Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
Part 1
The next few nights were busy. Not packed, but busy enough that you could lose yourself in the rhythm.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t busy enough to stop thinking about Sukuna. Every time the door swung open you were eager to look up; and even more disappointed when it wasn’t him.
“Think about it sweetheart.” You hated that those words had followed you. If you tried hard enough, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on yours.
The bell above the door chimed.
And there was your boyfriend, tipsy already, and it was barely 10pm.
A knot formed in your stomach.
“Hey babe,” he called loudly, stumbling slightly as he approached the bar.
Several customers glanced over. You forced a smile. “You’re drunk,” you whispered when he got closer.
He laughed. “Missed me?”
No. The thought came before you could stop it.
“I told you I was working.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His arm landed heavily on the counter.
You tried to keep him quiet for a while, and not disturb the rest of the customers.
———
Then his eyes shifted and he froze.
Sukuna happened to walk in twenty minutes after him. He took a seat three stools away, waving at you as he sat down.
Your boyfriend straightened. “Who’s this?”
You closed your eyes briefly.
Please don’t.
Sukuna calmly took a sip of the whiskey you just served him.
Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to.
“Oh.” Your boyfriend laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I get it.”
Sukuna didn’t react.
Your boyfriend pointed at him. “You’re the guy.”
“The guy?” Sukuna asked mildly.
“The guy trying to get with my girlfriend.”
Every muscle in your body tensed. “Stop. Please.”
Your boyfriend ignored you. “What, you think I haven’t noticed?”
Sukuna set his glass down slowly. “You’re making a scene.”
“You talking to my girl isn’t making a scene?”
“She’s working, I come here just for the booze buddy.”
You stepped forward. “Enough.”
But your boyfriend was already spiraling. The alcohol had taken control. “You think you’re better than me?”
Sukuna leaned back. “No.”
That somehow made him angrier. The bar had gone quiet, and customers were pretending not to stare.
Your face burned. Humiliation clawing at your skin.
“Come on then.” Your boyfriend stepped closer. “Let’s go outside.”
Sukuna sighed, like he was tired; like he didn’t feel threatened at all. “You’re drunk.”
“Says the guy sitting in a bar.”
“I’ve had one drink, unlike you.”
“You’re scared huh?”
“No.” The answer was immediate. “And I’m not fighting you.”
Your boyfriend shoved the edge of the bar, his glass rattling. You were frozen in fear and embarrassment.
“Hey.” Your coworker immediately appeared beside you. “That’s enough.”
Your boyfriend barely acknowledged him.
Big mistake.
Your coworker was six-foot-four and built like a fridge.
Sukuna stood. “Let’s go.”
Your boyfriend scoffed. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll embarrass her more than you already have,” he says nodding his head in your direction.
Silence.
Your boyfriend’s face twisted with disgust, and your stomach churned because you thought he was going to swing at Sukuna. It wouldn’t be the first time he got into a bar fight.
Instead Sukuna simply stepped beside him, and your coworker on the other. Together they guided him toward the door.
“Get off me!”
Nobody reacted.
“She’s my girlfriend! Babe say something—“
The words echoed through the bar; and you wished the floor would swallow you whole.
The bell chimed. And he was gone.
Customers quickly returned to their conversations and card games. The music seemed to play a little louder.
Life moved on.
But you couldn’t. You stared at the counter. At the glasses. At anything except the people around you.
Your eyes burned.
No. Not here.
The first tear slipped free. You immediately turned away. Mortified, because how could your life get any worse.
“Hey.” Sukuna’s voice was quieter now.
You shook your head. “I’m fine.”
Another tear followed. Then another.
God, you hated crying in front of people.
Your coworker squeezed your shoulder, “I’ve got the floor, take a break.”
You didn’t argue.
——-
A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on a crate outside the back of the bar, trying and failing to pull yourself together.
Footsteps approached you, but you didn’t look up, because you knew who it was.
Sukuna sat beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.
You wiped angrily at your face. “This is so embarrassing,” you say first.
“No, you did good.”
“Everyone saw.”
“Nobody cares.”
“I care,” you blurted out, mascara stained your face now.
His expression softened, which made you look away. You felt guilty for seeking solace in a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.
“God this is hard.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. “He’s changed so much.”
Sukuna stayed quiet.
“He was such a great guy,” your voice cracked. “I know that’s hard to believe.”
The air felt as though it had thickened.
“And now I spend more time making excuses for him than talking about him.”
Sukuna looked at the floor, then at you. “I know.”
Fresh tears welled up. “He made me look stupid. So freakin stupid.” The words came out small and broken.
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “You don’t look stupid.”
“I stayed and I continue to stay.”
“You love him.”
You laughed bitterly. “Who knows anymore.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment. Then gently handed you a napkin. “You remember what I said the other day?”
Your chest tightened. Of course you remembered. “Hmm. I remember.”
He nodded once. “I meant it.” His gaze never left yours. “But I already told you what I had to say.”
The breeze was warm, drying your tear-streaked cheeks. This felt too intimate.
“You have to make a decision now.” Not a demand, no pressure. Just the truth.
Your eyes dropped to your hands. “What if I make the wrong one?”
A painful smile appeared on Sukuna’s face. “You already know what the wrong decision looks like.”
The tears started again; you were just so exhausted. And before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him slightly.
Sukuna froze, then slowly rested an arm around your shoulders.
No flirting, no teasing, no smug grin. Just a shoulder to cry on.
———————————————————————————————
The last box was heavier than it looked.
“What’s even in this thing?” Sukuna asked, carrying it down the apartment stairs like it weighed nothing.
You huffed a laugh behind him. “Mostly books.”
“You’re telling me paper weighs this much?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” you smiled.
“I can read.”
“That’s not what I—”
Sukuna shot you a look over his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, you laughed without feeling guilty afterward. The sound surprised you both.
————
The apartment was almost empty now.
Almost no framed photos on the walls. No more clothes hanging in the closet. No more reminders of all the years you’d spent trying to make something work.
The moving truck sat outside, half loaded.
Sukuna set the last box inside and dusted off his hands. “There.”
You looked back toward the building. It felt strange, you had imagined this moment so many times before. But now that you were finally doing it, it didn’t feel dramatic.
“You okay?” Sukuna asked. His voice was softer these days, but still blunt like always.
You nod, “Yeah, i think so.”
Sukuna leaned against the truck. Neither of you spoke for a moment. The spring breeze tugged at your hair.
For the first time in months, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the next disaster to happen.
No angry texts, no drunken calls.
No wondering what mood your ex-boyfriend would be in when he got home.
The realization hit you so suddenly your eyes started watering. Again.
You laughed through it.
“Are you crying?”
“I’m not,” you said turning away from him.
“Come here,” he said gesturing to you to come closer.
You wiped at your eyes, “I’m emotional.”
“I know, I’m not judging. No need for explanations.”
Sukuna smirked. Then his expression softened. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”
You looked away.
That was the problem. You’d spent years being strong, fixing problems, and making excuses. Carrying someone else’s weight because you thought that was what love was.
Love is patient.
Love is sacrifice.
Love is sticking it out.
Right?
But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten that love wasn’t supposed to hurt all the time.
Sukuna reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle it made your chest ache.
“You saved yourself,” he said.
You blinked. “What?”
“The restraining order. The breakup, the move. I’m so proud of you.”
“That was all you.” You smiled. “You did most of the heavy lifting, kinda like right now,” you gestured to the moving truck.
His red eyes met yours. Sukuna stepped closer. Just enough that you could feel his warmth. “But I couldn’t make the choice for you.”
You swallowed. He was right, he offered you a hand, a way out; but he never pushed.
The final decision had been yours.
Sukuna reached for your hand. Your fingers intertwined naturally now.
Although it was still fresh, you had decided on no promises or labels. One day at a time; and of course he was okay with that.
“What now?” You asked, while squeezing his hand.
Sukuna glanced toward the truck. “Now?”
A grin spread across his face. “We unpack six hundred pounds of books.”
You groaned.
sukuna chuckles, “Hey I already carried them.”
“You’re still helping me bring them in.”
Sukuna sighed dramatically. “See? This is how it starts.”
You laughed.
And as you climbed into the truck together, leaving the apartment behind for good, you realized for once, you were looking forward to what came next.
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
Part 2
“Whiskey,” Sukuna said, dropping into his usual stool, the seat with the best view of you while you worked. “The expensive one please.”
“You don’t tip enough for the expensive one,” you teased.
A low laugh rumbled from him. “There she is.”
The bar was quieter tonight; rain against the windows, old rock humming from the speakers, neon signs buzzing dimly overhead. The kind of night that dragged exhaustion into your bones.
Sukuna watched you the whole time. He wasn’t subtle about it either.
“You look annoyed sweetheart,” he said.
“I’m working, so duh.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
You slid the drink toward him. “Maybe drink instead of psychoanalyzing me.”
He took a sip without breaking eye contact.
“Boyfriend piss you off again?”
Your jaw tightened for half a second and that smug bastard noticed.
“Mm.” He leaned back on the stool. “So that’s a yes.”
“He forgot to pick me up after my shift yesterday.” You regretted saying it immediately.
Sukuna snorted. “Again?”
“He was busy,” you broke eye contact knowing Sukuna can read you like a book.
“Let me guess; he was drunk or out partyin.”
Silence.
Because he was.
You started wiping down an already clean section of the counter just to avoid answering the question.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, tattoos shifting against his sharp cheekbones as he studied you.
“You make excuses for him a lot.”
“Yeah… sometimes that’s what it’s like being in a relationship, also you don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” Another sip. “Saw him in here last week hanging off some blonde in a red dress.”
Your stomach twisted. “He wasn’t—”
“He was.”
You hated that he noticed everything. Hated that some reckless little part of you liked being noticed by him, that it felt like he cared.
“You know,” he continued casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “if I had my girl waiting for me after her long shitty shift, I wouldn’t forget her…definitely not if it was you.”
Your hands paused. “Sukuna—”
“No, really.” He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the counter. “I’m trying to figure out what exactly this idiot offers that’s worth all this disappointment.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
Heat crawled up your neck. He grinned slowly when he noticed.
God, that grin was dangerous.
“You work double shifts,” he continued. “You remember his birthday, your anniversary, probably his coffee order too.” His eyes dragged over you lazily. “Meanwhile he can’t stay sober long enough to pick you up on time.”
“You’re drunk right now.”
“I barely finished my first drink…but even drunk I could never forget such a pretty face.”
That shouldn’t have affected you.
But then he reached across the counter — slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted — and placed his hand over yours.
The touch felt unfairly warm.
“I’m serious,” Sukuna murmured. “You keep wasting yourself on men who don’t know what to do with you.”
Your breath caught. His thumb brushed against your pulse.
“I would.”
Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away slightly; shocked by Sukuna’s confession.
“Think about it sweetheart,” he said tapping your hand lightly before pulling away to pay for his drink.
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
sukuna who starts off with saying he won't help you, that he wants to see you struggle and squirm, begging him to fuck you properly.
sukuna who loses his cool 5 minutes into you in his lap, every single fucking time he has you on him, his huge hands gripping your hips as he grunts and groans, fucking up into you so hard that his fat balls slap against your ass with each movement.
sukuna whose eyes roll into the back of his head as he practically whines your name over and over again. you're just so soft and he's hitting you so fucking deep, feeling how you drip down his cock and onto the bedsheets
sukuna who chokes when you giggle and start moving your hips too, cooing at how cute he looks when he loses himself in you like this
sukuna who tries to shut you up with his hand on your throat, squeezing as he tries to look all tough, growling for you to behave...but you can't, not when he's got those overstimulated tears in his eyes and droop dripping down his chin
sukuna who stutters over his words when he says, "y-you're s' fuckin' annoying, i-i hate you, hate you a-and this stupid fuckin'...sticky, wet, perfect pussy, goddd, jus' sucks me too good, what the fuck have you done t' me?"
sukuna who whimpers into your neck when you coo, telling him he's so cute when he tries to be mean when he can't stop fucking into you like the desperate little mess he is, nearly crushing you with his arms when his thick cum spills inside of you, his hips stuttering in pitiful little thrusts
𝜗❀𝜚 mdni. porn with plot. chasity cage. oral sex (f! receiving). gojo cameo.
“Have you come to repent your sins?”
No, you came to cum.
You squirmed in your confessional seat, glancing through the thin grate separating you from your priest, fiddling with the fancy fabric of your dress as you swallowed the lump in your throat.
“I wanted to see you,” you murmured, thighs pressing together as you tried to untangle the treacherous desire coiling around your heart.
Waiting for him to reply with bated breath, fingers trembling as you tried to picture the expression on his face.
Would he blush? Bite down on the inside of his cheek as his dark brows pinched together in disappointment you hadn’t even made it a full day before returning to him?
You heard the creak of the other confessional door swinging open, your pulse pounding in your ears as hope bloomed in your chest - and heat pooled in your core.
Was it wrong to want your priest?
To dream about the low rumble of his voice when he whispered your name or the way his soft hands felt on your face?
Truly, it wasn’t your fault he ensnared your soul - even if he had sworn to save it.
All it had taken was for you to get caught in a semi-compromising position with one of your knights for your family to panic of your virtue.
What good was a princess they couldn’t profit off of? One that might screw up the political alliance they planned on by selling you off to another snobby royal or noble?
Your parents had decided that your promiscuity was a problem only a priest could fix.
Who, in turn, came up with a solution that only made that you so much worse.
Being confined in a chastity cage was supposed to be a lesson. To teach you to not crave the pleasure of the flesh and prevent you from committing a cardinal sin.
Perhaps it would have worked if the only man who had the key didn’t have a proclivity for pleasure himself.
“Don't you have duties to attend to?" Choso dryly asked as he shut himself in with you, nose scrunching up as he scrutinized you, the marking across it standing bold even in the dim shadows of the booth.
"I was in dire need of your guidance," you lied, a little sin you were sure he'd make sure you asked forgiveness for later.
He clicked his tongue twice as he looked down at you, serious stare searing through you as he shook his head.
“Please help me,” you pouted, pushing out your bottom lip and clasping your hands together like you were ready to pray. "You're the only one who can."
He slipped underneath your skirts, big hands drifting over your legs before running across the cool metal of the cage he'd been keeping you all locked up in.
It had been humiliating at first, your face flushing when he showed you that it still allowed you to use the bathroom, that its sole purpose was to prevent anyone else from using you. But after a number of frustrating nights and even more numerous days of returning to his confessional to complain, he proposed a solution to solve your problem - and maybe scratch an itch of your own.
His tongue diving inside you didn't count as sex, right?
The key clicked in the lock.
And freedom felt a lot like his breath on your freshly exposed skin and his fingers sinking into your soft thighs.
"You'll send us both to Hell," he murmured, gravel stuck in his throat before his mouth latched onto your clit and feverishly sucked.
You wouldn't mind going if it was with him.
An afterlife spent squeezing his head between your thighs actually sounded perfect. His tongue swirling lazily around your pussy, drawing soft moans he had to keep shushing, your fingers itching to rake through his dark hair as you threw your head back and bit your lip to stifle your sounds.
A man like him had promised himself to his gods.
He wasn't supposed to marry or even make love.
You supposed you were really just his loophole.
And judging by the way he grunted and groaned as his tongue dragged across your walls, swimming around in the taste of you, you knew no matter how many times he tried to tell himself he was simply serving you, he never failed to finish too.
Thumb dimpling your flesh, his nose nudging so perfectly against the sensitive bud above your entrance, the warmth in your chest making your head feel all fuzzy as you bucked your hips up to drive his tongue further.
You were going to get what you came here for.
On the brink, so close you could practically taste your release yourself, letting out a barely audible whimper of his name as you pressed down on his head through your dress and-
"Well, what do we have here?" An annoyingly familiar voice called out, your eyes snapping open as you found the knight who used to warm your bed leaning again the now-open door.
"L-leave now," you stuttered, the priest between your thighs refusing to stop eating you out even after you'd been caught. His grip only tightened, his tongue forcing its way even deeper as you struggled not to squeak.
"Nah," he smirked, blue eyes glittering with amusement as he chuckled. "I wanna join."
꒰ summary ꒱ when a misunderstanding leaves your family convinced you’re bringing a plus one to your cousin’s wedding in Japan, the last person you expect to volunteer for the role is your infuriatingly observant intern, Satoru. it’s supposed to be temporary. professional. strictly off the record. but with your mother already sold on the idea of your mystery boyfriend, and Satoru proving far too good at the role, pretending starts to feel a little too dangerous. also, why is your “intern” secretly the heir to gojo corporation?!
꒰ tags/warnings ꒱ fake dating ⚹︎ undercover ceo! satoru ⚹︎ accountant! reader ⚹︎ satoru is 29, reader is 26 ⚹︎ lots of family pressure. reader has a complicated relationship with her mom ⚹︎ forced proximity ⚹︎ one bed trope ⚹︎ slow burn ⚹︎ mutual pining ⚹︎ wedding chaos ⚹︎ angst and fluff ⚹︎ some suggestive content but no explicit smut ⚹︎
꒰ authors note ꒱ surpriseeee — this is 3 parts now hehe. satoru is still our lovingly annoying sweetheart here, but this part does have a bit more angst than the last. nothing too wild though… just a whole lot of yearning and our poor reader being very committed to denial. i hope you enjoy! part 3 will be the last one. (art by @/hanamin_0123 on x)
<<< part 1 - main masterlist - part 3 >>>
part 2
“Ma’am, may I interest you in our menu?” the flight attendant asks, leaning in with a practiced smile.
"Oh—um. Yes... thank you."
The thick, cream-colored menu lands in your hands a second later, and you settle into your seat just as she disappears down the aisle. A seat that is far too comfortable for the current state of your life. But that’s the thing about first class — it makes it very hard to be appropriately miserable, and you are trying to be miserable right now. You are committed to it.
“If you need recommendations… I recommend the wagyu.” Satoru leans in, close enough that his breath feathers warm against the side of your neck. “It’s to die for.”
He grins, blue eyes glinting behind snowy lashes. And unfortunately, the wagyu isn’t the thing currently putting your life at risk. Because a shiver moves through you before you can stop it.
“O-Oh…” your head jerks away, quickly. “Uh-huh… sure.”
Refusing to turn, you keep your eyes stubbornly on the cabin — denying him the satisfaction of seeing what his closeness does to the treacherous, backstabbing organ inside your chest. But you catch him in your periphery — leaning back, entirely unbothered, reaching for his own menu with that pleased little hum that means, of course, he notices.
Ugh.
This is going to be a long-ass ten-hour flight. And first class, as it turns out, is only roomy when you aren’t seated beside the exact person currently making your pulse act deeply unprofessional.
…
Wait. When did you pulse start doing that?!
Miserable, you remind yourself. Yeah. Miserable.
With a sigh, you click your seatbelt into place and flip open the menu, genuinely trying to build a case for why this is the worst decision you’ve ever made. Unfortunately, it is hard to maintain righteous regret when the menu has no prices on it. Not one. Just elegant font, artful descriptions, and ingredients arranged like poetry.
…you’d booked economy.
Economy.
But then he’d upgraded your tickets last minute like that was a normal thing a person did — insisting you fly with him. Like swapping someone’s middle seat for a first-class cocoon with a duvet and a champagne flute was just… hospitality.
“Um… Satoru?” Your brow arches as you take in the absurdly extravagant menu. “How much does this cost, exactly…?” He doesn’t even glance up. “Mm? Oh.” Flipping a page, his hand waves lazily. “Don’t worry about it.”
…
Don’t worry about it?
You are very much worrying about it. Because how the hell does an intern afford this?! You know how much interns make at your company; you’ve worked with HR, signed off on the numbers — and it is categorically not this.
But fine. Whatever. That is, somehow, the least of your problems right now. And your mind was already veering back toward the more immediate catastrophe currently taxiing toward the runway.
Your family.
“Right… well. Anyways, Satoru,” you say, setting the menu down. “We should probably establish the basics before we get to Japan and—”
“—what do you like to eat?”
You blink, lips parting.
“I—sorry…what?”
“I like sweets,” he says, turning toward you. A toothy grin spreads across his face, dimples peeking. “Let’s see… cake, cream buns, mochi…” he muses. “Oh! Especially kikifuku mochi, it’s the best.” He nods solemnly. “Honestly, I think it’s the whipped cream inside that really makes the difference.”
Your brow furrows as you stare at him.
…when did this become a TED talk about sugar? You were trying to discuss a plan, and he is out here curating a dessert menu like the most pressing crisis of the next ten hours is pastry selection.
“Okay…? That’s nice. But we should talk about—”
“Food,” he states, picking up the menu you just set down. He flips it open and angles it back toward you like that is the only sensible conversation available. “C’mon. What do you like? Not what you’ll settle for… what you’ll actually like. Ten hours is a long time, sweetheart.”
Brow knitting, you frown.
He cannot be serious. That is not the priority right now.
“That—that can wait. We need to—”
“—establish the basics, yeah.” He rolls his eyes and tips his head back against the seat, like your resistance is personally exhausting him. But then his gaze flicks back, amused. “And I’m just saying food is a basic necessity. Because you skip lunch when you’re busy, forget breakfast when you’re anxious, and then act shocked when you feel like shit three hours later. So, eat.” He places the menu back in your hands. “Preferably something that isn’t stale pretzels, yeah?”
Something hot and startled climbs your neck so fast it’s almost impressive. Your mouth opens, but whatever rebuttal is forming never makes it. Because before you can recover—
“Honestly, I gotta say… the soba is pretty good too, actually.” His face is suddenly just over your shoulder, murmuring close enough that you feel the heat of him against your ear. “If you don’t want the wagyu, that is. Wait—scratch that. Maybe ramen…?” His finger traces a line on the menu, pale lashes lowering, tongue clinking gently. “Mm… never mind. Too much broth and there could be turbulence.”
Your whole body stiffens. Because his closeness does not feel unwelcome. Which is exactly the problem.
…when did he get so comfortable?!
“…stop doing that,” you mutter, pulling back. He looks over, the picture of innocence. “Doing what?”
Your lips purse.
“I dunno. Being…” But the word dissolves, and you're reaching for your water, needing something to do with your hands. “So… comfortable. So—” You cut yourself off with a small huff. “Like this.”
His grin is unbearable, lazy and crooked.
“Oh?” he reclines. “Like what, baby?”
You sputter into your water.
“Baby?”
You’re choking on your drink, and Satoru looks entirely too pleased with himself. He's chuckling, leaning over without a second thought, one hand settling warm between your shoulder blades.
“Awwh… what’s this? Don’t be shy now,” he hums, the picture of helpfulness, rubbing slow circles with a sigh. “We’re gonna have to get way cozier than this if I’m playing boyfriend. Just establishing the basics, yeah?”
As you straighten with a glare, you can tell without a doubt he is openly enjoying himself. That grin hasn’t moved a goddamn inch.
…asshole.
Huffing, you settle back into your seat. And it isn’t long before the plane shudders gently away from the gate, inching out onto the runway with that slow, terrible sense of inevitability that only air travel is capable of producing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time please ensure your seatbelt is securely fastened… flight attendants, prepare for departure.”
The overhead announcement crackles through the cabin, too polished to be comforting. While beneath you, the whole plane seems to draw tight, a low hum building through the floor, climbing up through your seat.
You exhale, letting your eyes fall shut. Just long enough to pretend you weren’t here. Just long enough to avoid the window, the runway, and the deeply unhelpful fact that your brain liked to save all its worst thoughts for takeoff.
…like how first class wasn’t exactly known for improving your odds. Like how takeoff and landing were statistically the worst parts. Like how the engine sounded different now, probably… maybe, and—
“Hey.”
Satoru’s voice came quieter this time; enough to pull your eyes back open. When you look over, that vibrant blue is already watching you — steady, unhurried, like he has been waiting for you to surface.
“Are you… nervous?”
“What? N-No…” you lie, huffing. His brow arches, sensing your bullshit. “Okay… then why are you doing that with your hands?”
Following his gaze, your fingers had folded into fists without even noticing, in that particular way they always do when you’re trying to physically hold yourself together.
Fuck.
It’s ridiculous, really. You knew flying was statistically safe! Knew it the way you knew balance sheets and quarterly projections and the exact percentage margins that kept departments alive. And yet, takeoff had always felt like the part where logic starts losing altitude.
“Oh…” A small, awkward laugh slips out, just as the engine begins to roar. You smooth your palms over your trembling thighs, shouting over it. “It’s fine! Really! I just… um—I guess I don’t particularly like takeoff, is all!”
His expression softens in a way you weren’t braced for. But before he can answer, the plane surges forward and your eyes squeeze shut. A massive force presses you back into the seat while vibrations climb through the floor and up your spine.
It’s terrible. Completely terrible. But somewhere in the middle of it, a warm hand slides against yours. It takes you a second to register his fingers lacing between your own, and the moment his thumb brushes the back of your hand, you instinctively grip him tighter.
Your eyes stay shut, but you feel the plane lift hard and fast into the sky. And somewhere between the roar of the engines and that awful pull in your stomach, the slow circles his thumb traces against your skin become the only thing your body seems willing to trust.
By the time the pressure eases and the plane finally levels out, your lungs have only just remembered how to work. For a second, neither of you moves until—
“…better?”
His voice brushes the quiet between you. You blink your eyes open.
“Yeah…” you whisper. “Um… thanks.”
He smiles. “Sure.”
That thumb brushes one last time against the back of your hand before finally pulling away, dropping back into his lap with a simple nod like it had been nothing. And the loss of that warmth was immediate enough to sting.
Oh…
He’s… annoyingly good at taking care of you. And worse, your body had recognized it before your brain could file the proper objection — clinging first, thinking later, like comfort was something you could afford to trust.
Maybe the altitude was messing with your head…
Ten hours was a long time.
Long enough to work out the safest parts of the lie. How long you’ve been together. Where you met. Which version of the truth felt neat enough to survive one wedding weekend without collapsing under the weight of follow-up questions.
It was just… not long enough, apparently, for the parts that actually mattered.
“Soooo… question…” Satoru had stretched lazily, turning his glass between two fingers as he glanced over. “What exactly should I expect when we land?”
You kept your attention on the blanket across your lap, flattening a wrinkle. “Probably… jet lag?” you mutter sarcastically, avoiding his gaze, fussing with the fabric. “And a long enough drive to regret everything in peace.”
He snorts. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” Ice clicked softly as he tipped his glass, shifting toward you. “Not what I meant, though. I meant with your family.”
And when the warmth of his attention settled against the side of your face — you hesitated. Because it was patient in a way that only made it harder to meet. Patient in the way of someone who’s learned that pushing doesn’t work on you. Which you’re unsure is better, or worse. Because waiting means he’s paying attention, and paying attention means he’ll notice when you crack.
“We’ll just… talk about that later,” you huffed, tugging the blanket a little higher before turning toward the window. “I’m tired. Gonna try to sleep.”
Later… yeah. Later.
But by baggage claim, you were running out of runway. You had to do it soon. Get it over with. Preferably somewhere between the airport and your hotel, where you could spit it out quickly and not have to watch his face too closely while you did.
So now, Satoru yawns beside the conveyor belt, tired blue eyes skimming the slow parade of suitcases rounding the carousel. Hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, posture easy in a way that only makes you more tense. You stand there staring at the back of him, fingers hooked tight in the seam of your shirt.
Now.
“Hey… Satoru?” you mumble. “Hm?” His gaze lands on your luggage and he’s already stepping forward to grab it. “Um, well…” You hesitate. “About my family… I—"
“—oh! Look—look! There they are!”
The moment her voice rings through the terminal, everything inside you locks. You turn, and for one wild second, you genuinely wonder if it’s too late to get back on that godforsaken plane.
Satoru hauls your suitcase off the belt.
“What about them?” he asks, turning when you stop short. Then he sees your face. “…sweetheart?” His brows furrow, following your line of sight — and there is your mother, cutting through the crowd with Trish beside her, moving with the kind of delighted urgency you aren’t prepared to see for at least another twelve hours.
No.
No, no, no.
“—oh my god, there he is!” Your mother walks straight past you — past you — and both hands are wrapping around Satoru’s like he’s who she came for. "Oh, he's handsome. Trish, look—"
It’s no surprise, really, that you’re a second thought. You’ve been a second thought since before you could name it. But that isn’t the wound that matters at this particular moment. The bigger problem is that she’s here.
…why the hell is she here?!
You were supposed to have more time—
“—oh my god,” Trish breathes to you. “Damn. girl. He’s, like… stupid handsome.” And Satoru’s grin went smug, drawling. “Oh, please, ladies. Keep the compliments coming. I’m feeling very welcomed~”
Your mother giggles. “Handsome and funny. Oh, he’s a charmer,” she says, smacking his shoulder playfully. Though the laugh lands bitter. “God. Why on earth would she keep you from me?! I mean… wow. I was beginning to think she’d die alone.”
The words hit like a slap dressed as a joke.
Satoru blinks, the smile faltering for half a second, head tilting imperceptibly.
…great.
Of fucking course she’d say something like that within the first thirty seconds.
“Mother… what—” your voice wavers, eyes falling shut with a swallow. “Sorry. I just—what are you both doing here?”
She did a tiny double take, like she’d only just remembered you were standing there. “Oh, honey…” A hand waves, scoffing. “Don’t be silly—of course we’re here to pick you up! God. I wouldn’t leave you stranded at the airport,” she snorts.
Oh, right.
So she wouldn’t abandon you at an airport. Just in another country.
…good to know there's a line somewhere.
“Besides, why don’t you both just stay with us instead?” she’s already reaching for Satoru’s hand again, bright with the idea. “We’ve got a guest room ready, and I’d love for the chance to talk to you.”
Your body goes rigid.
Oh no. Fuck no.
Anything but that.
Satoru must have seen it written across your face — that particular shade of panic —because his eyes cut to you for only half a second before he slips his hand free, turning back to your mother with a smile already in place.
“That’s incredibly kind, ma’am,” he says, tugging you into his side with an ease that shouldn’t have felt as steadying as it did. “But we’re staying pretty close to my family’s place, and I should probably swing by tomorrow morning.” He rubs the back of his neck with a theatrical groan. “It’s been a few months since I’ve seen my father, and trust me, I’ll regret it if he finds out I came to Tokyo and didn’t stop by, y’know?”
Apparently, ten hours isn’t long enough for the parts that actually matter, because…
“Oh? Your family’s place?” your mother repeats, brows lifting. “So, are they here in Tokyo too, then?” He nods. “Mm, yeah. Pretty much all the Gojos are—at least on my dad’s side. My mom’s in Kyoto.”
…
Wait.
Did he just say Gojo?
As in—
Your boss’s family?!
No. Absolutely not. Between the jet lag, the shock, and your mother still glowing beside you, your brain simply does not have the bandwidth for this. Your lips part, blinking like that might somehow rearrange what he just said into something less insane.
Nothing comes out.
“Gojo…” your mother repeats, brows knitting. “Why does that sound familiar?” Trish blinks. "Wait—like… Gojo Corporation Gojo?!"
Satoru’s grin widens. “Yep. That’d be us.”
“Ah!” Your mother snaps her fingers. “Gojo Corporation. Yes—of course! Silly me. I thought that name seemed familiar…”
And now, the hurt arrives before the shock finishes landing — ugly and precise and aimed at the exact spot that never heals right. Five years of your work, your career, your life inside that building. But she only knows it because a handsome man says it in a terminal.
You stare. “Mom… you can't be serious?” and the hurt in your own voice catches you off guard. “I’ve… I've literally been working at Gojo Corporation for the last five years.”
Fuck...
Get it together.
Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru watches you. But your mother moves on like you’re invisible.
“Oh Satoru Gojo, you just keep getting better and better.” You feel him hesitating as she tugs eagerly. “Come—come! At least let us drive you both to the hotel, hm? There’s so much I need to hear and—”
“—sorry ma’am, no.”
Satoru’s pulling you into him like the decision has already been made. And you blink while his fingers smooth gently through your hair, tipping your chin up with a long finger.
You blink, because Satoru is pulling you into him like the decision has already been made. When his fingers smooth gently through your hair, your breath hitches as he tips your chin up.
“Honestly, I’m beat…” His thumb brushes your cheek, gaze searching your face. “…aren’t you, love?”
There’s a hitch in your breath
Oh.
So… you’re not invisible?
As it leaves you in a quiet shudder, for one suspended second, there is nothing but that soft blue of his eyes and the way they’ve gone gentle for you. All you can do is nod — and a single tear slips free before you can stop it.
He tucks you against his chest, hiding your face, and flashes a grin back at your mother.
“Ugh… I appreciate you coming to get us, but we’ve been up for way too long and—” Glancing down at his phone, he lets out a small laugh. “Ah. Perfect timing! Would ya look at that—my driver’s here.” A tug of your hand. “But we’ll catch up tomorrow, yeah? Bye, ladies~”
Your legs are moving on their own, and you don’t even catch the expression on your mother’s face. Can’t. Not when your pulse is still tripping over itself. Not when his hand wraps around yours like letting go isn’t even a question.
The suitcase rolled behind you, with the airport crowd bustling. While those bright eyes flicked back, making sure you were still there every few steps.
“C’mon, pretty girl… we’re almost there,” he murmurs. “Just stay with me, okay? Eyes on me, yeah?”
And… you weren’t sure why he lowered his voice. Not when they were already well out of earshot. You only know that… it nearly undoes you all over again.
By the time the limo pulls away from the curb, Satoru had already figured out two things: your mother was awful, and somehow, he’d gotten you out of there only to realize he hadn’t fully brought you back with him.
It’s the furrow in your brow that gets him first… then the wobble in your lip — the one you think you’re hiding, the one you always think you’re hiding. You haven’t said a word since climbing into the backseat. Haven’t looked at him either. Instead, you stay toward the window, watching Tokyo slip by in blurred ribbons of light, glowing against the glass in streaks of neon. A city that has no business being that beautiful when you look that broken.
…shit. Should he crack a joke? No. Maybe not.
But asking if you’re okay feels useless. You obviously aren’t. And worse, saying it out loud feels like the fastest way to make you disappear even further behind that window — to watch you pull the shutters down the way you always do.
“Well, then…” A hand drags through his hair as he lets his head fall back against the seat. “Um… gotta say—your family really believes in making an entrance, huh? Talk about—”
“—I thought your name was Satoru Geto.”
He blinks.
“Huh?”
Your gaze finally pulls from the window, landing on him, and the hurt in it is so carefully contained it almost looks like composure. Almost. Except he’s spent four months learning to read you, and composure doesn’t tremble at the edges like that.
“…Satoru Geto,” you mutter carefully. “That’s the name on your employee record, no?”
Oh...
Right. That.
“…is it?” His gaze slips away, fingers scratching at the back of his neck. “Yeah… um. About that. Geto’s actually my best friend. I just used his last name because the initials matched.” He’s flopping back against the seat with a small shrug, one arm slinging across the top. “Made it easier to sign off on stuff that way. Gotta work smarter, not harder, right?”
And tilting his head, a crooked grin tugs at the corner of his lips.
Yours doesn’t move.
“Right,” you deadpan, turning back toward the window. “So your plan was to just let me keep calling you that.”
You don’t say it like a question.
…is it a question?
Satoru’s brow furrows at the hurt threaded beneath the words. “No… I—” he huffs, hands dropping into his lap. “Obviously I had to hide it while I was working with you, but my legal name was on the boarding pass I gave you, so it’s not like I was actively hiding it, sweetheart.”
You scoff under your breath. “Oh. Cool. So I was just supposed to… what—figure that out on my own?” And suddenly, your voice is doing this awful thing now — losing its clean, controlled shape, slipping into something thinner. Hotter.
He hears it immediately, sighing. “Sorry… but why is this the problem?” he asks, more confused than anything now. “Help me out here. I mean… I thought your mom was what had you upset back there.”
Your eyes roll. “Your name is literally on my paycheck, Gojo. How is that not a problem?”
He stares. Genuinely stares. Because for a second, he doesn’t know what to do with that. To him, his name was just a name. The company was just a company. Status had always felt like something other people got weird about first. Not him.
So, like an idiot, he goes for the joke.
“Well… technically, I think my name is on a lot of paychecks, so—"
“—Jesus Christ, am I a fucking joke to you?”
And the humor drops out of him so fast it almost startles you. Shit. That backfired tremendously. “Whoa—what? No!” He straightens, brow furrowing. “No, no, no. God, no—sweetheart, of course not. Why would you think that?”
You’re looking away before he can see what that does to your face, because you hate how quickly his voice goes from careless to cracked. Hate yourself for making it do that.
Damnit.
You know that wasn’t fair. He had just gotten you out of there. Seen you unraveling in that airport and stepped in without making it worse. Without making you ask. And still — somehow, in the span of twenty minutes, the whole world had shifted under your feet. Him, your mother, that last name. This damn… wedding.
…why does everything feel so hard to sort through right now?
“Just…” You swallow, shifting towards the window, blinking back tears. “Sorry. Don’t talk to me right now.”
His expression softens. “C’mon… no,” he murmurs. “Please… please don’t be like that. I’m sorry you found out this way. I should’ve told you sooner.”
The crack in his voice makes everything unbearable, and outside, Tokyo keeps sliding past in fractured light. So, you look at the window because it’s easier than looking at him. Easier than trying to untangle the mess that is your life. Easier than naming what specifically hurts so much.
And easier than asking yourself what, exactly, had been real and what had only ever been off the record.
Clearly, the universe looked at the absolute clusterfuck of this trip and decided it wasn't finished with you yet.
Because apparently, your fake boyfriend had a limo. Your fake boyfriend, who can upgrade your tickets to first class like it’s nothing. Your fake boyfriend who is also, apparently, your boss — and decided to book you at a luxurious five-star hotel in Tokyo while somehow neglecting to mention that part too.
Whatever. Either way, you're too tired to care. Or maybe just too tired to forgive him — despite the way the marble floors and soft gold light whisper luxury around you like an apology you didn’t ask for.
All you know, is that by the time the two of you make it upstairs, your silence was beyond awkward and hardened into something heavier. More deliberate. So, the moment the suite door clicks open, you’re beelining to the bedroom.
“Goodnight.”
You mutter it under your breath, shutting yourself into the bathroom before he can answer you. And when you change into your pajamas, you try not to linger in the mirror — because your whole face feels tight from holding yourself together, from trying not to cry for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. And as if that weren't enough, the wedding is tomorrow.
…how the fuck are you supposed to get through that too?!
With an exhausted sigh, you push open the bedroom door, reach back to kill the light, and—
“…what are you doing?” you deadpan, stopping cold in the entryway. Because at the foot of the bed, you find Satoru in sweats, crouched on the floor, carefully spreading a blanket across it. He smooths the corner flat and those blue eyes flick up, then drop back down.
“Making myself comfortable?”
…
That explains absolutely nothing.
Your brows pull together. “Okaaay…? Clearly. But—why?” Rolling your eyes, your arms cross. “Don’t tell me you fucked up the reservation. I mean, you’re the one who booked this place. Don’t you have your own suite?”
“Yup. I do.”
He says it so easily it almost irritates you more. You watch him fluff the pillow and set it on the floor like this is perfectly normal behavior for a man who can apparently summon private drivers and spend obscene amounts of money at the drop of a hat.
Your teeth grit. “Great. So go lay in your bed.”
Exhaling through his nose, he lowers himself onto the marble like it’s no different than a mattress. One arm tucks behind his head, the other rests over his stomach, all lazy limbs and impossible calm.
“Nah,” he says. “Think I’ll sleep here. Promised you wouldn’t be alone this trip.”
And the universe, apparently, hadn't taken quite enough from your dignity yet. Because you find yourself genuinely speechless.
For a moment, you just stand there looking at him — at the ridiculous length of him stretched out across the floor, at the fact that he has a whole bed somewhere else and was still choosing this — and at how he somehow managed to make the gesture feel casual enough not to embarrass you and sincere enough that it did anyway.
“…suit yourself,” you grumble, stomping over to your bed.
You yank the covers back and climb in with an irritated sweep, reaching over to find the light. Darkness folds over the room in one soft rush, and for a while, there’s only the low hum of air conditioning and the distant glow of Tokyo bleeding dimly through the curtains. Somewhere beneath it all, you can hear the faint rustle of fabric from the floor, the small settling sound of him getting comfortable.
…
Or trying to.
You lie stiffly on your side, facing away from the edge of the bed that he lays, staring into the dark like you can force your mind to shut up if you just do it hard enough.
Ugh…
Despite how tired you are, sleep feels impossible.
Rolling your eyes, you pick up your pillow and shift to the other side of the bed with an annoyed little huff. And there’s the broad line of his back in the dark. One arm folded under his head, the other sprawled carelessly over the blanket, like this is all perfectly normal. Like sleeping on the marble floor in a five-star hotel is not objectively unhinged behavior.
“…you’re actually gonna sleep down there?” you mutter into the dark.
“Mm.” His voice comes easy, amused. “You should be sleeping, missy.”
“So should you,” you huff. “In a bed.”
Chuckling, he shifts onto his back, sprawling out like a starfish. He hums. “Nahhh,” and an exaggerated exhale breathes out of him, tired. “The floor’s fine. I’m reconnecting with the earth. Re-centering. Some might say it’s very… grounding.”
You can hear that pleased little smirk of his, even in the dark, and it pulls a snort out of you before you can stop it. “…wow, seriously?” Biting back a grin. “You’re so stupid.”
He laughs under his breath. “Yeah… maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that. Probably won’t be the last, either. But…” With a tired sigh, he drapes his arm over his face, half-hiding in the dark. “…guess I’d rather be stupid than leave you alone, though.”
The words slip out, and the room goes strangely quiet. Something tender and awful pulling tight in your throat as you stare down at him for a second too long.
…what are you even supposed to do with that? With him?
He’s down there on the floor, keeping a promise you never asked him to make.
Swallowing, your fingers tighten on the blanket. “…hey, Satoru?” That low hum answers, and you hesitate, staring at the dark shape of him on the floor, your heart doing something stupid and uncomfortable against your ribs.
“Come up here,” you blurt.
…
Silence.
“Wait… huh?”
Your eyes squeeze shut.
As if saying it once wasn’t bad enough.
“I-I mean…” you’re shifting onto your back, staring hard at the ceiling because looking at him suddenly feels impossible. “I just… there’s plenty of room, so just—come up.”
…
He’s quiet just long enough to make your face burn hotter. And when he’s pushing himself onto one elbow, even in the dark, you can feel the disbelief radiating off of him like heat.
“Uh… right,” he laughs awkwardly. “I think the jet lag’s getting to me, because there’s no way I heard that right unless you’re fucking with me.”
You cover your face with a groan.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Christ, stop making this harder—” you snap, voice rising. “I’m serious you idiot! Because you’re not making me feel worse tonight by sleeping on the goddamn floor—so hurry and get your ass up here before—”
“—yes ma’am.”
He’s moving before you can rethink the entire thing, despite how your pulse is suddenly loud in your own ears. You scoot over, clutching the blanket to your chest, and the mattress dips beneath his weight — the sheets rustle. His body shifts. And then everything goes still.
…too still.
All you can do is lie there. Stiff. Acutely, helplessly aware of him. But it’s dark — mercifully dark — and thank god for that, because you don’t think you could survive seeing his face right now. Not this close. Not after that. Not with your own invitation still echoing back at you like something you’d like to physically retrieve out of thin air.
“Soooo…” he mumbles, fingers tapping the mattress. “Um… for the record, this is like… significantly nicer than my original arrangement. Way less marble.”
Despite the nerves, his words loosen a laugh from your chest. “…yeah? Well, good,” you mutter, tugging the blanket a little higher. “Because honestly, the level of commitment you were showing that floor was a little concerning.”
He chuckles. “True, true.” And suddenly, you can hear the lazy stretch of a grin in his voice. “Buuuut I mean… I wasn’t about to lose our first fight—not as your boyfriend.”
Your breath catches. “W-Wow…” You huff like that’ll cover it. “You—um… got real comfortable with that word fast,” you mutter, trying for dry and missing by a mile.
A low hum. “I'm a committed man. What can I say?” and his voice is all smug velvet and sleep-rough warmth. “Mmm… I kinda like the sound of it, actually.”
The words land lower than they should. Because that should not sound as good as it does.
“D-Don’t… don’t say it like that,” you stammer.
The mattress dips.
“Mm?” he whispers. “…well, how else should I say it, princess?”
…
Fake.
Fake boyfriend.
The word lands somewhere quiet and ugly under your ribs, and all at once the warmth of the bed feels strange against your skin. Because that's what this is. What it has to be. A role. A weekend. A lie with soft edges and an expiration date. And…
“Just—nevermind…” you mutter, shoving it down, repositioning your pillow. “Laying in a bed with my boss was not really on my bingo card for this trip. Or finding out halfway through it, apparently.”
He scoffs. “I’m not your boss. My dad’s your boss.” A humorless breath leaves you. “Yeah? Well, that is not as comforting a distinction as you think it is, Gojo, when your name is still on my—”
“—Satoru,” he corrects softly.
You blink into the dark.
“Wait. Sorry… what?”
A small huff leaves him, almost annoyed, almost something softer. “It’s just…” he grumbles, shifting against the sheets, “I like it a lot better when you call me Satoru…” And even without seeing him, you can hear it.
Is he… pouting?
The fabric rustles again as he shifts. “Look…” he says after a beat, and the teasing has gone out of his voice now. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just…” He exhales through his nose. “I didn’t think hearing my last name would make you start acting like I was suddenly somebody else...?”
Your lashes flutter as he scoots closer, and this time, your breath catches. Because a thin line of moonlight slips through the curtains, cutting across the bed just enough to catch him there. The loose fall of white hair over his forehead, the softened line of his mouth, the pale blue of his eyes gone dim and almost silver in the dark.
“And…” His voice lowers, softer now. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I liked just being Satoru to you..." Those blue eyes dip to your lips, just for a second, before lifting back to yours. His breath hitches.
“Y’know I’m still me… right?” He whispers.
As his breath fans across your face, you feel fingers slipping over yours, careful enough to feel like a question, and your pulse does something wild. Because for one suspended second, he doesn’t look real. He looks like something half-dreamed.
Beautiful.
“Right…” you breathe, the word thin. “I know that, and… I-I’m sorry for lashing out at you earlier. I just… I wasn’t expecting any of this, and then everything at the airport and—and god—and then my mom and—"
The words are tumbling out now, too fast, too loose, and even in the dark you feel laid open by them. Bare in a way that makes you want to snatch every one back. Because there he is, looking at you with that same unbearable patience, thumb brushing over the back of your hand in slow, absent strokes, his mouth tipped in a smile so soft it almost feels private.
…yours.
And that’s what’s terrifying. He feels like something you could lean into. Like warmth can be simple. Unconditional. Real.
But…
Nothing in your life has ever taught you how to lean into warmth without waiting for the condition beneath it. Without turning it over, looking for the fine print. So, perhaps that’s why, when his thumb brushes over your hand again, you pull away.
And his frown is instant.
“I-I…” Your eyes squeeze shut as you clear your throat. “Sorry.” The word comes out frayed. “I want you to know I appreciate you doing this. Genuinely. But…” You swallow hard around the ache pressing at the base of your throat. “Tomorrow is it.”
The room goes so quiet you can hear the air conditioning hum.
His brow furrows, pushing himself up on his elbow. “Um… what are you saying?” He scoffs, lips pulling into a disbelieving grin. “I don’t understand. Why are you acting like everything—”
“—after this is over,” you blurt, chest rising. “You can just—forget all this happened, okay?” And your voice thins. Blinking back tears, your eyes flick away. “That’s it. You’ll forget about me. You go back to your life. I go back to mine. Just like we agreed and—”
“—I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
Your eyes glance back from the hurt in his voice, and somehow that only makes it worse. Because...
Why?
Why does he have to look at you like that?
You exhale shakily. “I think we both need sleep more than we need this conversation, so…” The blanket is already up at your chin by the time the words leave you. “Let’s… leave it at that. Okay? I’m exhausted," you whisper. "Goodnight, Satoru.”
Shifting away, you roll onto your side before he can say anything else, before he can make this harder than it already is. The bed gives with a quiet creak behind you.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
And you lie there, holding yourself rigid, as if that could undo the part of you that almost turned back.
Still. Despite how tired you are… sleep feels impossible.
a/n. oof. sorry for leaving you on the angst 😭 but this felt like the right place to split it so part 3 can be fully wedding-focused. tysm for reading! i'm blown away by all your support. he's literally so patient and attentive, whaaa. i wanna eat him up 😭
pairing: god!sukuna x priestess!reader (+ a hint of god!gojo x reader)
summary: greek myth au. being sukuna's priestess is all you've known, and you've spent a lifetime alone in his temple, devoting yourself solely to him and his needs.
when a different god appears at your door one day with promises of more than a life in the darkness, both you and sukuna find yourselves in uncharted territory
word count: 10.7k
content: 18+ mdni, greek myth au, smut, dubcon/noncon elements due to power imbalance, loneliness, rejection, devotion, abuse, worship, violence, mean!sukuna, piv, attempted cucking, fingering, biting, rough sex, hurt/comfort, sukuna is bad with feelings and satoru is a little shit
a/n: in honour of this blog's one year anniversary I wanted to pay homage to one of the first fics I wrote on here: this blindness I'm condemned to! so here's another god!sukuna fic with a florence and the machine title hehe
also i want to give a big shoutout to @liahcharms for reigniting my passion for myth fics with all her brilliant works! please go and read everything she's written asap
Sukuna always smelt of blood, drenched in that metallic scent that would infest your nostrils, sticking around long after he’d departed your side. He’d always appear in the dead of night, whenever the temple would fall silent, looking more like a beast than a god. He’d take up the whole doorway with his mighty stature, four arms hanging loose at his side, his twisted face laden with mania.
It was you that he’d come to see - his sweet, devoted priestess. He’d waste no time with niceties, for you both knew what it was that he wanted, appearing before you to ensure that you honored your oath of service in whichever manner he deemed appropriate.
Things always played out the same way, with his crimson soaked hands wrapped firmly around your slender neck, sharp fingernails drawing blood while his fingers left pretty little bruises against your skin. He’d grunt as he bent you over his altar, guttural sounds of pleasure leaving his lips as he pressed his mouth against your ear.
You’d sob and shake beneath him, hands raking desperately against the marble beneath you, tears dripping down your cheeks as you let him sink deeper into you than you’d ever allowed any man to go.
He’d give you a taste of divinity, of real purpose. He was your god and you served him well, offering yourself fully for his own pleasure and entertainment, and he ate it up every time, filling you up with his seed and leaving you there once he was satisfied, with no regard for your own gratification.
And there you’d remain in the oppressive silence, shivering at the foot of your shrine to him, awaiting his next visit with rapt enthusiasm. That was your role in this world, your only genuine purpose - you were to give yourself to him and in the times between you were to yearn for his return.
You were to tend to his temple, greet his worshippers, and provide him with offerings. You were to sleep on the cold marble every night just in case he required your services, you were to have no family, lay with no man, for you were his in every sense of the word.
Even if he would never be yours.
Maintaining your oath had never caused you much trouble, for it was the only life you’d grown to know. You had been raised to be a priestess, had tended to the temple since you were eighteen - Sukuna, and your devotion to him, was the only thing that existed in your narrow worldview.
That was how it was supposed to always be.
Until one morning a different deity appeared at your door.
It was a pleasant spring day, and the forest beyond the temple’s walls was brushed with rays of gold, so filled with life in stark contrast to the confines of your shrine. It was always cold in there, tainted with the vague scent of blood and death that followed Sukuna wherever he went.
Even though you had never seen another of his temples, nor met another of his priestesses, you were certain that the uneasy darkness lingered in any place where he was worshipped.
And yet, that darkness, which usually extended to your patch of woodland, seemed woefully absent on that temperate morning. On the contrary, the forest seemed more alive than you’d ever seen it, teeming with colour and life - a beauty that felt utterly foreign to your eyes.
The cause of the change appeared without warning, manifesting between the trees, blue eyes alight with mischief as he strolled towards your humble temple. He had an otherworldly glow about him, a power akin to that of your own god, but rather different in nature. The air around him felt light and airy, like his mere presence could strip away any sense of despair.
You didn’t know him. You didn’t know any god but your own. You weren’t supposed to.
Nervously, you’d flinched back, stepping over the threshold back into your temple, peering past the open doors at the figure who came to a halt on your doorstep, a pleasant smile lighting up his handsome face.
“Good morning,” he hummed, his tone chipper. “I hadn’t expected to find any humans out here - especially not a beautiful woman.”
“Are- are you here to make an offering?” You asked, struggling to find your voice. You’d found yourself captivated by his ethereal beauty, your eyes skimming over his toned body and the beautiful white toga that adorned it. There was nothing monstrous about him like your own master, he was gorgeous in the most conventional of ways.
“An offering? To him?” The god snorted as he gestured to the carvings littering the outer walls of the temple. “Absoultely not.”
Fear fluttered in your heart as you took yet another step back into the comfortable darkness of your home. It felt like Sukuna was draping himself over you, keeping you safe from the stranger before you. For him to so casually put down your god was the gravest insult in this setting, and you wondered if Sukuna might strike him down where he stood.
Perhaps he’d strike you down too, for even allowing yourself to bear witness to such heresy.
“I don’t think you should be here.” You tried to sound as confident as you could, to turn this god away before he could cause any issue. You didn’t want any trouble, didn’t want to find yourself breaking any of Sukuna’s rules.
“You don’t need to sound so afraid, I mean you no harm.” He took another step forward, his toes brushing against the threshold, peering into the darkness at you. “Come and step into the light, so that we can talk properly.”
Even though you knew it was wrong, you found your legs obeying his command. There was something about the way that he spoke which commanded the same authority that Sukuna did, filling you with a terrifying desire to do as you were told no matter what your brain truly wanted. This god didn’t wield his authority with the darkness that your own master did, but the underlying implication was still there.
He would have what he wished, and would employ any method to get it.
Your legs carried you back outside, eyes wide as you observed the man before you. His blue eyes dragged over your form and you caught the way that they seemed to light up with glee. “You’re a gorgeous creature, aren’t you? Typical of Sukuna to keep such secrets to himself. What do you call yourself?”
You told him meekly, averting your gaze down to the floor. Now that you were standing before him you found your heart racing unfathomably quick, oddly taken by his immense beauty. You’d allowed your mind to wander, to wonder what it would be like to have his delicate hands hold you.
It was a thought that you were quick to chase away, for fear that Sukuna could hear every one of your deepest desires and punish you for the slightest deviation away from him.
“How lovely. You can call me Satoru.” The name meant nothing to you. You’d been raised largely in isolation, taught by your parents your role at the temple and abandoned to silence at eighteen. If Satoru was some well-known god, it meant nothing to you.
He didn’t seem offended by your lack of knowledge. Perhaps he’d expected it.
“Are you out here all alone?”
You were, the people in the closest town would bring supplies to you once a fortnight, and beyond that you were left purely to your own devices. It probably wasn’t wise to tell a strange man such a thing, but you got the sense that he’d know if you were lying.
“I am.”
“Oh, how I abhor the cruelty of your master, always keeping his poor worshippers in the worst of conditions. If you were my priestess you’d get to live in the most lavish quarters in some lovely city, surrounded by like-minded folk. No woman should have to linger alone in some dark forest.”
“It suits me here,” you whispered. “I’ve always been here.”
Satoru scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Then you simply don’t know any better than what your master has taught you.”
You were certain that you didn’t need to know. With Sukuna the rules for your life were clear, what more could there be? It was an honor to serve him in the way that you did, it was what you were made for. You didn't need pity from some stranger.
“Look at you, all confused by my words.” A hand reached out for you, your body shaking as a finger tapped the centre of your furrowed brow before withdrawing. “You can’t even begin to comprehend the unfairness of your life.”
“It's not unfair,” you bit back, quietly. You mostly believed your words, but you’d be lying if you were wholly satisfied. You had no qualms about living in this place, or about serving your lord, but in the times between Sukuna’s visits you were hollow, desperate for him, caught up in wondering what he was doing, wondering how many other priestesses he treated just like you.
You wanted him to be yours just as you were his, wanted his devotion to you.
An impossible ask.
“It is, but you can’t allow yourself to see it,” he said with a sigh, fingers dragging through his soft white hair. “You’re a great prize of his, you know. One of his favourites. He always likes to brag about your beauty but never wishes to share - he isn’t a man who likes others playing with what belongs to him, even when he has so much.”
“Oh,” you mumbled, not sure what to make of that. You wanted to be flattered but your joy was unraveled by the use of the phrase ‘one of his favourites’. For now he treasured you, saw you as something valuable amongst all he had. One day you’d slide down that list, once your looks started to fail you.
“I’m here because I had to gaze upon the one that even a monster would desire so deeply.” Your eyes widened in surprise, studying the look on his face. You could sense no trace of dishonesty, his expression open and welcoming, his thoughts written across his face.
The complete opposite to Sukuna’s perpetually guarded frown.
“You were certainly worth the journey,” he continued, when you offered him nothing but silence. You should’ve told him to stop when he reached for you once more, but you remained frozen, completely dumbfounded as his hand traced along your soft cheek. It was a caress gentler than any that Sukuna had given you.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, terrified of what the consequences for his actions would be. You were surprised to find that you didn’t want him to stop, your heart battering against your ribcage at being shown such careful attention for once in your lonely life.
It was a dangerous feeling.
“I would provide you so much more than he ever could,” he whispered, leaning forward. “I’d give you a place in the light, a place at my side. Beauty like yours doesn’t deserve to be hidden away, it should be celebrated.”
Your breath hitched as he closed the gap between you. His nose brushed against yours, lips inching closer, and for a second you almost gave in, almost allowed temptation to win out over the oath that you’d bound yourself to. But you had lived a life of discipline, and when you pushed him back with all of your strength, it was your body acting on instinct.
Kissing him wasn’t right. It would be a betrayal of everything that you lived for. Besides, your parents had warned you about schemes of other gods, warning that if you were to ever encounter one, you would find that they took great enjoyment in playing with humans.
That was what this was. This man didn’t know you, didn’t care for you. You could feel the dislike for your master rolling off him in waves. He was here to humiliate his opponent, to claim something of his.
You would be no pawn in his game.
“I wish for you to leave,” you said as firmly as you could, your heart still fluttering in your chest. “My master would not want you here."
There was a flicker of hurt in Satoru’s eyes, but he dropped his hands to his sides all the same, stepping back with a somber nod. “He wouldn’t, you’re right. But you should not wish to be here either, for you deserve more than the darkness he shrouds you in.”
“It- it is what I have chosen.”
“It is what has been forced upon you,” he countered, offering you a sad smile. “But when you one day choose to free yourself of it, I will be waiting.”
And just like that, Satoru disappeared, taking the brilliant light of the morning away with him. For some reason you felt cold, an empty emotion not unlike that which would plague you whenever Sukuna would leave you broken and naked on the temple floor. It had been nice to talk to someone, nice to feel the sun on your skin.
Even if it was all just trickery from some malicious man hellbent on separating you from your duty.
It was a week after that encounter that Sukuna darkened your door again, in the manner he always would.
Your encounter went much as usual, speaking no words of greeting as he approached, his hands tearing at your clothes, fingers holding you with a bruising grip as he took you beneath him. He was as rough as ever and you enjoyed it all the same, soft whimpers echoing around the temple as you chanted his name like a prayer.
But when he was done, he didn’t leave in silence as he usually would. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height, towering over your frail body which he’d discarded so carelessly on the cold floor. His red eyes were fixed on you with an unusual intensity, two of his hands resting on his hips while the other two crossed firmly over his chest.
“You had a visitor this week. Didn’t you?” The question came out as a deep rumble, sending fear coursing through your vulnerable form.
“Yes.” You kept your eyes down. You weren’t supposed to look up at him without his permission, he was too divine for your eyes to gaze upon openly.
“And what did you think of him, this visitor?”
You weren’t quite sure what to say. If you were to tell him the truth, to suggest that you found Satoru captivating in any way, you feared the punishment that may follow. On the other hand, if you tried lying only for him to realise that you were attempting to deceive him, that could land you in even deeper trouble.
The last thing you wanted was to disappoint him.
“He was…strange. He was like you but not.” You chose your words carefully, omitting your feelings on the matter.
Sukuna let out an amused huff. “There is no one like me, little priestess. But to your untrained eye I can understand what you’re trying to say - he held a power beyond your comprehension, and by extension you find us to be similar.”
Disagreeing with him would be foolish so you simply nodded in agreement, your gaze still trained upon the ground, even as you heard him shifting before you. He crouched, one of his lower hands pressing against your chin and raising your face to look at him.
“What of your opinion on him? Did you enjoy his visit? Do you yearn for him to return with all his foolish light and greenery?”
“No.” The lie slipped out before you could stop it, before you had the chance to truly consider your answer.
He blinked, a slow grin spreading across his tanned face, his canines pointed and sharp, still dripping with blood he’d withdrawn from your neck minutes prior. “No? Such a well trained little thing,” he hummed, a hand coming down to your hair and stroking it with something akin to affection, like an owner praising their pet. “Though, I thought you’d know better than to lie to me.”
The grip in your hair tightened, strands pulling at your scalp. A soft yelp left your lips, eyes welling with tears, your gaze still fixed on him as he’d commanded.
“I can hear your heart fluttering, your blood rushing through those delicate veins of yours. I think you wish to see him again, perhaps you yearn for him to visit you in the way I do.”
You shook your head as best as you could while still confined within his firm grip. Even if you were curious about your visitor, infatuated by the light which he seemed to bathe himself in, you had no desire for his visits to be even remotely similar to Sukuna’s. The humiliation of being taken and abandoned by one god was enough, your heart would not cope with a second.
“I’m loyal to you, master. Only to you.”
There was a soft tremble to your voice, your skin prickling with fear. The look on Sukuna’s face was manic, like it always was when he’d fuck you, or when he’d dump a corpse on the temple’s doorstep. There was an electricity to him that told you he had little tolerance where Satoru was concerned, and as his hand twisted in your hair, you felt certain he’d tear your head from your shoulders.
“Is that so?” He asked, his booming voice echoing around the temple. For a moment, a look which seemed almost conflicted flickered in his red eyes, but it was gone before you could truly verify its existence, replaced by his usual hardened gaze.
“Yes. I take joy in nothing but serving you.”
You were starting to grow cold, the chill of the temple’s marble seeping into your exposed skin. He’d seen you in this state time and time again, but to kneel naked before him and talk was different to being fucked by him, it felt too vulnerable, building an urge within you to cover yourself from his gaze.
Fortunately, your mind stopped you from attempting to draw your arms across your breasts. You were his property and he could gaze upon you as he pleased, you had no right to obscure what had always been his.
Releasing his grip on your hair, he let you crumple down before him. He then brushed the strands tenderly over your bare shoulders, gentle enough for you to mistake it for the touch of a lover. The coolness of his tone dispelled any such illusion as he whispered in your ear.
“Make sure to remember it. Lie to me again or find comfort in that fool, and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your pathetic little life.”
And just like that, he was gone, the warmth of his breath still hot against your ear, your stomach churning with guilt beneath the weight of his bitter disappointment.
Satoru visited again the following day.
He was already waiting for you outside as you threw open the doors to the temple at dawn, leaning against a tree, skin glistening beneath the sun’s gorgeous rays. Doves were flittering around him, whistling away with some merry tune that seemed so out of place within the shadow of your temple.
Once more, you found yourself faltering, glancing back towards the safety of your temple and wondering if you should barricade yourself inside, your master’s threat hanging heavy in your mind.
But the warmth and comfort that the god before you exuded was attractive, pulling your feet towards him just like the first time, a moth to his brightly burning flame. He seemed overjoyed at the sight of your nervous figure before him, shuffling about and avoiding his gaze, jumping at every shadow in the forest behind him, as if Sukuna would emerge from the trees.
“So nervous.” Satoru commented, blue eyes skimming over your form. “You have nothing to fear from me, lovely priestess.”
“It is not you who I fear.”
“Ah, of course not.” Pushing the subject no further, the god offered you a soft smile before lowering himself down onto the grass before you, sitting cross-legged on the ground. A flicker of confusion registered within you, for service to Sukuna had taught you that he was never to be beneath you, it would always be him towering over you.
Satoru seemed to hold no such views, looking up at you easily.
“Sit with me.”
Glancing around once more, you shook your head. “I cannot. I told you before, you should not be here.”
Satoru scoffed, a playful glint in his cerulean eyes. “He doesn’t know I’m here. We’re not all-knowing, and he’s off dealing with some war right about now, his attention couldn’t be further from you.”
“He knew you were here before.” You pointed out, shuffling your bare feet awkwardly in the grass, pretending to find interest in the way your toes wrapped around the blades to avoid meeting the gaze of the being before you.
“That was my error. I had been callous in my approach here the first time, unbothered by the idea of him knowing that I’d gone to look at what was his. For that I apologise. I had not realised the way in which it would impact you.” Satoru seemed genuinely sorry for his actions, worry creasing on his otherwise perfect face.
Part of you wondered if it was an act, but you didn’t linger on the thought for too long. You hadn’t experienced kindness in a very long time, and that alone had your resolve wavering.
“Please sit. I brought you an offering.” He patted the grass beside him, and you hesitated for just a moment before doing as he asked, intrigued at the thought of a god bringing you an offering. Sukuna had never given you anything, why should he? And yet, Satoru snapped his fingers and a whole spread of food appeared on the ground before you.
It was a feast for Kings, an exorbitant amount, the likes of which you’d never witnessed in your lifetime.
Stale bread and the odd bit of cheese had become the staple of your diet over the years, that was all the people from the nearby village were willing to spare for a priestess of a war god, especially when your region had been experiencing peaceful times for as long as you’d lived.
“This is too much for you to offer me,” you said politely, trying to decline. You were concerned that indulging in wines and meats would be apparent to Sukuna on your breath, perhaps even on your body, for it might stop your skin from stretching uncomfortably over your bones like it did currently.
Satoru shook his head, beaming at you. “This is nothing. Eat. You’re such a frail little thing, he clearly doesn't feed you enough, so let me help you.”
You knew it was wrong, knew that you should turn down his offering just like Sukuna would want you to. After all, if your master believed your diet should be so limited, you were in no position to question his judgement. But your piety did little to override the desires of your body, and humiliatingly you could feel yourself starting to salivate.
He didn’t have to know. You’d eat just enough to sate your hunger and that would be that. You didn’t need to overindulge.
Hastily stuffing some grapes into your mouth, the pleased look on Satoru’s face emboldened you to continue. Even if he wasn’t the god you were supposed to serve, there was something about him that led you to desire his approval in the same way you desired Sukuna’s. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could kill you just as easily as your own master could, if he so wished.
“That’s it,” he chirped. “Enjoy it.” You grew so preoccupied with your feast, luxuriating in a range of flavours that you’d never known, that it came as a surprise to you when a warm hand brushed your neck, long fingers trailing delicately down your nape.
You withdrew quickly, jumping like some frightened stray cat, eyes wide and worried, unsure of the god’s intentions. He remained unfettered, dropping his hand and studying you like you were a matter of greater interest than some common priestess.
“Are you sure you’re no nymph? Perhaps some forgotten daughter of another god, cast out into the fringes of our minds?” The honeyed words had your pulse racing, unsure what to make of the compliment. It felt pleasant to be praised, but he was not the man you should be seeking praise from. “You’re so fair, it makes me want to hide you away from Sukuna.”
He spat out your master’s name like a curse, something dark and unbefitting of his light and lovely voice. You said nothing, peering back at him as you remained crouched in silence. There wasn’t a chance that you’d even acknowledge such a statement, for you knew acknowledgement tended to count as consent amongst gods.
Satoru shuffled closer once more, “this mark on the back of your neck, he left it on you?” His fingers were back on your skin now, pressing down on what you assumed must be a bruise. You hadn’t kept track of the marks on your body in a long time, aware that Sukuna would often leave them in his wake. They had never really bothered you.
And yet, Satoru looked concerned.
“I suppose so,” you mumbled.
Scoffing, he shook his head. “What a barbarian.”
Again, you found yourself glancing into the darkness of the trees, despising the idea that Sukuna might potentially be listening in on the exchange, waiting for you to slip up. If he was, you wanted him to be certain that you weren’t going along with Satoru’s complaints towards him.
“He’s not…a barbarian,” you whispered. Despite Sukuna’s treatment of you, it wasn’t so easy for you to cast aside your master. You loved him, you’d always loved him, it was practically built into your body. If he wanted to use you, he was free to do so, if he wanted to kill you, that was up to him.
Satoru looked sad, carefully withdrawing his hand and dropping it into his lap. It was evident that he’d thought this conversation would go a different way. “Do you enjoy my company?” He asked.
“I do.” There was no point in being dishonest. The green, airy atmosphere that he brought along with his presence was pleasant, and the opportunity to speak aloud to someone for once in your lonely life felt freeing, even if you knew it to be wrong. But that was where your rule-breaking would stop. You could dip your toes in the pools of possibility, but there were lines you would never cross.
“I was here last night, you know.” He spoke.
A chill ran through you at his words.
“Is that how your visits from him always play out? Letting him have his way with you without so much as a hello? Receiving everything he could possibly want and then leaving you cold and shivering on the floor, praying for a sliver of his affection?”
You wondered if Sukuna had known that Satoru was watching, if he’d revelled in the idea of an audience. Perhaps he simply didn’t care at all, why should it bother him if there was someone watching him lay claim to what was his?
“That’s my role,” you said mechanically, upon the realisation that Satoru was waiting for an answer.
“And again I must ask, you’re happy with that role?”
“Yes.”
“Happy for him to leave you in solitude? To take you with such violence and then berate you for talking to another, all while he’s free to do as he pleases?”
“Yes.” You lied, more than happy to pretend that you didn’t spend your nights dreaming of more, fantasising about a life in which you could stay in Sukuna’s embrace, rather than wrapped in the cool emptiness of his temple.
“And when you grow older? When your looks start to fail you and he ceases his visits, how do you think you'll feel about your role then?”
The anxiety gripped your heart like a vice. The thought of Sukuna discarding you entirely was something you’d often considered, seeping into the cracks of your mind on your loneliest nights. There was nothing you could do to stop it, for time would march on and you would age, and he would find some new beautiful priestess to have as his favourite.
“You’ll miss him.” Satoru said, answering the question for you. “You’ll lament and suffer and wish that he’d given you something to keep. You’ll realise that all your faith and devotion meant nothing to him, while he meant everything to you.”
Tears began to stream down your cheeks before you could stop them, and you found yourself recoiling away from Satoru, feeling suddenly cold.
“There will be no worth to your life, no honor given to you for your devotion and service. He’ll discard you, just as he discards everything that no longer qualifies as interesting to him. If your loneliness is strong now, it is nothing to what it will be when he’s gone for good, fascinated wholly with another while you wither into obscurity.”
A whimper escaped you, tears dripping onto the grass below as the god before you laid out the future that you’d never wished to consider. Perhaps he was the god of prophecy, witnessing your fate even before it could play out, but he didn’t need to be for your path to stand clear - it had always been obvious to you that things could only end one way.
Sukuna would cast you out, and that would be that.
“I don’t- I can’t-”
“Shhh.” Satoru moved closer, curling around you in a gentle embrace. “Not all is lost.”
Shoulders shaking, you let him hold you, overwhelmed by such a lovely show of warmth and affection that you’d lacked your whole life. He was cooing quietly, stroking your hair with one hand and wiping your tears with the other. It was like he’d ripped your broken heart from your chest just so he could prove to you that it was in pieces, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that.
You shouldn’t have huddled up against him, shouldn’t have allowed his comfort, but what was a mere human supposed to do? Whether you obeyed Sukuna or not, the outcome of him casting you aside one day wouldn’t change.
At least for now, if you disobeyed him, you could experience comfort for once.
The two of you stayed there for a long time, long enough that by the time Satoru was pulling away, you felt like you’d almost melded into his slender form. “I can make you my priestess, I can make you my world. Beauty like yours is rare, and would never cast it aside like he does, not in old age. I would leave you not in solitude, but keep you in the warmth of my arms for eternity if you’d allow me.”
“I can’t, I’m his, I want to be his, I-”
“He’ll never be yours.” His blue eyes were sparkling as he regarded you with a serious look, one filled with desire. “But I can be. I have gazed upon you for longer than I should admit, have stalked about in these woods and watched Sukuna mishandle beauty that deserves more. Let me give you more.”
Your stomach was churning with anxiety, not sure what to do. Your mind and heart were screaming away about your loyalty to the only master you’d ever known, to the god that you loved, reminding you of the consequences for even hearing Satoru’s offer to completion.
But there was no denying the desire in your body.
You felt warm for the first time in eternity, and you didn’t want the softness of Satoru’s touch to leave you. If you couldn’t be held by the one you loved, then it was better to be held by another than abandoned to loneliness when Sukuna grew tired of you.
Satoru’s fingers were grazing your cheeks with the utmost care, so gentle compared to your master’s rough hands. You mewled softly under his touch, pathetic in the way you leaned up against him, letting him pet you affectionately like you were some treasured cat.
You’d never had much of your own autonomy, always reliant on gods to tell you what you needed to be. You supposed whether that god was Sukuna or Satoru made no real difference. But if one’s light would stay, allowing you to bask in its warmth for a time, that was preferable to one who would leave you to starve in the dark.
As Satoru pulled you up from the floor, you allowed yourself to be cradled within his strong arms, too distraught over the matter of your master to register the peril involved as the god crossed the threshold into the temple, a domain where he was surely not welcome.
Seemingly unphased, he took a seat on one of the marble benches just before the altar, holding you carefully in his lap and drying away the last of your tears. “There, there,” he soothed. “Let me look after you.”
Allowing yourself to melt into his arms, you did nothing to prevent the slow brush of his pink lips against yours, mouth parting for his tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You supposed that in a way, it was, Sukuna had taught you nothing but obedience, so with Satoru’s grip so firm and welcoming, what were you supposed to do if not obey?
Satoru’s lips tasted surprisingly sweet, the faintest taste of cherry lingering upon them. One of hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth in a manner that was more curious than domineering. Your fingers gripped at the fabric of his clothes, anchoring yourself to him, like you might lose yourself in his kiss.
There was no attempt made to prevent his other hand from wandering to the shoulders of your dress, slipping the loose fabric down your arms and allowing it to pool at your waist. Your nipples were perked, whether from arousal or the cool air of the temple, you weren’t quite sure; any thoughts on the matter fled your mind as Satoru broke the kiss and hoisted you up a little, letting his lips find one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against it before taking that sensitive bud into his mouth.
It pulled a pathetic little whine from you as you clung desperately to his shoulders. This wasn’t something that Sukuna had ever done. His focus had never been on your pleasure, but on meeting his own needs - to experience such devoted touch felt strange, but not unpleasant by any means.
One of Satoru’s hands moved up your leg, pushing beneath the remaining fabric of your dress and finding itself in the space between your thighs. His long fingers navigated carefully over your pussy, with a gentleness that your master had never possessed, moving slick through your folds and circling a spot which had you whimpering.
For a few minutes, you were lost in it all. You were off somewhere else in your mind, in some lovely field that befitted Satoru’s pleasant atmosphere, where the two of you could lay beneath the sun and make love amongst the flowers for all eternity.
It was an illusion that shattered quickly.
Satoru was just in the process of repositioning you. He’d discarded your white dress entirely, carrying you over to the altar and lifting you to sit atop something that you’d previously only ever been bent over. He’d spread your legs and knelt down before you, peering up from his place beneath you with an expression laden with desire.
His breath had fanned over your exposed core, your body trembling at his proximity, in desperate anticipation of what it might feel like to have his tongue pressed up against you.
But the moment he leaned in to give you what you’d been awaiting with bated breath, a large hand found its way into your hair and dragged you violently to the ground. You yelped desperately, struggling beneath an unwavering grip, your shoulder aching where it had bashed against the marble.
“Stay still.” The voice was cold and bone-chillingly familiar.
Sukuna wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixed evenly on Satoru, who was carefully picking himself up off the floor. His neck and chest was stained with a gold liquid, flowing from a cut which was swiftly closing itself up on his pale neck.
Blinking, panic began to rise up in your chest. You wanted to fidget, to beg Sukuna for mercy and forgiveness, but such an action would be foolish, so you stayed deathly still in his grip, a rabbit accepting its fate within the jaws of a wolf.
“I suppose you find this amusing, an attempt to defile what’s mine within my own temple. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Sukuna’s voice was calm, with a dangerous edge to it. He was addressing Satoru alone, still not bothering to spare a glance at you.
Satoru shrugged, an impish grin spreading across his face. “I thought you were busy.”
Sukuna scoffed. “If I broke into one of your frivolous brothels that you refer to as temples, you’d know the second I took a step over the threshold. So what was this? An attempt to upset me?”
“Why would you be upset?” Satoru asked, pleasantly.
“You know I don’t like to share,” he said, his grip on you tightening.
“You have any number of lovely priestesses, where’s the harm in letting me have one?” Sukuna’s red eyes flickered with annoyance, and for the first time he looked at you, a mix of fury and disappointment present on his terrifyingly beautiful face.
“And you. How dare you?” He asked, dismissing Satoru’s question entirely, his full attention fixed on your quivering form. “Speak.” He barked when you failed to answer swiftly.
“He- I- I’m sorry-”
There was no explanation for your lack of loyalty, nothing beyond admitting that you were afraid to be alone, that you loved Sukuna so deeply that you could no longer bear the nature of your relationship. But telling him that would make him just as angry as telling him nothing.
You weren’t supposed to want anything. You were nothing more than a servant to him with no will of her own.
You yelped as he slapped you hard across the face, ears ringing at the force of the blow. “I should kill you for this, rip you apart for offering yourself to another. To receive what I give you is an honour, and you’re too much of a whore to be thankful.” He spat.
“I am, I am thankful.” You were mumbling as you tried to sit up, stumbling over your words as one of Sukuna’s hands came to press down on your delicate neck. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to- I was scared-”
“Scared?” Sukuna’s tone was mocking, his eyes alight with fury. “Scared of him?” He asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of Satoru, who was watching on with detached curiosity. The sight made your stomach churn, because that man’s honeyed words had moved and confused you and now he seemed unbothered by the whole matter.
Such was the way of gods, as your parents used to say. Mortals were little more than ants to them.
“Not scared of h-him.” Your answer was honest, because you didn’t truly believe Satoru to be a threat to you. Had you turned him down outside you were certain that he would’ve left you be, the issue was that he’d understood exactly what to say to get you to give in.
You were a fool, falling for nothing more than a silver tongue.
“Then what? Because there is nothing you should fear more than my wrath, little priestess, I thought you were smart enough to understand at least that.”
His grip was tightening as he leant more of his weight atop you, keeping you helplessly still. Your lungs started to burn, fingers reaching up to grapple at his wrist to no avail.
You could hardly fend off a human man, let alone the god of war himself.
“I fear- I fear your absence.” You confessed honestly, humiliation filling you at the sheer patheticness of your words. It was an insult to voice such things, to expect that you’d be worthy of his time or attention in any capacity.
Sukuna’s red eyes flew wide at your words and his grip faltered ever so slightly. “My…absence?”
“Yes,” you whispered. “One day you’ll leave me alone in the dark for good and I’ll h-have nothing.”
For a moment he was silent, brow furrowed as if in thought, before seemingly regaining his composure, his expression hardening.
“So you thought to whore yourself out to this fool instead?” He spat. “Forsake everything I’ve taught you, the very vow that you should live by, because you’re afraid of being lonely?”
You nodded as best as you could beneath his grip. “I’m sorry-“
“Pathetic. I’d thought of you as one of my best. I suppose I misjudged you.”
The disappointment in his tone had tears prickling at your eyes, filled to the brim with guilt. In the heat of the moment, Satoru’s points had made sense, had tugged at all your deepest fears. But now, with Sukuna’s weight pressing down upon you, all you could think about was how much of a fraud you were.
How spectacularly you’d failed at the one thing that gave your life meaning.
“Are- are you going to kill me?” Your voice was tiny, for beneath the judgement of your cherished master you were nothing more than a scared girl who understood little of gods and their whims.
Again, there was a flicker of something uncertain on Sukuna’s face, like he hadn’t anticipated those words to fall from your lips. You barely tensed as his fingers tightened around your throat once more, leaving you certain that he was moments from squeezing the life from your fragile body.
Part of you hoped Satoru would step in, but it was clear that he wouldn’t, simply lounging on one of the marble benches, watching the exchange with rapt attention. It was becoming apparent that he hadn’t had your best intentions in mind, no more of a friend to you than Sukuna was.
Perhaps all he’d wanted was to have some fun with some poor, hapless mortal.
Letting your eyes flutter closed, you sank back against the marble, accepting the fate Sukuna had deemed befitting of your crime. But before the sweet release of death could find you, the grip on your neck disappeared along with the weight of his body above you.
“You’re not even worth that,” Sukuna hissed, leaving you crumpled and gasping for breath, utterly confused and broken by his decision. “Drown in your sorrow, for I’ll give you nothing.”
It was the perfect humiliation, a suggestion that you weren’t even worth attention in the form of death, and before you could stop yourself you were sobbing openly, your cries bouncing around the marble walls.
Sukuna paid you no mind, heavy feet slamming across the floor in the direction of the doorway, only to freeze at the sound of Satoru’s calm voice from behind him.
“Like you’ve ever given her anything.”
“What?” Sukuna hissed, peering over his shoulder.
“You heard me. She told you what she feared, why she did this, and you still don’t understand. You’ve always been a fool,” Satoru chirped.
Sukuna remained frozen to the spot as the white-haired god approached you, crouching down behind you and pulling you carefully into his grip.
“How many times have you visited this temple, Sukuna?” Satoru’s fingers were toying with your body, running across your soft skin. His fingers brushed over your nipples and you flinched ever so slightly, your breathing picking up as his hand moved between your legs. Despite the situation you could feel your arousal growing, the sensation only heightened by the crimson eyes fixed fiercely onto your figure.
“What does it matter?”
“Do you remember?” Satoru purred against your ears.
You nodded, struggling to find your voice. “Eighty-three times.” You whispered, meekly. You could remember each visit with staggering clarity, no matter how similar each one may have been.
Satoru whistled. “That’s a lot. How often do you visit your other temples, Sukuna? Once? Twice? Never?”
The fingers dancing over your skin didn’t stop, and you felt that familiar pleasure building beneath Satoru’s touch, a pleasant comfort buzzing through your veins and chasing away the desperate fear which had plagued you moments ago. You saw Sukuna’s throat bob, a flicker of something deeply unhappy in his eyes as Satoru slipped a finger into you once more, all for him to see.
“I don’t see why it's any of your concern,” he said, finally.
“No? I suppose you don’t mind then, that I’m doing this to your favourite priestess. I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I made her one of mine, fucked her over my altar just like you used to.”
“I suppose not. She’s nothing. Just some pretty mortal who can’t even follow rules.” Sukuna’s tone was even, but still he didn’t move. His eyes were watching Satoru carefully, as if assessing his next steps.
“Great.” Satoru picked you up, and sat you down on the altar once more, back in the position that he’d put you in so carefully before Sukuna’s arrival. “I won’t waste any time then.” Discarding his own clothes, he dropped them down onto the marble. Your eyes scanned his form nervously - you were accustomed to being with Sukuna, familiar with his size, and found yourself glad to see that Satoru was smaller.
Not that you meant that in any sort of disparaging way.
He had a pretty cock, still thick and girthy, but the type that would bring you pleasure rather than stretch you out to the point of pain. Satoru smiled as he gazed down at you, a reassuring look that had your heart fluttering. Carefully he cupped your face, running his thumb over the purple bruise blossoming over your cheek.
Fingers clinging to his shoulders, you sucked in a breath as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds. And yet, you couldn’t keep your attention fixed on the man before you, your gaze instinctively drifting to the hulking god standing in the doorway. His red gaze met yours, and there was a moment of terror in which you wondered if he’d kill you for looking at him without permission.
Instead, he held your stare, your heart beating harder as Satoru started to push into you, imagining that it was Sukuna holding you so tenderly, pushing into you with care and desire beyond animalistic need.
“Stop.” Sukuna uttered the word in such a low tone that you weren’t quite sure you’d caught it, figuring it was a hallucination born from your own need for the god. When he repeated it a second time, there was no mistaking its reality, for it came out as a bellow, a new deep cut appearing across Satoru’s back.
And then another.
And another.
Until the white-haired god was covered in a litany of slashes, pulling back from you swiftly, leaving you cold in your propped up position upon the altar. Your body began to tremble, hardly noticing the way Satoru was cursing off to the side of you, desperately trying to heal the damage Sukuna had caused to him.
You were too transfixed by your master storming towards you, wondering if Satoru’s slight had led Sukuna to change his mind about killing you.
With your breath picking up desperately, you were sure that you looked utterly terrified as he came to a stop before you, towering over you just as he always did. His shadow completely eclipsed you, and the hairs on your arm were standing on end, the desire to run overcoming you. But you’d seen what had happened to Satoru, a being who couldn’t be killed - one singular slash would spell your end.
“Tell me,” Sukuna said calmly. “What is it that you want? Do you despise me? Do you long for him and his temples of light?”
“No.”
“No?”
You shook your head again.
“Then what?”
“I told you already.” Your voice was soft and small. “I love you, and I want- I want you to love me.” It felt pathetic to say out loud, to give voice to a request so selfish and impossible. What were you to your master?
Nothing more than a mortal priestess.
And yet, after a moment of thought, he answered your question seriously. “I am no god of love. It is not something I could give to you even if I wanted to.”
Before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by the sound of Satoru’s laughter. The sound came out a little odd, making a gargling noise like he was choking on his own blood as he desperately tried to heal his wounds. “You’re such a fool, Sukuna.”
Glaring at him, Sukuna’s brows furrowed and another slash appeared across Satoru’s chest. It didn’t seem to phase him - in the time that you’d spent with him, you’d come to realise that few things did.
“Why do you visit her so frequently? Why indulge in her flesh when you have countless others? What reason can you give?” Satoru pushed. “I have seen you murder for matters most frivolous, but when you find her, your most devoted little thing, in the arms of another you let her go free? Cause her no more injury than a mere strike?”
“I do as I please, I need to offer you no explanation for my actions.” Sukuna hissed, still pinning you beneath his gaze as he dismissed his peer.
“No, but maybe you should try offering yourself one.”
Sukuna was frozen, his expression unchanging as he stared down at you. You weren’t sure what to make of the glimmer in your eye, feeling completely exposed beneath his gaze. You wanted to sink into the floor, didn’t want to endure any further humiliation or dismissal. You understood your place with great clarity, you needed no further confirmation.
“I’m sorry, please, there’s nothing wrong with our arrangement. I’m wrong to be upset. It's my role to serve whatever you desire. I’m sorry.” You chanted out apologies like a prayer, unsure as to what was going through Sukuna’s mind. You were shifting about awkwardly on the altar, feeling too vulnerable beneath his gaze.
“Oh stop, you. That’s not what you really think.” Satoru cut in. “I’ve been watching you long enough to know your mind, and I’ve always known his. I’d appreciate it if you both stop wasting my time.”
“Stop wasting…?” You faltered, falling silent, struggling to understand Satoru’s words. He ran a hand carefully through his hair, gaze flickering between you and Sukuna.
Sukuna's brow furrowed further, finally pulling his gaze from you to look at his fellow god. “I knew you were playing some kind of game.”
“Oh please, you constantly go off to some poxy little temple on an island forgotten by all of us and expect me not to notice something odd? I had to take a look at what had captured your attention, and to see how you were handling it made me feel embarrassed. I figured I’d give you a push in the right direction. Now go on. Stop lying to yourself.”
For a moment, it seemed like Sukuna might make a move to attack Satoru, clear rage smouldering in the crimson of his eyes. But by some miracle, his attention turned back to you, and that anger dissipated, giving way to an expression which you were unfamiliar with.
Shaking, your breath hitched as his fingers trailed beneath your chin. You couldn’t follow what was happening, struggling to piece together the role that Satoru had played here, unclear on whether Sukuna had forgiven you, half convinced that he’d behead you for the annoyance that Satoru had caused him.
Instead, he leant forward, breath fanning against your face.
“Do you even know how to kiss?” Satoru interrupted. “She likes that, you know, seemed desperate for it when I-”
“Silence.”
Sukuna’s thumb stroked along your jaw, and you blinked nervously, eyes darting anywhere but his face. This was uncharted territory, unaccustomed to facing him like this at all, let alone being treated with such tenderness. Anxiety swirled in your stomach, conscious that this act of warmth might be something final.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and you did, staring directly into the deep crimson of his eyes.
The kiss that followed was slow, stealing the breath from your lungs as his lips pressed against yours, almost tentatively. It was in stark contrast to his usual vigor and aggression, the contact careful in nature.
His tongue pressed into your mouth, dominating you as was always his way, but not devouring you completely as he usually would. The exploration was more like a dance, his tongue flicking curiously against yours as one of his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him.
The warmth of his body was new to you, accustomed solely to the weight of him taking you from behind, completely detached from heat and affection. To feel his chest against yours, radiating heat against your smaller form, had your heart racing.
“Not so hard, is it?” Satoru quipped, only for Sukuna to pull away for a moment and fix him with a glare.
“I will chop you into pieces.”
“Pretend I’m not here.” Satoru raised his hands defensively, and that seemed to be good enough for Sukuna, his attention turned back to you. Your lashes were fluttering, legs pressing against his waist, the sweat forcing your skin to stick against his.
“What-”
“You should stay quiet too.” He spoke, albeit more softly than the sharp tone directed to Satoru. “Lest I change my mind.”
You took his order as gospel, clamping your mouth shut and deciding that you didn’t need an explanation at that moment, despite your confusion. If he was going to treat you with reverence, you’d rather experience such a thing firsthand than force an explanation out of him.
There was no way you’d take the risk of disrupting whatever was currently taking place.
Leaning in once more, you instinctively closed your eyes at his approach, a little surprised as he stalled just before contact, the skin of his lips ghosting against yours. A hand went to your cheek, brushing over the flowering purple bruise. Wincing, you found yourself watching him carefully, like a deer assessing a new being in the forest, one whose level of threat remained unclear.
Caressing the bruise, he let out a heavy sigh before a lovely sense of warmth spread through your face, emitting from his hand. Moments later it was gone, along with the throbbing pain in your cheek, like he’d undone the damage he’d caused.
Before you could question it or thank him, his lips were on yours once again, soft and enticing, pulling you against him in an embrace that felt reserved for lovers, rather than one of a god getting his fill of a servant.
His four hands started to roam over your body, brushing your breasts, squeezing your thighs, feeling you as if it were the first time his hands had touched your flesh. One of his hands moved between your legs, experimentally moving the slick through your folds, a thick finger dipping into you.
Such attention had you whining against him, a sound that was swiftly swallowed by his lips. His finger was thicker than Satoru’s had been, working you open carefully, an action he had never thought to take in the past. You couldn’t understand the effect that Satoru had created within him, unsure as to how he’d gone from hitting and rejecting you, to offering you affection he’d never allowed before.
He slid another finger into you, stretching you out until he was satisfied, his lips locked against yours until he was pulling his fingers back. “Suck.” He ordered gruffly, a trace of his old self present in the way his fingers pressed against your lips, forcing their way into your mouth.
Satoru made a sound of disapproval in the background, reminding you of his presence, but if Sukuna heard, he paid the man no mind. He seemed too focused on your body spread out before him, your wide eyes looking up at him nervously.
He shed his clothes in a single action, letting the fabric pool on the floor beside yours. Your eyes instinctively moved down to where his cock hung heavy between his legs, the monstrous size never failing to steal your breath away. You could hardly believe the number of times he’d sheathed the thing within you without any effort of preparation, your body adapting because it was what he required.
This time was different.
Mirroring the treatment that Satoru had given you earlier, Sukuna carefully ran the tip of his cock through your folds, red eyes fixed on your face. You felt shy, eager to turn your face away. It was easier to do this in the manner he usually would, with you bent over while he took you from behind. Gazing upon him so openly felt too vulnerable for your liking, even if the lust in his eyes had your heart racing.
“You are my favoured one.” Sukuna’s voice was deep, “understand that, because I do not wish to speak more on the matter.”
Lips parting, the question of what that meant dangled on your tongue. To you it suggested the situation was the same as before - for now he favoured you, in a few years time the matter would be different.
He seemed to understand your concern before you could voice it.
“I will not toss you aside for something as trivial as old age. To attract my attention is something significant, not a matter of simple youthful looks.” A yelp fell from your throat as he pushed himself into you, easily filling you to the brim, just like he always would.
You had a million questions running through your mind, wondering where his true feelings towards you lay. It was clear that Satoru understood him better than you did, pushing him to some sort of conclusion that he wouldn’t have stumbled upon on his own.
“Do not betray me again.” He huffed in your ear, breath warm against your skin. “Do so and I will not forgive you, you’ll receive no more mercy than my enemies would. But cling to your loyalty and I will give you what you seek. You’ll have my attention, my affection, for as long as you deserve it.”
“I’ll offer you everything.” The words came out breathy, your body twitching as he withdrew himself from you only to fill you up once more, rewarding you with long deep strokes that held far more affection than the frenzied fucking that you’d usually receive from him.
You found your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, drawing blood and marring his perfect form with each brutal thrust, simply trying to cling onto him. Your cries were loud, echoing within the marble just as they always had, but the nature this time was different, for your cries were ones of pleasure rather than desire for more.
Sukuna’s breaths were heavy, rasping hard against your ear with each smooth movement of his hips. The passion had your eyes rolling back in your skull, babbling out his name pathetically, demonstrating your loyalty to him in your ecstatic reaction to his actions.
This was all you’d ever wanted.
An opportunity that had once seemed impossible.
His fingers were bruising your thighs, pulling you closer with each stroke, and as your thighs tightened around his hips, one of his hands slipped down between the two of you, rubbing that sensitive nub that he’d never deigned to touch before, always too focussed on chasing his own gratification.
Lights danced in your eyes at the contact, a desperate cry of his name ripping from your throat as you squeezed around him, cumming on his cock. It felt almost humiliating to find pleasure before him like that, something that he’d never been interested in witnessing in past visits.
If you ever came with him inside of you before, it was an accident rather than intention.
This time, he seemed to have driven you to it, nipping at your neck and circling your clit carefully, even after you’d gushed all over him.
Of course, his hips still didn’t let up, fucking you fast and deep until he reached his own release, his arms wrapped tight around your smaller form, pulling you as close as humanely possible as he poured his own seed into you, finding satisfaction in the way that it dripped down your sweaty thighs and onto the altar below.
Past experience led you to believe that he’d pull away immediately, dropping you down unceremoniously onto the ground, with little regard to the damage it might cause your fragile body.
But this time he did no such thing.
He lifted you carefully, cradling you within his muscular arms and sitting down upon the cool floor, keeping you warm within the confines of his lap. Your heart was speeding at one hundred miles a minute, your fingers pressing against his chest, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a moment.
A hand was brushing your hair, another stroking your thigh, while two were wrapped firmly around your midsection. All four of his eyes were fixed on you too, no distractions in the manner you’d come to expect from him, his focus was on you alone.
You were his, and at least to some extent, he was yours.
“How sweet.” Satoru’s saccharine voice sounded from across the room. The god was leaning his face on his hand, blue eyes sparkling as he watched the exchange. Sukuna straightened up ever so slightly, fixing him with a glare.
“Leave,” he commanded.
“Aw, not even a thank you? You’re so ungrateful.” The white-haired god stood up, a pout fixed on his pink lips.
“A thank you for doing your job? No one thanks me for starting wars, so why would I thank you for orchestrating a union? Love is nothing special.”
“I could’ve sabotaged your love. Kept that pretty little thing all to myself.” He pointed in your direction, offering Sukuna a toothy grin. “In fact, if you cross me I still might. I can make people fall out of love too if I so wish, irritate me and I’ll put a curse on your favoured mortal.”
Sukuna’s face was stormy, his grip tightening on you in a manner that felt almost protective. “Meddle in matters of my heart ever again and I’ll cut you to pieces and spread them across the corners of the globe. I’m sure no one would miss a few centuries without you.”
“So prickly.” Satoru rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re kinder to her. How she could ever fall for you is beyond my reckoning.”
Sukuna peered down at you, and through the centuries of malice lining his ancient, war-scarred face, you could see it - the soft twinkle in his eyes as he met your gaze. The sharp edges of a god of massacre, tempered only for you.
He would keep his promise.
His affection would not be altered by lines of age on your face. Despite all his shortcomings, he was loyal to his word, and he had offered you a piece of his heart no matter how shrivelled and blackened it may be.
And you would cherish that gift for as long as you drew breath.
a/n: NEED HIM BAD <3
anyway to any crazy in love readers I'm currently working on the next chapter and am planning to have it up in the next week or so
thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are appreciated as always <3
gojo wakes up with your hand already inside his boxers, your fingers curled lazily around his half-hard cock, stroking him with that slow, sleepy rhythm you know drives him insane before he’s even opened his eyes.
he groans, low and guttural, his hips twitching forward into your palm despite the way his voice drips with exaggerated annoyance. “nngh… seriously?” he mutters, voice rough from sleep, one eye cracking open just enough to glare at you through the messy white strands falling over his face. “it’s… what time is it? too early. you’re doing that thing again.”
you don’t stop. your thumb drags across his tip, spreading the sticky warmth already beading there, and his breath hitches despite his best efforts to look put out. gojo satoru, the strongest, reduced to a mess of slow-burning want before the sun has even fully risen, and you haven’t even said a word yet.
“you’re not gonna move, are you,” he says. it’s not a question. he knows you. knows that when you wake up like this—all heavy-lidded and needy, pressed against his side with your thigh hooked over his hip—you have exactly one thing on your mind, and absolutely zero intention of doing anything about it besides using him.
you hum, soft and affirmative, and your grip tightens just slightly, a silent you know what i want that makes him sigh through his nose.
“unbelievable,” he breathes, but he’s already shifting, already rolling toward you, because gojo has never been able to say no to you. not really. not when you look at him like that, all sleepy and demanding, your lips still puffy from sleep and your hair a mess against the pillow. “you’re gonna make me do everything. like always.”
you don’t deny it. you just pull your hand out of his boxers—slowly, deliberately, dragging your fingertips along his length one last time—and push at his shoulder until he’s on his back. then you’re climbing over him, straddling his hips, and he lets you, because what else is he supposed to do? throw you off? pleaseeee.
his hands find your waist on instinct, thumbs pressing into the soft skin above your hip bones, and he feels the damp heat of you through the thin fabric of your underwear as you settle against him. his cock twitches where it’s trapped between you, and he groans again, tipping his head back into the pillow.
“you’re not even gonna take these off yourself?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your underwear, and you shake your head, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.
“you do it,” you murmur against his skin, and he laughs—a breathless, disbelieving sound.
“of course. of course i do it.” but his hands are already pushing the fabric down your thighs, already guiding you to lift your hips so he can pull them off and toss them somewhere on the floor. he doesn’t bother taking off his own boxers, just hooks his thumb in the elastic and shoves them down just enough to free himself, his cock curving up against his stomach, flushed and heavy and already leaking at the tip.
you reach down to guide him, but he catches your wrist, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your hand into the pillow beside your head instead. “no. you wanted me to do it, so i’m doing it. just sit there and look pretty.”
you pout at him, but it’s halfhearted, your eyes already glazing over as he shifts beneath you, one hand leaving your waist to wrap around his own cock, slicking the head through your folds. you’re already wet—embarrassingly wet, a testament to how long you’d been touching him before he even woke up—and he groans at the feel of it, at the way your body welcomes him without any resistance.
“fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s pushing inside, slow, so slow, because even when he’s complaining, even when he’s playing the part of the put-upon boyfriend, gojo can’t bring himself to rush this. not with you. not when you make that sound—that soft, broken little “ah” that falls from your lips as he sinks into you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him like you’ve been waiting for this all night.
he bottoms out and stops, both of you just breathing, just feeling. his hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he watches your face, the way your eyes slip half-closed, the way your lips part around a shaky exhale.
“you gonna do any work, or…?” he asks, and you shake your head again, a tiny, lazy movement that makes him laugh even as his hips twitch up into you.
“didn’t think so.” he starts to move, pulling out slow and pushing back in even slower, a rhythm that’s barely more than a deep, grinding rock. it’s not meant to be fast. it’s not meant to be rough. it’s morning sex when neither of you is fully awake, when the sun is just starting to filter through the curtains and the sheets are tangled around your ankles and every sensation is muffled and warm and thick like honey.
you moan, low and quiet, and your hands come up to brace against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt. he’s still wearing it—of course he is, because you didn’t even give him time to take it off before you were climbing on top of him—and you tug at the collar, pulling it down just enough to press your mouth to the hollow of his throat.
“mmnh… satoru,” you breathe against his skin, and his grip on your hips tightens, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he finds it again.
“don’t ‘satoru’ me,” he says, but his voice is softer now, the annoyance bleeding away into something warmer, something almost tender. “you’re the one who woke me up. you’re the one who—” he cuts himself off with a groan as you clench around him, deliberately, just to hear that sound. “cheater.”
you smile against his neck, and he feels it, feels the curve of your lips, and he hates how much he loves this. loves the way you use him, loves the way you take and take and take and give nothing back except these soft, sleepy sounds and the occasional bite of your teeth against his collarbone.
the room is quiet except for the wet sound of him moving inside you, the rustle of sheets, your shared breath. it’s slow. so slow. each thrust takes forever, a lazy drag of his cock against your walls, and you can feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, the way he fills you so completely you can barely think.
“you could at least… nngh… you could at least move your hips or something,” he tries, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, guiding you in a small circle that makes you both gasp. “i’m doing all the work here.”
“you’re stronger,” you mumble, and it’s such a non-answer, such a blatant excuse, that he laughs again, breathless and a little wrecked.
“that’s—ah—that’s not how this works.” but he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow down. if anything, his hips press up a little harder, a little deeper, and you feel the stretch of him, the sweet ache of being filled over and over again.
you kiss him then, not because you want to help, but because you want to shut him up. your mouths meet in a lazy slide, lips barely parting, tongues just brushing, and he tastes like sleep and something sweet, like the toothpaste you forgot to use last night. it’s messy and imperfect and so, so good.
he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm on your lips. “you’re so lazy. you know that? you’re the laziest person i’ve ever—mmph—” you kiss him again, and he makes a sound like a whine, high in his throat, and you feel it in your chest.
the pace doesn’t change. it can’t change. you’re both too far gone into this slow, syrupy haze to do anything but rock together, hips meeting in a rhythm that’s more instinct than thought. gojo’s hands wander—up your back, down your thighs, everywhere and nowhere—and every few seconds he lets out a soft, punched-out noise that’s barely louder than a whisper.
“you’re not gonna cum,” he says eventually, and it’s not a question. “you’re just gonna—ah—you’re just gonna make me do this until one of us falls back asleep.”
you nod against his shoulder, and he groans, long and loud, his head falling back against the pillow.
“i hate you,” he says, but his hips keep moving, and his hands keep holding, and his cock keeps pressing into that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “i hate you so much.”
you don’t believe him. you’ve never believed him. not when he says it like that, all soft and breathy, not when he keeps fucking you with that lazy, devastating precision, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“move,” he tries again, giving your hip a little push. “come on. just a little. just—nngh—just once.”
you shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and you feel his laugh more than you hear it, a shudder that runs through his whole body.
“you’re impossible,” he says, but he’s smiling. you can hear it in his voice. “absolutely impossible.”
the sun gets brighter. the birds outside get louder. neither of you speeds up. neither of you finishes. it’s just this—this endless, gentle push and pull, this lazy morning ritual that could last for hours or minutes, you can’t tell anymore. time doesn’t exist here, in the warm cocoon of tangled sheets and shared breath, of gojo’s hands on your body and his cock buried inside you and the soft, constant sound of his moans in your ear.
“i’m gonna stop,” he warns, but his hips rock up again, deeper, and you whimper, and he doesn’t stop. he never stops. “i mean it. i’m gonna… i’m gonna push you off and go back to sleep and you can just… handle it yourself.”
you lift your head just enough to look at him, and he’s beautiful like this—flushed and disheveled, his blindfold long since discarded on the nightstand, his eyes bright and blue and so, so soft. he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world, even as he complains, even as he pretends he wants to be anywhere else.
“please,” you say, and it’s the first real word you’ve spoken since you woke him up, and it breaks something in him, some last thread of resistance.
“fuck,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours, and his hips finally, finally pick up the pace—just a little, just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. “fuck, okay. okay. i’ll do it. i’ll do everything. just stay right there.”
you do. you stay right there, limp and pliant in his arms, while he fucks you slow and sweet and endless, while the morning stretches on around you, while his moans fill the room like a prayer.
it’s lazy. it’s perfect. it’s exactly what you wanted.
and when he finally stops, minutes or hours later, both of you still trembling and neither of you any closer to the edge, he pulls out slowly and wraps himself around you and mumbles “next time, you’re doing it” into your hair.
꧁ mdni. smut. porn with what plot. unprotected piv sex. mentions of oviposition. ꧂
being split open on a merman's cock was rather irresponsible for a woman soon-to-be sold off in an arranged marriage.
but suguru could be awfully convincing.
"feel me in here, pretty girl?" he purred, pressing his palm down below your belly button, his slightly webbed fingers splayed out as his cock throbbed inside of you.
"uh, uh-huh," you nodded, whining as your back arched back, nails scrapping down his broad back as his sharp teeth snapped at your throat.
leaving bites you'd barely be able to hide beneath your clothes after it was all over, his free claws sinking into your forearm to pin you against the rock as he rutted in deeper. filling up every crevice, completely stuffing you full with no room left to even squirm.
"you thinking of me, princess?" he huffed, his usually honeyed voice coming out raw, ripped from the back of his throat as you gasped his name. "or that prince of yours?"
someone was jealous.
it wasn't your fault you'd been born into this position. or that your parents were determined to ship you off to another kingdom as a political pawn.
the most you could do to defy them was sneak out on silent nights like this, evading the guards stationed outside your room by climbing down the trellis and slipping past the landscaped garden to the beach below.
suguru had made a habit of waiting in the hidden cove tucked away around a curve in the rocky shore. the soft purple of his scales gleaming in the moonlight as he laid back on the flat rock he was so fond of fucking you on.
tonight was no different.
"you," you whined, nodding your head like a fool.
"what would he do if he knew his pretty princess wasn't so pure?" he dryly teased, his heavy tail pinning your legs down his swollen tip rubbed right up into the spongy spot of your cervix. daring to push past it, the intensity of the pressure threatening to push you over the edge already. "if he knew you'd given your virtue to someone like me."
"he'd call it off," you half-whispered, a treacherous flare of excitement stirring in your stomach as you imagined all the different ways he might try to make it happen.
you knew it was wrong. that you shouldn't want it.
but you liked that glimmer in his sharp eyes, the way his mouth curled up in a cruel smirk, sharp teeth visible for a second as he pulled himself out to plunge back in, his ribbed cocks rubbing you just right as he stretched you out and seared his thick shape into you.
it burned more at first, but you had gotten used to it. addicted to it. the way you could feel his cocks not quite rubbing against each other, only separated by the thin wall of your anatomy.
"will he now?" he asked, his gills straining from how long he'd been out of the water, but he didn't stop fucking you.
"suguru," you softly spoke his name, running your fingers through his dark hair, sifting through the damp, silky strands. "w-what are you-"
your question died in your throat as you felt the base of his top cock begin to swell, delicious added pressure pressing against your entrance.
"think he'd still put a ring on your finger if i put my eggs in you first?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as another broken gasp was torn from your throat.
the idea was supposed to be scary.
but he could feel the way you clenched at it, thighs trembling without so much as an ounce of trepidation, holding onto him to brace yourself for what was coming instead of squirming away from it.
craving him to complete you.
even if you weren't sure how if he could.
"i-i thought we weren't compatible," you stuttered, clinging to his shoulders as you felt something slowly starting to travel up, up, up his cock, whimpering as your walls barely managed to mold around him, struggling to take what he was trying to give.
the cock in your ass keeping you still, his grip on you firm as he clicked his tongue.
"oh, princess," he grinned. "that's nothing a little magic won't fix."
"what kind of magic?" you whispered, far more enthralled than you should be at the prospect of being his. at opening another door with him you really should've left stuff.
he didn't push the egg in yet.
daring you to beg him to either bury it in your womb or bail.
"oh baby," he coaxed, trailing a hand down to your swollen clit, pressing softly over it. "wanna be like me?"
"i wanna be yours," you whined, squeezing down as you nodded weakly.
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au)
summary: sukuna has a notorious reputation on campus of being terrifying, but it's hard to be too scared of the guy when he shows up to your family’s failing bakery every day to buy strawberry shortbread.
when your life feels like its falling apart you discover just how sweet he can be.
word count: 5.7k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, university au, FLUFF, angst, humor, slow burn, idiots in love, miscommunication, parental illness, grief, toxic ex-bf, reference to past sexual coercion/assault, stress and overwork, introverted reader, panic attacks, anxiety, loss of a parent
a/n: sorry for making you all wait for so long, I hope you enjoy the final chapter of these babies
series masterlist | ao3 | previous chapter (ch16)
“Maybe I should just forget it.” Your voice was quivering as you stared down at the notes laid out before you. The words had started to jumble together on the page, creating an incomprehensible mess.
“Huh?”
Sukuna glanced over at you, red eyes alight with surprise. The two of you had been sitting in silence for the last few hours, completely absorbed in your own tasks. You’d been desperately trying to cram as much information as possible into your head before your upcoming exams, while Sukuna had been fixated on playing Disco Elysium.
Considering that you both had final exams in the coming days, your general demeanours couldn't be further apart.
Sukuna seemed genuinely unconcerned by any pressure, certain that he could study the night before and pass, seeing no merit in fretting the way that you currently were. Meanwhile, you’d reached the point where you were certain you’d already run out of time, and were ultimately doomed to failure.
Even though you’d diligently kept up with your studies during your time in Kyushu, you were certain that it hadn’t been enough. Missing out on smaller seminars and workshops by studying remotely was practically a death sentence in your area of study.
Might as well just give up now because you were fucked.
“I’m going to have to re-do the year anyway, why am I trying so hard to fail?”
Sukuna frowned, pausing his game and moving to linger next to the bed you were currently laying on. You were propped up on your elbows, lip quivering as you continued to look at your notes, afraid that if you glanced at Sukuna you’d instantly burst into tears.
He had that effect on you. If you were ever feeling low his comforting presence would always bring out the waterworks - sometimes it was annoying how ineffective you were at holding yourself together whenever he’d show you the smallest shred of concern.
“You’re like the smartest person I know,” Sukuna said softly, his form casting a shadow over you. “I don’t think you could fail if you tried.”
“You called me stupid the other day.” You could practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Yeah, because for someone so smart, you can be really dumb.” The bed creaked beneath his weight as he took a seat beside you, warmth radiating off his body. “Always coming up with silly ideas like how you’re gonna fail, when we both know that’s not happening.”
“It might-” you started, turning to finally look at him. Just as you’d expected, the sight of his concerned expression had you choking on your words, eyes instantly growing watery.
“Come here, baby.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest. You let the warmth of his hoodie encase you, tears finally spilling over once you were secure within his embrace.
“I’m gonna fail- I can’t- I’m just too far behind.”
“Baby, you’ve been studying for weeks now. When was the last time you took a break outside of grabbing a few hours of sleep?” He had a point, and it wasn’t like you could dismiss that with a lie when you’d literally been studying in his room - he could see plain as day that you’d barely been taking breaks.
If he knew how little sleep you’d been getting while he was off away in dreamland, he’d probably be even more frustrated with you.
“I don’t have time,” you mumbled into his hoodie.
“You’ve studied more than literally anyone I know. You have time.” Gently peeling you away from the safety of his hoodie, a hand came to rest below your chin, tilting your face up to make you look at him properly. “We’re gonna go get some fresh air.”
“It’s like 11pm already,” you mumbled.
“So? Doesn’t look like you were planning on sleeping any time soon anyway.” He stood up and tossed a coat in your direction. “Put that on, I don’t want you catching a cold.”
Knowing that he was probably right, and that it was pointless to oppose him whenever he set his mind to looking after you, you pulled the jacket on as asked. You found that your tears were already drying by the time you were appropriately togged up for the weather, giggling as Sukuna pushed a beanie onto your head.
“Perfect. Aren’t you just adorable?” He cooed, before flicking you softly in the forehead and ushering you out of his room.
The house was silent as the two of you headed out into the night. Choso was probably staying over at Yuki’s place, and Sukuna had mentioned that Toji had been seeing someone lately and was likely spending the night with her. It was a little strange to not hear the ambient noise of one of the two other boys milling around - you’d become accustomed to their presence over the last few weeks.
Not quite sure what Sukuna had in mind in terms of a destination, you let yourself be led along beside him, basking in the warmth of his hand tangled with yours. Even if his presence still had your heart pounding, you’d gotten to the point where being with him felt easy and comfortable, no longer anxious about what he might think of you.
Because you knew that he loved you.
He’d proved it over and over again.
You’d shown him all of your worst sides - he’d seen you at your most stressed, most anxious, most grief stricken - and he’d still stuck with you, rewarding you with that gentle affection that was reserved exclusively for his precious girlfriend.
“I think you’d like the game I’m playing right now,” he said, filling the comfortable silence as you wandered together, enjoying the night air. “Once exams are done you should play it. I’d find it funny to watch which choices you’d pick.”
You had to admit that your interest had been piqued by the game he was currently fixated on, but you’d been too focussed on your revision to really pay attention. “You’ll make fun of me though,” you said with a pout, recalling how hard he’d laughed when the two of you had played PEAK together.
A smile lit up his face, clearly recalling the same memory. “There’s no actual gameplay in this one, it's all just pointing and clicking. I really think you’d love it.” Sukuna went on to explain the outline of Disco Elysium and its overall appeal, only faltering when the two of you passed a 7/11.
The warmth pouring out through the automatic doors was inviting, and you felt your stomach growl. It was hard to recall the last time you’d actually eaten anything of substance. Both you and Sukuna had been so invested in your own tasks that the day had largely gone by without either of you noticing.
“We should probably grab something to eat, huh?” He suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. “You’re probably just grumpy because you’re hungry.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
You were, but there was no way you were going to admit to it when he had a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“Sure, baby. But let's give some food a go anyway.”
The two of you wandered into the inviting warmth, milling around until you picked something you wanted. You decided on tuna onigiri, while Sukuna grabbed himself a piece of fried chicken from the warm food section at the counter. He paid for both of you, despite your protests, clutching your hand as he led you back outside and over to a bench in the little park across the road.
The place was deserted. No one with any sense wanted to be out this late in weather this cold, and you found yourself pulling your jacket closer around you, grateful for your gloves as you pulled your hands from your pocket to unwrap your onigiri.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Sukuna asked, his breath visible in the cold air.
“Of course.” You didn’t think you’d ever forget that evening in the bakery - the way that your heart had raced at the sight of him was etched in your mind forever. Well, that and just how grateful you’d been for his presence on one of the scariest nights of your life. He’d truly been your knight in shining armour that day.
“I think about it whenever I get fried chicken from a convenience store,” he said with a fond smile.
You tilted your head in question, not particularly connecting the dots. “Why?”
“Because the Family Mart chicken is what put everything in motion that day. If I hadn’t gone to the convenience store that evening I would’ve been on the train home by the time those guys stopped you in that alleyway. But because I’d gone to buy chicken, I was in the right place at the right time and then…” He gestured between the two of you, clearly trying to think of the right words. “And then all of this happened.”
You giggled. “So you’re saying that our whole relationship is thanks to famichiki?”
“At least somewhat.” He laughed. As he finished off his food, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to his side. The way that his body always seemed to stay warm no matter the circumstances was impressive, and you found yourself huddling close against him to try and heat yourself up. “I feel like your dad had something to do with it too.”
You hummed in agreement. There was no denying that your father had been playing cupid for a while. From the very first time that you and Sukuna had met, your father had been urging you forward with the concept of a relationship, keen for you to find happiness with someone who he perceived as being right for you.
And his judgement really couldn’t have been better.
His work in puppeteering your union really felt like some lovely final gift that he’d provided you, making sure that you were finally happy and safe before he left you behind.
Although, your dad definitely didn’t do all the work.
“I think your effort also had a lot to do with it,” you pointed out.
Considering that you’d literally run from Sukuna the first time he’d tried kissing you, you had to praise the man’s patience and tenacity. Most guys would’ve given up on a girl for far less than that. You didn’t consider yourself to be low maintenance and you’d leant on him a lot over the last few months.
And yet here he was, as loving as ever.
He shrugged. “You make me wanna try, so it didn’t really feel like effort.” Your heart skipped at the casual nature of his comment, a deep flush washing over your cheeks.
“Corny,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his shoulder to stop him from seeing how much you were blushing. He knew anyway, laughter rippling through him as he reached for your face, fingers brushing your lips gently as he tilted your chin up towards him.
“Only for you.”
Leaning down, his lips brushed yours tenderly. While he’d kissed you thousands of times, it somehow still always felt like the first - a moment of pure joy and excitement, the giddy feeling of being a girl with a crush who actually likes her back.
You still couldn’t believe that he was yours, that he wanted a future with you.
It felt silly to be stressing over exams that you’d most likely pass when you had the best thing that had ever happened to you sitting at your side. Through all the bad, you really needed to start appreciating what was good.
And Sukuna was very good.
Breaking the kiss, he peered down at you with those deep crimson eyes, the irises lit up in the yellow light of the streetlamp overhead. He looked beautiful, just as he always did.
“Feeling a bit better, baby?” He asked, and you offered him a hum of affirmation.
He’d been right - you really did need a break. You’d been so locked in on reading your notes that you’d almost forgotten that there was a whole world outside of your exams next week.
And no matter what happened, the Earth wasn’t going to stop spinning.
Somehow that came as a comfort.
“Good. Now, when we get home we’re going to bed, and I’m going to stay up to make sure you actually get some sleep,” Sukuna said sternly.
“Aw, we’re going straight to sleep?” You shot him a suggestive look, a sweet pout on your lips. It seemed to completely disarm his serious demeanour and he shook his head in disbelief, a grin playing on his lips.
“Okay, we can make out a little first.”
“Oh thank god.” You giggled, leaning your head on his shoulder, your heart feeling at ease.
Tomorrow you could get back to studying, and maybe you’d wake up the next morning feeling just as stressed out as ever. But that evening, snuggled up against the man that you loved, it really felt like everything was going to work out just fine.
—
Your exams came and went, giving way to a few very stressful weeks in which you flip-flopped between pretending you didn’t care about the result, and hyperventilating over the idea of having to re-do the year if you’d failed.
At some point Sukuna stopped trying to convince you that you’d passed, because despite all the logical arguments surrounding the fact that you’d worked hard, and had extenuating circumstances leading to more leniency on your grading anyway, everything always fell upon deaf ears.
So instead, he focussed all of his effort on distracting you, which was something he’d always been excellent at, proceeding in all the usual ways by making you watch various movies, taking you out to nice cafes, and spending hours tangled up together in his sheets. His efforts at distraction were also how you found yourself completely absorbed in Disco Elysium, spending days trying to solve the game’s mystery, all while Sukuna sat at your side, offering cryptic hints and advice.
You could understand how he’d been so preoccupied by the game when he should’ve been studying, and it did an excellent job of taking your mind off things for hours at a time.
Not that there was any point to all your worrying anyway, because when your final grade was shared at the start of march, just as the weather started to warm, you discovered that you’d passed with flying colours - just like Sukuna had said you would.
You really were dumb sometimes.
That gave way to plenty of celebration with your friends, followed by a few peaceful weeks leading up to graduation, in which you and Sukuna were free to relax together with no cloud hanging above your head.
At least, beyond the vague concern regarding what the hell you were supposed to do now that school had finished.
Sukuna was already mid-way through the interviewing process for a graduate scheme appropriate for people with engineering degrees. You were almost envious of how certain he seemed to be about his future, moving along with it mechanically like he’d always had a clear plan in mind.
Meanwhile, you had no idea what you were meant to do.
You weren’t sure you were interested in some grad scheme, especially not when all the literature related schemes seemed to dump you straight into some corporate marketing job that would no doubt suck your soul after the first year. You weren’t built for dealing with frustrating stakeholders and circling back - you just couldn’t imagine yourself feeling happy in an office setting.
But that left you adrift, because with a degree like yours, what other direction were you supposed to go?
After a year that had constantly put you under pressure and left you more stressed than you’d ever been, you really wanted to enjoy some time without the weight of big decisions looming in the distance, but this wasn’t one you could escape.
Even with all of Sukuna’s assurances that he could look after you for a while to give you a break, you knew that you didn’t want to be so dependent on him in that way.
You’d have to reach a conclusion soon.
But you tried to put your concerns aside as best as you could as graduation approached midway through March. Sukuna and all your friends seemed so happy and carefree, everyone’s spirits high in the temperate spring weather as they celebrated their final days as students.
You weren’t going to be the one to drag the vibes down just because you couldn’t figure out what you wanted out of life. It wasn’t like all your friends knew what they were going to do - they were simply living in the now and seeing where life took them.
After years at university you were owed a moment of peace before entering a new cycle of fretting, and that’s what you promised yourself that graduation was going to be.
The afternoon that you finally received your degree was lovely and warm, not unlike the day that you’d first met Sukuna nearly a year prior. You were wearing a green dress beneath your robes, more ecstatic than you could’ve imagined as you walked across the stage, receiving a handshake and your diploma, which felt so precious in your hands.
You hadn’t really expected to be there.
The last year, perhaps even the last few years, had felt like you were constantly trekking up a mountain with no summit, fighting just to take a single step. To some extent, you’d wondered if you’d ever come out of the other side after all the suffering that had been tossed your way.
But there you were - a graduate.
Despite it all, you’d made your way through.
When you’d imagined this moment in the years gone by, you’d imagined it to be a little different. You’d expected to look out into the crowd and see both your parents, eyes shiny with pride, infinitely happy with the accomplishments of their little girl. It hurt to look towards your mom and see a stranger sitting to the left of her, in the position where your father should’ve been.
He would’ve been so proud of you.
Perhaps bitter disappointment should’ve hung in your chest, and maybe under different circumstances a desperate feeling of grief might’ve overwhelmed you as you exited the stage. But as your eyes swept to the right of your mother, those sad feelings were drowned beneath the brightness of Sukuna’s smile.
He was there and he was alive.
The void that your father’s death left in your heart would never dissipate, the grief was something you’d carry with you for as long as you lived, but your heart would grow bigger around it.
There was still so much love for you to experience in your life, and even in your worst year, you found the best thing you ever could’ve imagined.
And you’d hold on to that happiness as fiercely as you knew your father had wanted you to.
“Congratulations sweetie!” Your mother exclaimed once you’d found her at the end of the ceremony, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. Sukuna was standing nearby, letting you have your family moment. The engineering graduation had already taken place the day before, so you were certain that his social battery was running low where sappy family matters were concerned.
There had been a surprisingly lovely heart to heart between him and Wasuke after he’d crossed the stage, and you could only assume that he wasn’t looking for a round two of that display.
“Oh you look so lovely, let me take a picture!” She fumbled about with her phone camera for a few moments while you waited awkwardly for her to figure it out. In the end, Sukuna had to step in and show her what to do, treating your mother with that same gentleness that he reserved for very few people. “Perfect! Get in the picture Sukuna, you should have one together.”
Sukuna’s cheeks were flushed a soft shade of pink as he approached you, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders and pulling you close. Your mother told you to smile for the picture, but she really didn’t need to - you were certain that you were already beaming.
Satisfied with her photo, your mother moved her attention to her phone, scrolling through the snaps she’d taken. Meanwhile, Sukuna took the opportunity to focus on you, drawing you into a more full hug. Your face was buried into his chest, breathing in the scent that had grown so familiar to you over the last few months.
“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered into your hair.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” you replied. You were certain that he was going to wave that statement off, go ahead and say that it was all down to you, but that simply wasn’t the truth of the matter. Without Sukuna you would’ve fallen apart - be it from the incidents with Hiromi or from the loss of your father.
He’d held you together at a time when you were right at the edge of falling apart, and you owed more to him than he’d ever understand.
“You’ll never have to do anything without me.” Your heart fluttered at his response, peering up at him and pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to meet him in a fleeting kiss. You were eager for more passion, to have him kiss you with the ferocity that he usually would, but you’d save that for a moment when your mother wasn’t watching you.
“So, still up to go out for steaks?” Your mother asked, offering the two of you a smile. “My treat. I understand if you want to go and hang out with your friends though! I won’t be offended.”
While a handful of your friends had graduated with Sukuna yesterday, most had walked the stage at the same time as you, which meant that they were also somewhere within the mess of people currently milling around on the university lawn. You imagined that most of them were probably engaged with their parents for the time being, just like you were.
The plan was to all meet up later anyway. Satoru and Suguru had just moved into a new apartment together and wanted to use graduation as an excuse to have everyone over, but until 8pm at least, you had no plans keeping you from grabbing steak with your mother.
You knew which place she wanted to go to - you hadn’t been there in years, not since your parents had gotten divorced. It had been your father’s favourite when you were young, a steakhouse strongly entwined with dozens of memories from your childhood.
The perfect place to go as a celebration for stepping into real adulthood.
“Yeah, I want to go!” You hesitated for a moment, playing with your next words in your head, wondering if it was right to voice them out loud when you were still uncertain of them. “We should stop by the bakery on the way, since it's nearby.”
Both your mother and Sukuna regarded you with surprise. It was a place that you’d avoided like the plague since your father’s death, visiting only a handful of times when your aunt had been doing a preliminary cleanout of the place. Since then the building had stood silent, waiting for you to make a decision on what to do with it.
“If…you’d like to.” Your mother was careful in her wording, clearly not sure what to make of it. Sukuna’s fingers interlaced with yours, giving your hand a soft squeeze in a silent show of support.
He’d caught onto your intentions quicker than your mother had.
“I just- I’ve been thinking about it. Thinking about what to do with it. But I don’t think I’ll really know until I go there. Today seems like as good a day as any.”
Smiling, your mom offered you a nod. “If that’s what you’d like. I’ll go and pull the car around, you kids wait here.”
Your mother scurried off through the crowd, and Sukuna gave you a tug on the hand, calling for your attention. You stared up at him through your lashes. “Sounds like you’ve maybe made a decision already?” He asked.
“Maybe.” You responded shyly, playing with his fingers. “I just want to be sure.”
—
Six months later you were standing in the centre of the bakery, staring up in dismay at the picture you’d hung up behind the counter. It was completely lopsided and, now you’d taken a step back, you could see that it wasn’t in the central position that you’d believed it to be when standing up close.
The gap of wall to the right of the image was far larger than the gap on the left, leaving the framed image noticeably asymmetrical, which meant you were going to have to start again and put yet another nail in the wall.
Perhaps you should’ve waited for Sukuna to get home from work like he’d suggested - hanging pictures really was a two person job, and for this one in particular it was important that you got the placement right.
It was a painting made by your father when you were young - a watercolour image depicting the outside of the very bakery that you were currently standing in. You’d found it when you and Sukuna had finally gotten around to clearing out the apartment above, recalling a fond memory of sitting across the road at your father’s side, painting away on your own little canvas while he rendered the masterpiece before you.
The image captured a moment in time, and you could hardly believe that it had been left to gather dust in some storage cupboard upstairs. Now that he was gone, you wanted to display it as a way of honoring his memory, and where better to put it than within the bakery itself?
Now that you were on the path to reopening the place with your own changes, it felt nice to have something displaying how it had looked before the bakery had fallen into your hands - almost like the soul that your father had curated was still there and shining on, even if he wasn’t there to tend to it himself.
Letting out a sigh, you walked back over to the picture and took it down, using the back of your hammer to pry the nail out from the wall. Just as you were grabbing the measuring tape to give a third attempt at aligning the image properly, the bell jingled above the door and you peered over your shoulder to see your boyfriend.
He looked as handsome as ever, with his pink hair a little tousled, his t-shirt sticking to him slightly thanks to the humidity which had stuck around into September. His red eyes were glimmering with interest as he observed the scene, and you were glad he hadn’t walked in two minutes earlier to witness how terrible a job you’d done of hanging the painting.
He definitely would’ve made fun of you.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” you said, throwing the measuring tape down and making a beeline for him, throwing your arms around his neck and pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “Good day?”
“Pretty busy - glad it's the weekend.” he said with a sigh, his fingers instantly finding solace in your hair. He’d started his graduate scheme back in May, and while the money was good, the job was relatively demanding.
Relaxing into his hug, you placed a couple of gentle kisses on his neck, amused at the way that he was leaning some of his bodyweight on you in exhaustion. “I can cancel with Yuki and Choso tomorrow if you want? Satoru and Suguru will be there to help anyway so I don’t think they really need us.”
Sukuna scoffed. “No, it's fine. Satoru’s useless at moving boxes, he gets too distracted by things. I’ll have more energy tomorrow, I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Always so worried about me,” he said, peering down at you with a smug smile. “So cute.”
“Well, I also don’t want to move boxes so I suppose I have an ulterior motive.” You confessed with a giggle. Considering that you’d been spending all of your time clearing out and renovating a space you weren’t keen to spend your weekends doing more of the same. But you did adore Yuki, and if Sukuna was still up for it, you’d still be going.
At least you could all hang out and have some pizza afterwards - that had been Choso’s promise to you in exchange for helping them move.
“How cunning.” He laughed, kissing you on the forehead before moving his attention to the bookshelves lining the left wall. “Oh, you got more books?” Detangling himself from you, he walked over to get a closer look, scanning the additions to your collection.
The bookshelves were one of the many features that you’d added to the bakery over the last few months. Rather than being a grab and go bakery, you were eager to rebrand it into more of a reading cafe, integrating your passion for literature into the space and giving patrons an opportunity to settle down with a book or magazine as they whiled away the hours with a coffee and pastry.
As such, you’d bought plenty of bookcases and magazine racks, and had spent the last few weeks filling them up as best you could.
You’d mostly done that with the help of your aunt, moving collections of yours and your father’s books down from the apartment upstairs, as well as scouring various second hand stores to buy books as cheaply as possible.
That project had been coming along well.
You’d also used much of your inheritance to replace some of the furniture in the bakery - the tables and chairs which had been scattered haphazardly in the space before weren’t the most comfortable or aesthetically appealing items, so you purchased some nicer furnishings which matched the vibe you were going for.
Despite the additions, the base that your father had created was still present, and you left the counter and wallpaper just as they’d always been. You didn’t want everything to disappear, you still wanted that familiarity of a place that you’d known your whole life. For that reason you were keeping the name too.
You were just going to market it a bit differently once you were ready to open.
“Oh, you put Ship of Theseus down here?” He asked, scanning along the spines of the newly added books.
“Yeah, I can put it back upstairs if you want though? I just figured since we’ve both already read it we might as well leave it for someone else to take a look at.”
“Yeah, it's fine. It just feels nostalgic. I think I was reading that the first time I met you.”
You smiled at the memory, recalling how you’d been nervously shuffling about behind the counter as Sukuna had taken a seat and brought out a book which you certainly weren’t expecting a guy like him to read.
God, you’d been so scared of him that day he’d first walked into the bakery.
Now here he was, comfortably milling about in your shared space, inspecting the tiny additions that you’d made to the bakery that afternoon. Later that evening the two of you would go up to your shared apartment and cook dinner together, before watching some trashy TV, making out, and falling asleep in each other’s arms.
The idea that you’d be here when you’d first met him a year and a half ago was unthinkable.
“Want help with the picture?” He asked, gesturing towards the counter.
“Please,” You said with a nod, stepping back and letting Sukuna get to work with the measuring tape, using the level to see how the picture would look on the wall and marking out the edges on the wallpaper with a pencil. He went about it in a far more surgical manner than you did.
It really was better to leave it to him.
Hammering a nail confidently into the wall, he turned to you for a moment. “Stand in the middle of the room for me, baby. You can let me know when it looks straight.” He lifted the framed painting onto the wall, adjusting it under your careful instruction until you were certain it looked right.
Coming over to join you and review the placement himself, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gazing up at the painting hanging so nicely above the counter.
“Happy?”
You hummed, staring at it a little longer. The image always summoned a strange feeling in you - sorrow wasn’t quite the right word, for it was a warmer emotion than that - perhaps longing felt closer. It was nice to know that your father’s hands had crafted what hung in front of you, but it made you feel desperately sad all the same.
“You don’t think my dad would be mad at all the changes, do you?” You asked, sweeping a hand in the direction of the bookshelves.
It was a worry that had tugged at the edge of your mind for a while, one of the many fears that had held you back when making the decision as to whether you even wanted to keep the bakery. You knew you’d have to make changes, knew you’d turn it into a place for you, but it was hard wrestling with the idea that it would be a desecration of his memory.
Perhaps you should’ve kept it pristine, just like in the painting.
Your worries fled at the sound of Sukuna’s deep laugh, chuckling for a few moments before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Baby, you could tear this place down and I don’t think he’d be mad at you. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy.”
Letting out a huff of breath, you conceded to that without argument, because who could ever deny your father’s desires on that front?
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” You whispered, leaning closer into Sukuna’s arm, basking in his familiar warmth.
And as you stared up at the painting, in the bakery that was all yours, with the man that you loved at your side, you could finally see for the first time that you were doing exactly what your father had always wanted.
You were happy.
a/n: after almost a full year of writing this fic we're finally at the end. I started writing this at one of the hardest times in my life and it did so much to help me heal, it'll always hold a special place in my heart even if writing it grew difficult for me towards the end when I'd moved on from the feelings that made me write this in the first place.
I've had so many lovely messages throughout writing this fic, and I've been so moved by how many people going through grief have mentioned finding comfort in this story. I'm glad that it can provide happiness to others in the way that it did for me when writing it.
I'll probably do some one shots about these two in the future, but for now all of my focus will be on my other ongoing fic crazy in love, and a couple of other sukuna projects that I'm working on in the background.
thank you so much for reading and sticking with me throughout this journey, I appreciate all of you <3
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