna collapses on top of you, making you squirm beneath his weight. He’s too heavy and far too big for you to move, so you let out a tired giggle instead.
“You’re so heavy.”
“Am I?” He turns his head toward you with a lazy smirk. “The gods do not forbid a man from loving his wife dearly.”
You wrap your arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “I am certain the gods do forbid killing one’s wife with sheer weight.”
If the gods are kind enough to him, he imagines himself beneath the ginkgo tree again, watching you laugh with your children. He hopes to have two sons with his eyes and a daughter with your smile.
Though peace remains a far away dream, Sukuna has now found reason to hope for the future.
A war has been waged, and a new campaign is launched. Much to Sukuna’s dismay, his family agrees to let you join the knights as a medic on the field.
The roads beyond House Ryomen’s walls stretch endlessly.
While he commands his men and lifts their morale, his eyes often seek you out to steady his heart whenever you meet his glance. In turn, you care for his soldiers with quiet grace, giving him no reason to worry.
By day, the women prepare the knights’ necessities. By night, inside the small tent you share, you whisper poems and hum him to sleep. In slumber, you hold each other close, knowing that tomorrow is never promised for men like him.
Before he leaves to face House Fujiwara, you press a soft kiss to the corner of Sukuna’s lips.
“For my love’s luck and safety.”
“I have fought countless demons and came back in one piece." He chuckles faintly while brushing a thumb across your cheek. “Is it perhaps that my wife is losing faith in me?”
“Not at all,” you shake your head. Then, your eyes drift to the campfire beyond your tent. “But this war will be a bigger storm than the last.”
Sukuna watches you in silence, the wind sweeping a strand of your hair across your face. “How does my love say so?”
“The wind whispers melodies, sometimes songs of sorrow for the impending end,” you answer softly, “Not long after this, a new house will rise. Maybe House Fujiwara, or perhaps it will finally be your house's turn... but none of it matters. The cost of victory is always death.”
He inhales sharply and presses his tongue against his cheek. “It is an inevitable price to pay.”
He knows this truth too well, yet a small part of him still dares to hope.
“I prayed for you at the shrine your lord so kindly built for me,” you murmur, cupping his face for what feels like the last time.
“I am a man of no morals and no religion,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed. “But after this war, we shall live in a humble home surrounded by tulips. Maybe raise children that look like you or me.”
Your lips curl into a soft smile as you wrap your arms around him. “It brings me peace imagining a quieter life with our family.”
Days stretch longer and nights grow colder when you’re far from home in a land where life itself seems to have fled.
Away from the battlefield, you and the other medics tend to the wounded.
Every time a bloodied knight is carried in, you whisper silent prayers that it will not be Sukuna. You care for those who weep in silence, who fear that the bells of death already toll for them. And when work eases for a brief moment, you help the maidens roll fresh bandages for the next wave of men who will soon need them.
“The knights have returned!” a maiden cries, and every head turns, including yours.
Your heart leaps as you spot him.
Sukuna is at the forefront, riding his black stallion. His armor is scratched and dulled, his face streaked with dirt, but he bears no grave wounds. Relief floods you.
He doesn’t hesitate when he sees you. Leaping down from his horse, he crosses the distance in strides and pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, letting him bury his face into your neck, breathing you in as though to remember.
With a staggered breath, he whispers, “I need to get you out of here.” His arms tighten. “House Sugawara has been obliterated.”
You freeze. “...It can’t be”
After years of reigning over all the lands the sun touched, House Sugawara has fallen from grace.
The proud house that once boasted vast lands and strong warriors now lies buried in rubble. Their honor erased, their name reduced to tales the elders of every surviving nation would pass to their offspring when stars blanket the night sky.
To Sukuna, it feels as if the gods are having a feast while they play a drunken game of heads or tails. In the off chance the next coin lands poorly in his favor, he prays his death will at least be swift.
“Hold the line!” Sukuna shouts hoarsely.
After countless nights of counter-strategizing against House Ryomen’s unmatched war tactics, House Fujiwara have finally found a spark of hope. And now, that spark burns into a full flame.
The metallic stench of blood fills the air and stains the soil a dark, uncertain red. House Ryomen’s torn and battered banners wave weakly in the cold air... like a prophecy of their downfall.
Many of his men have already fallen, yet he refuses to bend. Even through exhaustion, Sukuna fights like a dying god.
Through the smoke and falling bodies, he sees you.
You move swiftly between the wounded, pressing your glowing hands to gashes and broken flesh. Some men are carried away to safety, while most do not make it. The awful sight stings, but duty keeps you steady. Even as arrows fly over your head, you try your best to remain calm.
Sukuna looks around and whistles at his knights.
“Someone cover my wife!” He instructs with panic as he points at you.
But when he turns back to look at you again, he sees a shadow behind you. The figure slowly forms solid, and it turns out to be a mage from House Aizu, drawing her blade that’s blessed by dark magic.
“No... no...” Sukuna’s blood runs cold, and the world falls silent. For the first time, the god of war feels true, gut-deep fear. “Fuck!”
He breaks into a sprint, shoving aside allies and enemies alike, his sword cleaving through whatever dares to slow him. He cuts down a man through the throat. Another through the chest.
He doesn’t care.
He has to reach you.
He has to protect you.
You finally lift your head, catching sight of him charging toward you. Your lips part in fragile relief to see him alive, bloodied, but alive. But just as you’re about to stand up and run to him, a piercing pain from behind impales you. You look down and see your own bloodstain blooming on the fabric of your dress.
“I would've took my time playing with you before killing,” Yorozu murmurs. With a cruel twist, she pulls the dagger free. “This war will soon be over. A new house will reign before the next moon.”
You choke on your own breath, and blood spills between your lips. “Will... will your house bring p-peace?”
She stares coldly. “You talk too much for a dying nymph.”
You manage a faint, trembling smile. “Death is kinder to me than most men on this battlefield.”
Across the field, Sukuna stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees you collapse.
He saw it all: the stab, the mage’s vanishing act, the way your body falters like a dying star.
Something inside him breaks. He feels it. Bit by painful bit.
He sprints faster, ignoring the searing ache in his lungs or the blood dripping from his armor.
When he reaches you, he drops to his knees and gathers you into his arms. Your blood stains his chest plate, but he doesn’t care. He smooths the hair from your forehead with shaking hands.
Your lips quiver as you try to speak. “My love.”
“The healers are coming,” he says with a trembling voice. “They’ll– God, fuck!” His throat tightens as panic grips him.
You cough, each word costing you precious breath. “I’m... sorry”
He presses you tighter against him, desperate to keep your warmth.
“Promise me,” you whisper, “to stay with me in the next lifetime.”
“I doubt I’ll even reincarnate as a man,” he mutters while bitterly chuckling. “Not after the sins I’ve carried.”
“Nonsense,” you wheeze, smiling faintly even as blood runs from the corner of your mouth.
“Please, don’t say goodbye." He shakes his head with eyes burning from the tears. “Stay with me.”
“I begged the gods to make me your wife in every lifetime,” you whisper, “No man can change any deal between nymphs and gods."
Sukuna, a man who once scoffed at faith, finds himself praying to any god that will listen. Not because he suddenly believes, but because belief is the only thing that might keep you here a little longer. You are his religion now.
He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please... stay. Please.”
Your gaze drifts, your breath slows, and then it fades completely to... nothing.
Sukuna stays there, kneeling with your body limp in his arms. Your skin has turned pale, and the light in your eyes has now dimmed completely. He stares at you, unable to comprehend the silence that follows.
Foes and allies pause to witness the god of war shatter.
His cries tear through the battlefield. His raw, unrestrained grief echoes across the hills. It is not his fallen house he mourns. It is not defeat. It is the loss of the only light that ever warmed his bloodied hands.
As the warmth of your body slowly fades, he swears spring will never come again.
With trembling care, he lays you near the wildflowers, fixes your hair, and smooths the hem of your dress. He presses one final kiss to your forehead.
“Sleep well, my love,” he whispers. “I’ll find you when this war is done.”
When he finally stands up again, something inside him shifts. His gaze turns hollow, his steps heavy with rage. Sukuna goes back into battle no longer a man, but wrath incarnate.
His eyes burn with a kind of madness that made even his allies recoil. His grip on his sword tightens, almost turning his knuckles white. His sword swings with merciless precision. His sword carves through flesh and through anything that moves within his reach, and the bodies of anyone unfortunate enough to be near fall around him.
An arrow lunges at his thigh, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even feel the pain cutting through, and just continues to swing and kill.
“Retreat! Retreat!” Uraume’s voice pierces the chaos. “Sukuna! By the gods, stop!”
But Sukuna continues to lunge and cut through knights and squires as if they were nothing.
Every swing is a curse upon House Fujiwara and House Aizu.
Every kill is a prayer to the gods who have forsaken him.
The only time he pauses is when a spear finds his side.
Sukuna looks down at it and winces in pain as he forces himself to pull it out. He stumbles, coughing up blood, then lets out a broken laugh. With the last of his strength, he turns his heel and cuts down another knight.
When an arrow strikes cleanly through his chest, his sword slips from his grip, and his knees buckle. Then he falls forward, and his face falls flat on the mud. Through the haze of pain, he smiles with blood on his teeth.
Like always, all things must come to an end.
Joy.
Sorrow.
Life.
Even war.
For the wages of sin is death, and not even the god of war can escape it.
wia says: personally, i think this is my magnum opus even if nobody reads or likes it lol
