: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k
: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.
Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.
The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.
Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.
That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.
You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.
“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”
“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.
Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.
“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.
Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.
As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.
Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.
Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.
Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.
In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.
“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”
You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.
As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.
She’s feeble.
Her hair lacks refinement.
The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.
She’ll be gone by tomorrow.
Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.
Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.
But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.
Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.
They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.
Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.
Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.
Good.
You craved precisely that outcome.
If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.
Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.
As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.
“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.
Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.
“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”
“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.
She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.
You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.
“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.
With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.
“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.
“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.
As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.
“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.
“Y/N, my Lord.”
As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.
A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.
You blinked in astonishment.
He appeared . . . young?
The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.
Physically, at least.
His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.
As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.
With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.
The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.
Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.
“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.
Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?
“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”
Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.
Would he?
A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.
“Look at me.”
Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.
“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”
“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”
Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.
Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.
As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.
“Don’t.”
In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.
Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?
“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.
A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.
He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.
“Turn around.”
The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.
“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”
Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.
Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.
A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.
Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.
“My Lord—”
“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”
Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.
Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.
His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.
Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.
With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.
Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.
Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.
His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.
Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”
You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.
“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.
Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.
You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.
In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.
Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.
“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.
“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”
“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”
His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.
As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.
“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”
“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”
“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”
Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.
“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.
“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.
“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”
“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”
“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.
With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.
Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.
“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”
“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.
In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.
Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.
Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.
They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.
But why you?
Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?
“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.
“No.”
“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”
Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”
You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.
“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”
“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.
With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.
As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.
Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.
Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.
Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.
Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.
No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.
“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”
You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.
For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.
You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.
As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.
But that moment never arrived.
Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.
“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.
“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.
The room fell into a sudden hush.
Dine with him?
The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.
Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.
Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.
With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.
Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.
“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.
“Draw near.”
Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.
“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.
You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”
Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.
“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.
His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”
You blushed deeper at his statement.
“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his hand, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.
Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”
“Do what?”
“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”
Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.
Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.
“I ventured into town today,” he said.
“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”
“Indeed, quite fruitful.”
In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.
Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.
His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, his mouth devoid of teeth, scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.
The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”
Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair, a twisted token of affection. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.
“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.
You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.
Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.
Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.
A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.
Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.
With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.
Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.
Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.
But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.
You glanced back again.
Until Sukuna.
Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.
It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.
No one would dare suspect the truth.
No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.
No one, except Sukuna.
Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.
With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.
A comforting warmth touched your back.
Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.
As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”
Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”
“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”
“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who dare cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks." His lips brushed against yours. "From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love."
That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.
He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rich and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.
In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.
Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.
On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.
Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.
Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.
Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.
Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.
Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.
Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?
“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.
You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”
“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”
With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”
Sukuna snapped the book shut.
You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.
With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.
This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.
“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”
With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.
“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”
Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"
Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.
“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”
“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”
Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.
Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.
With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.
As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.
Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.
Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.
With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.
“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”
Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.
With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.
Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.
Together, you sailed upon the waves of carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—
Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.
You had achieved victory.
His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.
With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.
You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.
“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”
“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.
“Did I please you, my Lo—”
“Ryomen,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”
“My L—”
“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.
You affirmed your agreement with a nod, the name Ryomen echoing through your mind. Sukuna had been your private moniker for him, but now, in this intimate exchange, he was Ryomen. Your Ryomen. Maybe one day, you would shorten it to Ryo.
“Very well, Ryomen.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”
“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”
“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”
“As you are,” Ryomen answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”
Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”
Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.
A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.
As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.
Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”
“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with defiance.
“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.
Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”
“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”
Your brow furrowed in dismay.
It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.
You no longer wished to endure this charade.
You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”
Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Ryomen,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.
In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.
“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”
You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.
“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”
“Ryomen,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.
“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”
With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.
Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.
Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.
Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.
“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.
Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Ryomen,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.
“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”
You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”
With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”
You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.
“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.
Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.
“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”
Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.
Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.
“Ryomen . . . ”
With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.
But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.
And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.
sum. he's easily the top most handsome guy within his job. his relationship status is unknown, so what happens when his co-workers ship him with a female worker?
nanami is well known within his company. tall, insanely fit, and an attractive voice. it's not uncommon for men and women alike to find themselves thinking about him often. what's not common is knowing about his love life. no one knows anything and he would've kept it that way. but when push comes to shove, and you're shipped with someone who's not your beloved, nanami will make it known that he's not only taken but married.
in the coffee-break room there are three guys. now, there's nothing unusual about this — no, no. they're just three guys that are co-workers... except there's a twist. they aren't your regular co-workers, they're your uncommon trio of male gossipers and nanami just so happened to be their newest victim.
"shh, shh! he's here," guy one, tichi, whispers to the others, raising his eyebrows and pointing his chin to nanami's position.
the other two take a quick glance, nodding their heads when they've seen nanami's back faced towards them. it's a perfect moment to strike up a conversation, especially since it's just four men here.
guy two, tacho, shuffles his feet to the empty space near nanami. he pretends to open a sugar packet, fiddling with it as his eyes peep over nanami's shoulder. his heart skips multiple beats when the man himself turns around.
"morning to you, tacho," nanami greets, nodding his head before he turns his attention back to his cup of coffee.
"y-yeah, morning!" he stutters, awkwardly smiling in return. he turns his head to the other two in the background, mouthing the word 'help' to them. unfortunately, they do not give the aid to their friend. instead, tichi fakes a series of coughs and guy three, toeny, gives him a confident double thumbs up. there's no hope, tacho sighs.
it's a silent moment between the men — only the sounds of coffee brewing and a spoon coming into contact with the mug can be heard. tacho's mouth itches him, he happened to remember his group's recent conversation about nanami. he must ask — even if it costs him a mutual co-worker.
"so, nanami," he begins, waiting for nanami to give him the undivided attention.
nanami doesn't face him, but he hums in response. tacho doesn't mind this as an answer, so he continues, "i was wondering if the rumors of you being with the new worker, yeri, are true?"
there is one big lie in that question: there are no such rumors. it's just a theory the trio has been gossiping about every night. nanami's been helping out yeri for quite some time, one can only think that they have a special connection going on.
"that is bullshit," nanami gives a firm answer. nothing more, nothing less.
tacho's stunned, he blinks a few times to recollect himself. "oh — so you're not with her?"
nanami doesn't answer yet, but the two in the back give their unwanted reactions. tichi clicks his tongue three times, shaking his head in disappointment at tacho's second question. it's obvious dumbass, he thinks. toeny, on the other hand, presses his lips in a thin line, pretending to read a magazine that's been on the counter.
nanami reaches into his pocket, whipping out his phone. the trio's confused until nanami speaks.
"i am married man. this is my wife," he educates, pressing the power button to show you as his lockscreen.
he collects three gasps, internally nodding at their shock. that's right, i'm gladly taken.
"all this time you've been... MARRIED?!" tacho's voice heightens, he drops his spoon in shock. it's unbelievable yet somewhat believable.
nanami breathes out a 'yes', raising his arm to show the wristwatch. "she bought this for our five-years anniversary recently. it's quite expensive, going over four-thousand," he brags, emphasizing on key words.
he's been waiting for the precious day where someone indirectly asks for his relationship status. the day has come and he will spend it bragging about his beloved.
nanami doesn't give them a chance to speak, he carries on with his bragging, "she's a very lovely woman. all my bentos are made by her and she writes little notes for each. some may think it's childish but that's bullshit! they just haven't experienced the love of a woman. matter of fact, her most beautiful moments are when she's freshly awake. the smile she gives me is nothing but angelic."
his speech doesn't stop there, but it did for the trio. his words went in one ear and out the next. nanami's blabbering about his wife immediately set a blank face upon tichi, tacho, and toeny. they're jealous and also surprised.
"the way a woman can change a man will never not be amazing," toeny whispers, blankly gazing at nanami's ongoing speech.
Knows this trend. He may be an idiot but he is an avid tiktok watcher. Bro literally looks at you and just sighs, gets up and goes to peel you an orange, whining about how you don't put enough trust in your relationship. Feeds you the oranges afterwards for extra brownie points. Tries to be seductive about it too but just looks goofy aah 💀
⟢ nanami kento ␥
He hums and looks at you with a raised brow," I can go make up a fruit bowl for you?" Literally the most accommodating person you'll ever meet in your life. Even asks if you want a smoothie made or anything. Wraps you up in his arms and let's you eat the little snack he's made you with a satisfied smile on his lips. Bro loves doing stuff for you - you won at life 🫠
⟢ fushiguro toji ␥
Straight up ignores you the first time and then when you repeat it he just sort of gives you a weirded out look," Go get one then?" Then when you ask if he would peel it for you he's quiet for a few seconds before he nods slightly, a smirk on his lips," What a cute question. 'Course I will, baby." Low-key touched you asked him ngl
⟢ ryomen sukuna ␥
"Same. Get me one too." Bro does not care. When you ask for him to peel it he just makes fun of you 💀
⟢ fushiguro megumi ␥
"Then get one." He's so blunt please 🥲🥲 but when you ask him to peel it for you with that cute expression on your face he just sort of blushes and glares at you,"... Fine. You're such a baby can't even do stuff yourself..." grumbles to himself the whole time he peels but is secretly gushing that you asked.
⟢ choso ␥
Looks to you with a curious look," want me to go peel one for you?" He asks this so nicely and genuinely that it makes your heart do flips. Brings a whole ass snack-tray back for you both to share.
⟢ itadori yuji ␥
Hes been waiting for this moment 🥹 "I'LL GET YOU ONE!" Literally scrambles to the kitchen tripping over his own feet. Before you can even ask for him to peel it for you he brings it back in a bowl in little slices," i peeled two so we can share." Yeah Yuji you won this trend lil bro
SYNOPSIS…after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…
INFO…ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments
pairing: suguru geto x afab reader
words: 3,600
contains: oral sex, virginity loss, fingering, and suguru talking you through it.
mood: soft, sweet, and tender.
author's note: this was one of my favorites to write and i thought i should share it here too! also, let's be friends (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
You wonder what’s so different about this one Sunday morning.
You wake up with Suguru’s body pressed against you from behind. His lean arms wrapped around your torso. His cheek is pressed against the back of your neck, breathing and snoring softly, deeply, down your shoulder. He holds you as he always does: firmly, as if he was carrying you, and yet gently, as if you were fragile.
This isn’t the first time you woke up in his apartment, and it’s not the first time he ever spooned you in your sleep. Yet somehow your body feels warmer than before. And your skin feels more sensitive to his touch. His sweet and woody scent is heavy and enveloping, lulling you into a dizzying state of comfort. Not quite asleep, but not quite lucid and awake.
You feel him shift from behind you. And you feel something press against the back of your thighs. Something hard and thick and warm. Your legs flinch and your heart starts beating faster as you realize what it was. Suguru wakes up from the slightest tremor in your body. He raises his head to look at you with bleary eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice still deep and gravely from sleep.
You turn your head to meet him and smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry to wake you up.”
He nearly melts at the way you’re nestled comfortably in his bed, in his arms. Your smile looks soft and pretty under the ray of sunlight pouring through the window. He hugs you tighter and nuzzles his face against your cheek, your neck. “I’m poking you aren’t I? Sorry.”
You blush and laugh softly, “It’s okay. It’s not like you can control it.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. He points his hips away and lies his head back down the pillow. You feel your chest strain and your body ache from the loss of pressure and warmth. You pull his arms closer, tighter, around your torso like a blanket.
Suguru has always been so careful, so respectful. And so attuned with the ways your body reacts to him. He can feel the way your heart is pounding inside your chest as blood rushes from your heart to your skin, warming your entire body. He can hear the way your breath deepens as a strange sensation overcomes you. Heat. Desire. Lust.
Suguru nuzzles against your cheeks once again.
“Do you want it back?”
You lean towards his face, your voice barely a whisper.
“Yes.”
He turns his hips again to press his cock against you. Then he slides his leg in between yours. You didn’t even realize how badly you were aching for him, until he pressed his thigh against your cunt and relief washes over you. You hum in pleasure against the pillow.
“You need me don’t you?” he asks, as your thighs start squeezing and rutting his own, enjoying each pulse of pleasure against your clit.
You nod, biting your lip in anticipation.
“Okay,” he whispers. “We’ll take it slow, okay? You can tell me when to stop… when we’ll keep going…”
He starts moving his hips, grinding his cock languidly against your backside. You start rutting against his thigh in a similar rhythm. His fingers brush your hair to the back of your neck and start kissing an electrifying trail from under your ear to your collarbone, sniffing your scent as he goes. His lips are a bit dry from sleep, but you enjoy the contrast between the roughness of his lips and the softness of his kisses.
He pressed his hand firmly against your chest, grabbing a handful of your breast. Then it wanders down to your stomach, to your hips, to your thigh. It lingers under the hem of your shirt–his shirt. That you wear each time you sleep in his place. You take his wrist and pull it upwards, letting him touch your skin.
“I’m gonna raise your shirt. Is that okay? We’ll use the blanket if you’re cold,” he asks, with that smooth, gentle voice. As if his words are melting on his tongue.
“Okay,” you sigh. He reaches for the blanket pooled by your ankles and pulls it over you. Then he raises your shirt to your armpits and starts caressing your breasts. You shiver from the lightness of his touch.
“You’re so soft,” He sighs, rolling your breasts with a warm hand. He relishes the way your nipples shrivel in his fingertips. “So pretty…”
He pulls you gently by the shoulder, wanting you to face him. Your lips drift towards his. Suguru hums in approval, parting his lips to let your tongue meet him. He rolls over on top of you and lets the bare skin of your torsos press against each other, seeking comfort in the warmth and smoothness of your bodies.
Every kiss and every touch, even the scent of his skin, the taste of his tongue, and the small hums and groans from deep in his chest rushes straight down your spine and to your crotch. You pull away, forming a trail of saliva from your tongue to his. You look between his legs and notice his head peeking from under his waistband. The slit glistening with pre-cum.
“I wanna touch it,” you whisper.
“Please,” he replies, almost immediately. His voice is shaking now.
He takes your wrist and lets you fondle him over the fabric. His sweatpants barely cushion his massive length and girth. You caress him with a light and measuring touch. Sliding your hands up and down his hardening shaft, then cupping his balls, feeling how soft they are in the palm of your hand.
“What do you think?” He asks, smiling at the way you look at his crotch with lust-drunk eyes, your lips parted as you feel him. “Keep touching. Get used to the feeling.”
“It’s… thick,” you whisper with a mix of fear and hunger in your tone. Your hand sinks past his waistband, grabbing his shaft. His head drops down your neck with a hiss. His hips start to move, fucking your closed fist. His skin feels even smoother and thinner against your palm, textured slightly by the soft veins snaking underneath.
“I knew it,” he hisses between gritted teeth. “I knew your hand was gonna feel this good.”
He motions you to sit on your shin while he lies on his back. He pulls his sweatpants down to his thighs, exposing the thick cock laying heavily over his abs. He takes you by the wrist and wraps your hand around the shaft, just underneath the crown.
“Keep playing with it, baby. Make me feel good,” he mutters as he wraps his hand around your fist and starts jacking. Teaching you to his preferred rhythm and grip. “I know you can do it.”
You follow his instructions, gazing into his eyes as you gauge his reaction. His cheeks are flushed deep red, his eyes glazed over as he bites his lips and watch your hand slide up and down. He reaches towards your waistband and sinks his hand under your panties from behind.
You feel his finger slide between your lips.
“Aah!” You whimper and shudder. Your hand stops moving as he glides his finger back and forth against your slick cleft.
He wraps his free hand around yours once again and urges you to keep pumping.
“Try to concentrate,” he says with a gentle tone. “I’m just making sure you stay wet while you’re working on me.”
You nod try your goddamn best. But his fingers just feel so long, so smooth and slick, as he teases your bud with each languid stroke. You knew that Suguru had some experience, but it was only around now that you realized the depth of his skill. You start twitching and throbbing against his finger. Your thighs squeezing his hand to trap him in place.
“So sensitive. Have you ever touched yourself? At least once?” He asks, a playful smile on his face. He seems to be enjoying the way you struggle to stay upright and still.
“Of course I have,” you reply, pouting. “But it feels different when it’s you.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiles. “Do you think of me?”
You blush and look away. “I mean, who else do I think about?”
You feel his cock spasm in the palm of your hand. He chuckles softly.
“I think about you too. But this feels better than I imagined.”
He slides a second finger between your lips, now drawing circles on your aching clit. You grunt and whine. The ticklish sensation is too dull, too soft, to relieve the ache building between your legs. You look at him and notice that slight, mischievous slant on the corner of his mouth. He knows he’s torturing you. He’s relishing that starved look in your eyes.
Indignant, you bend down and give a soft lick on the tip of his cock.
“Fuck!” He grunts. His breathing grows heavier as you glide a soft tongue around and around the slit. “Hah… Holy shit.”
“Not so fun when you’re the one being teased, right?” You ask.
Suguru huffs and laughs.
“Are you kidding? I love it,” he replies. “Fuck me up, babe. Make a mess out of me. I wanna beg.”
You bite your lip and smile. Emboldened, you bend down and wrap your lips around the crown of his cock and start coating him with your mouth. Absorbing him, caressing him with your lips and tongue. Suguru groans low, his thighs nearly vibrating underneath your palm as he summons all of his will not to shoot his hips up and gag you with his length.
The taste of his dew drop reminds you of all things honeyed and sweet—ripe mangoes, fresh peach, a drop of caramel, enhanced by the delicate saltiness of his skin. His scent is warmer and smokier like burning wood. And somehow thick and sweet like amber. You dip your head down, wanting to taste more. You want to feel his veins against your tongue, his tip on the roof of your mouth, inching closer to the back of your throat. You suck him with eagerness and hunger that provokes his greed.
“Keep stroking me, baby. Suck the tip and stroke the rest,” he mumbles. “Stroke me while you suck me. Please.”
You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft and start sliding in tandem with your mouth. Suguru groans louder now. The balls of his feet digging and dragging against the mattress. His fingers circle harder on your clit, rewarding you with mutual pleasure.
"Mmph… " You hum as you start rutting against his fingers, and his cock nearly bursts from the vibrations in your throat.
“Oh God, wait. Baby–baby wait. Not so fast,” he gasps, grabbing you by the hair to keep you steady. But you move your head faster anyway, your hand tightening and swiveling around his shaft, wanting to drag him to the edge and lose all control.
“Okay–No–stop, stop, stop,” he pants, pulling you upwards by the scalp. He pries your mouth out of his cock with a wet smack. “Don't make me cum just yet. Not there.”
He sits up and slides you down the bed by the hip, pulling your crotch towards him. Suguru sinks between your legs and pulls your panties to the side, peeking like a chef with his pot. Not only have you soaked through the thin, lacy fabric, he can also see the way your clit and your folds flutter and quiver in anticipation. The feel of his heavy breathing alone is enough to make your hips jump.
“All this for me?” he teases. “I’m touched.”
You bite your thumb and grin towards him. Like a child about to be handed a new toy. Suguru pulls your panties off and starts kissing and nipping the inside of your thighs.
“My turn to take care of you, okay?” he asks, his lips seeking permission, hovering so close to your bud. And when you nod, he dives in. Suguru cycles through several techniques, trying to gauge which one you like best–a wide soft tongue, perhaps small precise licks, hard or soft suckling. And once he finds the right brain-blasting combo his mouth becomes relentless. He spreads your thighs and pins them unto the bed, giving him more access. You grasp, white-knuckled, the pillow underneath you. And you release a low, animalic grunt.
“I know, baby, I know,” he mutters before he dives once again. “Just keep feeling it. Feel good for me, baby. You need to be ready.”
“I am ready,” you plead. Every fiber of your muscle begs for release. Your hips begin to squirm away from him, trying to save your pussy from overstimulation. Suguru had to shift his hands and pin your hips down. “Please just-”
“Not yet,” he cuts off. He reaches upwards to hold two fingers near your mouth. “Spit.”
You look at him, bewildered. He commands you again.
“Spit.”
Reluctant, you gather saliva on your tongue and pour it down his fingers. Suguru sinks back down and starts teasing your entrance. Then he slides a finger. And another. Loosening you up with his lips around your clit.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, as he moves his fingers in and out.
You shake your head, “No. But it feels stretched. Right around the entrance.”
“You need to relax,” he murmurs. “Play with your tits for me, will you?”
You nod and slide your hand on the underside of your breasts, rolling them together, teasing your sensitive nipples. You watch Suguru work his lips and fingers on your core. His hair pooling between your legs. His eyes hazy with love and concentration as he makes a mess out of your cunt. Dribbling all the way down his wrist and chin. Eventually, the stretching sensation fades and you feel softer, more malleable, under his touch.
Suguru sits up and starts jacking his cock. His eyes wander over the flushed and dripping mess of flesh he made out of his own girlfriend. Panting as he imagines his cock driving straight inside you. He leans down and aims his tip between your legs. You flinch and look away in a sudden spike of nervousness.
“No, baby. Hey, look at me,” Suguru says with a soft, low, voice, tilting your face towards him. You look up and meet his gentle, earnest eyes. “I love you, okay? It’s just me. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you.”
He starts kissing your forehead, your lips, your neck, your shoulders. You try to focus on your breathing, drawing on every pleasurable sensation you’ve felt before this moment.
“It’s just a new feeling. You just have to get used to me. You just have to get used to feeling this part of your body.” he whispers, as he starts prodding you with the tip of his cock, coating himself with your fluids. “And once you’ve done it… you’ll crave it again.”
You nod, taking in his words. "Okay. I trust you."
"Good. Good girl."
You grit your teeth and whimper as you feel him enter. He thrusts into you inch-by-inch, pushing and withdrawing and stopping as necessary. It hurts. Then it doesn’t hurt. It’s uncomfortable, and then it’s not. You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to your body, wanting to be crushed by his entire weight. While somehow wanting to push him away. While wanting to strangle him. While wanting to embrace him. To caress him. To scratch him.
He plunges into a place in your body you never realized was there. And more of him keeps coming and coming. Pushing towards an unknown depth you can never reach on your own. But it’s just him. It’s just Suguru. And you know that he’ll always treat you with unrelenting tenderness and soothing. He’ll never hurt you.
You dig your fingers on the back of his neck as you gaze into the ceiling with bleary eyes. Your head spins. You don’t know for how long you’ve been holding your breath. And if he hadn’t held you the way he did, perhaps your soul would have fallen backwards from your body.
“Yes, God, yes. Just take me, please,” he pleads as he kisses your neck. “I’m almost in…”
He leans down and takes your nipple in his mouth. The sudden prick of pleasure drives him further inside of you, all the way in, until he’s buried to the hilt with a long, satisfied groan. Your cunt clenches and quivers, plugged to the stomach by his girth, surprised that you managed to take this much of him.
“Do you feel that? That’s all of me,” he says, caressing your cheek with tender fingers, laughing softly in wonder. “We’re gonna make love. God, I love you.”
He laces his fingers between yours and kisses you deeply. And even the spaces between your fingers are sensitive to his touch.
"I love you too," you whimper. "I'm all yours."
Suguru’s hips start swiveling in circles against yours. Letting you get used to his length and girth. Then he rocks his hips back and forth in slow, shallow strokes. Fucking you with impossible gentleness. Measuring how fast and how hard he can go before you start to hurt again. Like you have all the time in the world. But you bury your face in his neck, biting his shoulder as you take more and more. Soon, you feel even looser, more comfortable, and the pleasure begins to overtake all else.
You start moving your hips in tandem with his.
“Yes, fuck,” he hisses against your neck. “That’s right baby, make love to me. Feel good with me.”
He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against you and nearly driving you towards the headboard. He’s stretching you again, his shaft slicing against your tight entrance. But Suguru angles his cock and jabs a spot underneath your belly that nearly makes you cry. You no longer mind the pain that’s so deliciously mixed with pleasure. And you notice that any coherent thought escapes you, and any words you want to say dies in your throat. You barely have enough air in your lungs to even moan his name. Or any strength in your arms and legs to keep clinging to him. So you simply lie there and feel him. Feel the way he thrusts and sinks into you. Feel his smooth hand on your waist. Feel his breath against your face as he rambles sweet degeneracy into your ear.
“You’re so tight. So fucking tight. Oh, you’re gonna milk me dry,” he mutters under his breath. “A good girl with a good pussy. I’m so fucking lucky.”
You feel the pleasure build from under your belly, on your clit, your nipples. And then you shatter. Your stomach tightens like a board and your body recoils as the pleasure overtakes you. White hot light bursts in front of your eyes and splatter into pinpricks of color. You scream and cry against the crook of his neck. Your pussy clamping around his cock. Suguru hooks his arm under your waist and thrusts even faster; eager to milk himself while you’re still wound up and tight from your orgasm. The pleasure starts to feel rawer, searing like an electric shock. A gradient from pleasure to pain.
“I know baby, I know, just bear with it. Just bear with it for me. I’m so close,” he grunts, face tight from euphoria. “I’m so close, please, let me cum.”
His jaw clenches and you feel a burst of warmth right inside of you. His hips stutter helplessly by the strength of his orgasm. And then it finally stops. He holds still. His hard grunts melt into soft moans and heavy breathing. Together, you hang onto that boneless, satisfied trance; your minds slipping into reverie. His cock stays buried inside of you for moments, but it feels like a part of you now. Even as he slowly pulls away you still feel him under your skin. The feeling of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the weight and thickness of his cock when it dwelled inside you, feels less of a vivid memory. And more of a phantom sensation that will linger for as long as you let it.
Suguru props himself with both elbows and gazes upon you with love and reverence. He plants a tender kiss on your lips.
“Thank you.”
You laugh weakly, “Thank you? ”
He nods. “Yes, thank you. For the memory, for the trust, for the love.”
Suguru brushes your hair away from your forehead and kisses you there. Letting his lips linger. Then you gaze at each other in euphoric wonder. You have melded with him in body and soul. In pleasure and love. Your skins are matted and slick with sweat, and you can feel his semen dripping down between your thighs; the light from the window bears down your heads like halos. You feel anointed and transformed. And your bodies now feel less like a mystery to yourselves and to each other. Everything has changed now. And your relationship with Suguru will never be the same. The memory of your lovemaking will lie in the undercurrent of your every interaction, now that he has untethered a craving inside your minds. That ever-present need to feel this sense of closeness once again.
Suguru nuzzles his face against yours. Holding your bodies completely still as you take a shared breath and bask in the intimacy, in the sacredness, of this moment.
thank you for giving this fanfic a chance!
pls excuse me if the grammar, dialogue, choreography, and narration is awkward. english is not my first langauge and a lot of things get lost in translation inside my head.
originally posted on ao3
art by m_mifmr on x
Older bf!Kento had his moral’s tested the day he met you — the pretty little uni student who lives in the building across from him, but always seems to run into him every time he leaves and comes home from work. He swears it must be just another one of those little inconvenience that makes a person an adult every time he catches you all doe-eyed, a glossy smile, and a polite ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ coming from your mouth ever time you cross paths that makes the hand holding his suitcase grip it until his knuckles turn white.
He’s a man of self restraint.
He’s a man of self restraint until one day you’re asking him if he could help you hang up something in your apartment, the way the end of your almond french tip ends up between your teeth through that dumb smile while watching the muscles in his biceps flex when he hammers the nail until your wall makes his stomach drop. It doesn’t matter if he’s 27. You’re still in uni, and he would never risk the chance of having to go through explaining to his colleagues that his girlfriend isn’t employed, but a girl in university — heavens, no. It sounds taboo.
His resolve further crumbles after weeks of asking for assistance with all the little, yet what he finds unnecessary, renovations in your apartment, the cookies you bake him as a ‘thank you’ always seeming to melt in his mouth. That’s what you’re doing now, standing in the doorway of his apartment with a skirt too short to be considered appropriate and eyes that are wide like a sweet little doe caught in the barrel of hunters rifle. He hates the way his heart clenches to the point it’s painful at the way you stammer through that nervous grin, the pinch in your eyebrows revealing your anxiety when you ask him to go out for coffee — and fuck, he knows it will break your little heart if he tells you ‘no.’
Older bf!Kento who agrees to taking you out for coffee, which you were presuming would simply end in a walk to the coffee shop at the corner of the block where he sits across from you for two minutes before he up and leaves. You don’t expect him to pick you up in his car, one that makes you a little stiff when you sit in it with this worry of somehow ruining the leather seats or damaging the expensive interior. He doesn’t even look at you on the way to the over-priced café with expensive interior that makes you feel as if you’re on your own little Europe getaway. The only responses he gives you are short, majority of them being ‘uh-huh’s’ as you babble in attempt to find the right thing that would make him respond to you.
All you want him to do is say a little bit more, and halfway through your Frappuccino, one that made you cringe upon hearing the price yet profusely thank him for buying you as you didn’t want to come across as greedy, he finally starts to ask you questions. It feels like an interrogation for a while, and when you try to reciprocate the questions, his responses are bland. He hates that you have to worry so much over academics, and hates that he feels this need to not let you lift a dainty little finger over a thing when he can easily do it for you.
Your shoulders are slumped when you’re walking back out to his car to leave, feeling like you’ve wasted a pretty outfit for nothing other than getting your heart hurt. You don’t expect him to text you later that evening that he had a good time.
Older bf!Kento who’s absolutely enamored with everything about you, and loses all his restraint the minute you’re kneeling in front of him as he stands. Your hands fumbling with his buckle while giving him those familiar doe eyes of yours, questioning softly, “please, Nanami?”
He grits his teeth. You’re still calling him Nanami after being corrected to call his Kento so many times, but you’re a worrying little thing who, when not stressing yourself sick over academics, is thinking all dreamily about her handsome boyfriend, Kento.
You can only lean into the hand, calloused from years of being a jujutsu sorcerer, comes down to rest upon the crown of your head, sliding to your cheek, under your jaw, tilting it up to look at him properly. You’re so transfixed by the honey-brown eyes peering down into yours with all the care in the world held within them, a contrast to the stoicism on his face, that you almost don’t catch the sound of his free hand undoing the buttons of his slacks for you.
“Need some help or can you do it yourself, sweetheart?”
He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.
You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.
His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”
You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.
“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”
You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”
He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.
He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.
You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.
Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.
You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.
“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.
His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”
You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them
Gojo thinks today is a bad day.
“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.
The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.
“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”
Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”
“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.
Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”
Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?
To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.
Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”
Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.
He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.
Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.
When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.
Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.
The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”
He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.
Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!
The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.
Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.
He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”
“You’re hurt?”
Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.
“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”
“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.
You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”
You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”
He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”
Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”
The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”
You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”
“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”
Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”
Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.
“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”
Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.
Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.
He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.
Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”
Romanticizing your life sounds so stupid but it will help you cope. Taking extra time to make a yummie coffee in the morning, sitting outide observing the wind in the trees, writing poems, going to old book stores, watching your childhood favourite movies, listening to romantic jazz, writing in a coffee shop, making sure you have moody lighting in your room, putting on asmr rooms as a background noise while you work. It's not a solution, but it makes things a bit better.
Content warnings: mentions of past toxic relationships, not proof read
🔜 suguru geto, noritoshi kamo, higuruma hiromi
Gojo Satoru
Satoru was rich. Like rich RICH. You first noticed this the moment you met him when you spilled coffee on his shirt then offered to buy him a new one instead. Instant regret when you realized that his shirt was worth more than your entire closet combined.
Being in a relationship with him was… well it was an adjustment. You lived a fairly simple life before you met him. It wasn’t a bad life. You still got to spend on your wants here and there but you had to budget such things much like any other common person had to. On the other hand, the word budget was non-existent to satoru especially when it came to you. He quite literally gave you everything. A few weeks into the relationship though, he had noticed how reluctant you were to accept his presents. You didn’t seem uncomfortable, just.. reluctant. He toned down a bit after this realization. But god he just couldn’t figure out why you were almost unwilling to accept anything at all from him, even food, even a ride home, even his hoodie which he already said you could keep. “Baby” he called to which you responded by looking his way. “Why do you never want to accept my presents?” He asked before he got up to approach you, immediately hugging you from the back as soon as you were within reach. “Hmm it’s not that I don’t want to.. it’s just.. you have to let me get used to these things first, okay?” satoru raised his brow “baby I know that shitty ex of yours can’t come close to how much I spoil you but was he that stingy?” at first satoru was only joking but your silence meant it was probably true. “So he was?” He asked as his chin was resting on your shoulder. “Come on satoru, he’s a thing of the past. He doesn’t matter anymore, ‘kay?” You tried your best to steer away from having to tell your boyfriend in detail but he’s right. Your ex was stingy as hell. It’s not like you ever asked for anything too much in fact, you don’t ever remember asking for anything at all. All the times he had to pick you up, he asked for gas money which seemed fair enough but it wasn’t just that. The man loved going on and extravagant dates but was never willing to fish out more than gas money. He adored receiving presents from you but could never be bothered to get you even the cheapest flowers. He used to say that he was just saving up to be able to give you the life you deserve but 8 years of having to sustain the luxurious lifestyle of a bum just made you snap hence, the break up. Satoru’s tightening embrace woke you from that little flashback. “Okay baby, I’ll make sure to spoil you but don’t hesitate to tell me if I go overboard hm? Love you” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and god, you felt so lucky to have found such a good man.
Nanami Kento
It quite literally took years of yearning for nanami to be finally able to date you. He was your junior in university and your junior at work as well. All that time, he had to witness you be head over heels for your then boyfriend, another one of his seniors. He thought the man might have put a spell on you because for the love of god, he could not see what kept you with the jerk for so long. Having observed your relationship from when he was a college freshman up to when he was a work colleague, your ex never even tried to mask how selfish he was with you. The man dawned expensive watches and drove a not so cheap car, he loved going to expensive places with his friends but with you? He wouldn’t hesitate to pass you the bill (like 85% of the time) whenever you went on dates, bought you nothing but cheap jewelry and quality reject flowers just because they were cheaper. Even worse, he also let you take the crowded train home everyday despite him driving to and from work everyday. He just couldn’t be bothered to pick you up because your workplace was “too far” and gas was expensive. If he really was struggling, it wouldn’t have been a problem but any person could see that he was more than capable of treating you better. He just didn’t want to.
Dating nanami was like a breath of fresh air. It’s not like you were materialistic in the first place but receiving pretty flowers and having someone make sure you’s comfortable and safe felt so heartwarming. On top of that, nanami didn’t make it feel like he was obligated to do any of that. He just genuinely wanted to care for you. It was all new to you that you even had to ask him to stop spoiling you too much, you felt bad accepting all that he was giving. “I know you don’t need them and I know you’re capable but let me do these things for you, hm?” Was what he’d always say and despite bot being able to voice it out to him yet, there is so much love in you knowing that it was possible to be treated this way. With so much care and love and concern.
heyy saw your l&ds men getting jealous please do this nextt
what if an insecure!reader who is being jealous to someone they know or a friend and reader just acts weird or something? How would the l&ds men would react?
i made something similar here . so you can check it out. i hope you like it ☺️
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