I‘m not sure who needs to hear this today but just breathe, you’re going to be okay. breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. you’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared - and you survived. breathe and know that you can survive this too.
you’ve come so far. please think about where you were a year ago, or three, or five. you’ve overcome things you once thought you never would. you’ve done things you didn’t think you could do, even if some of those were just getting out of bed and facing another day
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Boxer! Sukuna x Reader x Nepo baby! Gojo
warnings!!! - Heavy angst, cheating, Satoru is cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, yandere Sukuna. This chap - oh boy please read the warnings because there is abuse In this chapter (reader's parents) physical and mental, emotions like a mf, jealous Gojo, insane obsessed ass Sukuna, p in v sex, loss of virginity, breed kink, concerning levels of obsession, cream pie, multi rounds, possessive Sukuna
This WILL have multiple endings (I get asked this so often ugh lol) a Sukuna, Gojo and a Poly. All three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV and split up by each!- WC - 11.2k god lol
<<<part three - masterlist - playlist - part five>>>
part four
Satoru
Does Satoru Gojo really know his wife at all?
He wonders that as the two of you walk hand in hand – a pretense to get your clearly irritated parents to leave you alone. You’re stiff next to him, and he can still remember that kiss last night, remember the way his heart almost pounded out of his fucking chest, the desire to lift you and fuck you right against any and every surface, in every room.
The way he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in a woman he so easily could have, who now doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with him. When he kissed you there was this brief moment where he thought you wanted him back, this sigh he drank up, your hands gripping his shirt for just a moment, lips parting.
Then you pulled back, furious, running off and leaving him all alone – and fuck he was alone. Jennifer was a body, Chloe was a body, he felt nothing for either of them, just distractions, helping him cum so he doesn’t desperately jerk his cock to you every day, even though it didn’t completely stop him.
Your scent always in his fucking senses, your teary eyes he imagines being that way from overstimulation instead. Never has he wanted to just bury his face in between someone’s thighs like he does you – so desperate he’d do damn near anything to taste you, to see more of that body.
What if he did that, what then? Trap you in a marriage forever when you didn’t want this either. You thought you did, but he knows it’s just what’s programmed.
The moment you’re in your parents mansion though? All that feistiness you had started was gone – suddenly you’re utterly docile, head lowered, hands clasped together as they start to rip you to shreds verbally. Small little jabs at first that start spreading, and yet you say nothing back. No slap like you do him, no nasty words in response.
This is who he met – this girl. But was it you?
“You finally look presentable,” your father says, downing that glass of wine in one gulp. “At least you did something right for once.”
“I’m sorry father…” Is all you say, Satoru watches in a mix of horror and curiosity, trying to deviate the topic.
“So, how is business?” Satoru asks, hoping they’d back off somewhat, but every few moments they pick you apart all over again.
“So, who’s going to talk about that Sukuna heir?” Your mom suddenly says, you blush furiously, looking at your untouched plate. Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, the mere mention of Sukuna makes him sick.
“I um… just like to box…”
“You’re not allowed,” she says, scowling at you over her glass. “No daughter of ours is hanging out with Sukuna.”
“He’s very nice though –”
“No,” your father cuts in now. “Look what they’re saying, already suggesting that you’re together with him? A picture of his hand on your back? Did we raise you to be a common whore?”
“Okay,” Satoru cuts in now, clearing his throat. “Let’s all just talk it out, she’ll surely watch being seen–”
“You’re a disappointment, after years of polishing,” your mom says again, cutting Satoru off. “All you have to do is be a subservient wife, why are you failing? Do you know how important being a Gojo is?”
Tears slip from your cheeks, gripping your dress tightly. “Can I please be excused for the night?”
“No,” your dad’s words are sharp. “You can continue this privately so you don’t further embarrass your husband though.”
“She’s not embarrassing me,” he cuts in, you look at him with wide eyes, shock written on your pretty, forlorn features. Of course you’re shocked – he has been nothing but cruel to you on purpose. Seeing your shock from the smallest bit of his defense makes him feel…
Like a piece of shit human.
Isn’t that what he’s been? Cruel like your parents? He thought it all for your own good – who would want to be with him, he was saving a girl like you, giving you the chance to do your own things. Yet now he lives to already regret it, knowing marks on your neck are hidden, and underneath were hickies, bites from a man he can’t stand.
If they were right about anything, it was ending up with a man like Sukuna – fucking unhinged, in and out of jail for just fighting everyone who pissed him off while in college. Sukuna was notorious for being a dick, for not giving a single fuck about anybody or anything.
Satoru’s unsure what game Sukuna is playing with you that you see anything different.
“Just allow us a moment with her,” your mom stands and he watches you tense up, eyes in horror as you look at the woman in the elegant dress, smiling so sweetly, eyes cold. “We will just have a chat then we can get dessert.”
“We’ll have drinks,” your dad pats his back, smiling at Satoru all friendly. “We’ll not make it too long.”
“I think we are leaving soon,” Satoru says, standing now, feeling apprehensive with the way they each take one of your arms in theirs, like they’re having a fun little pow wow with you. “Right, sweetheart?”
“Um yeah, we have… a movie to see…” You mumble faintly, but they’re already tugging at you.
“We’ll be fast, don’t worry!” Satoru can’t erase the look on your face from his head after that night.
*****
You
It’s quick that their demeanor drops – their fake kindness and saccharine words out of the window, throwing you down on the floor the moment the heavy wood clicks shut – and you know you’re all alone. Satoru surprised you somewhat being kind, but there was no escaping this.
Flashbacks race through your mind as you shrink into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, tears steadily falling down your cheeks as they stand over you. It’s a conditioned response you’ve had since childhood – shrink down to take up less space, make yourself harder to hit. It’s the girl they raised, the one who submits, who says sorry for every little mistake.
The girl who is never going to be perfect enough, who tries so hard.
Tired.
You’re tired.
"We raised you better than to let rumors fly about you and Ryomen Sukuna,” your father says, words cutting you. Perhaps his cruelty was worse than hers – something about your dad hurting you felt more painful. “Look me in the eyes and show respect.”
“You have me on the floor,” you whisper then, staring at him, his lips pressed in a cruel, terse line. “And speak on having respect?”
“We’re your parents, we did everything for you, have you wanted for anything!?” Your mom’s voice raises ever so slightly, as if she realizes that she lowers it, coming to kneel in front of you. "A common criminal? Are you trying to destroy the alliance we built?”
“Sukuna has his own business,” they laugh at that. “I am an adult, and I can have the friends I want.”
“Some friend, lying to my face,” she grips your hair so hard it pricks you with pain, tugging your hair at the roots. “I raised you not to lie.”
“I’m not–”
“Satoru is the most powerful man in the country, and you’re out whoring around with a jailbird?" Your father’s words burn more than the hair pulling, you look up at his angry face, a mask of feigned disinterest gone. “You’re making our family look bad because you can’t keep your legs closed.”
“I haven’t opened them – ah!” She tugs again, popping you on the mouth and making you wince at the sting.
“Keep it down, since you seem to have even Satoru Gojo falling for your pathetic little tricks.”
“Don’t hurt me,” you whisper, tugging at her wrists, brows lowering. “Get off of me.”
“I’ll do much worse if you don’t go and beg your husband’s forgiveness.” She lets go of you then stands, you get to your knees, just for your father to shove you back down.
Sukuna’s voice rings in your ears – defend yourself, do something, anything. Tell them to get fucked.
Why can’t you do it?
You disappoint your parents, Satoru and now Sukuna. You are an utter disappointment, the realization of disappointing him however hits the hardest, the way he seemed to believe in you when you don’t find yourself truly worthy of it. You take a shaky breath and stand up, hands shaking at your sides.
Could you stand up to them? Satoru was one thing – his cruelty was new, they had done it since you can remember. A trembling fear fills your body as you swallow down spit that threatens to turn into bile, acid already burning your throat, your heart is thudding even faster with every moment as they look at you with cold eyes.
“You both have no right to tell me what to do, especially when he does anything he wants.”
“He’s allowed to,” your father cuts you off once more, stepping closer, and you can’t stop shrinking back. His hits are rare but they always hurt the most. “He’s your husband, he’s a Gojo, you learn your place.”
“My place,” you laugh then, without humor, shaking your head and swiping at your eyes. “What do you mean ‘my place’. I tried with him, do you not realize it’s him who doesn’t want it?”
“Then become more desirable,” your mom cooes those words, touching your chin, making you jerk back.
“If you were fulfilling your duties he wouldn’t be as prone to be with other women, that fault lies on you. Now tell me what exactly you’re doing, running around like a slut and giving us a bad name.”
"Answer him," your mother says, sneering at you as you stay silent, your jaw clenched together so hard it hurts. It clicks when you finally loosen it, sucking a slow breath through your lips.
"I wasn't... we're just friends." Your voice trembles, barely a whisper.
"Friends? You don’t get to have friends." You shake your head once more, your mom grips your wrist tightly. The fear of the past when she’d beat you and lock you away all spill over the edge again.
Tell them to fuck off.
How, Sukuna? How can I?
"If you ever embarrass us in front of the Gojo clan again, I swear to god you’ll live to regret it.” Your mother is talking, pulling you out of that dreamy fog, the one where you think you could be happy for precious few moments. “You will fix this, will you not?”
You don’t answer fast enough.
"Answer your mother," your dad is looming over you, as you don’t speak, too hurt, too frightened, trying to fight that little girl that wants to cower in a corner, to think of something to say. To be strong.
Are you strong?
You look up, tears still swimming in your eyes, feeling the defeat crushing and overwhelming, suffocating you. "I just don’t understand-"
Crack.
The backhand comes out of nowhere, stunning you completely, heavy and brutal against your skin. His huge gold ring catches your cheekbone, and the force of it snaps your head to the side so quickly you’re dizzy. Tasting copper flooding your mouth with the warmth of the blossoming blood, your lip splitting open against your teeth.
You barely get a moment to process what’s happened when he hits you again, this time harder, and you cry out, falling right back down to your hands and knees you’re so dizzy from the sudden pain. Your blood pressure rises through the roof, the room spinning violently with the sudden pain, a loud thud hitting when you collide with the ground.
All you see are his polished dress shoes and her Monolo Blahniks.
That’s all you would see when they forced you to kneel for hours after getting a B instead of an A. All you would see when they’d tell you to show your respect, all the memories of that scared little girl forming with the woman trying her best to gain any sense of confidence, happiness, identity.
Just that girl all over again.
"Don't you dare talk back," he snaps as he looks down at you, shaking his hand out as if hitting you hurt him more than it did you. "Ungrateful little bitch. We gave you everything, and you act like a cheap slut in the papers."
What hurts worse, their words, or the hit?
"Get up," your mother says, her voice cold, staring at your bleeding lip with mild annoyance rather than concern. "Fix your face.
How can you stand? How can you do anything when this is your life? You feel tears mixing with the blood on your lips.
“Crying, all the fucking time, can’t ever-”
“The fuck is going on?” The door swings open.
Great, here comes your other bully, to humiliate you, to relish in the pathetic girl who can’t stand up for shit, right?
Satoru’s blue eyes widen when he sees you, and for the first time since you’ve known your ‘husband’ his face is… softer. It’s forlorn, the way his mouth drops open, before he shuts it and scowls at your parents, who immediately act innocent, your dad holds up a hand that has droplets of your blood on it.
“What the fuck?”
“Satoru we were helping you-”
“Helping me by hitting your daughter?” He rushes over to you, you don’t even look at him at first, until he tenderly touches your cheek, exhaling. “Hey.”
You look up, bursting into more tears when you see his expression, seeing the boy you met years ago buried inside whoever this guy was. The little glimpse that had you thinking he’d be your prince and sweep you away from this life – only to cause you more pain than your parents ever could.
Trapped between the three people who hurt you, crying.
Why can’t you do more, be more, say more?
“Say something to me, tell me to fuck off,” he whispers, assessing you to clearly check if you’re all right.
“Fuck off.” You whisper, he smirks sadly, helping you up gently, before stomping over to your father.
“You hit girls? That’s what you like to do?” He shoves him now, pressing your dad against the wall.
“You should discipline her so we don’t have to,” Satoru laughs at that, shaking his head, fist clenching at his side. “We are merely trying to teach her manners.”
“You both will be ruined forever if you touch her again.”
“But-”
“No,” he turns and shuts your mom up now, his eyes furious. “You don’t get to speak. I’ll make sure your entire family is run into the fucking ground, have you all filing bankruptcy when I expose all the shady shit you do.”
They’re suddenly quiet.
You clutch your dress, eyes taking in something that must be some fever dream – why would Gojo care if you got hit? He doesn’t care you exist. Confusion mixes with the relief and gratitude, and a deeper pain – the memory of your longing, the way you craved Satoru, the way you thought yourself in love with him.
It hurts deeper, him.
“Let’s go,” he says then, letting your dad stumble out of his hold, taking your hand in his. “She’s not yours to beat.”
“Gojo come talk-”
He stomps out of the house now, shaky breaths puffing condensation in the air of the night sky, when you pull your hand out. He looks down at you for just a moment – a painfully long moment that steals your breath away.
“Th-thanks…” You whisper, he sighs.
“Thanking me? For what?”
“For… I…” You turn then, picking up your dress, gaining as much distance as you can from him, from this house – suffocating you.
“What the fuck, come back,” you rush off, it’s so dark and you can’t see shit, but you can’t be here.
Gojo can’t comfort you.
What a joke, really, even if you’re thankful, it’s just ludicrous to take comfort in the arms of a man who helped make it worse, even as his blue eyes are filled with concern, and his hands are warm on your shoulders. It scares you then, the way he looks at you, like he could ever understand.
“Just, let me…” he brushes your cheek, you wince a bit at it, he swallows – adam’s apple bobbing. “He hit you.”
“Yeah well, he’s done it before,” you mumble, looking down, avoiding his gaze. “Just not in a while.”
“You never told me…”
“Have you ever tried to find anything out about me?” Your words land, his hand falls then, your cheek is stinging, on fire, burning from your dad’s ring splitting your skin open. “Even if it was some act or something, thanks for stopping him.”
“It was just… fucked up,” he shakes his head, jaw setting then. “My dad hit me too, but you’re just… a girl. And…” He trails off, leaving the two of you standing there in the night, in the darkness, you barely hold yourself together, hugging your own body, feeling his gaze drift.
“You shouldn’t have been hit either,” you say softly, sighing and shutting your eyes. “I may hate you but you don’t deserve it any more than I do.”
He says nothing, it’s almost pitch black aside from the stars illuminating the sky and the distant porch lights of your parents mansion, a cold place you thought once Gojo would save you from. Idiotic, idealistic thoughts that somewhat came to fruition in a sense.
In another sense, you got punished because of him.
The silence hangs heavy between you both, his eyes looking right through you, yours avoiding him, tears falling down your cheeks.
You miss Sukuna.
Sukuna would have probably punched your damn dad in the face though, fuck he may have smacked your mom too, and that would have been a debacle. Gojo handled it well and got you out of there without further word – but it all made you realize just how terrible it’ll be when you both do divorce.
You’ll always be a failure.
“If I knew I…”
“What, wouldn’t have been evil? I doubt it,” you swipe your tears now, shaking your head. “Did you think my parents were good people?”
“I didn’t know they hit their grown daughter in the fucking face, that your dad would call you that shit…” He turns a bit, disgusted. “God what he said to you, and you took it.”
“It’s true, I did fail,” Satoru’s lips part, then close. “I failed at being good enough for Satoru Gojo, the only job I ever had to do. And I failed it, utterly, completely. He’s not wrong.”
“He is wrong.”
“He’s not, I did, and I am a ‘whore’ like he said. I am with another man, and I couldn’t keep you interested. God I don’t think you even looked at me until I came home with marks, then only out of spite,” Satoru grabs your shoulders then.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Fucking just do it,” you do, and his tears are in his eyes, making you gasp out in shock. “I am sorry that I caused him to hit you. I’m so, so fucking sorry I caused them to hit you.”
“You didn’t–”
“Yes I fucking did,” you shake your head.
“They’d do it anyway for something, okay?”
“Has it ever been that bad?” You swallow nervously, eyes closing, tears falling and dripping down your chin. “Answer me.”
“No, never that bad, he’s never hit me that hard in the face,” you touch it gingerly. “Usually he kept it in places no one saw.”
“What?”
“We’re more alike than we thought,” you admit, sad for the boy Gojo was then. “Is that why you became so cruel?”
He says nothing.
“It’s how we were raised, who we become to an extent, but Satoru I didn’t choose cruelty, you did,” you turn away then, looking out in the distance a bit, wind whipping your hair around. “You didn’t have to be that cruel to me, just because they hurt you. You chose that.”
You go to walk and he tugs you against him, your back against his chest, arms wrapping your body, tears hot on your neck. “I’m sorry, fuck I am sorry they hurt you like that.”
“Please, don’t,” you pull off, turning to look up at him, barely able to keep his tears in, and your own won’t stop. “You don’t get to comfort me, not after what you’ve done.”
“Then who will right now?” He gently cups your face, swiping the stinging tears. “Let me do one right fucking thing for you, before you never have to see me again.”
“You did, you took me out of there,” you take a breath, shaking, lips trembling so hard you bite them to stop. “I do thank you for that, Satoru.”
Fuck.
You’ve never said that – his name. It feels odd on your lips.
“Sorry I know you told me never to call you that.” You whisper, lips trembling, wishing you could get yourself together, even as your cheek burns and your stomach feels so twisted in knots. You watch his jaw clench, the stars and moon bright and as silvery as that hair that’s usually perfect falling over a brow.
“Thanking me when I caused it?” He laughs without humor, studying you ever so carefully. “Don’t thank me. He’d have not hit your face if I didn’t do what I did.”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but what’s it matter? It’ll all be done soon, and you can go live your life, I’ll live mine.” You grip his wrists now. “But don’t act like you care suddenly, don’t play that game. That’s an even crueler one.”
He leans down too low then, kissing your cheek, both of you sobbing as you stand there together. “You’re just a girl, and you were just a kid, okay? Don’t deserve that shit.”
“I didn’t deserve you being cruel either,” he sniffles as he tries to hold back his own upset, and your eyes are swimming, barely able to see. “I don’t deserve any of this. I’ve done nothing but try, God I tried so hard just to make you like me. Even when I watched you fucking her, I still tried, I did. I wanted to be good, to not fail everyone.”
“You didn’t fail shit,” is all he says, and he holds you, letting you sob, even as you smack at his chest. “Just let me hold you for a minute, fuck… you need it.”
“Not you, not you,” you whisper, trembling, sobbing so much you’re limp, until you do snuggle to him, sighing sadly, feeling him trying, that comfort.
The longing.
The yearning for the Gojo you thought was your prince, rescuing you from a tower. Yet Gojo is damaged just like you, just like Sukuna, but he clearly couldn't handle it.
You had become the perfect, subservient girl. Sukuna apparently had a rough patch and left it all. Satoru let his vengeance and hatred for it all change him.
You're sad for that boy, but the man that's been so fucking cruel? You're still scared.
“It doesn’t change anything, but I do thank you… for stopping it.”
“Yeah,” he has no words now, he just picks you up suddenly in his arms, ignoring your protests, cradling you too delicately, like a man would on his wedding night.
Never yours though.
“Don’t carry me, I can walk.”
“Just let me.” You’re too tired to argue, when he sets you in the limo, and he keeps holding you.
You’re too exhausted and weak to stop him from putting an ice pack on your cheek once you're home, from cleaning the cut carefully. You both say nothing for a while, an odd silence falling over two people that hate each other – two people who lived the same lives, and ended up so different.
One, too cruel. One, too kind.
One, too strong. One, too weak.
Yet here you both were – mirror images of the same life, the same abusive streak, quietly not hating each other for a few moments. When he takes you to bed, he still hasn’t said a word, and you should let him go to bed, not try to reach out, to know better than forgive what he’s done.
You don’t forgive it, but for a moment you get him just a bit, and maybe Satoru gets you.
“Satoru,” he turns, looking to you with sad blue eyes, as you fiddle a bit with the big sweater he through on you. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for shit.” His words are harsh, the pain in them prevalent, the two of you quiet.
“I will, because you didn’t have to interfere,” your eyes meet his, and your heart breaks for who he could be – a man righting wrongs, maybe with a heart in there.
Are you foolish? Do you just want to see good in someone, or do you see those parts of yourself buried within him.
“I wish I could know the Satoru Gojo that stood up for me tonight, but I won’t get to. So I just hope you show that to the next girl, the one who has your heart. Don’t hide it with whatever narcissistic bullshit you did with me.”
He says nothing again, sighing, fingers tapping at the sides on his thighs. “You’re too nice,” he says, gripping your door handle tightly, not looking at you. “I'll make sure they never hit you again. Even after we separate.”
You blink a bit. “You can't promise that.”
“I'll ruin their reputations and make sure they never do that shit again, that's what they care about anyway.” You just look down at your lap, at the ribbons and lace on the edge of the sweater. “Think I don't wanna take them down with my own family?”
“Well I guess I wish you some luck in that,” you admit, laying down, feeling his gaze on you. “It was nice having a night where you weren't…”
“Fucking terrible?”
“Yeah,” you yawn a bit, eyes suddenly heavy. “You didn't deserve it either. Being a boy doesn't make you somehow tougher.”
Satoru's footsteps fade, the door shuts, leaving you alone, when your phone rings.
Sukuna.
You barely are able to answer it then without sobbing all over.
“Sukuna?”
“I felt something went wrong, you never wrote to me, I sound like a simpy little bitch. And… are you… what happened!?”
“I'll tell you when I see you okay?” You swallow nervously, gingerly touching your own cheek with cool fingers. “But let’s just say it was a bad night.”
There’s a long pause. “Did he fucking do something?”
“He was oddly kind, it was my… dad…”
It's quiet then, you suck in a breath, eyes shut, waiting for him to speak.
“I'm coming the fuck over.” You blink.
“You can't! You're out of town and I'm okay.”
His sigh hurts your heart and soul, longing for a person you don’t know well yet filling you. You want him to hold you, kiss you, tell you the world is just gone and it’s you two. “Then you're coming over tomorrow.”
“I think I can do that… we just have to be careful.” Your voice is ever so soft, barely over a whisper through the phone.
“Maybe I just want to hold you, think of that?”
“Yeah? Just hold me?” You yawn then, eyes fluttering shut. “Won’t you kiss me too?”
“You're sleepy,” you nod, knowing he can't see, snuggling up. “Then just… fucking keep me on until you crash. Will you just do that?”
“Mhm,” you fade, listening to him, your body hurting, your heart torn, tummy still aching with the nausea from what happened. “Night Kuna.”
You think he says it back.
The dreams are haunting, Sukuna tugging you against him, Satoru on his knees crying. And for once you don't hate Satoru, you feel bad for the boy he is, his head in your lap, Sukuna's buried against your neck.
It's blissful.
Then they tug.
Tug, tug, tug at you, Satoru dragging you down, Sukuna pulling you up.
Can you not break apart?
*****
Sukuna
It takes almost nothing to find your home.
First off, Satoru was basically public knowledge – second off, the ostentatious mansion was utterly ridiculous. His fists bang on the door rather than pressing the little ring system, he’d rushed to get home as soon as he heard your voice last night. It had him sick to his stomach just wondering what the fuck Gojo was doing – but to know your fuck ass parents were near you too?
It’s more and more tempting to kidnap you, steal you away from him and everyone, hide you from whoever the fuck thought they had some claim on you. Especially toxic ideas swim in his mind, keeping you where no one would find you, making sure you’re nice and occupied.
Sukuna never even thought of kids until he pictured how pretty you’d be knocked up with his babies, give you so many you can make your own little family and forget what the fuck you know. His fist bangs on the door once more, finally getting opened up by a butler raising a brow.
Of course Satoru would have a butler.
Sukuna was almost as rich, but he can’t even imagine that shit, though it sort of fits with ‘pretty boy satoru’ as they all used to call him. He enjoyed the finer things a little too much for someone trying to fight so hard not to do what his parents said. It’s not even the fact that he doesn’t wanna be with you, that’s to Sukuna’s benefit – it’s the way he’s dragging you down.
If he wanted to, he could just let you go.
Sukuna knows he’s obsessed, psychotic for a girl he barely knows, but even now all he can think of is decking Satoru in the face, throwing you over his shoulder and making you live with him instead. He knows what he likes and he knows it’s you, since the moment he saw you in the door of his gym.
“Where’s your Nepo baby boss?” Sukuna asks, smirking all mean when Satoru stomps over, glaring. “Hey best buddy.”
“The fuck are you doing here?” He demands, Sukuna side steps the butler, grinning right at him, just an inch taller than Gojo, but it was enough to make him happy.
“Checking in on our girl,” Satoru scoffs, gripping Sukuna’s wrist when he goes to pat his cheek. “Ours for now, that is. Hope you’ve got your lawyers on it, yeah? Or that all talk?”
“You have no right to be in my fucking house, or talking to my wife.”
“Your wife?” Sukuna laughs now, smacking his thigh, when a girl walks right up to the porch behind him. He looks at her curiously, Satoru sighs.
“What are you doing here, Jennifer? I said not today.”
“But Satoru,” she runs up to him now, Sukuna snorts as he sees her hugging on Satoru, a slutty mess with a dumb fucking secretary costume. Surely she can’t be actually wearing that shit to work? “I missed you!”
“Not now,” he says tersely, shoving her wrists off him. Sukuna's red eyes narrow, lips curved up in a smirk.
“This is your mistress, right?”
“Sukuna get the fuck out,” Satoru steps past the pouty girl. “Seriously.”
“Over her,” his words smack Satoru clearly, he watches his blue eyes lower just a bit. “You’re fuckin’ serious? Over her?”
“You don’t know shit,” he opens his mouth just as you walk out, and when Sukuna sees your face, his heart fucking pounds, anger swelling up at the sight of bruising on your cheek, darkness under an eye. Satoru looks right at you too, as you pause, taking the three of them in, before landing on him.
“Sukuna?” Your words are soft, fiddling with your hands just a bit in front of yourself, blinking glassy eyes. “You’re here?”
He ignores whatever protest Satoru was saying, ignores that average ass secretary that’s almost laughable as a preference over you, all he sees is your bruised face. He cups it gently, glaring across your features, your little hands grip his wrists, shaky and trembling, tears slipping on your cheek.
“The fuck did they do?” He demands, teeth clenched now. “What’s their goddamn address?”
“You can’t! Sukuna…”
“What’s their address? I just wanna talk,” you sigh, shaking your head, earning his glare. “I’m serious. I’ll look it up.”
“You can’t make things worse, please,” you’re already shaking even more, your breaths coming quicker and quicker. “Please don’t do anything. I know they’re already so mad at me.”
“Can’t be mad if they’re buried.”
“Sukuna!”
He raises his brows. “You’d miss those fucks, really?”
“You need to go,” Satoru says then, stepping between you both, pushing Sukuna back. “I took care of her just fine.”
“Oh did you!? Then why the fuck does she have a black eye?” Sukuna shoves Satoru, who shoves him right back, until the two of them damn near kill each other.
“Please don’t fight,” you murmur softly, They freeze at your quiet words, turning to look at you. The sight of you all bruised, emotional and pleading making them both quiet for just a moment, the tension and hatred radiating in the air. “Gojo did help, I promise.”
“Doesn’t change shit about him,” Sukuna shoves Satoru one last time, sending him stumbling into the counter with a clatter of dishes, Jennifer is panicking, annoying as fuck in Sukuna’s ear. “Don’t you deserve your face rearranged?”
“You’ll make it worse for her, you don’t understand them.”
“Don’t I?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair, looking at you.
That’s when Sukuna sees it.
In no world does Satoru not want you – written all over his dumb fucking face. For you not to know clearly just showed how deep your insecurities ran, because there’s no denying the love struck, down bad, wanna be pussy drunk off you – expression Satoru Gojo wears. Sukuna knew it was bullshit anyway, but to actively see proof of his longing makes him furious.
He gets it, he barely knows you but to think of another man’s hands on your pretty body, especially this arrogant, cocky little shit? It makes him nauseous. Furious. Sick.
“I will handle them, not like it’s any of your business,” Satoru says, his focus still locked on you, but your own gaze had shifted, landing on the woman now framed in the kitchen doorway.
“Couldn’t last a day without her?” You ask, your voice suddenly cold, just the sound of the strength in it makes Sukuna ache – even as Satoru tenses up from it. “Even right now? After everything I went through I have to see that?”
“I didn’t ask her –”
“Baby what happened to your face?” She runs up, gasping and cupping her face. “Mrs. Gojo, are you okay?”
Sukuna contemplates hitting a woman, he wouldn’t feel bad but he’d definitely do jail time – jail time meant less of you.
“Come home with me for the night,” you blush furiously, head down now, biting on your lip. “You don’t need to see them tonight.”
“Jennifer isn’t staying –”
“But SATORU I just really need you!” She’s clinging to him again, Sukuna would almost feel sorry if it wasn’t perfect, for him to have a dumb psycho clinger who’s half as attractive as his own wife.
A wife Sukuna plans on taking.
Giving you his name so he never has to hear ‘Mrs. Gojo’ again.
Psychotic thoughts, but there they are, swirling in his mind, images flitting of fucking you on the way to your honeymoon, taking you against a wall at the reception. No way he doesn’t just constantly fuck your pretty cunt once he finally gets a chance.
“You’re not going with him,” Satoru takes your wrist now, Sukuna flings it off, glaring at the blue eyed freak. “Sukuna get the fuck out.”
“How can you tell me not to?” You ask then, raising a brow. “With all you do, what right do you have?”
“You don’t know him,” he leans low, words quiet, Sukuna watches you step back, losing that nerve he’s worked hard for you to build up. “You don’t know shit about Sukuna. You can’t go with him.”
“I will,” you murmur then, looking back up to meet his eyes. Sukuna smiles, pride filling his eyes as he watches your fists clench. “I’ll be careful so I don’t… piss them off more.”
“Careful? They’re all the fuck over this place,” he shakes his head now.
“I’ll get her out without being seen,” Satoru scowls over at him, his hands on your shoulders, The sight made Sukuna want to rip those arms the fuck off and beat him with them. “I’ll take good care of her, better than you have. What kind of man sees this happen and just what… gives them a good talking to?”
“You think I didn’t wanna beat him?”
“Him,” Sukuna frowns, then looks at you, realization dawning all over his face. “Your dad did that shit?”
“Yes, um,” you take Sukuna’s hand now, so small compared to one of his massive ones it swallows it. “I’m going with him for tonight Okay?”
Satoru says nothing.
“Not okay I mean… I am. I am going. I appreciate last night, but that doesn’t mean we’re suddenly good, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’m going to have you locking me up and making me listen to you two fuck all night.”
Sukuna snorts.
Jennifer gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in feigned horror. “Satoru, you’ll let her talk to you like that?”
“Shut up god,” he grumbles, earning her lips trembling, dramatic crying ensues without a single tear. Sukuna grimaces in disgust.
“Even you could probably do better, fuckboy,” you tug at his hand, shaking your head. “What?”
“Don’t be mean to her,” you murmur, looking down then. “Won’t make anything better.”
“Oh it will, let me just get a couple jokes in and maybe punch-”
“Sukuna,” you cut him off now, stepping closer. His heart breaks at your pretty face beat the fuck up like that, your tears that are always in your pretty eyes.
Do you ever get a fucking break?
“I’ll go with you,” you say softly, looking at Gojo then. “I’m going.”
“Yeah,” he laughs without humor, hands in his pockets, eyeing Sukuna levelly, hatred just radiating. Sukuna grins right back at him, deepening Satoru’s scowl. “Have her back tonight.”
“Nah, the morning though,” you blush even under your bruises, burying your face against his shoulder. “If she wants to come back. If not? I don’t give a fuck what you threaten, I won’t bring her.”
“You really think you know her, that you have some claim on her?” Satoru demands, blue eyes narrowing in on him.
“And what, you do? Don’t you want ‘anyone but her’?”
It’s quiet, Satoru’s mouth shuts, you tense against him, he feels how tightly you’re holding his arm. “You don’t know shit, Sukuna.”
“You’re dumb as shit, Satoru,” he hugs you against him tightly. “Letting her go? Should thank you for being a fucking idiot.”
“She’s still my wife.”
*****
You
“For now, she’ll come back when she wants, not gonna control her any fucking more, any of you. Dumb ass parents, I don’t care. They can come for me, too.” Satoru says nothing, but you feel the weight of his stare, when you look behind your shoulder, and his eyes are devastated.
Was there more to Gojo?
Did you really want to know, anymore? Could you handle that, when he has Jennifer running up to him, the woman he said – wait, let me cum first – and you had to listen to it? You can’t just forgive him – that’s what the old you would do. Give up, forgive, try to please, all the things you did as a daughter.
Not anymore. You turn away, ignoring the burning gaze against your back, breathing the air when Sukuna sneaks you in his car quickly, and tugs you in for a kiss, brutal at first, before you suck in a breath of pain. He pauses, pulling back, his thumb touching your lip carefully.
“Don’t stop,” you whisper. “I want you.”
“Don’t say that shit,” he kisses you again, hungry and mean, hand tugging your body against his chest. “I’ll fuck you right in front of the Gojo mansion, huh? See his dumb, creepy ass blue eyes cry.”
“Insane,” you giggle though, brightening your face, Sukuna’s expression softens at it, swallowing. His adam’s apple bobs up and down when he brushes your hair back. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did, brat wouldn’t tell me what happened, tsk…” You’re met with another kiss, before he pulls back and starts the car. “I want you to let me know who I have to beat to death.”
Sukuna Ryomen was just a little insane. But you’re pretty sure you love that.
“Can I sleep on your shoulder?” You ask softly, he just nods, and you rest your uninjured cheek, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m so exhausted.”
“You can sleep the whole time you’re there.”
“I didn’t uh… bring clothes to stay all night.”
“Then you’ll just have to be naked.”
“Sukuna!” He chuckles, before sighing, an arm tugging you closer, his lips brushing your temple.
“What do you do to me, huh?” You’re too comfortable to respond.
*****
When you come to, you’re being carried into Sukuna’s penthouse, you cling tightly to his neck and yawn, stirring a bit, he curses then when he sees Yuuji, with a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Kid, what are you doing here?”
“Just needed some things I… oh shit…” Sukuna eases you down, Yuuji frowns and runs toward you, sweet brown eyes shimmering with tears. “What happened?”
“A long story,” his fingers hover over your face.
“Let me put this down, I’ll get some ice?”
“No, no, I’m okay,” you take his hand in yours, smiling sadly. “Don’t worry for me, promise it’s fine.”
Yuuji looks over your head at Sukuna, you can all but feel the way they communicate ever so quietly, his fingers wrapping yours now. “If something happens and Sukuna isn’t in town, I will get you.”
“You don’t need to-”
“I will.” He says it more firm now. “Sukuna can give you my number, right? If you ever need me.”
“Yuuji you’re too sweet for this world,” Sukuna is quiet when you kiss Yuuji’s cheek, emotions making your throat close up. “I really appreciate you.”
You’re crying before you can stop it.
Someone caring like this, for you? It’s almost too much, you’re such a wreck Yuuji gives you a little hug, patting your back. “It’s nothing, really. Now don’t hug me too long he’ll get mad at me.”
You manage a shaky smile, when Yuji murmurs to Sukuna, you can’t hear, instead turning and waving to him when he leaves. “I feel so bad, to worry him.”
“The kid just cares,” his voice is gruff now. He reaches out, cupping your uninjured cheek in one of his big hands. His touch impossibly gentle as he strokes the skin there, trying his best not to hurt you. His eyes drop to the angry bruise marring the other side of your face, red eyes darkening as they study you.
“He’s dead,” Sukuna watches your eyelashes tremble, little tears forming droplets on them. “Your dad, I'll fucking kill him. Then beat your dumb fucking husband.”
You suck in a breath. “Sukuna, don’t say that. I'm okay.”
“You're not,” he cuts you off, hands slipping down your shoulders, feeling you shivering, rage fucking filling him. “I am tired of you getting abused and I just met you.”
“Abused…”
“That’s the goddamn term, y’know that right?” You shake your head, earning his sigh. “Aren't you tired of it?”
That question.
Aren't you tired of it?
You nod just a bit, feeling him tug you closer, dragging your body against his, a hand on the small of your back. You feel everything bubbling over the surface, the memories of the cruelty of Satoru, the cruelty of your parents.
“I am tired, fuck I'm tired,” You're barely holding it back, breaths coming faster, hands gripping his shirt. “I'm so tired of it. Of trying to be perfect and failing. All I do is fail.”
“No, they failed,” he tilts your chin up. “Failed fuck ass parents, shitty failed husband. You didn't fail shit.”
“But here I am, with you, I'm not there being perfect. I'm being selfish, wanting you, wanting this. To be consumed by you,” he eases back, lips parted. “This isn't just fun to me and I don't do it lightly. I know the position I'm putting you in and I feel horrible.”
“Don't,” he whispers, voice hoarse, breath dancing along your lips. “No one touches you.”
You lick your lips, drawing his gaze to them. “Sukuna…”
“No one, ever again.” He leans in closer, his face now just an inch from yours, stealing your very breath from your lungs. “Just let me take care of them.”
“Take care of them,” your heart hammers in your chest at the insinuation, your hands slipping slowly up his chest. “I don’t want you having to do that, get involved in this mess that’s my life more than you already are.”
“Too late,” you laugh, breathless then.
“Too late? You’re insane, Ryomen Sukuna. You know that?” You brush your lips on his, tentatively, but it’s over for him once you do, walking you back against the wall, lifting you in his arms like it’s nothing. You exhale into his mouth, letting his huge hands take you over. “Mnh…”
“The sounds you fuckin’ make,” he kisses down your neck, teeth sinking in, earning your gasp in his ear. “Fuck I want to mark every inch of you. Have him see what he fucked up on.”
“He doesn’t –”
“Oh, he does,” he pulls back, smirking at you, his face is dangerous then, a deadly look in his eyes that ruins you. “He wants you so goddamn bad it’s pathetic, I looked right at him today.”
You blink in confusion. “If he does at all, it’s because you want me, not because of anything else.”
“Yeah I wish that were true,” he sighs, kissing you again, careful not to hurt you, the effort making him shake. “It’s written all over his face, but for whatever dumb fucking reason he has, I’m glad he doesn’t touch you. I couldn’t fucking handle it.”
“He kissed me…” Sukuna’s hold tightens, you squeak damn near. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. It was like… some power play.”
“Then I’ll fuck away the memory of it,” you’re blushing when he carries you to his room, laying you right on his bed, spreading your thighs and sinking his heavy weight over you. “If you don’t tell me to stop right now…”
Your mind is reeling, still so dizzy and conflicted from the past couple of days – was it a toxic part of you that felt bad for Satoru? After all he’d done, and likely what he still was doing, but knowing all he’d been through, some part of you still feels guilty underneath Sukuna.
Another part of you feels so fucking good underneath this man. The way he looks at you – like there’s nothing else, utterly consumed, his kisses igniting your entire body on fire, sucking your breath with the intensity of them. It feels right like this, it feels like you can’t get enough of each other, it’s as if Sukuna just knows you.
No one knows you – even yourself – but he does. He sees you, the tired heiress trying to be perfect and hurting, sees more than what everyone has always perceived you to be. It’s insanity when you’re rolling your hips, feeling his cock pressing right over your clothed cunt, dripping through the thin cotton until it’s sticky, aching and throbbing for more.
“Mmm, stop me,” he says again, leaned up on his hands now, you cup his face, tracing the tattoo running down his neck, watching his pink lashes flutter. “Don’t be all cute and shit, I’ll throw your ass in a mating press.”
“Sukuna what?” You giggle at him, he’s very serious though.
“A full nelson, after your first time,” you’re laughing against his lips, arching up for more of him. “First time should be missionary, yeah?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, isn’t full nelson… mmm… like a wrestling move?” He chuckles, kissing your nose for just a moment, leaning up to slide a thigh between yours, pressure having your eyes flutter shut.
“You’re too fucking cute, I’ll corrupt you if you don’t stop me,” his voice darkens then, eyes almost black with lust, you suck in a breath as your cunt drools down his well muscled thigh. “I will not feel bad about it, either, fucking your cunt and pumping it so full.”
Your answer is a soft, desperate whine, one of his hands tilting your chin up with two fingers, breath ghosting your lips.
“I’ll burn everything to the ground for you,” his words are insanity – met with his face, furious, possessive eyes that steal your breath.
“Burn everything?” You whisper, lost in his eyes – that red ring around pitch obsidian, his devious, insane fucking grin.
“I’ll kill anyone who ever made you cry. I’ll kill anyone who even looks at you the wrong way, once you’re all mine, think I care if they’re your parents?”
“You c-can’t mean all that,” you shake your head, clutching even tighter. “You don’t hardly know me, what if I… what if I…” You suck in a breath, tears swimming and blurring your vision. “What if I disappoint you?”
“You couldn’t,” his voice is softer, his expression growing serious. “You could not disappoint me.”
“You don’t know it, I feel it’s all I do.”
“That’s them,” Sukuna’s hands slip up your sides, easing your top off over your head carefully, moaning at the sight of your tits bouncing right out. “I’ll fuck any memory of it out, fuck you so hard all you can do is babble, drool. Not think a single thing in your pretty head.”
Fuck.
“You want it?” He asks then, voice a low rumble, his hair falling ever so slightly over his brow, huge frame hovering on top of you. “Do you want me to make it all go away for you?”
“Yes,” your answer is clearly enough for him, he slips off his shirt, showing those tensed muscles, the tattoos curving right with his body. You run your fingers down them, but he grabs your hand.
“Touch yourself,” you blush even now, even half naked with him, as he slips down your pants, tugging them off and leaving you in just your panties, hair splayed out all over the silk pillows that smell like him. “Show me what you learned.”
You slip your fingers over the ruined material of soaked panties, ever so softly pressing up in the fabric, soft whine drank from his lips. The pain from your lip makes you hiss, he pulls off and runs a thumb across the mark.
“I’ll kill them,” he says again – and you believe him. You believe him when he positions himself lower, sucking one of your nipples into his hot, eager mouth, making your back arch. “Should fill you with me, all of me, until you don’t want to leave.”
“Ah!” He’s kissing lower, hands bruising in their grip of your waist, tongue licking a filthy trail down your stomach.
“How can you leave if you can’t walk, huh? Pretty little brat,” he whispers, your hand still running circles when he’s even lower, pressing them more firmly where they need to be. “Good girl.”
"Sukuna, please," you whimper, your fingers leaving your soppy cunt and tangling in his hair, pulling at the pink strands. “Please, I need you.”
With a slow, deliberate tug, he removes the barrier of your panties, the fabric tearing away easily, the cool air hits your wet heat for a split second before his fingers are there, so warm and rough, sliding through your slick folds.
"So fucking wet for me," he groans out those words, his gaze fixed on where his fingers are playing with you, sliding up and making your clit twitch in response. He circles your clit with a precision that steals your breath, your hips bucking up to chase the sensation. "Look at you, dripping. All for me."
“All you, ngh!” He’s nudging your thighs apart with broad shoulders, the heat of his skin seeping through your inner thighs, his tongue licking from your ass all the way to your clit. “Sukuna, want more. Want you inside.”
“Fuck,” you can see him rutting his cock on the matress, glaring up at you even with your slick on his mouth. “Don’t test my patience, brat. I’ll fucking break you if I put it in like this.”
“I want it,” he shakes his head, dragging you by your ass to his mouth, tongue slipping in your hole, feeling it quiver around his wet muscle. “Kuna…”
“Mmph,” he lifts his head again, running two fingers and sinking them in, watching your swollen folds suck them greedy. “Your first time, and you’re all slutty like this?”
“Shh,” you touch his lips, he nips your finger, looking at you as he curls his thick digits in your hole – moving up and down at a maddening pace, the pressure so much you feel dizzy. “Don’t be mean.”
“To you? Hah,” he flicks his tongue, groaning as you gush down his face. “This is sweet for me. Only for you.”
His words and his tongue fucking end you too quick, you barely have time to arch your hips and he hits your spot, making you gush syrupy arousal all down him. “Lemme suck you please.”
“Your lip hurts,” his words are surprisingly gentle, when he sucks your clit in his mouth and hums, drawing every bit of pleasure from your body. “Not tonight.”
“See? Mean,” he chuckles, standing and removing his pants, you blush when you look at him fully, he’s massive, his cock so thick and heavy, veins wrapping around the length of it. “Oh…”
“Oh,” he chuckles at your cute little expression, kneeling back over you, dragging you by your thighs down to the center of your bed, the way he handles you is addictive, but the way he looks at you is life ruining. “Sure you can take it, tiny little cunt, never been fucked.”
“I wanna try,” you whisper, whining out when his fat leaky cockhead brushes down your slit, pressing into your hole and making you gasp out. “Ah!”
“Last chance,” he says it through gritted teeth, hovering over you, his weight heavy on your body. “I won’t go easy on you once you get used to my shape. I’ll fuck you every position, fuck my loads of cum right back inside.”
You’re spasming just around his tip, he pauses and hovers over you, even now wanting you to make the decision. As dominant as he is, you are the initiator in all of your encounters. Sukuna clearly wants you to show that side of yourself.
You reach a hand down, wrapping a fist around his cock and pressing in, whining out in pleasure and pain as he slips further. “That's it, taking what you want. Good girl.”
He lifts a thigh, your nails press into his biceps, gasping when there is a prick of pain. He pauses again, looking at your face, brows lowering, cock pulsing already.
“Touch yourself again,” he orders softly, you reach down and rub your clit as he eases back out, then presses in once more. You're so full of him, you feel him everywhere. “Breathe, you can take me.”
You exhale, eyes locking with his, cunt struggling to fit his massive cock, but every little circle of your clit and his kisses, his touches, have you taking more. “So big you’re… s'big I j-just… feel…”
Sukuna shoves his cock in half way, your hips buck up, finger slipping with how wet you are, gasping as his cock stretches your walls. He barely moves at first, breaths coming in heavy, kissing down your neck, your cheek, pulling out and making you feel so empty before shoving his cock inside you fully.
“Kuna! Ngh!” You're drunk off the first few strokes, achingly slow, pumping your cunt so full, stretching her out. Sukuna groans and leans back, eyeing your cunt now, moaning and sinking his fingers into your hips.
“Look at that, hah,” his eyes are so black they're insane, his grin psychotic as he sees the way his cock moves in your pelvis. “Filling you up like this, hitting that cervix. Didn't I promise to… hah, bruise it?”
You can only nod and roll your eyes back when he does just that, pressing into your cervix and just rolling his hips. “Ah!”
“Fuck you're so tight,” he pauses now, exhaling. “Fit so perfect though, she's taking me so well. Like it's made for it.”
The praise and the way he looks at you is overwhelming, tears slipping from your eyes a mix of pleasure and so much more you can't even describe. He thumbs your clit now, eyes watching where he's splitting you open on his cock, you blush when you see just a hint of blood.
“I'm um… it's… mnh!” Sukuna thrusts hard, taking the bit of blood on his thumb and just lapping it up, it makes his lips crimson, you suck in a breath when he leans back down. His long pink tongue laps the remnants of your long gone innocence off his lower lip. “Kuna…”
“Can you take more?” He whispers, husky and hoarse, you nod eagerly. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else." That's when Sukuna loses the gentleness, the ease. Once he can feel your cunt has accommodated his shape, he moves.
He grips the plush of your thighs, pushing your knees up toward your chest to angle himself deeper, and bottoms out as much as he can in your snug little hole. The wet slap of his heavy balls against your ass where all the wetness is pooling echoes obscenely in the room, mixed with your desperate little cries, his gutteral moans.
The angle pushes him right on your cervix, and when he presses you can already feel yourself getting close. You’re so full, never having had more than his fingers, to have his girthy nine inches just buried inside your puffy cunt was almost too much. The stretch burns, an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you dizzy, your walls fluttering helplessly around him, pushing him to thicken more.
"Fuck, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” you blink back emotions when he leans down, pressing your knees parallel with your head, folding you right in half. “Cum, pretty little brat, cum f’me yeah? Let go."
Let go.
The words mean more than his cock breaking you, the way he cups your face even as he slams his cock so deep you see stars, and you shatter for him, cumming so hard you’re blinded, dizzy and almost faint from it. It hits so hard you can’t think, he lets your thighs down just a bit, driving into you harder, gripping your hand tight and lacing your fingers together.
He pauses for a moment, to get a breath, you’re pinned against the mattress under his weight, maybe the only thing keeping you tethered to earth while he fucks every thought right out of your head.
“Kiss me again, please,” you whisper, but he’s already lowering his mouth for you, so intimate when he slows his pace, getting close. His mouth is swallowing your gasps, kissing you messy and deep.
“M’gonna fill your cunt up, can you take it all?” You nod and he pulls back, leaned up on a hand, the other gripping one of your tits, littered with marks from his mouth. “Fill you up so full of me, drip me all out in his dumb fuckin’ mansion, huh?”
Sukuna is insane.
Sukuna’s cumming inside you, throbbing and pouring white ropes and flooding you, tongues messy and slipping together over and over. You’re flooded with his warmth, pushing you to shatter again, a lighter, softer orgasm that leaves you a sweaty, desperate little mess. He’s lapping the salty slick of that sheen of sweat off the crook of your neck, slowing down his movements.
The reality of what you’ve done should hit, right? That you lost your virginity to Sukuna, that his cum is inside you, that you’re married. Yet you can’t find it in your heart to feel bad, not when he looks at you like that, when he whispers your name with filthy little declarations of affection.
Your first time is with Ryomen Sukuna.
*****
Sukuna
You’re trembling underneath his heavy weight, breaths coming in shallow pants as he eases out his cock that’s coated in your slick, tinges of red and swirls of white. He parts your thighs and moans at the sight of how much of his cum you took, oozing from your wrecked hole, so much that floods out. He exhales, fingers trailing across puffy lips, making your hips jolt up.
“Ah!” He pauses, concern all over his features.
“Did I hurt you? Tiny little cunt, she took too much, huh?” He murmurs, struggling not to be too vulnerable with you, but how can he not be, when you’re like this? Trusting him to be your first.
He hasn’t even been someone’s first, has he already fucked it up, went too hard on you? Has he -
You drag him down for a kiss, leaning up on your elbow now, hair falling off your shoulders. Your lips still coated in just a hint of blood, he swipes it off with his tongue, making them glossy, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. Lost in your eyes, hating the fact that you’d be back with him tomorrow.
Sukuna couldn’t handle not knowing what happens when you’re there, what he’s filling your head with, what they are filling your head with. When all he wants is you to be fucked out, full of cum, giggling and punching at him with your cute little pink gloves. Is that really so much to ask for? To crave?
You, he craves you, all of you.
“I’m good,” you say softly, as if reading his mind just a bit. You’d be scared if you knew all he wanted. “I thought it would hurt so bad the first time from what all my friends said, and my mother. I thought it was like… lay there and deal with it.”
Sukuna frowns at that, seeing your lip quiver just a bit, before you catch it with your teeth.
“It was amazing,” you whisper, kissing him once more. “You didn’t hurt me, even if I am a little sore.”
“Good, you took it perfect,” you blush now, the color mixing with that slight purple bruising that still makes him furious, his hands cupping your breasts, making you shift your thighs just a bit. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I just want to focus on this,” you whisper, hand on his chest, feeling his heart against your palm. “Just this. Have you take it all away.”
Sukuna kisses you again, this time it’s even more desperate, his entire body shaking with his attempt to be just a little ‘gentle’ with you, when he wants to put you in every position he can. This feeling of not knowing how long he has with you, how long he’ll get this, see you in this way, filling him with an even more desperate need, you’re reaching down to stroke his cock now, ending him.
“I'm not done with you tonight brat,” Sukuna flips you over on all fours suddenly his fingers shoved in your messy cunt, moaning when he feels her clamping down on his digits. “Not close to done.”
Your answer is to arch for more, reaching a hand back for him to pin your wrist down. You're quivering around his cock when he eases it back in, watching the white cum leaking from your abused hole, reddened tip collecting it like nectar and pushing it back in.
“Gonna plug up all this cum so it can't leave,” he tightens his grip, heavy weight over you, lips against the shell of your ear. “Do you want that, pretty little brat? Me to fill you again?”
“Yes,” your eyes meet his, dazed and fucked out. “I want it.”
“So fucking beautiful, what did you do to me,” he still doesn't know what you do when you look at him like that. All you can answer is a soft cry, a kiss where your lip busts back open, and he licks the copper blood like he did your innocence.
When he pulls back your lips are swollen, crimson staining them, eyes all glossy as you clamp down. At that moment Sukuna knows he can never let you go.
When he fills your cunt from the back and his heavy balls smack your clit, when he pumps more cum inside your hole, he doesn't think he can ever let you go. How can he even let you go back?
You're not his yet.
That's unacceptable.
So he makes sure to fill you again, more cum flooding you, until you're getting cleaned up. Until he makes sure you eat even though you're dazed and fucked out. Until you're in one of his shirts that swallows you, and he's taking you to his bed, holding you against him.
Sukuna stays up just to watch you sleep, brushing your hair back and scowling at your phone that keeps going off.
Texts from Gojo.
He places your finger gently to unlock it – he doesn't feel bad about it. Not when you're meant to be his.
Just let me know you're okay, fuck…
I know that you hate me but I need to know if you're all right.
Please just answer me, I thought we… I thought maybe… never mind.
Sukuna is dangerous, okay? Could you just answer.
Jennifer isn't here if you want to come home tonight.
Fuck it, he can come too, just let me see you.
I mean… I mean fuck him, fuck this. Just ignore that shit. Good night.
Sukuna frowns at them, contemplating deleting them all for a brief moment, before stopping himself. He studies your face carefully in your sleep.
Was there something between you and Satoru?Sukuna can't say it will stop him – no, he'd do anything for you. Including getting your parents info and sending it to himself, smirking just a little bit. He wasn't a pro boxer for nothing – he can't wait to beat your dad unconscious.
You may be mad about it, but he knows what's best for you.
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If anyone talks shit about my damn reader I may crash out, she's trying her damn best my baby </3 also if anyone says finally I may lose it as well. ahaha I hope you all enjoyed this!!! we have a LONG way to go
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Boxer! Sukunax Reader x Nepo baby! Gojo
warnings!! - Heavy angst, cheating, Satoru is cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities. This chap - yandere Sukuna, obsessed/toxic Satoru, oral (f receiving) fingering, squirting, spitting, possessive behavior, insane jealousy, Sukuna is down bad and falling more and more, reader is getting stronger (let my baby cook) mentions of somno, mentions of sex, degradation (sexual and just in general) messy dynamics, cheating/reverse cheating... God just a lot.
This WILL have multiple endings - all of these three ends are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV based on this drabble - WC - 11.5k (dear God lol)
part two - masterlist - playlist - part four
part three
You
You rush in from the blinding lights of people’s phones flashing pictures and videos of you – Gojo’s wife and mysterious heiress – walking into a boxing gym of one of the most rebellious and notorious heir, Sukuna. Known for causing scandals and going against his own family the moment he got his trust fund, what sort of good heiress goes into a gym like this!?
You flew under the radar before you married Gojo, you never partied and made sure to not cause any problems for your family, but yesterday someone had spotted you walking into the gym and alerted all the other paparazzi. You have huge sunglasses on when the gym doors open and you see Yuuji waving you in, Sukuna crossing his huge biceps and walking out.
“Get in,” he says quietly, you do just that, hearing him now. “Any of you wanna jump in the ring with me, since you’re on my private property? Hah, no? Come on, I’d love you to fucking try, aww why are you running?”
“He’s crazy,” you murmur to Yuuji, who has his hand on your wrist, tugging you into the busy gym. “He really is, your uncle.”
“I know,” he rubs the back of his neck, smiling just a bit at you then. “You look so happy today.”
“I do?” You blush at that, and so does he, when Sukuna shuts the heavy doors and walks back in, raising a brow. “How so?”
“You just do,” Sukuna’s glaring right at him now. “She does look happy? I didn’t say she’s hot okay – she is but I didn’t say it. I mean you’re not!? I’m sorry – you are but that’s-”
“Yuuji,” you’re giggling now, watching him stammer awkwardly was perhaps the cutest thing you’ve seen. “Thank you, for the compliment.”
“Yeah, of course – uh I have to go… over there,” he rushes off where everyone is training, the sounds of the boxing bags being hit mixing with the whir of workout machines and the clinking of the weights on the floor. You feel Sukuna too close to you, not on you, but behind you, warmth seeping through even though you’re not touching.
“He’s cute,” you say, Sukuna’s eyes narrow when you look back at him. “He looks just like you, just a little sweet version.”
“Aww, am I not sweet?” You blush when he walks past you, and you clutch your bag, following him closely.
“You just threatened to fight like ten people.”
He snorts just a bit, the two of you stopping in the locker room, you set down your bag, it’s empty inside of it, Sukuna doesn’t necessarily have a ‘girls’ locker room, everyone just sort of goes together. You arrived in a baggy shirt, slipping it over your head after you take off your sunglasses, all while Sukuna sits wide legged on the bench, gym shorts slipping up his muscled thighs.
God was any of him not huge, even his thighs are thick, you bite your lip and hastily tug out your ear buds and water bottle, before shutting the locker and turning to face him. “I don’t like paparazzi, I tend to tell them to fuck off.”
“I saw that,” you tease, leaning over to set your things next to him, tugging your hair up in a ponytail, pausing when you feel his fingers slip across the back of your thighs. You suck in a breath, your heart hammering in your chest, stepping closer until you’re between his thighs. “Thank you for getting them away.”
“Wasn’t for you, I hate them,” he says gruffly, hands slipping over your hips now, thumbs pressing against your pelvis, you can’t bite back the little moan that escapes your throat then. Sukuna’s ruby eyes lock with yours, lips an inch from your collarbone, but he doesn’t cross that line, waiting for you.
You look around nervously, before stepping even closer, hands resting on his broad shoulders, tugged against him to where you feel his length against your thighs, body humming in response. You shouldn’t do this, no matter what Satoru does, you know you shouldn’t be actively seeking Sukuna out. Terrified you’d both get hurt, worried you can’t just be physical.
How, when Sukuna makes you feel this good, do you stop it? How when he looks at you like you’re so pretty, like he desires you so much? Your breaths quicken, gathering courage then.
“Guess what?” You ask, he smirks a bit, breath ghosting over your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“What is it, brat? Got something to tell me?” He’s grinning, teeth glinting under bright fluorescent lights, you gather more courage but you’re trembling, leaning close and slipping your hands down his tattooed biceps.
“I made myself cum last night,” Sukuna’s grip is bruising, pupils blown out, before he stands up suddenly, pressing you against the lockers, a thigh between yours, making you cry out before he puts a hand on your mouth. You grip his wrist, his other hand dragging you down on his thigh, leaning close and moving his hand, exhaling. “Sorry that was too much, I shouldn’t have-”
“Shut up,” you gasp, glaring and earning his smirk. “You’re so sexy when you scowl like that.”
“Telling me to shut up… I…” Your whole life you’ve been silent, you’ve been quiet, pushed around with no sense of self. Yet Sukuna is teasing, he’s challenging you, he’s making you want to talk back, because you feel safe enough to. Your eyes look back up into his, swallowing nervously, his thumb brushing over your lips. “You shut up.”
He chuckles softly then, tilting your chin up, raising his thigh even higher. “Oh yeah, ya talkin’ shit?”
“Y-yes? I mean – yes.” You scowl all cutely again, pulse fluttering when he comes near, you’ve never felt this way, the thrill of it, talking shit to a six-foot-five grown ass man who’s got you soaking wet, drooling over that material.
“I like it,” he murmurs, easing his thigh back to run his fingers down your tummy, trembling underneath, hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “You made yourself cum for the first time?”
“Y-yes, I did – mnh!” You cover your own mouth when the backs of his fingers slip over your clit, she eagerly twitches in response, his thick digit slipping inside your hole, not teasingly with the tip like last time, no he slides it in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes roll back from just that, cunt spasming around the invasion.
“Fuck,” he loses his bravado for a moment, yanking your hand down and curling his finger up before pulling it back, making you gasp out at the loss. “I’ll give you that reward later, for being a good girl.”
“L-later?” You hear the chatter and realize you both won’t be alone until later, looking to the side only to look back and see him sucking you off his fingers, moaning, lips wrapped around it. You drag him down for a quick kiss, he’s eagerly swapping your taste, tugging you hard against him.
God, to be kissed like this and not have it again?
You don’t know how you’d feel, to never have strong hands yanking you so close, to have his teeth clicking on yours, his tongue taking your mouth over. You’re lost in it, so lost you could forget who you are, where you are, but Sukuna is thankfully self aware, shallow breaths, hot when he pulls back.
He glares at you, hardly able to drag himself back. “Fuck are you doing to me?”
He murmurs, before giving you another kiss, and another, barely pulling back as others start to walk in, palm taking over the small of your back, bunching the material of your sports bra in his hand, lips coated in you.
“Sukuna… I…”
“Shh,” he pulls back and leaves you trying to catch your breath, his ruby gaze ever observant thankfully, because you get too lost in those moments to remember your situation. He grips your face for a moment though, smirking down at you. “Later, be a good girl and be patient.”
You nod quickly, letting his hand brush over your bare stomach before he walks off, leaning against the coolness of the lockers, heart hammering in your chest. You get a buzz on your phone then, picking it up with a shaky hand, it’s of course a text from your mother, already having seen you at the gym.
Just what are you doing boxing!? At the Sukuna heir’s gym!? Shouldn’t you be at home waiting for your husband?
Emotions hit your throat, blinking back burning tears. Can’t you for once feel good, feel excited, be fucking happy without them? Without all of them turning against you, downing you, for the briefest moment you stood up for yourself with Satoru, can you stand up to her though?
I like boxing. Gojo is plenty busy with his secretary at work, so I will not be waiting at home for him.
You just talked back to your mother, just that alone makes you dizzy, shaking as she starts typing back at you, showing a picture of you headed into the gym.
You look terrible on top of it, and now you’re disrespecting your husband? Perhaps we need to have a nice family dinner, and hone in on your lessons you’ve clearly forgotten.
You usually would cry by now, your mother was your original source of insecurities after all, but you shut your eyes and exhale, doing one of the breathing techniques Sukuna has taught you. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, focus on your heart beat and nothing else.
It works.
Dinner at eight tomorrow. You and your husband you’re neglecting.
You laugh at that.
Sure.
You mute your mother for the first time in your life, looking at the mirror for a moment to see yourself – and you see what Yuuji was saying, you just look… you look happier. Your eyes aren’t this sad mess, they’re glittering a little bit, there’s this brightness to your skin that was just a little dull before despite ample skincare. You just… are well rested, well fed, and you…
Came for the first time.
You feel heat on your cheeks, rushing off from that mirror then, trying to focus on training and acting casual, like you weren’t clenching around nothing just watching Sukuna sparring. Sweat gleaming down his skin, the way he could move his body despite being huge, that feral grin on his face as he gets hit.
Sukuna was still a mystery to you, but you feel you already know him better than you do your husband.
Gojo, fuck you haven’t even thought of him.
The ever present pain fades to the back of your mind – always worrying where he was, hoping maybe he’d like you, it all falls into a faint white noise.
*****
Gojo
Kuna – the fuck was a Kuna.
Why had you been moaning like that? God, just the thought of that had his cock twitching, his head falling back as his secretary sucks him down. Blue eyes shutting and forming an image of the girl he doesn’t ‘want’. The one who doesn't ‘want’ him. Not really.
You want to be the perfect wife, you'd probably get right on your knees and serve him if he hadn't turned you down on the wedding night. Let him cum all over those pretty tits and lap it right off, would your shy, cute little self let him spit his cum in your mouth, too?
“F- fuckkk,” he sucks in air through his teeth, using her to fuck her throat, to chase away any thoughts of his little wife and failing.
All he can think is how perfect your likely untouched cunt must feel, how good it would taste, milking him for all that cum you desperately want. Yet he doesn't want that, it must just be slips in his resolve, resolve to take the family down, to take everything about the Gojo Corp and shift it all.
He almost moans out your name when she swallows, gripping around his length, your tits and pretty face bouncing in his mind. It's like some sickness that's latched onto him now, one he'll never admit to you, when she swallows his salty cum down her talented, stretched out throat so obediently.
“Mmmh,” he pumps a few more times, moaning while all his release floods down to her stomach, head falling back. When his phone goes off he frowns, seeing the text from his mother.
Your wife. Surely we need a little discipline for both of you?
He scowls when he eyes that big pink haired man next to you.
Ryomen fucking Sukuna?
‘Kuna.’
Oh fuck no.
“Satoru…”
“Hold on,” she's lapping at his balls, eagerly drinking up every sip of pearly white. Normally he'd find it hot, how desperate and pathetic she is, but now it's just fucking annoying. “Enough.”
She blinks a bit, he adjusts himself, scowling as you ‘fuck you button’ his call. “But did I do –”
“Did great but can you get to work please? Actual work,” she pouts, lips trembling, tears pouring, making him roll his eyes. “Please? Be a good girl and go to work.”
She smiles again.
“Of course Mr. Gojo!”
Fuck most women are easy - even his wife was moaning a fucking heathen’s name. You, a pinnacle of innocence truly, touching your pussy to another man in his home.
Part of him doesn't blame you – isn't that where he pushed you?
Another part? Jealous, disgustingly jealous, he hates Sukuna and out of all people that's who you stumble across. His mind is racing until he's sick, shakily picking up the phone then, texting you.
We have an impromptu dinner apparently. Be careful of being seen when you're out.
You see the message.
I know. I will be careful.
He scoffs.
You really boxing or getting fucked?
Your dots move over and over.
None of your business. I'll be at the dinner tomorrow.
Satoru's jaw sets. Imagining Sukuna fucking you has him sick completely and utterly. His hands are trembling, dizzy suddenly, jaw setting.
Until I get us separated please keep your shit discreet.
Says you. Shouldn't you be fucking, isn't that all you do?
He smirks.
I just did, sweetheart, well… I got my cock sucked. Doesn't mean I can't multitask and check on my pretty little slut of a wife.
Since when am I pretty to you? And the only slut I see is you.
Satoru's teeth click together, fingers thrumming on the desk.
Be home for dinner.
Sir yes sir.
Who knew you had a bratty fucking attitude!? Who knew you would talk to him that way – the perfect girl. The perfect woman of all society, telling him to get fucked.
Why does it have him throbbing for you?
Satoru throws his fucking phone across the immaculate office, letting it slam into the door and then clatter to the polished floors below. He leans back with a sigh and covers his face.
Just what does he do with you?
Sukuna
Trying to act as if he doesn’t care that you’re hurting and crying is a shitty act, and one he’s failing at. Acting like it’s okay you go home to someone like Satoru Gojo of all people? It took him just a moment to connect the dots, so fucking enamored by your pretty face when you came for him, the way your eyes lower nervously, the soft little sighs against his lips…
Yuuji was right to watch it, but not because of Gojo, it was him.
For a man who has in his entire life really not felt shit, to suddenly feel so much so intensely was not just terrifying to feel, there’s the added layer of the fact that technically you’re not his. He’s not even sure what sort of future you all could have, if any, or is Sukuna just a fleeting time for you? One where you start to get yourself together, to find yourself out?
He’d be okay with that usually, making women cum was fun for Sukuna, he loved it in fact, and he’s used to being the first orgasm for many women. However, a married, innocent virgin wasn’t something he had in his cards, and everything she would make him feel – things he doesn’t even want to.
Sukuna couldn’t stop jerking his cock until it was raw thinking of you, he had some date and cancelled it for this weekend, how could he even see or think of anyone with you here? Yet, you’re not his. You go home to your husband, even if that’s not a permanent thing, he never thought he’d be so affected by that fact.
Thinking of Gojo touching you makes him sick.
As if you’re already Sukuna’s.
Watching you on that little treadmill, working your butt off when he knows just a tiny bit of what you go through, grips his heart and wrenches it nearly out of his fucking chest. If he just wanted to make you cum, perhaps that would be less painful, if he didn’t instead want to fuck every insecurity your parents and shit husband put in your head out of you.
Kiss every bit of you, fold you in half underneath him, never let you leave his goddamn bed – would he even get you home? Home, what nonsense, he hardly knows you and he’s over here simping for you already, he has to try to at least keep a level head about that shit, or he’d be ruined.
What if you end up staying? What then, for Sukuna? How the fuck would he get over you if you all go further – if he sinks inside you, would you sink into him, too? Already a part of you is lingering in his brain, one he can’t shove out, stuck and growing until he can hardly stand it, the overwhelming need to make you his and all his.
Imagine sending you home, cum soaked, the remnants of your innocence streaking crimson down his cock? He feels like a sick fuck thinking of it, how you’d go home to your ‘husband’ all fucked out, thighs shaking. Would Satoru try to touch you, and just instead end up fingering Sukuna’s cum?
Something sick is ruining him – if the fucker had to ever come near you, he hopes it’s to play in the fucked out mess Sukuna would leave your pussy in – though the thought of him near you at all draws something insanely possessive he’s never felt. Even a fake kiss for the public, a hand on your waist, scrolling through pics of the two of you on his phone had him almost crush it in his hand.
How can he stand sending you home to that shit and not want to protect you? Dangerous, foolish, dumb as fuck.
Helpless, hopeless.
All it takes is a cute little attempt at a smile to ruin his resolve, to wreck his mind he only needs the smallest little touch of your hand on his chest. Guiding you right now by your shoulders, positioning you and watching you punch that bag so damn good. When he tells you how to swerve and you pick it right up, when your brow furrows just a bit and you concentrate…
He shouldn’t be so enamored – yeah, you’re gorgeous but he wishes it was just a pretty face with pink boxing gloves and not wanting to know every bit of you. He hides it well, you probably think this is easy for him, teaching you to box then teaching you to touch yourself, did you know it was killing him?
“That’s it,” he murmurs in your ear, adjusting your hips, feeling the curve of your ass against his thighs, shoulder blades pressing on his chest, already aching. “Put a little more strength into one, lemme see.”
You punch the bag hard, wincing then.
“Shit, your wrist,” he curses softly, peering at it as you blink back tears that you stubbornly don’t let fall. “I should have thought of it.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, letting his rough, tattooed hands glide across your wrist. “Just a little twist.”
“Yuuji,” his little nephew perks up. “Can you grab her some ice?”
“Mhm!” He runs off, you’re already shaking it off.
“I’m fine, Sukuna, promise. I want to do more!”
“Nope,” you sigh, so he literally picks you up like it’s nothing, plopping you out of the ring onto the floor.
“Hey! You can’t just pick me up and put me wherever.”
Sukuna grins at you then, watching the flush decorate your pretty cheeks. “Yeah? Well I just did. What ya gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna go back in! That’s what,” he chuckles as you attempt to pass him, until he just picks you up by the waist and lets your feet just dangle. “Sukuna!”
“My ring, my rules, brat.” Yuuji walks up and hands you an ice pack, you fold it and place it on your wrist, smiling.
“Thank you so much,” you say softly, not all bratty like you get with him. He wonders if you only do that to him, and what that means.
Are you safe enough to do that with him?
Something about it makes the affection tug at his heart, this gnawing feeling happening too fast, so fast it makes him fucking angry. This isn’t him, right? Damn near on his knees for someone, who can’t be all his.
That’s what he wants, too – you to himself.
He walks away suddenly, leaving you looking after him, anything to get away from that scent that’s in his nostrils, whatever sweetness that danced on your skin. Fuck even sweaty you smell good – it’s actually bullshit, all effortless and pretty and don’t know it for shit, even now you’re looking at him curiously, giving him this little smile that he ignores.
He has to back off before he hurts himself, but the moment you’re both alone, and you feel that tension, you’re about to do just that – back off. He can already see you second guessing your actions, the way your mind races is easy for him to read, your jerky little motions.
Hastily tucking your hair behind your ear, hugging yourself.
It would be better if he kept the physical out of it, if he could just support you without crossing the line, but your taste is still coating his tongue. Your spit soaked lips parted and your pupils dilated ingrained in his fucking brain, his entire body aching for you, to feel you against him, wrapped around his fingers so tight.
He’d probably break you in half, split you open on his cock if he got buried inside, he’d be able to see himself move, too, claiming you for his own, his cock is leaking from your hasty little hug. His arm wraps around you, your bag falling with how tightly he tugs you against his hard frame, feeling you trembling against him, breaths in little pants, your nails pressed just a bit against his back.
He hardly holds back a moan, a soft sigh escaping, tugging you close when you go to leave, your eyes locking.
“Leaving already?” He murmurs softly, you take a shaky breath then, looking down, hands on his tattooed chest.
“I think you need me to,” your words hurt him then, his heart hammering underneath your palm.
“Did I say I want you to go?”
“No, but I feel it,” you let a little tear slip, Sukuna catches it with a thumb, the drop slipping across a painted black nail. “I have dinner with my parents tomorrow.”
“Tell them to get fucked.”
You giggle just a bit, shaking your head. “I can’t just do that.”
“Sure ya can, practice on me,” you bury your face, he feels the warmth against the sweat slicked skin, his huge hand covering your back, holding you too close. “Say it – Sukuna, get fucked.”
“No! No way!” You pull back but he’s cupping your face, smirking down at you. “I can’t say that to you.”
“Nah?”
“No,” you bury your face again, hands clutched into little fists, clearing your throat nervously. “I told you I don’t want you to get dragged in my mess, and I’m here with the paparazzi.”
“They can also get fucked, like your parents,” he tilts your chin up. “Like your husband.” You say nothing in that moment, cheeks burning hot underneath his touch. “Why are you runnin’ off?”
“I could tell you were getting um… I don’t know…” You can’t look at him, your eyes keep shooting down.
“Eyes on me, remember what I taught you about eye contact?” They go back to his, wetting your lips nervously and wrecking him with one flick of your tongue, he leans over you now, his breath ghosting your mouth.
“You seem a little um… distant and maybe I’m already overthinking it?” He just tilts his head, raising your chin higher, seeing your lashes tremble. “I am overthinking all of this. I shouldn’t be just saying I came last night, and you’re being sweet, and here I am with my life a shitshow. And I don’t expect-”
Sukuna kisses you.
He feels you melt underneath him, fingers pressing into his biceps, your soft breasts pressing against him underneath that thin little top, nipples hardening. His thumbs reach out to trace those peaks, deepening it, drinking in your cute little whimper down his throat, a hand going to entangle in your hair, yanking that little scrunchy right out.
“Mnh, Sukuna…” You whisper, pulling back, he wonders if you can already feel how hard he is, pressing so close to your tummy then, you’re stammering, a flustered mess.
“I liked you saying it to me,” he whispers, stepping you until you’re right on that counter, lifting you up, catching the reflection of his already dazed face in the mirror. “I liked hearing how you made your pretty little cunt cum.”
“Mnh…” He’s kissing you again, your hair falling now down his fingers like silk, he tugs at the nape of your neck, drawing your head to the side, kissing a hot messy trail up it, open mouthed, tasting your skin. “Ah! I j-just… don’t w-wanna hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” He laughs softly, shaking his head and pulling back, cupping your face in two huge hands. “You’re worried about me getting hurt?”
“I am,” you hold his wrists, lips already swollen from his kiss. “I don’t know if I should be doing this, I feel I should respect you, not try to grind on your thigh.”
He smirks. “What’s wrong with soaking my thigh?”
“I just um… I feel like I can’t control myself around you,” you’re so hot he feels you fucking burning against his cock, nudging you under those gym shorts, already stuck to his boxers. “I shouldn’t be so bold.”
“I like you that way,” he likes you any way – too much. “All needy and cute.”
“Needy!”
“Aren’t you?” Your head falls back for his hungry lips, dragging your cunt right against his cock, aching for you. “Cunt is so needy, she needs my fingers, huh? Yours are so tiny, so pathetic. Can’t hit what she needs.”
Your thighs spread for him as he props you higher on that counter, putting his fingers to your lips, watching them part, your gaze lidded.
“Suck them,” he orders softly. “Get them ready, nice and slick. Mmm, there you go, pretty mouth wrapping them.”
You’re sucking his fingers eagerly, obediently, making him vividly picture his cock, how the tip would coat your little pink tongue in white, how your cheeks hollow and your head bobs, knowing you’d suck him so well.
“Good girl,” you gasp out at that, your cunt so slick when he leans back there’s a dark spot forming on your cunt, you look down and blush furiously.
“Oh god…”
“Shh, take em off.”
“Oh, um off - off?” Sukuna can’t stand how cute you are.
He’d literally ruin you, he shouldn’t, he knows that shit – but when your cunt is bare in front of him, and his two fingers part your folds, parting them to see your slick pouring from your little hole, winking at him and spasming. He exhales, leaning down and spitting right on it in a messy clear trail, right on your hole, moaning at the sight and leaning over you.
One hand slipping to grip your face, two fingers tracing your cunt with an aching slowness. “Do you want me to get your slutty little cunt off, brat? I need an answer, and not a little whimper, or a sigh. Look at me and tell me what you want.”
Your lips open then close, thighs shaking as you bend them at the knee, his fingers spreading his own spit all around your needy little hole. So pathetic he could almost cum just touching you, his cock is pulsing, ready to pump you so full of cum you’re bloated from it.
Insane shit.
What do you do to him? He asked it earlier, but he’s still not entirely sure what it is, the way he doesn’t give a fuck you’re married, even that you’re married to Gojo. In fact, he fucking always hated that little pretentious shit all of high school and college, he’s thriving in the fact it would piss him off, yet the main problem is you.
Achingly beautiful, too sweet for a guy like Sukuna – corruptible in the prettiest little way.
All he can think of is taking you home, not fingering you on some damn counter in his locker room. You deserve more, but then when you finally open your mouth and say those words, he’d make you cum anywhere, as many times as you want, let you use every bit of him.
“I want you to make me cum,” he moans, leaning low and dipping his fingertips in your slick walls. “Um… please?”
Fuck you’re cute.
You
Sukuna eases two fingers deep inside, stretching you out so much your head slams against the mirror, lost in how crimson eyes ruin your senses. You know two wrongs don’t make a right, you know the damage this could cause, the anger that would be directed at you the moment Satoru finds out.
Yet nothing’s stopping your cunt from eagerly sucking his thick fingers in, from pulsing right around them, those long fingers curling inside you, a deliberate, achingly slow motion that has your back arching off the cold mirror. The sound you make is a broken little thing that echoes, earning his groan, his kiss against your neck, finding that spongy, sensitive spot inside you
"There it is," his voice is husky as he teases it, with a filthy squelch, curling up again and watching you with eyes gone black. The pleasure is so good you can’t take it, eyes rolled back in your skull, gasps escaping your lips. “That’s it, huh baby?”
Baby, fuck he’s calling you baby.
You already felt too much, but that damn near ruins you, cunt drooling down his thick fingers stretching your hole. You can't form a coherent thought, let alone answer him with words, all you can do is grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the muscle as he works you like he’s known your body, his gaze so intense you’re lost in it.
Lost in him, you get lost in him.
Paparazzi fade, Gojo fades, your parents and their fucked ass expectations, there’s nothing but white hot pleasure and adrenaline coursing in your veins, dragging him down for a hungry kiss while his fingers work up and down. “Ngh!”
“That’s it, look at her takin’ me so well,” he whispers, sooty pink lashes lowering and casting shadows under the lights, across the planes of his face. “You think I don’t wanna bury my cock deep inside that perfect little hole?”
Your heart hammers in your ears, chest rising and falling with every quick little pant, cunt messy and drooling down on that counter, your pants bunched down across your ankles. You’re dizzy as he scissors you with them, in and out, so much pressure in your core, when he leans low, smirking down at you, far too attractive.’
Too much, Sukuna is too much.
“Touch that little clit, lemme see,” you release one of his biceps to slip your fingertip down your trembling tummy. “That’s it, let go just f’me.”
Your mouth is met with bruising kisses, touching your clit like he showed you with his two fingers pressing so deep you can’t take it, feeling your orgasm approaching, higher and higher. Spit just dripping right down your tongues, your mouths, his fingers working you so good, maddening in their rhythm – your fingers falter, hips stuttering as your release hits you.
“There she goes,” his whisper is met with a devious fucking grin, he looks like some demon in that moment – maybe he was, having you spread like this, depraved with your cunt gushing and making a mess. “Doin’ s’good, look at you.”
“Mnh…” he brushes your hair back, messy now, your cunt pulsing around his fingers that slow, hand falling and useless, he takes it and sucks your little fingers in his mouth, tongue catching every drop.
“You did such a good job, I can tell you practiced,” he says, smirking then, studying your fucked out little face.
He withdraws his fingers, making you whimper at the sudden loss, god you feel just empty already, but you barely have time to register it when he's dropping to his knees before you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open and steady on the counter as he leans in. You feel his hot breath against your oversensitive, swollen lips just a moment before his tongue is on you, flicking the tiniest bit.
Is he… is Sukuna licking you?
“W-what are you… ah!” Sukuna shoves your thighs up until they’re pressing against your tits, smushing them, tugging your pants off your ankles. “I came already like… a lot.”
“This isn’t for you brat,” he whispers, sinking to his knees now, fingers drenched in your syrupy folds, exhaling – his breath making your clit just jump, twitching for him and earning his smirk. “Not at all, actually.”
“Not for me? Then – ah!”
“Shh.”
“Shh? I - ngghh!”
He doesn't tease, doesn’t gently flick his tongue or whatever you maybe imagined this as – you don’t really even know what he’s doing. Gojo has fucked in front of you, and mentioned blow jobs, but you never saw him like this with a girl, so on this you’re hopelessly clueless, your throat dry – hands enwrapping in pink, silky locks, tugging and earning a moan.
No, he seals his mouth over your still spasming entrance and drinks.
There’s no other word but that, he drinks you up with greedy, messy slurps, groaning as he tastes your release, his tongue lapping up the gossamer streams as if he's starving. You’ve never felt anything like it, like his greedy tongue tracing every inch his fingers just plunged into, in and out, fucking you with his tongue and slurping obscenely loud.
“S-Sukuna! I… f-fuckkk…” You’re cussing before you know it, mumbling incoherently, the intimacy of it too much to even put into a word.
He’s worshipping you on his knees, like you’re some treasure, some delicious meal for him to savor, and he’s not gentle or teasing, he’s not easy, his teeth graze your clit, hungry mouth sucking the little thing in. You’re cumming again, this time so sensitive you can hardly function, when he moans and the vibrations rock through you.
He’s possessive how he grabs your thighs, your ass, how he moans when you pull his hair so hard his eyes tear, but he won’t unlatch his mouth. Even as you’re murmuring how sensitive you are, shuddering, no he’s drawing out aftershocks that make your legs shake uncontrollably, squirting embarrassingly.
But he just drinks every bit of the clear little drops that gush down his lips, his chin, the tattoos on his throat glossy.
“Kuna… I… mnhph!” He grins against you, looking under his lashes and lapping up another stripe. “Thought it w-wasn’t for me?”
“It’s not, mmm,” he parts your puffy lips again, sucking at that little winking hole, earning your hips jerking, drool spilling from the corner of your lips, when you feel him moaning, hear him almost whimper, his body tensing, as if he is cumming from it. “It’s f’me. You just happened to enjoy that shit.”
“Enjoy i-is not r-really – ah!”
“Kuna, huh?” He smacks your cunt and grins as he studies your face, spitting right on your cunt again in a filthy action, another smack echoing. “Ya like that, me smacking her?”
You’re so nervous, you cover your face, he’s on you in a moment, yanking your wrists down, his face is coated in your cunt down to his fucking chest. “I made such a mess, oh my god.”
“Answer brat,” he smacks your pussy again, you whine out, nodding, his other hand choking your throat ever so gently underneath your chin.
“I like anything you do to me,” your words are vulnerable, he pauses just a bit, sighing and kissing you, smacking your cunt once more, having you practically twitching underneath him.
“What’s Kuna, huh?”
You blush more, giggling now, all fucked out from his tongue and his fingers, he’s gently kissing down your neck, but even in his gentleness, Sukuna is brutal, so strong, leaving his mark.
“I thought you needed a nickname, since you just call me brat all the time,” he snorts, shaking his head, your eyes shut in bliss, entire body on fire. “Um… Kuna.”
“Uh huh?” Your fingers drift down, lips pressing together with your nerves, he exhales and lets your touch glide.
“I can return the favor, or I mean… try to?”
“We can do that another time,” he says, voice husky. You look down and see his hand, coated in his own white, making you flush, tummy fluttering. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Ccan I taste it though?” He groans, shaking his head when you reach down again. “How’s that fair, you just had your tongue inside me.”
“I won’t stop there, that’s the problem,” you snatch his hand then, tongue lapping at the salty white drops from his release. You’re trembling as you do it, knowing it’s filthy and wanton, but fuck if he doesn’t make you wanna do more.
Satoru was so sure you’d drop to your knees for him, suck his mistress’ cunt off his cock, but the only man you’re thinking of doing it to is right here, watching you with a tensed jaw, his nostrils flared ever so slightly, eyes bright red. You lap every little bit of him up, seeing his cock twitch in those shorts, dying to know how it looks, how it would feel.
“You’re about to get your throat fucked so good you won’t talk,” you suck his fingers harder, he pulls them out and kisses his own cum off you, hands all over your body until they hit your hips, tugging you against him. “You love to test me, don’t you?”
“I just want you,” you pause then, sighing. “I said that.”
“You did,” he kisses you again and again, slowly easing off. “You wanna suck me that bad, then you come to my place and do it.”
“But I… what if… how can…”
“Or, I fuck your throat in your room,” you gasp. “Think I’m afraid of your dumb twink of a husband?”
“Sukuna you’re insane,” you frown then, shaking your head. “We can’t just go to my place.”
“And why?” He helps you down, tugging up your pants, kissing messy trails up your inner thighs, you sigh, head falling back. “Doesn’t he?”
“Sure but it’s his home, god I think he’d actually kill us both,” Sukuna spins you to face the mirror, and that’s when you see your hair – wild, all over – your tits half out, marks littered on your throat. “Oh gosh.”
“Look how fuckin’ gorgeous you are like this,” he wraps his arms around you, hands slipping to tug your tits back in. “Bet he’s hard constantly near you, talking so much shit because he just wants you.”
“No,” you shake your head. “He could never.”
“Uh huh, I know him.” You blink in shock, looking up as he leans back, fixing your hair carefully. “Surprised?”
“Very, are you all…”
“Friends? Fuck no,” he runs fingers through your hair carefully, the realization of everything slowly starts. “Couldn’t stand that little shit, I loved to beat him in everything.”
“Sukuna,” he tugs you close, his lips against your ear. “I don’t want to go home at all.”
He’s quiet, you’re suddenly so perfect in his arms, like you don’t want to leave, just leaning there against his hard body, huge biceps wrapping underneath your pretty tits, pressing them up.
“I hate that you go home to him, that’s my fuckin’ secret,” he whispers, breath hot on your ear. “I get sick of that thought, his hands anywhere near you.”
“He doesn’t even want that,” you catch his gaze in the mirror, seeing the possessive gaze. “I assure you, he doesn’t find me attractive.”
“He’s lying,” his hand splays your stomach, half bare from your workout clothes, just a little damp from perspiration, sending a shiver down your spine. “I hate that he even gets to look at you.”
Sukuna
“Sukuna, I…”
He cuts you off with a kiss, swapping your tastes, trying to shut his own dumb fucking mouth up. Now he’s acting jealous and possessive of a girl he hardly knows, but he can’t take it – how much he needs you to himself, how he can’t stand the thought of your dumb ass husband even seeing glimpses of you.
He worried it would happen, the further you both go, the more possessive he becomes, but the insane need makes him almost sick, imagining just taking you the fuck away, locking you up in his pretty penthouse. Never letting Satoru or your fucked ass family find you, have them leave your mind alone, just give you anything.
You’d never really need to leave, would you?
His head spins, cock still sticky from where he’d cum eating you out – he jerked it maybe three times and was spurting so much cum it was ridiculous, a waste not to creampie your pretty pussy instead. Yet when he drank you, he almost came from just that, pathetic whatever it is you’re doing to his head not even trying.
“I don’t want to hurt you, ever,” you whisper softly, he laughs then, without humor.
“You’re worried for me?” You swallow nervously, nodding, not having a clue what’s racing in his mind. “I’m good, brat, worry about you. Okay?”
He backs off, but it’s physically painful, like ripping himself apart, stepping back and grabbing your sweater, your shoes, coming to hand them to you, seeing your shaky hands. It’s quiet for just a moment, he helps slip your hair into that scrunchy that somehow ended up on his wrist, trying not to make himself look more like a dumb, pussy whipped fuck.
Is this what he used to make fun of his friends about? Getting this whipped for a girl?
No, it’s different, it’s obsession, and the sight of you licking his own cum off his fingers was ruining him. It’ll live rent free in his brain on repeat, he already knows what this is turning to, so much so he should pull back, before the both of you are ruined forever.
How can he pull away, though? All he wants to do is go further, he barely holds back half the shit he wants to say and do when he’s standing by the back of the gym, and you’re holding onto him on your tip toes, eyes a myriad of emotions.
“You all right, brat? Too much?” He asks then, you shake your head. “Lost a lot of fluids, need electrolytes.”
“Oh!” You hide your face, you always do it, he wishes it didn’t tug at his goddamn heart, everything cute you do. “You’re teasing me.”
“Mmm, no, I’m your trainer and nutritionist now,” you giggle a bit, peeking up at him.
Sukuna was never sweet until you.
The thoughts of you crushing his heart without meaning to had him tense though, some sick sense of self preservation, he had to hold himself together, keep back just enough not to do the dumbest shit he’s thinking of. Literally contemplating kidnapping a pretty, married heiress is not in any way okay to imagine, nor is beating a six foot four white haired shit of a husband.
“Are you eating?”
“Mhm,” you sigh a bit then, blinking, tracing your fingers across his chest, he’s slung a thin workout shirt that clings to his body like a second skin. “This dinner is gonna be terrible.”
“You can say no,” he tilts your chin up. “You can say no to all their shit. And you can ignore whatever dumb ass things they try to say.”
“I’m scared to, I’m not all big and brave like you,” you poke his nose playfully. “I wish I was.”
“You’ve got muscles forming,” his fingers graze your bicep, just a little bit forming, you smile all big and bright. “Try telling them all to fuck off and you’ll feel better.”
“You don’t know them,” your eyes tell him more than your words do, the absolute fear in them. “They make Gojo look sweet.”
“That bad?” His brows draw together. “Do they lay hands on you?”
“They did a lot when I was younger, not for years,” he tenses. “I’m going to be all right. Promise.”
“Go on,” he steps back, his own feelings terrifying the shit out of him, trying to hold himself back. “I’m out of town for the weekend, but if you need anything you can text me.”
“No please don’t worry,” you step closer, the breeze from the now open doors blowing your little sweater around your body. “Today was insane.”
“Yeah, you enjoyed it all right,” he leans close. “Messy little brat.”
“Your fault,” your glossy lips press his, soft and sweet, tentative, your arms wrapped around his neck. “Seems like you enjoyed it too. I mean…”
You’re blushing, he chuckles a bit then. “I did, I told ya, it was for me.”
“I see that.” You linger a little too long, if you stay another minute he won’t even let you go.
I don’t wanna go home.
How does he just let the girl who’s racing in his mind constantly, the one with her cunt dripping on his lips just go to a man who treats her like shit, and then send her to her parents who are worse? This is what he was scared of, having all these dumb fucking feelings that make him sick.
“Start sneaking in the back, I had Yuuji move your car,” you nod then, hand holding his just a bit too long.
“Good night Sukuna. Um… thank you.”
“Mhm,” you rush out, leaving him alone, feeling like there’s some fucking hole in his chest that you caused, a glimpse of your eyes behind your windshield before you back away, driving and leaving him just standing there.
He wishes he’d let that go, you’re a grown woman, you’re not his.
But Sukuna does a fucking deep dive when he’s home, the penthouse is immaculate aside from him tossing his shoes by the front door, his keys on the counter, he literally just lives at the gym. There are things from Yuuji and his friends strewn across the home, but the cleaners seem to always put everything exactly where it should be.
The one perk to being rich is not cleaning, Sukuna hates that shit.
He pulls up his laptop and slips on his glasses, he just can’t really see shit up close, and puts your pretty face into focus, eyeing your hopelessly empty socials. The only things on there are strategically placed from PR, likely your parents he’s sure, pictures of you with your friends and basic, generic ones – your profile says ‘Mrs. Satoru Gojo’.
He clicks through curiously, his IG has just a couple less followers than Sukuna – he never thought he’d get a sick satisfaction of that, but they’re all pretentious. Him with his boys all over every post, on a ship here, on an island there, girls half naked all around him, clearly Satoru didn’t use a PR person, he’s as obnoxious as a nepo baby could be.
Not a mention of you, not a picture, even your wedding one.
He sighs, clicking through and delving deeper – he just wants to know everything about you, at a concerning level, sometime through it you even text him, and he realizes that hours have passed. He knows every school you went to, all your shitty little trad wife friends, about your cat that passed away last year – you were clearly devastated about it, a little paw print tattoo he saw makes sense now.
Just who were you, and just how does Sukuna get you all to himself?
Good night, Sukuna.
He wishes there wasn’t a dopey ass grin on his face.
He wishes there wasn’t then a frown, a worried furrow of his brow, an aching need to have you anywhere but there with Satoru Gojo.
Gojo
Satoru’s eyes hit you as soon as you set down your gym bag by the door, your pony tail is all askew, there’s a clear fucking mark on your throat, your sweater is wrinkled as if someone had been gripping it. His fork clatters to the plate, jaw clenched tight, so fucking furious he can hardly stand it.
You seem to notice, turning toward him and raising a brow. "What's wrong, Satoru?"
You lift that sweater off, your top all askew from where your personal trainer's lips had been all over your skin, teeth marks glittering so clearly even on your damn shoulder, it’s all making him sick. He stands up then, fists clenched at his sides, heart hammering with something he’s never, ever felt in his entire life.
It can’t be jealousy.
Jealous of what – Ryomen Sukuna kissing his wife? The wife he doesn’t want, the one he’s actively trying to get rid of?
He hates this feeling – he hates that he wants to suck on those marks until they’re bruises, his marks, his bruises – fuck, that cute, mean little smile off your face. Take you right on that wall and pump away any dumb memory you currently have of Sukuna.
Did he already fuck you?
You back up just a step, against the wall and just smiling all fucking mean at him, not that shy, nervous one – not even that pout, no, it’s an evil curve of lips so clearly swollen from kisses. Never has he wanted to smack someone so badly – no, he wouldn’t hit a girl, but god he would love to leave hand prints all over your ass, your thighs, choke your little throat.
God no one has ever made him so angry.
"Where have you been, huh?” He asks, you just raise a brow at him. “I asked a question.”
“You did, and you know where I was, you texted me about it,” you bend down, taking off your shoes right there, getting an inch shorter when your feet hit the tile.
“So you were just getting all marked up, like a little slut?"
You smack him then, hard, across his cheek blooming red, shoving at his hard chest then as his blue eyes narrow. Satoru laughs softly.
Damn you got stronger, compared to that first smack, you split his goddamn lip open here. You gasp for a moment, seeing the crimson droplet dancing on vemillion, backing completely against that wall.
“I didn’t mean to… hit so hard…”
“You meant to,” he grips your wrist now, pinning it to the wall. “Own your shit, you wanted to hit me.”
You take a shaky little breath, eyes locked, your teeth biting your trembling lip for a brief moment. “Yes I did want to hit you. Because you have no right to call me a slut, where do you get off?”
“Usually in Jennifer’s mouth,” he muses, your glare making him throb in need. “Sometimes on her tits, or Chloe’s. Question is, where did you get off, huh? You sure the fuck did, I can practically smell it.”
“You cannot!” You shove him with one hand, the other wrenching free. "You made it clear this was name only, for our families, yeah? That you'd never want me, how many times have you said that!? Even on our wedding night!?" You blink back tears, closing your eyes, Satoru’s at a loss for words.
You’re right.
Yet that doesn’t make any of this okay for him, it doesn’t make the fact that you smell like another man okay. Especially him.
“Answer me, stop deflecting.”
You open your tear filled eyes. "You just need to know that I’ll never try anything with you, never try to have a marriage, a relationship. Just like you wanted.”
Just like he wanted.
The words are so wrong out of your mouth, he can’t recognize you – but did he ever know you, really?
Panic sets in, his stomach in knots, feeling you fall away, pushed so far, and now he can’t stand that, can’t take the thought of not being able to have even the tiniest bit of you.
He scoffs, letting you go, standing back then. "You already know this will make us look-"
"No, Satoru, you did this,” you cut him off quickly, glaring now. “I've seen you with your girlfriends, kissing on their necks."
He's quiet then, jaw clenched, his beautiful face for once showing a goddamn emotion despite how well trained he has it to appear otherwise. “That was for your own good.”
“Great, thanks! Thanks for parading hickeys right over where your cock is, teeth prints on your nipples, fuck you think any of this was okay!?”
“Do you care, sweetheart? That they get me and you don’t?” You scoff, shaking your head.
"You thought I wouldn't do it too? Want me to watch you and go untouched and unwanted?"
He pauses now, realizing what his anger and resentment has turned into, how far gone you are. His desperation starts to creep its way, as he looks at how gorgeous you are this angry, how your lips just make him want to bruise them more, suck on them until you’re crying out, your heat against his thigh when he presses one right between yours, cupping your face and leaning low.
You pause, gasping, eyes shooting up.
“What games do you need to play with me, you’re sick.”
“A game, you’re playing the fucking game,” his hands squeeze your head on either side, his breaths faster and faster, the ever present temptation making him ache with need. “What did you do with him?”
"Hah, I love how you care when you have a list of your little hoes,” every time you glare he’s throbbing.
Fuck you, fuck this.
God he can’t stand whatever the hell you’ve done to him.
“As you tell me – none of your business,” you laugh just a bit then. “All I’ll say is I guess I see the appeal of you fucking all the time. If things feel that good.”
Satoru slams you against the wall, you don’t back down, you just eye him, satisfaction written all over your face. “So wet, always watching me, hearing me?”
“God no, you’re disgusting to me,” you lean up, a centimeter away from his lips. “To answer that question you had – I would never drop to my knees for you, not a chance in this world that I do.”
You push past him, he drags you against him, feeling the curve of your back against his torso, the way your rounded ass hits his lap, earning his moan, god has anyone felt better in his arms?
“You are just a little slut, huh?” He tilts your face to look at him, you scoff, shaking your head in his grip.
“You’re the only slut here.”
“Ah, you got some teeth, it’s cute,” he hums softly, hand gripping your tit, smirking when the bud hardens against his palm, when your breath quickens. “Acting as if you’ve stopped wanting me.”
“I have stopped,” you jerk your chin back, looking down. “I don’t want you, isn’t that your goal?”
"If you wanted to be pleasured, sweetheart, I could have already given you it," his fingers – long and thick – trail down your body, feeling it tremble and smirking. "I could have been convinced to make you cum so you didn’t end up hopping on the first dick you found.”
“I hate you,” you hiss those words.
Good.
You should.
Satoru hates himself, and the mindless need that takes over – jerking it to his own goddamn wife as she fucks around.
“Could have at least fucked Suguru,” you laugh then, a mean little sound that makes him leak pre like a sick fuck, deranged for you. “I’d accept that, but Ryomen Sukuna?”
“His tongue just is so good,” Satoru pauses, and you relax a bit in his hold. “Those fingers too. I bet all you do is get sucked and act like you did something.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” his fingers brush down your tummy, feeling you shaking in his hold. “You hear them moan, and think what?”
“Maybe it’s fake – I can’t say I give a shit. I already got off today, so I'm certainly not in need of you and wherever these fingers have been."
You shove him off you now, disentangling yourself – and he curses, eyes fluttering shut, wondering why he cares. He didn't want this, want the marriage, want the company, want any of this thrown on him by no choice. Yet now seeing your tears in your eyes and those marks on your neck, he feels sick to his stomach.
You're right, he's been with women, kissed them right in front of you, uncaring at all, yet to have it done to him? Is that what you felt? SIckening realization hits him then, thumb brushing over a lip already kissed, some insane possessive need sinking into him.
“Don’t touch me, you don’t get to.”
“Don’t want it?” You stiffen, and he laughs softly, acting as if he has any sanity left, any inkling of a fucking brain, wiped clean by you. “You can lie out of your pretty mouth all you want, you’re easy to read.”
You stomp over to your room. “I’m going to shower.”
“What if I just lock you up?” You gasp, turning around and scowling, he walks right over to your door, barring you with one arm. “Don’t let you run off acting like a dumb slut?”
“Then I’ll just leave you, divorce you, cause you the scandal.” Your chin juts up, he’s leaning too close, he can almost taste you. “I want this over as much as you do, we’re on the same page now. You should feel accomplished.”
You go to turn, and Satoru slams his lips on yours.
You freeze, and god when his lips hit yours, he’s done for, he’s lost in whatever the fuck you did to his psyche, every thought of any other girl fades until it’s all you – the girl he just called a slut, the one he can’t wait to get rid of. The one he told his friend to go fuck, and now all he can do is want to bury himself inside of you. Tongue slipping in your surprised mouth before you can stop him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs softly, pulling back with heavy breaths, kissing you again, stumbling into your room, hands drifting down the curves of a body he’s been aching for. “God, feel you.”
You’re pulling back for a breath, shaking your head, hands on his chest, shoving at him, just to stop for a moment, kissing him back he swears – your tongue moves against his, hands tightening. Yet you even quicker jerk back, touching your lips as if they’re on fire.
“Don’t do that, don’t kiss me. I don’t… feel anything.”
Satoru’s heart shatters.
Wow, he has one.
“What?” He demands, through his teeth, breath coming in pants that ghost over your lips.
“It’s what you said that night,” your hands fist on his shirt, tears falling even as you stand firm, voice breaking. “Remember?”
Satoru does remember.
He remembers every fucking bit of that kiss, and that lie, and the look on your face, just to hear those words tossed at him.
“You’re lying.”
“Who cares if I am or not?” You pull back, taking a step, hand on the doorknob now. “You felt nothing, neither do I.”
Satoru’s jaw sets, his teeth clenched together to the point of pain. “Feel so much for your dumb fucking trainer?”
“I do,” you whisper softly, he hates this feeling, whatever the hell it is, gripping him by the throat. “You wanted all this, I’m just doing it.”
You slam the door shut, leaving him alone, his phone starts going off in his pocket, the girl who’d sucked him down last night, he lets it ring, staring at the screen, then at the door, hearing your sobs against the door.
He causes those constantly, doesn’t he?
You
You hyperventilate when you’re alone in your bathroom, scrubbing Satoru Gojo off your damn lips with a wet washcloth. The way his eyes looked at you, the way he kissed you, all fucked and wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
You hate that you wanted Satoru the moment you saw him, hate to think of what could have been if he hadn't pushed you away this entire time - the sham of a marriage. If he hadn’t been cruel, fuck he still was, calling you the slut was laughable, grabbing on you, taking you over.
The desire is there whether you want it or not, but you can't just back down and take another day of his cold uninterest, take another moment of his cruelty, you can’t get dragged down to whatever the fuck it was. Your fingers tremble as you type to Sukuna carefully, so afraid to come off even clingier, even needier.
You felt something for Satoru in that moment, the moment lips that were so cruel – but it was hatred.
You hate him.
Are you all right?
You almost say it – no, you’re not, but the last thing you need to do is drag Sukuna further into your shitshow of a life. After feeling like that with him, worshipped almost, the way he called you a slut was damn near affectionate, sensual, with Satoru? It was just cruelty, it was him being nasty, mean, disrespectful – it’s like you can’t get a breath around him.
You’ve never ‘hated’ someone until this moment.
I’m good, I just was thinking of you. I bet you snore so loud.
You’re blinking back tears, sitting on the bathroom floor, fingers trembling over the phone, watching him type back.
I do snore, but i think you’d be too fucked out to care, fuck you so good you won’t wake up. Then fuck you again.
Your hand is on your heart, entire body heated to the tips of your fucking ears, breath coming in quick little pants.
In my sleep?
If you wanted it, I’d gladly give it to you.
You’re a terrible person, sexting another man in your husband’s home, but you’re having a hard time feeling too bad about it.
Maybe I’d let you lick me in my sleep.
You said that.
Do you want me to come and fuck you now? Let your husband listen to how it’s done?
No, crazy!
Mhm, then shut up and go to bed.
A mix of a sob and a laugh bubbles up in your throat, escaping hoarsely. You’re drowning in Sukuna, tempted to grab onto him and cling, even if it drags you under, feeling his possessiveness had been heady, maddening, dizzy.
His ‘secret’ of not wanting you near Satoru, just thinking of it made you dizzy – but Satoru’s new found possessiveness?
That wasn't about love or desire, it was about ownership. He didn't want you, he just didn't want anyone else to have you. The moment someone did, look at how he acted? You couldn’t let it get to you, couldn’t allow your mind to fuck up, to go back to the girl you’re trying to bury.
Thinking of your parents with you in this state left a sinking feeling inside your stomach, the damage they could do.
You force yourself to stand, your limbs feeling wobbly, the mirror over the sink shows you a stranger. Your eyes are swollen and rimmed with red, puffy from the tears, your lips still faintly swollen from kisses – whose, though?
Your husband who hates you, or your trainer, who clearly wants you?
You scrub at your lips again, harder this time, trying to wash away the memory of his taste, the feel of Satoru’s tongue forcing its way into your mouth, over and over until your gums bleed, and that’s all you taste – but It’s useless. You can’t get rid of it – can’t shake this sinking feeling.
Even when Satoru left you… would Sukuna ever…
Would he want to be with you?
Were you good enough for him?
Lost in your thoughts, your insecurities, you hear a soft click from the direction of the front door. The distinct sound of it opening, then slamming shut.
Satoru left.
*****
The next night
Dinner with your parents and the man that single handedly has made it his life’s goal to make you miserable?
Sounds like so much fun.
Satoru says nothing as he sits in the back of that Limo next to you, if you thought he was cold and distant before – nothing prepared you for what it was like when you got ready for this dinner. Nothing prepared you for his cold, calculated tone, his dismissive bored glances, the way he acted so goddamn hot and cold, as if now he was punishing you for doing what he did.
And he was, he made sure to let his gaze linger on you when you asked if the dress was okay, shrugging a shoulder. He’s non stop on his phone, you’re fiddling with your hands in your lap, Sukuna’s out of town and you don’t want to bother him, yet in this long ride you can’t help but let your mind drift.
What if you were with him, instead? It wouldn’t be a cold ride, opposite sides of that limo, no it would be on his lap, in his arms.
Sukuna is Fire, and Satoru is Ice. One burning for you, hot to the touch, the other so cold you’re freezing, shivering in your evening gown, imagining the warmth of Sukuna’s touch.
However nothing prepares you truly for what happens that night, when your parents disappointment and anger hits, you feel it the moment you walk into the room, the impending sense of doom. And Satoru might pretend to hold your waist, to smile perfunctory at them, but you know in your heart –
You’re all alone.
Wow this is messy - warning, the next chapter will be HEAVY ANGST!!! (like heavier than this imagine LMAO)
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link (commissions here)
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!! - Heavy angst, cheating, Satoru is cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities. This chap - sexual tension like a MF, reader growing as a character, obsessed Sukuna, Gojo is still horrible, kissing, fingering, guided masturbation. Mostly Sukuna/reader this chap and their relationship - also MORE angst.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV based on this drabble - WC - 11k
<<<part one - masterlist - playlist - part three>>>
part two
You
You wish that you could turn off your feelings.
Easier said than done, right? To make yourself stop wanting Satoru Gojo, to act like him walking around shirtless didn’t make you ache, that seeing him pleasuring that girl in the office hadn’t made you wonder. Him tumbling into the door with her and kissing her on the wall when he didn’t know you were home, lifting her and grabbing her thighs as she clung to him.
You wonder what it would be like to be desired in that way, staring at the two of them and earning a little look from that woman’s face, a mean, nasty little look that damn near makes you sick. Satoru pauses, looking back with lipstick all over his mouth smeared, but he doesn’t smirk like he did in the office, he pauses just a bit, eyeing you in the little crop top and yoga pants you’re wearing.
His blue gaze slips across your body calculatingly, before he eases her down, turning over to you. “I thought you were ‘boxing’?”
“I am going soon,” you manage to mumble, hugging yourself suddenly insecure, seeing her in her pretty dress as if she’d been on some date with your husband. “I’m sorry.”
You’re apologizing again, for existing in Satoru Gojo’s proximity.
Always a very soft and obedient girl, last night was the first time you stood up to him in any way, and you were met with immediate regret, wondering why you couldn’t be enough for him to at least try. Why weren’t you perfect enough, pretty enough, worth enough for even a kiss, a look, anything?
You had laid in bed thinking of Sukuna and then realizing how dumb and foolish those thoughts were, how pathetic you are for this man who has given you nothing. What, a brief moment where he asked you to eat? Did that make up for making sure his Secretary came before he was able to speak to you?
You’re not sure you hate him yet.
You hate yourself though.
“I’ll be gone in like twenty,” you mumble a bit, Satoru leans down, lips a glossy red like she wears, pressing together.
“You’re apologizing again, for living here?” You nod then, looking down and hearing him sigh. “You’re not gonna make me like you.”
“I’m not trying to,” you wring your hands together, blinking back tears as she sighs and walks right over to the fridge like she fucking lives here. Your jaw sets, breaths coming in short little pants, he grips your chin, tilting your gaze to focus on him. “I’m not.”
“You’re exactly who they programmed you as,” he laughs without humor. “I almost feel sorry for you.”
“Don’t.” Your voice steels just a bit, hating how good his fingertips feel grazing against your skin. “I’ll get my things.”
“Satoru…”
He’s not listening to her as he casually follows you, raising a brow at the pink gloves you bought, slipping his hands in his pockets and leaning in the doorway. “You boxing, huh?”
He laughs softly.
Your teeth clench together.
“You can go fuck her, don’t let me interrupt,” you say then, struggling to gather yourself, chest rising and falling as you snatch up your ear buds, the little water bottle you bought, a few things in a bright pink bag you brought with you from home. You hastily snatch it up, throwing it over your shoulder and seeing he’s still in the doorway studying you.
It’s quiet when you stand in front of him, his fingertips brushing your cheek in a way they shouldn’t, you detest yourself more when you tremble from it. He shakes his head, letting his hand fall, eyes glinting cruelly.
“You’d sink to your knees if I called you pretty, wouldn’t you?” You gasp, stepping back for a moment, as his fucked ass words sink in.
“Go to her,” you murmur. “Why even talk to me, I’m nothing to you.”
“I see how you look at me even now,” he scoffs, brushing his fingertips down your shoulder, tilting his head curiously. “Do you touch yourself when you hear me?”
He draws out those words, leaving goosebumps along your skin, your breaths come quicker. “What?”
“Do you touch yourself,” he leans down, that mean smirk quirking up even more, as he clearly thrives in embarrassing you. “Listening to me fuck her?”
“No!? I’ve never even…” You blush furiously and trail off, you can’t just say that to him, give him more ammo to hurt you.
He raises a brow. “Never?”
“Why do you care, we won’t do that,” you mumble, blood pressure rising so much you feel dizzy, like you can’t catch a breath. “But no. I haven’t, so I don’t touch myself.”
“You’re that much of a good girl for mommy and daddy, huh? Staying all pure for me of all people,” a tear slips from your eye, his gaze watches it trail down without bothering to swipe it away. “What a waste.”
“A waste?” It’s not like you ever even wanted to have sex with someone before. Your jaw sets now, eyes shutting for a moment, another tear traitorous in its escape. “Not all of us love to whore around.”
“Whore around huh,” he crosses his arms now, watching your eyes flicker open. “Admit it.”
“Admit what!?”
“That you’d do anything if I asked,” you swallow down the pain, biting down on your lower lip as his voice drops an octave, a mean caress that sends shivers down your spine. “If you asked pretty enough maybe I’d let you suck me at least.”
Your pause earns his smirk.
“Holy fuck, you would? Hmm,” his cruel gaze gets darker, snowy lashes flickering just a bit. “I guess I’d consider that, but I wouldn’t touch you.”
“I don’t want to,” you finally breathe out. “I wouldn’t… do that with someone who hates me, who doesn’t even want me to exist.” Satoru blinks a bit when you slip your bag higher on your shoulder. “I’m glad that you didn’t.”
It’s utterly quiet.
“Please move.”
He steps aside and you pass by his dumb fucking secretary sitting right at the chair you do, her blouse unbuttoned, just smiling at you, the anger rising like bile in your throat. You’re humiliated again, and you almost said you would – you’d do damn near anything if the man you’d been infatuated with – promised to at that, gave you a tiny bit of attention.
It was all a game to him.
“Have fun boxing,” she has the audacity to say, laughing just a bit at you in the fucking place you live in, in the chair you cry in. You feel so much rage it doesn’t even feel like you – it’s like it belongs to someone else. “Your gloves are so cute!”
“Jennifer,” ah, that’s her fucking name, coming from Satoru’s lips. “Come over here.”
She hops up obediently and you turn to gaze at Satoru by his bedroom door, eyes unreadable, smirk off his face, you don’t even want to know what’s in his mind, even if it’s something half way decent for you. You don’t want to live like this, to have someone so blatantly disregarding your feelings.
“Could you all please keep it in the room?” You ask then, she giggles and Satoru raises a brow. “I live here too, for now.”
“You think the maids wouldn’t clean up all the cum from every surface?” you can’t believe him at that moment. “But yes, we can while you’re still in my home.”
His home.
He makes it dead ass fucking clear, as if you didn’t already know he hates you here, that none of this is going to last because he can’t wait to fucking have you out. You shut your eyes for a moment, hands pressing into the wood of the door before you rush out of the opulent, ostentatious home.
It was once a dream, to drive by Gojo’s home and imagine yourself as his wife, so enamored with the man you thought he was and the kindness you remembered as a child that it felt like a dream come true. Yet it was anything but that, it was all just a cruel joke, much like your life.
Satoru was right on one thing, you did everything to live up to your parents expectations, and that included remaining ‘pure’. If they even knew that you were headed in your car to go boxing of all places and things to do, they’d likely be appalled at you.
Ladies don’t do that – Satoru’s wife doesn’t do that.
Just the small thing for yourself makes you smile a bit, hands gripping the wheel tightly, you swear you see Satoru’s curtain flutter, who knows maybe he’s got her pressed up on the window, pleasuring her and making sure the world knows how he wants anyone but you.
It shouldn’t hurt this bad, you were trained to be the perfect wife even if Gojo did cheat, and you could handle it, as taught.
Yet he didn’t even touch you, his words echoing in your ears and making you so ill you almost throw up remembering. Proving his point – you had so desperately been eager to sink to your knees right for him, if he’d just look at you with anything other than hatred, if he’d brush your hair back and give that look he had when he was with other women.
You can’t be everything your parents want if he divorces you anyway, it’ll bring so much shame on your family and there’s nothing you can do to salvage it, so you have to try to find who you are. You don’t even know – it’s so sad, if someone asked you what you liked you wouldn’t know what to say.
Who are you?
The thoughts keep coming as you sit in front of the boxing gym, so nervous now, not to do something new completely.
Sukuna makes you nervous.
You’ve not felt whatever it was when those ruby eyes hit you, whatever that gaze was on his handsome face. You’ve been hit on plenty, you’ve had boys have crushes on you, yet you had to remain ‘all intact’ and ‘proper’ so you never explored that. Even so, Sukuna looked at you differently, and it felt like a physical touch.
Satoru, it felt like an assessment – Sukuna, it felt like appreciation.
He saw things in you that you’re not sure are there from one meeting – that you weren’t eating, that you’re a mess, things you keep so hidden from even yourself, the perception terrified you. You don’t know what to think about it, how to interpret it, maybe you’re over thinking it too.
The dream last night didn’t help, him kissing up your throat, hand gripping your hair at the nape of your neck. To get him involved in any capacity was dangerous for your family’s reputation, and you’re ‘married’ so surely he wouldn’t want that. Yet those images make you blush.
Even as you walk in now and see a boy standing next to him that looks almost identical, just a shorter, younger version, you smile nervously and wave.
You feel Sukuna’s gaze assessing you, and just that alone is more than Satoru has given you in your marriage. The way he looks at you makes you feel…
Good… Was good the word?
Nervous, apprehensive, tummy fluttering. You swallow nervously, trying not to overthink it – You’re here to get stress out, and maybe to learn who you were, to find an existence away from being ‘Satoru’s wife’.
******
Sukuna
"Sukuna seriously," his annoying little nephew Yuuji is up at the gym with him today. The kid has a hell of a right hook and a hell of an annoying way about him.
Sukuna couldn't help but let him stay with him when he also wanted to get away from all the pressure that came with their family. But now the kid stays over far too much, bringing his friends over and soon dragging them all to the gym too. Sukuna has a bunch of teenagers constantly annoying the shit out of him.
Yet he can't complain, it's good for the business, and it keeps Yuuji and the other kids out of trouble. Yuuji is only eighteen after all, Sukuna is twenty-four – thus the 'mentor'.
Hah, what a mentor he must be.
"She's married!?" Sukuna glares now at the blurted out fucking statement, and Yuuji quickly hushes. "I mean... I know you're all ‘anti the family’ this and that but really?"
"Will you shut your trap kid," Yuuji glares right up at Sukuna, he's damn near a smaller version of his cousin, just with brown eyes instead of red. "I haven't done anything, she's just..."
You walk in then, as if on cue, holding your hands together in front of you nervously, some cute pink pair of boxing gloves that are ridiculous, pink duffel bag slung over one of your shoulders. He can't help but smirk a bit at how… cute, you’re fucking cute. Shy and adorable.
Yuuji eyes you as well, then him, curiously.
"Shit," Yuuji never cusses, so Sukuna raises a brow at him, seeing him run a hand through identical pastel locks. "That's her?"
"Don't say shit in front of her, if you do I'll make sure not to take you to Cabo this summer," Sukuna threatens, but Yuuji frowns, looking intently as you come closer. "Get it out now. Your moral high ground on my thoughts."
"She is very pretty," he murmurs, frowning. "And she does look... she looks so sad."
Sukuna pauses then. You give your best effort with a tremulous little smile, walking up to both of them, taking a breath and holding a hand out to Yuuji.
A forced smile, but it’s as pretty as you. What’s a real one look like?
"Hey there!" You say, Yuuji takes your hand in his, smiling sweetly at you.
"Hey there, welcome to the gym," He's friendly, sweet even. "We have lockers over there if you need!"
"Perfect I'll be right back," your eyes catch Sukuna's and his breath falters. He's never felt anything like wanting to fuck the sadness right out of your body. He knows it's already obsession, already fucking ridiculous. It doesn't stop him. "Sukuna, it's good to see you again."
"You're late," he teases gruffly, you sigh and glare a bit all cute, a look he didn't think he'd see, it does something to him. "Just a few minutes though. Go get ready."
You rush off and Yuuji puts a hand on his chest over his dark blue hoodie, wincing a bit. "Her pain, like I feel it?"
"Yeah," Sukuna mutters, the kid has always been... fuck, what's the word? Empath or some shit. "I know."
"Just... be careful Sukuna. You don't know who she's with."
"I'm not afraid of anyone, have you seen me?" Yuuji rolls his eyes.
"Yeah I saw you, and you couldn't even stop the drool from coming out of your mouth." Sukuna scowls, fists clenched at his sides, one step making Yuuji back up. "I've um... gotta go!"
"Nice to meet you!" You wave at Yuuji as you come out, in a little sports bra and shorts, as if to fucking torture him. Yuuji waves and smiles sweetly at you, leaving Sukuna alone with you in the quiet of the gym. "He looks just like you! Your little brother?"
"Annoying nephew," you laugh a little, the sound doing something to him again, fuck he doesn’t know what it is. Yuuji is right, he has to be careful, to try to hold back.
But holding back really isn't Sukuna's thing.
"So," he draws on the words, seeing how you hug yourself a bit around your waist, as if you're nervous to have it bare.
It takes a lot of effort not to just touch your body, make you feel as pretty as you are, see how those eyes could light up if you came all over his mouth, if he drank you. He knows he can't say that shit, so he instead teases you, tugging at the little ponytail you're wearing.
"Tell me where you got these dumb gloves, and you better tell me you've fucking eaten something too."
“They’re so cute, excuse me!” You cover your mouth then, eyes lowering. “Sorry that came out so rude-”
“I like it, see if there’s something feisty underneath all this,” he gestures to all of you then. “Perfect little girl, time to mess you up. Get you all sweaty and wrecked.”
He watches a blush dance on your cheeks underneath the bright lights overhead, you shift just a bit, nodding. “I want to see if there is, too.”
“You don’t know?” He asks, and you sigh, blinking back tears again.
Fuck what’s happened to you to make you constantly on the verge of them? Sukuna wasn’t some ‘mr fix it’ especially when it came to women. He liked things simple, fun, unattached, never has he been so obsessed with what’s going on in a mind like he is yours.
Be careful. Could he be?
“I want to learn who I am, I know I’m like twenty four and don’t know,” you shake your head a bit and sigh. “Quarter life crisis?”
He snorts at that. “You make jokes?”
“I don’t know,” you answer softly. “I’m trying?”
“Meh it wasn’t that funny,” he shoves playfully but you’re so damn weak you stumble, he grabs you quickly, holding you too closely. “You said you ate.”
“I did, I swear, just still feeling it I think?” Your hand rests on one of his biceps, he sees that blush up close, spreading down your neck. “I really ate dinner and breakfast!”
“Can’t box if you’re falling over and shit,” he sighs, his hands still on your waist, shaking his head a bit. “I’ll show you some basics, you just pay attention for now. I’m grabbing you a protein bar.”
“I’m okay!” Sukuna ignores you, coming back with a bar and shoving it unceremoniously in your hand. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, your eyes are too pretty looking up at him like that, and he needs to make you comfortable. Not do every filthy thing he keeps thinking of – fuck that sadness right out of you. How can he fucking think that? “Come with me, and you better finish it.”
“You’re bossy,” you tease, he snorts and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of your skin with your close proximity. “It’s good!”
“Hmm, you’re just starving, those suck,” you sigh, chewing thoughtfully, when he shows you to the training area. “You need some muscle so I suggest doing some light weights first, then next time maybe I’ll let you hit a bag.”
“Got it,” you murmur, mouth just a little full, the wrapper crinkles a bit as you down it. “Maybe I was hungry? I’ve not had an appetite.”
“Yeah, sounds like…” He trails off now. “You have stress at home.”
You laugh a little without humor. “You could say that.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightens just a bit, feeling his teeth press together in irritation at the thought of whatever has you like this. Yet in just a good twenty minutes you relax your shoulders just a bit, you smile a little more real and not forced, he watches as you ease just a bit with every movement.
“These are tiny weights, I can do more,” you pout as he puts ten on each arm. Sukuna shakes his head. “I can!”
“Yeah champ okay,” he grabs twenties and watches your arms drop down, stabilizing you and smirking. “You’re a regular Arnold.”
“Oh hush!” He takes them and tugs and your pony tail again, you dab just a little sweat off your brow.
“You are bratty, see?”
“I am so not,” you get a little quiet at his hands on your wrists then, clearing your throat and looking down so shy and cute.
Sukuna would just corrupt you.
You’re clearly an innocent little thing and his thoughts are about as far from that as they could be, it’s hard to pull back and act casual – as if this is normal and he just grips on his clients’ fucking biceps. You’re so fragile then as he studies you for a heartbeat too long, you don’t move away, just staring up at him. Your pupils dilate and make your eyes too damn pretty.
“You good?” He manages to ask, rubbing the back of his neck, annoyed by whatever the fuck effect this is.
“I am, thank you Sukuna,” if your lips would stop moving like that, if your voice would stop sounding that way, maybe he would be all right and not throbbing just inhaling your scent. “You’re very sweet.”
“Me? Tch, m’not sweet,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle again, turning away so you don’t see the dopey grin on his face before he gets rid of it, turning back and raising a brow. “I’ll show you some movements and you can come hit the bag tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sukuna wraps his knuckles as you look around a bit. “You are seeing me after the gym closes, you don’t have to.”
“I usually stay after anyway,” he just wants to fucking be alone with you. “Not a problem.”
“I’ll come a little earlier tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Your brows draw together.
“I don’t care, whenever, come hold this for me. I won’t accidentally punch you, don't worry.”
“I didn’t think so,” you go over and hold it, gasping when you feel the impact, looking at him curiously. “You think I’ll really be able to hit this thing?”
“Mmhmm, of course you will,” he takes it easy, even if you’re behind the bag he doesn’t want to scare you. He typically doesn’t have girls in the gym.
He shows you a few of the basics, and you study him carefully, he doesn’t realize he’s getting distracted until he stops punching and focuses on you, you’re watching him intently, your eyes flickering down his body, then to his lips before shooting back up to his eyes quickly.
Sukuna smirks a bit at you, walking around the bag to stand in front of you. “What is it?”
“N-nothing,” you squeak out, lashes trembling. “You look – I mean you are very good.”
He snorts at that, you’re too fucking cute. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He leans against the bag now, stepping closer and looking down at you “You’re were staring.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, eyes lowering. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be, I don’t mind,” he murmurs back, his eyes lowering to your lips, watching them part just slightly. He leans in a fraction, your breath catches – he hears it, a sharp little inhale. “I’m just teasin’ ya, okay?”
Sukuna’s voice is soft to his own ears, he almost feels the need to be gentle when it comes to you, you’re so delicate and afraid. You nod and wring your hands a little bit in front of your lap. “I couldn’t help it.”
“I look that good?” He’s chuckling as you cover your face all cute. “It’s okay, I already know I do.”
“You’re teasing me!” He eases your hands down, sighing at the contrast of his huge hands around your wrists.
“Yeah, I was, don’t take me serious, yeah?” You nod and just stand there, when he drops his hands and clears his throat. “Finish up, then I’ll walk you out.”
You just stand there for a moment, breathing softly as he watches you bite your lip now, staring at him nervously. He wonders what you’d do if he just kissed you? He wonders how you’d taste, if you’d melt into him, if he could kiss you on every inch of your body.
He can’t be this way.
“Okay,” you whisper, turning away to grab your stuff quickly. He walks you out silently to the back exit, the cool air whipping your hair around – this time of year, it was chilly and dark early. “Time went quick.”
“Yeah,” he looks at you carefully then. “What had you almost in tears this morning, or can you not tell me?”
You tug your bag closer, sighing. “The other woman was just… in my fridge and on my couch and it threw me off.”
“Other woman?” You nod. “In your house?”
“Yeah, I could handle it if maybe he could keep it to his room,” Sukuna’s brows raise now and you hesitate. “It had me upset more than usual.”
“You just… are okay with it?” You look down at his lips once more, if you don’t stop doing that he’s gonna lose his tentative control. “Why?”
“It’s arranged, that sounds archaic–”
“Nah,” Sukuna sighs now. “Let me guess, rich family?”
“Yeah, are you?” He smirks. “The name sounded familiar? I don’t know how I didn’t put it together.”
“Yep,” he drags out that word with a pop of his lips. “I’m from that shitty ass line of family, I just decided to tell them all to fuck off. You should try it, it’s fun.”
“Saying ‘fuck off’ huh?” You giggle again, shaking your head as he smirks down at you. “That’s impressive to not bow under pressure.”
“I just wasn’t one for rules, decorum, I just don’t give a shit,” he shrugs a broad shoulder. “Arranged shit was in my parents’ plans but in that I also told them to fuck off. But that’s enough therapy.” He flicks your forehead, you rub it and glare.
“Ah, stay all mysterious,” you tease just a bit, hesitating and then turning. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Mhmm,” you turn to look at him one more time, suddenly stepping forward and tip-toeing, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Fuck.
You should not do that.
“Thank you again,” you murmur shyly, stepping back quickly and rushing to your car like you’re embarrassed by the little action.
Sukuna jerks off that night to a kiss on the cheek from a shy, sweet little woman who is married, and wishes he felt worse about imagining decorating you in ropes of cum, but he really doesn’t. Moreso he’s irritated you’ve made him so pathetic in the span of a couple days.
He was fucked.
*****
You
You’re wolfing down eggs and bacon when Satoru walks out the next morning, eyeing you curiously at the array of food on the counter. You should tell him to fuck off really, just like Sukuna said you should tell everyone but some part of you would like to not hate Satoru Gojo, some part would like some sort of peace or even an understanding, for him to stop his cruelty to some extent.
So you smile, and he pauses, shirtless and just in his boxers, but your smile freezes on your face when you observe the dark hickies littering him right over his pelvis. It’s his turn to smirk as he walks closer to you, putting a coffee pod in casually, as if it’s normal to have hickies on your v cuts by your happy trail.
Why are you hurt, you knew he was with her?
“Good morning,” you manage to try to be cordial. “I made a big breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“You know I have cooks,” he says, nibbling a muffin then moaning, his snowy lashes fluttering shut. “Oh fuck.”
“I like to bake,” you say with a little shrug, he pauses as he watches you nibble your own. “It gives me something to do. I think I may… get a job or something.”
“Why, you have enough money you never need to even without me.”
“Why, to give me… something?” You say, shrugging a bit. “I’ve never been able to work other than at charity functions, so I guess my resume would be kind of shitty though.”
“You don’t need to work while you’re here, it would just look bad,” you blink again. “Maybe work with me but…”
“Yeah, no,” he chuckles, as if it’s funny. “Bad enough the secretary is over at my… your house, now.” You correct yourself, tension between you both rising as you stand in the kitchen, his eyes sweep over you.
“Going to box again?”
“I am,” you’re wearing a sweater over your top this time, hanging just a bit off your shoulder, his gaze drifts down to it. “I think I like it.”
“Ah,” he steps closer, leaning down. “You ever figure out how to touch yourself?”
“If I did I wouldn’t do it thinking of you,” he glares and you smile now. “You’d be the last guy in my mind.”
“Sure, sweetheart, keep tellin’ yourself that, I see how you look at me,” you scoff, tensing when he brushes his fingers on your shoulder. “I can tell by every reaction you want me.”
You smack his hand off and he smirks. “You told me we’d never do anything, be anything, so stop trying.”
“Ah, you gave up on your little goal? Don’t wanna leave better marks on me than Jennifer?”
You feel sick.
“You know what, Gojo?” He raises a brow. “You’re not just mean, not just cruel, you’re sadistic, like you don’t just want me gone, you want to torture me.”
It’s quiet now, you blink back tears of frustration, of pain, feeling your heart pound in your chest.
“I said I’ll not try again, and I mean it,” you look away. “Whether I want you or not, I never will.”
He continues his silence, when your gaze meets his it’s softer, blue eyes unreadable, as if there’s a hint of humanity in him. What a joke, what a delusion to think he’d have even the most basic empathy for you.
“I didn’t do anything to deserve how you act,” your whisper breaks in the middle, traitorous tears leaking. “All I did was try. Now I give up, you get what you want.”
Satoru’s fists clench at the sides, taking a breath now. “You’ll thank me.”
“I’ll what!?”
“You’ll thank me,” he murmurs again, slipping your sweater up over your shoulder, fingertips brushing. “For not letting you be with me, for letting you have your own choice.”
“Acting like you’re being such a great fucking guy,” you never cuss but it spills out, when out of frustration you shove at his chest, not like he’ll move, glaring up into his eyes. “Mr. ‘hold on let me cum’ really? There’s no world where I’ll thank you for what you’ve put me through these past few weeks.”
You rush out past him and hear him murmur your name, you ignore it completely, gathering your things and rushing out, tears swimming even as you drive over to the gym. How can Satoru continue to hurt you like this and then have the audacity to act like he’s being kind!?
You barely get yourself together, peering in the mirror to fix yourself up, dabbing concealer to hide your sleepless night. It was hard to sleep when your husband was loudly moaning across the house, and when you kept thinking about Sukuna and the little kiss on his cheek.
Was it too far? Would it be weird?
Why do you want his lips so bad? Sure, he’s handsome, but the pull is more than that, as if you know he’d be able to kiss you the way you always dreamt – as much as you’re trying to hold back, it’s there. The feeling when you step into the busy gym, seeing Sukuna training in the ring with his nephew, he tackles him down and laughs so loud it echoes off the walls.
“Hey! Off me!” Yuuji shoves at him, but he’s way bigger, you blush as you think just how huge Sukuna is, he’s even taller than Satoru and you thought that pretty impossible. “You cheated!”
“Didn’t cheat, kid, you just weren’t paying attention,” his gaze hits you then, and he falters, only to get slammed down by Yuuji quickly.
“Hah! Got you,” Sukuna smacks his hand away as he grins, he’s literally adorable, the sunshine to Sukuna’s grumpy nature. Your heart tugs just a bit with affection at the sight, when Yuuji sees you and waves. “Hey, did you see me stomp his ass?”
“I did,” Sukuna snorts and stands on his own, brushing off his gym shorts, leaning a bit against the ropes and taking you in. “Hey Sukuna.”
“You’re actually on time,” he peeks at his watch. “Early.”
“Breakfast too,” you grin and he chuckles, suddenly it’s like that gym is just white noise and it’s all him, hopping over the ropes and down the platform, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on hardwood and punches drowned by your beating heart. He comes to stand and cross his arms, ruby eyes assessing you. “Protein, it was all protein filled.”
“Good,” he ruffles your hair like you’re Yuuji, you huff a bit, but part of how touch starved you are? You want him to keep patting your head, almost leaning into the quick little touch.
What’s wrong with you?
He’s friendly, kinder than you are used to – your own parents were not much better than Satoru, yet their cruelty was more in dismissing you, in the strict nature they raised you, the coldness. You grew up privileged and know you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself, but the pain was there, only having been made better by the dream of Satoru taking you far away.
Some dream, a cinderella tale, you’re not sure what the fuck you were thinking, were you enamored with his pretty eyes, his kindness? With Sukuna you had those butterflies like you did that night Satoru unzipped your dress, but it was without that sinking feeling in your stomach.
The next couple days you spend at the gym – sometimes watching him, sometimes training a bit, the people there are all so friendly it feels nice. You find yourself there longer than usual, a little stronger, you keep waiting for Sukuna to let you spar or something cool, but he eases you into a few different things.
You enjoy him so much you find yourself staying after and wiping down equipment, seeing him raise a brow and laugh at you, telling you to go. But what’s waiting at home? Satoru and whoever he decides to bring home for the evening? It’s not just the secretary, you wish that it was only her in fact, she at least pretended to be a little nice to you.
You’re not sure if Satoru even works or if he just gets his dick wet.
You pass him in the morning and see one of them knocked out in his bed with the door cracked open, and that’s when you feel a deeper pain, eyeing him sleeping next to her. They’re not cuddling, but she’s sleeping in his bed. Alone in the room that was made for the two of you, staring up at the ceiling and touching your lips, thinking of kissing Sukuna then.
You can’t.
You shouldn’t.
Two wrongs don’t make a right, but something about that sends you over the edge – pushes you to where you don’t feel so terrible thinking of what you want to do. It’s just a step further even for him, your interactions get even shorter, he doesn’t taunt you as much since you got upset in that kitchen, but now it’s like living in a home where you’re unwanted.
You can’t wait to leave, for whatever he needs to figure out to cause the least scandal, you’re tired of smiling on his arm for the get togethers, only to sit on opposite sides of the backseat of that limo in the quiet. You’re lonely until you go to that gym, but you know it’s nonsense, Sukuna has not tried to kiss you or cross that line, even when his touches linger.
He’s a good man, a good uncle clearly, maybe a good friend – and all you can think half the time is those tattooed hands touching you longer, in places you know you shouldn’t want them. Trailing your hands up his biceps and feeling the strength in them, falling into his kisses until you’re dizzy.
It’s hard not to think of it when you watch his body move.
He’s shirtless today as if to distract you more, the way he’s built is enough to make you miss your punch, earning his chuckle, teasing glint in his ruby eyes. “Distracted?”
“No,” you’re such a liar. This morning threw you off seeing that girl in his damn bed, and now you can’t stop staring at your trainer’s body. “Just a bit.”
“What’s on that mind of yours?” Everyone has left for the day, you and him are all alone in the enormous gym, your pink gloves on your hands.
“A lot,” you murmur, punching the bag again and again, remembering to cross as he showed you, then wincing a bit as your wrist twists. “Ouch!”
“Bad angle, lemme see,” he carefully slips it off, thumb brushing your inner wrist, you suck in a breath. “I think you just kinked it a bit. Does it hurt to move?”
You shake your head, but you don’t move your hand, you keep it in his grip, biting down on your lip so hard it hurts. He’s too close, too fucking big all over – you shouldn’t think of everywhere. Not like you’ve even seen one aside from Satoru after he’d been inside that ‘jennifer’ whatever the fuck her name was, and that didn’t make you ‘excited’.
You’re curious at times, at how wet you get around Sukuna, but as a sheltered girl who was hardly allowed friends – and they’re all trad wives – there hasn’t been much talk. ‘Let your husband do anything and just live that way’ was damn near their advice – though that did land you here, after all.
“You’re real distracted,” you sigh, nodding. “Lemme guess, your husband has a new girl over?”
“She slept in his bed,” you blink back emotion, shaking your head, Sukuna just quietly checks your wrist, moving it a bit. “You’d think I couldn’t hurt anymore, couldn’t feel anymore pain about it.”
“I think you’re surprisingly calm about it,” he says then. “Arranged or not, how would anyone not want you?”
Your world shifts on its axis at his gruff little confession, you’re blushing furiously now, stepping a little closer, feeling his warmth near you sink in. “Sukuna, that's sweet.”
“You keep trying to call me that,” he shakes his head – thumb slipping across the delicate veins raised on your inner wrist. “I’m not sweet.”
“You are to me,” he scoffs. “You make me feel better, that is sweet.”
“The things I’m thinking are as far from fucking ‘sweet’ as they can be,” you gasp then, when his hand slips up your arm, before he stops himself, pulling back when you wish he wouldn’t. “How innocent are you?”
“Very,” you admit. “But you could tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Hah,” he has one arm on either side of you when you press against the bag you’d just been hitting, he’s right behind you, cupping your face with a calloused, rough hand so big it takes you over. “You’d run out the door if I told you half of it.”
He backs off then, leaving you trembling, hand on your chest, going to open your mouth when he hops down as if to rush away from you. Terrified you’ve fucked it all up you hop down too, rushing to get your bag, Sukuna comes back with a little brace for your wrist and glares.
“You running off?”
“I made it weird,” you mumble, suddenly so insecure. If your own husband could fuck anything but you, what made you think Sukuna would want you being married, complicated, messy.
“I was just getting a wrap, get over here,” he tugs you over to him, sitting you on one of the cool metal benches. “Your wrists will toughen up in time.”
“Okay,” every time he touches you it sends waves of desire, your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, trying to focus. “Thank you, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry you hurt your wrist?” You nod, making Sukuna sigh now, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing for the dumbest shit. You’re fine.”
It’s awkward when you leave this time, too much between you both, your doubts raging even as you come home. For once, Satoru has no girl there, dressed in a suit and gazing over at you, gaze rushing across your body. He has no business looking that pretty and being that cruel.
“You’ve been training a lot,” he mentions, tilting his head curiously. “Every day seems excessive.”
“I like it,” you slip off your sweater, a little warm with the heat blasting, and then you feel his eyes hit your breasts. “Sorry it’s warm.”
You’re apologizing again.
For ‘dumb shit’. Is that just what you do, what you’ve always done?
“We have an event in an hour.” You nod and rush off to get ready, struggling into your dress so you don’t have to ask him for help again, he stands by the bathroom, the door open, crossing his arms. “What happened to your wrist?”
“Oh, I twisted it,” you take off the little velcro now. “It probably would look bad with the outfit.” He just shrugs, eyeing the marks left from the brace. “Do I look all right? I don’t think I have time to do makeup.”
“I guess,” that’s his answer.
‘I guess.’
You suppose it’s better than him telling you he’s unattracted again, you already know that now, looking at yourself in the mirror and hastily trying to do something with your hair. “What’s the event?”
“Some dumb fucking charity auction,” he eyes his phone now. “I thought that Jennifer told you.”
“No, she did not,” you scoff then, looking at him. “You ask your mistress to send me your itinerary?”
“She’s my secretary so yes, that’s what she’s for,” you can’t with him, especially his mean little smile. “That make you mad?”
You say nothing, you’re not taking his obvious bait – pushing past him quickly and grabbing your clutch, seeing a pair of black lace panties underneath the little glass side table then. Your jaw sets, glaring over at him.
“I asked you to keep the fucking to your room,” he frowns, looking down now, sighing. “What the fuck, Gojo?”
“I didn’t fuck her out here,” he answers with a shrug. “Just fingered her.”
You blush and he laughs softly, walking up to you, tilting your chin so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.
“Haven’t been fingered even?” You refuse to answer, jaw setting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, his fingers drifting down your dress, achingly slow, blue eyes dilating just a bit. “You’re all heated thinking of it, huh?”
The backs of his knuckles drag against your puffy folds over your dress, you bite down on your lip, hating what his eyes do, when they look for a moment like maybe he would want you. You grip his wrist firmly though, shocking him for a moment when you shove his hand off.
“Aren’t we late?”
*****
Gojo
“Satoru,” his best friend frowns at him, seeing you across the room sitting alone, avoiding everyone and everything. “She looks miserable, the fuck are you doing?”
“She’ll be free soon enough,” Suguru narrows his eyes, Satoru’s mind goes to earlier when you gripped him so damn strong out of nowhere.
What sort of working out were you doing, and with who? The thought of someone touching you makes him unreasonably jealous, considering any time he did you froze like you did. He almost felt your heat, imagining the slick, perfect little cunt you must have that he actively turned down.
Now it’s driving him insane, you are gone all the time, not even bothering to look at him. Isn’t this what he wanted, you to hate him, to get over your dumb crush and realize he’s not worth it? Satoru will never love anyone, he knows that he's not capable of it any more than his parents were capable of loving him.
He supposes Suguru was as close as he got to ‘loving’ someone, though even his best friend was done with his shit clearly.
“She seems really sweet,” Satoru sighs.
“She is annoyingly sweet. And perfect. And pure.” He says it with disdain.
“So you need an average, slutty ass secretary?” Satoru rolls his eyes, sipping on his whiskey. “I’m sorry everyone knows.”
“Good, give the Gojo name a scandal,” his lips quirk up. “She is too sweet for someone like me anyway.”
“I don’t understand why you’re going that far,” Suguru says, shaking his head. “Have you even looked at her? If you had to be arranged, wouldn’t you want it to be someone like her?”
“You like how she looks so much, you go fuck her,” Suguru glares at him, and Satoru tenses when he realizes you’re walking past right behind Suguru, looking up at him with devastated eyes.
Those eyes.
He didn’t love to hurt you, despite what you thought, he just needed you to give up, to not have any feelings, and you still seem to. Still seem to respond to him, still try for whatever reason. He’s given you no possible sign that he feels what he feels, that he does want you, he does think you’re beautiful, he couldn’t say that shit when he’s finally got you shoved far enough away.
Yet he hates himself for it, loathes himself for the tears in your eyes as Suguru turns and sees you, flush on his cheeks, scowling back at his own friend. Satoru opens his mouth then closes it, seeing that you’re about to break apart hearing it – that he told his best friend to go fuck his wife because he won’t.
“Let’s dance, hmm?” Suguru asks you, and Satoru watches you take his hand and nod, swiping a tear with a tremulous smile.
“Yes please,” Satoru watches you both, leaning back against the wall, studying how his hand takes over your waist, how you seem…
Happy at that moment.
“Satoru Gojo,” his mother’s voice is in his ear, right next to your parents, he blinks just a bit. “We’d like to know what’s going on.”
“Is she not doing good enough?” Your mother asks, Satoru frowns then, blinking just a bit.
“We tried our best to make sure she was perfect for you,” that’s your dad, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is she giving you trouble?”
“Is she giving me trouble?” He’s dumbfounded at their question, looking back at you on the floor.
“You could stand to keep your affairs discreet,” his mother chides. “You don’t need to flaunt them around even if she’s not adequate.”
Not adequate – you.
This is why he fucking hates this.
“We can keep her for a bit, if she needs more polishing.”
“She’s not a fucking golden retriever who needs training,” he says then, earning their surprised looks. “She’s polished to a tee, I assure you.”
“Then surely there’s more we can do, she does look disheveled," your mom says, Satoru swallows down guilt now.
This would only look bad on you. He’s a Gojo, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, he’s a man and you’re…
“I’ll dance with her, yeah?” He gets them to shut up for now, he’s still got too much going on, trying to find the best way to annul the marriage without you getting hurt in the process.
Well, more hurt.
When he cuts in, you’re stiff in his arms, he tugs you against him, remembering the first dance he had, where he had the maid’s cunt all over his fingers. You tried even then, pathetically trying when you look like that, and it all starts to make sense why you are so desperate, meeting them.
“Act like you enjoy it, they’re on my ass,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t want to hear more shit about you ‘training’ or getting ‘polished’ but he doesn’t tell you that, his hand on the small of your back. “Smile like you did at Suguru.”
“I like Suguru,” you say softly, a mean smile on a usually shy, soft face, stabbing Gojo in the heart. “I don’t like you.”
He chuckles now, leaning low and murmuring your ear. “That’s perfect.”
*****
You
You’re extra aggressive after that night, after hearing him so casually not just dismiss you as a woman but tell his friend to ‘have at it’.
You’re imagining his dumb pretty face as you punch the bag over and over, Sukuna is quiet, it’s early before he even opens the gym but when you asked to come he had no problem, he was there early anyway. You couldn’t stand one more moment not hitting something, all of the energy you’ve spent crying over Gojo, over your fucking parents.
Coming to you all ‘disappointed’ when you’ve done NOTHING but try, what’s it got you, what’s anything get you? Perfect, perfect, perfect – for what. It keeps racing in your mind until you feel sick to your stomach, breaths coming in short little pants, hitting it so hard you almost tweak your sore wrist, but you welcome the pain, until Sukuna steps back.
“Hey,” Sukuna is dabbing a little washcloth on your brow, you're shaky and overheated from punching that bag so damn hard. The cool cloth feels good against your clammy skin, you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. "Feel better?"
"Actually yes," you look up into those ruby eyes that hold so much in them, lost for a moment. He grabs you a water and twists it open, you drink from it – a little drop slipping across your chin, he swipes it with ease, making you tremble.
Fuck you want him, you want to feel what it’s like, whatever he thinks you’re ‘too sweet and innocent’ to hear. You want to know what’s behind those eyes, so fucking guarded, but you don’t know how to say it when you stand in that ring with him. It’d be so selfish to drag him into your fucked life, but for some reason he deals with you, he spends the time.
Your friend, he’s your friend right?
Yet when Sukuna’s sooty pink lashes lower, and his hands gently fix one of your bobby pins up, you catch his wrist without thinking. He pauses, teeth glinting with his little grin. "Practicing self defense against big ass pink haired men who touch your hair, huh woman?"
You know he's joking with you, but you step closer, breath catching when you inhale his scent in your nostrils. Not that obnoxious cologne Satoru wears, it's real and male and musky – sweat mixed with something inherently him. It shoots straight to your core, the need for him in every single way, drawing you in like a moth to a flame, like his gravity is pulling you.
Sukuna exhales, letting you put his hand on your cheek, so big and tall over you, shadows casting across the boxing ring.
“Treading in dangerous territory, brat,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t move your hand, letting you slip your fingers across the jut of his jaw, feeling his pulse fluttering when it slips across his neck.
"I don't want to get you involved in my mess, Sukuna," you say then, catching his attention, pulling back ever so slightly.
"Maybe I don't mind a mess," you sigh, looking at his plump lips, his tattooed hand tugging you closer by the waist until you’re almost against him. "Messes are my specialty. Wanna know why?"
You swallow nervously, trembling in front of him, sweat making you shiver just a bit as the AC kicks on overhead, cooling sweat soaked skin. "Why?"
"Because, I'm damaged too, I just hide it better than you," you shut your eyes for a moment.
"I've only kissed once," he blinks a bit, frowning. "So maybe I'll suck at this."
"What now-"
That's when you - Mrs. Gojo - tiptoe and kiss Ryomen Sukuna on his lips.
And that's when he drags you against him and presses your back on the ropes around the boxing ring, moaning. Hard body, hot and heavy, a thigh pressing where you've never been touched, making you whine out, lifting you like it’s nothing. His tongue slips past the seam of your lips, gripping you so tight you can’t breathe.
You don’t want to though, you want him to take all your breath away.
For the first time maybe ever, you feel so wanted, the way he devours you like he's waited forever for it, moaning against your skin and easing you down then, letting you slip down his body, cupping your face. Huge hands taking it over – his breath coming in pants, this look in his eyes, his pupils swallowing those irises until they’re black underneath those pink lashes.
“Don’t do that,” he huffs, shoulders heaving up and down.
“I’m sor-”
“I’ll fucking break you,” your tummy clenches in response, pussy drooling at his desperation, looking at you like you’re it. “Ruin your perfect little cunt, is that really what you want?”
“Ruin my… um… you…” You don’t even really get his terminology, but the way he says it just makes you slip your arms across his neck. “You didn’t mind the kiss, then?”
He laughs, shaking his head before a sorrow hits his eyes, brushing your hair back with one hand, the other pulling you close. “Do I mind it?”
“I haven’t done anything,” you admit, the insinuation clear as hands drag along the curve of your waist. “I don’t know if-”
Sukuna cuts you off with another kiss, tongue delving into the recesses of your mouth, holding you up so his thickness presses your needy cunt through the thin layers of your yoga pants and his gym shorts. You taste a hint of that coffee he had earlier – mixed with the light salt of his sweat dripping from his lips, groaning as he feels your thighs wrap him.
“Mmm, if you don’t go I’ll fucking break you,” you’re too far gone, just rolling your hips, making him suck in a breath while precum leaks and makes him sticky. His breaths mingle with yours, all the tension of this week coming to a head, he’s done holding back yet he still tries to. “M’not fucking kidding. Should go.”
“Do you want me to go?” His answer is somehow gently landing you on the white floor underneath your feet – now on your back – and spreading your thighs, pressing up between them so hot and thick. “Sukuna…”
“Don’t say my name that way, fuck,” his lips are all over you, tongues dancing so messy with that saliva dripping you blush. Your fingers trail down his abdomen, over the rippling muscles, feeling them tense and bunch. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, finding him then, watching his eyes flutter shut. “I wanna hear the things you won’t say.”
“You don’t.” His grip is on your wrist, pinning it over your head. Your breasts heave up and down, one of his hands slipping under your top, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I’ll tell you something I think,” he raises a slutty eyebrow, two barbells that make it even sluttier, just that look has you writhing under him, as you bite down on your lip. “Deal?”
“What’s your cute little comment, hmm? Wanna hold my hand?” You glare and he chuckles. “I love when you scowl.”
“I have never touched myself,” Sukuna’s face goes into shock, red eyes wide. “Never um… came. And last night, I thought of you and… I tried to. I don’t know what I was doing and it didn’t work, but I thought of you and was…”
“Don’t say it.”
You sigh, suddenly feeling bold with him.
“Wet.”
“Fuck me,” Sukuna’s taking back over your mouth, kisses more desperate and hungry by the moment, you’re soaked when he finds your puffy cunt for the first time, tentatively slipping a fingertip inside and hissing, you gasp out. “Cunt is way too small, I’d split you in half.”
Whatever he means you’re just wetter, gasping when he pulls it back before he gives you what you crave. Slick fingers on your lip, watching your blush for a moment before kissing your cunt off him, a hand now under your head so it doesn’t hurt pressing into the ring’s floor. Your thighs spread for more, arching your hips.
“Too fuckin’ pretty,” you shake your head, blinking tears and making him halt, scowling. “You are.”
“You’re-”
“If you say sweet I’ll bruise your cervix,” you’re a flustered mess at that, earning his groan of frustration, taking your hand in his, nipping your finger with his teeth, sharp pain pressing in. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Deal?”
“If you can make yourself cum for me tonight, I’ll let you use my fingers tomorrow,” your fingers slip down your puffy folds guided with his own, before he pushes yours up. “Your clit, rub it.”
“It’s… ah!” Sukuna watches you jolt at your own touch, pulling your fingers away as if burned, cheeks flushing.
"Twitching I bet," he sighs, amused, hovering over you and putting your fingers back down. “Do you want me to make you cum tomorrow?”
You nod eagerly but you don’t feel ‘pathetic’ with Sukuna, he wants you just as desperately. “Y-yes.”
“Be a good girl,” you whine out, making him smirk just a bit. “Touch it again, little circles."
Those fingers find your clit again, this time obeying him and testing the little movements, shaky breaths overtaking you. Sukuna's eyes darken as he watches, his own fingers guiding your movements. “Sukuna… mnh!”
"Do it slower," he whispers, looking at you in this way…
Is this what it is, to be desired?
You’re shaking, wantonly playing with yourself in Sukuna’s boxing ring under his hungry gaze, rubbing circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, hips jerking. A whimper escapes when you accidentally press too hard, when it jumps and gets so slick your fingers slip off almost.
“Too much!”
Sukuna's knuckles brush your inner thigh where slick has trailed, moaning and spreading it around until it’s glossy. "Keep going, imagine it's my fingers."
The thought sends heat from your core – little movements feeling so fucking good that your eyes are rolling back in your skull, his hot lips pressing kisses on your upper breasts, letting them gently bounce from your yoga top. When his tongue flicks over your nipple you’re about to shatter, whimpering in Sukuna’s ear as he keeps guiding your fingers.
Your slick drowns both of you.
“Go ahead,” he urges, looking down at you. “Lemme see how pretty you are when you cum for the first time.”
It’s heady and insane, lewd and filthy him watching you fall apart – you whine out as the first bit of that orgasm fucking destroys you, hips lifting off the cold mat as white stars burst behind your eyelids. The pleasure makes you dizzy, head falling back, back arching up as you ride it out, gushing in spurts in embarrassing amounts.
Your fingers fall weakly, opening your eyes to the blurry vision of Sukuna watching with lidded, dazed eyes.
“You did such a good job today,” you almost cry then.
Praise was something you’ve never gotten. Your breaths quicken, tits almost slipping up and out where he’d tugged at them, Sukuna gently moves your hand, his crimson gaze locks onto yours as he brings your fingertips to his mouth.
“Sukuna! You’re…” His long tongue swipes against your fingers in a circle, before he slips a filthy drag between them, lapping up all of your juices. “Tasting me?”
“Mmm, fuck,” he hums low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks each little digit clean, his cheeks hollowing. He looks like he’s cumming – you think, you’re not sure.
You do know it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, the sight of it pulls another broken moan from your throat, the obscene sound echoing in the gym's quiet, until there is no sound but that suctioned pop.
“I wanna bury my face in you,” his words are insanity, things you never thought you’d hear, hovering over you and pulling your thigh up so you feel him. “Then I wanna bury my cock, wreck you until you won’t walk out of here, pump you full until you drip me when you get home to your fuck ass husband.”
“Sukuna… I… you really…” He kisses you quiet, pulling back and laughing softly, huge body casting a shadow across you both, eyes dangerous, grin psychotic – white against his skin.
“That’s just a bit of my thoughts, you need to go before you’re not a virgin anymore,” he touches your lips thoughtfully. “I’d fill all your holes though.”
“All!? Um…” He pulls up and gently adjusts your clothing with precise fingers, kissing you again and again.
“Don’t let me corrupt you, just run off,” his words hurt, as if he’s not good enough for you, when that’s so not the case. “Shouldn’t even come back.”
“No,” is your answer. A firm answer you almost apologize for, his sigh loud as he runs a hand shaky through his hair. “I don’t want to run, if you don’t want me to.”
“Dangerous and dumb idea,” his hand entangles in the nape of your neck, his own breaths erratic. “If you do good tonight I’ll make sure you have my fingers. Will you cum thinking of them?”
“I’ll try to do it right,” you blush now, letting him stroke your back, sending shivers as you fall into another kiss.
You don’t want to go home.
When you go to leave, he pauses you, a hand on your shoulder. “He doesn’t hit you or some shit, yeah? Because I swear-”
“Never, I smacked him,” Sukuna sighs in relief. “It’s mental pain, not that. I promise.”
“Still fucked but,” he shakes his head. “If it ever got there I have a champion belt I can throw on.”
“I bet you do,” you smile, feeling cared for was new.
“Go.”
“One more?”
“No, won’t stop there,” he shakes his head and you turn, just for him to drag you back, kissing you over and over, as gone in you as you are in him, pulling back to brush your cheeks, sighing. “Now go.”
You don’t say anything, the intentions were clear, Sukuna wanted you in ways you knew nothing of other that watching Satoru and hearing things here and there, in ways that makes your clit still twitch. Cunt pulsing around nothing, hands shaky as you drive, a mix of pleasure, desire, and more.
Feelings, brand new and blooming, intense.
And guilt.
Why?
You walk up quietly to see Satoru standing in front of the porch, gaze flickering to you, as if he fucking knew somehow, smoking a cigarette. You blink for a moment, you didn’t know him to smoke, but then you don’t really know him, not at all. You walk up and go to open the door as he blows some of it out, leaned back on the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Your lips are swollen,” you suck in a breath, freezing and turning to look at him. “You bite them or get them bitten?”
“How would you even notice? You don’t notice me,” your words are carried by the chilled breeze. “Since when do you smoke?”
“Hah,” he inhales a drag, stepping near you, exhaling up and away. “I do smoke. I have.”
“Ah,” you look away then. “It’s shit for you but… I can’t say I care enough to tell you to stop.”
“Ouch,” his hand brushes your hair back, frowning. “Hair’s a mess.”
“Yep,” you won’t deny it if he asks, but he’s not owed a fucking explanation either. “You eat dinner?”
“Yeah there’s food in the kitchen,” he flicks his cigarette out, quiet.
“Where’s Jennifer? Or… Chloe? Is that her name?”
“I don’t have a woman every night,” you laugh then, Satoru eyes you. “I don’t.”
“Okay, it’s ‘not my business’ right, Gojo?”
He says nothing.
You’re tired of trying to see something in him, when he presses against you, your front against the door, tilting your chin and eyeing your lips carefully, thumb brushing over them. “You were kissing or sucking cock?”
“Wouldn’t tell you,” you lift your chin, looking up at him, feeling his grip tighten on either side of your chin. “I’m gonna eat.”
“Yeah.” He lets you go, you struggle inside, trying to catch a breath.
That night you think of him – of Sukuna’s ruby eyes and vermillion lips, of his hungry kisses and the way he looked at you. Even if it was fleeting, even if he was just in the moment, you never knew you could feel that way, feel so wanted, so beautiful.
You can’t stop thinking of the words.
Break you.
Fuck all your holes.
Fuck you’re pretty.
You touch yourself alone for the first time in your life tonight, and Satoru Gojo may have heard you outside your door, he may have stroked his cock right outside your door, head resting on it. He may be regretting things, he may desire you, hearing your sharp gasps as he knows you’re touching yourself, imagining you gripping those sheets and fucking yourself with your fingers.
It’s a sick thing to do, to jerk his cock to a girl he turned down, a girl he’s made hate him on purpose, one he’s acted like he doesn’t want, one that soon will be long gone and think of him as a traumatic fucking memory. Yet it doesn’t stop him from pumping his cock up and down with his fist, moaning quietly as you reach your peak so loudly.
Yet he doesn’t hear his name.
He hears you mumbling – Kuna.
Welp it just gets messier from heeerree <3 A/N here, plz don't hate on reader for being a 'doormat' she literally is traumatized and will have more character development as we go. You can hate on Gojo though LMAO!!! I hope you enjoy, I am so thankful for the love and look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Patreon for more exclusive fics - Kofi link (commissions here)🍷
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Arranged! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - Heavy, heavy angst, cheating and reactive cheating, Satoru is ooc, cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, Soft Sukuna but he still don't mind being buried inside married reader, a fuck ton of feelings, eventual smut, explicit, mentions of insecurities, painful and hurtful all around.
This WILL have multiple endings, all of these three are gonna be messy. Told from Reader, Gojo and Kuna's POV and split up by each! based on this drabble - WC - 9k
This won the 30k followers poll! Thank you so so much again!!
masterlist - playlist - part two>>>
part one
Gojo -
Satoru Gojo his entire life has been used – as the ‘head of the Gojo’ clan, as the heir to the empire, everything in his life has been set in stone the moment he was born. They never gave him a real choice, barely let him have friends his entire childhood, no it was studies, it was pressure, it was how to be absolutely perfect, telling him who to talk to, how to act, how to walk.
He knew inevitably his time in college was just a fun distraction, where he had friends for the first time, where he felt almost normal, where he secretly dated – his parents would not approve – of the girls he talked to. Yet he fell into it just a bit, enjoying it too much, partying and fucking the worst girls, ones that would make his parents gasp in shock.
He hung out with the worst crowd, too, straight up heathens really, to rebel as much as he could, before the inevitable fact – his dad was dead, and he was turning twenty four, there was no more partying, no more life, no more dreams. All there was – the obligations, the responsibilities, the arranged wife they’ve had picked out since you both were children.
Oh, you’re beautiful, it’s not that.
You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re kind.
It’s not that.
You’re not his choice, nothing about his entire fucking life was his own choice, and this is just another thing, another way to show him what he is – just something to be used, just a tool for his family to have power. The richest family in Japan must have that, right? And you were from the second richest, and one of the most powerful, from an impeccable line.
You were impeccable, you were exceptional, you were ‘perfect’.
And Satoru Gojo hates you on sight, the moment you meet him at the engagement party – yeah, that's where he officially meets you, and doesn’t just ‘hear about you’. That’s where he sees how fucking gorgeous and bright you are, and for a moment his heart hammers in his chest, for a moment he’d sink to his knees to get a taste of you.
Then he remembers it all, when you shyly look down, when you ring your hands in front of you.
Obligation.
Arrangement.
You didn’t want this, want him, choose him – who would other than for his name, for his power? For what he could do for your family, for everyone. You’re shoved into this – a contract from your youth, who knew what the fuck you wanted, or who you’ve been with, who you want to be with?
You didn’t choose him, he didn’t choose you.
He keeps reminding himself in moments where he thinks the light from the chandeliers are hitting too nicely on your collarbones, when he looks at your lips just a little too long, instead he politely smiles, and turns away. Why, do you ask, does he turn away from his future wife?
Why is he later kissing another woman, fingering her right on the balcony, where pretty much anyone who walks by could see, smirking against her neck with every moan she muffles. Why does Satoru Gojo pick the most common, slutty little waitress to do so, when you’re there in a beautiful fucking gown, and look lost and upset, your lips trembling?
Because imagine a world where he falls – and you didn’t choose him. Imagine he thinks for a brief moment he could have happiness in his life, a joke really, it’s just flitting little moments. He can only handle so much pain, and in turn he causes you the pain, the embarrassment, sucking her juices off his thick fingers after she cums, laughing just a bit and walking back in.
His elders are furious, everyone is murmuring about his antics, as he throws back a shot and chuckles, but you?
You just look down, and a couple of tears fall, turning away and sipping on your wine. You say nothing even as he dances with you later, stumbling a bit with how drunk he’s gotten, to piss them off – to tell them he’s not going down without a fight – looking at you curiously.
You stare at his chest, you say nothing.
“Having fun?” He asks, and you scoff a bit, looking up with glassy eyes, and for a moment it pierces his drunk heart.
He’s horrible.
But isn’t he just a disappointment anyway?
“Am I having fun watching you with another woman at my engagement party?” You ask softly, shaking your head. “I get it, I’m not your type. I knew that from people telling me so.”
He pauses, right in the center of the dance floor.
“Yet I expected some decorum, I expected you to at least be respectful, not to show the world how unappealing you find me,” you whisper, biting down on your lip, shaking your head now. “I wanted to at least try here, with you.”
Satoru can’t speak.
Until he spins you, and catches you, his big hand taking over your waist, thumb pressing under the swell of your breasts. He almost falls then, from just a look, yet he holds himself back, he stops every insane thought and action, laughing easily, like he’s amused.
Satoru is good at hiding.
“Ya thought we’d have some story book romance, huh? Oh… you’re a fairy princess and I’m from another kingdom? And oh…” He leans down, so low to you, lips a breath away. “I fall for the princess, she’s just so beautiful, how can’t I?”
“Gojo…”
“News to you, perfect little fairy princess, I’m not interested in marriage, or any of this shit, this show, I fucking hate it,” his words are harsh, as he squeezes you too tightly, so tightly you’re shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Your prince from another kingdom just stuck his fingers in a waitress. That’s reality, sweetheart.”
You tremble in his hold, and he knows then.
He hurt you.
Good, he thinks, shit will be easier that way, safer if you hate him, if you smack him, tell him to fuck himself. Yet you tilt your chin up and spin as the dance calls for, giving a little curtsey as he steps closer, not showing a hint of emotion aside from your tears that you seemingly can’t stop.
“I see,” is all you say then, stepping back into his arms, as the crowd of gossiping families speaks of it all, you hold all of your composure, even as he raises a brow, looking down at you. “Maybe I am foolish, to have thought it that way. Yet I still don’t understand why you’re…”
“What, little princess? So mean?”
You just look down again, quiet, swallowing visibly, you smell too good, invading his fucking senses. “I didn’t think you were mean when I met you as a child.”
“As a child?” Satoru pauses, and you sigh, shaking your head.
“Of course you wouldn’t remember, I’m not very special.” You step back as the song ends, and your tragic eyes meet his, before lowering them and bowing a little bit. “Have a good rest of your evening, I’m feeling a little…” You look at the girl he’d just kissed. “Sick.”
When you rush off, politely excusing yourself, Satoru feels this sinking in his heart, questions simmering under the surface – what if he just was kind to you? What if he at least didn't make a fool of himself?
But he doesn't go after you, no that would have been the ‘right’ thing to do. The thing is, you're much better off without him. So he's dancing with women who make his family furiously whisper amongst themselves, and he just knows -
You will hate him, and you’re better off for it.
*****
You
You didn't expect a fairy tale marriage. Even marrying the man who is basically the ‘prince’ of all the families, all of the clans, the Gojo heir. You may as well be the ‘princess’ of your own, both of you promised as children to each other, knowing no love or match would come to anything.
This was it, your future, but you met him when he was just a little kid, he's two years older than you. His blue eyes and spiky white hair were enough to make your heart race, but mostly you noticed how sad those blue eyes were.
He wasn't mean then, he was kind and reserved, not boisterous, laughing and acting a fool. He was cautious more like you are, both of you not wanting to disappoint your very harsh parents who had so many expectations. Satoru had given you his hand, holding it tightly, pressing a little kiss on the back of it.
So you'll be my wife some day
Yeah…
You're um… pretty.
That was it, just a moment and then he'd had to run off. And you only saw Satoru in bits and pieces, here and there from afar, watching and knowing he didn’t notice you. Yet that moment gave you hope.
Just to fucking crush it all.
It's your wedding night, and his staff is carrying all of your luggage inside the expensive mansion. Satoru is drunk, you notice he is around you, as if that helps with the pain of having to be married to you, stumbling just a bit and chuckling darkly when you try to help him.
“I'm fine,” he yanks your hand off like you burned him. Your tummy is in knots, you feel sick. “Let me show you your room. Princess.”
He says it always mockingly, tonight you know he was with someone again, he's made no attempt to hide kissing others. You're sure he probably does more, but you're innocent yourself so you don't exactly know what's what. Your parents pounded innocence and propriety in your head.
You'll be Gojo’s wife, you must be pure for him.
What a joke, really, to be pure for someone who will never want you, to watch him kissing on necks in the gardens, laughing until he sees your face. You never have been a very confident girl, but everyone has always told you that you're pretty, lovely, so you sort of didn't think your looks were an issue.
Then again, it could just be you. Maybe you're boring, maybe you're too proper. Your mind wracks with doubts as he leads you up the winding staircase of the Gojo mansion up to a dark hallway. He opens a door and you pause, breath catching in your throat at how beautiful it is.
“This is our room?” You ask softly, the blue silk bed and gossamer canopy snug in a room of soft whites and blues. He chuckles, making you look at him.
“They had it made for us, pretentious isn't it?” You blink a bit.
“I think it's beautiful,” it's quiet when you step in, still in your beaded and saying white wedding gown. You slip off your veil and take a breath. Looking in the mirror.
You look gorgeous today.
No matter what he says or doesn't say, you see it in that reflection. In your lashes, in your eyes, in your lips, painted a pretty crimson. Your body is showcased to perfection, modest but still sensual, just hints of your lines and curves outlined, the material glinting in the soft light.
“Your room,” he says at the doorway, and you pause, making him smirk. “You didn't think we were fucking did you?”
You blush furiously, looking down nervously at your hands entwined in front of you. “I did think we would… make the marriage official even if you don't find me attractive.”
It's dead silent, lingering in the air – your insecurities rampant.
“Why? Because our duty?” He asks, stepping inside, his dress shoes echoing on the floor, coming to stand behind you, reflection in the mirror making you tremble.
“We will need to have babies, it's expected of me. Or I'll be… a failure as a wife.” Your voice breaks, and for a moment you see blue eyes soften, you feel fingertips slipping over your straps, yet they halt, and his eyes narrow.
“I won't fuck you, not for duty or expectations, fuck them and fuck that.”
It's like a slap to the face. You take a breath, trembling now. “Gojo, am I that displeasing really? I tried so hard to look-”
“Nothing will make me fuck you,” he murmurs coolly. “We will ride this shit out till I find a way to end it somehow.”
“End it?” your brows draw together, eyes swimming in unshed tears, his fingers slip off now, going to your back, slowly undoing the little rows of buttons methodically.
“An annulment, divorce, whatever… fuck this shit, I'm not staying married.” he is casual as he helps you out of your dress, knuckles tracing up your spine, then he smirks. “Oh shit. You want me? Hah… that's cute.”
“I… um… you…” You're flushed, reflection in the mirror blushing, as you look at him, his cruel smirk, his mean eyes. “Am I not supposed to want you?”
“Of course you do, I am Satoru Gojo,” he presses those straps down, pausing when he gets a view of your breasts as you hold the dress against them, your back exposed and bare. “You can always touch yourself and think of me, who am I to deny that? But I will never touch you.”
It's like he just stabs you in the stomach. You turn, facing the cruel, tall man now, on the night you hoped for something, anything, but you're just met with a mean curve of his lips. “So what, you'll just… fuck anyone but me?”
“You can cuss?” He laughs a bit, fingers curling along one of the carefully coifed ringlets.
“Yes, I can. I just don't usually,” you take a breath. Trying to remember.
Obey him.
Treasure him.
For your family
“You don't know me and you won't even try to, will you?”
“You want dick that bad, huh?” You gasp, slapping him as hard as you can then, he winces and rubs his cheek, glaring at you. You falter, looking at his pink cheek and gasping.
“I'm sorry. I…”
“Let's get one thing straight, princess,” Satoru Gojo leans over you, an arm on either side, tilting his head as you grip your wedding dress tightly to your chest. “We can do our own things. I get it. You have to live here for now.”
For now.
“But don't you dare fucking hit me,” he grips your wrist, bruising with his long fingers, you gasp out at the pain, tears falling. “Not used to men not wanting you, huh?”
“What!?” You're blinking in confusion, his grip tightening, your heart sinking.
You feel so sick.
“Never been turned down because you're the family princess, aww. So cute,” he leans down, touching your cheek, eyes a cruel bluee. “Everyone after that money, after a chance with you, so special. Well you're not fucking special to me, we are just the same.”
“I don't think I'm special or anything!? I never said that.”
“Don't have to, I can just see it.”
You're shaking in his hold. “I just thought we could try, you don't even know if we have anything, a connection or-”
Gojo laughs at you.
He laughs.
“Try what, fucking you? You want my dick real bad.”
“No!? Just if we could feel a connection? I… like you haven't kissed me, how do you even-”
Satoru grabs your face, leaning low and pressing his lips against yours, capturing them and making you lose your breath. You melt when his plump lips work yours, when a hand comes to entangle in your hair, your hands slipping off your dress so that your nipples hit the cool air.
His tongue slips in your mouth, exploring the recesses with far too much finesse, hot and drooling as he presses you against the hard wood of the dresser.
You've never kissed.
You try to move your tongue back, knowing you're awful at it, your arms slipping around his neck. He's mean, he's cruel, but you want to try, you want to have this. Feel whatever this dizzy sensation is, one of his hands gripping your breast as he pulls back, lips glossy, eyeing them now.
“I'll give you this,” he murmurs softly. “You have perfect tits.”
“Um…” You're stammering again, whimpering when his thumb brushes your nipple.
“Perfect posture, pretty face, nice little body. It's not enough though sweetheart," he pulls back now, grinning and crossing his arms as you just stand there. “There, your kiss, and there's nothing between us. Is there? Enough to shove that fantasy out of your head?”
Nothing!?
“You think keeping your tits out will make me hard?” You gasp, covering them up, blinking back more hot tears.
He wipes his lips with his thumb. As if to remove the kiss from his memory. You look down, pain making you dizzy – deep pain.
“I just… you’re so sure that this won’t work that you’re not trying!” He laughs softly, without humor.
Charming. Handsome. Cruel.
Satoru’s two fingers brush down your collarbone and across it, a mean smile on a devastatingly pretty face as he watches goosebumps dance across your skin. "You want me to touch you. Hmm?"
"I just…" you cover yourself with your arms now, suddenly so insecure, you were anyway but this was more. It was worse, having the man you've been infatuated with since a kid turning you down, on a night you felt so beautiful. "I just thought we could try to find some common ground, to maybe make this work. Become… more?"
He leans down, his sweet breath against your lips, tickling them as his blue eyes glitter, cold like the most beautiful sapphires, and just as hard, there’s no emotion in their depths. So cold you shiver, swallowing nervously.
"Oh sweetheart, I don't want any of it. What they tell me to do, what they expect, no... I'll burn it all to the fucking ground, and them with it.”
“Burn it to the ground?” Your whisper is soft, his lips curve mean when he grips your chin.
"You're a pretty girl, but I'm not for you. That's the most you're getting from me.”
Not. For. You.
"What is so wrong with me?” You hate how desperate you sound.
Was this who you are?
Do you know yourself outside of becoming Satoru Gojo's wife?
“It’s not…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “You just don’t seem to get it, little princess. It’s an inconvenience, this entire thing.”
Great.
You’re just a fucking inconvenience to your ‘husband’.
“We will let them think we're good for a year, maybe two. Then I'll get out of this, you should thank me really, it's not like you chose it either.”
He turns now, leaving you close to collapsing, with the pain, with the casual cruelty. “Satoru…”
“Don't fucking call me that,” he snaps, looking back at you. You step back and bump into the elegant dresser, shaking as he looks at you with such hatred. “You don't get to call me my first name.”
“I am… I am sorry if I messed something up. If I did something wrong…” You're sniffling your tears, trying to keep it together. “I haven't even kissed before and I probably am just bad at it. Just give me a chance to-”
“Stop trying,” his voice is softer, like he fucking feels bad for you. That's worse than his cruelty – pity. “Just keep to yourself and I will too, until I find a way out of it. It's useless to try.”
“Useless to?”
“Sweetheart,” his tongue is honeyed, a lilt to his voice. “I'll never want you.”
The knife in your heart?
Twisted.
“Oh, I see…” You take a breath, just nodding then, hands gripping the beaded material so tightly they ache.
Obedient.
Sweet.
Serve your husband.
It's what you were trained to be, a traditional wife who follows her husband's orders, even your stinging palm was beyond what you're used to. How can you serve a man that doesn’t want you, how can you obey someone when their only order is for you to quit trying?
As he walks out, with just one look over his shoulder before he shuts that door, leaving you alone in the room on your own in tears on your very wedding night… how can you act like that kiss meant nothing to you? How can you not sink down on that bed all alone, and sob.
The boy you fell in love with doesn't remember you.
Doesn't want you.
No, he hates you.
And you'll have to endure this and be a failure to your parents, the worst of all your fears.
You don't stop sobbing until dawn breaks into the windows.
*****
Gojo
It's been a month of having you in his home, you're trying to be so perfect too. Dinner ready every night, you sit there and wait for him, smiling so pretty, wearing some new outfit as if he will ever touch you again, trying to talk to him, to get to know him.
Satoru can't stand you.
All you do is make him want to end it quicker, so that he has no feelings in this. No amount of slutty little slips or lingering before bed time is getting him to consummate the marriage, to give in to what his family and elders shoved on him, controlling his entire life.
Nah fuck that.
Satoru is balls deep inside his secretary right now, condom dripping with her cum as he lets her bounce up and down his latex covered cock. He leans back and moans as she works him like a pro, bouncing her ass and letting it jiggle under the shoved up pencil skirt.
Of course he thinks of you, fists his cock to images of those tits, imagines those lips around his tip. All the more reason to not fuck you, imagine if he did? You were a virgin, probably would lay there and not know how to do shit, you could barely kiss him back.
He'd have to be all gentle, not slam you down and bottom out like he could right now. She's moaning, too loud, he has to slam a hand on her mouth, lips against her ear.
“We're at work,” he reminds gently.
“Sorry Mr. Gojo. Mnh!” Satoru's big hands work her up and down, bottoming out as she cums, covering her own mouth as she screams out.
“Hah, so messy,” he taunts, she's squirting all over his Armani slacks, right when the door opens.
Fuck.
Did he not lock it?
He pauses, and its…
You.
You quickly shut the door and turn away, as his secretary gasps, panicking and lifting up. Satoru drags her back down, eyeing you.
“Wife,” he teases, you turn to look at him, lunchbox in your hands. “Didn't expect you at my work. Can I cum real quick, then we can talk?”
You say nothing, obedient little thing that you are, not an ounce of fire in you aside from a little smack. He supposes that's how you were raised, how boring really, but he shoves the woman down once more. Toying with her clit and making her moan in front of you, right as he busts in that condom, groaning softly.
“Fuck, there we go,” he taps her and she hops off, giggling when she tugs her skirt down, rushing past you.
“Mrs. Gojo.” she says, you just step back and nod.
“Hello.”
‘Hello’ is what you say, to the woman who'd been riding your husband's cock?
He tosses the condom in the trash under his desk, sighing and smirking over at you, when you turn and see him, still hard and covered in milky seed, turning back around again.
“I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry?” He demands, slipping his boxers up now. “I was fucking someone and you're sorry?”
“I should have called first,” you turn back again, as he zips up, cheeks tinged pink.
You look beautiful today.
He wouldn't tell you. But you do.
“I was just… I learned to make sushi? I was so bored lately. Then… they kind of look ugly? But they're um… yummy and-”
“Just stop, fuck,” you look at him, tears in your eyes, clenched fists at your side when he takes the bento box. “Stop trying so hard, it's not gonna happen.”
“Gojo-”
“Stop, don't hurt yourself more.”
“But why am I so… why would you never ever want me?” you whisper brokenly then. “I am not trying to be mean but her? She's not even… attractive!? I don't-”
He laughs at you again, shaking his head. “You are a spoiled rich girl, a mean little thing. Because she's not drop dead gorgeous I couldn't want her? Looks mean nothing really, little princess. It's just you who I don't want.”
Your breasts heave up and down, finally a glare on your otherwise sad little pretty face. “I am trying!”
“I don't want you to fucking try, constantly acting like the perfect wife. I don't want it. Don't want you, how clear can I fucking make it!?”
You step up to him then, tilting your head to look up at the tall, cruel man, lipstick on his fucking neck, smirking at you. “Well maybe I don't want YOU, but I fucking TRY.”
“Oh. You want me,” he tilts your chin up, grinning at you, feeling your skin hot to the touch. “Bet you're so desperate you'd lick her pussy off me. Wouldn't you? For a chance.”
“I would never,” you shake your head. “Fine, you win. I won't try anymore.”
“Good. It's for your own best interest,” he pats your cheek and smiles. “What's on your plans today, hmm little perfect wife?”
“Not making dinner.” he smirks at you again. “Not trying for you ever again.”
You rush out of the door, dejected, shoulders slumped, when you look back at him though?
That look.
Heartbroken, devastated, done for. Like you just lost all your goddamn will to live.
That one hurts.
Satoru was not cruel before you. Sure he was a dick, he played a lot, he was conceited, but to make you give up trying made him have to push you away. If even fucking in front of you didn't he had to push it further, and he thinks that's the moment you gave up on him.
It's for your own best interest to end this when he can, to be strangers.
Your eyes are burned in his brain as he opens your dumb bento box, and sees these pretty little Sushi. Shaped like little hearts with pink paper instead of the traditional.
He swallows down his guilt when he sees them laid out with a cup of soup, rice, a drink even. And a little note on pink paper.
He hates himself more when he opens it.
Gojo, I know you don't want me, don't want this, but if we could just try… I think there could be something, truly. When we kissed I did feel it, somewhere buried under the surface.
I know I'm not who you chose, or who you want, but I hope one day we could grow to like each other. I am trying my hardest and I just hope that it can be enough.
Have a great day at work, I will see you at home.
Tears slip onto the note, bleeding the ink through the paper, he looks at the shut door you'd walked out of, remembering your eyes..they'd always fucking haunt him. That look of defeat written all over them.
You were bringing him lunch and love notes when he was letting a secretary ride his cock.
“Mr. Gojo?” his assistant opens his door, and he pauses, looking up at her. “You have a two a clock.”
“Right…” He just stares at the sushi, at the note, before shutting his eyes, swiping off tears he hasn't cried since he was a little kid.
That night, no dinner is made by you. No it's the chefs as it should always be, but it's a sign, as is you not in that dining room waiting for him. He walks around the mansion, looking for you, for any sign that you're in his home.
Why does he care?
He hears your sobs from the room you are supposed to share, and rests his door on it.
Why did you have to try so hard, when he told you not to?
“He will never w-want me…” You're sobbing and hiccuping. “Never enough.”
He swallows down his own self loathing, resting his head on the door, wondering at just who he is. Is this Satoru Gojo, or is this Satoru Gojo trying to be anything else but what he's always been pushed into?
He walks off to his own room, shutting the door. He'd have to end this marriage soon as he can, in whatever way that meant – to get you the fuck away from him. You may hate him for it, but at least you'd have a little bit of a choice in your life.
*****
You
You come home from an event with Satoru, a press junket where you have to act like a happy newlywed. And you do just that, you play your role, giggling with his hand on your waist, the most contact you've had since that kiss – the one where he felt nothing for you. The one that you felt shaken from, suddenly fucking delusional, in spite of the fact of one thing.
Satoru Gojo made sure to let you know there was no chance, he didn’t mince words, didn’t lead you on, it was your own hope that made you keep trying that first month, that hope that even after seeing him with his dick inside a woman, maybe he’d feel anything. Fuck, he made sure to cum before she got off of him, didn’t even stop mid fuck.
That’s how unimportant you were.
Yet even then you tried, until he made that disgusting comment – licking another woman off him? Calling you pathetic?
Well, you were.
You were not going to be cruel to him despite the rage in your heart, however, you just no longer try, it’s quiet when you take off your heels at the door, and he slips off his dress shoes. You both say nothing, but you feel his eyes on you at times, as if he expects some word out of your mouth.
You no longer say good morning, good night, you just live your life with Satoru for another month like this, he’ll have a girl over in his room, but you keep to yourself, living so alone… yet, with him.
Your few friends you have get worried for you, every time you get to see them over the next couple months you look more tired, you don’t look like you’re eating, you have dark circles under your eyes, the eyes that don’t glimmer any longer. They share their concerns quietly, over a nice brunch, but you act like everything is just fine.
Tonight your mother had pulled you aside, making sure to dissect your looks to a fault, including said dark circles – As if you didn’t have enough insecurities just being married to Satoru Gojo, a man who’d fuck anyone but you.
“You have to keep yourself together, look he’s all over those women,” she whispers, you would laugh but you know better, the woman who beat submission into your head was right here. You just look down, nodding.
“He always is.”
“So you need to get his attention,” you sigh, wanting to explain how hard you tried, even in lieu of him fucking that secretary in front of you, but you merely nod once more. “Get yourself together, you look like you haven’t slept in a week, your hair is oily even. What’s wrong with you!?”
What’s wrong with you?
You peer over to your tall, white haired husband surrounded by women in the ridiculously extravagant event, glamorously dressed when you chose a thin silk number, not caring anymore. You didn’t do your makeup, what did that matter? It’s not as if he’d ever look at you anyway.
“You’ll make him look bad, make us all look bad, you must gather yourself together and try more. Have I not raised you to be the perfect wife?”
The perfect wife.
To a husband who hates you.
“You did indeed Mother,” you manage to say, clearing your throat that night, feeling the eyes of so many curiously flit between you both. “I shall try not to disappoint you and father.”
Yet you are done trying, as he asked you to be, walking up the stairs now with him slowly trailing behind, as if to make sure there was enough space between the both of you.
Try a gym!
Or a spa day?
You need self care babe!
Yeah, your friends advice about self care was not enough for what you’re going through, but they ring in your head, as you head to your room, and reach around to try to unzip your dress. You curse, moving your hand in every which way, you then try to tug it up off you, but it’s half stuck with the tight material.
Fuck, you’re gonna have to ask him.
“Gojo…” You say, standing by his door, he’s up typing away on the laptop, shirtless, his body cut and chisled, muscles moving as he sits up straighter, eyeing you carefully.
“You, coming to my room?” You flush furiously, looking down.
“Don’t worry, I’ll never, ever ask to be intimate again,” you whisper, the pain still piercing your heart, your soul. He just looks down. “I just really can’t get out of this dress, and I swear to god it’s not a hit on or seduction.”
“Ah,” he doesn’t gloat like usual, standing up now, his sweats falling down his hips, you wish he didn’t look so good like that, coming up to you carefully, everything flexing as he walks. “Zipper stuck?”
“I think so, and it won’t go up over my damn hips,” you grumble, when he comes closer. “I’m sorry.”
“You apologize constantly,” you just nod again. “Turn around.”
You do that, lifting your hair off the nape of your neck for him, two of his fingers grasp the metal zipper, slipping it down achingly slow, the noise loud in his quiet room, mixing with his own catch of breath. It’s quiet, a few tendrils falling against the nape of your neck, as the zipper jams just a bit, stuck in the middle.
“Hang on…” He mumbles, clearly irritated, holding the dress tight together and then grasping it, jerking you just a bit as he finally gets it down. “There.”
“Thank you, Gojo,” you say softly, as he looks at the smooth expanse of your back, and for a moment neither of you move, you turn to face him, still holding your hair up. “I didn’t mean to bug you.”
He doesn’t say anything, knuckles brushing down your spine lightly, enough to make you ache in your core, something you’ve never really felt before this moment. You swallow nervously, blushing and looking away, you can’t make a fucking fool out of yourself again.
You will not push something he clearly doesn’t want, it’s just not right – even in the name of ‘marriage’ it should be Satoru’s choice too, and he so clearly would never choose you, in any world. You turn now, straps slipping down your shoulders, his bright blue eyes get dark and lidded when his gaze hits your tits, the tops of them showcased with the little dress half off.
“I’ll let you um… sleep.” You say, he just blinks a moment, clearing his throat now.
“Yeah.”
You slowly walk out, wondering if it is just you looking for something, anything, the way you damn near begged him to notice you, to want you, it was as he said – pathetic. Even knowing he’s fucking women actively, that he doesn’t have the time of day for you at all, you still crave it, you still don’t retaliate.
His phone rings, and you hear him murmuring while you’re in the hallway –
Hey sweets, hmm… I bet you do miss me.
You feel your feet get heavy, you’ve been barely eating because you’re just fucking miserable, but hearing that as his door shuts and you walk to your lonely room sinks in. The miserable realization that he doesn’t care about you, that even if he gave you a glance, it was nothing, you were nothing to him.
You slip that dress off when you’re in your bedroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, even just his proximity always put a blush to your cheeks, as if your body was betraying your mind. You remember what your friends told you the other day, their concerned gazes, and the way they tried to be supportive when they barely know the half of what you endure.
Having to hear your husband jerking it on the phone and talking another girl through it when he has never touched you?
You are tired of crying, so tired.
You look up gyms in the area, sure that’s not really going to help a damn thing, but it might be enough to keep you busy, considering you can’t even work as a Gojo wife, and you’re left alone too often in the quiet, thinking too much. You pick one and map it, while laying in your bed and snuggling, yawning a bit as sleep starts to drag you under.
“All right, let’s see if self care will help me at all,” you say to yourself quietly, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, as you have been.
What’s there to dream about anymore?
*****
Sukuna
His knuckles are aching from hitting the big heavy black bag, punching it over and over, his class is done but Sukuna always loves to blow some steam off, and the best way is to beat the bag to a pulp. His ruby eyes are locked on the target, exhaling and controlling his breathing.
One, two.
One, two, punch.
Cross, jab, hook.
It’s methodical, it’s easy, even as his muscles ache – that ache is sweet, it’s so perfect to feel, he grins as he imagines beating the fuck out of so many people then. Start with his shit father – his mother gets a pass only due to being a woman – and then, all the little pretentious shits he went to college with.
Sukuna was supposed to be training to become a CEO, to take over his father’s position, and be a nepo baby like the rest of those damn men he partied with at the frat in college. Yet, he never, ever wanted that, and he built something for himself – several gyms, he’s trained pro boxers, national champions.
This was what Sukuna wanted to do.
Mostly, he loved to box, he cared just a little bit enough not to join those matches himself – oh, what would that look like!? The Sukuna heir going into a boxing ring!? Yet, at the same time, he had dreams of it. Of being in a ring and knocking everyone out, pushing that ‘family disappointment’ name even further.
For now, however, there is peace in the quiet gym.
That is, until you walk in.
Tired and fucking beautiful, these dark circles that sit under your eyes, a shy little nervous smile, about five minutes before he closes. You stand at the door and look around, frowning then and staring at your phone, wearing some pretty little yoga outfit and a big sweater, like you were getting ready for pilates rather than kickboxing.
“I’m sorry, first off for coming so late, second… ugh I thought you were a regular gym! Where is my brain…” You smack your forehead, turning, when he literally runs up to you, stopping you before fully thinking of it.
Sukuna, running.
You really are that pretty, when he sees a giant rock on your finger he curses internally, sighing.
“I do other things here, a whole room of workout machinery,” he says then, his voice just a little gruff, when you turn and look up at him, so shy, you look right back down at your feet, hugging yourself a bit. “I can show you, just need to lock up.”
“You probably want to get home, god I’m sorry, I slept all day like a miserable… oh… so sorry.” You have said sorry again, rambling now, making Sukuna wonder.
Just who has you this down? This shy? This clearly hurt?
“I meant to come earlier,” you blink back tears, looking up again with them swimming in your pretty eyes, so pretty he can’t decide what color they are, but the way they look at him almost takes him out. “I set an alarm, and promised I would make myself do something, then I just… hit it over and over. And now I’m rambling.”
“And crying,” he smirks a bit, swiping off a tear. “Rambling, crying, coming in late too, huh?”
“I know I’m so-”
“I’m teasing,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head and tilting your chin up. “If you want to do any sport, you need eye contact. Even when they’re all red and bloodshot.”
“Well your eyes are red too! I mean, oh my god!?” You cover your mouth, he laughs again softer this time. “I’m sorry, I like their color, they’re beautiful. Not to say I am hitting on you! Oh dear god…”
“Will you take a breath?” You shut your eyes, nodding. “A deep one, in… there you go, and out.”
Your breasts rise and fall, the sweater slipping further off a shoulder, as he takes in the mess that’s come to his doorstep – a beautiful, tragically broken mess that does something he can’t explain. When you swipe your cheeks and try to give a tremulous smile, you break whatever heart Sukuna has in his chest.
Who fucking hurt you like this?
Damage recognizes damage, but this…
“Don’t apologize a fourth time, yeah?” You nod then, sniffling a bit and attempting a better smile.
“I really just want to… apparently I need self care, my friends say, and I thought a gym might… help. But I can’t box, or kickbox.”
“Why not? You've got a lot of pent up tension," his hands brush down your shoulders softly, feeling the tenseness. "Bet you’d kill it."
"Me!?" You giggled nervously but he was serious, a huge handsome man crossing his arms and raising a brow, leaned back a bit in the quietness of his gym. "Kickboxing, huh?"
"Think you can't?"
You shake your head, and he sees it all over your face –
You don’t think you can do anything.
“Why not? Husband wants you all girlie or something?” He addresses the ring with a glance, you laugh without humor, your face darkening then.
“He doesn’t give a shit what I do, no, we’re not,” you trail off, shaking your head. “I dumped enough trauma on you just walking in here. What’s your name?”
“Sukuna,” he takes your hand, feeling yours just a little sweaty in his grip. “What do you mean doesn’t give a shit?”
“He doesn’t like me.” He blinks at that.
“Trouble in paradise?”
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Let’s say he’s done more with his secretary than me so far,” Sukuna frowns at that, raising a dark brow. “It’s okay, really don’t feel bad for me. I just need something to get my mind off it.”
Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?
He almost says it, but he holds back, nudging his head now. “Lemme show you around the gym.”
He locks the door behind you so no random people try to come after hours, and you follow him through, looking up at the ceiling – it’s high, wooden beams running across it, it was once an old factory before Sukuna bought it off the guy. The walls are all red and orange brick, some of it is painted white, with graffiti art.
“That’s so cool,” you murmur, walking up to it then, touching it gently. “What is all of this?”
“Some of the guys like to come tag it,” he says, there are all sorts of images scrawled, along with Sukuna’s name in big red letters, little demon horns over the U. “I think they’re callin’ me the devil.”
“No!” You laugh, the sound so foreign to your own ears, he can just tell when you sober up a bit, smiling gently now. “You, the devil?”
“Mmm, you don’t know shit about me yet,” you blush a bit at the insinuation. “You’d run out if you knew what I was thinking.”
“You don’t have to be so… nice to me, okay? Because you feel bad.”
Sukuna blinks his pink lashes. “Huh?”
“I can tell, you’re a really good person,” you walk up to him, touching his hand now, sucking in a breath at the contact, fingers tracing his calloused, beat up knuckles. “Thank you though.”
“You think I’m pretending to find you attractive?” He almost can’t take you serious, but your face says it all. “Yeah, no, I’m not that nice. Now follow me before I say something real fucking dumb.”
You’re a flustered mess, letting your hand fall and nodding.
“This is where you’d like to be,” he mentions, toward the room with all of the normal equipment – treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, all sleek and black. “So you can just do your normal little workouts. Yoga mats and all.”
“Oh! I see,” you’re just a step behind him, he can inhale that perfume, he doesn’t know what scent it is but it’s driving him insane, when he stops and you bump into him. “Ah!”
He catches you quickly, frowning a bit at how weak you seem, assessing you. “You eat anything today?”
You blink a bit.
How'd he notice?
“No.”
“It’s six?”
“Yeah, not for a couple days,” you mumble. Sukuna glares at you, far, far too attractive and you’re not even fucking eating.
“If you have some… problem, you gotta tell me if I’m gonna train you, yeah?”
“No, nothing like that, just can’t eat when I’m sad,” your words are soft, barely over a whisper, running your fingers along the arm of a treadmill. “It’s been a few days I guess.”
“A few days, the fuck?” What sort of husband lets his wife just not eat?
He supposes the kind that makes her an unconfident, sad girl that cries the moment she enters a gym. Sukuna knows damn well he shouldn’t get involved in the shit, but just looking at you hurts him, in a way he’s not sure he’s felt, recognizing a version of himself so long ago, when he was young, when he wanted that approval, when he craved it so badly.
But more than that.
“If you don’t eat tomorrow I’ll be shoving food in your mouth,” you laugh at that, covering your mouth again. “I’m serious, the fuck you mean days?”
“I will make myself eat before I come.”
“And you’ll come at a decent time, yeah? Not before I close. Do I need to set three alarms to get your bratty ass up?”
“Bratty!?” you laugh again, shaking your head, the sight so fucking cute it destroys him.
God he’d drop to his knees just to kiss up those thighs, fucking lick you right over those leggings, the ones just a little snug against your puffy lips. And he can tell when you’re close how excited you are, the way your pupils blow out, the way you bite down on that lower lip, the one already chapped from likely biting it to death.
“No one has ever called me bratty,” you muse softly. “The opposite, actually.”
“Well maybe they don’t see it buried all in there, under a cute little fucking yoga outfit,” he brushes your hair back. His mistake, his undoing, and not kissing you is maybe the hardest thing he’s done.
You’re married.
He’s trying to give a fuck about that.
“C’mon brat,” you giggle again. “Here is the ring.”
You pause, looking at the huge rectangular boxing ring, surrounded by mats, boxing bags hanging heavy and worn all over, red and black ropes surrounding it. “Is this where you all practice?”
“Mhm,” he leads you over to a bag, touching it, old and black and hanging, one of his big hands touching it now. “Tomorrow you’ll punch it, today you didn’t eat so you don’t get to.”
“Mean,” your lips twitch though, the color to your face just brighter, your eyes glittering. Fuck you’re pretty sad, and happy, he can only imagine more. “All right, I promise, full breakfast.”
“Eat some dinner, too, then I’ll let you kick it.”
“The bag?”
“No, me.”
“What!?” You laugh again, Sukuna snorts and rolls his ruby red eyes, those pink lashes fluttering. “You’re joking, oh!”
“Yeah, a joke,” he tugs on that pony tail your hair is thrown in. “Two pm, don’t be late.”
When you’re gone he’s locking up, watching you slip into some bmw, waving a bit before you back up, wondering what’s this feeling in his heart, in his gut.
Sukuna loves women, he loves being inside them, pleasuring them, but he’s never just enjoyed making someone smile that much. Knowing you’re married should be a hell of a deterrent, whether he’s clearly a dick or not, Sukuna can’t just swoop in and be with married women.
Right?
Yet when he’s in bed that night, he finds himself throbbing, thinking of seeing your pretty face in pleasure. And he knows damn well whatever ‘morals’ he should have about it aren’t going to help him not make you feel good, in just any fucking way you need him to.
*****
You
“Never seen you eat so much,” Satoru murmurs when he walks in, lipstick across his neck, you’re downing some soup, realizing just how starved you were. “Have the chefs make something.”
“I just haven’t eaten in a week,” you say softly, Satoru’s eyes widen, then narrow a bit, while you dab at your mouth with a napkin. “I guess I’m hungry.”
“A week? What nothing here good, they can order anything.”
“I was too depressed,” the honesty is something you’d usually hold in, but something about meeting Sukuna today…
Everything about him.
The way he looked at you, that smirk was teasing, not cruel – he listened to you, he seemed to care, him a stranger. You know it’s nonsense, a man trying to be kind to a crying woman, but it meant a lot, even if that’s all it was. You’d walked in with a smile you haven’t had since you married him.
Satoru Gojo.
“A week? You can die from that shit,” he glares now, and you laugh, but this time it’s a mean little sound. “You think you can’t?”
“Sure, but what would you care?” You take a sip of the wine you’d poured, Satoru’s finest vintage, letting it dance along your tongue. “Wouldn’t it make your life easier if I did?”
His lips part, brows drawing together. “I don’t want you to fucking die, okay? Fuck.”
“You wouldn’t care,” you swirl the wine around, leaning back in the seat, eyes locked with the man you’ve tried so hard to make like you. To just come near you, to give you a chance. “I’m nothing to you.”
He says nothing in the quiet of the dining room.
“You didn’t notice.”
“Well, no I don’t eye your every move, figured you eat before I get home or some shit,” he runs a hand through his silky white locks, eyeing you carefully. “Do you want them to order something specific? Just because me and you will never be anything, doesn’t mean I want you to starve in my fucking house.”
“Nah, I like everything they have here,” you finish the wine in a gulp, an unladylike one that makes Satoru raise his brows, standing then, sighing. “It’s hard to eat when you can’t stop crying, when you constantly feel sick to your stomach knowing the man you live with hates your existence.”
You walk up and he says your name, you pause and look back at him. “I never said don’t eat, yeah?”
“No, you didn’t. But her lipstick is all over your neck, and up on that collar,” he touches it then, looking at the crimson on his pale fingertips. You step up to him, so close you inhale that scent. “Can you buy your sluts some decent fucking perfume, aren’t you rich?”
“What the fuck!?” You smile, you’ve never cussed, but it feels amazing in that moment, seeing him sputter. “What are you going on about, and what’s got your ass so fucking peppy?”
“Their knock off perfume, it’s all over you, every night. Buy them some Chanel or something, yeah? Not like you have to buy me anything, I have my own money. The scent makes me nauseous,” you turn again, Satoru grips your wrist, making you pause for just a moment, shutting your eyes.
Nothing, he feels nothing.
“Thought you didn’t cuss?”
“You don’t know me and you don’t want to.”
He lets you go, no argument, just quiet.
“I’m starting training at the gym,” you mention quietly. “I’ll be going there tomorrow.”
“Some yoga class?”
“Boxing.”
Satoru blinks, you just smile, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “You? Boxing?”
“Mhm, good night Gojo.”
You head up the stairs to your room, falling back on the bed, shutting your eyes, feeling good for the first time since that engagement party, for the first time in months there was something brimming under the surface. Some sort of hope.
Tonight you don’t hear him moaning, or talking to his girls, it’s quiet, and you’re thankful, shutting your eyes and falling into a deep sleep.
You’re haunted by two sets of eyes, two sets of hands, blue ones that are glaring, red ones that are hungry, long thin fingers choking your neck, suffocating you, thick ones painted black freeing you. Torn between them, claustrophobic in the darkness, where all you can see are their eyes.
You wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, holding your racing heart, thrumming against your palm, before you fall back asleep, and there is only one pair of eyes.
And they’re red.
Tysm AGAIN for 30k my loves <3 this will be a doozy
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Unexpected behaviour — fratboy!sukuna x shy!reader
summary: a long week passed and your new “friend” felt ignored
𐙚 ̊| jjk!masterlist — <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The late afternoon sun cast long, amber shadows across the cracked concrete pavement, stretching the silhouettes of the campus buildings into distorted shapes as you walked home from school. Your backpack felt unusually heavy today, the straps digging mercilessly into your shoulders—a physical manifestation of the exhaustion clinging to you after a grueling, sleepless week of midterms. Clutching the nylon straps tightly against your chest, you kept your head down, focusing entirely on the rhythmic movement of your sneakers. You tried your best to tune out the ambient noise of the bustling college town: the distant rumble of traffic, the chatter of students celebrating the end of exams, and the clinking of glasses from the nearby campus strip.
You weren't exactly looking to run into anyone, let alone him.
This would be the fourth time. You had been keeping precise track in your head, mostly because encounters with Ryomen Sukuna were not the kind of events one easily forgot or brushed off. He was the campus's most notorious fraternity president, a legendary senior whose reputation for absolute hedonism, unpredictable temper, and borderline psychopathic arrogance preceded him everywhere he went. He was entirely selfish, wildly sadistic in his humor, and lived exclusively for his own amusement, treating the university like his personal playground and the student body as his willing audience.
A sudden, massive shadow fell over your path, blocking out the fading warmth of the sunlight and plunging you into a chill.
"Hey. Moving kind of slow today, aren't we?"
You froze mid-step, your heart doing a sudden, violent flip in your chest before hammering rapidly against your ribs. The voice was unmistakable—deep, gravelly, and dripping with an effortless, condescending authority. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you tilted your head up.
It was Sukuna. He was leaning casually against a weathered brick wall that bordered the very edge of the campus quad, one foot propped up against the masonry. He wore a backwards black baseball cap and an oversized, loose-fitting crimson varsity jacket with leather sleeves that did absolutely nothing to hide the broad, intimidating frame beneath it. Because he was currently in control of his unfortunate freshman vessel, a well-meaning athlete named Ryomen Sukuna he possessed the same spiked pink hair, though it was pushed up aggressively today, completely free of the usual fringe.
But the most striking—and terrifying—difference lay in the stark markings. Jet-black lines encircled his wrists, ankles, and upper arms in thick, flawless double bands. A sharp, jagged horizontal line crossed the bridge of his nose, and a complex, crown-like symbol sat squarely in the middle of his forehead, stark against Yuji's fair skin. As you stared, the second pair of eyes—usually just dark, dormant slits beneath his primary ones—snapped wide open. They gleamed with a malicious, highly amused crimson light as they locked onto your trembling form.
"S-Sukuna," you stammered, the syllables catching in your throat as you instantly took a frantic step backward. Your social anxiety was already a heavy burden to manage on a normal day, but dealing with a literal force of nature clad in a frat jacket was entirely overwhelming.
"The one and only," he smirked, his lips curling back to reveal a flash of sharp teeth as he stepped away from the wall.
The sheer, oppressive presence he radiated was suffocating, altering the very air pressure around you. He didn't just walk; he took up space with an absolute, unshakeable certainty that the entire world belonged to him by right. He closed the distance between you in two long, predatory strides, immediately cutting off your direct path forward.
"You know, for someone who claims to want absolutely nothing to do with me, you keep walking right into my territory," he noted, tilting his head back slightly to look down his nose at you.
"I'm just... I'm just walking home from the library," you murmured, your eyes darting frantically to the left and right, desperately calculating an escape route through the narrow alleyways. "The sidewalk is public property. I have a right to be here."
"Everything around here is my property if I say it is," he retorted smoothly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, silken register. He towered over you, his egocentric nature practically dripping from his posture as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. He looked down at your small frame, his primary and secondary eyes narrowing in tandem as he evaluated your pale face and nervous demeanor. He found your profound shyness utterly hilarious—and highly entertaining. "Do you honestly think a little piece of city zoning law means anything to me, brat?"
"I really should go," you whispered, your voice trembling as you attempted to take a wide step around his right side.
"Not so fast."
In a flash of movement almost too quick for the human eye to track, his hand shot out, his thick fingers gripping the canvas strap of your backpack with vice-like strength. He didn't pull you backward, but the sudden, rigid restriction made you halt entirely, nearly losing your balance.
"You've dodged me three times this week now," Sukuna said, his tone shifting from playful to slightly sharper, his gaze boring into yours. "I don't like being ignored. Especially not by someone who looks like they're about to faint just from looking at me."
"I'm not ignoring you," you lied, your voice cracking slightly as you gripped your straps for dear life. "I've just been... incredibly busy. With school. Midterms just ended, and I have essays due..."
Sukuna let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed off the brick walls around you. "School. Right. Because staring at dead pieces of paper and listening to boring old men lecture is way more interesting than spending time with me. You're a terrible liar, you know that? Your pulse is jumping right through your neck."
He stepped even closer, completely invading your personal space until you were forced to tilt your chin up just to keep him in view. The scent of expensive, smoky cologne mixed with a faint, metallic edge of something entirely otherworldly washed over your senses. Up close, the black markings on his neck, partially obscured by the collar of his shirt, seemed to pulse with a strange, chaotic energy.
"You're shaking," he observed, a slow, sadistic grin stretching across his sharp features. He loved the visceral effect he had on people, especially someone as fragile and quiet as you. It fed his ego in a way that regular compliance never could. "What exactly are you so afraid of? I haven't even done anything to you yet. You act like I'm going to tear you apart right here."
"Please just let me go home," you pleaded softly, your knuckles turning white as you held onto your bag. "I'm tired."
"Hmm. Let me think about it..." Sukuna feigned a look of deep contemplation, tapping a tattooed finger against his chin before his expression hardened into something far more intense. "No. I don't think I will."
His hedonistic impulses always drove him to take exactly what he wanted, whenever the whim struck him, consequences be damned. And right now, looking at your flushed, terrified face and the way your lips parted in a soft gasp, he decided he wanted a reaction. A real, unfiltered one that shattered your quiet exterior completely.
Before your exhausted brain could even process the shift in his weight, his free hand came up. His large, warm fingers gently but firmly cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over the soft skin of your cheek. The sudden, intense skin-to-skin contact sent a jolt of pure, electric adrenaline straight through your veins, completely freezing the breath in your lungs.
"You're always running away," he murmured, his voice dropping a full octave, losing every ounce of its casual frat-boy bravado and taking on a heavy, hypnotic edge that made your knees feel weak. "Let's see what happens if you actually stay for once."
He began to lean down, his broad shoulders blocking out the remaining fragments of the afternoon sky. His eyes drifted deliberately down to your lips, his intention entirely transparent, devoid of any hesitation. Ryomen Sukuna was going to kiss you, right here on a public sidewalk in broad daylight, simply because the thought had crossed his mind and he possessed the power to do it.
Panic flared brightly and violently inside your chest. In that split second, your deeply ingrained instinct for self-preservation kicked into overdrive, entirely overriding your usual paralyzed shyness and social anxiety.
Just as his face neared yours—close enough for you to feel the hot, uneven warmth of his breath against your skin and see the individual flecks of crimson in his eyes—you ducked your head sharply to the left. At the exact same moment, you brought both of your hands up and shoved his chest with every remaining ounce of strength you had left in your body.
It felt like pushing against a solid, unyielding marble wall, but the sheer, unprecedented audacity of your physical resistance caught him completely off guard. Your sudden downward movement caused him to miss his mark entirely, his lips brushing harmlessly against the empty air near your ear instead of your mouth.
Taking immediate advantage of his momentary shock, you wrenched your backpack strap out of his loosened, surprised grip with a violent tug. You turned sharply on your heel and bolted down the sidewalk, your sneakers slapping against the pavement as fast as your legs could possibly carry you.
Sukuna stood frozen in place for a long, quiet second, his right hand still raised and shaped as if it were holding your jawline. He blinked once, then twice, his lower set of eyes widening in genuine, unadulterated disbelief. No one—*absolutely no one* in the history of his time at this university—had ever rejected him so bluntly, let alone physically dodged him, shoved him away, and fled the scene.
Slowly, his hand dropped back down to his side, his fingers flexing against the fabric of his jacket. He turned his head, watching your rapidly retreating figure disappear around the far corner of the residential street, your bright pink backpack bouncing wildly against your spine as you sprinted for safety without once looking back.
A heavy, tense silence hung over the empty sidewalk for a moment, the golden hour light glinting off the brick walls.
Then, a low, rumbling chuckle started deep within Sukuna's chest. It vibrated outward, gradually building in volume until it erupted into a loud, echoing laugh that caused a few passing underclassmen across the street to stop dead in their tracks and look at him in sheer terror. He reached up, running a heavily tattooed hand through his spiked pink hair, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous, sharp, and entirely renewed interest.
"Well, well," Sukuna muttered to himself, a dark, incredibly pleased smirk spreading across his face as he stared at the empty corner where you had just been. "The brat's actually got a spine after all. This just got a whole lot more fun."
hi sweets new chapter is finally out!! thank u for ur patience! hope u like my work ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
summary: a boy in your class tries to catch your attention, but (un)fortunately Sukuna already catched it
𝜗ৎ| jjk!masterlist <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The lecture hall was loud, packed with the usual pre-class chatter, but you were doing your best to blend into the background. You kept your eyes glued to your notebook, gripping your pen tightly as a classmate from your group project leaned over your desk.
"So for the presentation on Thursday, do you want to handle the slides or the talking points?" he asked, completely oblivious to how much your heart was hammering just from the sudden social interaction.
"Um, I can do the slides," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the noise. "If that's okay with you..."
"Yeah, totally! That works—"
The classmate's voice abruptly cut off. The air in the doorway of the lecture hall suddenly felt heavy, suffocating even. You didn't need to look up to know who had just walked in.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The campus's most notorious, self-centered frat guy didn't just walk into a room; he commanded it. Today, he was wearing a loose tank top, making no effort to hide the intricate, pitch-black lines encircling his upper arms and wrists, or the dark circles stamped onto his shoulders. The sharp, horizontal tattoo across the bridge of his nose and the crown-like symbol on his forehead practically gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. He ran a hand through his spiked pink hair, his extra set of eyes—usually slits beneath his normal ones—flickering open just enough to scan the room with utter boredom. He was a hedonistic, chaotic mess, and yet, nobody dared cross him.
As he sauntered down the aisle, his dark eyes casually swept over the rows. Then, they locked onto you.
Sukuna slowed his pace, his gaze dropping to the guy leaning just a little too close to your desk. A sharp, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but beneath it, a sudden, dangerous flash of irritation crossed his face. He didn't say a word, just lingered for a fraction of a second before continuing down the steps, leaving an icy tension in his wake.
Your classmate blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... what was that about?"
"I-I don't know," you lied, your hands shaking slightly. This was only the third time you had ever crossed paths with Sukuna, and you had hoped the first two times were just weird flukes.
The moment class ended, you packed your bag as fast as possible, desperate to escape. You slipped out into the crowded hallway, hugging your books to your chest and keeping your head down.
The heavy thud of your heart didn't slow down even after Sukuna's tall figure disappeared around the corner of the bustling science building. The hallway slowly returned to its usual chaotic hum, students rushing past you to make their next classes, entirely unaware of the absolute panic attack you were currently hovering on the edge of.
You stood frozen for a solid minute, your fingers digging into the cover of your textbook so hard the cardboard bent. What is his problem? you thought, your mind racing through the three bizarre interactions you’d had with him this semester. You weren't anyone special. You were a quiet biology major who spent most of your time in the back row of lectures or hidden away in the quietest corners of the campus library. Sukuna, on the other hand, was the campus enigma—a chaotic, heavily tattooed force of nature who seemed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without a single care for the rules.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
The sudden voice made you jump, nearly dropping your books. You turned to see your project partner, Daichi, jogging up the hallway toward you, a look of genuine concern on his face. He had clearly witnessed at least part of that interaction.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," you said quickly, trying to force a reassuring smile, though your voice pitched a little too high. "Just... got caught off guard."
Daichi looked down the hallway where Sukuna had gone, his expression a mix of awe and anxiety. "Man, that guy is terrifying. Did you see his eyes? It literally looks like he has a second pair of eyelids under his normal ones. And those tattoos... people say they aren't even fake, like he got them all done by some underground artist before he even came to college." He shook his head, turning his attention back to you. "Look, if he's giving you trouble, you should tell someone. He looked like he was about to rip my head off back in the lecture hall just for asking you about the PowerPoint."
"No, it's not like that," you lied, desperately wanting to drop the subject. The last thing you wanted was for Daichi to get involved and somehow draw more of Sukuna's volatile attention. "He's just... eccentric. Seriously, don't worry about it. Let's just focus on Thursday. I'll have my half of the slides done by tonight, okay?"
Daichi still looked skeptical, but he nodded. "Alright. Just text me if you need help with the data analysis. See you Thursday."
With a final, lingering look of concern, Daichi walked away. You let out a long, shaky breath and finally forced your legs to move, heading straight out of the building. The fresh autumn air helped clear the suffocating weight from your chest, but the phantom feeling of Sukuna’s heavy hand on your shoulder lingered.
By the time Thursday rolled around, you had managed to push the incident to the back of your mind. The presentation was worth twenty percent of your final grade, and your anxiety over public speaking had completely eclipsed your anxiety regarding the campus's most dangerous frat guy.
The lecture hall was just as packed as it had been two days prior. You sat in the front row with Daichi, reviewing your notes one last time. Your hands were cold, a classic sign of your stage fright acting up.
"Next up, Group Four," the professor called out, gesturing toward the projector screen.
"That's us," Daichi whispered, giving you an encouraging nudge. "We got this."
You stood up, your legs feeling a bit like lead as you walked to the front of the room. As you turned around to face the audience of nearly a hundred students, your eyes instinctively scanned the rows. And there, sitting right in the dead center of the middle row—a spot he *never* usually occupied, given his habit of skipping class or sitting at the very back to sleep—was Sukuna.
He was propped up back in his seat, one arm thrown lazily over the empty chair next to him, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He wasn't looking at the projector screen. His golden-brown eyes were locked onto you, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face as he noticed you pale. The extra slits beneath his eyes were closed, but his presence was no less overwhelming.
Great , you thought, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. Just great.
"Go ahead whenever you're ready," the professor said.
Daichi took the lead, kicking off the presentation with a confident introduction. You focused entirely on the laptop screen, clicking through the slides you had spent hours perfecting. When it was your turn to speak, your voice trembled slightly on the first sentence, but you managed to find a rhythm. You explained the methodology, keeping your eyes strictly fixed on the back wall, deliberately avoiding the middle row.
But Sukuna wasn't making it easy.
As you spoke, he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his gaze drilling into you with an intensity that felt entirely entirely unfair. When Daichi stepped in to answer a question from a student, he casually put a hand on your shoulder to lean in and whisper, "Which slide has the graph for the control group again?"
The moment Daichi's hand touched your shoulder, a heavy, oppressive silence seemed to ripple from the center row. You didn't even have to look to know Sukuna’s expression had shifted. The lazy amusement was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp hostility.
"Slide seven," you whispered back hurriedly, gently stepping a half-inch away from Daichi.
The rest of the presentation passed in a blur. When the professor finally clapped, signaling the end of your turn, you practically sprinted back to your desk, packing your notebook into your backpack before the next group even reached the podium. You couldn't stay here.
"Hey, we did awesome!" Daichi said, sitting back down next to you. "The professor looked really impressed with the formatting you did on—"
"Thanks, Daichi, I have to go to the restroom really quick," you interrupted, grabbing your bag and bolting out the side door of the lecture hall before he could finish his sentence.
The hallway was quiet since class was still technically in session. You walked quickly toward the exit of the building, wanting nothing more than to get back to your dorm, lock the door, and pull the blankets over your head.
"Running away again?"
You froze. The voice echoed in the empty hallway, deep and laced with a terrifyingly sharp amusement.
You turned around slowly. Sukuna was leaning against a vending machine a few yards away, a half-empty energy drink in his hand. He must have left the lecture hall right after you did. He straightened up, his massive frame easily cutting off the path to the main exit.
"I'm not running away," you said, trying to sound brave, though your voice lacked any real conviction. "I just... finished my part of the class."
"Right. Sure," Sukuna scoffed, taking a slow step toward you. The dark, intricate lines of his tattoos seemed to contrast sharply against his pale skin in the dim hallway lighting. "You looked like a deer in the headlights up there. Tell me, does that idiot always touch you like that?"
Your eyebrows knitted together. "What? Daichi? He just asked me a question about the slides."
"I don't care what he asked," Sukuna snapped, suddenly closing the distance between you. He stopped just inches away, his towering height forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him. The air around him felt hot, charged with an aggressive energy that made your pulse skyrocket. "I told you the other day to tell him to back off. You're terrible at defending your own space."
"Why do you even care?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, fueled by a sudden burst of frustration and adrenaline. "You don't even know me, Sukuna! We've spoken exactly three times. You're just... hunting for reasons to be angry."
Sukuna stared down at you, his eyes narrowing to sharp points. For a second, you wondered if you had pushed him too far. A dangerous, unpredictable silence stretched between you. Then, slowly, the tension in his jaw gave way to a low, rough laugh that vibrated through his chest.
"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. He leaned down, his face stopping just inches from yours, his golden-brown eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and something entirely possessive. "Because I don't like other people touching what catches my attention. And right now, you're the only interesting thing on this boring-ass campus."
Your breath hitched. Your heart was beating so loudly you were certain he could hear it. "I'm not an object," you murmured, your voice trembling.
"Never said you were," he murmured back, a dark, wicked smirk pulling at his lips. He reached out, his large, warm hand lightly brushing against the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline for a fleeting, electrifying second before he drew back. "But you're mine to bother. Remember that. Next time I see that guy crowding you, I won't just look at him."
Before you could find your voice to reply, he turned around, tossing his empty drink into a nearby recycling bin with a perfect strike. "See you around," he called out over his shoulder, his tone casual and bored once again, as if he hadn't just completely upended your entire sense of reality.
You stood alone in the hallway, your face burning, watching his retreating back until he finally walked out into the autumn sunlight.
hi sweets!! sorry i wasn’t active this days but uni is killing me… hope you like my work! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
summary: your friend dragged you again with her for moral support but she ended up supporting you instead
⟢ l jjk!masterlist - <<previous chapter - next chapter»>
The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the university's practice field a few days later, baking the metal bleachers until waves of heat shimmered off the rows. The heavy, humid air was filled with the sharp, piercing whistles of coaches echoing across the gridiron and the rhythmic, hollow thud of football pads colliding as the players ran their drills. You sat high up on the metal bleachers, feeling incredibly small and exposed against the vast backdrop of the campus stadium. Pulling your oversized sweater sleeves down until they completely covered your hands, you shifted uncomfortably, desperately trying to blend into the rigid aluminum structure and disappear from sight.
Beside you, your best friend was leaning dangerously far over the rusted railing, completely captivated by the varsity team's intense scrimmage. Her eyes tracked every play with a fierce intensity, her fingers gripping the metal as she cheered under her breath. She had dragged you along under the guise of needing moral support while she watched her current crush run drills in the stifling heat, but you were mostly there as a tactical human shield, a buffer between her overwhelming enthusiasm and the rest of the world.
You kept your gaze firmly fixed on your lap, counting the frayed threads of your jeans, determined not to look at the field below. Ever since the chaotic frat party last weekend, your nerves had been completely shot, leaving you in a perpetual state of jumpiness. You couldn't shake the vivid memory of Sukuna blocking your path in that dimly lit, crowded hallway—the sheer presence of him, the way he had looked down at you, and the suffocating feeling of being entirely trapped by his gaze.
"Oh, wow," your friend suddenly gasped, nudging your shoulder so hard you nearly lost your balance on the narrow bench. "Look at number three. I didn't think he actually practiced with the team."
Against your better judgment, pulled by a sudden wave of anxious curiosity, your eyes flicked up toward the bright green field. Your heart instantly dropped into your stomach, a heavy weight settling behind your ribs.
Standing near the fifty-yard line, helmet held carelessly under one arm as if it weighed nothing at all, was Sukuna. Without his jersey over it, his gray practice tank top left his broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms completely bare, putting his intricate, dark black tattoos on full, unapologetic display against his sun-warmed skin. His striking pink hair was damp with sweat, pushed up beneath a black headband that contrasted sharply with his features, and even from this distance, his sharp, menacingly attractive jawline was unmistakable.
As if sensing your gaze through the heavy afternoon air, Sukuna’s head snapped directly toward your specific section of the bleachers with predatory accuracy. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours instantly, narrowing slightly in immediate recognition.
A deep, hot flush crept rapidly up your neck, burning your ears. You immediately looked down, your hands trembling slightly as you grabbed your phone and pretended to be intensely fascinated by your blank, dark screen, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
A few minutes later, the bright sunlight was blocked out, and a heavy shadow fell over your lap.
"Well, look who decided to show up to my practice."
The gravelly, incredibly cocky voice cut through the background noise of the field, making you freeze completely in your seat. You slowly looked up to find Sukuna leaning casually against the handrail of the bleachers right next to your row, looking entirely out of place among the spectators yet perfectly in control. A sharp, knowing smirk played on his lips as he took in your wide-eyed, flustered expression, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.
Your friend went completely silent beside you, her previous excitement freezing instantly into utter shock as she stared at the massive varsity player standing just inches away.
"I-I'm just here with my friend," you said, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to shrink back into your seat, wishing the aluminum rows would somehow swallow you whole.
Sukuna let out a low, amused huff, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his broad chest, the movement drawing attention to the sheer size of him. His entire focus was fixed on you, taking supreme delight in how easily he could rattle your composure with just a few words. “A scared little bird,” he repeated, almost tasting the words, his tone dripping with mockery.
“I-I wasn’t—”
“You were staring.”
“I was not!”
“You absolutely were.”
“I looked up for two seconds!”
“And somehow those two seconds landed right on me.”
Heat flooded your face, turning your cheeks a dark, undeniable crimson. Beside you, the silence was broken as your friend suddenly sucked in a dramatic, loud breath that cut through the tension. “Oh my god.”
Both of you looked at her, breaking the intense eye contact. She was staring at Sukuna with wide, unblinking eyes, looking like she’d just witnessed a legendary celebrity descend from heaven directly into the stadium.
“You’re number three?” she asked.
Sukuna blinked, his head tilting slightly as he was momentarily pulled from his amusement at your expense. “Uh… yeah?”
“You play defense?”
“Yeah.”
She grabbed your arm so hard her fingernails dug through your sweater, making you almost yelped in pain. “HE’S THE HOT ONE I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”
You nearly choked on your own breath, your eyes widening in sheer panic at her lack of a filter. Sukuna’s eyebrow rose slowly, a highly entertained expression crossing his sharp features. “The hot one?”
She nodded frantically, her ponytail bouncing with the movement. “The one with the tattoos! The one I said looked like a villain in a movie! The one I have, like, a tiny crush on.”
“A tiny crush?” you whispered in horror, desperately tugging at her sleeve to make her stop, but she ignored you completely, entirely starstruck.
Sukuna looked deeply amused, his formidable ego visibly expanding by the second as he stretched his neck out. “You’ve got a crush on me?”
Your friend looked completely unashamed, squaring her shoulders. “Yeah.”
“Wow. That was easy.”
She shrugged carelessly. “I’m secure in myself.”
You wanted the earth to open up, the bleachers to split wide open, and the ground to swallow you whole to escape this nightmare. Sukuna glanced down at you, taking in your mortified expression, then back at your unapologetic friend, then back at you again, a low chuckle bubbling in his throat. “You two are weird.”
“Thank you,” your friend said proudly, taking it as a high compliment.
“No, seriously. Why are you hiding up here?” He stepped closer, his gaze sharpening significantly as he looked directly at you again, cutting right through your defenses. “I know you’re not here for football.”
“I told you, I’m here with my friend.”
Your friend immediately betrayed you without a second thought. “Actually, I had to drag her here.”
You whipped around to face her, betrayal burning in your chest. “What?!”
“Sorry.”
“You promised you wouldn’t talk!”
“I didn’t know your scary hallway guy was a football player!”
Sukuna’s grin grew wide and dangerous, his sharp teeth showing slightly as he absorbed this new piece of information. “Scary hallway guy?”
You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes and wishing for an immediate escape route. Your friend continued completely unbothered by your internal crisis. “Yeah! She hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that party.”
You made a strangled, pathetic noise into your palms. Sukuna’s grin slowly grew even wider, his dark eyes locking onto your hidden face. “Oh?”
“She keeps getting all red whenever I mention—”
You snapped, dropping your hands and slapping a palm directly over her mouth to cut off the sentence. “STOP TALKING.”
“Mmph!” she protested, her voice muffled against your hand as she tried to pull away.
Sukuna looked entirely too entertained by the chaotic display unfolding in front of him. He stepped up another aluminum bleacher until he was standing directly in front of your row, his massive frame looming heavily over your seated form and completely blocking out the afternoon sun. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
“No.”
“Your friend says otherwise.”
“She’s a liar.”
“Mmph!” your friend protested loudly against your palm, swatting at your wrist.
“You looked pretty nervous when you saw me,” Sukuna taunted, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours, the faint scent of sweat and grass drifting off him. “You looked like you saw a ghost.”
You finally dropped your hand from your friend's mouth, shifting your weight to glare up at him with all the false confidence you could muster. “You’re mean.”
He actually laughed—a real, deep, rough laugh that vibrated in his chest and was annoyingly, frustratingly attractive. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“You called me scary first.”
“I didn’t call you scary!”
“You called me the scary hallway guy.”
“That was her!”
Your friend nodded seamlessly, jumping right back into the conversation the moment her mouth was free. “You were definitely scared.”
You groaned loudly, lowering your head into your lap once more. Sukuna crossed his arms again, the double bands of dark ink on his biceps flexing prominently with the movement. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me. You practically sprinted away after the party.”
“You cornered me!”
“I said hi.”
“You blocked the entire hallway!”
“I’m a big guy.”
“You did it on purpose!”
“Maybe.” He stepped even closer, his long shadow falling completely over you, isolating you from the rest of the stadium. His eyes narrowed slightly as he analyzed your face. “You blush a lot.”
“No, I don't.”
“You do.”
“I really don't.”
“You’ve been red since I walked over here.”
You immediately covered your burning cheeks with both hands, a defensive reflex that only made his smirk widen into a triumphant grin.
“Cute,” he murmured.
Your brain completely stopped working, the single word echoing in your mind and leaving you utterly speechless. Beside you, your friend looked like she was about to explode from the sheer secondhand drama. “Oh my god,” she whispered under her breath.
A sharp, piercing whistle suddenly blew loudly from the green field below, shattering the private bubble that had formed on the bleachers. One of the head coaches stood on the track, red-faced and furious, shouting up at the stands, “SUKUNA! GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN HERE!”
Without even looking away from you, keeping his intense gaze locked on your flustered face, Sukuna yelled back carelessly over his shoulder, “In a minute!”
Several players on the field stopped their drills, turning around to laugh and shout raucously up at the high bleachers.
“DID NUMBER THREE FINALLY GET A GIRL?”
“NO WAY!”
Sukuna looked completely unbothered by the loud teasing of his teammates, his posture remaining relaxed and arrogant. You, however, wanted to dissolve into thin air and vanish from the campus entirely.
Suddenly, a stray football from an incomplete pass came flying through the air, spiraling rapidly toward your section of the bleachers. Without even turning his head around to look at the incoming projectile, Sukuna casually reached out his right arm and caught the ball cleanly with one hand, the leather smacking sharply against his palm.
Your friend nearly fainted on the spot, her jaw dropping. “Oh, he’s cool too?”
He tossed the ball effortlessly back down to the field with a flick of his wrist. “You okay?” he asked her, his tone entirely casual as if he hadn't just intercepted a rogue football blindly.
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You can’t just do things like that.”
“What?”
“The catching!”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression blank, as if she were speaking a completely foreign language. “You mean… catch a football?”
“Yeah!”
“That’s literally the sport.”
“I know, but still!”
You buried your face in your hands again, unable to handle the sheer absurdity of the situation. Sukuna chuckled, the sound low, rumbling, and deeply amused by the pair of you. Your friend grabbed your arm tightly, shaking it back and forth. “I get it now. He has a nice laugh.”
“Stop staring at him,” you hissed at her through your fingers.
“You stop staring at him.”
“I wasn’t!”
Sukuna looked back and forth between the two of you, his dark eyes tracking the movement like he was watching a fast-paced tennis match. “You guys argue a lot.”
“We’re best friends,” she explained cheerfully.
“Unfortunately,” you added, your voice muffled.
The coach’s whistle blew a second time, much louder and sharper than before, vibrating through the aluminum structure. “SUKUNA!”
“COMING!” he yelled back, the veins in his neck flexing as he finally turned his attention toward the field. He let out a short, annoyed sigh, adjusting the headband on his forehead. “Looks like I’m needed.”
Neither of you said anything, assuming the ordeal was finally over and he would just turn and walk away. But then he paused on the step, locking his dark, intense eyes directly back onto yours, trapping you once again.
“You coming to the game on Friday?”
“What?”
“The game.”
“I don’t—”
“She’ll be there!” your friend cut in loudly, answering for you before you could formulate a rejection.
You looked at her in absolute horror, your heart stopping. “I never said that!”
“You are now.”
Sukuna’s smirk returned in full force, sharp, knowing, and entirely satisfied with the outcome. “I’ll save you a seat.”
“I don’t need a seat.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“I really don’t.”
“We’ll see.” He started walking backward down the steep aluminum steps, navigating the drop with effortless coordination and balance without ever breaking eye contact with you. Then, right before his cleats reached the running track, he stopped and looked up at you one last time. “Oh, and scared little bird?”
You blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden use of the nickname. “What?”
His grin stretched wide across his face, full of pure, cocky satisfaction that radiated all the way up to the top row. “Try not to miss me too much until Friday.”
Your entire face exploded into a brilliant, burning red that felt hot enough to leave a mark. Your friend let out a high-pitched, ecstatic squeal that echoed off the metal stands as Sukuna turned around and jogged back onto the bright field, completely aware of the absolute chaos he had just left behind in his wake.
Down on the field, the rest of the varsity team was huddling up, shouting and shoving each other, but right before the play started and the quarterback called the snap, Sukuna glanced back up toward the high bleachers. The exact second he saw you looking down at him, his signature smirk returned.
Then, with absolute confidence, he deliberately winked.
Your friend screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbing your shoulders, and your knees went so weak that you nearly slid right off your metal seat onto the floor below.
i feel like i could have done so much better with this (╥ ᴗ ╥)
Simon has a life outside the mask. He’s Ghost only at work, and here’s my interpretation.
Simon Ghost Riley x Secretary!Reader (part 1)
It was a late night, seeing the clock in your peripheral, you got up from your desk with a deep sigh.
[22:17]
After what felt like forever, you finally find yourself at the kitchenette of the lounge, placing a mug on the counter. Or so you thought until the ceramic struck against the linoleum with a loud, echoing clatter, instantly shattering into countless pieces. Scoffing at your own clumsiness, you grab the dustpan and brush from underneath the kitchen cupboard, sweeping up the scattering of jagged shards displayed on the floor like some sort of fiasco of your own ungainliness. You make sure to set the now second mug down properly this time, you make a coffee and sit back at your desk.
You’re about to take a sip of your coffee, until your phone vibrates in your pocket, huffing in frustration before you answer.
“What?” You bark into the microphone.
“Girl, I need to know if you’ve talked to him yet!” Your friend practically screams into the phone, pressing like she has the last couple of months of you yapping about the Lieutenant you developed a slightly massive crush on.
“Like I said, he’s so out of my league it would be pathetic for me to even attempt to get his attention.” you dismissed in hopes of her letting it go. “Anyways, I gotta go I’ll call you back, yeah?” you ask rhetorically before hanging up and setting down the phone and shifting your focus back to the screen; taking a sip of coffee.
Your fingers clack away on the yellowed keyboard as you finally finish digitalising the last report on your desk. You log out at the speed of light, grabbing your bag and the cup you used, heading to the common room to put it in the sink just to see the Lieutenant, out of his gear, sprawled out on one of the sofas in just a plain black balaclava. You glance over at the masked, burly man looking at you and give him a polite smile before leaving the room with your palms all clammy. You’re interrupted yet again by the same, awfully annoying buzzing noise. Right as you’re about to clock out too.
“Steaming jesus give it a fucking rest will ya?” you hiss at the screen, almost dropping your phone pressing the hang up button. Your phone buzzes again, this time you answer.
“I swear to god if this is about what I think it is, I already said that I have absolutely no chance with him!” you snapped, hanging up immediately after your angry remark.
“Everything alright, love?” a deep, gravelly voice asks.
You see the masked man you’ve been crushing on as you whip your head around to find the source of the voice. “Yes Sir.” is all you managed to choke out, praying to everything that’s holy that he doesn’t figure out it was him you were talking about. You fumble around with your keycard, suddenly being completely unable to do anything with it.
beep
“There you are, sweet. Have a good night.” Ghost murmured while he held the door for you, watching your small frame march over to your car and leave all flustered.
[part 2]
link coming soon
SGT.NYMPHIE™ | Do NOT rewrite, plagiarise, or post on other platforms, do NOT use for ai prompts. that’s an order
