"Where is my niece?" Iroh asks Zuko as he enters his study. He nods slightly at the attendants who bow in greeting. "There’s a new tea shop that opened in the city and I was hoping she'd accompany me."
"She may be feeding the turtle ducks," Zuko replies, reading through some documents. "And she won't be able to go with you today, she promised her afternoon and evening to me."
Iroh raises a brow, noting how Zuko's voice turned slightly childish. It reminds him of back when Zuko was young and a little possessive over the turtle ducks. He'd not allow anyone else near them, only his mother and very rarely, himself.
It's funny to see it now on an adult Zuko, who's a little—very—possessive over his wife and her time.
Iroh contemplates teasing his nephew about it.
"Oh?" He says. "But it'll only be for an hour or so and I know she's been excited to visit this place."
Zuko huffs. "I know. She's been talking about it since you told her." He sighs, lowering the paper in his hands so he can give his uncle his full attention. "You know I love that you and her are close. But let's be realistic, uncle. Your outings last longer than an hour and I probably won't see her until it's time for bed."
"I wouldn't keep her out that long."
Zuko stares at him.
"I promise!" Iroh laughs, amused by his nephew's disgruntled expression. "And you know there's a solution for this."
"And what's that?" Zuko asks, eyeing him warily.
"You can come with us."
"You know I can't," Zuko says, gesturing to all the work before him. "I have a meeting in the early afternoon followed by my counsel and—"
The doors to his study open, revealing a smiling you. Iroh smiles back, casting a glance at Zuko who immediately melts at the sight of you. Oh, he remembers what that was like—being that deeply in love.
"Hey," you greet happily, moving towards Iroh first who accepts the hug you give him. Then you're onto Zuko who stands and reaches for you, his arms locking around your waist as you lean into him, pressing a soft kiss against his scar. "How are my two favourite people doing?"
"Well," Zuko starts. "We were just—"
"—about to head out to the new tea shop that just opened," Iroh interrupts smoothly, ignoring the bewildered look on his nephew's face. "We were coming to look for you right now, actually."
"Oh really?" You ask, brightening up beautifully and turning your sunshine smile to Zuko. "You're coming with us? That's so exciting! We can spend the afternoon together."
"I—" Zuko looks towards Iroh, helpless, as his uncle grins. "I...yes, I'm coming with you."
"Wonderful!" You kiss his scar again and Zuko's melting again. "Let me just go and freshen up a little then we can go."
"We'll be here," Iroh replies, waving as you practically skip out of the room. Then he turns to Zuko. "Well, that was easy, wasn't it?"
"You've got to stop doing that," Zuko bemoans but there's an obvious upward curve to his lips.
SYNOPSIS 𓏲𝄢 Being a blind girl in a bustling village is not easy— especially when nobody was willing to be of help. You've heard stories about a curse frequently roaming around the outskirts of town. A folklore passed down from generations to generations of family inside the village, though nobody has seen this "curse" in person before, the stories were still told like it first surfaced. However, the night when the said curse finally emerged from the thick trees and vaporized the village, you were left behind to fend on your own.
PAIRING ✶ trueform! sukuna x blind! reader
CONTENT ✶ sukuna is a dick, what's new . uraume is also . . . mean here, but they will change . no smut . long oneshot . ik it is said that sukuna doesn't have concubines nor sexual partners, but there will be mentions of concubines in this fic . uraume cameo . ik sukuna probably doesn't eat human food too but it's said here that he does (begrudgingly) . reader gets hurt a lot (minor wounds like a cut or scratch) . mentions of blood . mentions of sex . derogatory terms for women . sukuna gets soft but denies it . a little angst if u realize . fluff ending (gosh im not one for angst rn)
NOTE ✶ divider creds to @/mieluno . it's been so long since i posted here omg. my first draft is almost done, surprisingly. saw how my blind! reader and trueform sukuna fic previously got so much love, i thought why not make another one. probably gonna dip again after this for a bit, then come back again. also, thank you so much for 4k while i was gone, i appreciate it so much. and i hope you guys like this one mwhehe :>
"My mother told me the curse arrives every decade to choose a woman of his choice," this is stupid, you thought.
Your ears twitched lightly at the gossip— the folklore has been around for many decades and it was still spread around like wildfire. Frankly speaking, you didn't think it was right, just something made by worried parents to get their kids tucked safely behind doors on time as the sun falls under the horizon.
For many years, you've heard people speak of the same curse around; but never did the curse showed itself to anyone also over the years, you've heard many different things about the curse:
One, it was said that the "curse" comes by every decade to choose a woman of his choice to be a concubine, or even worse, a wife. However, none of the women here has been chosen by him, nor did the curse ever did come by.
Two, it was said that the curse marries a woman, make her conceive a child, then eats her. Which . . . makes absolutely zero sense at all to you, do curses even engage in . . . bodily intercourse at all?
Three, it was said that when the curse comes, he chooses, and vaporizes the others, and leave. Which also . . . makes absolutely zero sense!
Clearly this was something made by people who felt like it was fun to be passed down for generations. You were born with no vision, so the wonders of the world are all held back in blotches of black, it wasn't the most handy in this life where you do labor for everything.
"Do you think he has disgusting features . . ? Maybe two heads . . . Oh, or four legs, like a deer. Maybe he's a deer curse since he ventures the forest," you wanted to chuckle hearing them speak— it has always been them, you had no sense of time which was pretty horrible in a way you'd need someone to actually remind you it's night while you were out.
And by "someone" it's the owl hooting and hollering loudly, announcing the beginning of its hunt. Along with the crickets by the evening. Oh, don't forget the sounds of doors clicking harshly into their locks or the windows slamming shut in fear that the "curse" would get them.
You have felt intense fear in life. For example, recalling back to the time you'd lost footing in a stream and had the ladies there help you from drowning only to receive a lecture on how you should be more careful. Second, this was pure hypocrisy, however when you tend to stay out after dark, the rustling that comes behind trees and snaps of branches sent shivers down your spine.
Because as much as you try to deny the possibility of the curse roaming around the outskirts of the village, somewhere deep inside you, a little part couldn't help but to indulge into the folklore like these people.
Your eyelids slammed open, the drumming in your heart was getting louder and louder. This wasn't a dream, you were sure of it. So, why the hell were people screaming and hollering outside? Your fingertips grazed over the wooden desk as you guided yourself out of bed, heart racing and the impending doom bubbling right under your chest— people don't scream like this unless something was happening.
Was there another break in? Or were the Shakkin-tori back? They weren't supposed to be back until next year (or so you heard).
Your fingers curled on the door handle and you twisted it slowly, the lock clicking under your command. The air outside felt humid— no, hot even. It felt like the sun had decided to come a little bit closer.
And it smells . . . Awful. Utterly, awful. It smells like charcoal. Were the kids burning wood again? The second your foot stepped out, you were on the ground. Someone had sped past you frantically, screaming bloody murder, and hence, you decided that this wasn't just Shakkin-tori nor a normal forest bandit visit— this was actually real. And you weren't sure what to make do of the lack of information.
"Hello—" Your voice was futile, drowned under the crackles of wood and the mix of agony wafting around.
Your head turned frantically, hoping for anyone, anyone to just notice you this one time. But to no avail, nobody came to your aid as they were also busy with themselves. Families running, clutching onto their little ones as they fled the village only to be a cluttered, lifeless mess the second they try to escape any further.
The smell of metal whiffed into your nostrils, it doesn’t take two and two to conclude that it was blood that you were currently smelling. Especially with this whole fiesta, you’d think blood might have been the first thing you could smell instead of burning wood.
You could make out kids crying beneath all the terrified screams and crackles of burning wood growing louder. It was bound to happen to your safe haven so you stopped yourself from getting back inside— navigating your way outside all based on pure memories and instinct. Your movements were ran by adrenaline at this point, and you disregard the bumping made to the corner of your shoulders, refusing to let it push you down this time.
“Anyone?” You call out, your fingers grasping the air, quietly hoping for someone’s hand to hold yours and bring you to safety.
But nothing came. And you were left to be alone, walking down with your arms stretched out, you felt like a fool.
You stumbled over the hem of your kimono slightly and cursed under your breath, using one hand to grip the fabric and pulling it up slightly so you could step better. However, the lack of stretched arms to navigate your way only allowed you to crash into a wall— no, it sure felt like a wall, but you aren’t stupid enough to know that walls don’t make noises.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out meek and careful, a bit relieved that this was someone you could ask for help from, “What is happening? Hello?”
“Uraume.”
Who is Uraume? You don’t recognize that name anywhere and you surely don’t recognize anyone with that name inside the village. You staggered back, they must be the perpetrators. You turned on your heels and tried to rush away, only for a force to tug you back by your forearm.
“My Lord?”
“Seize her.”
Seize? You try to pull your arm away— keyword: try. When it failed under the touch of the person named “Uraume”, you reason out, “I’m afraid I do not understand what that means, what is happening right now?”
“My Lord, she lacks the knowledge of seizing. She is quite unlettered,” your jaw dropped in offense at the words strewn about you, “shall I discard her away and search for a different woman for you—?”
“I am not unlettered! Forgive me for lacking the vision to see what is revolving around me right now,” you muttered under your breath.
“Seize her. Drag her back to the shrine.”
“Ow,” you wince out, your hair pulled back roughly.
“Hold still,” you didn’t dare move at the annoyance lacing in her tone— you still have yet to know what was happening and who “Uraume” and “My Lord” is.
They had dragged you here without much fight from you. As much as you tried to stop them, their touch roughly screamed out strong and you weren’t brave enough to fight back. Not currently, to keep it short, “Uraume” had commanded a woman to hurl you into a quick bath so you’d look presentable.
“Why have they decided to bring in a blind girl? This is so troublesome,” she spat out, despite that, her fingers worked inside your hair, scrubbing it roughly, pulling the strands back.
Your wince and hisses of pain had gone unbothered by her. And you’d assume she worked under “Uraume” and “My Lord”. By her complaints, she’d rather be doing something else rather than bathing you. Mind you, you had the ability to clean yourself without help!
Don’t even start with the drying. She had used a rough fabric you couldn’t make out, it prickled your skin like needles; you try not to rip the fabric out of her grasp to do it yourself, but the curses she spat under her breath made you endure it. She had dressed you in a kimono, you assumed. The process equaled to the one you do everyday.
Although she had pulled the obijime tighter than how you do it, deliberately cutting the air slightly that you struggled to walk.
She pulled you along. No, she dragged you along her side and you complied. Before then, you’d stumble over wooden stairs she doesn’t inform you of until the sound the traditional shoji door sliding made you shudder. Once the door opened, the aura from the other side made your body felt lightweight.
The woman, you assumed, dragged you inside the room. Her hand lands on the top of your head, pushing it down. Your forehead kissed the rough tatami mat harshly at the force, and she murmurs under her breath; all hostility from before dissipating into one of fear and caution, “My Lord, she has been cleaned up like you assigned.”
“You may leave.”
Her hand disappeared from the top of your head and the footsteps fled, you internally screamed for her to bring you along. But, she doesn’t. The shoji door slid shut and you were left inside the room, on your knees. Slowly you brought your head back up from the mat, palms growing clammy at the silence.
“What is happening—?” Your question doesn’t vary from when they had found you roaming around like headless chicken.
“Silence. You are as of to shut your mouth when not given the permission,” someone solicited.
Again. You were offended. Surely they could have said it in a nicer manner, you fisted your hands on top of your lap. First, they had dragged you here. Second, made you shower with a woman who clearly doesn’t want to do it. Third, tell you to shut it when you needed closure.
“I have been stolen against my will,” you told in a matter of fact tone.
“Kidnap, I believe is the right term.”
“Yes. This is a crime. A felony. You will be severely punished for this,” you mutter under your breath, furrowing your brows, “they will put your head up on spikes and present it to the whole village!”
“Surely they wouldn’t go against someone who had vaporized your village,” you gasped in surprise, “and I made sure to leave the adults choked on their own blood. Who will have whose heads on spikes? I’d say not the adults.”
“I can’t tell if your naivety is laughable or pathetic,” the new voice, deeper, and hoarse made your head cast down slowly, “why so scared now? Where has that courage gone off to?”
The words were blown out of your mind. Whoever this was right in front of you smells of great danger and you weren't ready to deal with this until you've gotten your way around. A low chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of you so meek, "Uraume, show her the chambers."
Chambers? Your head snapped up, "Chambers? I will be detained?"
"Sleeping chambers," Uraume clarify.
You felt Uraume brush against you as they walked, you stood up slowly, trying to follow their footsteps; only to plant your face into the shoji door. A heads up would have been wonderful, you mumbled to yourself internally. Uraume kept his silence, watching you struggle with the fact that the Shoji door was on your way— they pushed the door wider for you to step out, and you did. our foot caught onto the sill of the door and your body jolted forwards slightly.
You would think that Uraume at least had the basic decency to guide you to follow them, but they had took a few steps ahead. No worries, you'd rely on your hearing for so long that you have grown accustomed to this kind of behavior. Your fingers laced against each other, following their steps and making sure that you hadn't lost them along the way.
"When you address him by 'My Lord', what is he? King of the forest? Head of village? Owner of a shrine?" You questioned in confusion, "And who was that lady? She could have been nicer to my hair."
"We do not do nice here. Be glad that My Lord has decided to spare your measly life unlike the adults there . . ." Uraume muttered back, turning around the corner.
Which you didn't hear. Hence, the loud 'thud' your body made as you fell off the end of the engawa, unknown about the sharp corner. Your palm dug onto the ground, little pebbles irritated the surface of your skin, digging into your flesh. A loud hiss escaped your lips at the sting and Uraume's footsteps close in, "This is quite troublesome."
"It would not have been if you had told me about that corner, Waraume."
"Uraume," they corrected.
"Uraume," you fixed.
They didn't help you up. You kept yourself stranded on the ground, one of the zori sandals you wore came off when you took a tumble and you had no idea where it had landed. After seconds, you brushed your palms onto the fabric of the kimono, tapping the ground to find the missing piece of footwear. This is humiliating.
When your fingertips grazed over it, you cheered internally, placing it upright. Uraume grunted, "Be quick, I do not have all the time in this world to wait for your tardiness."
"Tardiness? I am not being tardy. I need help, and nobody is willing to give me the help I needed," you grumbled under your breath, putting the sandal back on begrudgingly.
Uraume shuffled back onto the engawa, letting you climb back on yourself. This time, you try to keep quiet and put all ears up to listen to their footsteps, and you did. Horribly.
Uraume stopped right in front of a shoji door. Their fingers gripped onto the back of your obi, pulling you into a halt. They slid the door open widely this time, "This is where you will reside. You are to consume three meals a day —breakfast, lunch, and dinner— in the Ooku with the other concubines. They can be . . . distasteful, so keep your mouth shut at all times."
You stood there, "Ooku? Concubines? Surely your Lord wouldn't want a blind concubine, no?"
"He has not said anything about you being a concubine, a command is a command."
Uraume ushered you inside the chamber, "But I do not know when breakfast, lunch, or dinner is," your voice was timid, but Uraume isn't there anymore— They had walked away the moment you stepped inside the chamber, with your arms stretched out, you try to find your way around the room. It was spacious, maybe even bigger than your house in the village.
There is the cabinet. A dresser. A few tokonoma hung on the walls. An ikebana vase rested on the cabinet gingerly, and you hummed. Your fingers touched a circular handle and you slid it open— the oshiire, this was where the fluffy futon was tucked inside. And you touched the soft cotton based bedding, this was better than the thin mattress you used back at home.
Walking around the room, your shin bumped onto a small desk by the corner, a loud groan escaped in between your lips and you rubbed the area in the middle of your leg, "Who puts a table in the corner?" What a poor planning.
Like the usual, you only recognized it is nightfall by the time an owl began hooting right outside your chamber. The gargling in your stomach made you huddle down in pain, when was dinner? Right as you began laying down on the tatami, the door slid open.
"You are late for dinner."
"I don't know what is night. Or day. Or time at all. For one, the owls have been my night radar for . . . ever now," you muttered out, clutching on your stomach, "and I have no sense of direction. I do not know where the Ooku lays beneath all these walls and engawa. Nor do I know where the engawa ends," the reminder of the fall you took earlier made you grow annoyed.
Uraume blow out a soft sigh, they walked inside and lit the lantern by the corner of the room, "My Lord is requesting for your presence. The other concubines are not allowed to eat unless your presence is there."
"Is he supposed to eat with the concubines?"
" . . . Not usually," Uraume grappled onto your bicep, tugging you up, "it is an exception just for today."
"Why isn't he dining with his empress—"
"My Lord has no empress."
"Consorts?"
"No."
The walk to the Ooku is quiet. Uraume walked with purpose, often stopping to make sure you hadn't fall off the engawa like earlier— every time you fall back, Uraume stepped their foot once to notify his presence. You followed them down. And when the two of you reached the Ooku, Uraume took a good look at you.
"Make yourself look presentable."
"Do I not look presentable?"
"You look a mess."
"I am still presentable, am I not here to dine? I have no wants to woo your Lord," you smooth down the fabric of your kimono, puckering your lips slightly at how harsh their words are, "I am starving. I hope you served deer meat."
"Fish."
"Fish is delicious as well."
Uraume pulled the shoji door open, and the smell of food immediately caressed your nostrils. The smell made your stomach gargle even more, but you don't dare step inside— not when the whispers of the concubines made your stomach drop in a way not even the dread from the village did. You swallowed the lump in your throat, waiting for Uraume's next command.
"Step inside."
"Where?" Your whisper made Uraume grunt, they slowly grip the corner of your fingers, dragging you along the room. The tatami mat seemed to dig under your foot more as you walked. Before you could process it, they had helped you sit on the fluffy zabuton, right behind the table full of plates and bowls.
Sukuna's eyes watched you cautiously. He kept his mouth sealed, eyeing the way you sat on your knees on top of the zabuton, tucked to the right where a high ranked concubine should have been sitting. Instead, he had requested for you today. And his request was accepted in begrudging acceptance from the concubines.
Inside the Ooku, you sat there awkwardly. The whispers continue and you grumbled under your breath, you just wanted to dine in peace. A low voice came from your left side, "Eat."
The same voice you heard before. 'My Lord', you mumbled inside your mind. Bowls clanked, and you look around, tapping the table in search of your utensils. This was already humiliating as it is, but the fact that all these people have to wait for you to finish eating before being able to leave was even more humiliating— you end up discarding a lot of food just to make it all stop.
Uraume guided you back to your chambers under Sukuna's command.
You guessed a month passed by in a whim. You kept track of it, every single time the owls made their noise, you try to carve the walls of the chambers with a piece of sharp wood. The deep carve helped you counted the days you have been sitting here inside the chambers. It was ridiculous— the days passed by and every single thing in a day was always the same. Wake up, try to fold the futon, shove it back inside the oshiire as much as it could fit, shut the door and hope it doesn't bust, wait for Uraume to bring you to the Ooku for breakfast, bathe, dilly-dally, lunch, more dilly-dallying, dinner, bathe, bed.
"Dinner is served."
The walk to the Ooku was no longer awkward, you had accepted the fact that this will be your life from now on. 'My Lord'— or Sukuna Ryomen, you heard has made no attempt to talk to you at all, and you were glad. He was clearly occupied with the higher rank concubines, or that's what you assumed.
Exception for tonight, Uraume said. And Sukuna had been dining in the Ooku since you arrived here. Also, that explains why these ladies haven't been the nicest to you. By all means. Bath time was the worst, you wouldn't be surprised when one of your kimono pieces go missing, or your sandals, your socks. Even the soap. Or the wooden bucket you use frequently for water.
The constant bumps on your shoulder when you walked by the engawa, or the way you constantly trip on someone's foot as you walked by. They were doing a pretty damn good job at making you feel like chopped liver, not that you feel at home here anyways. You had no plan to get them to stop, nor do you want to be involved with the higher ranked concubines.
"Eat," Sukuna muttered like the usual.
Your fingers grasped the wooden chopsticks. You weren't a food connoisseur, but the cooks seemed to be in a mood to get married today— the salt made your throat ache, but you swallowed it nonetheless. At least the rice was delicious and it killed the over salty . . . everything.
"Uraume."
Every movement inside the dining hall collapsed. The silence is deafening and your movements stopped along with the others when Sukuna suddenly piqued out for Uraume, "Yes, My Lord?"
"Call the dokumiyaku."
The woman to your right speaks up, "Is there a problem with the food, My Lord?" her soft voice was wonderful— one of the kind you'd expect from a noble woman, although it would have been nice if her attitude matches the softness of her voice, "I'd say it tastes quite exquisite today."
Uraume went off and hoisted a dokumiyaku into the Ooku; you sat there, ready to shove your face inside the food, but your chopsticks were stolen right from your grasp at the last second, "I had not command you to eat, did I?" Sukuna's voice glowered.
You couldn't see his expression, but you stayed quiet. Sukuna faced the poison taster standing in fear right by the shoji, and he spoke out, "Taste this woman's food," he commanded.
And by woman, he meant yours. Everyone's eyes panned towards your platter of food. The only thing about this was somehow you were the only one unknown of all this, but you waited. You felt a presence right to your side and you scoot away in response.
"My Lord, there seems to be no problem with anything . . . Though," and then it hits you that the man was trying your food, your food. Sukuna had called a poison taster for your food for whatever reason he believed, "it is quite salty. A little more than . . . usual, and too much salt can cause complications to the body—"
"Hence, it is poison?"
" . . . If digested too much, yes."
"Uraume, discard the platter."
"My food," you mumbled, "surely I will be getting another platter, right?"
Sukuna grunts. He took a look at Uraume, gesturing to his platter as a hint to hand it to you, Sukuna hates human food anyways. Uraume complied, moving the platter onto your table. The concubines brows furrowed at the sight of his generosity— this was the first time Sukuna had done something as humane as this. The jealousy that had been brewing inside their heart boiled even more at the sight, the silence was there, but their hearts were noisy; sending knowing glances at each other as if to make sure every single one of them inside that room saw what just happened.
After Sukuna's command to continue eating, everyone continued. You chowed down the better tasting food and finished everything. How come he had notice something was wrong? Were your expressions saying too much?
Deespite that, you were thankful enough to finish the platter. Also, why does he have a poison taster? Aren’t curses immune to them?
A few months passed by slow, the concubines were being miserable. Especially the higher ranked ones, you would have thought mentions of them being pure evil were just myths— but they were right. You had been miserable all these months.
It started off small like a few months ago. Bath time problems. Missing clothing. Then it escalates to tampered foods, light framing. For example, last month, you had gotten framed for breaking one of the concubine's priced jewelry she custom made from one of the rarest gem in all of Japan. You took the judgement like a rock, with pointed fingers at you, you don't bother at all. Sukuna dismissed the problem, he doesn't sound like he cared enough to be bothered by a broken gem.
Or the other time another high ranked concubine told Sukuna about you somehow being a spy sent by your village to put an end to him. Sukuna blatantly shut down the ridiculous statement by saying he had killed every single person in that village and the said concubine was sent to the chamber . . . not for sleeping ones.
Sukuna doesn’t bother with measly troubles as this. Perhaps it’s the fact he was bounded to these women with lust— he has no problem throwing them away when they get too troublesome. Although, he did have to admit, you had done nothing but be troublesome for him.
Yet, you piqued his interest to the brim. Perhaps it is also the fact that you couldn’t see him that you were not spewing out words of disbelief. Most of his concubines fear him, they feared death. But you? You act like this was another trip around the village and lived life to the fullest.
He loathes dining in the Ooku, the concubines there —most of them— acted insufferable. The tone of their voice differ from the way they spoke to people of lower ranks. Now, Sukuna doesn’t bother with how they acted to the shrine maids or the workers, though his ears twitched every time he overhears them talking about you like you were just a hindrance to them.
The first time Sukuna laid his eyes upon your figure, he had been itching to kill you. To just slice you open and watch the crimson paint the ground like he did to every other people in the village that night, it took him by surprise that he had even commanded Uraume to bring you here.
These concubines were chosen by him, personally. Either that or . . . They had rightfully given themselves by their own want. Sukuna fixed his black hakama as he sat down inside his chambers, the darkness consumed him; and the only light were from the lanterns Uraume had forced inside the room.
“Uraume.”
“Have the concubines been giving that woman a hard time?” Sukuna questioned, shutting his eyes, “They will stop at nothing to get rid of that woman from the shrine.”
“Seems like the concubines are a bit . . . Envious.”
“Envy?” Sukuna questioned in amusement, he stared up the ceiling of his chambers, “Of what?”
“You seem to be favoring her.”
“That blind wench? Favoring? I’m just merely toying with her.” He scoffed.
“Mm.”
Sukuna grunted, “There will be time when I get rid of her— she’s utterly irrelevant and useless.”
Uraume hums softly, “She has no manners, no class, is never on time, takes long baths, mismtaches her outfits often, unable to take care of her looks, and is just . . . Terrible to look after. She is quite troublesome, I’d appreciate if you do get rid of that woman,” they finished in annoyance, “she go on about falling off the engawa and blamed it on me. How rude.”
“She lacks the vision.”
“And common sense.”
Sukuna leaned his chin onto one of his knuckles, his thought reeled back to the way you seemed to be all smiles despite the wrong-doings of the other concubines. He was right, you put no mind into the stuff that revolved around you right now and lived life like you always do— clearly, it shows how much you had been through to be able to accept these kinds of doings with open heart.
Uraume grumbled under their breath, “She lacks the knowledge of time. She lacks the knowledge of etiquette. She is quite the messy eater that even the maids get tired of scrubbing her outfits, it is about time that you get rid of her, My Lord.”
“It will come.”
A sliver of smile appeared on Uraume’s lips and they bowed their head down, “I will be waiting.”
You held back a light sneeze, idle on the futon. Your sleepwear tangled lightly, wondering how you were supposed to be sleeping in such complex materials— you thought of discarding them and sleep with just your skin on, but it would be shameful for Uraume to see first thing in the morning if you hadn’t wake up.
Your eyes were wide open, blinking. The darkness that covered your vision felt suffocating, and you breathe in softly and let the air back out loudly. Your back ached as the rough tatami dug into the futon. Today had been a bad day, you had managed to fall off the engawa once more when one of the concubines, you assume, had tripped you while you walked by.
Two, you spilled your grilled fish and didn’t get another one as change. You tried to complain to anyone. And three, someone had taken your obijime during bath time and you had nothing to hold your obi up. So, you walked towards your chambers holding up the piece of clothing your limbs turning into a makeshift obijime.
This was childish, you thought.
You stood up, the kosode faltering a bit and the oversized hakama Uraume gave to you were annoying. Not only were they too big, they had refused to change anything to fit you.
You slowly slid out of the room, tapping on the walls to navigate your way out. In all honesty, you were not supposed to be roaming out after dark. Uraume frequently goes on to check, but they stop after a certain amount of time— you walked down the hall, finding your way turning corners after corners trying to remember the directions to the garden you came across while exploring alone the other month.
“Running away so soon?”
You stumbled over your foot at the sudden voice and fell face first onto the wooden engawa, the pain registering seconds later into your nose and forehead. A hiss escaped your lips as you scoot aside, sitting on your knees, “Who is speaking?”
“Your Lord.”
“Sukuna?” You confirmed.
The no answer was an answer and you sighed, “How may I be as of help, My Lord?” You murmured out, rubbing the tip of your nose.
“You? Think I need help?”
“You might, which is why I am asking,” an amused scoff went past your lips and he raised a brow at your words, nobody dared to say that to him. Not even Uraume, “I was . . . Heading to the restroom.”
“Wrong direction.”
You freeze. He owned this place, of course he knew everything, a nervous laugh rumbled from the deepest part of your body, “Oh, it seems like I have made a mistake. Please, excuse me then, My Lord.”
He drawls out again, “You are quite the bad liar, wench.”
You retaliate, “Excuse me?” Had he just insulted you? Wench? Oh my goodness, if he weren’t so powerful, you would have your fist all the way up his bottom that it shows up when he opens his mouth! “Do not address me as such. I am not a wench.”
He scoffed, “You’re pitiful.”
“I am not.”
“All smiles under peer pressure, my concubines are giving you a hard time, are they not?” He hummed in amusement, adjusting his black colored kosode hanging by his broad shoulders, “I do not know whether you are being brave or foolish. You are a mere toy for me to enjoy, and until that enjoyment ends, I am to keep you alive and breathing.”
“And once it ends?”
“You will be discarded like every other person,” he spoke with such ease that it made vomit pile in your throat, you were kept here for the sake of his amusement while you were trying to stay alive, “nobody would choose a blind wench, not even humans. You would serve as nothing but a toy to anyone out there, surely you’d be appreciative of the royalty I give you?”
You gasped in horrid, “Appreciative? Over this?! You are insufferable, and terrible. Yes, you are terrible and disgusting.”
He barks out a rancid laugh, “That so?”
“Disgusting!”
You lift your hakama to prevent tripping and walked forwards only to step over . . . Nothing. And the tumble sent you face first into the ground below. Damn that engawa!
“Fool.”
Sukuna’s heavy footsteps began echoing as he walked around the corner, leaving you to complain on your own, blaming the hakama over your fall. The soil stuck beneath your nails as you pushed yourself up, holding the hakama in embarrassment. All that talk and you fall after, shame!
You stood there. The tremble in your legs stood you up there for a moment, graveling in your own shame. After a moment, you found yourself climbing back up onto the engawa, sauntering down the hall in continue to find the garden you accidentally came across some time ago.
Unlike the other concubines, you don’t care about that fiend. Fiend is the right word, he is now a fiend since you are a wench to him. How dare he degrade you like that? Even if nobody was there to witness it— still, how terrible of him. Maybe the folklore was right, maybe he is as terrible.
Ugh. You stomp your foot down on the engawa in annoyance. Not only did he manage to foul your already foul mood, you also did not find the garden even after an hour of roaming around endless corners, slowly lowering yourself onto grounds just to pat over the ground seeking for the familiar feeling of the bushes you touched and seeking for the slick rock that stopped you from toppling over the small pond.
You end up tangled under the blankets of your futon, angrily tugging on the warm sheet like your life depends on it. No, actually, you were channeling your anger towards Sukuna to the poor thing, cursing it under your breath as you kicked your legs in annoyance.
Before then, you had fallen asleep in fits of rage. The crease in between your brows deepened in your sleep, Sukuna plaguing your dreams. You woke up early like a fresh bucket of water had dampen you, earlier than usual. You slip out of your room with a towel and a change of kimono the maids had packed in sets so you wouldn’t mix the colors up— a warm bath without any of the concubines up felt like a breath of fresh air, you tied the obijime just right.
No missing sandals. No mismatched socks. You walked back to your chambers, tidying up the futon and shoving it into the oshiire as much as it could fit in. A low rumble of hunger reverberated and you held your tummy, sitting on your knees, waiting for Uraume to come fetch you.
And when they did, they were fairly surprised to see you up and dressed well. You feel their fingers curl around yours, pulling you out of the chambers. You trudged alongside them, entering the Ooku proudly. Chest puffed up, like you hadn’t been loudly cursing the pink haired curse into the sheets of your futon.
Sukuna’s many eyes panned to you, scoffing under his breath when you sat on your usual spot. Already reaching out for the chopsticks, “Had I given permission for you to eat?”
“I do not need anybody’s permission to eat,” yes, that was great, you thought already poking on the white fluffy rice in an attempt to rile him up.
And you sure did.
His brows deepened, “You dare defy me?”
“I dare!”
His concubines gasp in shock, surely Sukuna wouldn’t let you out of this alive. His maids and servants have died for various reasons— even the little ones, his outfit folded in a wrong way. Death. His room slightly dirty. Death. Caught shit talking him. Death.
Sukuna stared down at you, riled up. All while you were blissfully feeding yourself the warm rice. A delightful moan vibrating inside you, “This is delicious rice.”
Uraume blinked their eyes in surprise before actively trying to stop you. However, Sukuna waves one of his hand towards them, “Leave us.”
Uraume wastes no time ushering out the other concubines— some of them stifling laughter of satisfaction knowing you were in deep trouble after your stunt. They walked out elegantly, bowing down to Sukuna. You were blissfully unaware of the tremble on his shoulders, the way his nostrils fumed at your action.
“You dare shame me in front of my people?”
“In no way am I trying to shame you, I was just simply dining and appreciating how delicious this food is,” his arm swerved, hurling his platter of food aside. The loud crash echoed in the dining hall and you froze.
What the fuck just happened?
Your chopsticks hovered over the pickled radish on the side, the air blown out of you at the noise. Sure you were planning to rile him up, not to this extent though. You couldn’t see but the ominous aura he pushed out of him made you shudder in fear, the pressure on your shoulders added tenfold when his hand lands on your nape.
Oh, no. Is this the moment he crushed your neck and you die? Or is the moment he hurled you like he did to that platter? Or—
“You have the guts for someone who lacks the vision,” he spat out in annoyance, tone deep and brooding, “do you understand the position you are in? Know your place.”
“Respect is earned, if you do not respect me, I will not respect you,” you muttered out through gritted teeth, your chopsticks trembled from how hard you were holding it and you breath in heavily, “you dare address me as a wench, you do not know me.”
“I said, know your place.”
“I refuse.”
His hand clamped tighter on your nape, pulling your head back. You widened your eyes, “You dare—?!”
“Shut your mouth.”
You clamped your lips tightly shut at his command, briefly realizing how overpowerful this man is. You weren’t sure even 100 men could go against him. Sukuna leans in, his lips touching your earlobe, “You dare defy me?”
“ . . . No, My Lord.”
“Know your place.”
You stayed silent because you weren’t sure if you were to agree, you’d be able to keep your mouth shut next time. He’d surely have forgotten about this in a bit, no?
No. He doesn’t forget.
Patience and Sukuna don’t make a great pair, he has no time for patience. If he doesn’t like something, he gets rid of it quickly. Including humans, he has no single care for them. For him, they’re useless.
It was unnerving every time meal time rolled in because he has no idea what kind of stunt you’re planning. The concubines were surprised to see you still standing, they had even prepared tear works and nicely arranged compliments after the news of your death pass by. But, it never came.
Much like you did the other day, you continue to test his short string of patient. Sukuna waved at Uraume to drag you out of the dining hall before he takes a leave to blow his own steam off. Gosh, how can one measly human be so infuriating?
You have continuously succeeded in making him a fool out of himself. It was frustrating, at the same time, Sukuna couldn’t kill you. Not now anyways.
Hence the reason why he had arranged your meal time privately with him from today on. The concubines weren’t elated at the fact that Sukuna has yet again retracted back from eating with them— the reason he came in the first place was to keep his eyes on you anyways. None of the concubines mattered to him.
You were guided into his chambers, “Uraume? Are you sure you are guiding me to the dining hall? The walk today feels longer.”
“Shut it.”
“No. This is a felony.”
“What about everything in here is not?” Uraume snaps, sliding the door open and Sukuna was already inside, one leg up and his hand leaned onto his knee
You were sat next to Sukuna, reaching out for the chopsticks. Once again, that devious smile on your face plays out, “You never cease to annoy your Lord.”
“I do not understand you.”
“You are very stupid that you make animals look smart to me,” Sukuna rumbled, he watched you shove rice into your mouth happily in an attempt to rile him up, “you do understand that from now on you are to dine under my watch and my watch only?”
You froze. And he smiled in satisfaction, “Nobody would be there to assist you.”
A few moments pass by and you suddenly scrambled up, only to be tugged back down, one of his hands clamped onto your wrist, the other onto your ankle. They tugged you back ominously slow into a sitting position, you try to calm yourself in that fleeting second, “Why so scared now? Surely the courage is still left there as when you always shame me in front of the concubines?”
“Fiend!”
He rolled his tongue behind his lips in victory, “What is new?”
“Monster!”
“I have heard worse.”
“Ugly!”
“You are blind,” he deliberately copied a yawn out of people, leaning back to relax himself.
“I don’t need to see to be able to judge that you are ugly!” You point your finger accusingly towards him— no, to the space beside him that Sukuna coaxed himself to look at the space you pointed at slowly. A lopsided grin forming onto his lips, “You are wretched!”
One of his lower eyes shifted towards you, unnerving. And even if you couldn’t see, the shudder strikes you down once more, “Please, kill me now.”
“Careful of your wish, little wench.”
“Do it.”
“I’ll be your guest.”
You waited for the pain to hit, shutting your eyes. But it never did, and you looked around, it was still dark everywhere, of course. Had the action been so quick that you couldn’t decipher the pain before dying? Or had he not done it?
“For someone who dare to defy me, you seem pretty intent on dying, huh?”
How dare he! You narrow your eyes, “You are pulling laughter out of this,” he scoffed at your hypocrisy, he was doing what you were doing, “shut your mouth.”
“Or what?”
“Wretched fiend!”
He hums, “I heard you the first time you told me.”
Sukuna wanted to keep you for the fun of it longer, this was amusing.
“Uraume, does Lord Sukuna eat humans for a meal?” You questioned them.
“Yes.”
“ . . . Is blood equivalent to water for him?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
“What a disgusting fiend,” Uraume’s head snapped so fast towards your way that they could only let their jaw clench as they guided you down the hall, towards Sukuna’s chambers.
Nothing had change much for the past few months, you continue to pull at his string and he continues getting angry. But he has made no attempts to kill nor to get rid of you, “My Lord,” Uraume greets softly, sliding the door open for you to walk in.
You no longer fear Sukuna. Sure, he was a menace at times, testing your waters of fear. But strangely, you had gotten used to that practical that it doesn’t bother you anymore— he can try all he wants to be scary, it will never work.
“Tell me, are you a virgin?”
You sputter out the rice towards . . . God knows where. Cheeks warming at the sudden question, “What kind of indecent question is that? I suggest you to shut your mouth this instant,” you scolded in embarrassment.
“I have two. Which one?”
Two!? You would have thought that a curse being not so folklore was shocking enough, but he has two mouths. No wonder he eats humans for a living and slurps blood like a vampire, “That’s . . . Odd. In a very displeasing way.”
Sukuna grunt, “I have four arms.”
“Four!? What else? Two heads and nose?”
“Four eyes.”
“What?”
He grumbled, “You are not deaf, no?”
“So you are a monster,” it wouldn’t have been the first time Sukuna has heard the term, he could care less about it, because he himself agreed to it. He is a monster, what is there to be ashamed of?
“That is right,” he boasts out, chest puffed out.
“You sound proud.”
“I am proud.”
“Nobody would be,” you mumbled, wiping your lips with the sleeve of your kimono in a way that made Sukuna groan out, “what are you groaning about?”
“Even I, a monster, have better manners.”
“I don’t care.”
“You are doing terrific at pulling the end of me,” he tells you, watching you eat your food soundly like another walk around the estate. Your eyes shut in delight as you took a bite out of the grilled fish, Uraume serves them everyday but you don’t seem to be bored of it— unlike the concubines who has the time to complain about it every time Sukuna was not around.
Every single one Sukuna has heard. He doesn’t bother to indulge in it.
“Also.”
His ears twitched, already annoyed, “Speak.”
“Why do you have a poison taster?”
“According to the name—” you cut him off immediately.
“I understand what they do, though, I’m curious because are you not immune to poison?” Sukuna blinked, you were right. He is indeed immune to poisons, he has no idea how long that poison taster has been living inside the estate.
All he knew was that he had one. Apparently, Uraume had hired one to look after the concubines, it would be a nuisance to get rid of every single body all at once.
“I leave Uruaume do the estate handling.”
“So,” you conclude, “you are lazy.”
Sukuna raised a brow, your appearance has trained him patience. Something he has not been fond of for as long as he lived, the way your words nonchalantly flow out as you cocked your head to the side, “No. I simply cannot be bothered to do all that, why should I do such things when I can lay back?”
“Lazy and deluded.”
“Virgin.”
You stammer out, “I did not answer that!”
“You are defensive enough to tell me the truth,” he plays your game, “virgin.”
“Stop saying such things!” You slammed the table, letting the dishes clatter against each other in unison, “And why are we speaking of my sexual experience!?”
“Curiosity.”
You angrily asked, “And if I am not a virgin?”
“No man would want a blind significant other, not only are you a burden— you are too deluded to realize you are a burden,” he points out and you got offended at his words because clearly it hits close to home. Once realizing the effect, he smirks, “and no infant would be honored to grow in that wretched womb of yours.”
You clenched your fists. “If I am such burden, then I should leave. Have a good day, My Lord.”
The lack of “terms of endearment” from you made Sukuna wonder, has he finally pulled your strings? He smiled in victory watching you stumble out of his chambers like a chased fugitive, walking away, even leaving the shoji door open widely. How adorable.
You walked down the engawa in annoyance, the indescribable ache in your heart bloomed even more. No infant would be honored to grow in that wretched womb of yours. How could he say that? If he were to talk about your lack of vision, you would have retaliated because it is something you couldn’t change— but to say something so harsh.
It was to be expected from someone like him. Still, it aches.
A few days pass by. You blatantly refused to come out of your chambers, Uraume doesn’t bother, less work for them to do. You sat there facing the doors, you had been doing some thinking. Maybe if you declined meals, Sukuna would eventually get tired and throw you out. Or even better, end it all for you!
Despite the growing hunger, you kept yourself sane. Sitting on the same spot, dressed in the same kimono, not moving an inch. Days go by, you’d go out every once in a while to fetch water and leftovers to feed inside the privacy of your chambers. Sukuna hasn’t said a thing about the lack of your appearance.
Of course he hasn’t. He’s a monster, he cares of no one but himself! What were you expecting, (Name)? For him to come by, drop to his knees, and start apologizing for his wrongs?
He’s a curse for gosh sake.
You crossed your arms over your chest. And you hear the shoji door to your room slide open, you part your lips, speaking the default sentence you have told Uraume for the past few days, “Uraume, I do not want to—”
“I am not Uraume.”
You blinked, “You don’t sound like them.”
His voice trickles calmly, “You don’t wish to dine in my chambers? As you wish. From today on, we will dine right here in your chambers,” your jaw slacks and clenched over and over at the conclusion he made, “any denial?”
“I refuse. This is my chamber.”
“This is my estate.”
“Still!” You complained like a petulant little brat, “I do not wish to dine with a monster. I wish to dine in this humble abode myself.”
“Denied.”
You gasped, “You selfish—”
“Uraume, dinner,” Sukuna commanded boredly with a yawn, waving one of his arms.”
“Uraume, no dinner!”
Anxiety tightens in your body. He had blatantly ignored your request and you felt assaulted, your safe space was getting bombarded by his ruthless tendency! You stood up, “I command you to leave my chambers this instant,” you point your finger out, body taut.
Sukuna glowered, “You dare command your Lord?”
“You are not my Lord.”
Sukuna stepped towards you, his fingers curled against your wrist into a lock. And your facade falters against his touch, this was back to square one in a flesh— when you had anger him for the first time. The heaviness weighing in your throat grew and then you blow into fits of coughs, all the words caught up in a second. Sukuna pushed your wrist away from pointing at him, “You will dine with me, whether you want it or not. I will force feed you like a bird.”
“No.”
“You are confident the second my touch disappear,” he points out, his hand already hovering right above your throat, ready to pounce, “have the courage to say something with my touch.”
“I can too.”
And his fingers curled over your throat, pressing the sides of it tight enough for you to start gasping for air, “Let me go,” you manage to choke out before he lets go of your throat with a low chuckle, “you are sick in the head, Sukuna.”
“My Lord,” he corrects.
You blurt out, “You are no Lord of mine.”
Sukuna again, chuckles at the answer. Never in his years of life have he ever met someone as stubborn as a mule like you— oddly enough, he couldn’t find the heart to slice you open like he does to anybody else. The heart. What an odd thing to say, he doesn’t have a heart at all.
He’s utter crazy. If crazy had a definition written out, you’d see his name as an example. You stood there before sitting down on your knees. Sukuna sat down next to you; awfully close to you, the musky smell of earth clung onto him, and for once, you wondered if he bathes constantly or if it is just how he smells daily.
No men could smell that good with no bath. Right?
“Are you going to feed yourself or do I need to do the feeding for you?” He questioned, too daring. You know everything that comes out of his mouth was practically something he would do, and you somehow tested the waters once more.
“I am not hungry.”
“I can hear your stomach growling from three rooms away.”
“Do you have four ears too?” You annoyedly asked him, keeping your hands glued onto your lap.
Sukuna shuffled slightly on his spot. He notices the devilish crinkle by the corner of your eyes, as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Do I?” He hums softly. Puckering his lips, Sukuna stared down at you.
The way your feet shifted constantly under your weight, the way your fingers curled and uncurled. Or the way your eyelids flutter slowly, lashes batting against your skin. Your lips pucker and pulled back, waiting for his next move.
Gosh, Sukunq has never felt this annoyed. He’s a curse, he shouldn’t have feelings. For a mortal at that— he wiped his palm over his face, sobering himself up from the plaguing thoughts of you, “Eat or I will force it in you.”
“I said, I am not hungry.”
Your lips part to utter more complaints to him, but before the words could leave the tip of your tongue, Sukuna shoved a piece of radish into your mouth. Your jaw clamped shut, and you began crunching on it. The sour sensation bursts in your mouth like an explosion, it’s been days since you took a bite out of the pickled radish.
“It’s . . . Delicious.”
Sukuna scoffed, “Uraume is a good cook.”
“You made them cook?”
“For us. The concubines has too much time to tamper on your food,” he muttered under his breath, “are you going to dine yourself or do I have to feed you?”
“I don’t know,” you tease, “I do not feel like eating myself.”
Sukuna scowled, “You are making a fool out of me.”
“You gave the choice. I answered. You made a fool out of yourself,” you nonchalantly replied, “also, oh no, I struggle with my chopsticks. I think I will need help.”
“Uraume,” Sukuna calls out.
You stopped him, “I can eat by myself, My Lord.”
“I thought so.”
The fact that you’re still alive right now is a miracle. Sukuna had been stuck to your side for ages now— counting 6 months, according to Uraume. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem to mind your presence at all.
Meals have been more relaxed. The teasing added up (on your side). Sukuna hadn’t let his concubines get away with fucking with you, his four eyes have come in handy with keeping tabs on you. Especially during bath time. He doesn’t follow you in, you had reprimanded him once for trying and he stopped.
Surprise.
From then on, he stood outside the bathe house. Arms crossed, concubines wonder what business he had waiting here. And were quite surprised when they find out you were the one he was waiting for— Sukuna commanded Uraume to get you the finest jewelries from all around, the finest fabrics to tailor into home wear, and the finest dine in experience.
“My Lord, do you not think that you are giving too much attention to that blind bitch?” One of the higher ranked concubines questioned in a sultry tone, her slender fingers rubbing Sukuna’s shoulder in a way he doesn’t enjoy.
In fact, he hasn’t been in bodily contact with any of his concubines even if they had indirectly suggested so. He brushed them off like they don’t matter more than a leaf on the ground, “Dare to repeat that?”
“We are neglected,” the other spoke, red kimono flowing elegantly along the tatami mat, “it is quite unfair for her to receive all your attention, and she isn’t even a concubine. Surely, you wouldn’t want to make love with . . . That.”
The way they spoke of you made his blood boil, but he kept his composure calm. Sitting there with two of them latched by his side, fingers tracing the shape of his chest languidly— their eyes screaming ‘make love to me, My Lord’. However, he paid no interest to them. Their fingers traced lower than he liked them to, and with a simple shrug, they were strewn off.
“I have no interest in making love with any of you.”
“My Lord—”
There was one thing he hates more than humans and that is weak humans like such. With a flick of his hand, the hall was blood filled. No screams of agony were fit in before these women’s lifeless bodies dropped loudly. Sukuna brushed his outfit, the splatter tattered his hakama, eliciting an annoyed grunt.
He wastes no time walking out of the chaos, Uraume eyed the condition of the room and instantly understood, “Get rid of them.”
“Understood, My Lord.”
“Inform me of (Name)’s presence.”
“She’s currently in her chambers, she had requested to be brought to the garden today . . .” Uraume bows his head down, retreating into the bloody hall. It wasn’t the first time they had to clean over Sukuna’s mess, and they know it wouldn’t be the last. To think that his Lord would do such things for a mortal was surprising, even surprising is an understatement.
“I will assist her,” Sukuna grabbed the napking Uraume offered, “get rid of the living concubines as well, I have no need for them anymore.”
“Get rid of them?”
“Kill them all.”
Sukuna took the fabric in between fingers, scrubbing off remnants of blood that etched onto his skin. His thundering footsteps echoed along the hall, the engawa shuddered under his weight as he sauntered down towards your chamber. He cleared his throat, sliding the door open.
There you were, sitting in the middle of the room. On your knees and fingers laced against each one of the other, he huffs at the pitiful sight, “Do you await for Uraume’s presence in that position?”
Hearing his voice made a small smile pop up on your face, your head bobs slowly, “I occasionally bump onto the furnitures here, and it doesn’t leave the most un-painful marks. I would rather sit here and wait.”
“Surely, you could have said something.”
“And bother Uraume? As much as I love bothering them with my constant nagging, I do feel somehow . . . Emphatic,” Sukuna blinked, his bottom pair of eyes looking around the room. Neatly made up, he had commanded Uraume to have the maids clean your room every morning during breakfast, “where is Uraume anyway? They are supposed to be assisting me to the garden.”
“Uraume is caught up in . . . An important matter as of currently,” the lie smoothly rolled out, “so, I will be assisting you today.”
“Really? I do not take you for a garden type of person— curse,” you correct yourself last second with a teasing smile.
Sukuna couldn’t hide the tug of his lips, he cleared his throat, “Shall we then?”
The invitation elicits a question, “Do you have your hand out? Because if I must remind you of the lack of vision once more, I will walk out by myself into the garden.”
“And fall off the engawa again?”
“I haven’t fall off in a long time,” you rolled your eyes, trying to find his hand, “and nobody cared to give me precautions over the estate’s turns. Am I supposed to learn everything by a miracle?”
“I would not let you fall.”
“How can I trust a curse?”
“By letting this curse prove you so,” you hummed when the warmth of his hand engulfed yours, slowly pulling you up onto your feet, “shall we?”
“I am unused to you acting so . . . Humane, it is quite odd,” you whisper out so softly that you couldn’t even hear it, almost.
His hand, so rough. Used to kill, used for the negatives of the world, now felt so little under your touch. The lingering warmth he felt under your fingertips made his chest flutter— he is a curse, he should not be getting attached to a mortal. In a way, he was signing up for heartbreak and heartbreak means weakness.
Sukuna and weakness don’t sit well together.
He averted his gaze out to the greens of his estate, guiding you around the corner, making sure your steps aren’t overlapping each other. Despite the brewing dilemma, he still handled you with care. Care. Odd feeling, his lower pair of eyes discreetly pan towards your form. Your dull eyes staring forward. If he thought about it, somehow be would love to thank your lack of vision.
Sukuna isn’t entirely attractive. To humans, at least. Two pair of eyes, two pair of arms, two mouths? For all he knows, even the concubines spoke ill of his appearance— they fear for their lives, and in his eyes they were just a flock of chicken prying for safety by going with the flow. The disarray look they had when he chose them proved enough. Pathetic.
"We have arrived," he announces out loud, "watch your step."
You took small steps on the wooden stairs leading down into the garden, his fingers curled against yours as guidance, "My Lord."
"Yes?" So soft, so unsuiting. He thought to himself, but the sight of you just made it come out.
"I do not know much about curses and their . . . Bathing schedules, do you not realize that you awfully smell of . . . Blood today?" Ah, yes. He swallowed slowly, his thumb caressed the back of your hand unconsciously, "do not get me wrong, usually you reek off earth and incense. Today however?"
"I heard you the first time, do not elaborate further," he hushed you in annoyance, "I killed the concubines."
You freeze. "Why?"
"That is what I do," he lied again, looking up at the sky. It was already a big blow to his ego that he dissected his concubines because they spoke ill of you— he does not need to elaborate further than that, no?
"I am sensing lies," Sukuna tightened his grip on your hand, "I don't want to pry."
Curse this. "They spoke ill of you," he fessed up, looking around the estate, "nobody speaks ill of you, but me."
"You are weird." So weird.
Sukuna grunt, "Am I now?" The teasing in his voice echoed softly into your ears. This is so unlike him at all that it scares you, the warmth in his voice differs from months before and you inhaled softly.
"I am a bit scared."
"Of me?"
"The new you."
Sukuna watches you step deeper into the garden, his steps followed behind yours slowly. Two pairs of eyes constantly looking left and right for any danger that lurked even in the estate, "Why do you attract yourself to such places as this? Quite boresome."
"It smells nice in here."
"Nice?" The sweet smell of flowers made his throat ache, it us anything but nice in here. But he held himself back from ruining the moment, arms crossed tightly.
You took small steps along the path, limbs stretched out to touch every single thing around the garden. Even if you have been here so many times, you were still one curious being, "Do you know what flower this is? Any knowledge?"
Sukuna spared a glance at the flower, "That is . . . A pink flower," he answered.
"I understand if you do not know the name of it, it has a funny shape," you touched the soft petals of it, and Sukuna's jaw slacked at the shame of not knowing his own flowers, "I like this one. I like this flower. Uraume is also quite clueless about the flowers around the estate. And they get pretty annoyed when I ask about it all the time."
You inhaled close to the flower, "Although I find it odd that it has no particular fragrance like other flowers."
Sukuna watched you from a good distance, the delicate touch against those flowers. And he took a good look at himself, the bloodied hakama, the way he looked. Surely, you wouldn't like how he looks . . . He remembered the shock on your face when he told you about the extra features. Monster. Fiend. Disgusting. It should have not bothered him that much, it didn't back then. But now that he's seen you in a different light, it does bother him to no end.
"My Lord."
"Mm?"
"I am ready to head back now, I think I'll ask Uraume to plant more of these flowers," you mumbled the first part to him and the rest to yourself, trying to find yourself back to him.
Sukuna lets you navigate on your own. And when you grasp his girthy arms, he felt himself relax, "Then we shall head back," he muttered, hiding the lower pair of his arms behind his back.
“Uraume.”
“My Lord?”
Sukuna looks out the window, grunting out softly, “I need a re-decor on that woman’s room, she keeps getting herself into trouble,” he muttered out, his eyes tracking down the birds flying around the estate, “and that pink flower in the garden. Plant more of those.”
Uraume raised their brow, “A re-decor?”
“A re-decor is what I said,” Uraume nods their head, unable to fight back. They had felt the softness that shaped around Sukuna gradually along the months, and as much as Sukuna tries to keep his sharp facade around you, Uruame isn’t stupid. They didn’t need long to put two and two together.
The curse, Sukuna Ryomen is in love with a mortal. Sukuna and love don’t go together, everyone knows that.
“I understand, I will have someone do a re-decor on her room,” they retracted away from Sukuna’s chambers, “and the flowers.”
Uraume lifted their gaze, the estate has been serene. Sukuna has not been furious once ever since you, he has been . . . Patient. Everything Sukuna isn’t— well, he is now. And it’s extremely odd! Swallowing back their words, they walked down the hall, feet slowly bringing themselves towards your chambers.
Following Sukuna’s orders, they had got rid of any living concubines from the estate. So, the estate was void of anyone besides the maids and well . . . You. Though, you were clueless of it. But you do wonder where all the concubines have went since you haven’t been exactly losing anything in particular.
Uraume slid the door open, expecting you inside. However, your chambers void of your figure, usually sat neatly in the middle waiting for them. Uraume furrowed their brows, “(Name)?”
“Uraume?”
Your voice came from outside. They tracked you down immediately, finding your form hunched over a bush, “I have fallen and I need help,” you tell them. Uraume took a good look at you hunched over the thick bush, green leaves stuck to your hair and outfit, you were a mess.
“How long have you been stuck there?” Uraume swallowed back a laugh.
“I do not know,” voice ripe with sheepishness, you wiggled your legs, “I cannot tell, I have lost count of it. I felt the need to guide myself to the garden alone today, but of course, this happens.”
“How have you managed to take a tumble?”
“I have fallen off the edge of the engawa yet again.”
Uraume had wasted no time informing of the matter to Sukuna right after they helped you up, brushed the leaves off your kimono, and made sure you spent a good time in the garden.
“(Name) has taken a tumble.”
Sukuna’s head panned up. He was quiet briefly, “The engawa, again?”
Uraume hums softly. “Yes.”
“Re-decor the whole estate,” he bluntly spoke, surprising Uraume mildly, “as fast as possible.”
So the whole redecorating begins, and as much as the maids and Uraume tries to keep their mouth shut about it. There will come the time when you find out the strongest curse has told the whole estate to shut their mouth about redecorating everything to favor you.
“Uraume,” you call out. Oddly enough, Uraume had moved you to a different chamber, much emptier, futon neatly folded and there weren’t any sharp corners at all. However, they did tell you this would be temporary.
It all started making sense when the maids would announce you about being careful around new things around the estate you do not remember anything of, “Mm?”
“Why has the estate change?”
You started the interrogation slowly, wanting Uraume to think you were this stupid and clueless woman asking innocent questions. Uraume grunted softly, “My Lord thought it needed some . . . Changes.”
“It is very (Name) friendly.”
“There is no point in fooling her anymore, she is not stupid.”
Mustering all the courage, Uraume turns their back to face Sukuna. His black hakama hung loose. Bare body, thundering footsteps, “Fooling me? You have been fooling me?” You gasped dramatically, throwing your hand over your mouth.
Sukuna glances towards Uraume, signaling for them to leave. And so leave they did, rushed footsteps leaving you behind. Sukuna’s hand brushed against the small of your back, guiding you back to your chambers. Your newly re-decorated chambers— very you, very carefully made, “I assumed you have done something to my chamber?”
“You assumed right.”
You blinked, “Tell me what is new.”
Sukuna’s eyes traveled around the new chamber, “Everything is new.”
“Which are . . ?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw before he spoke, “I made them rid of what could have been dangerous for you. Which were everything, the oshiire stays in the same place— I have made the maids search for the finest futon. They installed cabinets right here,” Sukuna’s hand brushed against yours, pulling your hand to touch the cabinet, “the corners are dull, hence, you would not hurt yourself,” he was right, the corners are dull, so dull that it made you stood there in awe.
“I had them move further into the chamber, so you would bump into them less, I hope.”
“You are quite kind.”
“Kind?” He scoffed, only to you.
A hum came from you, less convinced. You began making your way around the chamber, “Why?” Your one word question managed to rent the curse speechless, because he was internally asking himself the same thing, “Why do you go out your way to do this for me?”
“Courtesy.”
“Since when do you care about courtesy?” You questioned slyly, “The Sukuna caring about courtesy? I would think that you are excusing yourself, but truth to be told, I had not expect to still be alive by now.”
“Why would you think as such?”
“You said so, once I put up no use— I am a gone woman.”
The atmosphere shifts, he remembers clear as day. The words. Everything he told you in the past, “I misjudged you then,” he spoke, clearing his throat awkwardly, “it feels odd . . . Doing such things for a mortal. Believe me.”
“I believe you.”
Sukuna lets out a low chuckle, “Fool.”
“The garden has changed as well.”
“I commanded Uraume to plant a lot of the flowers you seem to like,” Sukuna replied, “I have learnt about it. They are called camellia. Do not question where I inherited that information.”
“Where have you inherited that information from, My Lord?” You asked him anyways.
“From the scrolls.”
“You ventured the scrolls for me,” your conclusion made his body jolt. His fingers tightened a fraction around yours, “that is very nice of you.”
Sukuna huffed, “I am a monster, I am not nice.”
“Did they tell you that?”
Sukuna raised a brow, “I announce myself as such,” he dragged his hand up towards your arm, “I am quite glad that you lack the vision to see me. I am hideous.”
“Do you announce yourself as hideous too?”
“The mortals address me as such,” he scoffed, “at least I am powerful.”
Your smile faltered. For a beat, you were quiet, unknown of what to say. But you start parting your lips, “May I touch your face? I’d like to feel what my kind concludes as hideous.”
Sukuna freezes. He contemplates, but at the end, he hunches himself in front of you slightly, “I suppose,” it comes out a timid whisper and you pat down his hair first— the thick strands of his hair, the maids spoke of how thick they are and how beautiful his hair is. It is soft under your touch, and your fingers grazed over his forehead.
“Big forehead,” you bluntly spoke, “people of my village wanted their offspring to have big foreheads because they symbolized high intelligence. I suppose they are right about it.”
Then your fingers grazed over his shut eyes, you remembered his revelation about having four eyes. Two of them smaller than the others and located on a hard structure protruding from the right side of his face . . . A bone? Or wood perhaps, “What color are your eyes?”
“Red.”
“I do not know, but it sounds suiting,” you comment again as bluntly as possible, his warm breath pushed into your palm. And your fingers traced the outlines of his lips slowly— tugged into a frown, typical of him, “I think you should smile,” and the corners of his lips began tugging upwards slightly.
Your hand pats down his face, down to his neck, “Thick neck, okay,” you remind him, “very muscle filled. That’s nice, you must work out a lot.”
Do not even start, his muscles were just wonderful. The outline of his bicep that you trace slowly made your stomach flip, “Are you shirtless?”
“I am always shirtless.”
“Creep.”
“You seem to enjoy touching my muscles,” he teased, letting your fingers traced onto his wrist, “what about my wrist now?”
“Big arms. Signifies strength,” and then you began patting the air around him.
Which for a bit, confused him, “What is it you are seeking for, woman?”
“Four arms.”
Ah. Sukuna tried his best to hide the two pair of arms but now that you had asked for it, he couldn’t help but to help guide your hands onto the bottom pair of arms, “It feels odd, no?” You elicit a giggle out of you, “What is so worthy of a laugh right now?”
“I can only feel two arms.”
Sukuna begrudgingly tucked the collar of your kimono neatly, covering your collarbone, and your hand shoots out to grab his hand, “Three.”
With the last hand, he grabbed your free hand, “Four. It feels disgusting, no?”
“You have an extra pair, where is the problem at that? I’d say you would work faster labor,” you whisper, wiggling your fingers gently as his fingers circled around your wrist, gently stroking your skin like a delicate glass, “I do not find any monstrosity on you, hence, you are not hideous.”
He stares you down. He isn’t hideous to the only human that matters, that is more than anything else. Sukuna swallowed the rest of his unknown insecurities inside. How funny, the curse, proclaimed strongest. Never had he felt insecure about his look until you— a blind mortal decided to drop by out of the blue, all of a sudden everything mattered more than usual.
“That so?”
“Mhm.”
He released your hand, “Then you are blind—” he stops himself, looking down at you. Who currently had a cheshire smile on your face, “Apologies. I seemed to have forgotten.”
“You? Apologized?” Only to you. Only to his woman.
“I did. We speak no more of that.”
“I will speak of it to Uraume.”
“Especially not Uraume.”
“I want to venture beyond the estate.”
Sukuna eyed you incredulously, you were safer behind the gates, right here with him. Why would you choose to venture out straight into the dangers of the world? He has made it clear to everyone that you belonged to him, here you were tucked inside the safety behind his arms, and you were asking such . . . Odd questions.
“Beyond? Elaborate.”
“I want to go outside and have fun,” you spoke out with such happiness that his heart swaggered, “I can take Uraume for precautions. I want to explore the world more, I do not want to be stuck here like a bird in a cage.”
“Why take Uraume when you can take me?”
“Uraume seems more loose on schedule.”
“I do not have schedules.”
You coaxed yourself to look up, “You do not? I would have thought royalty—”
“I am no royal.”
“You are king of curses, that is royalty,” your opinion flows out like an argument, he sighs at your stubborn tone, “victory is mine yet again.”
“Yes, yes. Why would you possibly want to put yourself in danger beyond the estate when you are safer in here?” You were stuck in the belly of his shrine, cringing from how frequent you walked down the engawa that you had remembered every route by now. You wanted more. The thrill of it, the fun, “I am not letting you step foot out of the estate.”
His lower pair of arms curled around your torso, pulling you back onto his chest. You sulked, “It is not the same, you are being selfish.”
“I am protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Humans. Predators. You do not know what is out there,” he spoke, tone laced with impatience, “I do not wish for you to get hurt, is that too hard to understand?”
“I will be fine, I am always fine.”
He should have known you, you have always been a rebel since the first time he commanded Uraume to drag you back here. So, it wasn’t a surprise when Uraume told him that you were not located in your chambers, “Locate her, Uraume. Surely she hasn’t gone too far.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Sukuna stood up, a black haori hanging on his shoulders loosely. He stood up, should have known, you don’t back down. That’s one of the reasons why he had gotten so attached to you, “Prepare to set out, Uraume.”
You had taken a broom out, using the stick as a navigator. So far, you had successfully entered into biomes of trees outside the estate and you couldn’t tell how far you had gotten. The stick of the broom prevented you from bumping into the rough tree barks and tumbling over bushes. Uraume should make a stick like this for you, how could you not think of this?
A soft tune echoed in a form of a hum from you, curious fingers touching every single thing. Burying your nose into different things you could touch, “Mm,” you moaned, plucking the wild flower and shoving it into the obi of your kimono to show Uraume later.
What a vast mistake this is. No sense of direction, you should have brought a maid along with you. Every turn you took seemed the same, trees and bushes. Occasionally wet patches on the ground made your sandals sink slightly. When the owls began sounding their loud horns, a wave of panic washes over you.
The itch on your arms made you groan, fingernails digging to cease the feeling. Your brows pinched together, trying to find anything that could be of help, “Hello?” You call out.
But the trees are endless, every time you call out for anyone, your voice bounced back to you. And you were beginning to grow restless, the feeling of uneasiness creeping into your body. Your kimono felt heavier, and your sandals felt wobbly now. You cursed, you should have listened to Sukuna. You should have asked Uraume to come along to guide you.
On the other hand, Sukuna walks calmly through the trees, Uraume walking ahead. The darkness was his forte, he loves it. But he had lost track of the hours he spent walking around what seemed to be similar places, “Where has that woman off to? I tell her one time that she is safer inside that estate and she flees.”
“There are bandits residing in this forest, we should locate her quickly, My Lord.”
Bandits. Sukuna scoffed, they could never compare to him— but you? You were as defenseless as a newborn calf. And now that it was dark, the bandits were surely on the move to find income. And God knows what they could do to you. Sukuna grunted, crossing his arms.
You ran into the trees. Unknown of what was currently chasing you deeper, the adrenaline striking inside you made you lose your broom and all you could rely on was your limbs. You could make out the crude laughter from . . . People? Or were they animals?
A loud yelp escaped you when your foot dug into what seemed to be a trap, the pain dug into your ankle. No, no, no. You chant, this couldn’t be happening right now, your fingers dug onto the wet soil, trying to find the power to continue running, “There!” Ah, so they were humans.
Bandits. You assume. Back when you lived in the village, bandits frequently dropped by and chaos ensued. But there were so many people fighting back, now? It was just you.
“She’s dressed grand, surely she has a few dimes on her,” one of them spoke, the bushes rustling to your right and you clutch onto your hands in fear. Moving slowly backwards, crawling on the ground hopelessly, “her necklace looks pricy.”
“Just get anything that looks grand. We’ll get a price outta whatever.”
You shook your head, “Please,” your plead fell into deaf ears when you feel someone pull on the necklace Sukuna made for you, the string snapping under the force and you grasp the air, “no, anything but that. It means a lot to me, please.”
Your head snapped to the side, your cheek seared. Had one of them just striked you? You whimpered in pain, muddy hand flying up to touch the burning spot. They laughed. How could they laugh at the expense of you!?
“Get the hairpin. Looks like gold.”
You grabbed it before they could, “No,” you clutched it into your chest, another one of Sukuna’s gift from not too long ago, “this is precious to me.”
“Unfortunately, we do not care.”
The gems ripped into your skin when they forcefully grabbed it. You lunged forwards, grabbing onto whatever belonged to them you could hold onto, “Give that back to me,” you mutter out.
“Let go of me, you blind bitch!”
The hits delivered to you were relentless. Then again, these were bandits, they don’t care about anything but money. You held onto one of them tightly, the pain slowly registering into every place they hit— punches, kicks. One of them tried to wiggle their leg out of your grasp, pulling your hair back in annoyance, “I’ll kill you, you prude!”
And then just like that. Silence ensued.
You felt the leg go limp and you breathe heavily, what was happening? Sukuna emerged from behind the trees, annoyance written on every crease on his face as he approaches you. And the second his eyes landed on your battered figure, he glowered out, grabbing your arm tightly, “Why did you not call for help!?”
The surprise from before lingered, and you stuttered out, “My Lord—”
“Look at this,” he loudly said, clamping your jaw tightly, the cuts on your face registered into his mind, “and this,” he pulled your leg.
“I . . .”
“Shut your mouth.”
Once you were settled back inside the estate, Uraume helped you draw a warm bath. Scrubbing the mud stuck to your hair, your kimono was left for the maids to scrub, your wounds were taken care of quickly. The bandages wrapped around your ankle a constant reminder of your stupidity, and once all of that was settled, Uraume helped you into Sukuna’s chambers.
He was not happy. He was far from that.
The door slid shut softly and Uraume walked away. Sukuna steps closer to you, “I give you everything you wanted. You ask me for a bigger garden, I commanded them to reconstruct it,” he drawls out calmly, his fingers thrusting to your shoulder gently, “you ask me for deer meat and I commanded Uraume to hunt the finest deers. I have complied to you every single time.”
“You ask me for the finest fabrics and I have the maids venture out from village to village to earn it, you ask me for a new hairpin and I have provided, you ask me for everything I have complied,” his voice grew louder, “I ask for one thing. For you to stay inside the estate, in safety, and you chose the danger outside.”
Your head fell in shame, “I just . . .”
“You are stupid.”
Your brows pinched, “I am not . . .”
“You track back on what had happened, is it not caused by your stupidity? You claim to be smarter than a curse and here I am saving you from a scenario you created on your own,” he shook your body in anger, “and if Uraume and I hadn’t been there on time? You would have died!”
You snapped back, “Why do you care!? You are just a curse, you do not have feelings!”
“To hell with that!” He yelled back, “I hate admitting but I do care for you. Only you, haven’t I made it clear?”
“You’ll get rid of me nonetheless!”
“Do not put words into my mouth, woman,” he muttered out, clenching his fists in anger, “don’t you dare say I do not care because every complies I did was for you. I did this for you. I lowered my ego for you. Is that not enough? Tell me then, tell me what makes it enough for you to digest that I, king of curses, Sukuna Ryomen do care for a human.”
You stammered, “I . . . You are lying.”
“I lie occasionally to people, yes. Have I ever lied to you?”
“Probably!”
“Mention it to me,” Sukuna growled, “mention one time I have spat out a lie to you.”
“I . . .” You left the gap open.
And Sukuna filled it in, “You do not know? Because I have never done that to you,” he muttered, releasing your shoulders. His heart burnt in anger, but he kept his mouth shut.
You clenched your fists, your anger turned into tears. The crystals slowly dribbled out and you sniffled, “I just wanted to explore.”
“Alone? You are out of your damn mind.”
“You wouldn’t have agreed.”
Sukuna scoffed loudly, “You have a habit of putting the words into my mouth,” he scowled under his breath, looking down at you. The harder your tears fall, the more he becomes annoyed, “stop crying. I command you to stop crying this instant, your tears won’t stop my fury.”
Sliding your arm over your eyes, you striked a hand blindly towards his presence. Which managed to land along the side of his neck, “You dare strike me?”
“I hate you!”
Sukuna hummed, “You are angry.”
“I will never be able to love someone like you, you are a monster. You do not let me do anything, I feel like a prisoner here,” you sobbed. The feelings were not like that— his words made the ticking time bomb blew and you were pulling at his strings, “I hate you. I loathe you. I wish for you to disappear.”
Sukuna stepped back, his hand hovered over his lips. He wanted to say much, but stopped. And he shuts the conversation down, “Understandable. Get out of my sight.”
As the night draws on. You laid on your futon, your chest heavy, you had been lying awake there since . . . hours ago. Your own words eating you up, knowing they weren’t right. The anger speaking for you, just for the victory because he made you angry. But now it was eating you alive.
Your emotions were divided. One side, you were angry at yourself for saying that. And the other part of you just felt sad that you had pushed him away; to think that you told him he was a monster too. Another tear slipped from your eye, and you sat up.
You brought yourself to the front of his chamber, for a bit you wondered if he was in the mood to see you right now. But, you shook your head, clamping your hand onto the shoji door before sliding it open, “What business do you have in here?”
You try to pinpoint his position. Teeth sinking onto your bottom lip, “I need to apologize.”
“For speaking the truth?”
“For speaking of lies.”
Sukuna grunts, “Does not sound like lies.”
You stomp your foot, “Those are lies, you are not a monster. And I am too immature to realize that you were just protecting me . . . I was too prideful to admit my own mistakes. I do not hate you, I do not loathe you, and I do not wish for you to disappear . . .” Your voice cracked at the end and you pursed your lips tightly.
Sukuna turns to look at you. How pitiful and small you looked right now, “That so? You spoke of not being able to love a monster like me—”
You cut him off, “I still love you anyways. I do not care if people view you as one, I love you. I have always do,” your voice broke into wrecked sobs, fingers dug into your own hakama, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for saying that.”
Sukuna watches your body tremble from the sobs, one of his hand tugged on your arm and you fell into his lap. He huffs loudly, “Watch your tongue next time.”
You bury your face into the crook of his neck. He lets you have your time, sitting there, unmoving.
Sukuna blows out a sigh, “Are you finished with the waterworks?”
“If it means that you will stop holding me like this, no I am not done,” you muffled out. Sukuna held your nape, peeling you gently away from your hiding spot. Snotty nose, red nose, tear stricken. You looked terrible, he thought, “what?”
He leans in, his tongue stretched out scooping a tear and his lips touched your eyelids. Sukuna shuts his eyes, “You say that but I never stopped you from touching me, do I?” His lips moved against your skin.
“You . . .” You began to say, but he stopped you, lips tracing down your cheek and he stopped right at the corner of your lips, “do not tease me.”
“Your reactions are amusing.”
“It is not,” you whisper in shame, brows already drawn together in embarrassment. Sukuna cuts the embarrassment short, his lips molded into yours slowly— you slowly relaxed under his touch, brows relaxing and you shut your eyes, leaning into the kiss.
For a curse, his movements were gentle. Like he feared that his own hand would hurt you, one of his hand tucked right behind your head gently tangled into your hair as his lips moved against yours slowly. He pulled back briefly, muttering out, “We do not speak of this to Uraume.”
“I will tell them all about it.”
“Is that so?” Sukuna asks, you nodded.
“Then tell them all about this, yes?” He sealed back the kiss, lips moving with fervor that you whimper into his mouth. He swallowed your noises, tongue caressing your plump lips slowly that you couldn’t help but to part them in a trance, his arms held you so close that your chest pressed against his, but Sukuna pulls back the moment he realized you sucking in a breath, “I have gone too far. Apologies. Are you alright?”
You bob your head, covering your face. He used a set of his hands to peel your hands away, “Surely Uraume would not mind the details, no? Or shall I elaborate more?”
“N . . . No, that was enough details.”
Sukuna’s thumb traced over your lips, his iron hands used to do all the wrongs in the world. Now, clasped in sets of velvet gloves, just for you.
A real man isn’t afraid to kneel in front of his woman.
The evening air in Tokyo was crisp, carrying the scent of rain and expensive cologne. Nanami Kento was a man of precision, and tonight was no exception. He looked every bit the gentleman in his suit, his presence commanding yet grounding. Beside him, you were in a black mini dress that clung to every curve, ending precariously high on your thighs. It made you feel electric, especially with your fiancé’s occasional, heavy lidded glances downward that betrayed his otherwise stoic composure.
As you walked toward the restaurant, a discreet, Michelin-starred establishment tucked away from the roar of the city, your hand was tucked firmly into the crook of his arm. You could feel the solid, rhythmic shift of his muscles beneath the fine fabric of his blazer, a silent reminder of the strength he usually kept restrained.
Then the click-clack sound of your heels suddenly faltered. You felt a sharp, restrictive tug at your right ankle. Looking down, you saw the delicate gold chain of your anklet had snagged on your heel’s strap, cinching tight against your skin. You stopped, biting your lip. The dress was far too short to risk a deep bend in the middle of a public sidewalk, and the balance required to fix it one handed while leaning on your fiancé was a recipe for a wardrobe malfunction.
Before you could even voice your problem, the weight on your arm disappeared.
Kento didn’t need an explanation, he lived in the details. And he didn't hesitate. With grace, he dropped to one knee on the pavement. The movement was fluid, practiced, and utterly devoid of self consciousness. To him, there was no crowd, no "fine dining" etiquette to uphold. There was only you and a problem that needed his intervention.
"Don't move," he murmured, his voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to travel straight up your legs. You let out a shaky breath, your hand instinctively resting on his shoulder for balance.
As he reached out, his fingers were large but incredibly nimble, working the clasp with a jeweler’s focus. He hovered over the snag, his blonde hair brushing against the soft skin of your knee as he leaned in to see the tangled links. The sensation sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the evening breeze.
His focus was absolute. You watched the top of his head. Because of the height difference, his face was level with your thigh. Every time he exhaled, the warm, steady puff of his breath ghosted over your bare skin, making your toes curl in your heels. He worked the thin gold chain with surgical precision, his fingertips grazing the curve of your ankle. Every touch felt deliberate, a silent claim. When the knot proved stubborn, he shifted closer, his broad shoulder pressing momentarily against your knee to steady you.
Then, he did something that made your breath hitch.
As the chain finally came free, he didn't immediately stand. Instead, he pressed a lingering, warm kiss to the soft skin just above your kneecap, then another one slightly below your inner thigh. It was a very romantic gesture of worship that made you almost melt on the sidewalk.
"There," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Perfectly restored."
He stood up in one smooth motion, his hand immediately finding yours and lacing your fingers together. His grip was firm, pulling you back into his orbit. You let out a shaky, melodic giggle, the adrenaline of his touch making your chest feel tight.
"My hero," you teased softly. Standing on your tiptoes, you pulled him down by his lapel and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to his cheek.
When you pulled away, a vivid smudge of your lipstick remained against his cheek.
"Oh, wait," you whispered, reaching up with your thumb to wipe away the evidence. "I got you."
Just as your thumb brushed his cheek, Kento’s hand shot up, his fingers encircling your wrist with a gentle but unbreakable grip. He tilted his head away, a small, uncharacteristic smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes, usually so stoic behind his signature frames, flashed with a simmering heat.
"Leave it," he murmured softly, his gaze dropping to your lips, his thumb stroking the pulse point in your wrist. "I don't mind the world knowing I'm spoken for.”
"Kento baby, we're going into a very serious restaurant," you protested, though your smile betrayed you. "People will see."
"Let them look," he replied, his voice warm with his love and respect for you. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles while his gaze remained locked on yours. "I want them to know exactly how my evening started. And I want you to remember exactly how it’s going to end.”
He didn't wipe it off. He led you into the restaurant with that lipstick mark shining like a trophy on his cheek, his stride confident, leaving you aching for the end of the dessert course before the appetizers had even arrived.
Spitting your gum into katsuki’s hand right before an interview.
Your schedule had been packed. Back-to-back segments and interviews all in preparation for the holiday special that had been promoted to raise money over the winter break. The exact charity has long since evaded you, but it's coming up on your tenth hour since your first meal, and between your growling stomach and growing headache, the only thing you can think of is being able to sink your teeth into whatever bland-ass meal catering was offering.
You chew on your gum as you slouch into the couch, the stage lights heat you to the point of overstimulation. With a deep breath, you let your head loll back, feeling the ache in your shoulders loosen as you relax further, eyes slipping closed for a moment of reprieve.
“Have you eaten?” The familiar voice of your partner fills your head, then two fingers tap against your temple to catch your attention.
The couch dips as Katsuki sits next to you, the smell of caramel and vanilla engulfing you, sending your mouth watering. Fuck, why did he have to smell so sweet!
You answer with a hum, shaking your head no before opening your mouth, the long chewed up gum on show on your tongue. Sure the display was unladylike and kinda gross but you’ve been together for far too long for it to be an issue.
“Is this you asking me to feed you like a baby bird?” Bakugou chuckles, his calloused fingers running over your cheek.
“Have you eaten?” You parrot his question, finally opening your eyes to catch a glimpse of your fiancée. Dressed in his press suit, the ache in your head eases at his comforting presence. All you want to do is go home, order food and watch tv in bed till you both pass out.
Katsuki grunts. “I had a protein bar but that’s it.”
You groan, flinging your head back dramatically. Fuck you are so hungry!
“Was it good?” You peek an eye open, lips pulled down in a frown.
“No.” Katsuki lies for your own sake. “It was the gross ones you hate, the cookies and cream one” another lie but he doesn’t want to rub it in.
The frown on your face deepens. “I’d fuck up a cookies and cream protein bar right now. I’d eat the wrapper and everything.” Your sigh is wistful, too focused on imagining the taste and feeling of a fully belly.
“Can you order something so it’s ready when we get home, please.”
“Already done, pretty girl.” Katsuki cups your cheek, loving the way you hum and lean into his hand. “Got dessert too.”
“You treat me so well.” You mummer, kissing his palm.
It’s Katsuki’s turn to hum. “It’s the bare minimum, baby. Gotta make sure you’re healthy and fed.”
You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by production announcing you have a minute before cameras start rolling at you go live.
“Dynamight, could you leave the stage please.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, jaw clenching in irritation but he stands nonetheless, too tired to cause a scene.
Your hair and make up team rush in to prep you, fixing smudge liner and fly aways in a frenzied rush.
“Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart. Love you.” He leans in once more, ducking around your team to press a kiss to your forehead.
Your make up artist huffs as she swipes more powder over the kiss.
“Live in, 10, 9, 8..”
The girls leave you as quick as they came, Bakugou backing away with them.
“6, 5, 4..”
“The gum!!” Your manager’s voice cuts through the count down. Fuck. Eyes widening, you turn to scan for a bin, the piece of confectionary already between your teeth.
“3,2..”
You are met with Katsuki’s hand under your chin and a simple “Spit”
As if on autopilot you open your lips and spit the gum into his waiting palm, quickly wiping at your bottom lip. With a quick burst of flames, the gum was incinerated into dust before Katsuki wiped it on his black pants.
Turning to the interviewer who was now staring at the two of you with a slack jaw, your attention shifted to the director who made a gesture to indicted you were live and rolling and that the entire world had just witnessed you spitting into Dynamight’s hand.
You have this… habit that drives Kento insane. You'll get all dolled up - pretty dress, makeup done nice, not a hair out of place - and walk right out the door for date night.
That's not the issue.
It's when you get home and before the front door is even fully closed, before you take your heels off, you're slipping your panties down your thighs and off your legs, leaving them on the entryway floor. At least you have the decency to wear them in public, god forbid you didn't and leave wet spots in every seat you sat in.
He follows you into the bedroom after, where you're lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone, dress riding up to expose the bottom of your ass cheeks. Kento takes a deep breath at the glistening mess already coating your thighs, loosening his tie as he crosses the room to you.
He kneels on the floor next to the mattress, strong hands finding your hips to flip you onto your back. The dress rides up even further, fully exposing your dripping cunt to him when he pushes your knees into your chest.
Kento kisses his way up from your knee to your sensitive inner thighs, sucking and nipping and licking at your skin before diving into your pussy.
He never orders dessert when you go to dinner, he doesn't have to when he knows his dessert is coming home with him.
an: a rewritten repost from @blossomsicle. i would've just posted the original if i hadn't deleted it in a fit of rage 😬
man's best friend.
dog owner!simon + dog owner!reader
thinking about the time I was out for drinks and there was a dude with the biggest fucking dog I’ve ever seen just chilling at the bar. surrounded by ladies.
simon taking riley out for an afternoon walk, but ending up at the pub cuz a man needs pint every now and then.
he's finishing his beer while watching the match on the pub telly when he feels a tug on the leash. he looks down, and finds you petting and cooing at riley. the bugger is all in for the attention, ears perked and tail wagging against his boots.
pretty little thing, you.
he doesn't move, content with watching you like this. maybe a minute later is when you finally notice him staring.
"oh! sorry," your voice is as sweet as you look; too tempting for a man like him. "your dog is so cute! what's its name?"
"riley." he grunts out. wouldn't mind indulging you, just for a while.
"cute name, it suits him," you say. riley nudges your hand with a wet nose begging for scratches. it makes you laugh. the sound is enough to make simon shift in his seat.
would suit you too, he thinks.
"got one of your own?" he asks instead.
you smile. "yes! i have a doberman. she's in her terrible twos right now, though. not as well behaved as riley."
"lots of energy, those ones," he grumbles. "better get a playmate before she rips your couch up."
simon ends up leaving the bar with a new number on his phone and a marked date on his calendar.
wasn't looking; wasn't hunting for anything, but riley sniffed you out for him. fell right into his lap anyway. he spoils the pup with some treats once they get home.
Ngl when I read some people’s smaus, I can tell how young they are by the language that’s being used. Sometimes it’s fine other times you sound like you’re 13. (Which is fine unless it’s an 18+ smau then for the love of all things please shut up and stop posting)
It sucks because I know it’s just written usually how the author texts in real life, but holy cow it shows how different people act when texting.
The fastest way into Satoru’s wallet pants heart... wallet, is a trick you learned from Suguru early on in your relationship with them.
You keep refreshing the tab on your phone hoping to see the price tag come down on the item of your desires but if anything it feels like it’s only going up, up, up and out of your grasp. You sigh and lock your phone, setting it in front of you on the mattress. You bury your head in your arms, letting go of the dream of owning the illusive item.
Strong hands grip your hips and flip you onto your back, Suguru’s playful expression engulfing your view as he lays on top of you. His face falls when yours doesn’t light up, asking you gently, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s dumb,” you say, shaking your head.
“It’s not dumb if you’re upset. Tell me.” His expression is so soft, so gentle that all you can do is sigh again and confess, showing him the listing on your phone.
“Ask Satoru.” Suguru makes it sound so simple.
Your cheeks heat at the idea of it alone. Realistically, you know you can ask him for anything and he’d happily give it. The insane price tag is what holds you back. There is no way you could ask for something that expensive.
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Suguru sits up at your hesitation, his knees on either side of your hips. “Listen, he’s just a man with a stupid amount of money and what do men with a stupid amount of money like to do? Spend it on pretty things.” He leans forward, his face in yours again to press a kiss to your jaw as he whispers, “That’s us.”
“I can’t,” you repeat, tilting your head away to get a better view of the man sitting on top of you.
Suguru rolls his eyes and huffs. “Do you want it?”
“Not tha-”
“Do you want it?”
“I don’t need it.”
“I didn’t ask if you need it. Yes or no, do you want it?” He raises his eyebrows, making a poor attempt at not smiling while he waits for your answer.
You swallow down your shame, avoiding eye contact as you admit, “yes,” through gritted teeth.
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” He presses a kiss to your lips and stands.
You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him free his hair from the bun he keeps it in, long hair falling over his shoulders and down his back. You gulp when his shirt comes off next, nothing you haven’t seen before but god, he’s fucking breathtaking.
6’3 of lean muscle, raven locks down to his waist, sharp jawline and cheekbones.
The kind of beauty that wars have been fought over.
Suguru takes your hand and pulls you to your feet.
“Let me show you how to charm the man who has the money,” he says, guiding you down the hallway and into the living room where Satoru sits on the couch, lost in whatever’s displayed on his phone screen.
You lean against the living room wall, observing the way Suguru moves across the room to settle into Satoru’s lap. He plucks Satoru’s phone from his hand and tosses it to the other cushion, commanding his attention. Satoru’s face blushes a bright, pretty pink as he takes in the sight of Suguru and all of his raw sex appeal.
“Toru, baby,” Suguru purrs, pressing himself closer to Satoru, guiding his hands to his waist. “I need your credit card.”
“Mmm, yeah?” Satoru hums, his hands roaming over Suguru’s sides and around his back to lock him in place. His pupils are already swallowing his irises, glazed over by lust. “What for?”
Suguru cages him against the back of the couch, his hair falling in a curtain around them. He rolls his hips down into Satoru’s just to hear him choke on the air he tries to suck in when their dicks brush; they’re only half hard but it’s enough. “That doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“You’re gonna bleed me dry, gorgeous.” Satoru surges up to plant his lips on Suguru’s, just for Suguru to pull back.
“Who says it’s for me?” Their eyes turn to you, still leaning against the wall. You swallow thickly, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. Satoru chuckles and returns his attention to Suguru, attempting to bring their lips together again. Suguru grabs his jaw before they can connect, just barely letting them brush when he says, “Ah- card first.”
Your clit throbs watching the interaction, completely hypnotized by Suguru the same way Satoru is. You’re pulled out of your trance and forward by Suguru holding out a little silver piece of plastic to you that you take too long to realize is Satoru’s card.
You stumble over your own feet on you way to the couch, gingerly taking the card from Suguru’s out stretched hand. You whisper a ‘thank you,’ and you’re not even sure who you’re thanking or what for, but you press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek regardless as his tongue explores Satoru’s mouth.
You turn to head back to the bedroom and enter the digits on the card into your phone on a somewhat questionable website, only to be stopped by Satoru’s hand grabbing your wrist.
When you turn back to face him, Suguru is leaving open mouthed kisses over his jaw and neck, his chest heaving as he pushes his hips up into Suguru’s.
“At least kiss me before you rob me blind.” He smirks up at you, eyes half lidded. His mouth falls open around a deep moan when Suguru finds a particularly sensitive stretch of skin, and there’s that throb in your clit again.
Your breathing is becoming just as uneven as Satoru’s. You sit next to them, your knees tucked under you and lean forward, your lips capturing Satoru’s.
“Thank you, Toru,” you whisper against his lips when you part.
a/n: it was stupid warm where I live for Christmas (usually it's pretty cold and will snow sometimes) so this thought popped into my brain, I hope you enjoy:)
MDNI
warnings: fingering, nipple play (lmk if I missed anything)
Sitting under the hot sun on the beach, you're smushed between Satoru and Suguru. It was Satoru's idea to go for the day, enjoying the nice breeze from the ocean and spending time with his favorite people. Not to mention an excuse to see his two lovers half naked.
You were laying on your stomach in a tiny bikini that Satoru had bought you on one of his many shopping trips he's had. You were enjoying the warm weather under a large beach umbrella and the sounds of the crashing waves. Suguru was lying next to you, reading a book with a pair of sunglasses resting on his nose. Long hair tied in a bun to stay out of his face, but a lone strand sat atop his forehead. Satoru was trying to keep still and relax along with the two of you, but you could tell he was getting antsy.
You didn't even have time to say anything to him before you felt him running a hand up the back of your thigh, stopping very close to the bottom of your bikini. He started to massage the top of your thigh, leaning on his side with his hand propping his head up. Every couple of rubs he'd let his hand slip under the bikini, getting really close to your slit, before quickly retreating it. Every time Satoru did this, you'd let out a low hum, shifting your hips back into his hand. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the moment. However, before you two could move any further, Suguru spoke up.
"Watch it you two, this is a public beach." He mumbled, giving a small side eye and going right back to his book.
"What? I can't appreciate our darlings' gorgeous body on this beautiful warm day?" Satoru replied with a smirk, blue eyes peaking over his sunglasses. "Besides, there's hardly anyone here."
Satoru's last words made Suguru pause and look up from his book. Satoru was right, other than the three of them the only other people on the beach were a few swimmers in the ocean and a couple of people tanning in the sun, all many yards away. He returned his vision to the two of you, both sets of eyes staring back at him with needy looks.
"Ok, but the second someone gets too close we're leaving." Suguru responds, setting his book down and turning onto his side. He brings his hand up to brush your hair away from your neck. Satoru resumed his massage, now with a little more energy. Suguru started trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder while Satoru moved your bikini bottom to the side fully.
You let out a small moan when you felt Satoru's fingers brush down your slit, the ocean breeze also hitting your core. Suguru had continued his kisses while moving one of his hands to push you, so your back was against Satoru's front. Now Suguru had access to your front while Satoru continued to touch you from the back. Satoru didn't wait much longer before he inserted a finger into you, moving in and out slowly. This made you tilt your head back against Satoru's chest, trying to keep quiet since the crashing waves only covered up so much sound.
Suguru took this time to move your bikini top to the side so he could massage your breast. He moved closer so he could trail kisses down your chest, attaching to one of your nipples once he got further down. This caused you to clinch around Satoru's fingers and gripping one of Suguru's arm that was next to your chest.
Between the two of them, you could tell you weren't going to last long. Satoru was now up to three fingers and using his other hand to massage your clit. Suguru was sucking on one of your nipples and playing with the other. Satoru leaned into your ear, speaking loud enough for both you and Suguru to hear.
"Come on baby, I can feel you squeezing around my fingers. Just let go for us pretty." He told you, kissing right behind your ear. You let out a small gasp when Suguru nipped harder at your nipple and Satoru increased his speed. This is what made the knot in your stomach finally snap.
You throw your head back against Satoru's chest, letting out a moan that you somehow lined up with a wave, masking the sound of your pleasure. It takes a second to come down from your high, so you lay there taking deep breaths while Suguru and Satoru fix your swimsuit and grab a bottle of water. Once you gathered yourself back together, you look at the two of them. Both had smirks on and went right back to what they were doing beforehand. Suguru reading his book and Satoru basking in the sun like nothing happened. This made you roll your eyes at them acting so proud of themselves. You needed to cool yourself off after your activities, so you stood and head towards the water.
Your two lovers just watched you, eyes peering over their sunglasses, not taking their eyes off as you entered the water. They'd join you soon, but for now, they were going to enjoy the view.
——————————————————————————
a/n: this is also a small appreciation post for 200 followers. I know I don’t post often but I appreciate anyone that follows me and like my content :) and as always if you ever have request/ask those are my favorites so please keep doing them!!
SYNOPSIS: when suguru accidentally stands under a mistletoe that satoru hung up above the living room doorway, of course satoru provokes him into kissing him. and of course you happen to come home at the same moment, somehow ending up tangled in it.
cw (minors please dni): a lot of making out, oral (fem receiving), satoru’s a whore and teases suguru a little through his pants too, lil bit of grinding and lil bit of male masturbation.
word count: 2.7k
series masterlist
a/n: did you read the title in the same tune as "rockin around the christmas tree" because you should've HAHA also this is probably so shit i apologise
gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru, roommate!au, nsfw
as soon as suguru hears a laugh from the living room before he even takes a step inside, he knows that he made a mistake. he doesn’t know what the mistake is yet, but he knows there is one. that laugh was too cheerful, too mischievous, too satoru.
he pauses at the doorway of the living room, eyebrow twitching and purple hues narrowing, trying to figure out where he messed up. noticing satoru’s bright gaze flit upwards to the top of the doorway, suguru follows.
a damned mistletoe.
“heh, now you gotta kiss me, sugu,” satoru sing-songs, snowy eyelashes fluttering, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s just joking or fulfilling his deepest wish.
sighing deeply, suguru turns back around. he shouldn’t have left his room.
“hey, wait, we have to honour the tradition!” satoru calls after him. “you’re acting like we haven’t kissed before. i’ll even settle for a peck!”
he sighs again. “… if it makes you quiet.”
when suguru steps back towards satoru, the latter lights up like a christmas tree, standing straighter with a mischievous spark in those crystals he calls eyes.
“i know i said i’ll settle for a peck, but you should make it a really good one so i don’t ask again.”
the raven raises a single eyebrow, and it feels as if he’s towering over satoru despite being the same height. the dominance that naturally exudes from him giving him that advantage.
“what do you mean by ‘really good’?”
“i don’t know, grab my neck or something. my lips are starting to feel sooo lone-- mmph…”
his words immediately dissipate on his tongue and from his own mind, not even knowing what he was going to say when suguru’s soft lips meld with his and lithe fingers wrap around his throat, holding him in place. not that satoru would pull away if he could.
he feels satoru swallow thickly, adam’s apple bobbing against his palm as he melts into the kiss, finally managing to shut him up.
suguru lets his lips linger for a couple of more seconds before pulling away when he hears the front door click shut, though satoru’s quick to tangle his hand in suguru’s hair to tug him back in.
“satoru--”
“what, you don’t think our princess will like the show?” your blue-eyed roommate smirks, pulling back to see you gaping at them in surprise.
when you agreed to be their roommate, you didn’t think that this is what you signed up for. you’ll admit that you’ve walked into some questionable things, like satoru groping suguru’s biceps and complimenting him after the gym.
and you’ve even gotten caught up in it yourself. is roommates with benefits even a thing? it’s a messy dynamic that none of you really talk about.
but still, you didn’t expect to come home and see your roommates kissing like it was an everyday occurrence. like having a hand around his best friend’s neck was normal. right in the living room, too.
“isn’t that right, gorgeous?” satoru continues, that stupid, smug curl of his lips still there as his eyes meet yours.
you snort in amusement, not denying that you’d enjoy the show but not admitting it either. “no wonder you’re good kissers. you probably practice in your free time.”
“oh, you think we’re just good at kissing?” suguru teases, his eyes following your form as you walk past them to set down snacks that you bought on the coffee table.
you can feel both pairs of eyes trailing after you and you hide a smile while your back is turned towards them. they both step back from each other, suddenly interested in something else. in you.
“that is what i said,” you say casually as you turn back around to face them, acting as if you aren’t provoking them. “good kissers.”
you notice suguru’s eyes narrow slightly and satoru’s glint with something darker.
they don’t doubt their abilities at all - they know that a mere few words can have girls wrapped around their fingers, literally. and that they are far from incompetent in bed. but something about you makes them want to prove themselves and to prove you wrong, despite being well aware of their own skills.
satoru moves to stand in front of you first, one hand spanning your hip and the other cupping your cheek to tilt your head up towards him. you’re still smiling, something defiant in the curve of your lips that he wants to kiss so desperately.
“think we can prove you wrong? maybe you can tell us who the better kisser is,” satoru says, voice low and suddenly deeper than playful, making your stomach flutter.
then, you hear suguru scoff from beside you, his arm snaking around your waist. four hands on you as he takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, brushing his thumb slowly over your lips as he turns your head to face him instead.
your mouth instinctively parts in anticipation, your heart beginning to thump in your chest. you knew what you were getting yourself into, but you don’t think that you’ll ever get used to being in between them.
“there’s no pressure, though, princess,” suguru murmurs, lavender eyes suddenly gentle when your eyes meet his, waiting for confirmation.
breaking out of your flustered daze, you laugh softly, “i think i’d be crazy to say ‘no’.”
“dibs on kissing her first,” satoru grins, leaning down and angling your head towards his again.
he doesn’t hesitate to mould his lips with yours, soft lips moving against yours in a passionate sway. impatient, like he’s been dying to kiss you. it feels so perfect, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together.
he sighs blissfully, the kiss quickly becoming heated and his hand stays on your cheek, steady and firm, keeping you there and barely letting either of you breathe.
kiss after kiss. his tongue insistent, prodding at the seam of your lips which you part for him, letting him slide into your mouth to tangle his tongue with yours. he moans softly, breathless and already wrecked.
“suck on m’tongue, princess, please,” he murmurs, voice strained and raspy, like he needs you to suck on his tongue. like it’s all he ever wants.
and you oblige, wrapping your lips around the tip of his tongue and suckling gently as you suck his tongue in further.
he groans, deep in his chest. fingers twitching against your hip as he pulls you closer. feeling weak with your mouth so hot around his tongue, sucking slowly to purposely unravel him. an evident bulge tenting his jeans as you completely wreck him in the best way possible.
but when you feel another pair of lips press softly against your neck, you feel your own composure starting to slip. going lax between them as suguru trails kisses down your neck so sensually, finding that sensitive spot that makes you shiver and sucking on it to mark your skin.
your hand tangles in his hair and you feel him smile against your skin, giving that spot a gentle nip before he travels down to your collarbone. his lips meet whatever skin he can reach, letting his kisses linger. they’re worshipful, like his hands running over your body, soaking all of you in and sending goosebumps all over.
his hair tickles your skin as he continues his pilgrimage of kisses, his nose brushing against you and he inhales your scent lightly, feeling intoxicated by you.
“so fucking pretty,” suguru whispers, his voice saturated with such reverence it would be hard to miss.
finally, satoru breaks the heated kiss, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours before it snaps. he leans in without a word and drags his tongue over your chin to lick it off, a depraved smirk strewn on his mouth.
he sees the haziness blurring your eyes and the way you pant softly to catch your breath and collect yourself, only serving to widen his smirk because of the effect his kisses have on you.
“well, look at that. i think my kisses are a lot better than ‘good’,” satoru drawls, giving you one last peck because he can’t resist. especially not when your lips are extra plump after the way he kissed you.
you scoff, despite your heart still hammering in your chest and your flushed cheeks. “don’t make your head bigger than it already is.”
“it’s hard not to when you look like that after i kissed you.”
“alright, enough flirting. my turn, satoru’s had his,” suguru says, tongue flicking out to run over a hickey he left on your neck before he pulls back.
his face is inches from yours, with a smile so charming and a gaze so ravenous it makes your breath hitch.
compared to satoru, suguru’s kisses are slower. less rushed. languid. savouring the suppleness of your lips against his. he hums softly against your mouth, clearly content with how you respond to him, melting into him as your arms wrap around his neck.
his hands slide down to wrap around you, resting on your lower back as he draws you in closer, his broad chest brushing against yours, his sweet scent wafting around you. his kisses, his hands, everything about him makes you feel dizzy as you let him lead the kisses.
he isn’t as eager to add tongue into the mix yet, relishing in the slow dance of your lips with his. though, when he feels your mouth part on its own, he smiles and takes the opportunity to caress your tongue with his own. still taking his time, letting his tongue piercing roll over your wet muscle.
he angles his head to deepen the kiss and a soft moan escapes you, and he wishes to bottle it up and keep it forever. cherishing every inch of you and every moment with you.
when you feel your limbs becoming weak and your lungs scream for air, you pull away and stare up at suguru, like you’re in awe.
he stares back at you, smiling with amusement and pride. like he already knows what you’re going to say.
“… suguru is the better kisser,” you murmur, breathless but certain.
and satoru, despite himself being in awe watching the way suguru kissed you, has a pout forming on his face. “hah? it’s probably just recency bias because he kissed you last!” satoru argues, shooting a small glare at his best friend.
though, he gets an idea and drops to his knees in front of you, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes.
“well, doesn’t matter. because i know that i’m a better eater. kissing these lips is more important after all, huh, sweet girl?”
you look down at him and he grins, his hands trailing up your legs and resting on the backs of your thighs.
“i just got home. i haven’t even showered, satoru.”
“don’t care. even better, actually.”
“you’re filthy.”
“god forbid a guy likes the taste of pussy after a long day,” he says, rolling his eyes. “or at any time of day. it doesn’t change a thing for me. and i can bet that you’re wet after our kisses anyway. so, can i, sweetheart?”
his eyes are so pleading as he continues to stare up at you, it’s hard to say no. and you can’t deny that their kisses and the way they touched you did work you up.
“fine. make it good.”
“oh, it’ll be a lot better than good,” he smirks, reaching for the waistband of your bottoms to tug them down along with your panties. you step out of them and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips at the sight.
but just before he can dive in like he’s been dying to do, suguru takes your hand and pats his thigh with his other as he sits on the sofa with his legs spread. “c’mere, pretty, i’m not done kissing you.”
you straddle suguru’s lap, hearing satoru shuffle behind you before his hands cup your ass and spread your cheeks apart to reveal your glistening folds. your entrance dripping and winking at him.
“god, look at her,” satoru whispers to himself. “look how soaked you are.”
he doesn’t waste time, humming deeply as he flattens his tongue and licks a firm stripe up your slit, tasting your saccharine juices that drench his tastebuds. his eyes roll back, feeling like an addict when he shoves his face deeper, both your scent and taste consuming him.
you moan into suguru’s mouth, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping them tightly as satoru laps at your cunt eagerly, the vibrations of his own moans only adding to the euphoric sensation.
suguru swallows your honeyed sounds as he cups your cheek and tilts your head to the side, letting him kiss you how he wishes. but a surprised groan rumbles in his chest when he feels satoru purposely mouthing and licking at the bulge in his sweats.
“what the fuck are you doing?” suguru mutters after parting from the kiss, biting back another groan when satoru finds that twitching vein on the underside of suguru’s heavy cock trapped behind his sweats and drags his tongue along it.
your snowy-haired roommate laughs to himself like the menace that he is, moving back to your pussy and pushing his tongue through your tight entrance, flicking it against your walls and gulping down your arousal so eagerly. letting it paint his lower face, wishing he could drown in it.
you mewl his name softly, your head dropping to suguru’s shoulder when his tongue plunges in and out of you, grazing your sweet spot and causing another lewd gush of juices. you can hear the smacking of lips against lips, the way satoru devours you like you’re his favourite dessert.
“mmm… so fucking sweet,” he mumbles. “ride my face. make a mess on it. please.”
your hips almost move on their own, automatically grinding against his face and he moans like he’s the one being pleasured. he works his tongue in sync with the roll of your hips, making you tremble above him, grasping desperately at suguru’s shirt.
your clit bumps into the tent of suguru’s sweats, providing the perfect friction as you grind your hips in figure 8’s. choked moans and heavy breaths are forced out of you, your thighs quivering on either side of suguru’s lap.
“fuck, it feels so good,” you moan breathlessly, your hot breath hitting the side of suguru’s neck.
he leans down to kiss your lips before moving down your jaw and neck, lathering you in featherlight kisses so as to not overwhelm you as he holds you close to his chest.
and if you had the strength to lift your head and look behind you, you’d see satoru’s hand wrapped around his leaking cock, ragged jerks of his wrist, getting off on your taste and sweet whimpers.
he thrusts his tongue inside you as deep as he can reach and making sure to rub insistently against that delicious, spongy spot, determined to make you fall apart for him. and with the way your walls clench down on him and your syrupy juices soak his face and suguru’s sweatpants, he knows it won’t take long.
“so close for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he drawls against your pussy, never letting up in his ministrations and moving his palm faster over his dick. “g-gonna make suchhhh a sweet mess for me.”
“mhm, always such a sweet girl for us,” suguru whispers in your ear, giving it a small kiss.
his large hands run up and down your shaking thighs, helping you grind against him and satoru at the same time. you arch into him, moaning something incoherent that sounded like it was supposed to be one of their names but morphed into both.
he chuckles, soft and low. “satoru’s fucking you silly on his tongue, huh?” the amused curl of his lips widens when you whine in response. “imagine just how dumb you’ll be when we fuck you properly.”
your orgasm crashes over you so suddenly after that. the thought of them fucking you and the way his tone was so heavy with lust, his warm breath tickling your ear, and you felt his cock throb against your clit. the same thoughts running through his mind.
through your pants and dazed mind, you mumble, “you’re both filthy.”
“says the one who just made a mess thinking about getting fucked by us,” suguru teases, but there’s promise twinkling in his purple eyes.
(AU unrelated to main series)
smut crack fic. completely unserious. other anime references. p-in-v and gojo being completely depraved nerd while losing his v-card.
nerdy!reader (bunny) x academic rival otaku!gojo
except... you and otaku!gojo were never really academic rivals. not when you both cared more about anime than gpas.
sure, you’re both at the top of your classes and at one point were in silent competition over grades—but at the core of it?
you’re just two chronically online nerds who accidentally built a mountain of sexual tension arguing about anime. mainly digimon lore.
otaku!gojo who only gets the nerve to actually talk to you once he realizes you both have matching agumon pencil cases. it’s really thanks to suguru, sitting between the two of you in lecture, accidentally grabbing yours, assuming only gojo would be socially oblivious enough to unironically carry a pencil case clearly meant for elementary schoolers.
ever since that cursed moment, you and gojo have been practically glued at the hip—nonstop. and much to suguru’s dismay. (it’s gotten bad enough that he actually tries to pay attention in class now, just to tune you both out.)
knowing gojo has the uncanny ability to repel women better than a can of raid does bugs, suguru initially tagged along to act as a buffer. but that quickly proved unnecessary. he’s seen the way you both look at each other when the other isn’t paying attention.
he’s tried nudging gojo to make a move—but the otaku is hopeless.
otaku!gojo, who is just happy a girl (that isn’t shoko) likes this toned-down version of him enough to be his friend.
so now suguru’s only hope is you’ll be the one to figure it out and finally fuck his loser bestie—freeing him from this hellish third-wheel purgatory.
of course, it’s partly suguru’s own fault gojo is stuck in the liminal hell of ‘friend zoned’. he’s the one who warned gojo that if he really wanted to be your friend, he’d need to rein in his depravity—explaining that just because you’re a pretty girl into anime—maybe even enough to be an otaku yourself, doesn’t mean you want to be treated like a walking trope with tits.
that’s the primary reason he doesn’t have girls who are friends now (besides shoko).
otaku!gojo who nearly had a panic attack over the epiphany that he was the problem he couldn’t get girls. desperately begging suguru to write down a complete list of things he could and couldn’t say that he could use as a reference. suguru shot that idea down fast—realizing giving satoru a guide to normalcy would be longer than a set of encyclopedias—and reluctantly promised instead to stick around when the two of you hung out and keep gojo from blowing things with you.
that was three months ago though.
otaku!gojo who—despite a few nearly catastrophic slip-ups—hasn’t scared you off…yet. suguru thinks, maybe you’re someone who could actually handle the real him unfiltered.
hell, you might even fuck him.
someone needed to make a move, anyway. yeah, satoru is his best friend, but this whole thing is seriously cramping suguru’s style. not like he could double-date either, y’all nerds would cuck him for sure.
suguru trails behind the two of you now, resisting the urge to rub his face in exasperation as you both bicker loudly—turning heads even in the noisy quad. he slows his pace bit by bit, quietly testing if gojo will notice him missing if he completely dips out.
thankfully, suguru’s salvation comes in the form of toji and sukuna, his frat brothers, smirking like predators in-wait at a table just off the path. they never miss a chance to mess with gojo—and lately, that’s meant catcalling you just to see if it’ll finally make him snap and grow a pair.
otaku!gojo who is too deep in another heated debate with you to notice them—that is until toji lets out a low, wolfish whistle.
“not much skirt for all that leg you got, nerd,” sukuna mutters with a smirk as you bristle, stopping in your tracks.
“yeah, it’s chilly out today too, ain’t that right kuna?” toji adds, thighs manspread, patting one in invitation. “if you’re cold, we’ll warm you right up, baby.”
the both of them chuckle as you puff your cheeks in indignation. with a huff, you turn back to gojo as choosing to ignore the two football jocks completely would be the most damaging to their trumped-up egos. you weren’t even sure why someone as nice as satoru is even friends with them anyway.
you blink, realizing gojo’s not next to you any longer. just now catching that suguru’s fallen behind, suguru gives gojo a quick wave and a look that clearly says: go. please.
you frown, annoyed at gojo’s adhd attention span that always seems to be hyperaware of suguru.
you’ve recently started picking up on suguru’s restlessness—but you think it's because you were tagging along too much. not that he wanted to leave. especially since gojo always seemed to like having him around. you just didn’t have the balls yet to say you wanted him all to yourself too.
a small, ridiculous voice in the back of your head even wonders if maybe gojo’s in love with suguru and hasn’t realized it yet and you are the one who is the third wheel.
“satoru!” you snap, elbowing him in the ribs and grabbing his arm. “i wasn’t done making my point.”
otaku!gojo who jolts at the sharp sensation, his eyes darting to where your hand clings to his sleeve… then past you, catching the smug grins on toji and sukuna’s faces. they’d said something to you again that he didn’t catch. probably hitting on you again.
and why wouldn’t they? you’re hot. smart. actually like the same nerd shit he does, but you don’t look like a loser, not like him anyway.
they probably think they’re being funny. maybe they are. he just wishes it didn’t always make him feel like he’s already lost.
gojo blinks, trying to play off his insecurities as your pout deepens. you wrap your fingers fully around his arm now, grabbing onto him like it’s no big deal.
it is—it’s the longest a girl has ever willingly touched him.
he, however, is not unbothered as you seem to be. his ribs still sting a bit where you poked him and his heartbeat’s beats faster the longer your fingers linger.
“ah—! sorry, sorry,” gojo blurts out a little too loud and a little too quickly, “go on. i’m listening.”
your smile beams in victory as soon as you have his attention again and you’ve yet to let go. you might just have to wrangle him like this more often.
“ahem… as i was sayingggg, arukenimon is totally based on the greek myth of arachne, mother of spiders.” you push up your glasses. “soooo… as mother aka queen of spiders, while being femme fatale in her human form—she’d most definitely gives black widow vibes if she was a real spider, toru!”
your enthusiasm is infectious. gojo immediately perks up. nobody else debates this stuff with him like you do. his nerves start to settle as his usual otaku-fueled confidence kicks back in.
“that's a cute headcannon, bunbun. but arachne actually spun webs. arukenimon doesn’t, her mist is more akin to laying traps. she hunts on foot. she’s basically a woodlouse spider with a glamour buff.“
you stomp your foot, leaning on gojo fully now.
“but woodlouse spiders aren’t poisonous, you dork! and arukenimon has acid mist!” you narrow your eyes, not realizing how close you've gotten to him—while gojo is trying oh so very hard not to peer down your low cut shirt. “were you even paying attention in entomology today, toru?!”
to be honest? not one bit.
otaku!gojo, who although he hadn’t heard what sukuna and toji said, he’d definitely noticed your skirt being too short wayyyy before they did. he hadn’t absorbed a word of the lecture on arachnids, too distracted by the way your galaxy-print mini rode up your thick thighs while you sat. the hem of your thigh highs revealed to be hugging your curves so tight they barely seemed to contain them—similar to the slutty school girls in his h-doujins.
but the real crisis came halfway through class when you conveniently dropped your pen right beneath your chair and asked him to grab it for you.
gojo gulped hard.
otaku!gojo who had the moral dilemma of his life not turning his head up to you before he was back above waist line to sneak a peak at your panties.
a classic hentai scenario and he totally blew his chances of living out—but he couldn’t risk you never wanting to speak to him again—and there was no time to signal to suguru to keep you distracted long enough for him to get a good peak either.
“er, um, yeah—you’re right about that,” gojo concedes quickly, eager to change the subject from what had been distracting him. “but the coloring’s still off. if you want a red one that hunts without webs and lures prey… that’s redback spiders. flashy colors. silky traps. total predators.”
you shake your head, a glint of challenge in your eyes.
“mm, i see your points but nah. black widow’s still more fitting,” you quip.
“nu-uh!” gojo shoots back and your geeked-out discourse charges full speed ahead once again.
otaku!gojo, who is so caught up in spider talk, doesn’t even notice when suguru finally catches up.
“yo.” suguru gives a nod to toji and sukuna, who are both watching you and gojo like you’re some kind of live-action freakshow. “what’s up?”
suguru drops into the seat beside them. he’d already planned to dodge the walk back to gojo’s dorm—and now he had the perfect excuse seeing toji and sukuna.
sukuna rolls his eyes. “not much. just watching these two try to out-dork each other for gold in the nerd olympics.”
toji snorts, “yeah, have you ever seen two more obvious virgins? kinda funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
you hear it—of course you do. with toji’s loud ass mouth, you’d have to be deaf not to.
but you don’t react. you just stay focused on gojo, pretending you didn’t hear a thing.
thankfully, aside from the slight flush creeping up his neck, gojo seems to ignore them too. or tries to at least. if anyone asked him, it’s the crisp fall air chilling him and not the crushing embarrassment.
“go on with out me—i’ll catch you guys later,” suguru interjects after a few minutes. no one but gojo, who looks dejected, is convinced he actually will. “i gotta catch up with these clowns—frat business and all.”
sukuna and toji share a look. they’d let that ‘clown’ remark slide, this time, seeing as how desperate they knew suguru had been to escape his dork monitoring duties.
otaku!gojo who can’t even object as you grab his hand and tug him along in the opposite direction—your smaller, softer, fingers now fully intertwined with his own hands.
the action successfully short-circuits his entire brain so gojo follows your lead without resistance. without even a word actually—barely registering toji and sukuna howling after him about “finally making it to second base for dweebs.” no, he’s far too focused on keeping his breathing steady, praying his hand doesn’t get sweatier to realize: oh god—you’re coming back to his dorm. alone.
otaku!gojo , who is a bundle of nerves, even more than usual once you both enter his room. it isn’t the first time you’ve been in his dorm but it is the first time you’ve been in his room without suguru chaperoning.
thankfully, not only does gojo have a single-room to himself, the dorm has thoroughly been “pussy-proofed” it, as suguru called it weeks ago. hiding his more lewd and unsavory hentai merch, doujins and onnaholes in the back of his closet so he doesn’t scare you off.
However what gojo is really concerned about right now is his big fat mouth.
he barely can contain himself when he has the adhd compulsive urge to say something or his brain randomly makes the connection to something in anime he thinks is insightful—even if more than not that insightful comment ends up being particularly debauched or ecchi coded.
even if gojo isn’t saying it in particularly a perverted way, suguru still told him it was a huge no-no. suguru always recognizes better than he does when he’s heading down the path to cucking himself so he’s always been there to stop him, until now that is.
you suggest a movie but gojo quickly suggests you both play digimon cards as a way to settle your earlier argument for good. he also realizes it's safer to stay in neutral territory of a digimon battle—he couldn’t slip and say anything too crazy if he solely focuses on the game and nothing else.
you agree but instead of taking a seat at the small table you always play at, you sit on his bed for the first-time making yourself comfy as you take off your jacket and untie your boots.
otaku!gojo who nearly drops dead on the spot. eyes wide, he turns away fast, muttering something about grabbing sodas from his mini-fridge. anything to not explode from the casual, completely normal and boringly platonic—but somehow still wildly overstimulating sight—of a pretty girl undressing to any small degree on his bed.
soon returning with two bottles of mountain dew, you and gojo start playing digimon cards, the room settling into an awkward silence—broken only by the occasional callout for card plays.
gojo being quiet is unusual, and since the only thing that’s changed is suguru not being here, you assume that’s why. maybe he misses him.
so you go quiet too.
you focus harder on the game—trying to beat him even harder than usual.
you hate that you’re jealous—but you can’t help it. gojo’s eyes always flick to suguru like muscle memory, like instinct. as you reconcile just how hard you are crushing on the otaku it makes you wonder if you’ve been orbiting a star that could never be yours to begin with.
and gojo?
his brain is spinning. trying to figure out why you seem so upset right now and how to fix it.
was it something he did? or something he didn’t do? maybe it was the comment toji and sukuna made. they had been teasing you even more lately and maybe you’re mad they lumped you in with him.
otaku!gojo who gets stuck on that thought.
he is he obvious virgin—not you. it wasn’t fair of them to say that about you and things had been a bit awkward since then, especially now that suguru wasn’t here as a buffer.
“…uh, i, um…” gojo starts, voice cracking. “sorry toji and sukuna called you a virgin, bun. it’s not fair of them to assume a girl like you would be…”
your head snaps up, mid-play, right before you are about to cinch your victory, too focused on the game and proving you’re better than suguru by beating gojo—something suguru could never do when gojo did force him to play.
“excuse me?!”
a girl like you…did gojo—did he just call you a slut!?
but when you look up, he’s pink-cheeked, sheepish, and unknowingly bending the hell out of an extremely rare holographic card in his hand.
“i mean—i mean a hot girl like you… you’re not a loser or a dork like me. i’m sure you’ve had chances to—if you wanted to that is! i just—uh—that’s how they always joke with me and you just happened to be there and they know how much i like hanging out with you so they lumped you in… and uh, you’re my only girl friend.. ack! uh, i mean well girl who is a friend…well, besides shoko, but she doesn’t count—"
otaku!gojo who is rambling now. he refuses to make eye contact with you but the one eyed-bandit in his pants is practically jumping out of his sweats to stare you down.
annnnd gojo’s hard. of course he is.
the idiot practically combusts at the thought of sex. something you know his ecchi coded brain thought of often, too often.
you’ve known for a while. i mean he was an otaku after all, you were well aware. the missing spaces with light dust rings on his awkwardly filled shelves. the suspiciously placed laundry pile in his closet.
you’d found the hentai stash of dvds and doujins the day your lip gloss rolled under his bed.
you’d known. you’d just pretended not to, especially when suguru was around—because gojo didn’t need to be more embarrassed than he already was. especially if he was trying to not look like a loser with all his tentacle porn in front of…oh!
the realization hits you as you realize how it was suguru who tried to stop you from grabbing the lip gloss that day as gojo was already out of the room, having went to the bathroom.
he’s also interjected to keep you from connecting the dots to gojo’s hentai references…references that of course as a hentai watcher yourself you’ve of course picked up on but the subject was always changed before—
oh snap—so that’s it.
suguru wasn’t guarding you from gojo—he was guarding gojo from himself. not a love triangle. just two socially inept idiots and a very tired babysitter making sure gojo didn’t scare you away.
Loser—did he not know you were just as big a freak as him yet!?
you stare at him. one second. two. three. he’s still panicking, pupils shaking behind those foggy glasses—about to cry, maybe. you smile wider as you watch gojo continue to fumble around his words, now confused thinking you were laughing at him.
i mean you are, but to be fair, you’re a virgin too. and that loser status? that’s fine. you’ve made peace with it. you didn’t care to impress anyone, especially the likes of toji and sukuna.
but the virgin part? that’s something you can do something about—the both of you together.
you place your cards down gently and reach over the bed grabbing his hand before he tears off the corner of that rare card completely.
“it’s okay, toru…” you say softly, cutting off his spiral as he now looks all nervous, hopeful and stupidly sweet. “…i’m actually a virgin too. but—i mean. we don’t have to be.”
otaku!gojo who very nearly has a brain aneurysm before he recovers enough for the two of you to end up here—with you on your back splayed out on gojo’s digimon bedsheets, the both of you clumsily fumbling through the initial steps of sex like two newborn calves trying to stand for the first time.
in missionary, his pathetically shaky arms frame your face, elbows locked like he’s bracing for a natural disaster. and honestly, the rhythm of his hips might qualify as one—chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous.
the second he finds a particularly rough speed and really starts drilling into you with his very much long-n- thick-not-so-dorky cock—he panics and freezes, sucking in a sharp breath and slowing to an agonizing crawl before he can cum too fast.
and when gojo slows after his frenzy, you feel everything. in excruciatingly intense detail. the drag of him along your walls. the way the veins on his cock pulse against your g-spot frantic and desperate as his heartbeat out of his chest.
it doesn’t help either that he keeps stopping entirely to check on you through his slobbering drools and broken moans—
“are you okay?”
“am i doing okay?”
“like how my cock feels, is my drill piercing your heavens my ecchi angel?”
otaku!gojo who is trying so hard it’s both painfully cringe and devastatingly cute. you’d laugh in his face if you weren’t losing your mind on his dick. trying to keep your moans down in order not to alert the RA on the floor.
“yes—ah,fuck—yesss…j-just…ah-hahhh—m’b-breathe toru!” you gasp, mimicking deep inhales and exhales as an example, to remind him to take breaths as he was beginning to turn blue in the face from exertion.
he should be the one talking you through this of course, but you have to do that job for the both of you as you also try to keep your shit together. but him stopping and slowing his thrusts so erratically before picking up the pace again is unintentionally edging the everloving fuck out of you.
you’re so wound up it’s insane. even the warm puffs of his breath against your skin—paired with his not-so-subtle muttering of “ora, ora, ora” under his breath to pace himself—send goosebumps racing across your body, every nerve lit up as sparks flare down your spine.
otaku!gojo who is under astronomical pressure, finally getting a taste of pussy, for a guy who got so flustered when you held his hand earlier.
the imaginary chorus in gojo’s head continuously taunting—
sukuna: don’t be a cuck, rich boy, fuck her right.
toji: i’mma be shocked if ya last more than three seconds.
suguru: look—even if you cum early, just don’t quote anime while inside her toru, for the love of god…
all efforts focused, his jaw is clenched, cheeks flushed all the way to his ears as sweat beads down his temples. gojo is literally fighting for his life and any remaining dignity he had left as a now not-so-cherry-otaku not to bust inside you prematurely.
he couldn’t. not after pinky-swearing you he wouldn’t cum inside. not like he owned condoms, you also weren’t on birth control and neither of you losers had the foresight to think you’d actually need them.
but honestly? you love him for trying so hard. he’s your otaku loser now.
in the future, you’ll whisper filth against his reddened sweat-slicked temple—utterly depraved, super hentai-coded things that’ll make him explode in under ten seconds and you’d make him continue to fuck you through his tears.
like he did earlier when you gave him his first handjob after telling him to “show you his bankai” which then turned into his first blowjob, still twitchy and overly sensitive from spurting all over your fingers, as thick tears fogged up his glasses and rolled down his cheeks.
but tonight? you’ll let him have this one for his own pride’s sake.
“i’m close, s’toruuu,” you whine heady as you settle for digging your nails into his biceps, half to steady yourself and half because it makes his twisted-lil-wannabe-masochist brain visibly malfunction as the slobber continues to pour down his chin.
his hips stutter. you suppress a giggle, well no, his cock did that for you actually, unnecessarily driving even harder into your womb, threatening to cave your cervix inward by the force of it. shit it feels good though—and you suppose you’re a bit of a masochist too now.
the clumsy drag of him inside you feels too good for any discomfort to last, and whatever blood there is leaking from your first time only makes your pussy slicker. the schlick, wet and obscene sounds echo in his dorm, squelching between your thrashing limbs and pooling beneath you into the sheets.
gojo whimpers crack as you tighten up around him, he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.
“gud b-boy,” you murmur, voice slurring, reaching up to thumb drool away from his lips. “dun open your eyes yet tho toru… m’playing my clit, yeah? gonna cum s’gud all over your cock baby.”
otaku!gojo who thinks he’s never been so close to death. your pussy is so sloppy yet so tight—like really tight—and some distant part of his brain remembers suguru once saying something about crazy girls being the tightest. and you drive him insane in multiple ways daily, so it makes sense your deadly angelic ecchi pus—
no. stop. focus.
he might lose to you at digimon more often than he’d like, but he’s not losing at this. Just like a saiyan, even gojo had his pride.
you’re going to cum first.
eyes squeezed shut, gojo concentrates like his life depends on it—because if he opens them and sees the way the bite marks he left on your cute tiddies jiggle with sweat rolling off them or the way your pink manicured fingers move petting your big slutty and engorged clit, he’s done for.
this is the single most important thing gojo’s ever done in his twenty-one years of life.
thankfully, soon after that thought gojo feels you shatter beneath him. your delicious broken moans squeaking out as he feels your mushy core gush around him so hard that causes him to choke.
dizzy, and finally able to pull out and release, gojo’s entire body locks up as his vision temporarily goes white.
your own eyes have already rolled back into your head so when you hear gojo strangled groans and warm droplets spray your neck, chest and tummy you assume he is able to pull out.
that is... until you feel warmth balloon against your womb and realize he’s still inside you.
wait…what!?
coming down from the high you struggle to open your eyes. yet when you do, it looks like a crime scene as all you see are red droplets all over your body—not to mention the sheets.
"oh—oh my god! are you okay, toru!?"
otaku!gojo who slides out of you, sitting up, one hand clamped over his nose, blood pouring through his fingers, eyes glassy with tears as he thinks this might be even worse than prematurely cumming before you.
he looks dejected and silently prays you aren’t mad enough to never talk to him again, much less fuck him as now that he’s had a taste of your yummy cunny he think he might die without it.
“m’ sworry, b-bunny!” gojo sways a bit looking like he might actually faint.
you wince looking around and grab the giant tissue box on his bedside table, shoving a cluster of them into his hands.
they all soak instantly.
“...damn toru…” you mutter, surveying the bloodied scene in comparison to the light streaks of red between your thighs, “you bled more than i did…is that even medically possible?!”
gojo goans, plugging his nose and tilting his head back.
you look around nervously, unsure of what to do to help the poor sap who seriously just busted in more ways than one all over you.
“um, you d-do you wanna stick a tampon up there?” you suggest hesitantly, “i carry some emergency light flow ones in my purse, should be able to fit…”
you carried them so you wouldn’t be caught lacking if your period came a bit off schedule but you never in your wildest dreams expected they might come in handy in this situation too.
“...shut up.” gojo mumbles wanting to crawl beneath his blankets in shame.
he just might bleed out at this rate, he didn’t realize he’d been tensing, straining so hard he’d popped multiple blood vessels all in an effort to please you.
yet a dozen tissues later the box is now empty and there’s still blood trickling out.
“how are you getting hard right now?! didn’t realize you still could with all the blood loss.”
you can’t help but gawk as you tease him, looking around for something better like a towel.
i–i don’t know,” gojo slurs, dazed. “you look like a blood-drenched vampire goddess right now... like some castlevania final boss... fuck, it’s hot. you’re like—my sexy, unholy queen of darkness. makes me wanna let you drain me again…”
good god. he’s a perverted otaku to the max alright. you giggle. lucky for this freaked out otaku though, that turns you on too and you smirk though as a thought crosses your mind.
“well…,” you say sweetly, slowly swapping positions with him and easing him back against the headboard of the best to rest his head, “if i am a blood sucker, that would make me kind of like a black widow spider too right? i did lay traps for you after all…”
you continue as gojo looks up at you confused in his blood-loss daze.
“...wore that short skirt just for you today. even dropped my pen to see if that’d make you notice.”
your eyes are half lidded as you lean closer, grabbing his growing length in your hands and giving it a few pumps, noticing the blood in his nose begin to dry more as his cockhardens.
“you know black widows drain their mates from both ends, right?” you grip his cock tighter causing him to squirm and croak beneath you. “and i’ve just accomplished that like a true femme fatal—just like arukenimon, right?”
with a heavy sigh, gojo concedes—too dizzy from blood loss to argue, and way too stunned by the revelation that you wanted him to look at your panties earlier to do anything but nod and obey.
“…okay,” he wheezes, pre-dribbling out more as you finger the foreskin on his tip. “you’re right. just—another tissue please, bun.”
you lift the empty box and shake it with a smile.
“fresh out. and this is value size too Toru…so tell me…how many did you use on this perverted otaku cock—fapping just thinking about wanting to fuck me, hm?”
otaku!gojo who's eyes widen in realization. oh my god. she’s not just my dream girl—she’s a boss-level ecchi final form waifu.
in the end, you climb onto his lap, cockwarming him with your chin on his shoulder, fingers lazily playing with his undercut while he keeps his head tilted back.
your logic? keeping him hard might redirect the blood flow long enough to stop the nosebleed for good—and maybe train his oversensitive cock not to bust so fast, too. practical and scientific, if you do say so yourself.
gojo’s head rests against the headboard, nose very professionally plugged with your light-flow tampons he’s mortified—but significantly less so with you straddling him and his cock happily twitching inside of your warm walls, snug as a bug. ultimately, gojo thinks could fall asleep like this he’s so content.
he almost does too—until he hears the click of your phone camera go off.
“Hah—!?”
otaku!gojo who flinches like you just hit him with a kamehameha.
“collateral,” you purr, grip tightening at the back of his neck like a leash. “eyes on me and listen good toru.”
you grind down slow but firm, dragging another desperate whimper out of him—and god, you love how easy it is to ruin him.
“unless you want me to post this pic of ‘heavy flowjo’ to my stories—complete with hashtags—i suggest never, ever questioning my digimon theories again—especially in public in front of your bro-brained frat friends.”
gojo stares down at you, blinking slow, dazed—completely gone. heart-eyes and dumbstruck, because you’re cruel, calculating, and so obscenely perfect for him like the hentai gods made you especially for him.
“…yes,” he breathes out eagerly, “my hentai goddess dive. mommy. queen. ma’am.”
you pat his cheek and rest your head in the crook of his neck dreamy sigh.
“that’s a good boy, toru.”
otaku!gojo who hums under his breath, twitching in your warmth. “um, hey, bunny?”
“yeah?”
“...think i’m in love with you.”
“figured.” you smile against his neck. “me too tho, dork.”
lol so there's a dream sequence with gojo in freddy!sukuna where reader thinks gojo had a nosebleed during sex and then i was like omfg i HAVE to make a full little fleshed out drabble of the idea and that's how this very unserious shit was born lol. im going back to finishing freddy!sukuna now tho—but see how my adhd torments me? jhbdjfvhbsdjkb.
comments and reblogs appreciated. not continuing this particular au but will write more on main story after i dig myself out of this kinktober and xmas backlog.
i luv luv luv the art for katsuki on pinterest ໒꒰ྀི⁄ ⁄>⁄ ⁄ <⁄ ⁄꒱ྀི১
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8pm & you …
a sleepy pro hero boyfriend who keeps a perfect schedule & a girlfriend who never follows it. katsuki’s strict schedule cracks the moment you wander into his orbit— and he’s too drowsy, too hungry, too in love to pretend he doesn’t need you right back.
somnophilia if you squint again lol …
timeskip bakugo x fem!reader !!
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you weren’t supposed to still be awake.
katsuki’s told you that— every night, actually. same lecture, same scowl, same rough little hand on your lower back pushing you toward bed like you’re a stubborn cat instead of his girlfriend.
but tonight his routine’s thrown off.
it’s way past eight, his self-imposed bedtime, and he’s still sitting at his desk— broad back lit gold by the cheap desk lamp, laptop open, hero reports pulled up. shirt off, hair damp from his too-quick shower. shoulders tense. breathing slow in that tired, controlled way he gets when he’s one inch from falling asleep but refuses to admit it.
he didn’t even hear you come in, which is odd cause he notices everything.
you linger in the doorway, watching him rub his eyes with the heel of his hand, jaw clenching each time his head droops a little too low. he catches himself just before drifting off, muttering something you can’t hear.
you bite your lip, because something about him like this— exhausted, soft around the edges, still trying to be in charge— does something warm and stupid to your stomach.
you shouldn’t find him this pretty half-asleep, but you do— especially when he’s fighting it, like even sleep needs to earn permission.
you pad over quietly, stopping a few feet behind him.
“katsuki,” you whisper.
he flinches. just barely. then he sighs, annoyed at himself for reacting.
“you’re supposed to be asleep,” he rasps without turning. voice rough, deeper when he’s tired. “told you that an hour ago.”
“and you’re supposed to follow your own rules,” you shoot back, arms crossing.
he finally looks over his shoulder at you— eyes low, heavy, irritated in that way that only means he’s worried. a slow blink, like he’s forcing himself awake to scold you properly.
“just go to bed. m’finishing this.” he mutters.
you come up behind his chair, resting your chin on the top of his head. he groans.
you can feel the heat from his skin, the tension lingering in his shoulders.
“you’re literally falling asleep right here,” you say. “you keep nodding off like an old man watching tv.”
“no i’m not—” he starts, then cuts himself off when his eyelids flutter in real time. he sits up straighter immediately, pretending it didn’t happen.
you laugh. he kicks back lightly at your shin in retaliation. even that feels slower, heavier than usual.
“go to bed,” he repeats, voice dragging now. “i mean it.”
“then come with me.”
his shoulders tense. his fingers slow over the keyboard.
“can’t,” he mutters. “i gotta finish this report. s’late.”
“exactly,” you say. “you’re strict as hell with me. but when i tell you to rest— suddenly it doesn’t matter?”
he grunts, annoyed because you’re right.
you see the thought hit him— the hypocrisy— and the way his jaw twitches in response.
“you don’t listen anyway,” he mutters. “always stayin’ up doin’ random shit. no wonder you’re tired all the time.”
“then teach me to listen,” you say softly.
he goes still, really still.
slowly, he turns in his chair to face you— eyes low, drowsy, dangerous in that familiar, comforting way that makes your stomach flip. his fingers curl against the desk edge, like he’s stopping himself from reaching for you.
“…you’re doing that tone,” he mutters. “the brat one.”
“you like the brat one.”
he tilts his head, studying you through half-lidded eyes. he looks exhausted enough to collapse, but his voice drops anyway.
“don’t play with me when m’this tired.”
“i’m not playin’.”
you brush your fingers over his shoulder— warm skin, tense muscle. he shivers.
his head dips the tiniest bit toward your touch before he catches himself.
“just saying,” you add quietly, “if you really want me on a schedule like yours… you’d have to show me how to settle down.”
his breath stutters and you see it. the shift. the moment his exhaustion mixes with something else— something he usually keeps locked down until after he’s eaten, showered, slept, controlled everything.
but right now? he’s too tired to hide it.
“get over here,” he murmurs, voice fading at the ends like he’s half-asleep already.
you step between his knees and he spreads them for you without thinking, his common manspread.
your heart jumps as you feel his eyes drag up your body— slow, hungry, too tired to pretend otherwise.
“you’d better fix that tone,” he warns, grabbing your wrist, pulling you closer until your knees hit the desk. “keep talkin’ like that and—”
his words cut off when his head tips forward onto your stomach, forehead resting against you.
a tired groan leaves him— muffled, warm, vulnerable.
something about it knocks the breath right out of you.
your hand automatically slides into his hair.
“you okay?” you whisper.
“’m fine,” he mutters, voice deep and slurred with sleep. “just… tired.”
there’s a beat, then another.
then his hand drags slowly up your thigh.
your breath stops.
“you always get like this at night…” you whisper.
“like what?”
“clingy.”
he scoffs into your shirt. “shut up.”
but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he pulls you closer, arms wrapping around your waist so he can rest against you more comfortably. his cheek presses lightly against your stomach like he’s settling in.
“katsuki…” your voice wavers. “you sure you’re not… y’know…”
he huffs, the sound warm against your skin.
“if i wanted somethin’ from you,” he says low, “you’d already know.”
your stomach flips.
he opens his eyes just enough to look up at you— drowsy, unfocused, hungry in that slowed-down, heavy-lidded way that makes your knees go weak.
and then very slowly— he lets his hands slide lower.
“don’t start anything you can’t finish,” he says, almost a whisper, “’cause i’m tired enough to take whatever you give me.”
you swallow hard, and your face burns.
you weren’t expecting honesty like that— not from him, not when he’s this worn down and soft around the edges. it makes something twist low in your stomach, something warm and reckless and stupidly tender.
“katsuki…” you murmur, barely above a whisper.
“what?” he mutters, head still against your stomach, voice thick with sleep. “spit it out.”
you open your mouth, but he tightens his grip around your waist— not harsh, just grounding. steady. like he’s anchoring himself using you.
“c’mere,” he says again, quieter this time.
you bend down instinctively, your hands bracing on the arms of his chair as your face gets closer to his. he smells like his body wash and the clean cotton of your shared sheets. like warmth. like someone who’s been fighting sleep for an hour.
he tilts his chin up to look at you, eyes half-lidded and flushed at the corners.
you feel his hand slide up the back of your thigh again, slower this time, like he’s memorizing you through fatigue.
“sit with me,” he says, tugging your hip lightly. “jus’— here.”
you let him pull you into his lap, sideways at first, then straddling him when he adjusts his legs automatically to make room for you. he groans softly when your weight settles on him, hands coming up to hold your waist like he didn’t mean to and can’t help it.
your heart jumps into your throat.
“you good?”
“mm,” he hums— a sleepy, warm sound. “you’re comfy.”
you press your palms to his shoulders, brushing a thumb over a faint scar. he shivers under your touch like he’s been holding tension all day and you’re finally giving him permission to let go.
his head tips back against the chair, eyes drinking you in with that heavy, desperate look you only see when he’s too tired to hide anything.
“y’know,” he says quietly, “if you actually listened to me— went t’bed when you were supposed to… i wouldn’t worry so damn much.”
your cheeks heat. “i don’t do it on purpose.”
“yeah you do.” his hands slide slowly up your sides, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. “but it’s fine. i’ll fix it.”
“fix me?”
“fix your schedule,” he mutters, eyes closing for a second as he leans into your touch. then, lower, “fix ya later.”
the way he says it— slow, suggestive, totally unfiltered— makes your breath hitch.
your thighs tighten around him and immediately, his eyes flutter open.
“don’t do that,” he murmurs.
“do what?” you ask, voice soft but shaky.
“act nervous now,” he whispers, thumb brushing the inside of your knee. “you come in here, teasin’ me, then get shy when i pay attention.”
you swallow, pulse fluttering.
“i..i’m not shy.”
“yeah ya are,” he croons, the tired rasp in his voice making it even softer, “but it’s cute.”
your fingertips drag along his jaw. he leans into it, surprising you— katsuki bakugo, leaning into someone’s touch like he needs it to stay awake.
“you gonna fall asleep on me?” you tease gently.
“not if you keep lookin’ at me like that.” his voice dips, barely audible. “not if you’re sittin’ here.”
his hands settle on your hips— warm, steady, a little possessive.
then his eyelids flutter again.
you watch him fight it, jaw clenching, brows furrowing, like sleeping is the one battle he refuses to lose in front of you.
“bakugo…” you whisper, brushing a stray piece of hair off his forehead. “come to bed.”
“not done,” he mutters stubbornly.
“you’re literally asleep right now.”
“no m’not,” he grumbles, then proves himself wrong when he nuzzles against your chest for a second, breath warm through your shirt.
you freeze as his arms wrap around your waist again— slow, natural, instinctive.
“…katsuki?” you whisper.
“mm.”
“are you— cuddling me?”
“shut up,” he mumbles directly into your skin. “you’re warm.”
your cheeks heat so fast it almost hurts.
he exhales slowly, breath dragging across your collarbone.
“you’re doin’ that nervous breathing again,” he mutters.
“because you— you can’t just—”
“you said you wanted me to teach you,” he interrupts softly, tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes. “this is part of it.”
you blink. “part of what?”
his thumb presses into your hip, “settlin’ down,” he says, voice a little slurred. “lettin’ me hold ya. lettin’ me… take care of you...”
your heart stumbles.
he shifts under you— not grinding, not intentional, just restless. tired. warm. wanting.
his fingers brush under your shirt, barely there.
“kats…”
he looks up at you… slow, heavy, hungry in the softest, sleepiest way.
“if you want me t’keep goin’,” he says, voice low and honest, “you gotta tell me.”
your breath catches, “tell you… what?”
“that you want it,” he murmurs. “want me.”
your stomach flips violently and you nod before you can stop yourself.
“i… do,” you whisper.
his eyes darken just a fraction— exhaustion mixing with something deeper.
“then c’mere,” he whispers, pulling you closer by your waist until your forehead meets his. “and let me help you settle down.”
your pulse trips as his hands slide lower, your breath shakes.
katsuki moves like all the restraint in his body snaps at once— one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, the other holding your waist steady as he drags your mouth down to his.
the kiss hits hard, not slow, not gentle— hungry and messy.
you gasp into him and he growls— an actual low sound in his chest— before kissing you deeper, his thumb brushing your jaw to tilt your head exactly how he wants it.
“kats—” you try to breathe, but he chases your lips again, catching them in another kiss that steals the rest of your words.
“you shouldn’t’ve come over here, and just went the fuck to sleep like i told you to,” he mutters against your mouth, already kissing you again. “i was bein’ so good.”
you whine softly when his fingers slide into your hair.
he groans— full-bodied, tired, needy.
“fuck— don’t make that noise,” he breathes, forehead pressing to yours. “i’m too damn tired to play nice with you tonight.”
“then don’t,” you whisper.
his inhale stutters, you feel it against your lips and then he’s kissing you again— deeper this time, slower but somehow more desperate, like he’s savoring and devouring you at the same time.
his hands roam up your back, gripping, pulling, guiding, taking over without asking.
he’s tired— you can feel it in the way he leans into you, the heaviness in his breaths— but he’s still katsuki, still sharp, still in control even half-asleep and when he finally breaks the kiss, his mouth drags along your jaw, then to your neck, warm breaths sending chills down your spine.
“get in the bed,” he murmurs, voice low, ruined, like he’s seconds from losing the last of his patience.
your pulse jumps, “but—”
“now,” he says, grabbing your chin so you look right at him.
your legs feel weak as you slide off his lap, his fingertips trailing your waist as you step back.
his eyes follow you— slow, heavy, burning in that desperate way he only gets when he’s exhausted enough to let the truth show.
he watches you intently as you climb into the bed, his gaze heavy lidded and dark with desire. you can see the exhaustion weighing on him, but there's a hungry glint in his eyes that sends shivers down your spine.
"take off your clothes," he commands gruffly, voice rough from lack of sleep and too much shouting.
your fingers tremble slightly as you reach for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. his eyes follow the movement hungrily, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin, you unclasp your bra next, letting all away to reveal your breasts to his heated gaze.
"pants too," he growls when you hesitate. "i wanna see all of you.”
you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your leggings and shimmy them down over your hips, kicking them aside.
he approaches you, crawling onto the mattress and reaching down to grab your hips, going down to kiss on your neck, lifting your leg around his slim waist. you feel the hard erection pressing against your cooch through the fabric of his sweatpants, and he groans feeling your wetness, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, “hah, so wet for me.. already?” he murmurs.
“i.. i can’t help it,” you breathe out, arching into his touch as he grinds against you. “not when you touch me like this..”
your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down the sculpted muscles of his back, feeling the way they flex and tense beneath your fingertips. you want to explore every inch of him, to map out the planes of his body with your lips and tongue until he's trembling with need, but right now, all you can focus on is the delicious friction building between your thighs as he rocks against you.
the thin fabric of his sweatpants does little to dull the sensation of his hard length rubbing against your sensitive cooch.
"oh please, kats," you whimper needily, tilting your hips up in a silent plea for more. "i need to feel you inside me."
he groans at your words, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair while the other slides between your bodies to push aside the crotch of his pants. his dick springs free, hot and heavy against your stomach as he positions himself at your entrance
"so damn needy, always wanting more," he murmurs gruffly, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.
his words are tinged with affection even as they carry a hint of exasperation. you've always been this way— greedy for his touch, hungry for the pleasure only he can give you.
he lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his dick nudging against you.
you whimper needily at the contact, hips lifting off the bed in an attempt to draw him inside.
"so impatient," he chuckles genuinely, one hand coming down to grip your hip tightly enough to bruise. "i haven't even started yet."
with agonizing slowness, he begins to push forward— inch by delicious inch until you're stretched wide around him, your inner walls fluttering and clenching as they struggle to accommodate his girth.
"f..fuck," he groans once he's fully sheathed inside you. "you always feel so— fuck- damn good."
his eyes flutter shut for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried deep in your tight heat. when he opens them again, they're dark with lust and something softer - an affection that makes your heart stutter in your chest.
he begins to move then, pulling out until just the tip remains before thrusting back in with a low groan. “mm~ k..katsuki!” you moan out, his pace is slow and steady at first, each deep stroke sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.
"you take my dick so fuckin’ well," he praises gruffly, one hand sliding up your side to cup the heavy weight of your breast.
his thumb brushes over your nipple as he speaks, teasing the sensitive peak until it's hard and aching for more. you arch into his touch with a breathy moan, nails digging into his shoulders as you try to pull him closer.
"that's it," he encourages darkly. "let me hear how much ya want this."
he picks up the pace then, hips snapping forward with increasing force as he drives into you again and again. the headboard slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound filling the room along with your needy cries.
"shh," he demands when your moans begin to fade into whimpers. "you sound so pretty, but i have a headache since ya wanna keep me awake."
his words send a thrill of embarrassment and arousal through you, cheeks flushing hotly even as your body responds with eager obedience. you cry out his name, back arching off the bed as he hits that perfect spot inside you.
"mmm— fuck," he groans at the sound, hips stuttering briefly before redoubling their efforts. "you're so close already aren't you? damn brat, i can feel it.”
he leans down then, capturing one nipple between his teeth and biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. his hand slides between your bodies next, fingers finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"c’mon, cum for me," he commands roughly against your skin. "now."
your orgasm crashes over you like a wave at his words, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending until all you can do is scream his name and cling to him desperately. he follows soon after with a guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside you as his hips jerk erratically.
in the aftermath, he collapses against you... heavy and sated and so very tired. you can feel the exhaustion weighing on him as he nuzzles into your neck, breaths slowly evening out as sleep begins to claim him.
"fuckin’ love you, but you need to learn how to listen" he mumbles drowsily before drifting off completely, one arm wrapped possessively around your waist.
“i..i love you too katsuki..” you murmur drowsily, dozing off right with him.
just imagine suguru sitting with one leg resting over the other, holding a small notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other, brushing gentle strokes against the page. almost mindlessly, like it’s more of a habit than a hobby.
there’s sun filtering in through the large windows of the airport, falling on him like an angelic spotlight. like the heavens graced the earth with him.
his hair, dark and soft, like a body of water under the night sky, is tied up in a bun. so effortlessly pretty. black headphones sit on his head and he bounces his foot in the air in tune with whatever music he’s listening to. he probably doesn’t notice that little action and it’s endearing. like he’s in his own world. not in any rush.
every so often, he takes a sip of black coffee from a paper cup, his hand adorned with black rings clawing the top of the cup to pick it up and place it back down.
you notice the way he spins his pencil through his fingers skilfully as he occasionally gets stuck in thought. curious, violet hues looking around to find something else to draw. finding inspiration from any corner of the airport.
as his eyes flit from space to space, cafe to suitcase, forgotten trash to the boarding times, you coincidentally make eye contact. you barely even realised that you were staring at him until he catches you, and he doesn’t immediately look away like you frantically do.
there’s an amused glint playing in his purple eyes, his mouth curving up slightly before he flickers his gaze away, too. though, still aware of you.
he delicately flicks the page of his notebook, turning to the other side and continues to draw, seemingly having found his muse. another sip of coffee, another practised stroke of his pencil.
time goes by - you, entranced by the stranger sitting in the seat diagonal to you, and said stranger passing the time with his sketches. you’re not sure how much time passes before he’s standing up, stretching languidly and rolling his neck after having it bowed down over his notebook.
you busy yourself with your phone, checking the weather, clicking onto settings, fiddling with the brightness. anything to distract yourself from him and trying not to stare too much.
he carefully tears a page out of his notebook, folding it neatly, before slinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder. he walks past you to get to his boarding gate, taking one more glance at you like he can’t afford to miss the opportunity, even if it meant he’d miss his flight.
his sweet cologne drifts into your senses, lingering around you. and you hoped to remember it. it felt comforting and warm.
you were so preoccupied with just how good he smelled that you didn’t notice the fact that he dropped the folded page into your lap as he passed by.
you open it with interest to find a sketch of you.
your mouth parts slightly in surprise and awe. it’s so intricate and beautiful, you can’t help but admire it for a few minutes, your fingertips lightly running over the details. the way he drew you in his own gorgeous art style, fitting for a gorgeous man.
as your eyes run over the page with fascination, you notice the phone number written in small at the bottom of the page. along with an elegantly-written ‘thanks for the inspiration, pretty’.
izzy806
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
tangentwithtanner
